Late in the day Slocum's division, of Sumner's corps, crosses Sumner's Bridge and takes position in rear of Sykes's.
It is a hot, sultry day. General Lee is at Hogan's plantation, near New Coal-Harbor, sitting beneath the portico of the farm-house, absorbed in thought. He is neatly dressed in a gray uniform, buttoned to the throat. Longstreet is sitting in an old chair at the foot of the steps beneath the trees, eating a lunch, with his feet against a tree, his uniform faded and torn, buttons missing, and his boots old and dusty. Gregg, Wilcox, Pryor, Featherstone, and other generals are there waiting for Jackson, who has been marching hard all the morning to get into position. A courier comes down the Coal-Harbor road, delivers a message to Lee, who mounts his horse and rides away to New Coal-Harbor.[38]
It is past two o'clock in the afternoon before Lee is ready to begin the attack. There has been a cannonade all along the line north and south of the Chickahominy. Magruder, on the south side, has instructions to make a grand demonstration, as if he was going to attack McClellan. It is his intention to keep him from sending troops to Porter's aid.
Lee intends to make a grand onset and sweep Porter into the Chickahominy. Under cover of a tremendous fire from the artillery, A. P. Hill begins the attack upon Griffin and Martindale, but under the superior and effective fire of Captain Griffin's United States battery, Weeden's Rhode Island, and Allen's and Martin's Massachusetts batteries, the Rebel batteries are "overpowered and driven from the field."[39] The Rebel infantry advances through the belt of timber, and descends the ravine. From the rifle-pits there are sudden flashes and quick spirts of flame, and the battle-cloud becomes thick and heavy.
It would require many pages to make a full record of the terrible combat. How Longstreet urged his men into the woods,—how the battle rolled through the forest and surged back again,—how brigade after brigade marched against Martindale, Griffin, and Butterfield, only to fall back with broken and shattered ranks,—how the ground became thick with the dead and wounded,—how men fired into each other's faces and fell almost into each other's arms, mingling their life-blood in one crimson stream,—how Jackson pressed on over the plain, urging his men nearer and nearer,—how the Pennsylvania Reserves went up to aid the Regulars,—how couriers dashed through the woods, over the bridges to General McClellan, who was on the southern bank, asking for reinforcements,—how Slocum's division went over, reached the field, held in check the dark masses forming upon the flank of the Regulars and Reserves, and held the ground. The hours hung heavily. Three o'clock,—four o'clock,—five o'clock,—and no break in the line. Thirty-five thousand against seventy! But the pressure is terrible. French's and Meagher's brigades are ordered over. But moments are precious. Six o'clock; the onset is greater than ever. Every regiment, every man, is brought to the front, on both sides. The artillery still thunders, but the infantry are out of ammunition. Longstreet has been hurled back as often as he has advanced, and so has A. P. Hill and D. H. Hill, but Jackson is working toward the Chickahominy on the left. Sykes's men, who have been facing north, are obliged to face east to meet the troops moving in a steady stream down the road leading to Old Coal-Harbor. Men begin to leave the ranks and move toward the rear. There is a desperate rush from Jackson's brigades upon the guns. The Union line gives way.
If there was a fresh division or a brigade even at hand, the tide might be stopped. There are sixty thousand men upon the southern bank of the river, but General McClellan is afraid that Magruder with his division will make an attack.
Whiting's division, which has been held in reserve by Lee, is ordered up. All of his desperate charges and onsets have failed. If Whiting fails, the battle is lost.
The Regulars and the Pennsylvania Reserves are worn out. Their ammunition is nearly gone. Porter orders up his last man. They can have no more support. At this moment, after they have held at bay for four hours the great host, they are called upon to withstand the last grand charge of Jackson.
Whiting advances, he is received with grape and canister. His line halts, wavers, almost breaks; but Jackson, Whiting, Hood, and Law urge the men to push on. They leap across the ravine, halt a moment, sheltered by the bank above them from the fire of the Union batteries, and then leap the breastwork and