The Retreat Commenced.—The Thirty-third one of the last
Regiments to Leave.—Savage’s Station.—Destruction of
Property.—General Davidson Sun-struck.
Our army was now in full retreat, the right wing following the left, and
both sweeping away to the James. The rebel capital beleagured, pressed,
girt round about by a living wall, and just within our grasp, once more
breathes freely. The siege is raised, the tide of war rolled back from
her gates, and the black flag of rebellion waves in triumph.
It was a sad and humiliating day for our brave boys, when gathering up
effects and shouldering muskets, they turned their backs on the city.
For weeks they had regarded it as their prize. Their young Chief had
told them it should be theirs, and in him they firmly placed their
trust. Bitter were the anathemas heaped upon the Washington authorities,
through whose mismanagement they believed victory was being turned into
defeat. Whatever may have been the truth of the case, they and they alone
were held responsible that we were now marching away from instead of
towards Richmond. The route of the right wing lay along the west bank
of the Chickahominy to Savage’s Station, White Oak Swamp, and thence to
Harrison’s Bar. General Smith’s command did not begin to move until the
troops, crossed from the other side of the river, had passed by.
Saturday night, June 28th, the right wing of the Thirty-third was again
detailed for picket duty, the third night the men had been without sleep.
In obedience to orders from Gen. Davidson, Captain McNair, taking a squad
of men, destroyed the camp equipage of the entire Brigade. Before morning
the destruction of everything of value was completed. Cos. C, D and I
remained on picket until 1 o’clock A. M., when they were relieved by A
and F. The line stretched away to the left for half a mile, connecting
on with General Gorman’s. The reader can imagine what were the feelings
of these men, who were left to deceive and hold in check the enemy while
the remainder of the troops withdrew. Regiment after Regiment disappeared
in the distance, until they alone remained. Moments lengthened into
hours, but their eyes were greeted with no signal to retire. Through the
gray mist of the early morn, the rebel pickets could be seen, their line
advanced already to within speaking distance, and their forces in the
rear preparing to throw themselves headlong on our retreating columns;
still no orders for withdrawal came.
It is a brave and noble thing when a soldier, burning with love of
country and cheered on by the presence and sympathy of comrades in arms,
rushes into the conflict, and at the cannon’s mouth breasts the storm
of death; but braver and nobler far, when the picket guard, knowing
that each moment lengthens the distance between him and friends, and
makes more certain his slaughter or capture by an insolent and cruel
foe, stands calmly waiting his fate, rather than betray his trust and
compromise the safety of an army. Gen. Smith had said to them before
going out, “It is the duty of the few to sacrifice themselves for the
safety of the many,” and they murmured not at the decision which had made
them the victims.
After all hope of being withdrawn had gone, they were, to their great
joy, signalled to return, which they did rapidly, under cover of a dense
fog, and soon joined the Regiment.
The Division marched two miles Sunday morning, keeping on the high lands
which skirt the Chickahominy, in order to protect the right of the army.
On arriving at Trent House, they were massed for a short time, during
which Gen. McClellan rode by.
Again resuming the march along the river, they halted about one mile to
the right of Savage’s Station, and, after remaining in line of battle a
few moments, fell back to the Station, a large clearing in the forest,
of two thousand acres or more. The pioneers of the Thirty-third were
detailed to assist in the destruction of the immense war material which
had accumulated here. Of all the pyrotechnic displays which our military
authorities have gotten up during the war, this was the most costly and
magnificent, if such a melancholy spectacle can be styled magnificent.
Scattered over a large surface of ground were heavy supplies of
provisions and ammunition burning and bursting, filling the air with
smoke and embers, and adding to the already oppressive heat of the day.
As the flames reached fresh piles of commissary stores, they would burst
forth anew, lighting up the country for miles, and imparting a terrible
grandeur to the scene. The forage, which had been sent from the North,
and collected from the surrounding country, burned rapidly, creating
dense volumes of smoke, which slowly drifted along to the westward.
Great numbers of torpedoes, prepared for signal purposes, were shooting
in every direction, displaying through the murky atmosphere the red,
white and blue colors. Occasionally a box of cartridges would explode,
sending the balls whizzing among the tree tops, to the great annoyance
of some of the men, who did not care to be picked off in this style. A
large number of agricultural implements sent down from Washington to
aid in harvesting the crops of the Peninsula, were thrown together in a
promiscuous heap. The torch applied, nothing soon remained of them but
a mass of blackened shafts and wheels. Though burning so fiercely, the
flames were found inadequate to complete the destruction. A long train of
cars was accordingly run up, and after being loaded with material, and
set on fire, was started towards the Chickahominy, the engineer swinging
off after having “let on full steam.” Along it sped at a fearful rate,
until reaching the river, when the engine exploded, as it careened over
the bank, and the cars were precipitated into the water below, lying
piled one upon another, a mass of ruins. The explosion of the engine,
which was heard for a long distance, caused the rebels to hastily decamp
from the opposite side of the river, where they were drawn up to prevent
our retreat in that direction.
A General Hospital was located at the Station, and contained, in addition
to thousands of sick, the wounded from the late battles, who had been
sent here after the retreat was decided upon, presenting an indescribable
scene of suffering and woe. To add to the gloom and unhappiness of
their condition, they were now informed that all who could not join in
the march would be left behind, no ambulances or transportation being
furnished. A large number of the poor fellows, determined not to fall
into the hands of the enemy, started bravely out, and through all the
retreat, their weak and emaciated forms could be seen struggling along
the weary way, with limbs just amputated, or undressed wounds bleeding
at every step. But with spirits all unconquered, and hope yet whispering
words of encouragement, many of these unfortunates reached Harrison’s
Bar, and have since recovered to recount experiences of suffering and
brave endurance, rarely fallen to the lot of human beings.
Of this number was Philip Smith, of the Thirty-third, whose case
presents a striking instance of that fortitude which brought many sick
and wounded through that long retreat, while many strong men were
compelled to succumb to the fatigue and become prisoners. He was wounded
through the elbow at the battle of Golden’s Farm. The wound was severe,
and such as would ordinarily require amputation.
He was immediately conveyed to Savage’s Station, where the surgeons
determined to remove the arm. Smith resisted, but was forced upon the
operating table. It became necessary for the surgeons to leave the
subject for a moment, when he sprang from the table and hurried away
from the Hospital. He followed the moving army from day to day, much of
the time unable to obtain food, his arm frightfully swollen, and every
moment becoming more painful. After four days he arrived at Harrison’s
Landing, and found his way on board of one of the transports, his wound
still undressed. He was carried to Baltimore, and placed in the General
Hospital there. Here, too, the surgeon in charge, determined upon
amputation, and declared he could not live ten days in that condition.
“Then,” said Smith, “I will die with two arms.” For several days the
surgeon refused to dress the wound at all, and at length was about to
force the operation, when the Chief Surgeon, after a careful examination,
remarked, that as the young man appeared to have an excellent
constitution he might bear up under the excruciating pain, and perhaps
recover without losing the limb. The wound was now dressed for the first
time, and although months of pain and sickness followed, Smith finally
recovered his health, with the consolation that his obstinate endurance
had saved his right arm.
After remaining two hours in the woods round Savage’s Station, Davidson’s
Brigade marched two miles further to the rear, when a halt was ordered.
Several large boxes of Quartermaster’s stores were found here, having
been left for want of transportation. The men helped themselves freely to
clothing, doffing their old garments for entire new suits. After resting
for a few moments, the Brigade was ordered back again to the Station, to
support Gen. Brooks, who had become engaged with the enemy. Proceeding
back at a double quick, Brooks was found driving the enemy in fine style
with his Vermont Brigade, after having punished them severely. The battle
lasted until an hour after sunset, when a brilliant cavalry charge
totally routed and put to flight the rebels. Gen. Brooks was, however,
wounded. The Vermont troops fought nobly, sustaining the reputation
which they had previously won at Lee’s Mills and in other engagements.
While the conflict was raging fiercely, a member of the Forty-ninth
Pennsylvania stepped out in front of the line of battle, and, unmindful
of the bullets which were whistling around him, delivered a very solemn
prayer. The effect was most impressive on the hearers.
Parties, including one often men from the Thirty-third, detailed to bury
the dead, were nearly all taken prisoners. The Brigade remained until
ten o’clock in the evening, the men falling asleep in their tracks, when
it again moved to the rear, on the road previously taken, towards White
Oak Swamp. Gen Davidson, who had been sun-struck during the afternoon,
was borne along for some distance on a litter by members of the band.
On being temporarily left by the road-side, the General stepped into a
house close by, and a straggler happening along took his place. The men
returning, took up the litter, and carried the straggler nearly a mile
before discovering their mistake. They were very much chagrined over the
“sell,” but thought it too good a joke to keep.