The pontoniers had partially laid one bridge before daylight; but when dawn appeared the enemy’s sharpshooters, who had been posted in buildings on the opposite bank, opened so destructive a fire upon them that they were compelled to desist, and two subsequent attempts to continue the work, though desperately made, were likewise brought to naught by the deadly fire of Mississippi rifles. At last three regiments, the Seventh Michigan, and the Nineteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts, volunteered to cross the river, and drive the enemy out of cover, which they did most gallantly, though not without considerable loss. They crossed the river in ponton boats, charged up the steep bank opposite, drove out, or captured the Rebels holding the buildings, and in a short time the first ponton bridge was completed. Others were laid near by soon after. I think the engineers lost more men here—I mean now in actual combat—than in all their previous and subsequent service combined. [Illustration: POPLAR GROVE CHURCH.] Ponton bridges were a source of great satisfaction to the soldiers. They were perfect marvels of stability and steadiness. No swaying motion was visible. To one passing across with a column of troops or wagons _no_ motion was discernible. It seemed as safe and secure as mother earth, and the army walked them with the same serene confidence as if they were. I remember one night while my company was crossing the Appomattox on the bridge laid at Point of Rocks that D. Webster Atkinson, a cannoneer, who stood about six feet and a quarter in boots—dear fellow, he was afterwards mortally wounded at Hatcher’s Run,—being well-nigh asleep from the fatigue of the all-night march we were undergoing, walked off the bridge. Fortunately for him, he stepped—not into four or five fathoms of water, but—a ponton. As can readily be imagined, an unexpected step down of two feet and a half was quite an “eye-opener” to him, but, barring a little lameness, he suffered no harm. The engineers, as a whole, led an enjoyable life of it in the service. Their labors were quite fatiguing while they lasted, it is true, but they were a privileged class when compared with the infantry. But they did well all that was required of them, and there was no finer body of men in the service. The winter-quarters of the engineers were, perhaps, the most unique of any in the army. In erecting them they gave their mechanical skill full play. Some of their officers’ quarters were marvels of rustic design. The houses of one regiment in the winter of ’63-4 were fashioned out of the straight cedar, which, being undressed, gave the settlement a quaint but attractive and comfortable appearance. Their streets were corduroyed, and they even boasted sidewalks of similar construction. Poplar Grove Church, erected by the Fiftieth New York Engineers, a few miles below Petersburg, in 1864, still stands, a monument to their skill in rustic design. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXI.