Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.
--SHAKESPEARE'S _Henry VI_.
In the spring of 1862 Gen. George B. McClellan with an army of 120,000
men, thoroughly drilled and lavishly equipped, set out from Washington
to capture Richmond from the north; but he had not proceeded far before
he changed his mind about the line of advance. His forces were
transported to Fortress Monroe with the design of approaching the city
by the way of the peninsula that lies between the York and the James
rivers. The correctness of his judgment was justified by subsequent
campaigns; for the successive attempts of Pope, Burnside, Hooker, and
Grant to take the Confederate capital from the north were all disastrous
failures.
In order to check the upward progress of McClellan's army, Gen. Joseph
E. Johnston withdrew his forces from Manassas and the shore of the
Potomac and concentrated them on the Peninsula. The 47th regiment
marched from its winter quarters to Richmond, and was thence transported
down the James to a wharf not far from Yorktown. During our brief stay
in that vicinity, the companies were authorized to elect their officers;
and I, who had been acting as Orderly Sergeant, was chosen Third
Lieutenant.
As the National army advanced, the Confederates fell back toward
Richmond. Our regiment was not in the engagement that took place near
Williamsburg on the 5th of May, but I saw then for the first time some
wounded men and prisoners. The retreat was conducted somewhat rapidly,
but in an orderly and skilful manner. I do not remember that we marched
in darkness but once, and then we trudged all night long through
shoe-deep mud. At times when the men in front encountered an unusually
bad place those who were behind were compelled to come to a temporary
halt. If I did not sleep while walking along I came as near to it as
weary mortal ever did, and I am sure that I dozed while standing still.
General Johnston posted his army between Richmond and the Chickahominy
river, the 47th regiment being on the left, not far from Meadow bridge,
and in the pestilential low-grounds of that sluggish stream. Swarms of
mosquitoes attacked us at night and with their hypodermic proboscides
injected poisonous malaria in our veins, to avoid which the sleeping
soldier covered his head with a blanket. The complexion of the men
became sallow, and every day numbers of them were put on the sick-list
by the surgeons.
The 47th regiment, commanded by Col. Robert M. Mayo, and having brigade
connection with some regiments from North Carolina, had its first
experience of real war in the battle of Seven Pines (or Fair Oaks),
which was fought on the 31st of May. On that day General Johnston
attacked the left wing of the Federal army, which had been thrown
across to the southern side of the Chickahominy. To some persons the
declaration may seem surprising, but it was with real pleasure that I
went into the battle. It was the novelty of it, I suppose, that
prevented me from being frightened by exploding shells and rattling
musketry. The dread of these things came afterward when I saw fields
scattered over with the wounded, the dying, and the dead, and among them
some of my dearest friends. In that affair our Lieutenant-Colonel, John
M. Lyell, was seriously wounded, and the regiment sustained a loss of
about fifty men. Our chaplain, Mr. Meredith, of Stafford county, went
into action with us, but while he did not do the like again, it is no
impeachment of his courage. His duty lay in other directions; and it
ought to be recorded in his praise that after every battle he might be
found doing all he could to relieve and comfort the wounded.