THE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN, 1862.
Our real war experience commenced when we passed over the Long Bridge
at Washington into the enemy's country--Virginia. It is not my
intention to write a complete story of any part of the Civil War, nor
to criticize the general conduct of the war, but simply to describe my
personal experience and my observations, together with the impressions
made upon me and my comrades at the time. A soldier in the ranks sees
but little of a battle and, outside of his own regiment or brigade,
knows less of events that have taken place or new movements to be made
than a civilian can learn from the newspapers. We often read articles
about the Army of the Potomac in papers several days old which
contained information that was news to us.
After passing the bridge we marched along the Fairfax Court House road
for a distance of about six miles, when we were ordered to halt and go
into camp beside the road at the edge of a piece of woods. Our heavily
loaded knapsacks began to be a burden on this short march and next
morning we threw away things we thought we could dispense with. On the
frontiers we had wagons to carry our tents, rations and knapsacks,
which made marching easier, although we marched greater distances than
a large army could. All through the Civil War the soldier in the ranks
furnished his own transportation. In this camp we put up our little
shelter tents for the first time, but as I was on camp guard and had
to relieve sentinels every two hours, I sat on a log by a fire all
night and dozed between times.
Next morning we broke camp and counter-marched to within about a mile
of the town of Alexandria, where we went into camp on some high
ground, carefully putting up our tents along lines forming company
streets, as we expected to stay for some time. My bunkie and I
gathered some pine-needle brush in the woods and spread it over the
floor of our tent, as the ground was frozen and damp. The nights were
still cold. We cooked our rations at fires which we built in the
company streets and gathered around them evenings until tattoo. Nearly
every soldier soon had the back of his blue trousers scorched a deep
brown above the heels of his shoes from standing too close to the
fire. There were encampments of troops all around us. The greater part
of the Army of the Potomac was in the vicinity of Alexandria awaiting
transportation to Fortress Monroe, Virginia. A fleet of boats was soon
gathered from New York and Philadelphia to transport the army; they
were of all kinds--tug-boats, towing-barges, New York ferryboats,
excursion steamers and coast liners. Daily shipments were made, but
our corps, General Fitz-John Porter's Fifth Army Corps, was held in
camp until near the last.
I was on camp guard a few times and remember particularly a very
distressing night at that camp. It had rained all day, soaking us to
the skin; and at night it turned into snow and sleet. We had no guard
tent to shelter us and were exposed to the storm all night, sitting on
logs around a fire that would not burn and blinded us with smoke. In
the morning the storm ceased and soon the sun came out and warmed us.
Fortunately I had a change of dry clothing in my knapsack in the tent,
which I put on as soon as relieved and experienced no ill effects from
the exposure. Although we were experienced soldiers, we had much to
learn, now that we were a part of a great army entering upon a
campaign. One of the first things that forced itself upon us was that
while on a campaign or on marches there could be no company cooks and
every soldier had to carry and cook his own rations. This was
necessary because companies were constantly divided. Some men were
absent on picket or on scouting duty for days at a time. It was only
while in a permanent camp or when the army was in winter quarters, as
it was called, that we could receive full rations and have the luxury
of company cooks and fresh bread instead of hardtack.
The daily ration of hard bread was increased from twelve to sixteen
ounces per day and a few other changes were made in the soldiers'
rations by law and regulation in July, 1861, to hold good during the
war. We lived on what we called "short rations" when on a campaign or
a march, the daily allowance being as follows: one pound of hard
bread, twelve ounces of salt pork or bacon, or twenty ounces of salt
or fresh beef; one and a quarter ounces of ground coffee; two and a
half ounces of sugar; half an ounce of salt and sometimes a piece of
soap. We generally drew three days' rations at a time, which fairly
filled our haversacks. Sometimes we had to carry rations for five days
and were obliged to stow away a part of them in our knapsacks. There
were times when we had to get along with less than the above
allowance.
The haversack was a canvas bag, the knapsack was of the same
material--both painted black. The haversack had a canvas lining which
could be removed and washed. We made small bags to hold our coffee,
sugar and salt; the pork or beef we wrapped up in a piece of paper or
cloth and stowed away in the bottom of the haversack, and then filled
it up with the hard bread. Each soldier carried a quart cup and a
plate made of strong block tin, also a spoon and a steel knife and
fork. Those who did not provide themselves with frying pans used their
tin plates as a substitute. Our canteens were of strong tin, covered
over with thick felt cloth, and held three pints.
We soon learned to make several palatable dishes out of our limited
marching rations. We would fry our pork until it was well browned, and
after dipping some of the hard bread into water for a few minutes we
fried that in the hot pork grease, which made it swell and softened
it, for it was very hard bread indeed when eaten raw. At other times
we broke the hard bread into small pieces and soaked it in water for
an hour or more until it was thoroughly soft and then fried it in pork
grease. We also had a way of making a stew in our tin cups, to which
the soldiers gave a name that would not look well in print. This stew
consisted of pork or beef cut into small pieces, with broken hard
bread boiled in water; and if we were fortunate enough to obtain a
carrot, a potato or an onion, we had a feast.
We had good appetites. On the third day we generally fasted to a more
or less extent, having used up more than the just proportion of our
rations on the first two days. If there was any man in the company who
could not eat all his rations, he was much sought after by those who
were hungry. We boiled our coffee in the quart cups. Sometimes we
could buy condensed milk from the sutler when not on a march.
Porter's Fifth Army Corps received orders to embark for Fortress
Monroe about March twenty-second, but it was two or three days later
that the division of regulars broke camp and marched to a wharf in
Alexandria, where we embarked on an old excursion steamer. The crowded
boat made her way slowly down the Potomac and when in the afternoon we
passed Mount Vernon, where the remains of General Washington repose,
the ship's bell tolled and we were ordered to remove our caps as a
mark of respect for the Father of his Country.
We found that the soldiers could do no cooking on this boat; some of
them tried to make coffee by placing their cups on the hot steam
pipes, but they could not get it to the boiling point. A few fortunate
soldiers got the firemen of the boat to boil their coffee for them. I
had to be content with washing down my frugal meals with cold water.
At night we lay on the floor of the saloon and about the decks,
wherever we could find room.
Next day we were in Chesapeake Bay, making slow progress, and arrived
at Old Point Comfort a little before sunset. Here was an interesting
sight--the harbor was crowded with all sorts of boats which had
transported the Army of the Potomac and its supplies from Alexandria
to Fortress Monroe. There were also several men-of-war and the
Monitor--the little "Yankee cheesebox on a raft," as the Rebels called
her--which had defeated the redoubtable Rebel ram, the Merrimac, only
a short time before. We picked our way carefully among the many
vessels and were within a half mile of the dock--a short distance
north of the present dock at the Hotel Chamberlin--when suddenly there
was a crash which threw us off our feet and caused an ominous creaking
and straining of the timbers in the old boat. We had struck something,
probably a forgotten wreck, and were beginning to sink rapidly. There
was great confusion, with shrieking of whistles, blowing off steam
from the boilers, and a rush in search of life preservers. In a few
minutes tug-boats came to our assistance and began taking us off. All
were saved, but had our boat been going at full speed when she struck,
there might have been a heavy loss, even though we had assistance
close at hand. We spent a very uncomfortable night, lying on the open
dock wrapped in our blankets and overcoats. It was cold, the strong
wind which was blowing made us shiver, and were thankful for daylight
and the sun's warm rays. Through someone's negligence our three days'
rations, exhausted on the previous day, had not been renewed and on
this morning many were without anything to eat; I had a hardtack or
two and a little sugar; these and a drink of water constituted my
breakfast. There was much grumbling and dissatisfaction. One soldier
in my company declared that it was enough "to make a dog strike his
father." Soon after sunrise our officers, who had spent a more
comfortable night at the Hygeia Hotel than we had on the cold dock,
joined us and we took up our march to camp.
We passed the fort, crossed Hampton Creek and passed through the
village of Hampton, which had been nearly destroyed by the Rebel
general, Magruder, who had ordered it to be set on fire the previous
year. A few miles further on we came to a flat plain near the James
river, where we halted to camp. Many thousands of tents stretched away
as far as the eye could reach in the direction of Newport News on the
James river; the entire Army of the Potomac was here.
It was afternoon before we received any rations and wood to start
fires with which to cook them, for there was no wood to be had in the
vicinity and we had to go a long distance for water. After a great
deal of trouble we secured some sticks with which to set up our
shelter tents; for the officers a few wall tents and some A tents were
provided.
It was at this camp that I first saw the Fifth New York Volunteer
Infantry, better known as the "Duryee Zouaves." They arrived from
Baltimore, where they had been engaged in constructing fortifications
on Federal Hill during the fall and winter, and established their camp
in close proximity to ours, which afforded us opportunity of much
friendly intercourse. They were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel G. K.
Warren, whom we had known in Dakota Territory as a lieutenant of
topographical engineers, making surveys for the Government in
1855-1857. Colonel Warren had brought this fine regiment to a state of
discipline, efficiency and drill that was not equaled by any other
volunteer regiment in the Army of the Potomac. When on drill or dress
parade they looked both splendid and formidable in their picturesque
Zouave uniforms and white turbans. General George Sykes, our division
commander, selected this regiment of all others for the third brigade
of the second division of the Fifth Army Corps. The First Connecticut
Heavy Artillery, serving as infantry, was presently added to this
brigade, and later on the Tenth New York Volunteer Infantry. The
"Duryee Zouaves" remained in Sykes's division until the expiration of
their term of service.
The first and second brigades, amounting to upwards of four thousand
men, were made up of regular soldiers. The second, to which I
belonged, was composed of the following: Second United States
Infantry, Sixth United States Infantry, Tenth United States Infantry,
Eleventh United States Infantry, Seventeenth United States Infantry.
The eleventh and seventeenth were new regiments raised since the
beginning of the war; they were what was called three-battalion
regiments, twenty-four companies but only one battalion of each; eight
companies were ever present with us. The old regiments were
ten-company regiments, but none of them had over six companies
present. The commander of the brigade at this time was Lieutenant
Colonel William Chapman, an old veteran of the Mexican War, who
remained with us but a short time, when he was retired on account of
old age and disability.
At this time--the beginning of McClellan's Peninsula Campaign--my
regiment had but three or four officers present who had served on the
frontiers with us and were West Point graduates. All of the first and
second lieutenants, with the exception of Lieutenant Jordan, who
commanded my company, and a few who were appointed from the ranks,
were civilian appointees. Some had served in state militia and had
some knowledge of tactics and discipline; some turned out to be good
officers, but others could have been dispensed with, and that with no
loss to the service.
I took a trip along the shore of the river one day towards Newport
News and had a close view of the masts of the Congress and the
Cumberland sticking up out of the water. These were the two United
States frigates that were sunk by the Merrimac in the memorable
conflict of March eighth, 1862.
The Army of the Potomac commenced its advance on Yorktown on April
fourth, but it was nearly a week later before we left our camp near
Hampton. General McClellan, while in command of the Army of the
Potomac, made Sykes's division his reserve--a body of troops to be
relied upon "at a critical moment," as he expressed it, in his report
of the Peninsular Campaign; that is why, during his time as commander,
we seldom took the initiative in any forward movements, but were more
often used to cover a retreat, as at the first Bull Run, when the
enemy pursued us.
When we left our camp about the tenth of April we found the roads in
very bad condition from recent rains and badly cut up by that part of
the army which had marched ahead of us. We passed through a place
called Little Bethel and through Big Bethel, where the "Duryee
Zouaves" had an encounter with a body of the enemy on June tenth,
1861. The breast-works marking the Rebel's position were still there.
A few miles beyond, about half way between our former camp and
Yorktown, we halted and went into camp in a field at the edge of some
woods, in which there were a large number of huts or shacks, which had
been occupied by some Rebel regiment during the winter. We found a
number of pigs running around in the woods, some of which we captured
and had fresh pork for supper.
During the night a rainstorm came on which lasted almost without
intermission for more than forty-eight hours. My bunkie and I had
taken the precaution to put a thick layer of pine branches on the
ground and had dug a ditch around our tent; still, next morning the
water soaked in, though we dug the ditch deeper, and for two days and
nights we had to sit or lie on beds that were water-soaked. To add to
our misery, the shelter tents were far from being waterproof; such a
rain as this could not be kept out. As we lay in our tents we watched
the globules of water oozing through the thin canvas; and to keep them
from dripping in our faces, we would put up our fingers to touch the
drop and guide it along the sloping side of the tent. The rain was so
fierce that half the time we could not boil any coffee, as no fires
could be kept up. The field in which we camped was soon turned into a
quagmire through which we waded ankle-deep when we ventured outside
the tents. The men named this place "Camp Misery," and it remained as
such in our memories for many a day.
On the morning of the third day the sun came out, but the roads were
in such a horrible condition that we could not move. It was not until
the morning of the fourth day that we resumed our march and arrived at
Yorktown in the afternoon. At Yorktown our camp was established a
short distance from the front of General McClellan's headquarters and
was known as "Camp Winfield Scott." There was a fringe of woods which
screened us from the enemy in the fortifications of Yorktown about a
mile and a half or more in front of us. When the first of the troops
of the Army of the Potomac arrived in front of Yorktown they found
their further advance checked by fortifications mounting heavy guns,
with smaller works and formidable, well protected breast-works
extending from the York river on the north across the entire peninsula
to the James river on the south, where the Warwick river enters it.
For a few days reconnaissances, which brought on some minor
engagements, were made to find some weak spots in the Rebel defenses.
Then General McClellan decided that a siege would be necessary to
capture the enemy's works. Presently the Union Army of about eighty
thousand men was busy making roads, building works for batteries of
siege guns and trenches for the infantry.
The first work my regiment did was to assist in building corduroy
roads between the camps and Shipping Point on the York river, where
the army supply depots were. These roads had to be substantially built
for the transportation of heavy siege guns and all kinds of army
supplies. This work was severe and frequent cold rains added to our
misery; but it had to be done quickly, regardless of weather
conditions. Early in the morning a detail of about one-half the
regiment, furnished with axes, picks and spades, marched to a part of
the Shipping Point road and commenced work. We cut down trees, trimmed
them and dragged the logs to their places; we filled in low spots and
dug ditches to drain the water from swampy sections, often standing in
mud and water to do it. At noon we were allowed an hour's rest to make
coffee and eat our rations. About sundown we quit work and returned to
camp, very tired and glad that we could rest all of the next day,
while the other half of the regiment was at work.
The sick list increased while this work went on, but it was soon
finished and then we furnished detachments to work on trenches which
were a part of the siege operations of the investment of Yorktown,
consisting of ditches and earth breast-works running in long zigzag
lines, constantly approaching the enemy's works. New lines were always
begun in the night, but strong works for mounting siege guns and
batteries were hurried along night and day, in spite of the enemy's
frequent shelling, which was answered by our gun-boats in the York
river; and generally they were soon silenced by them. After sundown
the soldiers who had been detailed for work on the trenches during the
night formed ranks and marched to a place where picks and shovels were
furnished us; then we neared the place where the work was to be done
and concealed ourselves in the woods, which were abundant in the
vicinity of Yorktown, and awaited very quietly until darkness had set
in. We were then led out into the open fields in front of the Rebel
works, where we found pegs driven and lines put up by the engineers,
indicating the direction in which the new line of trenches was to be
dug. We were cautioned to make as little noise as possible with our
tools and no talking was allowed, for the Rebel pickets might be near.
The men began digging a wide trench, throwing the dirt in front of
them to form a breastwork; and they worked very hard indeed until they
had dug a hole deep enough to lie down in, then they took it easier.
As a non-commissioned officer I did not have to do any of the digging;
I superintended my section and kept them at work, but the nights were
still cold and raw and I often relieved a tired private for a while to
warm up; besides I was as much interested as any of them to make a
hole in the ground deep enough to protect me when the enemy fired at
us.
All through the night, at almost regular intervals of about fifteen
minutes, a single gun in the forts at Yorktown fired a shell in our
direction, which passed over us and exploded or buried itself in the
ground somewhere behind us. On the half-dozen occasions when I was on
such a detail I can recall only one shell bursting over us which
severely wounded two men of a regiment working next to ours. When the
gun was fired at Yorktown a mile or more away, there was a flash in
the sky and a sergeant on watch called out "Lie down!" when we
immediately dropped flat on the ground or into the trench. About the
time we heard the report of the gun, the shell was passing over us.
The interval of time between seeing the flash of the gun and hearing
the report was just about sufficient for us to drop for protection.
Occasionally the Union gunboats in the river fired a few rounds in the
direction of the Rebel gun which was annoying us and had the effect of
silencing it for an hour or two. At the first streak of daybreak we
ceased digging and returned to camp, depositing our entrenching tools
where we had received them. We were then excused from duty and rested
all day; alternate nights the same detail went out to work on the
trenches again. Similar work was done by the troops all along our
front line.
We had a fairly good camping ground, which could be drained, but there
was much rain at this season and our thin canvas shelter tents leaked
badly, until we thought to give them a coating of pork-grease or
melted tallow, which improved them for a time at the expense of their
looks, for all the dust and dirt flying about clung to them. In this
respect the volunteer regiments were better provided for than we; many
of them had rubber ponchos--not furnished by the Government, but by
the states from which they hailed. The ponchos could be used as a
shelter tent and were waterproof; they could also be worn as a
protection in rainy weather, while on the march or on picket, for they
were slit in the center for the head to pass through. They had,
however, the disadvantage of being much too heavy and excessively hot
when used as tents in warm weather.
During our stay at Camp Winfield Scott, for about a month, we had no
drum or bugle calls nor were any bands allowed to play, and after
sunset all fires were extinguished. This precaution was taken to
prevent the enemy from ascertaining the exact location of our camps,
many of them being within easy distance of their long-range guns, only
a thin strip of woods masked the camps in most places.
A large captive balloon near the army headquarters was in charge of
the signal corps, a new branch of the service added since the
beginning of the war. Some of the engineer officers made ascensions in
this balloon for hundreds of feet and must have obtained a
comprehensive view of the enemy's camps and defenses. Shells were
fired at this balloon at times; we saw them burst in the air, but they
never came close enough to endanger the occupants. There was also a
telegraph corps at headquarters, which was an innovation in warfare.
Insulated wire was used, wound on large reels mounted on trucks drawn
by horses. The wires could be paid out quickly and were secured to
trees or fences, or laid on the ground, and communications established
between headquarters and commanders of the corps.
Not a day passed without some long-range artillery firing from both
sides; sometimes a shell passed over our camp and over General
McClellan's headquarters camp behind us. Picket firing also went on,
and there were some casualties daily. It was at this camp that I saw
Rebel soldiers for the first time; some prisoners, taken in a
skirmish, were brought to headquarters. Only a few among them wore a
complete uniform of gray; the others had a mixture of military and
civilian clothing and wore slouch hats; they were taken charge of by
the provost-guard.
An estuary of the York river extended close up to our camp. There were
many oyster beds in it, which were soon exhausted by the soldiers. We
washed our clothing in this water, which was brackish; our drinking
water we obtained from springs and from wells which we dug. Encamped
alongside of our brigade was the regiment known as Colonel Burdan's
United States Sharp Shooters, an independent organization belonging to
no particular state. This regiment was much used as skirmishers and on
picket. Many of the men had their own private arms, rifles with
telescopes, hunting rifles and other superior arms; some had powder
horns and cast their own bullets rather than use any fixed ammunition.
A detail from this regiment was sent out and remained in the
rifle-pits or were concealed in the branches of trees from daybreak
till dark for the purpose of taking shots at the Rebel gunners in the
fortifications of Yorktown.
About the first day of May Battery Number One on our right, the
largest of our batteries, was completed and began firing occasional
shots from its one-hundred and two-hundred pounder siege-guns at the
Rebel fortifications at Yorktown and Gloucester Point on the opposite
side of the York river. The noise caused by the firing of these great
guns and the explosion of the shells was deafening. Siege mortars were
also fired. At night we could plainly follow the course of the mortar
shells by their burning and sputtering fuses as they curved high up in
the air in their flight towards the enemy's works. It was expected
that in a few days, as soon as all of our batteries were ready, a
general bombardment all along the line would take the place of
desultory firing. For several days the enemy replied but feebly to our
rambling fire, but on Saturday evening they commenced a furious fire
all along their line and kept it up until long after midnight.
At daybreak on Sunday morning, May fourth, it was discovered that the
Rebels had evacuated Yorktown and were in full retreat up the
peninsula toward Richmond. There was great cheering in all the camps
as they received the news, the bands, silent for a month, played
patriotic airs like mad, and as though they would never have another
chance to play. We seemed to be celebrating a great victory and forgot
our tremendous and now useless labor during the siege operations. When
General McClellan and some of his staff appeared among the camps on
their way to Yorktown, we threw our caps into the air and cheered him
to the echo, for he was our "Little Mac," our "Napoleon," our "Little
Corporal." The soldiers were very enthusiastic and cheered him along
the line of march, whenever he appeared; they had the greatest
confidence in him and would have followed him anywhere. No future
commander of the Army of the Potomac inspired the rank and file with
the same affection; they idolized him. But we were inexperienced in
war and too easily enthused at this time; we expected our commander to
lead us to certain victory. Of the future commanders I think that
General Joseph Hooker was next to McClellan in the affections of his
soldiers, but to a lesser degree.
Immediate pursuit of the enemy followed by a cavalry brigade which met
with some loss from percussion shells planted on the road leading from
Yorktown to Williamsburg, before they overtook the enemy's rear-guard
and had a skirmish with them. The cavalry was followed within a few
hours by the infantry of the fourth and a part of the third army
corps, which pushed on vigorously until near night, when they
encountered a large force of the enemy strongly posted in a work
called Fort Magruder and about a dozen redoubts and many rifle-pits
located about a mile or more east of Williamsburg.
Next day a fierce battle was fought all day; in our camps at Yorktown,
where we were held in readiness to march at a moment's notice, we
could plainly hear the heavy firing. That night the enemy abandoned
their position and the road to the Chickahominy river was open. All
the troops now began a forward movement, but we were among the last
to leave, two or three days after the battle of Williamsburg.
Transportation was limited, only one wagon being allowed our small
regiment to carry the officers' tents, their baggage, mess-kits,
etc. Nothing was carried for the soldiers, except the sergeant-major's
and first sergeant's small desks or chests in which their books and
papers were kept. By this time many of the officers had negro
servants--soldiers not being allowed for that service while in the
field; these they had picked up from among the many hundreds of
General Butler's "contrabands" at Fortress Monroe. Many had
broken-down mules, or old horses, on which they packed shelter tents,
blankets, provisions and a few cooking utensils--a very convenient
arrangement to resort to on a prolonged march, when the officers
wanted some coffee, or when the baggage wagon failed to reach camp.
These servants were mostly ignorant plantation niggers, but they
seemed to fill the bill. They walked and led their animals; and in
some way they managed to find or steal forage enough to keep them
alive. The unfortunate ones who did not have animals to carry their
burdens were obliged to make pack-horses of themselves. These camp
followers, or "dog robbers," as we called them, kept up close with the
command to which they belonged, except when they heard any firing
going on in front, in which case they did not show up until all was
quiet again.
Our first day's march was to Williamsburg, about twelve miles, where
we encamped for the night near Fort Magruder on a part of the
battlefield of three days previous. Not much of the struggle remained
to be seen, the dead had been buried, the dead horses burned, but the
woods and trees and the earthworks showed the effects of the rifle and
cannon firing which must have been most severe. The road from our
camps led through Yorktown; we passed by some of the Rebel
fortifications which heretofore had been seen only from a distance. We
noticed a number of small sticks with a piece of rag attached to them.
These indicated places where percussion shells were supposed to have
been buried by the Rebels. A squad of Rebel prisoners under guard were
forced to dig them up. This was very dangerous work, as to step on the
cap of the shell or to strike it with a tool was liable to cause a
disastrous explosion.
The weather was very warm; the road was mostly through pine woods with
an occasional clearing; the woods, set on fire by the retreating
Rebels, were still burning in places and the smoke at times was
suffocating. We found the road strewn with blankets, overcoats and
other clothing and articles discarded by our troops who had marched
ahead of us. Owing to the warm weather, the heat of the burning woods
and the rough state of the roads, we felt the weight of our knapsacks
on our backs more than ever before; and we also began to shed
clothing. We reasoned that there was a long summer before us, during
which we would need but little clothing in this climate; and if we
were still alive in the fall we could draw more blankets and
overcoats. My bunkie and I lightened our loads by discarding a blanket
and an overcoat; the other blanket we cut in two, and cutting the cape
off the remaining overcoat, we cast it away, together with half of the
blanket and some other articles, all of which lightened our burden
considerably.
All through the summer when on a march, we did not bother with putting
up a shelter tent unless it rained. We spread one of the sections of
the tent on the ground and lay on the half-blanket, covering ourselves
with the blanket and with the other section of the tent if we expected
a heavy dew. Sometimes we were caught in a shower during the night,
but that did not disturb us much, as we were then too tired and sleepy
to get up and erect a tent. We kept the overcoat for a while to be
made use of when either of us was on guard or picket, but we soon
threw that away, also. The country people who lived along the route of
the army must have gathered a rich harvest in clothing and shoes at
this time. There were a few men in every company who could not make up
their minds to part with any of their property; some even picked up
articles that others had thrown away and added them to their burden,
although they staggered under the load.
The second day's march was a short one. We went only about six or
seven miles beyond Williamsburg and encamped. In going through the
town we saw but few citizens, except colored people; the stores were
nearly all closed, the private houses had their blinds closed and were
seemingly deserted. The ladies were evidently hiding themselves. The
place was full of wounded soldiers from both armies; large hospital
tents flying the yellow flag had been erected on the outskirts of the
town. We passed the venerable buildings of William and Mary College,
which, I think, were used as a hospital at that time.
Next morning, soon after reveille, I was handed an order for the
admission of half-a-dozen sick soldiers from my brigade (whom the
surgeon considered unable to stand a campaign) to a hospital at
Williamsburg. I was directed to take charge of them, to march them
there and rejoin my company as speedily as possible and as best I
could. I secured permission to leave my knapsack in the regimental
baggage wagon, keeping only a blanket which I made into a roll and
carried over my shoulder. I started early, but it took my sick squad
about four hours to travel the distance of six miles back to
Williamsburg. I found the hospital tent, left my charges and was given
a receipt for them.
The day was still young. I was puzzled whether to stay in the town and
await the chance to return under the protection of some detachment of
soldiers, or to go on alone. I decided on the latter course, for I
felt fresh and vigorous and was a good marcher; I reasoned that I
would be able to overtake my command before night, if they had not
made too long a march that day; and, at the worst, I might find a
wagon-train or some soldiers encamped along the road, among whom I
might spend the night. I stayed in town only long enough to get
something to eat and some coffee at the hospital, and then started off
at a brisk pace which I kept up with only a few short rests until
evening, when I began to look anxiously for signs of a large camp
ahead. None was to be seen, and no one seemed to be traveling towards
me, from whom I could learn how far it was to the next camp. The road
was a very lonely one; much of it was through woods, and there were
but few houses and cabins. The trail left by the army could be easily
followed in the daytime, but after dark it would be more difficult
when arriving at a cross or branch road to decide which way to go.
During the afternoon I was never any very great length of time out of
sight of a wagon-train or some cavalry detachment, and I also met some
stragglers, who had been foraging. They asked me to stay with them but
I declined. Towards evening I saw no one and felt very lonely and
uneasy. Shortly after sundown a small cavalry squad in charge of an
officer overtook me. I was halted and the officer demanded to know
what I was doing alone on the road. I showed him my receipt and
explained that I was not a straggler. He advised me to hide in the
woods in a hurry and to stay there until some detachment came along
which I could join, or I would be shot by guerrillas. I had not heard
guerrillas mentioned before in camp, but from the earnest way in which
this officer spoke, I judged they were to be dreaded.
I quickly retraced my steps to the nearest woods, about half a mile
behind me, and took a careful look up and down the road before
entering, but saw nothing to alarm me. Within hearing distance of the
road, I spread my blanket under a tree, ate a portion of my rations
and took a drink of water from my canteen. It was growing dark and I
was afraid to light my pipe and have a smoke, so I lay down on my
blanket to rest, my loaded rifle beside me. I felt very tired, as I
must have marched more than twenty-five miles since early morning,
according to my calculation, and although I tried to keep awake and
listen for any noise there might be on the road, sleep overcame me and
I did not wake up until it was broad daylight.
After a careful survey I resumed my march and soon passed a house a
few hundred yards off the road, in which no one seemed to be stirring
yet. A few miles further on, I saw a cavalry picket post and, noting
the blue uniform and yellow facings, I knew that I was safe. Here I
learned that the camp was but little more than a mile ahead and soon
heard the joyful notes of a bugle call. My regiment was waiting to
take its place in line for the day's march and I reported to the
commanding officer, who complimented me on my activity in making two
days' marches in one, and ordered me as a reward to be excused from
guard and picket duties for a month.
A short time later I knew better than to take the foolish chance I had
in making that march alone. In less than a week General Sykes's
servant was shot dead by guerrillas and some teamsters were killed by
them not far from camp. During the war many stragglers were killed by
guerrillas, being reported missing or perhaps as deserters. In my own
company, two men who were supposed to have fallen asleep by the
roadside during a rest on a night march were never heard from.
On this day it was the turn of the Fifth Army Corps to be in the rear
on the line of march, and my brigade was the last in the corps, which
made it quite late in the morning before we started on the road. It
was the custom, when it could be done and when a large part of the
army was marching on the same road, for the corps in advance to-day to
be in the rear to-morrow. This rule applied also to divisions,
brigades, regiments and companies of regiments, the leading company
to-day being the rear company to-morrow.
We marched by fours, and if there were fifty thousand men or more in
line they extended for many miles, and it sometimes happened that the
troops in the advance went into camp before those in the rear started
on their march. Reveille, however, was sounded at the same time in all
the camps, irrespective of their place in line. The supply trains with
their guards often followed the troops on the same road and were very
late getting into camp. Rations were then issued at night to the
waiting, hungry soldiers. When the roads were very bad and conditions
made it feasible, an army corps remained at rest in camp for a day
avoiding the overcrowding of the road.
Marching with a large body of troops is very tedious and very
annoying, when you are far to the rear of the line and the troops in
front empty the wells and springs along the road and roil the rivulets
and ponds to the extent of making water unfit to drink. When a halt
occurred we did not know whether it was for a rest or only for a
moment; a halt of a few minutes at the head of the line miles away
multiplied itself many times before it reached the rear. If a piece of
road had to be repaired, a stream forded or a bridge strengthened or
repaired for the safe passage of artillery and cavalry, we were
delayed for hours. Those in the rear knew nothing of the cause and
wondered why we did not go on, expecting every moment to hear the
bugle sound the call "forward." When we halted we stood still for a
few minutes waiting to go on again, and if there was no indication of
it among the regiments immediately in front of us, we broke ranks
without orders and unslung our knapsacks and sat on them or lay on the
ground by the roadside if it was dry, the officers doing the same--for
all company officers had to march on foot. If the halt continued for a
while the men soon began to straggle off in search of water and wood;
if it was evening, soon many small fires were burning along the road
and many were making coffee in their tin cups; and perhaps before the
coffee boiled the bugle would sound the command to "fall in." We could
not afford to throw away the coffee, partly made, but carried the cups
in our hands to the next halting place and built another fire. We had
become wise and put swinging handles on our cups, if we could find any
wire for that purpose, to carry them more easily. A short delay at the
head of the column became a long one in the rear, if the men broke
ranks, for it required a little time to sling knapsacks and to take
your place in line--very much like a tie-up on a long line of
street-cars, when it seems a long time after the first one has started
again before the last one moves. On night marches the afore-mentioned
difficulties were greater, for tired out men fell asleep by the
roadside and did not always hear the command "forward." If we missed
them when forming ranks, we delayed a little and searched for them; if
we did not, they had a chance of being picked up by the rear guard, or
ran the risk of being captured by guerrillas.
We passed through New Kent Court House and reached Cumberland on the
Pamunkey river long after dark. Sykes' division encamped on the
heights overlooking the valley of the river, and there we saw a sight
the grandeur of which can never be effaced from the memory of those
who witnessed it. Below us on a great plain the entire Army of the
Potomac was encamped, reunited for the first time since leaving
Yorktown. Thousands upon thousands of camp fires were seen as far as
the eye could reach in every direction. The sight was magnificent. We
rested at Cumberland for a day and the army was reviewed by Secretary
of State William H. Seward.
Our next march was to the White House, at the head of navigation on
the Pamunkey. Here the river was crossed by a bridge of the Richmond
and York River Railroad. The tortuous river was crowded with vessels,
all loaded with supplies for the army, for the White House landing was
to be our base of supplies while operating against Richmond, and the
railroad partly destroyed by the Rebels was to be rebuilt to convey
the supplies to the Chickahominy river. The White House was a large
plantation, formerly the property of the wife of George Washington and
at that time owned by the Lee family. General McClellan ordered
safeguards to protect this estate from vandalism, but about a month
later the fine mansion was destroyed by fire along with our supply
depot, when the Union Army retreated to the James river. Our next camp
was at Tunstall's Station, and two more short marches brought us to
Gaines's Mill, north of the Chickahominy and about seven miles from
Richmond.
All the way up the peninsula the country was deserted; about the
plantations and farms no young men were to be seen, they had all
joined the Rebel Army. Few negroes were visible; all but trusty house
servants had been sent within the Rebel lines to prevent them from
running away from their masters. Scarcely a horse or any other
domestic animal was to be seen about the farms; they were either
secreted or had been sent away.
During the first eighteen months of the war, orders against foraging
or destroying any private property in the enemy's country were
strictly enforced; in our division we were not even allowed to take
fence rails for firewood, safeguards being placed at many of the more
important plantations for their protection. After the invasion of
Maryland by the Rebels in September, 1862, and the discovery that many
of the houses along the route of the army harbored guerrillas who
murdered our stragglers, the orders were no longer strictly enforced
and but few safeguards were furnished. I believe it was twelve days or
more from the evacuation of Yorktown before our advance troops reached
the Chickahominy river, a distance of something less than fifty miles.
The Northern papers criticized General McClellan very severely for his
slow pursuit of the enemy; but there were few roads that this large
army with its immense baggage and supply trains could travel; owing to
constant and unprecedented spring rains they were in a horrible
condition and had to be repaired in many places before the artillery
and wagon trains could pass, and besides the bridges had to be
rebuilt. The battle fought at Williamsburg caused a loss of two days
also in our advance on Richmond.
The great stretches of pine woods on the peninsula made us familiar
with a camp-pest we had not encountered before--the woodtick, a small
bug which buried its head in the most tender parts of the skin of
one's body, causing intense itching, swellings and sores. In the
morning, while on the march, when the sun was shining, and we were in
good spirits, some regiment would start up a song. I particularly
remember that my regiment marched directly behind the "Duryee Zouaves"
one morning when one of their fine singers started "The Mocking Bird,"
and presently the entire regiment, twice as large as ours, took up the
chorus. It was beautiful, and it has ever since remained one of my
favorite sings.
Gaines's Mill, where our camp was located, was a part of a large
plantation owned by Dr. Gaines, a bitter Rebel who resided on the
property in a large house that was protected by a safeguard. My
brigade was encamped along the edge of the mill-pond, a body of
stagnant water which received all the drainage of the camp and which
was our only supply for cooking and drinking. No precautions of any
kind were taken to prevent contamination of the pond; the soldiers
bathed and washed their clothing in it. We dug some deep holes along
the shore and allowed the water to seep into them, hoping in that way
to filter it, but without perceptible results, for our sick list
increased and we had some fatal cases of typhoid fever.
The Army of the Potomac was presently separated into two parts; only
the Fifth Army Corps and one additional division remained on the north
side, or left bank, of the Chickahominy, all the other troops being on
the right bank of the river and nearer Richmond. They formed the left
wing of the army between the Chickahominy and the James rivers; while
we formed the right wing, virtually cut off and liable to be
out-flanked by the enemy, for the Chickahominy was bordered by large
forest trees and low, marshy bottoms which a single heavy rainstorm
would overflow; all bridges had been destroyed and had to be rebuilt
and a number of new ones constructed.
General McDowell with the First Army Corps and other troops, to the
number of about forty thousand men in all, formed an independent
command at Fredericksburg at this time, only a few days' march away
from General Porter's Fifth Army Corps. General McClellan had most
earnestly requested the authorities at Washington to allow General
McDowell to form a junction with him to strengthen the right wing of
the Army of the Potomac, but General McDowell did not receive an order
to join until it was too late, and we had to pay a fearful price for
the delinquency.
At this time there were no less than six independent commands in
various parts of Virginia, and even the soldiers in the ranks could
understand that the war in that state was being conducted from
Washington; no important operations could be undertaken without the
approval of the President, Secretary of War Stanton, or the
Commander-in-Chief, Halleck. It was not until General Grant's time in
1864 that the commander of this army was given a free hand.
After we had been a few days at this camp it was discovered that two
brigades of the enemy, estimated at twelve thousand strong, were at
Hanover Court House, between McDowell's army and our own and were
threatening our communications with the White House, our base of
supplies. A division of the Fifth Corps, together with Warren's
brigade and some cavalry and artillery, marched at daylight next
morning and encountered the enemy. Next day there was a spirited
engagement in which the Rebels lost about a thousand, killed, wounded
and prisoners, and were obliged to retreat to Richmond, while the
Union loss was less than four hundred. The two regular brigades
marched to the field a day later as a support, but we were not called
into action. The "Duryee Zouaves" took part in the engagement,
sustaining only a trifling loss. The following day the Virginia
Central Railroad with its bridges was destroyed by our troops as far
as Ashland and we returned to our camp at Gaines's Mill.
We assisted in building approaches across the Chickahominy swamps to
the new bridges erected by the engineers and sometimes we worked in
mud and water all day. Occasionally the enemy fired some shells at us
without much damage and were quickly silenced by some of our batteries
posted in a commanding position to protect the bridge.
The Rebels had one very long range gun which they sometimes fired from
the other side of the Chickahominy in the direction of our camp. We
could not hear the report of the gun but heard the shell pass over us
and explode far beyond. This gun was supposed to be of English
manufacture--the best type of rifled cannon made at that time.
On one of these working parties we found in a field a tobacco barn in
which there was a goodly quantity of dried leaf-tobacco, from which we
abstracted as much as the small party in my charge were able to
conceal and carry away without being discovered. Next day in camp we
made cigars of the stogie shape and enjoyed smoking them.
On the thirty-first of May occurred the very severe battle of Fair
Oaks on the right bank of the Chickahominy, in which the Fifth Army
Corps took no part, but was kept in readiness to cross the river, if
that could have been accomplished. The recent heavy rainstorms had
caused such a flood that the bridges had been carried away and the
unfinished approaches destroyed. The enemy knew this and no doubt
counted on the fact that our army was separated by an impassable river
and could not be united at that time. We heard the constant roar of
artillery and infantry firing from noon until dark. It recommenced at
daylight next morning and lasted for several hours. We learned later
that our troops were driven back on the first day, but regained their
position the following morning and drove the enemy two miles further
in flight towards Richmond, only five miles away. It was a victory for
the Union Army, but could not be followed up; the condition of the
roads was so bad that artillery could not follow. The troops went back
to their former lines and greatly strengthened them. The combined
losses of both armies in this battle were upwards of twelve thousand,
killed and wounded.
When the month had expired, during which I had been excused from guard
and picket, I had to resume those duties again. The guard duty was
easy enough as we only maintained a camp guard; but going on picket
was a very hard task which happened once a week or oftener, at this
camp. Our entire company would march out of camp near evening, leaving
our tents standing but taking our knapsacks with us. We would then
proceed for a few miles in whatever direction we had been ordered to
go, until we arrived at the picket reserve whom we were to relieve.
There we were divided into relieves for day and night duties and
received our orders and special instructions from the officer in
command. When darkness came on we marched out to the picket line in
small detachments, were challenged by the sentinels and relieved them
consecutively, being informed by the soldier relieved of any
suspicious circumstances or points to be especially watched. Then
began our lonely vigil through the night until relieved at daybreak,
for when near the enemy we had to remain on post all night, or from
dawn till dark, as relief detachments were frequently fired on, even
though the opposing picket lines did not fire at each other by a sort
of mutual understanding during the daytime.
Picket posts were generally within sight or hailing distance of each
other; some had the protection of trees or bushes or rising ground,
while others were out in the open fields without any protection or
concealment. Although I was a corporal, I had to take my place on the
picket line with my squad when conditions were such that the pickets
could not be relieved at regular hours in front of the enemy. While
the daylight tours were much longer at this season of the year, I
found the night tours a greater strain on me and more exhausting.
There was a continuous strain on the eye and ear, watching for the
movement of dark objects or listening for noises; a bird or a small
animal moving in the bushes might sound like the stealthy approach of
a person; while to fire a shot or to give a false alarm without a good
cause meant punishment. We kept our rifles at half-cock, but when
hearing a suspicious noise I would stand still and bring mine to a
full-cock, waiting until all was quiet again. It was very hard
sometimes to fight off sleep. When I felt a drowsy feeling stealing
over me, I resorted to all kinds of expedients to keep awake, even to
rubbing tobacco into my eyes to make them smart.
I put in one particularly distressing day at one of the new bridges
which we were completing across the Chickahominy. At daybreak I was
sent from the main picket guard at the Rebel side of the bridge to
post a line of sentinels about two hundred yards ahead of the bridge,
to watch and give the signal should the enemy approach to interfere
with the working party on the bridge. We had to wade through an
overflow of the river for a long distance up to our knees and some of
the sentinels had to stand in the water all day behind trees as they
could not be relieved before dark. I took for my post the farther end
of the line behind a tree, where I did not have to stand in the water.
When it was fully daylight I noticed a large tree out in an open field
about a hundred yards in front of me and soon made out that there were
two Rebel pickets watching me from behind that tree. Sometimes a gun
was poked out and pointed in my direction on one side or the other of
the tree, which caused me to do the same; but as they did not fire, I
was only too glad to keep quiet myself. During the forenoon a Rebel
battery fired over our heads at the men working on the bridge. This
drew a concentrated fire from some of our batteries which soon forced
the enemy to desist. A heavy rain came on before noon and lasted all
day, soaking us to the skin. I watched my two neighbors, but nothing
of an exciting nature happened on this miserable, wet day. When I felt
hungry I ate some boiled bacon and munched a few crackers. The day
seemed interminably long. Just as soon as it was dark enough I left my
post for the main picket guard at the bridge, picking up the sentinels
as I went along, for at this time the guard retired to the north side
of the bridge over night.
After the battle of Fair Oaks, offensive operations seemed to be
suspended for a time on both sides. Incessant rains for a week or more
had put the country into such condition that an advance movement could
not be attempted; only artillery duels, small skirmishes and some
picket firing took place. But about the middle of June there was some
excitement in our camps caused by a report that a large force of
Rebels were in the rear of the right wing, threatening the destruction
of our base of supplies at the White House. This proved to be the much
vaunted Confederate General Stuart's raid. General Stuart, with a
cavalry force of about twelve hundred and a section of artillery, made
a swift and complete circuit of the Army of the Potomac. His progress
was so rapid that he met with but little opposition; there was no
considerable cavalry force at hand and the infantry sent out in a
hurry could not pursue him. He was unable to inflict any damage,
except to tear up a small section of the railroad track near the White
House, cut some telegraph wires, kill a few cavalry-men and some
teamsters and burn a dozen army wagons. The most important result of
this raid for the enemy was that it disclosed to them the weakness,
location and difficult connection of the right wing of our army, with
the main body on the south side of the Chickahominy,--a condition of
which they took advantage presently, to our discomfiture. Things went
on quietly for a little while after Stuart's raid, until on the
twenty-sixth of June, 1862, the enemy attacked our right wing with a
superior force at Mechanicsville, which was the first of the "seven
days of battle" and retreat of McClellan's army in front of Richmond.