Personal Reminiscences of the War of 1861-5 / In Camp—en Bivouac—on the March—on Picket—on the Skirmish Line—on the Battlefield—and in Prison

by W. H. Morgan

COLONEL GARLAND WOUNDED

In the midst of this severe fighting, Colonel Garland, with his left arm bandaged and in a sling, came up. He had been shot through the forearm early in the action, had his wound dressed, and continued in the fight to the end.

As soon as Colonel Garland came up, he shouted out, "Charge 'em!" Captain Clement, a brave man, whose courage was beyond question and who still lives in Campbell County, a scarred veteran, remonstrated, saying: "For God's sake, Colonel Garland, don't send the men over there into that fire. They will all be killed." Colonel Garland replied: "Well, hold on a while then." It was not long before the fire of the enemy began to slacken—the well-aimed shots of the Confederates were telling. Our lines rose up without orders, and over the logs the men rushed right among the Yankees. Some of the enemy jumped up and ran; many were shot down as they ran; others lay still behind the logs and stumps and were captured; some were hauled from brush piles, and many lay killed and wounded on the ground, most of whom were shot in the head. This scene reminded me of a lot of boys hunting rabbits in thickets.

While engaged in gathering up the prisoners, sending them to the rear and exulting over the victory, the noise of artillery wheels was heard (it was impossible to see far, on account of the smoke and fog), and the men were ordered back to the woods whence they had just charged. There were several abandoned Yankee cannon in the road in our front; I don't remember whether these were taken off the field or not, but think they were. We held this position during the remainder of the day, without seeing or hearing anything of the enemy in our front.

Pretty soon after we fell back to the edge of the woods, a terrific musketry fire opened up to the right of this position, which seemed to be a little to the rear of the extension of the line, the minie balls flying thick and fast through the woods in the rear. As this firing increased in volume and seemed to be drawing nearer, some of the Seventh Regiment began to look anxiously to the rear, like a balky horse, as if contemplating a retreat. All eyes were turned in the direction of the firing, which was only a few hundred yards to the right, and seemed to be drawing closer. Colonel Kemper, who was still at the right of the Seventh, noticed the anxiety of his men, and spoke out in firm and defiant tones: "Steady, men, steady. The old Eighth Virginia is out there." I never knew whether or not the Eighth Regiment was out there—I don't think it was; but Kemper's words had the desired effect.

The men remembered Ball's Bluff, where the Eighth Virginia had some time before distinguished itself, and whatever fears they may have had of being flanked were allayed, and every man stood firmly at his post.

It was not long until the firing ceased all along the lines. The brigade remained here until darkness closed over the bloody scenes and thrilling events of the day, which were, no doubt, indelibly fixed in the minds of every participant.

In the meanwhile, the battle was raging to the left over towards Fort McGruder, where the fighting first commenced in the morning, and was kept up pretty much all day. Here the Twenty-fourth Virginia and the Fifth North Carolina distinguished themselves, as Pickett's Division did at Gettysburg, in an unsuccessful, but gallant charge. There were no better fighting regiments in the army.

Soon after dark the brigade moved silently off by the left flank, marching back to the edge of Williamsburg, where we had turned off the road early in the morning. We slept on the wet, muddy ground until daybreak next morning, when we again marched through the old town towards Richmond, the men gathering up their knapsacks deposited along the street in the front yards the day before, and which the people had taken care of.

On the march we did not hurry, camping four or five days on the east bank of the Chickahominy; but the enemy did not crowd us again, the work of the 5th of May having taught General McClellan a lesson, the moral of which was, "Don't crowd Joe Johnston too closely on a retreat." Some of the Yankee historians claim a victory at Williamsburg, a dear-bought victory to be sure. They lost about five hundred killed, fifteen hundred wounded, and four hundred unwounded prisoners, twelve cannon, and ten stand of colors.