The rebels came on heroically, but were sent reeling back down the slope in confusion and disorder. Again and again they renewed the charge from under cover of the woods which skirted the base of the slope. They would start across the open space, charging our batteries with wild yells, but the heavy fire of our guns and the steady volleys of our infantry sent them back as often to the shelter of the woods. At times our infantry would reserve their fire till the rebel columns had run the gauntlet of shot and shell from our batteries, almost reaching our lines, when with exultant cheers they would bound forward to seize the prize now almost within their grasp, when our men would open upon them a single volley, and, leaping over the breastworks, pursue the panic-stricken assailants, capturing prisoners and colors, and driving the rebels in confusion down the slope. Thus the battle raged with terrible fury; every attempt on the part of the enemy failing, until darkness set in, and the rebel chiefs were glad to let the battle subside; though it was not till nine o'clock the artillery firing ceased.
The weight of the attacks had been upon our center. Here Couch, Sumner and Heintzelman withstood the shock of battle for hours, only a part of Porter's corps being engaged, and neither our Sixth corps nor Casey's division of Keyes' corps being actively in the fight.
The rebel General Trimble thus describes the condition of their army on the morning after the battle:
"The next morning by dawn I went off to ask for orders, when I found the whole army in the utmost disorder. Thousands of straggling men were asking every passer-by for their regiments; ambulances, wagons and artillery obstructing every road; and altogether in a drenching rain presenting a scene of the most woful and heart-rending confusion."
Had but a show of an attack upon such an army been made, it must have resulted in defeat and utter rout to the rebels.
CHAPTER XI.
HARRISON'S LANDING.
March to Harrison's Bar—A scene of confusion—A beautiful landscape—Fourth of July in camp—Gloom at the north—Cause of the disasters—Prevalence of disease—Review by the President—A night demonstration by the enemy—Reconnoissance to Malvern Hill—Departure of General Davidson—A retrospect.
Our corps remained in line of battle in the wheat field till early next morning; changing position during the night just often enough to deprive us of rest. As we started out toward Harrison's Landing the rain was pouring in sheets; and throughout the day it continued to deluge the country. The roads were rivers of almost fathomless mud; and our tired men could scarcely drag themselves along. But at four in the afternoon we halted under cover of our gunboats, and bivouacked for the night. Such a deplorable scene as was here, was enough to melt the heart of the stoutest. As we debouched from a piece of woods skirting the plateau at Harrison's Landing, officers stood like hotel porters at a steamboat landing, calling out "This way for the Third corps;" "This way for the Fifth corps;" "This way for Slocum's division." All was confusion. The whole army seemed to be made of stragglers. Our little Brigadier Davidson rose in his saddle to an unusual height, as he looked back and saw with undisguised pride, his brigade marching in, almost unbroken.
The landscape before us was indescribably beautiful. There lay the James river, and spreading out between us and the river were the broad fields of wheat; the fine country houses; the long avenues and roads lined with rows of cedar trees; which last were almost in a moment stripped of their branches to make beds for the soldiers.