ON THE CHICKAHOMINY.
Gaines' Farm--The line of battle--Battle of Seven
Pines--Sedgwick and Kearney to the rescue--Hooker's charge--A
lost opportunity--Golden's Farm--Ditching--Malaria--Chickahominy
fevers--A German regiment--Stuart's raid.
Davidson's command was withdrawn from its position on Beaver Dam creek
on the 26th of May. Moving down the river about five miles, it encamped
with the rest of the Sixth corps on the farm of Dr. Gaines, a noted
rebel, where it remained until June 5th. The camps were within easy
range of the enemy's guns, which were planted on the opposite side of
the river, and our pickets could observe those of the rebels as they
walked their beats.
Few more charming places than Gaines' Farm could be found on the
Peninsula. The broad wheat fields, alternating with wooded hills,
afforded a scene of enchantment to the weary soldiers. A single wheat
field contained four hundred and fifty acres, and a delightful grove in
rear of the superb old mansion, furnished a cool retreat during the
intense heat of the day. The extensive gardens were filled with rare
exotics and most beautiful native plants and trees, and birds of varied
and brilliant plumage sported among the flowering shrubs and charmed the
air with their lively notes. Near the river side stood a large barn well
filled with tobacco, from which the boys of the corps did not hesitate
to lay in a full supply.
In the rear of the corps was Liberty Hall, the birthplace of Patrick
Henry. Now it was used as a hospital, and hundreds of soldiers, worn out
with fatigue or burning with fevers, occupied the house and hospital
tents surrounding it.
Our men were employed in doing picket duty, and in building corduroy
roads and bridges. The river, scarcely restrained by banks, was rising
rapidly from the continued fall of rain, and at one time the pickets of
our division, including the Thirty-third New York, were found in the
morning surrounded by water; the rain having within three hours risen so
rapidly that many were standing in water above their waists, while
others were clinging to bushes for support. Boats were procured, and the
drenched pickets were removed from their disagreeable positions.
The army was divided into two wings, one on the south and one on the
north side of the Chickahominy. The line of battle was in the form of a
V: Keyes' and Heintzelman's corps on a line from Bottom's Bridge to
Seven Pines, forming the left arm of the V, and Franklin's, Sumner's and
Porter's on the north bank of the Chickahominy, from Bottom's Bridge to
Gaines' Farm, the right arm.
Keyes' corps, now composed of Casey's and Couch's divisions, had crossed
the river at Bottom's Bridge on the 24th, and after considerable
skirmishing with the enemy, had established itself on the road from
Richmond to Williamsburgh, about six miles from Richmond, and as far
from the Chickahominy, at a fork in the road called Seven Pines.
Heintzelman's corps had followed, and occupied a position in the rear
near the river. Casey's division occupied an advance position, and Couch
the second line. One of the roads from this point, called the nine-mile
road to Richmond, crossed the Richmond and York River railroad north of
Seven Pines, at a place called Fair Oaks. The country was wooded and
marshy, and General Casey was not able to throw his pickets out more
than a thousand yards in advance of his line of battle. Both divisions
at once intrenched themselves, and slashed the forests, that any
approach of the enemy might be discovered, and to widen the sweep of
their guns. Here the two divisions remained, having occasional
skirmishes with the enemy, until the morning of the 31st of May.
During the night before, the rain had fallen in torrents. Thunders
rolled along the sky, and the heavens blazed with perpetual flashes of
lightning. The morning found the earth drenched by the floods, and the
men of Casey's division rose from their beds of mud to fight the battle
of Seven Pines.
It became evident to General Casey early in the day that the enemy
designed to attack him in force. He accordingly ordered his division
under arms, and made such dispositions of his forces as seemed best
calculated to resist the onset.
At half-past twelve the attack was commenced. Large bodies of rebels
emerged from the cover of the woods, and at once commenced a brisk fire
of musketry and artillery, driving in the picket line, and pressing
forward against the Union line of intrenchments. The numbers of the
enemy were now seen to be greatly disproportionate to those of the
single division opposed to them, and General Casey called for help.
Couch's division was under arms, acting as support, but not yet engaged.
Some of the new troops, thus pressed by overwhelming numbers broke and
retreated in disorder; but the division at large nobly withstood the
mighty host which assailed it in front, flank and rear. The forces of
the enemy constantly increased; and the single division was now fairly
invested by the exultant foe, who pressed forward, unmindful of the
losses inflicted by Casey's troops. Again and again the enemy came on in
masses, receiving the shot and shells, which tore open their ranks,
closing up the gaps, and pushing steadily on to the assault. Against
these repeated attacks of superior numbers of confident troops, who
constantly arrived in fresh numbers, and, forming under cover of the
woods, rushed against our lines, Casey's division held its ground three
hours, until almost half its number were destroyed. The execution done
on the rebels was great. All means of transportation at their command,
were brought into requisition to carry off the wounded to Richmond; and
their dead lay piled upon the bloody field. The white-haired veteran,
General Casey, was present wherever the danger seemed greatest. Riding
along his lines, encouraging his troops, and making his dispositions for
repelling the overwhelming assaults, his heroism inspired bravery in the
hearts of the men, and prevented defeat from becoming a rout. General
Keyes was directing the movements of the second line, held by General
Couch. Portions of the division were rallied, and with the aid of
Couch's troops and a brigade of Kearney's division, which that never
tiring general had just led on to the scene of conflict, the attempt was
made to retake the line of works just lost, but without success.
By this time General Heintzelman had arrived with his corps; and orders
were given to fall back to a third line. The enemy made one more
desperate attempt to crush the retreating division, but they were
repulsed with fearful loss, and here commenced the turning of the tide
in the conflict.
The line of battle as now formed was nearly two miles in the rear of the
position of the morning, at Fair Oaks.
Heintzelman's and Keyes' corps at once proceeded to strengthen this
position, and before dark the brave fellows of Sedgwick's division, of
Sumner's corps, were on the ground, ready to assist in repelling the
progress of the enemy. Richardson's division, not far behind, arrived at
sunset; and now the Union army was prepared for any attempt which the
rebels might see fit to make. The efforts which the enemy were now
making to break through our flank on the left at White Oak Swamp, were,
by this timely arrival of Sedgwick, thwarted. Had the confederates
succeeded in this, the retreat of Keyes' corps and that part of
Heintzelman's on the ground must have been cut off, and our army
destroyed. The rebels, not satisfied with a partial victory, and
determined to destroy the left wing of our army, then thrust beyond the
river, renewed their assaults, and again and again pushed forward.
Gathering in masses under cover of the forest, they would dash upon our
lines with impetuous fury; only to be sent reeling back by a hurricane
of leaden and iron hail. Sedgwick and the intrepid Kearney fought their
divisions with greatest skill; and by their own example animated and
encouraged their men. Night closed upon the scene; and at eight o'clock
the fighting had ceased. The rebels, so exultant at their success in the
early part of the day, were now hopeless of turning their victory to any
good account; for their last assaults had met with such terrible
repulses, that to renew the attack in force in the morning, would be but
a useless waste of life to them. Still, they held their ground, and on
the morning of June 1st, made some demonstrations against parts of our
line, which were gallantly met.
Finally, General Hooker, who here sustained the enviable reputation he
had so nobly earned at Williamsburgh, led his command across the open
space in front of our line, a space not more than one-fourth of a mile
wide, beyond which the ground was interrupted by forests, to attack the
enemy.
With quick and steady step, the well trained division advanced across
the field, deploying to the right and left; and before half crossing the
open space their pace was quickened to a run; constantly firing as they
dashed forward on the enemy.
Presently the edge of the forest was reached; and here considerable
opposition was met with; yet, after a moment's halt, the division again
pushed forward into the woods. The din of arms was heard for a few
moments, then the firing ceased, and our troops were in possession of
the ground.
The rebels were, in their turn, now panic-stricken; and hundreds of them
rushed back to the confederate capital, spreading the alarm, and
declaring that the Yankees were about to walk into the city.
It was doubtless a sad mistake that this victory was not followed up.
The rebels, who had greatly outnumbered us in the fight of the day
before, were now themselves outnumbered. They had suffered severe
repulses on the evening before, and on this day their rear-guard had
been whipped by General Hooker.
A renewal of the attack in force on the part of the Union army would
have probably resulted in the capture of the beleaguered city. As it
was, the commander of the Union army was on the north side of the
Chickahominy, many miles from the scene of action, and no order for a
forward movement was given.
Such was the battle of Seven Pines or Fair Oaks. Fought for the most
part, by a single division of less than six thousand men, against the
combined forces of Longstreet, Hill, Smith and Huger; all under the
immediate command of the Commander-in-Chief of the rebel army, General
Johnston.
General Johnston had become satisfied, from the reports of his scouts,
that only Keyes' corps, of two divisions, was across the Chickahominy.
Believing that the bad state of the roads and the swollen condition of
the Chickahominy, would effectually prevent reinforcements reaching this
corps before he could fall upon it and crush it, he had determined to
bring an overwhelming force against it. Accordingly, the divisions of
Longstreet, Hill, Smith and Huger, were placed in position to make a
sudden and destructive assault upon the front and flanks of Casey's
exposed division, in the confident expectation of annihilating it. But,
instead of giving way before this avalanche, as Johnston had
contemplated, the regiments of the division, with few exceptions,
manfully held their ground for three hours.
The Commander-in-Chief reported to the Secretary of War that Casey's
division "gave way unaccountably and discreditably." Five days later he
promised to modify his charge, if he found occasion; but it was only in
his final report, made many months after leaving the army, he was
constrained to acknowledge the good conduct of the division--an act of
tardy justice to deserving men.
Notwithstanding the great disparity in the numbers of those engaged on
the rebel and Union sides, the losses were nearly equal. The Union army
lost four thousand five hundred and seventeen in killed and wounded, and
one thousand two hundred and twenty-two missing. Nearly one-half of all
these losses were from Casey's and Couch's divisions. General Johnston
reported the rebel loss in Longstreet's and Hill's commands at four
thousand two hundred and thirty-six.
Among the trophies of the enemy, were ten pieces of artillery and four
stands of colors.
With these trophies, they were satisfied to boast their victory;
regardless of the fact that they had been the assailants in superior
numbers, and had been repulsed with fearful slaughter, and that the only
fruit of their boasted victory was a few guns and colors, as an offset
for the loss of thousands of their soldiers. General Johnston himself
was among the rebel wounded, and was forced to give over the command to
another.
On the other hand, the Union army might, had the corps on the north bank
of the Chickahominy promptly followed that of General Sumner across the
river, have easily entered Richmond. But the hesitancy which
characterized the movements of the army lost to us all the advantages of
success. Early next day the treacherous river had risen to such an
extent as to render crossing almost impossible; so the army remained as
the battle of Fair Oaks had left it; three corps on the south, and two
on the north side of the Chickahominy, separated by an almost
unsurmountable obstacle.
From our camp at Gaines' Farm, the men of the Sixth corps could see the
smoke of battle and hear the roar of artillery and musketry; but were
not able to go to the assistance of their fellows.
The distance from Gaines' Farm to Fair Oaks was, in a direct line,
scarcely more than four miles, but as all communications with the
opposite side of the river were by way of Bottom's Bridge, the distance
was about fifteen miles. The Vermont brigade essayed a crossing in our
own front on the afternoon of the second day of the fight, with the view
of rendering assistance on the other side, but the attempt was
abandoned.
General McClellan, with General Hancock and other officers, took a
position in the line of our Third brigade, on Sunday, where they
remained watching the progress of the battle from afar until darkness
shut out the view.
On the day after the battle, rain poured in a continuous storm; deluging
the roads and swelling what had been but rivulets the day before, into
rivers. In the midst of this tempest of rain, Casey's division,
destitute of tents and blankets, weary from fighting and disheartened by
injustice, marched six miles to the rear to find a new encampment. On
the 5th of June, Smith's division, of the Sixth corps, was ordered to
cross the Chickahominy, and encamp on "Golden's Farm," nearly opposite.
The Third brigade took the advance, followed by the rest of the
division. Owing to the swollen state of the river, and the impossibility
of bridging it, the division was forced to march to Dispatch Station
before effecting a crossing. The march was a long and weary one to gain
a distance less than three miles.
Some of our troops were found skirmishing with the enemy, and our
batteries opened upon the gray coats, who quickly surrendered the ground
and took to flight. Our Second division encamped in a pleasant locality,
yet in close proximity to the swamp.
The Chickahominy wound its doubtful course among multitudes of islands
scarcely raised above the surface, yet covered with trees, shrubs and
vines in profusion, within a few rods of our camp. Beyond us, in our
front, were forests of luxuriant growths of trees and climbing shrubs,
and the country all about us was interrupted with rank growth of timber.
The division at once proceeded, as did all the other divisions in the
army, to throw up earthworks; making slow advances at certain points by
pushing these works further toward the front. On the 18th, we were
joined by the other division, Slocum's. The Sixth corps now formed the
right of the new line of battle on the south of the river. The line
reached from Golden's Farm to Fair Oaks. Day and night the men worked at
the breastworks and bridges. One-third of the army was employed
constantly at these works, and the immense lines of intrenchments were
marvels of achievements in engineering. These were all constructed under
the fire of the enemy; no day passing without its skirmish. Soldiers
were daily brought to the hospitals with wounds, even in the most quiet
times.
Everything combined to exhaust the energies of the men and produce
fevers, diarrheas and scurvy. Day after day the men worked under a
burning sun, throwing up the immense walls of earth, or toiled standing
to their waists in water, building bridges. Night after night they were
called to arms, to resist some threatened attack of the enemy. Their
clothing and tents were drenched with frequent rains, and they often
slept in beds of mud. With the hot weather, the malaria became more and
more deadly. The whole country was alternately overflowed and drained;
and the swamps were reeking with the poisoned air. The hospitals became
daily more crowded. The strongest were constantly falling. Diarrhea,
typhoid fever, and other miasmatic maladies, became almost universal.
Men who worked at the breastworks one day would be found in the
hospitals on the next, burning with fever, tormented with insatiable
thirst, racked with pains, or wild with delirium; their parched lips,
and teeth blackened with sordes, the hot breath and sunken eyes, the
sallow skin and trembling pulse, all telling of the violent workings of
these diseases.
Day after day, scores of brave men, who had left their northern homes to
aid in the hour of their country's need, were borne to lowly graves
along the banks of that fatal river; and at times one might sit in the
door of his tent and see as many as six or seven funeral parties bearing
comrades to their humble resting places.
Hospital steamers plied constantly from the White House to Washington,
Alexandria and Philadelphia, bearing thousands of these victims of
disease; and many, with stoic indifference, lay down in their shelter
tents and gave themselves over to death, without even applying to
comrades or surgeons for assistance.
Everywhere at the north, men were seen on cars and steamers, on the
streets and in the houses, whose sallow countenances, emaciated
appearance, and tottering steps, marked them as the victims of
"Chickahominy fever." Express cars groaned with the weight of coffins
containing the remains of youths who but a few months before had gone to
the war in the pride of their strength, and had now yielded, not to the
bullets of the enemy, but to the grim spirit which hovered over that
river of death.
Our army seemed on the point of annihilation from disease; and matters
were constantly growing worse. At White House landing, great temporary
hospitals were established, where hundreds languished, and waited their
turn to be sent north.
Thus, for nearly a month, the two armies looked each other in the face,
each engaged in throwing up defenses against the approach of the other,
but neither attempting to bring on any general engagement. The pickets
of the two opposing forces were within speaking distance, but they
contented themselves with watching each other, and, as a general rule,
amicable relations existed between them. But occasionally, when a
belligerent regiment would be on picket on one or the other side, some
fellow, who imagined he had a capital chance to pick off an opposing
picket, would blaze away; when in a moment the whole line on either side
would flash with the discharge of musketry. Night demonstrations on the
part of the enemy were so common, that it was a rare thing for our
troops not to turn out at midnight, or at two or three o'clock in the
morning, and stand under arms until after daylight.
The men of our Third brigade were a part of the time engaged in building
a strong fort, near the river bank, which, in honor of our dashing
brigadier, was named Fort Davidson.
A new regiment was added to Davidson's brigade during the month of June,
the Twentieth New York. The regiment was composed entirely of German
Turners. Nearly every man had served his three years in the Prussian
service.
They had been stationed in the works at Newport News, and their drill
excelled anything in the army, either in the regular or volunteer branch
of service. Their full ranks, and their unsoiled uniforms, were in
striking contrast with the shattered and worn-out regiments forming the
rest of the brigade.
Among the causes of discouragement and anxiety for the safety of our
army, was the notorious raid of General Stuart in our rear. This
energetic officer, with a body of about two thousand rebel cavalry, had
swept round our entire rear, causing something of a panic, not only at
White House, where all the shipping dropped down the river, but in the
ranks of the army, where it was feared that our communications were
destroyed, and we were liable to be hemmed in and overthrown at any
time.