_Camp near Richmond, Va.,
June 29, 1862._
I was correct in my last letter to you when I predicted that the great
battle had commenced (Chickahominy or Gaines Mills). The conflict raged
with great fury after I finished writing, and it lasted from three
o’clock until ten that night. The cannonading was so continuous at one
time that I could scarcely hear the musketry at all. There was one
incessant boom and roar for three hours without any cessation. Next
morning (28th) the battle began anew, but there was not nearly so much
cannonading, because our men rushed upon the Yankees and took their
cannon. The musketry, though, was terrific. It reminded me of myriads
of hail-stones falling upon a house top. I could see the smoke and the
bombs burst in the air, and could hear the shouts of our men as they
would capture the Yankee batteries.
Our brigade took the advance in the morning when the battle commenced,
and after we routed them we did not get a chance to fight them again
until we had driven them about eight or ten miles from where we started
them. They rallied there and made a stand, but our troops rushed at
them again and drove them to--God only knows where! A Yankee officer
(a prisoner) told me they had no idea General Jackson was anywhere
about here, and he acknowledged that General McClellan was completely
out-witted. I tell you the Yankee “Napoleon” has been badly defeated.
Our colonel surprised his men by his bravery. My brother Billie is
greatly mortified because he was too sick to be in the fight. He is
still hardly able to walk. Our regiment had eight killed and forty
wounded. Orr’s Regiment and the First South Carolina were badly cut up
in an attempt to capture a battery. (The former had 81 killed and 234
wounded, and the latter 20 killed and 125 wounded).
I was on the ground yesterday (Saturday) where some of the hardest
fighting took place. The dead were lying everywhere and were very thick
in some places. One of our regiments had camped in some woods there and
the men were lying among the dead Yankees and seemed unconcerned.
The most saddening sight was the wounded at the hospitals, which were
in various places on the battlefield. Not only are the houses full, but
even the yards are covered with them. There are so many that most of
them are much neglected. The people of Richmond are hauling them away
as fast as possible. At one place I saw the Yankee wounded and their
own surgeon attending to them. There are no crops or fences anywhere,
and I saw nothing which had escaped the Yankees except one little
Guinea fowl. I thought our army was bad enough, but the country over
which the Yankees have been looks like some barren waste. On my way to
the battlefield I met a negro who recognized me and told me that your
brother Edwin was wounded in the breast and had gone to Richmond. I
fear there is some truth in it.