Three years in the Sixth Corps

by George T. Stevens · English · Gutenberg #21976 · 812,419 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Three years in the Sixth Corps
A concise narrative of events in the Army of the Potomac, from 1861 to the close of the rebellion, April, 1865

Author: George T. Stevens

Release date: June 30, 2007 [eBook #21976]
Most recently updated: January 2, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21976

Credits: Produced by Suzanne Shell, David King, and the Online
Distributed Proofreaders Team at https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE YEARS IN THE SIXTH CORPS ***

Produced by Suzanne Shell, David King, and the Online
Distributed Proofreaders Team at https://www.pgdp.net

THREE YEARS
IN THE
SIXTH CORPS.

A CONCISE NARRATIVE OF EVENTS IN THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC,
FROM 1861 TO THE CLOSE OF THE REBELLION, APRIL, 1865.

By GEORGE T. STEVENS,
SURGEON OF THE 77TH REGIMENT NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS.

ALBANY:
S. R. GRAY, PUBLISHER.

1866.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and
sixty-six,

By GEORGE T. STEVENS,

in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the
Northern District of New York.

WEED, PARSONS AND COMPANY,
PRINTERS, STEREOTYPERS AND BOOKBINDERS,
ALBANY, N. Y.

[Illustration: MAJ.-GEN. JOHN SEDGWICK]

PREFACE.

The following pages are offered to my old comrades of the Sixth Corps,
with the hope that they may pleasantly recall the many varied
experiences of that unparalleled body of men. If much has been omitted
which should have been written, or if anything has been said which
should have been left out, I rely upon the generosity of brave men to
treat with leniency the failings they may detect.

I have endeavored to present without exaggeration or embellishment of
imagination, a truthful picture of army life in all its vicissitudes;
its marches, its battles, its camps, and the sad scenes when the victims
of war languish in hospitals. The story is written mostly from extensive
notes taken by myself amid the scenes described; but official reports
and letters from officers have been used freely in correcting these
notes, and gathering fresh material. The narrative commences with the
experiences of my own regiment; then when that regiment became a part of
Smith's division, its incidents and history includes the whole. From the
organization of the Sixth Corps to the close of the rebellion, I have
endeavored without partiality to give the story of the Corps. If I have
failed to do justice to any of the noble troops of the Corps, it has
been from no want of desire to give to each regiment the praise due to
it.

I cannot close without acknowledging my many obligations to the numerous
friends, officers and soldiers of the Corps, and others who have favored
me with their assistance. I take especial pleasure in acknowledging the
kindness of Miss Emily Sedgwick, sister of our lamented commander;
Vermont's honored son, Major-General L. A. Grant, Major-General Thomas
H. Neill, Colonel James B. McKean, Colonel W. B. French, Chaplain Norman
Fox, and Mr. Henry M. Myers. I am also indebted to the friends of Samuel
S. Craig for the use of his diary, extending from the early history of
the Army of the Potomac, to the death of the talented young soldier in
the Wilderness.

The engravings are nearly all from sketches taken by myself on the
ground, the others are from the pencil of the well known artist, Captain
J. Hope, and all have been submitted to his finishing touch. Mr.
Ferguson has executed the wood cuts in a style creditable to his art.

The typographical portion of the work has been done in a style of beauty
and finish for which the work of Weed, Parsons and Company is so well
known.

18 North Pearl Street, Albany, N. Y.

_September 5, 1866._

[Illustration]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

1. Portrait of General Sedgwick.

2. Illustrated Title Page.

3. The Old Church at Hampton.

4. The Quaker at Newport News.

5. Charge of the Vermonters at Lee's Mills.

6. Charge of Hancock's Brigade at Williamsburgh.

7. Charge of the Seventy-seventh New York at Mechanicsville.

8. Portrait of Colonel James B. McKean.

9. Charge of the Sixth Corps at Burkettsville.

10. White Oak Church, Va.

11. Storming Fredericksburgh Heights by Howe's Division.

12. "What'll Ole Missus do Now?"

13. Church Call.

14. Battle of Fort Stevens.

15. "Why Don't he Come?"

16. "Going Norf."

17. Diagram of the Charge of the Sixth Corps, April 2, 1865.

CONTENTS.

Chapter I.

A New Regiment goes to the War.

Organization of the Seventy-seventh N. Y. V.--Departure from
Saratoga--Greetings by the way--New emotions--The noble dead--On board
the Knickerbocker--At New York--Presentation of flags--Beauties of
monopoly--Hospitality of Philadelphia--Incidents on the route--Arrival
at Washington--In camp.

Chapter II.

Army Life at Washington.

Meridian Hill--Neighboring scenery--First Sunday in
camp--Drills--Sickness--The Hospital--General Casey--"Why don't the army
move?"--Washington blockaded--Burnside's heroes--Orders to
move--Something of a train--Smith's division--Our first reconnoissance.

Chapter III.

The Manassas Campaign.

Orders to march--A grand spectacle--Bivouac near Fairfax Court
House--The camps at night--Visits to Manassas and Centreville--
Dissatisfaction in the army--A deserted country--Lawless
soldiers--Fairfax Court House--A representative Southerner--Review by
Gen. McClellan--March to Alexandria--"Camp Misery."

Chapter IV.

The Army Transferred to the Peninsula.

The advance to Yorktown--A thunder storm--"Reliable contrabands"--Facing
the enemy--A strong position--The Union line--A rebel welcome--Digging--
On picket--A dreary country--An enterprising planter--Active
work--Battle of Lee's Mills--Charge of the Vermont brigade--Progress of
the siege--Ravages of disease--A front seat--Short supplies--The rebels
withdraw--Entering the strongholds--Infernal machines--March to
Williamsburgh--Victims of disease.

Chapter V.

Yorktown.

Chapter VI.

Williamsburgh.

Battle of Williamsburgh--The army not organized--The medical
department--Hooker's gallant fight--Hancock's charge--McClellan at
Yorktown--Night on the battle-field.

Chapter VII.

The March up the Peninsula and the Organization of the Sixth Corps.

March up the Peninsula--Joy of the contrabands--Cumberland Landing--The
Sixth Corps organized--At White House--On the Chickahominy--Fight at
Mechanicsville--Battle of Hanover Court House.

Chapter VIII.

On the Chickahominy.

Gaines' Farm--The line of battle--Battle of Seven Pines--Sedgwick and
Kearney to the rescue--Hooker's charge--A lost opportunity--Golden's
Farm--Ditching--Malaria--Chickahominy fevers--A German regiment--
Stuart's raid.

Chapter IX.

The Seven Days' Battles.

The army united--Plans and counter plans--Battle of Fair Oaks--Lee's
plan--The situation--Stonewall Jackson on the flank--Battle of
Mechanicsville--Joy in camp--Porter's corps retreats--An astonished
army--Battle of Gaines' Farm--Slocum's division at Games' Farm--Retreat
to the river--Battle of Golden's Farm--A young hero--A Union
victory--Our right exposed--The sick abandoned--A night of sorrow--The
grand retreat commenced--Sad scenes at Savage's Station--A meteor
railroad train.

Chapter X.

The Grand Retreat.

Lee's army in pursuit--Sumner and Smith at Bay--Battle of Savage's
Station--The Vermont Brigade--Sick and wounded abandoned--Retreat to
White Oak Swamp--Battle of White Oak Swamp--An astonished division--A
night march--A mystery--In sight of the James--Battle of Malvern
Hill--Departure of the princes--Gloom and anxiety--Lee's attack--The
rebels demoralized.

Chapter XI.

Harrison's Landing.

March to Harrison's Bar--A scene of confusion--A beautiful
landscape--Fourth of July in camp--Gloom at the north--Cause of the
disasters--Prevalence of disease--Review by the President--A night
demonstration by the enemy--Reconnoissance to Malvern Hill--Departure of
General Davidson--A retrospect.

Chapter XII.

Retreat from the Peninsula, and General Pope's Bull Run Campaign.

Premonitions of a change of base--The transfer commenced--Marching down
the Peninsula--On board transports--A contrast--Arrival at
Alexandria--Unaccountable delays--General Pope's campaign--An obstinate
general--Causes of Pope's failure.

Chapter XIII.

The Maryland Campaign.

General McClellan restored to command--March through
Washington--Leisurely campaigning--Battle of Crampton Pass--Death of
Mathison--Battle of South Mountain Pass--Death of Reno--Surrender of
Harper's Ferry--March to Antietam.

Chapter XIV.

The Battle of Antietam.

The Valley of the Antietam--Gathering of the hosts--The
battle-field--The battle commenced--Splendid fighting of Hooker's
forces--Successes and reverses of Sumner's troops--Timely arrival of the
Sixth corps--A gallant charge--Losses of the corps--Burnside's
attack--Hours of suspense--The enemy defeated at all points--Retreat of
the rebels--Scenes on the battle-field--At the hospitals--At
Sharpsburgh--A division of militia--Couch's division joins the Sixth
corps--Visit of the President--Recruits--Energy at the north--At
rest--Want of clothing--Stuart's raid--Delays--Clear Spring--General
Brooks.

Chapter XV.

The Second Advance into Virginia, and the Battle of Fredericksburgh.

Marching in Maryland--Arrival at New Baltimore--General McClellan
superseded by General Burnside--Thanksgiving in camp--The grand
divisions organized--The march resumed--Fatal delays--In order of
battle--The crossing--Fredericksburgh bombarded--Situation of
Fredericksburgh--Scenes of activity--The Bernard house--Scenes at the
hospital--The battle on the right--Charges of the Pennsylvania
reserves--The river recrossed--Reflections.

Chapter XVI.

The Winter at Falmouth.

Camp at White Oak Church--"The mud march"--Return to camp--General
Neill--General Hooker supersedes General Burnside--Burnside's
magnanimity--General Hooker as a soldier--Reconstruction--The cavalry
organized--Business departments renovated--The medical department--
Ambulance system--Quartermasters' and commissary departments--Life in
camp--Snowball battles--In the Seventy-seventh--The Light
division--Review by General Hooker--General John Sedgwick--Scene at
head-quarters--Review of the army by the President--Preparing for the
campaign.

Chapter XVII.

The Chancellorsville Campaign.

Orders to move--The river crossed--Sedgwick's command--The First corps
withdrawn--Gallant conduct of the Light division--Advancing to the
heights--The line of battle--The columns of attack--Attack of Howe's
columns--Of Newton's column--Of Burnham's--Misfortune following
victory--Fight of Bartlett's brigade--The First division at work--A
critical position--The Sixth corps surrounded--Savage fight of Neill's
brigade--The corps withdraws to Banks' Ford--Recrosses the
river--Hooker's operations on the right--Position of the corps--Rout of
the Eleventh corps--The rebels repulsed--Jackson renews the attack--The
rebels again repulsed--Hooker recrosses the river.

Chapter XVIII.

Second Encampment at White Oak Church and the Pennsylvania Campaign.

The army in its old position--A trip to Dixie--The wounded at the
hospitals--Introduction of army badges--Adornments of the camps--The
"Third crossing"--The Barnard mansion--Exchanging papers--A broken
lieutenant--The Pennsylvania campaign commenced--Restriction of
baggage--A severe march--An army bathing--At Centreville--Bristow
Station--March to Maryland--General Hooker succeeded by General
Meade--Position of the army.

Chapter XIX.

The Gettysburgh Campaign.

The rebels in Pennsylvania--Panic at Harrisburgh--Alarm at Baltimore and
Washington--Sixth corps leaves Bristow Station--A surprise--General
Meade takes command--Position of the army--Marching through
Pennsylvania--An unprecedented march--Exciting news--Battle of
Gettysburgh--Death of Reynolds--First and Eleventh corps fall back
--Second day's battle--The battle-field--Fighting at Round Top--On the
right--The grand onset--The battle decided--Rebel and Union wounded.

Chapter XX.

Pursuit of Lee's Army.

Scenes of the field of Gettysburgh--The rebel hospitals--The sightless
rebel soldier boy--The Sixth corps at Fairfield--"Hurrah for the
Union"--Kilpatrick's handiwork--At Waynesboro'--On picket--A division of
militia--The Vermonters at Funkstown--The army at Funkstown--Meade's
failure to attack--New York riots--Return to Virginia.

Chapter XXI.

Camps at Warrenton, the Centreville Campaign and the Battle of
Rappahannock Station.

Camp at Hart's Mills--A ride to the Sulphur Springs--Contrabands going
north--The Vermonters go to New York--Jersey Brigade at Warrenton--The
Sixth corps at Cedar Mountain--Retreat to Centreville--Battle of Bristoe
Station--Advance to Warrenton--Battle of Rappahannock Station--Flight of
Lee's army.

Chapter XXII.

The Army at Brandy Station.

Encampment at Brandy Station--The Mine Run campaign--Crossing the
Rapidan--Battle of Locust Grove--The army on Mine Run--The order of
battle--The army withdraws--Back at Brandy Station--Reconnoissance to
Madison Court House--Ladies in camp--Chapel tents.

Chapter XXIII.

The Wilderness Campaign.

Preparing to leave camp--General Grant in command--The last advance
across the Rapidan--The battle-ground--Battle of the Wilderness--Noble
fight of Getty's division--Hancock's fight on the left--Rickett's
division driven back--The ground retaken--The wounded--Duties of the
surgeons--The noble dead.

Chapter XXIV.

Spottsylvania.

Moving by the flank--The wounded abandoned--The Fifth Corps at
Spottsylvania--Arrival of the Sixth Corps--Getting into line--Death of
Sedgwick--General Wright in command--Battle of the 10th of
May--Upton's splendid charge--Battle at "the angle"--Another flank
movement.

Chapter XXV.

The Hospitals at Fredericksburgh.

The journey from the battle-field--Sufferings of the wounded--A
surgeon's letters--Rebel hatred--Assistance from the north--A father in
search of his boy--The wounded sent to Washington.

Chapter XXVI.

Coal Harbor.

At Hanover Court House--The Eighteenth corps joins the Army of the
Potomac--The armies meet at Coal Harbor--Battle of June 1st--Battle of
June 3d--Terrible exposure--The army strikes for Petersburgh--Charles
City Court House--A centenarian--Review of the overland campaign.

Chapter XXVII.

Petersburgh.

The march to Petersburgh--Smith's successes--The battle of June
18th--The Sixth and Second corps sent to the left--Rebels penetrate the
line--Progress of the siege--Sixth corps proceeds to Reams'
Station--Kautz's and Wilson's raids.

Chapter XXVIII.

Sixth Corps Transferred To Washington--Battle of Fort Stevens.

The Shenandoah Valley--Hunter's advance to Lynchburgh--The
retreat--Rebels advance into Maryland--Battle of Monocacy--Sixth corps
goes to Washington--Battle of Fort Stevens.

Chapter XXIX.

The Shenandoah Valley.

The Sixth and Nineteenth corps follow the enemy--Crossing the
Potomac--Averill's fight at Snicker's Gap--Return of the Sixth corps to
Washington--March back to Harper's Ferry--Return to Maryland--Death of
Major Ellis--General Sheridan assigned to command--Back in the
Valley--Charlestown--John Mosher--March to Fisher Hill--Return to
Charlestown--Fight at Charlestown.

Chapter XXX.

Battle of Winchester.

Encampment at Berryville--Leaving camp--The advance--Taking
position--Advance and retreat--Death of Russell--"I know they'll
run"--Reminiscences--At the hospitals--A regiment going home--"Why don't
he come."

Chapter XXXI.

Fisher Hill.

March up the valley--Strasburgh--The army confronting Fisher Hill--The
flank movement--Flight of Early--The pursuit--Guerrilla
warfare--Southern refugees--Starting for Washington--Return to Cedar
creek.

Chapter XXXII.

Battle of Cedar Creek.

Position of the Union forces on Cedar creek--Demonstrations by
Early--The morning of October 19th--Eighth corps straggling--Nineteenth
corps routed--The Sixth corps to the rescue--Death of General
Bidwell--The Sixth corps holds the enemy--General Wright prepares for
another attack--Arrival of Sheridan--The charge--The rout--Guns, wagons
and prisoners--The victors in camp.

Chapter XXXIII.

The Final Campaign.

Sixth corps returns to Petersburgh--Condition of the corps--Sheridan
joins the grand army--Capture of Fort Steadman--The last grand
charge--The pursuit of Lee's army--Tributes to the Sixth
corps--Disbanding.

THREE YEARS IN THE SIXTH CORPS.

CHAPTER I.

A NEW REGIMENT GOES TO THE WAR.

Organization of the Seventy-seventh N. Y. V.--Departure from
Saratoga--Greetings by the way--New emotions--The noble dead--On
board the Knickerbocker--At New York--Presentation of
flags--Beauties of monopoly--Hospitality of
Philadelphia--Incidents on the route--Arrival at Washington--In
camp.

Our regiment was organized at Saratoga Springs, the historic scene of
the battle of Bemis Heights and the surrender of Burgoyne--hence its
name, "The Bemis Heights Battalion." Hon. Jas. B. McKean, then member of
congress, a gentleman of well known patriotism, was made our Colonel. We
left our rendezvous on the 26th of November, 1861, Thanksgiving day,
having been mustered into the United States service three days before.

As the long train of cars bore us from the station at Saratoga Springs,
the thousands who had gathered to witness our departure united in cheer
after cheer until all the groves and vales of that charming resort rang
with the echoes of the tumultuous shouting.

The thousand brave fellows, who were about to try the stern realities of
war, were by no means backward in replying to these hearty expressions
of good wishes. Long after we had lost sight of the lovely village, the
shouts of the multitude could be heard and the hills rang again with the
responding cheers of those in the cars. At each station, as we passed,
crowds of people pressed to greet us, and loud and long were the cheers
that bade us "God speed."

We were now fairly off for the war. We who had followed the various
peaceful avocations of life, in the professions or in the workshops, in
trade or in husbandry, had now turned away from the office, the desk,
the shop and the plough, to join the Grand Army upon which the hopes of
the nation were staked, and which we confidently believed was soon to
sweep the rebellion to destruction.

Emotions hitherto unknown to us filled our hearts. We were soldiers,
wearing for the first time the army blue, and perhaps soon to be called
out to meet in deadly strife an enemy whose prestige for valor was
already too well established.

Were we to return to the friends from whom we had just parted, bearing
the chaplet of victory, or were we to find a last resting place on some
field of the south, never again to meet with wife or sister, father or
mother? Four years have passed and those doubts have been solved. Many
of those brave men have gone to their long rest.

"Their graves are severed far and wide."

Some sleep beneath the tall pines of Yorktown; and the bright azalia
casts its purple blossoms over the graves of many who lie in the swamps
of the Chickahominy. The Antietam murmurs a requiem to those who rest on
its banks, and green is the turf above the noble ones who fell
gloriously at Fredericksburgh. Some rest amid the wild tangles of the
Wilderness, and upon the arid plain of Coal Harbor. Many of their graves
are upon the banks of the Ny and the Po. The marble monument at Fort
Stevens tells the names of some who gave their lives in the defense of
the Capital, while the simple headboards of pine tell where repose many
in the valley of the Shenandoah, and before Petersburgh. The remains of
some have been brought back to the peaceful cemetery at home to rest
beside the dust of loved ones.

"'Tis little; but it looks in truth
As if the quiet bones were blest
Among familiar names to rest,
And in the places of their youth."

Must it be said, many of the strongest yielded to the grim monster
starvation in the rebel prison pens, and found relief from their
tortures in lowly graves at Andersonville and Salisbury.

A little band, with bronzed faces and manly hearts, returned home. Their
glorious and unspotted record had preceded them. They needed no song of
victory, and they desired no greater marks of honor than their simple
silver crosses, the badge of their corps.

No incident worthy of note occurred until we reached Albany, where we
left the cars and embarked upon the steamer Knickerbocker, an old
dismantled craft, unfit for any purpose but the transportation of
soldiers; whose decks were covered with mud an inch in depth, and whose
doors having been thrown overboard, a free circulation of the rough
November air was allowed in every part. The men had no rations, and some
of them became clamorous; but order was soon restored, and rations of
bread and ham with coffee were distributed. They could not, however, all
be brought to a perfect state of quietude. Some were determined not to
submit, and passed the night in carousal, while those soberly inclined
tried in vain to sleep. The officers found lodging in the after cabin,
where some in berths and some on the floor, we passed a restless night.

As we approached New York in the morning, the sky was hung with heavy
clouds, and as we left our rickety old craft for _terra firma_, the rain
poured in fresh torrents upon us. We marched through 14th street and
Broadway to the Park. We were to remain in New York until six o'clock in
the evening, and the Sons of Saratoga were to present us with a stand of
colors and guidons. They commenced by presenting us with an excellent
dinner, at which speeches were made by the committee, and responded to
by Colonel McKean and others on our part.

Dinner over, the regiment was drawn up in front of the City Hall, where
the ceremony of presenting the flags took place. The banner was an
exquisite piece of work, of the richest fabric; a blue ground with
elegant designs in oil. On one side was represented an engagement in
which the American soldiers, led by Washington, were fighting under the
old flag--thirteen stripes and the union jack. On the reverse was
pictured the surrender of Burgoyne, at Saratoga, under the new flag--the
stars and stripes--first unfurled in the goodly city of Albany, and
first baptized in blood at the decisive battle of Bemis Heights, which
resulted in the surrender of Burgoyne and the virtual success of the
Revolution.

We had already a beautiful national flag, the gift of the patriotic
young ladies of Mr. Beecher's seminary, at Saratoga.

The hour for departure arrived, and we crossed to Amboy by ferry. We
were in New Jersey. We had heard disparaging things of the railroad
management of this State, but we were now to realize the beauties of
monopoly. We learned afterwards to respect New Jersey's soldiers, many
of whom fought shoulder to shoulder with us, and were among the bravest
of the brave, but we never forgave her railroads. The men were crowded
into a number of shaky old cars, reeking with filth, and redolent of
most noisome odors. It was in vain that we protested that these vehicles
were unfit for transporting men; we were offered by the agent of the
road the alternative to take these cars or remain where we were. We
concluded to go on.

At four o'clock we had passed over the whole of the Camden and Amboy
road. Another ferry crossed, and we were in Philadelphia. Glorious,
generous, enlightened Philadelphia! Many of our men were sick when we
left Saratoga, and the unaccustomed hardships, with the cold and rain
thus far on the route, had greatly prostrated them. Many others had also
been seized with violent illness, so that our single medical officer had
been taxed beyond his strength in looking after the wants of the sick,
while the little case of medicines with which we started from Saratoga
was exhausted. Among the first acts of kindness of these excellent
people was the care of our sick. A gentleman, with countenance beaming
with benevolence, said to the doctor, "If you will get your sick
together, we will conduct them to comfortable quarters, and see that
they are well cared for." The heart of the surgeon leaped with joy at
finding some one who could and would help to care for the poor fellows.

The sick being collected, our friend mounted a barrel and called to the
soldiers to hear him a moment. "You are welcome," said he, "to
Philadelphia, and to show you that we are glad to see you, it gives us
pleasure to invite every man of you to partake of a warm breakfast which
will be ready for you in a few minutes." This speech was greeted by
three hearty cheers for Philadelphia.

The doctor soon had his sick removed to the Soldiers' Retreat, a place
fitted up by the noble-hearted people of Philadelphia for the
entertainment of soldiers passing through their city. The upper part of
the building was arranged with exquisite taste and order for a hospital.
Here were many sick men left by the various regiments which had passed
through the city. Our sick boys were placed in beds, with expressions of
gratitude that, notwithstanding their illness, their lot had fallen in
pleasant places.

Presently the men were marched into the long saloon, where all took
their places at the well spread tables. The repast being over, Colonel
McKean called upon the men for three cheers for the Philadelphians;
remarking that there need be no fear of raising the roof, for even
should such an accident occur he doubted not these generous people would
willingly replace it. Then came the cheers; and such cheers! only to be
surpassed by the three more and then three more that followed.

The long years of our campaignings never diminished the lively feelings
of gratitude we experienced that morning, and to this day our veterans
never speak of Philadelphia but with pleasing recollections of the
friendly reception given them by the goodly inhabitants of the Quaker
city.

The sun was up when we resumed our journey, and again we were met with
surprises. All along the track of the railroad, men, women and children,
filling the windows of the houses and thronging the wayside, cheered us
on our way, shouting and waving flags and handkerchiefs. Children in the
arms of their nurses waved little flags from the windows in great glee,
while gray haired old men in piping tones cried "God bless our
soldiers." This unlooked for, and to us surprising ovation continued
until we had passed the limits of the city, and indeed did not cease
till we had left the station many miles behind. In the train, the men
kept up a continuous cheering; tears stood in the eyes of many, and the
most enthusiastic expressions passed from lip to lip.

The experience of our regiment was only that of others who passed
through this noble city, and often during our long campaigns, the
soldiers of different regiments would gather round their camp fires, and
relate to each other the kindnesses received by them in the City of
Brotherly Love.

We were cordially welcomed in Delaware, the people waving banners and
handkerchiefs, and when those were not at hand, newspapers or even
articles from the clothes lines answered to show their good will; and
the negroes in the fields swung their hats and their hoes with great
spirit.

We reached Baltimore in the evening, where we were kindly received,
furnished with supper and sent on our way. After many delays we reached
Washington at four o'clock Sunday morning, and were assigned to
temporary quarters near the station. Who would have suspected that it
was the Sabbath? Now we began to see something of the circumstance of
war. Horsemen were galloping in every direction; long trains of army
wagons rattled over the pavements at every turn of the eye; squads of
soldiers marched here and there; all was hurry, bustle and confusion.

It was night when we reached the ground for our encampment on Meridian
Hill. The men had suffered much from cold, and what at that time was
hardship. Not less than a hundred of them were sick. It was not long
before tents were up, and for the first time the regiment was under
canvas.

Our camp was pleasantly located, commanding a fine view of Washington,
the Potomac, Alexandria and other points of interest. We were surrounded
by the camps of other regiments, some arriving and some departing almost
daily. We had not been two days here when we began to get a taste of
camp rumors. One rumor declared that we were to have barracks erected,
and we were to go into winter quarters, while another assured us that we
were to have an immediate taste of actual warfare. These proved quite as
reliable as the thousands of rumors which during all our years of
service were afloat throughout the army, and acquired the expressive
appellation of "Camp Yarns."

CHAPTER II.

ARMY LIFE AT WASHINGTON.

Meridian Hill--Neighboring scenery--First Sunday in
camp--Drills--Sickness--The Hospital--General Casey--"Why don't
the army move?"--Washington blockaded--Burnside's heroes--Orders
to move--Something of a train--Smith's division--Our first
reconnoissance.

We encamped on Meridian Hill December 1st, 1861, with 960 men.

Meridian Hill is the most delightful locality in the vicinity of
Washington. The plain on which the city stands, extends northward from
the Potomac about two miles where it is abruptly terminated by a line of
hills. From the summit of these hills stretches back another plain, at
an elevation of one or two hundred feet above the first. Along the
margin of these eminences were some fine old suburban mansions. On our
right towards Georgetown, was Kalorama, a charming spot, once the
residence of Joel Barlow, the author of the famous poems "Hasty Pudding"
and "The Columbiad." Now the building was converted by the government
into a hospital. In close neighborhood to us was Columbia College, also
used as a hospital, and to the east was the fine mansion of Colonel
Stone, and other superb places, all of which, like Kalorama and the
college, were full of sick men.

Meridian Hill was in the center of this line of once beautiful country
residences, directly north of the President's house. It had been the
residence of Commodore Porter, and the house still bore the name of "the
Porter Mansion." The grounds had been elegantly laid out with box and
juniper, while the rich groves of oak and chestnut surrounding lent
additional charms to the locality. The hill was dotted with the white
tents of a dozen regiments, but none were so pleasantly located as our
own, under the shadow of those grand old trees.

The mansion itself became our hospital, and for a time also served as
our head-quarters. From its broad piazza we could look upon the busy
scenes of the city, and watch the vessels passing up and down upon the
river. A week had passed before we were fairly established in our
quarters, but we rapidly learned the mysteries of the soldier's life.

The weather was delightful; more like September than what we were
accustomed to experience in December. Although heavy mists hung over us
until nine or ten o'clock in the morning, they were dispelled by the
warm sunshine, and then all was bright as midsummer. This lovely weather
continued until about the first of January.

The country in rear of our encampment was charming. Fine groves,
traversed by streams of pure, sweet water, and fields surrounded by
hedges, stretched far to the northward. The dark green leaves of the
magnolia were to be seen here and there among trees of larger growth,
and the shining, ever-green laurel forming a dense undergrowth, gave the
woods a lively and spring-like appearance. On the open plain might any
day be seen a regiment of Lancers, wheeling and charging in their
brilliant evolutions, their long lances with bright red pennons adding
greatly to the beauty of the display, and, as we at that time vainly
believed, to the efficacy of the troop.

The first Sunday came, and we had religious services. The regiment was
formed in front of the mansion, every man being called out, unless on
duty or excused on account of illness. This became an established rule
with us for all time; every man was required to attend divine service
unless especially excused. Chaplain Tully and the members of the staff
occupied the piazza. The chaplain offered a prayer for the loved ones at
home, and then we all sung "Coronation," and after the sermon, we sung
"Cambridge" and "Old Hundred." The men seemed deeply affected by the
simple service, and many a quivering lip betrayed the emotions of the
heart.

Drills became the order of the day. Every morning the hill rang from one
end to the other with the sharp commands of the company officers to
"Order arms!" "Shoulder arms!" as the men exercised by squads. Besides
the regular drill in the manual of arms, some of the companies delighted
in that system of military gymnastics called the bayonet exercise. In
the afternoon Colonel McKean usually trained the regiment in the more
difficult exercises of the battalion drill.

But we began to feel the scourge of new regiments. Disease became almost
universal. We had but a single medical officer and he was tasked beyond
his strength. One hundred and fifty or two hundred men were prescribed
for every morning, aside from those so ill as to be in the hospital.

The large parlors of the old mansion were neatly fitted up for our
hospital, for which they were admirably adapted. The two principal wards
were the large front parlors, which communicated by folding doors; the
ceilings were high, and the large open fire places in either apartment
served the double purpose of supplying heat and ventilation, so that
while about fifty beds were always occupied, the air was kept fresh and
pure. Typhoid fevers, typhoid pneumonias, diphtheria, and remittent
fevers were prevalent, while now and then the malaria manifested itself
in the form of the terrible spotted fever. Besides, as usually occurs
when the last named disease prevails in camps, some died suddenly from
unknown causes.

By the tenth of the month the majority of the men were unfit for duty.
In one company the three commissioned officers were in the hospital, and
but twelve men could be mustered for evening parade. The labors of the
medical officer who undertakes single-handed to minister to the wants of
a regiment of recruits can only be known to those who have tried it. Our
doctor was as much worn out by the perplexities of organizing his
department as by the actual attendance on the sick. New demands came
almost every hour of the day and night, and it was only when the
violence of disease had subsided, and another officer was added to the
medical staff, that our weary son of Galen found a degree of respite.

We were in the command of General Silas Casey, a noble specimen of a man
and a soldier. His manly dignity and kindly bearing impressed all with
profound respect for him, and although we were but a few weeks in his
command we never ceased to remember him with pleasure. The provisional
brigade and division to which we were attached was frequently reviewed
and drilled by the general, and made a fine appearance.

Thus the time passed until the opening of the New Year. Our men, like
most fresh soldiers, were anxious for a fight, and were heartily tired
of what they considered inglorious inactivity. Many of them expressed
great fears that they would be obliged to return home without ever
hearing the sound of battle. How greatly they were mistaken we shall see
as we trace the bloody campaigns of more than three years of hard
fighting.

Our friends at home were not unmindful of us. Boxes of clothing and
other comforts for the sick were sent in goodly numbers; so our sick
were well supplied with bedding and changes of clothing, as well as
jellies and other luxuries. Our friend, McMicheal, of Congress Hall,
Saratoga, thinking we could better celebrate the New Year with a good
dinner, sent us one worthy of his fame as a landlord. Could Mack have
heard the cheers of the boys that made the ground tremble as the four
hundred pounds of cooked chickens and turkeys were distributed among
them, his glory as a caterer would have been complete. With the New Year
came stormy weather; rain was the rule, sunshine the exception. The mud
became almost unfathomable and it was not uncommon to see the six mules
attached to an army wagon tugging and striving with all their power to
drag the empty wagon out of a mud hole. Boys who had plied the trade of
bootblack gave up their profession and with pail and sponge in hand
called to the passer by, "Wash your boots, sir?" During the lovely month
of December we had been impatient for action; but now the oft repeated
question, "Why don't the Army of the Potomac move?" became ludicrous to
our ears.

Thus passed another month in drills and camp duties. Some recruits came
to us, while many of the men who came out at first were found unfit for
field duty and were discharged.

Distrust arose among officers and enlisted men of our army about the
capital, in regard to the manner in which the army was managed. A
wilderness of men surrounded Washington, and yet we were blockaded by
the rebels on all sides except one.

Government was paying enormous prices for fuel consumed by the army,
because the Potomac was closed, and all wood had to be brought by rail
from the sparsely wooded districts of Maryland. Provisions sold at
fabulous prices, and Washington was in fact a beleaguered city. Some
rays of light from the west penetrated the thick darkness; but it cannot
be concealed that while the Grand Army stationed about the capital
panted for action and longed for the glory of the battle-field, a gloom
possessed the spirits of the men, and a feeling, that all this splendid
material was destined to a "masterly inactivity," prevailed. Our hopes
were newly kindled when the affairs of the War Department passed into
the hands of a live man, and when Mr. Stanton's practical energy began
to be manifested both in the department and in the field. We heard from
Burnside; first sad news, and then of success; and our hearts burned to
be with him. Fort Donelson followed Roanoke; and Price's army was routed
in Missouri. We envied the men who had been our nearest neighbors, but
who had followed Burnside to the South. Glorious fellows! What cared
they now for the fury of the waves or the hardships of short rations? We
were afraid of being left as idle spectators of great things in which we
should not be allowed to participate.

On the 15th of February came an order for us to move in a few days, and
join Smith's division. This division lay upon the other side of the
river, and although we had been anxious to move we did not wish to get
permanently fixed in the mud by moving there. We knew little of General
Smith or his division, only that the general had been trying very hard
for some time past to get the regiment, and we had little hopes of good
from the new arrangement. How little did we then suppose that the cross
of that old division would be one of the proudest badges of honor that
men could wear!

Sunday night came, and the order to move at once, came also. What a
scene of confusion! We had never broken up camp before, and the
excitement ran high. The pounding and tearing of boards, the shouting of
men and braying of mules, combined in a grand uproar. Bonfires blazed
from every part of the camp, and the whole night was spent in tearing
down quarters and loading the stuff into army wagons as they presented
themselves in great numbers. It was a rare sight. The camp glowing with
a hundred fires, and the men and teams moving about among them like
spectres. Morning came, and the teams were loaded, and the men ready to
march. The teams drove out and formed a line reaching down 14th street
from our camp nearly to the White House! One hundred and five six-mule
teams constituted the train for our regimental baggage; and so much
dissatisfaction prevailed among certain company officers that we were
allowed twenty-five more teams next day! Rain had fallen nearly all
night, and the prospect looked dreary. As the day advanced the rain came
faster and faster, until it fairly poured. The men waded through mortar
nearly to their knees.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when we reached Smith's division
and the ground on which we were to make our camp. The prospect was not
cheering, and as two or three of our staff officers rode upon the
ground, the place seemed forbidding enough. It had been recently the
location of a thicket of scrub pines, but the trees had been cut down
for fuel, and the stumps and brush remained, so that the mounted
officers found much difficulty in reining their horses into the midst.
Snow covered the ground to the depth of several inches. Here our men,
tired and wet, cold and hungry, were to pitch their tents, cook their
suppers, and make their beds.

The men fell to work heartily, and by dark they had cleared off the snow
and brush enough to make room for their tents, and many cook fires
blazed over the camp.

The regiments of the division showed us much hospitality, and a very
pleasant acquaintance commenced on that day, which was destined to
become earnest friendship. The next day was spent in putting the camp in
order. As rain continued to fall, the mud in the company streets became
knee-deep. Our sick, those unable to walk, had been left in our old
hospital with a sufficient number of faithful nurses, under charge of
the surgeon of one of the regiments that remained.

Let us for a moment glance at the composition of the division of which
we now formed a part. We were assigned to the Third brigade. It
comprised, beside our own, the Thirty-third New York, Colonel Taylor, a
regiment whose gallantry at Yorktown, Williamsburgh and Fredericksburgh
fully established its reputation as one of the best fighting regiments
in the army. The Forty-ninth New York, Colonel Bidwell, a noble regiment
with a noble commander, a regiment which could always be counted on to
do all that men could do; the Seventh Maine, Colonel Mason, whose men
were patterned after the pines of their own forests, tall, straight and
powerful fellows, who never forgot their proclivities for hunting, and
who were never so happy as when they could pick off a few rebel pickets
with their rifles. The brigade was commanded by General Davidson, who
afterwards made himself exceedingly disagreeable to the rebels, and
famous at the north by his daring cavalry raids in the west. The first
brigade included the Forty-third New York, Colonel Vinton; the
Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, Colonel Irwin; the Sixth Maine, Colonel
Knowles; and the Fifth Wisconsin, Colonel Cobb; all of them excellent
regiments, under command of General Hancock, who has since placed his
name high on the roll of fame as the commander of the old Second corps.

The Second brigade was composed entirely of Vermont troops, including
the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Vermont regiments, commanded
respectively by Colonels Henry Whiting, B. N. Hyde, E. H. Stoughton, L.
A. Grant and N. M. Lord, and known as the "Vermont Brigade," and nobly
did they sustain the traditional reputation of the Green Mountain Boys,
as stern patriots and hard fighters. They were commanded by General
Brooks, who afterward commanded the Tenth corps.

General William F. Smith, or, as he was familiarly known, "Baldy Smith,"
commanded the division. He is too well known to all who admire a true
soldier to require more than a mention here, and his great fame has been
well and faithfully earned.

No more splendid material, either for officers or men, ever entered into
the composition of a division, and how nobly it played its part in the
great drama of the war, it shall be part of our duty to record. Drills,
regimental, brigade and division, were again in order, and picket duty
now became a part of our routine.

This would not be a faithful chronicle of the doings of the new
regiment, were we to forget to relate the history of our first
expedition into the enemy's country.

An order came one evening in February for Colonel McKean to take his
regiment and make a reconnoissance towards Vienna. His instructions were
to pass the picket line, advance towards Vienna, make a thorough
reconnoissance and return.

The news spread through the camp, and the regiment was ablaze with
excitement. Some who had been on the sick list, and were excused from
camp duty, sought from the surgeon permission to accompany the
expedition, while a few who had been, up to this time, well, were
earnest in their applications to be excused from the march.

The regiment was formed at ten o'clock at night; thick darkness,
darkness of the blackest and most intense degree, prevailed. One could
scarcely see his neighbor whose shoulder touched his own. We were miles
away from the enemy, but the men were to be instructed in performing
their movements in secrecy; so the commands were passed along the line,
as the companies were forming, in whisper. No lights were allowed, and
we left our camp a column of blackness. We were presently joined by a
guide who carried a lantern. We passed a great many regiments, all the
while observing strict silence.

The mud was deep, very deep; some of the men lost their shoes in the
depths of the mire, and some even lost themselves, and were only
discovered when they arrived in camp some hours earlier than the
regiment. Through the darkness we plodded until we reached our
destination, at daylight on the following morning. Here we found bough
houses which had been used by rebel cavalry; and the tracks of many
horses imprinted only a little while before, whether by the horses of
our own cavalry, or by those of the enemy, we never knew. The battalion
was halted and scouts were sent to the front and on the flanks. Some of
the boys who had lost their shoes in the mud before we had advanced the
first mile, had made the whole march in their stockings; while others,
who had been sick, looked as though they could never get back to camp.
The companies deployed and marched through the woods, but as the enemy
was on the other side of Vienna we saw no rebels. It was noon when we
reached our camp, tired and covered with mud. Those who went laughed at
those who remained behind, and called them "dead beats!" The "beats"
tauntingly demanded of the others what all their demonstration had
amounted to.

The New York papers heralded the exploit as a grand advance on the
enemy, and we said little about it.

CHAPTER III.

THE MANASSAS CAMPAIGN.

Orders to march--A grand spectacle--Bivouac near Fairfax Court
House--The camps at night--Visits to Manassas and
Centreville--Dissatisfaction in the army--A deserted
country--Lawless soldiers--Fairfax Court House--A representative
Southerner--Review by Gen. McClellan--March to Alexandria--"Camp
Misery."

The first week in March brought lovely weather: birds sang more sweetly,
the sun shone more brightly, and bands played more merrily than usual,
and friends passed from regiment to regiment seeking social pastime with
friends.

We had known no such pleasant times in camp; still we were waiting for
orders to advance. During the night of Sunday, the 8th of March, the
order came: "This division will move at four o'clock in the morning with
two days' rations in haversacks." Little rest we got that night; the
hammer and the axe were plied vigorously in tearing down quarters and
packing stores, and as the sun rose in the morning the whole army was in
motion. It was a sublime spectacle: that immense line of troops pouring
along hour after hour, stretching over the hills as far as the eye could
reach; a hundred and twenty thousand troops on the move! Just beyond and
above them, in the gray sky of the morning, hung a beautiful rainbow. At
six our division commenced to march. Rain soon began to fall, and
continued all day. We passed through Vienna and Lewinsville, each a
hamlet of a dozen houses, and reached our camping ground at five o'clock
in the afternoon, tired, and drenched, and hungry.

Great numbers of troops had already occupied the fields, and the whole
country seemed alive with men and horses, artillery and wagons. We were
in the vicinity of Fairfax Court House, about a mile to the northward,
on what was called Flint Hill.

The army, for the first time, was under "_tentes d'abri_," or, as they
are now called, shelter tents. Until now the enlisted men had occupied
the spacious Sibley, or the comfortable wedge tents, and all officers
were quartered in wall tents; now, line officers and enlisted men were
to occupy shelter tents, which they were to carry on their shoulders;
and although a small number of wall tents could be carried in the wagons
for field and staff officers, yet so imperfect was the understanding, in
or out of the quartermaster's department, of what could or ought to be
done, that most regimental field and staff officers were left without
any shelter at all.

The men proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible under
their novel coverings, and as evening approached, the hills were
magnificently illuminated with thousands of camp fires. Very few men
occupied their new tents that night. They had not been accustomed to lie
upon wet ground, with only a single blanket wrapped about them, so
during all the night groups of soldiers stood about the camp fires,
talking in low tones and wondering what was to happen in the morning.
The sky was clear and bright when the sun rose, and as we looked out
upon the hill tops, dotted with clean white tents, and bristling with
stacks of shining muskets, we exulted in the thought that we were part
of the Grand Army that was now at work. Soon we knew that we were not to
fight here. The cavalry, and some of Porter's division, were returning
from Manassas and Centreville, both places burned and deserted. Were we
to pursue the retreating army, or were we to return to Washington to
take a new start? Parties from the division rode to Centreville and
Manassas. The works were indeed formidable and the barracks extensive;
and the old chestnut logs with blackened ends, that were mounted in some
of the embrasures, had, at a distance, grim visages. The smoking ruins
betokened the destructiveness of war. On the old battle-field lay
bleaching the bones of horses and men, and here and there might be seen
portions of human skeletons protruding from the shallow graves where
some pretense had been made at burial. Fragments of shells, broken
muskets and solid shot strewed the ground.

Head-quarters of the army were established at Fairfax Court House, and
thither repaired the corps commanders to hold a council in regard to our
future movements. The country about our camp was rolling and sparsely
settled. Nearly all the houses were deserted, and most of them destroyed
so far as any future usefulness was concerned. One house, the ruins of
which stood not far from our camp, and which had been the most
comfortable place in the whole section of country, had been the
residence of a northern farmer. Although the house was completely
stripped, and nothing of the barns and outhouses remained but the
frames, yet there were many evidences of the thrift and comfort of the
former occupant. A northern reaper, several horse rakes, ploughs of
improved patterns, and other modern implements of agriculture, betokened
a genuine farmer. We were told that he was driven from his home early in
the war, and had now found refuge among his friends in New Hampshire.
But the houses of the southerners had not been exempt from the general
devastation, and some who had sought refuge in Richmond had left their
homes to ruin. The people were evidently strongly "secesh," although
some of them professed to be glad to see us.

It cannot be said that the presence of our army afforded them great
protection, for the men, unused to the strict discipline which afterward
prevailed, coolly appropriated whatever articles seemed to them to be of
use either for the present or the future. It was amusing to see the
soldiers of some of the divisions in which less than the usual
discipline prevailed, peering and creeping about wherever there seemed a
prospect of plunder. Now one would pass with a pair of chickens; next,
one bringing a clothes line; then one with part of an old table, and
still another with half a dozen eggs. This system of plunder was at
length checked, in a measure at least. Fowls, eggs and potatoes could be
purchased of the people at fair rates, while rebel currency could be
bought for silver at a very considerable discount. Twenty-five cent and
one cent shinplasters were brought into camp and laughed at by men who
were afterward glad to get shinplasters from another manufactory.

To Fairfax Court House was but a short distance; and a ride to the
village afforded a pleasant gallop of a morning. The place, and the
country half a mile on each side, was occupied by McCall's division. The
village was pleasantly located on high ground, surrounded by fine
groves. It contained some pretty residences, which were occupied by
officers as head-quarters: their horses, in some instances, being
picketed on the porticos, and in others in the kitchens. The village was
nearly deserted by its own people, not more than fifty of the original
inhabitants being left, though the population of the town before the war
was nearly six hundred. Houses which were deserted were generally
stripped of everything. The court house was a solid old brick building
of very limited dimensions, with a little bell swinging in a comical
looking steeple. The court house was by no means an exception to the
general rule of destruction; the seats were torn out, and the judge's
bench had been split in pieces, and nearly all carried away by pockets
full, as relics. At one of the houses where the family still remained, a
party reined up and made some inquiries of the _pater familias_, a
hangdog looking specimen, with an old slouched hat covered to the crown
with rusty crape, a mark of second-hand gentility in these parts. He
said that "this yer war" had caused such a famine among the people, that
nearly all of them had been obliged to leave; some had gone to
Washington and some to Richmond, "a right smart lot of them had gone to
Richmond." He had "reckoned onct or twict" that he would have to go too,
but he "had succeeded in hanging on so long."

Our division was reviewed by General McClellan, who was received with
enthusiasm. Although many of us were familiar with the appearance of the
Commander-in-Chief, this was his first appearance to us as a division.
The General appeared a man below the medium height, with broad
shoulders, full chest and a round pleasing face relieved by a heavy
moustache. He sat his horse well and rode with great speed. While his
appearance and address were pleasing, there seemed in his smooth face
and mild eye nothing to indicate a man of brilliant genius or great
purpose.

At length the council of corps commanders had rendered its decision, and
the grand campaign of the Virginian Peninsula was planned. On the
morning of the fourteenth of March, with buoyant hopes and exulting
anticipations of a "quick, sharp and decisive," and as we devoutly
believed, a successful campaign, we left our camp at Flint Hill. It had
few charms for us, and we were glad to leave it. How little we yet knew
of real campaigning. Although we had notice several hours beforehand
that we were to move by daylight, yet many, indeed, the majority of us,
marched that morning without breakfast.

No morning sun cheered us as the day began, but the sky was hung with
heavy clouds. A drizzling rain, now diminishing almost to a heavy mist,
and now coming in fresh showers, made the marching heavy and unpleasant.
Grandly appeared that majestic army as it filed down the turnpike to
Alexandria. At times the elevation of the road afforded a view of the
mighty column for miles to the front, and at other times we could see it
pouring onward an endless stream of cavalry, infantry, artillery and
wagons, far from the rear.

So grand a spectacle had never been witnessed on this continent before.
Our march was rapid and we made no halt for dinner: those who went
without breakfast had poor chance for coffee that day.

Towards evening the rain increased, and as we drew off into a piece of
woods five miles out from Alexandria, the rain came down in sheets. Near
our halting place were some deserted houses. No sooner had we stopped
than began the work of destruction, afterward so familiar to us, and in
less than an hour there was not a board or timber left of either
building. The ground, although quite uneven and sloping, soon became so
flooded that tents, even when they could be pitched, were untenable. The
men attempted to build fires, but in most instances the floods of water
quenched the flames. Some, however, succeeded in starting huge fires,
and around these stood the men during the whole night, while the tempest
poured in torrents upon them. A few of the officers of the division,
among whom was one who afterward became noted for looking out for and
providing good things for his regiment as quartermaster, sought refuge
in a house not far off, where, for the moderate sum of twenty-five cents
each, they were allowed by the people sleeping room upon the floor.
Never since the times of Pharaoh was an army so thoroughly drenched.
During more than three years campaigning in the field our boys never
forgot that night; and to this day they frequently refer to the
disagreeable experience in what they not inappropriately term "Camp
Misery." Here, in "Camp Misery," we remained several days, waiting to
embark for Fortress Monroe.

Without doubt, the rebels all this time knew of our destination; for the
people among whom we were encamped were by no means our friends or
indifferent to the success of the rebels, and the point of our
destination was well known and freely spoken of among them.

CHAPTER IV.

THE ARMY TRANSFERRED TO THE PENINSULA.

Embarking for the Peninsula--Mount Vernon--On the
Potomac--Hampton--In camp--Orders to march--A night visit to
Fortress Monroe--The advance--A sifting--A Quaker battery--At
Newport News--Compliments of the Teaser.

On Sunday morning, March 23d, we marched to Alexandria. The whole of our
division, and of the other divisions of Keyes' corps, were there,
besides part of Heintzelman's corps and other troops. In the course of
the afternoon, this great body of men was embarked upon the transports.
The vessels having received their lading, swung out upon the river and
laid at anchor during the night. Early in the morning the whole fleet
was under way, steaming down the river. We passed Mount Vernon--the
bells of the fleet tolling. The tomb lies in the midst of a clump of
firs just south and a little below the house; the mansion and the
grounds are nearly as they were left by Washington, and the whole looks
down upon the river, calling upon the passer-by for a thought upon the
great man whose dust lies beneath the fir trees. After passing Mount
Vernon, nothing of special interest was seen except the broad expanse of
waters of this magnificent stream. A few large mansions, a few inferior
houses, and now and then a little hamlet, appeared on the banks; and at
Aquia creek could be seen the insignificant earthworks that had covered
the few field pieces which for so many months had kept up an efficient
blockade of the Potomac.

How different was all this from our Hudson! The country bordering on the
river is beautiful; nature has done everything for it, but a cursed
institution has blighted it. There is not a country in the world where
nature has been more lavish with its blessings, and yet it is forsaken,
worn out, almost a wilderness. The magnificent rivers and unsurpassed
harbors of Virginia, its natural fertility and the mildness of its
climate, present natural advantages scarcely equaled by any country. As
we stood upon the deck of the steamer, watching and admiring the
ever-varying beauties of the noble stream, some one repeated these lines
from Barlow's _Columbiad_:

"Thy capes, Virginia, towering from the tide,
Raise their blue banks, and slope thy barriers wide,
To future sails unfold a fluvian way,
And guard secure thy multifluvian bay,
That drains uncounted realms and here unites
The liquid mass from Alleganian hights.
York leads his way embanked in flowery pride,
And noble James falls winding by his side;
Back to the hills, through many a silent vale,
Wild Rappahannock seems to lure the sail;
Patapsco's bosom courts the hand of toil;
Dull Susquehanna laves a length of soil;
But mightier far, in sea-like azure spread,
Potowmac sweeps his earth disparting bed."

At night we were on the broad Chesapeake. A stiff breeze set our fleet
rocking, but we slept quietly, leaving the waves to take care of
themselves and the pilots to take care of the boats. Reveille awoke us
in the morning to discover on the one side of us the world-renowned
Fortress Monroe and on the other the equally famous Monitor. At our bow
lay the village of Hampton--or rather the chimneys and trees of what had
been Hampton. Orders came for us to disembark here, and we were soon
among the debris of the town. A sadder commentary on war could hardly be
found than the ruins of this beautiful village. A forest of shade trees
and chimneys marked the place where a few months before had stood one of
the most ancient villages in America. Hyacinths and daffodils, peach
trees and roses, were in bloom in the deserted and fenceless gardens;
and the dark green leaves of the japonica and laurel covered many a heap
of unsightly rubbish.

The walls of the old church, the most ancient in the State, stood like
silent witnesses against the reckless spirit of destruction of the
rebels. Although not large, the church had evidently been a fine old
structure, having the form of a Greek cross. About it were the graves of
the forefathers of the village, reposing under the shadow of those old
trees. Many of the tablets were ancient, dating back as far as 1706.

[Illustration: THE OLD CHURCH AT HAMPTON.]

The whole army was pouring out upon this shore, and at Fortress Monroe.
Dense masses of infantry, long trains of artillery and thousands of
cavalry, with unnumbered army wagons and mules, were mingled in grand
confusion along the shore; the neighing of horses, the braying of mules,
the rattle of wagons and artillery, and the sound of many voices,
mingled in one grand inharmonious concert.

Our division marched along a pleasant route to a field about midway
between Fortress Monroe and Newport News. We rested until March 26th,
when an order came at midnight for the army to march very early in the
morning. We were short of some medical stores and quartermasters'
supplies, and officers at once mounted their horses to ride through the
thick darkness to Fortress Monroe, to procure the needed articles. Along
the road men were already cooking their breakfasts, and artillery was
hurrying towards Newport News. At short intervals along the road,
sentinels were posted; and as the sounds of the horses' hoofs were
heard, the sharp command rung out through the darkness, "Halt! who comes
there?" and the galloping horses would suddenly halt at long distance
from the sentry.

"Friends with the countersign."

"Dismount and advance one; and give the countersign."

One of the parties, leaving his horse with the other, would advance and
give the required word, and on we rode again until suddenly halted by a
similar warning. As we approached the fortress, the sentinels were more
frequent, until, as we came within half a mile of our destination, the
guards were posted so frequently that we had hardly passed one, before
the sharp command to "Halt!" was heard again. We crossed the drawbridge,
and at length found ourselves in the little village in rear of the fort.
Passing here many sentinels who examined us very carefully, we reached
the door of the citadel. Here we were halted by a sentinel, and each
examined for the countersign. The sentinel called the corporal of the
guard; who after satisfying himself that we were Union officers shouted
to the sergeant. The great iron door ground upon its massive hinges as
it swung open just far enough to permit the sergeant to squeeze through,
and again it was closed, and the heavy bolts rung as they flew back to
their places. The sergeant, after asking a few questions, went back into
the fort, and soon returned with the officer of the guard, who, after
receiving the countersign, questioned us closely as to our business, and
who we were. Satisfied, at length he ordered a soldier to take our
horses, the heavy door slowly opened, and we were admitted within the
walls. Such were the precautions in admitting strangers to the
stronghold.

At six o'clock the division was in line and on the road. The morning was
indescribably beautiful. The vapors that rose from the broad expanse of
waters were tinged with a thousand gorgeous hues as they rolled away,
dispersed by the morning sun; and the tall yellow pines were crowned
with rich golden coronals of light. The road was perfectly level and
dry, and the country delightful. Long rows of locusts and pines lined
the sides of the road, and the rich groves of oak just sending forth
their foliage, were beautifully interspersed with the holly, with its
bright red berries and rich evergreen leaves. Peach orchards in full
bloom added to the beauty of the scene, and when at times we could see
the lines of troops, two and three miles in extent, their muskets
glittering in the bright sunlight, the enthusiasm of the men was
unbounded.

All the bridges over the route had been destroyed by the enemy, but
pioneers advanced at the head of the column, and as the bridges were all
small they were quickly repaired. A march of a few miles brought us in
sight of the James river; a noble stream, at least five miles wide at
this point. Not far from the shore appeared the masts of the U. S.
frigate Cumberland, sunk in the memorable fight with the Merrimac. As
our march led us along the banks, the views were charming. On one hand
was the noble river, and on the other the orchards and groves. Deserted
houses, and gardens blooming with hyacinths and other blossoms of early
spring, were passed. On the opposite side of the river lay a rebel
gunboat, watching our movements.

Our division, Smith's, had taken the lead on the James river road, while
Porter's division had marched upon Great Bethel. After a march of
fifteen miles, our division was drawn up in line of battle near Warwick.
Porter's division had already reached Great Bethel, on our right, and we
could see huge columns of smoke rising in that direction, and hear the
roar of artillery. An aide dashed up and informed General Davidson that
the enemy were in line of battle ready to receive us. Soon the order
came to advance; the line swept onward through the woods and over a
cleared field, but found no foe. A few cavalry pickets only were seen,
and a shell from one of our Parrott guns set them flying towards
Yorktown. We passed through the confederate encampments where their
fires were still blazing, but soon turned round and bivouacked on ground
last night occupied by rebels.

In this advance or reconnoissance of the whole army, the qualities of
the individual soldiers composing it were brought out in bold relief.
The effect on our own division was marked. During the months we had been
in winter quarters, many officers and men had established marvelous
reputations for bravery and hardihood, merely by constantly heralding
their own heroism. But from this time these doughty heroes went back.
Officers suddenly found cause for resigning; and enlisted men managed to
get sent to the rear, and never showed their faces at the front again.
On the contrary, some who were really invalids insisted on dragging
themselves along with the column, fearful that an engagement might take
place in which they would not participate. A sifting process was thus
commenced throughout the whole division, and to its honor the poltroons
were very soon sifted out, and from that time forth, Smith's division
never afforded a comfortable resting place for men of doubtful courage.
"They went out from us, because they were not of us."

Next morning we retired over the road upon which we had advanced, and
encamped near Newport News. As we passed this place on our outward
march, we saw at a distance what appeared to be a heavy gun, but as we
approached it proved to be a large cart, on which was mounted a great
wooden mortar, which had, perhaps, been used by negroes for cracking
corn. When we returned a hog's head was fixed in the mouth of the
mortar. "There," remarked an officer, "is the first Quaker we have seen
on the Peninsula." "You must sketch it," said the colonel of the
Seventy-seventh, and the officer obeyed.

[Illustration: THE QUAKER AT NEWPORT NEWS.]

The division encamped upon a low plain covered with sedges and reeds, a
good enough encampment while the dry weather lasted, but when the rain
came in floods two nights after we pitched our tents here, the whole
division was inundated, and we moved to higher and better ground.

The masts of the Cumberland greeted our eyes whenever we turned toward
the river, and the rebel gunboats made short excursions toward our side
of the stream. One day large numbers of men, mostly from the Vermont
brigade, were on the shoals of the river bathing and gathering oysters.
The gunboat Teazer discovering them, steamed down toward them, and threw
some heavy shells, shrieking and cracking among them, causing great
consternation among the bathers, and some confusion and much amusement
on shore.

CHAPTER V.

YORKTOWN.

The advance to Yorktown--A thunder storm--"Reliable
contrabands"--Facing the enemy--A strong position--The Union
line--A rebel welcome--Digging--On picket--A dreary country--An
enterprising planter--Active work--Battle of Lee's Mills--Charge
of the Vermont brigade--Progress of the siege--Ravages of
disease--A front seat--Short supplies--The rebels
withdraw--Entering the strongholds--Infernal machines--March to
Williamsburgh--Victims of disease.

At length, on the 4th of April, the army was put in motion for Yorktown.
The General-in-Chief had arrived at Fortress Monroe the evening before,
and at once the army became the scene of prodigious activity. Keyes'
corps, our own division in advance, took the road along the banks of the
James river. The rest of the army, headed by Porter's division, advanced
on the more direct road to Yorktown, through Great Bethel, accompanied
by General McClellan.

The day being clear and warm, the men soon began to realize the
difficulty of transporting large amounts of clothing and camp equipage
on their shoulders, and the roadsides were strewn with blankets and
overcoats, dress coats and pants. The bushes and trees for miles along
the route were thickly hung with articles of clothing, mostly new, and
all good. Soldiers who had put on their marching suit would fall out of
the ranks, the knapsack would quickly disgorge a new coat and pants, the
wearers would as quickly divest themselves of the soiled garments and
replace them with the new ones, the others being left on the ground.
Whenever a halt was ordered this shifting process became general.

The roads, which at first were dry and firm, were as we advanced badly
cut up, and great difficulty was experienced in getting the trains
along.

An advance of ten miles brought us in front of Young's Mills, a strongly
fortified position five or six miles from Yorktown. The corps was drawn
up in line of battle and cavalry sent to reconnoiter the position. The
works were deserted, but camp fires still blazed in them. Here we rested
for the night. At daylight next morning the advance was renewed. The
roads were even worse than the day before. Infantry could get along well
enough, but artillery and army wagons had a hard time of it. Each piece
of artillery made the road worse, until the axles dragged in a river of
mud. We passed the little village of Warwick Court House. There were
here a little brick court house, a jail and a clerk's office seven feet
by ten, a store and a tavern. There were also two small dwelling houses.

After a march of three miles the division was drawn up in line of
battle. We had reached the hostile works before the rest of the army.
Skirmishers were sent to the front and we advanced slowly and cautiously
through the woods. A terrific thunder storm burst upon us and the roar
of the heavenly artillery seemed to mock any efforts at martial
grandeur. Seldom, if ever, had we of the northern states witnessed such
an exhibition of sublimity and terrible magnificence of the workings of
the elements. The vivid lightning and terrific peals of thunder seemed
to the men the presage of deadly work to come. The advance was very
difficult, the woods being marshy and filled with tangles and briars.
The men were scratched and bleeding. The long line of battle presently
emerged from the woods and occupied a clearing, in the center of which
was a mansion, the late residence of a rebel officer. Some scouts
brought from the house a couple of negresses whom they led to General
Keyes. They communicated their information with an earnestness that
proved their sympathies were not with their late master. It was a
picturesque scene; those tall negresses with their bright red turbans
and long white woolen gowns, telling with earnest gestures what they
knew of the position of the enemy, while the generals and their staffs
listened eagerly to their words. They said that when we passed over the
little hill just in front, we should be under fire from the batteries of
the rebels, who were in large force; "but laws a massa, noting like all
dese yer," said they, pointing to the troops of our division.

Cautiously the clearing was crossed, the long line of battle moving in
beautiful order--Kennedy's, Ayres' and Wheeler's batteries each
accompanying a brigade.

Again we entered a heavy pine wood in which the swamp was deeper than
ever, and advancing through it we came face to face with the enemy.
Warwick creek, a marshy stream which had been dammed by the rebels,
raising its waters into ponds and deep morasses, was between us and
their works, and the accessible points were guarded by artillery. Two
regiments were at once deployed as skirmishers and sent in advance, and
our batteries were planted along the edge of the wood with the line of
the infantry. Only Smith's division was in line, the others were waiting
on the road for orders to come up.

Along the road, for more than half the distance back to Young's Mills,
the brigades of Couch's and Kearney's divisions were resting on their
arms, while cannon by scores waited to be called into action.

The enemy was not slow to acknowledge our presence, and as a token of
greeting sent some twelve-pound shells crashing among the trees about
us. The firing now became brisk on our side, and the rebels replied
spiritedly with their twelve-pounders. Hundreds of men were now called
up from the rear brigades and detailed to build corduroy roads. Trees
were cut down and trimmed of their branches, and laid side by side so as
to form a kind of bridge over the swamp to enable more artillery to come
up. The rapidity with which such roads were built was marvelous.

By this time the column on the right had reached the works in front of
the town. The position here was also strong. Although the Warwick did
not interpose, yet high bluffs, crowned with redoubts in which were
mounted heavy guns, frowned upon the assailants. Thus far it appears
that the leaders of our army had been totally ignorant of the position
and strength of the enemy, and had led it up to the works, blindly
feeling the way without maps or guides. (McClellan's Report.) The
defensive works were now found to consist of a series of redoubts and
rifle pits stretching across the Peninsula, seven miles in extent, with
high bluffs on the right and Warwick creek in their front on the left.

The position occupied by our division was known as Lee's Mills, and to
our right, nearly three miles, was the village of Yorktown. The line of
battle was now arranged in the following order from right to left:
Heintzelman's corps, consisting of Porter's, Hooker's and Hamilton's
divisions, were in front of the town; Sedgwick's division of Sumner's
corps on the left of them, and Keyes' corps, comprising Smith's and
Couch's division (Casey's division arrived in a few days), held the
position on the Warwick at Lee's Mills.

The position of the enemy was, without doubt, one of great strength, and
everything had been done to render it more formidable. Yet they were by
no means too strong or sufficiently well garrisoned to resist an assault
from such a body of men as now appeared in their front. That there were
weak points in this line of defenses, stretching seven miles, was
afterwards demonstrated; and that the forces behind the works were by no
means sufficiently numerous, at the time of our approach, to afford
formidable resistance at all points in their extensive line, is now well
known.

It appears from the official report of the rebel General Johnston, who
then commanded all the rebel forces in Virginia, that at the time of the
appearance of our army before Yorktown the works were defended by only
about eleven thousand men, and that even after he had reinforced the
garrisons by the troops which he was hurrying from Manassas, his army
amounted to only fifty thousand men.

The artillery duel was kept up until night. We had lost some men during
the day, but not so many as we had feared. First a poor fellow from the
Seventh Maine, his heart and left lung torn out by a shell; then one
from the Forty-ninth New York, shot in the head; the next was from our
own regiment, Frank Jeffords, who had to suffer amputation of a leg;
then a man from the Forty-ninth was sent to the rear with his heel
crushed. In all, our loss did not exceed twenty men. The casualties in
the other brigades were less than in our own.

As night approached, the firing gradually ceased, and nothing but the
scattering shots of the skirmishers was heard. We lay down in the swamp
with no tents, and many of us without food. Officers and men built
platforms of logs and bark to keep out of the water where they were not
fortunate enough to find a dry place. General Smith bivouacked near the
line of battle, making his bed at the foot of a pine tree, with nothing
but his overcoat for shelter. It may not be amiss to say here that
General Smith, unlike most gentlemen with stars on their shoulders, was
always in the habit of sleeping at the very front.

All the following day, and the next, the firing was kept up steadily on
both sides. At night showers of cannister and grape would fall in our
camp, and fortunate was he who had a good tree or stump between him and
the rebel works against which to lay his head while he slept.

We at length became so accustomed to the continual skirmishing, that
unless the firing was in fierce volleys we took no notice of it. The
boys of the Thirty-third New York being on the skirmish line on the 8th,
charged a rifle pit with shouts and hurrahs, and drove the rebels from
it. An attempt was made to retake it, but the boys held their ground.

The men performed herculean labors on the roads, and in throwing up
earthworks. No rest was allowed. When not on picket they were cutting
down trees or throwing up earthworks or building bridges. Such constant
labor soon began to exhaust the strength of the stoutest, and hundreds
of them yielded to disease who supposed themselves capable of enduring
any amount of hardships. Yet there was now and then a grimly gay episode
in this hard routine. Here is an incident that occurred two or three
days after we approached the works, and affords a good sample of
picketing between us and the forts. Our pickets were within speaking
distance of those of the enemy; each party kept, if possible, snugly
behind some big stump or tree, out of the reach of his disagreeable
neighbors. A good deal of hard talk had passed between one of our
pickets and one of the "Johnnies." Finally the rebel thrust his hand
beyond his tree holding in it a bottle, and shaking it, challenged the
Yankee to come and take it--"_crack_" went the Yankee's rifle at the
hand. "Ha, ha! why don't you hit it? What do you think of Bull Run?"
"How do you like Fort Donelson?" responded the Yankee.

While this colloquy was going on, Yankee number two crept round behind a
log, and drawing on the southerner, blazed away at him. The son of
chivalry clapped his hand to his shoulder and ran off howling. "There,
you fool," shouted Yankee number one, "I told you that blind man would
be shooting you pretty soon."

The country about us was uncultivated and unhealthy. The lands were low
and swampy, and mostly covered with a heavy growth of yellow pines. The
few remaining inhabitants were mostly women, negresses and children; now
and then a disabled specimen of poor white trash, or a farmer too infirm
to be of service in the rebel army, was to be met with. All were alike
destitute of enterprise, and the houses upon the "plantations" were of
the meanest order, raised three or four feet above the ground upon posts
without the usual foundation of stone. The "plantations" consisted
usually of about ten or twenty acres of cleared land in the midst of the
forest, with narrow roads among the pines leading to neighboring
plantations.

The writer inquired of the proprietor of one of these isolated spots,
who also had some forty negro women and children, how he managed to
support so large a family from the proceeds of so little land. "Well,"
said he, "I could not support them from the proceeds of the land alone,
but you see I sell a few negroes every year and buy corn with the money;
so with what we raise and what we get for the sale of the negroes, we
get along very well."

"But why do you not cut down some of this forest and till more land? You
own a large tract of land which is entirely worthless as it now is."

"There is where you are greatly mistaken, said the enterprising
southerner, my timber land is my best property." But of what use do you
make it? "Oh, I sell a great deal of wood. I take it to Fortress Monroe
and Hampton and get two dollars and a half a cord for it!"

The reader will perhaps understand the profits drawn from the wood
lands, when it is remembered that Fortress Monroe was twenty miles
distant.

Night attacks by the enemy became common; and it was not an unfrequent
occurrence for the whole division to be called suddenly to arms at
midnight and stand in line until morning. Skirmishes and sharpshooting
continued with little intermission; bullets of rebel riflemen whizzing
through our camps or unceremoniously entering our tents at all times.
Rebel gunboats approached the mouth of the Warwick and by their
assistance the rebel infantry attempted to turn our left flank, but the
troops of our division gallantly met their attack and drove them back.

This state of affairs continued until the 16th of April. That morning,
word passed through the division that we were to make an assault. Orders
came to move, and the division was massed near some ruins, known as "The
Chimneys," in front of one of the rebel forts; the Second brigade
holding the front line, supported by the First and Third brigades. As we
moved round to take our positions, an American eagle whirled above our
heads in elegant circles and at length floated away toward the south,
the boys swinging their hats and cheering the bird with loud huzzahs.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE VERMONTERS AT LEE'S MILLS.]

The fort in our front covered the road from Newport News to
Williamsburgh, and could we get possession of it we could turn the
flanks of the enemy, obliging him to abandon his position and enabling
us either to prevent his escape or to harass him in his flight. In front
of the fort the creek had been dammed and a deep morass interposed
between us and the works. General McClellan and his immense suite rode
to the point from which the attack was to be made, and communicating a
few minutes with Generals Keyes and Smith, left the field. Mott's
battery was now brought into position on the open plateau and opened a
fierce cannonade, to which the rebels replied with spirit, dismounting
one of our guns and killing several of the gunners at the very start.
Mott was reinforced by Kennedy's and Wheeler's batteries, and the
hostile guns were soon silenced. Our batteries then advanced within five
hundred yards of the fort, and the gray-coated rebels who were seen to
fill the woods, were soon dispersed. Two companies of troops, from the
Third Vermont, were now ordered forward. Down from the woods they came,
rushed into the water to their waists, and gallantly made for the rebel
rifle pits. The first line of the works was gained and then the second.
The fort was empty, but a ditch to their left was filled with men. They
poured a volley among them and the gray coats fled. Thus the fort was
actually in their possession, and was held for some minutes by the noble
fellows, but when they looked for support, none came. The three brigades
stood upon the opposite bank, ready to plunge through the stream, and
waiting with intense anxiety for the order, "forward;" but no order
came, and the brave Green Mountain boys who had so nobly performed their
part of the work, were forced to fall back under a galling fire from the
rebels, who rushed back to their pits as soon the Vermonters had left
them, pouring volley after volley into the retreating forces, who, their
ammunition spent, could not reply to the rebel fire. Before they were
able to reach the shelter of the woods, sad havoc was made in their
ranks. Skirmishing was kept up for some hours, by other regiments, but
with no result except the loss of men.

The following list of killed and wounded was obtained the next day after
the battle:

2d Vermont--1 killed.

3d Vermont--24 killed, 7 mortally wounded, 56 wounded,
1 missing.
4th Vermont--3 killed, 30 wounded.
5th Vermont--2 killed, 6 wounded.
6th Vermont--11 killed, 77 wounded.

Total loss to the brigade, 218.

Thus ended the fight known as the "Battle of Lee's Mills," a battle in
which two hundred men gallantly captured an important work of the enemy,
and thousands of their companions burning with desire to share in their
glory stood by and saw them abandon it! Why the other brigades were not
ordered forward has never been explained satisfactorily. That General
Smith would gladly have sent them forward we earnestly believe; but we
now know that General McClellan desired that a general engagement should
not be brought on at that time.

The wounded men exhibited the same bravery, while their wounds were
being cared for, that characterized their brilliant charge. Men badly
mutilated, with bullets in their heads, or breasts, or limbs, refused to
receive attention from the surgeon who dressed their wounds, until their
more unfortunate companions were cared for. "Don't mind me, doctor,
there are others hurt worse than I am," said many a brave fellow, as he
lay upon the ground bleeding from his wounds.

The following incident connected with this noble charge will be
remembered by all who were at that time members of Smith's division, and
by hundreds who saw accounts of it in the newspapers of the day:

Private William Scott, of Company K, Third Vermont, was, in the autumn
of 1861, found asleep at his post on the picket line. It was a grave
fault; but the weary soldier, inexperienced in the service, and
unaccustomed to such night vigils, in an evil hour yielded to the
demands of tired nature, little thinking that the lives of hundreds of
his comrades were periled by his unfaithfulness. He was tried by a
court-martial and sentenced to be shot. The sentence was approved, and
at the appointed time he was brought forth to execution. General Smith,
desiring to impress upon the minds of his men the terrible consequences
of such an offense, formed his troops in line. The culprit was brought
out before them, and led to the place of execution. The guard, with
loaded muskets, stood ready to execute the dreadful sentence, which was
read before all the troops. All waited in breathless expectation for the
order to fire; but instead another paper was read. It was a pardon from
the President! Then the wildest shouts of joy ran along the line. Shout
after shout arose from the division, and hundreds blessed the name of
President Lincoln.

There were many circumstances to render this a case of peculiar
interest. It was the first sentence of the kind; it was at the beginning
of the war, when a soldier's life was regarded of value, and when all
eyes were riveted upon the army, and every incident was of interest. It
was also the first instance of the kind in which the executive clemency
had been exercised. So near had the hour of execution arrived when the
President signed the pardon, that, fearing it might not be received in
season, he took his carriage and drove to camp, to assure himself that
the man's life should be spared.

"I will show President Lincoln that I am not afraid to die for my
country," said the grateful soldier; and well did he fulfill his
promise. Among the bravest of those two hundred heroes who crossed the
swamp at Lee's Mills, was William Scott, of Company K, Third Vermont.
But he was brought back a corpse. He had shown the President that he was
not afraid to die for his country. He was one of the foremost in the
charge, and one of the first to fall. His comrades made his grave under
the shadow of the tall pines, and as they folded his blanket around him,
and lowered him to his resting place, tears stood upon those brown
cheeks; but the tears of sorrow were mingled with tears of joy, when
they thought of his glorious death, and his narrow escape from an
ignominious fate, and again, in their hearts, they blessed the man who
was always the soldier's friend.

We resumed our place the next day after the battle, on the front line,
and commenced digging.

Fierce night sorties were again made by the enemy and bravely resisted
by our boys, who continued the work regardless of these annoyances. Only
one fight occurred on our part of the line after the 16th, in which we
lost any number of men. On the 28th the First brigade had a skirmish in
which we lost one killed and half a dozen wounded. Among the latter was
Lieutenant, afterward Colonel Milliken, of the Forty-third New York. A
reconnoissance on the left about the same time, resulted in finding the
rebels in considerable force, and a loss of two good soldiers to the
Seventy-seventh New York. In the meantime earthworks of great strength
were being thrown up on the right of the line before Yorktown, and
everything was being put in a complete state of preparation for the
grand bombardment. Enormous siege guns of one hundred and even two
hundred pound calibre, and immense mortars were brought up and mounted
in the earthworks, and it was thought that with the powerful means we
were using the fall of Yorktown was only a question of time.

Our losses by the rebels before Yorktown were not great, but the ravages
by disease were fearful. Many thousands of noble fellows who would
gladly have braved the dangers of the battle-field, were carried to the
rear with fevers engendered by the deadly malaria of the swamps, from
which few ever recovered sufficiently to rejoin the ranks; and thousands
of others were laid in humble graves along the marshy borders of the
Warwick or about the hospitals at Young's Mills. For a month the men
were almost continually under arms; often called in the middle of the
night to resist the attempts of the enemy to force our line under cover
of the thick darkness, standing in line of battle day after day and
digging at earthworks night after night.

During the thirty days of the siege we had twenty days of rain. Thunder
storms followed each other in quick succession, with lightnings more
vivid than we had ever seen at the north. Men lay down to rest at night
with their equipments buckled about them and wet to their skins. Men
unaccustomed to the hardships of campaigning could not endure such
exposure.

A few divisions of the army performed by far the greater part of the
labor, either because they had at first reached positions which imposed
greater toil, or because greater confidence was reposed in them. Our own
division was one of those upon which the duties imposed were too great
for men to perform; yet the men would have resented being sent to the
rear, and it was said that General Smith remarked that "he had spoken
for a front seat for his boys and he intended to keep it."

Added to all the exposures and hardships of the siege, there was a
deplorable want of proper commissary and medical supplies. While the men
were supplied with fair rations of hard bread, vegetables were unknown
among us, and the supply of fresh meat wholly inadequate. In the Medical
Department the greatest difficulty was experienced in obtaining
supplies, and indeed it was impossible to get them. Not that regimental
surgeons did not use their utmost endeavor to procure them, but as
brigade and regimental commissaries could not obtain supplies of food
which were not furnished to the army at all, so surgeons could not
procure medicines and other necessaries which were locked in the
storehouses in Washington. This subject will be more fully alluded to in
another place, and it is to be hoped that the responsibility of this
criminal negligence to supply the army with medical and hospital stores
may fall where it belongs.

Thus, with their minds wrought up to a continual state of excitement,
with constant exposure to tempests and malaria, with excessive and
exhausting labors, and with improper food and scarcity of medicine,
sickness and death swept over us like a pestilence.

At length, after a month of toil and exposure almost unprecedented,
after losing nearly one-fifth of our magnificent army by disease and
death, our batteries were finished, the enormous siege guns were
mounted, and the thirteen inch mortars in position. The army looked
anxiously for the grand _finale_ of all these extensive preparations.
Men had lost the enthusiasm which prevailed when we landed upon the
Peninsula, and a smile was seldom seen; but a fixed and determined
purpose to succeed still appeared in their faces. Now at length we were
ready; and the countenances of the soldiers began to lighten up a
little. But as the sun rose on the morning of the 4th of May, behold,
the rebels had vanished, and with them our hopes of a brilliant victory!
Unfortunately for our hopes of a great success at Yorktown, the rebel
generals had shown themselves unwilling to afford us such an opportunity
by waiting for us longer; and during the night of the 3d and 4th they
had evacuated the place.

They had gained a month of time for strengthening the defenses about
Richmond, and for concentrating their forces there. Now they were ready
to fall back without testing our magnificent works and huge guns, and
lead us into the swamps of Chickahominy; where they hoped that the fever
would complete the ghastly work already commenced at Yorktown.

During the night of the evacuation, the roar of artillery exceeded
anything that had been heard before. From one end of the line to the
other the shells and shot poured into our camps, and the arches of fire
that marked the courses of the shells, with flame spouting from the
mouths of the guns, created a magnificent pyrotechnic display. But at
daylight, orderlies flew from regiment to regiment with the startling
intelligence that the beleaguered works were deserted, and with orders
to occupy them at once. Smith's division hastened to cross over the dam,
and we found ourselves in the strongholds that we had so long invested.
As the Seventy-seventh regiment passed along one of the roads leading
among the intrenchments, a sharp report like that of a pistol was heard
at the feet of those in the center of the column, and directly under the
colors. The men scattered, and a piece of old cloth was seen lying on
the ground at the point from which the report emanated. Colonel McKean,
who was very near, lifted the cloth with the point of his sword, and
discovered a torpedo carefully buried in the ground, except a nipple
which had been filled with fulminating powder, which was covered by the
old cloth. The fuse only had exploded. Had the machine itself exploded,
it must have destroyed many of our men, our colonel among them. Other
regiments were not so fortunate as we were. Very many men were killed in
the streets and intrenchments by these torpedoes, which the enemy had
planted in the street at either end of the bridges, about springs, and
near the deserted guns. They were concealed beneath the ground with
great care, the capped nipple only rising above the surface, and this,
covered by an old rag or piece of bark thrown over it, exploded at the
slightest touch. These infernal machines were only one feature of the
general plan of our enemies to carry on a war by brutal, savage and
cowardly means. The starving of prisoners at Andersonville and
Salisbury, and the wholesale butchery at Fort Pillow, were other parts
of the same savage plan which was crowned by the fearful tragedy at
Ford's Theatre.

We made little delay among the rebel intrenchments; only long enough to
glance over the formidable works, where the enemy had abandoned
seventy-two pieces of artillery, mostly of heavy caliber, with immense
numbers of shovels, picks, wheelbarrows and other paraphernalia of an
army.

The division was at nine o'clock sent forward on the road toward
Williamsburgh; encountering, before it had proceeded far, a portion of
the rear-guard of the confederate army, which hastily fell back before
our advance. General Smith informed the Commander-in-Chief of the
encounter, who ordered Stoneman, with a regiment of cavalry, to give
chase to the retiring body, and, if possible, cut it off; but,
unfortunately, either from want of proper information in regard to the
roads, or from other hindrances, this was not effected. The division
pushed on over the road lately traversed by the rebels, the men
overcoming all obstacles that had been thrown in their way, in their
anxiety to overtake the foe.

The scenery, as the troops passed, was indeed charming beyond
description. Magnificent forests of oak and pine, interspersed with
clearings, the residences of farmers, with fine fields, covered with the
green blades of the newly springing wheat, met the view along the road;
while the woods were adorned with innumerable flowers. The tall dogwood,
with its clusters of large flowers like swarms of white butterflies,
mingled with the Judas tree, whose leafless boughs were densely covered
with racemes of purple blossoms. The azalia and the honeysuckle beneath
formed a delightful contrast with the gorgeous floral display above.

Thus the division was hurried on, until at evening it came upon the
rebel works at Williamsburgh. As our forces approached Williamsburgh,
the cavalry came upon the enemy, and a sharp skirmish ensued, in which
we lost about fifty in killed and wounded, and the rebels left as many
on the field. The charge was made by the Sixth cavalry and Gibbon's
battery, driving the rebels back. They, in their turn, being reinforced,
forced our troops back; one of our guns, from which all the horses were
shot, being abandoned. Each party strove hard for the possession of the
gun, but night closed upon the contest, leaving it in possession of
neither. In the meantime, the men of our division too sick to march were
being cared for by our medical officers. Hundreds of the men of our
division lay sick with typhoid fever and other equally dangerous
maladies. These were all taken to the hospital which had been commenced
a day or two previous, about a mile and a half from our camp. The whole
day was occupied in removing these men. Of those sent to this hospital,
as of the many previously sent to the hospital at Young's Mills and
Fortress Monroe, few ever returned.

CHAPTER VI.

WILLIAMSBURGH.

Battle of Williamsburgh--The army not organized--The medical
department--Hooker's gallant fight--Hancock's charge--McClellan
at Yorktown--Night on the battle-field.

Early on the morning of the 5th skirmishing commenced. The division of
Hooker was posted on the left of the road from Lee's Mills to
Williamsburgh, and our own division held the road, stretching mostly to
the right of it. Fort Magruder was directly in front of us, commanding
the road. All that part of the army which had advanced on the right,
that is, on the road from Yorktown, were massed as fast as they arrived,
awaiting orders. Great delay was experienced in getting the troops in
position, as there seemed to be no harmony of action. Every general of a
division seemed to do what pleased him, without orders from higher
authority.

General Sumner was in command of the troops on the field, but from some
cause seemed not to be able to combine his forces in such a manner as to
bear effectually upon the lines of the enemy. One of the serious
difficulties was getting artillery to the front. The roads had become
very muddy from the rain during the night, and were blocked up with the
immense multitude of wagons, so that artillery could not pass. Here was
sadly exemplified the grand defect of our army--the want of
organization.

Our army was an enormous heterogeneous mass, without any pretense of a
system to centralize and harmonize its movements. An army is not
organized by throwing it into brigades and divisions; this is but the
first and easiest step. The _departments_ must be so organized that each
performs well its part, without interference with another. In this case
the quartermaster's department sadly interfered with the others. Every
regimental quartermaster was for himself, and, as a natural result, the
immense trains were thrown into great disorder, impeding the movements
of all the other branches of the service. No one seemed at liberty to
bring order out of this confusion; and thus artillery and wagons
remained stuck in the mud. This same confusion prevailed in all the
departments. We shall take the liberty here to quote at some length from
the remarks of the Prince De Joinville, who was at that time a member of
General McClellan's staff, an able soldier and an ardent friend of the
Commander-in-Chief. Says the Prince:

"The American system of 'every man for himself,' individually
applied by officers and soldiers of each corps to one another,
is also applied by the corps themselves to their reciprocal
relations. There is no special branch of the service whose duty
it is to regulate, centralize and direct the movements of the
army. In such a case as this of which we are speaking, we should
have seen the general staff of a French army taking care that
nothing should impede the advance of the troops; stopping a file
of wagons here and ordering it out of the road to clear the way;
sending on a detail of men there to repair the roadway, or draw
a cannon out of the mud in order to communicate to every corps
commander the orders of the general-in-chief. Here nothing of
the sort is done.

"The want of a general staff was not less severely felt in
obtaining and transmitting the information necessary, at the
moment of an impending action. No one knew the country; the maps
were so defective that they were useless. Little was known about
the fortified battle-field on which the army was about to be
engaged. Yet this battle-field had been seen and reconnoitered
by the troops which had taken part in Stoneman's skirmish.
Enough was surely known of it for us to combine a plan of
attack, and assign to every commander his own part of the work.
No, this was not so. Every one kept his observations to himself;
not from any ill-will, but because it was nobody's special duty
to do this general work. It was a defect in the organization,
and with the best elements in the world, an army that is not
organized cannot expect great success. It is fortunate if it
escapes disaster."

We may be pardoned for continuing this digression from the narrative, to
speak particularly of the disorder in the medical department. The
surgeons of regiments were, as a general rule, men of ability, and who
were earnestly devoted to the duties of their position. Of course, in so
large an army, there were some who were not fitted for their position,
either by ability or moral worth; these were exceptions. Yet, while
there was a general disposition prevailing in the department to make any
sacrifice or submit to any amount of fatigue, in order to relieve the
sufferings of those committed to their charge, they labored under the
greatest disadvantage from want of proper combination and coöperation in
the staff. Every man was for himself. Each regimental surgeon was
expected to look out for the wants of his own men; to erect his hospital
tents; to see that the wounded of his regiment were carried off the
field; to administer food, dress wounds, and attend to the operative
surgery. With all these divers cares, he could hardly be expected to
perform any duties well. When any combination of action was effected,
the organization was voluntary and temporary, and, of course, wanting in
order and efficiency. Added to these difficulties, the medical officer
found himself destitute of supplies, and seemingly without any prospect
of obtaining them.

It is true that the officers of the medical staff were generally
inexperienced in the duties of military surgery, so different from the
labors of the physician in civil life; yet, the great trouble was
without doubt at head-quarters. The department was directed by an
officer who had done good service in the Mexican war, but who by long
connection with the regular army, seemed to have become so wedded to the
formal precision of military routine, that no contingency was sufficient
to move him from his established habits. Here was occasion for
dispensing with formalities. Responsibilities should have been assumed,
and, if necessary, supplies should have been thrown into the army
broadcast, without thought of requisition or receipts. Under the
direction of the efficient and gentlemanly surgeon of volunteers, Dr.
Letterman, order was at length brought out of the confusion which
existed until the battle of Antietam; from which time the medical staff
became the most efficient ever known in any army.

To return to our narrative. By noon the battle raged furiously; Hooker's
division contesting the field nobly against superior numbers, while our
own division held the position on his right, but without coming to any
direct engagement aside from being subjected to the fire of artillery.
Hooker brought his men gallantly up to the work and at first forced the
enemy back, but in turn was driven from the ground he had taken, and
only by the most valorous fighting, prevented a rout.

The gallant general and his noble men held the ground alone until the
division was fearfully cut up. At length General Kearney, at the head of
his division, approached on the Lee's Mills road. General Sumner rode up
to him and said quietly, "General, do you know that Hooker is badly cut
up?" "No." "He is, and is falling back. Hurry on your division as fast
as possible." "How shall I reach him?" said Kearney. "Through yonder
strip of woods." Kearney now led his men forward at a rapid pace and
very soon came to the relief of the exhausted division. The troops of
Hooker were holding their ground against the enemy twenty thousand
strong. They had fought for hours with only nine thousand men.

General Hancock of our First brigade, at his own and General Smith's
request, was, at three o'clock, allowed to take his own and a part of
our Third brigade to the right of the line, where the position of the
enemy was very strong by nature, and which was on that account secured
with less care than the rest of the line.

A steep wooded bluff rose to a great height in our front, and a mill
pond lying at the foot of the bluff and newly dammed by the rebels,
served as a moat. Spanning the pond near the dam, was a bridge of logs
which they had neglected to destroy. Across this bridge and up a road
winding along the side of the bluff, the general led his troops, finding
the enemy upon the plateau above, occupying strong redoubts. Artillery
was brought to bear upon them and the rebels fled; our forces advancing
and occupying the works. The enemy was now reinforced by a brigade of
North Carolina troops and charged upon the federals. The Union troops
allowed them to approach very near, when they opened a tremendous fire
of musketry and artillery upon them. Still the rebels came on until they
were within thirty yards of our men. "Now, gentlemen, the bayonet!"
cried Hancock, as he rode along the line of battle close to the troops.
The men charged upon the rebels, who fell back before the shock, broke
and fled, leaving the broad, green wheat field strewed with their dead
and wounded.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF HANCOCK'S BRIGADE AT WILLIAMSBURGH]

While the fighting was going on, General Hancock had sent for the
remainder of our Third brigade. The order "forward, double quick" was
received by the men with one of those wild exulting shouts, such as is
only heard on the field of battle; and they rushed forward through the
liquid mud, each regiment striving which should first reach the field.
But as we reached the scene of conflict, the rebels had fled; leaving
the victory with the men in blue.

The regiments engaged in this brilliant affair were, the Forty-third New
York, the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, the Sixth Maine and Fifth Wisconsin,
of the First brigade, and the Thirty-third New York and Seventh Maine of
the Third brigade.

The rebels, outflanked by the gallant movement of Smith's division, were
glad to fall back from before Hooker and Kearney, and seek refuge behind
their works. Meanwhile the great body of the army had remained entirely
passive; not even having been brought into line of battle. Why some of
these troops were not called to the assistance of Hooker, or to render
the victory of Hancock more complete, we do not know.

Thus closed the battle of Williamsburgh; a battle fought by two
divisions and a part of a third, while the mass of the army remained as
idle spectators of the terrible scene. If less than twenty thousand men
could drive the rebels from their strong works, what could not that
grand army have done had it been brought into action!

General McClellan arrived on the field at five o'clock in the afternoon,
and was received with shouts of applause; but the fighting was then
over. The general had remained at Yorktown since the morning of the 4th,
to superintend personally the shipment of Franklin's division of twelve
thousand men; one-half of whom, in order that they might be in readiness
at any moment to proceed up the river and head off the enemy, had never
been allowed to disembark from the transports which brought them to
Yorktown. General McClellan's conduct in spending nearly two days in
overseeing personally the embarkation of half or even the whole of a
division of men, while one of the most important battles of the war was
in progress, leaving it to others to take care of the "little affair at
the front," has, by some, been severely censured; while others have as
earnestly claimed that the Commander-in-Chief had his own views of the
necessity of getting those troops off at once, and the necessity of
seeing that supplies of rations, ammunition and war material, were
forwarded, was imperative; and that we are to remember that the advance
was intrusted to General Sumner; a man in whose ability both he and the
army confided. The general telegraphed that night to the Secretary of
War: "After arranging for movements up the York river, I was sent for
here. I find General Joe Johnston in front of me in strong force,
probably greater a good deal than my own.... My entire force is
_undoubtedly considerably inferior to that of the rebels_, who will
fight well; but I will do all I can with the force at my disposal."

It was not known that night that we had won such a victory; but when, in
the morning, we found the rebels all gone, he telegraphed: "Every hour
proves our victory more complete."

In the light of this testimony of the Commander-in-Chief, what a noble
record had those three divisions that day made for themselves! They had,
according to these dispatches, fought with a force "greater a good deal"
than our entire army, and had won a complete victory!

Night closed upon the battle-field. Our division bivouacked around one
of the rebel redoubts. It was filled with rebel wounded, whose groans
and cries made the night hideous. The ground was a bed of liquid mud,
and the rain still poured. No fires were allowed, and the men stood
shivering all night rather than lie down in the mud.

The sun rose clear and bright next morning, and the whole army filed
into the works deserted by the enemy during the night, and occupied the
town of Williamsburgh, a mile or more from the battle-field. All the
public buildings in town were filled with the rebel wounded; and the
inhabitants were actively engaged in ministering to their wants. Here
the army remained three days, waiting for provisions to come up from
Yorktown, a distance of fifteen miles. It is a question, why troops, who
were afterward accustomed to carry four or even six days' rations, were
sent away from Yorktown with one.

CHAPTER VII.

THE MARCH UP THE PENINSULA AND THE ORGANIZATION OF THE SIXTH CORPS.

March up the Peninsula--Joy of the contrabands--Cumberland
Landing--The Sixth Corps organized--At White House--On the
Chickahominy--Fight at Mechanicsville--Battle of Hanover Court
House.

On the ninth of May, after a delay of three days, the Army of the
Potomac resumed the pursuit of Johnston's army. The day was fair and
bright, and the journey of fifteen miles, to troops as yet little inured
to the fatigues of long marches, bore severely upon them. We rested till
three o'clock next morning; when orders came to fall into line, and at
five we were again toiling over the road. After a hard day's march we
halted near New Kent Court House; where General Stoneman, with his
cavalry, had a day or two before overtaken the rear-guard of the enemy,
who gave him battle. Evidences of the engagement were to be seen all
about us, and many wounded cavalrymen were found in the neighboring farm
houses. We remained here over the Sabbath and the next day; glad of
rest, though anxious to be on the trail of the enemy.

General Franklin's division had already landed, and beaten the rebels at
West Point; and the flotilla laden with supplies had also ascended the
river thus far.

It was at New Kent Court House that the news of the destruction of the
Merrimac, and the possession of Norfolk by General Wool's forces, first
reached us, and our hearts swelled with joy at our successes. On the
13th we resumed the march; winding along the banks of the tortuous
Pamunkey, enchanted by the lovely scenery which constantly met our gaze.
The profusion of flowers in the forests, the bright green meadows, and
the broad fields of newly springing wheat, offered a perpetual charm;
and as we passed along, the women and negroes watched us with
conflicting sentiments of interest. All the white men capable of bearing
arms, and every able-bodied negro, had been swept along by the rebel
army in its retreat, and none but women and children and aged negroes
were now left along the route. At every house the alarmed white people
threw out the white flag in token of submission, as though their
protection from injury depended upon this symbol of peace.

Great numbers of negroes flocked to the roadside, to welcome the Union
army. Their expressions of joy at seeing us were wild and amusing. All
hoped we would shortly overtake and destroy the rebel army, their own
masters included. Those who had hitherto regarded the relation of master
and slave as one of mutual affection, had only to witness these unique
demonstrations of rejoicing at our approach, and the seemingly certain
destruction of the slave owners, to be convinced that the happiness and
contentment claimed for those in servitude was but a worthless fiction.
The negroes, gathering in crowds along the wayside, would grasp the
hands of the Union soldiers, calling down all manner of blessings upon
them, and leaping and dancing in their frantic delight.

One gray-haired old patriarch, surrounded by a numerous group of younger
chattels, who were leaping and shouting, exclaimed, in a loud voice,
"Bress de Lord! I'se been praying for yous all to come all dis time; and
now I'se glad yous got so fur; and I pray de Lord dat yous may keep on,
and conquer def and hell and de grabe!" All the others, joining in the
chorus, cried, "Bress de Lord!" The master of the old man sat quietly
watching the scene, offering no hindrance to these expressions of
sympathy; but it is doubtful whether this conduct on the part of his
servants was forgotten after the departure of our army. Whatever
information the slaves could give concerning the movements, numbers, or
probable intentions of the enemy, was communicated gladly, and although
this information was not always reliable for accuracy, it was always
given in sincerity, and was very often of great service.

Our march on the 13th, was an easy one of six miles. As we reached the
brow of a hill overlooking the plain of Cumberland Landing, a scene of
imposing beauty was spread out before us. Between us and the broad
river, were thousands of troops, parks of artillery, squadrons of
cavalry, divisions of infantry; some already in camp, others moving
about in order, but seeming, from the distance, to be intermingled in
most perfect confusion.

A broad plain stretched far away to the left, beautifully variegated
with green pastures, rich groves and fields of grain. Beyond was the
Pamunkey; here spreading out into a broad expanse of water, on which was
riding the Union flotilla of gunboats and the transport fleet.

Upon this broad plain the whole army assembled. At no other time in the
history of the Army of the Potomac, were all its forces gathered within
a compass that the eye could take in at a single glance.

Early on the morning of the 14th, the cry, "Fall in!" resounded through
the camps, and we proceeded up the river about four miles, and again
encamped on its banks. A field of fresh clover served for our bivouac.
In this pleasant spot we remained for several days; and while here, an
event occurred of no less interest than the organization of the Sixth
corps.

Just before the Army of the Potomac embarked for the Peninsula, it was
divided, by order of President Lincoln, into five corps of three
divisions each. These corps were placed under command, respectively, of
Generals McDowell, Sumner, Heintzelman, Keyes and Banks. On leaving for
the Peninsula, the First and Fifth corps had been left behind. Now two
new corps were to be organized; the Fifth provisional, consisting of the
divisions of Porter and Sykes, and the reserve artillery, under command
of General Porter; and the Sixth provisional corps, consisting of
Franklin's division of the First and Smith's of the Fourth corps.
General W. B. Franklin was assigned to the command of the corps.

Franklin's division, now the First division, Sixth corps, under command
of H. W. Slocum, had been ordered away from the First corps, to join the
army of the Potomac, while we were at Yorktown; and its recent
exhibition of gallantry at West Point, had already established for it a
reputation for valor. The regiments composing this division were, the
First, Second, Third and Fourth New Jersey; regiments trained to the
service by the knightly soldier and ardent patriot, Philip S. Kearney,
now under command of Colonel Taylor, and afterwards so long and so ably
led by General Torbert; the Sixteenth and Twenty-seventh New York, Fifth
Maine and Ninety-Sixth Pennsylvania; General Slocum's own brigade, now
commanded by Colonel Bartlett; and Newton's brigade: the Eighteenth,
Thirty-first and Thirty-second New York, and Ninety-fifth Pennsylvania.

The history of the Second division, General Smith's, we have already
traced. The bravery and extraordinary endurance of each of its brigades
had been exhibited too often to be questioned.

With such splendid materials for a corps, a brilliant history of great
achievements was to be anticipated, and nobly has it wrought out for
itself such a history.

No other body of troops has ever made for itself so proud a record. No
corps, either in our own army or any other, ever met the enemy so
frequently in general battle, and never were more glorious deeds
accomplished by troops than were done by these. Never in the course of
all their campaigns were either of these two divisions put to rout, and
in almost all its encounters the corps held the field as victors.

We were now encamped on the old Custis place; at present owned by
General Fitzhugh Lee, of the rebel cavalry service. On every side of us
were immense fields of wheat, which, but for the presence of armies,
promised an abundant harvest. Day after day passed, in quiet repose, and
the Sabbath found us still waiting on the banks of the Pamunkey. It was
marvelous that such silence could exist where a hundred thousand men
were crowded together, yet almost absolute stillness reigned throughout
the vast camp during the whole of this pleasant Sabbath. Save that here
and there the notes of Old Hundred or some sacred air was heard from the
band of some regiment whose chaplain had gathered his men for religious
services, no sound disturbed the universal quiet.

Not far from us was the White House, at the head of navigation, on the
Pamunkey. The house was a fine building, once the property of
Washington, now in possession of the Lee family. Here the Richmond and
York River railroad crossed the Pamunkey, and this was made the base of
operations for the army. Here the transports poured out a vast amount of
supplies, and under the protection of the flotilla of gunboats, the
quartermasters and commissaries commenced their active operations.

Except that a few rails had been torn up, the railroad was in excellent
order, and engines and cars were at once placed on the track ready to
follow the army on its advance to Richmond.

The Sixth corps proceeded toward the Chickahominy, which it reached at a
point several miles above the railroad crossing at Bottom's Bridge,
occupying the extreme right of the Union line of battle as formed along
that river. The position of the Union army was now as follows: Keyes'
corps had crossed the Chickahominy at Bottom's Bridge, and Heintzelman
had followed, taking a position between Keyes and the bridge. Sumner was
on the railroad, and Franklin on the right near New Bridge; Stoneman's
cavalry was on the right of the Sixth corps, and Porter's divisions were
in the rear, within supporting distance.

On the 23d, General Stoneman with his cavalry pushed forward toward
Mechanicsville, supported by Davidson's brigade. The brigade halted for
the night near Beaver Dam creek, a marshy stream pouring into the
Chickahominy. On the following morning the brigade again pushed forward,
the men making their way with great difficulty through a swamp, then
plunging through the stream, then forcing their way through brambles and
briars, and again wading through the water; until the men seemed to have
become amphibious. They at length found the enemy near the little
village of Mechanicsville.

The brigade, with Wheeler's battery, formed in line of battle on some
commanding grounds, and quietly rested for the night. On the morning of
the 24th, the Seventy-seventh and part of the Thirty-third were ordered
to advance toward the village and reconnoiter the position. Hardly had
the advance commenced before the rebels opened upon the two commands a
fierce cannonade, which forced our men to lie down, that the shells
might pass over them. Wheeler's battery responded nobly to the rebel
artillery, and presently General Davidson ordered Colonel McKean to
charge the village with his regiment. The men rose to their feet and
started forward with a yell. Down the hill they rushed impetuously,
cheering and yelling; but the two rebel regiments, the Seventh and
Eighth Georgia, startled by the shouts, seized their muskets and ran;
firing but one parting salute. Their battery also limbered up and beat a
hasty retreat; and as our men reached the village they were seen lashing
their horses into a run, and in a moment they disappeared altogether
down the road.

In their haste the rebels forgot to carry off their knapsacks, canteens
and haversacks; and our boys gathered them up to be kept till called
for. They had also left a great many guns and cartridge boxes; and a
flag, which the Seventy-seventh bore away in triumph.

On the 26th of May, the enemy was discovered in considerable force at
Hanover Court House, to the right and rear of our army. A part of
Porter's corps was sent to meet this rebel force, and if possible drive
it from its position. After a fatiguing march through mud and rain,
General Emory, with his own brigade, and other troops of the corps, came
up with the enemy near Hanover Court House, and at once commenced
advancing slowly against the line of the enemy, when, being reinforced
by part of Martindale's brigade, a charge was ordered and the rebels
were routed. They fled precipitately, leaving one of their guns in the
hands of our troops.

Being reinforced, the rebels turned upon our troops, but were gallantly
held by Martindale's brigade until General Porter brought a large force
to the field. The rebels were again attacked and completely routed. They
left about two hundred of their dead on the field to be buried by our
men. Seven hundred prisoners were captured, beside two railroad trains,
a twelve pound gun and many small arms. Our own loss amounted to about
fifty killed and more than three hundred wounded and missing.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE 77TH NEW YORK AT MECHANICSVILLE.]

CHAPTER VIII.

ON THE CHICKAHOMINY.

Gaines' Farm--The line of battle--Battle of Seven
Pines--Sedgwick and Kearney to the rescue--Hooker's charge--A
lost opportunity--Golden's Farm--Ditching--Malaria--Chickahominy
fevers--A German regiment--Stuart's raid.

Davidson's command was withdrawn from its position on Beaver Dam creek
on the 26th of May. Moving down the river about five miles, it encamped
with the rest of the Sixth corps on the farm of Dr. Gaines, a noted
rebel, where it remained until June 5th. The camps were within easy
range of the enemy's guns, which were planted on the opposite side of
the river, and our pickets could observe those of the rebels as they
walked their beats.

Few more charming places than Gaines' Farm could be found on the
Peninsula. The broad wheat fields, alternating with wooded hills,
afforded a scene of enchantment to the weary soldiers. A single wheat
field contained four hundred and fifty acres, and a delightful grove in
rear of the superb old mansion, furnished a cool retreat during the
intense heat of the day. The extensive gardens were filled with rare
exotics and most beautiful native plants and trees, and birds of varied
and brilliant plumage sported among the flowering shrubs and charmed the
air with their lively notes. Near the river side stood a large barn well
filled with tobacco, from which the boys of the corps did not hesitate
to lay in a full supply.

In the rear of the corps was Liberty Hall, the birthplace of Patrick
Henry. Now it was used as a hospital, and hundreds of soldiers, worn out
with fatigue or burning with fevers, occupied the house and hospital
tents surrounding it.

Our men were employed in doing picket duty, and in building corduroy
roads and bridges. The river, scarcely restrained by banks, was rising
rapidly from the continued fall of rain, and at one time the pickets of
our division, including the Thirty-third New York, were found in the
morning surrounded by water; the rain having within three hours risen so
rapidly that many were standing in water above their waists, while
others were clinging to bushes for support. Boats were procured, and the
drenched pickets were removed from their disagreeable positions.

The army was divided into two wings, one on the south and one on the
north side of the Chickahominy. The line of battle was in the form of a
V: Keyes' and Heintzelman's corps on a line from Bottom's Bridge to
Seven Pines, forming the left arm of the V, and Franklin's, Sumner's and
Porter's on the north bank of the Chickahominy, from Bottom's Bridge to
Gaines' Farm, the right arm.

Keyes' corps, now composed of Casey's and Couch's divisions, had crossed
the river at Bottom's Bridge on the 24th, and after considerable
skirmishing with the enemy, had established itself on the road from
Richmond to Williamsburgh, about six miles from Richmond, and as far
from the Chickahominy, at a fork in the road called Seven Pines.
Heintzelman's corps had followed, and occupied a position in the rear
near the river. Casey's division occupied an advance position, and Couch
the second line. One of the roads from this point, called the nine-mile
road to Richmond, crossed the Richmond and York River railroad north of
Seven Pines, at a place called Fair Oaks. The country was wooded and
marshy, and General Casey was not able to throw his pickets out more
than a thousand yards in advance of his line of battle. Both divisions
at once intrenched themselves, and slashed the forests, that any
approach of the enemy might be discovered, and to widen the sweep of
their guns. Here the two divisions remained, having occasional
skirmishes with the enemy, until the morning of the 31st of May.

During the night before, the rain had fallen in torrents. Thunders
rolled along the sky, and the heavens blazed with perpetual flashes of
lightning. The morning found the earth drenched by the floods, and the
men of Casey's division rose from their beds of mud to fight the battle
of Seven Pines.

It became evident to General Casey early in the day that the enemy
designed to attack him in force. He accordingly ordered his division
under arms, and made such dispositions of his forces as seemed best
calculated to resist the onset.

At half-past twelve the attack was commenced. Large bodies of rebels
emerged from the cover of the woods, and at once commenced a brisk fire
of musketry and artillery, driving in the picket line, and pressing
forward against the Union line of intrenchments. The numbers of the
enemy were now seen to be greatly disproportionate to those of the
single division opposed to them, and General Casey called for help.
Couch's division was under arms, acting as support, but not yet engaged.
Some of the new troops, thus pressed by overwhelming numbers broke and
retreated in disorder; but the division at large nobly withstood the
mighty host which assailed it in front, flank and rear. The forces of
the enemy constantly increased; and the single division was now fairly
invested by the exultant foe, who pressed forward, unmindful of the
losses inflicted by Casey's troops. Again and again the enemy came on in
masses, receiving the shot and shells, which tore open their ranks,
closing up the gaps, and pushing steadily on to the assault. Against
these repeated attacks of superior numbers of confident troops, who
constantly arrived in fresh numbers, and, forming under cover of the
woods, rushed against our lines, Casey's division held its ground three
hours, until almost half its number were destroyed. The execution done
on the rebels was great. All means of transportation at their command,
were brought into requisition to carry off the wounded to Richmond; and
their dead lay piled upon the bloody field. The white-haired veteran,
General Casey, was present wherever the danger seemed greatest. Riding
along his lines, encouraging his troops, and making his dispositions for
repelling the overwhelming assaults, his heroism inspired bravery in the
hearts of the men, and prevented defeat from becoming a rout. General
Keyes was directing the movements of the second line, held by General
Couch. Portions of the division were rallied, and with the aid of
Couch's troops and a brigade of Kearney's division, which that never
tiring general had just led on to the scene of conflict, the attempt was
made to retake the line of works just lost, but without success.

By this time General Heintzelman had arrived with his corps; and orders
were given to fall back to a third line. The enemy made one more
desperate attempt to crush the retreating division, but they were
repulsed with fearful loss, and here commenced the turning of the tide
in the conflict.

The line of battle as now formed was nearly two miles in the rear of the
position of the morning, at Fair Oaks.

Heintzelman's and Keyes' corps at once proceeded to strengthen this
position, and before dark the brave fellows of Sedgwick's division, of
Sumner's corps, were on the ground, ready to assist in repelling the
progress of the enemy. Richardson's division, not far behind, arrived at
sunset; and now the Union army was prepared for any attempt which the
rebels might see fit to make. The efforts which the enemy were now
making to break through our flank on the left at White Oak Swamp, were,
by this timely arrival of Sedgwick, thwarted. Had the confederates
succeeded in this, the retreat of Keyes' corps and that part of
Heintzelman's on the ground must have been cut off, and our army
destroyed. The rebels, not satisfied with a partial victory, and
determined to destroy the left wing of our army, then thrust beyond the
river, renewed their assaults, and again and again pushed forward.
Gathering in masses under cover of the forest, they would dash upon our
lines with impetuous fury; only to be sent reeling back by a hurricane
of leaden and iron hail. Sedgwick and the intrepid Kearney fought their
divisions with greatest skill; and by their own example animated and
encouraged their men. Night closed upon the scene; and at eight o'clock
the fighting had ceased. The rebels, so exultant at their success in the
early part of the day, were now hopeless of turning their victory to any
good account; for their last assaults had met with such terrible
repulses, that to renew the attack in force in the morning, would be but
a useless waste of life to them. Still, they held their ground, and on
the morning of June 1st, made some demonstrations against parts of our
line, which were gallantly met.

Finally, General Hooker, who here sustained the enviable reputation he
had so nobly earned at Williamsburgh, led his command across the open
space in front of our line, a space not more than one-fourth of a mile
wide, beyond which the ground was interrupted by forests, to attack the
enemy.

With quick and steady step, the well trained division advanced across
the field, deploying to the right and left; and before half crossing the
open space their pace was quickened to a run; constantly firing as they
dashed forward on the enemy.

Presently the edge of the forest was reached; and here considerable
opposition was met with; yet, after a moment's halt, the division again
pushed forward into the woods. The din of arms was heard for a few
moments, then the firing ceased, and our troops were in possession of
the ground.

The rebels were, in their turn, now panic-stricken; and hundreds of them
rushed back to the confederate capital, spreading the alarm, and
declaring that the Yankees were about to walk into the city.

It was doubtless a sad mistake that this victory was not followed up.
The rebels, who had greatly outnumbered us in the fight of the day
before, were now themselves outnumbered. They had suffered severe
repulses on the evening before, and on this day their rear-guard had
been whipped by General Hooker.

A renewal of the attack in force on the part of the Union army would
have probably resulted in the capture of the beleaguered city. As it
was, the commander of the Union army was on the north side of the
Chickahominy, many miles from the scene of action, and no order for a
forward movement was given.

Such was the battle of Seven Pines or Fair Oaks. Fought for the most
part, by a single division of less than six thousand men, against the
combined forces of Longstreet, Hill, Smith and Huger; all under the
immediate command of the Commander-in-Chief of the rebel army, General
Johnston.

General Johnston had become satisfied, from the reports of his scouts,
that only Keyes' corps, of two divisions, was across the Chickahominy.
Believing that the bad state of the roads and the swollen condition of
the Chickahominy, would effectually prevent reinforcements reaching this
corps before he could fall upon it and crush it, he had determined to
bring an overwhelming force against it. Accordingly, the divisions of
Longstreet, Hill, Smith and Huger, were placed in position to make a
sudden and destructive assault upon the front and flanks of Casey's
exposed division, in the confident expectation of annihilating it. But,
instead of giving way before this avalanche, as Johnston had
contemplated, the regiments of the division, with few exceptions,
manfully held their ground for three hours.

The Commander-in-Chief reported to the Secretary of War that Casey's
division "gave way unaccountably and discreditably." Five days later he
promised to modify his charge, if he found occasion; but it was only in
his final report, made many months after leaving the army, he was
constrained to acknowledge the good conduct of the division--an act of
tardy justice to deserving men.

Notwithstanding the great disparity in the numbers of those engaged on
the rebel and Union sides, the losses were nearly equal. The Union army
lost four thousand five hundred and seventeen in killed and wounded, and
one thousand two hundred and twenty-two missing. Nearly one-half of all
these losses were from Casey's and Couch's divisions. General Johnston
reported the rebel loss in Longstreet's and Hill's commands at four
thousand two hundred and thirty-six.

Among the trophies of the enemy, were ten pieces of artillery and four
stands of colors.

With these trophies, they were satisfied to boast their victory;
regardless of the fact that they had been the assailants in superior
numbers, and had been repulsed with fearful slaughter, and that the only
fruit of their boasted victory was a few guns and colors, as an offset
for the loss of thousands of their soldiers. General Johnston himself
was among the rebel wounded, and was forced to give over the command to
another.

On the other hand, the Union army might, had the corps on the north bank
of the Chickahominy promptly followed that of General Sumner across the
river, have easily entered Richmond. But the hesitancy which
characterized the movements of the army lost to us all the advantages of
success. Early next day the treacherous river had risen to such an
extent as to render crossing almost impossible; so the army remained as
the battle of Fair Oaks had left it; three corps on the south, and two
on the north side of the Chickahominy, separated by an almost
unsurmountable obstacle.

From our camp at Gaines' Farm, the men of the Sixth corps could see the
smoke of battle and hear the roar of artillery and musketry; but were
not able to go to the assistance of their fellows.

The distance from Gaines' Farm to Fair Oaks was, in a direct line,
scarcely more than four miles, but as all communications with the
opposite side of the river were by way of Bottom's Bridge, the distance
was about fifteen miles. The Vermont brigade essayed a crossing in our
own front on the afternoon of the second day of the fight, with the view
of rendering assistance on the other side, but the attempt was
abandoned.

General McClellan, with General Hancock and other officers, took a
position in the line of our Third brigade, on Sunday, where they
remained watching the progress of the battle from afar until darkness
shut out the view.

On the day after the battle, rain poured in a continuous storm; deluging
the roads and swelling what had been but rivulets the day before, into
rivers. In the midst of this tempest of rain, Casey's division,
destitute of tents and blankets, weary from fighting and disheartened by
injustice, marched six miles to the rear to find a new encampment. On
the 5th of June, Smith's division, of the Sixth corps, was ordered to
cross the Chickahominy, and encamp on "Golden's Farm," nearly opposite.
The Third brigade took the advance, followed by the rest of the
division. Owing to the swollen state of the river, and the impossibility
of bridging it, the division was forced to march to Dispatch Station
before effecting a crossing. The march was a long and weary one to gain
a distance less than three miles.

Some of our troops were found skirmishing with the enemy, and our
batteries opened upon the gray coats, who quickly surrendered the ground
and took to flight. Our Second division encamped in a pleasant locality,
yet in close proximity to the swamp.

The Chickahominy wound its doubtful course among multitudes of islands
scarcely raised above the surface, yet covered with trees, shrubs and
vines in profusion, within a few rods of our camp. Beyond us, in our
front, were forests of luxuriant growths of trees and climbing shrubs,
and the country all about us was interrupted with rank growth of timber.
The division at once proceeded, as did all the other divisions in the
army, to throw up earthworks; making slow advances at certain points by
pushing these works further toward the front. On the 18th, we were
joined by the other division, Slocum's. The Sixth corps now formed the
right of the new line of battle on the south of the river. The line
reached from Golden's Farm to Fair Oaks. Day and night the men worked at
the breastworks and bridges. One-third of the army was employed
constantly at these works, and the immense lines of intrenchments were
marvels of achievements in engineering. These were all constructed under
the fire of the enemy; no day passing without its skirmish. Soldiers
were daily brought to the hospitals with wounds, even in the most quiet
times.

Everything combined to exhaust the energies of the men and produce
fevers, diarrheas and scurvy. Day after day the men worked under a
burning sun, throwing up the immense walls of earth, or toiled standing
to their waists in water, building bridges. Night after night they were
called to arms, to resist some threatened attack of the enemy. Their
clothing and tents were drenched with frequent rains, and they often
slept in beds of mud. With the hot weather, the malaria became more and
more deadly. The whole country was alternately overflowed and drained;
and the swamps were reeking with the poisoned air. The hospitals became
daily more crowded. The strongest were constantly falling. Diarrhea,
typhoid fever, and other miasmatic maladies, became almost universal.
Men who worked at the breastworks one day would be found in the
hospitals on the next, burning with fever, tormented with insatiable
thirst, racked with pains, or wild with delirium; their parched lips,
and teeth blackened with sordes, the hot breath and sunken eyes, the
sallow skin and trembling pulse, all telling of the violent workings of
these diseases.

Day after day, scores of brave men, who had left their northern homes to
aid in the hour of their country's need, were borne to lowly graves
along the banks of that fatal river; and at times one might sit in the
door of his tent and see as many as six or seven funeral parties bearing
comrades to their humble resting places.

Hospital steamers plied constantly from the White House to Washington,
Alexandria and Philadelphia, bearing thousands of these victims of
disease; and many, with stoic indifference, lay down in their shelter
tents and gave themselves over to death, without even applying to
comrades or surgeons for assistance.

Everywhere at the north, men were seen on cars and steamers, on the
streets and in the houses, whose sallow countenances, emaciated
appearance, and tottering steps, marked them as the victims of
"Chickahominy fever." Express cars groaned with the weight of coffins
containing the remains of youths who but a few months before had gone to
the war in the pride of their strength, and had now yielded, not to the
bullets of the enemy, but to the grim spirit which hovered over that
river of death.

Our army seemed on the point of annihilation from disease; and matters
were constantly growing worse. At White House landing, great temporary
hospitals were established, where hundreds languished, and waited their
turn to be sent north.

Thus, for nearly a month, the two armies looked each other in the face,
each engaged in throwing up defenses against the approach of the other,
but neither attempting to bring on any general engagement. The pickets
of the two opposing forces were within speaking distance, but they
contented themselves with watching each other, and, as a general rule,
amicable relations existed between them. But occasionally, when a
belligerent regiment would be on picket on one or the other side, some
fellow, who imagined he had a capital chance to pick off an opposing
picket, would blaze away; when in a moment the whole line on either side
would flash with the discharge of musketry. Night demonstrations on the
part of the enemy were so common, that it was a rare thing for our
troops not to turn out at midnight, or at two or three o'clock in the
morning, and stand under arms until after daylight.

The men of our Third brigade were a part of the time engaged in building
a strong fort, near the river bank, which, in honor of our dashing
brigadier, was named Fort Davidson.

A new regiment was added to Davidson's brigade during the month of June,
the Twentieth New York. The regiment was composed entirely of German
Turners. Nearly every man had served his three years in the Prussian
service.

They had been stationed in the works at Newport News, and their drill
excelled anything in the army, either in the regular or volunteer branch
of service. Their full ranks, and their unsoiled uniforms, were in
striking contrast with the shattered and worn-out regiments forming the
rest of the brigade.

Among the causes of discouragement and anxiety for the safety of our
army, was the notorious raid of General Stuart in our rear. This
energetic officer, with a body of about two thousand rebel cavalry, had
swept round our entire rear, causing something of a panic, not only at
White House, where all the shipping dropped down the river, but in the
ranks of the army, where it was feared that our communications were
destroyed, and we were liable to be hemmed in and overthrown at any
time.

CHAPTER IX.

THE SEVEN DAYS' BATTLES.

The army united--Plans and counter plans--Battle of Fair
Oaks--Lee's plan--The situation--Stonewall Jackson on the
flank--Battle of Mechanicsville--Joy in camp--Porter's corps
retreats--An astonished army--Battle of Gaines' Farm--Slocum's
division at Games' Farm--Retreat to the river--Battle of
Golden's Farm--A young hero--A Union victory--Our right
exposed--The sick abandoned--A night of sorrow--The grand
retreat commenced--Sad scenes at Savage's Station--A meteor
railroad train.

At length, after great labor, the bridge across the river, near our own
camps, was finished. It was an immense structure, spanning not only the
river, but the swampy banks on either side to a great distance. Sumner's
forces had also rebuilt and enlarged the bridge below, and now the two
wings of the army, after weeks of separation, were united by means of
these bridges. Communications were now rapid and easy, and there was no
difficulty in reinforcing one wing with troops from the other.

General McClellan now determined to act; and an advance of our picket
line was ordered on the 25th of June, preparatory to a general forward
movement.

But General McClellan was not alone in deciding upon this particular
time for commencing offensive operations.

General Lee, who had succeeded to the command of the rebel army when
Johnston was wounded, aware of McClellan's intentions of approaching the
city by regular approaches, and aware that it was in no condition long
to withstand a siege, determined to act on the offensive.

The two armies were now about equal in numbers, each consisting of a
little more than one hundred thousand men for duty. (Our army had
115,000 men for duty.) Our own army had recently been reinforced by
McCall's division, and five or six thousand troops from Fortress Monroe;
and the rebel army had been strengthened by the accession of Jackson's
force, of nearly twenty thousand, from the valley.

McClellan's first move was to advance the left wing, under Heintzelman,
who occupied the ground on which had been fought the battle of Fair
Oaks. General Hooker was ordered to advance his division about a mile
across a clearing in his front. This the gallant general essayed to do.

In front of his camp, before reaching the clearing, was a thick
entanglement of low pines and bushes, filled with swamps and ponds. This
chaparral was about five hundred yards wide. Beyond was the clearing, in
which were the rifle pits and strong redoubts of the enemy, and still
farther on a forest. Hooker's brigades, commanded by Sickles, Grover and
Robinson, protected on the left flank by Kearney's division, and on the
right by a Massachusetts regiment, moved into the tangled forest, about
eight o'clock on the morning of the 25th. Grover's pickets soon fell in
with those of the enemy, and sharp skirmishing commenced; but the rebel
picket line was steadily driven back into the clearing, where it was
strengthened by their reserve. The fighting now became general. The
woods rang with the sharp sounds of musketry and the deep tones of the
artillery, and clouds of smoke obscured the scene from view. Ambulances
were emerging from the woods bearing the wounded; and bloody forms on
stretchers, and the less seriously wounded leaning on the shoulders of
comrades, made up a melancholy procession.

The fire in the edge of the woods and in the open fields increased in
intensity, until all of Hooker's and part of Kearney's forces were
brought into action. The rebels finally retreated across the field to
the cover of their rifle pits. The retreat was slow and orderly, every
foot of the way being disputed.

Our men were exultingly pushing forward, determined to drive them from
their pits also, when an order from General McClellan directed General
Hooker to retire with his division to the original position. Here was
evidently a sad misconception of the state of affairs, for, when the
Commander-in-Chief, an hour later, arrived on the field and consulted
with General Hooker, the men were ordered forward once more to occupy
the ground they had once taken and surrendered.

This time there was less resistance. The rebels steadily gave way,
giving up their rifle pits and yielding the whole of the open field.
Under cover of the forest beyond the field they made another stand, and
late in the afternoon a brigade charged upon our lines; but they were
bravely met by men of Grover's brigade, and driven back, leaving three
hundred of their dead on the field.

By the action of this day, our line was advanced on the left nearly a
mile. The victory, such as it was, cost us six hundred and forty men in
killed and wounded. The men remained under arms all night, in readiness
to meet the frequent sorties of the enemy, who intended nothing more
serious than preventing reinforcements from being sent to the right of
our line.

Little did General Lee heed these operations on our left. It was all the
better for his plan that the attention of our army should be engaged in
this direction. He was ready now to execute his plan of raising the
siege of Richmond; and a tremendous force had been massed against our
right, ready to advance upon it and our rear, with the hope of cutting
the Union army off from its supplies, and placing it in the greatest
jeopardy.

Let us, for a moment, recall the position of our army, which, since the
first battle of Fair Oaks, has been somewhat changed. Porter's corps,
consisting of McCall's, Morrell's and Sykes' divisions, still held the
right, on the north bank of the Chickahominy, at Gaines' Farm and
Mechanicsville. The several bridges which had been constructed since the
1st of June, formed avenues of communication between the two portions of
the army separated by the river. Next, near the river, and opposite
Porter's corps, was our own Sixth corps, Slocum's and Smith's divisions,
Smith's nearest the stream. Then, on our left was Sumner's corps,
Sedgwick's and Richardson's divisions; and finally, on the left of all,
was Heintzelman, with his divisions under Hooker and Kearney, and
Couch's division, of Keyes' corps. Casey's shattered division was in the
rear, guarding Bottom's Bridge and the road to the White House.

The line stretched from Mechanicsville across the river to Golden's
Farm, and thence to Fair Oaks.

The whole of this extensive line was protected by earthworks of
marvelous magnitude, and whole forests of timber slashed in front of
some parts of the line formed almost impenetrable abattis.

On the other hand, Lee's army had been as actively engaged in ditching
and throwing up redoubts, and Richmond was surrounded by a cordon of
most powerful works. Stonewall Jackson had been recalled from the
Shenandoah Valley; and now, with an army of thirty thousand men, a very
large proportion of them being men of his original army, he hung upon
our right and rear, ready to come down upon our communications and flank
like an avalanche.

Scarcely had General McClellan finished his dispatch to the Secretary of
War, in which he announced the glad tidings that he had got his pickets
in the right place, preparatory to a general advance, before he was
aroused from his illusion by the intelligence that the pickets on the
right were being driven in. He had already, during the day, learned
something of Jackson's position, and it was now easy to divine the
intention of that energetic chief.

During the night, Hill and Longstreet crossed the upper Chickahominy;
and, by rapid marches, confronted the pickets of McCall's division at
Mechanicsville before daylight on the morning of the 26th. Jackson,
delayed by our skirmishers, was still behind. Without waiting for
Jackson, Hill ordered an attack by daylight. Our pickets were forced
back upon the main line, and the battle of Mechanicsville commenced.
McCall's division, consisting of Reynolds', Meade's and Seymour's
brigades, was strongly posted behind Beaver Dam creek; a stream about
twelve feet wide, wooded on either side, with water waist deep, and a
steep bank on the side held by the Union forces. Along this bank, timber
had been felled, rifle pits dug, and other careful preparations made for
meeting an attack. The only accessible places for artillery were the two
roads which crossed the stream, one at Ellison's Mills, and the other a
mile above. Against these two points the rebels directed their principal
efforts. Hill's division made the first assault. Clearing their rifle
pits, his men rushed forward with a yell, gaining the creek, within a
hundred yards of our line. Here the creek and the almost impenetrable
abattis checked their progress, and a murderous fire of shot, shells,
cannister and musketry was opened upon them, which threw them into
confusion, and repulsed them with fearful loss. Again and again the
charge was renewed; each time with equal want of success. More and more
grand and terrible the battle became, as the combatants struggled with
each other at close range. Thus far there had been no such terrific
artillery firing during the war. The uproar was incessant, and sublime
beyond description. Finding the position too strong to be carried by
direct assault, the confederates fell back to their rifle pits; leaving
their many dead and wounded on the ground. The men of McCall's division,
securely posted behind their breastworks, had suffered comparatively
little; our loss not exceeding three hundred in killed and wounded, out
of the six thousand belonging to the brigades engaged.

On the other hand, the rebels had lost heavily. From their own official
reports, it is known that of the twelve thousand engaged, the loss in
killed and wounded was fifteen hundred; Ripley's single brigade losing
five hundred and seventy-four men.

Both Davis and Lee were present on the field, directing in person the
movements, and exposed to the fire where the battle was fiercest.
General McClellan was at the head-quarters of General Porter, where he
remained until the close of the battle, when he rode over the field.

From the camp of the Sixth corps, the battle-field was not more than
four or five miles distant in a direct line, though by way of the bridge
it was much farther.

We could watch the columns of smoke as they rolled up from the scene of
carnage, and see the flashes of bursting shells, like sheets of
lightning in dark thunder-clouds, and hear the tremendous roar of arms.
In the afternoon, as the rebels charged upon a certain part of our
lines, we could watch the movements of both armies. Our only part in the
engagement was to stand to arms, ready to rush to the assistance of
those on the other side of the river, at a moment's notice. In the
evening, the news of our success spread through the army, creating the
wildest joy. Men who had, by constant hardships, and by continually
looking on death, almost forgotten the feelings of joy, now broke out in
loud shouts of gladness; and for the first time in many weeks the bands
played those heart-stirring national airs, which in times past had been
wont to fill the hearts of the soldiers with enthusiasm.

The night passed in constant watchfulness, the men resting upon their
arms; for a renewal of the attack might be expected at any moment.
Still, the men of the whole of the left wing of the army were exulting
in the glad hope that in the morning we were to march into Richmond,
almost without opposition; and that their high hopes of success were to
be speedily realized. The prize which they had so often been promised,
seemed almost within their grasp. Men shook hands with each other, sung
patriotic songs, and shouted in greatest glee.

Bands continued to ring out their notes of gladness until long after
nightfall; general officers rode about announcing a grand victory; all
was the most intense excitement; and the men lay down upon their arms to
dream of reveling in the streets of Richmond before another night. For
weeks, even the drum calls and the bugle notes had not been heard in our
camps. Now, as if suddenly waked from a long slumber, the strains of the
bugle and the roll of the drum were added to the general rejoicing.

It was known that the rebel troops engaged were not those of Jackson. He
then must be working around to our rear. He was known to have a very
large force; not less than thirty thousand. It was evident that our
communications were in great danger, and that unless the main force of
our army, now on the right bank of the Chickahominy, were hastily
concentrated on the left bank, we could not expect to hold the line to
the Pamunkey another day. If this were done, the rebels could easily
prevent our retreat to the James river, and leave us on the banks of the
Pamunkey. Accordingly, General McClellan gave up all hope of being able
to maintain the position of that portion of the army on the north side
of the Chickahominy, and at once issued orders with a view of preparing
for a change of base. The quartermaster at White House was directed to
"send cars to the last moment, and load them with provisions and
ammunition." "Load every wagon you have," said the dispatch, "with
subsistence, and send them to Savage's Station. If you are obliged to
abandon White House, burn everything you cannot get off."

The quartermaster was directed, also, to throw all his supplies, not
burned or sent to the army, up the James river, and there establish
depots of supplies. General Casey, who was now in command of the guard
at White House, was instructed to see these orders carried out. He
burned immense quantities of stores, consisting of clothing,
subsistence, and other war material, and then hastily marched his force
to rejoin the army.

The evening of the 26th was passed in gladness over our victory; but
while the army was rejoicing at this temporary success, it was losing
one of the grandest opportunities ever presented it for entering the
rebel capital. The whole plan of Lee had been based upon a false
calculation; and had this mistake been improved by our commanders, the
history of the war would have been entirely changed. Both Lee and Davis
believed that the main body of our army was on the north side of the
Chickahominy; whereas, of the five corps constituting our army, only
one, that of Porter, remained on that side. Under this erroneous
impression, Lee had brought nearly the whole of his army across the
river to assail the Union army on its right. This was known to our
generals, for while positive information had been received that Jackson,
with his large army, was making for our rear, the prisoners taken during
the day were from Hill's command, and from them it was known that the
troops of A. P. Hill, Longstreet and D. H. Hill, were confronting us on
the right. Thus, between our main force, of over seventy-six thousand
men, and Richmond, less than twenty-five thousand rebels guarded their
extensive line of works. A concentrated assault of the four corps on the
south side of the river must have resulted in the utter rout of the
force opposed to them, and the road to Richmond would have been opened.

But the error of General Lee was never suspected, and this grand
opportunity was lost.

During the night of the 26th, the heavy artillery and baggage of
Porter's corps was all sent across the river. McCall's whole division,
except a line of pickets left as a blind, also fell back five miles
below, to the vicinity of the bridge at Gaines' Farm, where the three
divisions of the corps united.

The astonishment of the men on the south side of the river on
discovering, in the morning, that Porter's corps had fallen back, was
only equaled by their mortification and disappointment, as they saw the
long lines of rebels advancing in the gray of the morning against our
retreating column.

They had believed, when night came on, that our arms had achieved the
first of a series of victories which was to give us the rebel capital.
Now they saw that our army was already in retreat, and they gazed at the
long train of artillery and wagons, which had parked near us, with
downcast faces. From our camp, Porter's division could be distinctly
seen, and we could watch the movements of the rebels as they arrived
upon the highlands, formed their line on the range of hills opposite
Porter, and planted their guns near the large barn on Dr. Gaines' farm.

The position of Porter's corps was a strong one; and he was ordered to
hold it till night, and then to cross the bridge and burn it after him;
the upper bridge having been burned during the night. The country
between the two lines was rolling, somewhat wooded, but in parts
cleared. Both parties went to work to cut down trees in their front.

The rebel forces, who supposed on the 26th that they were fighting our
main army, were surprised, on the morning of the 27th, to find that only
a picket line opposed them. They were early astir; and advancing against
the slender line, drove it back. The whole rebel force advanced
cautiously; A. P. Hill and Longstreet bearing to the right, while D. H.
Hill turned to the left, to unite with Jackson, who was supposed to be
coming in from the rear. Owing to the uneven country over which they
were advancing, their march was slow; for they might fall upon a Union
line of battle behind any rounding swell of land.

It was afternoon before the rebel army had fully formed its line on
Gaines' Farm. The position of that army was nearly that of the same army
when Grant attacked it at Coal Harbor two years later, only it was faced
about. The battle opened about one o'clock, by skirmishing on both
sides; but it was not till an hour later that Hill's division dashed
across the open space, rushing through the swamp, and under a severe
fire from our batteries and musketry, pushed up the slope on which was
posted our line. The confederate troops advanced almost up to Sykes'
line of battle on the right, and in other parts of the line actually
forced back the Union troops; but they were able to hold their position
only a short time, when they were forced back with great loss.

Longstreet now advanced against the left of our line, but he too met
with a stern reception, and he withdrew to rearrange his plan of attack.

By this time Jackson was approaching, and now the overwhelming forces of
the enemy promised to crush the single corps; but Slocum's division of
our Sixth corps was ordered to the relief of the Fifth corps, and
arrived at four o'clock. The division was sent into the fight at once,
each brigade being ordered separately to strengthen the weak points of
the line. Thus, while the division fought bravely, and suffered equally
in proportion with the Fifth corps, its incorporation with that corps
for the time deprived it of the honors to which it was justly entitled.

Bartlett, with his brigade, went to the aid of Sykes, who was doubtfully
struggling to hold his line; but who now, by the aid of the gallant
brigade, was able to hurl the assailants back from his front.

The rebel line being completed, Longstreet, A. P. Hill, and Jackson all
up with their troops, a general advance was made.

The charge was made with great spirit, the rebels rushing over the open
ground and floundering through the swamp under a most writhing fire, but
the position of our forces was still too strong for them. At all points
they were repulsed with terrible slaughter. First on the right, where
Sykes' regulars, supported by Bartlett's brigade, withstood the onset of
Hill, the disordered and disheartened confederates began to scatter in
all directions.

One of the confederate generals reported that had not his men fallen
back themselves he would have ordered it. "Men were leaving the field,"
says another general, "in every direction; two regiments ... were
actually marching back under fire. Men were skulking from the woods in a
shameful manner. The woods on our left and rear were full of troops in
safe cover, from which they never stirred." Such was the effect of the
reception given by the regulars. On our left they met with no better
success. These, too, fell back in disorder. Now a desperate attempt was
made against our center. The tactics with which we afterwards became so
familiar on the part of the rebels were brought to bear. This was in
massing troops against certain parts of our line and making desperate
onslaughts with a view of breaking the line. The forces of Jackson, Hill
and Longstreet threw themselves fiercely against our works, but without
being able to drive our men back. Here it was that the First and Third
brigades of Slocum's division saved the wavering line, and all the fury
of the rebels was spent in vain. General Porter directed Newton's
brigade to its position in the center; Newton leading the Thirty-first
New York and Ninety-fifth Pennsylvania into the woods on one side, and
the gallant Colonel Matheson with the Eighteenth and Thirty-second
entering on the other, both in the face of a destructive fire. The
rebels charged upon the brigade and gallantly the charge was met.
Newton, seeing the rebel line waver before the fire of his men, shouted
"Forward!" and the impetuous regiments cleared the woods and drove the
rebels more than seven hundred yards. But the confederates, reinforced,
pressed hard upon them with overwhelming numbers, and Newton demanded
aid. Regiments from the New Jersey brigade rushed to the assistance of
their brothers of the Third brigade, cheering as they advanced, and the
position was held until the left wing of Porter's corps gave way. For
two hours the conflict on this part of the line raged with terrible
violence; the columns surging backward and forward, neither party being
able to gain any permanent advantage. Never had we heard such volleys of
musketry as now rolled along the borders of the swampy Chickahominy.
Artillery was less used; a strip of pine woods intervening between the
position occupied by some of our batteries and the rebel line preventing
an accurate range. The attempt to break our center was abandoned, and
now immense forces were brought against the left. The roar of battle
became more loud than before. The thousand continuous volleys of
musketry mingled in one grand tumultuous concert of death; while the
booming of artillery, which was now brought more into action, shook the
earth for miles around. Under the pressure of overwhelming numbers, one
brigade gave way; and another on the extreme left, finding itself
outflanked, fought its way back to the upper bridge, which had been
partially destroyed during the night, and, crossing to the south side of
the river, gathered its shattered regiments behind the breastworks of
our Second division.

For two hours and a half the battle had raged fiercely on this part of
the line, and as these brigades on the right gave way, the confusion
spread all along. The rebels, seeing the disorder, and encouraged by
their success on the left, came on with redoubled fury; and the whole
line gave way, and fell back to some high grounds near the bridge. Here
two brigades from the Third corps appeared as reinforcements, and the
retreat was checked. The Fifth corps, with Slocum's division and the two
brigades from the Third corps, were able to hold their position on the
north side of the river till after dark.

But we had been beaten, and our losses were very great. Twenty-two
pieces of artillery fell into the hands of the enemy. We lost two
thousand prisoners, among whom was General Reynolds, commanding one of
McCall's brigades; and our killed and wounded numbered about four
thousand. The rebels had suffered greater losses in men, nine thousand
five hundred having been killed or wounded. The action, on the part of
the rebels, had been directed by General Lee in person, who was on the
field during the whole action, controlling the movements of his troops,
and attending to the details of the fight. On our part, the battle had
been fought entirely under the direction of General Porter. General
McClellan, believing he could best watch the movements at all parts of
his line from a central position, had remained during the day at the
Trent House, five miles from the scene of action, without deeming it
necessary even to ride down to the river by the Woodbury bridge.
(McClellan's Report.)

Meantime, while the battle raged with fury on the north side of the
Chickahominy, there was active work in our own front. Our Second
division, at Golden's Farm, was joined on the left by Sedgwick's
division, of the Third corps. The two divisions held the key to
Richmond; for, had the brave men composing them, under the leadership of
such men as Smith and Sedgwick, been ordered to break through the rebel
line, there was no power in their front to restrain them. The rebels,
aware of this, and designing to prevent reinforcements from going to
Porter, made frequent feints all along our line. Now with pickets, and
anon, gathering a considerable force, they would advance upon some part
of our works. From the nature of the ground, they could appear in large
force at one point, then withdrawing, pass under cover of the woods and
reappear at another point; thus keeping up the idea of a large force.

These skirmishes and the artillery duels had been kept up all day, to
the annoyance of all.

Just at sunset, Davidson's brigade was ordered to cross the river, by
the Woodbury bridge, to reinforce the Fifth corps. Preparations for
moving were not complete, when the enemy opened a fierce fire of
artillery and musketry. The idea of reinforcing the Fifth corps was at
once abandoned, and we hastily took refuge from the howling missiles
behind our breastworks. The artillery firing increased, until the scene
became in the highest degree exciting.

Our guns were answering the rebels with great spirit, hurling shells
fast and furiously, and clouds of smoke rolled up from both the opposing
lines. At length the rebel infantry was brought forward to charge our
line. Hancock's brigade of our Second division, and Burns' of Sedgwick's
division, were farthest in advance. Hancock had taken up a critical
position in front of the line of works, where his brigade was supporting
a strong battery. Against these two advance brigades the enemy pounced
with the hope of routing them by this sudden onset. Against Hancock they
made the most desperate attempt, but with no success further than
driving in the picket line. In return, the rebels were hurried back to
the cover of the woods from whence they came, leaving many dead and
wounded on the field. While the First brigade was thus bravely
withstanding the assault of the rebels, the Third brigade and the Second
occupied a second line, acting as support, but neither were actively
engaged; yet several of the regiments in the second line lost men by the
shells.

During the night our Third brigade relieved Hancock's regiments and
remained in possession of the advanced position until afternoon next
day. We had moved from our old position while the fight was in progress,
and had left everything except arms and ammunition.

We could hear the sound of ambulances in the front where the rebels were
gathering up their wounded, till after midnight; and toward morning they
made a sally upon a part of the line, but were quickly repulsed.

June 28th, the men of Davidson's brigade who had been ordered the day
before to leave haversacks, canteens, blankets and tents, found in the
morning that their camp was occupied by another division, tired and
hungry, who had lost their blankets in the fights of the two days
before, and who had now appropriated the haversacks and blankets of our
boys to their own use. Some confusion occurred upon making this
discovery, but our boys soon helped themselves to substitutes and bore
their loss on the whole very patiently.

Our picket line was relieved at 9 A.M., but before the whole line was
changed the rebel batteries opened upon the moving companies a
concentrated fire from twenty pieces of artillery, putting a stop to the
process. Shot and shell came tearing through our camps in every
direction, crashing through trees, throwing up great clouds of dust,
riddling tents and alarming the cooks and contraband servants who
remained in camp.

This artillery practice continued for an hour without eliciting much
reply from our side, as our guns had been nearly all withdrawn from the
front to join the train preparatory to the retreat.

The rebels ceased their fire and we inferred that they had withdrawn to
some other point; but at two o'clock the mistake was discovered. A
brigade of rebels was seen to leap over their breastworks and rush
toward our line with yells and shouts like so many madmen. Our picket
line was forced back before this impetuous charge, the pickets
retreating to the main line.

The Thirty-third New York held the principal part of the picket line,
but two companies from the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania of Hancock's
brigade, and a detachment from the Seventy-seventh New York also guarded
a part of the line in front of the Second division.

A part of the detachment from the Seventy-seventh held a small advance
redoubt or lunette which had been thrown up by Hancock's men. Over this
work the rebels rushed, unmindful of the bullets sent by the
skirmishers, and the guard was compelled to retreat in haste.

But all did not leave that picket line.

One youth, as brave a boy as ever shouldered a musket, John Ham, of the
Seventy-seventh regiment, had sworn never to retreat before the enemy.
Faithful to his word, when the handful of pickets were compelled to
retreat (and this was the first time that any part of his regiment had
ever fallen back before the enemy), he stood his ground, loading and
firing as rapidly as possible, alone defending the redoubt!

The rebels pressed upon him, and he fell riddled with bullets. When,
later in the day, we had driven the confederates back to their works, we
recovered his body, pierced by bullets and bayonets.

As the rebels neared our main line of battle, they were met by a
withering fire from our men, and, after maintaining the contest for a
few moments, they broke and fled in confusion, leaving the ground
thickly strewed with dead and wounded. Not satisfied with this repulse,
they reformed and came on again; this time with less audacity than at
first. Again a murderous fire compelled them to fall back, leaving more
of their number on the field. Among their wounded was Colonel Lamar, who
was in command of the charging regiments.

He was brought into our lines by Sergeant Bemis and another soldier of
the Seventy-seventh. He had been formerly a mischievous member of
congress from Georgia.

The final repulse of the rebels was made more complete and more fatal to
them by the timely aid of a section of Mott's battery, which had come up
and opened an enfilading fire upon them from the left. Joyous cheers
went up from our men as they saw the rebels fleeing in all directions,
and it was only by the peremptory orders of their commanders that they
were restrained from following the flying enemy.

A company of about fifteen rebels threw out a white flag and voluntarily
surrendered themselves. Fifty dead rebels and one hundred wounded
remained in our front, whom their comrades were allowed to remove, under
flag of truce.

The Thirty-third New York had, during this engagement, sustained the
principal shock of the enemy's charge; and with that gallantry for which
they bore during their two years of service an enviable reputation, they
met the charge and repulsed the enemy.

By the retreat of the Fifth corps to the south side of the Chickahominy,
which was accomplished during the night of the 27th and 28th, the rebel
army was allowed to approach the river at Gaines' Farm. By this movement
the camps of Davidson's brigade, which were upon the extreme right of
our line, near the river, and the two forts we had erected, were
rendered untenable; for the rebel guns shelled the whole position with
ease. Our men went in squads and brought away the most valuable
property, including regimental papers and the knapsacks and blankets. A
few days before this, our whole corps, as well as the other corps of the
army, had been supplied with an abundance of new tents. Staff and
company officers had their wall tents, and the private soldiers their
shelters. All these were destroyed by cutting them with knives; as it
was known that any attempt to remove them would be discovered by the
rebels, who would at once open all their batteries upon us.

Now, the feelings of the men underwent a terrible revolution. It was,
for the first time, told them that the army must _retreat_ in all haste
to the James river! Our brave fellows had looked with sad faces at
Porter's retreating column; but that was felicity compared with what
they now experienced. Even when the right wing was forced across the
river, they still had faith that their bravery was to be rewarded with
victory.

Now, they felt that all was lost. General Davidson rode through the
camps, and announced to the commanding officers of his regiments the
mysterious information, with directions to get off a few valuable
articles and abandon all else.

Already, by Porter's retreat, the brave fellows in Liberty Hall
Hospital, mangled and sick, groaning with wounds, and delirious with
fevers, were abandoned, _deserted_, to fall into the hands of an enemy
known to be merciless.

And now the siege of Richmond was to be abandoned, and the men who but
two days before had exulted in the glad hope of a speedy entrance into
the city, which even now lay just within our grasp, were to turn their
backs as _fugitives_ before their enemies! It was a time of humiliation
and sorrow. Every man was weighed down with a terrible anxiety. Officers
hurried to and fro, silently and hastily forwarding the preparations for
the retreat. The great caravan of army trains was on its way under the
direction of scores of officers, and with it were escorts of cavalry and
infantry.

At three o'clock Sunday morning the 29th, the Sixth corps quietly
evacuated its works and proceeded in the direction of Savage's Station.
The men slung their knapsacks and quietly moved off. A scene of
desolation met their view as they passed along. Tents cut to pieces,
commissary stores thrown upon the ground or burning in heaps, blankets
and clothing piled promiscuously about, not considered worth carrying
away; all indicating a retreat under most disastrous circumstances.

We had been preceded by Keyes' corps, which had started at noon the day
before, crossed White Oak creek and occupied the opposite side, acting
as advance guard for our long trains which were now making all haste
toward the James river.

The endless streams of army wagons, artillery trains and ambulances were
all pouring down the roads from the various camps, and crowding into the
narrow paths that led to the opposite side of the Peninsula. Porter's
infantry mingled with the trains, and thousands of cattle driven along
through the woods by the roadside made a strange scene. Franklin's,
Sumner's and Heintzelman's corps were to guard the rear, and it was with
secrecy that we had left the rifle pits; for the enemy was close upon us
ready to take advantage of every movement. A picket guard was left to
deceive the rebels, while regiment after regiment silently disappeared,
leaving only the pickets to hold the long line of earthworks. These
brave men waited hour after hour for the signal to retire. The gray
lights of the morning broke upon them, yet there was no sign for them to
join their commands. At length, when they had given up all hope of being
relieved, they were signaled to leave the breastworks, and under cover
of the morning mists, they quickly joined their comrades.

The Second division moved in the direction of Savage's Station, while
the First kept on to the crossing of White Oak Swamp, acting as
rear-guard to Porter's corps. We of the Second division kept along the
high lands which skirt the Chickahominy, when, after marching about two
miles, the division was brought to bay by the pursuing enemy. Facing
about we waited in line of battle for our trains to get out of the way;
when we again resumed the retreat. While here, General McClellan, with
his immense staff, rode by us on his way toward Harrison's Landing. He
passed White Oak Swamp the same day, and waited the arrival of the army;
which, hindered by battles and innumerable difficulties, did not come up
with its commander again till the 1st of July.

We arrived at Savage's Station at 4 P.M. Here trains and troops were
crowded together in wonderful confusion. Immense heaps of commissary
stores, arms and ammunition were waiting destruction lest they should
fall into the hands of the enemy, and hundreds of sick and wounded men
were taking sad leave of their friends; for it had been determined that
these brave unfortunate men must be left to the tender mercies of the
rebels. Again the division was formed in line of battle to protect our
pioneers and the regiments which were engaged in the destruction of the
stores. The long railroad bridge across the river at this point had been
burned. The work of destruction went on at a marvelous rate. Boxes of
hard bread, hundreds of barrels of flour, rice, sugar, coffee, salt and
pork were thrown upon the burning piles and consigned to the flames. One
heap of boxes of hard bread as large as a good sized dwelling made a
part of the sacrifice. Boxes of clothing and shoes were opened and every
man as he passed helped himself to whatever he thought worth carrying
away. Notwithstanding thousands helped themselves, and huge boxes of
clothing were cast into the flames, we found on our return to the
Peninsula two years afterwards, that the inhabitants for a long distance
around were clothed and shod with articles left by us at Savage's
Station on the grand retreat. The people had also made large gains by
gathering up the coats, pants, shirts and shoes left on the ground and
selling them in Richmond and elsewhere.

It was easy thus to dispose of commissary and quartermaster's stores,
but to destroy the immense magazines of cartridges, kegs of powder, and
shells, required more care. These were loaded into cars; a long train
was filled with these materials, and then, after setting fire to each
car, the train was set in motion down the steep grade. With wildest fury
the blazing train rushed; each revolution of the wheels adding new
impetus to the flying monster, and new volumes to the flames. The
distance to the bridge was two miles. On and on the burning train
thundered like a frightful meteor. Now, the flames being communicated to
the contents of the cars, terrific explosions of shells and kegs of
powder lent new excitement to the scene. The air was full of shrieking,
howling shells, the fragments of which tore through the trees and
branches of the forest; and huge fragments of cars were seen whirling
high in the air.

At length the train reached the river; and such was its momentum, that,
notwithstanding the bridge was burned, the engine and the first car
leaped over the first pier in the stream, and the cars hung suspended.
While this destruction was going on, Smith's division moved back beyond
Savage's Station, toward White Oak Swamp, marching, with frequent halts,
three or four miles, when we were ordered to retrace our steps with all
speed, to reinforce Sumner's corps, which was engaging the enemy. The
heat of the day was most oppressive. Many of our men fell with
sunstroke. Among those who thus suffered was General Davidson.

CHAPTER X.

THE GRAND RETREAT.

Lee's army in pursuit--Sumner and Smith at Bay--Battle of
Savage's Station--The Vermont Brigade--Sick and wounded
abandoned--Retreat to White Oak Swamp--Battle of White Oak
Swamp--An astonished division--A night march--A mystery--In
sight of the James--Battle of Malvern Hill--Departure of the
princes--Gloom and anxiety--Lee's attack--The rebels
demoralized.

Meanwhile the rebel army, finding no force in front of them, were at
first at a loss to determine what course we had taken; but when it was
discovered that we had withdrawn from before both wings of their army
and that our base of supplies at White House had been abandoned, it was
quickly divined that the Union army was retreating to the James river.
Stuart, with his cavalry, had dashed down to White House and found only
heaps of smoldering ruins; and from the absence of all motion in front
of the right of their line, it was clear that no attempt was to be made
on Richmond. Finding himself thus unexpectedly victorious, Lee at once
ordered his forces, now on the north bank of the Chickahominy, to cross
over and pursue the retreating army.

During the night of the 28th, they had been actively engaged in
rebuilding the bridge destroyed by General Porter, and early on the
morning of the 29th, the main body of Lee's army was pouring across the
river. Hill and Longstreet moved rapidly so as to interpose between our
army and Richmond, and to be able to strike us on the flank; two other
divisions followed on the Charles City road, and Jackson, with his
corps, moved down the bank of the Chickahominy, threatening our rear.

To resist any attack from these approaching columns, Sumner's and
Heintzelman's corps, and our Second division of the Sixth corps, were
formed in line of battle before Savage's Station.

For hours our division, with Sumner's corps, stood in the open field
watching the enemy. Heintzelman withdrew his corps and left Sumner and
Smith to stem the tide that was destined to pour upon us. It seems to
have been the impression of General Heintzelman, who had listened with
credulity to the stories of the immense superiority of the enemy in
numbers, that all hope of resisting the power of Lee's army was gone,
and that there remained nothing for us but to make the best of our way
to the James river without stopping to give the enemy battle.

In the view that there was no safety but in retreat, he was guided by
the opinion of the Commander-in-Chief, who had no thought of any further
resistance than should suffice to bring the men and as much of the
material of the army as could be brought by the teams across the
Peninsula. Not so the old war horse Sumner. He would gladly have
attempted, a few hours later, to have "pushed the rebels into the
Chickahominy," had not his application for help been answered from
beyond White Oak Swamp, "The rear-guard will follow the retreat of the
main body of the army." If there was no hope for the army but rapid
retreat, then it was right for Heintzelman to leave the road clear; for
as it was, with only Sumner's corps and our own division, the road was
packed so full that the men could scarcely march. But if there was an
opportunity of inflicting great injury upon the rebels, as Sumner
believed there was, then we are not surprised at the amazement of the
veteran when he discovered, the battle having commenced, that one corps
had left the line altogether. We were now as near our new base of
supplies as the rebels were to theirs, and here we had enough to last
the army many days. We were, as they had been, on the defensive; and we
had the advantage in position. But there was nothing left for those now
on the line but to make the best resistance possible under the
circumstances, and then fall back to the banks of the James.

About five o'clock the huge cloud of dust in the direction of the camps
we had deserted, gave warning of the approach of that part of the rebel
army which was marching by the Charles City road; and at sunset the
thunders of their artillery burst upon us. For an hour, only the heavy
roar of artillery was heard from both sides. Shells screamed from one
side to the other, and the bright flashes and sharp reports, as they
burst in the air, mingled with the noise and smoke of the battle, as
battery responded to battery. Thus far no discharge of musketry was
heard; but suddenly Magruder's men, with yells and shouts, rushed to the
charge. Streams of fire flashed along the two lines, and the rattle of
innumerable muskets told of closer work than artillery duels. The brave
fellows of Sumner, and of our Vermont brigade, met the assailants with
defiant shouts that rang out above the roar of muskets and cannon.

Leaving Sumner's heroes to contend the ground on their part of the line,
let us glance more in detail at the part borne by our own division in
this battle of Savage's Station.

The Vermont brigade having the advance of the division, General Brooks
at once threw his regiments to the front. The Fifth and Sixth as
skirmishers, supported by the Third and Second in line of battle, the
Fourth being thrown upon the flank, the brigade advanced rapidly through
a wide strip of woods. Suddenly, as the line of skirmishers emerged from
the woods they received the fire of a battery and of a strong line of
battle. The Fifth at once charged upon the force in front, which
scattered in all directions. The rebels were beaten back both from our
own and from Sumner's front; but only to reform and press forward again
from the cover of the woods to which they had retreated, to give battle
with new vigor. Again the flash and roar of musketry mingled with the
wild yells of the rebels and the manly shouts of the Unionists, and
again nothing could be seen but the clouds of smoke, out of which sprung
the vivid blaze of the cannon, and the quick flash of the rifles. Every
now and then, fresh troops arriving upon the field would send up the
shout above all the other noise of battle, and then nothing but the
continuous din of arms could be heard. Three rebel regiments now
advanced against the Fifth Vermont; but the brave fellows secured a good
position and held it, in spite of every effort of the rebels to dislodge
them. The other regiments were not so hotly engaged as the Fifth. Two
hundred of the men of that regiment were killed, wounded or missing.
Fifty of their dead bodies were left on the field. Davidson's and
Hancock's brigades guarded important positions, but were not actively
engaged.

The conflict raged till eight o'clock, when the confederates, repulsed
at every point, beaten and discouraged, left the field, and no more was
seen of them. The whole loss to the confederates in this engagement was
about four hundred.

Before midnight, the rear-guard had turned toward White Oak Swamp,
leaving many hundreds of our brave wounded and sick men lying upon the
green sward, or collected under rude shelters. Here, large groups were
gathered under the shade of some large tree; and there, long lines of
staggering invalids, leaning upon their guns or staffs for support,
tottered after the retreating column, in the hope of being able to reach
with it a place of safety.

Surgeons were left to care for these unfortunate ones who could not get
off; and a small amount out of the abundance of provisions that was
condemned to destruction was saved for them. Of all the sad scenes which
had made the Peninsula swarm with melancholy memories, nothing we had
seen could compare with this most sorrowful of all. Twenty-five hundred
of our sick and wounded were left to fall into the hands of the enemy.

At nine or ten in the evening, we withdrew from our position before
Savage's Station, and marched rapidly toward White Oak Swamp. The road
was completely filled with wagons, ambulances and artillery, mingled
with horsemen and infantry, all crowding forward with utmost speed.
Never had our men experienced so severe a march. They were obliged to
pick their way among the teams, losing all organization, each man bent
upon making his way forward regardless of others.

At length, toward morning, we crossed White Oak creek, ascended a little
elevation on the further side, and lay down upon the grass completely
exhausted and worn out.

The sun was shining brightly when we were roused from our heavy
slumbers. The morning passed in perfect quiet except the rattle of the
trains which had parked here over night, and now were hurrying along the
narrow road, wagons and artillery rushing by with all speed to allow
room for the immense collection to file out. This process continued till
afternoon, and was the only source of excitement to us except the
distant roar of battle on the left, where McCall and Hooker were hotly
engaged. Thus matters continued until about two o'clock; the men seeking
shelter among the pines or resting quietly after their weary night's
march. A picket line composed of men from the various regiments of our
Third brigade, Second division, guarding our extreme right flank. All
were listless and little dreaming of the tremendous storm of iron hail
which was gathering to break upon us in a moment.

Suddenly, like a thunderbolt, seventy-five pieces of artillery belched
forth their sheets of flame and howling shells; and in an instant, our
whole division was thrown into the most perfect confusion by the deadly
missiles which flew among us in every direction. Such cannonading had
never before been heard by our army, and before our batteries could
reply with any effect, the horses were killed, the gunners dispersed and
the pieces disabled. It was a most perfect surprise; no one was
prepared; men ran hither and thither seeking shelter behind any object
which seemed even sufficient to conceal them from the view of the enemy.

It appeared that Jackson had effected a crossing of the river, and with
great secrecy made his way to the border of White Oak creek, where,
concealed by trees and underbrush, he had massed his batteries, and when
all was in perfect readiness had opened upon us this storm of death.
Unutterable confusion prevailed for a time; riderless horses galloped
madly to the rear; men rushed here and there; officers wandered about
without commands, and men were left without directions how to act.
Generals Smith and Davidson occupied an old fashioned wooden house which
stood upon the brow of the elevation above and facing the bridge. About
it were many orderlies, holding their horses, or lounging carelessly, or
chatting with each other. The very first volley riddled the house with
shells; orderlies rushed from the place in consternation and the inmates
quickly appeared without, gazing in amazement toward the source of this
unexpected cause of the tumult. The gray-haired owner of the house was
cut in two as he stood in the door, and several other persons were more
or less injured. General Smith, at the moment the cannonade opened, was
engaged at his rude toilette; his departure from the house was so hasty
that he left his watch, which he did not recover. He coolly walked off
to a less exposed position and devoted himself to restoring order. One
regiment, as soon as the shells began to fly, rushed pell-mell to the
rear, none of the men standing upon the order of their going.

During all this time a few of the regiments held their ground without
moving. By active exertions, on the part of officers, order was restored
and the whole division fell back a short distance, taking up a position
at the edge of a strip of woods, which commanded an open field. General
Smith, with his accustomed fearlessness, was to be seen riding along his
lines exhorting his men to coolness, and by his own composure restoring
confidence to them. The design of Jackson, to cross the stream, was
frustrated. The firing soon ceased, and, as darkness came on, quiet
again reigned, except now and then a little skirmishing.

At nine o'clock in the evening, under cover of the darkn

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