THE BATTLE OF WILLIAMSBURG.
What the army of the Potomac achieved and suffered before Yorktown, we
must leave for the historian. Our soldier boy was only one hero among
thousands who toiled in the soft mud of the early spring, who watched and
waited for the tremendous events which have now passed into history, and
whose actors will be honored and remembered by future generations.
Tom Somers bore his full share of the trials and hardships of that
eventful period; and when McClellan's scientific engineering had driven
the rebels from their strong works without a struggle to retain them, he
moved forward with the gallant army. "On to Richmond!" again sounded along
the lines, and the soldiers toiled through mud and mire, hoping and
expecting to strike the final blow that would crush out the rebellion.
Yorktown was evacuated. The rebels were fleeing from their frowning
batteries, and the order came for Hooker's division to join in the
pursuit. At noon the brigade--now under command of General Grover
commenced its forward movement.
"Rather rough," said Hapgood, as the regiment struggled on through the
mire. "Rather soft, I think," replied Tom, laughing.
"I hope we haven't got to march far through this mud," added Ben
Lethbridge.
"That will depend upon how soon we come up with the rebels. If it rests
with Hooker, I tell you he will get a fight out of the rebs, if such a
thing is possible."
After the regiment had marched five or six miles, the order came to halt;
and the intelligence passed along the column that the cavalry had come up
with the enemy, and were waiting the arrival of an infantry force to
assist in the attack.
"Good!" shouted Tom. "We shall have a battle before night."
"Perhaps not," added Hapgood. "It takes the cat a good while to catch the
mouse, even after she smells the critter."
"Why don't we march? What are we stopping here for?" said Tom,
impatiently.
"They say Smith's division has got in ahead of us. Keep cool, Tom; never
be in a hurry for a battle. Some of us that stand here now won't be alive
in twenty-four hours from now; for I don't believe the rebs are going to
let us have it all our own way," said the veteran.
"Nor I," added Fred Pemberton. "I shall be killed in this fight."
"How do you know, Fred?" demanded Hapgood, sternly.
"Of course I don't know, but I feel it in my bones that I shall fall in
the first battle."
"Your bones ain't no guide at all. I know something about this business,
and I've seen croakers afore to-day. Don't talk about being killed, or
even hit. Be ready to die, do your duty like a soldier, and leave all the
rest to your Maker," said the veteran, solemnly.
"I don't have any such feeling as that. I know I shan't be killed,"
laughed Ben. "The bullet hasn't been cast yet that will stop my wind."
"Perhaps it has, my boy. It may be in some rebel soldier's cartridge box
over yonder, even now. I tell you, boys, you don't know any thing about
it. Just afore we went in at Cerry Gordy, a feller by my side said the
same thing you did, Ben; and he was the first man that went down. I tried
to pick him up, and do something for him, but he was stone dead. I tell
you, Ben, you don't know any thing about it. Leave it all to the
Almighty."
"Pooh, uncle!" sneered Ben, trying to laugh down the solemn words of the
old man. "Don't you think we'd better have a prayer meetin' before we go
in?"
"I think we should fight the better for it, for he who trusts in God don't
fear death."
But it was evident that the words of Hapgood, especially the incident of
Cerro Gordo, had made a deep impression upon the mind of the thoughtless
young man. Though the division did not move for three hours, he was very
silent and sober. He seemed to feel that he had been tempting Providence
by his bold speech, and even expressed his regret to Tom for what he had
said.
It was dark when the order to march was given. The night was exceedingly
gloomy, and the rain poured down upon the devoted army, as it moved
forward to do its great work. Hour after hour, in the deep darkness and
the pouring rain, the men struggled through the mire, expecting every
moment to be hurled upon the rebel battalions, or to meet the impetuous
onset of the foe.
Between ten and eleven, when the men were nearly worn out by the
exhausting labors of the march, they were ordered to halt in the road, and
bivouac for the rest of the night. What a time and what a place for
repose! They could only wrap themselves up in their wet blankets, and
stretch themselves upon the ground, soaked with water, and with the rain
still pouring down upon them. But they slept, and enjoyed their rest, for
Nature was imperative in her demands.
At daylight the march was resumed; for the intrepid Hooker, ever faithful
to the trust confided to him, was wholly in earnest. At half-past five the
column was halted in the woods. The rebel works before Williamsburg were
in sight, and General Hooker rode to the front to examine the position of
the enemy.
In front of the rebel batteries, and on each side of the roads, the trees
had been felled, in order to give the guns in the field works full play
upon an approaching force.
"Hurrah!" shouted some of the boys on the right of the column. "Our
brigade is to commence the attack."
"How do you know?" growled Hapgood, who did not think a soldier ought to
know any thing about the plan of the battle.
"We are ordered to move," replied Tom. "I suppose that's all they know
about it."
The prophets on the right were correct this time, for the regiment was
soon sent to the right of the road, and ordered to deploy as skirmishers.
A battery was thrown forward in front of the felled timber; but before a
gun could be fired, two officers and two privates were seen to fall before
the unerring aim of the rebel sharpshooters, occupying the rifle pits
which dotted the cleared land in front of the forts.
"That's a hot place," said Ben Lethbridge.
"We shall all see hot work before the sun goes down to-night," replied
Tom. "But let us stand up to it like men."
"That's the talk, Tom!" exclaimed Hapgood.
"Have you got those socks on, my boy?"
"I have, uncle; and I have the letter and the photograph in my pocket."
"Good, Tom! After this day's work is over, you can write the lady a
letter, and tell her that her socks have been in a battle."
"And that I didn't run away in them."
The roar of the guns in Fort Magruder interrupted the conversation. The
gunners of the battery in front of them had been driven from their pieces;
but it was almost instantly manned by volunteers, and a destructive fire
poured into the works. Other batteries were brought up, and the fort was
soon silenced. The roar of battle sounded all along the line; the thunder
of cannon and the crash of musketry reverberated through the woods and
over the plain, assuring the impatient troops that they were engaged in no
trivial affair; that they were fighting a great battle, of which thousands
yet unborn would read upon the pages of history.
Our regiment closed up its lines, and the gallant colonel gave the order
to move forward in the direction of the field works. On, on, steadily and
firmly marched the men of Massachusetts, through ditch and swamp, through
mud and mire, loading, firing, and charging, as the enemy presented
opportunity. The hot work of the day had commenced; for, from every bush,
tree, and covert, which could conceal a man, the rebels poured a deadly
fire into the ranks of the advancing Federals.
Tom stood as firm as a rock. The doubts and fears which beset him in his
first battle had no existence on this day. So thoroughly had he schooled
his mind to the fearful ordeal of carnage, that he felt quite at home. He
was cool and determined, and continually encouraged those around him by
his cheering words as well as by his example.
"Ben is down!" exclaimed Hapgood.
"Poor fellow!" replied Tom, without taking his eye off the foe in front.
"There goes Bob Dornton!" added Hapgood.
"Stand up to it, my men!" said Tom, firmly, for he had no time then to
think of the fallen.
"Forward!" shouted the impetuous colonel, who, if he had never been
popular with the men before, was rapidly establishing himself in their
good graces by his unflinching heroism. "Forward! double quick! march!"
And on dashed the gallant regiment, mounting the enemy's lofty works, and
driving the foe before them like sheep, at the point of the bayonet. This
was the first experience of this exciting description which Tom had seen,
and he entered into the spirit of it with a hearty zeal.
"Halt!" was the order, as a regiment filed out in front of them, with a
flag of truce flying on its front. "Steady--don't fire," repeated several
officers along the line.
"What regiment are you?" shouted a person, as the flag came within
speaking distance.
"What are you?" demanded an officer of the storming party.
"We're the Alabama eighth!"
"We are the Massachusetts --th," replied our men.
"Then you are the villains we want!" returned the rebel, plentifully
interlarding the sentence with oaths.
The flag of truce dropped, and the dastardly foe poured in a volley of
musketry, before which a dozen of our brave boys fell, either killed or
wounded.
"Fire!" yelled the colonel; and the order was obeyed with a will. "Charge
bayonets! Forward--double quick--march!"
The men, burning with indignation at the treachery of the rebel horde,
sprang forward to wreak their righteous vengeance upon the cowardly
traitors. So impetuous was the charge, that the rebel regiment broke, and
sought safety in flight.
"Down with them!" hoarsely screamed Tom, as the line swayed forward, and
pursued the panic-stricken foe into the woods on the left. The even line
was broken, and the boys scattered to do their work to the best advantage.
Tom's legs seemed to be in excellent condition, notwithstanding the
toilsome marches of the last twenty-four hours; and he dashed forward into
the woods followed by only a dozen choice spirits, whose enthusiasm was
equal to his own. A squad of flying rebels in front of them was the object
of their present anxiety, and they soon distanced their companions.
The rebels, seeing by how small a force they were pursued, rallied and
formed line again.
"Give it to them!" cried Tom, as he led his little force upon the rebels.
"Hold on, Tom!" said Hapgood; "we have gone far enough. There's a rebel
regiment forming behind us."
"Can't help it," said Tom, as he rushed forward, with the veteran by his
side. "Give it to them!"
Tom and his men threw themselves upon the rebel squad, and a sharp fight
ensued, in which the parties fought with bayonets, clubbed muskets, and
even with the death grip upon each other's throats. The traitors could not
stand it, and fled again.
The sergeant glanced behind him, and saw the rebel regiment formed ready
to charge upon his own. He was cut off from his friends, with the enemy on
his front and rear. Three of his men had fallen in the sharp encounter
with the rebels, and most of them were wounded or bruised, and all of them
out of breath. To add to the peril of the situation, the squad they had
been pursuing were rallying and being reënforced by their fugitive
companions.
"Bad, Tom, bad," said Hapgood, who was puffing and blowing like a
porpoise, as he ominously shook his head.
"Follow me!" said Tom, confidently, as he led the way in a direction at
right angles with the advance of the party.
Our regiment had reformed again, and soon gave that in front of them
enough to do. The rebels in their rear caused the sergeant's squad no
little annoyance; but they continued on their course, loading and firing
as they retreated.