While resting on our arms the dead and wounded were thick all around—friend and foe. Alas! not a few were our brothers of the Ninth Massachusetts. They told us in whispers how they repelled the enemy all day, and not until they were flanked by the Rebels did they give way before their repeated charges. The remnant of the regiment I subsequently saw next morning, in the rear, few in numbers, but with its spirit unbroken.
Having held the enemy in check to permit our broken battalions and the wounded to recross the Chickahominy, the two brigades silently left the field before dawn the next morning, blowing up the bridge behind us, thus stopping the pursuit. The two brigades occupied their old places behind the breastwork, at four the next morning, completely exhausted, but gratified that we were instrumental in checking the enemy, and saving from capture a large part of the army.
Four days later, July 1st, the bloody conflict of Malvern Hill was fought—the last of the Seven Days' Battles. Meagher's brigade, at that time consisting of the Sixty-Third, Eighty-Eighth, and Sixty-Ninth New York and one regiment from Massachusetts (Twenty-Ninth), had arms stacked in a beautiful valley, in the rear of the struggling hosts. All day long the storm of battle raged, and the men of the brigade were congratulating themselves that for once, at least, we would not be called upon to participate. Each regiment was ordered to kill several sheep and beeves, found the same day on the lands of a rich Virginian. While the companies were being served, a staff officer was seen riding at full speed to Gen. Meagher's head-quarters, his horse wet with foam. The men knew what that meant. We had seen it before. In a few minutes the "long roll" sounded in every regiment, and in less time than it takes to write these lines, the brigade was on the march. We knew from the sound of the guns that we were not going from but nearing the combat. Turning a ridge in the south-east, a fearful sight met our view. Thousands of wounded streamed to the rear, in the direction of Harrison Landing, on the James. Men with shattered arms and legs, some limping, all bloody and powder-stained. Many defiant, but the badly wounded moaning with agony. The head of the column, with Gen. Meagher and staff in front, turned sharply to the right, with difficulty forcing our way through the wounded crowds. We learned, subsequently, that after repelling the enemy with fearful slaughter all day, towards nightfall they pressed our left and attempted to seize the roads on our line of retreat to the James. Not till then were Meagher's men called on, and promptly they responded. While hurrying to the front, the Sixty-Third being the third regiment was halted. At this moment a volley from the left between us and the river, swept through our ranks. Seventeen men of the regiment fell, among them being Col. John Burke, who received a ball in the knee. He fell from his horse, but the mishap was for the moment kept from the men. Lieut.-Col. Fowler assumed command, and before the Rebel regiment had time to reload, four hundred smooth bores sent a withering volley crashing through their ranks. This put a quietus upon them.
"What regiment is this?" demanded an officer on horseback, surrounded by his staff, who came galloping up as the men reloaded.
"This is the Sixty-Third New York, general," responded Lieut.-Col. Fowler of that regiment.
"I am Gen. Porter, in command of this part of the field. I order you to remain here to support a battery now on its way to this spot. Do you understand, sir?"
"Yes, general; the Sixty-Third always obeys orders," was the lieutenant colonel's prompt response, and Gen. Porter disappeared to the front.
While halted here for the appearance of the battery, a crowd of men coming from the front, in the now gathering darkness, attracted my attention. I should say there were not more than fifty men all told—perhaps not more than thirty. They were grouped around their colors, which I discovered to be a United States flag and a green standard. The men were the most enthusiastic I ever saw. They were cheering, and their voices could be plainly heard over the roar of battle. Some were without caps, many were wounded, and all grimy from powder, and every few moments some one of them called for "three cheers for the stars and stripes."
"Let us give three for the green flag, boys."
"Give the Rebels h—— boys!" To one officer in front cheering, who had his cap on the point of his sword, I inquired: