Chapter XIII

THE SEVEN DAYS. GAINES’ MILL

1862 The region whither the interest now shifts is very different from

the Valley. From the terraced banks of the Rappahannock, sixty miles

north of Richmond, to the shining reaches of the James, where the

capital of the Confederacy stands high on her seven hills, the lowlands

of Virginia are clad with luxuriant vegetation. The roads and railways

run through endless avenues of stately trees; the shadows of the giant

oaks lie far across the rivers, and ridge and ravine are mantled with

the unbroken foliage of the primeval forest. In this green wilderness

the main armies were involved. But despite the beauty of broad rivers

and sylvan solitudes, gay with gorgeous blossoms and fragrant with

aromatic shrubs, the eastern, or tidewater, counties of Virginia had

little to recommend them as a theatre of war. They were sparsely

settled. The wooden churches, standing lonely in the groves where the

congregations hitched their horses; the solitary taverns, half inns and

half stores; the court-houses of the county justices, with a few wooden

cottages clustered round them, were poor substitutes for the

market-towns of the Shenandoah. Here and there on the higher levels,

surrounded by coppice and lawn, by broad acres of corn and clover, the

manors of the planters gave life and brightness to the landscape. But

the men were fighting in Lee’s ranks, their families

had fled to Richmond, and these hospitable homes showed signs of

poverty and neglect. Neither food nor forage was to be drawn from the

country, and the difficulties of supply and shelter were not the worst

obstacles to military operations. At this season of the year the

climate and the soil were persistent foes. The roads were mere tracks,

channels which served as drains for the interminable forest. The deep

meadows, fresh and green to the eye, were damp and unwholesome

camping-grounds. Turgid streams, like the Chickahominy and its

affluents, winding sluggishly through rank jungles, spread in swamp and

morass across the valleys, and the languid atmosphere, surcharged with

vapour, was redolent of decay.

June Through this malarious region the Federal army had been pushing

its slow way forward for more than six weeks, and 105,000 men,

accompanied by a large siege train, lay intrenched within sight of the

spires of Richmond. 30,000 were north of the Chickahominy, covering the

York River Railway and waiting the coming of McDowell. The remainder,

from Woodbury’s Bridge to the Charles City road, occupied the line of

breastworks which stood directly east of the beleaguered city. So

nearly was the prize within their grasp that the church bells, and even

the clocks striking the hour, were heard in the camps; and at

Mechanicsville Bridge, watched by a picket, stood a sign-post which

bore the legend: “To Richmond, 4½ miles.” The sentries who paced that

beat were fortunate. For the next two years they could boast that no

Federal soldier, except as a prisoner, had stood so close as they had

to the rebel stronghold. But during these weeks in June not a single

soul in McClellan’s army, and few in the Confederacy, suspected that

the flood of invasion had reached high-water mark. Richmond, gazing

night after night at the red glow which throbbed on the eastern vault,

the reflection of countless camp-fires, and, listening with strained

ears to the far-off call of hostile bugles, seemed in perilous case. No

formidable position protected the approaches. Earthworks, indeed, were

in process of construction; but, although the left flank at New Bridge

was covered by the

Chickahominy, the right was protected by no natural obstacle, as had

been the case at Yorktown; and the lines occupied no commanding site.

Nor had the Government been able to assemble an army of a strength

sufficient to man the whole front. Lee, until Jackson joined him,

commanded no more than 72,500 men. Of these a large portion were new

troops, and their numbers had been reduced by the 7,000 dispatched

under Whiting to the Valley.

June 11 But if the Federal army was far superior in numbers, it was not

animated by an energy in proportion to its strength. The march from the

White House was more sluggish than the current of the Chickahominy.

From May 17 to June 26 the Army of the Valley had covered four hundred

miles. Within the same period the Army of the Potomac had covered

twenty. It is true that the circumstances were widely different.

McClellan had in front of him the lines of Richmond, and his advance

had been delayed by the rising of the Chickahominy. He had fought a

hard fight at Seven Pines; and the constant interference of Jackson had

kept him waiting for McDowell. But, at the same time, he had displayed

an excess of caution which was perfectly apparent to his astute

opponent. He had made no attempt to use his superior numbers; and Lee

had come to the conclusion that the attack on Richmond would take the

same form as the attack on Yorktown,—the establishment of great

batteries, the massing of heavy ordnance, and all the tedious processes

of a siege. He read McClellan like an open book. He had personal

knowledge both of his capacity and character, for they had served

together on the same staff in the Mexican war. He knew that his young

adversary was a man of undoubted ability, of fascinating address, and

of courage that was never higher than when things were at their worst.

But these useful qualities were accompanied by marked defects. His will

was less powerful than his imagination. Bold in conception, he was

terribly slow in execution. When his good sense showed him the

opportunity, his imagination whispered, “Suppose the enemy has reserves

of which I know nothing! Is it not more prudent to wait until I receive

more accurate information?” And so “I dare not,”

inevitably waited on “I would.” He forgot that in war it is impossible

for a general to be absolutely certain. It is sufficient, according to

Napoleon, if the odds in his favour are three to two; and if he cannot

discover from the attitude of his enemy what the odds are, he is

unfitted for supreme command.

Before Yorktown McClellan’s five army corps had been held in check,

first by 15,000 men, then by 58,000, protected by earthworks of feeble

profile.[1] The fort at Gloucester Point was the key of the Confederate

lines.[2] McClellan, however, although a division was actually under

orders to move against it, appears to have been unwilling to risk a

failure.[3] The channel of the York was thus closed both to his

transports and the gunboats, and he did nothing whatever to interfere

with Johnston’s long line of communications, which passed at several

points within easy reach of the river bank. Nor had he been more active

since he had reached West Point. Except for a single expedition, which

had dispersed a Confederate division near Hanover Court House, north of

the Chickahominy, he had made no aggressive movement. He had never

attempted to test the strength of the fortifications of Richmond, to

hinder their construction, or to discover their weak points. His urgent

demands for reinforcements had appeared in the Northern newspapers, and

those newspapers had found their way to Richmond. From the same source

the Confederates were made aware that he believed himself confronted by

an army far larger than his own; and when, on the departure of

Whiting’s division for the Valley, he refused to take advantage of the

opportunity to attack Lee’s diminished force, it became abundantly

clear, if further proof were wanting, that much might be ventured

against so timid a commander.

From his knowledge of his adversary’s character, and

still more from his attitude, Lee had little difficulty in discovering

his intentions. McClellan, on the other hand, failed to draw a single

correct inference. And yet the information at his disposal was

sufficient to enable him to form a fair estimate of how things stood in

the Confederate camp. He had been attacked at Seven Pines, but not by

superior numbers; and it was hardly likely that the enemy had not

employed their whole available strength in this battle; otherwise their

enterprise was insensate. Furthermore, it was clearly to the interests

of the Confederates to strike at his army before McDowell could join

him. They had not done so, and it was therefore probable that they did

not feel themselves strong enough to do so. It is true that he was

altogether misled by the intelligence supplied as to the garrison of

Richmond by his famous detective staff. 200,000 was the smallest number

which the chief agent would admit. But that McClellan should have

relied on the estimate of these untrained observers rather than on the

evidence furnished by the conduct of the enemy is but a further proof

that he lacked all power of deduction.[4]

It may well be questioned whether he was anxious at heart to measure

swords with Lee. His knowledge of his adversary, whose reputation for

daring, for ability, for strength of purpose, had been higher than any

other in the old army, must needs have had a disturbing influence on

his judgment. Against an enemy he did not know McClellan might have

acted with resolution. Face to face with Lee, it can hardly be doubted

that the weaker will was dominated by the stronger. Vastly different

were their methods of war. McClellan made no effort whatever either to

supplement or to corroborate the information supplied by his

detectives. Since he had reached West Point his cavalry had done

little.[5] Lee, on the other hand, had found

means to ascertain the disposition of his adversary’s troops, and had

acquired ample information of the measures which had been taken to

protect the right wing, north of the Chickahominy, the point he had

determined to attack.

June 12 Early on June 12, with 1,200 horsemen and a section of

artillery, Stuart rode out on an enterprise of a kind which at that

time was absolutely unique, and which will keep his memory green so

long as cavalry is used in war. Carefully concealing his march, be

encamped that night near Taylorsville, twenty-two miles north of

Richmond, and far beyond the flank of the Federal intrenchments.

June 13 The next morning he turned eastward towards Hanover Court

House. Here he drove back a picket, and his advanced guard, with the

loss of one officer, soon afterwards charged down a squadron of

regulars. A few miles to the south-east, near Old Church, the enemy’s

outposts were finally dispersed; and then, instead of halting, the

column pushed on into the very heart of the district occupied by the

Federals, and soon found itself in rear of their encampments. Stuart

had already gained important information. He had learned that

McClellan’s right flank extended but a short way north of the

Chickahominy, that it was not fortified, and that it rested on neither

swamp nor stream, and this was what Lee had instructed him to discover.

But it was one thing to obtain the information, another to bring it

back. If he returned by the road he had come, it was probable he would

be cut off, for the enemy was thoroughly roused, and the South Anna

River, unfordable from recent rains, rendered a _détour_ to the north

impracticable. To the mouth and west of him lay the Federal army, some

of the infantry camps not five miles distant. It was about

four o’clock in the afternoon. He could hardly reach Hanover Court

House before dark, and he might find it held by the enemy. To escape

from the dilemma he determined on a plan of extraordinary daring, which

involved nothing less than the passage of the Chickahominy in rear of

the enemy, and a circuit of the entire Federal army.

The audacity of the design proved the salvation of his command. The

enemy had assembled a strong force of both cavalry and infantry at

Hanover Court House, under Stuart’s father-in-law, General Cooke; but,

misled by the reports brought in, and doubtless perplexed by the

situation, the latter pursued but slowly and halted for the night at

Old Church. Stuart, meanwhile, had reached Tunstall’s Station on the

York River Railway, picking up prisoners at every step. Here, routing

the guard, he tore up the rails, destroyed a vast amount of stores and

many waggons, broke down the telegraph and burnt the railway bridge,

his men regaling themselves on the luxuries which were found in the

well-stored establishments of the sutlers. Two squadrons, dispatched to

Garlick’s Landing on the Pamunkey, set fire to two transports, and

rejoined with a large number of prisoners, horses, and mules. Then, led

by troopers who were natives of the country, the column marched

south-east by the Williamsburg road, moving further and still further

away from Richmond. The moon was full, and as the troops passed by the

forest farms, the women, running to the wayside, wept with delight at

the unexpected apparition of the grey jackets, and old men showered

blessings on the heads of their gallant countrymen. At Talleysville,

eight miles east, Stuart halted for three hours; and shortly after

midnight, just as a Federal infantry brigade reached Tunstall’s Station

in hot pursuit, he turned off by a country road to the Chickahominy.

June 14 At Forge Bridge, where he arrived at daylight, he should have

found a ford; but the river had overflowed its banks, and was full of

floating timber. Colonel Fitzhugh Lee, not the least famous member of a

famous family, accompanied by a few men, swam his horse at imminent

peril over to the

other bank; but, although he re-crossed the swollen waters in the same

manner, the daring young officer had to report that the passage was

impracticable. It was already light. The enemy would soon be up, and

the capture of the whole column seemed absolutely certain. Hitherto the

men, exhilarated by the complete success of the adventure, had borne

themselves as gaily as if they were riding through the streets of

Richmond. But the danger of their situation was now forcibly impressed

upon them, and the whole command became grave and anxious. Stuart alone

was unmoved, and at this juncture one of his scouts informed him that

the skeleton of an old bridge spanned the stream about a mile below. An

abandoned warehouse furnished the materials for a footway, over which

the troopers passed, holding the bridles of their horses as they swam

alongside. Half the column thus crossed, while the remainder

strengthened the bridge so as to permit the passage of the artillery.

By one o’clock the whole force was over the Chickahominy, unmolested by

the enemy, of whom only small parties, easily driven back by the

rear-guard, had made their appearance.

Thirty-five miles now to Richmond, in rear of the left wing of the

Northern army, and within range, for some portion of the march, of the

gunboats on the James River! Burning the bridge, with a wave of the

hand to the Federal horsemen who covered the heights above Stuart

plunged into the woods, and without further misadventure brought his

troops at sunset to the neighbourhood of Charles City Court House.

Leaving his men sleeping, after thirty-six hours in the saddle, he rode

to Richmond to report to Lee.

June 15 Before dawn on the 15th, after covering another thirty miles,

over a road which was patrolled by the enemy, he reached head-quarters.

His squadrons followed, marching at midnight, and bringing with them

165 prisoners and 260 captured horses and mules.

This extraordinary expedition, which not only effected the destruction

of a large amount of Federal property, and broke up, for the time

being, their line of supplies, but acquired information of the utmost

value, and shook the

confidence of the North in McClellan’s generalship, was accomplished

with the loss of one man. These young Virginia soldiers marched one

hundred and ten miles in less than two days. “There was something

sublime,” says Stuart, “in the implicit confidence and unquestioning

trust of the rank and file in a leader guiding them straight,

apparently, into the very jaws of the enemy, every step appearing to

them to diminish the hope of extrication.”[6] Nor was the influence of

their achievement on the _moral_ of the whole Confederate army the

least important result attained. A host of over 100,000 men, which had

allowed a few squadrons to ride completely round it, by roads which

were within hearing of its bugles, was no longer considered a

formidable foe.

On receiving Stuart’s information, Lee drew up the plan of operations

which had been imparted to Jackson on the 22nd.

It was a design which to all appearance was almost foolhardy. The

Confederate army was organised as follows:—

Longstreet

A. P. Hill

Magruder

Huger

Holmes

D. H. Hill

Jackson

Cavalry

Reserve Artillery 9,000

14,000

13,000

9,000

6,500

10,000

18,500

3,000

3,000

———

86,500[7]

June 24 On the night of June 24 the whole of these troops, with the

exception of the Valley army, were south of the Chickahominy, holding

the earthworks which protected Richmond. Less than two miles eastward,

strongly intrenched, lay four of McClellan’s army corps, in round

numbers 75,000 officers and men.[8]

To attack this force, even after Jackson’s arrival,

was to court disaster. The right was protected by the Chickahominy, the

left rested on White Oak Swamp, a network of sluggish streams and

impassable swamps, screened everywhere by tangled thickets. It needed

not the presence of the siege ordnance, placed on the most commanding

points within the lines, to make such a position absolutely

impregnable.

North of the Chickahominy, however, the Federals were less favourably

situated. The Fifth Army Corps, 25,000 strong,[9] under General

FitzJohn Porter, had been pushed forward, stretching a hand to McDowell

and protecting the railway, in the direction of Mechanicsville; and

although the tributaries of the Chickahominy, running in from the

north, afforded a series of positions, the right flank of these

positions, resting, as Stuart had ascertained, on no natural obstacle,

was open to a turning movement. Furthermore, in rear of the Fifth

Corps, and at an oblique angle to the front, ran the line of supply,

the railway to West Point. If Porter’s right were turned, the

Confederates, threatening the railway, would compel McClellan to detach

largely to the north bank of the Chickahominy in order to recover or

protect the line.

On the north bank of the Chickahominy, therefore, Lee’s attention had

been for some time fixed. Here was his adversary’s weak point, and a

sudden assault on Porter, followed up, if necessary, by an advance

against the railway, would bring McClellan out of his intrenchments,

and force him to fight at a disadvantage. To ensure success, however,

in the attack on Porter it was necessary to concentrate an overwhelming

force on the north bank; and this could hardly be done without so

weakening the force which held the Richmond lines that it would be

unable to resist the attack of the 75,000 men who faced it. If

McClellan, while Lee was fighting Porter, boldly threw forward the

great army he had on the south bank, the rebel capital might be the

reward of his resolution. The danger

was apparent to all, but Lee resolved to risk it, and his audacity has

not escaped criticism. It has been said that he deliberately

disregarded the contingency of McClellan either advancing on Richmond,

or reinforcing Porter. The truth is, however, that neither Lee, nor

those generals about him who knew McClellan, were in the least

apprehensive that their over-cautious adversary, if the attack were

sudden and well sustained, would either see or utilise his opportunity.

From Hannibal to Moltke there has been no great captain who has

neglected to study the character of his opponent, and who did not trade

on the knowledge thus acquired, and it was this knowledge which

justified Lee’s audacity.

The real daring of the enterprise lay in the inferiority of the

Confederate armament. Muskets and shot-guns, still carried by a large

part of the army, were ill-matched against rifles of the most modern

manufacture; while the smooth-bore field-pieces, with which at least

half the artillery was equipped, possessed neither the range nor the

accuracy of the rifled ordnance of the Federals.

That Lee’s study of the chances had not been patient and exhaustive it

is impossible to doubt. He was no hare-brained leader, but a profound

thinker, following the highest principles of the military art. That he

had weighed the disconcerting effect which the sudden appearance of the

victorious Jackson, with an army of unknown strength, would produce

upon McClellan, goes without saying. He had omitted no precaution to

render the surprise complete, and although the defences of Richmond

were still too weak to resist a resolute attack, Magruder, the same

officer who had so successfully imposed upon McClellan at Yorktown, was

such a master of artifice that, with 28,000 men and the reserve

artillery,[10] he might be relied upon to hold Richmond until Porter

had been

disposed of. The remainder of the army, 2,000 of Stuart’s cavalry, the

divisions of Longstreet and the two Hills, 35,000 men all told,

crossing to the north bank of the Chickahominy and combining with the

18,500 under Jackson, would be sufficient to crush the Federal right.

The initial operations, however, were of a somewhat complicated nature.

Four bridges[11] crossed the river on Lee’s left. A little more than a

mile and a half from Mechanicsville Bridge, up stream, is Meadow

Bridge, and five and a half miles further up is another passage at the

Half Sink, afterwards called Winston’s Bridge. Three and a half miles

below Mechanicsville Bridge is New Bridge. The northern approaches to

Mechanicsville, Meadow, and New Bridge, were in possession of the

Federals; and it was consequently no simple operation to transfer the

troops before Richmond from one bank of the Chickahominy to the other.

Only Mechanicsville and Meadow Bridges could be used. Winston’s Bridge

was too far from Richmond, for, if Longstreet and the two Hills were to

cross at that point, not only would Magruder be left without support

during their march, but McClellan, warned by his scouts, would receive

long notice of the intended blow and have ample time for preparation.

To surprise Porter, to give McClellan no time for reflection, and at

the same time to gain a position which would bring the Confederates

operating on the north bank into close and speedy communication with

Magruder on the south, another point of passage must be chosen. The

position would be the one commanding New Bridge, for the Confederate

earthworks, held by Magruder, ran due south from that point. But Porter

was already in possession of the coveted ground, with strong outposts

at Mechanicsville. To secure, then, the two centre bridges was the

first object. This, it was expected, would be achieved by the advance

of the Valley army, aided by a brigade from the Half Sink, against the

flank and rear of the Federals at Mechanicsville. Then, as soon

as the enemy fell back, Longstreet and the two Hills would cross the

river by the Meadow and Mechanicsville Bridges, and strike Porter in

front, while Jackson attacked his right. A victory would place the

Confederates in possession of New Bridge, and the troops north of the

Chickahominy would be then in close communication with Magruder.

Lee’s orders were as follows:—’Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia,

June 24, 1862. General Orders, No. 75.

“I.—General Jackson’s command will proceed to-morrow (June 25) from

Ashland towards the Slash (Merry Oaks) Church, and encamp at some

convenient point west of the Central Railroad. Branch’s brigade of A.

P. Hill’s division will also, to-morrow evening, take position on the

Chickahominy, near Half Sink. At three o’clock Thursday morning, 26th

instant, General Jackson will advance on the road leading to Pole Green

Church, communicating his march to General Branch, who will immediately

cross the Chickahominy, and take the road leading to Mechanicsville. As

soon as the movements of these columns are discovered, General A. P.

Hill, with the rest of his division, will cross the Chickahominy at

Meadow Bridge, and move direct upon Mechanicsville. To aid his advance

the heavy batteries on the Chickahominy will at the proper time open

upon the batteries at Mechanicsville. The enemy being driven from

Mechanicsville and the passage of the bridge being opened, General

Longstreet, with his division and that of General D. H. Hill, will

cross the Chickahominy at or near that point; General D. H. Hill moving

to the support of General Jackson, and General Longstreet supporting

General A. P. Hill; the four divisions keeping in communication with

each other, and moving _en échelon_ on separate roads if practicable;

the left division in advance, with skirmishers and sharp-shooters

extending in their front, will sweep down the Chickahominy, and

endeavour to drive the enemy from his position above New Bridge,

General Jackson bearing well to his left, turning Beaver Dam Creek, and

taking the direction towards

Cold Harbour. They will then press forward towards the York River

Railroad, closing upon the enemy’s rear, and forcing him down the

Chickahominy. An advance of the enemy towards Richmond will be

prevented by vigorously following his rear, and crippling and arresting

his progress.

“II.—The divisions under Generals Huger and Magruder will hold their

position in front of the enemy against attack, and make such

demonstrations, Thursday, as to discover his operations. Should

opportunity offer, the feint will be converted into a real attack. . .

.

“III.—General Stuart, with the 1st, 4th, and 9th Virginia Cavalry, the

cavalry of Cobb’s Legion, and the Jeff Davis Legion, will cross the

Chickahominy to-morrow (Wednesday, June 25), and take position to the

left of General Jackson’s line of march. The main body will be held in

reserve, with scouts well extended to the front and left. General

Stuart will keep General Jackson informed of the movements of the enemy

on his left, and will cooperate with him in his advance. . . .”

June 25 On the 25th Longstreet and the two Hills moved towards the

bridges; and although during the movement McClellan drove back

Magruder’s pickets to their trenches, and pushed his own outposts

nearer Richmond, Lee held firmly to his purpose. As a matter of fact,

there was little to be feared from McClellan. With a profound belief in

the advantages of defensive and in the strength of a fortified

position, he expected nothing less than that the Confederates would

leave the earthworks they had so laboriously constructed, and

deliberately risk the perils of an attack. He seems to have had little

idea that in the hands of a skilful general intrenchments may form a

“pivot of operations,’[12] the means whereby he covers his most

vulnerable point, holds the enemy in front, and sets his main body free

for offensive action. Yet

McClellan was by no means easy in his mind. He knew Jackson was

approaching. He knew his communications were threatened. Fugitive

negroes, who, as usual, either exaggerated or lied, had informed him

that the Confederates had been largely reinforced, and that Beauregard,

with a portion of the Western army, had arrived in Richmond. But that

his right wing was in danger he had not the faintest suspicion. He

judged Lee by himself. Such a plan as leaving a small force to defend

Richmond, and transferring the bulk of the army to join Jackson, he

would have at once rejected as over-daring. If attack came at all, he

expected that it would come by the south bank; and he was so far from

anticipating that an opportunity for offensive action might be offered

to himself that, on the night of the 25th, he sent word to his corps

commanders that they were to regard their intrenchments as “the true

field of battle.”[13]

June 26. 3 a.m. Lee’s orders left much to Jackson. The whole operation

which Lee had planned hinged upon his movements. On the morning of the

24th he was at Beaver Dam Station. The same night he was to reach

Ashland, eighteen miles distant as the crow flies. On the night of the

25th he was to halt near the Slash Church, just west of the Virginia

Central Railway, and six miles east of Ashland. At three o’clock,

however, on the morning of the 26th, the Army of the Valley was still

at Ashland, and it was not till nine that it crossed the railroad.

10.30 a.m. Branch, on hearing that Jackson was at last advancing,

passed the Chickahominy by Winston’s Bridge, and driving Federal

pickets before him, moved on Mechanicsville. General A. P. Hill was

meanwhile near Meadow Bridge, waiting until the advance of Jackson and

Branch should turn the flank of the Federal force which blocked his

passage.

3 p.m. At 3 p.m., hearing nothing from his colleagues, and apprehensive

that longer delay might hazard the failure of the whole plan, he

ordered his advanced guard to seize the bridge. The enemy, already

threatened in rear by Branch, at once fell back. Hill followed

the retiring pickets towards Beaver Dam Creek, and after a short march

of three miles found himself under fire of the Federal artillery.

Porter had occupied a position about two miles above New Bridge.

The rest of the Confederate army was already crossing the Chickahominy;

and although there was no sign of Jackson, and the enemy’s front was

strong, protected by a long line of batteries, Hill thought it

necessary to order an attack. A message from Lee, ordering him to

postpone all further movement, arrived too late.[14] There was no

artillery preparation, and the troops, checked unexpectedly by a wide

abattis, were repulsed with terrible slaughter, the casualties

amounting to nearly 2,000 men.[15] The Union loss was 360.[16]

4.30 p.m. Jackson, about 4.30 p.m., before this engagement had begun,

had reached Hundley’s Corner, three miles north of the Federal

position, but separated from it by dense forest and the windings of the

creek. On the opposite bank was a detachment of Federal infantry,

supported by artillery.

6 p.m. Two guns, accompanied by the advanced guard, sufficed to drive

this force to the shelter of the woods; and then, establishing his

outposts, Jackson ordered his troops to bivouac.

It has been asserted by more than one Southern general that the

disaster at Beaver Dam Creek was due to Jackson’s indifferent tactics;

and, at first sight, the bare facts would seem to justify the verdict.

He had not reached his appointed station on the night of the 25th, and

on the 26th he was five hours behind time. He should have crossed the

Virginia Central Railway at sunrise, but at nine o’clock he was still

three miles distant. His advance against the Federal right flank and

rear should have been made in co-operation with the remainder of the

army. But his whereabouts was unknown when Hill attacked; and although

the cannonade was distinctly heard at Hundley’s Corner, he made no

effort to lend assistance, and his troops were encamping when their

comrades, not three miles

away, were rushing forward to the assault. There would seem to be some

grounds, then, for the accusation that his delay thwarted General Lee’s

design; some reason for the belief that the victor of the Valley

campaign, on his first appearance in combination with the main army,

had proved a failure, and that his failure was in those very qualities

of swiftness and energy to which he owed his fame.

General D. H. Hill has written that “Jackson’s genius never shone when

he was under the command of another. It seemed then to be shrouded or

paralysed. . . . MacGregor on his native heath was not more different

from MacGregor in prison than was Jackson his own master from Jackson

in a subordinate position. This was the keynote to his whole character.

The hooded falcon cannot strike the quarry.”[17]

The reader who has the heart to follow this chronicle to the end will

assuredly find reason to doubt the acumen, however he may admire the

eloquence, of Jackson’s brother-in-law. When he reads of the Second

Manassas, of Harper’s Ferry, of Sharpsburg and of Chancellorsville, he

will recall this statement with astonishment; and it will not be

difficult to show that Jackson conformed as closely to the plans of his

commander at Mechanicsville as elsewhere.

The machinery of war seldom runs with the smoothness of clockwork. The

course of circumstances can never be exactly predicted. Unforeseen

obstacles may render the highest skill and the most untiring energy of

no avail; and it may be well to point out that the task which was

assigned to Jackson was one of exceeding difficulty. In the first

place, his march of eight-and-twenty miles, from Frederickshall to

Ashland, on June 23, 24, and 25, was made over an unmapped country,

unknown either to himself or to his staff, which had lately been in

occupation of the Federals. Bridges had been destroyed and roads

obstructed. The Valley army had already marched far and fast; and

although Dabney hints that inexperienced and sluggish subordinates were

the chief cause of delay,

there is hardly need to look so far for excuse.[18] The march from

Ashland to Hundley’s Corner, sixteen miles, was little less difficult.

It was made in two columns, Whiting and the Stonewall division, now

under Winder, crossing the railway near Merry Oaks Church, Ewell moving

by Shady Grove Church, but this distribution did not accelerate the

march. The midsummer sun blazed fiercely down on the dusty roads; the

dense woods on either hand shut out the air, and interruptions were

frequent. The Federal cavalry held a line from Atlee’s Station to near

Hanover Court House. The 8th Illinois, over 700 strong, picketed all

the woods between the Chickahominy and the Totopotomoy Creek. Two other

regiments prolonged the front to the Pamunkey, and near Hundley’s

Corner and Old Church were posted detachments of infantry. Skirmishing

was constant. The Federal outposts contested every favourable position.

Here and there the roads were obstructed by felled trees; a burned

bridge over the Totopotomoy delayed the advance for a full hour, and it

was some time before the enemy’s force at Hundley’s Corner was driven

behind Beaver Dam Creek.

At the council of war, held on the 23rd, Lee had left it to Jackson to

fix the date on which the operation against the Federal right should

begin, and on the latter deciding on the 26th, Longstreet had suggested

that he should make more ample allowance for the difficulties that

might be presented by the country and by the enemy, and give himself

more time.[19] Jackson had not seen fit to alter his decision, and it

is hard to say that he was wrong.

Had McClellan received notice that the Valley army was approaching, a

day’s delay would have given him a fine opportunity. More than one

course would have been open to him. He might have constructed

formidable intrenchments on the north bank of the Chickahominy and

have brought over large reinforcements of men and guns; or he might

have turned the tables by a bold advance on Richmond. It was by no

means inconceivable that if he detected Lee’s intention and was given

time to prepare, he might permit the Confederates to cross the

Chickahominy, amuse them there with a small force, and hurl the rest of

his army on the works which covered the Southern capital. It is true

that his caution was extreme, and to a mind which was more occupied

with counting the enemy’s strength than with watching for an

opportunity, the possibility of assuming the offensive was not likely

to occur. But, timid as he might be when no enemy was in sight,

McClellan was constitutionally brave; and when the chimeras raised by

an over-active imagination proved to be substantial dangers, he was

quite capable of daring resolution. Time, therefore, was of the utmost

importance to the Confederates. It was essential that Porter should be

overwhelmed before McClellan realised the danger; and if Jackson, in

fixing a date for the attack which would put a heavy tax on the

marching powers of his men, already strained to the utmost, ran some

risks, from a strategical point of view those risks were fully

justified.

In the second place, an operation such as that which Lee had devised is

one of the most difficult manœuvres which an army can be called upon to

execute. According to Moltke, to unite two forces on the battle-field,

starting at some distance apart, at the right moment, is the most

brilliant feat of generalship. The slightest hesitation may ruin the

combination. Haste is even more to be dreaded. There is always the

danger that one wing may attack, or be attacked, while the other is

still far distant, and either contingency may be fatal. The Valley

campaign furnishes more than one illustration. In their pursuit of

Jackson, Shields and Fremont failed to co-operate at Strasburg, at

Cross Keys, and at Port Republic. And greater generals than either

Shields or Fremont have met with little better success in attempting

the same manœuvre. At both Eylau and Bautzen Napoleon was deprived of

decisive victory by his failure to ensure the co-operation of his

widely separated columns.

Jackson and A. P. Hill, on the morning of the 26th, were nearly fifteen

miles apart. Intercommunication at the outset was ensured by the

brigade under Branch; but as the advance progressed, and the enemy was

met with, it became more difficult. The messengers riding from one

force to the other were either stopped by the Federals, or were

compelled to make long _détours_; and as they approached the enemy’s

position, neither Hill nor Jackson was informed of the whereabouts of

the other.

The truth is, that the arrangements made by the Confederate headquarter

staff were most inadequate. In the first place, the order of the 24th,

instructing Jackson to start from Slash Church at 3 a.m. on the 26th,

and thus leading the other generals to believe that he would certainly

be there at that hour, should never have been issued. When it was

written Jackson’s advanced guard was at Beaver Dam Station, the rear

brigades fifteen miles behind; and to reach Slash Church his force had

to march forty miles through an intricate country, in possession of the

enemy, and so little known that it was impossible to designate the

route to be followed. To fix an hour of arrival so long in advance was

worse than useless, and Jackson cannot be blamed if he failed to comply

with the exact letter of a foolish order. As it was, so many of the

bridges were broken, and so difficult was it to pass the fords, that if

Dr. Dabney had not found in his brother, a planter of the

neighbourhood, an efficient substitute for the guide headquarters

should have provided, the Valley army would have been not hours but

days too late. In the second place, the duty of keeping up

communications should not have been left to Jackson, but have been seen

to at headquarters. Jackson had with him only a few cavalry, and these

few had not only to supply the necessary orderlies for the subordinate

generals, and the escorts for the artillery and trains, but to form his

advanced guard, for Stuart’s squadrons were on his left flank, and not

in his front. Moreover, his cavalry were complete strangers to the

country, and there were no

maps. In such circumstances the only means of ensuring constant

communication was to have detached two of Stuart’s squadrons, who knew

the ground, to establish a series of posts between Jackson’s line of

march and the Chickahominy; and to have detailed a staff officer, whose

sole duty would have been to furnish the Commander-in-Chief with hourly

reports of the progress made, to join the Valley army.[20] It may be

remarked, too, that Generals Branch and Ewell, following converging

roads, met near Shady Grove Church about 3 p.m. No report appears to

have been sent by the latter to General A. P. Hill; and although Branch

a little later received a message to the effect that Hill had crossed

the Chickahominy and was moving on Mechanicsville,[21] the information

was not passed on to Jackson.

Neglect of these precautions made it impracticable to arrange a

simultaneous attack, and co-operation depended solely on the judgment

of Hill and Jackson. In the action which ensued on Beaver Dam Creek

there was no co-operation whatever. Hill attacked and was repulsed.

Jackson had halted at Hundley’s Corner, three miles distant from the

battle-field. Had the latter come down on the Federal rear while Hill

moved against their front an easy success would in all probability have

been the result.

Nevertheless, the responsibility for Hill’s defeat cannot be held to

rest on Jackson’s shoulders. On August 18, 1870, the Prussian Guards

and the Saxon Army Corps

were ordered to make a combined attack on the village of St. Privat,

the Guards moving against the front, the Saxons against the flank. When

the order was issued the two corps were not more than two miles apart.

The tract of country which lay between them was perfectly open, the

roads were free, and inter-communication seemed easy in the extreme.

Yet, despite their orders, despite the facilities of communication, the

Guards advanced to the attack an hour and a half too soon; and from six

o’clock to nearly seven their shattered lines lay in front of the

position, at the mercy of a vigorous counterstroke, without a single

Saxon regiment coming to their aid. But the Saxons were not to blame.

Their march had been unchecked; they had moved at speed. On their part

there had been no hesitation; but on the part of the commander of the

Guards there had been the same precipitation which led to the premature

attack on the Federal position at Beaver Dam Creek. It was the

impatience of General Hill, not the tardiness of Jackson, which was the

cause of the Confederate repulse.

We may now turn to the question whether Jackson was justified in not

marching to the sound of the cannon. Referring to General Lee’s orders,

it will be seen that as soon as Longstreet and D. H. Hill had crossed

the Chickahominy the four divisions of the army were to move forward

_in communication with each other_ and drive the enemy from his

position, Jackson, in advance upon the left, “turning Beaver Dam Creek,

and taking the direction of Cold Harbour.”

When Jackson reached Hundley’s Corner, and drove the Federal infantry

behind the Creek, the first thing to do, as his orders indicated, was

to get touch with the rest of the army. It was already near sunset;

between Hundley’s Corner and Mechanicsville lay a dense forest, with no

roads in the desired direction; and it was manifestly impossible, under

ordinary conditions, to do more that evening than to establish

connection; the combined movement against the enemy’s position must be

deferred till the morning. But the sound of battle to the south-west

introduced a complication. “We distinctly heard,” says Jackson,

“the rapid and continued discharges of cannon.”[22] What did this fire

portend? It might proceed, as was to be inferred from Lee’s orders,

from the heavy batteries on the Chickahominy covering Hill’s passage.

It might mean a Federal counterstroke on Hill’s advanced guard; or,

possibly, a premature attack on the part of the Confederates. General

Whiting, according to his report, thought it “indicated a severe

battle.”[23] General Trimble, marching with Ewell, heard both musketry

and artillery; and in his opinion the command should have moved

forward;[24] and whatever may have been Jackson’s orders, it was

undoubtedly his duty, if he believed a hot engagement was in progress,

to have marched to the assistance of his colleagues. He could not help

them by standing still. He might have rendered them invaluable aid by

pressing the enemy in flank. But the question is, What inference did

the cannonade convey to Jackson’s mind? Was it of such a character as

to leave no doubt that Hill was in close action, or might it be

interpreted as the natural accompaniment of the passage of the

Chickahominy? The evidence is conflicting. On the one hand we have the

evidence of Whiting and Trimble, both experienced soldiers; on the

other, in addition to the indirect evidence of Jackson’s inaction, we

have the statement of Major Dabney. “We heard no signs,” says the chief

of the staff, “of combat on Beaver Dam Creek until a little while

before sunset. The whole catastrophe took place in a few minutes about

that time; and in any case our regiments, who had gone into bivouac,

could not have been reassembled, formed up, and moved forward in time

to be of any service. A night attack through the dense, pathless, and

unknown forest was quite impracticable.”[25] It seems probable,

then—and the Federal reports are to the same effect[26]—that the firing

was only really heavy for a very short period, and that Jackson

believed it

to be occasioned by Hill’s passage of the Chickahominy, and the rout of

the Federals from Mechanicsville. Neither Trimble nor Whiting were

aware that Lee’s orders directed that the operation was to be covered

by a heavy cannonade.

Obeying orders very literally himself, Jackson found it difficult to

believe that others did not do the same. He knew that the position he

had taken up rendered the line of Beaver Dam Creek untenable by the

Federals. They would never stand to fight on that line with a strong

force established in their rear and menacing their communications, nor

would they dare to deliver a counterstroke through the trackless woods.

It might confidently be assumed, therefore, that they would fall back

during the night, and that the Confederate advance would then be

carried out in that concentrated formation which Lee’s orders had

dictated. Such, in all probability, was Jackson’s view of the

situation; and that Hill, in direct contravention of those orders,

would venture on an isolated attack before that formation had been

assumed never for a moment crossed his mind.[27]

Illustration: Map of The Environs of Richmond For larger view click on

image.

Hill, on the other hand, seems to have believed that if the Federals

were not defeated on the evening of the 26th they would make use of the

respite, either to bring up reinforcements, or to advance on Richmond

by the opposite bank of the Chickahominy. It is not impossible that he

thought the sound of his cannon would bring Jackson to his aid. That it

would have been wiser to establish communication, and to make certain

of that aid before attacking, there can be no question. It was too late

to defeat Porter the same evening. Nothing was to be gained by

immediate attack, and much would be risked. The last assault, in which

the heaviest losses were incurred, was made just as night fell. It was

a sacrifice of life as unnecessary as that of the Prussian Guard before

St. Privat. At the same time, that General Hill did wrong in crossing

the Chickahominy before he heard of his colleague’s approach is not a

fair

accusation. To have lingered on the south bank would have been to leave

Jackson to the tender mercies of the Federals should they turn against

him in the forest. Moreover, it was Hill’s task to open a passage for

the remaining divisions, and if that passage had been deferred to a

later hour, it is improbable that the Confederate army would have been

concentrated on the north bank of the Chickahominy until the next

morning. It must be admitted, too, that the situation in which Hill

found himself, after crossing the river, was an exceedingly severe test

of his self-control. His troops had driven in the Federal outposts;

infantry, cavalry, and artillery were retiring before his skirmishers.

The noise of battle filled the air. From across the Chickahominy

thundered the heavy guns, and his regiments were pressing forward with

the impetuous ardour of young soldiers. If he yielded to the excitement

of the moment, if eagerness for battle overpowered his judgment, if his

brain refused to work calmly in the wild tumult of the conflict, he is

hardly to be blamed. The patience which is capable of resisting the

eagerness of the troops, the imperturbable judgment which, in the heat

of action, weighs with deliberation the necessities of the moment, the

clear vision which forecasts the result of every movement—these are

rare qualities indeed.

During the night Porter fell back on Gaines’ Mill. While the engagement

at Beaver Dam Creek was still in progress vast clouds of dust, rising

above the forests to the north-west and north, had betrayed the

approach of Jackson, and the reports of the cavalry left no doubt that

he was threatening the Federal rear.

The retreat was conducted in good order, a strong rear-guard,

reinforced by two batteries of horse-artillery, holding the

Confederates in check, and before morning a second position, east of

Powhite Creek, and covering two bridges over the Chickahominy,

Alexander’s and Grapevine, was occupied by the Fifth Army Corps.

June 27, 5 a.m. New Bridge was now uncovered, and Lee’s army was in

motion shortly after sunrise, Jackson crossing Beaver Dam Creek and

moving due south in the direction of Walnut

Grove Church.[28] The enemy, however, had already passed eastward; and

the Confederates, well concentrated and in hand, pushed forward in

pursuit; A. P. Hill, with Longstreet on his right, moving on Gaines’

Mill, while Jackson, supported by D. H. Hill, and with Stuart covering

his left, marched by a more circuitous route to Old Cold Harbour. Near

Walnut Grove Church Jackson met the Commander-in-Chief, and it is

recorded that the staff officers of the Valley army, noting the

eagerness displayed by General Lee’s suite to get a glimpse of

“Stonewall,” then for the first time realised the true character and

magnitude of the Valley campaign.

12 noon About noon, after a march of seven miles, A. P. Hill’s scouts

reported that the Federals had halted behind Powhite Creek. The leading

brigade was sent across the stream, which runs past Gaines’ Mill, and

pressing through the thick woods found the enemy in great strength on a

ridge beyond. Hill formed his division for attack, and opened fire with

his four batteries. The enemy’s guns, superior in number, at once

responded, and the skirmish lines became actively engaged. The

Confederate general, despite urgent messages from his subordinates,

requesting permission to attack, held his troops in hand, waiting till

he should be supported, and for two and a half hours the battle was no

more than an affair of “long bowls.”

The position held by the defence was emphatically one to impose caution

on the assailants. To reach it the Confederates were confined to three

roads, two from Mechanicsville, and one from Old Cold Harbour. These

roads led each of them through a broad belt of forest, and then,

passing through open fields, descended into a

winding valley, from five hundred to a thousand yards in breadth.

Rising near McGehee’s House, due south of Old Cold Harbour, a sluggish

creek, bordered by swamps and thick timber, and cutting in places a

deep channel, filtered through the valley to the Chickahominy. Beyond

this stream rose an open and undulating plateau, admirably adapted to

the movement of all arms, and with a slight command of the opposite

ridge. On the plateau, facing west and north, the Federals were formed

up. A fringe of trees and bushes along the crest gave cover and

concealment to the troops. 60 feet below, winding darkly through the

trees, the creek covered the whole front; and in the centre of the

position, east of New Cold Harbour, the valley was completely filled

with tangled wood.

Towards Old Cold Harbour the timber on the Confederate side of the

ravine was denser than elsewhere. On the Federal left flank the valley

of the Chickahominy was open ground, but it was swept by heavy guns

from the right bank of the river, and at this point the creek became an

almost impassable swamp.

Porter, who had been reinforced by 9,000 men under General Slocum, now

commanded three divisions of infantry, four regiments of cavalry, and

twenty-two batteries, a total of 36,000 officers and men. The _moral_

of the troops had been strengthened by their easy victory of the

previous day. Their commander had gained their confidence; their

position had been partially intrenched, and they could be readily

supported by way of Alexander’s and Grapevine Bridges from the south

bank of the Chickahominy.

The task before the Confederates, even with their superior numbers, was

formidable in the extreme. The wooded ridge which encircled the

position afforded scant room for artillery, and it was thus

impracticable to prepare the attack by a preliminary bombardment. The

ground over which the infantry must advance was completely swept by

fire, and the centre and left were defended by three tiers of riflemen,

the first sheltered by the steep banks of the creek, the second halfway

up the bluff,

covered by a breastwork, the third on the crest, occupying a line of

shelter-trenches; and the riflemen were supported by a dozen batteries

of rifled guns.[29]

But Lee had few misgivings. In one respect the Federal position seemed

radically defective. The line of retreat on White House was exposed to

attack from Old Cold Harbour. In fact, with Old Cold Harbour in

possession of the Confederates, retreat could only be effected by one

road north of the Chickahominy, that by Parker’s Mill and Dispatch

Station; and if this road were threatened, Porter, in order to cover

it, would be compelled to bring over troops from his left and centre,

or to prolong his line until it was weak everywhere. There was no great

reason to fear that McClellan would send Porter heavy reinforcements.

To do so he would have to draw troops from his intrenchments on the

south bank of the Chickahominy, and Magruder had been instructed to

maintain a brisk demonstration against this portion of the line. It was

probable that the Federal commander, with his exaggerated estimate of

the numbers opposed to him, would be induced by this means to

anticipate a general attack against his whole front, and would postpone

moving his reserves until it was too late.

While Hill was skirmishing with the Federals, Lee was anxiously

awaiting intelligence of Jackson’s arrival at Old Cold Harbour.

2.30 p.m. Longstreet was already forming up for battle, and at 2.30

Hill’s regiments were slipped to the attack. A fierce and sanguinary

conflict now ensued. Emerging in well-ordered lines from the cover of

the woods, the Confederates swept down the open slopes. Floundering in

the swamps, and struggling through the abattis which had been placed on

the banks of the stream, they drove in the advanced line of hostile

riflemen, and strove gallantly to ascend the slope which lay beyond.

“But brigade after brigade,” says General Porter, “seemed almost to

melt away before the concentrated fire of our artillery and infantry;

yet others pressed on, followed by supports daring and brave as their

predecessors, despite their heavy losses and the disheartening

effect of having to clamber over many of their disabled and dead, and

to meet their surviving comrades rushing back in great disorder from

the deadly contest.”[30] For over an hour Hill fought on without

support. There were no signs of Jackson, and Longstreet, whom it was

not intended to employ until Jackson’s appearance should have caused

the Federals to denude their left, was then sent in to save the day.

As on the previous day, the Confederate attack had failed in

combination. Jackson’s march had been again delayed. The direct road

from Walnut Grove Church to Old Cold Harbour, leading through the

forest, was found to be obstructed by felled timber and defended by

sharpshooters, and to save time Jackson’s division struck off into the

road by Bethesda Church. This threw it in rear of D. H. Hill, and it

was near 2 p.m. when the latter’s advanced guard reached the tavern at

the Old Cold Harbour cross roads. No harm, however, had been done. A.

P. Hill did not attack till half an hour later. But when he advanced

there came no response from the left. A battery of D. H. Hill’s

division was brought into action, but was soon silenced, and beyond

this insignificant demonstration the Army of the Valley made no

endeavour to join the battle. The brigades were halted by the roadside.

Away to the right, above the intervening forest, rolled the roar of

battle, the crash of shells and the din of musketry, but no orders were

given for the advance.

Nor had Jackson’s arrival produced the slightest consternation in the

Federal ranks. Although from his position at Cold Harbour he seriously

threatened their line of retreat to the White House, they had neither

denuded their left nor brought up their reserves. Where he was now

established he was actually nearer White House than any portion of

Porter’s army corps, and yet that general apparently accepted the

situation with equanimity.

Lee had anticipated that Jackson’s approach would cause the enemy to

prolong their front in order to cover their line of retreat to the

White House, and so weaken

that part of the position which was to be attacked by Longstreet; and

Jackson had been ordered[31] to draw up his troops so as to meet such a

contingency. “Hoping,” he says in his report, “that Generals A. P. Hill

and Longstreet would soon drive the Federals towards me, I directed

General D. H. Hill to move his division to the left of the wood, so as

to leave between him and the wood on the right an open space, across

which I hoped that the enemy would be driven.” But Lee was deceived.

The Federal line of retreat ran not to the White House, but over

Grapevine Bridge. McClellan had for some time foreseen that he might be

compelled to abandon the York River Railway, and directly he suspected

that Jackson was marching to Richmond had begun to transfer his line of

operations from the York to the James, and his base of supply from the

White House to Harrison’s Landing.

So vast is the amount of stores necessary for the subsistence, health,

and armament of a host like McClellan’s that a change of base is an

operation which can only be effected under the most favourable

circumstances.[32] It is evident, then, that the possibility of the

enemy shifting his line of operations to the James, abandoning the York

River Railroad, might easily have

escaped the penetration of either Lee or Jackson. They were not behind

the scenes of the Federal administrative system. They were not aware of

the money, labour, and ingenuity which had been lavished on the

business of supply. They had not seen with their own eyes the fleet of

four hundred transports which covered the reaches of the York. They had

not yet realised the enormous advantage which an army derives from the

command of the sea.

Nor were they enlightened by the calmness with which their immediate

adversaries on the field of battle regarded Jackson’s possession of Old

Cold Harbour. Still, one fact was manifest: the Federals showed no

disposition whatever to weaken or change their position, and it was

clear that the success was not to be attained by mere manœuvre. Lee,

seeing Hill’s division roughly handled, ordered Longstreet forward,

while Jackson, judging from the sound and direction of the firing that

the original plan had failed, struck in with vigour. Opposed to him was

Sykes’ division of regulars, supported by eighteen guns, afterwards

increased to twenty-four; and in the men of the United States Army the

Valley soldiers met a stubborn foe. The position, moreover, occupied by

Sykes possessed every advantage which a defender could desire. Manned

even by troops of inferior mettle it might well have proved

impregnable. The valley was wider than further west, and a thousand

yards intervened between the opposing ridges. From either crest the

cornfields sloped gently to the marshy sources of the creek, hidden by

tall timber and dense undergrowth. The right and rear of the position

were protected by a second stream, running south to the Chickahominy,

and winding through a swamp which Stuart, posted on Jackson’s left,

pronounced impassable for horsemen. Between the head waters of these

two streams rose the spur on which stands McGehee’s house, facing the

road from Old Cold Harbour, and completely commanding the country to

the north and north-east. The flank, therefore, was well secured; the

front was strong, with a wide field of fire; the Confederate artillery,

even if it could

make its way through the thick woods on the opposite crest, would have

to unlimber under fire at effective range, and the marsh below, with

its tangled undergrowth and abattis, could hardly fail to throw the

attacking infantry into disorder. Along the whole of Sykes’ line only

two weak points were apparent. On his left, as already described, a

broad tract of woodland, covering nearly the whole valley, and climbing

far up the slope on the Federal side, afforded a covered approach from

one crest to the other; on his right, a plantation of young pines

skirted the crest of McGehee’s Hill, and ran for some distance down the

slope. Under shelter of the timber it was possible that the Confederate

infantry might mass for the assault; but once in the open, unaided by

artillery, their further progress would be difficult. Under ordinary

circumstances a thorough reconnaissance, followed by a carefully

planned attack, would have been the natural course of the assailant.

The very strength of the position was in favour of the Confederates.

The creek which covered the whole front rendered a counterstroke

impracticable, and facilitated a flank attack. Holding the right bank

of the creek with a portion of his force, Jackson might have thrown the

remainder against McGehee’s Hill, and, working round the flank, have

repeated the tactics of Kernstown, Winchester, and Port Republic.

But the situation permitted no delay. A. P. Hill was hard pressed. The

sun was already sinking. McClellan’s reserves might be coming up, and

if the battle was to be won, it must be won by direct attack. There was

no time for further reconnaissance, no time for manœuvre.

Jackson’s dispositions were soon made. D. H. Hill, eastward of the Old

Cold Harbour road, was to advance against McGehee’s Hill, overlapping,

if possible, the enemy’s line. Ewell was to strike in on Hill’s right,

moving through the tract of woodland; Lawton, Whiting, and Winder, in

the order named, were to fill the gap between Ewell’s right and the

left of A. P. Hill’s division, and the artillery was ordered into

position opposite McGehee’s Hill.

4 p.m. D. H. Hill, already in advance, was the first to move. Pressing

forward from the woods, under a heavy fire of

artillery, his five brigades, the greater part in first line, descended

to the creek, already occupied by his skirmishers. In passing through

the marshy thickets, where the Federal shells were bursting on every

hand, the confusion became great. The brigades crossed each other’s

march. Regiments lost their brigades, and companies their regiments. At

one point the line was so densely crowded that whole regiments were

forced to the rear; at others there were wide intervals, and effective

supervision became impossible. Along the edge of the timber the fire

was fierce, for the Union regulars were distant no more than four

hundred yards; the smoke rolled heavily through the thickets, and on

the right and centre, where the fight was hottest, the impetuosity of

both officers and men carried them forward up the slope. An attempt to

deliver a charge with the whole line failed in combination, and such

portion of the division as advanced, scourged by both musketry and

artillery, fell back before the fire of the unshaken Federals.

In the wood to the right Ewell met with even fiercer opposition. So

hastily had the Confederate line been formed, and so difficult was it

for the brigades to maintain touch and direction in the thick covert,

that gaps soon opened along the front; and of these gaps, directly the

Southerners gained the edge of the timber, the Northern brigadiers took

quick advantage. Not content with merely holding their ground, the

regular regiments, changing front so as to strike the flanks of the

attack, came forward with the bayonet, and a vigorous counterstroke,

delivered by five battalions, drove Ewell across the swamp. Part of

Trimble’s brigade still held on in the wood, fighting fiercely; but the

Louisiana regiments were demoralised, and there were no supports on

which they might have rallied.

Jackson, when he ordered Hill to the front, had sent verbal

instructions-always dangerous-for the remainder of his troops to move

forward inline of battle.”[33]

The young staff officer to whom these instructions were entrusted,

misunderstanding the intentions of his chief, communicated the message

to the brigadiers with the addition that “they were to await further

orders before engaging the enemy.” Partly for this reason, and partly

because the rear regiments of his division had lost touch with the

leading brigades, Ewell was left without assistance. For some time the

error was undiscovered. Jackson grew anxious. From his station near Old

Cold Harbour little could be seen of the Confederate troops. On the

ridge beyond the valley the dark lines of the enemy’s infantry were

visible amongst the trees, with their well-served batteries on the

crests above. But in the valley immediately beneath, and as well as in

the forest to the right front, the dense smoke and the denser timber

hid the progress of the fight. Yet the sustained fire was a sure token

that the enemy still held his own; and for the first time and the last

his staff beheld their leader riding restlessly to and fro, and heard

his orders given in a tone which betrayed the storm within.[34]

“Unconscious,” says Dabney, “that his veteran brigades were but now

reaching the ridge of battle, he supposed that all his strength had

been put forth, and (what had never happened before) the enemy was not

crushed.”[35] Fortunately, the error of the aide-de-camp had already

been corrected by the vigilance of the chief of the staff, and the

remainder of the Valley army was coming up.

Their entry into battle was not in accordance with the

intentions of their chief. Whiting should have come in on Ewell’s

right, Lawton on the right of Whiting, and Jackson’s division on the

right of Lawton. Whiting led the way; but he had advanced only a short

distance through the woods when he was met by Lee, who directed him to

support General A. P. Hill.[36] The brigades of Law and of Hood were

therefore diverted to the right, and, deploying on either side of the

Gaines’ Mill road, were ordered to assault the commanding bluff which

marked the angle of the Federal position. Lawton’s Georgians, 3,500

strong, moved to the support of Ewell; Cunningham and Fulkerson, of

Winder’s division, losing direction in the thickets, eventually

sustained the attack of Longstreet, and the Stonewall Brigade

reinforced the shattered ranks of D. H. Hill. Yet the attack was

strong, and in front of Old Cold Harbour six batteries had forced their

way through the forest.

As this long line of guns covered McGehee’s Hill with a storm of

shells, and the louder crash of musketry told him that his lagging

brigades were coming into line, Jackson sent his last orders to his

divisional commanders: “Tell them,” he said, “this affair must hang in

suspense no longer; let them sweep the field with the bayonet.” But

there was no need for further urging. Before the messengers arrived the

Confederate infantry, in every quarter of the battlefield, swept

forward from the woods, and a vast wave of men converged upon the

plateau. Lee, almost at the same moment as Jackson, had given the word

for a general advance. As the supports came thronging up the shout was

carried down the line, “The Valley men are here!” and with the cry of

“Stonewall Jackson!” for their slogan, the Southern army dashed across

the deep ravine. Whiting, with the eight regiments of Hood and Law,

none of which had been yet engaged, charged impetuously against the

centre. The brigades of A. P. Hill, spent with fighting but clinging

stubbornly to their ground, found strength for a final effort.

Longstreet threw in his last reserve against the triple line which had

already decimated his division. Lawton’s Georgians bore back the

regulars. D. H. Hill, despite the

fire of the batteries on McGehee’s Hill, which, disregarding the shells

of Jackson’s massed artillery, turned with canister on the advancing

infantry, made good his footing on the ridge; and as the sun, low on

the horizon, loomed blood-red through the murky atmosphere, the

Confederate colours waved along the line of abandoned breastworks.

As the Federals retreated, knots of brave men, hastily collected by

officers of all ranks, still offered a fierce resistance, and,

supported by the batteries, inflicted terrible losses on the crowded

masses which swarmed up from the ravine; but the majority of the

infantry, without ammunition and with few officers, streamed in

disorder to the rear. For a time the Federal gunners stood manfully to

their work. Porter’s reserve artillery, drawn up midway across the

upland, offered a rallying point to the retreating infantry. Three

small squadrons of the 5th United States Cavalry made a gallant but

useless charge, in which out of seven officers six fell; and on the

extreme right the division of regulars, supported by a brigade of

volunteers, fell back fighting to a second line. As at Bull Run, the

disciplined soldiers alone showed a solid front amid the throng of

fugitives. Not a foot of ground had they yielded till their left was

exposed by the rout of the remainder. Of the four batteries which

supported them only two guns were lost, and on their second position

they made a determined effort to restore the fight. But their stubborn

valour availed nothing against the superior numbers which Lee’s fine

strategy had concentrated on the field of battle.

Where the first breach was made in the Federal line is a matter of

dispute. Longstreet’s men made a magnificent charge on the right, and

D. H. Hill claimed to have turned the flank of the regulars; but it is

abundantly evident that the advent of Jackson’s fresh troops, and the

vigour of their assault, broke down the resistance of the Federals.[37]

When the final attack developed, and along the whole front masses of

determined men, in overwhelming

numbers, dashed against the breastworks, Porter’s troops were well-nigh

exhausted, and not a single regiment remained in reserve. Against the

very centre of his line the attack was pushed home by Whiting’s men

with extraordinary resolution. His two brigades, marching abreast, were

formed in two lines, each about 2,000 strong. Riding along the front,

before they left the wood, the general had enjoined his men to charge

without a halt, in double time, and without firing. “Had these orders,”

says General Law, “not been strictly obeyed the assault would have been

a failure. No troops could have stood long under the withering storm of

lead and iron that beat in their faces as they became fully exposed to

view from the Federal line.”[38] The assault was met with a courage

that was equally admirable.[39] But the Confederate second line

reinforced the first at exactly the right moment, driving it

irresistibly forward; and the Federal regiments, which had been hard

pressed through a long summer afternoon, and had become scattered in

the thickets, were ill-matched with the solid and ordered ranks of

brigades which had not yet fired a shot. It was apparently at this

point that the Southerners first set foot on the plateau, and sweeping

over the intrenchments, outflanked the brigades which still held out to

right and left, and compelled them to fall back. Inspired by his

soldierly enthusiasm for a gallant deed, Jackson himself has left us a

vivid description of the successful charge. “On my extreme right,” he

says in his report, “General Whiting advanced his division through the

dense forest and swamp, emerging from the wood into the field near the

public road and at the head of the deep ravine which covered the

enemy’s left. Advancing thence through a number of retreating and

disordered regiments he came within range of the enemy’s fire, who,

concealed in an open wood and protected by breastworks, poured a

destructive fire for a quarter of a mile into his advancing

line, under which many brave officers and men fell. Dashing on with

unfaltering step in the face of these murderous discharges of canister

and musketry, General Hood and Colonel Law, at the heads of their

respective brigades, rushed to the charge with a yell. Moving down a

precipitous ravine, leaping ditch and stream, clambering up a difficult

ascent, and exposed to an incessant and deadly fire from the

intrenchments, those brave and determined men pressed forward, driving

the enemy from his well-selected and fortified position. In this

charge, in which upwards of 1,000 men fell killed and wounded before

the fire of the enemy, and in which 14 pieces of artillery and nearly a

whole regiment were captured, the 4th Texas, under the lead of General

Hood, was the first to pierce these strongholds and seize the

guns.”[40]

How fiercely the Northern troops had battled is told in the outspoken

reports of the Confederate generals. Before Jackson’s reserves were

thrown in the first line of the Confederate attack had been exceedingly

roughly handled. A. P. Hill’s division had done good work in preparing

the way for Whiting’s assault, but a portion of his troops had become

demoralised. Ewell’s regiments met the same fate; and we read of them

“skulking from the front in a shameful manner; the woods on our left

and rear full of troops in safe cover, from which they never stirred;”

of “regiment after regiment rushing back in utter disorder;” of others

which it was impossible to rally; and of troops retiring in confusion,

who cried out to the reinforcements, “You need not go in; we are

whipped, we can’t do anything!” It is only fair to say that the

reinforcements replied, “Get out of our way, we will show you how to do

it;“[41] but it is not to be disguised that the Confederates at one

time came near defeat. With another division in reserve at the critical

moment, Porter might have maintained his line unbroken. His troops, had

they been supported, were still capable of resistance.

McClellan, however, up to the time the battle was lost, had sent but

one division (Slocum’s) and two batteries to Porter’s support. 66,000

Federals, on the south bank of the Chickahominy, had been held in their

intrenchments, throughout the day, by the demonstrations of 28,000

Confederates. Intent on saving his trains, on securing his retreat to

the river James, and utterly regardless of the chances which fortune

offered, the “Young Napoleon” had allowed his rearguard to be

overwhelmed. He was not seen on the plateau which his devoted troops so

well defended, nor even at the advanced posts on the further bank of

the Chickahominy. So convinced was he of the accuracy of the

information furnished by his detective staff that he never dreamt of

testing the enemy’s numbers by his own eyesight. Had he watched the

development of Lee’s attack, noted the small number of his batteries,

the long delay in the advance of the supports, the narrow front of his

line of battle, he would have discovered that the Confederate strength

had been greatly exaggerated. There were moments, too, during the fight

when a strong counterstroke, made by fresh troops, would have placed

Lee’s army in the greatest peril. But a general who thinks only of

holding his lines and not of annihilating the enemy is a poor

tactician, and McClellan’s lack of enterprise, which Lee had so

accurately gauged, may be inferred from his telegram to Lincoln: “I

have lost this battle because my force is too small.”[42]

Porter was perhaps a more than sufficient substitute for the

Commander-in-Chief. His tactics, as fighting a waiting battle, had been

admirable; and, when his front was broken, strongly and with cool

judgment he sought to hold back the enemy and cover the bridges. The

line of batteries he established across the plateau—80 guns in

all—proved at first an effective barrier. But the retreat of the

infantry, the waning light, and the general dissolution of all order,

had its effect upon the gunners. When the remnant of the 5th Cavalry

was borne back in flight, the greater part of the batteries had already

limbered up, and over the bare surface of the upland the Confederate

infantry, shooting down

the terrified teams, rushed forward in hot pursuit. 22 guns, with a

large number of ammunition waggons, were captured on the field,

prisoners surrendered at every step, and the fight surged onward

towards the bridges. But between the bridges and the battlefield, on

the slopes falling to the Chickahominy, the dark forest covered the

retreat of the routed army. Night had already fallen. The confusion in

the ranks of the Confederates was extreme, and it was impossible to

distinguish friend from foe. All direction had been lost. None knew the

bearings of the bridges, or whether the Federals were retreating east

or south. Regiments had already been exposed to the fire of their

comrades, and in front of the forest a perceptible hesitation seized on

both officers and men. At this moment, in front of D. H. Hill’s

division, which was advancing by the road leading directly to the

bridges, loud cheers were heard. It was clear that Federal

reinforcements had arrived; the general ordered his troops to halt, and

along the whole line the forward movement came quickly to a standstill.

Two brigades, French’s and Meagher’s, tardily sent over by McClellan,

had arrived in time to stave off a terrible disaster. Pushing through

the mass of fugitives with the bayonet, these fine troops had crossed

the bridge, passed through the woods, and formed line on the southern

crest of the plateau. Joining the regulars, who still presented a

stubborn front, they opened a heavy fire, and under cover of their

steadfast lines Porter’s troops withdrew across the river.

Notwithstanding this strong reinforcement of 5,000 or 6,000 fresh

troops, it is by no means impossible, had the Confederates pushed

resolutely forward, that the victory would have been far more complete.

“Winder,” says General D. H. Hill, “thought that we ought to pursue

into the woods, on the right of the Grapevine Bridge road; but not

knowing the position of our friends, nor what Federal reserves might be

awaiting us in the woods, I thought it advisable not to move on.

General Lawton concurred with me. I had no artillery to shell the woods

in front, as mine had not got through the swamp. Winder,”

he adds, “was right; even a show of pressure must have been attended

with great result.”[43] Had Jackson been at hand the pressure would in

all probability have been applied. The contagion of defeat soon

spreads; and whatever reserves a flying enemy may possess, if they are

vigorously attacked whilst the fugitives are still passing through

their ranks, history tells us, however bold their front, that, unless

they are intrenched, their resistance is seldom long protracted. More

than all, when night has fallen on the field, and prevents all estimate

of the strength of the attack, a resolute advance has peculiar chances

of success. But when his advanced line halted Jackson was not yet up;

and before he arrived the impetus of victory had died away; the Federal

reserves were deployed in a strong position, and the opportunity had

already passed.

It is no time, when the tide of victory bears him forward, for a

general “to take counsel of his fears.” It is no time to count numbers,

or to conjure up the phantoms of possible reserves; the sea itself is

not more irresistible than an army which has stormed a strong position,

and which has attained, in so doing, the exhilarating consciousness of

superior courage. Had Stuart, with his 2,000 horsemen, followed up the

pursuit towards the bridges, the Federal reserves might have been swept

away in panic. But Stuart, in common with Lee and Jackson, expected

that the enemy would endeavour to reach the White House, and when he

saw that their lines were breaking he had dashed down a lane which led

to the river road, about three miles distant. When he reached that

point, darkness had already fallen, and finding no traces of the enemy,

he had returned to Old Cold Harbour.

On the night of the battle the Confederates remained where the issue of

the fight had found them. Across the Grapevine road the pickets of the

hostile forces were in close proximity, and men of both sides, in

search of water, or carrying messages, strayed within the enemy’s

lines. Jackson himself, it is said, came near capture. Riding forward

in the darkness, attended by only a few staff

officers, he suddenly found himself in presence of a Federal picket.

Judging rightly of the enemy’s _moral,_ he set spurs to his horse, and

charging into the midst, ordered them to lay down their arms; and

fifteen or twenty prisoners, marching to the rear, amused the troops

they met on the march by loudly proclaiming that they had the honour of

being captured by Stonewall Jackson. These men were not without

companions. 2,830 Federals were reported either captured or missing;

and while some of those were probably among the dead, a large

proportion found their way to Richmond; 4,000, moreover, had fallen on

the field of battle.[44]

The Confederate casualties were even a clearer proof of the severity of

the fighting. So far as can be ascertained, 8,000 officers and men were

killed or wounded.

Longstreet

A.P. Hill

Jackson 1,850 2,450 3,700

Jackson’s losses were distributed as follows:—

Jackson’s own Division

Ewell

Whiting

D.H. Hill 600 650 1,020 1,430

The regimental losses, in several instances, were exceptionally severe.

Of the 4th Texas, of Hood’s brigade, the first to pierce the Federal

line, there fell 20 officers and 230 men. The 20th North Carolina, of

D.H. Hill’s division, which charged the batteries on McGehee’s Hill,

lost 70 killed and 200 wounded; of the same division the 3rd Alabama

lost 200, and the 12th North Carolina 212; while two of Lawton’s

regiments, the 31st and the 38th Georgia, had each a casualty list of

170. Almost every single regiment north of the Chickahominy took part

in the action. The cavalry did nothing, but at least 48,000 infantry

were engaged, and seventeen batteries are mentioned in the reports as

having participated in the battle.

[Illustration: Map of the Battle of Gaines’ Mill]

[1] “No one but McClellan would have hesitated to attack.” Johnston to

Lee, April 22, 1862. O.R., vol. xi, part3, p. 456.

[2] _Narrative of Military Operations,_ General J. B. Johnston, pp.

112, 113.

[3] The garrison consisted only of a few companies of heavy artillery,

and the principal work was still unfinished when Yorktown fell.

Reports of Dr. Comstock, and Colonel Cabell, C.S.A. O.R., vol. xi,

part i.

[4] In one sense McClellan was not far wrong in his estimate of the

Confederate numbers. In assuming control of the Union armies Lincoln

and Stanton made their enemies a present of at least 50,000 men.

[5] It must be admitted that his cavalry was very weak in proportion

to the other arms. On June 20 he had just over 5,000 sabres (O.R.,

vol. xi, part iii, p. 238), of which 3,000 were distributed among the

army corps. The Confederates appear to have had about 3,000, but of

superior quality, familiar, more or less, with the country, and united

under one command. It is instructive to notice how the necessity for a

numerous cavalry grew on the Federal commanders. In 1864 the Army of

the Potomac was accompanied by a cavalry corps over 13,000 strong,

with 32 guns. It is generally the case in war, even in a close

country, that if the cavalry is allowed to fall below the usual

proportion of one trooper to every six men of the other arms the army

suffers.

[6] Stuart’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i.

[7] This estimate is rather larger than that of the Confederate

historians (Allan, W. H. Taylor, &c., &c.), but it has been arrived at

after a careful examination of the strength at different dates and the

losses in the various engagements.

[8] Return of June 20, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 238.

[9] The Fifth Army Corps included McCall’s division, which had but

recently arrived by water from Fredericksburg. Report of June 20,

O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 238.

[10] Magruder’s division, 13,000; Huger’s division, 9,000; reserve

artillery, 3,000; 5 regiments of cavalry, 2,000. Holmes’ division,

6,500, was still retained on the south bank of the James.

[11] Lee’s bridge, shown on the map, had either been destroyed or was

not yet built.

[12] The meaning of this term is clearly defined in Lee’s report. “It

was therefore determined to construct defensive lines, so as to enable

a part of the army to defend the city, and leave the other part free

to operate on the north bank.” O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 490.

[13] O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 252.

[14] Letter from Captain T. W. Sydnor, 4th Virginia Cavalry, who

carried the message.

[15] So General Porter. _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 331.

[16] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 38, 39.

[17] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 389, 390.

[18] Dr. White, in his excellent _Life of Lee,_ states that the

tardiness of the arrival of the provisions sent him from Richmond had

much to do with the delay of Jackson’s march.

[19] “Lee’s Attacks North of the Chickahominy.” By General D. H. Hill.

_Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 347. General Longstreet, however,

_From Manassas to Appomattox,_ says Jackson appointed the morning of

the 25th, but, on Longstreet’s suggestion, changed the date to the

26th.

[20] Of the events of June 26 Dr. Dabney, in a letter to the author,

writes as follows:—“Here we had a disastrous illustration of the lack

of an organised and intelligent general staff. Let my predicament

serve as a specimen. As chief of Jackson’s staff, I had two assistant

adjutant-generals, two men of the engineer department, and two clerks.

What did I have for orderlies and couriers? A detail from some cavalry

company which happened to bivouac near. The men were sent to me

without any reference to their local knowledge, their intelligence, or

their courage; most probably they were selected for me by their

captain on account of their lack of these qualities. Next to the

Commander-in-Chief, the Chief of the General Staff should be the best

man in the country. The brains of an army should be in the General

Staff. The lowest orderlies attached to it should be the very best

soldiers in the service, for education, intelligence, and courage.

Jackson had to find his own guide for his march from Beaver Dam

Station. He had not been furnished with a map, and not a single

orderly or message reached him during the whole day.”

[21] Branch’s Report, O.R., vol. ii, part ii, p. 882.

[22] Jackson’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 553.

[23] Whiting’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 562.

[24] Trimble’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 614.

[25] Letter to the author.

[26] Porter’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 222. _Battles and

Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 330.

[27] Longstreet, on page 124 of his _From Manassas to Appomattox,_

declares that “Jackson marched by the fight without giving attention,

and went into camp at Hundley’s Corner, _half a mile in rear_ of the

enemy’s position. A reference to the map is sufficient to expose the

inaccuracy of this statement.

[28] Jackson’s division—so-called in Lee’s order—really consisted of

three divisions:—

Whiting’s Division Hood’s Brigade Law’s Brigade Jackson’s [Winder]

Division Stonewall Brigade Cunningham’s Brigade Fulkerson’s Brigade

Lawton’s Brigade Ewell’s Division B. T. Johnson’s Elzey’s Brigade

Trimble’s Brigade Taylor’s Brigade

[29] The remainder of the guns were in reserve.

[30] _Battles and Leaders of the Civil War,_ vol. ii, p. 337.

[31] This order was verbal; no record of it is to be found, and

Jackson never mentioned, either at the time or afterwards, what its

purport was. His surviving staff officers, however, are unanimous in

declaring that he must have received direct instructions from General

Lee. “Is it possible,” writes Dr. McGuire, “that Jackson, who knew

nothing of the country, and little of the exact situation of affairs,

would have taken the responsibility of stopping at Old Cold Harbour

for an hour or more, unless he had had the authority of General Lee to

do so? I saw him that morning talking to General Lee. General Lee was

sitting on a log, and Jackson standing up. General Lee was evidently

giving him instructions for the day.” In his report (O.R., vol. ii,

part i, p. 492) Lee says: “The arrival of Jackson on our left was

momentarily expected; it was supposed that his approach would cause

the enemy’s extension in that direction.”

[32] The Army of the Potomac numbered 105,000 men, and 25,000 animals.

600 tons of ammunition, food, forage, medical and other supplies had

to be forwarded each day from White House to the front; and at one

time during the operations from fifty to sixty days’ rations for the

entire army, amounting probably to 25,000 tons, were accumulated at

the depot. 5 tons daily per 1,000 men is a fair estimate for an army

operating in a barren country.

[33] The instructions, according to Dr. Dabney, ran as follows:—

“The troops are standing at ease along our line of march. Ride back

rapidly along the line and tell the commanders to advance instantly

_en échelon_ from the left. Each brigade is to follow as a guide

the right regiment of the brigade on the left, and to keep within

supporting distance. Tell the commanders that if this formation

fails at any point, to form line of battle and move to the front,

pressing to the sound of the heaviest firing and attack the enemy

vigorously wherever found. As to artillery, each commander must use

his discretion. If the ground will at all permit tell them to take

in their field batteries and use them. If not, post them in the

rear.” Letter to the author.

[34] It may be noted that Jackson’s command had now been increased by

two divisions, Whiting’s and D. H. Hill’s, but there had been no

increase in the very small staff which had sufficed for the Valley

army. The mistakes which occurred at Gaines’ Mill, and Jackson’s

ignorance of the movements and progress of his troops, were in great

part due to his lack of staff officers. A most important message,

writes Dr. Dabney, involving tactical knowledge, was carried by a

non-combatant.

[35] Dabney, vol. ii, p. 194.

[36] Whiting’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part i, p. 563.

[37] Porter himself thought that the first break in his line was made

by Hood, at a point where he least expected it.” _Battles and

Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 335, 340.

[38] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 363.

[39] “The Confederates were within ten paces when the Federals broke

cover, and leaving their log breastworks, swarmed up the hill in rear,

carrying the second line with them in their rout.”—General Law,

_Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 363.

[40] Jackson’s Report, O.R., vol. xi, part 1, pp. 555, 556.

[41] Reports of Whiting, Trimble, Bodes, Bradley T. Johnson, O.R.,

vol. xi, part i.

[42] Report of Committee on the Conduct of the War.

[43] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, p. 357.

[44] O.R., vol. xi, part i, pp. 40–42.