Every gun in the line responded. What the execution was is not known, the smoke from our pieces completely excluding our view, but that every Johnnie had not bitten dust was soon evident from the lively manner in which they sent their missiles amongst us in very brief time. After the first volley the regiment loaded and fired "at will," the men seeking cover behind logs and trees as best they could from the enemy's returning compliments. How long this duel was maintained it is impossible to state, as the occasion was such that to take note of passing time was out of question. The troops holding the extreme right of our line at length gave way, and the enemy, seizing the opportunity, threw forward a strong flanking column that soon began a severe enfilading fire that compelled us to fall back obliquely to avoid a retreat through the slashing, and take a position in the woods beyond the open field in which we first formed. This closed the fighting for the day, and night soon settled over the scene, and while we had met with reverses, yet we were encouragingly satisfied, for the enemy had not succeeded in his purpose, by overwhelming numbers, to drive us into the Chickahominy before reinforcement could come to our aid from the north side. That night we slept on our arms, without tents or blankets, for these we had left in our camp to the rear. During the night Sumner's corps succeeded in crossing the river, swollen by recent rains, and by daybreak was on the field, and engaging the enemy, drove him back to the shelter of his works about Richmond. The regiment lost severely in this engagement. Colonel Campbell was dangerously wounded in the groin and while being carried to the rear was again shot in the arm. Major Culp, as before stated, was killed, and Captain Chase, of Company K, mortally wounded. The loss in the line was eleven killed and forty-nine wounded. The command of the regiment now devolved on Lieutenant Colonel Woods, and Captain Simonton of Company B, was promoted to the rank of major. The battle was immediately followed by heavy rain storms. Tents and camp equipage were back in the rear and were not forwarded for two or three days. In the meantime the men stood about, drenched to the skin, or sat upon logs drying their saturated clothing upon their backs in the hot sunshine that interspersed the showers. The earth was soaked with water, which for lack of springs or wells, was used for drinking and cooking purposes, it only being necessary to dig a shallow hole anywhere to gather the needed supply. The damp hot weather brought about rapid decomposition of the dead and unburied animals and the chance bodies of friend or foe who had fallen in "slashing" or thicket and thus remained undiscovered, produced a sickening stench. These causes soon produced much sickness and the swamp fevers carried many to the hospitals, some never to return. Rumors of the renewal of hostilities, possibly by night attack, kept the army constantly on the alert, and our accouterments were rarely taken off night or day; orders being issued to sleep in shoes ready to "fall out" and "into line" at a moment's notice. On one occasion a kicking mule was the innocent cause of a hasty mustering of our forces, to the great chagrin of the weary and sleepy soldiery.
General Hooker, ever anxious for fight and adventure, made an advance on his own motion, in which he was actively supported by General Kearny, pushing his lines close up to the enemy's defenses, so that from a lookout station established in the top of a large tree the church spires and steeples of the coveted Confederate capital could plainly be seen. But this movement was not in accord with General McClellan's plan of campaign. The position was hazardous in the extreme, inviting another onset by the enemy, and we were soon withdrawn to our original lines and the shelter of our breastworks. This was our nearest approach to Richmond until after Appomattox in the spring of 1865. Amid these scenes of constant picket duty, digging rifle-pits, and building fortifications the regiment passed the month of June. On the 26th the sound of heavy firing on the extreme right came to our ears all the afternoon. The enemy in our front was exceedingly vigilant and we drew the fire of their pickets on the slightest exposure. Late in the evening loud cheering was heard to our right, and the report was circulated, and credited, that that wing of our army had carried the Confederate defenses to the north of the city, and we lustily joined our comrades, as we supposed, in their shout of victory. But, alas! for the truthfulness of camp rumors! It was all a mistake; our lines had only successfully repulsed the enemy's repeated assaults at Mechanicsville! That was all. The next day, the 27th, the battle was renewed at Gaines Mill, a little nearer to our position. The day following, the 28th, our immediate line withdrew from its advanced position and stood ready to repel any attack that might be made on the battle-worn troops of Porter and Warren as they slowly filed across the Chickahominy to the south side. Late in the afternoon General Kearny directed the distribution to each man of one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition (more than twice our usual allowance), and also that each officer in his command should place a red patch in conspicuous view upon his hat or cap. What to do with the superfluous ammunition was a question, and called forth many uncomplimentary remarks, some even suggesting that it was intended to relieve the mules of the ammunition trains by making pack-horses of the soldiery. But we had not long to wait to know the real cause and the wisdom of it, and glad were we to have the extra cartridges for convenient use! The red patch order also proved an important event in army history, in that it was the beginning of the corps badge so popular and useful in the after years of the war. The afternoon of the next day, the 29th, after a day of anxious waiting and expectancy, the regiment took up the line of march, with the crash of the battle of Savage station ringing in their ears, southward across the White Oak swamp. Late in the evening we filed off upon a by-road leading at right angles to the road on which we were moving. Soon we reached a wide swamp, across which had recently been constructed a causeway, or bridge of logs laid in the mud and water side by side, and which was perhaps twenty rods in length. Without hesitation the regiment marched out upon this bridge. When the head of the column had about reached the opposite end it was fired upon by the enemy's pickets. Here was a dilemma calculated to try the nerve of the bravest. What the enemy's force was none knew, but anyone could realize the terrible slaughter that might be wrought had a section of artillery been turned upon that narrow roadway with a swamp of unknown depth on either side. General Kearny, with his accustomed daring, was at the head of the column. Turning about, he rode back along the line, his face grave, but calm. "Keep quiet, boys, keep quiet. Don't be alarmed. About face and move to the rear!" he said as he passed. Every man in the regiment seemed to realize the gravity of the situation, and that upon his personal coolness depended the safety of the retreat, and without noise or confusion the regiment "about faced" and soon was back on the road from which we had strayed. That night we bivouacked without tents or fires, wrapping ourselves in our blankets, and, lying down, star gazed until our eyes closed in slumber.
The 30th dawned hot and sultry, and as the men trudged along under the fierce glare of the sun, and their burden of knapsack, haversack, and extra ammunition, many succumbed and fell out of the ranks. Arriving at the intersection of the Charles City road with that upon which we were marching about mid-day, the regiment filed to the right into an open field, stacked arms and broke ranks. Some of our number sought rest in convenient shade, others busied themselves building fires and cooking coffee. In all our surroundings there was not a sign of the enemy's presence, or that from the cover of the woods beyond the field his scouts were watching our every movement. Cannonading from the direction whence we had come gave evidence that he was yet beyond the dismal swamps through which we had passed the day before, and the rank and file at least was not aware that a strong force was at that moment marching upon our line from the west with a purpose to intercept us on our way toward the James. To the left of us a section of Randolph's battery stood unlimbered, a circumstance rare to be seen while on the march, and to the old soldiers suggestive of possible battle, but the gunners were lolling upon their pieces or sitting about the ground chatting, apparently indifferent, and if they were so, why need others feel concern? Thus time passed until 2 o'clock p. m., when suddenly one of those unlimbered pieces, with a crash that brought every man to his feet, sent a screaming shell far out over the woods beyond. This defiant shot seemed at once to be accepted by the enemy as a challenge to action, for immediately there followed a spattering discharge of musketry along our front, the bugle notes sounded and the command to "fall in" rang out along the lines.
"And there was mounting in hot haste, the steed,
The mustering squadrons, and the clattering car
Went pouring forth with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldiers."