Reminiscences of Dr. Alexander, of Charlotte, N. C., recall to me the
scenes of those battle-fields of the Seven Days' battles of McClellan,
1862, when we passed over the ground in June, 1864, on our way to the
Chickahominy River. Many of the Federal dead had scarcely been buried at
all, as the rank weeds over the naked bones and blue rotten uniforms
showed, where groups of a score or more had been bunched in shallow graves
and lightly covered.
"Out of the 2,700 soldiers furnished the Southern army by Mecklenburg, how
few remain to tell of that fearful seven-days' struggle. The weather had
been intensely hot before the fighting began for several days. Many of our
men were on the sick list. On the 25th inst. the long roll was sounded;
our troops, the Thirty-seventh Regiment, was hastily formed in line.
Confederate battle-flags were here first displayed; stretchers for bearing
off the wounded were here first put in charge of the ambulance corps.
Everything wore a death-like hue. John Bell, a member of my company, said
he was not able for the march, was sick; I spoke to the surgeon, and told
him I would take Bell's word for anything. He said, "Leave him behind." In
a week he was dead. Another fellow asked me to intercede for him, that he
was sick. I told him I knew Bell, but I could not vouch for him; when
night came he deserted, and is living yet. This was as we were leaving
camp at Brock Church, six miles north of Richmond. We camped near Meadow
Bridge. On the 28th we moved slowly down the Chickahominy; got on the edge
of the road to let a body of Yankee prisoners pass; one of our men asked
them where they were going; an Irishman answered, 'In faith, I am going to
Richmond, where me wife has been telling me to go for the last two months,
and how far is it yit?'
"Late in the afternoon we heard heavy cannonading in our front, and we
pushed forward rapidly, bearing to the left, as we thought, to charge a
battery. Shells were passing through our line, killing seven men in one
company; when we got in thirty steps of the battery we were ordered to lay
down, to support the battery. The artillery duel ceased about 8 o'clock,
and remained quiet until 9 o'clock next morning, when it broke loose with
a vengeance and was quickly over. General Jackson had got in McClellan's
rear. Here the sun was terribly hot as we lay on the southern slope of the
hillside, with nothing to protect us from the vertical rays of the sun. We
went from here to Mechanicsville, where the heavy fighting was done the
evening before. Here the Yankee dead had not been moved, and the swarms
of horse-flies that arose from the dead carcasses rendered it necessary
for each man to hold one hand over his mouth and nose. It is impossible to
describe the scene as it was. In the afternoon of the 27th we reached
Gains' Mill; this battle opened about 3 p. m. It was terrific. North
Carolina's loss was very great. It was here that Colonel Campbell was
killed. Capt. Billy Kerr was desperately wounded. Many private soldiers
and company officers from Mecklenburg were killed and wounded. A rare
sight I witnessed. Some man, I never knew who he was, was riding back and
forth in front of our firing line, talking to the men, telling them to aim
low, don't shoot too high; he was bareheaded, wounded in the neck; no coat
on, and was riding a gray horse; the blood had run down from his neck to
his gray horse; he appeared cool and determined. A large and spotted hound
appeared at the same time, running and barking as heavy limbs were cut off
by shells, licking the blood from the dead and wounded. I don't know what
became of the dog or the man on horseback.
"When the battle was over, I was appointed to the medical department and
assigned to the Thirty-seventh Regiment. We went next to the bloody field
of Frazier's farm. Here our Colonel, Charles C. Lee, was killed; he was as
gallant an officer as ever trod the battle-fields of Virginia; he was as
brave as a lion and gentle as a lamb, and thought it not inconsistent with
his profession as a soldier, to acknowledge Jesus Christ as the Captain of
his salvation.
"The next move was to overtake McClelland's army, which was halted at
Malvern Hill. Here General McGruder was in front, and his orders were to
feel what position the enemy occupied. It was said at the time that
McGruder was so pleased with the position of his artillery that he at once
'let slip the dogs of war.' This proved the bloodiest battle of the war
for the time it lasted. From personal observation I can testify that there
was no break in the roar of musketry for five hours. The gunboats on the
James River threw large shells at random, most of which burst over their
own troops. The battle closed at 10 o'clock at night. Immediately the
Yankee army sought the shelter of their gunboats. It took us two days to
get the wounded all off to Richmond. One peculiar case of gun-shot wound I
will mention. A soldier by the name of Rankin, Company H, Thirty-seventh
Regiment, shot in the base of the skull of the medulla oblongatta, did not
prevent him from walking about; was examined by a dozen surgeons, but were
unable to trace or locate the bullet, when Dr. Campbell, of the Seventh
Regiment, called me as the youngest surgeon to try my hand. In a jest I
placed my hand on his forehead and told him to open his mouth; at once I
saw a swelling in the roof of his mouth; it was hard and smooth. I made a
slit with a scalpel, and showed a minnie ball to the astonished surgeons.
How the ball got there without killing him has always been a mystery.
"President Davis spent a night with us; he was in fine spirits, but seemed
deeply touched at the sight of so much suffering. We passed by the
battle-ground two days after the battle; the field was rolling; our dead
were all buried; it looked like a thousand-acre field of potato hills. The
enemy were still lying where they fell. They must have fought with great
desperation, as their line of battle was plainly to be seen by about every
third man being killed. This line could be traced one mile and a half.
"After waiting a few days to rest, and the enemy showing no disposition to
renew the fight, our men, from privates to general officers, began a
general hunt for them pesky little fellows that are not known in polite
circles. I have seen five hundred men have their shirts off at one time,
looking for--what they were sure to find. After this campaign we had a
great deal of typhoid fever; the hospitals being full of wounded, the most
of the cases were treated in camp, more successfully than they would have
been in Richmond hospitals. Lest we forget."