McClellan's one hope, one purpose, was to march his army out of the
swamps and escape from the ceaseless Confederate assaults to a point
on James River where the resistless fire of the gunboats might protect
his men from further attack and give them a chance to rest. To that
end, he retreated night and day, standing at bay now and then as the
hunted stag does, and fighting desperately for the poor privilege of
running away.
And the splendid fighting of his men was a tribute to the skill and
genius with which he had created an effective army out of what he had
described as "regiments cowering upon the banks of the Potomac, some
perfectly raw, others dispirited by recent defeat, others going home."
Out of a demoralized and disorganized mass reënforced by utterly
untrained civilians, McClellan had within a few months created an army
capable of stubbornly contesting every inch of ground even while
effecting a retreat the very thought of which might well have
disorganized an army.--_George Cary Eggleston, in "The History of the
Confederate War."_
General Lee was determined that the operations in front of Richmond should
not degenerate into a siege, and that the Army of Northern Virginia should
no longer be on the defensive. To this end, early in the summer of 1862,
he proceeded to increase his fighting force so as to make it more nearly
equal in number to that of his antagonist. Every man who could be spared
from other sections of the South was called to Richmond. Numerous
earthworks soon made their appearance along the roads and in the fields
about the Confederate capital, giving the city the appearance of a
fortified camp. The new commander in an address to the troops said that
the army had made its last retreat.
Meanwhile, with the spires of Richmond in view, the Army of the Potomac
was acclimating itself to a Virginia summer. The whole face of the country
for weeks had been a veritable bog. Now that the sweltering heat of June
was coming on, the malarious swamps were fountains of disease. The
polluted waters of the sluggish streams soon began to tell on the health
of the men. Malaria and typhoid were prevalent; the hospitals were
crowded, and the death rate was appalling.
Such conditions were not inspiring to either general or army. McClellan
was still hoping for substantial reënforcements. McDowell, with his forty
thousand men, had been promised him, but he was doomed to disappointment
from that source. Yet in the existing state of affairs he dared not be
inactive. South of the Chickahominy, the army was almost secure from
surprise, owing to well-protected rifle-pits flanked by marshy thickets or
covered with felled trees. But the Federal forces were still divided by
the fickle stream, and this was a constant source of anxiety to the
commander. He proceeded to transfer all of his men to the Richmond side of
the river, excepting the corps of Franklin and Fitz John Porter. About the
middle of June, General McCall with a force of eleven thousand men joined
the Federal army north of the Chickahominy, bringing the entire fighting
strength to about one hundred and five thousand. So long as there remained
the slightest hope of additional soldiers, it was impossible to withdraw
all of the army from the York side of the Peninsula, and it remained
divided.
That was a brilliant initial stroke of the Confederate general when he
sent his famous cavalry leader, J. E. B. Stuart, with about twelve hundred
Virginia troopers, to encircle the army of McClellan. Veiling his
intentions with the utmost secrecy, Stuart started June 12, 1862, in the
direction of Fredericksburg as if to reënforce "Stonewall" Jackson. The
first night he bivouacked in the pine woods of Hanover. No fires were
kindled, and when the morning dawned, his men swung upon their mounts
without the customary bugle-call of "Boots and Saddles." Turning to the
east, he surprised and captured a Federal picket; swinging around a corner
of the road, he suddenly came upon a squadron of Union cavalry. The
Confederate yell rent the air and a swift, bold charge by the Southern
troopers swept the foe on.
They had not traveled far when they came again to a force drawn up in
columns of fours, ready to dispute the passage of the road. This time the
Federals were about to make the charge. A squadron of the Confederates
moved forward to meet them. Some Union skirmishers in their effort to get
to the main body of their troops swept into the advancing Confederates and
carried the front ranks of the squadron with them. These isolated
Confederates found themselves in an extremely perilous position, being
gradually forced into the Federal main body. Before they could extricate
themselves, nearly every one in the unfortunate front rank was shot or cut
down.
The Southern cavalrymen swept on and presently found themselves nearing
the York River Railroad--McClellan's supply line. As they approached
Tunstall's Station they charged down upon it, with their characteristic
yell, completely surprising a company of Federal infantry stationed there.
These at once surrendered. Telegraph wires were cut and a tree felled
across the track to obstruct the road. This had hardly been done before
the shriek of a locomotive was heard. A train bearing Union troops came
thundering along, approaching the station. The engineer, taking in the
situation at a glance, put on a full head of steam and made a rush for the
obstruction, which was easily brushed aside. As the train went through a
cut the Confederates fired upon it, wounding and killing some of the
Federal soldiers in the cars.
Riding all through a moonlit night, the raiders reached Sycamore Ford of
the Chickahominy at break of day. As usual this erratic stream was
overflowing its banks. They started to ford it, but finding that it would
be a long and wearisome task, a bridge was hastily improvised at another
place where the passage was made with more celerity. Now, on the south
bank of the river, haste was made for the confines of Richmond, where, at
dawn of the following day, the troopers dropped from their saddles, a
weary but happy body of cavalry.
Lee thus obtained exact and detailed information of the position of
McClellan's army, and he laid out his campaign accordingly. Meanwhile his
own forces in and about Richmond were steadily increasing. He was planning
for an army of nearly one hundred thousand and he now demonstrated his
ability as a strategist. Word had been despatched to Jackson in the
Shenandoah to bring his troops to fall upon the right wing of McClellan's
army. At the same time Lee sent General Whiting north to make a feint of
joining Jackson and moving upon Washington. The ruse proved eminently
successful. The authorities at Washington were frightened, and McClellan
received no more reënforcements. Jackson now began a hide-and-seek game
among the mountains, and managed to have rumors spread of his army being
in several places at the same time, while skilfully veiling his actual
movements.
It was not until the 25th of June that McClellan had definite knowledge of
Jackson's whereabouts. He was then located at Ashland, north of the
Chickahominy, within striking distance of the Army of the Potomac.
McClellan was surprised but he was not unprepared. Seven days before he
had arranged for a new base of supplies on the James, which would now
prove useful if he were driven south of the Chickahominy.
On the very day he heard of Jackson's arrival at Ashland, McClellan was
pushing his men forward to begin his siege of Richmond--that variety of
warfare which his engineering soul loved so well. His advance guard was
within four miles of the Confederate capital. His strong fortifications
were bristling upon every vantage point, and his fond hope was that within
a few days, at most, his efficient artillery, for which the Army of the
Potomac was famous, would be belching forth its sheets of fire and lead
into the beleagured city. In front of the Union encampment, near Fair
Oaks, was a thick entanglement of scrubby pines, vines, and ragged bushes,
full of ponds and marshes. This strip of woodland was less than five
hundred yards wide. Beyond it was an open field half a mile in width. The
Union soldiers pressed through the thicket to see what was on the other
side and met the Confederate pickets among the trees. The advancing column
drove them back. Upon emerging into the open, the Federal troops found it
filled with rifle-pits, earthworks, and redoubts. At once they were met
with a steady and incessant fire, which continued from eight in the
morning until five in the afternoon. At times the contest almost reached
the magnitude of a battle, and in the end the Union forces occupied the
former position of their antagonists. This passage of arms, sometimes
called the affair of Oak Grove or the Second Battle of Fair Oaks, was the
prelude to the Seven Days' Battles.
The following day, June 26th, had been set by General "Stonewall" Jackson
as the date on which he would join Lee, and together they would fall upon
the right wing of the Army of the Potomac. The Federals north of the
Chickahominy were under the direct command of General Fitz John Porter.
Defensive preparations had been made on an extensive scale. Field works,
heavily armed with artillery, and rifle-pits, well manned, covered the
roads and open fields and were often concealed by timber from the eye of
the opposing army. The extreme right of the Union line lay near
Mechanicsville on the upper Chickahominy. A tributary of this stream from
the north was Beaver Dam Creek, upon whose left bank was a steep bluff,
commanding the valley to the west. This naturally strong position, now
well defended, was almost impregnable to an attack from the front.
Before sunrise of the appointed day the Confederate forces were at the
Chickahominy bridges, awaiting the arrival of Jackson. To reach these some
of the regiments had marched the greater part of the night. For once
Jackson was behind time. The morning hours came and went. Noon passed and
Jackson had not arrived. At three o'clock, General A. P. Hill, growing
impatient, decided to put his troops in motion. Crossing at Meadow Bridge,
he marched his men along the north side of the Chickahominy, and at
Mechanicsville was joined by the commands of Longstreet and D. H. Hill.
Driving the Union outposts to cover, the Confederates swept across the low
approach to Beaver Dam Creek. A murderous fire from the batteries on the
cliff poured into their ranks. Gallantly the attacking columns withstood
the deluge of leaden hail and drew near the creek. A few of the more
aggressive reached the opposite bank but their repulse was severe.
Later in the afternoon relief was sent to Hill, who again attempted to
force the Union position at Ellerson's Mill, where the slope of the west
bank came close to the borders of the little stream. From across the open
fields, in full view of the defenders of the cliff, the Confederates moved
down the slope. They were in range of the Federal batteries, but the fire
was reserved. Every artilleryman was at his post ready to fire at the
word; the soldiers were in the rifle-pits sighting along the glittering
barrels of their muskets with fingers on the triggers. As the approaching
columns reached the stream they turned with the road that ran parallel to
the bank.
From every waiting field-piece the shells came screaming through the air.
Volley after volley of musketry was poured into the flanks of the marching
Southerners. The hillside was soon covered with the victims of the gallant
charge. Twilight fell upon the warring troops and there were no signs of a
cessation of the unequal combat. Night fell, and still from the heights
the lurid flames burst in a display of glorious pyrotechnics. It was nine
o'clock when Hill finally drew back his shattered regiments, to await the
coming of the morning. The Forty-fourth Georgia regiment suffered most in
the fight; three hundred and thirty-five being the dreadful toll, in dead
and wounded, paid for its efforts to break down the Union position.
Dropping back to the rear this ill-fated regiment attempted to re-form its
broken ranks, but its officers were all among those who had fallen. Both
armies now prepared for another day and a renewal of the conflict.
The action at Beaver Dam Creek convinced McClellan that Jackson was really
approaching with a large force, and he decided to begin his change of base
from the Pamunkey to the James, leaving Porter and the Fifth Corps still
on the left bank of the Chickahominy, to prevent Jackson's fresh troops
from interrupting this great movement. It was, indeed, a gigantic
undertaking, for it involved marching an army of a hundred thousand men,
including cavalry and artillery, across the marshy peninsula. A train of
five thousand heavily loaded wagons and many siege-guns had to be
transported; nearly three thousand cattle on the hoof had to be driven.
From White House the supplies could be shipped by the York River Railroad
as far as Savage's Station. Thence to the James, a distance of seventeen
miles, they had to be carried overland along a road intersected by many
others from which a watchful opponent might easily attack. General Casey's
troops, guarding the supplies at White House, were transferred by way of
the York and the James to Harrison's Landing on the latter river. The
transports were loaded with all the material they could carry. The rest
was burned, or put in cars. These cars, with locomotives attached, were
then run into the river.
On the night of June 26th, McCall's Federal division, at Beaver Dam Creek,
was directed to fall back to the bridges across the Chickahominy near
Gaines' Mill and there make a stand, for the purpose of holding the
Confederate army. During the night the wagon trains and heavy guns were
quietly moved across the river. Just before daylight the operation of
removing the troops began. The Confederates were equally alert, for about
the same time they opened a heavy fire on the retreating columns. This
march of five miles was a continuous skirmish; but the Union forces, ably
and skilfully handled, succeeded in reaching their new position on the
Chickahominy heights.
The morning of the new day was becoming hot and sultry as the men of the
Fifth Corps made ready for action in their new position. The selection of
this ground had been well made; it occupied a series of heights fronted on
the west by a sickle-shaped stream. The battle-lines followed the course
of this creek, in the arc of a circle curving outward in the direction of
the approaching army. The land beyond the creek was an open country,
through which Powhite Creek meandered sluggishly, and beyond this a wood
densely tangled with undergrowth. Around the Union position were also many
patches of wooded land affording cover for the troops and screening the
reserves from view.
Porter had learned from deserters and others that Jackson's forces, united
to those of Longstreet and the two Hills, were advancing with grim
determination to annihilate the Army of the Potomac. He had less than
eighteen thousand men to oppose the fifty thousand Confederates. To
protect the Federals, trees had been felled along a small portion of their
front, out of which barriers protected with rails and knapsacks were
erected. Porter had considerable artillery, but only a small part of it
could be used. It was two o'clock, on June 27th, when General A. P. Hill
swung his division into line for the attack. He was unsupported by the
other divisions, which had not yet arrived, but his columns moved rapidly
toward the Union front. The assault was terrific, but twenty-six guns
threw a hail-storm of lead into his ranks. Under the cover of this
magnificent execution of artillery, the infantry sent messages of death to
the approaching lines of gray.
The Confederate front recoiled from the incessant outpour of grape,
canister, and shell. The heavy cloud of battle smoke rose lazily through
the air, twisting itself among the trees and settling over the forest like
a pall. The tremendous momentum of the repulse threw the Confederates into
great confusion. Men were separated from their companies and for a time it
seemed as if a rout were imminent. The Federals, pushing out from under
the protection of their great guns, now became the assailants. The
Southerners were being driven back. Many had left the field in disorder.
Others threw themselves on the ground to escape the withering fire, while
some tenaciously held their places. This lasted for two hours. General
Slocum arrived with his division of Franklin's corps, and his arrival
increased the ardor of the victorious Federals.
It was then that Lee ordered a general attack upon the entire Union front.
Reenforcements were brought to take the place of the shattered regiments.
The engagement began with a sharp artillery fire from the Confederate
guns. Then the troops moved forward, once more to assault the Union
position. In the face of a heavy fire they rushed across the sedgy
lowland, pressed up the hillside at fearful sacrifice and pushed against
the Union front. It was a death grapple for the mastery of the field.
General Lee, sitting on his horse on an eminence where he could observe
the progress of the battle, saw, coming down the road, General Hood, of
Jackson's corps, who was bringing his brigade into the fight. Riding
forward to meet him, Lee directed that he should try to break the line.
Hood, disposing his men for the attack, sent them forward, but, reserving
the Fourth Texas for his immediate command, he marched it into an open
field, halted, and addressed it, giving instructions that no man should
fire until ordered and that all should keep together in line.
The forward march was sounded, and the intrepid Hood, leading his men,
started for the Union breastworks eight hundred yards away. They moved at
a rapid pace across the open, under a continually increasing shower of
shot and shell. At every step the ranks grew thinner and thinner. As they
reached the crest of a small ridge, one hundred and fifty yards from the
Union line, the batteries in front and on the flank sent a storm of shell
and canister plowing into their already depleted files. They quickened
their pace as they passed down the slope and across the creek. Not a shot
had they fired and amid the sulphurous atmosphere of battle, with the wing
of death hovering over all, they fixed bayonets and dashed up the hill
into the Federal line. With a shout they plunged through the felled timber
and over the breastworks. The Union line had been pierced and was giving
way. It was falling back toward the Chickahominy bridges, and the retreat
was threatening to develop into a general rout. The twilight was closing
in and the day was all but lost to the Army of the Potomac. Now a great
shout was heard from the direction of the bridge and, pushing through the
stragglers at the river bank were seen the brigades of French and Meagher,
detached from Sumner's corps, coming to the rescue. General Meagher, in
his shirt sleeves, was leading his men up the bluff and confronted the
Confederate battle line. This put a stop to the pursuit and as night was
at hand the Southern soldiers withdrew. The battle of Gaines' Mill, or the
Chickahominy, was over.
When Lee came to the banks of the little river the next morning he found
his opponent had crossed over and destroyed the bridges. The Army of the
Potomac was once more united. During the day the Federal wagon trains were
safely passed over White Oak Swamp and then moved on toward the James
River. Lee did not at first divine McClellan's intention. He still
believed that the Federal general would retreat down the Peninsula, and
hesitated therefore to cross the Chickahominy and give up the command of
the lower bridges. But now on the 29th the signs of the movement to the
James were unmistakable. Early on that morning Longstreet and A. P. Hill
were ordered to recross the Chickahominy by the New Bridge and Huger and
Magruder were sent in hot pursuit of the Federal forces. It was the brave
Sumner who covered the march of the retreating army, and as he stood in
the open field near Savage's Station he looked out over the plain and saw
with satisfaction the last of the ambulances and wagons making their way
toward the new haven on the James.
In the morning of that same day he had already held at bay the forces of
Magruder at Allen's Farm. On his way from Fair Oaks, which he left at
daylight, he had halted his men at what is known as the "Peach Orchard,"
and from nine o'clock till eleven had resisted a spirited fire of musketry
and artillery. And now as the grim warrior, on this Sunday afternoon in
June, turned his eyes toward the Chickahominy he saw a great cloud of dust
rising on the horizon. It was raised by the troops of General Magruder who
was pressing close behind the Army of the Potomac. The Southern field-guns
were placed in position. A contrivance, consisting of a heavy gun mounted
on a railroad car and called the "Land Merrimac," was pushed into position
and opened fire upon the Union forces. The battle began with a fine play
of artillery. For an hour not a musket was fired. The army of blue
remained motionless. Then the mass of gray moved across the field and from
the Union guns the long tongues of flame darted into the ranks before
them. The charge was met with vigor and soon the battle raged over the
entire field. Both sides stood their ground till darkness again closed the
contest, and nearly eight hundred brave men had fallen in this Sabbath
evening's battle. Before midnight Sumner had withdrawn his men and was
following after the wagon trains.
The Confederates were pursuing McClellan's army in two columns, Jackson
closely following Sumner, while Longstreet was trying to cut off the Union
forces by a flank movement. On the last day of June, at high noon, Jackson
reached the White Oak Swamp. But the bridge was gone. He attempted to ford
the passage, but the Union troops were there to prevent it. While Jackson
was trying to force his way across the stream, there came to him the sound
of a desperate battle being fought not more than two miles away, but he
was powerless to give aid.
Longstreet and A. P. Hill had come upon the Federal regiments at Glendale,
near the intersection of the Charles City road, guarding the right flank
of the retreat. It was Longstreet who, about half-past two, made one of
his characteristic onslaughts on that part of the Union army led by
General McCall. It was repulsed with heavy loss. Again and again attacks
were made. Each brigade seemed to act on its own behalf. They hammered
here, there, and everywhere. Repulsed at one place they charged at
another. The Eleventh Alabama, rushing out from behind a dense wood,
charged across the open field in the face of the Union batteries. The men
had to run a distance of six hundred yards. A heavy and destructive fire
poured into their lines, but on they came, trailing their guns. The
batteries let loose grape and canister, while volley after volley of
musketry sent its death-dealing messages among the Southerners. But
nothing except death itself could check their impetuous charge. When two
hundred yards away they raised the Confederate yell and rushed for
Randol's battery.
Pausing for an instant they deliver a volley and attempt to seize the
guns. Bayonets are crossed and men engage in a hand-to-hand struggle. The
contending masses rush together, asking and giving no quarter and
struggling like so many tigers. Darkness is closing on the fearful scene,
yet the fighting continues with unabated ferocity. There are the shouts of
command, the clash and the fury of the battle, the sulphurous smoke, the
flashes of fire streaking through the air, the yells of defiance, the
thrust, the parry, the thud of the clubbed musket, the hiss of the bullet,
the spouting blood, the death-cry, and beneath all lie the bodies of
America's sons, some in blue and some in gray.
While Lee and his army were held in check by the events of June 30th at
White Oak Swamp and the other battle at Glendale or Nelson's Farm, the
last of the wagon trains had arrived safely at Malvern Hill. The contest
had hardly closed and the smoke had scarcely lifted from the blood-soaked
field, when the Union forces were again in motion toward the James. By
noon on July 1st the last division reached the position where McClellan
decided to turn again upon his assailants. He had not long to wait, for
the Confederate columns, led by Longstreet, were close on his trail, and a
march of a few miles brought them to the Union outposts. They found the
Army of the Potomac admirably situated to give defensive battle. Malvern
Hill, a plateau, a mile and a half long and half as broad, with its top
almost bare of woods, commanded a view of the country over which the
Confederate army must approach. Along the western face of this plateau
there are deep ravines falling abruptly in the direction of the James
River; on the north and east is a gentle slope to the plain beneath,
bordered by a thick forest. Around the summit of the hill, General
McClellan had placed tier after tier of batteries, arranged like an
amphitheater. Surmounting these on the crest were massed seven of his
heaviest siege-guns. His army surrounded this hill, its left flank being
protected by the gunboats on the river.
The morning and early afternoon were occupied with many Confederate
attacks, sometimes formidable in their nature, but Lee planned for no
general move until he could bring up a force that he considered sufficient
to attack the strong Federal position. The Confederate orders were to
advance when the signal, a yell, cheer, or shout from the men of
Armistead's brigade, was given.
Late in the afternoon General D. H. Hill heard some shouting, followed by
a roar of musketry. No other general seems to have heard it, for Hill made
his attack alone. It was gallantly done, but no army could have withstood
the galling fire of the batteries of the Army of the Potomac as they were
massed upon Malvern Hill. All during the evening, brigade after brigade
tried to force the Union lines. The gunners stood coolly and manfully by
their batteries. The Confederates were not able to make concerted efforts,
but the battle waxed hot nevertheless. They were forced to breast one of
the most devastating storms of lead and canister to which an assaulting
army has ever been subjected. The round shot and grape cut through the
branches of the trees and the battle-field was soon in a cloud of smoke.
Column after column of Southern soldiers rushed up to the death-dealing
cannon, only to be mowed down. The thinned and ragged lines, with a valor
born of desperation, rallied again and again to the charge, but to no
avail. The batteries on the heights still hurled their missiles of death.
The field below was covered with the dead and wounded of the Southland.
The gunboats in the river made the battle scene more awe-inspiring with
their thunderous cannonading. Their heavy shells shrieked through the
forest, and great limbs were torn from the trees as they hurtled by in
their outburst of fury.
Night was falling. The combatants were no longer distinguishable except by
the sheets of flame. It was nine o'clock before the guns ceased their
fire, and only an occasional shot rang out over the bloody field of
Malvern Hill.
The courageous though defeated Confederate, looking up the next day
through the drenching rain to where had stood the embrasured wall with its
grim batteries and lines of blue, that spoke death to so many of his
companions-in-arms, saw only deserted ramparts. The Union army had
retreated in the darkness of the night. But this time no foe harassed its
march. Unmolested, it sought its new camp at Harrison's Landing, where it
remained until August 3d, when, as President Lincoln had been convinced of
the impracticability of operating from the James River as a base, orders
were issued by General Halleck for the withdrawal of the Army of the
Potomac from the Peninsula.
The net military result of the Seven Days was a disappointment to the
South. Although thankful that the siege of Richmond had been raised, the
Southern public believed that McClellan should not have been allowed to
reach the James River with his army intact.
"That army," Eggleston states, "splendidly organized, superbly equipped,
and strengthened rather than weakened in morale, lay securely at rest on
the James River, within easy striking distance of Richmond. There was no
knowing at what moment McClellan might hurl it again upon Richmond or upon
that commanding key to Richmond--the Petersburg position. In the hands of
a capable commander McClellan's army would at this time have been a more
serious menace than ever to the Confederate capital, for it now had an
absolutely secure and unassailable base of operations, while its fighting
quality had been improved rather than impaired by its seven days of
battling."
General Lee's own official comment on the military problem involved and
the difficulties encountered was: "Under ordinary circumstances the
Federal army should have been destroyed. Its escape was due to the causes
already stated. Prominent among these is the want of correct and timely
information. This fact, attributable chiefly to the character of the
country, enabled General McClellan skilfully to conceal his retreat and to
add much to the obstructions with which nature had beset the way of our
pursuing columns; but regret that more was not accomplished gives way to
gratitude to the Sovereign Ruler of the Universe for the results
achieved."
Whatever the outcome of the Seven Days' Battle another year was to
demonstrate beyond question that the wounding of General Johnston at Fair
Oaks had left the Confederate army with an even abler commander. On such a
field as Chancellorsville was to be shown the brilliancy of Lee as leader,
and his skilful maneuvers leading to the invasion of the North. And the
succeeding volume will tell, on the other hand, how strong and compact a
fighting force had been forged from the raw militia and volunteers of the
North.
[Illustration: McDOWELL AND McCLELLAN--TWO UNION LEADERS WHOSE PLANS
"STONEWALL" JACKSON FOILED