I put in one particularly distressing day at one of the new bridges which we were completing across the Chickahominy. At daybreak I was sent from the main picket guard at the Rebel side of the bridge to post a line of sentinels about two hundred yards ahead of the bridge, to watch and give the signal should the enemy approach to interfere with the working party on the bridge. We had to wade through an overflow of the river for a long distance up to our knees and some of the sentinels had to stand in the water all day behind trees as they could not be relieved before dark. I took for my post the farther end of the line behind a tree, where I did not have to stand in the water. When it was fully daylight I noticed a large tree out in an open field about a hundred yards in front of me and soon made out that there were two Rebel pickets watching me from behind that tree. Sometimes a gun was poked out and pointed in my direction on one side or the other of the tree, which caused me to do the same; but as they did not fire, I was only too glad to keep quiet myself. During the forenoon a Rebel battery fired over our heads at the men working on the bridge. This drew a concentrated fire from some of our batteries which soon forced the enemy to desist. A heavy rain came on before noon and lasted all day, soaking us to the skin. I watched my two neighbors, but nothing of an exciting nature happened on this miserable, wet day. When I felt hungry I ate some boiled bacon and munched a few crackers. The day seemed interminably long. Just as soon as it was dark enough I left my post for the main picket guard at the bridge, picking up the sentinels as I went along, for at this time the guard retired to the north side of the bridge over night.
After the battle of Fair Oaks, offensive operations seemed to be suspended for a time on both sides. Incessant rains for a week or more had put the country into such condition that an advance movement could not be attempted; only artillery duels, small skirmishes and some picket firing took place. But about the middle of June there was some excitement in our camps caused by a report that a large force of Rebels were in the rear of the right wing, threatening the destruction of our base of supplies at the White House. This proved to be the much vaunted Confederate General Stuart's raid. General Stuart, with a cavalry force of about twelve hundred and a section of artillery, made a swift and complete circuit of the Army of the Potomac. His progress was so rapid that he met with but little opposition; there was no considerable cavalry force at hand and the infantry sent out in a hurry could not pursue him. He was unable to inflict any damage, except to tear up a small section of the railroad track near the White House, cut some telegraph wires, kill a few cavalry-men and some teamsters and burn a dozen army wagons. The most important result of this raid for the enemy was that it disclosed to them the weakness, location and difficult connection of the right wing of our army, with the main body on the south side of the Chickahominy,—a condition of which they took advantage presently, to our discomfiture. Things went on quietly for a little while after Stuart's raid, until on the twenty-sixth of June, 1862, the enemy attacked our right wing with a superior force at Mechanicsville, which was the first of the "seven days of battle" and retreat of McClellan's army in front of Richmond.
PART X.
The Seven Days' Retreat, 1862.
On the morning of the twenty-sixth of June, 1862, everything was quiet in our camps; only the fire of an occasional gun was heard in the front of the main part of our army, on the other side of the Chickahominy. We were enduring a very hot period of weather and sought relief from the fierce rays of the sun under our little shelter tents which we opened on all sides for more air. Men who were not on duty smoked, played cards, chatted or discussed the conduct of the war and explained how it should be managed; they damned the cabinet and the politicians in Washington, who really managed the war and interfered often disastrously with the commanding generals in the field. They expressed indignation against the Copperhead (Rebel sympathizing) papers in the North and wondered why they were not suppressed. They made rough estimates of the enormous cost of the war which drew forth a remark from one of the party, that he thought many millions could be saved if the Government advertised for bids to put down the rebellion and awarded the job to some Napoleonic contractor.
About the middle of the afternoon we were suddenly startled by heavy firing in the direction of our right wing at Beaver Dam Creek near Mechanicsville, about three miles from our camp, where the third division of the Fifth Army Corps under General McCall was posted in a strong position. Presently the firing increased to heavy volleys, mingled with the thunder of artillery, and we realized that the long expected attack on our right wing had begun. The drummers beat the long roll and in a moment all was activity in camp. Tents were struck, knapsacks were packed, rations were issued and cartridge boxes replenished; the wagons were packed and all ready for a movement; we only awaited orders to march to the support of the third division. Then came a lull in the firing for an hour or more, only to be renewed about sundown with increased fury when Sykes's division was ordered forward. We took the road towards Mechanicsville and marched in quick time to within half a mile or so of the battle line, when we were halted for a while and then turned off the road into a plowed field on the right, where we were to bivouac for the night. It was getting dark but considerable firing was still going on and it was after nine o'clock before it ceased entirely. We stacked arms and sat on our knapsacks on the ground waiting.
From orderlies and wounded men passing to the rear, we learned that the enemy had crossed and were still crossing the Chickahominy by the upper bridges; and had made fierce attacks on the strong position of the third division on Beaver Dam Creek where they had been repulsed with great loss, while our loss was small; but that by morning the enemy would be in such overwhelming numbers that the position would be untenable. This information made it seem sure to us that there would be another battle on the morrow and that we would take part in it; and for the first time we experienced the peculiar feeling and mental condition of the soldier on the eve of battle, a condition that has been described in prose and poetry, as the "night before the battle." Heretofore our brigade had only been under artillery and picket firing, in which there had been but few casualties, but now we were to face more serious encounters with the enemy.
We all felt grave. Each man seemed to reflect. I heard none boast as to what they would do to-morrow. Intimate friends made known their wishes to each other, in case either of them should not survive. We spread our blankets on the plowed field. It was a beautiful moonlight night. I lay awake a long time looking at the starry heavens, thinking of my mother, who was my only relative. I believe that to a young soldier the anticipation and certainty of a battle for many hours before it occurs is one of the most trying parts of it. I suppose that I felt just like my comrades. I prayed and hoped that I might be spared, or, if I was to fall, that I might be killed rather than mutilated. At last I fell asleep and slept soundly until awakened at daylight next morning.
The events of the next few days made a stronger impression on my youthful memory than any other occurrence throughout the war, and it seems to me that at this writing, after a period of more than fifty years, I remember and can describe my feelings and actions, step by step, as though it had all happened but a week ago.
After a hasty breakfast without coffee, we stood to arms and waited. Some troops were marching on the road to the rear and we learned that General McCall's division was being quietly withdrawn from their defenses. Only some rambling shots could be heard. After a while we marched out into the road and in the direction of Cold Harbor, which was simply a traven at the intersection of two roads. On our way we passed our old camp and the mill and noticed that all our wagons had departed during the night and that quantities of provisions which they could not carry had been set on fire and were still burning.
We were halted several times and remained in line of battle for an hour or more before we went on again; sometimes we countermarched. The forenoon was well spent when we passed Cold Harbor and took the road leading to Turkey Hill and Woodbury's Bridge. When we reached the vicinity of the Adams house, where General Porter established his headquarters, we halted again and were ordered to pile our knapsacks in a field at the edge of the road where a small guard was left in charge of them, while we went on about a quarter of a mile further and took up a position on some high ground in a field on the road leading to New Cold Harbor where we found Warren's brigade and other troops who had preceded us.