On the 5th of April, General McClellan’s dispatch to the Secretary of War, announced that his army had that day arrived in front of the enemy’s works, having met with but slight opposition on its route.
During this period the weather was unfavorable for military operations. Heavy storm-clouds frowned inauspiciously on the approaching army, rain fell almost daily in torrents, and this at a time when there could be no adequate provision for shelter.
The Federal army was now destined to undergo an experience of toil and privations calculated to try its endurance to the utmost.
Solid roads were absolutely necessary for transportation from the landings to the various encampments, as it was impossible to draw the immense siege and supply trains over or through the soft alluvial mire formed by the unremitting rains, while the creeks and water courses were swollen into torrents. Skirmishing was of daily occurrence—for the enemy neglected no opportunity to annoy their formidable opponents, while the Federal army found it necessary to push its advances within commanding reach of the rebel entrenchments, which stretched from the York to the James rivers, a distance of six miles. The rebel earthworks were ponderously built—some of them of a height and thickness hitherto unparalleled in any war.
The Union soldiery toiled incessantly in the trenches, while covering parties, with efficient batteries, stood guard in their defence, and daily sacrificed some of their brave numbers while protecting their toiling comrades.
The labors of the Federal army soon became apparent. Formidable earthworks began to show their heads, and artillery of the largest calibre was put in position. The rebel generals were struck with astonishment and dismay when the evidences of engineering skill hitherto unsuspected, stood revealed before them.
On the other hand, every day more fully revealed the extensive and intricate line of the rebel defences. Their strength in forts, lunettes and rifle-pits—their constantly increasing numbers, and untiring activity, with their accurate knowledge of the topography of the country, increased the magnitude of the work before the Federal army. The natural obstacles to its progress were by no means few or trifling. The sinuous windings of the line of attack they were obliged to assume—the innumerable swamps and pools of water confronting them on every side, the almost impenetrable forests and tangled undergrowth added to their labors and their sufferings. Cold and shivering under garments saturated anew by the rains of to-day, ere those of yesterday had been vaporized, the soldiers endured the pangs of hunger and fatigue unappalled. In view of the terrific struggle before them, human suffering counted for nothing with these brave men. No signs of discontent were manifest. Even in their hardest trials the utmost cheerfulness prevailed; and in more remote positions, where a less rigid discipline was enforced, the patriotic strains of “The Star Spangled Banner” and the “Red, White and Blue,” were heard ringing up through the storm. Not unfrequently, with faces turned toward the patriot homes from whence they came, would they sing “Do they Miss me at Home?” or “Let me Kiss him for his Mother”—while they breathed the silent prayer that, through the uncertainties of war, they might be permitted again to mingle with their friends in the enjoyment of a bravely won peace.
Daily would some adventurous band of Federal soldiers explore the intricacies of the rebel defences, coming constantly in collision with the enemy. In these adventures the new and efficient regiments of sharpshooters, just introduced into the United States army, rendered valuable service.
A month before the Union army invested Yorktown, the iron battery Merrimac had made her advent in Hampton Roads, and after destroying the noble old frigates Cumberland and Congress—the pride of a past era—she met the Monitor, her conqueror and the nation’s champion. The combat that ensued has stamped a glorious page on the world’s history for all time. Like Lucifer in his fall, the rebel monster shrank with “despairing, cursing rage” behind the batteries at Yorktown, while the terrors of her exploits, and rejoicings at her defeat, quickened the nation’s heart-pulses from Maine to Maryland.
The noble Minnesota, resting in calm and majestic repose on the waters of the Chesapeake, hitherto would have acknowledged no superior in a naval combat. An exposure for two hours to the heavy guns of the Merrimac, which pierced her wooden walls with shot and shell, while her own missiles were ineffective as pebbles on the scales of the leviathan, destroyed her prestige and her pride of strength.