BACK TO RICHMOND—BATTLE OF SEVEN PINES—THE
BRIGADE IN RESERVE—INTO THE FIGHT
AT DOUBLE-QUICK—INCIDENTS OF THE
BATTLE—ON THE PICKET LINES
As before said, on the 6th of May we again marched through Williamsburg
on towards Richmond. The roads were deep in mud; it was a hot, sultry
May morning. A few miles out on the road I was taken suddenly very sick,
and lay down on the roadside utterly unable to march any further.
Visions of capture and prison rose before me like a nightmare. The
regimental ambulance was in the rear, and when it came up I was taken in
and rode all day, camping that night with the wagon trains, and the next
day rejoined the command.
On the 9th of May we reached the Chickahominy River at Bottom's Bridge,
where we remained for several days, waiting for the Yankees, but they
did not come so fast as they did at Williamsburg. On the first day's
march from here it was raining, the marching being very fatiguing. I
remember that night when we turned off the road into woods partially
cleared with the brush piled, I spread my blanket on one of the piles of
brush, with a Yankee oilcloth over me, and slept soundly till morning.
It rained nearly all night, but I was dry and ready for the march the
next morning. The next day we trudged on up the Peninsula, passing by
some historic old homesteads, among others, if I remember aright,
Ex-President John Tyler's old place and his grave (the tombstone a
simple white slab) by the roadside.
On the 15th of May the brigade went into camp in the vicinity of
Richmond, near what was called Darbytown (though I don't remember seeing
anything like a town or village), where it remained for a few days. This
locality, I later learned, is called Darbytown after a family of
Enroughties, whose local cognomen is Darby. How Darby could have been
evolved out of Enroughty has always been, to me, one of the mysteries of
evolution. Yet quite as reasonable as that man sprang from a monkey. I
got a pass from here into Richmond, where I bought an officer's uniform,
having before only a jacket.
On the 27th of May we moved to a camp near Howard's Grove, remaining
there only four days, when the battle of Seven Pines came off.
THE BATTLE OF SEVEN PINES
Early on the morning of the 31st of May, 1862, the brigade marched out
of camp to go into the battle of Seven Pines. Orders were issued the
night before to take every available man, even the cooks.
Every one knew that a battle was to be fought that day. I remember as we
marched along the road that morning, it somehow occurred to me that I
would be wounded in this battle. Dr. Thornhill was passing along and I
remarked to him that I felt I would be wounded, and that he must see
after me. The doctor replied, "Oh, you must not think that." W. T.
Withers, of Company C, who had been detailed as hospital steward, also
came along and remarked that I had a chance to win my spurs that day, I
having a short time before taken command of Company C. Captain Clement
promoted to major, had gone home for his horse and equipments.
I didn't get wounded that day nor win any spurs that I ever saw, but was
in a very hot fight, and had three bullet holes through my clothes. So
my presentment came near being thrice fulfilled.
Two corps of the Yankee army had crossed over the Chickahominy at
Bottom's Bridge, fortifying their position at Fair Oaks and Seven Pines,
near Richmond, while three corps remained on the other side of the
river. General Johnston and his generals had conceived the plan of
falling suddenly on these two corps and crushing them before relief
could reach them from the other side. It was said General Longstreet
first made the suggestion. The night before, it had rained very hard;
this it was thought would add to the success of the scheme, as the rain
would raise the Chickahominy and keep back reënforcements, but the
swollen streams and muddy roads delayed the movements of the Confederate
troops, so that the attack upon the enemy's lines was delayed until
three o'clock P. M., while the plan was for it to be made in the morning
by nine or ten o'clock.
Longstreet with his own and D. H. Hill's Division was to make the attack
at Seven Pines, and was ready early in the morning, but other troops who
were to assist on other portions of the line failed to come up and take
position until three o'clock P. M. This no doubt caused a partial
failure of the enterprise.
While the Yankees were soundly thrashed and driven from their
breastworks and camps, yet they were not crushed and captured, as it was
hoped they would be.
Gen. Jas. L. Kemper was now in command of the brigade, which, as before
said, was first commanded by Longstreet, and then by A. P. Hill, who was
now a major-general. The brigade was held in reserve while the other
brigades of Longstreet's and D. H. Hill's divisions advanced on the
Yankee lines, who were in their fortified camps at Seven Pines.
THE BRIGADE IN RESERVE
It is one of the rules of war to hold the best troops in reserve, and
put them into the fight at the critical moment. No brigade in the army
stood higher than the "First Virginia," as it was called. The Eleventh
Regiment, which stood as high as the highest, was in reserve at the
battle of July 18, 1861, at Blackburn's Ford. The brigade was in reserve
at Williamsburg on the 5th of May, and now again at Seven Pines on the
30th of May, and also soon afterwards at Gaines' Mill on the 27th of
June, and in many other battles during the war.
The brigade was posted in an open field about three-fourths of a mile
from the Yankee lines, the enemy's first line being in the woods at the
edge of a field, the woods extending to within two hundred yards of the
Yankee camps, and in front of the camp were breastworks and redoubts
mounted with big guns. The attacking Confederate troops were in these
woods also. The brigade was first marched off the road some distance to
the right, then marched back, the left resting on the road leading down
to Seven Pines, where it remained standing in line until ordered into
the fight. While here the firing commenced in the woods at the front.
About this time the command was given to load. The ramrods rattling down
the musket barrels created a sensation akin to that of the clods falling
upon the coffin lid, which is a reminder that some one is dead, and
suggested the question, Who will be the next? The first suggested death
to many, and who will be the victims? While loading, I spoke a few words
to the men of the company, exhorting them to do their duty, and remember
what they were fighting for.
The fighting was very heavy in front for some time, and we expecting
every moment to be called into action. Such suspense is very trying, but
not as bad as lying under a shelling.
INTO THE FIGHT AT DOUBLE-QUICK
General Longstreet, with his staff about him, was sitting on his horse
in the road close by, looking intently in the direction of the firing. I
don't remember how long after the firing began, half an hour or perhaps
more (time seems to move slow on such occasions), it was not long,
however, before the brigade was ordered to go to the front in
double-quick time, and down the road we went in a run. About the time
the woods were reached, the wounded men began to appear in large numbers
going to the rear, some on foot, some on stretchers, and some in
ambulances; some limping along, shot in their feet or legs; some holding
a wounded hand or arm; all bleeding and bedraggled, having charged
through a swamp; some groaning and moaning, lamenting their sad fate, in
utter despair and helplessness; others, in grim and heroic silence,
bearing the pain and shock of their wounds in silence, with fortitude
and bravery.
One man I remember, who was completely demoralized, called out as we
passed him, making his way to the rear, "Oh, men," he wailed, "don't go
down there, you will all be killed; they are killing our men, they have
wounded me. It is no use to go; don't go." A little further on, came
another man, shot in the head or face, bleeding profusely, bareheaded,
swinging his arms and shouting at the top of his voice, "Go in, boys,
and give 'em hell. They have shot me, but I gave them the devil first;
go in, boys, and give it to 'em." These two incidents illustrate how
some men are affected in battle. The one was completely undone, perhaps
he had no relish for the fight in the start, and was probably what was
called in the army, "a whiner"; always low spirited and complaining of
everything that happened. The other brave and resolute, who took things
as they came, making the best of everything. Of such were a large
majority of Confederate soldiers—this last class.
On, the brigade went still at a run, the Eleventh Regiment leading,
Company C in front. Capt. J. Lawrence Meem, of Lynchburg, who, until
Garland's promotion was adjutant of the Eleventh Regiment, and was now
General Garland's chief of staff, met us with word from the front to
"hurry." By this time all were well out of breath, but rushed on at
increased speed through mud and water almost knee-deep in some places.
Again a messenger is sent from Gen. D. H. Hill to "hurry, it is a
critical time at the front; the enemy has been driven from his
breastworks and camps, but there are not enough men of the assaulting
column left to occupy and hold the works. The men are doing all that
mortal men can do, some are falling by the wayside from sheer
exhaustion, nothing but the excitement keeps any on their feet." General
Kemper said to the messenger, "Tell General Hill I am left in front and
would like to change." The messenger replied, "No time to change now,
hurry on." Soon the brigade emerged from the woods into the open field,
on the farther side of which the Yankee breastworks and camps were
located, but not a living soldier, Yankee or Confederate, was in sight.
I have said "living soldier," because as we rushed along by the edge of
this field, over which the Confederates had charged, the ground was
thickly strewn with dead Confederates close up to the Yankee breastworks
and redoubts, where stood their abandoned cannon. Passing beyond these
works, Generals Hill and Garland, with their staff officers, were seen
waiting, behind a big pile of cord wood, the coming of the brigade,
which was directed to file to the right through the Yankee camp, with
their small fly-tents still standing, where, facing towards the enemy,
the rear rank was in front, but this made little or no difference. Like
the English "Fore and Aft," the men fight from front or rear rank just
the same. As the brigade filed out through the camp, a terrific fire was
opened by the Yankees, who had rallied or been reënforced by fresh
troops, a hundred or two yards beyond their camp. The Yankee lines could
not be seen on account of the smoke and fog, but the balls flew thick
through the air, killing and wounding many. The men lying flat on the
ground, returned the fire as best they could. In a short time some one
gave the order to fall back to the abandoned Yankee breastworks, some
forty or fifty yards in the rear, which afforded protection from the
enemy's shots. This order was obeyed in double-quick time, all hurrying
over the breastworks, getting on the reverse side, into the ditch half
filled with water, preferring the cold water to hot lead. I did not hear
the order to fall back, and the others got the start of me. I think I
was the last man to go over the works, and was sure a Yankee bullet
would hit me as I did so. I expect it was here that one or more of the
bullets passed through my clothes. I thought about being shot in the
back, of which I always had a dread, but did not take time to turn
around, face the enemy and go over backwards, making all haste possible
to get out of danger. From the breastworks the fire was kept up for some
time, until General Kemper sent a detachment around on the enemy's left
flank, when the firing ceased.
INCIDENTS OF THE BATTLE
The brigade lost a good many men in this fight, Colonel Funston and
Lieutenant-Colonel Langhorne, of the Eleventh Regiment both being badly
wounded and permanently disabled. Company C lost three men killed,
namely: James Wood, Silas Barber, and James Terrell, all recruits, and
several wounded. Terrell was in the Mexican War. Capt. Lawrence Meem,
Garland's chief of staff, was killed dead on the field, shot through the
head; a fine soldier he was too, brave, handsome and accomplished. Capt.
Henry Fulks, of Company F, was killed in a few feet of me. He had rushed
into the Yankee camp exhausted from the double-quicking, sat down on a
Yankee fly-tent, which sank to the ground with his weight, and had just
raised his head to look to the front when a ball struck him about the
head or face, when he sank back and was dead in a few minutes. I heard
the whack of the ball as it struck him and saw the blood trickling down
his neck. About this time Color-Bearer Hickok, of the Eleventh Regiment,
who was standing close by with his flag in hand, and who was about the
only man or officer I saw on his feet, was shot down, badly wounded,
when Color-Guard Jim Haynes, of Company F, seized the colors and rushed
to Captain Foulks, taking him in his arms, but still holding the flag
aloft, and cried out, "Oh, my poor captain is killed; my poor captain is
killed." So Captain Foulks died with the Confederate battle-flag waving
over him, its folds partly enveloping his body.
I must again refer to Daniel Pillow, of Company C, who was so cool and
deliberate and fought with such deadly intent at Williamsburg. When the
troops fell back to the breastworks, Pillow, instead of getting down in
the ditch as the others did, took his seat on the parapet while several
comrades behind him loaded guns which he fired at the enemy with
deliberate aim. At one time the order was given to cease firing; it was
thought some Confederates were in front between the lines. Pillow paid
no heed to the order. Colonel Corse, of the Seventeenth Regiment, came
along the lines, and said to Pillow, "My man, cease firing, our men are
over there." Pillow turned towards the Colonel and said with
determination and sternness: "Don't I see the Stars and Stripes? I am
going to shoot"; and continued firing as before. Colonel Corse stooping
down, looked under the smoke and fog, and seeing the Yankee flag, said,
"Well, fire away then."
Daniel Pillow was an humble private, an "overseer" at the beginning of
the war, without education or pretensions, but he was a soldier, every
inch of him. He was always at his post, ever ready for any duty. Being
six feet or more tall, he marched at the head of the company, being
always near me on the march and in battle; never grumbled or whined, and
was one of the bravest of the brave. He was reported missing at
Gettysburg, and never heard of again. I have no doubt that he fell with
his face to the foe in that desperate charge in which Pickett's Division
was immortalized, and that he sleeps in an unknown soldier's grave. All
honor to his memory.
Walter Rosser, Jim Cocke, Sam Franklin, and Daniel Pillow were the big,
or rather the tall, four of Company C, being over six feet high; were
always at the head of the company, and all good fighters, too.
There was no more fighting on this part of the line. The Confederates
had driven the Yankees from their works and camp, capturing all their
camp equipage and stores, several pieces of cannon, 7,000 muskets, and
about 350 prisoners. Longstreet's and D. H. Hill's divisions had soundly
thrashed a Yankee corps under General Keys.
Gen. G. W. Smith was on the Confederate left towards Fair Oaks station,
but was not engaged until nearly night, when General Sumner's Corps,
crossing over the Chickahominy, came to the relief of Hientzleman and
Kasey, whose troops fell back in that direction and were joined by
Sumner in resisting Smith's attack. General Johnston, who was on this
part of the line, was wounded about seven o'clock, when the command
devolved on General Smith.
The wounding of the Confederate commander-in-chief at this critical
moment was a great misfortune to the Confederates, and no doubt lessened
their chances of the complete success aimed at—the destruction and
capture of the two corps that had crossed over the Chickahominy.
For the number of troops engaged, this was one of the bloodiest battles
of the war. The Confederate loss both days was estimated at a little
over 6,000 killed and wounded; the Yankee loss a little over 5,000. The
Confederates attacked the enemy in his breastworks, which accounts for
the heavy loss sustained. The Confederates also captured many prisoners
and several pieces of cannon.
The brigade remained behind the breastworks until after dark, then other
troops took its place, when we marched back a short distance and slept
under some scrub-oak trees. I remember that night a young kinsman of
mine, George Bright, from Prince Edward County, who was acting as
courier for General Kemper, came to where we were to enquire how we
fared in the fight, and gave me a first-rate new blanket he had picked
up in the Yankee camp, which I carried and used through the rest of the
war, only parting with it when I left Fort Delaware, in May, 1865. I
remember also that Dr. Thornhill got General Kasey's large camp-chair,
with the General's name on it, which the doctor used as long as he
remained in the field.
The next morning, which was Sunday, the brigade marched back to the
breastworks, formed in line of battle at right angles with the works,
facing towards Fair Oaks, where it remained during the day, lying in the
hot (first day of June) sun, without any protection from its rays, all
day long. There was considerable fighting towards Fair Oaks early that
Sunday morning, but none on this immediate line.
That night the Confederates marched out from the lines back towards
Richmond, Kemper's Brigade, as it was now called, going into camp just
northeast of Richmond, where it remained until the 26th of June, 1862,
when the Seven Days' battles around Richmond began.
ON THE PICKET LINES
After the battle of Seven Pines, picket duty was very heavy—whole
regiments going on duty, some on the advance line and others in reserve.
The Eleventh Regiment picketed near Seven Pines. The advance lines or
posts were in the woods, near where the fighting commenced on the 31st
of May, and very close to the Yankees.
I remember one morning, when the Eleventh Regiment was ordered on
picket, while getting ready to go, I heard one of the men say, "I
understand picket firing _are_ very fatal down there." The pickets would
fire on each other at every opportunity.
On this trip the Eleventh Regiment was in reserve, while some North
Carolina troops occupied the advanced posts. During the time a North
Carolina captain came running back from the front where there was some
sharp firing, and reported that the Yankees had charged the picket
lines, capturing and killing all of his company—he alone being left to
tell the tale.
Company C and Company H were ordered from the reserves to go to the
front and retake the picket lines. Accordingly the two companies were
formed in line of battle in the open field, a few hundred yards from the
woods, Captain Hutter, of Company H, being the senior officer,
commanding. We marched on towards the woods, expecting every moment to
be fired upon, Captain Hutter leading in front of the line.
The woods were reached without seeing or hearing of the enemy. Advancing
into the woods some distance, the Confederate pickets were discovered at
their posts on the alert, watching for the Yankee pickets through the
bushes. They motioned to us and spoke in low tones, warning us to keep
under cover, that the Yankees would fire on sight of any one. So it
turned out that the pickets had not been killed or captured, the Tar
Heel captain being the only man who had been demoralized and run away.
I walked out into the road running through the woods along which we had
gone into the fight on the 31st of May, and as I did so, one of the
pickets close by waved me back, saying: "Don't go out there, you will be
shot." I remained long enough in the road to see, a few hundred yards
away, at the farther edge of the woods, a column of blue-coated Yankees
passing across the road, moving to the right, with the Stars and
Stripes—a very large flag—flying above them. That flag looked hateful to
me then, and on other occasions, when I saw it flying above the heads of
men with guns in their hands, who were our deadly enemies, invaders of
the sacred soil of Virginia, doing their utmost to kill her sons who
dared to defend their rights, and who burned houses and devastated the
country ruthlessly and cruelly; and now I here record, that I have never
since that day looked very _admiringly_ or _adoringly_ on that flag, nor
have I since the war worn any blue clothes.
In a short time I went back to the general commanding the picket lines
and reported that the pickets were on their posts, with the line intact,
also that I had seen the column moving to the right. The general
remarked, "They are massing on our right," and ordered a battery to open
fire in that direction. This fire drew no response from the enemy, and
in a short time the two companies were ordered back to the reserves, and
all was quiet.
As I was going back to report to the general I met the Tar Heel captain,
a small, pale-faced youth. He seemed much relieved when I informed him
that his company was not captured, and hastened down to rejoin them,
saying, "That's all right," mortified, no doubt, that he ran away. I
felt sorry for him.