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Title: Three Years in the Sixth Corps
       A Concise Narrative of Events in the Army of the Potomac,
       from 1861 to the Close of the Rebellion, April, 1865

Author: George T. Stevens

Release Date: June 30, 2007 [EBook #21976]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

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THREE YEARS
IN THE
SIXTH CORPS.

A CONCISE NARRATIVE OF EVENTS IN THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC,
FROM 1861 TO THE CLOSE OF THE REBELLION, APRIL, 1865.

By GEORGE T. STEVENS,
SURGEON OF THE 77TH REGIMENT NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS.

ALBANY:
S. R. GRAY, PUBLISHER.

1866.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred and
sixty-six,

By GEORGE T. STEVENS,

in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the
Northern District of New York.

WEED, PARSONS AND COMPANY,
PRINTERS, STEREOTYPERS AND BOOKBINDERS,
ALBANY, N. Y.




[Illustration: MAJ.-GEN. JOHN SEDGWICK]




PREFACE.


The following pages are offered to my old comrades of the Sixth Corps,
with the hope that they may pleasantly recall the many varied
experiences of that unparalleled body of men. If much has been omitted
which should have been written, or if anything has been said which
should have been left out, I rely upon the generosity of brave men to
treat with leniency the failings they may detect.

I have endeavored to present without exaggeration or embellishment of
imagination, a truthful picture of army life in all its vicissitudes;
its marches, its battles, its camps, and the sad scenes when the victims
of war languish in hospitals. The story is written mostly from extensive
notes taken by myself amid the scenes described; but official reports
and letters from officers have been used freely in correcting these
notes, and gathering fresh material. The narrative commences with the
experiences of my own regiment; then when that regiment became a part of
Smith's division, its incidents and history includes the whole. From the
organization of the Sixth Corps to the close of the rebellion, I have
endeavored without partiality to give the story of the Corps. If I have
failed to do justice to any of the noble troops of the Corps, it has
been from no want of desire to give to each regiment the praise due to
it.

I cannot close without acknowledging my many obligations to the numerous
friends, officers and soldiers of the Corps, and others who have favored
me with their assistance. I take especial pleasure in acknowledging the
kindness of Miss Emily Sedgwick, sister of our lamented commander;
Vermont's honored son, Major-General L. A. Grant, Major-General Thomas
H. Neill, Colonel James B. McKean, Colonel W. B. French, Chaplain Norman
Fox, and Mr. Henry M. Myers. I am also indebted to the friends of Samuel
S. Craig for the use of his diary, extending from the early history of
the Army of the Potomac, to the death of the talented young soldier in
the Wilderness.

The engravings are nearly all from sketches taken by myself on the
ground, the others are from the pencil of the well known artist, Captain
J. Hope, and all have been submitted to his finishing touch. Mr.
Ferguson has executed the wood cuts in a style creditable to his art.

The typographical portion of the work has been done in a style of beauty
and finish for which the work of Weed, Parsons and Company is so well
known.

18 North Pearl Street, Albany, N. Y.

_September 5, 1866._

[Illustration]




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


 1. Portrait of General Sedgwick.

 2. Illustrated Title Page.

 3. The Old Church at Hampton.

 4. The Quaker at Newport News.

 5. Charge of the Vermonters at Lee's Mills.

 6. Charge of Hancock's Brigade at Williamsburgh.

 7. Charge of the Seventy-seventh New York at Mechanicsville.

 8. Portrait of Colonel James B. McKean.

 9. Charge of the Sixth Corps at Burkettsville.

10. White Oak Church, Va.

11. Storming Fredericksburgh Heights by Howe's Division.

12. "What'll Ole Missus do Now?"

13. Church Call.

14. Battle of Fort Stevens.

15. "Why Don't he Come?"

16. "Going Norf."

17. Diagram of the Charge of the Sixth Corps, April 2, 1865.




CONTENTS.

Chapter I.

A New Regiment goes to the War.

Organization of the Seventy-seventh N. Y. V.--Departure from
Saratoga--Greetings by the way--New emotions--The noble dead--On board
the Knickerbocker--At New York--Presentation of flags--Beauties of
monopoly--Hospitality of Philadelphia--Incidents on the route--Arrival
at Washington--In camp.

Chapter II.

Army Life at Washington.

Meridian Hill--Neighboring scenery--First Sunday in
camp--Drills--Sickness--The Hospital--General Casey--"Why don't the army
move?"--Washington blockaded--Burnside's heroes--Orders to
move--Something of a train--Smith's division--Our first reconnoissance.

Chapter III.

The Manassas Campaign.

Orders to march--A grand spectacle--Bivouac near Fairfax Court
House--The camps at night--Visits to Manassas and Centreville--
Dissatisfaction in the army--A deserted country--Lawless
soldiers--Fairfax Court House--A representative Southerner--Review by
Gen. McClellan--March to Alexandria--"Camp Misery."

Chapter IV.

The Army Transferred to the Peninsula.

The advance to Yorktown--A thunder storm--"Reliable contrabands"--Facing
the enemy--A strong position--The Union line--A rebel welcome--Digging--
On picket--A dreary country--An enterprising planter--Active
work--Battle of Lee's Mills--Charge of the Vermont brigade--Progress of
the siege--Ravages of disease--A front seat--Short supplies--The rebels
withdraw--Entering the strongholds--Infernal machines--March to
Williamsburgh--Victims of disease.

Chapter V.

Yorktown.

The advance to Yorktown--A thunder storm--"Reliable contrabands"--Facing
the enemy--A strong position--The Union line--A rebel welcome--Digging--
On picket--A dreary country--An enterprising planter--Active
work--Battle of Lee's Mills--Charge of the Vermont brigade--Progress of
the siege--Ravages of disease--A front seat--Short supplies--The rebels
withdraw--Entering the strongholds--Infernal machines--March to
Williamsburgh--Victims of disease.

Chapter VI.

Williamsburgh.

Battle of Williamsburgh--The army not organized--The medical
department--Hooker's gallant fight--Hancock's charge--McClellan at
Yorktown--Night on the battle-field.

Chapter VII.

The March up the Peninsula and the Organization of the Sixth Corps.

March up the Peninsula--Joy of the contrabands--Cumberland Landing--The
Sixth Corps organized--At White House--On the Chickahominy--Fight at
Mechanicsville--Battle of Hanover Court House.

Chapter VIII.

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.

Chapter IX.

The Seven Days' Battles.

The army united--Plans and counter plans--Battle of Fair Oaks--Lee's
plan--The situation--Stonewall Jackson on the flank--Battle of
Mechanicsville--Joy in camp--Porter's corps retreats--An astonished
army--Battle of Gaines' Farm--Slocum's division at Games' Farm--Retreat
to the river--Battle of Golden's Farm--A young hero--A Union
victory--Our right exposed--The sick abandoned--A night of sorrow--The
grand retreat commenced--Sad scenes at Savage's Station--A meteor
railroad train.

Chapter X.

The Grand Retreat.

Lee's army in pursuit--Sumner and Smith at Bay--Battle of Savage's
Station--The Vermont Brigade--Sick and wounded abandoned--Retreat to
White Oak Swamp--Battle of White Oak Swamp--An astonished division--A
night march--A mystery--In sight of the James--Battle of Malvern
Hill--Departure of the princes--Gloom and anxiety--Lee's attack--The
rebels demoralized.

Chapter XI.

Harrison's Landing.

March to Harrison's Bar--A scene of confusion--A beautiful
landscape--Fourth of July in camp--Gloom at the north--Cause of the
disasters--Prevalence of disease--Review by the President--A night
demonstration by the enemy--Reconnoissance to Malvern Hill--Departure of
General Davidson--A retrospect.

Chapter XII.

Retreat from the Peninsula, and General Pope's Bull Run Campaign.

Premonitions of a change of base--The transfer commenced--Marching down
the Peninsula--On board transports--A contrast--Arrival at
Alexandria--Unaccountable delays--General Pope's campaign--An obstinate
general--Causes of Pope's failure.

Chapter XIII.

The Maryland Campaign.

General McClellan restored to command--March through
Washington--Leisurely campaigning--Battle of Crampton Pass--Death of
Mathison--Battle of South Mountain Pass--Death of Reno--Surrender of
Harper's Ferry--March to Antietam.

Chapter XIV.

The Battle of Antietam.

The Valley of the Antietam--Gathering of the hosts--The
battle-field--The battle commenced--Splendid fighting of Hooker's
forces--Successes and reverses of Sumner's troops--Timely arrival of the
Sixth corps--A gallant charge--Losses of the corps--Burnside's
attack--Hours of suspense--The enemy defeated at all points--Retreat of
the rebels--Scenes on the battle-field--At the hospitals--At
Sharpsburgh--A division of militia--Couch's division joins the Sixth
corps--Visit of the President--Recruits--Energy at the north--At
rest--Want of clothing--Stuart's raid--Delays--Clear Spring--General
Brooks.

Chapter XV.

The Second Advance into Virginia, and the Battle of Fredericksburgh.

Marching in Maryland--Arrival at New Baltimore--General McClellan
superseded by General Burnside--Thanksgiving in camp--The grand
divisions organized--The march resumed--Fatal delays--In order of
battle--The crossing--Fredericksburgh bombarded--Situation of
Fredericksburgh--Scenes of activity--The Bernard house--Scenes at the
hospital--The battle on the right--Charges of the Pennsylvania
reserves--The river recrossed--Reflections.

Chapter XVI.

The Winter at Falmouth.

Camp at White Oak Church--"The mud march"--Return to camp--General
Neill--General Hooker supersedes General Burnside--Burnside's
magnanimity--General Hooker as a soldier--Reconstruction--The cavalry
organized--Business departments renovated--The medical department--
Ambulance system--Quartermasters' and commissary departments--Life in
camp--Snowball battles--In the Seventy-seventh--The Light
division--Review by General Hooker--General John Sedgwick--Scene at
head-quarters--Review of the army by the President--Preparing for the
campaign.

Chapter XVII.

The Chancellorsville Campaign.

Orders to move--The river crossed--Sedgwick's command--The First corps
withdrawn--Gallant conduct of the Light division--Advancing to the
heights--The line of battle--The columns of attack--Attack of Howe's
columns--Of Newton's column--Of Burnham's--Misfortune following
victory--Fight of Bartlett's brigade--The First division at work--A
critical position--The Sixth corps surrounded--Savage fight of Neill's
brigade--The corps withdraws to Banks' Ford--Recrosses the
river--Hooker's operations on the right--Position of the corps--Rout of
the Eleventh corps--The rebels repulsed--Jackson renews the attack--The
rebels again repulsed--Hooker recrosses the river.

Chapter XVIII.

Second Encampment at White Oak Church and the Pennsylvania Campaign.

The army in its old position--A trip to Dixie--The wounded at the
hospitals--Introduction of army badges--Adornments of the camps--The
"Third crossing"--The Barnard mansion--Exchanging papers--A broken
lieutenant--The Pennsylvania campaign commenced--Restriction of
baggage--A severe march--An army bathing--At Centreville--Bristow
Station--March to Maryland--General Hooker succeeded by General
Meade--Position of the army.

Chapter XIX.

The Gettysburgh Campaign.

The rebels in Pennsylvania--Panic at Harrisburgh--Alarm at Baltimore and
Washington--Sixth corps leaves Bristow Station--A surprise--General
Meade takes command--Position of the army--Marching through
Pennsylvania--An unprecedented march--Exciting news--Battle of
Gettysburgh--Death of Reynolds--First and Eleventh corps fall back
--Second day's battle--The battle-field--Fighting at Round Top--On the
right--The grand onset--The battle decided--Rebel and Union wounded.

Chapter XX.

Pursuit of Lee's Army.

Scenes of the field of Gettysburgh--The rebel hospitals--The sightless
rebel soldier boy--The Sixth corps at Fairfield--"Hurrah for the
Union"--Kilpatrick's handiwork--At Waynesboro'--On picket--A division of
militia--The Vermonters at Funkstown--The army at Funkstown--Meade's
failure to attack--New York riots--Return to Virginia.

Chapter XXI.

Camps at Warrenton, the Centreville Campaign and the Battle of
Rappahannock Station.

Camp at Hart's Mills--A ride to the Sulphur Springs--Contrabands going
north--The Vermonters go to New York--Jersey Brigade at Warrenton--The
Sixth corps at Cedar Mountain--Retreat to Centreville--Battle of Bristoe
Station--Advance to Warrenton--Battle of Rappahannock Station--Flight of
Lee's army.

Chapter XXII.

The Army at Brandy Station.

Encampment at Brandy Station--The Mine Run campaign--Crossing the
Rapidan--Battle of Locust Grove--The army on Mine Run--The order of
battle--The army withdraws--Back at Brandy Station--Reconnoissance to
Madison Court House--Ladies in camp--Chapel tents.

Chapter XXIII.

The Wilderness Campaign.

Preparing to leave camp--General Grant in command--The last advance
across the Rapidan--The battle-ground--Battle of the Wilderness--Noble
fight of Getty's division--Hancock's fight on the left--Rickett's
division driven back--The ground retaken--The wounded--Duties of the
surgeons--The noble dead.

Chapter XXIV.

Spottsylvania.

Moving by the flank--The wounded abandoned--The Fifth Corps at
Spottsylvania--Arrival of the Sixth Corps--Getting into line--Death of
Sedgwick--General Wright in command--Battle of the 10th of
May--Upton's splendid charge--Battle at "the angle"--Another flank
movement.

Chapter XXV.

The Hospitals at Fredericksburgh.

The journey from the battle-field--Sufferings of the wounded--A
surgeon's letters--Rebel hatred--Assistance from the north--A father in
search of his boy--The wounded sent to Washington.

Chapter XXVI.

Coal Harbor.

At Hanover Court House--The Eighteenth corps joins the Army of the
Potomac--The armies meet at Coal Harbor--Battle of June 1st--Battle of
June 3d--Terrible exposure--The army strikes for Petersburgh--Charles
City Court House--A centenarian--Review of the overland campaign.

Chapter XXVII.

Petersburgh.

The march to Petersburgh--Smith's successes--The battle of June
18th--The Sixth and Second corps sent to the left--Rebels penetrate the
line--Progress of the siege--Sixth corps proceeds to Reams'
Station--Kautz's and Wilson's raids.

Chapter XXVIII.

Sixth Corps Transferred To Washington--Battle of Fort Stevens.

The Shenandoah Valley--Hunter's advance to Lynchburgh--The
retreat--Rebels advance into Maryland--Battle of Monocacy--Sixth corps
goes to Washington--Battle of Fort Stevens.

Chapter XXIX.

The Shenandoah Valley.

The Sixth and Nineteenth corps follow the enemy--Crossing the
Potomac--Averill's fight at Snicker's Gap--Return of the Sixth corps to
Washington--March back to Harper's Ferry--Return to Maryland--Death of
Major Ellis--General Sheridan assigned to command--Back in the
Valley--Charlestown--John Mosher--March to Fisher Hill--Return to
Charlestown--Fight at Charlestown.

Chapter XXX.

Battle of Winchester.

Encampment at Berryville--Leaving camp--The advance--Taking
position--Advance and retreat--Death of Russell--"I know they'll
run"--Reminiscences--At the hospitals--A regiment going home--"Why don't
he come."

Chapter XXXI.

Fisher Hill.

March up the valley--Strasburgh--The army confronting Fisher Hill--The
flank movement--Flight of Early--The pursuit--Guerrilla
warfare--Southern refugees--Starting for Washington--Return to Cedar
creek.

Chapter XXXII.

Battle of Cedar Creek.

Position of the Union forces on Cedar creek--Demonstrations by
Early--The morning of October 19th--Eighth corps straggling--Nineteenth
corps routed--The Sixth corps to the rescue--Death of General
Bidwell--The Sixth corps holds the enemy--General Wright prepares for
another attack--Arrival of Sheridan--The charge--The rout--Guns, wagons
and prisoners--The victors in camp.

Chapter XXXIII.

The Final Campaign.

Sixth corps returns to Petersburgh--Condition of the corps--Sheridan
joins the grand army--Capture of Fort Steadman--The last grand
charge--The pursuit of Lee's army--Tributes to the Sixth
corps--Disbanding.




THREE YEARS IN THE SIXTH CORPS.




CHAPTER I.

A NEW REGIMENT GOES TO THE WAR.

    Organization of the Seventy-seventh N. Y. V.--Departure from
    Saratoga--Greetings by the way--New emotions--The noble dead--On
    board the Knickerbocker--At New York--Presentation of
    flags--Beauties of monopoly--Hospitality of
    Philadelphia--Incidents on the route--Arrival at Washington--In
    camp.


Our regiment was organized at Saratoga Springs, the historic scene of
the battle of Bemis Heights and the surrender of Burgoyne--hence its
name, "The Bemis Heights Battalion." Hon. Jas. B. McKean, then member of
congress, a gentleman of well known patriotism, was made our Colonel. We
left our rendezvous on the 26th of November, 1861, Thanksgiving day,
having been mustered into the United States service three days before.

As the long train of cars bore us from the station at Saratoga Springs,
the thousands who had gathered to witness our departure united in cheer
after cheer until all the groves and vales of that charming resort rang
with the echoes of the tumultuous shouting.

The thousand brave fellows, who were about to try the stern realities of
war, were by no means backward in replying to these hearty expressions
of good wishes. Long after we had lost sight of the lovely village, the
shouts of the multitude could be heard and the hills rang again with the
responding cheers of those in the cars. At each station, as we passed,
crowds of people pressed to greet us, and loud and long were the cheers
that bade us "God speed."

We were now fairly off for the war. We who had followed the various
peaceful avocations of life, in the professions or in the workshops, in
trade or in husbandry, had now turned away from the office, the desk,
the shop and the plough, to join the Grand Army upon which the hopes of
the nation were staked, and which we confidently believed was soon to
sweep the rebellion to destruction.

Emotions hitherto unknown to us filled our hearts. We were soldiers,
wearing for the first time the army blue, and perhaps soon to be called
out to meet in deadly strife an enemy whose prestige for valor was
already too well established.

Were we to return to the friends from whom we had just parted, bearing
the chaplet of victory, or were we to find a last resting place on some
field of the south, never again to meet with wife or sister, father or
mother? Four years have passed and those doubts have been solved. Many
of those brave men have gone to their long rest.

  "Their graves are severed far and wide."

Some sleep beneath the tall pines of Yorktown; and the bright azalia
casts its purple blossoms over the graves of many who lie in the swamps
of the Chickahominy. The Antietam murmurs a requiem to those who rest on
its banks, and green is the turf above the noble ones who fell
gloriously at Fredericksburgh. Some rest amid the wild tangles of the
Wilderness, and upon the arid plain of Coal Harbor. Many of their graves
are upon the banks of the Ny and the Po. The marble monument at Fort
Stevens tells the names of some who gave their lives in the defense of
the Capital, while the simple headboards of pine tell where repose many
in the valley of the Shenandoah, and before Petersburgh. The remains of
some have been brought back to the peaceful cemetery at home to rest
beside the dust of loved ones.

  "'Tis little; but it looks in truth
    As if the quiet bones were blest
  Among familiar names to rest,
    And in the places of their youth."

Must it be said, many of the strongest yielded to the grim monster
starvation in the rebel prison pens, and found relief from their
tortures in lowly graves at Andersonville and Salisbury.

A little band, with bronzed faces and manly hearts, returned home. Their
glorious and unspotted record had preceded them. They needed no song of
victory, and they desired no greater marks of honor than their simple
silver crosses, the badge of their corps.

No incident worthy of note occurred until we reached Albany, where we
left the cars and embarked upon the steamer Knickerbocker, an old
dismantled craft, unfit for any purpose but the transportation of
soldiers; whose decks were covered with mud an inch in depth, and whose
doors having been thrown overboard, a free circulation of the rough
November air was allowed in every part. The men had no rations, and some
of them became clamorous; but order was soon restored, and rations of
bread and ham with coffee were distributed. They could not, however, all
be brought to a perfect state of quietude. Some were determined not to
submit, and passed the night in carousal, while those soberly inclined
tried in vain to sleep. The officers found lodging in the after cabin,
where some in berths and some on the floor, we passed a restless night.

As we approached New York in the morning, the sky was hung with heavy
clouds, and as we left our rickety old craft for _terra firma_, the rain
poured in fresh torrents upon us. We marched through 14th street and
Broadway to the Park. We were to remain in New York until six o'clock in
the evening, and the Sons of Saratoga were to present us with a stand of
colors and guidons. They commenced by presenting us with an excellent
dinner, at which speeches were made by the committee, and responded to
by Colonel McKean and others on our part.

Dinner over, the regiment was drawn up in front of the City Hall, where
the ceremony of presenting the flags took place. The banner was an
exquisite piece of work, of the richest fabric; a blue ground with
elegant designs in oil. On one side was represented an engagement in
which the American soldiers, led by Washington, were fighting under the
old flag--thirteen stripes and the union jack. On the reverse was
pictured the surrender of Burgoyne, at Saratoga, under the new flag--the
stars and stripes--first unfurled in the goodly city of Albany, and
first baptized in blood at the decisive battle of Bemis Heights, which
resulted in the surrender of Burgoyne and the virtual success of the
Revolution.

We had already a beautiful national flag, the gift of the patriotic
young ladies of Mr. Beecher's seminary, at Saratoga.

The hour for departure arrived, and we crossed to Amboy by ferry. We
were in New Jersey. We had heard disparaging things of the railroad
management of this State, but we were now to realize the beauties of
monopoly. We learned afterwards to respect New Jersey's soldiers, many
of whom fought shoulder to shoulder with us, and were among the bravest
of the brave, but we never forgave her railroads. The men were crowded
into a number of shaky old cars, reeking with filth, and redolent of
most noisome odors. It was in vain that we protested that these vehicles
were unfit for transporting men; we were offered by the agent of the
road the alternative to take these cars or remain where we were. We
concluded to go on.

At four o'clock we had passed over the whole of the Camden and Amboy
road. Another ferry crossed, and we were in Philadelphia. Glorious,
generous, enlightened Philadelphia! Many of our men were sick when we
left Saratoga, and the unaccustomed hardships, with the cold and rain
thus far on the route, had greatly prostrated them. Many others had also
been seized with violent illness, so that our single medical officer had
been taxed beyond his strength in looking after the wants of the sick,
while the little case of medicines with which we started from Saratoga
was exhausted. Among the first acts of kindness of these excellent
people was the care of our sick. A gentleman, with countenance beaming
with benevolence, said to the doctor, "If you will get your sick
together, we will conduct them to comfortable quarters, and see that
they are well cared for." The heart of the surgeon leaped with joy at
finding some one who could and would help to care for the poor fellows.

The sick being collected, our friend mounted a barrel and called to the
soldiers to hear him a moment. "You are welcome," said he, "to
Philadelphia, and to show you that we are glad to see you, it gives us
pleasure to invite every man of you to partake of a warm breakfast which
will be ready for you in a few minutes." This speech was greeted by
three hearty cheers for Philadelphia.

The doctor soon had his sick removed to the Soldiers' Retreat, a place
fitted up by the noble-hearted people of Philadelphia for the
entertainment of soldiers passing through their city. The upper part of
the building was arranged with exquisite taste and order for a hospital.
Here were many sick men left by the various regiments which had passed
through the city. Our sick boys were placed in beds, with expressions of
gratitude that, notwithstanding their illness, their lot had fallen in
pleasant places.

Presently the men were marched into the long saloon, where all took
their places at the well spread tables. The repast being over, Colonel
McKean called upon the men for three cheers for the Philadelphians;
remarking that there need be no fear of raising the roof, for even
should such an accident occur he doubted not these generous people would
willingly replace it. Then came the cheers; and such cheers! only to be
surpassed by the three more and then three more that followed.

The long years of our campaignings never diminished the lively feelings
of gratitude we experienced that morning, and to this day our veterans
never speak of Philadelphia but with pleasing recollections of the
friendly reception given them by the goodly inhabitants of the Quaker
city.

The sun was up when we resumed our journey, and again we were met with
surprises. All along the track of the railroad, men, women and children,
filling the windows of the houses and thronging the wayside, cheered us
on our way, shouting and waving flags and handkerchiefs. Children in the
arms of their nurses waved little flags from the windows in great glee,
while gray haired old men in piping tones cried "God bless our
soldiers." This unlooked for, and to us surprising ovation continued
until we had passed the limits of the city, and indeed did not cease
till we had left the station many miles behind. In the train, the men
kept up a continuous cheering; tears stood in the eyes of many, and the
most enthusiastic expressions passed from lip to lip.

The experience of our regiment was only that of others who passed
through this noble city, and often during our long campaigns, the
soldiers of different regiments would gather round their camp fires, and
relate to each other the kindnesses received by them in the City of
Brotherly Love.

We were cordially welcomed in Delaware, the people waving banners and
handkerchiefs, and when those were not at hand, newspapers or even
articles from the clothes lines answered to show their good will; and
the negroes in the fields swung their hats and their hoes with great
spirit.

We reached Baltimore in the evening, where we were kindly received,
furnished with supper and sent on our way. After many delays we reached
Washington at four o'clock Sunday morning, and were assigned to
temporary quarters near the station. Who would have suspected that it
was the Sabbath? Now we began to see something of the circumstance of
war. Horsemen were galloping in every direction; long trains of army
wagons rattled over the pavements at every turn of the eye; squads of
soldiers marched here and there; all was hurry, bustle and confusion.

It was night when we reached the ground for our encampment on Meridian
Hill. The men had suffered much from cold, and what at that time was
hardship. Not less than a hundred of them were sick. It was not long
before tents were up, and for the first time the regiment was under
canvas.

Our camp was pleasantly located, commanding a fine view of Washington,
the Potomac, Alexandria and other points of interest. We were surrounded
by the camps of other regiments, some arriving and some departing almost
daily. We had not been two days here when we began to get a taste of
camp rumors. One rumor declared that we were to have barracks erected,
and we were to go into winter quarters, while another assured us that we
were to have an immediate taste of actual warfare. These proved quite as
reliable as the thousands of rumors which during all our years of
service were afloat throughout the army, and acquired the expressive
appellation of "Camp Yarns."




CHAPTER II.

ARMY LIFE AT WASHINGTON.

    Meridian Hill--Neighboring scenery--First Sunday in
    camp--Drills--Sickness--The Hospital--General Casey--"Why don't
    the army move?"--Washington blockaded--Burnside's heroes--Orders
    to move--Something of a train--Smith's division--Our first
    reconnoissance.


We encamped on Meridian Hill December 1st, 1861, with 960 men.

Meridian Hill is the most delightful locality in the vicinity of
Washington. The plain on which the city stands, extends northward from
the Potomac about two miles where it is abruptly terminated by a line of
hills. From the summit of these hills stretches back another plain, at
an elevation of one or two hundred feet above the first. Along the
margin of these eminences were some fine old suburban mansions. On our
right towards Georgetown, was Kalorama, a charming spot, once the
residence of Joel Barlow, the author of the famous poems "Hasty Pudding"
and "The Columbiad." Now the building was converted by the government
into a hospital. In close neighborhood to us was Columbia College, also
used as a hospital, and to the east was the fine mansion of Colonel
Stone, and other superb places, all of which, like Kalorama and the
college, were full of sick men.

Meridian Hill was in the center of this line of once beautiful country
residences, directly north of the President's house. It had been the
residence of Commodore Porter, and the house still bore the name of "the
Porter Mansion." The grounds had been elegantly laid out with box and
juniper, while the rich groves of oak and chestnut surrounding lent
additional charms to the locality. The hill was dotted with the white
tents of a dozen regiments, but none were so pleasantly located as our
own, under the shadow of those grand old trees.

The mansion itself became our hospital, and for a time also served as
our head-quarters. From its broad piazza we could look upon the busy
scenes of the city, and watch the vessels passing up and down upon the
river. A week had passed before we were fairly established in our
quarters, but we rapidly learned the mysteries of the soldier's life.

The weather was delightful; more like September than what we were
accustomed to experience in December. Although heavy mists hung over us
until nine or ten o'clock in the morning, they were dispelled by the
warm sunshine, and then all was bright as midsummer. This lovely weather
continued until about the first of January.

The country in rear of our encampment was charming. Fine groves,
traversed by streams of pure, sweet water, and fields surrounded by
hedges, stretched far to the northward. The dark green leaves of the
magnolia were to be seen here and there among trees of larger growth,
and the shining, ever-green laurel forming a dense undergrowth, gave the
woods a lively and spring-like appearance. On the open plain might any
day be seen a regiment of Lancers, wheeling and charging in their
brilliant evolutions, their long lances with bright red pennons adding
greatly to the beauty of the display, and, as we at that time vainly
believed, to the efficacy of the troop.

The first Sunday came, and we had religious services. The regiment was
formed in front of the mansion, every man being called out, unless on
duty or excused on account of illness. This became an established rule
with us for all time; every man was required to attend divine service
unless especially excused. Chaplain Tully and the members of the staff
occupied the piazza. The chaplain offered a prayer for the loved ones at
home, and then we all sung "Coronation," and after the sermon, we sung
"Cambridge" and "Old Hundred." The men seemed deeply affected by the
simple service, and many a quivering lip betrayed the emotions of the
heart.

Drills became the order of the day. Every morning the hill rang from one
end to the other with the sharp commands of the company officers to
"Order arms!" "Shoulder arms!" as the men exercised by squads. Besides
the regular drill in the manual of arms, some of the companies delighted
in that system of military gymnastics called the bayonet exercise. In
the afternoon Colonel McKean usually trained the regiment in the more
difficult exercises of the battalion drill.

But we began to feel the scourge of new regiments. Disease became almost
universal. We had but a single medical officer and he was tasked beyond
his strength. One hundred and fifty or two hundred men were prescribed
for every morning, aside from those so ill as to be in the hospital.

The large parlors of the old mansion were neatly fitted up for our
hospital, for which they were admirably adapted. The two principal wards
were the large front parlors, which communicated by folding doors; the
ceilings were high, and the large open fire places in either apartment
served the double purpose of supplying heat and ventilation, so that
while about fifty beds were always occupied, the air was kept fresh and
pure. Typhoid fevers, typhoid pneumonias, diphtheria, and remittent
fevers were prevalent, while now and then the malaria manifested itself
in the form of the terrible spotted fever. Besides, as usually occurs
when the last named disease prevails in camps, some died suddenly from
unknown causes.

By the tenth of the month the majority of the men were unfit for duty.
In one company the three commissioned officers were in the hospital, and
but twelve men could be mustered for evening parade. The labors of the
medical officer who undertakes single-handed to minister to the wants of
a regiment of recruits can only be known to those who have tried it. Our
doctor was as much worn out by the perplexities of organizing his
department as by the actual attendance on the sick. New demands came
almost every hour of the day and night, and it was only when the
violence of disease had subsided, and another officer was added to the
medical staff, that our weary son of Galen found a degree of respite.

We were in the command of General Silas Casey, a noble specimen of a man
and a soldier. His manly dignity and kindly bearing impressed all with
profound respect for him, and although we were but a few weeks in his
command we never ceased to remember him with pleasure. The provisional
brigade and division to which we were attached was frequently reviewed
and drilled by the general, and made a fine appearance.

Thus the time passed until the opening of the New Year. Our men, like
most fresh soldiers, were anxious for a fight, and were heartily tired
of what they considered inglorious inactivity. Many of them expressed
great fears that they would be obliged to return home without ever
hearing the sound of battle. How greatly they were mistaken we shall see
as we trace the bloody campaigns of more than three years of hard
fighting.

Our friends at home were not unmindful of us. Boxes of clothing and
other comforts for the sick were sent in goodly numbers; so our sick
were well supplied with bedding and changes of clothing, as well as
jellies and other luxuries. Our friend, McMicheal, of Congress Hall,
Saratoga, thinking we could better celebrate the New Year with a good
dinner, sent us one worthy of his fame as a landlord. Could Mack have
heard the cheers of the boys that made the ground tremble as the four
hundred pounds of cooked chickens and turkeys were distributed among
them, his glory as a caterer would have been complete. With the New Year
came stormy weather; rain was the rule, sunshine the exception. The mud
became almost unfathomable and it was not uncommon to see the six mules
attached to an army wagon tugging and striving with all their power to
drag the empty wagon out of a mud hole. Boys who had plied the trade of
bootblack gave up their profession and with pail and sponge in hand
called to the passer by, "Wash your boots, sir?" During the lovely month
of December we had been impatient for action; but now the oft repeated
question, "Why don't the Army of the Potomac move?" became ludicrous to
our ears.

Thus passed another month in drills and camp duties. Some recruits came
to us, while many of the men who came out at first were found unfit for
field duty and were discharged.

Distrust arose among officers and enlisted men of our army about the
capital, in regard to the manner in which the army was managed. A
wilderness of men surrounded Washington, and yet we were blockaded by
the rebels on all sides except one.

Government was paying enormous prices for fuel consumed by the army,
because the Potomac was closed, and all wood had to be brought by rail
from the sparsely wooded districts of Maryland. Provisions sold at
fabulous prices, and Washington was in fact a beleaguered city. Some
rays of light from the west penetrated the thick darkness; but it cannot
be concealed that while the Grand Army stationed about the capital
panted for action and longed for the glory of the battle-field, a gloom
possessed the spirits of the men, and a feeling, that all this splendid
material was destined to a "masterly inactivity," prevailed. Our hopes
were newly kindled when the affairs of the War Department passed into
the hands of a live man, and when Mr. Stanton's practical energy began
to be manifested both in the department and in the field. We heard from
Burnside; first sad news, and then of success; and our hearts burned to
be with him. Fort Donelson followed Roanoke; and Price's army was routed
in Missouri. We envied the men who had been our nearest neighbors, but
who had followed Burnside to the South. Glorious fellows! What cared
they now for the fury of the waves or the hardships of short rations? We
were afraid of being left as idle spectators of great things in which we
should not be allowed to participate.

On the 15th of February came an order for us to move in a few days, and
join Smith's division. This division lay upon the other side of the
river, and although we had been anxious to move we did not wish to get
permanently fixed in the mud by moving there. We knew little of General
Smith or his division, only that the general had been trying very hard
for some time past to get the regiment, and we had little hopes of good
from the new arrangement. How little did we then suppose that the cross
of that old division would be one of the proudest badges of honor that
men could wear!

Sunday night came, and the order to move at once, came also. What a
scene of confusion! We had never broken up camp before, and the
excitement ran high. The pounding and tearing of boards, the shouting of
men and braying of mules, combined in a grand uproar. Bonfires blazed
from every part of the camp, and the whole night was spent in tearing
down quarters and loading the stuff into army wagons as they presented
themselves in great numbers. It was a rare sight. The camp glowing with
a hundred fires, and the men and teams moving about among them like
spectres. Morning came, and the teams were loaded, and the men ready to
march. The teams drove out and formed a line reaching down 14th street
from our camp nearly to the White House! One hundred and five six-mule
teams constituted the train for our regimental baggage; and so much
dissatisfaction prevailed among certain company officers that we were
allowed twenty-five more teams next day! Rain had fallen nearly all
night, and the prospect looked dreary. As the day advanced the rain came
faster and faster, until it fairly poured. The men waded through mortar
nearly to their knees.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when we reached Smith's division
and the ground on which we were to make our camp. The prospect was not
cheering, and as two or three of our staff officers rode upon the
ground, the place seemed forbidding enough. It had been recently the
location of a thicket of scrub pines, but the trees had been cut down
for fuel, and the stumps and brush remained, so that the mounted
officers found much difficulty in reining their horses into the midst.
Snow covered the ground to the depth of several inches. Here our men,
tired and wet, cold and hungry, were to pitch their tents, cook their
suppers, and make their beds.

The men fell to work heartily, and by dark they had cleared off the snow
and brush enough to make room for their tents, and many cook fires
blazed over the camp.

The regiments of the division showed us much hospitality, and a very
pleasant acquaintance commenced on that day, which was destined to
become earnest friendship. The next day was spent in putting the camp in
order. As rain continued to fall, the mud in the company streets became
knee-deep. Our sick, those unable to walk, had been left in our old
hospital with a sufficient number of faithful nurses, under charge of
the surgeon of one of the regiments that remained.

Let us for a moment glance at the composition of the division of which
we now formed a part. We were assigned to the Third brigade. It
comprised, beside our own, the Thirty-third New York, Colonel Taylor, a
regiment whose gallantry at Yorktown, Williamsburgh and Fredericksburgh
fully established its reputation as one of the best fighting regiments
in the army. The Forty-ninth New York, Colonel Bidwell, a noble regiment
with a noble commander, a regiment which could always be counted on to
do all that men could do; the Seventh Maine, Colonel Mason, whose men
were patterned after the pines of their own forests, tall, straight and
powerful fellows, who never forgot their proclivities for hunting, and
who were never so happy as when they could pick off a few rebel pickets
with their rifles. The brigade was commanded by General Davidson, who
afterwards made himself exceedingly disagreeable to the rebels, and
famous at the north by his daring cavalry raids in the west. The first
brigade included the Forty-third New York, Colonel Vinton; the
Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, Colonel Irwin; the Sixth Maine, Colonel
Knowles; and the Fifth Wisconsin, Colonel Cobb; all of them excellent
regiments, under command of General Hancock, who has since placed his
name high on the roll of fame as the commander of the old Second corps.

The Second brigade was composed entirely of Vermont troops, including
the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Vermont regiments, commanded
respectively by Colonels Henry Whiting, B. N. Hyde, E. H. Stoughton, L.
A. Grant and N. M. Lord, and known as the "Vermont Brigade," and nobly
did they sustain the traditional reputation of the Green Mountain Boys,
as stern patriots and hard fighters. They were commanded by General
Brooks, who afterward commanded the Tenth corps.

General William F. Smith, or, as he was familiarly known, "Baldy Smith,"
commanded the division. He is too well known to all who admire a true
soldier to require more than a mention here, and his great fame has been
well and faithfully earned.

No more splendid material, either for officers or men, ever entered into
the composition of a division, and how nobly it played its part in the
great drama of the war, it shall be part of our duty to record. Drills,
regimental, brigade and division, were again in order, and picket duty
now became a part of our routine.

This would not be a faithful chronicle of the doings of the new
regiment, were we to forget to relate the history of our first
expedition into the enemy's country.

An order came one evening in February for Colonel McKean to take his
regiment and make a reconnoissance towards Vienna. His instructions were
to pass the picket line, advance towards Vienna, make a thorough
reconnoissance and return.

The news spread through the camp, and the regiment was ablaze with
excitement. Some who had been on the sick list, and were excused from
camp duty, sought from the surgeon permission to accompany the
expedition, while a few who had been, up to this time, well, were
earnest in their applications to be excused from the march.

The regiment was formed at ten o'clock at night; thick darkness,
darkness of the blackest and most intense degree, prevailed. One could
scarcely see his neighbor whose shoulder touched his own. We were miles
away from the enemy, but the men were to be instructed in performing
their movements in secrecy; so the commands were passed along the line,
as the companies were forming, in whisper. No lights were allowed, and
we left our camp a column of blackness. We were presently joined by a
guide who carried a lantern. We passed a great many regiments, all the
while observing strict silence.

The mud was deep, very deep; some of the men lost their shoes in the
depths of the mire, and some even lost themselves, and were only
discovered when they arrived in camp some hours earlier than the
regiment. Through the darkness we plodded until we reached our
destination, at daylight on the following morning. Here we found bough
houses which had been used by rebel cavalry; and the tracks of many
horses imprinted only a little while before, whether by the horses of
our own cavalry, or by those of the enemy, we never knew. The battalion
was halted and scouts were sent to the front and on the flanks. Some of
the boys who had lost their shoes in the mud before we had advanced the
first mile, had made the whole march in their stockings; while others,
who had been sick, looked as though they could never get back to camp.
The companies deployed and marched through the woods, but as the enemy
was on the other side of Vienna we saw no rebels. It was noon when we
reached our camp, tired and covered with mud. Those who went laughed at
those who remained behind, and called them "dead beats!" The "beats"
tauntingly demanded of the others what all their demonstration had
amounted to.

The New York papers heralded the exploit as a grand advance on the
enemy, and we said little about it.




CHAPTER III.

THE MANASSAS CAMPAIGN.

    Orders to march--A grand spectacle--Bivouac near Fairfax Court
    House--The camps at night--Visits to Manassas and
    Centreville--Dissatisfaction in the army--A deserted
    country--Lawless soldiers--Fairfax Court House--A representative
    Southerner--Review by Gen. McClellan--March to Alexandria--"Camp
    Misery."


The first week in March brought lovely weather: birds sang more sweetly,
the sun shone more brightly, and bands played more merrily than usual,
and friends passed from regiment to regiment seeking social pastime with
friends.

We had known no such pleasant times in camp; still we were waiting for
orders to advance. During the night of Sunday, the 8th of March, the
order came: "This division will move at four o'clock in the morning with
two days' rations in haversacks." Little rest we got that night; the
hammer and the axe were plied vigorously in tearing down quarters and
packing stores, and as the sun rose in the morning the whole army was in
motion. It was a sublime spectacle: that immense line of troops pouring
along hour after hour, stretching over the hills as far as the eye could
reach; a hundred and twenty thousand troops on the move! Just beyond and
above them, in the gray sky of the morning, hung a beautiful rainbow. At
six our division commenced to march. Rain soon began to fall, and
continued all day. We passed through Vienna and Lewinsville, each a
hamlet of a dozen houses, and reached our camping ground at five o'clock
in the afternoon, tired, and drenched, and hungry.

Great numbers of troops had already occupied the fields, and the whole
country seemed alive with men and horses, artillery and wagons. We were
in the vicinity of Fairfax Court House, about a mile to the northward,
on what was called Flint Hill.

The army, for the first time, was under "_tentes d'abri_," or, as they
are now called, shelter tents. Until now the enlisted men had occupied
the spacious Sibley, or the comfortable wedge tents, and all officers
were quartered in wall tents; now, line officers and enlisted men were
to occupy shelter tents, which they were to carry on their shoulders;
and although a small number of wall tents could be carried in the wagons
for field and staff officers, yet so imperfect was the understanding, in
or out of the quartermaster's department, of what could or ought to be
done, that most regimental field and staff officers were left without
any shelter at all.

The men proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible under
their novel coverings, and as evening approached, the hills were
magnificently illuminated with thousands of camp fires. Very few men
occupied their new tents that night. They had not been accustomed to lie
upon wet ground, with only a single blanket wrapped about them, so
during all the night groups of soldiers stood about the camp fires,
talking in low tones and wondering what was to happen in the morning.
The sky was clear and bright when the sun rose, and as we looked out
upon the hill tops, dotted with clean white tents, and bristling with
stacks of shining muskets, we exulted in the thought that we were part
of the Grand Army that was now at work. Soon we knew that we were not to
fight here. The cavalry, and some of Porter's division, were returning
from Manassas and Centreville, both places burned and deserted. Were we
to pursue the retreating army, or were we to return to Washington to
take a new start? Parties from the division rode to Centreville and
Manassas. The works were indeed formidable and the barracks extensive;
and the old chestnut logs with blackened ends, that were mounted in some
of the embrasures, had, at a distance, grim visages. The smoking ruins
betokened the destructiveness of war. On the old battle-field lay
bleaching the bones of horses and men, and here and there might be seen
portions of human skeletons protruding from the shallow graves where
some pretense had been made at burial. Fragments of shells, broken
muskets and solid shot strewed the ground.

Head-quarters of the army were established at Fairfax Court House, and
thither repaired the corps commanders to hold a council in regard to our
future movements. The country about our camp was rolling and sparsely
settled. Nearly all the houses were deserted, and most of them destroyed
so far as any future usefulness was concerned. One house, the ruins of
which stood not far from our camp, and which had been the most
comfortable place in the whole section of country, had been the
residence of a northern farmer. Although the house was completely
stripped, and nothing of the barns and outhouses remained but the
frames, yet there were many evidences of the thrift and comfort of the
former occupant. A northern reaper, several horse rakes, ploughs of
improved patterns, and other modern implements of agriculture, betokened
a genuine farmer. We were told that he was driven from his home early in
the war, and had now found refuge among his friends in New Hampshire.
But the houses of the southerners had not been exempt from the general
devastation, and some who had sought refuge in Richmond had left their
homes to ruin. The people were evidently strongly "secesh," although
some of them professed to be glad to see us.

It cannot be said that the presence of our army afforded them great
protection, for the men, unused to the strict discipline which afterward
prevailed, coolly appropriated whatever articles seemed to them to be of
use either for the present or the future. It was amusing to see the
soldiers of some of the divisions in which less than the usual
discipline prevailed, peering and creeping about wherever there seemed a
prospect of plunder. Now one would pass with a pair of chickens; next,
one bringing a clothes line; then one with part of an old table, and
still another with half a dozen eggs. This system of plunder was at
length checked, in a measure at least. Fowls, eggs and potatoes could be
purchased of the people at fair rates, while rebel currency could be
bought for silver at a very considerable discount. Twenty-five cent and
one cent shinplasters were brought into camp and laughed at by men who
were afterward glad to get shinplasters from another manufactory.

To Fairfax Court House was but a short distance; and a ride to the
village afforded a pleasant gallop of a morning. The place, and the
country half a mile on each side, was occupied by McCall's division. The
village was pleasantly located on high ground, surrounded by fine
groves. It contained some pretty residences, which were occupied by
officers as head-quarters: their horses, in some instances, being
picketed on the porticos, and in others in the kitchens. The village was
nearly deserted by its own people, not more than fifty of the original
inhabitants being left, though the population of the town before the war
was nearly six hundred. Houses which were deserted were generally
stripped of everything. The court house was a solid old brick building
of very limited dimensions, with a little bell swinging in a comical
looking steeple. The court house was by no means an exception to the
general rule of destruction; the seats were torn out, and the judge's
bench had been split in pieces, and nearly all carried away by pockets
full, as relics. At one of the houses where the family still remained, a
party reined up and made some inquiries of the _pater familias_, a
hangdog looking specimen, with an old slouched hat covered to the crown
with rusty crape, a mark of second-hand gentility in these parts. He
said that "this yer war" had caused such a famine among the people, that
nearly all of them had been obliged to leave; some had gone to
Washington and some to Richmond, "a right smart lot of them had gone to
Richmond." He had "reckoned onct or twict" that he would have to go too,
but he "had succeeded in hanging on so long."

Our division was reviewed by General McClellan, who was received with
enthusiasm. Although many of us were familiar with the appearance of the
Commander-in-Chief, this was his first appearance to us as a division.
The General appeared a man below the medium height, with broad
shoulders, full chest and a round pleasing face relieved by a heavy
moustache. He sat his horse well and rode with great speed. While his
appearance and address were pleasing, there seemed in his smooth face
and mild eye nothing to indicate a man of brilliant genius or great
purpose.

At length the council of corps commanders had rendered its decision, and
the grand campaign of the Virginian Peninsula was planned. On the
morning of the fourteenth of March, with buoyant hopes and exulting
anticipations of a "quick, sharp and decisive," and as we devoutly
believed, a successful campaign, we left our camp at Flint Hill. It had
few charms for us, and we were glad to leave it. How little we yet knew
of real campaigning. Although we had notice several hours beforehand
that we were to move by daylight, yet many, indeed, the majority of us,
marched that morning without breakfast.

No morning sun cheered us as the day began, but the sky was hung with
heavy clouds. A drizzling rain, now diminishing almost to a heavy mist,
and now coming in fresh showers, made the marching heavy and unpleasant.
Grandly appeared that majestic army as it filed down the turnpike to
Alexandria. At times the elevation of the road afforded a view of the
mighty column for miles to the front, and at other times we could see it
pouring onward an endless stream of cavalry, infantry, artillery and
wagons, far from the rear.

So grand a spectacle had never been witnessed on this continent before.
Our march was rapid and we made no halt for dinner: those who went
without breakfast had poor chance for coffee that day.

Towards evening the rain increased, and as we drew off into a piece of
woods five miles out from Alexandria, the rain came down in sheets. Near
our halting place were some deserted houses. No sooner had we stopped
than began the work of destruction, afterward so familiar to us, and in
less than an hour there was not a board or timber left of either
building. The ground, although quite uneven and sloping, soon became so
flooded that tents, even when they could be pitched, were untenable. The
men attempted to build fires, but in most instances the floods of water
quenched the flames. Some, however, succeeded in starting huge fires,
and around these stood the men during the whole night, while the tempest
poured in torrents upon them. A few of the officers of the division,
among whom was one who afterward became noted for looking out for and
providing good things for his regiment as quartermaster, sought refuge
in a house not far off, where, for the moderate sum of twenty-five cents
each, they were allowed by the people sleeping room upon the floor.
Never since the times of Pharaoh was an army so thoroughly drenched.
During more than three years campaigning in the field our boys never
forgot that night; and to this day they frequently refer to the
disagreeable experience in what they not inappropriately term "Camp
Misery." Here, in "Camp Misery," we remained several days, waiting to
embark for Fortress Monroe.

Without doubt, the rebels all this time knew of our destination; for the
people among whom we were encamped were by no means our friends or
indifferent to the success of the rebels, and the point of our
destination was well known and freely spoken of among them.




CHAPTER IV.

THE ARMY TRANSFERRED TO THE PENINSULA.

    Embarking for the Peninsula--Mount Vernon--On the
    Potomac--Hampton--In camp--Orders to march--A night visit to
    Fortress Monroe--The advance--A sifting--A Quaker battery--At
    Newport News--Compliments of the Teaser.


On Sunday morning, March 23d, we marched to Alexandria. The whole of our
division, and of the other divisions of Keyes' corps, were there,
besides part of Heintzelman's corps and other troops. In the course of
the afternoon, this great body of men was embarked upon the transports.
The vessels having received their lading, swung out upon the river and
laid at anchor during the night. Early in the morning the whole fleet
was under way, steaming down the river. We passed Mount Vernon--the
bells of the fleet tolling. The tomb lies in the midst of a clump of
firs just south and a little below the house; the mansion and the
grounds are nearly as they were left by Washington, and the whole looks
down upon the river, calling upon the passer-by for a thought upon the
great man whose dust lies beneath the fir trees. After passing Mount
Vernon, nothing of special interest was seen except the broad expanse of
waters of this magnificent stream. A few large mansions, a few inferior
houses, and now and then a little hamlet, appeared on the banks; and at
Aquia creek could be seen the insignificant earthworks that had covered
the few field pieces which for so many months had kept up an efficient
blockade of the Potomac.

How different was all this from our Hudson! The country bordering on the
river is beautiful; nature has done everything for it, but a cursed
institution has blighted it. There is not a country in the world where
nature has been more lavish with its blessings, and yet it is forsaken,
worn out, almost a wilderness. The magnificent rivers and unsurpassed
harbors of Virginia, its natural fertility and the mildness of its
climate, present natural advantages scarcely equaled by any country. As
we stood upon the deck of the steamer, watching and admiring the
ever-varying beauties of the noble stream, some one repeated these lines
from Barlow's _Columbiad_:

  "Thy capes, Virginia, towering from the tide,
  Raise their blue banks, and slope thy barriers wide,
  To future sails unfold a fluvian way,
  And guard secure thy multifluvian bay,
  That drains uncounted realms and here unites
  The liquid mass from Alleganian hights.
  York leads his way embanked in flowery pride,
  And noble James falls winding by his side;
  Back to the hills, through many a silent vale,
  Wild Rappahannock seems to lure the sail;
  Patapsco's bosom courts the hand of toil;
  Dull Susquehanna laves a length of soil;
  But mightier far, in sea-like azure spread,
  Potowmac sweeps his earth disparting bed."

At night we were on the broad Chesapeake. A stiff breeze set our fleet
rocking, but we slept quietly, leaving the waves to take care of
themselves and the pilots to take care of the boats. Reveille awoke us
in the morning to discover on the one side of us the world-renowned
Fortress Monroe and on the other the equally famous Monitor. At our bow
lay the village of Hampton--or rather the chimneys and trees of what had
been Hampton. Orders came for us to disembark here, and we were soon
among the debris of the town. A sadder commentary on war could hardly be
found than the ruins of this beautiful village. A forest of shade trees
and chimneys marked the place where a few months before had stood one of
the most ancient villages in America. Hyacinths and daffodils, peach
trees and roses, were in bloom in the deserted and fenceless gardens;
and the dark green leaves of the japonica and laurel covered many a heap
of unsightly rubbish.

The walls of the old church, the most ancient in the State, stood like
silent witnesses against the reckless spirit of destruction of the
rebels. Although not large, the church had evidently been a fine old
structure, having the form of a Greek cross. About it were the graves of
the forefathers of the village, reposing under the shadow of those old
trees. Many of the tablets were ancient, dating back as far as 1706.

[Illustration: THE OLD CHURCH AT HAMPTON.]

The whole army was pouring out upon this shore, and at Fortress Monroe.
Dense masses of infantry, long trains of artillery and thousands of
cavalry, with unnumbered army wagons and mules, were mingled in grand
confusion along the shore; the neighing of horses, the braying of mules,
the rattle of wagons and artillery, and the sound of many voices,
mingled in one grand inharmonious concert.

Our division marched along a pleasant route to a field about midway
between Fortress Monroe and Newport News. We rested until March 26th,
when an order came at midnight for the army to march very early in the
morning. We were short of some medical stores and quartermasters'
supplies, and officers at once mounted their horses to ride through the
thick darkness to Fortress Monroe, to procure the needed articles. Along
the road men were already cooking their breakfasts, and artillery was
hurrying towards Newport News. At short intervals along the road,
sentinels were posted; and as the sounds of the horses' hoofs were
heard, the sharp command rung out through the darkness, "Halt! who comes
there?" and the galloping horses would suddenly halt at long distance
from the sentry.

"Friends with the countersign."

"Dismount and advance one; and give the countersign."

One of the parties, leaving his horse with the other, would advance and
give the required word, and on we rode again until suddenly halted by a
similar warning. As we approached the fortress, the sentinels were more
frequent, until, as we came within half a mile of our destination, the
guards were posted so frequently that we had hardly passed one, before
the sharp command to "Halt!" was heard again. We crossed the drawbridge,
and at length found ourselves in the little village in rear of the fort.
Passing here many sentinels who examined us very carefully, we reached
the door of the citadel. Here we were halted by a sentinel, and each
examined for the countersign. The sentinel called the corporal of the
guard; who after satisfying himself that we were Union officers shouted
to the sergeant. The great iron door ground upon its massive hinges as
it swung open just far enough to permit the sergeant to squeeze through,
and again it was closed, and the heavy bolts rung as they flew back to
their places. The sergeant, after asking a few questions, went back into
the fort, and soon returned with the officer of the guard, who, after
receiving the countersign, questioned us closely as to our business, and
who we were. Satisfied, at length he ordered a soldier to take our
horses, the heavy door slowly opened, and we were admitted within the
walls. Such were the precautions in admitting strangers to the
stronghold.

At six o'clock the division was in line and on the road. The morning was
indescribably beautiful. The vapors that rose from the broad expanse of
waters were tinged with a thousand gorgeous hues as they rolled away,
dispersed by the morning sun; and the tall yellow pines were crowned
with rich golden coronals of light. The road was perfectly level and
dry, and the country delightful. Long rows of locusts and pines lined
the sides of the road, and the rich groves of oak just sending forth
their foliage, were beautifully interspersed with the holly, with its
bright red berries and rich evergreen leaves. Peach orchards in full
bloom added to the beauty of the scene, and when at times we could see
the lines of troops, two and three miles in extent, their muskets
glittering in the bright sunlight, the enthusiasm of the men was
unbounded.

All the bridges over the route had been destroyed by the enemy, but
pioneers advanced at the head of the column, and as the bridges were all
small they were quickly repaired. A march of a few miles brought us in
sight of the James river; a noble stream, at least five miles wide at
this point. Not far from the shore appeared the masts of the U. S.
frigate Cumberland, sunk in the memorable fight with the Merrimac. As
our march led us along the banks, the views were charming. On one hand
was the noble river, and on the other the orchards and groves. Deserted
houses, and gardens blooming with hyacinths and other blossoms of early
spring, were passed. On the opposite side of the river lay a rebel
gunboat, watching our movements.

Our division, Smith's, had taken the lead on the James river road, while
Porter's division had marched upon Great Bethel. After a march of
fifteen miles, our division was drawn up in line of battle near Warwick.
Porter's division had already reached Great Bethel, on our right, and we
could see huge columns of smoke rising in that direction, and hear the
roar of artillery. An aide dashed up and informed General Davidson that
the enemy were in line of battle ready to receive us. Soon the order
came to advance; the line swept onward through the woods and over a
cleared field, but found no foe. A few cavalry pickets only were seen,
and a shell from one of our Parrott guns set them flying towards
Yorktown. We passed through the confederate encampments where their
fires were still blazing, but soon turned round and bivouacked on ground
last night occupied by rebels.

In this advance or reconnoissance of the whole army, the qualities of
the individual soldiers composing it were brought out in bold relief.
The effect on our own division was marked. During the months we had been
in winter quarters, many officers and men had established marvelous
reputations for bravery and hardihood, merely by constantly heralding
their own heroism. But from this time these doughty heroes went back.
Officers suddenly found cause for resigning; and enlisted men managed to
get sent to the rear, and never showed their faces at the front again.
On the contrary, some who were really invalids insisted on dragging
themselves along with the column, fearful that an engagement might take
place in which they would not participate. A sifting process was thus
commenced throughout the whole division, and to its honor the poltroons
were very soon sifted out, and from that time forth, Smith's division
never afforded a comfortable resting place for men of doubtful courage.
"They went out from us, because they were not of us."

Next morning we retired over the road upon which we had advanced, and
encamped near Newport News. As we passed this place on our outward
march, we saw at a distance what appeared to be a heavy gun, but as we
approached it proved to be a large cart, on which was mounted a great
wooden mortar, which had, perhaps, been used by negroes for cracking
corn. When we returned a hog's head was fixed in the mouth of the
mortar. "There," remarked an officer, "is the first Quaker we have seen
on the Peninsula." "You must sketch it," said the colonel of the
Seventy-seventh, and the officer obeyed.

[Illustration: THE QUAKER AT NEWPORT NEWS.]

The division encamped upon a low plain covered with sedges and reeds, a
good enough encampment while the dry weather lasted, but when the rain
came in floods two nights after we pitched our tents here, the whole
division was inundated, and we moved to higher and better ground.

The masts of the Cumberland greeted our eyes whenever we turned toward
the river, and the rebel gunboats made short excursions toward our side
of the stream. One day large numbers of men, mostly from the Vermont
brigade, were on the shoals of the river bathing and gathering oysters.
The gunboat Teazer discovering them, steamed down toward them, and threw
some heavy shells, shrieking and cracking among them, causing great
consternation among the bathers, and some confusion and much amusement
on shore.




CHAPTER V.

YORKTOWN.

    The advance to Yorktown--A thunder storm--"Reliable
    contrabands"--Facing the enemy--A strong position--The Union
    line--A rebel welcome--Digging--On picket--A dreary country--An
    enterprising planter--Active work--Battle of Lee's Mills--Charge
    of the Vermont brigade--Progress of the siege--Ravages of
    disease--A front seat--Short supplies--The rebels
    withdraw--Entering the strongholds--Infernal machines--March to
    Williamsburgh--Victims of disease.


At length, on the 4th of April, the army was put in motion for Yorktown.
The General-in-Chief had arrived at Fortress Monroe the evening before,
and at once the army became the scene of prodigious activity. Keyes'
corps, our own division in advance, took the road along the banks of the
James river. The rest of the army, headed by Porter's division, advanced
on the more direct road to Yorktown, through Great Bethel, accompanied
by General McClellan.

The day being clear and warm, the men soon began to realize the
difficulty of transporting large amounts of clothing and camp equipage
on their shoulders, and the roadsides were strewn with blankets and
overcoats, dress coats and pants. The bushes and trees for miles along
the route were thickly hung with articles of clothing, mostly new, and
all good. Soldiers who had put on their marching suit would fall out of
the ranks, the knapsack would quickly disgorge a new coat and pants, the
wearers would as quickly divest themselves of the soiled garments and
replace them with the new ones, the others being left on the ground.
Whenever a halt was ordered this shifting process became general.

The roads, which at first were dry and firm, were as we advanced badly
cut up, and great difficulty was experienced in getting the trains
along.

An advance of ten miles brought us in front of Young's Mills, a strongly
fortified position five or six miles from Yorktown. The corps was drawn
up in line of battle and cavalry sent to reconnoiter the position. The
works were deserted, but camp fires still blazed in them. Here we rested
for the night. At daylight next morning the advance was renewed. The
roads were even worse than the day before. Infantry could get along well
enough, but artillery and army wagons had a hard time of it. Each piece
of artillery made the road worse, until the axles dragged in a river of
mud. We passed the little village of Warwick Court House. There were
here a little brick court house, a jail and a clerk's office seven feet
by ten, a store and a tavern. There were also two small dwelling houses.

After a march of three miles the division was drawn up in line of
battle. We had reached the hostile works before the rest of the army.
Skirmishers were sent to the front and we advanced slowly and cautiously
through the woods. A terrific thunder storm burst upon us and the roar
of the heavenly artillery seemed to mock any efforts at martial
grandeur. Seldom, if ever, had we of the northern states witnessed such
an exhibition of sublimity and terrible magnificence of the workings of
the elements. The vivid lightning and terrific peals of thunder seemed
to the men the presage of deadly work to come. The advance was very
difficult, the woods being marshy and filled with tangles and briars.
The men were scratched and bleeding. The long line of battle presently
emerged from the woods and occupied a clearing, in the center of which
was a mansion, the late residence of a rebel officer. Some scouts
brought from the house a couple of negresses whom they led to General
Keyes. They communicated their information with an earnestness that
proved their sympathies were not with their late master. It was a
picturesque scene; those tall negresses with their bright red turbans
and long white woolen gowns, telling with earnest gestures what they
knew of the position of the enemy, while the generals and their staffs
listened eagerly to their words. They said that when we passed over the
little hill just in front, we should be under fire from the batteries of
the rebels, who were in large force; "but laws a massa, noting like all
dese yer," said they, pointing to the troops of our division.

Cautiously the clearing was crossed, the long line of battle moving in
beautiful order--Kennedy's, Ayres' and Wheeler's batteries each
accompanying a brigade.

Again we entered a heavy pine wood in which the swamp was deeper than
ever, and advancing through it we came face to face with the enemy.
Warwick creek, a marshy stream which had been dammed by the rebels,
raising its waters into ponds and deep morasses, was between us and
their works, and the accessible points were guarded by artillery. Two
regiments were at once deployed as skirmishers and sent in advance, and
our batteries were planted along the edge of the wood with the line of
the infantry. Only Smith's division was in line, the others were waiting
on the road for orders to come up.

Along the road, for more than half the distance back to Young's Mills,
the brigades of Couch's and Kearney's divisions were resting on their
arms, while cannon by scores waited to be called into action.

The enemy was not slow to acknowledge our presence, and as a token of
greeting sent some twelve-pound shells crashing among the trees about
us. The firing now became brisk on our side, and the rebels replied
spiritedly with their twelve-pounders. Hundreds of men were now called
up from the rear brigades and detailed to build corduroy roads. Trees
were cut down and trimmed of their branches, and laid side by side so as
to form a kind of bridge over the swamp to enable more artillery to come
up. The rapidity with which such roads were built was marvelous.

By this time the column on the right had reached the works in front of
the town. The position here was also strong. Although the Warwick did
not interpose, yet high bluffs, crowned with redoubts in which were
mounted heavy guns, frowned upon the assailants. Thus far it appears
that the leaders of our army had been totally ignorant of the position
and strength of the enemy, and had led it up to the works, blindly
feeling the way without maps or guides. (McClellan's Report.) The
defensive works were now found to consist of a series of redoubts and
rifle pits stretching across the Peninsula, seven miles in extent, with
high bluffs on the right and Warwick creek in their front on the left.

The position occupied by our division was known as Lee's Mills, and to
our right, nearly three miles, was the village of Yorktown. The line of
battle was now arranged in the following order from right to left:
Heintzelman's corps, consisting of Porter's, Hooker's and Hamilton's
divisions, were in front of the town; Sedgwick's division of Sumner's
corps on the left of them, and Keyes' corps, comprising Smith's and
Couch's division (Casey's division arrived in a few days), held the
position on the Warwick at Lee's Mills.

The position of the enemy was, without doubt, one of great strength, and
everything had been done to render it more formidable. Yet they were by
no means too strong or sufficiently well garrisoned to resist an assault
from such a body of men as now appeared in their front. That there were
weak points in this line of defenses, stretching seven miles, was
afterwards demonstrated; and that the forces behind the works were by no
means sufficiently numerous, at the time of our approach, to afford
formidable resistance at all points in their extensive line, is now well
known.

It appears from the official report of the rebel General Johnston, who
then commanded all the rebel forces in Virginia, that at the time of the
appearance of our army before Yorktown the works were defended by only
about eleven thousand men, and that even after he had reinforced the
garrisons by the troops which he was hurrying from Manassas, his army
amounted to only fifty thousand men.

The artillery duel was kept up until night. We had lost some men during
the day, but not so many as we had feared. First a poor fellow from the
Seventh Maine, his heart and left lung torn out by a shell; then one
from the Forty-ninth New York, shot in the head; the next was from our
own regiment, Frank Jeffords, who had to suffer amputation of a leg;
then a man from the Forty-ninth was sent to the rear with his heel
crushed. In all, our loss did not exceed twenty men. The casualties in
the other brigades were less than in our own.

As night approached, the firing gradually ceased, and nothing but the
scattering shots of the skirmishers was heard. We lay down in the swamp
with no tents, and many of us without food. Officers and men built
platforms of logs and bark to keep out of the water where they were not
fortunate enough to find a dry place. General Smith bivouacked near the
line of battle, making his bed at the foot of a pine tree, with nothing
but his overcoat for shelter. It may not be amiss to say here that
General Smith, unlike most gentlemen with stars on their shoulders, was
always in the habit of sleeping at the very front.

All the following day, and the next, the firing was kept up steadily on
both sides. At night showers of cannister and grape would fall in our
camp, and fortunate was he who had a good tree or stump between him and
the rebel works against which to lay his head while he slept.

We at length became so accustomed to the continual skirmishing, that
unless the firing was in fierce volleys we took no notice of it. The
boys of the Thirty-third New York being on the skirmish line on the 8th,
charged a rifle pit with shouts and hurrahs, and drove the rebels from
it. An attempt was made to retake it, but the boys held their ground.

The men performed herculean labors on the roads, and in throwing up
earthworks. No rest was allowed. When not on picket they were cutting
down trees or throwing up earthworks or building bridges. Such constant
labor soon began to exhaust the strength of the stoutest, and hundreds
of them yielded to disease who supposed themselves capable of enduring
any amount of hardships. Yet there was now and then a grimly gay episode
in this hard routine. Here is an incident that occurred two or three
days after we approached the works, and affords a good sample of
picketing between us and the forts. Our pickets were within speaking
distance of those of the enemy; each party kept, if possible, snugly
behind some big stump or tree, out of the reach of his disagreeable
neighbors. A good deal of hard talk had passed between one of our
pickets and one of the "Johnnies." Finally the rebel thrust his hand
beyond his tree holding in it a bottle, and shaking it, challenged the
Yankee to come and take it--"_crack_" went the Yankee's rifle at the
hand. "Ha, ha! why don't you hit it? What do you think of Bull Run?"
"How do you like Fort Donelson?" responded the Yankee.

While this colloquy was going on, Yankee number two crept round behind a
log, and drawing on the southerner, blazed away at him. The son of
chivalry clapped his hand to his shoulder and ran off howling. "There,
you fool," shouted Yankee number one, "I told you that blind man would
be shooting you pretty soon."

The country about us was uncultivated and unhealthy. The lands were low
and swampy, and mostly covered with a heavy growth of yellow pines. The
few remaining inhabitants were mostly women, negresses and children; now
and then a disabled specimen of poor white trash, or a farmer too infirm
to be of service in the rebel army, was to be met with. All were alike
destitute of enterprise, and the houses upon the "plantations" were of
the meanest order, raised three or four feet above the ground upon posts
without the usual foundation of stone. The "plantations" consisted
usually of about ten or twenty acres of cleared land in the midst of the
forest, with narrow roads among the pines leading to neighboring
plantations.

The writer inquired of the proprietor of one of these isolated spots,
who also had some forty negro women and children, how he managed to
support so large a family from the proceeds of so little land. "Well,"
said he, "I could not support them from the proceeds of the land alone,
but you see I sell a few negroes every year and buy corn with the money;
so with what we raise and what we get for the sale of the negroes, we
get along very well."

"But why do you not cut down some of this forest and till more land? You
own a large tract of land which is entirely worthless as it now is."

"There is where you are greatly mistaken, said the enterprising
southerner, my timber land is my best property." But of what use do you
make it? "Oh, I sell a great deal of wood. I take it to Fortress Monroe
and Hampton and get two dollars and a half a cord for it!"

The reader will perhaps understand the profits drawn from the wood
lands, when it is remembered that Fortress Monroe was twenty miles
distant.

Night attacks by the enemy became common; and it was not an unfrequent
occurrence for the whole division to be called suddenly to arms at
midnight and stand in line until morning. Skirmishes and sharpshooting
continued with little intermission; bullets of rebel riflemen whizzing
through our camps or unceremoniously entering our tents at all times.
Rebel gunboats approached the mouth of the Warwick and by their
assistance the rebel infantry attempted to turn our left flank, but the
troops of our division gallantly met their attack and drove them back.

This state of affairs continued until the 16th of April. That morning,
word passed through the division that we were to make an assault. Orders
came to move, and the division was massed near some ruins, known as "The
Chimneys," in front of one of the rebel forts; the Second brigade
holding the front line, supported by the First and Third brigades. As we
moved round to take our positions, an American eagle whirled above our
heads in elegant circles and at length floated away toward the south,
the boys swinging their hats and cheering the bird with loud huzzahs.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE VERMONTERS AT LEE'S MILLS.]

The fort in our front covered the road from Newport News to
Williamsburgh, and could we get possession of it we could turn the
flanks of the enemy, obliging him to abandon his position and enabling
us either to prevent his escape or to harass him in his flight. In front
of the fort the creek had been dammed and a deep morass interposed
between us and the works. General McClellan and his immense suite rode
to the point from which the attack was to be made, and communicating a
few minutes with Generals Keyes and Smith, left the field. Mott's
battery was now brought into position on the open plateau and opened a
fierce cannonade, to which the rebels replied with spirit, dismounting
one of our guns and killing several of the gunners at the very start.
Mott was reinforced by Kennedy's and Wheeler's batteries, and the
hostile guns were soon silenced. Our batteries then advanced within five
hundred yards of the fort, and the gray-coated rebels who were seen to
fill the woods, were soon dispersed. Two companies of troops, from the
Third Vermont, were now ordered forward. Down from the woods they came,
rushed into the water to their waists, and gallantly made for the rebel
rifle pits. The first line of the works was gained and then the second.
The fort was empty, but a ditch to their left was filled with men. They
poured a volley among them and the gray coats fled. Thus the fort was
actually in their possession, and was held for some minutes by the noble
fellows, but when they looked for support, none came. The three brigades
stood upon the opposite bank, ready to plunge through the stream, and
waiting with intense anxiety for the order, "forward;" but no order
came, and the brave Green Mountain boys who had so nobly performed their
part of the work, were forced to fall back under a galling fire from the
rebels, who rushed back to their pits as soon the Vermonters had left
them, pouring volley after volley into the retreating forces, who, their
ammunition spent, could not reply to the rebel fire. Before they were
able to reach the shelter of the woods, sad havoc was made in their
ranks. Skirmishing was kept up for some hours, by other regiments, but
with no result except the loss of men.

The following list of killed and wounded was obtained the next day after
the battle:

2d Vermont--1 killed.

3d Vermont--24 killed, 7 mortally wounded, 56 wounded,
            1 missing.
4th Vermont--3 killed, 30 wounded.
5th Vermont--2 killed, 6 wounded.
6th Vermont--11 killed, 77 wounded.

Total loss to the brigade, 218.

Thus ended the fight known as the "Battle of Lee's Mills," a battle in
which two hundred men gallantly captured an important work of the enemy,
and thousands of their companions burning with desire to share in their
glory stood by and saw them abandon it! Why the other brigades were not
ordered forward has never been explained satisfactorily. That General
Smith would gladly have sent them forward we earnestly believe; but we
now know that General McClellan desired that a general engagement should
not be brought on at that time.

The wounded men exhibited the same bravery, while their wounds were
being cared for, that characterized their brilliant charge. Men badly
mutilated, with bullets in their heads, or breasts, or limbs, refused to
receive attention from the surgeon who dressed their wounds, until their
more unfortunate companions were cared for. "Don't mind me, doctor,
there are others hurt worse than I am," said many a brave fellow, as he
lay upon the ground bleeding from his wounds.

The following incident connected with this noble charge will be
remembered by all who were at that time members of Smith's division, and
by hundreds who saw accounts of it in the newspapers of the day:

Private William Scott, of Company K, Third Vermont, was, in the autumn
of 1861, found asleep at his post on the picket line. It was a grave
fault; but the weary soldier, inexperienced in the service, and
unaccustomed to such night vigils, in an evil hour yielded to the
demands of tired nature, little thinking that the lives of hundreds of
his comrades were periled by his unfaithfulness. He was tried by a
court-martial and sentenced to be shot. The sentence was approved, and
at the appointed time he was brought forth to execution. General Smith,
desiring to impress upon the minds of his men the terrible consequences
of such an offense, formed his troops in line. The culprit was brought
out before them, and led to the place of execution. The guard, with
loaded muskets, stood ready to execute the dreadful sentence, which was
read before all the troops. All waited in breathless expectation for the
order to fire; but instead another paper was read. It was a pardon from
the President! Then the wildest shouts of joy ran along the line. Shout
after shout arose from the division, and hundreds blessed the name of
President Lincoln.

There were many circumstances to render this a case of peculiar
interest. It was the first sentence of the kind; it was at the beginning
of the war, when a soldier's life was regarded of value, and when all
eyes were riveted upon the army, and every incident was of interest. It
was also the first instance of the kind in which the executive clemency
had been exercised. So near had the hour of execution arrived when the
President signed the pardon, that, fearing it might not be received in
season, he took his carriage and drove to camp, to assure himself that
the man's life should be spared.

"I will show President Lincoln that I am not afraid to die for my
country," said the grateful soldier; and well did he fulfill his
promise. Among the bravest of those two hundred heroes who crossed the
swamp at Lee's Mills, was William Scott, of Company K, Third Vermont.
But he was brought back a corpse. He had shown the President that he was
not afraid to die for his country. He was one of the foremost in the
charge, and one of the first to fall. His comrades made his grave under
the shadow of the tall pines, and as they folded his blanket around him,
and lowered him to his resting place, tears stood upon those brown
cheeks; but the tears of sorrow were mingled with tears of joy, when
they thought of his glorious death, and his narrow escape from an
ignominious fate, and again, in their hearts, they blessed the man who
was always the soldier's friend.

We resumed our place the next day after the battle, on the front line,
and commenced digging.

Fierce night sorties were again made by the enemy and bravely resisted
by our boys, who continued the work regardless of these annoyances. Only
one fight occurred on our part of the line after the 16th, in which we
lost any number of men. On the 28th the First brigade had a skirmish in
which we lost one killed and half a dozen wounded. Among the latter was
Lieutenant, afterward Colonel Milliken, of the Forty-third New York. A
reconnoissance on the left about the same time, resulted in finding the
rebels in considerable force, and a loss of two good soldiers to the
Seventy-seventh New York. In the meantime earthworks of great strength
were being thrown up on the right of the line before Yorktown, and
everything was being put in a complete state of preparation for the
grand bombardment. Enormous siege guns of one hundred and even two
hundred pound calibre, and immense mortars were brought up and mounted
in the earthworks, and it was thought that with the powerful means we
were using the fall of Yorktown was only a question of time.

Our losses by the rebels before Yorktown were not great, but the ravages
by disease were fearful. Many thousands of noble fellows who would
gladly have braved the dangers of the battle-field, were carried to the
rear with fevers engendered by the deadly malaria of the swamps, from
which few ever recovered sufficiently to rejoin the ranks; and thousands
of others were laid in humble graves along the marshy borders of the
Warwick or about the hospitals at Young's Mills. For a month the men
were almost continually under arms; often called in the middle of the
night to resist the attempts of the enemy to force our line under cover
of the thick darkness, standing in line of battle day after day and
digging at earthworks night after night.

During the thirty days of the siege we had twenty days of rain. Thunder
storms followed each other in quick succession, with lightnings more
vivid than we had ever seen at the north. Men lay down to rest at night
with their equipments buckled about them and wet to their skins. Men
unaccustomed to the hardships of campaigning could not endure such
exposure.

A few divisions of the army performed by far the greater part of the
labor, either because they had at first reached positions which imposed
greater toil, or because greater confidence was reposed in them. Our own
division was one of those upon which the duties imposed were too great
for men to perform; yet the men would have resented being sent to the
rear, and it was said that General Smith remarked that "he had spoken
for a front seat for his boys and he intended to keep it."

Added to all the exposures and hardships of the siege, there was a
deplorable want of proper commissary and medical supplies. While the men
were supplied with fair rations of hard bread, vegetables were unknown
among us, and the supply of fresh meat wholly inadequate. In the Medical
Department the greatest difficulty was experienced in obtaining
supplies, and indeed it was impossible to get them. Not that regimental
surgeons did not use their utmost endeavor to procure them, but as
brigade and regimental commissaries could not obtain supplies of food
which were not furnished to the army at all, so surgeons could not
procure medicines and other necessaries which were locked in the
storehouses in Washington. This subject will be more fully alluded to in
another place, and it is to be hoped that the responsibility of this
criminal negligence to supply the army with medical and hospital stores
may fall where it belongs.

Thus, with their minds wrought up to a continual state of excitement,
with constant exposure to tempests and malaria, with excessive and
exhausting labors, and with improper food and scarcity of medicine,
sickness and death swept over us like a pestilence.

At length, after a month of toil and exposure almost unprecedented,
after losing nearly one-fifth of our magnificent army by disease and
death, our batteries were finished, the enormous siege guns were
mounted, and the thirteen inch mortars in position. The army looked
anxiously for the grand _finale_ of all these extensive preparations.
Men had lost the enthusiasm which prevailed when we landed upon the
Peninsula, and a smile was seldom seen; but a fixed and determined
purpose to succeed still appeared in their faces. Now at length we were
ready; and the countenances of the soldiers began to lighten up a
little. But as the sun rose on the morning of the 4th of May, behold,
the rebels had vanished, and with them our hopes of a brilliant victory!
Unfortunately for our hopes of a great success at Yorktown, the rebel
generals had shown themselves unwilling to afford us such an opportunity
by waiting for us longer; and during the night of the 3d and 4th they
had evacuated the place.

They had gained a month of time for strengthening the defenses about
Richmond, and for concentrating their forces there. Now they were ready
to fall back without testing our magnificent works and huge guns, and
lead us into the swamps of Chickahominy; where they hoped that the fever
would complete the ghastly work already commenced at Yorktown.

During the night of the evacuation, the roar of artillery exceeded
anything that had been heard before. From one end of the line to the
other the shells and shot poured into our camps, and the arches of fire
that marked the courses of the shells, with flame spouting from the
mouths of the guns, created a magnificent pyrotechnic display. But at
daylight, orderlies flew from regiment to regiment with the startling
intelligence that the beleaguered works were deserted, and with orders
to occupy them at once. Smith's division hastened to cross over the dam,
and we found ourselves in the strongholds that we had so long invested.
As the Seventy-seventh regiment passed along one of the roads leading
among the intrenchments, a sharp report like that of a pistol was heard
at the feet of those in the center of the column, and directly under the
colors. The men scattered, and a piece of old cloth was seen lying on
the ground at the point from which the report emanated. Colonel McKean,
who was very near, lifted the cloth with the point of his sword, and
discovered a torpedo carefully buried in the ground, except a nipple
which had been filled with fulminating powder, which was covered by the
old cloth. The fuse only had exploded. Had the machine itself exploded,
it must have destroyed many of our men, our colonel among them. Other
regiments were not so fortunate as we were. Very many men were killed in
the streets and intrenchments by these torpedoes, which the enemy had
planted in the street at either end of the bridges, about springs, and
near the deserted guns. They were concealed beneath the ground with
great care, the capped nipple only rising above the surface, and this,
covered by an old rag or piece of bark thrown over it, exploded at the
slightest touch. These infernal machines were only one feature of the
general plan of our enemies to carry on a war by brutal, savage and
cowardly means. The starving of prisoners at Andersonville and
Salisbury, and the wholesale butchery at Fort Pillow, were other parts
of the same savage plan which was crowned by the fearful tragedy at
Ford's Theatre.

We made little delay among the rebel intrenchments; only long enough to
glance over the formidable works, where the enemy had abandoned
seventy-two pieces of artillery, mostly of heavy caliber, with immense
numbers of shovels, picks, wheelbarrows and other paraphernalia of an
army.

The division was at nine o'clock sent forward on the road toward
Williamsburgh; encountering, before it had proceeded far, a portion of
the rear-guard of the confederate army, which hastily fell back before
our advance. General Smith informed the Commander-in-Chief of the
encounter, who ordered Stoneman, with a regiment of cavalry, to give
chase to the retiring body, and, if possible, cut it off; but,
unfortunately, either from want of proper information in regard to the
roads, or from other hindrances, this was not effected. The division
pushed on over the road lately traversed by the rebels, the men
overcoming all obstacles that had been thrown in their way, in their
anxiety to overtake the foe.

The scenery, as the troops passed, was indeed charming beyond
description. Magnificent forests of oak and pine, interspersed with
clearings, the residences of farmers, with fine fields, covered with the
green blades of the newly springing wheat, met the view along the road;
while the woods were adorned with innumerable flowers. The tall dogwood,
with its clusters of large flowers like swarms of white butterflies,
mingled with the Judas tree, whose leafless boughs were densely covered
with racemes of purple blossoms. The azalia and the honeysuckle beneath
formed a delightful contrast with the gorgeous floral display above.

Thus the division was hurried on, until at evening it came upon the
rebel works at Williamsburgh. As our forces approached Williamsburgh,
the cavalry came upon the enemy, and a sharp skirmish ensued, in which
we lost about fifty in killed and wounded, and the rebels left as many
on the field. The charge was made by the Sixth cavalry and Gibbon's
battery, driving the rebels back. They, in their turn, being reinforced,
forced our troops back; one of our guns, from which all the horses were
shot, being abandoned. Each party strove hard for the possession of the
gun, but night closed upon the contest, leaving it in possession of
neither. In the meantime, the men of our division too sick to march were
being cared for by our medical officers. Hundreds of the men of our
division lay sick with typhoid fever and other equally dangerous
maladies. These were all taken to the hospital which had been commenced
a day or two previous, about a mile and a half from our camp. The whole
day was occupied in removing these men. Of those sent to this hospital,
as of the many previously sent to the hospital at Young's Mills and
Fortress Monroe, few ever returned.




CHAPTER VI.

WILLIAMSBURGH.

    Battle of Williamsburgh--The army not organized--The medical
    department--Hooker's gallant fight--Hancock's charge--McClellan
    at Yorktown--Night on the battle-field.


Early on the morning of the 5th skirmishing commenced. The division of
Hooker was posted on the left of the road from Lee's Mills to
Williamsburgh, and our own division held the road, stretching mostly to
the right of it. Fort Magruder was directly in front of us, commanding
the road. All that part of the army which had advanced on the right,
that is, on the road from Yorktown, were massed as fast as they arrived,
awaiting orders. Great delay was experienced in getting the troops in
position, as there seemed to be no harmony of action. Every general of a
division seemed to do what pleased him, without orders from higher
authority.

General Sumner was in command of the troops on the field, but from some
cause seemed not to be able to combine his forces in such a manner as to
bear effectually upon the lines of the enemy. One of the serious
difficulties was getting artillery to the front. The roads had become
very muddy from the rain during the night, and were blocked up with the
immense multitude of wagons, so that artillery could not pass. Here was
sadly exemplified the grand defect of our army--the want of
organization.

Our army was an enormous heterogeneous mass, without any pretense of a
system to centralize and harmonize its movements. An army is not
organized by throwing it into brigades and divisions; this is but the
first and easiest step. The _departments_ must be so organized that each
performs well its part, without interference with another. In this case
the quartermaster's department sadly interfered with the others. Every
regimental quartermaster was for himself, and, as a natural result, the
immense trains were thrown into great disorder, impeding the movements
of all the other branches of the service. No one seemed at liberty to
bring order out of this confusion; and thus artillery and wagons
remained stuck in the mud. This same confusion prevailed in all the
departments. We shall take the liberty here to quote at some length from
the remarks of the Prince De Joinville, who was at that time a member of
General McClellan's staff, an able soldier and an ardent friend of the
Commander-in-Chief. Says the Prince:

    "The American system of 'every man for himself,' individually
    applied by officers and soldiers of each corps to one another,
    is also applied by the corps themselves to their reciprocal
    relations. There is no special branch of the service whose duty
    it is to regulate, centralize and direct the movements of the
    army. In such a case as this of which we are speaking, we should
    have seen the general staff of a French army taking care that
    nothing should impede the advance of the troops; stopping a file
    of wagons here and ordering it out of the road to clear the way;
    sending on a detail of men there to repair the roadway, or draw
    a cannon out of the mud in order to communicate to every corps
    commander the orders of the general-in-chief. Here nothing of
    the sort is done.

    "The want of a general staff was not less severely felt in
    obtaining and transmitting the information necessary, at the
    moment of an impending action. No one knew the country; the maps
    were so defective that they were useless. Little was known about
    the fortified battle-field on which the army was about to be
    engaged. Yet this battle-field had been seen and reconnoitered
    by the troops which had taken part in Stoneman's skirmish.
    Enough was surely known of it for us to combine a plan of
    attack, and assign to every commander his own part of the work.
    No, this was not so. Every one kept his observations to himself;
    not from any ill-will, but because it was nobody's special duty
    to do this general work. It was a defect in the organization,
    and with the best elements in the world, an army that is not
    organized cannot expect great success. It is fortunate if it
    escapes disaster."

We may be pardoned for continuing this digression from the narrative, to
speak particularly of the disorder in the medical department. The
surgeons of regiments were, as a general rule, men of ability, and who
were earnestly devoted to the duties of their position. Of course, in so
large an army, there were some who were not fitted for their position,
either by ability or moral worth; these were exceptions. Yet, while
there was a general disposition prevailing in the department to make any
sacrifice or submit to any amount of fatigue, in order to relieve the
sufferings of those committed to their charge, they labored under the
greatest disadvantage from want of proper combination and coöperation in
the staff. Every man was for himself. Each regimental surgeon was
expected to look out for the wants of his own men; to erect his hospital
tents; to see that the wounded of his regiment were carried off the
field; to administer food, dress wounds, and attend to the operative
surgery. With all these divers cares, he could hardly be expected to
perform any duties well. When any combination of action was effected,
the organization was voluntary and temporary, and, of course, wanting in
order and efficiency. Added to these difficulties, the medical officer
found himself destitute of supplies, and seemingly without any prospect
of obtaining them.

It is true that the officers of the medical staff were generally
inexperienced in the duties of military surgery, so different from the
labors of the physician in civil life; yet, the great trouble was
without doubt at head-quarters. The department was directed by an
officer who had done good service in the Mexican war, but who by long
connection with the regular army, seemed to have become so wedded to the
formal precision of military routine, that no contingency was sufficient
to move him from his established habits. Here was occasion for
dispensing with formalities. Responsibilities should have been assumed,
and, if necessary, supplies should have been thrown into the army
broadcast, without thought of requisition or receipts. Under the
direction of the efficient and gentlemanly surgeon of volunteers, Dr.
Letterman, order was at length brought out of the confusion which
existed until the battle of Antietam; from which time the medical staff
became the most efficient ever known in any army.

To return to our narrative. By noon the battle raged furiously; Hooker's
division contesting the field nobly against superior numbers, while our
own division held the position on his right, but without coming to any
direct engagement aside from being subjected to the fire of artillery.
Hooker brought his men gallantly up to the work and at first forced the
enemy back, but in turn was driven from the ground he had taken, and
only by the most valorous fighting, prevented a rout.

The gallant general and his noble men held the ground alone until the
division was fearfully cut up. At length General Kearney, at the head of
his division, approached on the Lee's Mills road. General Sumner rode up
to him and said quietly, "General, do you know that Hooker is badly cut
up?" "No." "He is, and is falling back. Hurry on your division as fast
as possible." "How shall I reach him?" said Kearney. "Through yonder
strip of woods." Kearney now led his men forward at a rapid pace and
very soon came to the relief of the exhausted division. The troops of
Hooker were holding their ground against the enemy twenty thousand
strong. They had fought for hours with only nine thousand men.

General Hancock of our First brigade, at his own and General Smith's
request, was, at three o'clock, allowed to take his own and a part of
our Third brigade to the right of the line, where the position of the
enemy was very strong by nature, and which was on that account secured
with less care than the rest of the line.

A steep wooded bluff rose to a great height in our front, and a mill
pond lying at the foot of the bluff and newly dammed by the rebels,
served as a moat. Spanning the pond near the dam, was a bridge of logs
which they had neglected to destroy. Across this bridge and up a road
winding along the side of the bluff, the general led his troops, finding
the enemy upon the plateau above, occupying strong redoubts. Artillery
was brought to bear upon them and the rebels fled; our forces advancing
and occupying the works. The enemy was now reinforced by a brigade of
North Carolina troops and charged upon the federals. The Union troops
allowed them to approach very near, when they opened a tremendous fire
of musketry and artillery upon them. Still the rebels came on until they
were within thirty yards of our men. "Now, gentlemen, the bayonet!"
cried Hancock, as he rode along the line of battle close to the troops.
The men charged upon the rebels, who fell back before the shock, broke
and fled, leaving the broad, green wheat field strewed with their dead
and wounded.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF HANCOCK'S BRIGADE AT WILLIAMSBURGH]

While the fighting was going on, General Hancock had sent for the
remainder of our Third brigade. The order "forward, double quick" was
received by the men with one of those wild exulting shouts, such as is
only heard on the field of battle; and they rushed forward through the
liquid mud, each regiment striving which should first reach the field.
But as we reached the scene of conflict, the rebels had fled; leaving
the victory with the men in blue.

The regiments engaged in this brilliant affair were, the Forty-third New
York, the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, the Sixth Maine and Fifth Wisconsin,
of the First brigade, and the Thirty-third New York and Seventh Maine of
the Third brigade.

The rebels, outflanked by the gallant movement of Smith's division, were
glad to fall back from before Hooker and Kearney, and seek refuge behind
their works. Meanwhile the great body of the army had remained entirely
passive; not even having been brought into line of battle. Why some of
these troops were not called to the assistance of Hooker, or to render
the victory of Hancock more complete, we do not know.

Thus closed the battle of Williamsburgh; a battle fought by two
divisions and a part of a third, while the mass of the army remained as
idle spectators of the terrible scene. If less than twenty thousand men
could drive the rebels from their strong works, what could not that
grand army have done had it been brought into action!

General McClellan arrived on the field at five o'clock in the afternoon,
and was received with shouts of applause; but the fighting was then
over. The general had remained at Yorktown since the morning of the 4th,
to superintend personally the shipment of Franklin's division of twelve
thousand men; one-half of whom, in order that they might be in readiness
at any moment to proceed up the river and head off the enemy, had never
been allowed to disembark from the transports which brought them to
Yorktown. General McClellan's conduct in spending nearly two days in
overseeing personally the embarkation of half or even the whole of a
division of men, while one of the most important battles of the war was
in progress, leaving it to others to take care of the "little affair at
the front," has, by some, been severely censured; while others have as
earnestly claimed that the Commander-in-Chief had his own views of the
necessity of getting those troops off at once, and the necessity of
seeing that supplies of rations, ammunition and war material, were
forwarded, was imperative; and that we are to remember that the advance
was intrusted to General Sumner; a man in whose ability both he and the
army confided. The general telegraphed that night to the Secretary of
War: "After arranging for movements up the York river, I was sent for
here. I find General Joe Johnston in front of me in strong force,
probably greater a good deal than my own.... My entire force is
_undoubtedly considerably inferior to that of the rebels_, who will
fight well; but I will do all I can with the force at my disposal."

It was not known that night that we had won such a victory; but when, in
the morning, we found the rebels all gone, he telegraphed: "Every hour
proves our victory more complete."

In the light of this testimony of the Commander-in-Chief, what a noble
record had those three divisions that day made for themselves! They had,
according to these dispatches, fought with a force "greater a good deal"
than our entire army, and had won a complete victory!

Night closed upon the battle-field. Our division bivouacked around one
of the rebel redoubts. It was filled with rebel wounded, whose groans
and cries made the night hideous. The ground was a bed of liquid mud,
and the rain still poured. No fires were allowed, and the men stood
shivering all night rather than lie down in the mud.

The sun rose clear and bright next morning, and the whole army filed
into the works deserted by the enemy during the night, and occupied the
town of Williamsburgh, a mile or more from the battle-field. All the
public buildings in town were filled with the rebel wounded; and the
inhabitants were actively engaged in ministering to their wants. Here
the army remained three days, waiting for provisions to come up from
Yorktown, a distance of fifteen miles. It is a question, why troops, who
were afterward accustomed to carry four or even six days' rations, were
sent away from Yorktown with one.




CHAPTER VII.

THE MARCH UP THE PENINSULA AND THE ORGANIZATION OF THE SIXTH CORPS.

    March up the Peninsula--Joy of the contrabands--Cumberland
    Landing--The Sixth Corps organized--At White House--On the
    Chickahominy--Fight at Mechanicsville--Battle of Hanover Court
    House.


On the ninth of May, after a delay of three days, the Army of the
Potomac resumed the pursuit of Johnston's army. The day was fair and
bright, and the journey of fifteen miles, to troops as yet little inured
to the fatigues of long marches, bore severely upon them. We rested till
three o'clock next morning; when orders came to fall into line, and at
five we were again toiling over the road. After a hard day's march we
halted near New Kent Court House; where General Stoneman, with his
cavalry, had a day or two before overtaken the rear-guard of the enemy,
who gave him battle. Evidences of the engagement were to be seen all
about us, and many wounded cavalrymen were found in the neighboring farm
houses. We remained here over the Sabbath and the next day; glad of
rest, though anxious to be on the trail of the enemy.

General Franklin's division had already landed, and beaten the rebels at
West Point; and the flotilla laden with supplies had also ascended the
river thus far.

It was at New Kent Court House that the news of the destruction of the
Merrimac, and the possession of Norfolk by General Wool's forces, first
reached us, and our hearts swelled with joy at our successes. On the
13th we resumed the march; winding along the banks of the tortuous
Pamunkey, enchanted by the lovely scenery which constantly met our gaze.
The profusion of flowers in the forests, the bright green meadows, and
the broad fields of newly springing wheat, offered a perpetual charm;
and as we passed along, the women and negroes watched us with
conflicting sentiments of interest. All the white men capable of bearing
arms, and every able-bodied negro, had been swept along by the rebel
army in its retreat, and none but women and children and aged negroes
were now left along the route. At every house the alarmed white people
threw out the white flag in token of submission, as though their
protection from injury depended upon this symbol of peace.

Great numbers of negroes flocked to the roadside, to welcome the Union
army. Their expressions of joy at seeing us were wild and amusing. All
hoped we would shortly overtake and destroy the rebel army, their own
masters included. Those who had hitherto regarded the relation of master
and slave as one of mutual affection, had only to witness these unique
demonstrations of rejoicing at our approach, and the seemingly certain
destruction of the slave owners, to be convinced that the happiness and
contentment claimed for those in servitude was but a worthless fiction.
The negroes, gathering in crowds along the wayside, would grasp the
hands of the Union soldiers, calling down all manner of blessings upon
them, and leaping and dancing in their frantic delight.

One gray-haired old patriarch, surrounded by a numerous group of younger
chattels, who were leaping and shouting, exclaimed, in a loud voice,
"Bress de Lord! I'se been praying for yous all to come all dis time; and
now I'se glad yous got so fur; and I pray de Lord dat yous may keep on,
and conquer def and hell and de grabe!" All the others, joining in the
chorus, cried, "Bress de Lord!" The master of the old man sat quietly
watching the scene, offering no hindrance to these expressions of
sympathy; but it is doubtful whether this conduct on the part of his
servants was forgotten after the departure of our army. Whatever
information the slaves could give concerning the movements, numbers, or
probable intentions of the enemy, was communicated gladly, and although
this information was not always reliable for accuracy, it was always
given in sincerity, and was very often of great service.

Our march on the 13th, was an easy one of six miles. As we reached the
brow of a hill overlooking the plain of Cumberland Landing, a scene of
imposing beauty was spread out before us. Between us and the broad
river, were thousands of troops, parks of artillery, squadrons of
cavalry, divisions of infantry; some already in camp, others moving
about in order, but seeming, from the distance, to be intermingled in
most perfect confusion.

A broad plain stretched far away to the left, beautifully variegated
with green pastures, rich groves and fields of grain. Beyond was the
Pamunkey; here spreading out into a broad expanse of water, on which was
riding the Union flotilla of gunboats and the transport fleet.

Upon this broad plain the whole army assembled. At no other time in the
history of the Army of the Potomac, were all its forces gathered within
a compass that the eye could take in at a single glance.

Early on the morning of the 14th, the cry, "Fall in!" resounded through
the camps, and we proceeded up the river about four miles, and again
encamped on its banks. A field of fresh clover served for our bivouac.
In this pleasant spot we remained for several days; and while here, an
event occurred of no less interest than the organization of the Sixth
corps.

Just before the Army of the Potomac embarked for the Peninsula, it was
divided, by order of President Lincoln, into five corps of three
divisions each. These corps were placed under command, respectively, of
Generals McDowell, Sumner, Heintzelman, Keyes and Banks. On leaving for
the Peninsula, the First and Fifth corps had been left behind. Now two
new corps were to be organized; the Fifth provisional, consisting of the
divisions of Porter and Sykes, and the reserve artillery, under command
of General Porter; and the Sixth provisional corps, consisting of
Franklin's division of the First and Smith's of the Fourth corps.
General W. B. Franklin was assigned to the command of the corps.

Franklin's division, now the First division, Sixth corps, under command
of H. W. Slocum, had been ordered away from the First corps, to join the
army of the Potomac, while we were at Yorktown; and its recent
exhibition of gallantry at West Point, had already established for it a
reputation for valor. The regiments composing this division were, the
First, Second, Third and Fourth New Jersey; regiments trained to the
service by the knightly soldier and ardent patriot, Philip S. Kearney,
now under command of Colonel Taylor, and afterwards so long and so ably
led by General Torbert; the Sixteenth and Twenty-seventh New York, Fifth
Maine and Ninety-Sixth Pennsylvania; General Slocum's own brigade, now
commanded by Colonel Bartlett; and Newton's brigade: the Eighteenth,
Thirty-first and Thirty-second New York, and Ninety-fifth Pennsylvania.

The history of the Second division, General Smith's, we have already
traced. The bravery and extraordinary endurance of each of its brigades
had been exhibited too often to be questioned.

With such splendid materials for a corps, a brilliant history of great
achievements was to be anticipated, and nobly has it wrought out for
itself such a history.

No other body of troops has ever made for itself so proud a record. No
corps, either in our own army or any other, ever met the enemy so
frequently in general battle, and never were more glorious deeds
accomplished by troops than were done by these. Never in the course of
all their campaigns were either of these two divisions put to rout, and
in almost all its encounters the corps held the field as victors.

We were now encamped on the old Custis place; at present owned by
General Fitzhugh Lee, of the rebel cavalry service. On every side of us
were immense fields of wheat, which, but for the presence of armies,
promised an abundant harvest. Day after day passed, in quiet repose, and
the Sabbath found us still waiting on the banks of the Pamunkey. It was
marvelous that such silence could exist where a hundred thousand men
were crowded together, yet almost absolute stillness reigned throughout
the vast camp during the whole of this pleasant Sabbath. Save that here
and there the notes of Old Hundred or some sacred air was heard from the
band of some regiment whose chaplain had gathered his men for religious
services, no sound disturbed the universal quiet.

Not far from us was the White House, at the head of navigation, on the
Pamunkey. The house was a fine building, once the property of
Washington, now in possession of the Lee family. Here the Richmond and
York River railroad crossed the Pamunkey, and this was made the base of
operations for the army. Here the transports poured out a vast amount of
supplies, and under the protection of the flotilla of gunboats, the
quartermasters and commissaries commenced their active operations.

Except that a few rails had been torn up, the railroad was in excellent
order, and engines and cars were at once placed on the track ready to
follow the army on its advance to Richmond.

The Sixth corps proceeded toward the Chickahominy, which it reached at a
point several miles above the railroad crossing at Bottom's Bridge,
occupying the extreme right of the Union line of battle as formed along
that river. The position of the Union army was now as follows: Keyes'
corps had crossed the Chickahominy at Bottom's Bridge, and Heintzelman
had followed, taking a position between Keyes and the bridge. Sumner was
on the railroad, and Franklin on the right near New Bridge; Stoneman's
cavalry was on the right of the Sixth corps, and Porter's divisions were
in the rear, within supporting distance.

On the 23d, General Stoneman with his cavalry pushed forward toward
Mechanicsville, supported by Davidson's brigade. The brigade halted for
the night near Beaver Dam creek, a marshy stream pouring into the
Chickahominy. On the following morning the brigade again pushed forward,
the men making their way with great difficulty through a swamp, then
plunging through the stream, then forcing their way through brambles and
briars, and again wading through the water; until the men seemed to have
become amphibious. They at length found the enemy near the little
village of Mechanicsville.

The brigade, with Wheeler's battery, formed in line of battle on some
commanding grounds, and quietly rested for the night. On the morning of
the 24th, the Seventy-seventh and part of the Thirty-third were ordered
to advance toward the village and reconnoiter the position. Hardly had
the advance commenced before the rebels opened upon the two commands a
fierce cannonade, which forced our men to lie down, that the shells
might pass over them. Wheeler's battery responded nobly to the rebel
artillery, and presently General Davidson ordered Colonel McKean to
charge the village with his regiment. The men rose to their feet and
started forward with a yell. Down the hill they rushed impetuously,
cheering and yelling; but the two rebel regiments, the Seventh and
Eighth Georgia, startled by the shouts, seized their muskets and ran;
firing but one parting salute. Their battery also limbered up and beat a
hasty retreat; and as our men reached the village they were seen lashing
their horses into a run, and in a moment they disappeared altogether
down the road.

In their haste the rebels forgot to carry off their knapsacks, canteens
and haversacks; and our boys gathered them up to be kept till called
for. They had also left a great many guns and cartridge boxes; and a
flag, which the Seventy-seventh bore away in triumph.

On the 26th of May, the enemy was discovered in considerable force at
Hanover Court House, to the right and rear of our army. A part of
Porter's corps was sent to meet this rebel force, and if possible drive
it from its position. After a fatiguing march through mud and rain,
General Emory, with his own brigade, and other troops of the corps, came
up with the enemy near Hanover Court House, and at once commenced
advancing slowly against the line of the enemy, when, being reinforced
by part of Martindale's brigade, a charge was ordered and the rebels
were routed. They fled precipitately, leaving one of their guns in the
hands of our troops.

Being reinforced, the rebels turned upon our troops, but were gallantly
held by Martindale's brigade until General Porter brought a large force
to the field. The rebels were again attacked and completely routed. They
left about two hundred of their dead on the field to be buried by our
men. Seven hundred prisoners were captured, beside two railroad trains,
a twelve pound gun and many small arms. Our own loss amounted to about
fifty killed and more than three hundred wounded and missing.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE 77TH NEW YORK AT MECHANICSVILLE.]




CHAPTER VIII.

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.




CHAPTER IX.

THE SEVEN DAYS' BATTLES.

    The army united--Plans and counter plans--Battle of Fair
    Oaks--Lee's plan--The situation--Stonewall Jackson on the
    flank--Battle of Mechanicsville--Joy in camp--Porter's corps
    retreats--An astonished army--Battle of Gaines' Farm--Slocum's
    division at Games' Farm--Retreat to the river--Battle of
    Golden's Farm--A young hero--A Union victory--Our right
    exposed--The sick abandoned--A night of sorrow--The grand
    retreat commenced--Sad scenes at Savage's Station--A meteor
    railroad train.


At length, after great labor, the bridge across the river, near our own
camps, was finished. It was an immense structure, spanning not only the
river, but the swampy banks on either side to a great distance. Sumner's
forces had also rebuilt and enlarged the bridge below, and now the two
wings of the army, after weeks of separation, were united by means of
these bridges. Communications were now rapid and easy, and there was no
difficulty in reinforcing one wing with troops from the other.

General McClellan now determined to act; and an advance of our picket
line was ordered on the 25th of June, preparatory to a general forward
movement.

But General McClellan was not alone in deciding upon this particular
time for commencing offensive operations.

General Lee, who had succeeded to the command of the rebel army when
Johnston was wounded, aware of McClellan's intentions of approaching the
city by regular approaches, and aware that it was in no condition long
to withstand a siege, determined to act on the offensive.

The two armies were now about equal in numbers, each consisting of a
little more than one hundred thousand men for duty. (Our army had
115,000 men for duty.) Our own army had recently been reinforced by
McCall's division, and five or six thousand troops from Fortress Monroe;
and the rebel army had been strengthened by the accession of Jackson's
force, of nearly twenty thousand, from the valley.

McClellan's first move was to advance the left wing, under Heintzelman,
who occupied the ground on which had been fought the battle of Fair
Oaks. General Hooker was ordered to advance his division about a mile
across a clearing in his front. This the gallant general essayed to do.

In front of his camp, before reaching the clearing, was a thick
entanglement of low pines and bushes, filled with swamps and ponds. This
chaparral was about five hundred yards wide. Beyond was the clearing, in
which were the rifle pits and strong redoubts of the enemy, and still
farther on a forest. Hooker's brigades, commanded by Sickles, Grover and
Robinson, protected on the left flank by Kearney's division, and on the
right by a Massachusetts regiment, moved into the tangled forest, about
eight o'clock on the morning of the 25th. Grover's pickets soon fell in
with those of the enemy, and sharp skirmishing commenced; but the rebel
picket line was steadily driven back into the clearing, where it was
strengthened by their reserve. The fighting now became general. The
woods rang with the sharp sounds of musketry and the deep tones of the
artillery, and clouds of smoke obscured the scene from view. Ambulances
were emerging from the woods bearing the wounded; and bloody forms on
stretchers, and the less seriously wounded leaning on the shoulders of
comrades, made up a melancholy procession.

The fire in the edge of the woods and in the open fields increased in
intensity, until all of Hooker's and part of Kearney's forces were
brought into action. The rebels finally retreated across the field to
the cover of their rifle pits. The retreat was slow and orderly, every
foot of the way being disputed.

Our men were exultingly pushing forward, determined to drive them from
their pits also, when an order from General McClellan directed General
Hooker to retire with his division to the original position. Here was
evidently a sad misconception of the state of affairs, for, when the
Commander-in-Chief, an hour later, arrived on the field and consulted
with General Hooker, the men were ordered forward once more to occupy
the ground they had once taken and surrendered.

This time there was less resistance. The rebels steadily gave way,
giving up their rifle pits and yielding the whole of the open field.
Under cover of the forest beyond the field they made another stand, and
late in the afternoon a brigade charged upon our lines; but they were
bravely met by men of Grover's brigade, and driven back, leaving three
hundred of their dead on the field.

By the action of this day, our line was advanced on the left nearly a
mile. The victory, such as it was, cost us six hundred and forty men in
killed and wounded. The men remained under arms all night, in readiness
to meet the frequent sorties of the enemy, who intended nothing more
serious than preventing reinforcements from being sent to the right of
our line.

Little did General Lee heed these operations on our left. It was all the
better for his plan that the attention of our army should be engaged in
this direction. He was ready now to execute his plan of raising the
siege of Richmond; and a tremendous force had been massed against our
right, ready to advance upon it and our rear, with the hope of cutting
the Union army off from its supplies, and placing it in the greatest
jeopardy.

Let us, for a moment, recall the position of our army, which, since the
first battle of Fair Oaks, has been somewhat changed. Porter's corps,
consisting of McCall's, Morrell's and Sykes' divisions, still held the
right, on the north bank of the Chickahominy, at Gaines' Farm and
Mechanicsville. The several bridges which had been constructed since the
1st of June, formed avenues of communication between the two portions of
the army separated by the river. Next, near the river, and opposite
Porter's corps, was our own Sixth corps, Slocum's and Smith's divisions,
Smith's nearest the stream. Then, on our left was Sumner's corps,
Sedgwick's and Richardson's divisions; and finally, on the left of all,
was Heintzelman, with his divisions under Hooker and Kearney, and
Couch's division, of Keyes' corps. Casey's shattered division was in the
rear, guarding Bottom's Bridge and the road to the White House.

The line stretched from Mechanicsville across the river to Golden's
Farm, and thence to Fair Oaks.

The whole of this extensive line was protected by earthworks of
marvelous magnitude, and whole forests of timber slashed in front of
some parts of the line formed almost impenetrable abattis.

On the other hand, Lee's army had been as actively engaged in ditching
and throwing up redoubts, and Richmond was surrounded by a cordon of
most powerful works. Stonewall Jackson had been recalled from the
Shenandoah Valley; and now, with an army of thirty thousand men, a very
large proportion of them being men of his original army, he hung upon
our right and rear, ready to come down upon our communications and flank
like an avalanche.

Scarcely had General McClellan finished his dispatch to the Secretary of
War, in which he announced the glad tidings that he had got his pickets
in the right place, preparatory to a general advance, before he was
aroused from his illusion by the intelligence that the pickets on the
right were being driven in. He had already, during the day, learned
something of Jackson's position, and it was now easy to divine the
intention of that energetic chief.

During the night, Hill and Longstreet crossed the upper Chickahominy;
and, by rapid marches, confronted the pickets of McCall's division at
Mechanicsville before daylight on the morning of the 26th. Jackson,
delayed by our skirmishers, was still behind. Without waiting for
Jackson, Hill ordered an attack by daylight. Our pickets were forced
back upon the main line, and the battle of Mechanicsville commenced.
McCall's division, consisting of Reynolds', Meade's and Seymour's
brigades, was strongly posted behind Beaver Dam creek; a stream about
twelve feet wide, wooded on either side, with water waist deep, and a
steep bank on the side held by the Union forces. Along this bank, timber
had been felled, rifle pits dug, and other careful preparations made for
meeting an attack. The only accessible places for artillery were the two
roads which crossed the stream, one at Ellison's Mills, and the other a
mile above. Against these two points the rebels directed their principal
efforts. Hill's division made the first assault. Clearing their rifle
pits, his men rushed forward with a yell, gaining the creek, within a
hundred yards of our line. Here the creek and the almost impenetrable
abattis checked their progress, and a murderous fire of shot, shells,
cannister and musketry was opened upon them, which threw them into
confusion, and repulsed them with fearful loss. Again and again the
charge was renewed; each time with equal want of success. More and more
grand and terrible the battle became, as the combatants struggled with
each other at close range. Thus far there had been no such terrific
artillery firing during the war. The uproar was incessant, and sublime
beyond description. Finding the position too strong to be carried by
direct assault, the confederates fell back to their rifle pits; leaving
their many dead and wounded on the ground. The men of McCall's division,
securely posted behind their breastworks, had suffered comparatively
little; our loss not exceeding three hundred in killed and wounded, out
of the six thousand belonging to the brigades engaged.

On the other hand, the rebels had lost heavily. From their own official
reports, it is known that of the twelve thousand engaged, the loss in
killed and wounded was fifteen hundred; Ripley's single brigade losing
five hundred and seventy-four men.

Both Davis and Lee were present on the field, directing in person the
movements, and exposed to the fire where the battle was fiercest.
General McClellan was at the head-quarters of General Porter, where he
remained until the close of the battle, when he rode over the field.

From the camp of the Sixth corps, the battle-field was not more than
four or five miles distant in a direct line, though by way of the bridge
it was much farther.

We could watch the columns of smoke as they rolled up from the scene of
carnage, and see the flashes of bursting shells, like sheets of
lightning in dark thunder-clouds, and hear the tremendous roar of arms.
In the afternoon, as the rebels charged upon a certain part of our
lines, we could watch the movements of both armies. Our only part in the
engagement was to stand to arms, ready to rush to the assistance of
those on the other side of the river, at a moment's notice. In the
evening, the news of our success spread through the army, creating the
wildest joy. Men who had, by constant hardships, and by continually
looking on death, almost forgotten the feelings of joy, now broke out in
loud shouts of gladness; and for the first time in many weeks the bands
played those heart-stirring national airs, which in times past had been
wont to fill the hearts of the soldiers with enthusiasm.

The night passed in constant watchfulness, the men resting upon their
arms; for a renewal of the attack might be expected at any moment.
Still, the men of the whole of the left wing of the army were exulting
in the glad hope that in the morning we were to march into Richmond,
almost without opposition; and that their high hopes of success were to
be speedily realized. The prize which they had so often been promised,
seemed almost within their grasp. Men shook hands with each other, sung
patriotic songs, and shouted in greatest glee.

Bands continued to ring out their notes of gladness until long after
nightfall; general officers rode about announcing a grand victory; all
was the most intense excitement; and the men lay down upon their arms to
dream of reveling in the streets of Richmond before another night. For
weeks, even the drum calls and the bugle notes had not been heard in our
camps. Now, as if suddenly waked from a long slumber, the strains of the
bugle and the roll of the drum were added to the general rejoicing.

It was known that the rebel troops engaged were not those of Jackson. He
then must be working around to our rear. He was known to have a very
large force; not less than thirty thousand. It was evident that our
communications were in great danger, and that unless the main force of
our army, now on the right bank of the Chickahominy, were hastily
concentrated on the left bank, we could not expect to hold the line to
the Pamunkey another day. If this were done, the rebels could easily
prevent our retreat to the James river, and leave us on the banks of the
Pamunkey. Accordingly, General McClellan gave up all hope of being able
to maintain the position of that portion of the army on the north side
of the Chickahominy, and at once issued orders with a view of preparing
for a change of base. The quartermaster at White House was directed to
"send cars to the last moment, and load them with provisions and
ammunition." "Load every wagon you have," said the dispatch, "with
subsistence, and send them to Savage's Station. If you are obliged to
abandon White House, burn everything you cannot get off."

The quartermaster was directed, also, to throw all his supplies, not
burned or sent to the army, up the James river, and there establish
depots of supplies. General Casey, who was now in command of the guard
at White House, was instructed to see these orders carried out. He
burned immense quantities of stores, consisting of clothing,
subsistence, and other war material, and then hastily marched his force
to rejoin the army.

The evening of the 26th was passed in gladness over our victory; but
while the army was rejoicing at this temporary success, it was losing
one of the grandest opportunities ever presented it for entering the
rebel capital. The whole plan of Lee had been based upon a false
calculation; and had this mistake been improved by our commanders, the
history of the war would have been entirely changed. Both Lee and Davis
believed that the main body of our army was on the north side of the
Chickahominy; whereas, of the five corps constituting our army, only
one, that of Porter, remained on that side. Under this erroneous
impression, Lee had brought nearly the whole of his army across the
river to assail the Union army on its right. This was known to our
generals, for while positive information had been received that Jackson,
with his large army, was making for our rear, the prisoners taken during
the day were from Hill's command, and from them it was known that the
troops of A. P. Hill, Longstreet and D. H. Hill, were confronting us on
the right. Thus, between our main force, of over seventy-six thousand
men, and Richmond, less than twenty-five thousand rebels guarded their
extensive line of works. A concentrated assault of the four corps on the
south side of the river must have resulted in the utter rout of the
force opposed to them, and the road to Richmond would have been opened.

But the error of General Lee was never suspected, and this grand
opportunity was lost.

During the night of the 26th, the heavy artillery and baggage of
Porter's corps was all sent across the river. McCall's whole division,
except a line of pickets left as a blind, also fell back five miles
below, to the vicinity of the bridge at Gaines' Farm, where the three
divisions of the corps united.

The astonishment of the men on the south side of the river on
discovering, in the morning, that Porter's corps had fallen back, was
only equaled by their mortification and disappointment, as they saw the
long lines of rebels advancing in the gray of the morning against our
retreating column.

They had believed, when night came on, that our arms had achieved the
first of a series of victories which was to give us the rebel capital.
Now they saw that our army was already in retreat, and they gazed at the
long train of artillery and wagons, which had parked near us, with
downcast faces. From our camp, Porter's division could be distinctly
seen, and we could watch the movements of the rebels as they arrived
upon the highlands, formed their line on the range of hills opposite
Porter, and planted their guns near the large barn on Dr. Gaines' farm.

The position of Porter's corps was a strong one; and he was ordered to
hold it till night, and then to cross the bridge and burn it after him;
the upper bridge having been burned during the night. The country
between the two lines was rolling, somewhat wooded, but in parts
cleared. Both parties went to work to cut down trees in their front.

The rebel forces, who supposed on the 26th that they were fighting our
main army, were surprised, on the morning of the 27th, to find that only
a picket line opposed them. They were early astir; and advancing against
the slender line, drove it back. The whole rebel force advanced
cautiously; A. P. Hill and Longstreet bearing to the right, while D. H.
Hill turned to the left, to unite with Jackson, who was supposed to be
coming in from the rear. Owing to the uneven country over which they
were advancing, their march was slow; for they might fall upon a Union
line of battle behind any rounding swell of land.

It was afternoon before the rebel army had fully formed its line on
Gaines' Farm. The position of that army was nearly that of the same army
when Grant attacked it at Coal Harbor two years later, only it was faced
about. The battle opened about one o'clock, by skirmishing on both
sides; but it was not till an hour later that Hill's division dashed
across the open space, rushing through the swamp, and under a severe
fire from our batteries and musketry, pushed up the slope on which was
posted our line. The confederate troops advanced almost up to Sykes'
line of battle on the right, and in other parts of the line actually
forced back the Union troops; but they were able to hold their position
only a short time, when they were forced back with great loss.

Longstreet now advanced against the left of our line, but he too met
with a stern reception, and he withdrew to rearrange his plan of attack.

By this time Jackson was approaching, and now the overwhelming forces of
the enemy promised to crush the single corps; but Slocum's division of
our Sixth corps was ordered to the relief of the Fifth corps, and
arrived at four o'clock. The division was sent into the fight at once,
each brigade being ordered separately to strengthen the weak points of
the line. Thus, while the division fought bravely, and suffered equally
in proportion with the Fifth corps, its incorporation with that corps
for the time deprived it of the honors to which it was justly entitled.

Bartlett, with his brigade, went to the aid of Sykes, who was doubtfully
struggling to hold his line; but who now, by the aid of the gallant
brigade, was able to hurl the assailants back from his front.

The rebel line being completed, Longstreet, A. P. Hill, and Jackson all
up with their troops, a general advance was made.

The charge was made with great spirit, the rebels rushing over the open
ground and floundering through the swamp under a most writhing fire, but
the position of our forces was still too strong for them. At all points
they were repulsed with terrible slaughter. First on the right, where
Sykes' regulars, supported by Bartlett's brigade, withstood the onset of
Hill, the disordered and disheartened confederates began to scatter in
all directions.

One of the confederate generals reported that had not his men fallen
back themselves he would have ordered it. "Men were leaving the field,"
says another general, "in every direction; two regiments ... were
actually marching back under fire. Men were skulking from the woods in a
shameful manner. The woods on our left and rear were full of troops in
safe cover, from which they never stirred." Such was the effect of the
reception given by the regulars. On our left they met with no better
success. These, too, fell back in disorder. Now a desperate attempt was
made against our center. The tactics with which we afterwards became so
familiar on the part of the rebels were brought to bear. This was in
massing troops against certain parts of our line and making desperate
onslaughts with a view of breaking the line. The forces of Jackson, Hill
and Longstreet threw themselves fiercely against our works, but without
being able to drive our men back. Here it was that the First and Third
brigades of Slocum's division saved the wavering line, and all the fury
of the rebels was spent in vain. General Porter directed Newton's
brigade to its position in the center; Newton leading the Thirty-first
New York and Ninety-fifth Pennsylvania into the woods on one side, and
the gallant Colonel Matheson with the Eighteenth and Thirty-second
entering on the other, both in the face of a destructive fire. The
rebels charged upon the brigade and gallantly the charge was met.
Newton, seeing the rebel line waver before the fire of his men, shouted
"Forward!" and the impetuous regiments cleared the woods and drove the
rebels more than seven hundred yards. But the confederates, reinforced,
pressed hard upon them with overwhelming numbers, and Newton demanded
aid. Regiments from the New Jersey brigade rushed to the assistance of
their brothers of the Third brigade, cheering as they advanced, and the
position was held until the left wing of Porter's corps gave way. For
two hours the conflict on this part of the line raged with terrible
violence; the columns surging backward and forward, neither party being
able to gain any permanent advantage. Never had we heard such volleys of
musketry as now rolled along the borders of the swampy Chickahominy.
Artillery was less used; a strip of pine woods intervening between the
position occupied by some of our batteries and the rebel line preventing
an accurate range. The attempt to break our center was abandoned, and
now immense forces were brought against the left. The roar of battle
became more loud than before. The thousand continuous volleys of
musketry mingled in one grand tumultuous concert of death; while the
booming of artillery, which was now brought more into action, shook the
earth for miles around. Under the pressure of overwhelming numbers, one
brigade gave way; and another on the extreme left, finding itself
outflanked, fought its way back to the upper bridge, which had been
partially destroyed during the night, and, crossing to the south side of
the river, gathered its shattered regiments behind the breastworks of
our Second division.

For two hours and a half the battle had raged fiercely on this part of
the line, and as these brigades on the right gave way, the confusion
spread all along. The rebels, seeing the disorder, and encouraged by
their success on the left, came on with redoubled fury; and the whole
line gave way, and fell back to some high grounds near the bridge. Here
two brigades from the Third corps appeared as reinforcements, and the
retreat was checked. The Fifth corps, with Slocum's division and the two
brigades from the Third corps, were able to hold their position on the
north side of the river till after dark.

But we had been beaten, and our losses were very great. Twenty-two
pieces of artillery fell into the hands of the enemy. We lost two
thousand prisoners, among whom was General Reynolds, commanding one of
McCall's brigades; and our killed and wounded numbered about four
thousand. The rebels had suffered greater losses in men, nine thousand
five hundred having been killed or wounded. The action, on the part of
the rebels, had been directed by General Lee in person, who was on the
field during the whole action, controlling the movements of his troops,
and attending to the details of the fight. On our part, the battle had
been fought entirely under the direction of General Porter. General
McClellan, believing he could best watch the movements at all parts of
his line from a central position, had remained during the day at the
Trent House, five miles from the scene of action, without deeming it
necessary even to ride down to the river by the Woodbury bridge.
(McClellan's Report.)

Meantime, while the battle raged with fury on the north side of the
Chickahominy, there was active work in our own front. Our Second
division, at Golden's Farm, was joined on the left by Sedgwick's
division, of the Third corps. The two divisions held the key to
Richmond; for, had the brave men composing them, under the leadership of
such men as Smith and Sedgwick, been ordered to break through the rebel
line, there was no power in their front to restrain them. The rebels,
aware of this, and designing to prevent reinforcements from going to
Porter, made frequent feints all along our line. Now with pickets, and
anon, gathering a considerable force, they would advance upon some part
of our works. From the nature of the ground, they could appear in large
force at one point, then withdrawing, pass under cover of the woods and
reappear at another point; thus keeping up the idea of a large force.

These skirmishes and the artillery duels had been kept up all day, to
the annoyance of all.

Just at sunset, Davidson's brigade was ordered to cross the river, by
the Woodbury bridge, to reinforce the Fifth corps. Preparations for
moving were not complete, when the enemy opened a fierce fire of
artillery and musketry. The idea of reinforcing the Fifth corps was at
once abandoned, and we hastily took refuge from the howling missiles
behind our breastworks. The artillery firing increased, until the scene
became in the highest degree exciting.

Our guns were answering the rebels with great spirit, hurling shells
fast and furiously, and clouds of smoke rolled up from both the opposing
lines. At length the rebel infantry was brought forward to charge our
line. Hancock's brigade of our Second division, and Burns' of Sedgwick's
division, were farthest in advance. Hancock had taken up a critical
position in front of the line of works, where his brigade was supporting
a strong battery. Against these two advance brigades the enemy pounced
with the hope of routing them by this sudden onset. Against Hancock they
made the most desperate attempt, but with no success further than
driving in the picket line. In return, the rebels were hurried back to
the cover of the woods from whence they came, leaving many dead and
wounded on the field. While the First brigade was thus bravely
withstanding the assault of the rebels, the Third brigade and the Second
occupied a second line, acting as support, but neither were actively
engaged; yet several of the regiments in the second line lost men by the
shells.

During the night our Third brigade relieved Hancock's regiments and
remained in possession of the advanced position until afternoon next
day. We had moved from our old position while the fight was in progress,
and had left everything except arms and ammunition.

We could hear the sound of ambulances in the front where the rebels were
gathering up their wounded, till after midnight; and toward morning they
made a sally upon a part of the line, but were quickly repulsed.

June 28th, the men of Davidson's brigade who had been ordered the day
before to leave haversacks, canteens, blankets and tents, found in the
morning that their camp was occupied by another division, tired and
hungry, who had lost their blankets in the fights of the two days
before, and who had now appropriated the haversacks and blankets of our
boys to their own use. Some confusion occurred upon making this
discovery, but our boys soon helped themselves to substitutes and bore
their loss on the whole very patiently.

Our picket line was relieved at 9 A.M., but before the whole line was
changed the rebel batteries opened upon the moving companies a
concentrated fire from twenty pieces of artillery, putting a stop to the
process. Shot and shell came tearing through our camps in every
direction, crashing through trees, throwing up great clouds of dust,
riddling tents and alarming the cooks and contraband servants who
remained in camp.

This artillery practice continued for an hour without eliciting much
reply from our side, as our guns had been nearly all withdrawn from the
front to join the train preparatory to the retreat.

The rebels ceased their fire and we inferred that they had withdrawn to
some other point; but at two o'clock the mistake was discovered. A
brigade of rebels was seen to leap over their breastworks and rush
toward our line with yells and shouts like so many madmen. Our picket
line was forced back before this impetuous charge, the pickets
retreating to the main line.

The Thirty-third New York held the principal part of the picket line,
but two companies from the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania of Hancock's
brigade, and a detachment from the Seventy-seventh New York also guarded
a part of the line in front of the Second division.

A part of the detachment from the Seventy-seventh held a small advance
redoubt or lunette which had been thrown up by Hancock's men. Over this
work the rebels rushed, unmindful of the bullets sent by the
skirmishers, and the guard was compelled to retreat in haste.

But all did not leave that picket line.

One youth, as brave a boy as ever shouldered a musket, John Ham, of the
Seventy-seventh regiment, had sworn never to retreat before the enemy.
Faithful to his word, when the handful of pickets were compelled to
retreat (and this was the first time that any part of his regiment had
ever fallen back before the enemy), he stood his ground, loading and
firing as rapidly as possible, alone defending the redoubt!

The rebels pressed upon him, and he fell riddled with bullets. When,
later in the day, we had driven the confederates back to their works, we
recovered his body, pierced by bullets and bayonets.

As the rebels neared our main line of battle, they were met by a
withering fire from our men, and, after maintaining the contest for a
few moments, they broke and fled in confusion, leaving the ground
thickly strewed with dead and wounded. Not satisfied with this repulse,
they reformed and came on again; this time with less audacity than at
first. Again a murderous fire compelled them to fall back, leaving more
of their number on the field. Among their wounded was Colonel Lamar, who
was in command of the charging regiments.

He was brought into our lines by Sergeant Bemis and another soldier of
the Seventy-seventh. He had been formerly a mischievous member of
congress from Georgia.

The final repulse of the rebels was made more complete and more fatal to
them by the timely aid of a section of Mott's battery, which had come up
and opened an enfilading fire upon them from the left. Joyous cheers
went up from our men as they saw the rebels fleeing in all directions,
and it was only by the peremptory orders of their commanders that they
were restrained from following the flying enemy.

A company of about fifteen rebels threw out a white flag and voluntarily
surrendered themselves. Fifty dead rebels and one hundred wounded
remained in our front, whom their comrades were allowed to remove, under
flag of truce.

The Thirty-third New York had, during this engagement, sustained the
principal shock of the enemy's charge; and with that gallantry for which
they bore during their two years of service an enviable reputation, they
met the charge and repulsed the enemy.

By the retreat of the Fifth corps to the south side of the Chickahominy,
which was accomplished during the night of the 27th and 28th, the rebel
army was allowed to approach the river at Gaines' Farm. By this movement
the camps of Davidson's brigade, which were upon the extreme right of
our line, near the river, and the two forts we had erected, were
rendered untenable; for the rebel guns shelled the whole position with
ease. Our men went in squads and brought away the most valuable
property, including regimental papers and the knapsacks and blankets. A
few days before this, our whole corps, as well as the other corps of the
army, had been supplied with an abundance of new tents. Staff and
company officers had their wall tents, and the private soldiers their
shelters. All these were destroyed by cutting them with knives; as it
was known that any attempt to remove them would be discovered by the
rebels, who would at once open all their batteries upon us.

Now, the feelings of the men underwent a terrible revolution. It was,
for the first time, told them that the army must _retreat_ in all haste
to the James river! Our brave fellows had looked with sad faces at
Porter's retreating column; but that was felicity compared with what
they now experienced. Even when the right wing was forced across the
river, they still had faith that their bravery was to be rewarded with
victory.

Now, they felt that all was lost. General Davidson rode through the
camps, and announced to the commanding officers of his regiments the
mysterious information, with directions to get off a few valuable
articles and abandon all else.

Already, by Porter's retreat, the brave fellows in Liberty Hall
Hospital, mangled and sick, groaning with wounds, and delirious with
fevers, were abandoned, _deserted_, to fall into the hands of an enemy
known to be merciless.

And now the siege of Richmond was to be abandoned, and the men who but
two days before had exulted in the glad hope of a speedy entrance into
the city, which even now lay just within our grasp, were to turn their
backs as _fugitives_ before their enemies! It was a time of humiliation
and sorrow. Every man was weighed down with a terrible anxiety. Officers
hurried to and fro, silently and hastily forwarding the preparations for
the retreat. The great caravan of army trains was on its way under the
direction of scores of officers, and with it were escorts of cavalry and
infantry.

At three o'clock Sunday morning the 29th, the Sixth corps quietly
evacuated its works and proceeded in the direction of Savage's Station.
The men slung their knapsacks and quietly moved off. A scene of
desolation met their view as they passed along. Tents cut to pieces,
commissary stores thrown upon the ground or burning in heaps, blankets
and clothing piled promiscuously about, not considered worth carrying
away; all indicating a retreat under most disastrous circumstances.

We had been preceded by Keyes' corps, which had started at noon the day
before, crossed White Oak creek and occupied the opposite side, acting
as advance guard for our long trains which were now making all haste
toward the James river.

The endless streams of army wagons, artillery trains and ambulances were
all pouring down the roads from the various camps, and crowding into the
narrow paths that led to the opposite side of the Peninsula. Porter's
infantry mingled with the trains, and thousands of cattle driven along
through the woods by the roadside made a strange scene. Franklin's,
Sumner's and Heintzelman's corps were to guard the rear, and it was with
secrecy that we had left the rifle pits; for the enemy was close upon us
ready to take advantage of every movement. A picket guard was left to
deceive the rebels, while regiment after regiment silently disappeared,
leaving only the pickets to hold the long line of earthworks. These
brave men waited hour after hour for the signal to retire. The gray
lights of the morning broke upon them, yet there was no sign for them to
join their commands. At length, when they had given up all hope of being
relieved, they were signaled to leave the breastworks, and under cover
of the morning mists, they quickly joined their comrades.

The Second division moved in the direction of Savage's Station, while
the First kept on to the crossing of White Oak Swamp, acting as
rear-guard to Porter's corps. We of the Second division kept along the
high lands which skirt the Chickahominy, when, after marching about two
miles, the division was brought to bay by the pursuing enemy. Facing
about we waited in line of battle for our trains to get out of the way;
when we again resumed the retreat. While here, General McClellan, with
his immense staff, rode by us on his way toward Harrison's Landing. He
passed White Oak Swamp the same day, and waited the arrival of the army;
which, hindered by battles and innumerable difficulties, did not come up
with its commander again till the 1st of July.

We arrived at Savage's Station at 4 P.M. Here trains and troops were
crowded together in wonderful confusion. Immense heaps of commissary
stores, arms and ammunition were waiting destruction lest they should
fall into the hands of the enemy, and hundreds of sick and wounded men
were taking sad leave of their friends; for it had been determined that
these brave unfortunate men must be left to the tender mercies of the
rebels. Again the division was formed in line of battle to protect our
pioneers and the regiments which were engaged in the destruction of the
stores. The long railroad bridge across the river at this point had been
burned. The work of destruction went on at a marvelous rate. Boxes of
hard bread, hundreds of barrels of flour, rice, sugar, coffee, salt and
pork were thrown upon the burning piles and consigned to the flames. One
heap of boxes of hard bread as large as a good sized dwelling made a
part of the sacrifice. Boxes of clothing and shoes were opened and every
man as he passed helped himself to whatever he thought worth carrying
away. Notwithstanding thousands helped themselves, and huge boxes of
clothing were cast into the flames, we found on our return to the
Peninsula two years afterwards, that the inhabitants for a long distance
around were clothed and shod with articles left by us at Savage's
Station on the grand retreat. The people had also made large gains by
gathering up the coats, pants, shirts and shoes left on the ground and
selling them in Richmond and elsewhere.

It was easy thus to dispose of commissary and quartermaster's stores,
but to destroy the immense magazines of cartridges, kegs of powder, and
shells, required more care. These were loaded into cars; a long train
was filled with these materials, and then, after setting fire to each
car, the train was set in motion down the steep grade. With wildest fury
the blazing train rushed; each revolution of the wheels adding new
impetus to the flying monster, and new volumes to the flames. The
distance to the bridge was two miles. On and on the burning train
thundered like a frightful meteor. Now, the flames being communicated to
the contents of the cars, terrific explosions of shells and kegs of
powder lent new excitement to the scene. The air was full of shrieking,
howling shells, the fragments of which tore through the trees and
branches of the forest; and huge fragments of cars were seen whirling
high in the air.

At length the train reached the river; and such was its momentum, that,
notwithstanding the bridge was burned, the engine and the first car
leaped over the first pier in the stream, and the cars hung suspended.
While this destruction was going on, Smith's division moved back beyond
Savage's Station, toward White Oak Swamp, marching, with frequent halts,
three or four miles, when we were ordered to retrace our steps with all
speed, to reinforce Sumner's corps, which was engaging the enemy. The
heat of the day was most oppressive. Many of our men fell with
sunstroke. Among those who thus suffered was General Davidson.




CHAPTER X.

THE GRAND RETREAT.

    Lee's army in pursuit--Sumner and Smith at Bay--Battle of
    Savage's Station--The Vermont Brigade--Sick and wounded
    abandoned--Retreat to White Oak Swamp--Battle of White Oak
    Swamp--An astonished division--A night march--A mystery--In
    sight of the James--Battle of Malvern Hill--Departure of the
    princes--Gloom and anxiety--Lee's attack--The rebels
    demoralized.


Meanwhile the rebel army, finding no force in front of them, were at
first at a loss to determine what course we had taken; but when it was
discovered that we had withdrawn from before both wings of their army
and that our base of supplies at White House had been abandoned, it was
quickly divined that the Union army was retreating to the James river.
Stuart, with his cavalry, had dashed down to White House and found only
heaps of smoldering ruins; and from the absence of all motion in front
of the right of their line, it was clear that no attempt was to be made
on Richmond. Finding himself thus unexpectedly victorious, Lee at once
ordered his forces, now on the north bank of the Chickahominy, to cross
over and pursue the retreating army.

During the night of the 28th, they had been actively engaged in
rebuilding the bridge destroyed by General Porter, and early on the
morning of the 29th, the main body of Lee's army was pouring across the
river. Hill and Longstreet moved rapidly so as to interpose between our
army and Richmond, and to be able to strike us on the flank; two other
divisions followed on the Charles City road, and Jackson, with his
corps, moved down the bank of the Chickahominy, threatening our rear.

To resist any attack from these approaching columns, Sumner's and
Heintzelman's corps, and our Second division of the Sixth corps, were
formed in line of battle before Savage's Station.

For hours our division, with Sumner's corps, stood in the open field
watching the enemy. Heintzelman withdrew his corps and left Sumner and
Smith to stem the tide that was destined to pour upon us. It seems to
have been the impression of General Heintzelman, who had listened with
credulity to the stories of the immense superiority of the enemy in
numbers, that all hope of resisting the power of Lee's army was gone,
and that there remained nothing for us but to make the best of our way
to the James river without stopping to give the enemy battle.

In the view that there was no safety but in retreat, he was guided by
the opinion of the Commander-in-Chief, who had no thought of any further
resistance than should suffice to bring the men and as much of the
material of the army as could be brought by the teams across the
Peninsula. Not so the old war horse Sumner. He would gladly have
attempted, a few hours later, to have "pushed the rebels into the
Chickahominy," had not his application for help been answered from
beyond White Oak Swamp, "The rear-guard will follow the retreat of the
main body of the army." If there was no hope for the army but rapid
retreat, then it was right for Heintzelman to leave the road clear; for
as it was, with only Sumner's corps and our own division, the road was
packed so full that the men could scarcely march. But if there was an
opportunity of inflicting great injury upon the rebels, as Sumner
believed there was, then we are not surprised at the amazement of the
veteran when he discovered, the battle having commenced, that one corps
had left the line altogether. We were now as near our new base of
supplies as the rebels were to theirs, and here we had enough to last
the army many days. We were, as they had been, on the defensive; and we
had the advantage in position. But there was nothing left for those now
on the line but to make the best resistance possible under the
circumstances, and then fall back to the banks of the James.

About five o'clock the huge cloud of dust in the direction of the camps
we had deserted, gave warning of the approach of that part of the rebel
army which was marching by the Charles City road; and at sunset the
thunders of their artillery burst upon us. For an hour, only the heavy
roar of artillery was heard from both sides. Shells screamed from one
side to the other, and the bright flashes and sharp reports, as they
burst in the air, mingled with the noise and smoke of the battle, as
battery responded to battery. Thus far no discharge of musketry was
heard; but suddenly Magruder's men, with yells and shouts, rushed to the
charge. Streams of fire flashed along the two lines, and the rattle of
innumerable muskets told of closer work than artillery duels. The brave
fellows of Sumner, and of our Vermont brigade, met the assailants with
defiant shouts that rang out above the roar of muskets and cannon.

Leaving Sumner's heroes to contend the ground on their part of the line,
let us glance more in detail at the part borne by our own division in
this battle of Savage's Station.

The Vermont brigade having the advance of the division, General Brooks
at once threw his regiments to the front. The Fifth and Sixth as
skirmishers, supported by the Third and Second in line of battle, the
Fourth being thrown upon the flank, the brigade advanced rapidly through
a wide strip of woods. Suddenly, as the line of skirmishers emerged from
the woods they received the fire of a battery and of a strong line of
battle. The Fifth at once charged upon the force in front, which
scattered in all directions. The rebels were beaten back both from our
own and from Sumner's front; but only to reform and press forward again
from the cover of the woods to which they had retreated, to give battle
with new vigor. Again the flash and roar of musketry mingled with the
wild yells of the rebels and the manly shouts of the Unionists, and
again nothing could be seen but the clouds of smoke, out of which sprung
the vivid blaze of the cannon, and the quick flash of the rifles. Every
now and then, fresh troops arriving upon the field would send up the
shout above all the other noise of battle, and then nothing but the
continuous din of arms could be heard. Three rebel regiments now
advanced against the Fifth Vermont; but the brave fellows secured a good
position and held it, in spite of every effort of the rebels to dislodge
them. The other regiments were not so hotly engaged as the Fifth. Two
hundred of the men of that regiment were killed, wounded or missing.
Fifty of their dead bodies were left on the field. Davidson's and
Hancock's brigades guarded important positions, but were not actively
engaged.

The conflict raged till eight o'clock, when the confederates, repulsed
at every point, beaten and discouraged, left the field, and no more was
seen of them. The whole loss to the confederates in this engagement was
about four hundred.

Before midnight, the rear-guard had turned toward White Oak Swamp,
leaving many hundreds of our brave wounded and sick men lying upon the
green sward, or collected under rude shelters. Here, large groups were
gathered under the shade of some large tree; and there, long lines of
staggering invalids, leaning upon their guns or staffs for support,
tottered after the retreating column, in the hope of being able to reach
with it a place of safety.

Surgeons were left to care for these unfortunate ones who could not get
off; and a small amount out of the abundance of provisions that was
condemned to destruction was saved for them. Of all the sad scenes which
had made the Peninsula swarm with melancholy memories, nothing we had
seen could compare with this most sorrowful of all. Twenty-five hundred
of our sick and wounded were left to fall into the hands of the enemy.

At nine or ten in the evening, we withdrew from our position before
Savage's Station, and marched rapidly toward White Oak Swamp. The road
was completely filled with wagons, ambulances and artillery, mingled
with horsemen and infantry, all crowding forward with utmost speed.
Never had our men experienced so severe a march. They were obliged to
pick their way among the teams, losing all organization, each man bent
upon making his way forward regardless of others.

At length, toward morning, we crossed White Oak creek, ascended a little
elevation on the further side, and lay down upon the grass completely
exhausted and worn out.

The sun was shining brightly when we were roused from our heavy
slumbers. The morning passed in perfect quiet except the rattle of the
trains which had parked here over night, and now were hurrying along the
narrow road, wagons and artillery rushing by with all speed to allow
room for the immense collection to file out. This process continued till
afternoon, and was the only source of excitement to us except the
distant roar of battle on the left, where McCall and Hooker were hotly
engaged. Thus matters continued until about two o'clock; the men seeking
shelter among the pines or resting quietly after their weary night's
march. A picket line composed of men from the various regiments of our
Third brigade, Second division, guarding our extreme right flank. All
were listless and little dreaming of the tremendous storm of iron hail
which was gathering to break upon us in a moment.

Suddenly, like a thunderbolt, seventy-five pieces of artillery belched
forth their sheets of flame and howling shells; and in an instant, our
whole division was thrown into the most perfect confusion by the deadly
missiles which flew among us in every direction. Such cannonading had
never before been heard by our army, and before our batteries could
reply with any effect, the horses were killed, the gunners dispersed and
the pieces disabled. It was a most perfect surprise; no one was
prepared; men ran hither and thither seeking shelter behind any object
which seemed even sufficient to conceal them from the view of the enemy.

It appeared that Jackson had effected a crossing of the river, and with
great secrecy made his way to the border of White Oak creek, where,
concealed by trees and underbrush, he had massed his batteries, and when
all was in perfect readiness had opened upon us this storm of death.
Unutterable confusion prevailed for a time; riderless horses galloped
madly to the rear; men rushed here and there; officers wandered about
without commands, and men were left without directions how to act.
Generals Smith and Davidson occupied an old fashioned wooden house which
stood upon the brow of the elevation above and facing the bridge. About
it were many orderlies, holding their horses, or lounging carelessly, or
chatting with each other. The very first volley riddled the house with
shells; orderlies rushed from the place in consternation and the inmates
quickly appeared without, gazing in amazement toward the source of this
unexpected cause of the tumult. The gray-haired owner of the house was
cut in two as he stood in the door, and several other persons were more
or less injured. General Smith, at the moment the cannonade opened, was
engaged at his rude toilette; his departure from the house was so hasty
that he left his watch, which he did not recover. He coolly walked off
to a less exposed position and devoted himself to restoring order. One
regiment, as soon as the shells began to fly, rushed pell-mell to the
rear, none of the men standing upon the order of their going.

During all this time a few of the regiments held their ground without
moving. By active exertions, on the part of officers, order was restored
and the whole division fell back a short distance, taking up a position
at the edge of a strip of woods, which commanded an open field. General
Smith, with his accustomed fearlessness, was to be seen riding along his
lines exhorting his men to coolness, and by his own composure restoring
confidence to them. The design of Jackson, to cross the stream, was
frustrated. The firing soon ceased, and, as darkness came on, quiet
again reigned, except now and then a little skirmishing.

At nine o'clock in the evening, under cover of the darkness, we silently
and hastily withdrew. All orders were given in whispers; men refrained
from conversation; and everything indicated the most intense anxiety on
the part of our generals for the safety of the army. Thus, in silence,
we hastened on our way; the weary and exhausted troops scarcely able to
keep awake while they marched. No better illustration can be given of
the intense state of anxiety, excitement and doubt which prevailed, than
the following little incident, which occurred during this night march.
Our Third brigade, leading the Second division, had halted where the
narrow road passed through a piece of woods, waiting a moment for the
road to clear, or for the guides to report the direction for the march.
Generals Franklin and Davidson, with officers of Davidson's brigade,
were grouped together near the head of the column, sitting upon their
horses. The weary men, almost overcome by sleep, were leaning upon their
muskets or lying in the road half asleep. Officers nodded and swung this
way and that in their saddles. The stillness of death prevailed. In an
instant, without any perceptible cause, as though a breath from some
evil genius had swept the narrow track, every man was gone from the
road. They stood in the woods looking with breathless wonder into the
road for the unseen danger. After the first moment of surprise, the word
passed along, in low tones, "Attention!" Not a living being could be
seen in the road, and all was silence. Recovering from the first
surprise, General Davidson looked for General Franklin, who, but a
moment before, was dozing by his side. "General Franklin! General
Franklin!" called the general in a loud whisper, but nothing could be
found of him, and we saw no more of him that night. What was the cause
of this sudden alarm we never knew. Possibly, a riderless horse might
have suddenly startled those in front, or, quite as likely, there was no
cause whatever; but the incident illustrates the state of feeling in the
army that night.

At length, just as the gray light of the morning was streaking the
skies, we came in sight of the majestic James river. Every man took a
long breath, as though relieved of a heavy load of anxiety. Officers
clasped their hands and exclaimed, "Thank God." The worn out men stepped
lighter, for they had arrived at the haven of their hopes. Again they
experienced a feeling of safety. We filed into a beautiful clover field,
and there the exhausted columns sunk down for a brief rest. Brief it was
to be, for scarcely had two hours passed when we were ordered into line
of battle. We moved back through the woods, crossing a little stream,
and formed in a wheat field, where the grain stood in shocks. Here we
remained, watching the enemy, who stood in our front, contenting
themselves with occasional sallies of their skirmishers, while the great
battle of Malvern Hill was in progress on our left, where the booming of
our field pieces and the dull roar of the heavy guns from the gunboats
was heard for many hours. At length, as night came on, the sound of
battle died away, and all was again quiet. Now we heard cheers on the
left, and, looking in that direction, we saw, approaching at great
speed, the commander of the Union army. Cheers greeted him as he rode
along the line, and hats were thrown high in the air in honor of the
chief.

As the leading corps of the army had fallen back from White Oak Swamp,
they had occupied a superb position on the James river, called Malvern
Hill. The wagons and other impedimentia of the army had also arrived
there, and were secured behind the southern slope of the hill. The place
was admirably adapted for a defensive battle. It was a lofty plateau,
rising not less than one hundred and fifty feet above the plain, sloping
gently toward the north and east, down to the border of the forest. The
approach to this sloping field was rendered difficult by ravines, which
ran along the front; and the enemy, if he approached, must do so by way
of the roads which crossed them.

Upon the crest was posted the battery of siege guns which had escaped
the hands of the enemy; and nearly three hundred field pieces were
arranged along the heights, so that the fire might pass over the heads
of the infantry, who were arranged upon the glacis, up which the enemy
must charge, hidden, for the most part, by the tall wheat and corn. Here
the main body of the army was posted. First, nearest the James, was
Porter's corps; then Heintzelman's, Keyes', Sumner's and our Sixth
corps, occupying the right flank, two or three miles from the position
where the rebels must advance with their main force. The fleet of
gunboats floated upon the river, on our left flank, ready to send their
screaming monster shells into the ranks of the advancing enemy.

Against this position, naturally almost impregnable, Lee hurled his
hosts, with the design of giving the final blow to the Union army, which
should insure its destruction and capture. The rebel army confidently
believed that the army of the north must now be compelled to surrender
or be driven into the James.

If the rebels were confident and exultant, our own men were filled with
the deepest despondency.

Exhausted by a month of constant labor and watchfulness, with fighting
and marching and digging, now, as they believed, fleeing from the face
of an enemy immensely superior to them in numbers, it is not to be
wondered at that they were apprehensive of the worst results.

Paymasters sought refuge with their treasures in the gunboats on the
river. The Prince De Joinville and his nephews, the Count De Paris and
Count De Chartes, who had acted as aides de camp to General McClellan,
who had been with us from the beginning, active, brave men, who were
frequently where the danger was greatest, and who had entered our
service with the determination of seeing it to the end, now departed;
they, too, finding a respite from their toils upon one of the gunboats.
The young men were accompanied on board by the staff and by the
Commander-in-Chief himself. From the deck of the vessel he communicated
his orders by the signal flags, to those left in command on shore. Here,
with his young friends, and in consultation with the commander of the
fleet, he remained until about five o'clock, when he rode down the lines
to the rear of our corps, where he spent the time till darkness put an
end to the fight.

Such was the sad state of feeling in our army. Yet, exhausted and
depressed as they were, our men were as brave and determined as ever.
They had yet a country; and they knew that the fate of that country
depended upon the result of this encounter, and they resolved to acquit
themselves with heroism and even desperation.

Lee had marshaled his whole force in front of our strong position. He
wrote to each of his division commanders ordering an assault, and
directing, when they heard the yell of Armistead's troops, to charge
also with yells.

The yell was heard, and some of the divisions, but not all, pressed
forward to a wild charge.

The rebels came on heroically, but were sent reeling back down the slope
in confusion and disorder. Again and again they renewed the charge from
under cover of the woods which skirted the base of the slope. They would
start across the open space, charging our batteries with wild yells, but
the heavy fire of our guns and the steady volleys of our infantry sent
them back as often to the shelter of the woods. At times our infantry
would reserve their fire till the rebel columns had run the gauntlet of
shot and shell from our batteries, almost reaching our lines, when with
exultant cheers they would bound forward to seize the prize now almost
within their grasp, when our men would open upon them a single volley,
and, leaping over the breastworks, pursue the panic-stricken assailants,
capturing prisoners and colors, and driving the rebels in confusion down
the slope. Thus the battle raged with terrible fury; every attempt on
the part of the enemy failing, until darkness set in, and the rebel
chiefs were glad to let the battle subside; though it was not till nine
o'clock the artillery firing ceased.

The weight of the attacks had been upon our center. Here Couch, Sumner
and Heintzelman withstood the shock of battle for hours, only a part of
Porter's corps being engaged, and neither our Sixth corps nor Casey's
division of Keyes' corps being actively in the fight.

The rebel General Trimble thus describes the condition of their army on
the morning after the battle:

"The next morning by dawn I went off to ask for orders, when I found the
whole army in the utmost disorder. Thousands of straggling men were
asking every passer-by for their regiments; ambulances, wagons and
artillery obstructing every road; and altogether in a drenching rain
presenting a scene of the most woful and heart-rending confusion."

Had but a show of an attack upon such an army been made, it must have
resulted in defeat and utter rout to the rebels.




CHAPTER XI.

HARRISON'S LANDING.

    March to Harrison's Bar--A scene of confusion--A beautiful
    landscape--Fourth of July in camp--Gloom at the north--Cause of
    the disasters--Prevalence of disease--Review by the President--A
    night demonstration by the enemy--Reconnoissance to Malvern
    Hill--Departure of General Davidson--A retrospect.


Our corps remained in line of battle in the wheat field till early next
morning; changing position during the night just often enough to deprive
us of rest. As we started out toward Harrison's Landing the rain was
pouring in sheets; and throughout the day it continued to deluge the
country. The roads were rivers of almost fathomless mud; and our tired
men could scarcely drag themselves along. But at four in the afternoon
we halted under cover of our gunboats, and bivouacked for the night.
Such a deplorable scene as was here, was enough to melt the heart of the
stoutest. As we debouched from a piece of woods skirting the plateau at
Harrison's Landing, officers stood like hotel porters at a steamboat
landing, calling out "This way for the Third corps;" "This way for the
Fifth corps;" "This way for Slocum's division." All was confusion. The
whole army seemed to be made of stragglers. Our little Brigadier
Davidson rose in his saddle to an unusual height, as he looked back and
saw with undisguised pride, his brigade marching in, almost unbroken.

The landscape before us was indescribably beautiful. There lay the James
river, and spreading out between us and the river were the broad fields
of wheat; the fine country houses; the long avenues and roads lined with
rows of cedar trees; which last were almost in a moment stripped of
their branches to make beds for the soldiers.

There, crowded together, were the immense caravans of wagons,
ambulances, guns and pontoons, hugging the river, and the multitude of
men swarming over the plain. Long processions of sick and wounded men,
leaning on canes and crutches, their heavy steps and sunken faces now
for a moment lighted up at the thought that their melancholy pilgrimage
was nearly ended, filed by us; and battalions of cooks and special duty
men were wandering about in search of their commands.

The river was full of transports and gunboats, giving it the appearance
of the harbor of some commercial metropolis. Many of the hungry men,
without waiting for their rations to be brought by the commissary,
plunged into the stream, swam to the boats and there procured the
coveted food. But the greater number of our men, their powers completely
exhausted, without waiting for food, or to provide comfortable quarters,
lay down in the bed of mud and were soon in heavy slumbers.

Again, after a poor night's rest, the corps was marched to a new
position on the front line, where we remained to celebrate the
anniversary of the nation's birthday. A gloomy "Fourth of July" was this
to us, though every effort was made to keep up the spirits of the men.
Early in the morning the enemy opened a fire upon parts of our line, to
which our guns responded. A national salute had been ordered, and
precisely at the hour appointed, while the fighting was in progress, the
heavy guns were heard booming the salute. Our boys listened for a
moment, and then, as if all inspired with new life, they made the welkin
ring with their cheers. The bands, roused from their long inactivity,
pealed forth stirring national airs, and the Commander-in-Chief issued
an address to his array, in which he praised its gallantry and firmness,
declared that he himself had established the new line, and that if the
enemy would come upon us now we would convert his repulse into a final
defeat.

At home, a heavy gloom hung over the nation. The news of our retreat and
of the terrible battles, had been carried by the magic wires to the
remotest parts of the north; but few yet knew the fate of their friends
who were in the great army. It was enough that the siege of Richmond,
which had cost so much time and money, and, above all, so many thousands
of brave men, was abandoned, and the grand army, on which the hopes of
the nation hung, was now beleaguered, defending itself in an unhealthy
position, which offered little advantage for anything but defense.
Sympathizers with the rebellion secretly rejoiced and openly prophesied
the speedy destruction of our army by the scorching sun and poisoned
air, even if left to itself by the rebels.

The cause of all these disastrous circumstances was by some attributed
to unwise interference, on the part of the authorities in Washington,
with the plans of the chief of our army. They claimed that the
President, Secretary of War and the Major General commanding all the
armies of the Union, had, in the words of General McClellan, "done what
they could to defeat this army." They complained loudly that
reinforcements had been withheld, and that McDowell, with a large force,
had been kept unemployed in the vicinity of Fredericksburgh, when his
corps would have thrown the balance of strength upon our side. Others
claimed that the whole campaign had been sadly mismanaged by a commander
who had, as they insisted, never seen his army fight; who had invariably
found employment elsewhere than on the field of battle when fighting was
to be done, and whose character as a soldier was made up of doubts and
hesitancies.

Six weeks of camp life, dreary, sickly and monotonous, succeeded our
arrival at Harrison's Bar.

Our corps proceeded to the work of throwing up strong intrenchments and
mounting guns. Our Third brigade, Second division, constructed an
extensive fort, in which several very heavy guns were mounted; each of
the regiments taking their turn at the labor. In our front the forests
were slashed for a great distance, and thousands of sturdy wood-cutters
plied their heavy blows, sweltering under the burning rays of the sun.

Sickness became almost universal. The men were worn out with the
tremendous labors which they had performed since their arrival on the
Peninsula; they were burned by almost unendurable heat; they were nearly
devoured by the countless myriads of flies and other annoying insects;
and they were forced to drink impure and unwholesome water. It was not
strange that hundreds died in camp, and that hundreds more, with the
seeds of death implanted in their constitutions, went to their homes in
the north to breathe out their lives in the midst of their friends, or
languished in the large government hospitals at Washington, and other
cities.

Leaves of absence were given freely, and thousands availed themselves of
the opportunity of visiting their homes and recruiting their health. The
men, with the patience which none but soldiers ever exhibit, went
quietly to work to render their situation as tolerable as possible.
Wells were dug in the camps, from which they procured better water than
they were able to get at first, and small pines were brought and set
among the tents, by which some degree of protection was afforded against
the burning sun. On the morning of the 8th of July, the monotony was
broken by the arrival of President Lincoln. The booming of artillery
announced his coming, and the heartfelt cheers of the soldiers assured
him of a welcome.

The President, after spending a few hours at the head-quarters of the
army, proceeded to review the various corps. He was accompanied by
General McClellan, and many officers of note. Everywhere he received an
enthusiastic welcome from the men, who regarded him as their warm
friend. He manifested great emotion as he rode along the lines and saw
that the regiments, which but a few weeks before had left Washington
with full ranks, were now mere skeletons of regiments. Evening drew its
mantle over the scene, and the review was closed by moonlight.

Little occurred to relieve the monotony of the six weeks of camp life at
Harrison's Bar, except the events of which we have spoken; a
demonstration by the enemy during the night of the 31st, and an advance
to Malvern Hill by General Hooker's division. On the former occasion,
the troops were startled from their slumbers about midnight, by the
sudden discharge of a battery of artillery from the south side of the
James. The rebels had succeeded in getting a force in position there,
and they now opened a vigorous fire upon our shipping and our camps.
Their shells flew among us in disagreeable proximity, and the long lines
of fire traced upon the midnight sky lent a certain charm to the
dangerous business. Our gunboats answered the fire; and after two hours
of exciting work drove the rebels from their position. Some infantry was
taken across the river, who hastened the retreat of the enemy, burned
the buildings near the shore, and cut down the trees, that they might
not in future afford concealment for the rebels.

General Hooker's reconnoissance resulted in his occupying Malvern Hill
for a day or two, having a brisk skirmish with the enemy and returning
to camp.

Our active and gallant Brigadier-General Davidson was, early in August,
relieved from the command of our Third brigade, and ordered to the
department of Missouri. Notwithstanding the severity of his discipline,
and his occasional forgetfulness that men could not accomplish as much
physical labor as horses--for the general had always been a cavalry
officer--his never-tiring energy, his undoubted bravery, and his
interest and pride in his brigade, had endeared him to the men. During
the severe trials on the Chickahominy, and on the retreat, the general
had taken an unusual interest in the brigade, and had made himself
personally acquainted with nearly all the members of his command.

The general took command of a cavalry division in Missouri; where his
name became a terror to all secessionists in that part of the country.
The command devolved upon Lieutenant-Colonel Corning of the Thirty-third
New York, then senior officer of the brigade, who was soon succeeded by
Colonel W. H. Irwin, of the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania Volunteers.

Reinforcements began to arrive from Washington, and our army, in August,
numbered one hundred and twenty thousand men. With these, and a few
thousand more, General McClellan declared his belief that he could repel
the enemy and advance into Richmond.

Let us for a moment turn to the fortunes of the regiment with which we
left Saratoga, and whose early history we have traced. In all the
stirring events which have transpired in the division and corps, the
Seventy-seventh has acted an important and honorable part. Always ready
to perform the duties demanded of it; always in its place when danger
was greatest; ever cheerfully obeying the commands of superiors, it has
assumed no honor above its fellows, but proudly claimed to be the peer
of such noble regiments as the Sixth Maine, the Fifth Wisconsin, the
Thirty-third New York, and other bright stars in the galaxy of the Sixth
corps; ornaments to it and the army. "It is a little regiment," said
General Davidson to a member of Governor Morgan's staff, who came to
look after the interests of the New York troops, "but it is always in
the right place." The general regarded the regiment with especial favor,
and was accustomed to call it "my little Seventy-seventh." Since the
arrival of the army on the Peninsula the experiences of the regiment
have been varied. With the other regiments of Smith's division, it has
spent a month at Yorktown, within musket shot of the enemy. At
Williamsburgh it, with other regiments of its brigade, supported
batteries in front of Fort Magruder, and when, in the afternoon, it
received the order to go with the Forty-ninth to the assistance of
Hancock, it started forward with cheers; the men going through the mud
at double quick. But when the two regiments arrived on the field, their
gallant brothers of Hancock's and of their own brigade, had nobly
accomplished the work in which they would gladly have assisted. We have
seen how gallantly the regiment routed the rebels at Mechanicsville;
capturing a flag and other trophies; and when on the Chickahominy
Smith's division held the line closest upon the enemy, it bravely
assumed its part of the labor and danger. A portion of the regiment on
picket on the 28th of June, exhibited sterling heroism, and we need
hardly refer to the noble sacrifice of the brave young soldier John Ham.

Disease and exhaustion had made terrible inroads upon the
Seventy-seventh. Instead of nearly a thousand men with which we came to
the Peninsula, inspection in the middle of June showed only about two
hundred and fifty men present for duty. Although this regiment had from
the very beginning occupied an exposed position in the very front line;
although it composed a part of Smith's division, which has already
become famous both in the Union and rebel armies for being always in
closest proximity to the enemy, yet it had thus far lost very few men in
battle. All the rest of those now absent had been stricken down by
fevers, or worn out by the exhausting labors and exposures of the
campaign.

[Illustration: James B. McKean--Col. 77th Regt. NYSV.]

Among those attacked by typhoid fever was Colonel McKean. After
suffering a few days in the vain hope of soon being able to place
himself again at the head of his regiment, he was removed from the
poisonous atmosphere of the swamps to Washington, and thence to his home
in Saratoga. The men looked upon his departure with sincere regret, for
they not only respected him as an able commander, but loved him for his
never failing interest in their welfare. He had been to the regiment in
the capacity of commander and father. His leave of the regiment was
destined to be final; for except as an occasional visitor he never
returned to it; and after many months of suffering, his constitution
undermined, and his health permanently destroyed, he was forced to
relinquish the command. But though forced to leave the field, the men of
his regiment never ceased to cherish feelings of love and respect for
their first commander. They had witnessed his bravery on the field, and
they now knew that he was contending with disease with the same
fortitude that had marked his course in the army. The departure of
Colonel McKean from the service was not only a great loss to his
regiment but to the whole corps; for he was not only a brave officer,
but a gentleman of superior intellectual endowments. Another of the
sufferers from typhoid fever was Lieutenant Bowe, a young man of fine
abilities and greatly beloved by his regiment. After several weeks of
absence, he returned to camp on the 18th of July restored to health. On
the very next day, while standing with several officers in a tent, he
was fatally wounded by an accidental shot from a pistol. His father,
hearing of the sad occurrence, came for him and removed him from camp;
but only to see him expire in a few days.

Changes occurred among the officers. The lieutenant-colonel and major
left the service, the first by resignation, the other by dismissal.
Adjutant French was made major, and afterwards lieutenant-colonel, which
office he held during the remainder of the term of the regiment. He
assumed command of the regiment on his return to it after the battle of
Antietam, and continued in command while it was a regiment. Captains and
lieutenants also resigned. Chaplain Tully and Quartermaster Shurtliff
departed for their homes, having left the service. Lieutenant Hayward
was made quartermaster, a position for which he was eminently qualified,
and which he thenceforward held to the great satisfaction of the entire
regiment.




CHAPTER XII.

RETREAT FROM THE PENINSULA, AND GENERAL POPE'S BULL RUN CAMPAIGN.

    Premonitions of a change of base--The transfer
    commenced--Marching down the Peninsula--On board transports--A
    contrast--Arrival at Alexandria--Unaccountable delays--General
    Pope's campaign--An obstinate general--Causes of Pope's failure.


Early in August, rumors were floating about the army, that General
McClellan had received positive orders to transfer the Army of the
Potomac to the front of Washington, there to unite the forces of the two
armies; and that this plan was strongly opposed by General McClellan,
who insisted that he wanted only a few thousand more men to march into
Richmond.

The army had received large reinforcements since arriving at Harrison's
Landing, and now numbered more than one hundred thousand men; not by any
means an inconsiderable force, yet too small, in General McClellan's
opinion, to warrant another advance.

But, owing to the movements of the enemy in front of General Pope, the
supposed impracticability of the route, and to some distrust as to the
abilities of General McClellan by the authorities at Washington,
peremptory orders had been sent to him to remove his army as quickly as
possible from the Peninsula.

What the merits of the dispute in high places might be, the army at
large was not able to decide; but the rumors gave rise to many spirited
debates, in which the authorities at Washington and the authority at
Harrison's Bar had each earnest advocates. At length it became known
that the army was to leave the Peninsula, and preparations for this
important movement commenced. The work of shipping the sick and wounded,
numbering twelve thousand five hundred, began; but it was not carried on
with a degree of alacrity satisfactory to the War Department or the
President.

The wharves along the river side became the scene of immense activity.
Ambulances crowded along the banks of the river, laden with sick and
wounded, while those from the hospitals able to walk, tottered along
with trembling steps, their wan faces and sunken eyes telling their
story of suffering. Transports were in waiting for these, and were
rapidly filled with their freight of suffering humanity. Everything not
movable was ordered to be destroyed. Tents were struck and taken to the
pickets who had left them behind, and everything betokened an important
movement. Three or four days were spent in momentary expectation of the
order to "fall in," but still the situation remained unchanged.

At length, on the 16th of August, all was ready and the men were ordered
to pack their knapsacks; but the men of the Sixth corps remained in camp
until the sun's rays became scorching; then the column moved rapidly
eastward. A hard day's march on the 16th and another on the 17th,
brought the corps in sight of the Chickahominy. It crossed a pontoon
bridge of enormous extent, in the construction of which ninety boats
were used, and the length of which was over two thousand feet.
Thoroughly exhausted the men bivouacked on the eastern bank of the
Chickahominy.

The rebels, now aware of the retreat, were following close at the heels
of the Union army, but declined to make any offensive demonstrations,
further than picking up stragglers and those that fell out by the way
from weakness and fatigue. The main portion of the rebel army was now
occupied in important movements in another direction.

Another rapid march, under a burning sun, brought our corps to the
ancient capital of the Old Dominion--Williamsburgh. Passing through its
streets without halting, taking only time to glance at its now
dilapidated buildings, we reached the familiar scenes of the old
battle-field, which, three months before, we little expected to recross
before the downfall of the rebellion. Here was the plain where a portion
of our Second division had, by its gallantry, decided the fate of the
battle; the scene of our bivouac in the rain and mud, and the redoubts
where lay the wounded rebels, whose groans had rendered the night
hideous. In the midst of these scenes we bivouacked again for the night.

At dawn the column moved again, and after a fatiguing march reached
Yorktown; our Second division encamping in the works erected by Porter's
division during our famous thirty days' siege of that place.

Many of the men had by this time become exhausted; and a long train of
ambulances was filled with these and sent ahead on the morning of the
20th. The well ones soon followed toward Fortress Monroe, halting on the
field of Big Bethel. This was the first visit of our corps to this
disastrous field, and the men rambled about manifesting great interest
in the spot rendered sacred by the blood of Winthrop and Greble.

Plums, peaches and sweet potatoes constituted novel additions to the
diet of the men, and although the two former were unripe, their good
effects were manifested in arresting multitudes of those troublesome
cases of diarrhea which had resisted all treatment so long as the men
were deprived of acid fruits. Another hard march on the 21st brought the
corps again, after five months' absence, to the vicinity of the
desolated village of Hampton, and the end of our march for the present.
The whole army was crowded along the shores, waiting to embark for
Aquia. Transports of every size and description were riding upon the bay
or lashed to the wharves, and infantry, cavalry and artillery were
crowding toward the beach ready to take their turn to embark. The scene
was one of unusual activity, resembling only the one we had witnessed on
embarking for the Peninsula months ago.

At length all were on board, and the transports swung out upon the bay
and steamed up the Potomac. One of the transports on which a portion of
the Second division was embarked, the "Vanderbilt," had been, in other
days, an old friend, as she ploughed up and down the Hudson; now her
magnificent saloons, which had been of dazzling beauty, were dismantled
and disfigured. No gorgeous drapery or gilded mirrors adorned them, but
desolation and filth prevailed.

The weather was charming, and, except for the crowded condition of the
transports, the trip would have been a delightful one. What a contrast
was there in the appearance of those same men now, and when they came
down the river in April! Then our ranks were full; the men were healthy
and in fresh vigor; their uniforms were new and clean, and their muskets
and equipments were polished and glistening. Now, we looked about with
sadness when we remembered how many of our former companions were
absent, and how few present. We could bring to mind many who went to the
Peninsula, full of hope, who had sunk as victims of the malarial
poisons, and now rested in humble graves at Yorktown or along the
Chickahominy; and many others who had nobly fallen upon the field of
strife; and yet others who now were wearing out tedious days of sickness
in hospitals or at home.

The little band that remained could hardly be recognized as the same men
who left the defenses of Washington but a few months since; their faces
were now bronzed from constant exposure to the scorching rays of the
sun, and their clothing was worn and soiled. Hats and caps of every
description: hats of straw and of palm leaf, of brown wool, black wool,
and what had been white wool. Caps military and caps not military, all
alike in only one respect, that all were much the worse for wear. It
would have puzzled a stranger to have determined from this diversity of
apparel, what was the regular uniform of our troops.

We came up the river with feelings far less exultant and confident than
those experienced in our downward trip. Indeed a gloom hung over the
minds of all. The army was satisfied that General McClellan would be
removed from command, and it was said that General Pope or General
Burnside would be his successor. Though they remembered the brilliant
successes of the one in the west and of the other in the south, many
expressed fears that the command of a large army might be as fatal to
either of these as it had been to General McClellan.

At sunset of the 23d, the transports bearing the two divisions of the
Sixth corps, were anchored just off Alexandria; but none of the men were
allowed to go ashore. Spending another night in the crowded vessels,
where the foul air prevailing between decks rendered breathing anything
but a luxury, the men hailed the appearance of daylight as the time for
their liberation from this close and unpleasant confinement.

The process of disembarking progressed rapidly, and the divisions were
marched through the city to a field about a mile beyond its limits,
where we encamped near Fort Ellsworth.

Although this was on Sunday morning, and it was known that Pope's army
was fighting the enemy even before we left the Peninsula, and was in
need of reinforcements; yet no signs of marching occurred until
Thursday.

Let us now turn back for a moment and hastily glance at the movements of
General Pope and his army, which had now for several days been actively
engaged. The battle of Cedar Mountain was fought on Saturday, August
9th. General Banks, pushing his corps toward Cedar Mountain, and,
finding the enemy in his front, had boldly attacked him. The confederate
forces were led by General Jackson, and outnumbered the forces under
General Banks. The field was hotly contested for an hour and a half,
when our forces were obliged to fall back; but being reinforced by
Rickett's division, they were able to prevent the enemy from occupying
the field. During the night, Jackson withdrew his forces, leaving the
ground in our hands, which was at once occupied by the Union forces.

The whole of Sunday was occupied in burying the dead and bringing off
the wounded of both armies. Our men had behaved with great bravery, and
the gallantry and zeal of General Banks was what might have been
expected from that general. The field was yet in our hands; yet the
battle could hardly be called a decided victory for our arms. Jackson
retreated rapidly across the Rapidan, in the direction of Gordonsville,
leaving many dead and wounded along the road from Cedar Mountain to
Orange Court House. Except to follow up the enemy with cavalry as far as
Orange Court House, no important move was made for several days by the
forces under General Pope.

Reinforcements were constantly arriving for Jackson, and it became
evident, by the 18th, that nearly the whole of Lee's army was assembling
in front of General Pope, along the south side of the Rapidan. Among
papers captured from the enemy at this time, was an autograph letter
from General Robert Lee to General Stuart, stating his determination to
overwhelm General Pope's army before it could be reinforced by any
portion of the army of the Potomac.

The whole army was now ordered to fall back and occupy a stronger
position behind the Rappahannock. The movement was executed on the 18th
and 19th of August, without loss; the new line extending from Kelley's
Ford to a point three miles above Rappahannock Station. The enemy
appeared next day at the various fords, but, finding them strongly
guarded, waited for all their forces to arrive from the Rapidan.

The whole of the 21st and 22d were spent by the enemy in efforts to
cross the river, and a fierce artillery duel prevailed along the line
for more than seven miles in extent, but the rebels were repulsed at
every point, and withdrew with the intention of moving up the river and
turning the flank of the Union army.

General Pope, appreciating the danger of this movement on the part of
the rebels, telegraphed to Washington, and, in reply, was assured that,
if he could hold out two days longer, he should be so strongly
reinforced as to enable him, not only to hold his position, but to take
the offensive.

It is needless to say that, with the exception of one or two small
divisions, no reinforcements reached him within that time; and although
General Porter reported to him by letter from Bealton on the 25th, it
had been better for General Pope had he not come at all. On the night of
the 26th, Jackson, coming through Thoroughfare Gap, got in the rear of
Pope's army and cut the railroad at Kettle Run, near Warrenton Junction.
Lee was still in front, in the vicinity of Sulphur Springs. General
Pope, desiring at the same time to fall back toward Centreville and
interpose his army between Jackson's and Lee's forces, ordered a
retrograde movement. His troops were by this time fairly exhausted. In
his report to the Secretary of War, he says: "From the 18th of August,
until the morning of the 27th, the troops under my command had been
continually marching and fighting night and day; and during the whole of
that time there was scarcely an interval of an hour without the roar of
artillery. The men had had little sleep, and were greatly worn down with
fatigue; had had little time to get proper food or to eat it; had been
engaged in constant battles and skirmishes, and had performed services,
laborious, dangerous and excessive, beyond any previous experience in
this country." Jackson had succeeded in burning fifty cars at Bristow
Station, and a hundred more at Manassas Junction, heavily laden with
ammunition and supplies. On the afternoon of the 27th, a severe
engagement occurred between Hooker's division of Heintzelman's corps,
which had arrived the evening before, and Ewell's division of
Longstreet's corps, near Bristow Station. Ewell was driven back; the
loss on each side being about three hundred. During the night, General
McDowell with his corps, and Generals Reno and Kearney with their
divisions, took such positions as effectually to interpose between
Jackson's forces and Lee's, and no alternative was left Jackson but to
turn upon Hooker and rout him, or to retreat by way of Centreville.
Hooker's men had exhausted their ammunition, so that there were but five
rounds per man left. General Pope, fearing that Hooker would be
attacked, dispatched an aide to General Porter with orders to join
Hooker at once. The aide was instructed to inform General Porter of the
immediate necessity of moving at once, and to remain and guide him to
the place. But Porter utterly refused to obey the order. Most
fortunately for our army, Jackson, ignorant of Hooker's weakness,
determined to retreat by way of Centreville; a mistake which prevented
most serious consequences to us. Jackson in his retreat was hotly
pursued, and on the 28th a severe battle took place between McDowell's
corps and the retreating column, in which our forces gained decided
advantages. On the 29th, Jackson was again near the old Bull Run
battle-ground, and a terrific battle ensued, which lasted with great
fury from daylight until dark. The rebels were driven from the field,
which was occupied by our men. General Pope sent peremptory orders to
Fitz John Porter to move at once upon Centreville; which would have cut
off Jackson's retreat; but again this commander refused to obey orders,
and Jackson was enabled to unite with Lee, who had by this time reached
Thoroughfare Gap, and was pushing on toward him. Had the orders of
General Pope been carried out, Jackson must without doubt have been
crushed before Lee's forces could by any possibility have reached the
field of action.

On the following day the whole of both armies were brought face to face
with each other. General Pope, by this time hopeless of any aid from the
fresh troops he had expected long before this from Washington, and aware
of the disaffection of the largest and freshest corps in his command,
although nearly discouraged, determined to give battle and inflict as
much damage as possible upon the enemy. His force now, including
Porter's corps, was about forty thousand. The whole of Lee's and
Jackson's forces now pressed upon our lines with terrible effect.

The action raged with great fury for several hours; the rebels
constantly massing heavy columns against our lines, especially upon the
left, where McDowell's and Sigel's corps resisted the onset with great
bravery, but were at length forced to yield, when an utter rout took
place; the whole army falling back upon Centreville in great disorder.
On this day, for the first time in all these long series of battles,
Porter's corps was brought into action. The conduct of the corps, in the
early part of the day, showed a determination on the part of its leaders
not to fight, and the men fell back in disorder; but being rallied later
in the day, the pride of the men overcame the obstinacy of their
commanders and the corps did good service. Hooker's and Kearney's
divisions, and Reynolds' Pennsylvania reserves had rendered most gallant
services from the time they reached General Pope's army.

Returning now to our Sixth corps under General Franklin. The corps
remained quietly at Alexandria, from the morning of the 24th until the
afternoon of the 29th. Rations and ammunition were as well supplied when
we reached Alexandria as when we left. The booming of cannon was heard
on the 26th and 27th, and contrabands and white refugees informed us
that terrible fighting was in progress beyond Manassas. We wondered that
we were not ordered to go to the relief of the little army which we knew
was resisting the whole of Lee's and Jackson's forces.

On Thursday afternoon, August 28th, the corps received marching orders.
Tents were struck, knapsacks packed, rations provided, and many
regiments, shouldering their knapsacks, stood in line ready to move. But
sunset came and no further orders. The men waited impatiently, only a
few venturing to unpack their knapsacks or pitch their tents, until long
after dark.

Friday morning brought few indications of an advance. Head-quarter tents
remained standing, artillery horses stood unharnessed, and everything
showed an intentional delay. At length the corps moved. Marching quietly
and easily, the old ground of Camp Misery was passed, and the corps
reached Annandale, where it halted and encamped after an easy march of
six miles. Saturday morning the corps again moved leisurely along,
making very frequent halts. The firing in front indicated a hardly
contested battle, and our men, knowing that Pope must be in need of
reinforcements, were anxious to push forward rapidly. Every hour the
corps halted for at least twenty minutes, and sometimes even longer. At
this snail pace we passed Fairfax Court House, the roar of musketry and
artillery becoming constantly louder in front, and arrived at
Centreville. Orders immediately came for the corps to proceed to Cub
Run, about two miles beyond Centreville. Here, wounded men by hundreds
and stragglers in greater numbers passed across the little bridge over
the run, a dismal crowd, hastening toward Centreville.

As usual at such times, scores of cowardly villains were attempting to
pass to the rear as wounded men.

An amusing encounter occurred between one of this class, a coward in
captain's uniform, and one of our own officers, Captain Deyoe, as brave
a fellow as ever drew a sword. The demoralized captain, his sword thrown
away and its sheath after it, came hurriedly upon the bridge, where
Deyoe was sitting, coolly filling his pipe. The fugitive captain turned
his face, pale with fright, to the imperturbable Deyoe, and, striking
him on the shoulder, said with as much composure as he could muster,
"Captain, we have had hard times of it out there, but _don't be afraid,
don't be afraid_." Deyoe, turning his face toward that of the straggler
with a look of unruffled coolness and unmitigated contempt, replied,
"Well, who the d--is afraid? Oh, yes, I see, _you are_. Well, you had
better get away from here then!"

The corps remained at Cub Run until nightfall, when it was ordered to
return to Centreville, where it encamped. Regiments from our Third
brigade were sent to the rear of Centreville to arrest stragglers, who
were hurrying toward Alexandria in great numbers.

The regiments were drawn up in line across the turnpike, where they
remained all night, turning back hundreds of stragglers at the point of
the bayonet.

The scene at Centreville on the next day was one of the utmost
confusion. Thousands of stragglers wandered about without knowing or
caring what had become of their commands; long columns of shattered
regiments and batteries filed past to take up new positions, either
within the intrenchments or on the flanks. The appearance of these
skeletons of regiments and batteries gave evidence of the terrible
experiences of this long series of engagements. Their ranks, thinned by
the fortunes of battle, and still more by the disgraceful skulking which
had become so universal, the worn and weary appearance of the men, their
flags, each surrounded by only enough men to constitute a respectable
color-guard, all showed that even the hard experiences of the Army of
the Potomac had never had so demoralizing an effect as this.

The skulkers were loud-mouthed in their denunciations of General
McDowell. Hundreds of them, who had in all probability not been near
enough to the front during the whole retreat to know anything that was
going on there, declared that they had seen him waving that mystic white
hat as a signal to the rebels; and all knew that it was through his
treachery that the army had been destroyed. Others declared positively
that they had seen, with their own eyes, General McClellan, with a small
body of faithful followers, dash against the advancing foe, and arrest
the pursuit! Such wild and improbable stories filled the whole
atmosphere, and, strangest of all, were believed by thousands, not only
in the army, but throughout the whole north.

Long trains of ambulances were bringing from the battle-field wounded
men, who had been, since Saturday, exposed to the burning sun and the
storm which had prevailed during Sunday night.

Temporary hospitals were established, and surgeons were actively
employed in ministering to the relief of the unfortunate. Monday evening
the battle of Glendale or Chantilly was fought, in the midst of a
terrific thunder storm. The enemy, in attempting to turn our right, had
been met by Hooker, Reno, McDowell and Kearney, and repulsed with heavy
loss, from our entire front. But the victory was a costly one for us.
The brave, earnest and accomplished soldier, Major-General Kearney, and
the gallant Stevens, were both killed while leading their commands
against the enemy.

The Sixth corps, on Monday evening, was marched back to Fairfax Court
House; but early next morning returned within a mile of Centreville,
when it took possession of the heights, and lay in line of battle until
three o'clock P.M., when orders were received to march back to our old
camp at Alexandria, which we reached at ten o'clock the same night; thus
making in a single evening, a distance that had required two full days
and a part of another, to march, in going out.

Thus ended General Pope's campaign in Virginia. Never was a campaign so
misrepresented or so little understood; and never were the motives of
men so falsely judged as were those of the generals connected with this
campaign.

General Pope had fallen a victim to the foulest treachery of ambitious
rivals, rather than to the strength of his open foes. Any one who will
in candor trace the movements and the handling of that little army, when
beset by an enemy now known to have been double its own strength, must
concede that his plans were well conceived, and his generalship in this
campaign fully equaled that which had won him so great renown in the
west.

That the defeat of General Pope was brought about by the rivalry and
jealousy of generals of the Union army cannot now be doubted. We know
why Porter withheld the largest and freshest corps in the command from
the fights, while its eleven thousand men were within sight of the
battles; but why was the Sixth corps delayed? Some one was equally
culpable with Porter. Was it worse to keep a corps out of the fight,
when on the field, than to keep another corps off from the field
altogether without any good reason? There can be but one question--who
was responsible for the criminal neglect to send the Sixth corps to the
assistance of Pope's army?




CHAPTER XIII.

THE MARYLAND CAMPAIGN.

    General McClellan restored to command--March through
    Washington--Leisurely campaigning--Battle of Crampton
    Pass--Death of Mathison--Battle of South Mountain Pass--Death of
    Reno--Surrender of Harper's Ferry--March to Antietam.


General Pope, at his own request, was relieved from the command of the
army, and General McClellan resumed the direction. Whatever might have
been the real fitness of General Pope to command, his usefulness with
the army just driven back upon the defenses of Washington, had departed.
The return of General McClellan was hailed with joy by a large portion
of the army.

On the 5th of September, Lee crossed the Potomac into Maryland, and
occupied Frederick City. General McClellan was ordered to push forward
at once and meet him. It was on the evening of the 6th that orders were
issued to move. It was but short work to pack up our limited supply of
clothing, cooking utensils and the few other articles which constituted
our store of worldly goods, and prepare to march. We left Alexandria,
and proceeding toward Washington, passed Fort Albany and crossed the
Long Bridge, the moon and stars shining with a brilliancy seldom
equaled, rendering the night march a pleasant one. As the steady tramp
of the soldiers upon the pavements was heard by the citizens of
Washington, they crowded upon the walks, eager to get a glance, even by
moonlight, of the veterans who had passed through such untold hardships.
Many were the questions regarding our destination, but we could only
answer, "We are going to meet the rebels." Passing through Georgetown,
we reached the little village of Tanleytown, where, weary from the short
but rapid march, we spent the remainder of the night in sleep. The
morning passed without orders to move, and it was not until five o'clock
in the afternoon that we again commenced the march, when, having
proceeded six miles, we halted. At daybreak on the morning of the 8th,
the corps was moving again, and passing through Rockville we halted,
after an easy stage of six miles.

On the 9th we marched three miles, making our camp at Johnstown. On the
following morning, at 9 o'clock, we were again on the move, driving
before us small bodies of rebel cavalry, and reaching Barnesville, a
small village, ten miles from our encampment of the night before. Our
Third brigade, of the Second division, was quartered on the plantation
of a noted secessionist, who, on our approach, had suddenly decamped,
leaving at our disposal a very large orchard, whose trees were loaded
with delicious fruit, and his poultry yard well stocked with choice
fowls. Our boys were not slow to appropriate to their own use these
luxuries, which, they declared, were great improvements on pork and hard
tack. In the enjoyment of ease and abundance, we remained here until the
morning of the 12th, when we resumed the march, proceeding ten miles
farther, halting near Urbana, at Monocacy bridge, which had been
destroyed by the rebels, but was now rebuilt. On the same day General
Burnside, having the advance, entered Frederick, encountering a few
skirmishers of the enemy, which he drove. On the 13th, we arrived at the
lovely village of Jefferson, having made ten miles more, and having
driven a detachment of rebels through Jefferson Pass.

The advance was sounded at ten o'clock on the morning of the 14th, and
at three we found ourselves near the foot of the South Mountain range,
having marched about fifty miles in eight days. Upon the advance of
Burnside into Frederick, the rebel force had fallen back, taking the two
roads which led through Middletown and Burkettsville, and which crossed
the South Mountains through deep gorges, the northern called South
Mountain or Turner's Pass, and the other, six miles south of it,
Crampton Pass.

These passes the rebels had strongly fortified, and had arranged their
batteries on the crests of neighboring hills. The Sixth corps came to a
halt when within about a mile and a half of Crampton Pass, and a
reconnoissance was ordered.

General Franklin was now directed to force the pass with the Sixth
corps, while the remaining corps should push on to the South Mountain
Pass and drive the enemy through it. We formed in line of battle and
advanced. Before us lay the little village of Burkettsville, nestling
under the shadow of those rugged mountains, its white houses gleaming
out of the dark green foliage. Beyond were the South Mountains; their
summits crowned with batteries of artillery and gray lines of rebels,
while the heavily wooded sides concealed great numbers of the enemy.

A winding road, leading up the mountain side and through a narrow
defile, known as Crampton's Gap, constituted one of the two passages to
the other side of the range; South Mountain Gap being the other. The
enemy had planted batteries and posted troops behind barricades, and in
such positions as most effectually to dispute our passage.

At the foot of the mountain, was a stone wall, behind which was the
first rebel line of battle, while their skirmishers held the ground for
some distance in front. The position was a strong one; admirably
calculated for defense, and could be held by a small force against a
much larger one.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE SIXTH CORPS AT BURKETTSVILLE.]

The day was far advanced when the attack was ordered. No sooner had the
lines of blue uniforms emerged from the cover of the woods, than the
batteries on the hill tops opened upon them. The mountains, like huge
volcanoes, belched forth fire and smoke. The earth trembled beneath us,
and the air was filled with the howling of shells which flew over our
heads, and ploughed the earth at our feet. At the same time, the line of
battle behind the stone wall opened upon us a fierce fire of musketry.
In the face of this storm of shells and bullets, the corps pressed
forward at double quick, over the ploughed grounds and through the corn
fields, halting for a few moments at the village. The citizens,
regardless of the shells which were crashing through their houses,
welcomed us heartily, bringing water to fill the canteens, and supplying
us liberally from the scanty store left them by the marauding rebels.

Patriotic ladies cheered the Union boys and brought them food; and well
might they rejoice at the approach of the Union army, after their recent
experience with the rebels, who had robbed them of almost everything
they possessed in the way of movable property.

After a few minutes, in which our soldiers took breath, the advance was
once more sounded, and again we pushed on in face of a murderous fire,
at the same time pouring into the face of the foe a storm of leaden
hail. Slocum's division, of the Sixth corps, advanced on the right of
the turnpike, while Smith's division pushed directly forward on the road
and on the left of it. After severe fighting by both divisions, having
driven the enemy from point to point, Slocum's troops, about three
o'clock, succeeded in seizing the pass, while our Second division
pressed up the wooded sides of the mountain, charging a battery at the
left of the pass and capturing two of its guns. The confederates fled
precipitately down the west side of the mountain, and our flags were
waved in triumph from the heights which had so lately thundered
destruction upon us. As we advanced, we wondered, not that the foe had
offered such stubborn resistance, but that the position had been yielded
at all. Their dead strewed our path, and great care was required, as we
passed along the road, to avoid treading upon the lifeless remains which
lay thickly upon the ground. On every side the evidences of the fearful
conflict multiplied. Trees were literally cut to pieces by shells and
bullets; a continual procession of rebel wounded and prisoners lined the
roadsides, while knapsacks, guns, canteens and haversacks were scattered
in great confusion. The rebel force made its way into Pleasant Valley,
leaving in our hands their dead and wounded, three stand of colors, two
pieces of artillery and many prisoners. Our troops scoured the woods
until midnight, bringing in large numbers of stragglers.

We had lost quite heavily; some of our best men had fallen. Colonel
Mathison, who commanded the Third brigade of Slocum's division, whose
heroism at Gaines' Farm, and bravery in all our campaign on the
Peninsula, had endeared him to his division, was among the killed.

The corps moved down the road to the western side of the mountains, our
men resting on their arms for the night, expecting that the battle would
be renewed at dawn. But the morning revealed no enemy in our front; we
were in quiet possession of the valley.

Meanwhile on the right, at South Mountain Pass, a still more sanguinary
battle had been in progress.

On the morning of the 14th, the Ninth corps, Burnside's veterans, the
heroes of Roanoke and Newbern, under the command of the gallant Reno,
advanced from Middletown; and coming near the base of the mountains,
found the enemy strongly posted on the crests of the hills, thronging
the thickly wooded sides, and crowding in the gap. No matter what
position the brave boys occupied, they were submitted to a murderous
fire from the crests and sides of the mountains. Under this galling
fire, the First division of the corps formed in line of battle, and
advanced toward the frowning heights. It was an undertaking requiring
more than ordinary valor, to attempt to wrest from an enemy strong in
numbers, a position so formidable for defense; but the men approaching
those rugged mountain sides had become accustomed to overcome obstacles,
and to regard all things as possible which they were commanded to do.
Under cover of a storm of shells, thrown upward to the heights, the line
of battle advanced, with courage and firmness, in face of terrible
resistance, gaining much ground and driving the rebels from their first
line of defenses. Now, the corps of Hooker rushed to the assistance of
the Ninth. As the gallant general and his staff rode along the lines,
enthusiastic cheers for "Fighting Joe Hooker," greeted him everywhere.
Forming his divisions hastily, he pushed them on the enemy's lines at
once.

Thus far, the battle had been principally maintained by artillery; the
rattle of musketry coming occasionally from one or another part of
Reno's line. But now, the whole line was pushing against the rebel line,
and the continued roll of musketry told of close work for the infantry.
Reno's troops on the left and Hooker's on the right, were doing noble
fighting. The advancing line never wavered; but pressing steadily
forward, pouring volley after volley into the enemy's ranks, it at last
forced the rebels to break and fly precipitately to the crests, and,
leaving their splendid position on the summit to retreat in great haste
down the other slope of the mountain. The engagement had been of three
hours duration; and the bravery of the Union troops was rewarded by the
possession of the mountain tops. Darkness put an end to the pursuit.
Thus the two chief passes through the mountains were in the possession
of the Union army.

While his corps was striving to dislodge the enemy from the stronghold,
the gallant Reno was struck by a minie ball, and expired. The loss of
this hero threw a gloom not only over his own corps, but throughout the
army.

In the many battles in which he had taken a brilliant part, he had won
an enviable fame, and his private virtues and kindly qualities of heart
added lustre to the brilliancy of his military record.

While the fight was in progress in Crampton Pass, the booming of guns at
Harper's Ferry, only seven miles distant, told us of an attempt, on the
part of the rebels, to capture that important point; and while we lay
upon our arms on the morning of the 15th, two miles nearer than we were
on the day before, the firing was heard to be still more fierce. Our
Sixth corps was ordered to press forward to the relief of the
beleaguered place; but before we had started the firing suddenly died
away. General Franklin concluded that the place had been surrendered;
and his conclusion was verified by reconnoissances. So the corps
remained in Pleasant Valley, at rest, all of the 15th and 16th.

The surrender of Harper's Ferry was a terrible blow to our cause. Had it
continued in our possession it must have insured, with any respectable
energy on the part of our commanders, the destruction of the rebel army
in its retreat. As it was, our loss was over eleven thousand men, and a
vast amount of war material.

Of course, the surrender of Harper's Ferry, at this critical period, was
owing directly to the imbecility and cowardice, not to say treachery, of
the officers in command at Harper's Ferry and on Maryland Heights. But,
while we condemn the weakness and cowardice of these commanders, can we
relieve from a share in the responsibility, the general who marched his
army in pursuit of the enemy at a snail pace, traveling but six miles a
day upon an average, when by a few brisk marches this important point
might have been reinforced?

Early on the morning of the 17th, the Sixth corps was on its way,
hastening to the scene of conflict which had commenced on the banks of
Antietam creek. A part of the Seventy-seventh had constituted one-third
of the picket line which had extended across the valley between the
corps and Harper's Ferry.

These companies, by a hard march, much of it at double quick, succeeded
in overtaking the division just as the Third brigade was making a charge
over ground already thrice won and lost by Sumner's troops. Without
waiting to form the companies, the detachment joined the command, and,
all out of breath and faint from their forced march, rushed with their
companies against the foe.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM.

    The Valley of the Antietam--Gathering of the hosts--The
    battle-field--The battle commenced--Splendid fighting of
    Hooker's forces--Successes and reverses of Sumner's
    troops--Timely arrival of the Sixth corps--A gallant
    charge--Losses of the corps--Burnside's attack--Hours of
    suspense--The enemy defeated at all points--Retreat of the
    rebels--Scenes on the battle-field--At the hospitals--At
    Sharpsburgh--A division of militia--Couch's division joins the
    Sixth corps--Visit of the President--Recruits--Energy at the
    north--At rest--Want of clothing--Stuart's raid--Delays--Clear
    Spring--General Brooks.


Among the delightful and fertile valleys which beautify the State of
Maryland, none is more charming than the one through which the Antietam
winds its tortuous course. Looking from some elevation down upon its
green fields, where herds of sleek cattle graze, its yellow harvests
glowing and ripening in the September sun; its undulating meadows and
richly laden orchards; its comfortable farm houses, some standing out
boldly upon eminences, which rise here and there, others half hidden by
vines or fruit trees; the ranges of hills, rising on either side of the
stream, diversified by charming vales or deep gullies; the turnpikes
winding along the sides of the hills and through the valleys; the lovely
stream itself, now flowing smoothly over its dark bed and anon tumbling
noisily in rapids over a stony bottom, winding here far up to one range
of hills and then turning back to kiss the base of the other; the whole
scene is one of surpassing beauty, upon which the eye rests with
untiring delight. Who would have selected this lovely valley as the
scene of one of the most bloody struggles ever recorded? Who, looking
down from some height of land on the morning of the 13th of September,
would have dreamed that those stacks of grain, which dotted the fields
here and there, would soon become the only protection from the heat of
the sun and the storm of battle, to thousands of wounded, bleeding men?
or, that from those lovely groves of oak and maple, now reposing like
spots of beauty upon the landscape, were to belch forth fire and smoke,
carrying destruction to thousands? Yet, here on these smiling fields,
and among these delightful groves, one of the grand battles which should
decide the march of events in the history, not only of our own country
but of the world, was to be fought. These green pastures were to be
stained with blood, and these peaceful groves marred and torn by shot
and shell.

Driven from the towns along the Potomac, from Frederick, from
Hagerstown, and from Boonsboro; and forced from the strong passes in the
South Mountains, the detached portions of the rebel army were
concentrated along the banks of the Antietam creek, in the vicinity of
the little town of Sharpsburgh. Hither Jackson and Longstreet, Hill and
Stuart, with their hosts, had gathered to offer combined resistance to
the Union army; boastfully proclaiming that now, upon northern soil,
they would hurl our army to final destruction. One hundred thousand men,
flushed with recent victories, and eager for one grand crowning success,
proudly defied the Union army.

Their position was well chosen. A line of steep hills, forming a half
circle, with the convexity in front, rising at some distance back from
the creek, and nearly parallel with it, afforded admirable advantages
for posting batteries, in such a manner as to sweep the plain below,
from right to left. Upon their left, wooded fields afforded protection
to their infantry; while upon their right, the undulating nature of the
grounds near the base of the hills, covered them from the fire of our
guns. In their rear was Sharpsburgh; and two fine roads leading to the
Potomac, afforded safe lines of retreat in case of disaster. From the
crest of the hills, on which Lee had thus posted his army, the ground
sloped gently back; concealing the movements of his forces from the view
of the army in their front, allowing them to maneuver unobserved by
their opponents. Owing also to the form of their line of battle, it was
an easy matter to throw troops from one part to another. Thus, strongly
posted and confidently anticipating victory, they waited the approach of
the Union army.

Our own forces were also gathering toward this point. Richardson's
division of the Second corps, pressing closely upon the heels of the
retreating rebels, had passed through Boonsboro and Keedeysville, and
had overtaken them here.

Porter, with his regulars, was close at hand, and took position. Then
came Burnside, with his favorite Ninth corps; and the white-haired
veteran, Sumner, with troops worthy of their leader; fighting Joe Hooker
and his gallant men; and Mansfield, with Banks' corps. The afternoon and
most of the night was spent in getting into position. Brisk skirmishes
were occurring with sufficient frequency to excite the men on both
sides; but no general engagement took place. The morning of the 16th
found our army ready to give battle. On our right was Hooker; then
Sumner with his own and the Twelfth, Mansfield's corps; and far to the
left was Burnside. Porter's corps, secure behind an elevation in the
rear, was held in reserve.

The night had passed with but now and then a little picket firing; but
all felt that, before many hours, must commence a battle, which must
determine the fate at least of that campaign.

Crossing the Antietam, in front of the line of our army, were three
bridges. The first, on the Hagerstown road; the next on the road to
Sharpsburgh; and the third on the left, three miles below, on the road
from Harper's Ferry to Sharpsburgh.

This last bridge, crossed the stream at a point where steep and high
hills crowded closely on every side; the summits of those on the western
side of the stream, crowned with rebel batteries, and their steeply
falling sides covered with infantry. Over the first of these bridges, on
the right, Hooker was to cross his forces; while on the left, Burnside
was to attempt to dislodge the enemy from his commanding position. Far
in the rear, a prominent hill rose above the surrounding country; here
was a signal station, and here the commander of the army established his
quarters. Hour after hour of the 16th passed away, the two armies facing
each other, watching and waiting; troops moving this way and that,
maneuvering like two giant wrestlers, each willing to try the movements
and feel the gripe of the other before coming to the sharp grapple. At
four o'clock, Hooker crossed his corps and occupied a position on the
west side of the creek, and Mansfield soon followed; a little fighting,
but not severe, and then darkness closed over the scene again. The
skirmishes and artillery practice here, developed, to the quick eye of
General Hooker, the position of the enemy in his front, and their plan
of defense. Satisfied with this knowledge, he was willing to allow his
corps to rest until morning. Our lines were now very near those of the
rebels; so near that the pickets of the opposing forces could hear
conversation from one line to the other.

At an early hour on the morning of the 17th, the great battle commenced
in earnest. Hooker formed his line with Doubleday on the right, Meade in
the center, and Ricketts on the left. Opposed to him was Stonewall
Jackson's corps. First, Meade's Pennsylvania reserves, of Hooker's
corps, opened upon the enemy, and in a few moments the firing became
rapid and general along the line of both Meade's and Rickett's
divisions. The rebel line of battle was just beyond the woods, in a
cornfield. The hostile lines poured into each other more and more deadly
volleys; batteries were brought up on each side which did terrible
execution. Each line stood firm and immovable. Although great gaps were
made in them, they were closed up, and the opposing forces continued to
pour fearful destruction into each other's ranks. General Hooker, riding
everywhere along the front line, knew exactly the position and the work
of every regiment in his command. Cheer after cheer greeted him as he
passed along the line, inspiring the men by his presence. Thus for half
an hour the two lines stood face to face in deadly conflict; at length
the general directed a battery to be placed in a commanding position,
and the shells and shrapnel were seen to work fearful havoc in the
rebel ranks. The gray line wavered; then back through the cornfield and
over the fences the confederates rushed, seeking shelter from the
terrible storm, under cover of the woods, on the other side of the
field. "Forward!" shouted General Hooker, and his divisions pressed
rapidly through the cornfield, up to the very edge of the wood, while
the welkin rang with their cheers. Here, the fleeing foe, reinforced by
fresh troops, made a determined stand. Terrific volleys poured from the
woods, thinning out the Union ranks at a fearful rate. Unable to sustain
the deadly fire, they fell back--this time the rebels following with
yells and shouts; but before the cornfield was crossed, our troops made
another stand, and the swarthy foe was brought to bay; yet the thinned
line seemed hardly able to sustain the fearful shock much longer.
Hooker, fearing that his center was doomed to destruction, sent to his
right for a brigade, although his right was hard pressed and in danger
of being flanked.

The fresh brigade pressed steadily to the front, and the rebel line
again fell back to the woods. Mansfield's corps now came to the support
of the right wing, and well did those troops, so lately demoralized at
Bull Run, stand their ground. General Mansfield received here his mortal
wound.

It was at this time, when Hooker saw his forces gaining a decided
advantage and felt that their part of the work was well done, that a
rifle ball passed through his foot inflicting a painful wound. Lamenting
that he could not remain to see the end of what he hoped would prove a
great victory, he left the field. The battle lulled at this point; but
in the center it raged with terrible energy. There, Sumner the
white-haired veteran, led his corps into the very jaws of death. If he
seemed reckless of the lives of his men, he had no more care of his own.
Across the ploughed ground, over ditches and fences, with unsurpassed
ardor, sweeping over all obstacles, the corps pushed forward, driving
the enemy before it; but the right became hard pressed, and a terrible
fire on that part of the line and on the center, forced the corps back.
Again the ground was taken; and again the enemy, with wild yells of
triumph, drove our men back. Still determined to win, the veteran hero
ordered a third charge; and the third time the field was ours, but only
to be lost again. The brave General Sedgwick, who then led one division
of Sumner's corps, whom we were afterward proud to call the commander of
the Sixth corps, thrice wounded, was at length obliged to leave the
field. Richardson and Crawford were carried wounded to the hospitals.

It was at this critical moment, when Sumner's troops, weary and almost
out of ammunition, were for the third time repulsed; the remnants of the
shattered regiments no longer able to resist the overwhelming forces
opposed to them; the artillery alone, unsupported, holding the enemy for
a moment in check; that the Sixth corps, our second division in advance,
arrived upon the field.

The scene before us was awful. On the left, as far as the eye could
reach, the lines of the contending forces, stretching over hills and
through valleys, stood face to face; in places, not more than thirty
yards apart. The roar of musketry rolled along the whole extent of the
battle-field. The field upon which we had now entered, thrice hotly
contested, was strewed with the bodies of friend and foe.

Without waiting to take breath, each regiment as soon as it arrives on
the field, is ordered to charge independently of the others. The third
brigade is first; and first of its regiments, the Twentieth New York,
with their sabre bayonets, are ready; and the shout, "Forward, double
quick!" rings along the line. The Germans waver for a moment; but
presently with a yell they rush down the hill, suddenly receiving a
volley from a rebel line concealed behind a fence; but the Germans,
regardless of the storm of bullets, rush forward; the rebels breaking
and flying to the rear in confusion, while the Germans hotly pursue
them. Next, on the left of the Twentieth, the gallant Seventh Maine
charges; rushing forward into the midst of the cornfield, they, too, are
met by concealed foes. Although they are concealed from our view, the
crashing of musketry tells us of the struggle which they maintain.

The gallant regiment makes its way down the slope, almost to the
earthworks of the enemy, when the men throw themselves upon the ground
behind a rail fence. Here, subjected to the shells from the Union and
rebel batteries, the regiment can neither advance or retreat; but our
batteries, finding that their shots are as fatal to our men as to the
rebels, allow the remaining fragments of the regiment to retire from the
perilous position.

On the right of the Seventh Maine comes the glorious Forty-ninth and our
own Seventy-seventh, Captain Babcock in command. On the right of all is
the old Thirty-third, within supporting distance. The men of the
Seventy-seventh rush forward over their fallen comrades, making toward a
small school house which stands upon the Sharpsburgh and Hagerstown
turnpike, behind which is a grove swarming with rebel troops. Our boys
are almost on the road, when, at a distance of less than thirty yards,
they find themselves confronted by overwhelming numbers, who pour a
withering fire into their ranks. The Seventy-seventh receives the fire
nobly, and, although far ahead of all the other regiments, stands its
ground and returns the fire with spirit, although it is but death to
remain thus in the advance. The brave color-bearer, Joseph Murer, falls,
shot through the head; but the colors scarcely touch the ground when
they are seized and again flaunted in the face of the enemy. Volley
after volley crashes through our ranks; our comrades fall on every side;
yet the little band stands firm as a rock, refusing to yield an inch. At
this juncture, General Smith, riding along the line and discovering the
advanced and unprotected position of the regiment, exclaims, "There's a
regiment gone," and sends an aide to order it to retire. The order was
timely, for the rebels were planting a battery within twenty yards of
the left of the regiment, which would, in a moment longer, have swept it
to destruction.

The regiment reformed behind the crest, in line with the other regiments
of the brigade, all of which had been forced to fall back; but the line
held was far in advance of that held by Sumner's troops when the
division arrived. Thirty-three of the little band had fallen; they were
less than two hundred men when they came upon the field. In the Seventh
Maine the loss was still greater; of the one hundred and seventy men who
went into the fight, one-half were killed or wounded; more than eighty
of those noble forms were prostrated like the slashings in their own
forests. The Thirty-third lost fifty in killed and wounded. The total
loss to our Third brigade was three hundred and forty-three; of the
Second division, three hundred and seventy-three; of the corps, four
hundred and thirty-eight.

Our men lay down behind the ridge to protect themselves from the rebel
batteries; yet even here the shells came, carrying death to many of our
number. The Vermont brigade was sent to the assistance of French's
division, who, having expended their ammunition, were making feeble
resistance to the enemy. The Vermonters behaved with their usual
gallantry, resisting the advance of the enemy; and although frequently
subjected to the fire of artillery, they held their ground bravely. The
brigade was composed of men who could always be depended on to do what
they were ordered to do.

The advent of the Sixth corps upon the field had decided the contest
upon the right of the line, and after the first charge by the Third
brigade the battle lulled. Of all the brilliant charges made in the army
on that memorable day, none was more gallant or more important in its
results than this noble charge of the Third brigade of Smith's division.
Although the infantry on both sides became comparatively quiet,
artillery thundered from every eminence in possession of our own or the
enemy's batteries. Shells and cannister tore through the Union ranks,
making in parts of the line fearful havoc. Thus, for nine long hours,
our Sixth corps endured this fiery ordeal, when darkness closed over the
field of strife.

Meanwhile, on the left, Burnside became hotly engaged. At nine o'clock
in the morning, his troops moved down toward the stone bridge, over
which they hoped to cross. The hills on either side slope down almost to
the water's edge; the road leading to the bridge winding through a
ravine, and then on the other side ascending through another ravine to
the highlands. No sooner had the head of the column descended into this
amphitheater of hills, than the rebels opened a destructive fire from
behind defenses which they had thrown up along the hillsides. Rifle
pits, and breastworks of rails and stones, concealed thousands of
infantry, who, from their secure position, poured volley after volley
into the advancing column; while batteries, placed upon the heights,
brought an enfilading fire upon the bridge and its approaches. In the
face of this reception, the Ninth corps formed in line of battle. One
brigade with fixed bayonets charged upon the bridge; but the
concentrated fire of the enemy forced it back. Charge after charge was
ordered and executed by different portions of the command with like
success. At length a battery was brought to bear directly upon the
enemy's position at the farthest end of the bridge, and, aided by these
guns, fresh troops charged with great enthusiasm, carrying the bridge
and planting their colors on the opposite side of the stream. Sturgis'
division immediately advanced up the slope, driving the enemy before it.
Meanwhile Rodman's division had succeeded, after a desperate fight, in
crossing the stream below, and had also gained a position along the
crest of the hills. The enemy having the range perfectly, made the
position along the crest of the hills untenable, and the men were forced
to fall back a little; lying close upon the ground to avoid the shells
that burst about them.

At length, at three o'clock, General Burnside ordered a general advance.
The divisions moved in fine order, but were soon met by the enemy in
overpowering numbers. The whole line became hotly engaged. All the
reserves were brought into action, and still the rebels poured upon the
Union men in increasing numbers; pressing their flank and turning the
attack into a doubtful defense. It seemed impossible for the corps to
hold its position against the overwhelming force opposed to it. At this
juncture General Burnside sent to General McClellan for aid. Porter's
troops were still in reserve; but McClellan refused to relieve the
hardly pressed corps. Again Burnside sends word, "I cannot hold my
position half an hour longer, unless I am reinforced;" and again the
appeal is met with refusal. Contrary to his own expectations, Burnside's
forces held their ground until darkness put an end to the strife.

Thus our own Sixth corps, and Burnside's corps, held the ground they had
each by most desperate fighting wrested from the hands of the enemy; and
in spite of the peril which had threatened the right, when Hooker's
braves were forced back, the center, where Sumner's brave men fell back
for the third time with empty cartridge boxes, and the left, where
Burnside was so hardly pressed, the advantage remained with our army;
and the weary soldiers lay down in the expectation of renewing the
battle in the morning.

Their valor had saved them from defeat; they hoped to make the battle
that should come, a complete victory.

But the battle was ended. Toward morning, it was known to officers of
our corps that the rebels were moving back, and the fact was reported;
but no attention was paid to it. A truce, under pretense of burying the
dead, gave the rebels a quiet day, in which to prepare for their escape,
by sending their trains and much of their artillery to the rear; and on
the night of the 18th, the whole rebel army disappeared. So this
memorable and sanguinary battle ended. A defeat for the rebels, but not
the decided victory to our arms that could have been hoped for.

The Second division of the Sixth corps was relieved soon after noon of
the 18th by Couch's division, which was soon afterward joined to the
Sixth corps. Until now our corps had consisted of but two divisions, the
First and Second. Our men were glad to fall back enough to allow them to
cook their coffee once more, and they proceeded to the work of preparing
a good meal with great spirit.

The scene on the battle-field was past description. The mangled forms of
our own comrades lay stretched upon the ground, side by side with those
of the rebels. On almost every rod of ground over one hundred acres, the
dead and wounded, some clad in the Union blue and some in confederate
gray, were lying. A ghastly sight, presenting all the horrible features
of death which are to be seen on such a field. At one point in our own
front, for more than half a mile, the rebels lay so thickly as almost to
touch each other. On the field where Hooker's men had won and lost the
field, the dead and dying were scattered thickly among the broken
cornstalks, their eyes protruding and their faces blackened by the sun.
Wherever the lines of battle had surged to and fro, these vestiges of
the terrible work were left. In the edge of the wood, where the rebels
had made a stand against Hooker's advancing divisions, the bodies lay in
perfect line, as though they had fallen while on dress parade. Further
to the left there was a narrow road, not more than fifteen feet wide,
with high fences on either side. Here a regiment of rebels was posted;
when our batteries getting an enfilading fire upon them, and the
infantry at the same time opening a murderous fire, the regiment was
literally destroyed; not more than twenty of their number escaping.
Their bodies filled the narrow road. Some were shot while attempting to
get over the fence; and their remains hung upon the boards. A more
fearful picture than we saw here, could not be conceived.

Broken caissons, wheels, dismounted guns, thousands of muskets,
blankets, haversacks and canteens, were scattered thickly over the
field; and hundreds of slain horses, bloated and with feet turned toward
the sky, added to the horror of the scene.

While the excitement of battle lasts, and we hear the roar of artillery,
and the shock of contending armies, the terrible reality of the occasion
hardly presents itself to our minds, and it is only when we survey the
bloody field, strewed with the mangled, lifeless remains of friend and
foe, or walk through the hospitals, where the unfortunate victims of
battle writhe in the agony of their wounds, that we realize the terrible
nature of a great battle.

Sickening as is the sight of the battle-field, the scenes about the
hospitals are worse, except to those who are actually engaged in
ministering to the relief of the wounded. To these the excitement and
labor incident to their duties, crowd out the thoughts of the ghastly
surroundings. They see only so many demands upon them for assistance,
and have no time to indulge in sentimental emotions.

Here in the rear of the army for miles, was a succession of hospitals.
Every house, and barn, and haystack, formed the nucleus of a hospital,
where men, shot through the head, through the limbs, through the body;
with every conceivable variety of wounds, lay groaning in anguish.
Surgeons toiled day and night with never lagging zeal to relieve these
sufferings, but all their labor could only afford slight relief. The
labors of medical officers after a great battle are immense, and there
is no respite from their toils so long as a wounded man remains uncared
for. While others find repose from the fatigues of battle in sleep, the
surgeons are still at work; there is no sleep for them so long as work
remains to be done.

The rebel army had fallen back; yet a skirmish line had been left to
cover the movement. At length even this suddenly disappeared, and,
firing a few solid shots, as a parting salute, the enemy took a final
leave of the field. Our forces were ordered on. We passed over the scene
of carnage, where hundreds of dead lay still unburied; and pioneers were
on every part of the field throwing the mangled, disfigured forms into
shallow graves. Along the roadsides, under the fences, and where the
confederate hospitals had been, still these gory objects met our view.
We reached Sharpsburgh, and here the evidences of the terrible conflict
were to be seen everywhere. Houses riddled by shells and bullets; some
of them destroyed by fire, and some battered into shapeless masses; the
streets filled with disabled wagons; horses galloping about without
riders; knapsacks, guns and equipments cast away in the hasty flight;
churches filled with rebel wounded; all helped to make up a scene of
destruction such as has been rarely witnessed. The people of the village
welcomed us as their deliverers, and brought water, and such other
refreshments as they had been able to conceal from the rebels. We passed
the village and bivouacked for the night.

On the 20th, we, of the Sixth corps, retraced our steps, passing again
over the battle-field, where the stench was now unendurable. We reached
Williamsport at daylight, where Couch's division was face to face with
the enemy, who were said to be recrossing the river, and who had last
night forced back part of the division.

The rebel force had, however, consisted of about four thousand cavalry,
who, finding the Unionists in force, quickly returned to the south side
of the Potomac. Here we found an immense division of Pennsylvania
militia drawn up in line of battle. Its regiments were larger than our
brigades. They were armed with every variety of fire-arms, from light
sporting shot-guns to Sharpe's rifles. Their uniforms had quite as
little uniformity as their arms. Some were dressed in gray pants and
jackets, others in light blue; and still others in the various fashions
which constituted the wearing apparel at home. Grave gentleman in
spectacles, studious young men in green glasses, pale young men who were
evidently more at home behind the counter than in line of battle, roughs
who had not been tamed by the discipline of military life, and boys who,
for the first time, had left the paternal mansion, made up the
heterogeneous division.

Remaining at Williamsport until the morning of the 23d, we marched on
the Hagerstown turnpike to Bakersville, where we remained about three
weeks. Here it was that Couch's division was joined to the Sixth corps.
(The regiments of this division were, the 36th, 55th, 62d, 65th, 67th
and 122d New York; the 23d, 82d, 93d, 98th and 102d Pennsylvania; the
7th, 10th and 37th Massachusetts, and the 2d Rhode Island.) On the 3d of
October the corps was ordered out for review by President Lincoln. The
line was formed on a fine plain, and the booming of cannon announced the
approach of the Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the United States.
The illustrious visitor was accompanied by Generals McClellan, Franklin,
Smith and other notable men, with an immense retinue. Conscious of the
fatigues already endured by these veterans, the President simply passed
along the line of the divisions, acknowledging the salutations which
greeted him, without requiring the columns to march in review. The
soldiers manifested their appreciation of the interest taken by the
Chief Magistrate in their welfare, by loud and repeated cheers.
Sumner's, Burnside's and Porter's corps had already been reviewed by the
President.

While at this camp, large accessions were made to our thinned ranks.
Before the army left Harrison's Landing, efforts had been set on foot
for filling up the skeleton regiments of our army. Recruiting officers
had been detailed from every regiment, to go to the localities from
which their respective regiments had been raised, and bring in recruits,
to fill the places made vacant by death and disease. The critical
condition of affairs when the army was withdrawn from the Peninsula,
and, afterward, when Pope was so disastrously forced back upon the
defenses of Washington, had roused to most earnest action, many
patriots, who hoped to avert further disaster by forwarding men to the
field. Under these influences, and as the result of these patriotic
efforts, many recruits offered themselves; but after the battle of
Antietam, new life was added to the recruiting service. Many who then
supposed that the war was nearly ended, gladly accepted the large
bounties, and in the hope of soon being "in at the death" of the
rebellion, enrolled themselves among the soldiers of the Union. War
meetings were held in every town, and the utmost enthusiasm was created.
In Saratoga, a large concourse of people, among whom were many of the
visitors at the Springs, gathered for a war meeting. Stirring speeches
were made. Ladies offered their diamond rings, their watch chains, their
watches and other valuables to those who should come forward and enter
the service. Under the influence of such enthusiasm, many came forward
and enrolled their names, and received the jewels from the fair hands of
the patriotic donors. By such efforts as these, all over the country,
from two to three hundred recruits were raised for each regiment in our
corps, and large accessions were made to the ranks of the whole army.

The advent of the new comers was hailed with joy by the veterans, who
had become sadly discouraged by their small and constantly decreasing
numbers.

Our men were enjoying the welcome rest and the abundant supply of food
obtained in this delightful country, and many varieties of diet, well
remembered as familiar in former years, but unknown to them since their
campaigns commenced, adorned their humble mess tables. Among other
luxuries, "hasty pudding" and johnny cake became common articles of
diet. The process of producing these articles, was after the rude manner
of men who must invent the working materials as they are needed.
One-half of an unserviceable canteen, or a tin plate perforated by means
of a nail or the sharp point of a bayonet, served the purpose of a
grater or mill for grinding the corn. The neighboring cornfields,
although guarded, yielded abundance of rich yellow ears; which, without
passing through the process of "shelling," were rubbed across the
grater, yielding a finer meal than is usually ground at the grist mills.
The meal being obtained, it was mixed with a large or small quantity of
water, as mush or cake was desired, and cooked.

The men complained of want of proper and sufficient clothing, and many
of them were absolutely barefooted. On whom the blame for the long delay
in furnishing these necessary articles should rest, we can only refer to
the controversy between the Major-General commanding the armies of the
United States and the Major-General commanding the Army of the Potomac.

Soon after midnight, October 11th, the corps was ordered to move to
Hagerstown. In the midst of a heavy shower the march was made, and
Hagerstown was reached soon after daylight. Here a new cause of
excitement occurred. Stuart, with his cavalry, was in our rear;
Chambersburgh was burned, and other towns sacked. The Vermont brigade
was hastily loaded into cars and sent to Chambersburgh in pursuit of the
cavalry, which was already far on its way to the Potomac. Of course they
could only return, having had an excursion through the country at
government expense. The Third brigade of Smith's division marched
hastily to the Maryland and Pennsylvania line, to where a stone bridge
crossed the Antietam; a battery of artillery was also here, and the
brigades and battery prepared to defend the crossing. But no enemy
appeared, and the two brigades returned to Hagerstown; the Vermonters to
occupy the town as provost guard, the other to encamp in a delightful
grove a mile beyond.

Thus ended the famous campaign of Antietam; which had humbled the pride
of the boastful confederates, and had turned back their hordes to their
mountain fastnesses in Virginia for safety. A campaign which, while
conducted with great hesitancy and a total want of that celerity of
movement usually considered absolutely necessary to brilliant success in
military operations, yet had preserved the north from imminent and
immediate danger which threatened it. Our losses in killed, wounded and
missing, in this campaign, amounted to fifteen thousand two hundred and
twenty.

The army was posted, two corps, the Second and Twelfth, at Harper's
Ferry; the remaining corps along the Potomac, above and below that
point, for twenty miles. Here, six weeks were spent in getting ready for
another campaign; the President, meanwhile, constantly ordering an
advance across the river; General McClellan, constantly offering excuses
for delay. It is not our purpose to discuss the merits of these excuses,
but it may not be out of place to mention, that although the Sixth corps
was represented as being in worse condition, in regard to clothing and
shoes, than any other corps, that corps finally crossed the river before
it received its clothing, showing that even the corps least supplied
with these important articles could undertake the campaign even after
another month's wear of the old clothes and the advent of the cold
weather. On the 18th of October, that portion of the Third brigade able
to perform duty, was marched to Clear Spring to perform picket duty,
leaving in camp the recruits, who were unarmed, and the invalids. Thus
the brigade occupied two distinct camps several miles apart. The duty on
picket was by no means severe, and the country was delightful. The boys
found little difficulty in procuring abundant supplies of luxuries, such
as soft bread, hoe cakes and other articles, from the farmers; and as
the enemy was at Winchester, they were not in great alarm from rebel
raids.

The Hagerstown camp was indeed a pleasant one. The people were generally
loyal, and seemed glad to furnish the soldiers with all the comforts
possible. There was little duty, and the invalids had time for
recovering their exhausted strength, while the recruits were afforded an
opportunity for drill.

General Slocum, who had commanded the First division of our corps since
the corps was organized, was assigned to the command of the Twelfth
corps, in place of General Mansfield, who lost his life at Antietam.

In the Vermont brigade an important change occurred, General Brooks, the
old and tried commander of the brigade, was assigned to the command of
the first division of the corps, succeeding General Slocum, who took
command of the Twelfth corps. General Brooks was one of the most
energetic and brave brigade commanders in our army, and notwithstanding
his abrupt and sometimes very stern manners, had endeared himself by his
excellent discipline and fighting qualities, not only to his brigade,
but to the whole division.

An amusing incident, well calculated to illustrate the mingled
sentiments of love and fear entertained for the general by even those in
his own command, occurred at a meeting of the officers of the brigade,
immediately after the order for the transfer. The object of the meeting,
was to make arrangements for presenting the general with a suitable
testimonial of their regard. Some discussion occurred in regard to the
character of the gift. Some proposed a silver service, some a sword. At
length it was proposed, that a fine horse and equipments be purchased.
An officer rose and said that it was all very well to talk about buying
a horse for General Brooks, but he would like to know who would be so
bold as to undertake to present it to him! Another officer suggested
that the horse might be saddled and bridled and hitched in front of the
general's quarters during the night, with a note tied to the bridle
stating for whom it was designed, and by whom presented.

A magnificent silver service was finally presented to the general, who,
forgetting his rough manners, received the beautiful gift of his loved
brigade with tears standing on his brown cheeks.




CHAPTER XV.

THE SECOND ADVANCE INTO VIRGINIA, AND THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURGH.

    Marching in Maryland--Arrival at New Baltimore--General
    McClellan superseded by General Burnside--Thanksgiving in
    camp--The grand divisions organized--The march resumed--Fatal
    delays--In order of battle--The crossing--Fredericksburgh
    bombarded--Situation of Fredericksburgh--Scenes of activity--The
    Bernard house--Scenes at the hospital--The battle on the
    right--Charges of the Pennsylvania reserves--The river
    recrossed--Reflections.


Thus, for nearly six weeks, the army remained at Hagerstown, and on the
line of the Potomac, resting and waiting for clothing. On the 28th of
October, orders came to clear all the camps of sick; and all from our
Sixth corps were sent to hospitals in Hagerstown. At dark, we set out,
and making a night march of a few miles, reached Williamsport, where we
bivouacked and remained two days, and thence went to Boonsboro.

The march from Williamsport to Boonsboro led us through a magnificent
country. On either side of the road, the long lines of corn shocks and
the vine-clad houses, formed a picture of wealth and comfort. We halted
at Boonsboro in sight of the field of Antietam, and passed our
bi-monthly muster. At daybreak in the morning we were again on the road.
The first part of our way led through a beautiful open country, but we
were soon winding among the hills that form the slopes of "Pleasant
Valley."

The forests on the hillsides, glowing with the brilliant colors of
autumn, the fine old residences, appearing here and there among the
trees, and the plethoric stacks of hay and grain, combined, indeed, to
make it a "pleasant valley," and, as the lines of troops filed along the
roads, the spectacle was beautifully picturesque. We passed South
Mountain, where the rebels had met with such a bloody reception from our
forces, and not long after we were on the ground of the battle of
Burkettsville, where our Sixth corps had charged up the hill and had
driven the enemy in confusion. Every tree bore lasting marks of a
terrible fight. For more than a mile, the forest was completely scarred
by bullets and shells; not a tree had escaped, and many of them were
pierced like the cover of a pepper-box. We halted near Berlin, in a
charming valley, where we staid over Sunday. Monday morning, we crossed
the Potomac to Virginia, on pontoon bridges, passed through the little
towns of Lovettsville and Purcellville, Union Town and Upperville, then
crossing the valley almost from west to east, from the Blue Ridge to the
Kittoctan mountains, at length, on Thursday, reached White Plains, a
station on the Front Royal and Manassas railroad, not far from
Thoroughfare Gap. Here we were overtaken by a cold storm of rain, sleet
and snow, gloomy enough, but not so gloomy as was the news that here
reached us of the elections in New York. Whatever the attitude of the
political parties may have been before or since that time in reference
to the war, in our army the result of the New York elections was
regarded, at that time, as a repudiation of the war.

We reached New Baltimore on the 9th, and the next morning we were
notified that, by order of the President, General McClellan was relieved
from the command of the army of the Potomac, to be superseded by
Major-General Burnside.

No sooner had the farewell order of General McClellan been read to the
troops, than the whole army was ordered into line for review by corps.
The retiring and the incoming generals, each with his long train of
followers, galloped along the whole of the line of the army, while
batteries fired salutes and bands played "The Star Spangled Banner" and
"Hail to the Chief." Many of the regiments cheered the departing general
with great enthusiasm, while others observed a studied silence.

A week was spent at New Baltimore, and then another week on the banks of
Aquia creek, not far from Stafford Court House.

The 27th of November was Thanksgiving day, in nearly all the loyal
States, and doubtless our friends at home, as they gathered in many a
family circle that day, to partake bounteous Thanksgiving dinners, spoke
of those who were away at the war, and thought, that with them,
Thanksgiving could only be a hard day's march in the rain or mud, with
rations of hard bread and pork; and so, many kind hearts pitied the
soldiers as they thought that we were deprived of the luxuries which
they were enjoying.

But we, too, enjoyed a pleasant Thanksgiving. In the morning, throughout
the corps, there was brigade inspection; we put on our good clothes and
presented ourselves to our generals, looking our best; then as we
marched back into the various camps, we found dinner smoking in many a
cook-tent, and the odor of roast meats rising throughout the whole corps
like an odor of sweet incense. Fresh sheep pelts hanging here and there
in considerable profusion, told of good cheer among all the men.

As evening approached, the voice of singing was heard from all the
camps, and groups were gathered under the shadow of the chestnut trees,
where many pairs of government shoes were shuffling to the music of
violins. Throughout the limits of the corps, good humor and mirth
prevailed; the sick forgot their pains, and the homesick ones, for the
time, looked bright, as they yielded to the general feeling of
happiness.

General Burnside, immediately upon taking command, consolidated the army
into three grand divisions, of two corps each. The Right, to consist of
the Second corps, General Couch, and the Ninth, General Wilcox; General
Sumner to command the grand division. General Hooker was placed in
command of the Center division, which consisted of the Third corps,
General Stoneman, and the Fifth, General Butterfield. The Left grand
division consisted of the Sixth corps, under General Smith, and the
First corps, under General Reynolds; General Franklin was assigned to
the command.

The command of the Second division, Sixth corps, was given to
Brigadier-General A. P. Howe.

At length, we resumed our march, reaching Brooks' Station the first
night; then, after a day's delay, we started again. The weather was
intensely cold, and the mud almost unfathomable. The troops, with much
difficulty, moved about six miles, reaching the rear of Falmouth
Station, opposite Fredericksburgh; but the trains, at midnight, had only
proceeded two miles. In the ambulances, the sick suffered beyond
description. Six soldiers from the Third brigade, Second division, died
in the ambulances that night. Even the well men in camp could hardly
manage to keep warm. Few persons in that vast army slept, and the ring
of hundreds of axes and the falling of trees, which were to be piled on
the fires, were heard all night.

The Right and Center grand divisions, had arrived in the vicinity of
Falmouth several days before; and it had been the design of General
Burnside to cross his army over the Rappahannock, seize the heights of
Fredericksburgh, and push on toward Richmond, before the enemy could
throw a sufficiently strong force in his front, to offer serious
resistance. In this, doubtless, he would have been successful, but "some
one had blundered," and the Commander-in-Chief suffered the
mortification of seeing his plans foiled, and his series of forced
marches a failure, because the pontoons which were to meet him on his
arrival before Fredericksburgh were still at Washington; and this
through the criminal neglect of some one. This campaign, which promised
more than any previous campaign of the Army of the Potomac, was now
destined to prove a failure.

From the time that the first troops appeared in front of
Fredericksburgh, nearly three weeks were spent in waiting for pontoons;
while General Lee had abundant time to bring together all his forces and
post them in such positions, as to dispute our passage at any point, for
twenty miles up and down the river. In guarding this extensive front,
General Lee had stretched out his army to such an extent, that Burnside
hoped, by throwing his whole army across at one point, to pierce the
weak line before his enemy could concentrate his forces.

On the morning of the 11th of December, we marched to a point about two
miles below Fredericksburgh. The whole army was in motion. The ground
had become hardened by frost, and a light coating of snow lay upon it.
The wheels no longer sunk in the mire; but artillery rolled easily over
the frozen ground.

The Right grand division, Sumner's, had already taken its position
immediately in front and above the city of Fredericksburgh; the Center,
Hooker's, and the Left division, Franklin's, now took position below the
town.

As we descended from the heights of Stafford, into the valley of the
Rappahannock, dense clouds of fog obscured the view of the opposite
bank, and it was only at noon that we could distinguish objects on the
farther side of the river. Engineers were hard at work laying pontoon
bridges, being submitted to a brisk musketry fire from the rebel
skirmishers, who at times charged upon them, killing and wounding
several of the workmen, and greatly hindering the work. A few volleys
from our batteries, which were brought forward presently, put these
troublesome parties to flight, and the work went on. Still, during all
the day, the enemy strove with artillery and infantry to prevent the
laying of the bridge, but to no avail.

On the right, where the veteran Sumner commanded, the task of throwing
the bridges across, was far more difficult than at the lower crossing.
In the storehouses and dwellings along the banks of the river, swarms of
rebel soldiers were concealed; and these, by pouring murderous volleys
into the midst of the pontoniers, compelled them to desist from the
attempt to finish their bridge. Determined no longer to be thwarted by
these concealed foes, General Burnside, having previously notified the
civil authorities of the town, that if the houses were used as covers
for men who were shooting our soldiers, the town must suffer the
consequences, ordered our batteries to concentrate their fire upon it
and batter down the walls. Soon after noon, the bombardment commenced.
One hundred and seventy cannon belched forth the huge iron missiles upon
the devoted city. The roar of the artillery was terrific, and as the
winds rolled away the huge columns of smoke, we saw that the city was on
fire, the flames leaping to the skies. The spectacle was one of awful
grandeur. The bursting bombs, shooting forth their flashing coruscations
from the columns of smoke, the great tongues of flame from the burning
buildings, leaping to the heavens, the clamor of the bursting shells and
the shock of the artillery which shook the earth, made up one of the
most terribly magnificent of scenes.

In the midst of all this direful tumult, and while the conflagration of
the city drove the confederates out of their places of concealment,
Sumner's forces succeeded in laying their bridge and crossing troops;
not, however, until two brave regiments had crossed in boats and
captured or dispersed the rebel sharpshooters, who had given so much
trouble. Hooker also effected a crossing at the same time. We had now
bridges across at three points; "Franklin's Crossing" being nearly two
miles below the town.

The city of Fredericksburgh is upon the south bank of the Rappahannock
river. Fronting the city, on the north side of the stream, rises a steep
bluff--Stafford Heights--which approaches near the river above and
opposite the town, and gradually recedes from it below. This was the
side held by our army. Behind the town, on the south, the ground rises
in several successive terraces until it reaches an elevation called "the
mountain." Each terrace commands all below it, and the whole forms a
position of unsurpassed advantages for defense. Here, between these high
grounds, and stretching on either side of the river, is the valley of
the Rappahannock--almost a level plain of six miles in length, and
averaging two and a half miles in breadth, narrowing in front of the
town to less than a mile, and spreading out, at the point where our
lower bridges were thrown across, to at least three miles. On the crest
of the heights, north of the river, were posted our batteries in great
numbers. On the plain and on each of the terraces south of the river,
the enemy was intrenched in most formidable positions.

The advance of the enemy fell back, as our forces crossed the river,
leaving us in possession of the plain on both sides, and of the town.
Night came on, and the spectacle was unutterably grand, as the sheets of
fire burst from the mouths of the opposing batteries; but at length the
roar of battle subsided, and except the firing of pickets, all was
quiet. Franklin threw but a small force across the river; a strong
picket line, well supported, holding a semi-circular tract of the plain.
The Eighteenth and Thirty-first New York were the first of the Sixth
corps to cross the bridge.

The Sixth corps returned to the heights and bivouacked for the night,
leaving a few regiments to hold the plain in front of the bridge. It was
the intention of the commanding general to press the enemy closely in
front with the Right and Center grand divisions, while the Left division
was to make a flank movement on the right of the enemy's line, seizing
the road to Bowling Green, and rendering the rebel position untenable.

Before dawn on the following morning, we made our way again to the
river. Thousands crowded upon the banks, or hurriedly dashed across the
bridge. The rumble of wheels upon the frozen ground, the tramp of
thousands of men, the neighing of innumerable horses, mingled with the
roar of musketry. The sun rose in splendor, and the spires of the city,
two miles to our right, shone brightly, for only the lower part of the
town had been destroyed by the conflagration of the day before, and tens
of thousands of muskets gleamed in the morning light. The broad plain,
on the south bank, swarmed with the hosts of Franklin and Hooker.
Musketry fire became more and more brisk, as our forces moved into
position, but no general engagement came on. Shells from the rebel
batteries came bursting in our midst, and in reply, our own guns on
Stafford Heights sent their shells screaming over our heads, to burst in
the midst of the rebel artillerists.

A fine stone mansion of large dimensions, situated on the south bank of
the river, and a little below the bridge, was taken by the surgeons of
our Second division, for a hospital. The position was exposed to the
rebel fire, but it was the best that could be found. Just in front of it
the gallant General Bayard, of the cavalry, was struck by a shell, and
killed instantly. Others, some of whom had been previously been wounded,
received fatal shots at the very doors of the house. The owner of this
magnificent mansion still remained in it. He was an old secesh bachelor,
very aristocratic in his notions, and highly incensed at the use his
house was put to by the "hireling Yankees." But he was taken care of by
a guard. His servants cooked for the wounded and our surgeons; his fine
larder furnished us delicacies and his cellar rich old wines.

Doubtless his feelings on delivering to us the keys of his wine cellar
were not unlike those of Sir Hugh Berkley in "The Wagoner;" who

  "--only knew they drank his wine;
  Would they might hang, a scarecrow line,
  On the next lightning blasted tree."

Saturday, the sun appeared, bright and warm as on a spring morning. The
battle now commenced in terrible earnest. First, on the left, the
booming of heavy guns and the rattle of musketry told of hot work in our
own front. Then gradually the battle rolled on to the right; and while
it thundered there, our forces on the left remained comparatively quiet.
Then, back again came the roar of cannon, the shrieking and cracking of
shells and the din of musketry.

The hills in our front were thickly wooded, and in these woods
"Stonewall" Jackson had concealed his forces. General Meade, with his
division of Pennsylvania reserves, and Gibbons, with his division, both
of Reynolds' First corps, were sent to take and hold the Bowling Green
road, which lay in the edge of the wood. Gallantly and in splendid
order, the two divisions moved up toward the edge of the wood. Gibbons'
division halted at the railroad, near the wood, Meade's pressed forward,
and presently disappeared among the trees. Although considerable
resistance was met with, the gallant division continued to press
forward, the rebels steadily giving way. Suddenly, the roar of cannon
became awful, and the fire of musketry almost deafening. The rebels had
opened an enfilading fire upon the division, which made fearful havoc.
The men who had so gallantly marched into the woods, came hurrying back
in disorder; not, however, until they had succeeded in capturing several
hundred prisoners from the enemy. A flag, one or two mounted officers,
and a squad of a dozen or twenty men were all that could be recognized
as a regimental organization; all others had fallen before the deadly
fire that met them, or had lost their commands. The men quickly rallied
about their flags and again charged into the woods, and again they were
sent back in disorder. They were now withdrawn, and the rebels charged
upon the line of the Sixth corps. The troops of our Second division were
lying down behind a slight elevation of ground, and, as the rebels
charged down furiously upon us, our men suddenly rose and poured a
deadly volley into them. At the same time the troops of the First
division met their attack with spirit, and sent them reeling back to
their cover in the forest.

The wounded poured into our hospitals, and well did those surgeons, who
had seized the stone mansion, earn that day, lasting gratitude from
their division.

Never had wounded men been so quickly or so well cared for. It was the
beginning of an era of _organized_ labor in that department. Among the
earliest of the wounded was General Vinton, commanding the Third
brigade, Second division. A ball had passed into the abdomen, and was
cut out from his back. The unfortunate men were stowed in every part of
the great house, and in the smaller buildings surrounding it, and tents
furnished shelter for those unable to find room in the buildings. After
General Vinton was wounded, Brigadier-General Thomas H. Neill was
ordered to assume the command of our brigade, which he did on the
battle-field.

Meanwhile, on the right, Sumner's and Hooker's forces were striving,
with herculean efforts, to dislodge the enemy from his strongholds, but
to no avail. His position was impregnable, and the Union forces only
advanced against the works to meet with deadly repulse from the savage
fire of the concealed foe, and to fall back with fearful losses. Thus
the struggle lasted until evening, when the roar of battle was hushed,
and our tired troops slumbered upon their arms.

On Sunday morning the rattle of musketry and the thunder of artillery
commenced again, but, as little reply was made by the enemy, the
demonstration on our part soon ceased, and the day was spent in
comparative quiet. It was said that General Burnside, unwilling to give
up the struggle, had ordered an advance of the Ninth corps, which he was
personally to lead, against one of the rebel strongholds, but that he
had yielded to the advice of the grand division commanders to refrain
from the attempt.

Monday still found us on the battle-field. The thumping of artillery was
renewed, but not fiercely. Our wounded were removed to the other side of
the river. A kind providence had favored them, for the weather had been
delightful. Had such weather prevailed as we experienced a few days
before, many of the wounded, faint and exhausted from the loss of blood,
must have perished with the cold. During the night the whole army was
withdrawn, with as much secrecy as possible, across the pontoon bridges.
No sooner had the troops crossed to the north side of the river than the
bridges were taken up, and the two armies were again separated by the
Rappahannock. As the bridges were being taken up, the rebels rushed to
the bank and fired into the pontoniers, but were repelled by the men of
the Seventy-seventh New York. That regiment formed a picket line along
the bank of the river, but were ordered not to fire unless the enemy
did. "A pretty order," said Terry Gray, of Company B, "to wait till a
man is killed before he can fire his gun!" The army went into camp on a
line from Falmouth to Belle Plain; the Sixth corps occupying nearly the
center of the line, at a place called White Oak Church, from a little
whitewashed meeting house, without bell or steeple, in the midst of a
clump of white oak trees.

The attempt to capture the heights of Fredericksburgh by a direct
assault was indeed a daring undertaking, and one involving a fearful
risk. The only hope of success lay in the active and hearty coöperation
of all the commands of the army. Such coöperation was not to be had. To
the Left grand division was assigned an important work which it failed
to accomplish; not because it was defeated in the attempt, but because
the attempt was not made in earnest. The troops were brave and eager to
meet the enemy. None were ever more brave or more desirous to test their
valor. The heroic deeds of those who did advance against the enemy will
ever redound to the glory of our arms; and had all the forces of the
Left grand division been brought fairly into action, the result might
have been different. Surely such troops as composed the grand old Sixth
corps were fitted for a nobler work than standing upon an open plain,
exposed to fierce artillery fire, without ever being allowed to turn
upon the enemy. Our defeat had cost us more than twelve thousand men, in
killed, wounded and missing.




CHAPTER XVI.

THE WINTER AT FALMOUTH.

    Camp at White Oak Church--"The mud march"--Return to
    camp--General Neill--General Hooker supersedes General
    Burnside--Burnside's magnanimity--General Hooker as a
    soldier--Reconstruction--The cavalry organized--Business
    departments renovated--The medical department--Ambulance
    system--Quartermasters' and commissary departments--Life in
    camp--Snowball battles--In the Seventy-seventh--The Light
    division--Review by General Hooker--General John Sedgwick--Scene
    at head-quarters--Review of the army by the President--Preparing
    for the campaign.


The men built huts, and made themselves as comfortable as they could, in
their camp at White Oak Church, but disease spread rapidly, especially
among the recruits. The regiments were crowded closely together on
ground too low and wet for good camping ground, and the men, having
never before erected winter quarters from shelter tents, were not so
expert as they became in the succeeding winters; so they suffered from
inconvenient quarters, as well as from the low ground and crowded camps.

[Illustration: White Oak Church]

Our army was now composed in large part, of the recruits sent from the
north during the preceding summer and autumn, and thousands of these had
never had any idea of fighting or of suffering the privations of army
life. They had enlisted for the large bounties which were paid at that
time, with the determination to leave the service as soon as their
bounties were paid, and a favorable opportunity offered itself for
escape. Desertions became alarmingly frequent; indeed, when a few weeks
later General Hooker assumed command, there were more than eighty-four
thousand absentees, with and without authority. The great number of
desertions, we think, should be attributed to the fact that so large a
proportion of the new recruits had enlisted for money, rather than to
the demoralization of the army.

Notwithstanding the inconveniences to which the men were subjected, and
the advance to midwinter, the weather was in our favor. The sun shone
brightly, the days were warm and the roads dry. It became evident that
General Burnside was determined not to allow the delightful weather and
the excellent roads to pass unimproved. Indications of a general
movement crowded upon us, and on the 20th of January came the order to
march.

The whole army broke camp and moved toward Banks' Ford, two miles up the
river from White Oak Church. On the march, an order from the commanding
general was read to the troops, announcing to them that the auspicious
moment had at length arrived when we were to reap the glorious fruits of
our long toils. At five o'clock we halted in the thick woods at Banks'
Ford, the point selected for crossing the river, and in a few minutes
were quietly and comfortably bivouacked out of sight of rebels on the
opposite side. Scarcely had we settled ourselves for a comfortable
night's rest, when the clouds, which had been gathering since morning,
broke in rain, and the delightful Indian summer gave way to the rainy
winter of the south. All night long the rain poured, and all the next
day. It was evident we had waited too long. But the commander was
determined not to abandon his effort to outflank the enemy. By morning,
the roads were so softened by the rain, that horses could not haul
artillery or pontoons into position. Men took the place of horses. The
whole Vermont brigade was detailed to drag the pontoons and guns to the
river. All day long, working and tugging with the mud above their knees;
here a hundred men pulling at a pontoon boat, there a party prying a
cannon out of the mire with long levers, and still other parties laying
strips of corduroy road. The Vermonters passed a disagreeable day.

General Burnside was not idle all this while. Riding from one point to
another, now personally superintending the placing of a battery in
position on the bank of the river, now encouraging the men who lugged at
the boats and guns, and now selecting places to cut new roads, he passed
the night and the day in fatiguing and anxious labor. As he rode through
the camp of our division in the afternoon, with only two staff officers,
himself and his horse completely covered with mud, the rim of his hat
turned down to shed the rain, his face careworn with this unexpected
disarrangement of his plans, we could but think that the soldier on
foot, arm oppressed with the weight of knapsack, haversack and gun, bore
an easy load compared with that of the commander of the army, who now
saw departing his hopes of redeeming the prestige he had lost at
Fredericksburgh.

Men were detailed from each of the regiments of the corps to return to
Falmouth, a distance of five miles, to bring on their backs two days'
rations; those brought by the men being nearly exhausted. But during the
night it was determined to abandon the attempt to cross the river. The
enemy, by this time fully aware of our intention, was prepared for us,
and a crossing could only be made at great sacrifice, perhaps with
defeat. So at sunrise in the morning we were on the road back to our old
camp; this time for permanent winter quarters. All along the road lay a
multitude of dead horses and mules, which had fallen in the tremendous
but unavailing efforts of the day before. Artillery and wagons still
stuck fast in the mud, and cannoniers and teamsters lifted and tugged
with rails and with poles to raise the piece or the wagon from the mire.

The mud was deep, the day was gloomy and the men were discouraged. They
straggled badly. Regiments were not to be distinguished. The whole
column became an unorganized crowd, pressing toward the old camps. Tired
and discouraged as were the men, they kept up their lively sallies and
jokes, as though all was smooth work. Toward evening the troops of our
corps arrived on their old ground, now to be our home until the opening
of spring, and at once fell to work to restore to some degree of comfort
that most desolate of scenes, an abandoned camp. Unfortunately, on
leaving the place, little thinking that they were so soon to return,
they had burned everything combustible, and thus a strip of board or a
piece of timber could hardly be found within the limits of the corps.
Nevertheless, comfortable quarters were soon erected, and the routine of
drills and picket was resumed.

Brigadier-General Neill, who was assigned to the command of the Third
brigade, was active in encouraging his men to provide good quarters, and
in furnishing every facility in his power to make them comfortable. The
general was a portly gentleman, with light red hair and whiskers, and a
small blue eye, ceremonious in his style, and a perfect pattern of
courtliness. He had, at West Point, won the appellation of "Beau Neill,"
a title which never left him. He was a good commander in camp. He
originated the brigade dress parade that winter, often calling out the
brigade on fine evenings, and substituting the brigade for the
regimental parade. The custom was at length adopted in many brigades in
the army of the Potomac; but few gave credit for the improved parade to
the originator of it.

The second failure of General Burnside rendered his removal from the
command of the army a thing to be expected; and no one was surprised
when the order came relieving him, and assigning General Hooker to the
command. It must be confessed that our failure at Bank's Ford had done
much to demoralize the army and destroy the confidence in the commanding
general so absolutely necessary to success. On our way back from Bank's
Ford, as we passed Fredericksburgh, we saw huge placards posted up by
the rebels with taunting inscriptions, such as "Burnside stuck in the
mud," printed in conspicuous letters. The men caught up the words, and
"Burnside stuck in the mud" passed from one end of the disordered column
to the other. When we had failed at Fredericksburgh, the men were as
willing as ever to try again under the same commander. They believed him
to be at least earnest and brave. They knew that he was noble and
self-sacrificing. In the noble letter to General Halleck, in which he
assumed all the responsibility for the failure at Fredericksburgh, they
found renewed assurance that he had all the qualities of a true
soldier--bravery, integrity and true manhood; but an army must have
success, or it cannot long repose confidence in the general. So, while
the Army of the Potomac regarded General Burnside with great respect, it
gladly welcomed the advent of "Fighting Joe Hooker" to the command.

General Hooker had fairly won the title of "Fighting Joe" at the
slaughter of Williamsburgh, where, almost single-handed with his
division, he had stemmed the tide of battle for hours, until reinforced
by Kearney, and then, with the help of that hero, had held the whole
rebel army until it was outflanked by our Second division.

In all the battles of the Peninsula he had been conspicuous, and at
South Mountain and Antietam his fighting propensities were exhibited in
more than their wonted splendor. In person he was of large stature, with
fine features, brilliant eye, his side whiskers and ruddy countenance
giving a more youthful appearance than his light gray hair would
indicate. His gleaming eye told of the spirit which animated the man,
and his determined air betokened the persistent and fearless soldier. In
battle or on review he rode a magnificent milk white steed, a powerful
animal and of extraordinary fleetness. Mounted on this superb war horse,
he was the most conspicuous, as he was always one of the handsomest men
in the army.

The energy of the new commander soon began to be manifested in the
reconstruction and reorganization of the whole army. The first step in
the progress of reconstruction, was the revocation of the order making
three grand divisions of the army. By the abolition of the grand
divisions, Generals Sumner and Franklin were relieved from their
commands; and the corps commanders, no longer subject to intermediate
commanders, were again directly responsible to the general-in-chief of
the army. Doubtless General Hooker had seen that the creation of these
grand divisions had much to do with the failures of General Burnside.

The cavalry next engaged the attention of the general. The whole force
was thoroughly reorganized and put in an efficient condition, under
command of Major-General Stoneman. Hereafter, men were not to ask, "Who
ever saw a dead cavalryman?" To General Hooker, the cavalry of the Army
of the Potomac owes its efficiency and the glorious record it from that
time made for itself.

The superiority of the rebel cavalry, in the early part of the war, was
generally attributed to the supposed fact that the young men of the
south were so much better horsemen than those of the north. In reality,
this had little, if anything, to do with it. It is even very doubtful if
there was any difference in favor of the superior horsemanship of the
southern cavalry. Their strength lay in their union. The rebel cavalry
was organized from the beginning; ours was an incoherent mass of men,
having no proper relations or dependencies within itself. From the day
that it became organized, the superiority of the rebel cavalry passed
away forever. We had always better horses, and our men were certainly
never inferior to the rebels. All that was needed was the proper
combination of action; and, as soon as this was secured, our cavalry
became the finest in the world.

The business departments were also thoroughly renovated. The changes in
the medical, quartermasters' and commissary departments were such as to
bring each to a standard of perfection, which had never before been
reached by those departments of any army in the field. No army had ever
been provisioned as was ours that winter. Soft bread, potatoes, beets,
carrots, onions, fresh beef, flour, sugar and coffee, constituted the
regular rations of the men, and facilities were afforded for procuring
luxuries not in the regular supply.

The medical department became so thoroughly systematized, that wounded
and sick men were cared for better than they had ever been in an army
before. This radical change had commenced under General Burnside; but
was perfected under General Hooker, by the efficient and earnest medical
director of the army, Dr. Letterman; to whom belongs the honor of
bringing about this most desirable change.

By the new system, the surgeons were enabled to accomplish a far greater
amount of work, and in much better order than under the old; and the
wounded were better and more quickly cared for. By this system the
hospital of the division was the unit. From the division, a medical
officer of good executive ability was selected, to whom was assigned the
general oversight of the hospital. One or more surgeons of well known
skill and experience were detailed from the medical force of the
division, who were known as "operating surgeons;" to each of whom was
assigned three assistants, also known to be skillful men, who were
either surgeons or assistant surgeons. To the operating surgeons all
cases requiring surgical operations were brought, and thus the wounded
men had the benefit of the very best talent and experience in the
division, in the decision of the question whether he should be submitted
to the use of the knife, and in the performance of the operation in case
one was required. It was a mistaken impression among those at home, that
each medical officer was the operating surgeon for his own men. Only
about one in fifteen of the medical officers was intrusted with
operations.

From each brigade an assistant surgeon was detailed to provide food and
shelter for the wounded. His duty was to superintend the erection of
hospital tents as soon as there was a prospect of an engagement, and to
have hot coffee and rations of food ready for the wounded as soon as
they came to the hospital; he was to attend to their clothing, bedding
and rations as long as they remained in the hospital.

Another assistant surgeon from each brigade was selected to keep the
records; to take the name and character of wound of every one who was
brought to the hospital, with the operation, if any; and the list of
deaths, the place of burial, and all other matters necessary to record.
An assistant surgeon was to remain with each regiment, and attend to
getting the wounded from the field into the ambulances, and to arrest
hemorrhage in case of necessity.

Thus, all labor was systematized. Every officer and nurse knew exactly
what to do: each had his own part of the work assigned to him, and there
was no conflicting of orders or clashing of opinions.

Our ambulance system was also very perfect--so complete, indeed, that,
after a year of trial in the Army of the Potomac, congress adopted it as
the ambulance system of the United States. To Doctor Letterman, also,
belongs the honor of originating this system.

The ambulances of each corps were under command of a captain, who acted
under directions from the medical director of the corps. A lieutenant
commanded the ambulances of a division, and a second lieutenant those of
a brigade. To each ambulance was assigned a driver, and two
stretcher-bearers; and to three ambulances a sergeant, mounted. The
ambulances of a division always went together, behind the division, and
on the march were attended by a surgeon, an assistant surgeon, a
hospital steward, a cook, and three or more nurses, who were to attend
to the wants of the sick in the ambulances, and at night, if any were
unable to return to their regiments, to erect tents for them, and supply
them with food and bedding. In an engagement, the stretcher-bearers of
each regiment, with the sergeant, reported to the assistant surgeon in
attendance with the regiment. As soon as a man was wounded, he was
brought to the medical officer, put into an ambulance, and taken to the
division hospital. By this means, ordinarily, every man was carried to
the hospital of his own division.

The improvements in the quartermasters' department were nearly as great;
and we have already alluded to the abundant supplies furnished by the
commissary department.

Great difficulty was experienced by the troops of our corps in getting
wood. The men of our Second division lugged wood on their backs a mile
and a half, with which to do their cooking and warm their tents. But
notwithstanding the hardships they endured, the inclemency of the
winter, and their severe picket duty, the men were gay. In many of the
regiments, the sounds of the guitar and accordion could be heard every
evening; and on pleasant afternoons and evenings, parties assembled in
the company streets and danced cotillions, and polkas, and jigs, to the
music of violins. When snow covered the ground, mimic battles with
snowballs were a frequent amusement. At times, one regiment would
challenge another, and a general melee would follow. Snowballing was,
particularly, a favorite amusement with our friends of the Twenty-first
New Jersey, who never let an opportunity pass for indulging in their
favorite sport. Each party carried its flags and was led by officers
chosen for the occasion. The capture of a flag, or of a number of
prisoners, from an opposite party, caused great glee among the victors.
A good deal of interest was excited throughout the Second division by a
snowball battle between one of the Vermont regiments and the
Twenty-sixth New Jersey. Both regiments formed in line of battle, each
officered by its line and field officers, the latter mounted. At the
signal, the battle commenced; charges and counter-charges were made,
prisoners were taken on either side, the air was filled with the white
missiles, and stentorian cheers went up as one or other party gained an
advantage. At length victory rested with the Vermonters, and the Jersey
boys surrendered the field, defeated.

Another favorite amusement in the corps was the game of base ball. There
were many excellent players in the different regiments, and it was
common for the ball-players of one regiment or brigade to challenge
another regiment or brigade. These matches were watched by great crowds
of soldiers with intense interest.

In our Seventy-seventh regiment, matters went on much the same as in
other regiments of the corps. We had our share of disease and
desertions. We had our ball-players and our violinists; our singers and
our story-tellers, as every regiment had. At regimental head-quarters,
matters went on gaily. It was the custom of the officers of the field
and staff to collect in one of the tents as evening came on, and, in
company with friends from other regiments, pass the hours in lively
converse, in singing and relating amusing stories.

We had a glee book and an old copy of the "Carmina Sacra," and then our
friend, Colonel, now Major-General, Connor, was never at a loss for a
song, and Colonel French often displayed his genius with the violin, and
our friend, the chaplain, could always tell a good story or perpetrate a
joke. Chaplain Norman Fox was an accession to our staff, who joined us
when we first encamped at White Oak Church. He was a gentleman of
enterprise and talent, who, soon after his arrival in camp, instituted a
series of religious meetings on week days, in addition to the regular
services of the Sabbath, and a good deal of religious interest was
awakened among the men.

Among other changes, we lost one of our most valuable and beloved
officers. Dr. Campbell, who had for weeks been declining in health, was
obliged to resign. The doctor was a most genial and companionable man,
and an excellent officer. We greatly missed his hearty laugh, his fund
of stories and ready wit in our social gatherings. The doctor was
afterward appointed surgeon of the Fortieth New York, but was attacked
with spotted fever, from which he recovered only after a long illness,
during which he again resigned.

The First brigade, Second division, which for some time past had been
under command of General Calvin A. Pratt, was broken up, and a new
brigade, called the "Light division," was formed from the regiments of
the First brigade, and one regiment from each the First and Third
divisions. The regiments were, the Fifth Wisconsin, the Sixth Maine, the
Thirty-first and Forty-third New York, and the Sixty-first Pennsylvania.
Colonel Burnham, of the Sixth Maine, was placed in command.

Among other reviews in the Sixth corps during the winter, was one by
General Hooker, of our Second division and the Light division. The
troops were formed in line, and the general and staff were escorted to
the ground by the Twentieth New York, of Neill's brigade, in splendid
style. The regiment was composed entirely of German Turners. Their drill
surpassed that of any regiment of regulars, and the exquisite neatness
they displayed in their dress and in the care of their equipments,
together with the perfection of their movements, made them the finest
appearing regiment in the service, when on parade. It is to be regretted
that the prestige of the regiment was not always sustained on the
battle-field. As the regiment and cavalcade appeared on the field, it
was a brilliant pageant; first came our brigade band, one of the finest
in the army, then the pioneers of the Twentieth, their axes, shovels and
picks polished so that they glistened in the sunlight like burnished
silver; then the Twentieth regiment, in column by company, marching with
step as perfect as though all were directed by a single will; following
the regiment, rode General Hooker on his superb white horse, a head and
shoulders above all his cavalcade. The immense suite, consisting of
General Hooker's own staff, and a large number of major-generals and
their staffs, completed the brilliant column. The division was drawn up
in a line, stretching a half a mile across the field, straight as the
flight of an arrow, with artillery on either flank. The general and his
brilliant retinue, rode to the right of the line, and advanced slowly
along the front of the whole division, inspecting closely each regiment
as he passed, the bands playing "Hail to the Chief," the colors dipping,
and the bugles pealing notes of welcome. Having passed the entire front
of the line, the chief now rode at a rapid pace along its rear to the
point of beginning. He then, with his attendants, took a position on a
slight elevation of ground at a distance from the line, when the whole
division, in column, marching to the place, passed in review before him,
and the pageant was ended.

An important change in the command of our corps occurred about this
time. General Smith, who had so long commanded our division, and for
some time past our Sixth corps, was relieved of his command, and ordered
to the department of North Carolina. His successor was General John
Sedgwick, then well known as one of our best division commanders, and
one of the sternest soldiers in the Army of the Potomac. Bred as a
soldier, he had served with great distinction in Mexico, and at the
breaking out of the rebellion he had joined the Union army, and was soon
placed in command of a division in Sumner's corps, which, under his
command, became the best division of the corps, as the Sixth corps
became the best in the army. Modest and retiring in his ordinary
intercourse with his fellows, he exhibited the most brilliant qualities
in time of battle. The dignity of his bearing fitted him to command, and
he needed not the insignia of rank to command the deference of those
about him.

None who witnessed the farewell reception of General Smith, will forget
the scene at corps head-quarters. The two generals, the old and loved
leader of the Second division and of the corps, and the new commander,
stood side by side. General Smith, tall, well dressed, his regulation
coat buttoned closely about him, his easy and graceful manner and
conversation; General Sedgwick, of stouter build, wearing a loose blouse
and coarse blue pants, such as are furnished the private soldier, strong
and manly in his appearance, and somewhat abrupt in his manner. Officers
returned to their camps satisfied that although the corps had lost a
favorite commander, it had also gained a brave leader.

One of the grand events of the winter was the review of the whole army
by President Lincoln. The review continued two days. The first was
occupied in reviewing the Second, Fifth, Sixth and Third corps; the
second of the remaining corps. It was a most imposing spectacle, never
to be forgotten by those who were actors or spectators. The President,
in his civilian's dress and tall hat, accompanied by General Hooker, and
followed by an immense suite, was welcomed by the thundering of
artillery as it fired the national salute. The different corps were
drawn up in line, each occupying a plain within sight of the others.
Riding in front of the corps, the President and the immense cavalcade
passed along the whole line, inspecting carefully each regiment, then
returned in the rear. This inspection over, the President and staff
stationed themselves in some favorable position, and the whole corps
passed in review before him. The same process was repeated with each
corps.

How one unaccustomed to such physical fatigues could endure such labor,
commencing early in the morning and only resting at dark, was a wonder.
It seemed as if the President's physical, like his mental constitution,
could bear up under the most trying and continued labors. As the warm
weather of spring appeared, the men adorned their camps with evergreen
trees and beautiful arches, so that the camps presented a pleasant
appearance; but we had little time to enjoy these, for as soon as the
roads began to be passable, preparations were pushed forward for the
spring campaign.




CHAPTER XVII.

THE CHANCELLORSVILLE CAMPAIGN.

    Orders to move--The river crossed--Sedgwick's command--The First
    corps withdrawn--Gallant conduct of the Light
    division--Advancing to the heights--The line of battle--The
    columns of attack--Attack of Howe's columns--Of Newton's
    column--Of Burnham's--Misfortune following victory--Fight of
    Bartlett's brigade--The First division at work--A critical
    position--The Sixth corps surrounded--Savage fight of Neill's
    brigade--The corps withdraws to Banks' Ford--Recrosses the
    river--Hooker's operations on the right--Position of the
    corps--Rout of the Eleventh corps--The rebels repulsed--Jackson
    renews the attack--The rebels again repulsed--Hooker recrosses
    the river.


On Tuesday, the 28th of April, the Sixth corps received orders to break
up its camp and be ready to march at a moment's notice. Eight days'
rations had been issued to the men, who were in the highest spirits,
having forgotten all their former discouragements, and were now only
anxious for an encounter with the enemy. A storm of rain of some
violence set in on the morning of the 28th, which rendered marching
difficult. At twelve o'clock we received the order to "fall in," and in
five minutes we were on our way to take our place in the line of battle.
A march of six miles through thickets and bogs, brought us to the rear
of Falmouth Station, at a short distance from the river. Here we
bivouacked for the night, and were awakened before daylight in the
morning by the sound of artillery and musketry at the river, where
Russell's brigade, of the First division, was forcing a passage across
the stream. The Second division only had been allowed to rest quietly
during the night. The men of the Light brigade had toiled from dark
until nearly dawn, carrying the pontoon boats on their shoulders to the
river side, and launching them in the stream. So noiselessly had they
conducted their operations, that the pickets of the enemy took no alarm
until they suddenly saw the braves of Russell's brigade approaching in
the boats, just as dawn was breaking. The astonished confederates fired
a few volleys of musketry, and our guns threw among them a few charges
of cannister, and the rebels fled precipitately. A number of prisoners
were captured, among them the officer of the picket-guard. Colonel
Irwin, of the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, who had, at Antietam, commanded
the Third brigade of the Second division, was among the wounded on our
side.

At sunrise the Second division filed down to the river side, and took
position in line of battle. Our horses cropped the green blades which
had sprung from the grain scattered for their food nearly five months
before. The division was upon the very spot where it lay before, at the
first battle of Fredericksburgh. The bridge also was in the same place
that Franklin's bridge had been. The point was known as Franklin's
Crossing.

The First division of our corps (Brook's) was on the other side of the
river, holding the plain for some distance. The pickets of that division
formed the half of a circle of about three-fourths of a mile in
diameter, the center being at the pontoon bridge, where some earthworks
were thrown up. At our left, about a mile down the river, the First
corps had also effected a crossing. The rebels had offered strong
resistance, but the crossing was gallantly accomplished by Wadsworth's
division in boats. Like the First division of our own corps, Wadsworth's
division was holding a semi-circular portion of the plateau; but being
able to maintain the position by some fighting.

Sickles' Third corps was upon the high ground in the rear, ready to come
to the assistance of the corps at the river. The three corps, First,
Third and Sixth, were under command of General Sedgwick.

The rebels spent the day in throwing up intrenchments and shelling
Reynolds' position. Toward night the artillery practice ceased, and the
First and Sixth corps bivouacked where they had stood during the day,
but Sickles and his corps were ordered to the assistance of Hooker, on
the right.

The morning of the 30th was lowery, but the clouds dispersed as the day
advanced. About noon the troops were massed by brigades, and a
congratulatory order from General Hooker was read to them, amid great
cheering. "The enemy," said the order, "must now come out and fight us
on our ground, or retreat ingloriously." Nothing more of interest
occurred that day; but, in the afternoon of the following day, the First
corps became engaged in a fierce artillery duel with the enemy, in which
the corps lost a large number of its men in killed and wounded. At
sunset an order came from General Hooker, at Chancellorsville, for
General Sedgwick to assume a threatening attitude--to make a severe
demonstration--but to make no attack. There was much marching and
getting into position, and regiments and divisions were marched and
countermarched in such a manner as to convey to the rebels the
impression that a grand attack was to be made at that point. The enemy
was evidently deceived by these maneuvers, and heavy columns of rebel
infantry commenced to form upon the old battle-field. While we stood in
line of battle, one of our bands near the skirmish line struck up the
air, "Dixie." The rebels, hearing the strains, set up defiant cheers,
which were answered by our army in the most tremendous shouts
imaginable. The contest seemed for the time to depend on strength of
lung, and our boys certainly beat them at shouting.

As the sun disappeared behind the hills, when Hooker's guns were
thundering, we retired to our tents. All day long the earth had been
shaken by tremendous firing of artillery on the right; and now, as
darkness gathered over the scenes of conflict, the thundering of the
guns and the trembling of the earth seemed like a succession of
earthquakes. The spirit of our boys rose, as the battle on the right
progressed, and there seemed to be indications of work for them. Groups
might be seen at any time, when we were not standing in line of battle,
telling yarns, singing songs, playing ball and pitching quoits, while
they momentarily looked for the order to advance upon the heights, into
the very jaws of death.

Saturday morning, May 2d, the First corps was withdrawn from its
position; its bridges were taken up, and the corps moved past us up the
river to join the main body of the army under Hooker, on the right. The
Seventy-seventh was sent to do picket duty on the ground occupied by the
First corps the night before. Our reserve was posted a little way from
the river, in a pleasant field, where the fresh clover furnished a soft
bed for the men, and a dainty bite for our horses. Just in front of us
was a lovely spot--the residence of Doctor Morson, for fifteen years a
surgeon in the United States navy. The place was in remarkable order;
the gardens in full bloom, the mocking birds building their nests, and
the greenlets warbling sweetly among the flowering shrubs.

We strolled along the banks of the beautiful river, gathering flowers
and glancing at our "secesh" neighbors on the opposite bank, only a few
yards distant; or we lounged in the shade of our tents, enjoying the
charms of a lovely May day, while the terrible din of battle on the
right, where Hooker's forces were contending, shook the ground beneath
us, and we knew that ere the sun set, thousands of our brave comrades
must be sacrificed.

As the evening drew near, we who were on the north side of the river saw
our skirmishers, of the "Light division", drive back the skirmish line
of the enemy. It was a gallant feat, and finely executed. Our hearts
leaped for joy as we watched our brave fellows, their line as perfect as
though on drill, advance, firing rapidly, and pressing the enemy at
"double-quick." They made no halt until they had crossed the whole
breadth of the plain and reached the base of the hills.

Few who were then in the Sixth corps will ever forget that scene. The
sun, just sinking behind the hills where Hooker was at work, threw a
beautiful golden light over the plain, and crowned the heights with
brilliant hues. It was one of those evenings of surpassing loveliness,
such as gladdened our hearts only at long intervals. Prominent in the
foreground of the beautiful scene was a noble white steed, with its
gallant rider, dashing from one end of the skirmish line to the other.
None who witnessed the spectacle will forget the white horse and the
fearless rider; and few of the Second or Light divisions need be
reminded that the horseman was Colonel Baker, of the Forty-third New
York, who was then in charge of the skirmish line.

The "Light division" was, as we have before stated, the First brigade of
our Second division, with regiments from the First and Third divisions
which had been, a short time before leaving camp, detached to form an
independent organization. The arrangement was broken up immediately
after this battle, and the regiments put in the First and Second
divisions again.

Immediately after the brilliant advance of the "Light division," the
Seventy-seventh regiment was ordered to leave the picket line and join
its brigade. The Second division crossed the river and took position,
the Third brigade in front, the Vermont brigade in rear. The
Thirty-third and Forty-ninth New York, of the Third brigade, went
forward as pickets in front of the hills, relieving pickets of the
"Light division," which moved to the right. We remained in line all
night, sometimes throwing ourselves upon the ground to catch a moment's
sleep, then roused in expectancy of an advance.

At four o'clock in the morning we did advance. Straight across the plain
we went, until we came nearly to the base of the heights, where the
hosts of the enemy awaited us, then taking the Bowling Green road, filed
to the right and proceeded to the rear of Fredericksburgh; the
Seventy-seventh in front, the Twenty-first New Jersey, the Forty-ninth
New York, Twentieth New York, Seventh Maine and Thirty-third New York,
constituting the Third brigade, under command of General Neill,
following in the order mentioned. Then came the Vermont brigade, Colonel
L. A. Grant commanding; these two brigades forming the whole of Howe's
(Second) division of the Sixth corps since the First brigade was
detached.

As we gained the rear of the eastern part of the town, the batteries of
the enemy opened upon us, and swarms of infantry rose up in our front
and poured volleys of bullets into our ranks. The "Light division" and
Newton's Third division of our corps had passed through the streets of
the town, and were now on our right. The skirmishers from Wheaton's and
Shaler's brigades had struck those of the enemy near a large mansion,
where, each party dodging behind the garden fence, the cherry trees and
the outhouses, they kept up a lively engagement for several minutes, but
Newton's advance was forced to yield the ground.

In the meantime, the long line of rifled cannon which surmounted
Stafford Heights, on the north side of the river, as at the first battle
of Fredericksburgh, were throwing huge shells across the wide valley and
stream into the works of the enemy. One or two field batteries near the
head of our own column, and some attached to the other divisions, got
into position and opened a fierce cannonade.

General Howe quickly formed his troops in line, as did the other
division commanders.

The line of battle of the corps extended from the pontoon bridge at
Franklin's Crossing to the right of the town of Fredericksburgh. First,
on the left, Brooks' division held the plain in front of the crossing.
Next, on the right, in front of Marye's Heights, was Howe's Second
division; then the "Light division," Colonel Burnham; and on the extreme
right was Newton's Third division. Gibbon's division of the Second
corps, which, because its encampment was in plain view of the enemy, had
been left behind, also crossed into the town by a bridge which it threw
over, and took position on the right of the corps.

General Sedgwick, finding that the heights could only be carried by
direct assault, directed storming columns to be formed in the Second and
Third divisions and the Light division, which order was at once carried
into execution.

In the Second division, General Howe directed General Neill to lead the
advance. The plan of attack of the division was in two lines of battle
of three regiments each.

The first line consisted of the Thirty-third New York, Colonel Taylor,
the Seventh Maine, Colonel Connor, and the Twenty-first New Jersey,
Colonel Van Houten, preceded by the Seventy-seventh New York, Colonel
French, as skirmishers. The line was commanded by General Neill[1]. The
second line consisted of the Sixth Vermont, Colonel Barney, the
Twenty-sixth New Jersey, Colonel Morrison, and the Second Vermont,
Colonel Walbridge, and was under command of Colonel L. A. Grant. Both
lines were arranged from right to left, in the order above mentioned.

    [1] "I was ordered to form three regiments as the _advance of a
    column of assault_ against the heights of Marye's Hill, back of
    Fredericksburgh. I led the Thirty-third New York, Twenty-first
    New Jersey and Seventh Maine Volunteers, preceded by the
    Seventy-seventh New York, who were acting as skirmishers, under
    a heavy fire of shot and shell."--_Neill's Report._

The Forty-ninth and Twentieth New York formed the right reserve, and the
Third, Fourth and Fifth Vermont, under Colonel Seavor, the left reserve.

The next column was composed of the Seventh Massachusetts, Colonel
Jones, and the Thirty-sixth New York, Colonel Walsh; both under the
command of Colonel Jones--the Fifth Wisconsin, Colonel Allen, acting as
skirmishers. Supporting the column, in line of battle, were the Sixth
Maine, Colonel Harris, Thirty-first New York, Colonel Jones, and the
Twenty-third Pennsylvania, Colonel Ely.

The right column of all consisted of the Forty-third New York, Colonel
Baker, and the Sixty-first Pennsylvania, Colonel Spear--the two
regiments under command of the latter officer, who fell, mortally
wounded, while leading the charge. The Sixty-seventh New York, Colonel
Cross, and the Eighty-second Pennsylvania, Major Bassett, under command
of Colonel Shaler, supported this right column.

At half-past ten, the arrangements for storming the heights were
completed, and Newton's batteries opened upon the enemy. At the sound of
Newton's first gun, General Howe ordered his batteries to direct their
fire upon the heights, and then ordered the storming column forward.

The division advanced toward the bold bluffs, which, bare of trees as
well as the plain below, allowed the enemy an excellent view of all our
movements. A railroad traversed the plain near the bluffs, and in a deep
cut through which the road passed, were rebels. They rose up as we
advanced, and poured showers of leaden hail into our line; but one of
our batteries, getting an enfilading fire on the road, sent the
gray-coated occupants hurriedly to the rear. For a moment we halted, the
batteries on either side playing into each other with spirit.

It was a moment of contending emotions of pride, hope and sadness, as
our gallant boys stood face to face with those heights, ready to charge
upon them. At double-quick, and in splendid style, they crossed the
plain. Our line was perfect. The men could not have made a more orderly
appearance had they been on drill. Proud of their commands, Generals
Howe and Neill, and Colonel Grant, cheered the men onward, while
Lieutenant-Colonel French, in charge of the skirmish line, inspired, by
his own intrepid behavior, the utmost confidence and bravery in his men.
They took the matter as coolly as though on parade.

Just in rear of the division, three batteries of Parrott guns were
playing into the works of the enemy, while from the heights above, all
the opposing batteries poured a terrible and destructive fire upon the
advancing lines. Having gained the rifle pits at the base of the hills,
they pushed forward to capture the heights.

[Illustration: STORMING OF MARYE'S HEIGHTS BY HOWE'S DIVISION.]

A more grand spectacle cannot be imagined. There were the hills, enough
to fatigue any man to climb them without a load and with no one to
oppose. At the foot of the hills were thousands of the enemy, pouring
into them volleys of musketry, and on the heights were their lines of
earthworks, with their artillery, from which poured grape and cannister
in a frightful storm. But the boys pushed nobly, steadily on, the rebels
steadily retreating, the division coming up in splendid style. Generals
Howe and Neill and Colonel Grant directing the movements and cheering on
the men, as they pressed undauntedly against the murderous storm of iron
and lead that met them from above. Our men were falling in every
direction, but the lines were immediately closed, and on they passed.
With shouts and cheers that drowned the roar of artillery, the noble
division, with bayonets fixed, mounted the heights, the rebels
retreating in confusion. Of that noble column the skirmishers of the
Seventy-seventh first reached the heights of Marye's Hill, the
Thirty-third New York, in line of battle, followed, and then the Sixth
Vermont,[2] the other regiments of the two brigades being but a moment
behind. But the work was not all done yet. On our left was an earthwork
of strong profile, from which now the rebels turned their guns upon us.
Against this the column turned, and soon gained possession of it also. A
third stronghold then fell into our hands, and we were in undisputed
possession of the heights. While the troops under Neill and Grant had
thus nobly stormed the works in front, Colonel Seaver, with his three
regiments, had scaled the heights further to the left.

    [2] General L. A. Grant, in his report, does unintentional
    injustice to a brave regiment. He says: "The Sixth Vermont
    followed the Thirty-third New York, _and was the second_ to gain
    the heights of Fredericksburgh." The Thirty-third was not the
    first to gain the heights on that part of the line. The
    testimony of General Neill, as well as of the members of the
    regiment, and the many trophies it captured, fully establish the
    claim of the Seventy-seventh to the honor.

With one or two exceptions, every regiment in the division had behaved
with great gallantry.

The Seventy-seventh New York captured a stand of colors belonging to the
Eighteenth Mississippi regiment, two heavy guns, a large number of
prisoners, among whom was Colonel Luce of the Eighteenth Mississippi,
and great numbers of small arms.

As the regiment reached the heights, and took possession of the guns,
General Howe rode up, and, taking off his hat, exclaimed: "Noble
Seventy-seventh! you have covered yourselves with glory!" The general's
words were greeted with tumultuous cheers.

In the second work, the Thirty-third New York captured a piece of heavy
ordnance and a number of prisoners. The regiment had exhibited great
spirit and bravery. Six color-bearers had been shot down successively.

It was at the signal of the first gun in Newton's front that General
Howe had ordered the charge of the Second division. The Third division
and the Light division had not been idle while the events we have
described were going on. It will be remembered that the column on the
right consisted of the Forty-third New York and the Sixty-first
Pennsylvania, supported by a line of battle; and that the other column
consisted of the Seventh Massachusetts and Thirty-sixth New York, also
supported by other regiments.

The ascent in front of the Third and Light divisions, though steep, was
less precipitous than in front of Howe's column, and a good road led to
the heights. But a stone wall skirted the base of the hills, behind
which the rebels swarmed in great numbers.

Under the fire of the rebel batteries, Newton's and Burnham's regiments
lay, some in the outskirts of the town, some in the cemetery, until
General Sedgwick gave the order for the advance. Then, almost at the
same time, both commands moved up the glacis towards the heights.
Colonel Jones, with his two regiments, the Seventh Massachusetts and
Thirty-sixth New York, pushed forward up the telegraph road, against the
stone wall, bearing to the right of the road; their knapsacks and
haversacks were left behind that they might be unencumbered with
needless burdens. As they approached within three hundred yards of the
wall, a murderous volley checked the advance, and threw the head of the
column into disorder. In two minutes the men were rallied, and again
they approached the wall, this time nearer than before; but again they
were broken. A third time they were rallied; this time they pushed
straight forward to the works.

The column under Colonel Spear started briskly forward, divested, like
the others, of knapsacks and haversacks. Sallying from the town at
double quick, in column of four ranks, they crossed the bridge just
outside the city, when the gallant Colonel Spear received his mortal
wound, and fell at the head of his men. The Sixty-first, which led the
column, shocked at the death of their beloved leader, broke, and in
confusion turned toward the town. This unfortunate confusion spread to
the men of the Forty-third, who, checked by the disordered mass in
front, and submitted to a galling fire, also commenced falling back.
Finding any attempt to get the men through the disordered mass in front,
the gallant Wilson drew his colors to the right and rallied his regiment
around them. Then, bounding forward, the regiment reached the heights
scarcely behind any of the regiments on the left, capturing a gun and
many prisoners.

The line of battle under Colonel Burnham advanced on the left of the
road; the Fifth Wisconsin on the skirmish line, the Sixth Maine, the
Thirty-first New York, and the Twenty-third Pennsylvania in line. Four
more gallant regiments could not be found in the service. Leaving
everything but guns and ammunition, they started forward, encountering a
shower of bullets, grape and canister, as soon as they rose above the
slight knoll which had concealed them. We of the Second division looked
with admiration upon the advancing line; our flag--it was the flag of
the Sixth Maine--in advance of the others, its brave color-guard
bounding forward, then halting a moment while the men came up, then
dashing forward again, and finally gaining the heights before us all! It
was a noble spectacle, and filled our hearts with pride for our brave
comrades of the Light division. The Light division secured as trophies
about seven hundred prisoners and five cannon.

Thus the heights were won. It was a glorious day for the Sixth corps.
Never was a charge more gallantly made. But it was a sad day, for many
scores of our brave comrades lay stretched in death, along the glacis,
and on the steep ascent, in the ravines and along the road.

The Seventh Massachusetts, the Sixth Maine, the Fifth Wisconsin, the
Second Vermont, and the Seventy-seventh, Thirty-third and Forty-third
New York, were among the greatest losers. The Sixth Maine reached the
rebel works with the loss of six captains and the major, and a
proportional number of enlisted men. Two color-bearers and
Lieutenant-Colonel Newman were shot in the Thirty-first, and Colonel
Jones, of the Seventh Massachusetts, was seriously wounded, while one
hundred and twelve of his brave men were either killed or wounded.

The wounded had been taken to the city, where they were kindly cared for
by the surgeons of the corps, who had seized the town for hospital
purposes. Churches and private dwellings swarmed with the unfortunate
men, whose mangled forms told of the fearful work of the day. Surgeons
were hard at work ministering relief to the suffering, binding up the
wounds or removing the mangled limbs which offered no hope of recovery;
while nurses administered food and coffee, and prepared beds, such as
could be extemporized from blankets spread upon the floors. More than
three thousand wounded were brought into the city before nightfall.

Upon the very heels of the brilliant success of the corps commenced
disaster. An order from General Hooker had directed General Sedgwick to
advance toward Chancellorsville, and form a junction with the main army.
So the corps which had so nobly won the heights pressed on for further
achievements. The heights were left behind. Brooks' division, which now
took the lead, had advanced as far as Salem Church, on the
Chancellorsville pike, when, instead of meeting any portion of Hooker's
army, a few shells from rebel guns warned the division of the presence
of the enemy.

A dense thicket was in front, and Bartlett's brigade, which had the
advance, was deployed to skirmish and ascertain the position of the
concealed foe. Presently, having fallen upon a strong line of
skirmishers, the brigade was formed in line of battle; the
Twenty-seventh New York on the right, then the Fifth Maine, then the One
Hundred and Twenty-first New York, and on the left the Ninety-sixth
Pennsylvania; the Sixteenth New York holding the skirmish line in front.
General Bartlett advanced his line to the thicket, the Sixteenth driving
the rebel skirmishers, the brigade following closely. At the edge of the
thicket General Bartlett halted the line, but being ordered by General
Brooks to advance rapidly, he pushed on again.

Advancing through the thicket about thirty rods, the brigade suddenly
found itself face to face with a rebel line. The confederates were lying
down in a road which traversed the thicket; and, when the Union line was
within twenty yards, they suddenly discharged a volley, which, had it
been well aimed, must have almost annihilated the brigade; but the fire
was returned with effect, and presently, the confederates were glad to
leave the road, which was almost filled with their dead and wounded, and
seek shelter behind rifle pits. The rifle pits were but a few yards in
rear of the road, and here a very strong force was posted. The Union
forces occupied the road, and directed their fire against the works; but
the rebel fire cut down their unprotected ranks like grass before the
scythe. For fifteen minutes the gallant regiments endured this murderous
fire, and then fell back in good order, having lost, within twenty
minutes, nearly seven hundred men; of whom two hundred and seventy-three
were from the One Hundred and Twenty-first New York.

The New Jersey brigade, and the whole division, had by this time been
brought into action, and great slaughter was made in almost every
regiment. Newton's division was also fiercely engaged on the right,
Wheaton's brigade holding its position only by the most stubborn
fighting. The enemy having forced the First division to retire, advanced
against our line; but the batteries under Williston, Rigby and Parsons,
by splendid practice, repulsed the onset. The Second division, forming
the rear of the column, had not been brought into the engagement.

Darkness came to the relief of the corps, and the men slept soundly on
their arms after the arduous duties of the day; but there were many
misgivings among officers in regard to what to-morrow might bring forth.

While we rested, the enemy was bringing up reinforcements from the
direction of Richmond. Very early in the morning the siege guns on
Stafford Heights, opposite the town, sent some shells screaming across
the valley to the heights of Marye's Hill, giving the alarm to those in
the town and to those who had so recently left it. Lines of rebels were
seen all along the outskirts of the town and on the crests above.
Fifteen thousand confederate troops were between the Sixth corps and
Fredericksburgh Heights. The surgeons immediately prepared to send the
wounded across the river, but, supposing that to accomplish the whole
before the rebels should take possession of the town would be
impossible, made every preparation for being themselves taken prisoners.
A small detachment of Gibbon's division still guarded the town, but
nearly all his troops had recrossed the river and were on Stafford
Heights. But the small force in the town seemed sufficient to convey to
the rebels the impression that it was well guarded, for they made no
attempt to seize the immense amount of hospital stores which was at
their mercy, or to molest the wounded or the surgeons.

The Sixth corps was now in a critical position; its communications
entirely cut off, and surrounded by hosts of the enemy. The corps was
sandwiched between the rebels on the heights and Lee's whole army; while
on its left was a strong force, and on its right an impassable river.
Dispositions were at once made to meet the emergency.

Brooks' division was drawn back, and Howe's, still in the rear, changed
front and quickly extended the line of battle to the river, so as to
include Banks' Ford, six miles above the city, over which communications
were at once established.

The whole of Early's rebel division occupied the crest of Marye's and
Cemetery Hills; the divisions of Anderson and McLaws were on our flank;
and the brigades of Hays, Hoke and Lawton, supported by Lee's whole
army, were in our rear. We were in the vicinity of Salem Church, and our
only line of retreat was upon the road leading to Banks' Ford.

The first demonstration of the rebels, on the morning of the 4th, was
against the position held by Neill's brigade. A company from the Seventh
Maine, and two companies from the Forty-ninth New York, in conjunction
with a part of Martin's battery, and supported by the remaining
companies of the Forty-ninth, gallantly repulsed and routed a whole
brigade of rebels, capturing two hundred prisoners, and the colors of
the Fifty-eighth Virginia regiment; which last trophy was borne off by
the men of the Forty-ninth, and was the second stand of colors taken by
that gallant brigade in this engagement, the Seventy-seventh having
captured the other.

The day wore away with little fighting till five o'clock. General Howe
had so disposed his troops as to occupy two positions.

In front was the Third brigade, holding a crest which overlooked a
ravine through which the rebels must pass. Behind the brigade was
another ravine, in which was a thin skirt of woods. In rear of this
second ravine, and behind a swell of ground, the Vermont brigade was
strongly posted, forming the second line of battle. There were in each
of these two brigades about three thousand men.

Now came the most fearful struggle of the campaign. At five o'clock the
rebel hordes came, with deafening yells, upon the division. The
divisions of Early, Anderson and McLaws rushed upon the single brigade
of less than three thousand men, massing their troops in the ravine, and
charging with impetuous fury. But the noble regiments heroically
withstood the shock, the Germans of the Twentieth only going to the rear
in confusion. The stubborn resistance of the brigade prevented the
rebels from piercing our lines, and cutting off our retreat, and thus,
by its gallantry, enabled the corps to cross at Banks' Ford. But one
thousand men--more than one-third of the brigade--fell on that crest.
Colonel Van Houghton, of the Twenty-first New Jersey, was mortally
wounded, and many other choice spirits were among the fallen. General
Neill was injured by the fall of his horse, which was shot. General Howe
now ordered the brigade to fall back, and the decimated regiments left
the front line, and fell behind the strong position held by the
Vermonters. The rebels, thinking this a retreat, followed with yells of
exultation, but were met by the second line of battle, which, from its
position behind the swell of ground, was concealed, with a murderous
fire, which sent them reeling back to the cover of the first ravine.
Their charge had inflicted little damage upon the Union line. It was now
nearly dark, and the reception which the rebels had received had so
completely routed and broken them, that they made no further attempt
upon our lines.

About nine o'clock, the division was ordered to fall back to Banks'
Ford, now two miles distant from us. We fell back quietly, and found
that the other divisions had preceded us, and were snugly behind rifle
pits. They had fallen back as soon as it was dark, leaving the Second
division to cover the retreat.

Meantime, comparatively little fighting had been done by the other
divisions, though a constant skirmish was kept up, and in the evening
the confederates managed to get in the rear of a part of the picket of
the Light division, capturing a large number of prisoners from the
Forty-third and Thirty-first New York, and Sixty-first Pennsylvania.

The position at Banks' Ford might have been held until reinforcements
could have reached the corps from Hooker; but, unfortunately, that
general, receiving from General Sedgwick first, intelligence that he
could not safely hold the position, then that he could, ordered the
corps to be withdrawn, and afterward countermanded the order; but the
last order was only received when the movement had been accomplished.

Toward morning the corps recrossed the Rappahannock on pontoon bridges;
not without the utmost difficulty; one bridge being destroyed by rebel
artillery, and the other barely saved from destruction long enough to
allow the troops hurriedly to pass over.

The corps had passed through a fearful ordeal, and had shown itself to
be made of heroic material. No two more brilliant feats had been
performed during the war, than the storming of the heights of
Fredericksburgh, and the splendid resistance when surrounded and
attacked by overwhelming forces. The men came out of the fight, not
demoralized, but as ready to scale those terrible heights again, if
called upon, as they had been on the 3d of May.

General Sedgwick had manifested during the fights, those masterly
qualities which made him one of the greatest soldiers of the age. His
conduct on the retreat was cool and unimpassioned. Personally examining
every part of the ground in front and rear, riding from one end of the
line to the other, now ordering a battery placed at some commanding
point, and now looking out a new position to which his troops might fall
back in case of necessity, he was everywhere present, full of energy, as
determined to save as he had been to win.

Throughout the land the glorious deeds of the Sixth corps became
household words; but its glory had been dearly purchased. Five thousand
of the heroes who crossed the Rappahannock on the 2d of May, were either
dead or wounded. Colonel Van Houghton, one of New Jersey's bravest sons,
had received a mortal wound, from which he died in the hands of the
enemy. Captain Luther M. Wheeler, of the Seventy-seventh, was shot while
we halted at the foot of Marye's Hill. It was a sad loss to his
regiment, and the corps. Few more gifted young men could be found in the
army. He was one of our bravest and most efficient officers. Gentle in
his relations with his fellows, cool and daring in battle; his youthful
face beaming with fortitude, was a continual joy to his men in time of
danger. He died as he had lived, a hero.

The Forty-third had lost Captain Knickerbocker and Lieutenant Koonz. Two
young men of brilliant promise, greatly loved and respected in their
regiment and in their native city, Albany.

The wounded men in the hospitals exhibited the same heroic fortitude in
their sufferings that they had manifested in the charge and in the
retreat. A few instances are given as illustrations of many: Erskine
Branch of Company D, Seventy-seventh New York, when his leg was torn to
shreds by a shell, hobbled off on the sound one and his gun, singing
"The Star Spangled Banner." Corporal Henry West was shot through the
thigh, and he was brought to the rear. "I guess," said he "that old Joe
West's son has lost a leg." The corporal died soon after. While in the
hospital, suffering from extreme anguish, a wounded man at his side
lamented that he had come to the war. "I am not sorry that I came,"
instantly responded the brave corporal.

Let us now turn back and glance hastily at the maneuvers of the main
army at Chancellorsville. We, of the Sixth corps, could only see by the
balloon which, like some huge bird, hovered over the army, where it held
its position, and the unceasing roar of artillery told us of a severe
struggle with its foe; while rumor brought, now reports of brilliant
success, and anon tales of sad defeat. We knew little of the true state
of affairs at the right, and it was only when we mingled with our
comrades of the other corps that we learned the details of the battle of
Chancellorsville. We now repeat it as it was given to us. On the day
that the army broke up its winter camp, General Hooker led the Fifth,
Eleventh, Twelfth and Second corps, except Gibbon's division of the
latter, up the river, until he reached Kelley's Ford, about twenty miles
above Fredericksburgh. Here he crossed his whole force, and pushing
southward and eastward, uncovered the United States Ford eight miles
below, which was guarded by a brigade of rebels, and struck the
intersection of the Gordonsville plank road with the Orange county
turnpike, about five miles from United States Ford; having by great
exertions crossed two rivers and marched twenty miles. At the crossing
of the two roads, west of the turnpike, and south of the plank road,
stood a single large mansion, the Chancellor house. Here General Hooker
made his head-quarters, and from this point he disposed the corps of the
army so as to form a line of battle, which should face south and east,
with a single corps to guard against an advance from the west. The Third
and First corps soon joined Hooker's forces, and the corps were posted
as follows: The Eleventh corps, under General Howard, was on the right
of the line, three miles southwest of Chancellorsville, facing westward;
next, to the left of Howard, but far to the south, and holding the
turnpike five miles in front of Chancellorsville, was Sickles with his
Third corps; back almost to the plank road, and left of the turnpike,
was Slocum with the Twelfth corps; and still to the right, and behind
the plank road, the Fifth corps, under General Meade, faced toward the
southwest; behind Meade and Slocum, the Second corps was posted, one
division guarding the approach to the bridge. The country was densely
wooded. Except an open space about the house, it was a tangled
wilderness. The ground was low and marshy, and nearly level. Earthworks
were thrown up in front of all the corps, and everything seemed in
readiness for the enemy, for whom General Hooker now waited, hoping,
that by fruitless assaults upon what seemed an impregnable position, the
enemy would be so exhausted that he might turn upon him with fresh
divisions, and rout the retreating forces. His programme was to secure a
position in the rear of the rebel positions at the fords, while that
portion of the army left at Fredericksburgh was to divert attention from
the principal movement. Stoneman, with the cavalry, was to make a grand
raid on the communications of the rebel army, burning the bridges and
tearing up railroads. The main body of the army having secured its
position, and accomplished its work, the Sixth corps was to press
forward and harass them in their retreat toward Richmond.

Saturday afternoon, almost at dark, the First corps, Reynolds', which
had that morning parted company with the Sixth corps, crossed the river
and took position near the ford, four miles in rear of Howard.

The rebel army had been on the southeast of ours. Sickles, on the
afternoon of Saturday, discovered a train of wagons and ambulances
moving across the pike far in his front. He sent a force to cut it in
two, and was successful in taking a large number of prisoners and in
creating a panic in the train. He advanced, and was met by a strong
force of the enemy. He now sent to General Howard for reinforcements.
General Howard led a brigade to his assistance in person, and then at
full speed galloped back to his corps. He was just in time. Bursting
shells on the right of his line told of the presence of the enemy.
"Stonewall" Jackson, with an immense force, had passed round our army,
and now came like an avalanche upon the right division of the Eleventh
corps, General Devins. The men were cooking their coffee, when suddenly
the whizzing of innumerable bullets aroused them from their culinary
engagements. The hosts of Jackson, with yells and shouts, fell like a
thunderbolt upon the astonished division, and it melted away like a
snowflake in summer. The next division, Shurz, tried to maintain the
ground, and did what men could do, but could not withstand the shock of
fifty thousand men. General Hooker, fearing that the flying Germans
would stampede the whole army, directed the cavalry which was with him,
to charge upon the fugitives and arrest their flight; but no power could
halt them. The commanding general at once directed General Sickles to
attack the enemy on the flank, and, if possible, check his farther
advance.

General Howard, with great presence of mind and perseverance, succeeded
in stopping the rout at a stone wall, behind which he posted his line.
Forty pieces of artillery were also, by General Hooker's order,
concentrated to oppose the confederates, who again rushed forward with
mad desperation, and were met with terrific fire from this long line of
guns. They staggered back, but soon rallied, and again charged, and
again met with a terrible repulse. The conflict now ceased for the
night. Hooker drew in his lines, making them more compact, changed the
disposition of some of the corps: throwing the Eleventh corps from the
right to the left of the line, and bringing Meade, with the Fifth corps,
to the right. Sickles and Slocum, with the Third and Twelfth corps, were
near the Chancellor house. Artillery was massed to command the
approaches to the turnpike, and earthworks went up in the night as if by
magic. At daylight, Sunday morning, Jackson, with all his forces,
advanced on the turnpike, against the Chancellor place, not with the
thin line of battle, but in solid mass. His men poured from the woods
like a torrent, their shouts and yells making a pandemonium of the
wilderness. Suddenly, from the mouths of forty cannon was hurled against
them a cruel storm of grape and canister, which ploughed through the
advancing column, carrying death and destruction in its course, while
the infantry from the Third corps poured into the faces of the desperate
foe a terrible hail storm of bullets which almost decimated the heavy
column. With the desperation of madness, the rebels rushed against this
terrible fire, almost reaching the muzzles of the guns, only to be
hurled back again by the fearful tornado in front. The Third corps
seemed hardly able to hold its position, but now General Hooker sent two
divisions of the Second corps to attack the enemy in the flank. These,
with the Fifth corps, came with great force upon the left of the column.
It reeled, the huge mass wavered to and fro, and then fell back in
flight. The troops at the house, however, had been forced back, and
General Hooker again shortened his lines, making his forces still more
compact.

Again, in the afternoon, the rebels came on exultingly, but not with the
desperation that marked the attack of the morning. Hour after hour they
strove to drive back or break in two the Union line, but it was
immovable. Artillery poured into the ranks of the assailants the most
deadly fire, until they fell back, long before nightfall, disheartened
and defeated. Hooker had at length succeeded in accomplishing a part of
his object. He had allowed his enemy to fight him until his army was
exhausted and dispirited, while he himself had half his army fresh and
ready to charge upon the weakened foe. Now came the time for action. If
he now succeeded in putting the enemy to flight, the rebel cause was
destroyed; if, on the contrary, he suffered a repulse, what would be the
result? The river was swelling rapidly; the pontoons could even now with
difficulty be held together. If, haply, they were to be swept away, all
means of retreat would be cut off, and a repulse would amount to
annihilation. Sedgwick and the Sixth corps were driven back, and
Stoneman, who had gone with his cavalry toward Richmond, was not heard
from. In the midst of these doubts, he called a council of corps
commanders, who agreed, not unanimously, that it was advisable to
recross the river. So the army, on Wednesday, was withdrawn across the
river, when victory seemed ready to rest on our banners.[3] Without
doubt, had the general known of the panic created by the cavalry in the
rear, or had he been sure that his communications would remain intact,
the result would have been far different.

    [3] The author makes no attempt to discuss the merits of the
    controversy, which grew out of this battle, between two of the
    best soldiers of our army. The reader will find, in the Report
    on the Conduct of the War, 1865, all the facts and arguments on
    both sides, by those most competent to give them--Generals
    Hooker and Sedgwick.

The loss to the whole army, in this campaign, was over seventeen
thousand in killed and wounded.[4] Very many of these were left in the
hands of the enemy.

    [4] The following statement exhibits the loss to the various
    corps in killed, wounded and missing:

    1st,         292
    2d,        2,025
    3d,        4,039
    5th,         699
    6th,       4,925
    11th,      2,508
    12th,      2,883
    Cavalry,     145




CHAPTER XVIII.

SECOND ENCAMPMENT AT WHITE OAK CHURCH AND THE PENNSYLVANIA CAMPAIGN.

    The army in its old position--A trip to Dixie--The wounded at
    the hospitals--Introduction of army badges--Adornments of the
    camps--The "Third crossing"--The Barnard mansion--Exchanging
    papers--A broken lieutenant--The Pennsylvania campaign
    commenced--Restriction of baggage--A severe march--An army
    bathing--At Centreville--Bristow Station--March to
    Maryland--General Hooker succeeded by General Meade--Position of
    the army.


The army now turned back to its old position, encamping in line nearly
as before, only all the troops which had encamped on our left, between
the Sixth corps and Belle Plain, were placed far to the right, leaving
the Sixth corps on the left of the army, instead of being nearly in its
center. The corps occupied a line nearly a mile in rear of the old camp,
where the ground had been unoccupied, and where a growth of young pines,
and, in places, considerable groves of oak timber, afforded far more
attractive surroundings than the old quarters.

The wounded were taken to an immense field hospital at Potomac creek,
where hospital tents sufficient to accommodate eight thousand wounded
men were erected in a locality where cool breezes could play freely
among the encampments, and where pure water could be obtained. On the
9th, many of our wounded were brought to the side of the river at
Fredericksburgh and sent over to us by the enemy, in pontoon boats,
under flags of truce. On the morning of the 10th, the surgeon of the
Seventy-seventh was ordered to proceed at once to Banks' Ford to receive
wounded officers who were to be removed from the enemy's lines. The
doctor was soon at the ford, where he found a boat and a flag of truce
at his disposal. He crossed the river and met the officer in command,
who received him courteously, but declared that he knew nothing of any
officers to come there. The surgeon addressed a note to General Wilcox,
commanding the brigade at Banks' Ford, but he knew as little about it as
the officer at the river. "There are plenty of federal officers here,"
said he, "and we shall be glad to send them across to your lines at any
time when General Hooker shall apply to General Lee for them; but I know
of no arrangement of the kind now." Believing that some arrangements had
been made for the transfer of the wounded officers, but that the order
had not yet reached General Wilcox, the surgeon spent the day among the
rebels, conversing with their officers, while his boatmen, having with
them a canteen of brandy, soon made themselves very popular with the
crowd of rebel soldiers who gathered about, dressed in motley colors,
buff, blue, gray, butternut, and colors indescribable. They were all in
good humor and lively, and the hours passed pleasantly, as the men from
the two opposing armies chatted in the shade of some oak trees. Finding
little prospect of executing his peaceful mission, the surgeon obtained
permission from General Wilcox to get the remains of Colonel Van
Houghten, of the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment, who was shot at Salem
Church, and died from his wound next day. Doctor McNiel, of the
Twenty-first, with a party of men, proceeded to the place where the
colonel was buried, a mile and a half from the ford, and brought the
remains to the river and across to our own lines. On reporting at
General Hooker's head-quarters, the surgeon found that no agreement had
been concluded until late in the day for the delivery of the wounded
officers; so he had spent the day in rebeldom to little effect, except
the restoration of the body of the colonel to his friends, and leaving a
company of nurses to assist our surgeons who were already in attendance
upon our prisoners.

Nearly all our wounded were at length returned to us, and were sent to
Potomac Creek, or to Washington. At Potomac Creek, the coöperation of
the Sanitary Commission was of great assistance to the surgeons; and
many comforts and luxuries, the gifts of our friends at home, cheered
the hearts of the wounded and suffering heroes. Sheets, pillow cases,
handkerchiefs, with jellies and canned fruits, were distributed in
profusion. Here was the place for manifesting the overflowing interest
and noble generosity of the people of the north, and thousands blessed
them for their munificence.

A mistaken idea prevailed among friends at home, that the agents of the
Sanitary Commission resorted to the battle-field, ministering to the
wants of the wounded, dressing the wounds, bringing the crippled from
the field, and feeding the hungry. Our illustrated papers were filled
with fine engravings, representing these acts of mercy on the
battle-field. These were pictures of the imagination. Nothing of the
sort was done. No Sanitary or Christian Commission agents frequented the
battle-field. All wounded were brought from the field by soldiers,
placed in ambulances of the government and taken to the field hospitals,
where all the wounds were dressed by surgeons or their nurses, and where
all were fed by officers selected for this special duty. The Sanitary
and Christian Commissions had a great mission. They were the
representatives of the lively interest felt by the people of the north,
for the army it had sent forth to maintain the institutions of their
country. They found abundant opportunity for accomplishing their mission
at the large hospitals after the roar of battles had passed away; but
they had nothing to do with the care of the wounded on the battle-field.

Just before leaving camp for the campaign just closed, General Hooker
had issued an order assigning to each corps and division its badge,
which was to be worn by every officer and soldier connected with either
of the corps. The men of the Sixth corps now regarded their cross with
greater pride than had ever ancient knight looked upon the heraldry
which emblazoned his arms. It had been baptized in blood, and amid
wonderful achievements of heroism. Every member of the noble corps felt
an exulting pride in his relation to it, and regarded his badge as a
mark of great honor.

The introduction of these badges became of great service to the army.
Every man could easily recognize the corps and division of any other one
in the army; and each corps learned to feel a pride in its own badge.

We had seven corps in the army; First, Second, Third, Fifth, Sixth,
Eleventh and Twelfth. The badge of the First corps was a lozenge, that
of the Second a shamrock, of the Third a diamond, of the Fifth a Maltese
cross, of the Sixth a Greek cross, the Eleventh a lunette, and of the
Twelfth a star. The badge of the First division of each corps was red,
that of the Second white, and of the Third blue. All wagons and
ambulances were marked with their appropriate badge, and the sick
soldier who fell to the rear with a pass to the ambulances, had no
difficulty in finding his own train; and quartermasters and others
connected with the trains were greatly assisted in their duties by this
ingenious device.

The camps of all the regiments of our divisions were pleasantly located,
and great pains were taken in laying them out and in decorating them.
When regiments were not sheltered in groves, pines were transplanted in
the company streets in great profusion; and arches and bowers of the
most elaborate and elegant designs, formed of the boughs of the red
cedar and pine, exquisitely entwined with the bright green holly, formed
a most attractive and beautiful feature of our second camp at White Oak
Church. At division head-quarters, General Howe had caused to be erected
a most elegant hall of these rural materials, which was a wonder of
architectural beauty as well as exquisite taste and ingenuity. Its
alcoves, its vestibules and its arches, were marvels of elegance. Here
came officers, high in command, and brilliant dames, and passed a night
in the service of Terpsichore, while bands discoursed stirring music.

In the camp of the Seventy-seventh, the adornments were profuse and
beautiful. At head-quarters, a palace of green arose among the trees
near our tents. For days, mule teams hauled huge loads of cedar boughs,
which were woven into massive pillars or elegantly turned arches, and
the structure rose like one of those fair bowers we read of in fairy
tales. Our surgeon and quartermaster were preparing the elegant
structure for the reception of their wives. It was almost complete,
needing only a few finishing touches, and the anxiously awaited guests
were expected on the following day; when, alas for the expectations of
men, an order came to be ready to march at daylight next morning! The
ladies, although too late to enjoy this rustic palace, arrived in time
to find the corps in line of battle, and witness fierce artillery duels
between the opposing armies. In their eagerness to watch the flight of
the shells, they sometimes manifested greater bravery than their
companions, whose experience had taught them to regard with suspicion
the shrieking missiles.

We had passed a pleasant month at this camp, and the men were eager,
notwithstanding their comfortable quarters, for active campaigning. The
health and spirits of the soldiers of the corps had never been better,
and in spite of the failure at Chancellorsville, they felt a great deal
of confidence. So the order to move was received with pleasure, and we
turned away from our pleasant camps willingly.

We left camp on the morning of June 5th, one of the loveliest of days,
and, taking the road we had already trod on two occasions, halted in the
valley of the Rappahannock, on the very spot where we had rested at the
first and second battles of Fredericksburgh, and prepared, for a third
time within six months, to cross the river. A correspondent of one of
the daily journals, writing from head-quarters of the army, says:
"Howe's splendid division of the fighting Sixth corps was selected for
the work of crossing, and the point for laying the bridges was just
below the mouth of Deep Run, at the identical spot where we had crossed
twice before."

Pontoons and batteries of artillery formed long lines behind the little
ridge which runs parallel with the river, and the infantry marched and
countermarched to get in right positions. Here, behind the little ridge,
we rested, until about five o'clock in the afternoon, our men mounting
the ridge, and gazing across the river, where the enemy had turned the
rifle pits thrown up by our First division, to their own use; and, in
return, the rebels raised their heads above the breastworks, or ventured
to the river side, wondering what could be the intention of the army, so
recently driven from these grounds, in making such preparations for
another crossing. There seemed but a small force opposed to us; a strong
picket on the bank, and the reserve posted behind the breastworks, were
all that could be seen, though we well knew that the heights beyond
swarmed with opposing hosts, as they had twice before. At length the
engineers drew the pontoons to the edge of the river, the
Seventy-seventh being detailed to assist in unloading. The rebels betook
themselves to the rifle pits, and opened a brisk fire; but presently
they were glad to draw their heads behind the earthworks, for five of
our batteries, Williston's, McCartney's, Cowen's, Haines' and
McCarthey's, were run out upon the plain, and opened a fierce fire,
whole batteries firing by volleys, until the whole plain, on the further
side, was a sheet of flame from the bursting shells, and huge clouds of
dust, plowed up by the shrieking missiles, rose so as to obscure the
heights. The rebels could only load, and thrust their guns above the
earthworks, firing at random, for no man could raise his head without
coming in the way of the fiery messengers of death, which filled the
air. Still their fire, although at random, was annoying, and it was
evident that the safest method was to cross men in boats, enough to
drive the rebels from their pits, or capture them, and then build the
bridge without opposition.

The Twenty-sixth New Jersey and Fifth Vermont regiments leaped into the
boats, quickly crossed, and, rushing from the bank, charged upon the
pits. The rebels were now, for the first time offered an opportunity for
flight; for while the artillery was filling the whole plain with
bursting shells, there remained no alternative but to hug the earth
behind the rifle pits; now that the artillery ceased, they scattered
across the plain in hot haste, before the rapid charge of our boys. The
two regiments pursued the fugitives, and many of them threw down their
arms; we captured about seventy-five prisoners; of these, thirty-six
were captured by Captain Davenport, who, with eighteen of his men, was
marching up the ravine through which passes the Deep Run, when they came
upon the rebels, whom they obliged to surrender, their captain
delivering his sword to Captain Davenport. Five or six men of the
engineers were killed, and some wounded. The Vermonters and New
Jerseymen, also, had a few men wounded.

The Seventy-seventh had one man killed. Sergeant Rex Haines was shot
through the head. He was a brave man, and one of the best soldiers in
the regiment. He had, until that very day, been confined to the hospital
with severe illness. A few of our men, also, received slight wounds.

The engineers proceeded at once to lay the bridges, and on the following
morning the whole division crossed. Our picket reserve made their
rendezvous at the ruins of the fine mansion which we had used for our
Second division hospital at the first battle. Now nothing but the bare
walls and heaps of rubbish marked the place where the beautiful
residence had stood. A regiment of Mississippians had occupied the
place, and had ruthlessly and willfully burned it. Yet the fine
chestnuts and broad-spreading oaks afforded as luxurious a shade as in
the palmy days when the old bachelor proprietor lounged beneath their
shadow.

The picket line extended nearly to the railroad, and, as before, formed
a semi-circle, radiating from the pontoon bridge. The enemy had also
formed a strong picket to oppose us, and the two lines of skirmishers
were within a few yards of each other.

It was a beautiful Sabbath, and all day long the troops lay upon the
plain, wondering what was to be done. There were the frowning batteries
of the enemy on the hills in front, apparently able to blow the whole
division into the air, and we could, with our glasses, discover great
numbers of infantry at the base of the hills, half hidden by the low
growth of pines. The main body of our army still remained in camp; only
our Sixth corps had moved. Evidently the enemy concluded that the
advance was rather one of observation than attack, and quietly awaited
our movements. Some firing was for a time kept up on the skirmish line,
and now and then a shell would come crashing through some of the houses
at the right, where our pickets were concealed; but at length, by mutual
consent, the pickets of each army watched the movements of their
opponents without molesting them. During this quasi-truce, a spirit of
sociability manifested itself, and our boys soon struck up an
acquaintance with their dangerous neighbors. At length an exchange of
papers was proposed, and upon mutual agreement of temporary amity, a
Yankee and a Johnnie would step into the open space between the two
lines, shake hands, inquire each other's regiment, trade papers and
retire.

There came at this time, to each company of one regiment, a copy of the
New York Observer, Independent, Christian Examiner, Evangelist and other
papers, and Mr. Alvord, the agent of the Tract Society, had just been
among the men, distributing copies of the American Messenger. These were
soon collected and carried over to be exchanged for copies of the
Richmond Enquirer, Sentinel, and Examiner. The trade was not kept wholly
within the limits of literary exchange, but sugar and coffee passed into
the rebels' hands in return for plugs of tobacco. At length an order
came from division head-quarters, stopping this illicit practice. Our
boys declared that they were acting the part of colporteurs to the
barbarian rebels, and, if they had been allowed to continue the
distribution of religious papers among them, they would soon be
convinced of the error of their ways, and desist from further fighting.

During the night of the 8th, our division was withdrawn to the north
side of the river, our place being taken by the Third division. We
retired to Stafford Heights and bivouacked. Our bivouac became our
encampment for a week. There we lay, wondering what was next to be done,
while the artillery on either side exchanged shots. The 32-pounders on
our hills sending their huge shot across to the opposite heights, and
the rebel guns replying, sometimes with shells of most improved pattern,
and at other times throwing over huge pieces of railroad iron.

An incident of much interest to Neill's brigade occurred while we were
here. A lieutenant, belonging to the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment,
had been tried by a court-martial, and convicted of cowardice at the
battle on May 3d. The whole brigade was brought out at the hour for
evening parade, and formed in a hollow square. To the center of the
inclosure the culprit was brought. His sentence was then read to him,
which was that he be dismissed the service in disgrace. The
adjutant-general of the brigade then proceeded to execute the details of
the sentence. The sword of the cowardly officer was taken from him and
broken over his head; his shoulder-straps and buttons were then cut off,
and his pistol broken and thrown away. The sentence, and the manner of
its execution, were ordered to be published in the newspapers of the
county where the regiment was raised. A similar sentence was executed in
the Seventy-seventh regiment on the same evening. Lewis Burke, of
Company F, was convicted of cowardice at the same battle. He was brought
before the regiment, which stood in line; his sentence read, his buttons
and the blue cord on his coat cut off, and a placard marked "Coward"
hung to his back. A guard, with fixed bayonets pointing at his back,
then marched him off, the band playing "The Rogues' March." Burke went
to serve out his time at the Dry Tortugas at hard labor, without pay or
allowance.

As we looked upon the execution of these humiliating sentences, we could
not help feeling how much better it would have been to have fallen nobly
on that field of battle, honored and lamented, than to live to be thus
degraded and despised. It had never been so forcibly impressed upon our
minds, how much better it was to die nobly than to live in disgrace.
When we thought of the noble Wheeler and his brave companions, who had
given their lives for their country on yonder heights, and then turned
to the sickening scene before us, we could but exclaim, "How are the
dead to be envied!"

At length, on Saturday night, June 13th, we withdrew from
Fredericksburgh, and commenced the memorable Pennsylvania campaign.
There had been, for several days, indications that General Lee was
throwing his army to our right, and was crossing the Rappahannock in the
vicinity of Culpepper. At length this had become a certainty; and the
whole army was quickly moved to come up with him. All day long the
hurrying of trains, the movements of troops, the intense activity at the
railroad station, where everything was being hastily thrown into cars,
had indicated a sudden leave-taking.

At length the trains were off, and the whole army in motion. Our own
corps being rear-guard, started at ten o'clock at night. The darkness
was intense, and a thunder shower prevailed. Our route for a long time
lay through a thick woods, where the branches of the trees, meeting over
our heads, shut out the little light that might have penetrated the
thunder clouds, and the column was shut in perfect darkness. The road
was terribly muddy, and the batteries which were trying to pass over the
same route, were frequently stuck in the mire. Our men stumbled over
stones and fallen trees, often falling beneath the feet of the horses.
Men fell over logs and stones, breaking their legs and arms. Thus we
continued the hasty and difficult march, while the rain poured in
torrents upon us. Later in the night the road became more open, and the
rain ceased. The darkness was not so black, still it was difficult to
see the road. We were passing over corduroy; some of the logs were a
foot, and others a foot and a half through. They were slippery from the
rain, and the men, heavily laden with knapsacks, guns and cartridges,
tumbled headlong, many of them going off at the side, and rolling far
down the steep embankments. A laugh from the comrades of the luckless
ones, while some one would call out, "Have you a pass to go down there?"
was the only notice taken of such accidents; and the dark column hurried
on, until at three o'clock in the morning, we halted at Potomac creek,
where we slept soundly upon the ground until morning.

The following day was Sunday. Our corps did not march until evening; we
lay resting from the fatigues of the night before, and watching the
immense army trains hurrying by, the horses and mules lashed to their
full speed, or viewing the destruction of the great hospitals which had
been established here.

There were here immense quantities of stores; bedding, glass and
earthenware, instruments and medicines, with cooking and other utensils
which could not, in the haste of breaking up, be transported; so they
were thrown in great heaps and burned.

All day long the trains crowded by, four and five wagons abreast; the
drivers shouting and lashing their beasts to their greatest speed. No
one who has not seen the train of an army in motion, can form any just
conception of its magnitude, and of the difficulties attending its
movements. It was said that the train of the Army of the Potomac,
including artillery, at the time of which we speak, if placed in a
single line, the teams at the distance necessary for the march, would
extend over seventy miles.

At Fairfax Court House, soon after this, the trains were greatly
reduced, and again at Fairfax Station; and after General Meade took
command of the army they were still further reduced. Yet,
notwithstanding all these curtailments, our trains were said to be
between thirty and forty miles long.

How little did the impatient people, who clamored at all times, in
winter as well as summer, for an immediate "advance" of the army,
consider that this immense body must always advance with the army; that
it must always be protected; that the army on every march and at every
halt must be so disposed as to prevent the enemy from reaching it from
front, flank or rear; and that when an advance was commenced, if the
trains were to become blocked up, or stuck fast in mud, the whole army
must wait for them, no matter whether it had reached a favorable
position for a halt or not. It was no small undertaking to move an army
with such a train; yet there were many at home who thought the army
could move from one place to another with the greatest ease.

It is true that the enemy got along with smaller trains than ours, and
it is true that the rebel army on that account was more easily moved
than our own. It was one of the disadvantages of too liberal a
government that our movements for two years were weighed down with these
cumbersome trains; and even after so long an experience of their evil it
was with strong feelings of opposition that the reduction was acquiesced
in.

A captain or lieutenant of the line was allowed a small valise, in which
to carry his company books and his clothing; and a staff officer was but
little better off. Must this little be reduced? Surely the ammunition
and the commissary trains could suffer no diminution. The amount of
hospital supplies carried in the wagons was already limited; could it be
reduced? The people were clamoring to have wagons of the Sanitary and
Christian Commissions admitted to the hospital trains, to carry articles
which, although they were gratefully received by the soldiers, yet were
not absolutely necessary. The ambulance train was surely not too large,
and we could spare no artillery.

Yet the train was reduced. Small as was the valise of the line officers,
it must be still smaller; little as was the baggage of the staff
officer, it must be less; and inconveniently contracted as was the size
of the mess chests, they must be still further reduced.

Thus, through the day, we watched the hurrying trains as they swept by
with immense clatter and tumult; and the files of troops, guards to the
trains, pressing forward, amid the clouds of dust and the rattle and
noise of the wagons. As the sun sunk in the west, we gathered about a
green knoll, in the shade of a pine grove, and sung old familiar hymns;
then the chaplain made a prayer; thus was offered the evening sacrifice
for the Sabbath. Few who gathered--

  "Where through the long drawn aisle or fretted vault,
  The pealing anthem swells the note of praise,"

offered more heartfelt thanksgiving, or more earnest supplications for
future protection, than the band of veterans seated on that mossy bank,
while about them was the confusion of a great army, pressing to meet its
foe.

At length, at nine o'clock at night, we took the road, and, joining the
mighty column, marched rapidly forward. The night was dark, and the
roads uneven, yet the men pressed forward with wonderful spirit. They
had heard during the day that Lee with his army, avoiding us on the
right, and moving with secrecy, had already eluded us, and was rapidly
making his way into Maryland, taking his route through the Shenandoah
Valley. This was enough to stimulate men whose greatest desire was to
meet their opponents in open fight, even on rebel ground. But now the
rebels were invading northern soil; Maryland, Pennsylvania, and even New
York, were threatened, and the men knew no limit to their enthusiasm.
"We can whip them on our own soil," said they. "There is no man who
cannot fight the better when it is for his own home." Such expressions
passed from lip to lip as the dark column pushed on during the whole
night. At times there would be a halt; not for rest, for the men,
expecting momentarily to move on, would stand in the ranks; then, on
again. Here and there were the camps of troops who had occupied the
extreme right of the army. Fine arbors and avenues had been erected from
the cedar boughs; these were set on fire, and the whole heavens were
aglow with the flames. Morning dawned, the march was becoming tedious.
The men were faint, and wanted rest and coffee; but there was no halt.

Faint and weary, yet with determination, the masses of men toiled along.
At length, as the morning advanced, the heat of the sun was almost
intolerable, and the dust suffocating. Not a leaf stirred on the trees.
Vegetation drooped under the scorching rays, and the clouds of dust was
so dense, that one could not see half the length of a regiment.

The men at length began to fall from exhaustion. One after another, with
faces burning with a glow of crimson, and panting for breath, would turn
to the surgeons of their regiments, and receive passes to the ambulances
and a draught from the surgeon's flask; but at length no more passes
could be given; the ambulances were crowded, and so many were falling on
every side, that it became useless to require or attempt to give passes,
or even for the surgeons to attempt to relieve the sufferers.

In every corner of the rail fences, and under every tree and bush,
groups of men, with faces glowing with redness, some with streams of
perspiration rolling down their cheeks, and others with their red faces
dry and feverish, strewed the wayside and lined the hedges. Here the
color-bearer of a regiment, his color lying beside him, lay gasping for
breath; there a colonel, his horse tied to the fence, strove to fan the
air into a little life with his broad-brimmed hat. Under one little
clump of cedars might be seen an exhausted group of line officers,
captains and lieutenants, and under the next, a number of enlisted men
who could no longer keep the road. The spectacle along the roadside
became appalling. Regiments became like companies, and companies lost
their identity; men were dying with sunstroke; and still the march was
continued. This could not last much longer, for the brave men who still
held out were fast losing strength, and soon there would be no troops
able to move. At length, at nearly three o'clock, we came in sight of
the little, old, depopulated town of Dumfries. Here, to the joy of all,
we saw men filing into the fields for a halt. There was no cheer, no
expression of gladness; for the tired men, with feet blistered and raw,
worn out by seventeen hours' constant march, almost melted and
smothered, cared little for demonstrations. Throwing themselves upon the
ground, they rested for half an hour, and then, rousing long enough to
cook their coffee, they refreshed themselves with their hard tack, pork
and coffee, and were ready to sleep. Here the Vermont brigade was drawn
up in line, and some half a dozen men, skulkers, principally from the
Twenty-sixth New Jersey, were drummed out of camp, the bands of the
brigade playing "The Rogues' March." All who were participants of that
day's work, remember it as the most trying march of the Army of the
Potomac. Very grateful to the weary army was sleep that night, but, at
two o'clock in the morning, the shout passed along the line, "fall in!
fall in!" And so, without coffee, we rolled our blankets and fell into
line. But, as often happens, when the whole army is to move, some parts
must wait long before the others are out of the way. So we of the Sixth
corps waited until four o'clock, and got our coffee finally before the
rest of the column had made way for us. It was another hot, dusty day,
but not so intolerable as the day before, and about two or three o'clock
we arrived at Occoquan creek, crossing at Wolf Run Shoals. Here we had
two or three hours' rest. The men had no sooner halted than they plunged
into the stream, and the wide creek was soon alive with swarms of men
splashing and diving in the cooling element.

It was a novel sight. An army bathing. A brigade of nine months Vermont
troops, had been stationed here during the winter. They were full
regiments, never thinned by exhausting labors, hard campaigns or the
trying ordeal of battle. They now bade farewell to their comfortable
quarters and picket duty, and joined the Grand Army on a real campaign.
Although we had already made a long march, at four o'clock we were again
on the road, and before dark we reached Fairfax Station, six miles from
Wolf Run Shoals. This was a more cheerful march than the others. The
men, refreshed by their bath, and strengthened by a good dinner and two
hours' rest, now went shouting, singing and laughing, as though marching
was but play.

This day we heard that some part of Lee's army was in Pennsylvania! The
men were as anxious to go forward as were their commanders. The corps
bivouacked in groves on the turnpike, which led from Fairfax to
Manassas, resting for the night and the following day. Here our train
underwent a process of purging. Needless articles, and many useful ones,
which could be disposed of, were sent to the rear. The trains were to go
with smaller loads, and many teams were to be taken from them.

We had marched, since setting out from before Fredericksburgh, through a
country, well enough by nature, but neglected, barren and depopulated.
How large a portion of this great State was in this sad condition? Its
naturally rich fields were grown up to scrub pines, mugworts and
wormwood. Its fair valleys desolate of inhabitants, or inhabited by low
white trash, as idle as ignorant. The groves and fields where we now
rested were pleasant for a bivouac, but the fields were waste land, and
the oak timber was all that seemed of any value, as far as we could see.
Yet we were now within a few miles of Washington, where articles of food
brought fabulous prices, and wood could scarcely be procured. Why were
these fine lands desolate? Was it because agriculture was unprofitable?
Surely, with Washington and Alexandria so near, and Baltimore at a short
distance farther, there should be a good market for produce. Was it
because the war had put a stop to agricultural pursuits? The scrub pines
and dwarf oaks growing upon deserted tobacco fields, where the ridges
were still plainly visible, showed that before the war indolence
prevailed.

At five o'clock on the morning of June 19th, we were again on the march,
reaching Fairfax Court House before noon. Again our train was
overhauled, baggage reduced, and teams sent to the rear. By this time
the train began to assume more reasonable dimensions. General officers
were strictly forbidden the use of ambulances, henceforth all ambulances
were to be used for their legitimate purposes, and general officers and
their staffs were to get along with a more reasonable amount of baggage,
while regimental officers were to be allowed only the most limited
amount of transportation. A single small valise only was the extent of
baggage for each regimental officer, and a mess chest of the size of a
cracker box, was to be the allowance for all officers of a single
company.

About Fairfax Court House was stationed a division of cavalry and some
infantry, under the command of General Stahl. These troops, like the
brigade of Vermont troops, had been employed in guarding the country
against the inroads of guerilla bands. These were now also to join the
Army of the Potomac, and their gallant conduct at Falling Waters, a few
days after, showed them to be composed of the best material.

General Hooker, unwilling to favor General Lee, by uncovering the
capital, and wisely judging of his wary enemy's motives, instead of
pushing rapidly forward to Maryland, as Lee desired, threw the different
corps into positions, which should at once be favorable for watching his
movements, and resisting any attack. Accordingly, our own corps, turning
partly back from our line of march, on the 20th, marched towards Bristow
Station.

We passed through Centreville, its powerful forts and redoubts
garrisoned by large regiments of men, who wore bright new uniforms, and
whose officers had red tufts upon their caps. These new uniforms were
soon to be as grimy and dusty as those of the veterans, at whom they now
gazed with so much interest, and the full regiments were soon to find
their ranks thinned by the same terrible process which had made those
passing by them only fragments of regiments.

The works about Centreville were of most powerful character, having been
made even stronger than at the last battle of Bull Run. In the forts and
redoubts upon the commanding positions, was mounted heavy artillery, and
the long lines of trenches and breastworks, stretching far to the
flanks, and commanding declivities where musketry and artillery could
sweep an advancing force with terrible effect, rendered the position
impregnable from any direct assault. The few dilapidated houses still
remaining to mark the site of the village, presented a forlorn and
pitiful appearance. Deserted by their owners, occupied as stables and
storehouses some of them falling in ruins, and all dirty and
dilapidated, they were a mournful commentary on the ruthless destruction
which follows in the footsteps of war. Still further on, our route led
us along the Manassas Gap railroad. Here were more sad pictures of the
havoc of war. The track was torn up, the ties burnt. Every now and then,
numbers of car wheels and axles, iron bands and braces, couplings and
reaches, showed where whole trains had been burned.

Here and there, the incombustible materials among the debris showed the
lading of particular cars. The remains of fruit cans, tin plates,
blacking boxes and glassware, told of sutlers who had disposed of their
wares at less than the usual exorbitant prices. Heaps of spikes and
handleless hammers, and iron bars, reminded us of disconcerted plans in
railroad extension, while numberless solid shot, bullets and fragments
of shells, showed where car loads of ammunition had been consumed in
harmless explosions.

At length, after a hard day's march, we arrived at Bristow Station,
where the corps turned into the fields and bivouacked.

The tower and wind-mill which had been used for raising water to the
tank, remained alone to show where the station had been; all the other
buildings being destroyed, except where still remained the dismantled
ruins of what had once been a hotel.

Here, as for miles back on the road, were the remains of ruined cars and
their contents.

The surrounding country was delightful. A mile or two south of us was a
little church in the midst of an oak grove. It is an agreeable
peculiarity with the southern people, that they are accustomed to locate
their country churches in the midst of pleasant groves, sometimes at a
distance from any residence. In this respect, they certainly exhibit
better taste than the people of most of our northern States, who have
such a propensity for setting the church on the summit of some high hill
where not a tree or shrub adorns the grounds, and the aspiring steeple
seems, like Babel, to be striving vainly to reach the heavens.

On the morning after our arrival here, we heard the sounds of
cannonading not far off, and learned that the cavalry under General
Pleasanton were hotly engaged at Aldee and Upperville, with Stuart's
rebel cavalry, and that our forces were getting the best of the
desperate encounter, winning laurels for themselves and gaining another
of that series of victories which was destined to remove the derision in
which that arm of the service had been held, not from any previous want
of good fighting qualities on the part of our cavalry. General
Pleasanton had attacked Stuart's forces near Middleburgh, driving the
rebels in confusion through Upperville to Ashby's Gap, taking some
pieces of artillery and a large number of prisoners. General Kilpatrick,
in this engagement, had exhibited fighting qualities of the first order,
riding in front of the men and leading the way when they hesitated. His
gallant conduct inspired for him the confidence and admiration of his
men. It was the commencement of a brilliant career which made him one of
the first cavalry commanders in the army. His dashing ride from the
Peninsula to Fredericksburgh, with but a handful of men, eluding the
watchfulness of the wily Stuart, had already established his talent for
bold adventure, and his conduct on this occasion proved his personal
bravery. These are the two great qualities needed for a cavalry officer,
and Kilpatrick's name at once became a tower of strength among his men.

In this pleasant locality the corps remained, an outpost for the army,
guarding the passes from the Shenandoah, for five days. The weather was
delightful, and the men enjoyed, to the utmost, the needed rest. They
lounged in the shade of their tents or in the neighboring groves, or
strolled along the railroad track, examining curiously the ruined
remains of the trains. In a delightful spot at a distance from the
camps, almost surrounded by a grove of oak trees, the hospital tents of
our Second division were erected. To this quiet and lovely spot, where
cool breezes always played, were brought the sick and weary, and
carefully nursed.

But General Lee despaired of inducing General Hooker to uncover the
capital, so, leaving Virginia with his whole army, he pushed toward
Pennsylvania, determined at least to draw our army as far away from
Washington as possible, and to reap rich harvests of spoils among the
overflowing granaries of the Keystone State. No sooner had the movement
of the main body of Lee's army into Maryland commenced, than General
Hooker, with his forces, commenced the pursuit.




CHAPTER XIX.

THE GETTYSBURGH CAMPAIGN.

    The rebels in Pennsylvania--Panic at Harrisburgh--Alarm at
    Baltimore and Washington--Sixth corps leaves Bristow Station--A
    surprise--General Meade takes command--Position of the
    army--Marching through Pennsylvania--An unprecedented
    march--Exciting news--Battle of Gettysburgh--Death of
    Reynolds--First and Eleventh corps fall back--Second day's
    battle--The battle-field--Fighting at Round Top--On the
    right--The grand onset--The battle decided--Rebel and Union
    wounded.


Meanwhile, great excitement prevailed at the north, especially in
Maryland and Pennsylvania, on account of the invasion of the rebel army.
As early as the 15th of the month, more than a thousand rebel cavalry
had reached Chambersburgh, which they had sacked. Two days before, the
battle of Winchester was closed. Ewell, with overwhelming numbers had
fallen upon General Milroy's force, which had unwisely been, by order of
somebody, thrust far away from its base, and out of the reach of
reinforcements, routing the division, and in its flight capturing its
artillery and a large portion of the infantry.

Nothing now opposed the march of the invaders through the Shenandoah
Valley. In Harrisburgh, the excitement rose almost to a panic. All the
paintings, books, papers, and other valuable articles, were removed from
the capitol, packed in boxes and loaded into cars, ready to be sent off
at the first sign of immediate danger. The citizens formed themselves
into military companies, and worked day and night throwing up redoubts
and rifle pits about the city. Men unaccustomed to manual labor
vigorously plied the pick and the spade, and kept up their unwonted toil
with an earnestness worthy of veteran soldiers. To add to this confusion
and alarm, the trains of Milroy's division that had escaped capture were
rattling through the streets in search of a resting place. Throughout
the State of Pennsylvania business was suspended. The governor was
calling loudly for men to rush to arms in defense of their homes; and
General Couch was striving to organize the militia which presented
itself.

Baltimore and Washington were like besieged cities. Stuart was
threatening the Baltimore and Ohio road, and bodies of rebel cavalry had
penetrated within half a dozen miles of Washington. Bells rung out the
alarm, and the affrighted citizens rushed to arms. Loyal leagues were
now of service, forming the nucleus of many an improvised company of
defenders. All these facts we learned from the newspapers, a few stray
copies of which fell within the path of the army, and from the highly
colored accounts of citizens, who, with expressions of the utmost alarm
and anxiety, related what they had heard or seen.

On the night of the 26th of June, the Sixth corps left Bristow Station.
The darkness was intense, and a drizzling rain rendered marching
disagreeable. The march was rapid, and some of the men fell behind, and
were next day collected and marched off to Richmond, by the guerilla
parties that constantly hung upon our flanks and rear. Before daylight
we halted at Centreville. The men threw themselves upon the wet ground,
and slept for two hours, while the rain beat upon them. Then, at six
o'clock, they were again roused, by the order to be ready to move at
once. While taking our coffee, and waiting for the final order to march,
some villain, belonging to the troops stationed at Centreville, set fire
to the little Episcopal chapel that stood not far from us, and was the
only building remaining in the little village which pretended to any
appearance of modern architecture. Those vandals who follow an army,
bent on nothing but destruction, are among the unavoidable evils of war,
and even the most severe discipline is insufficient to effectually
arrest all mischief of the kind.

Our march was a severe one for men who had been on the road all night,
and the men were glad when we bivouacked a little before dark, in a
beautiful oak grove near Drainsville. Very early next morning,
descending into the lovely valley of the Potomac, we reached Edwards'
Ferry, where troops were crossing; after a delay of one or two hours,
waiting for troops of another corps to cross the pontoon bridge, we
followed, and were in Maryland again. All day long troops were passing
over the bridges and taking their positions upon the neighboring hills,
ready for starting anew in the morning; for nearly the whole army was
crossing at this point, and as the process was necessarily slow, those
who went over first waited for those behind.

On Sunday, we left Edwards' Ferry; marched through Poolesville and
Barnstown to Hyattstown. A halt was made at Barnstown for dinner, and
the Sixth corps left the road and occupied a pleasant valley, where the
chestnut trees afforded a grateful shade for the men. They had just
unslung knapsacks, when we were all startled by the sound of a church
bell, which seemed in our midst. The boys gazed for a moment in mute
astonishment in the direction from which the sound came, when they
discovered at a short distance from them, a little church half hidden
among the trees, and the parishioners gathering for service. When the
first surprise was over, the word passed from one to another, "It is
Sunday!" "It is Sunday!" and they set up a shout that demonstrated that
they had not forgotten to love the institutions of civilization, even
after so long an absence from a civilized country. Few who were present
at this time, will ever forget the thrill of pleasurable surprise which
we all experienced at hearing once more the sounds which so forcibly
reminded us of home.

Some of the men attended the service. It was a Catholic church, a small
edifice which had once been white, but, by the action of the weather for
many years, it had now become brown. The seats and altar had never been
painted, and the plaster of the inner wall had, in places, fallen from
the lath. The parishioners seemed quite devout people, and the pastor a
sincere man. In his prayers he remembered the President and the
government, and he supplicated for peace. The reverend father said that,
owing to the confusion in town, there would be no sermon, but he wished
the good people to pray for sister A., who was at the point of death,
and for the repose of the soul of brother B., who was already dead. Some
of our officers engaged in a pleasant conversation with the pastor after
service. He was an agreeable, shrewd man, and professed to be a good
Unionist.

It was at Hyattstown that we first learned that General Hooker had been
superseded, in the command of the army, by General George B. Meade. The
announcement of this unexpected change at such a time, was received with
astonishment, and by many with indignation. To deprive the leader of a
great army of his command just upon the eve of a great battle, when, by
the most brilliant marches and masterly strategy, he had thrown this
army face to face with his enemy, thwarting his designs of moving upon
the capital, without some offense of a grave character, was an act
unheard of before in the history of warfare. It seemed, from later
information regarding this extraordinary measure, that a difference had
arisen between General Hooker and his superior at Washington in regard
to the disposition of troops at Harper's Ferry, and that, each refusing
to surrender his opinion, General Hooker was relieved. His successor
demanded the same disposition on the very next day, and it was granted!

The army was not dissatisfied with the appointment of General Meade; the
soldiers would as readily fight under Meade as under Hooker. They were
anxious to retrieve what had been lost at Chancellorsville, and would
have been glad could General Hooker have shared in the victory which
they believed they were about to achieve; but the men of the Union army
fought for their country and not for their leaders. So they at once
transferred their hopes and their obedience to the new commander.
General Meade was well known to the army as a good soldier, the brave
general who had, with his single division, dashed upon the rebels at the
first Fredericksburgh, and as the leader of a corps which behaved
gallantly at Chancellorsville. All were willing to try him, and hoped
for the best.

The movement from Fredericksburgh had been conducted with consummate
skill and energy, and now the army was moving in several columns by
roads nearly parallel, with the twofold object of greater rapidity of
movement, and of sweeping a greater extent of country.

The Sixth corps was now upon the extreme right, marching toward
Manchester; next, on our left, was the Twelfth corps, at Taneytown, a
little hamlet named in honor of the chief justice of the United States,
whose residence was there. At a point a dozen miles north and west of
us, was the head-quarters of the army, and the Second and Third Corps.
Further to the left, at Emmitsburgh, were the First, Fifth and Eleventh
corps. Upon either flank of this line, extending twenty miles, was
cavalry. Thus the army was guarding a great extent of country, at the
same time that the different corps were within supporting distance of
each other.

The rebel army under General Lee, one hundred thousand strong, occupied
an equally extended line to the north and west of us, stretching from
Harrisburgh through Chambersburgh and Cashtown.

At five o'clock, Monday morning, 28th, the corps marched again, passing
through Monroville, New Market, Ridgeville and Mount Airy Station,
halting for the night at Sam's creek. As the corps passed through
Westminster on the following day, the people welcomed us with
demonstrations of joy, which were all the more earnest, as the rebel
cavalry had, but two hours before, taken a hasty leave of them. At night
we were at Manchester, at least twenty miles from the left of the army,
and between the line of march of the enemy and Baltimore. We rested here
until evening of the next day. The plot was thickening, and the hostile
forces were moving cautiously, each watching the movements of the other,
and each ready to seize any opportunity for rushing upon its enemy to
destroy it. Thus far our marches had been of most fatiguing character.
We had, in the last four days, passed over one hundred miles of road. It
is to be remembered that these marches were made under burning suns, and
that each soldier carried with him his gun, knapsack, haversack,
containing five days' provisions, and forty rounds of cartridges. The
men had kept up wonderfully during this trying campaign, but the great
march of all, in which this magnificent corps was to outdo all that was
ever recorded of wonderful marches, was yet in store for it.

We waited at Manchester until evening. The inhabitants were well
supplied with rye whisky, and it must be confessed that soldiers have a
way of finding out the existence of that luxury, and of supplying
themselves with it; and as the men of the old Sixth corps were in no
respect behind their comrades of the other corps, many of our brave
fellows became, long before dark, considerably inebriated.

At nine o'clock in the evening of the 1st of July, we were on the road,
but it was eleven before we were fairly under headway. Those who during
the day had indulged so freely in the rye whisky of the farmers, as to
disable them from marching or even standing in line, were quietly thrown
into the clumps of bushes by the roadside, and left to be gathered up by
cavalry squads that were scouring the country for stragglers. Those that
were left by our own provost-guards were picked up by rebel scouts.

The column now pushed rapidly on; all night the weary march was kept up.
A halt of ten minutes for breakfast, and then on again. Now we heard
that a part of the army, the First corps, had already engaged the enemy
at Gettysburgh, with doubtful issue, and that its commander, General
Reynolds, was killed.

New ardor was now kindled in the breasts of the men of the Sixth corps
at these tidings, and they pressed forward at a pace unusual, even for
them. The day was bright, the sun pouring scalding rays from a cloudless
sky. The men strove hard to keep in the ranks, for few in that corps
were willing to be left behind in a fight.

Yet some gave out from exhaustion, but even these, at a slower pace,
followed the rapidly moving column.

At the houses on the roadsides, the citizens, their wives and daughters,
were bringing water, from which the soldiers filled their canteens as
they passed. At Littletown we saw citizens bringing the wounded from the
field in their carriages, and many wounded soldiers who could walk were
making their way to the village. The marching was more rapid. Our
friends were waiting for us. Soon we saw above the valley that lay
before us, clouds of smoke and the white puffs of bursting shells. As
yet we could distinguish little of the sound of battle, but those small
fleecy clouds which appeared so suddenly, flashing forked lightning,
told us of work ahead. It was five o'clock when the Sixth corps arrived
on the battle-field, having made an unprecedented march of thirty-four
miles! We halted in reserve, not to rest, but to wait a few moments
until our place should be assigned us in front. We had more marching to
do! Four miles more of marching and countermarching that night, made
thirty-eight miles in a single day. Such marching as had been done by
the Sixth corps since leaving Bristow Station, is unparalleled in the
history of armies.

The roar of battle was terrific. On our left, where rose a hill covered
with timber on the top and side, a fearful struggle seemed in progress,
and the roll of musketry and the rapid discharge of artillery was almost
deafening.

Let us now turn back and review the operations of the First and the
Eleventh corps since yesterday morning. We give it as it was related to
us by members of the First and Eleventh corps. General Buford,
commanding the cavalry on the left flank of the army, had advanced north
of the town of Gettysburgh, and had fallen in with large bodies of
cavalry, supported by infantry. He became hotly engaged with this force,
and at once reported the information to General Meade that he had found
the enemy in large force. General Reynolds, who, with the First corps
had by this time reached Marsh creek, within easy striking distance of
Gettysburgh, was directed to urge his troops forward to Gettysburgh as
rapidly as possible. The corps pushed on, and reaching Gettysburgh,
filed through the town, leaving it to the rear. General Buford was found
fiercely struggling to maintain his position against the infantry of the
enemy. At once, General Reynolds proceeded to select a position for his
line of battle. Without a moment's hesitation, the corps was deployed;
the division of Wadsworth, leading the van, was in position; a battery
which had been brought to the front was slowly forced back, but the
gallant Wadsworth, bringing more infantry into line, arrested the
retreat, and in turn forced back the hostile forces, who were now found
to be in large numbers. It was at this time that General Reynolds,
riding forward with a few members of his staff, to inspect the field
with the view of bringing the rest of his troops into favorable
position, was shot through the neck, the enemy having, at the moment,
opened a full volley of musketry. The noble commander, feeling the
wound, turned to his soldiers and shouted, "Forward men! for God's sake,
forward!" and fell, dying, into the arms of one of his companions.

This sad loss only fired the hearts of the soldiers to more desperate
determination, and they rushed into line upon the run, burning to avenge
their beloved leader. General Doubleday, of the Second division of the
corps, was next in rank, and took command. The encounter was sharp, and
the rebels were giving way. Three hundred prisoners were brought in, and
the corps was put into position to hold its ground. The force of the
enemy now engaged, proved to be the corps of General A. P. Hill, and the
prisoners declared that the rest of the confederate army was close at
hand. A column of the enemy now moved toward the left of our line,
debouching from a piece of woods, and occupying a close proximity to our
forces. Volley after volley was poured into the advancing column,
without avail, except to stretch many of its men upon the ground,
wounded and dying.

At length the brigades of Doubleday's own division were ordered to
charge upon the obstinate line. They obeyed with alacrity, their cheers
and shouts ringing above the roar of musketry. The rebels gave way
before this impetuous charge, and several hundred more prisoners were
brought in.

Thus far the First corps was victorious, but its ranks were becoming
terribly thinned.

In the meantime, General Howard, with the Eleventh corps, was hastening
to the assistance of the First. Just before receiving his fatal wound,
General Reynolds had sent a messenger to Howard, who, with his corps,
was ten miles behind, to hasten forward as rapidly as possible.

The men of that corps were burning to wipe out the unfortunate record of
Chancellorsville, and the roar of artillery before them, inspired vigor
in their movements and urged them forward; but the noise of the battle
was heard by others.

Ewell, with his confederates, was but three miles off; and while the
Unionists looked for the coming of help, a fresh corps reinforced the
rebels. But the opposing forces were, for the time, willing to allow a
lull in the battle. So, from ten o'clock until half-past two the First
corps held the enemy at bay. By this time a division of the Eleventh
corps was on the ground and another on the other side of Gettysburgh.
General Howard took command. The Union reinforcements were just
arriving; those of the rebels had already taken their position, and were
ready for a desperate charge.

Suddenly, rushing from the cover of the woods in which they had
debouched from the York road, the old corps of Stonewall Jackson, now
under Ewell, charged, with yells, down upon the Eleventh. The Germans,
this time stood their ground, returning with spirit, the volleys of
their old antagonists.

On the left, Hill was also charging fiercely upon the First corps, and
the sturdy divisions of Wadsworth and Cutler were almost destroyed.

The rebel line now overlapped that of the Union forces on either flank,
and the two corps under Howard were in danger of being surrounded by the
greater numbers of their adversaries. The lines began to waver under the
fearful storm of lead and iron, and the order was given to fall back.
The lines retired in good order until they reached the town. There, in
passing through the streets, the Germans became confused and alarmed,
and the retreat of the corps became a rout. Twelve hundred were taken
prisoners in the streets. The First corps maintained its line of battle
and held its foe at a distance in spite of the deadly fire which was
decimating its ranks. The heroic Wadsworth cheered and encouraged his
men by his own noble example, while the messengers of death shrieked
thickly about him. On the right of the corps, Hill had already forced
back the line, and now the Eleventh corps having left him, both flanks
of his division were exposed. It was useless to protract the hopeless
struggle, and these sturdy troops also fell back, retiring slowly and
firmly, while the rebels, flushed with victory, were pouring into front
and flank the most deadly fire. It was a moment of vital importance to
our army and our cause. A rout of these two corps, while the remaining
two-thirds of the army was separated in columns far distant from each
other, must insure the destruction of each column in detail, and give to
the rebels undisputed sway throughout the north. But the christian hero,
whose empty sleeve testified of hard fought fields before, was still
sufficient for the crisis. Halting the retreating divisions as they
reached the line of hills upon the south side of the town, and selecting
a ridge called Cemetery Hill for his second line of battle, he reformed
his disordered ranks, and planting batteries so as to sweep the
declivity in front and on right and left, awaited the onset of the
victorious hosts. On they came, until half through the town, when, from
the whole line of guns on the crest, burst a murderous fire, from which
the assailants staggered in consternation.

The tide was turned; for now a part of Hancock's Second corps was coming
up, and in half an hour the rebels retired, and the one-armed general
was master of the situation. But the day had been a fearful one for the
two corps.

The First corps had lost its general, loved and admired for his bravery.
Hundreds from the ranks of the corps, lay beyond the village stretched
in death. Of those who went into the fight in the morning, but one-half
remained.

The havoc was almost as fearful in the Eleventh corps. Hundreds had been
killed and a greater number captured. Yet there was no faltering among
those veterans, and when, toward evening, the Third and Twelfth corps
arrived upon the field, their confidence and hope rose, and all now
believed that our army was yet destined to achieve a grand victory.

No further demonstrations were made on either side that night. Each
party was gathering its strength for the grand conflict. Late in the
evening General Meade arrived on the field, and with General Howard
proceeded to inspect the ground, and make arrangements for posting the
troops of the army.

The Eleventh corps was still to occupy Cemetery Hill, just opposite the
town. Upon a knoll to the right of the Eleventh corps was the First
corps, and still farther, and forming the extreme right of the army, was
the Twelfth corps, General Slocum. On the left of Cemetery Hill,
occupying the extension of the ridge and a prominent hill, Round Top,
the Third corps, General Sickles, was posted, and the Second corps,
General Hancock. The Fifth corps was to be held in reserve until the
arrival of the Sixth corps. Thus through the night, the two armies lay
upon their arms, each watching the other, to wake to a contest more
fearful than the last.

At daylight Thursday morning, July 2d, the rebel skirmishers opened fire
upon parts of our lines of pickets, but there was little betokening any
general engagement. Occasionally a few of the skirmishers of the enemy,
would make a charge upon parts of our line forcing back the pickets, but
a gun from some one of our batteries would hastily send them to the rear
again. Doubtless it was for the purpose of disclosing the positions of
our batteries, that their dashes were made. Thus the day wore on until
four o'clock.

General Sickles, with the Third corps, had moved out beyond the general
line of battle nearly a mile, and had come upon the advance of the
enemy, where Longstreet, with one-third of the rebel army, was
concentrating his forces against the left flank, with the hope of
turning it and seizing the ridge.

The battle opened at once. Seven batteries of artillery opened upon
front and flank of the exposed corps, and large bodies of infantry in
column by division. The corps withstood the shock heroically, and was
soon strengthened by troops from the Second corps. Our artillery now
opened upon the rebels from the ridge, and hurled destruction upon them.
The valley was filled with bursting missiles, and the smoke rolled up in
huge columns. It was at this stage of the great battle that the Sixth
corps arrived on the ground, after its unparalleled march, and the Fifth
corps was at once ordered into the fight. For an hour the Sixth corps
was the reserve of the army, but even this reserve was soon called into
action.

The writer, while our corps waited for orders, rode along the front,
from where the Second and Third corps were engaged in their deadly
struggle with the enemy, across Cemetery Ridge and to the hill where, on
the right of the line, Slocum had established his head-quarters, and he
will attempt to describe the field as he saw it.

To form a correct idea of the position of the armies, one should imagine
two ranges of hills, between which was the valley and the village of
Gettysburgh.

These ridges are nearly parallel, and are from a mile to a mile and a
half asunder. Their course is not a direct line but curving. The ridge
on which our forces are posted, bend outward and backward, so that the
line is in the form of a half circle, fronting from the center, while
the rebels were forced to occupy an exterior line facing towards the
center.

At Gettysburgh several roads converge, first, on the right is the
Baltimore turnpike, next is the road to Taneytown, and further to the
left is the Emmitsburgh road. These all meet at Cemetery Hill, which is
the key to the whole situation.

Cemetery Hill is in the center of a range of hills running south and
west from Gettysburgh, and considerably in front of the others. Standing
upon its summit, the spectator looks down upon the village, a little to
his right and upon the long declivity stretching between the crest and
the town.

The crest of this ridge is bristling with batteries, which are so
arranged as to sweep the declivity, the valley below, and the opposite
range of hills. Here, by the side of the Baltimore pike, General Howard
has his head-quarters, and just in front lie long lines of infantry, who
wear the crescent badge, which distinguishes the Eleventh corps.

Stretching to the left and rear, Cemetery Ridge gradually diminishes in
elevation, until it reaches an abrupt peak which rises considerably
above the other hills of the range. This is Round Top. It is covered
with timber at its summit, its sides are rugged, and, toward the enemy,
quite steep. On the north slope of Round Top, the Second and Third corps
are maintaining the unequal struggle with one-third of the rebel army.
The roar of musketry is awful beyond description, and the whole valley
trembles with the thunder of the artillery. On the right of Cemetery
Ridge is another elevation, Slocum's Hill, where the commander of the
Twelfth corps sits among the huge fragments of rock, watching his own
and the enemy's line in his front, and where is another battery, which
from time to time is sending its screaming messengers to the hills
beyond or across a little stream which winds along the right of his
position.

In rear of Slocum's Hill is a little whitewashed cottage, surrounded by
a picket fence. There are two or three wall tents in the yard, and many
horses are tied to the fence. This is the head-quarters of the army.
From this point General Meade is directing all the movements of the
Union forces.

It will be seen that our troops could be sent from one point to another
of the line, easily and quickly, while the rebels, who occupied the
exterior of the circle, must make long circuits in order to reinforce
one part of the field with troops from another. For the first time since
Malvern Hill, our forces had the advantage of position.

The rebel lines which had so fiercely attacked the Third corps, steadily
advanced, pouring destruction before them, while the two corps, unable
to resist the weight of the advancing columns, steadily fell back. At
the moment that the Sixth corps reached the field, the Fifth were
rushing to the assistance of the wavering lines on Round Top.

It was a glorious spectacle, as the veteran wearers of the St. Andrew's
cross rushed along the rear of the peak and among the rocks, at
double-quick, and then suddenly moving by the flank, formed in line of
battle. Through the woods and down the slope they rush, fall upon the
advancing columns, and check their progress. The Union line now advance
upon the rebels, who fall back more. Shot and shells pour in a fearful
storm from the rebel batteries, sweeping the slope of Round Top and the
crest of Cemetery Hill. Here, near Howard's quarters, a train of
ambulances and army wagons attract the fire of the enemy, and the
bursting shells soon send them hurrying through the narrow defile in the
rocks through which the road passes, panic stricken. For more than two
hours the desperate battle rages on the left, while the right, except
that on either side artillery belches forth its thunders, is quiet. The
Sixth corps, the only reserve of the army, is also put into the line on
the left; only one brigade, Neill's, is sent to the right to reinforce
Slocum, who has also sent a great portion of his corps to the left, and
against whom the rebels are now charging. The doubtful contest ceases as
darkness gathers over the battle-field, leaving the rebels still in
possession of some of the ground occupied by Sickles' corps at four
o'clock.

Both armies again lay upon their arms, waiting for daylight, by which to
renew the contest. The losses in the Second and Third corps had been
fearful, and scarcely less were those of the Fifth. From our own Sixth
corps, there were many killed and wounded, but compared with these
others, the loss was slight. General Sickles had been wounded early in
the fight, and suffered amputation of a leg. The morning of July 3d
dawned brightly, and at once the rattle of musketry told of the renewal
of strife. On the right, where Slocum with a single division of his own
troops and our Third brigade of Howe's division, Sixth corps, held the
long line, an attempt was made to retake the rifle pits which the rebels
had captured yesterday. The rebels in turn charged furiously. They had
possession of some of our pits, and now they hoped to turn our flank and
rout the army; but the small force replied to the desperate charge of
the whole of Ewell's corps with the most stubborn resistance. Charge
after charge was made, but to no avail. At length Neill's brigade passed
far to the right of the rebel line, and poured an enfilading volley into
the gray-coats. They, supposing that a heavy force had got on their
flank withdrew, when our forces charging in turn, drove them with great
loss from the rifle pits, which were held during the remainder of the
engagement in spite of repeated efforts to dislodge our forces. By noon
quiet prevailed along the whole line, except that now and then a shot
from some of our batteries screamed across the valley, but eliciting no
reply. The rebel lines could be seen moving here and there as if
preparing for a desperate struggle. The men at our batteries declared
that so completely had they got the range of the other crests that the
rebels dare not open a piece. Little did they imagine that more than a
hundred guns were concentrating just behind the little strip of woods
below them.

This unwonted silence continued until about one o'clock, when suddenly,
as though pandemonium had broken loose, the air was filled with the
shrieks, screams, howls and clangor of bursting shells. The sky was
filled with smoke, amid which flames darted in every direction, and the
valley and hills quaked with the thunders of artillery. Never on this
continent had been heard such cannonading as this. For two hours this
storm of shell and shot raged in all its fury. At the first opening of
the storm, parts of our line were forced back, but they quickly advanced
again. Horses and men fell together, mangled and torn by the screaming
missiles. In some of our batteries every horse was destroyed, and the
men drew back the pieces by hand to save them from capture. One hundred
and twenty-five guns were concentrated against our left center, which
continued for two hours to belch forth death and destruction. At length,
when it was supposed that our guns were silenced, and our infantry
confused by the fearful cannonade, came the expected charge of infantry.
Longstreet's corps, massed, with Picket's division in front, rushed
forward with the well known yells, which rang above the clangor of
musketry and artillery, and threw themselves with utmost fury upon the
Union lines. Our men had waited the onset with unflinching courage, and
now poured into the assailants a most murderous fire, which hurled them
back and strewed the ground with their dead and dying. Again, with the
fierceness of desperation, they rush forward, and again are met with the
same deadly reception. Hundreds from the attacking columns, in order to
escape the certain doom, threw down their arms and came in as prisoners.
The tide of battle lulled for a time.

Again artillery did its work alone, until about four o'clock, when the
last desperate charge was made, the grand effort which was to sweep the
Union lines in confusion, or result in the total defeat of the rebel
army.

The heavy masses swept up as before, with the desperation of madness.
They advanced until they were fairly on our lines, and, at some points,
actually pushed them back. Then they were met with enfilading fires,
from which the carnage exceeded all that had been before. Nearly the
whole of Picket's division, finding itself unable to retreat through the
fiery storm, was captured, and the remaining divisions reeled back in
confusion, leaving the ground literally covered with dead.

This decided the fate of the battle. The enemy had staked all upon this
last desperate charge, and had been hurled back in confusion and with
enormous losses.

No pursuit was attempted, but, although the rebels were not at once
driven from their position, they had suffered a terrible defeat, and
they must retreat with all speed to their defenses in Virginia, or
submit to the destruction of their army. Our wounded were collected in
great numbers in and about the field hospitals, which were composed
chiefly of hospital tents, some farm house with its large barns, serving
as a nucleus for each. To these, thousands of our brave comrades were
brought with mangled limbs, torn bodies or bleeding heads, yet,
notwithstanding their terrible wounds, exhibiting their accustomed
heroism. Long trains of ambulances were bringing in crowds of poor
fellows with arms or legs torn to shreds, yet who never uttered a word
of complaint, and who, indeed, appeared cheerful, and some even gay.

In this respect there was the greatest contrast between the wounded of
the Union and the rebel armies. A Union soldier, if so severely wounded
that he could by no possibility assume a cheerful countenance, would
shut his teeth close together and say nothing. While a rebel, if he
could boast of only a flesh wound, would whine and cry like a sick
child. One unaccustomed to such scenes as can only be witnessed about a
field hospital in time of battle, would be filled with astonishment at
the stoical bravery manifested by the northern troops. If one had passed
along where our men were lying in rows, he would only now and then have
heard a groan escape from some poor fellow who had received a bullet
through the abdomen or some such fatal and painful wound. But let a
group of wounded rebels be placed in some part of the hospital, and
their groans were heart-rending. This contrast is not overdrawn. Every
surgeon who has had opportunities to observe the difference in the
bearing of wounded men of the two armies, can testify to the greater
heroism of the northern soldier at such times.




CHAPTER XX.

PURSUIT OF LEE'S ARMY.

    Scenes of the field of Gettysburgh--The rebel hospitals--The
    sightless rebel soldier boy--The Sixth corps at
    Fairfield--"Hurrah for the Union"--Kilpatrick's handiwork--At
    Waynesboro'--On picket--A division of militia--The Vermonters at
    Funkstown--The army at Funkstown--Meade's failure to attack--New
    York riots--Return to Virginia.


The battle was over and the invading army which had suffered such a
crushing defeat, had only to gather up its shattered remnants and
hastily retrace its steps southward. We were in no condition to renew
immediate hostilities. Every man and every gun had been brought into
service. Never before had all of our army been fought at once. At
Gettysburgh, every man of the infantry reserve, and every gun of the
reserve artillery had been brought into action. The men were exhausted
by their tedious marches and hard fighting, while our ammunition was
well nigh spent.

During the night of the 4th of July, Lee's army retreated, and on the
morning of the 5th, our Sixth corps, Sedgwick's cavalry as the corps was
called, was sent in pursuit on the Fairfield road. The battle-field was
horrible. Dead men were thickly strewed over the fields with their faces
blackened, and eyes starting from their sockets; and upturned, swollen
horses lay, sometimes in groups of six or eight, showing where some
battery had suffered fearfully. As we passed the scene of the conflict
on the left, at the foot of Round Top, was a scene more than usually
hideous. Blackened ruins marked the spot where, on the morning of the
third, stood a large barn. It had been used as a hospital. It had taken
fire from the shells of the hostile batteries, and had quickly burned to
the ground. Those of the wounded not able to help themselves were
destroyed by the flames, which in a moment spread through the straw and
dry material of the building. The crisped and blackened limbs, heads and
other portions of bodies lying half consumed among the heaps of ruins
and ashes, made up one of the most ghastly pictures ever witnessed, even
on the field of battle. But we passed these direful scenes to meet with
others of less shocking but still sad character. Every house and barn
from Gettysburgh to Fairfield was a hospital; and about most of the
large barns, numbers of dilapidated hospital tents served to increase
the accommodations for the wounded.

All of the worst cases were left in these hospitals, the number being
estimated, by the rebel surgeons in charge, at no less than fifteen
thousand. Never had we witnessed such sad scenes as we were passing
through to-day. The confederate surgeons were doing what they could for
their wounded, but they were destitute of medicines and surgical
appliances, and even food sufficient to supply those in their charge. At
one of these barns some of our officers stopped, and as they passed
among the gray-clad sufferers who were lying in rows upon the barn
floors, one, a boy apparently not more than sixteen years of age,
attracted the notice of one of the company, a surgeon. The lad looked
more like a delicate girl than a soldier; his hair fell from his fair
forehead in long flaxen curls upon his pillow of straw, some of them
matted with blood; his cheek was rosy, and his soft white hand told of a
youth spent amid more tender scenes than those of the camp. A piece of
linen laid across his face covered a ghastly wound where a ball had
passed through his face, and had torn both his eyes from their sockets.

The surgeon spoke a kind word to the youth, who stretched out his hand,
saying, "Come near me, I want to touch you." The doctor stooped over
him, and the boy, pressing his hand in his own, said, "You are a friend,
are you not?" "Yes, I am a friend to all the unfortunate." "But are you
not a confederate?" "No." The boy clung to the hand of the surgeon in
silence for a moment, and then said slowly, "I did not think a federal
would speak so kindly to me; your voice sounds like that of a friend,
and your hand feels like one; will you not stay with me?" When the other
told him that he must follow his command, he replied: "Oh! I shall never
hear any one speak so kindly to me again; my mother lives in North
Carolina, but she will not see me. Can you not stay?" The doctor was far
from being a rebel sympathizer, yet he turned away from the poor boy,
with a sad face and a deep drawn sigh, to join the moving column.

Early next morning we passed through the somewhat dilapidated village of
Fairfield. Our advance threw a few shells down the street, scattering a
body of cavalry, which had been left in town, and killing some of the
horses attached to their battery. A mile beyond the town the South
Mountain range rose in our front, the road running through a narrow
pass. Here the rear guard of the rebel army was strongly posted. Neill's
and the Jersey brigade advanced against the rebel skirmishers, but after
losing some six or eight men they were ordered to halt. General Sedgwick
deeming the position too strong to assault with his corps from the
front, reported to General Meade that the pass was very strong, and one
in which a small force of the enemy could hold in check for a
considerable time, a force much larger than its own. The main body of
the army, therefore, was moved around their flank by way of Frederick;
while Neill's brigade, with Colonel McIntosh's brigade of cavalry and
two light batteries, all under command of General Neill, were made to
form a flying division to harass the enemy in the rear.

Our march over the mountain that day was by a wild, romantic route, than
which none more charming could be asked by tourist in search of nature's
wildest moods. Before each little log house by the roadside would stand
a wondering group, astonished at seeing such multitudes of men in those
secluded regions, where scarcely a dozen travelers usually passed in a
week. At one place, as the column was passing a cottage half hidden by
sunflowers and flowering beans, those at the head of the column were
heard cheering heartily; and, as we advanced, other voices took up the
cheer, exciting the curiosity of those behind. In the midst of the
noise, sounded a shrill voice; and as we approached, we saw, sitting
upon the fence in front of the cottage, a little boy, about four years
old, his face flushed with excitement, his flaxen hair flying in the
wind, as he was waving his little hat, and with childlike indistinctness
shouting in his shrill tones, "Hurrah for 'e Union! Hurrah for 'e
Union!"

Soon those in the rear of the line heard those ahead shouting again, and
another shrill voice was heard between the cheers of the men. There by
the roadside stood an old man, over whom more than eighty years had
passed, with voice indistinct with the tremor of age, all excited as the
little boy had been, his hair tossed about by the breeze, as with hat
swinging he too was shouting, "Hurrah for the Union! Hurrah for the
Union!" And the cheers of the multitude again rang in response to the
old man's shout. We could but note the similarity and the disparity. One
vaguely dreamed of those blessings which the other had fully realized,
and for which he had struggled; and the same shout was lifted up by
those two children--the one of four, and the other of fourscore--the one
with the flaxen curls of childhood, and the other with the white locks
of age--the one voice with the shrill treble of infancy, and the other
with the high-keyed tones of decrepitude. Those people, who had seen the
rebel army pass a few hours before, now felt the value of the Union.

On the summit of the mountain we passed Monterey Springs, a charming
summer retreat, where the Pennsylvanians resort to indulge in the sports
of trout-fishing and deer-hunting. Passing down the western slope of the
mountain, the handiwork of Kilpatrick was strewed along the roadside for
miles. As the battle of Gettysburgh drew to a close, and General Meade
knew that Lee must retreat toward Virginia, he had sent the dashing
Kilpatrick with his brigade of cavalry to harass the rebels in their
flight. Reaching these mountains, the cavalry had come upon a long rebel
train of wagons and ambulances, hastening with all speed, with their
lading of stolen goods and provisions and their wounded men, towards the
Potomac. With shouts and cheers the horsemen dashed from the cover of
the woods, upon the flying train, shot the leading horses and mules,
captured the drivers and remaining animals, appropriated the stolen
goods to their own use, and burned the wagons. Now, as we marched down
the forest road, the wildness of the scene was heightened by the remains
of the ruined wagons which lined the wayside, some burned, some with the
wheels disabled by cutting the spokes, others tumbled off the steep
embankment. For more than three miles, these remnants of the rebel
trains met our view.

It was near the middle of the afternoon when the column, the army under
General Neill, descended into the beautiful Cumberland valley, and
arrived at the village of Waynesboro. The people gave our little army a
joyous reception, and we encamped at a little distance from the village.
One regiment, the Seventy-seventh, was sent on picket on the banks of
the Antietam creek, and so pleasant was the duty that the regiment
petitioned to be allowed to remain until the army moved, to which
request General Neill very graciously assented. Our picketing on the
Antietam became one of the bright sports in the history of our
campaigning. We were a mile in advance of the other troops, and the
picket line was two miles long, so that we were not at all crowded. The
weather was fine, the country delightful, and the people kind and
hospitable. The most friendly relations sprang up at once between the
people and the soldiers, the inhabitants supplying the boys with
luxuries, and taking them into their houses as welcome guests, the
soldiers on their part guarding the people against the depredations of
stragglers and militia.

The grain was ripe for the harvest, and the farmers were short of help;
but the boys laid aside their guns, and swung the cradle and the scythe
with a zest that showed that they worked with a good will. Day after day
the boys of the Seventy-seventh reaped and bound in the fields, while
the good ladies worked day and night to make bread and cakes for the
veterans, who had so long been accustomed to diet on pork and hard tack.
Soft bread, milk, poultry and the staple luxury of Pennsylvania, apple
butter, was a glorious improvement on the usual bill of camp fare, and
kind sympathizing Union people were much better calculated to render our
stay among them agreeable, than the bitter rebels among whom we had so
long been.

The left wing of our extended picket line was under command of Major
Babcock, who, with the line officers of his part of the picket,
established head-quarters at the house of a miller, whose comfortable
rooms and well filled larder afforded substantial inducements to our
friends; but the great attractions at the miller's house were doubtless
the three charming daughters, whose merry faces and bewitching eyes
rejoiced the hearts of our gay major and his associates. Word came to
the right of the line that our friends on the left were in the enjoyment
of far more than the usual allowance of pleasure for men on picket, and
thither started the colonel and the doctor, and our friend, Colonel
Connor, of the Seventh Maine, to investigate the matter. Riding through
a lovely region, now rising to the summit of some gentle eminence, from
whence they could look away upon the surrounding country, its rich
fields of grain ready for the harvest, its charming groves of oak, and
its neat farm houses, making up a most delightful landscape, now
descending into some green valley where babbling brooks danced over
pebbly beds, and now reining up to listen to the complaint of some
cottagers, who said that "the militia were robbing them of their pigs
and their poultry, and but for the old soldiers, who were perfect
gentlemen, they would be stripped of everything they had;" now fording
the bright waters of the Antietam, and anon halting to converse with
some group of men who were reclining beneath the shadow of some clump of
chestnuts or oaks, doing picket duty as amateurs, the party at length
arrived at the miller's house, nestled in a pleasant grove by the side
of the beautiful river. Here was the major, and here were the happy line
officers, and here was the main reserve of the left wing of the picket,
all exhibiting the most abundant good humor. Here, also, they found our
chaplain, and Chaplain Osborn, of the Forty-third New York. It was
evident, at a glance, that the reports of gay soldiering which had
reached the right of the line were in no way exaggerated. The miller
took the horses, and the party was ushered into the house, when the good
lady and her merry daughters welcomed them heartily. The miller brought
out his best wines and his biggest apples. The ladies were smiling, the
wines were good, and the apples delicious, and the hearts of the
soldiers were gladdened. The ladies retired, leaving the gentlemen in
possession of the airy sitting-room. They sung Old Hundred, and
Coronation, and Lenox, and Cambridge. Now our friend, Colonel Connor,
would lead off in a rollicking soldiers' song; then our chaplain would
follow with "Benny Havens, Oh!" and all would join in the chorus.
Chaplain Osborn, of the Forty-third, could tell a good story, and relish
a glass of wine; and so they passed a happy hour, singing and chatting,
till called to dinner, where the long table was loaded from the
abundance of the miller's stores. Dinner over, the company strolled
among the fruit trees and along the banks of the river; but at length,
as an end must come to all pleasures, our party, who had left the right
of the line in the morning, galloped back to their quarters, satisfied
that picket duty was not necessarily the most vexatious in the service.

The Forty-ninth was provost guard for the town, and a merry time the men
had of it. Here in the principal hotel, General Neill established his
head-quarters, and in regal style amid flowers and fruits he received
the homage of the citizens and soldiers. The remaining regiments of the
brigade were stationed in a lovely grove half way between the town and
the picket line. They lounged in the shade of their beautiful camp, or
strolled to the village or to the picket line on the Antietam. They
purchased from the people fruit and bread, apple butter and other
luxuries, enjoying a pleasant respite from labors, while the Forty-ninth
guarded the town and the Seventy-seventh the river. But notwithstanding
all the pleasures of this bright episode in our campaign, the boys were
not without a source of annoyance.

Soon after our arrival at Waynesboro, we were joined by a large division
of New York and Pennsylvania militia, under our old commander General W.
F. Smith, who still held a prominent place in the affections of the
boys. The militia was composed mostly of young gentlemen who had left
their places behind the counter or at the desk, for the double purpose
of lending their aid to their country in its hour of need, and of
enjoying a month of what they hoped would be amateur soldiering.

On the evening of their arrival, they were all complaining bitterly of
the terrible marches they had endured, and swore they would shoot the
general if they ever got into a fight. They had marched all the way from
Harrisburgh, to which point they had been brought in cars, at the rate
of from eight to fifteen miles a day! In addition to the severe marches,
they had been subjected to great privations; many of them had not tasted
any _butter_ for more than a week, and nearly all declared that they had
absolutely nothing to eat for several days. The writer, who listened to
these grievous complaints from some who had been his friends in civil
life, pointed to their trains of wagons loaded with boxes of hard bread.
"What," replied the militia-men, "You don't expect us to eat that hard
tack do you?"

These regiments of militia were undisciplined and unaccustomed to the
hard fare of the soldier's life, and the majority of the men took to
plundering the inhabitants of the neighboring country, and perpetrating
other depredations equally dishonorable in the eyes of the old soldiers.
As the veterans constituted the picket and the guard of the town, and
were intrusted to guard many of the houses of the citizens outside of
the village, they found great annoyance in attempting to resist the
incursions of the militia, and rather frequent collisions resulted, in
which the old soldiers usually got the best of the encounter.

The citizens very soon learned to look upon the veterans as their
friends and their protectors, while they regarded with dread any squad
of soldiers that might approach, if they were clad in new uniforms.

But, on the 11th of July, we drew in our picket line, the brigade
assembled, and at dark the troops, veterans and militia, were fording
the Antietam, the water nearly to their waists. We marched rapidly all
night, halting at a place called Leytirsburgh. At daylight next morning,
we were again marching. The day was extremely hot, and large numbers of
the men fell by the wayside from sun-stroke. At Smithville we fell in
with the First corps, which was moving towards Hagerstown, and the
hearts of the men were gladdened by the sight of the old familiar flags
of the Army of the Potomac. We had been absent from the main body of the
army for a week, and it seemed now as though we had fallen in with old
friends from whom we had been long separated. Falling in the rear of the
First corps, we marched toward Hagerstown. At 2 o'clock a most terrific
thunder-storm arose, such as had never overtaken our army, even in
Virginia. Huge black clouds rose from the north and from the west and
south, and meeting overhead poured down great volumes of water, until
the road through which we were marching, and which was bordered by high
banks on either side, was filled with a mad torrent which reached to the
knees, and in places to the waists of the men. At sunset we reached
Funkstown, where the main body of our corps was in line of battle,
having yesterday met the rebels and driven them more than a mile. Our
friends of the Vermont brigade had, as usual, given a good account of
themselves; and the head-boards of pine, here and there among the trees,
showed that the victory had not been gained without a struggle.

In marching from Boonsboro towards Funkstown, the Vermont brigade in
advance of the corps, the little stream, Beaver Creek, was passed, and
General Howe found Buford's cavalry in his advance holding a strong
position against the skirmishers of the rebel infantry. At General
Buford's request, General Howe sought and obtained permission to send
the Vermont brigade to relieve the cavalry. Colonel Lewis with his Fifth
Vermont and part of the Second, and Colonel Barney with the Sixth
regiment, at once deployed as skirmishers, forming their line two miles
long. The Third and Fourth regiments were supporting a battery, and the
balance of the Second was held in reserve. They saw the rebel infantry
approach a strip of woods in front, and at once advanced and occupied it
themselves. Against this long thin line of skirmishers, the rebels
opened a severe fire of artillery and musketry, and advanced to drive
the skirmishers from their position; but the brave mountaineers never
dreaming that a Sixth corps skirmish line could not hold a rebel line of
battle, resolutely refused to leave and sent the presumptious rebel line
of battle to the rear in confusion; not, however, until Colonel
Stoughton with the Fourth and Colonel Seaver with the Third, came
forward to the support of the Fifth and Sixth. Again, the rebels,
disgusted at being repulsed by a skirmish line, came up in several lines
of battle and charged upon the Vermonters and they again went to the
rear in confusion. A third charge was made against the obstinate
skirmish line, and a third time the attack was broken. Meanwhile a
strong force attempting to cross the Antietam and come in on the flank,
was repelled by the Second Vermont.

The gallant brigade had repelled Anderson's brigade, of seven large
regiments, from its front, and another from its flank.

An instance of a skirmish line, a mile and a half from any support,
resisting repeated attacks of troops in line of battle, is rarely found
in the history of armies.

The men used from sixty to eighty rounds of cartridge, and when the
first supply was exhausted, a fresh one was brought to the front on
stretchers.

The victory cost the brigade a loss of nine men killed and fifty-nine
wounded, while the enemy lost more than two hundred men.

The men of Neill's brigade were rejoiced to find themselves once more
with the glorious old corps, and when their brigade flag, bearing the
insignia of the Greek cross, was once more thrown to the breeze, it was
greeted with vociferous cheers. Brisk skirmishing was going on along the
line, and frequent charges were made by our Union pickets upon the rebel
line, which usually resulted in the capture of a greater or less number
of the enemy's pickets. All things indicated a great battle on the
morrow. The two armies were facing each other in a line in front of
Hagerstown, near a hamlet called Funkstown, the line of battle extending
several miles. The rebels had occupied the higher grounds, and had
thrown up strong earthworks to dispute our progress. Night came on with
rain, and all expected to be roused early by the sound of battle. But
morning came and passed, and the day wore on with little activity on our
part. Here and there skirmishers kept up a rattle of musketry, but no
general engagement came on. Much as the veterans, who knew too well the
risks of battle, usually dreaded a general engagement, this time there
seemed a universal desire, on the part of the men, now to strike a blow
which should destroy their adversaries before they should be able to
cross the river again.

Deserters and prisoners from the rebel army represented it in a
deplorable condition; and the men of the ranks in our army believed that
this was the grand opportunity for striking a final blow. And
notwithstanding the assertion of general officers that the Potomac was
so swollen as to prevent the crossing of the rebel army, there were few
privates in our ranks who were not ready to declare that, unless we gave
battle at once, the prey would surely escape. Thus, as the day wore on,
great dissatisfaction was expressed all along the ranks--men openly and
freely cursing the hesitancy which held them back, as they believed,
from a certain victory. So, when they arose on the morning of the 14th,
to find that there was no enemy in our front, they were more incensed
than surprised. There was certainly a very general ill-feeling pervading
our army at this easy escape of the rebel army, which even the glorious
news of Vicksburg and Port Hudson failed to pacify.

Brisk firing in the vicinity of the Potomac, however, warned us that
there were still rebels enough left on the north side of the river to
offer some resistance. We learned, late in the day, that the firing was
caused by a brilliant charge of Kilpatrick's cavalry upon the rear guard
of the rebels at Falling Waters, where they captured several hundreds of
prisoners; thus adding one more brilliant success to their many daring
achievements during this campaign. Marching until nightfall, we reached
Williamsport, and encamped very near the spot that had been our
resting-place on a former occasion, nearly a year before.

Why General Lee and his army were allowed to cross the Potomac
unmolested, we do not attempt to explain; nor do we condemn the
determination of General Meade not to give battle. When men of such
well-known military ability and bravery as General Sedgwick advise
against a movement, it may be well to hesitate; yet it will doubtless be
the verdict of history, that the hesitancy of General Meade at this time
was his great mistake.

A hard march on the 15th brought the Sixth corps to Boonsboro, where our
Second division encamped on precisely the same ground that we had
occupied on the 31st of October last. Neill's brigade made the march at
a breakneck pace, leaving the Vermonters far to the rear, who declared
that the recent associations of the former with the cavalry had
transformed them into a flying brigade. While resting here, a large body
of rebel prisoners was marched past. They were mostly those who had been
captured by Kilpatrick's men at Falling Waters. The rebels were hungry
and destitute of rations. Our men at once divided their rations of hard
bread and coffee with them, who, officers and all, declared that it was
the best meal they had enjoyed for several days, and expressed
themselves greatly pleased with the generosity of their guardians.

Notwithstanding our glorious success at Gettysburgh, and the good news
from the west, we were now hearing news that made our hearts sick, and
caused the cheeks of the New York soldiers to burn for the disgrace of
their native State. It was a source of the deepest mortification to the
brave New Yorkers, to feel that their own State and the great metropolis
had been outraged by the most disgraceful riot that had ever stained the
annals of any State or city in the Union, all for the purpose of
overawing the government in its efforts to subdue the rebellion. Our
companions from other States, with the generosity that characterizes
soldiers, never derided us with this disgrace, but alluded to the riot
as an uprising of foreigners, who had for the moment overpowered the
native element. Even the fact that the governor of that great State had,
in the midst of these terrible scenes, addressed the miscreants as his
"friends," was alluded to with a delicacy that won our hearts.

It was one of the pleasant indications of a union of hearts as well as
of States, that the soldiers of our sister States looked upon these
riots in the light of a general calamity, rather than a disgrace to a
particular State.

Crossing the South Mountain range, from Boonsboro to Middletown, the
Sixth corps reached Petersville, three or four miles north of Berlin,
where the army was to cross the Potomac. Here, nearly the whole army was
crowded into a space of not more than three miles, all waiting for the
orders to cross. The men were universally eager to push forward, and the
necessary delay caused by crossing the men and material of so large an
army seemed to them a wearisome expenditure of time. While waiting here,
the Second division was honored by the presence of several ladies, wives
of officers of different regiments, who had been waiting in Washington
an opportunity of visiting their husbands, and had met them here. As a
memento of this brief visit, the Seventy-seventh New York received from
the wife of the surgeon the gift of a pair of beautiful guidons, which
the regiment boasted were unequaled in the army. The design was a white
cross, the badge of our division, upon a ground of deep blue silk. In
the center of the cross were wrought the figures "77." These beautiful
guidons were carried by the regiment until its final discharge from the
service, when, with the old banner, the tattered national flag, and the
magnificent new flag which was presented afterward by the ladies of
Saratoga, they were presented to the State of New York, on the Fourth of
July, 1865, in the presence of General Grant and a great concourse of
illustrious men.

On Sunday, the 19th, the Sixth corps crossed the pontoon bridge to
Virginia, the bands playing "O carry me back." As usual, while the corps
was crossing a bridge or passing a difficult place, General Sedgwick
stood at the farther end of the bridge preventing confusion and hurrying
up teams which might obstruct the way. We climbed the rocky defile, and,
at four o'clock, found ourselves well on the Virginia side of the
Potomac. On our march we passed through the little village of
Lovettsville, and, much to the surprise of all, the doors and windows of
the dwellings were filled with ladies, whose hair and dresses were
decked with ribbons of red, white and blue, and scores of Union flags
waved a welcome to our soldiers. Such a sight had not greeted us before
in Dixie, and it was most refreshing to witness such a demonstration of
loyalty in Virginia.

The corps encamped about ten miles from the river, near a beautiful
clear stream of water, which was very soon filled with bathers. Here
orders came for each regiment in the army to send, to the State in which
the regiment was raised, a certain number of commissioned officers and
enlisted men for recruiting duty.

The march on the 20th was slow and through groves and pleasant meadows.
Twelve miles were made, and we halted for the night and the next day.
Wednesday we passed through Union town and Snickersville, reaching the
base of Cobbler's mountain, a high spur from the Blue Ridge, not far
from Ashby's Gap. Thursday the Sixth corps proceeded to Ashby's Gap,
and, halting there for a few hours in a most delightful valley, again
started southward. Vines of the trailing blackberry covered the ground,
and the delicious fruit grew in such profusion that the men enjoyed a
continual feast. Never had we, in our wanderings in the south, found
such an abundance of fruit, and the effect upon the health of the men
was marvelous. By the time that we reached Warrenton the occupation of
the surgeons was almost gone. At no time, perhaps, in the history of the
Army of the Potomac, did the medical reports exhibit a more general
state of health than during our stay in the vicinity of Warrenton.

Thus, marching along at the foot of Blue Ridge, now turning aside to
enter some mountain pass, and again proceeding on the general course,
the army, on the 25th of July, reached the vicinity of Warrenton, our
Sixth corps occupying a line from Warrenton to Waterloo, the scene of
some of the early engagements of General Pope's army at the first rebel
invasion. The First division was stationed in and about Warrenton; the
Jersey brigade being provost guard of the town, where the gentlemanly
conduct of the men, and the strict order preserved in the town, won for
them the good opinions of the town's people, as well as of army
officers. The Third division was in the rear of the other two divisions,
and guarding the flank. The Second division encamped about an old
Baptist church, which, inclosed by a thick growth of trees, large and
small, had been, before the war, the only house of worship for miles
around. No paint had ever stained its seats or casings, and no steeple
from its roof had ever pointed toward heaven. The pulpit, the white
folks' seats and the black folks' seats, were all in ruins now. The
Rappahannock river was but a half a mile distant, and the
Seventy-seventh and Fifth Vermont were sent to perform picket duty along
its banks. On the following day the camps of the two regiments were
moved to the vicinity of the river, in front of the remainder of the
division, and we were ordered to perform picket duty while the division
remained in its present camp. The camp of the Fifth Vermont was
established a fourth of a mile from that of the Seventy-seventh, its
lines joining ours on the left. On the bank of the river just below our
camp, was the residence of Mr. Hart and a grist-mill; hence the place
was called "Hart's Mills."




CHAPTER XXI.

CAMPS AT WARRENTON, THE CENTREVILLE CAMPAIGN AND THE BATTLE OF
RAPPAHANNOCK STATION.

    Camp at Hart's Mills--A ride to the Sulphur Springs--Contrabands
    going north--The Vermonters go to New York--Jersey Brigade at
    Warrenton--The Sixth corps at Cedar Mountain--Retreat to
    Centreville--Battle of Bristoe Station--Advance to
    Warrenton--Battle of Rappahannock Station--Flight of Lee's army.



The camp at Hart's Mills was truly a pleasant one. It was situated in
the midst of a most delightful oak grove, on a projecting hill, around
whose base the Rappahannock coursed in a beautiful curve. Along its
banks was our picket line. Westward the view extended over a charming
valley to the Blue Ridge, some ten miles away; and at evening, when the
sun sank behind those fine hills, tinging them and the clouds with
gorgeous colors, the prospect was truly delightful. The village of
Warrenton was some four miles distant, and the celebrated Warrenton
Sulphur Springs about three miles down the river.

Under the direction of Chaplain Fox, a place in the grove was selected,
a speaker's stand was erected, surrounded by rows of log seats, and here
services were held on the Sabbath; and on other days of the week there
were other regimental gatherings, which the men greatly enjoyed. At
evening, the place would be lighted by Chinese lanterns of various
colors, hung among the boughs of the oak trees, giving to the grove a
most romantic appearance.

On one evening the regiment, with many invited guests from the division,
assembled in this lovely spot and listened to speeches from several
gentlemen of eloquence, the brigade band lending the aid of fine music
to the evening's entertainment.

Thus pleasantly passed the time of the two regiments--the
Seventy-seventh and Fifth Vermont--in doing picket duty for the Second
division, along the banks of the Rappahannock. Our friends of the Fifth
Vermont were, in addition to the pleasant location of their camp and
their easy picket duty, favored with the presence of the wives of some
of their officers. A ride to the Sulphur Springs was always a pleasant
pastime; and we recall with pleasure one of these excursions. A small
party, including one of these ladies, enjoying a morning's drive, turned
their horses' heads towards the Springs. A merry gallop across three
miles of delightful country, through pleasant groves and over rolling
meadows, fording clear sparkling streams and leaping fences, brought the
party to the former Saratoga of the south.

The morning had been cool and cloudy, but as our friends reached the
little settlement the clouds were breaking away, and the sun began to
pour blazing rays upon them. They secured their horses and walked into
the grounds, in the midst of which General Birney, commanding a division
of the Third corps, had established his head-quarters; and as it was
then the dinner hour, the general and his staff were gathered around the
board under the shade of the chestnut trees, while a band discoursed
sweet music for the benefit of those at table.

Oak, chestnut and ailanthus trees form a rich and grateful shade for the
grounds, which dip so as to form a kind of basin, in the center of which
rises the cupola which covers the spring. As we step down into the
inclosure of the cupola, indeed as we approach it at a distance, a
strong sulphurous odor is perceived; but there is a delightful coolness
as we sit down upon the benches which are placed around the area of the
cupola. Several Vermont officers greeted our friends as they approached,
offering the odorous drink to the lady. There are two springs or vats
within the cupola, each inclosed by marble sides; and the water stands
so high that we may dip it ourselves, thus dispensing with the necessity
of the "dippers," such as take our dimes at Saratoga.

A glass of the sparkling fluid was presented to our lady friend, who
raised it to her lips, and then turning her face away, with an
expression of infinite disgust, and saying, with a good deal of energy,
"I don't want any," handed back the glass. The gentlemen endeavored to
convince her that the water was good; but even after adding a little
fine brandy, she could not be induced to quaff the liquid, which she
declared carried with it such powerful suggestions of unserviceable
eggs.

Our friends lingered about the grounds for some hours, enjoying the cool
shade and examining the old buildings, the principal one of which was
originally a fine structure, but it had been burned the year before by
our soldiers. The massive columns and high walls were still suggestive
of the hilarious old times when the chivalry used to congregate here in
all its glory. Encircling the grounds was a row of long one and two
story buildings, most of them painted yellow. These were divided into
small apartments which had been used as lodging rooms. There were a
dozen or more of these buildings, all dilapidated by age rather than
suffering from the ruthless usage of war. They inclosed the grove which
occupied ten or twelve acres of land.

Except the circle of buildings immediately surrounding the grove and
springs, there were but very few dwellings in the neighborhood, those
evidently intended for the purpose of receiving summer boarders. It was
said that about five hundred boarders used to spend the summer here
every year, and double that number of visitors took rooms at Warrenton,
a mile and a half distant, from which place they rode to the springs
morning and evening to quaff the odorous fluid, or to stroll about the
groves. The new White Sulphur Springs in the Shenandoah Valley had, for
some years past, diverted the patronage from the Warrenton springs, and
thither, at the foot of the Blue Ridge mountains, great numbers of
fashionable southerners had resorted.

It was evidently a blessing that this resort had been despoiled by war.
It sadly needed renovating and modernizing, and so long as the old
buildings stood, no southerner had the enterprise to pull them down and
replace them with better ones. A few thousands of dollars in the hands
of an enterprising Yankee would soon make this one of the most
delightful resorts in the southern states.

One of the characteristic features of our picket duty on the
Rappahannock, was the great number of contrabands who came through our
lines.

Squads of gray-headed old negroes, young negro women and children,
carrying in bundles all their worldly store, constantly applied for
permission to enter the lines on their way to the north. The cavalry who
scouted in front on the south side of the river, returned with wagons
loaded with little darkies, whose mothers and elder sisters and
grandsires trudged along on foot. All wagons going to Warrenton without
other lading were filled with these refugees from slavery, old and
young, some black, some olive and some white; some with black curly
wool, some with wavy black hair, and some with brown ringlets.

Our northern soldiers had, by this time, begun to look upon slavery in
its true light. They had also learned that the negroes were their
friends. It required a long schooling to teach them this lesson, but it
was thoroughly learned at last. We heard now no jeering and hooting when
a negro or wagon load of negroes went by. The soldiers treated them with
the greatest kindness, and aided them in every way to get off to the
north.

While our boys did not hesitate long to take from the white inhabitants
any articles that they thought they were in need of, it was considered
an act of outrageous meanness to take a chicken or any other property
from the negro people.

While passing through Orleans, on our way to the present camp, a great
many slave children were standing along the streets watching us. Many of
these children were nearly white. The attention of one our captains, who
was one of the last relics among us of that class of men who were loyal
to their country but despised the negro, was fixed upon a beautiful
child of olive complexion and wavy hair, who stood gazing in innocent
wonder at the passing column. The child was indeed a picture of
unadorned beauty, in her long coarse garment of "negro cloth." The
captain turned to a staff officer and as a tear stole down his rough
cheek at the thought of the degradation of the beautiful child, he
exclaimed, "Isn't it horrible."

It is hardly necessary to say that the captain's sentiments from that
moment underwent a radical change, and ever after there were none more
ready to afford assistance to the needy refugees, than our generous but
hitherto prejudiced captain.

Many of these colored refugees had the greatest faith in what they
deemed the promises of the Bible. There was an almost universal faith in
the ultimate overthrow of the south by the north, and this belief was
founded in most cases upon their supposed Bible promises.

[Illustration: "WHAT'LL OLE MISSUS DO NOW?"]

One of these people, a gray-haired negro, bent with age and leaning
heavily upon his staff, who hoped to spend the evening of his life in
freedom, said to the writer: "Our massas tell us dat dey goin to whip de
Yankees and dat Jeff. Davis will rule de norf. But we knowd it warnt so
cause de Bible don't say so. De Bible says that de souf shall prevail
for a time and den de norf shall rise up and obertrow dem."

Where the old man found this strange prophecy he did not say, but many
of the slaves declared this to be Bible truth and all asserted it in the
same way.[5]

    [5] Since the above paragraph was in print, a friend has called
    my attention to the passage in Daniel, chap. xi, verses 13-15,
    as the probable origin of this belief among the negroes. He
    further assures me that he is informed that the negroes in North
    Carolina entertained the same belief.

Among those who were thus fleeing from bondage, were two fine boys, each
about twelve years of age and from the same plantation. Each gave his
name as John, and as they were both remarkably bright little fellows,
they were at once adopted into our head-quarters family. Their sprightly
manners, their ready wit and their kindly good nature soon brought them
into general favor. We were very early one morning startled by an
extraordinary commotion in front of head-quarters, where the two Johns
stood swinging their hats, leaping and dancing in most fantastic manner,
and screaming at the top of their voices the wildest exclamations of
delight. Looking in the direction to which their attention was turned,
we saw a group of eight or ten negro women and small children
accompanied by an aged colored patriarch. One of the Johns suddenly
forgetting his ecstacy of delight, rolling up the whites of his eyes and
holding his hands above his head, exclaimed with impressive gravity, "Oh
my Lor a massa! What'l ole missus do now?"

The party consisted of the mothers and younger brothers and sisters of
the two boys with their grandfather. Forgetting for a moment their joy
at the escape of their friends from slavery, the boys were overpowered
with the vision of "ole missus" left desolate, without a slave to
minister to her many wants.

On the morning of the 6th of August, we were astonished to find the camp
of our neighbors of the Fifth Vermont deserted, and their picket line
occupied by a regiment from the Third division. The surprise was still
greater when we learned that the whole of the Second brigade had been
ordered to New York city to guard against any resistance which might be
offered to the enforcement of the draft. The order had reached the
brigade after midnight, and at three o'clock it was on its way to the
north. Thus the Third brigade was now all that was left of the Second
division of the Sixth corps. Up to this time General Howe had kept the
division, except the two regiments on picket, hard at work at division
drills. It is safe to say that no division in the army performed more
labor in drills than Howe's during the time that it was under command of
that officer. The whole division was encamped in one of those charming
localities which make this part of Virginia more beautiful than almost
any other, and aside from the continual round of drills, the time passed
most agreeably. The Jersey boys here spent the time in pleasant
alternation of guard duties and social enjoyments; a part of the time
being devoted to military affairs, and a much greater part spent in
agreeable attentions to the winning young ladies of Warrenton.

But, like every other brief respite for the army of the Potomac, this
was destined to come to an end. On the 15th of September the army moved
toward Culpepper, which was reached on the 16th; the Sixth corps taking
position at a place called Stonehouse Mountain, three miles west of
Culpepper.

Here we remained three weeks; the camps were by no means so delightful
as those about Warrenton and Waterloo, and the weather was becoming
quite cold, so that our three weeks stay at Stonehouse Mountain had
little about it to make us desire to make it longer. Some pleasing
incidents, however, relieved the monotony of our stay at this place, the
presentation of an elegant sword to Colonel French, by the line officers
of the Seventy-seventh, was the first. The presentation was followed by
festivity and merriment, and in the evening our friends of the Seventh
Maine, forming a torchlight procession, marched to the camp of the
Seventy-seventh to congratulate the colonel and line officers upon the
mutual trust and confidence existing between them. The next was the
return of the Vermont brigade from New York. The Third brigade was drawn
up in line to receive our returning comrades, and with much ceremony
welcomed them back to the division. It must be acknowledged that both
brigades would have been better pleased with the unrestrained welcome
which would have been expressed in cheers than by the formal military
salute.

On Monday, October 5th, the Sixth corps marched to Cedar Mountain on the
Rapidan, the scene of General Banks' conflict with Jackson. The First
corps was already stationed in the vicinity of Raccoon Ford, and the two
corps now occupied a line of five or six miles along the bend of the
river, holding the roads to Culpepper and Stevensburgh. The two corps
were thus thrown out ten miles in front of the main army, having little
communication with the rear. Few wagons were allowed to follow us, and
those were ordered to the rear under a strong escort. On Friday, the
11th, the signal officers stationed on the summit of Cedar Mountain,
while watching the rebel signals, read the message sent by their flags:
"I am at James City. J. E. B. S." Thus it was known that Stuart was
making for our rear, and as long trains of wagons had also been
discovered moving in the direction of James City, it became evident that
Lee was endeavoring to throw his whole army in the rear of our own.
General Meade determined to draw the rebel army back if possible;
accordingly the Sixth and First corps were ordered to build extensive
fires and be in readiness to march at a moment's notice. On the
following morning, Buford, with a division of cavalry, appeared at
Germania Ford, some twelve miles below us, while our infantry advanced
as though about to cross at Raccoon Ford and the fords in front of the
Sixth corps. The ruse of threatening to cross the river by the two
corps, succeeded in calling the rebel infantry back to check our
advance; and at night, after building large fires, the two corps hastily
withdrew toward Culpepper, which we reached at daylight, after a severe
march. After a brief halt for breakfast, the corps, with the whole of
the infantry, was on its way toward Brandy Station, leaving the cavalry
force under Pleasanton to cover the retreat. A rapid march, in which the
army moved in several parallel columns, brought the infantry all safe
across the Rappahannock at Rappahannock Station. But the cavalry were
not allowed to retreat without some hard fighting. Their guns could be
heard by us during the afternoon, and toward evening the firing becam