BY J. M. MARTIN.
Battle of Fair Oaks--Death of Major Culp--Increasing Sick
List--Advancing Our Lines--The Seven Days' Battles--Glendale or
Charles City Cross Roads--The Fifty-Seventh Under Captain Maxwell as
Rear Guard--Malvern Hill--Retreat to Harrison's Landing.
On the 7th the army resumed the march "on to Richmond," the 57th
diverging from the main line to Cumberland Landing on the Pamunkey,
where for several days it guarded the army stores that had been shipped
by steamer to that point. Afterwards we rejoined the brigade at
Baltimore Store, and on the 24th crossed the famous Chickahominy at
Bottom's bridge and camped on a pine covered bluff to the left of the
railroad, a short distance from the river and near Savage station.
As soldiers we knew little of the danger that confronted us, and nothing
of the councils being held by the enemy plotting our discomfiture. This
knowledge was reserved for us until the 31st. On that day about one
o'clock, just after the regiment had its midday ration, like a clap of
thunder out of a clear sky the crash of musketry came to our ears from
the front. Casey's division of Key's corps, which had pushed about three
miles to our front, and had erected some slight fortifications near Fair
Oaks station, had been suddenly and fiercely attacked by overpowering
numbers. For what seemed to us hours, that probably did not exceed
minutes, we stood listening to the crash and roar of the battle. Soon
the long roll was beaten, the bugle blast sounded, the order to "fall
in" was given, and we knew our hour had come. Forming in line with the
other regiments of the brigade, we were soon on the march toward the
front at a quick-step. Taking the line of the railroad, and the sound of
the battle for our guide, we pressed on. Nearing the battlefield we
began to meet the scattered and retreating men of Casey's division, many
of them wounded and bleeding, but the majority suffering only from
panic. Among this fleeing and panic-stricken mass, field and staff
officers rode, seeking to stay their flight and reform their broken
lines. General Kearny rode among them shouting, "This is not the road to
Richmond, boys." Approaching nearer the field of battle the lines
assumed a more defiant order, and it was evident that the greater mass
of the troops were nobly standing, and lustily cheered us as we passed.
A short distance beyond Fair Oaks station the brigade was deployed in
line of battle in an open field to the right of the railroad. The thick
woods to our front afforded an excellent cover for the enemy's
sharpshooters, of which they speedily availed themselves, field and
staff officers being their tempting targets. In a few moments orders
were received to move to the left. There was a slight cut at the point
of crossing the railway track and under the sharp fire from the enemy
there was some confusion in making the crossing. While effecting this
movement Major Culp was instantly killed and several of the line
wounded. After crossing to the left of the railroad the brigade was
again formed in line, face front, and stood waiting orders to advance.
Immediately in our front was a "slashing," several rods in width. Beyond
that was standing timber quite open. We were not long waiting orders and
soon were moving cautiously forward, scrambling over and through the
felled timber. Once beyond the "slashing," our lines that had become
disarranged were again formed. From our position we could see an open
field beyond, across which extended a line of Confederate infantry,
their compact ranks presenting a fine mark and in easy range of our
Austrian rifles, with which we were then armed. Colonel Campbell, who
had dismounted, having left his horse beyond the "slashing," standing a
few paces to the rear of the column, in low, but distinct tone gave the
command, "Ready! Aim! Fire!"
Every gun in the line responded. What the execution was is not known,
the smoke from our pieces completely excluding our view, but that every
Johnnie had not bitten dust was soon evident from the lively manner in
which they sent their missiles amongst us in very brief time. After the
first volley the regiment loaded and fired "at will," the men seeking
cover behind logs and trees as best they could from the enemy's
returning compliments. How long this duel was maintained it is
impossible to state, as the occasion was such that to take note of
passing time was out of question. The troops holding the extreme right
of our line at length gave way, and the enemy, seizing the opportunity,
threw forward a strong flanking column that soon began a severe
enfilading fire that compelled us to fall back obliquely to avoid a
retreat through the slashing, and take a position in the woods beyond
the open field in which we first formed. This closed the fighting for
the day, and night soon settled over the scene, and while we had met
with reverses, yet we were encouragingly satisfied, for the enemy had
not succeeded in his purpose, by overwhelming numbers, to drive us into
the Chickahominy before reinforcement could come to our aid from the
north side. That night we slept on our arms, without tents or blankets,
for these we had left in our camp to the rear. During the night Sumner's
corps succeeded in crossing the river, swollen by recent rains, and by
daybreak was on the field, and engaging the enemy, drove him back to the
shelter of his works about Richmond. The regiment lost severely in this
engagement. Colonel Campbell was dangerously wounded in the groin and
while being carried to the rear was again shot in the arm. Major Culp,
as before stated, was killed, and Captain Chase, of Company K, mortally
wounded. The loss in the line was eleven killed and forty-nine wounded.
The command of the regiment now devolved on Lieutenant Colonel Woods,
and Captain Simonton of Company B, was promoted to the rank of major.
The battle was immediately followed by heavy rain storms. Tents and camp
equipage were back in the rear and were not forwarded for two or three
days. In the meantime the men stood about, drenched to the skin, or sat
upon logs drying their saturated clothing upon their backs in the hot
sunshine that interspersed the showers. The earth was soaked with water,
which for lack of springs or wells, was used for drinking and cooking
purposes, it only being necessary to dig a shallow hole anywhere to
gather the needed supply. The damp hot weather brought about rapid
decomposition of the dead and unburied animals and the chance bodies of
friend or foe who had fallen in "slashing" or thicket and thus remained
undiscovered, produced a sickening stench. These causes soon produced
much sickness and the swamp fevers carried many to the hospitals, some
never to return. Rumors of the renewal of hostilities, possibly by night
attack, kept the army constantly on the alert, and our accouterments
were rarely taken off night or day; orders being issued to sleep in
shoes ready to "fall out" and "into line" at a moment's notice. On one
occasion a kicking mule was the innocent cause of a hasty mustering of
our forces, to the great chagrin of the weary and sleepy soldiery.
General Hooker, ever anxious for fight and adventure, made an advance on
his own motion, in which he was actively supported by General Kearny,
pushing his lines close up to the enemy's defenses, so that from a
lookout station established in the top of a large tree the church spires
and steeples of the coveted Confederate capital could plainly be seen.
But this movement was not in accord with General McClellan's plan of
campaign. The position was hazardous in the extreme, inviting another
onset by the enemy, and we were soon withdrawn to our original lines and
the shelter of our breastworks. This was our nearest approach to
Richmond until after Appomattox in the spring of 1865. Amid these scenes
of constant picket duty, digging rifle-pits, and building fortifications
the regiment passed the month of June. On the 26th the sound of heavy
firing on the extreme right came to our ears all the afternoon. The
enemy in our front was exceedingly vigilant and we drew the fire of
their pickets on the slightest exposure. Late in the evening loud
cheering was heard to our right, and the report was circulated, and
credited, that that wing of our army had carried the Confederate
defenses to the north of the city, and we lustily joined our comrades,
as we supposed, in their shout of victory. But, alas! for the
truthfulness of camp rumors! It was all a mistake; our lines had only
successfully repulsed the enemy's repeated assaults at Mechanicsville!
That was all. The next day, the 27th, the battle was renewed at Gaines
Mill, a little nearer to our position. The day following, the 28th, our
immediate line withdrew from its advanced position and stood ready to
repel any attack that might be made on the battle-worn troops of Porter
and Warren as they slowly filed across the Chickahominy to the south
side. Late in the afternoon General Kearny directed the distribution to
each man of one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition (more than twice
our usual allowance), and also that each officer in his command should
place a red patch in conspicuous view upon his hat or cap. What to do
with the superfluous ammunition was a question, and called forth many
uncomplimentary remarks, some even suggesting that it was intended to
relieve the mules of the ammunition trains by making pack-horses of the
soldiery. But we had not long to wait to know the real cause and the
wisdom of it, and glad were we to have the extra cartridges for
convenient use! The red patch order also proved an important event in
army history, in that it was the beginning of the corps badge so popular
and useful in the after years of the war. The afternoon of the next day,
the 29th, after a day of anxious waiting and expectancy, the regiment
took up the line of march, with the crash of the battle of Savage
station ringing in their ears, southward across the White Oak swamp.
Late in the evening we filed off upon a by-road leading at right angles
to the road on which we were moving. Soon we reached a wide swamp,
across which had recently been constructed a causeway, or bridge of logs
laid in the mud and water side by side, and which was perhaps twenty
rods in length. Without hesitation the regiment marched out upon this
bridge. When the head of the column had about reached the opposite end
it was fired upon by the enemy's pickets. Here was a dilemma calculated
to try the nerve of the bravest. What the enemy's force was none knew,
but anyone could realize the terrible slaughter that might be wrought
had a section of artillery been turned upon that narrow roadway with a
swamp of unknown depth on either side. General Kearny, with his
accustomed daring, was at the head of the column. Turning about, he rode
back along the line, his face grave, but calm. "Keep quiet, boys, keep
quiet. Don't be alarmed. About face and move to the rear!" he said as he
passed. Every man in the regiment seemed to realize the gravity of the
situation, and that upon his personal coolness depended the safety of
the retreat, and without noise or confusion the regiment "about faced"
and soon was back on the road from which we had strayed. That night we
bivouacked without tents or fires, wrapping ourselves in our blankets,
and, lying down, star gazed until our eyes closed in slumber.
The 30th dawned hot and sultry, and as the men trudged along under the
fierce glare of the sun, and their burden of knapsack, haversack, and
extra ammunition, many succumbed and fell out of the ranks. Arriving at
the intersection of the Charles City road with that upon which we were
marching about mid-day, the regiment filed to the right into an open
field, stacked arms and broke ranks. Some of our number sought rest in
convenient shade, others busied themselves building fires and cooking
coffee. In all our surroundings there was not a sign of the enemy's
presence, or that from the cover of the woods beyond the field his
scouts were watching our every movement. Cannonading from the direction
whence we had come gave evidence that he was yet beyond the dismal
swamps through which we had passed the day before, and the rank and file
at least was not aware that a strong force was at that moment marching
upon our line from the west with a purpose to intercept us on our way
toward the James. To the left of us a section of Randolph's battery
stood unlimbered, a circumstance rare to be seen while on the march, and
to the old soldiers suggestive of possible battle, but the gunners were
lolling upon their pieces or sitting about the ground chatting,
apparently indifferent, and if they were so, why need others feel
concern? Thus time passed until 2 o'clock p. m., when suddenly one of
those unlimbered pieces, with a crash that brought every man to his
feet, sent a screaming shell far out over the woods beyond. This defiant
shot seemed at once to be accepted by the enemy as a challenge to
action, for immediately there followed a spattering discharge of
musketry along our front, the bugle notes sounded and the command to
"fall in" rang out along the lines.
"And there was mounting in hot haste, the steed,
The mustering squadrons, and the clattering car
Went pouring forth with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldiers."
In advancing to take our position in the line of battle each man seized
a rail of a convenient fence that stood in the way, and when halted, out
of these constructed an improvised shelter, behind which we crouched to
meet and repel the enemy's desperate onslaughts. From that hour until
darkness covered the scene, the battle raged furiously and almost
incessantly. Charge after charge was made upon our lines, often coming
so near that faces were clearly discernible through the smoke of battle,
so determined was the enemy to break our lines and reach the road in our
rear, over which our wagon trains and unengaged forces were pressing
toward the James river.
Perhaps in no battle of the war was there so long and continuous
fighting by the same troops as in this engagement. It was all important
that the army should be safely guarded past this most vulnerable point,
and posted on the river bluffs and under the protection of our gunboats.
The enemy, as well, seemed to realize the need of breaking our lines or
lose the fruits of their victory purchased at such fearful cost, and
therefore pressed our line hard and continuously, so that if disposed to
do so, there was little time given to relieve us by the substitution of
other troops.
In this engagement Major Simonton was wounded in the shoulder about 6
o'clock in the evening. Lieutenant Colonel Woods was absent on sick
leave, and the command of the regiment devolved upon Captain Ralph
Maxwell, of Company F. Before midnight the troops were withdrawn from
the line of battle and were on the march to Malvern Hill, the place of
rendezvous of the army, near the James river. As we moved quietly along
in the darkness General Kearny rode up and asked Captain Maxwell what
regiment we were. When informed, he complimented us very highly for the
part we had taken in the recent battle, then ordered him to return us to
our old position and hold it until daylight, when he would have us
relieved. We "about faced" and were soon back in our old place as nearly
as could be determined in the darkness. The supposition was that the
whole brigade was with us and we did not discover differently until an
hour or more later. Of this occurrence Captain Maxwell says: "I thought
along toward midnight I would go and have a talk with whoever commanded
the 105th. I went to the right of the 57th, but could find no one; all
was vacancy. I immediately retraced my steps and, passing to the left,
found the 63d gone also. Nobody there but one poor, little, lone
regiment! It then came to me that we were placed there to be sacrificed
for the safety of the rest of the army. I knew the penalty for violating
General Kearny's orders, but at the same time I could not think of
sacrificing these men to certain capture and imprisonment. I did not
like to break orders and I could not do the other. Soon after we heard
the trundle of artillery, and the tread of the marching men to our
front, and then lights gleaming to our front. Evidently this was the
enemy. I made up my mind I would try and save the regiment, orders or no
orders, and let them court-martial me and be d--d. I ordered the
regiment to form silently in two ranks, then gave the order to march and
file right. They did so and all filed past me and got on the road. I
then ran along the line to the head of the regiment and gave the order
to double quick, and we went down that road on the run, and none too
soon. Five minutes more and we would have been prisoners! We caught up
to the main body of the army and took our usual position in the brigade.
I was afraid to ask any questions and never heard anything about our
disobedience of orders. But one thing is certain, I am glad I did what I
did that night!"
In this engagement our regiment lost seven killed and fifty-six wounded,
a number of whom subsequently died.
The next morning found the regiment in line on Malvern Hill. This
position was almost impregnable. On the south side flowed the James
river on which floated the Union fleet of gunboats. On the north side
was an impenetrable swamp. To attack, the Confederates had to charge
from the west and in our front over long stretches of open ground in the
face of our batteries posted along the hill side, their right flank
enfiladed by the fire from our gunboats. General Porter, speaking of the
strength of this position, says that when by inspections he realized its
natural advantages, and had seen his division properly posted, he
returned to the Malvern House, where he had established his
headquarters, and, lying down on a cot, dropped at once into so sound a
sleep, that although the battle following surged up to the front yard of
the house, he was not awakened, although at any other time during the
campaign the snap of a cap would rouse him instantly, so great was his
sense of the security of his position. Notwithstanding these natural
advantages, the elated, but weary forces of Jackson, Longstreet, and
Hill, reinforced by the fresh troops of Magruder and Hugar, charged and
recharged our lines with desperate persistence deserving of a better
cause, but each time were repulsed with fearful slaughter. The losses of
the 57th in this engagement were two killed and eight wounded,
Lieutenant Charles O. Etz and the orderly sergeant of Company D being
the two fatal casualties. The death of Lieutenant Etz and his companion
occurred under peculiarly sad circumstances. Wearied with the battle of
the preceding afternoon and the night vigil following, these two
comrades had lain down together, the sergeant's head resting on the
lieutenant's breast, and were snatching a moment's sleep. A shot from
one of the enemy's batteries struck the two sleepers, killing them
instantly. Thus, all unconscious of their danger, they were swept by one
swift stroke into that sleep that knows no waking.
The battle over and the enemy severely chastised, the grand Army of the
Potomac, with thinned and broken ranks, a mere shadow of its former
greatness, continued the retreat, Harrison's Landing, a place of
historic importance in that the line of its occupants has given to our
country two chief executives, lying a few miles below Malvern Hill on
the James, being the place selected for final rendezvous. During the
night following the battle the 57th was again on outpost duty, but early
the following morning was quietly withdrawn and in a drenching rain that
continued throughout the day, again took up its wearisome march,
arriving in the vicinity of the landing toward evening, weary, wet and
worn!
The Harrison mansion, a substantial structure of brick, reared in
colonial days, stood on an eminence overlooking the broad sweep of the
James river. Between the mansion and the river was a stretch of
grass-covered field gently sloping to the water's edge. Adjoining this
to the west, or northwest, was a large wheat field. A greater part of
the standing grain had been cut and was in shock. These golden sheaves
were quickly appropriated by our troops and spread upon the water-sodden
ground, whereon to rest their weary bodies. A few brief hours sufficed
to obliterate every trace of this harvest scene, and where the
husbandman had so recently been reaping in peace the fruits of his
field, batteries were now thickly packed and soldiers' tents, not white,
but wet and earth soiled, stood in long ranks.