The following extract is from it letter written by an officer on board the United States steamer Richmond, after the bombardment of Fort Pickens :
I went by invitation of Lieut.—— ,of the Engineers, to visit the fort. We took a circuit first of the covered way, then of the parapet and ramparts. All around the Fort, inside and out, were marks of the enemy’s shot and shell. On the glacis, here and there, were deep groves, ending in a large hole, where the shot had plumped into it, and where there bad been shell which had burst. The hole was a great excavation into which you could have driven an ox cart. Where the projectiles have struck the standing walls they have chipped off patches of the brickwork, (it is a brick and not a stone fort) perhaps eight or ten inches deep, and where they have struck the corners large portions have been removed but in no case has any part of the fortification received an injury tending in the least to weaken it, and this after two days’ heavy firing.
Tho only man who was killed outright, during the action, was an artilleryman, who was passing into the casemates with some bread from the bake-house. A shell exploded at the other side of the area, and one piece, flying a distance of two or three hundred feet, passed through his body, under his arms. He walked a few steps and droped dead. There were many almost miraculous escapes.
A shell was heard coming toward a gun on the parapet and the men dodged under their bombproofs.—The shell bit fairly on the top of the bombproof, went through and dropped into a pail of waiter beside the officer where it exploded. When the men came out again to resume their work, all they saw of their officer was his heels sticking out of a pile of rubbish. After digging him out they stood amazed to see that he was not even hurt. He rose up, shook the sand from his hair and clothes, and cooly said, “Come, come, what are you standing there gaping at! Load that gun there.” At it they went again, as if nothing had happened.
Another officer, who had charge of a battery of mortars, had no less than seventeen shells strike within ten yards of him. I saw the ground plowed up in every direction, and yet not a man was hurt. About twenty of the men who had been relieved from their gun, were sitting smoking and watching the firing in corner, protected from shot by the walls, when half of a huge shell struck and buried itself in the middle of the group without disturbing them in the least. “What’s that? asked one,—”The devil knows and won’t tell,” indifferently responded another, and went on smoking.
A 10-inch columbiad came rolling toward a group, the fuse whizzing and smoking. “Wonder if that’ll hit us!” “Guess not, we’re too near it!” Crack went the shell flying in every direction, but fortunately escaping them all. The rebel powder was poor, as also their shot and shell, except that portion which they succeeded in stealing before the rebellion broke out. Their practice, however, was said to be good how could it have been otherwise! Uncle Sam taught them at his unparalleled school at West Point; but with little thought that the teaching would be thus employed.
Fremont Journal, Fremont, OH