Battle of Seven Pines—Seven Days' Fight Around Richmond.
It was the intention of General Johnston to fall back slowly before McClellan, drawing him away from his base, then when the Federal Corps [116] become separated in their marches, to concentrate his forces, turn and crush him at one blow. The low, swampy, and wooded condition of the country from Yorktown up the Peninsula would not admit of the handling of the troops, nor was there any place for artillery practice to be effective. Now that he had his forces all on the South side of the Chickahominy, and the lands more rolling and firm, he began to contemplate a change in his tactics. Ewell, with several detached regiments under Whiting, had been sent in the Valley to re-enforce that fiery meteor, Stonewall Jackson, who was flying through the Shenandoah Valley and the gorges of the Blue Ridge like a cyclone, and General Johnston wished Jackson to so crush his enemy that his troops could be concentrated with his own before Richmond. But the authorities at Richmond thought otherwise. It is true Jackson had been worsted at Kernstown by Shields, but his masterly movements against Banks, Fremont, Siegle, and others, gave him such prestige as to make his name almost indispensable to our army. McDowell, with forty thousand men, lay at Fredericksburg, with nothing in his front but a few squadrons of cavalry and some infantry regiments. Johnston was thus apprehensive that he might undertake to come down upon his flanks and re-enforce "Little Mc." or the "Young Napoleon," as the commander of the Federal Army was now called. On the 20th of May, Johnston heard of two of the Federal Corps, Keyes' and Heintzleman's, being on the south side of the Chickahominy, while the others were scattered along the north banks at the different crossings. McClellan had his headquarters six miles away, towards the Pamunkey River. This was considered a good opportunity to strike, and had there been no miscarriages of plan, nor refusals to obey orders, and, instead, harmony and mutual understanding prevailed, the South might have gained one of its greatest victories, and had a different ending to the campaign entirely. G.W. Smith lay to the north of Richmond; Longstreet on the Williamsburg Road, immediately in front of the enemy; Huger on the James; Magruder, of which was Kershaw's Brigade (in a division under McLaws), stretched along the Chickahominy above New Bridge.
All these troops were to concentrate near Seven Pines and there fall [117] upon the enemy's two corps, and beat them before succor could be rendered. No Lieutenant Generals had as yet been appointed, senior Major Generals generally commanding two divisions. The night before the attack, General Johnston called his generals together and gave them such instructions and orders as were necessary, and divided his army for the day's battle into two wings, G.W. Smith to command the left and Longstreet the right; the right wing to make the first assault (it being on the south side of the York River Railroad). G.W. Smith was to occupy the Nine Mile Road, running parallel with Longstreet's front and extending to the river, near New Bridge, on the Chickahominy. He was to watch the movements of the enemy on the other side, and prevent Sumner, whose corps were near the New Bridge, from crossing, and to follow up the fight as Longstreet and D.H. Hill progressed. Magruder, with his own and McLaws' Division, supported Smith, and was to act as emergencies required. Kershaw was now under McLaws. Huger was to march up on the Charles City Road and put in on Longstreet's left as it uncovered at White Oak Swamp, or to join his forces with Longstreet's and the two drive the enemy back from the railroad. Keyes' Federal Corps lay along the railroad to Fair Oaks; then Heintzleman's turned abruptly at a right angle in front of G.W. Smith. The whole was admirably planned, and what seemed to make success doubly sure, a very heavy rain had fallen that night, May 30th, accompanied by excessive peals of thunder and livid flashes of lightning, and the whole face of the country was flooded with water. The river was overflowing its banks, bridges washed away or inundated by the rapidly swelling stream, all going to make re-enforcement by McClellan from the north side out of the question. But the entire movement seemed to be one continual routine of blunders, misunderstandings, and perverseness; a continual wrangling among the senior Major Generals. The enemy had thrown up two lines of heavy earthworks for infantry and redoubts for the artillery, one near Fair Oaks, the other one-half mile in the rear. Longstreet and D.H. Hill assaulted the works with great vigor on the morning of the 31st of May, and drove the enemy from his first entrenched camp. But it seems G.W. Smith did not press to the front, as was expected, but understood [118] his orders to remain and guard the crossing of the river. Huger lost his way and did not come up until the opportunity to grasp the key to the situation was lost, and then it was discovered there was a mistake or misunderstanding in regard to his and Longstreet's seniority. Still Huger waived his rank reluctantly and allowed Longstreet and Hill to still press the enemy back to his second line of entrenchments. From where we lay, inactive and idle, the steady roll of the musketry was grand and exciting. There was little opportunity for ability and little used, only by the enemy in their forts.
Several ineffectual attempts were made to storm these forts, and to dislodge the enemy at the point of the bayonet. Finally R.H. Anderson's Brigade of South Carolinians came up, and three regiments, led by Colonel Jenkins, made a flank movement, and by a desperate assault, took the redoubt on the left, with six pieces of artillery. When Rhodes' North Carolina Brigade got sufficiently through the tangle and undergrowth and near the opening as to see their way clear, they raised a yell, and with a mad rush, they took the fort with a bound. They were now within the strong fortress on the left and masters of the situation. Colonel Jenkins was highly complimented by the commanding General for his skill, and the energy and courage of his men. The enemy worked their guns faithfully and swept the ranks of Rhodes and Anderson with grape and canister, but Southern valor here, as elsewhere, overcame Northern discipline. Many of the enemy fell dead within the fort, while endeavoring to spike their guns.
Sumner, from the north side of the Chickahominy, was making frantic efforts to cross the stream and come to the relief of sorely pressed comrades. The bridges were two feet or more under water, swaying and creaking as if anxious to follow the rushing waters below. It is said the Federal General, Butler, called afterwards "Beast," covered himself with glory by rushing at the head of his troops, in and through the water, and succeeded in getting enough men on the bridge to hold it down, while the others crossed over. But the reinforcements came too late to aid their hard pressed friends. After the entrenchments were all taken, the enemy had no other alternative but to fall back in the dense forest and undergrowth, giving them shelter [119] until night, with her sable curtains, hid friend and foe alike. Just as the last charge had been made, General Johnston, riding out in an opening, was first struck by a fragment of shell, thereby disabling him for further duty upon the field for a long time. The command of the army now fell upon General G.W. Smith, who ordered the troops to remain stationary for the night, and next morning, they were returned to their original quarters. Kershaw and the other Brigadiers of the division did not become engaged, as they were awaiting upon a contingency that did not arise. It is true, the enemy were driven from their strongly fortified position, and for more than a mile to the rear, still the fruits of the victory were swallowed up in the loss of so many good men, with no tangible or lasting results. From all the facts known at the time, and those developed since, it is the opinion that upon G.W. Smith rested the blame for the loss of the day. Had he been as active or energetic as the other Major Generals, or had he assumed responsibility, and taken advantage of events presenting themselves during the battle, that could not be known beforehand, nor counted in the plan of the battle, the day at Seven Pines might have loomed up on the side of the Confederate forces with those at Gaines' Mills or Second Manassas. But, as it was, it must be counted as one of the fruitless victories of the war.
General Smith left the army next day, never to return to active service. Here was a commentary on the question of the made soldier or the soldier born. At West Point General Smith stood almost at the very head of his class; at the commencement of the war, he was considered as one of our most brilliant officers, and stood head and shoulders above some of his cotemporaries in the estimation of our leaders and the Department at Richmond. But his actions and conduct on several momentous occasions will leave to posterity the necessity of voting him a failure; while others of his day, with no training nor experience in the science of war, have astonished the world with their achievements and soldierly conduct. The soldiers were sorrowful and sad when they learned of the fate of their beloved Commander-in-Chief. They had learned to love him as a father; he had their entire confidence. They were fearful at the time lest his place could [120] never be filled; and, but for the splendid achievement of their new commander, R.E. Lee, with the troops drilled and disciplined by his predecessor, and who fought the battles on the plans laid down by him, it is doubtful whether their confidence could have ever been transferred to another.
General Lee took command the next day, June the 1st, 1862. He did not come with any prestige of great victory to recommend him to the troops, but his bold face, manly features, distinguished bearing, soon inspired a considerable degree of confidence and esteem, to be soon permanently welded by the glorious victories won from the Chickahominy to the James. He called all his Lieutenants around him in a few days and had a friendly talk. He told none his plans—he left that to be surmised—but he gained the confidence of his Generals at once.
The troops were set to work fortifying their lines from the James to the Chickahominy, and up the latter stream to near Meadow Bridge. Engineer corps were established, and large details from each regiment, almost one-third of the number, were put to work under the engineers strengthening their camps on scientific principles. The troops thought they were to do their fighting behind these works, but strange to say, out of the hundred of fortifications built by Kershaw's men during the war, not one ever fired a gun from behind them.
| Col. William Wallace, 2d S.C. Regiment. (Page 479) | Y.J. Pope, Acting Asst. Adjt. Genl. of Kershaw's Brigade |
| Lieut. Col. A.J. Hoole, 8th S.C. Regiment. (Page 284.) | John M. Kinard, Acting Lieut. Col. 20 S.C. Reg. (Page 441.) |
On the 12th of June General Stuart started on his remarkable ride around the army of McClellan, and gained for himself the name of "Prince of Raiders." Starting out in the morning as if going away to our left at a leisurely gait, he rode as far as Hanover Court House. Before daylight next morning his troopers sprang into their saddles and swept down the country between the Chickahominy and the Pamunkey Rivers like a thunderbolt, capturing pickets, driving in outposts, overturning wagon trains, and destroying everything with fire and sword. He rides boldly across the enemy's line of communications, coming up at nightfall at the Chickahominy, with the whole of McClellan's army between him and Richmond. In this ride he came in contact with his old regiment in the United States Army, capturing its wagon trains, one laden with the finest delicacies and choicest [121] of wines. After putting the enemy to rout Stuart and his men regaled themselves on these tempting viands, Stuart himself drinking a "bumper of choice old Burgundy," sending word to his former comrades that he "was sorry they did not stay and join him, but as it was, he would drink their health in their absence." Finding the bridges destroyed, he built a temporary one, over which the men walked and swam their horses, holding on to the bridles. When all were safely over Stuart sped like a whirlwind towards the James, leaving the enemy staring wildly in mute astonishment at the very audacity of his daring. That night he returned to his camps, having made in thirty-six hours the entire circuit of the Federal Army. Stuart was a rare character. Light hearted, merry, and good natured, he was the very idol of his cavaliers. His boldness, dash, and erratic mode of warfare made him a dreaded foe and dangerous enemy. One moment he was in their camps, on the plains, shouting and slashing, and before the frightened sleepers could be brought to the realization of their situation, he was far over the foothills of the Blue Ridge or across the swift waters of the Rappahannock.
During the first week after taking our position on the line, Magruder, with his divisions of eight brigades, was posted high up on the Chickahominy, nearly north of Richmond. McLaws, commanding Kershaw's, Cobb's, Semmes', and Barksdale's Brigades, was on the left, the first being South Carolinians, the next two Georgians, and the last Mississippians. General D.R. Jones, with his own, Toombs', G.T. Anderson's, and perhaps one other Brigade, constituted the right of the corps. The army was divided in wings. Huger, the senior Major General, commander on the right, next the James River, with Longstreet next; but before the great battle Magruder was given the centre and Longstreet the left with his divisions, and the two Hills', A.P. and D.H. But after the coming of Jackson A.P. Hill's, called the "Light Brigade," was placed under the command of the Valley chieftain.
While up on the Chickahominy, the enemy were continually watching our movements from lines of balloons floating high up in the air, anchored in place by stout ropes. They created quite a mystic and superstitious feeling among some of the most credulous. One night while a member [122] of Company C, Third South Carolina, was on picket among some tangled brushwood on the crest of the hill overlooking the river, he created quite a stir by seeing a strange light in his front, just beyond the stream. He called for the officer of the guard with all his might and main. When the officer made his appearance with a strong reinforcement, he demanded the reason of the untimely call. With fear and trembling he pointed to the brilliant light and said:
"Don't you see 'em yonder? They are putting up a balloon."
"No," said the officer, "that's nothing but a star," which it really was.
"Star, hell! I tell you it's a balloon. Are the Yankees smart enough to catch the stars?" It is enough to say the man carried the name of "balloon" during the rest of his service.
A Federal battery was stationed immediately in our front, beyond the river, supported by infantry. Some one in authority suggested the idea of crossing over at night, break through the tangled morass on the other side, and capture the outfit by a sudden dash. The day before the Third South Carolina Regiment was formed in line and a call made for volunteers to undertake this hazardous enterprise. Only one hundred soldiers were required, and that number was easily obtained, a great number being officers. At least twenty-five Lieutenants and Captains had volunteered. The detachment was put under Captain Foster as chief of the storming party, and the next day was occupied in drilling the men and putting them in shape for the undertaking. We were formed in line about dark near the time and place allotted, and all were in high glee in anticipation of the novel assault. But just as all were ready, orders came countermanding the first order. So the officers and men returned to their quarters. Some appeared well satisfied at the turn of events, especially those who had volunteered more for the honor attached than the good to be performed. Others, however, were disappointed. An old man from Laurens was indignant. He said "the Third Regiment would never get anything. That he had been naked and barefooted for two months, and when a chance was offered to clothe and shoe himself some d——n fool had to countermand the [123] order." Ere many days his ambition and lust for a fight were filled to overflowing.
The various grades and ranks of the Generals kept us continually moving from left to right, Generals being sometimes like a balky horse—will not pull out of his right place. We were stationed, as it appeared from the preparations made, permanently just in front of Richmond, or a little to the left of that place and the Williamsburg road, and began to fortify in earnest. About the middle of June Lee and his Lieutenants were planning that great campaign whereby McClellan was to be overthrown and his army sent flying back to Washington. Generals plan the moves of men like players their pieces upon the chess board—a demonstration here, a feint there, now a great battle, then a reconnoissance—without ever thinking of or considering the lives lost, the orphans made, the disconsolate widows, and broken homes that these moves make. They talk of attacks, of pressing or crushing, of long marches, the streams or obstacles encountered, as if it were only the movement of some vast machinery, where the slipping of a cog or the breaking of a wheel will cause the machine to stop. The General views in his mind his successes, his marches, his strategy, without ever thinking of the dead men that will mark his pathway, the victorious fields made glorious by the groans of the dying, or the blackened corpses of the dead. The most Christian and humane soldier, however, plans his battles without ever a thought of the consequences to his faithful followers.
On the 25th of June, orders came to be prepared to move at a moment's notice. This left no doubt in the minds of the men that stirring times were ahead. It had been whispered in camp that Jackson, the "ubiquitous," was on his way from the Valley to help Lee in his work of defeating McClellan.
About 4 o'clock, on the 26th of June, as the men lay lolling around in camp, the ominous sound of a cannon was heard away to our left and rear. Soon another and another, their dull rumbling roar telling too plainly the battle was about to begin. Men hasten hither and thither, gathering their effects, expecting every moment to be ordered away. Soon the roar of musketry filled the air; the regular and continual baying of the cannon beat time to the steady roll of small arms. [124] Jackson had come down from the Valley, and was sweeping over the country away to our left like an avalanche. Fitz John Porter, one of the most accomplished soldiers in the Northern Army, was entrusted with the defense of the north side of the Chickahominy, and had erected formidable lines of breastworks along Beaver Dam Creek, already strong and unapproachable from its natural formations. Jackson was to have encountered Porter on the extreme right flank of the Union Army at an early hour in the day, and as soon as A.P. Hill heard the sound of his guns, he was to cross over on our left at Meadow Bridge and sweep down the river on Jackson's right. But after waiting for the opening of Jackson's guns until after 3 o'clock, without any information that he was on the field, Hill crossed over the river and attacked Porter in his strong position at Mechanicsville. His task was to beat back the enemy until the bridges below were uncovered, allowing re-enforcement to reach him. Jackson being unavoidably delayed, A.P. Hill assailed the whole right wing of the Federal Army, single-handed and alone, he only having five brigades, one being left some miles above on the river, but the brigade that was left was making rapid strides to join the fighting column. The strong earthworks, filled with fighting infantry and heavy field artillery in the forts, were too much for this light column, but undaunted by the weight of numbers and strength of arms, Hill threw himself headlong upon the entrenched positions with rare courage and determination. There were South Carolinians with him who were now engaging in their maiden effort, and were winning imperishable fame by their deeds of valor. Gregg, with the old First South Carolina Regiment of Veterans, with four new organizations, the Twelfth, Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Orr's Rifles, went recklessly into the fray, and struck right and left with the courage and confidence of veteran troops. D.H. Hill, late in the evening, crossed over and placed himself on the right of those already engaged. The battle of Games' Mill was one continual slaughter on the side of the Confederates. The enemy being behind their protections, their loss was comparatively slight. The fight was kept up till 9 o'clock at night, with little material advantage to either, with his own and only a portion of Jackson's troops up. But the [125] desperate onslaught of the day convinced Porter that he could not hold his ground against another such assault, so he fell back to a much stronger position around Gaines' Mill.
The next day, the 27th, will be remembered as long as history records the events of our Civil War as one of the most bloody and determined of any of the great battles of the war for the men engaged. For desperate and reckless charges, for brave and steady resistance, it stands second to none. Jackson, Ewell, Whiting, and D.H. Hill moved their divisions by daylight, aroused the enemy's right, intending to reach his rear, but at Cold Harbor they met the enemy in strong force. D.H. Hill attacked immediately, while A.P. Hill, who had been left in Porter's front, marched through the deserted camp, over his fortifications, and at Gaines' Mill, he met Porter posted on an eminence beyond the stream. This was only passable at few places, but Hill pushed his men over under a galling fire of musketry, while the enemy swept the plain and valley below with shell and grape from their batteries crowning the height beyond. A.P. Hill formed his lines beyond the stream, and advanced with a steady step and a bold front to the assault. Charge after charge was made, only to be met and repulsed with a courage equal to that of the Confederates. Hill did not know then that he was fighting the bulk of the Fifth Corps, for he heard the constant roll of Jackson and D. H. Hill's guns away to his left; Jackson thinking the Light Division under A.P. Hill would drive the enemy from his position, withdrew from Cold Harbor and sought to intercept the retreating foe in concealing his men for some hours on the line of retreat. But as the day wore on, and no diminution of the firing, at the point where A.P. Hill and his adversary had so long kept up, Jackson and D.H. Hill undertook to relieve him. Longstreet, too, near nightfall, who had been held in reserve all day, now broke from his place of inaction and rushed into the fray like an uncaged lion, and placed himself between A.P. Hill and the river. For a few moments the earth trembled with the tread of struggling thousands, and the dreadful recoil of the heavy batteries that lined the crest of the hill from right to left. The air was filled with the shrieking shells as they sizzled through the air or plowed their way through the ranks [126] of the battling masses. Charges were met by charges, and the terrible "Rebel Yell" could be heard above the din and roar of battle, as the Confederates swept over field or through the forest, either to capture a battery or to force a line of infantry back by the point of the bayonet. While the battle was yet trembling in the balance, the Confederates making frantic efforts to pierce the enemy's lines, and they, with equal courage and persistency, determined on holding, Pickett and Anderson, of Longstreet's Division, and Hood and Whiting, of Jackson's, threw their strength and weight to the aid of Hill's depleted ranks. The enemy could stand no longer. The line is broken at one point, then another, and as the Confederates closed in on them from all sides, they break in disorder and leave the field. It looked at one time as if there would be a rout, but Porter in this emergency, put in practice one of Napoleon's favorite tactics. He called up his cavalry, and threatened the weakened ranks of the Confederates with a formidable front of his best troopers. These could not be of service in the weight of battle, but protected the broken columns and fleeing fugitives of Porter's Army.
South Carolina will be ever proud of the men whom she had on that memorable field who consecrated the earth at Gaines' Mill with their blood, as well as of such leaders as Gregg, McGowan, McCrady, Marshall, Simpson, Haskell, and Hamilton, and hosts of others, who have ever shed lustre and glory equal to those of any of the thousands who have made the Palmetto State renowned the world over.
McClellan was now in sore straits. He could not weaken his lines on the south side of the Chickahominy to re-enforce Fitz John Porter, for fear Magruder, Holmes, and Huger, who were watching his every movements in their front, should fall upon the line thus weakened and cut his army in twain. The next day McClellan commenced his retreat towards the James, having put his army over the Chickahominy the night after his defeat. His step was, no doubt, occasioned by the fact that Lee had sent Stuart with his cavalry and Ewell's Division of Infantry down the north side of the Chickahominy and destroyed McClellan's line of communication between his army and the York River. However, the Confederate commander was equally as anxious to cut him off from the James as the York. He aimed to force him to battle between the [127] two rivers, and there, cut off from his fleet, he would be utterly destroyed. Lee only wished McClellan to remain in his present position until he could reach the James with a part of his own troops, now on the north side of the Chickahominy.
On the evening of the 27th, Magruder made a feint with Kershaw's and some other brigades of this division, near Alens, as the troops in his front showed a disposition to retire. A line of battle was formed, skirmishers thrown out, and an advance ordered. Our skirmishers had not penetrated far into the thicket before they were met by a volley from the enemy's line of battle. The balls whistled over our heads and through the tops of the scrubby oaks, like a fall of hail. It put chills to creeping up our backs, the first time we had ever been under a musketry fire. For a moment we were thrown into a perfect fever of excitement and confusion. The opening in the rear looked temptingly inviting in comparison to the wooded grounds in front, from whence came the volley of bullets. Here the Third South Carolina lost her first soldier in battle, Dr. William Thompson, of the medical staff, who had followed too close on the heels of the fighting column in his anxiety to be near the battle.
Early in the morning of the 28th, Lee put the columns of Longstreet and A.P. Hill in motion in the direction of Richmond around our rear. After their meeting with Holmes and Huger on our extreme right, they were to press down the James River and prevent McClellan from reaching it. Jackson, D.H. Hill, and Magruder were to follow the retreating army. We left our quarters early in the day, and soon found ourselves in the enemy's deserted camp.
The country between the James and the Chickahominy is a very flat, swampy county, grown up in great forests, with now and then a cultivated field. The forests were over-run with a tangled mass of undergrowth. It was impossible for the army to keep up with the enemy while in line of battle. So sending our skirmishers ahead the army followed the roads in columns of fours. In each regiment the right or left company in the beginning of battle is always deployed at such distance between each soldier as to cover the front of the regiment, while in line of battle the regiments being from ten to fifty yards [128] apart. In this way we marched all day, sometimes in line of battle, at others by the roads in columns. A great siege cannon had been erected on a platform car and pushed abreast of us along the railroad by an engine, and gave out thundering evidences of its presence by shelling the woods in our front. This was one of the most novel batteries of the war, a siege gun going in battle on board of cars. Near night at Savage Station Sumner and Franklin, of the Federal Army, who had been retreating all day, turned to give battle. Jackson was pressing on our left, and it became necessary that Sumner should hold Magruder in check until the army and trains of the Federals that were passing in his rear should cross White Oak Swamp to a place of safety. Our brigade was lying in a little declivity between two rises in the ground; that in our front, and more than one hundred yards distance, was thickly studded with briars, creepers, and underbrush with a sparse growth of heavy timber. We had passed numerous redoubts, where the field batteries of the enemy would occupy and shell our ranks while the infantry continued the retreat. Our brigade skirmishers, under command of Major Rutherford, had been halted in this thicket while the line of battle was resting. But hardly had the skirmishers been ordered forward than the enemy's line of battle, upon which they had come, poured a galling fire into them, the bullets whistling over our heads causing a momentary panic among the skirmishers, a part retreating to the main line. A battery of six guns stationed in a fort in our front, opened upon us with shell and grape. Being in the valley, between the two hills, the bullets rattled over our heads doing no damage, but threw us into some excitement. The Third being near the center of the brigade, General Kershaw, in person, was immediately in our rear on foot. As soon as the bullets had passed over he called out in a loud, clear tone the single word "charge." The troops bounded to the front with a yell, and made for the forest in front, while the batteries graped us as we rushed through the tangled morass. The topography of the country was such that our artillery could get no position to reply, but the heavy railroad siege gun made the welkin ring with its deafening reports. Semmes and Barksdale put in on our right; Cobb remaining as reserve, while the Division of D.R. [129] Jones, which had been moving down on the left side of the railroad, soon became engaged. The enemy fought with great energy and vigor, while the Confederates pressed them hard. Much was at stake, and night was near. Stunner was fighting for the safety of the long trains of artillery and wagons seeking cover in his rear, as well as for the very life of the army itself. Soon after the first fire the settling smoke and dense shrubbery made the woods almost as dark as night in our front, but the long line of fire flashing from the enemy's guns revealed their position. The men became woefully tangled and disorganized, and in some places losing the organizations entirely, but under all these difficulties they steadily pressed to the front. When near the outer edge of the thicket, we could see the enemy lying down in some young growth of pines, with their batteries in the fort. The graping was simply dreadful, cutting and breaking through the bushes and striking against trees. I had not gone far into the thicket before I was struck by a minnie ball in the chest, which sent me reeling to the ground momentarily unconscious. Our men lost all semblance of a line, being scattered over a space of perhaps 50 yards, and those in front were in as much danger from friend as from foe. While I lay in a semi-unconscious state, I received another bullet in my thigh which I had every reason to believe came from some one in the rear. But I roused myself, and staggering to my feet made my way as well as I could out of the thicket. When I reached the place from whence we had first made the charge, our drummer was beating the assembly or long roll with all his might, and men collecting around General Kershaw and Colonel Nance. Here I first learned of the repulse. The balls were still flying overhead, but some of our batteries had got in position and were giving the enemy a raking fire. Nor was the railroad battery idle, for I could see the great black, grim monster puffing out heaps of gray smoke, then the red flash, then the report, sending the engine and car back along the track with a fearful recoil. The lines were speedily reformed and again put in motion. Jones, too, was forced by overwhelming numbers to give back, but Jackson coming up gave him renewed confidence, and a final advance was made along the whole line. The battle was kept up with varying success until after night, when Sumner withdrew over White Oak Swamp.
On the morning of the 30th, McClellan, like a quarry driven to bay, drew up his forces on the south side of White Oak Swamp and awaited the next shock of battle. Behind him were his trains of heavy siege guns, his army wagons, pontoons, and ordnance trains, all in bog and slush, seeking safety under the sheltering wings of his gunboats and ironclads on the James. Lee met him at every point with bristling bayonets of his victorious troops. At three o'clock A.M. Longstreet and A.P. Hill moved down the Darbytown road, leaving Jackson, D.H. Hill, and Magruder to press McClellan's retreating forces in the rear. Huger, with the two former, was to come down the James River and attack in the flank. Magruder, with his corps, was sent early in the day on a wild goose chase to support Longstreet's right, but by being led by guides who did not understand the roads or plan of battle, Magruder took the wrong road and did not get up in time to join in the battle of Frazier's Farm. Jackson for some cause did not press the rear, as anticipated, neither did Huger come in time, leaving the brunt of the battle on the shoulders of A.P. Hill and Longstreet. The battle was but a repetition of that of Gaines' Mill, the troops of Hill and Longstreet gaining imperishable glory by their stubborn and resistless attacks, lasting till nine o'clock at night, when the enemy finally withdrew.
Two incidents of these battles are worthy of record, showing the different dispositions of the people of the North and South. At night the division commanded by General McCall, who had been fighting Longstreet so desperately all day, was captured and brought to Longstreet's headquarters. General McCall had been Captain of a company in the United States Army, in which Longstreet had been a Lieutenant. When General Longstreet saw his old comrade brought to him as a prisoner of war, he sought to lighten the weight of his feelings as much as circumstances would admit. He dismounted, pulled his gloves, and offered his hand in true knightly fashion to his fallen foe. But his Federal antagonist, becoming incensed, drew himself up haughtily and waved Longstreet away, saying, "Excuse me, sir, I can stand defeat but not insult." Insult indeed! to shake the hand of one of the most illustrious chieftains of the century, one who had [131] tendered the hand in friendly recognition of past associations, thus to smooth and soften the humiliation of his foe's present condition! Insult—was it?
When Bob Toombs, at the head of his brigade, was sweeping through the tangled underbrush at Savage Station, under a terrific hail of bullets from the retreating enemy, he was hailed by a fallen enemy, who had braced himself against a tree:
"Hello, Bob Toombs! Hello, Bob Toombs! Don't you know your old friend Webster?"
Dismounting, Toombs went to the son of his old friend but political adversary, Daniel Webster, one of the great trio at Washington of twenty years before, and found his life slowly ebbing away. Toombs rendered him all the assistance in his power—placed him in comfortable position that he might die at ease—and hastened on to rejoin his command, after promising to perform some last sad rites after his death. When the battle was ended for the day, the great fiery Secessionist hastened to return to the wounded enemy. But too late; his spirit had flown, and nothing was now left to Toombs but to fulfill the promises he made to his dying foe. He had his body carried through the lines that night under a flag of truce and delivered with the messages left to his friends. He had known young Webster at Washington when his illustrious father was at the zenith of his power and fame. The son and the great Southern States' Rights champion had become fast friends as the latter was just entering on his glorious career.
Our brigade lost heavily in the battle of Savage Station both in officers and men. Lieutenant Colonel Garlington, of the Third, was killed, and so was Captain Langford and several Lieutenants. Colonel Bland, of the Seventh, was wounded and disabled for a long time. The casualties in the battle of Savage Station caused changes in officers in almost every company in the brigade.
When I came to consciousness after being wounded the first thing that met my ears was the roar of musketry and the boom of cannon, with the continual swish, swash of the grape and canister striking the trees and ground. I placed my hand in my bosom, where I felt a dull, deadening sensation. There I found the warm blood, that filled my [132] inner garments and now trickled down my side as I endeavored to stand upright. I had been shot through the left lung, and as I felt the great gaping wound in my chest, the blood gushing and spluttering out at every breath, I began to realize my situation. I tried to get off the field the best I could, the bullet in my leg not troubling me much, and as yet, I felt strong enough to walk. My brother, who was a surgeon, and served three years in the hospitals in Richmond, but now in the ranks, came to my aid and led me to the rear. We stopped near the railroad battery, which was belching away, the report of the great gun bringing upon us the concentrated fire of the enemy. As I sat upon the fallen trunk of a tree my brother made a hasty examination of my wound. All this while I was fully convinced I was near death's door. He pronounced my wound at first as fatal, a bit of very unpleasant information, but after probing my wound with his finger he gave me the flattering assurance that unless I bled to death quite soon my chances might be good! Gentle reader, were you ever, as you thought, at death's door, when the grim monster was facing you, when life looked indeed a very brief span? If so, you can understand my feelings—I was scared! As Goldsmith once said, "When you think you are about to die, this world looks mighty tempting and pretty." Everything in my front took on the hue of dark green, a pleasant sensation came over me, and I had the strangest feeling ever experienced in my life. I thought sure I was dying then and there and fell from the log in a death-like swoon. But I soon revived, having only fainted from loss of blood, and my brother insisted on my going back up the railroad to a farmhouse we had passed, and where our surgeons had established a hospital. The long stretch of wood we had to travel was lined with the wounded, each wounded soldier with two or three friends helping him off the field. We had no "litter bearers" or regular detail to care for the wounded at this time, and the friends who undertook this service voluntarily oftentimes depleted the ranks more than the loss in battle. Hundreds in this way absented themselves for a few days taking care of the wounded. But all this was changed soon afterwards. Regular details were made from each regiment, consisting of a non-commissioned officer and five privates, whose duty it was to follow close in rear of the [133] line of battle with their "stretchers" and take off the disabled.
I will never forget the scene that met my eyes as I neared the house where the wounded had been gathered. There the torn and mangled lay, shot in every conceivable part of the body or limbs—some with wounds in the head, arms torn off at the shoulder or elbow, legs broken, fingers, toes, or foot shot away; some hobbling along on inverted muskets or crutches, but the great mass were stretched at full length upon the ground, uttering low, deep, and piteous moans, that told of the great sufferings, or a life passing away. The main hall of the deserted farm house, as well as the rooms, were filled to overflowing with those most seriously wounded. The stifling stench of blood was sickening in the extreme. The front and back yards, the fence corners, and even the out-buildings were filled with the dead and dying. Surgeons and their assistants were hurrying to and fro, relieving the distress as far as their limited means would allow, making such hasty examinations as time permitted. Here they would stop to probe a wound, there to set a broken limb, bind a wound, stop the flow of blood, or tie an artery.
But among all this deluge of blood, mangled bodies, and the groans of the wounded and dying, our ears were continually greeted by the awful, everlasting rattle of the musketry, the roar of the field batteries, and the booming, shaking, and trembling of the siege guns from friend and foe.
The peculiar odor of human blood, mingling with the settling smoke of the near by battlefield, became so oppressive I could not remain in the house. My brother helped me into the yard, but in passing out I fell, fainting for the third time; my loss of blood had been so great I could stand only with difficulty. I thought the end was near now for a certainty, and was frightened accordingly. But still I nerved myself with all the will power I possessed, and was placed on an oil cloth under the spreading branches of an elm. From the front a continual stream of wounded kept coming in till late at night. Some were carried on shoulders of friends, others leaning their weight upon them and dragging their bodies along, while the slightly wounded were left to care for themselves. Oh, the horrors of the battlefield! So cruel, [134] so sickening, so heart-rending to those even of the stoutest nerves!—once seen, is indelibly impressed upon your mind forever.
The firing ceased about 9 o'clock, and all became still as death, save the groaning of the wounded soldiers in the hospital, or the calls and cries of those left upon the battlefield. Oh, such a night, the night after the battle! The very remembrance of it is a vivid picture of Dante's "Inferno." To lie during the long and anxious watches of the night, surrounded by such scenes of suffering and woe, to continually hear the groans of the wounded, the whispered consultations of the surgeons over the case of some poor boy who was soon to be robbed of a leg or arm, the air filled with stifled groans, or the wild shout of some poor soldier, who, now delirious with pain, his voice sounding like the wail of a lost soul—all this, and more—and thinking your soul, too, is about to shake off its mortal coil and take its flight with the thousands that have just gone, are going, and the many more to follow before the rising of the next sun—all this is too much for a feeble pen like mine to portray.
The troops lay on the battlefield all night under arms. Here and there a soldier, singly or perhaps in twos, were scouring through the dense thicket or isolated places, seeking lost friends and comrades, whose names were unanswered to at the roll call, and who were not among the wounded and dead at the hospital. The pale moon looked down in sombre silence upon the ghastly upturned faces of the dead that lay strewn along the battle line. The next day was a true version of the lines—
"Under the sod, under the clay,
Here lies the blue, there the grey."
for the blue and grey fell in great wind rows that day, and were buried side by side.
The Confederates being repulsed in the first charge, returned to the attack, broke the Federal lines in pieces, and by 9 o'clock they had fled the field, leaving all the fruits of victory in the hands of the Confederates.
No rest for the beaten enemy, no sleep for the hunted prey. McClellan was moving heaven and earth during the whole night to place "White Oak Swamp" (a tangled, swampy wilderness, of a half mile in width and six [135] or eight miles in length,) between his army and Lee's. By morning he had the greater portion of his army and supply trains over, but had left several divisions on the north side of the swamp to guard the crossings. Jackson and Magruder began pressing him early on the 30th in his rear, while Longstreet, A.P. Hill, and others were marching with might and main to intercept him on the other side. After some desultory firing, Jackson found McClellan's rear guard too strong to assail, by direct assault, so his divisions, with Magruder's, were ordered around to join forces with Hill and Longstreet. The swamp was impassable, except at the few crossings, and they were strongly guarded, so they were considered not practicable of direct assault. But in the long winding roads that intervened between the two wings, Magruder and Jackson on the north and Longstreet and A.P. Hill on the south, Magruder was misled by taking the wrong road (the whole Peninsula being a veritable wilderness), and marched away from the field instead of towards it, and did not reach Longstreet during the day. But at 3 o'clock Longstreet, not hearing either Jackson's or Magruder's guns, as per agreement, and restless of the delays of the other portions of the army, feeling the danger of longer inactivity, boldly marched in and attacked the enemy in his front.
Here was Frazier's Farm, and here was fought as stubbornly contested battle, considering the numbers engaged, as any during the campaign. Near nightfall, after Longstreet had nearly exhausted the strength of his troops by hard fighting, A.P. Hill, ever watchful and on the alert, threw the weight of his columns on the depleted ranks of the enemy, and forced them from the field. The soldiers who had done such deeds of daring as to win everlasting renown at Gaines' Mill and Cold Harbor, did not fail their fearless commander at Frazier's Farm. When the signal for battle was given, they leaped to the front, like dogs unleashed, and sprang upon their old enemies, Porter, McCall, Heintzelman, Hooker, and Kearny. Here again the steady fire and discipline of the Federals had to yield to the impetuosity and valor of Southern troops. Hill and Longstreet swept the field, capturing several hundred prisoners, a whole battery of artillery, horses, and men.
McClellan brought up his beaten army on Malvern Hill, to make one last [136] desperate effort to save his army from destruction or annihilation. This is a place of great natural defenses. Situated one mile from the James River, it rises suddenly on all sides from the surrounding marshy lowlands to several hundred feet in height, and environed on three sides by branches and by Turkey Creek. On the northern eminence McClellan planted eighty pieces of heavy ordnance, and on the eastern, field batteries in great numbers. Lee placed his troops in mass on the extreme east of the position occupied by the enemy, intending to park the greater number of his heaviest batteries against the northern front of the eminence, where McClellan had his artillery pointing to the east, and where the Confederates massed to sweep the field as Lee advanced his infantry. The object of Lee was to concentrate all his artillery on the flank of McClellan's artillery, then by an enfilade fire from his own, he could destroy that of his enemy, and advance his infantry through the broad sweep of lowlands, separating the forces, without subjecting them to the severe cannonading. He gave orders that as soon as the enemy's batteries were demolished or silenced, Armstead's Virginia Brigade, occupying the most advanced and favorable position for observation, was to advance to the assault, with a yell and a hurrah, as a signal for the advance of all the attacking columns. But the condition of the ground was such that the officers who were to put the cannon in position got only a few heavy pieces in play, and these were soon knocked in pieces by the numbers of the enemy's siege guns and rifled field pieces. Some of the brigade commanders, thinking the signal for combat had been given, rushed at the hill in front with ear piercing yells without further orders. They were mown down like grain before the sickle by the fierce artillery fire and the enemy's infantry on the crest of the hill. Kershaw following the lead of the brigade on his left, gave orders, "Forward, charge!" Down the incline, across the wide expanse, they rushed with a yell, their bayonets bristling and glittering in the sunlight, while the shells rained like hail stones through their ranks from the cannon crested hill in front. The gunboats and ironclad monitors in the James opened a fearful fusilade from their monster guns and huge mortars, the great three-hundred-pound shells from the latter rising high in [137] the air, then curling in a beautiful bow to fall among the troops, with a crash and explosion that shook the ground like the trembling of the earth around a volcano. The whole face of the bluff front was veiled by the white smoke of the one hundred belching cannon, the flashing of the guns forming a perfect rain of fire around the sides of the hill. It was too far to fire and too dense and tangled to charge with any degree of progress or order, so, in broken and disconnected ranks, Kershaw had to advance and endure this storm of shot and shell, that by the time he reached the line of the enemy's infantry, his ranks were too much broken to offer a very formidable front. From the enemy's fortified position their deadly fire caused our already thinned ranks to melt like snow before the sun's warm rays. The result was a complete repulse along the whole line. But McClellan was only too glad to be allowed a breathing spell from his seven days of continual defeat, and availed himself of the opportunity of this respite to pull off his army under the protecting wings of his ironclad fleet.
The Confederates had won a glorious victory during the first six days. The enemy had been driven from the Chickahominy to the James, his army defeated and demoralized beyond months of recuperation. Lee and his followers should be satisfied. But had none of his orders miscarried, and all of his Lieutenants fulfilled what he had expected of them, yet greater results might have been accomplished—not too much to say McClellan's Army would have been entirely destroyed or captured, for had he been kept away from the natural defenses of Malvern Hill and forced to fight in the open field, his destruction would have followed beyond the cavil of a doubt. The Southern soldiers were as eager and as fresh on the last day as on the first, but a land army has a superstitious dread of one sheltered by gunboats and ironclads.
All the troops engaged in the Seven Days' Battle did extremely well, and won imperishable fame by their deeds of valor and prowess. Their commanders in the field were matchless, and showed military talents of high order, the courage of their troops invincible, and to particularize would be unjust. But truth will say, in after years, when impartial hands will record the events, and give blame where [138] blame belongs, and justice where justice is due, that in this great Seven Days' Conflict, where so much heroism was displayed on both sides, individually and collectively, that to A.P. Hill and the brave men under him belongs the honor of first scotching at Gaines' Mill the great serpent that was surrounding the Capital with bristling bayonets, and were in at the breaking of its back at Frazier's Farm.
It was due to the daring and intrepidity of Hill's Light Division at Gaines' Mill, more than to any other, that made it possible for the stirring events and unprecedented results that followed.
Among the greater Generals, Lee was simply matchless and superb; Jackson, a mystic meteor or firey comet; Longstreet and the two Hills, the "Wild Huns" of the South, masterful in tactics, cyclones in battle. Huger, Magruder, and Holmes were rather slow, but the courage and endurance of their troops made up for the shortcomings of their commanders.
Among the lesser lights will stand Gregg, Jenkins, and Kershaw, of South Carolina, as foremost among the galaxy of immortal heroes who gave the battles around Richmond their place as "unparalleled in history."