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Davidson's command was withdrawn from its position on Beaver Dam creek on the 26th of May.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.