PART X._Ten years in the ranks, U.S. Army

THE SEVEN DAYS' RETREAT, 1862.

On the morning of the twenty-sixth of June, 1862, everything was quiet

in our camps; only the fire of an occasional gun was heard in the

front of the main part of our army, on the other side of the

Chickahominy. We were enduring a very hot period of weather and sought

relief from the fierce rays of the sun under our little shelter tents

which we opened on all sides for more air. Men who were not on duty

smoked, played cards, chatted or discussed the conduct of the war and

explained how it should be managed; they damned the cabinet and the

politicians in Washington, who really managed the war and interfered

often disastrously with the commanding generals in the field. They

expressed indignation against the Copperhead (Rebel sympathizing)

papers in the North and wondered why they were not suppressed. They

made rough estimates of the enormous cost of the war which drew forth

a remark from one of the party, that he thought many millions could be

saved if the Government advertised for bids to put down the rebellion

and awarded the job to some Napoleonic contractor.

About the middle of the afternoon we were suddenly startled by heavy

firing in the direction of our right wing at Beaver Dam Creek near

Mechanicsville, about three miles from our camp, where the third

division of the Fifth Army Corps under General McCall was posted in a

strong position. Presently the firing increased to heavy volleys,

mingled with the thunder of artillery, and we realized that the long

expected attack on our right wing had begun. The drummers beat the

long roll and in a moment all was activity in camp. Tents were struck,

knapsacks were packed, rations were issued and cartridge boxes

replenished; the wagons were packed and all ready for a movement; we

only awaited orders to march to the support of the third division.

Then came a lull in the firing for an hour or more, only to be renewed

about sundown with increased fury when Sykes's division was ordered

forward. We took the road towards Mechanicsville and marched in quick

time to within half a mile or so of the battle line, when we were

halted for a while and then turned off the road into a plowed field on

the right, where we were to bivouac for the night. It was getting dark

but considerable firing was still going on and it was after nine

o'clock before it ceased entirely. We stacked arms and sat on our

knapsacks on the ground waiting.

From orderlies and wounded men passing to the rear, we learned that

the enemy had crossed and were still crossing the Chickahominy by the

upper bridges; and had made fierce attacks on the strong position of

the third division on Beaver Dam Creek where they had been repulsed

with great loss, while our loss was small; but that by morning the

enemy would be in such overwhelming numbers that the position would be

untenable. This information made it seem sure to us that there would

be another battle on the morrow and that we would take part in it; and

for the first time we experienced the peculiar feeling and mental

condition of the soldier on the eve of battle, a condition that has

been described in prose and poetry, as the "night before the battle."

Heretofore our brigade had only been under artillery and picket

firing, in which there had been but few casualties, but now we were to

face more serious encounters with the enemy.

We all felt grave. Each man seemed to reflect. I heard none boast as

to what they would do to-morrow. Intimate friends made known their

wishes to each other, in case either of them should not survive. We

spread our blankets on the plowed field. It was a beautiful moonlight

night. I lay awake a long time looking at the starry heavens, thinking

of my mother, who was my only relative. I believe that to a young

soldier the anticipation and certainty of a battle for many hours

before it occurs is one of the most trying parts of it. I suppose that

I felt just like my comrades. I prayed and hoped that I might be

spared, or, if I was to fall, that I might be killed rather than

mutilated. At last I fell asleep and slept soundly until awakened at

daylight next morning.

The events of the next few days made a stronger impression on my

youthful memory than any other occurrence throughout the war, and it

seems to me that at this writing, after a period of more than fifty

years, I remember and can describe my feelings and actions, step by

step, as though it had all happened but a week ago.

After a hasty breakfast without coffee, we stood to arms and waited.

Some troops were marching on the road to the rear and we learned that

General McCall's division was being quietly withdrawn from their

defenses. Only some rambling shots could be heard. After a while we

marched out into the road and in the direction of Cold Harbor, which

was simply a traven at the intersection of two roads. On our way we

passed our old camp and the mill and noticed that all our wagons had

departed during the night and that quantities of provisions which they

could not carry had been set on fire and were still burning.

We were halted several times and remained in line of battle for an

hour or more before we went on again; sometimes we countermarched. The

forenoon was well spent when we passed Cold Harbor and took the road

leading to Turkey Hill and Woodbury's Bridge. When we reached the

vicinity of the Adams house, where General Porter established his

headquarters, we halted again and were ordered to pile our knapsacks

in a field at the edge of the road where a small guard was left in

charge of them, while we went on about a quarter of a mile further and

took up a position on some high ground in a field on the road leading

to New Cold Harbor where we found Warren's brigade and other troops

who had preceded us.

It was past noon when we arrived here and sat or lay down on the grass

by the roadside under a broiling hot sun and ate our dinner of boiled

bacon and hardtack. I remember distinctly that it was bacon, for when

I took my piece out of my haversack and unwrapped it, I found it had

melted nearly half away from the great heat since early morning. We

lay around and smoked our pipes trying to find a little shade from

some low bushes that grew along the road, while we listened to an

occasional cannon shot which seemed to be a long way off.

The position of my regiment was near the highest part of the road

which at this point was about two feet below the general surface of

the ground, thus forming a low breastwork. In our front were open

fields bordered by woods three hundred yards or more away. Some

distance to our left the fields were broken by a small stream in a

ravine fringed with bushes and some trees. This stream crossed the

road we were on about three hundred yards to our left and at a lower

level. Beyond the stream the fields rose again to the edge of the

woods. In our rear there was a gentle upward slope which reached a

height of about a dozen feet above the level of the road and was

within sight of the Watt house surrounded by fields. On this

commanding but exposed position a regular battery soon appeared,

unlimbered their guns and prepared for action, the cannoneers filling

their sponge buckets with water, while others tore down the rail fence

in front of the guns on the high side of the road.

From our position I had a good view of the open fields and the

locality made such an impression on my memory, that I had no

difficulty in recognizing it many years afterward when I revisited the

scene. The road to the right and left of us was filled with troops of

Sykes's division. I noticed that Warren's brigade, which I recognized

by the Zouave uniforms of the Fifth New York, was posted in some

depressed ground in front of the road in advance and at some distance

to our left.

I think it was some time after two o'clock in the afternoon that

picket firing became more frequent and kept on getting closer. We

lined up against the rail fence watching the fields in our front

anxiously. Presently I noticed a company of the "Duryee Zouaves" leave

their regiment, deploy as skirmishers, and enter the woods opposite

them; and in a little while we heard the crack of their rifles. Then

we realized that the enemy was driving in our pickets and preparing to

attack us.

Two pieces of woods formed almost a right angle about five hundred

yards from our position and in the corner there was a wide gap through

which I could see the country for a mile or more beyond. I noticed a

great cloud of dust which seemed to be approaching, and when it neared

the gap I could make out that there were horses, but was not sure

whether it was cavalry or artillery from the dust they raised. My

doubts about this were dispelled in a few minutes when I saw a sudden

puff of smoke and heard the familiar sound of a shell passing over our

heads. We heard the command to lie down and obeyed it promptly,

throwing ourselves face down in the thick dust of the road. The shots

now came in such quick succession that I judged a full battery of six

guns was firing at our battery, stationed directly in the rear of my

regiment only a few yards away, which lost no time in replying and

whose guns roared with deafening effect close over our heads as we lay

in the road. Amid all this noise and the bursting of the enemy's

shells among and behind the battery, we could sometimes hear the

groans of a wounded battery horse.

As I explained before, we had some protection from this fire, inasmuch

as the road was sunk about two feet, and only one of the many shells

fired burst directly over our heads, killing two and wounding three

men of Company G., next to my company on the left. While this firing

was going on, I think each man tried to make himself as thin as

possible--I know that I did. Each time I heard the scream of a shell

coming our way, I hugged the ground so close that I broke the crystal

and hands of an open-faced watch which I carried in my pocket, and I

felt a great sense of relief when I heard the explosion of the shell

behind me. I ardently wished to be in some other place or that the

firing would cease.

I do not know just how long this artillery duel lasted--to me it

seemed an age--but it was probably less than an hour before there was

a lull in the firing. We arose, and I looked at the two men who had

been killed close by and saw that one had had his head blown clean

off, leaving only a stump of the neck; while the other had a large

hole in the side of his head. The sight was horrible; they lay in a

great pool of blood. The three wounded men had been removed. I took a

look at the battery in our rear and judged from what I could see that

they had not suffered as much as I had expected.

The battle had now begun in earnest at several points along our line;

we heard the heavy volleys of the infantry and the thunder of many

guns. I stood at the fence and, amid much smoke, saw that Warren's

brigade had become engaged with the enemy who were at the edge of the

woods. Soon I noticed a large body of Rebels come out of the woods,

apparently in our direction, when the command to lie down was again

given and this time a warning from the officer commanding the battery

that he was about to fire canister at the approaching enemy. Canister

shot is a round tin can made to fit the bore of the gun. It is filled

with bullets. When fired, the tin is blown to pieces and the bullets

have a tendency to scatter. A few dozen rounds of canister from our

battery drove the enemy back into the woods leaving their dead and

wounded out in the field. While the canister firing went on a little

incident occurred which under other conditions might have been

humorous. A man in my company was hit by something in a very soft part

of his body, covered by the seat of his pants, and let out a yell that

he was wounded. When the firing ceased and an examination was made,

only a large red spot could be found on his skin; he had evidently

been hit by a piece of tin or solder from a canister which no doubt

stung him hard!

My regiment now received orders to form ranks and we immediately went

forward down the road at a run, passing other regiments held in

reserve who encouraged us with such remarks as "Go in, Second

Infantry, and give them hell! Pitch into them, boys!" When we came to

the little stream previously mentioned, we filed to the right and

passed along for some distance, halted, closed up the ranks and fixed

bayonets when I discovered that I had lost mine; it had slipped out of

its scabbard while I was climbing a fence. We then crossed the ravine

and brush and went up the incline in company front and found ourselves

on the right of the Fifth New York Regiment of Warren's brigade,

prolonging his line of battle. I distinctly remember seeing General

Warren mounted on a gray horse at the right front of his line, a very

conspicuous figure, watching the Second Infantry taking their place in

line.

At this stage of the war neither the officers nor the soldiers had

learned to take advantage of any inequalities of the ground, or in the

absence of such, to dig a hole and throw up a small heap of dirt for

protection, behind which the soldier lay and fired if the enemy was at

some distance. They learned to do this very soon, however. In passing

I noticed that most of the Fifth New York on our left had set up their

knapsacks in front of them and were firing in a horizontal position.

Our colors were planted on the very brow of the rise and we dressed

(aligned) to them as we did when on parade. This brought us in full

view of and made us a conspicuous mark for the enemy who were plainly

seen at the edge of a wood directly in front about two hundred yards

away. As soon as they observed us they began firing, with but little

effect at first, until some minutes after when they estimated the

distance more closely. We lost no time in replying. The command was

given to commence firing, to fire at will, and to sight for two

hundred yards.

As soon as I began to fire at the enemy, I was inspired by very

different feelings from what I had experienced while lying inactively

in the road, being shelled by the enemy and unable to reply; this, I

think, has a dispiriting effect on a young soldier. I now felt a

strong desire to inflict all the damage I could on the enemy. I was

cool and collected and took deliberate aim with every shot, as long as

I could distinguish individuals, and when the smoke became thick I

aimed at the flash of their guns and admonished my nearest comrades in

the ranks do the same.

The bullets began to whistle spitefully about our ears now; some

struck the ground in front of us, raising the dust, but the greater

part of them went above our heads. A hasty glance to the right and

left along the line showed me, however, that men were falling here and

there, and presently my comrade on my right in the front rank pitched

forward on his face to the ground, exclaiming with a groan, "I've got

it!" He seemed in intense pain and clutched the earth with his

fingers. I turned him on his back and found that he had been hit in

the right thigh, and I am sure that in the din of battle I heard the

bullet strike him and break the thigh bone. There is a peculiar sound

or thud when a bullet enters a human body, different from that which

it makes when striking other objects--a sound, once heard, not easily

forgotten. I ordered two men to take the wounded man a few yards to

the rear, down the incline, out of the line of fire, where they left

him in the shade of some bushes and saw to it that he had his canteen

handy, and then they took their places again in the firing line. When

the wounded man was removed I picked up his rifle, took off the

bayonet and affixed it to mine, thinking I might need it if we came to

close quarters.

I will here digress in my story and relate what happened to this

soldier whom we left grievously wounded on the battle field when we

had to retreat, for the purpose of showing how the enemy often cruelly

neglected our wounded. The man's name was Charles Rehm. He was company

clerk at this time, and I had known him well ever since he joined my

company at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in 1858. I met him about eighteen

months after this battle, while on a short furlough in Washington. He

related to me how, soon after being wounded, he seemed to have lost

consciousness and remembered little until near the close of the

following day--more than twenty-six hours after he was hit--when a

Rebel surgeon attended him and he was sent to a hospital in Richmond

that night along with many other wounded Union prisoners. There they

wanted to amputate his leg, but he told them he would rather die than

loose his leg. He was a young man about twenty-five, strong and

vigorous. He recovered, but his right leg was much shorter than the

left; he had to use a cane and limped badly. At the time he was

employed as a clerk in the War Department.

To continue my story of the battle, after firing many rounds in our

exposed position we were ordered to fall back a few paces and to fire

kneeling or lying down. The rising ground in front of us now gave us a

little protection. I fired a few rounds in a prostrate position, in

which it was difficult to reload, until I saw a man a few files from

me receive a horrible wound which opened his face from his forehead to

his chin; then I arose and fired kneeling until I heard a sudden

command to close ranks and fire by company. This command, I learned

afterward, was given because the enemy seemed to form for a charge

upon us. We arose and in close double ranks began to fire volleys all

together, to the commands of "load!" "ready!" "aim!" and "fire!" which

proved to be very effective, for the Rebels retired into the woods and

for a little while their firing ceased; then it recommenced in a more

feeble way, when we ceased firing by company and fired at will again.

While the volley firing was going on, I received what seemed like a

hard blow on the right side of my head which staggered me; but I

immediately guessed the cause of it and turned around to my rear-rank

man, who had to fire over my shoulder, and soundly berated and

threatened him. He proved to be the stupid and excitable recruit,

named Davis, whom I had drilled in Washington at times. My neck and

ear were blackened with powder, and it was months before I regained

perfect hearing.

Loading and firing the old style muzzle loading arms was slow compared

with modern arms and metallic cartridges. Before the gun could be

fired, we had to take a paper cartridge out of the cartridge box,

convey it to the mouth, bite off the end and pour the powder into the

muzzle of the gun barrel held vertically. Then we tore off the

remaining paper to free the ball and inserted that into the muzzle;

the ramrod was now drawn, turned around, end for end, and the ball

rammed home without any wadding; the ramrod was then drawn out, turned

and restored to its place. The gun was now brought to the right hip,

full cocked, a percussion cap placed on the nipple, and was then ready

to aim and fire. All this required many motions and much time.

The day was intensely hot, my clothing was saturated with

perspiration, the bright barrel of my gun was so heated by the fierce

rays of the sun and the firing that it seemed to burn my hands and I

was almost afraid to reload it without giving it time to cool off. I

think we had been under fire nearly two hours, and our forty rounds of

ammunition were almost exhausted when a regiment of the Pennsylvania

Bucktails (so called because each soldier had a buck's tail sewed to

his cap) arrived to relieve us. We were ordered to retire into the

small ravine behind us, passing through the ranks of the Bucktails who

advanced to take our places. We left our dead and seriously wounded

behind us where they fell, unable to give them any help, crossed the

little stream in the ravine and formed ranks on the other side in a

field--a much shorter line than it had been but two hours before.

We marched off in good order to the rear until we gained some rising

ground, when a Rebel battery opened on us with grape shot which killed

and wounded more of our men, among them Captain Richard Brindley who

commanded the regiment at this time. He was instantly killed by a

grape shot. We broke into double quick pace to reach lower ground and

escape from the fire of this battery; then we turned to the right in

the direction of the Adams house and halted about a half a mile back

of our firing line, where we found some regiments from General

Slocum's division, which had been sent by General McClellan from the

other side of the Chickahominy to reinforce the Fifth Army Corps which

up to this time had held more than double its number of the enemy at

bay. The battle at this time was raging fiercely--nearly a hundred

thousand men were engaged; from our position, however, we saw but

little of it except some batteries on high ground behind us firing

over our heads at the enemy.

We lay on the ground, tired and exhausted by what we had gone through,

noting the absence of many of our comrades and relating to each other

how we had seen this or that one fall. Three of our lieutenants we had

not seen since noon-time; and we wondered what had become of our band

and the drummers and fifers, whom we had not seen since morning, and

who should have been acting as stretcher-bearers to carry the wounded

off the field. There was no organized ambulance corps in our brigade

at this time, and but few ambulances; and, unfortunately, the wounded

soldiers who could not walk were left on the field where they fell.

This sad state of affairs was much improved later on in the war.

Some ammunition now arrived, but only twenty rounds could be served

out to each man. The first sergeant of my company informed me that I

had been selected to serve on the color guard. This was considered an

honor, but it had its disadvantages, the killed and wounded being

always greater in proportion on the color guard than in the companies.

One of our two color sergeants had been killed and two of the color

corporals wounded. I left the ranks of my company and joined the color

guard. I expected to find the colors riddled with bullet holes from

the fire of the enemy and was greatly surprised to find a bare

half-dozen holes in each.

We remained in our position a while longer and saw many wounded men

and stragglers making their way to the rear. Presently larger bodies

of broken regiments appeared and we realized that the Fifth Corps was

being forced back by the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Some loud

cheering on the high ground about a quarter of a mile to the rear

startled us, and, from the appearance of the troops of which some

regiments wore straw hats, we thought they were Rebels who had broken

into our ranks from the rear, but they proved to be parts of French's

and Meagher's Irish brigades which had been sent to reinforce General

Porter. They were sent too late, however, to be of material

assistance.

It was nearly sunset when two officers from General Sykes's staff made

their appearance and gave some order to Captain John S. Poland who was

now in command, and immediately the order was given to fall in, then

by the left flank forward at double quick. The two aides-de-camp were

mounted and led the column to make a charge on the enemy by General

Sykes's order; one of them was Lieutenant Thomas D. Parker of my

regiment, the name of the other, who belonged to a different regiment,

I do not remember. We rushed on for about two hundred yards when we

halted for a brief space to correct the alignment on the colors in the

center; then the command "forward, charge." was given and we rushed up

a hill for a hundred yards or so, cheering and yelling like mad, the

two aides-de-camp riding in front in the center waving their swords.

It suddenly came to me that we were about to attack the enemy with

bayonets. I had been instructed in bayonet drill and had practised

until I was considered proficient; but I think at this moment I had a

secret wish that the adversary whom I might encounter would not be a

bigger man than I. I looked ahead but could see no enemy until we

reached the crest of the hill, when we suddenly received a staggering

fire, from a Rebel regiment that seemed not more than twenty yards

away. I saw both of the mounted officers fall at the first fire,

Lieutenant Parker being killed and the other wounded. One of the

horses dropped, while the other rushed madly through our ranks.

I do not know whether it was by word of command or by instinct that we

halted and instantly began firing instead of rushing on with the

bayonet. I dropped on one knee and commenced firing as fast as I

could; I aimed at their colors which were almost opposite ours. We

were so close together that for a few minutes I could plainly

distinguish the features and color of clothing of our opponents until

the smoke obscured them. Suddenly their fire slackened and then ceased

altogether; they seemed to have melted away down their side of the

hill, and we could see only their dead and wounded on the ground where

they had been in line. Why we did not pursue the retreating enemy

puzzled me, for I thought we now had a chance to give them a good

thrashing.

I stood up and looked around on a sight still vividly impressed on my

memory. We were on high ground overlooking a considerable part of the

fields on which the battle now raged; the sun was setting and with its

almost horizontal rays lit up a magnificent panorama such as I have

never seen since. I could see masses of infantry engaged in deadly

struggle, the flashing of the artillery, and I heard the terrific

roar; but what fascinated me was the figure of a Rebel officer,

mounted on a horse reared up until he seemed to stand almost straight

on his hind legs. I could see the officer waving his sword over his

head, apparently urging his command forward. At this moment the horse

and rider, illuminated by the parting rays of the sun, appeared

gigantic and towered above all else. It was a picture for an artist. I

took all this in, it seemed to me, in a few seconds, when I heard a

command given and dropped back into my place. The enemy had been so

close to us, and I had been so busy loading and firing, that I had

looked neither to the right nor to the left, but now I observed that

we had suffered severely and that two corporals of the color guard had

been wounded.

Suddenly we heard the Rebel yell and saw a mass of Rebel infantry

rushing toward us. We began firing at them as soon as we saw their

heads appear above the crest of the hill. They halted, short of their

former line it seemed to me, and delivered their fire as we had done

when we had rushed at them. Later on, when I had time to think it

over, it seemed to me that these tactics were not in accordance with

what I had supposed a charge to be. In this case both sides, finding

that the party attacked was not inclined to run, halted and peppered

away at each other rather than become engaged at close quarters.

Our condition now was rather serious. Our ammunition was running very

low and I suppose there were no reinforcements close at hand. A German

battery posted on some high ground behind us tried to aid by firing at

the Rebels, but unfortunately their aim was bad and they did us more

harm than they did to the enemy; a few of our men on the right being

killed and some wounded in the back by the firing of this battery.

I had not fired many shots in the second encounter on the hill and was

in the act of ramming a cartridge, when a command or shout caused me

to look to the right and I saw that our right wing had broken and were

running down the hill helter-skelter, and that we were being fired at

from that direction, as well as from the front. I understood that we

had been out-flanked and that we would be taken prisoners. I yelled to

my comrades of the color guard and started to run with them, not

taking time to withdraw the ramrod from the barrel of my gun. There

was a friendly piece of woods a hundred yards or more ahead of us to

our right--a shelter we were all striving for, but which many did not

reach for the enemy kept up a hot fire all the way. Twice I had to

jump over men who had been hit and rolled over in my path. The enemy

kept on firing volleys into the woods for a time but made no attempt

to follow us. I got behind a tree and, like many others, fired off

half a dozen cartridges in the enemy's direction, retaining but two

out of the sixty I had during the day. Darkness was coming on. For us

the Battle of Gaines's Mill was over, but it still raged on other

parts of the field as long as it was light, and I think it was nine

o'clock before all firing ceased. I learned later that our last attack

had been made on Turkey Hill, not very far from the position we had

held at noon before the battle began. Therefore we had lost little

ground.

Efforts were now made by our officers to reform our command which had

become scattered throughout the woods; and with difficulty the

remnants were gathered together and we made our way out of the woods

to the road by which we had approached in the forenoon. Here we

reformed ranks and took up our march in retreat.

We soon came to a place where the road was skirted by thick woods on

the left and a high bank on the right with a free space between the

bank and the road on which were piled hundreds of boxes of infantry

and artillery ammunition. As we passed, a young and very indiscreet

officer made frantic appeals to some of us to stop and help him set

fire to the ammunition to prevent it from falling into the hands of

the enemy. No attention was paid to him further than calling him a

fool, for the road was crowded with retreating troops and wounded men

making their way painfully to the rear. An explosion of the ammunition

would have made sad havoc among them.

After a while we arrived at the point of the road where we had

deposited our knapsacks. Here we were halted and told to pick them out

in a hurry. It was dark by this time and the piles of knapsacks seemed

to be mixed up in hopeless confusion. Very few of the soldiers got

their own; I could not find mine nor even one belonging to my company.

I had to grab one and rejoin the ranks.

We resumed our march in the direction of Woodbury's Bridge, and when

we neared it, we were ordered to bivouac in a piece of woods on the

left side of the road. I sought my company to bivouac with them, but

could find only a few men. The first sergeant had a prisoner in

charge, a Rebel lieutenant whom he turned over to me as I was the only

non-commissioned officer of the company present besides himself. He

told me to have him guarded during the night, but I resolved to guard

him myself for a time and then turn him over to someone else. I talked

with him for a while and gave him a couple of my crackers, and

fortunately, he had a canteen of his own with some water in it, of

which I was very glad, as I had but a swallow or two left in mine,

having been unable to replenish it during the day. He lay down on the

ground, after telling me that he was slightly wounded in the leg and

apparently went to sleep. I tried hard to keep awake and for a while

listened to our army marching on the road to the bridge; but I was so

tired and exhausted by the trials of the day that, in spite of my

resolution, I dropped to the ground and to sleep; and I think the

heaviest cannonading could not have awakened me before daybreak. When,

in the morning, someone shook me and I looked about, I found that my

prisoner had escaped during the night. Nothing was said or done about

it, and I was thankful that the prisoner had not harmed me, helpless

as I was from fatigue.

On the morning of the twenty-eighth of June most of our stragglers and

men who had lost their way in the woods the evening before rejoined

us. The greater part of the army had crossed to the south side of the

Chickahominy during the night, and it was left to Sykes's division of

regulars to form the rear guard and destroy the bridges, which we did

about an hour after daylight, unmolested by the enemy at the Woodbury

Bridge where my brigade crossed. When we reached the other side we

marched half a mile or more until we reached some higher ground, where

we stacked arms and rested among some shrubbery beside the road.

Here for the first time in two days, I was able to boil some coffee

which greatly cheered and refreshed me. I then opened the knapsack

which I had picked up the night before and found therein the usual

soldier's kit, and in addition thereto a neat and well-kept diary, in

which the writer described how he had left his home in England and had

come to Canada, where after a time he was employed on the estate of a

gentleman as a horse-trainer; and how he got into some trouble with

the female members of the family and was discharged, when he made his

way into the United States and finally drifted into the army. Up to

this point the diary was very complete and full of details; but of his

army life there were only a few straggling entries made at odd times.

No name appeared, neither was his company mentioned, but I found some

initials on his clothing by means of which, after many inquiries, I

found the company to which he belonged, but he had not been seen since

our last fight with the enemy on Turkey Hill, where he was supposed to

have been killed or taken prisoner. I left the diary with the first

sergeant of his company to be returned to him if he ever came back. I

made inquiries in regard to my own knapsack but could find no trace of

it. The only things I regretted losing were a few letters and

keepsakes.

Many of our wounded were transported to, or had gone on to Savage's

Station, where there were thousands of them, but there were still a

number of slightly wounded with us who kept our surgeon and hospital

steward, assisted by a detail from the band, busy all the morning

dressing their wounds. First sergeants of companies called the roll

during the morning and, when they came to a name to which there was no

response, those who had seen the man fall, killed or wounded stated it

and the sergeant made note of it; of others, no one knew anything.

Some of them may have been taken prisoners at Turkey Hill. In this way

we learned approximately of our losses in this battle, which amounted

to more than one-third of my regiment--a larger amount in proportion

to our small number, only six companies, than any other regiment in

our brigade. Our losses could not be computed accurately until

sometime later. General George Sykes, in his report of the Battle of

Gaines's Mill, mentions the Second and Sixth United States Infantry of

our brigade, the Twelfth and Fourteenth of the First Brigade, and the

"Duryee Zouaves" of the Third Brigade as especially conspicuous during

the action.

All of the Army of the Potomac was now united on the south side of the

Chickahominy nearer to Richmond than the greater part of the Rebel

Army which was now divided by a river as we had been--Jackson's,

Longstreet's and Hill's divisions under General Lee being on the north

bank with many of the bridges destroyed by the Federal troops in their

retreat. Even the rank and file knew this and we fully expected to be

led on to Richmond with every chance of success in our favor; and when

in the afternoon we heard some heavy firing on our side of the river,

we thought our opportunity had arrived, but, as we learned later, it

was only a minor engagement between a part of General Magruder's

troops and General Smith's division of our Sixth Army Corps at

Golding's Farm and was repulsed with small loss on our side.

We lay around in the hot sun all day, getting but little shade from

some low bushes, were awaiting orders, but none came until evening.

Ammunition was issued to us and one day's rations. Our supply trains

to the number of about five thousand wagons, together with the reserve

artillery, were on the way to the James river, where General McClellan

had decided to establish a new base of supplies. Well on towards

evening we received orders to "fall in," and marched off not knowing

where we were going; but about dusk we arrived at Savage's Station on

the Richmond and York River Railroad. Here many troops were in bivouac

and thousands of wounded were gathered in hospital tents by the

roadside, but the greater part of them lay around in the fields or

woods without shelter of any kind. It was a sad sight for us to

witness. There were not ambulances enough to transport the unfortunate

victims and more than twenty-five hundred of them were abandoned and

taken prisoners next day. We were halted here for sometime and noticed

great fires burning up supplies and military stores of all kinds which

left no doubt in our minds that we were retreating from Richmond.

We started on again and soon entered some dark and gloomy woods,

through which the road led toward the White Oak Swamp. It was so dark

in these woods that we could not distinguish anything half a dozen

files in front of us. At a few places where the roads crossed, fires

were lighted and guards were stationed to indicate the way. Owing to

the darkness, mainly, and some rain, our progress was very slow and we

had many halts of long and short duration, at some of these tired out,

I dropped to the ground and fell asleep as soon as I touched it.

During one of these short rests in the night, I was suddenly awakened

by hearing shots fired close by me. I jumped up and in my confusion

imagined that we were being attacked. I hid behind a tree on one side

of the road, like many others, cocked my gun and listened. There was a

noise which sounded like cavalry and a chatter like sabre scabbards,

it seemed to us in our half-awake condition. Scattering shots

continued to be fired, until it was discovered that the alarm was

caused by an officer's pack-mule, that had escaped from his keeper and

was running down the road among the sleeping soldiers, rattling the

kettles and pans which were a part of his load. A number of shots were

fired at him, but the mule bore a charmed life and was unharmed.

Soon after daylight on June twenty-ninth, we crossed the White Oak

Swamp at what was known as Brackett's Ford, halting a short distance

beyond, where we stopped to boil coffee and eat breakfast. The only

water to be had was that of the swamp which was dark and stagnant.

After breakfast we took up a position a little further on and remained

in line of battle for hours, listening to the heavy firing behind us

at Savage's Station, where General Sumner kept the enemy at bay until

dark and then retreated during the night across White Oak Swamp.

The country we were in was a wilderness of woods, bush and swamps, and

for two days we hardly saw a clearing, or a cabin. The enemy had

repaired some of the bridges across the Chickahominy and we were in

danger of flank attacks from both sides, the more so on our right,

between us and the James river where the enemy followed us on a

parallel road. Several times during the day in these woods, where the

heat was almost insupportable and not a breath of air was stirring, we

thought we were about to be attacked, and, with our rifles at full

cock, kneeled on the ground peering into the thicket and silently

awaited the foe. At different periods of the day some of our own

troops marched along the road in the direction of Malvern Hill, but we

remained until dark, only changing our position slightly a few times.

After dark we resumed our march and put in another distressing night;

the more so, as the guide for Sykes's division lost the road, causing

us to countermarch for a long distance, so that we did not reach

Malvern Hill where we were due in the early morning hours of June

thirtieth until nearly noon next day. On this day a severe battle was

fought at Glendale, which lay between the White Oak Swamp and Malvern

Hill, by Generals McCall and Kearney against Generals Longstreet and

Hill of the Confederates. This battle resulted in a repulse for the

enemy and enabled our troops to retire to Malvern Hill during the

night, where by daylight on July first the entire Army of the Potomac

was assembled in a strong position selected by General McClellan.

Sykes's division, upon its arrival during the forenoon of June

thirtieth was posted on the western edge of the large Malvern plateau,

from the Malvern house toward the Crew house, except General Warren's

brigade which formed the extreme left down on the river road in the

bottom lands. Half a dozen batteries, including Tyler's battery of ten

siege guns, were stationed at the edge of the plateau overlooking the

steep slope and the fields in front, which ended with some woods about

a thousand yards away. The regiments of Sykes's division were placed

between the batteries for their support. My own was very close to the

Malvern house, an old Colonial mansion built of bricks brought from

Holland. General Fitz-John Porter made this house his headquarters. It

was also used as a hospital during the battle and as a signal station,

for it overlooked much of the country and the James river, where

several gunboats armed with heavy guns were anchored. My regiment and

another were placed between the siege-gun battery and a regular

battery of six Napoleon guns.

The position occupied by the Fifth Corps was a commanding one and we

hoped the enemy would attempt to assault it. We lay down in the hot

sun, thoroughly tired out after our night's marching. There was water

at the foot of the plateau and by details we replenished our empty

canteens but were forbidden to build any fires to make coffee--besides

there was no wood to be had near our position. Shortly after our

arrival at Malvern Hill a gill of whiskey was served to each man who

wished to take it, also three pieces of hard-tack. I suppose these

were a part of commissary stores left behind, for our wagon-train was

by this time well on its way to Harrison's Landing on the James river.

We rested and slept during the afternoon, until rudely awakened by our

batteries beginning to fire on the enemy down in the low ground in our

front and near Warren's brigade. A sergeant of the Fourteenth

Infantry, who had probably had a little more than his gill and was

confused when tardily aroused by the firing, cried out, "Is it

possible I'm in the hands of the enemy? I'm a British subject!"

The Rebels advanced some artillery from the woods to a position within

eight hundred yards of us and opened fire, some of their shells

passing over us, some dropping among Warren's men. By standing up, I

could plainly see their batteries out in the field, as well as a large

body of infantry at the edge of the woods supporting them. In a few

minutes some three dozen of our guns on the plateau were firing at

them, making a tremendous uproar, above which we could distinguish the

sound of the large guns from the gunboats on the river and the

explosion of their enormous shells among the enemy in the woods, the

effect of which must have been terrifying. The position of the Rebel

batteries and their infantry was invisible to the gunboats owing to

intervening woods, so that their fire was directed by signals. The

signal corps had built a platform at one of the chimneys on the steep

roof of the Malvern House, from which I noticed two men making

signals. Whenever one of the great two-hundred-pound shells, fired at

great height, rushed through the air, it sounded like a train of cars

in motion at high speed and the explosion shook the earth. Some of

these shells fell short in the fields in our front; all did not

explode--some spun around, threw up dirt and dug holes in which it

seemed a horse could have been buried. The well-directed fire of our

guns on the edge of the plateau destroyed the Rebel batteries in less

than a half hour. Several caissons were blown up, the soldiers

abandoned their guns in wild flight, and the infantry disappeared,

making no further attempt to molest Warren's brigade on the river road

that day.

After a short engagement, in which there were only a few casualties on

our side, it remained fairly quiet on the left wing during the evening

and throughout the night, and for the first time since leaving our

camp at Gaines's Mill we had a night of unbroken rest, wrapped in our

blankets. I was so weary that even the certainty of a battle the next

day could not keep me awake, and I slept soundly until awakened at

daylight.

The morning of July first broke bright and clear, and gave promise of

a hot day. The Union Army seemed in excellent spirits; bands could be

heard playing patriotic airs in the early morning on various parts of

our line; our own band played for a time with a most cheering effect.

Our gigantic and genial Drum-Major Lovell whirled his baton joyously

and showed no disappointment because his daily prayer to the Lord to

send him a million dollars remained unanswered. He hoped, as he

explained to us, that some day He would get tired and say, "Let the

poor devil have it and not bother me any longer." Later on the Lord

was good to him, for he became one of the color sergeants of the

regiment and remained in that capacity for eighteen months until the

close of the war, without receiving a scratch; and he was the only

color bearer in my regiment who served that length of time without

death or injury. He remained in the army for many years after the war;

but, alas! ended his days in the Soldiers' Home in Washington.

The enemy were massing under cover of the woods all the morning; we

caught glimpses of them through some of the clearings. After ten

o'clock in the morning they advanced a battery occasionally, feeling

different parts of our line, but were always quickly silenced by a

concentrated fire from our artillery. Some one of the batteries which

we supported kept throwing shells into the woods where the Rebels were

supposed to be massing, and the gunboats also fired an occasional

shell. This artillery duel went on until about one o'clock in the

afternoon, when heavy infantry firing took place toward the center of

our line. This went on for some hours, spreading toward the right;

then for a time it slackened, only to recommence with renewed vigor

after five o'clock when the most desperate efforts were made to break

our line, but without success.

During this time all the batteries in our vicinity kept up a

tremendous fire, as did Tyler's siege-guns and the gunboats. It was

estimated that at times, when nearly all the artillery on both sides

were engaged, over two hundred guns were in action. The earth trembled

and the roar of the many guns so close to us was deafening. I think it

was the heaviest firing which I heard during the war. Again we were in

a passive state, in a position prone to the ground to escape the

shells from the enemy, unable to fire a shot, as the Rebel infantry

made no attack on our part of the line; they deemed our position too

strong to be assaulted and did not have artillery enough to make any

serious impression.

During this great artillery duel two of the immense shells from the

gunboats dropped short and landed among the siege-guns beside us. One

of the shells exploded, killing and wounding several men. The gunboat

fire was stopped for a time by signal, then recommenced in a different

direction. The batteries in our vicinity suffered little loss and in

my regiment only two men were wounded during all this firing. About

sundown the heavy volleys at the center and right of our line ceased,

the attacks of the enemy in masses had been repulsed and they had

withdrawn with great loss, without penetrating our line at any point.

The batteries we supported ceased firing, but a heavy, desultory

infantry fire with occasional cannon shots warned us that the battle

was not yet over.

Suddenly we received orders to form ranks and my regiment marched off

by the Quaker Road in the direction of the Crew House, near the center

of our line and about a mile away. Our band, led by the drum-major,

was at the head and, by orders of Captain Poland, began playing. It

was the first and the only time during the war that I heard a band

play, while a battle was on. We marched as if on parade; the music was

inspiring and drew cheers from the troops among which we passed. This

was kept up until we turned off the road and some spent balls began to

drop among us, when the band ceased playing and fell in behind.

We marched on toward the place we were to occupy and, when near it, we

passed a curious little battery which was stationed alongside of a

barn. They were busy firing. I had remarked this battery a few times

when it passed us on the road, while we were marching up the

peninsula. It consisted of a small gun-carriage and limber drawn by

two horses; on the gun-carriage was mounted a single steel barrel,

somewhat longer and heavier than an ordinary gun-barrel, but of about

the same calibre; there was a cranked handle to turn and a hopper to

receive cartridges. The soldiers named it the "coffee-mill battery."

It really looked like a large coffee-mill mounted on wheels, except

for the barrel. It required the services of three men to fire the

gun--one to feed cartridges into the hopper, another to raise or

depress the barrel and swing it right or left in a quarter-circle and

to take aim, while the third man turned the crank which caused the

explosion of the charges. I think there were six of these guns, and

their pop-pop-pop was quite rapid and continuous as we passed by them.

They were the elementary production of the later inventions--the

mitrailleuse and gatling guns. They disappeared soon after that from

the Army of the Potomac and I never saw them in action again.

When we reached our position along a wide and deep ravine, it was

almost dark and objects at some distance could only be distinguished

with difficulty. An irresolute fire was opened upon us from the

opposite side of the ravine, to which we immediately replied, although

all we could see of the foe were the flashes of their guns, which

stopped in about ten minutes after which we received the command to

cease firing. Half a dozen were wounded in this short engagement, but

none killed. We remained silent in our position, awaiting a possible

attack, hearing very plainly some of the commands given by the Rebel

officers on the opposite side of the dark ravine. From the ravine

itself, we heard groans and cries of wounded men who were evidently

Rebels, for one among them, probably an officer, in his delirium

sometimes cried out, "Charge, Ninth Georgia!"

The firing on other parts of the line of battle did not cease entirely

for an hour or more, and then the enemy seemed to have retired,

leaving us completely victorious. I think it must have been much later

than ten o'clock, when the word was quietly passed along the ranks to

quit our position and creep back as silently as possible. I did this a

part of the way, then went the rest of the distance in a crouching

position, until we were halted and re-formed our line. Then we marched

a little farther, halted again, and sat on the ground, resting and

wondering what these movements meant.

Later, the first sergeant of my company called me and conducted me to

the adjutant, who ordered me to make my way to the Malvern house,

where one of our lieutenants and a company of our men had been left as

a guard at the general hospital, and to inform the officer to hold

himself and his men in readiness to rejoin the regiment when it passed

during the night or morning. Since we were in the field I had been

selected several times for special duties, but I did not like this one

in the least. I knew the general direction of the Malvern house,

whence we had come, and if I could gain the Quaker Road the rest would

be easy. But to reach this road it was necessary to cross some fields

and a piece of woods, and it struck me I had a good chance of being

shot by some picket, or getting lost and being taken prisoner.

The sky was overcast and the night dark. I made my way cautiously

towards the woods and just before reaching them passed over an

elevated piece of ground, where evidently one of our batteries had

been stationed during the day. I inferred this from a number of dead

horses, some with their stiffened legs up in the air, and among them a

few dark forms which I knew but too well were the bodies of

artillerists. I hurried over this place and gained the edge of the

woods--which I dreaded the most on account of pickets, but was not

challenged. I halted a moment and listened, thinking I heard the

clatter of accoutrements and the heavy tramp of marching men. I knew

that this could only be some of our army and felt much relieved.

Presently I was among them on the Quaker Road, for the woods proved to

be shallow. These soldiers belonged to another corps and were

retreating very reluctantly toward the James river. There was much

grumbling among them; they wondered why, after a victory and with a

retiring enemy, they were ordered to leave a strong position. We

learned later that some of the corps commanders had importuned General

McClellan to hold Malvern Hill, but the General ruled against it,

giving as his reason the difficulty of supplying the army in that

location.

I reached the Malvern house a little before midnight and found a

sentinel who directed me to the lieutenant in charge. He was fast

asleep. I awakened him and repeated the adjutant's orders. He ordered

some of the men to watch the road near the corner of the house and

notify him when the regiment appeared. On looking around I saw that

the house was brightly lighted and there was much commotion caused by

officers and orderlies rushing in and out of General Porter's

headquarters; it was also the principal hospital, and in the

out-buildings and some tents I could see surgeons attending the

wounded and performing amputations by candle-light, while the ground

back of the house was covered with wounded soldiers.

I did not tarry long to look at this heart-rending scene, but made my

way along the front of the house and the out-houses. I was hungry and

was looking around to find something to eat. My haversack was almost

empty; and I knew the necessity of saving something for the morrow, as

we were not likely to get any rations until we came to our supply

trains. As we had not been able to make coffee for some days, I had

plenty of that and sugar, but I had no meat and only a few crackers,

so I prowled around until I observed a half dozen soldiers near the

corner of a fence where there was a heap of boxes and barrels, which

proved to be commissary stores left unguarded and probably forgotten.

I joined the group and found them dipping their tin cups into a

barrel, of which they had knocked in the head, and filling their

canteens with what I knew from the odor to be whiskey. This seemed a

heaven-sent opportunity and one not to be neglected. I emptied my

canteen of water and filled it with whiskey. Some boxes of hard-tack

had been opened, from which I filled my haversack. There were still

some barrels of whiskey, also barrels of pork, which the group decided

it would be unsafe to break open on account of the noise it would

make. I dipped my quart cup into the barrel once more and hurried away

with it in my hand, returning to the guard with whom I shared its

contents. I kept silent regarding my canteen, however. I did not dare

tell my comrades where I got the liquor, for fear some of them would

become intoxicated; so I was forced to invent a tale of having

received it from one of the hospital stewards, who was a friend of

mine. I took especial care to guard my canteen with its precious

contents, then wrapped myself in my blanket and went to sleep among my

comrades.

I was awakened at daylight when our brigade approached. We hurried to

the road and waited until the regiment came along, then joined its

ranks. Sykes's division was again covering the retreat of the army.

The First Brigade, under Colonel Buchannan, formed the rear guard

while our brigade immediately preceded them. It was storming, as it

generally did after a battle, and the rain soon came down in torrents,

wetting us to the skin in a few minutes. It was a cold, chilly rain

which lasted all day.

The army had been retreating from a defeated enemy on this road all

night, again leaving many of our wounded behind. By the time we

reached Haxall's and the bottom-lands, we found the road in a

frightful condition. Cut up as it had been by thousands of wagons and

artillery, it was now a liquid quagmire from the torrential rain. We

tore down fences and crossed fields to avoid some impassable places.

We waded through many ditches and small streams, often knee-deep, and

had many halts and interruptions, often coming to a halt in a part of

the road where it was impossible to sit down for a much-needed rest,

unless we should sit in mud nearly a foot deep. My shoes were soon

filled with gritty liquid mud which chafed the skin and made marching

very painful and distressing. At one time I just saved myself from

falling, while crossing a stream, and my rifle slipped from my grasp

and was submerged in the muddy water. I doubt if I could have

discharged it if I had needed to do so.

I cannot describe our misery and suffering on this day, the seventh of

the retreat, and by far the worst of all. We had reached the limit of

endurance, weakened as we were by battles, marching and want of food.

We had become callous and cared little what became of those who

dropped out from exhaustion or of small squads of wounded men who were

limping painfully along the road, sometimes being knocked down and

crying out in anguish for help. The rule of self-preservation had a

deplorable demonstration on this awful day.

Several times we formed line of battle in the fields, ready to repel

the enemy who pursued and harassed the rear guard just behind us.

Stuart's Rebel cavalry and a light battery of artillery followed us

all day and occasionally sent a few shells into our ranks. We also had

cavalry with the rear guard who skirmished with the enemy, and a

battery of regular artillery which more than once took up a commanding

position beside the road and with our cavalry kept the enemy in check.

During the forenoon, while at a long halt, I gave Lieutenant

McLoughlin, who now commanded my company (and the only company officer

present at this time, Lieutenant Kidd having been wounded) a drink of

whiskey from my canteen and he declared I had saved his life. He

laughed when I explained how I had got it, but remarked that I was

lucky not to have been caught. I took a big drink myself which cheered

me, wet and shivering as I was; the remainder I doled out to my

comrades, as far as it would go, and for that day at least I was the