They were faithful and devoted servants to the soldiers, never demanding or expecting pay for their labor; were made supremely happy by the gift of a pair of blue trousers or a blouse; would follow a regiment on its longest and hardest marches; relieve the weary soldier of his knapsack or gun, and if the soldier was sick or overcome by the heat, save him from falling on the road and suffering the fate of a straggler. Scarcely a soldier of Company C will fail to remember the faithful “Toney,” who came to them from North Carolina through the wilds of the Dismal Swamp, and followed their fortunes to the end of the war.
On the 1st of June, the Paymaster arrived in camp, and paid off the men. At midnight of the 2d, orders came for the regiment to march early the next morning; it was in line and moved out of camp at six o’clock on the morning of the 3d. The place of destination was Suffolk, a post-village, capital of Nansemond County, Va., distant from Portsmouth about thirty-five miles, and the distance actually marched by the regiment, from its encampment to the village, not less than twenty-five miles. The day was extremely hot and sultry; the roads for much of the distance half submerged in water, and everywhere muddy. The men were in heavy marching order, each man’s burden consisting of his rifle, three days’ rations, forty rounds of cartridges, a canteen, and a knapsack. The men had not had much practice in marching, and it was easy enough to foresee the result of such an undertaking. Long before noon they began to straggle; instances of sunstroke were quite numerous; and all during that boiling, blistering day, no halt exceeding fifteen minutes was permitted. It wasa forced march of the most aggravated character, and that, too, without the slightest demand or necessity.
At this time, the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, under Colonel Powell T. Wyman, was at Suffolk, and the post was in command of that officer, who was a soldier of superior qualities. When the Twenty-ninth Regiment straggled intoSuffolk, on the night of the 3d of June, with about half its numbers, and the circumstances became known to Colonel Wyman, he expressed great indignation at the manner in which this movement had been conducted, asserting that the order to Colonel Pierce did not contemplate a forced march.
The regiment had outmarched its baggage-wagons, and when it arrived in the town it was consequently destitute of tents; and without any orders or arrangement on the part of the commanding officer, the men were left to shift for themselves. The majority slept in the open air, and among them a veteran captain of sixty, who wrapped himself up in a blanket and lay down upon the field. During the night, it rained heavily, and a more sorry-appearing body of soldiers was never mustered for roll-call than the Twenty-ninth on the following morning. Quite a number were made seriously ill by sunstrokes.
Captain Howard’s Light Battery, largely made up of detailed members of the regiment, arrived here on the 4th. The entire Federal force in and about Suffolk at this time was less than 2,500 men all told, and consisted of the following troops: Sixteenth Massachusetts, Twenty-ninth Massachusetts, Captain Howard’s Light Battery, a section of Captain Follett’s Battery, and two companies of cavalry. The enemy in large force were in the near neighborhood, the picket duty was not a little hazardous, and the isolated situation of the troops, and the constant danger of attack, rendered the responsibilities of this command of the gravest character. It was fortunate for the cause of the Government, therefore, that its interests here were confided to the charge of so brave and skilful an officer as Colonel Powell T. Wyman.
The Twenty-ninth Regiment, as also the Sixteenth, were destined to remain here but a short time. At two o’clock in the afternoon of the 6th, the Twenty-ninth received orders to march, and striking tents, it proceeded to the Suffolk Station of the Seaboard and Roanoke Railroad, where it took the cars for Portsmouth, arriving at the latter place at five o’clock in the afternoon of the same day. The night of the 6th was spent in the depot at Portsmouth, none of the enlisted men being permitted to leave their quarters.
On the morning of the 7th, the regiment embarked on thesteamer “Catskill,” for White House Landing, at the head of navigation on the Pamunkey River. The pleasure of this trip, which occupied the entire day, was in striking contrast with the numerous discomforts and hardships which the soldiers had experienced during the four weeks preceding, and which they were destined to encounter in the eventful campaign upon which they were about to enter. The day was exceedingly fine, and the course of the steamer lay along the banks of the Elizabeth River, Craney Island, Hampton Roads, and the shores of the Chesapeake Bay,—some of the finest water and land scenery to be found in the Old Dominion. The mouth of York River was reached about noon. There were few, if any, on board the “Catskill” who were ignorant of the historic associations that clustered about the two points of high land that form the mouth of the York. All eyes were busy obtaining a view of these places,—Yorktown on the left and Gloucester on the right. Here was encamped but recently the army of General Magruder; here on the 19th of October, 1781, Lord Cornwallis surrendered to General Washington his sword, an event that practically terminated the war of the Revolution. Still standing in Yorktown was the house of General Thomas Nelson, who commanded the Virginia militia at the capture of Cornwallis.
The sail up the York and its larger branch, the Pamunkey, occupied the remainder of the day. The country was in its finest dress; broad green meadows skirted the stream as far as the vision could extend; the meadows landward were bounded by high banks, covered with flowering trees and climbing vines; and beyond all were the dense pine forests, so common to the Peninsula. Here and there along the banks were comfortable, peaceful-looking farm-houses, about which clustered groups of colored people, who waved their hands as the large white steamer glided by.
White House Landing was reached just as the sun was going down. The river here was filled with transports, gunboats, and vessels of all sizes and descriptions. White House was a busy place in those days. There were to be seen large stacks of bread-boxes, immense numbers of barrels of beef and pork, army wagons, and ordnance supplies; and droves of horses and mules and large herds of fat cattle were grazingamong the green fields of General Fitz Hugh Lee, who owned the place. Here, also, were arriving and departing long trains of wagons, engaged in transporting these supplies to the front, some ten or fifteen miles away, and close at hand was a locomotive attached to an extensive train of cars, the engine bearing the familiar name of “Mayflower.”28
Upon leaving the steamer, the regiment marched the distance of a mile from the wharf, into a fine grass-field near the wagon-road. By this time it was quite dark; the night was warm, and the men made few complaints at being compelled to sleep without tents. Just as they were going off into a sound sleep, some wag, whose love of fun was still active, cried out to the guard, “Put up the bars there, by the road; if you don’t, we shall all catch our death-colds before morning!” This was the signal for a hearty laugh, the merriment of the occasion being heightened by the actual putting up of the bars.
March to the Front—Fair Oaks—Assigned to the Irish Brigade—Hard Service—Sharpshooting—The Affair of June 15, and Death of Brown—The Woodchopping Affair—Battle of Gaines’ Mill—The Retreat—Battles of Peach Orchard and Savage’s Station—Destruction of Stores—Burning of the Train of Cars.
On the morning of the 8th of June, the regiment was for the first time supplied with shelter-tents. These consisted of two pieces of cloth, each about six feet long and three and one-half feet wide, so made as to button together, the two parts overlapping and thus shedding water. One tent was issued to every two men, each man carrying his half in his knapsack. There were no ends to this slight covering, and hence the nameshelter-tent. At about four o’clock in the afternoon of this day, the regiment started for the front, marching a distance of some seven miles on the Richmond and York River Railroad, halting at night, and going into camp on a slight elevation of ground near the track. After breakfast on the following morning, the march towards the front was resumed. The destination of the regiment was Fair Oaks, about seven miles from Richmond. Fair Oaks Mas the centre of the Union line, and was held by the corps of General Sumner. The march was performed on the railroad, a distance of about thirteen miles, and was accomplished by two o’clock in the afternoon. Upon reaching the lines, the regiment was halted in a piece of plowed ground, some thirty yards or more in front of the grove of graceful oaks that gave the place its name, and just on the edge of the forest in which were stationed our pickets.
This was the battle-ground of June 1, one of the severest battles of the campaign, the effects of which were still apparent. The trunks of the trees were literally filled with bullets, while the little white cottage then occupied by General Sumner was perforated with shots of various sizes. Many of theenemy’s dead in the adjacent forest were still unburied, and the sickening odors that came from it were almost unendurable. The regiment had some days before been ordered to join General Sumner’s corps, and on this day it was, by the following order, attached to Brigadier-General Thomas Francis Meagher’s brigade:—
“Headquarters Richardson’s Division,}“Camp at Fair Oaks, Va., June 9, 1862.}“Special OrderNo. —.“The Twenty-ninth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers is hereby assigned to the brigade of General Meagher.“By command of Brigadier-General Richardson.“John M. Nowell,A. A. G.”
“Headquarters Richardson’s Division,}“Camp at Fair Oaks, Va., June 9, 1862.}
“Special OrderNo. —.
“The Twenty-ninth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers is hereby assigned to the brigade of General Meagher.
“By command of Brigadier-General Richardson.
“John M. Nowell,A. A. G.”
This brigade was better known as the “Irish Brigade,” and was composed of the Sixty-third, Sixty-ninth, and Eighty-eighth New York regiments,—all Irish. The Brigade had fought gallantly at Fair Oaks on the first of June, where it had lost heavily; and the Sixty-ninth, now commanded by Colonel Robert Nugent,29a fine soldier, had distinguished itself at Bull Run. At the time of the assignment of the Twenty-ninth Regiment to this brigade, the latter was in need of recruitment, having lost a good many of its men by battle and disease; but it had been desired by its officers to fill up its depleted ranks by the addition of another Irish regiment. Although the Twenty-ninth was essentially an American regiment, very largely composed of and officered by men who were direct descendants of the early settlers of the Plymouth and Bay colonies,—one of its members, indeed, being a lineal descendant of Miles Standish,—yet it was cordially welcomed to the Brigade by its old officers and members.
The night of the 9th of June was cold and stormy; at sundown the men pitched their tents; but an order soon came directing that they be struck at once, as they had already been seen by the enemy, and had attracted his fire. The storm lasted all night, and the men were compelled to lie exposed to a pelting rain, upon a bed of mud. No rations were issued to the regiment till the night of the 10th, itsmembers in the meantime being obliged to depend for food upon the generosity of the other regiments of the Brigade. The levelling effect of field life was curiously apparent here. It was an honor, but not a material advantage, to be an officer under these circumstances. The writer remembers seeing the lamented Major of the regiment sitting on his horse some time during the second day, at the front, wet to his skin, shivering from the cold, and asking and receiving from a more fortunate private, a drink of hot coffee from a very black-looking tin dipper.
The two armies were very near each other at this place, only a half-mile of woods intervening; and in these woods were the Union and Confederate pickets, stationed behind trees and logs; in some places the hostile lines being less than twenty yards apart. The nearness of the pickets to each other resulted in almost constant firing, which was very destructive, hardly an hour elapsing from sunrise to sunset without some poor soldier being borne from the forest reeking in blood, and not seldom pallid and lifeless. To add to the horrors of this life, the sharpshooters of the enemy, stationed in tall pines and in their rifle-pits, fired with almost unerring aim at every moving object; and at irregular intervals, during both night and day, the enemy’s batteries threw shot and shell into our lines.
Neither was all the shelling and sharpshooting done by the enemy. The Federals were by no means on the defensive, but were besieging Richmond, and neglected no opportunity to worry the enemy, or wrest from him even so much as a foot of ground. Directly in front of Sumner’s headquarters, at the edge of a large field, were the remains of an old house, and near it an apple-tree, behind which there was usually stationed one of our sharpshooters, who amused himself in exchanging shots with a Confederate rifleman who had a lodge in the branches of a large pine on the farther side of the field. The elevated nature of the ground in the rear of this tree afforded the troops there encamped an opportunity of witnessing these practices, and when a particularly good shot was made, they would usually manifest their appreciation of it by a loud cheer.
These days at Fair Oaks, as well as those that followed,embracing the whole period from the 9th of June till the time when the Army of the Potomac was finally settled down at Harrison’s Landing, were among the most exciting in the history of the regiment. In the first place, the men were not only exposed to some of the worst dangers of war, but also suffered intensely from the hot weather, unhealthy location of the camps, and severe labor. From some mistaken notion, they were ordered to leave their overcoats and blouses at White House Landing, the want of which was keenly felt, as the nights were cold, and the fogs, especially after nightfall, so dense as closely to resemble rain, while the days were broiling hot. The dress-coat worn by them, being a close-fitting garment, was ill-adapted to fatigue duty, and not sufficiently thick to protect them from the chilling night air.
The standing order requiring all troops at the front to quit their tents at three o’clock in the morning, and remain standing, nearly motionless, in line of battle till sunrise, proved very exhaustive; and all these hardships combined, to which should be added the impurity of the water and the poisoned air of the battle-field, produced many cases of fever and other equally fatal diseases. On the afternoon of the 14th of June, companies C and E were ordered on picket in the swamp at the left of the railroad, nearly in front of Hooker’s division. This place was considered one of the worst on the whole picket line, for several reasons; skirmishes there were more common than at any other point, and the swamp was very wet, being in places little better than a morass, and everywhere filled with a dense undergrowth of bushes and briers. The pickets were stationed behind trees, which in many instances were scarcely large enough to cover the body, and about them no footing save a few hussocks or uncovered roots.
The night of the 14th was unusually mild and beautiful; the moon shone brightly, throwing here and there a beam of its soft light down through the branches of the pines, and relieving the place of some of its natural gloom. There seemed to be some sort of a festival or celebration in the camp of the enemy, as several of their bands played merrily all the evening. Not a shot was fired during the wholenight, and this peaceful order of things continued nearly all the succeeding day (Sunday), which was warm and sultry. At about three o’clock in the afternoon, a violent thunder-storm came up, accompanied by a strong wind. When the storm was at its height, and our guards were crouching under the trees and bushes to shield themselves from the pelting rain, the crackling of the brush in their front was heard, and presently the heads of the enemy were seen through the undergrowth. This was to be a raid upon our pickets, and the time was chosen in the hope of finding them unprepared, and confused by the tempest; but our men were vigilant, and as soon as the enemy were seen, began to fire. The latter replied by a loud screech and a deafening volley of musketry, showing that they were present in large numbers, and immediately after charged. Our pickets fell back from their posts to the edge of the woods, firing as they retired, and upon reaching the reserves under Captains Leach and Doten, formed in line. The Confederates, to the number, apparently, of a full regiment, followed slowly on, till they came to within a few yards of the edge of the wood, when they paused, and again fired several volleys; but by this time the swamp was being shelled by our batteries. The shells bursting among the trees, and throwing down large fragments, caused a sudden termination of the assault, and the retirement of the enemy. During this fight, which lasted about fifteen minutes, some soldiers of Company E captured one of the enemy in the swamp, while attempting to retreat with his comrades. In this affray, also, George D. Brown of Company C, a very faithful and intelligent soldier, was killed; and Charles Kleinhans of Company E, fatally wounded. The body of Brown was found by his comrades, when they returned to their posts, in a most shocking condition; he had apparently been shot through the vitals and afterward bayoneted through the lower jaw and neck; his clothing had been stripped from his body, and every article of value he had upon his person carried away.
On the 16th of June, the Brigade was relieved of its post at the extreme front, and ordered into the grove of oaks, in the rear, where the ground was much higher. The 18th of June was a day of great excitement. In the afternoon, our picketsat the centre advanced, bringing on a sharp engagement, which lasted for several hours; and this was followed by a very determined advance of a large body of the enemy’s infantry on the Nine Miles Road, which ran directly through our camp. They came along in fine style, and in full view of our troops, until they reached a point about eighty yards from one of our outworks, on the edge of the forest, when its battery opened on them with shell and grape. The column was at once thrown into confusion, a wild flight soon following, the dead and wounded being left in the road. After nightfall, the wounded were gathered up by our men and brought into camp, and the dead buried in the field near by.
On the 19th, the Sixteenth Massachusetts Infantry, forming a part of General Hooker’s division, encamped at the left of the railroad, near the famous twin houses, had a severe engagement with the enemy, in the swamp before referred to, losing thirty-four of its number killed and wounded. The regiment was ordered to advance through the thick woods, and when well into them, encountered a superior force of the enemy posted behind the trees.
June 20, companies C, E, and D, together with several companies of the Sixty-ninth and Eighty-eighth New York regiments, were detailed to work in the trenches in front of General Hooker’s division. A little after noon, the enemy commenced shelling the working party, keeping it up for nearly two hours. There were no casualties. On the 23d, several companies of the regiment were again detailed to go on picket in the swamp, and, with a portion of the First Massachusetts Infantry, advanced through the woods to the enemy’s rifle-pits on the farther side. A sharp skirmish was the result, lasting till near nightfall, dwindling into picket-firing, and in this form continuing all night.
An unusual and strange proceeding was attempted by a certain staff-officer of the corps, on the night of the 26th, in which companies C, E, and G participated. Toward dusk, these commands marched to the headquarters of the Brigade Quartermaster, where each man was given a new axe and helve, and told to put them together. This was a piece of work to which most of the soldiers were quite unaccustomed; but they contrived to do it in a rude manner, and then, underthe aforenamed staff-officer, were marched down the railroad, in the direction of Richmond. The men were sent into the forest on either side of the track, and ordered to cut down the trees. It was an insane performance. The woods were thick and inky dark; the soldier could with difficulty discern the tree he was at work upon; the axes were insecurely attached to the helves, constantly coming off; and, worse than all else, the men were at work outside of our pickets, and within a few yards of the enemy. This farce was kept up not longer than ten minutes, when the Confederates suddenly closed it by firing several volleys among the workmen. Mr. Staff-Officer thereupon concluded to cease operations at this point, and take his command farther to the right of the line. Here the same droll proceeding was repeated, and with the same results, except that this time the men barely escaped capture. Nearly the whole night was occupied by this movement, the companies reaching camp at four o’clock the next morning.
There had been, for several days prior to this, many indications of a great movement on the part of the enemy. Firing on the picket lines had greatly increased, and in many places quite formidable attacks had been made. Some of the guards had reported having heard the rumbling of artillery and baggage-wagons within the enemy’s lines, the noise indicating a movement of the trains towards our right. All during the 26th there had been heavy firing in the direction of Porter’s corps, and at night of this day the news of the battle of Mechanicsville reached our camp at the centre.
About noon of the 27th, loud and continuous firing, growing hourly more severe, was heard from the same quarter, and at five o’clock in the afternoon, the order came for the Brigade to march, each man being supplied with three days’ rations, and told to take his blanket. At the time the order was received, companies A and I of the regiment were on picket, and could not be recalled. The brigade line was promptly formed at the hour named, and the regiments at once moved out of camp, in the direction of Gaines’ Mill. Proceeding a mile on the main road, the troops were halted, where, after pausing a few moments, they were joined by French’s brigade.
The day was one of the hottest of the summer, the roads weredusty and rough, and the march for most of the distance was performed at the double-quick,—the gray-haired Leach, then sixty-four years old, going with his company. He was advised by his brother officers to remain in camp; but he indignantly refused to do so, declaring that he entered the army to fight, and that he should go with his men into every place of danger, so long as he had the strength to walk. Every moment, as the troops neared the field, the noise and tumult of the battle grew louder and louder, and at last, when a point had been reached within a mile of the place, the men began to witness some of the effects of the terrible struggle which was there going on. First a few stragglers were met, who, panic-stricken, gave doleful accounts of what had happened at the front; a little farther on, and a number of wounded men were seen lying by the roadside, looking deathly pale, and presently the road ahead seemed filled with ambulances, and mingling among them was a crowd of crippled and maimed soldiers, hobbling along by aid of their muskets; officers, wounded and dead, were being borne away in the arms of their trusty men. The road was so much obstructed by these means, that the onward movement of our brigades was greatly retarded, and it was nearly seven o’clock before they reached a wooden bridge that spanned the Chickahominy, about a half-mile from Gaines’ Mill. Here the Fifth United States Cavalry were seen deploying on the edge of the woods and river a short distance in advance, while about the base of the hill, in front, were large masses of disorganized troops, whose excited officers were using vain efforts to rally. This proved to be the most critical moment in the battle, which had raged with fury since noon. General Porter, with not more than thirty-five thousand men, on an extended line reaching all the way from New Cold Harbor to the Chickahominy, had been opposed from the first by a superior force; and shortly before the arrival of our brigades, the enemy had been re-enforced by the army of Jackson, making a combined force of about sixty thousand. Nearly all the great military leaders of the Rebellion were on the field,—Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, D. H. Hill, A. P. Hill, Ewell, Hood, Whiting, Stuart, and even Jefferson Davis, who had come down from Richmond to witness the destruction of McClellan’s right wing. A crushingand fearful charge of the Confederate columns had just been made all along Porter’s attenuated and sadly-thinned line; and as our two brigades were rapidly moving toward the hill, the remnants of the last Federal battle line on that part of the field made its appearance upon the crest, shouting wildly,—some of the men with and others without arms,—and then rushed in confusion through the well-formed lines of the brigades, to the rear. As soon as the fugitives passed, the ranks of these troops closed, and giving three hearty cheers, they began to ascend the hill. Just then several pieces of the enemy’s light artillery made their appearance upon the brow of the hill, and unlimbering, began to prepare to fire. The advancing troops of Meagher and French caught the enemy’s sight; he paused a moment, looked astonished, and then with great celerity limbered up his guns and disappeared without firing a shot.
This act of the fresh troops, in driving the enemy from the hill and deliberately facing their cannon, had the effect of reanimating Porter’s jaded and dispirited men. They began to form at once in the rear of Meagher’s and French’s lines; and on a neighboring elevation was the glorious old Ninth Massachusetts, rallying around its colors for the last time that day.
When our men reached the summit of the hill, the enemy had crossed over the field, and was seen forming on a long ridge nearly opposite our position. The smoke had now risen to the tops of the trees, and beneath this pall lay the ground, formerly a grass-field, but now a dusty plain, where the principal part of the fighting had taken place; the Confederate and Federal dead, wounded and dead horses, knapsacks, muskets, clothing, wrecked caissons and cannon, were scattered in wild confusion over this space, while here and there were the wounded of both armies, crawling and staggering towards their respective lines to escape capture. It was a scene that presented at a glance all the ruin of a terrible battle; but, fortunately, the advancing troops had but a moment to contemplate it. The brigades were at once hurried down the hillside toward the enemy’s new line; several of the field-officers of Porter’s corps going along with them, and uttering words of encouragement. Among theseofficers was General Butterfield, who was without a command. Catching sight of the State flag carried by the Twenty-ninth Regiment,—it was the only Pine-tree flag then on the field,—he went dashing up to the color-sergeant, and cried out, “Give me the white flag of Massachusetts, and I’ll lead you against the enemy.” The Sergeant (Horace A. Jenks of Company E) tightened his grasp on the colors and gave a look of inquiry to the Lieutenant-Colonel of the regiment, who was but a few feet distant. That officer quietly replied, “Keep your colors!” which he did, carrying them bravely forward in the face of a bitter fire. The brigades moved over the field in matchless order, and reaching the rising ground upon which the enemy was posted, began to ascend. The enemy’s infantry again fell back, while his batteries remained on the ridge, continuing to fire an occasional shot, until the darkness of night rendered all hostilities impossible. When half-way up the ridge, the men were ordered to lie down, remaining here for nearly two hours. Standing behind the colors was Lieutenant Thomas A. Mayo, watching calmly the movements of the enemy, when a cannon-shot, doubtless aimed at the flags, struck him about the neck and sent him heavily to the ground, lifeless. His body was left on the spot where he fell. The darkness that settled down over the field was simply intense; an object ten feet distant could scarcely be seen. Several times during the night small reconnoitring parties were sent out, and in several instances almost stumbled upon the enemy’s soldiers, who were very near us, resulting in an exchange of shots. At one time the regiment, in moving to the left, approached within a few yards of the edge of the timber in which apparently a large number of the enemy were assembled; fires were burning brightly through the woods, around which were gathered groups of Confederates, and so near were our men to this bivouac of the enemy, that the conversations of the latter could be distinctly heard. They seemed to be summing up their losses, recounting the exciting incidents of the battle just ended, and speculating upon the events of the coming day.
The following incident will serve to show the close proximity of the enemy: Major O’Neill of General Meagher’sstaff was sent forward with certain directions to the regiment; groping his way in the darkness to the position that he felt sure the regiment occupied, he suddenly came upon a body of men. “Is this the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts?” said the gallant Major. “No,” was the reply, “this is the —th Virginia, and you are our prisoner,” and the Major found himself in the hands of the enemy.
The regiment remained on the field till about two o’clock in the morning, when the order was given to fall back. There were many exciting incidents connected with that night’s stay at Gaines’ Mill, the precarious situation rendering it necessary for our troops to be active and constantly moving to different parts of the field. The men were very weary, and whenever they were ordered to lie down upon the ground,—as was the case whenever they halted,—they would fall into a slumber. One of the field-officers stated that upon rising from the ground, where he had reclined for a few minutes, he found a snake clinging among his beard.
Our dead had been left unburied upon the field, and our wounded gathered together in small groups about an old building on the side of the hill, near the river. The fate that loomed up before these wounded men, was neglect, capture, and perhaps death. This they keenly realized, and as the retiring columns filed past them, they all joined in earnest supplications to be taken away. The words of one of these unfortunate men are still fresh in the mind of the writer. “Is this what a man gets in fighting for the Union?” said the bleeding, abandoned soldier, as he turned in his pain to listen to the tramping of the retreating troops.
The army of General Porter had crossed the Chickahominy during the night, and his exhausted soldiers were seen lying by the roadside; long trains of wagons were moving away toward the James; the eventful retreat had already begun; but the soldiers knew it not, and well was it that they did not know, or realize the real nature of the situation. When the regiment reached Fair Oaks, which was near daybreak in the morning, it found its tents occupied by other troops. An hour before, the enemy had made an attack in force upon General Sedgwick’s front, and these troops had been called to aid in repelling the assault, which was effectively done,for the number of Confederate dead found in the woods in front of Sedgwick’s line furnished substantial proof of a bloody repulse.
The brigades had performed important service at Gaines’ Mill, and their very slight loss furnishes no evidence of the amount of work actually done by them. The last assault of the enemy would have proved extremely disastrous but for the opportune arrival of these fresh troops. General McClellan, in his “Report and Campaigns” (pages 248-9), speaking of the last assault of the enemy, says: “French’s and Meagher’s brigades now appeared, driving before them the stragglers, who were thronging toward the bridge. These brigades advanced boldly to the front, and by their example, as well as by the steadiness of their bearing, reanimated our own troops, and warned the enemy that re-enforcements had arrived. It was now dusk. The enemy, already repulsed several times with terrible slaughter, and hearing the shouts of the fresh troops, failed to follow up their advantage.”
The Count of Paris, in his “History of the Civil War in America” (Vol. II., pages 103-4), after speaking of this assault, says: “At this instant, Richardson and Meagher arrive on the ground with the two brigades sent by Sumner. The second is composed exclusively of Irishmen,30the green flag, ornamented with a golden harp, floating in their midst. They arrive shouting vociferously, and displaying all that vivacity and dash for which the children of this ancient war-like race are noted when marching to battle. Their comrades, on finding themselves thus supported, respond with loud hurrahs, by which they seek to gain fresh courage. In the meantime, the enemy has re-formed his ranks and is again in motion; but instead of a routed crowd, he beholds a body of resolute troops, who seem to be calmly waiting for him.... At this sight he hesitates, and approaching night puts an end to the sanguinary struggle.”
June 28. The day passed by very quietly. It was the usual calm that follows a terrible battle, and the silence that generally precedes a great movement. As the day closed,however, the signs of retreat began to thicken. The formidable earthworks, upon which the men had toiled during so many blistering days, were being rapidly dismantled, some of the large pieces spiked, and others buried in the ground. At sundown the men were ordered to pack knapsacks and prepare to march. The company cooks were directed to destroy all rations not required for immediate distribution, while the sick and wounded in the hospitals were packed off in ambulances and sent to the rear.
At nine o’clock that evening, the men were ordered to “fall in,” and the Brigade started across a stubble-field, in the rear of the camp, and striking the railroad, marched down the track toward “White House,” halting on a little hill near Savage’s Station. The night was very dark and uncomfortable, a cold, drizzling rain continuing till near daybreak.
On the afternoon of the 28th, companies F and G, Captains Tripp and Richardson, beside one or two other companies of the Brigade, were placed on picket at the right and left of the railroad, in front of Fair Oaks, and were not recalled when the army fell back on the evening of that day. At one o’clock in the morning of the 29th, the field-officer of the day visited the pickets, and informed Captain Tripp that they were to hold the line till daylight and then withdraw down the railroad, if they could do so without the enemy following them too closely. If they found this impossible, they were nevertheless to fall back, but in doing so, make all the resistance in their power, so that our army might be fully alarmed. At four o’clock,A. M., Captain Tripp communicated his instructions to the other officers on his part of the line, and soon after an attempt was made to withdraw the pickets; but the enemy, who were unusually vigilant, immediately advanced, whereupon our pickets were sent back to their posts. When all was quiet again, another attempt was made to call in the pickets; but no sooner had they left their posts, than the enemy began to follow them up. Several other attempts were made to fall back out of the woods, but each time attended with the same results. Finally, one of our officers suggested the plan of going through the ceremony of relieving guard, as a means of deceiving the enemy. Between sixand seven o’clock,A. M., the reserves were marched into the woods, and visited every post; but instead of placing a new sentinel on guard, the old picket rose and stealthily left the forest. After passing along the whole line, the reserves also hastened out of the woods, and the entire force at once began to fall back to their old camp at Fair Oaks, where their tents were still standing, barely reaching it before the enemy appeared in sight at the edge of the timber, cautiously advancing in skirmish order. A body of Federal cavalry was drawn up in line of battle just in front of the camp; and when the guards halted there to strike their tents and gather up their personal effects, the commanding officer of the cavalry ordered them to desist, move on at once to the rear, and join their respective regiments; but, to save this property from falling into the hands of the enemy, the tents were immediately burned.
Company G was wholly overlooked by the officer of the day, and received no instructions whatever as to leaving the picket line. Sunday morning, a little before seven o’clock, Captain Richardson and Lieutenant Browne of his company, becoming convinced that there was something wrong in their not having any orders, made a tour of the picket line, and to their surprise found that it was everywhere deserted. Going out of the woods, they met a mounted orderly, who informed Captain R. that all the other pickets had been called in, and said to him, that if he had any men in the woods, he had better get them out as soon as possible. Captain Richardson and Lieutenant Browne hastened back to their lines, and quickly called in their men; but the enemy’s skirmishers were soon in their rear, and followed them till they had nearly reached our cavalry.
Sunday, June 29, broke exceedingly warm and sultry. Early in the morning the Brigade started up the track towards Fair Oaks, and after proceeding less than a mile, moved into a field and halted. Here General Meagher called his regimental commanders together and attempted to explain to them the orders under which he was acting; but neither he nor his colonels seemed to comprehend what was expected, and the result was the Brigade marched deliberately back to the little hill where it had spent the night.General Meagher was, later in the day, placed in arrest by General Richardson, and remained in arrest till the afternoon of the next day. The Brigade remained at this point for a short time, and was then ordered to the railroad bridge, a distance of about two miles from Savage’s Station. This bridge (spanning the Chickahominy at that point) had been burned the day before to prevent the enemy from crossing. They had, however, already effected this purpose higher up the stream, and their cavalry, with a few field-pieces, were now seen moving cautiously down the road, a mile away. A pause of nearly an hour here, and the Twenty-ninth and Sixty-third regiments were ordered to proceed to Savage’s. The enemy had come through the woods at a place called Peach Orchard, near the railroad, where they had attacked a small body of our troops. When the two regiments arrived, the enemy, perceiving the re-enforcements, fell back precipitately into the forest and retired. The march to Peach Orchard was made on a rapid run, and though the distance was not great, it was more fatal in its effects than any of the long, hard marches of the succeeding days; for the sun was now high, and poured its nearly vertical rays down into the deep cut through which the railroad ran, and on which the men were compelled to march. The trees and thick foliage that grew along the sides of the ravine effectually shut out the breeze, rendering the place like a heated furnace. One after another both officers and men, even the stoutest and most hardy, fell fainting and senseless from sunstrokes, and among them Captain Leach and Lieutenant Hathaway of Company C, leaving that command without a single commissioned officer, Lieutenant Whitman having been sick with malarial fever for several weeks, and being then in the hospital. From Peach Orchard the regiments proceeded to Savage’s Station, and shortly after were joined by the Sixty-ninth and Eighty-eighth, and finally by all the other troops of the division and corps.
Savage’s Station was the name of a depot on the Richmond and York River Railroad, deriving its name from the owner of the plantation, near whose grounds it was located, and whose mansion stood on a slight elevation on the northerly side of the track. On the opposite side was a large field,skirted on three sides by a heavy growth of pine timber, along the easterly edge of which ran a road. Mr. Savage’s house, and the grounds about it, had been used as a hospital and hospital camp, and at this time there were lying in the house and the numerous tents about it, several hundred of our wounded and sick. Such of these unfortunate ones as could not walk were later in the day abandoned, and captured by the enemy.
Near this place, as also at Fair Oaks Station, a mile farther towards Richmond, were vast quantities of army supplies, which could not be moved. The work of destroying these stores began about noon. Enormous fires were kindled, and into them were thrown boxes of hard bread, bales of clothing, cases of shoes, blankets, fragments of cars, tents, hospital stores, barrels of whiskey, and turpentine. The whole combined made a fire covering an area of nearly two acres. When the flames, mounting above the tops of the trees, were roaring and crackling with intense fury, the workmen, blackened with smoke and wild with the excitement which a vast conflagration always creates, began to pitch into the burning mass kegs of powder and boxes of ammunition. The latter proved a dangerous experiment, and was not repeated. “This destruction of stores,” says the Count of Paris, “was a sort of holocaust offered to the god of war.” While this was taking place, the troops were hurrying to and fro, taking up the various positions assigned them on the hill and the long plain at its foot, preparing to meet the enemy, who was momentarily expected. The grandeur and awfulness of these scenes cannot be adequately portrayed by language. An army of forty thousand men were mustering for battle; the rumbling of the artillery, as it went from point to point over the field, the excited commands of hundreds of officers, the neighing of horses, the roar of the flames, and the shouts of the men, made up the wildest of all the wild scenes of war. The noise and tumult were, however, of short duration; it was not long before everything had changed. By two o’clock, the lines were formed, the artillery had unlimbered and taken position, and then could have been seen, under the cloudless sky of that June day, the corps of Heintzleman, Franklin, andSumner, with their numerous starry flags, quietly and calmly waiting for the storm of battle to burst upon them.
Another, and if possible, a stranger and more unusual scene, was to be witnessed before the serious work of fighting was to begin. On the track near Fair Oaks Station stood a train of nearly fifty baggage-cars, with a powerful locomotive attached to it. Into the cars were put hundreds of kegs of powder, shells, cartridges, and other materials of a highly combustible character. By two o’clock the cars were well loaded with their dangerous freight, and when this was done, each car was set on fire, and the engine, with full head of steam, set in motion. In full view of the waiting army, the burning train swept past Savage’s Station with the speed of lightning. The grade from this point to the Chickahominy was descending, greatly increasing the velocity of the train; every revolution of the wheels increased the volume of fire, so that now the form of the cars was scarcely visible. The Rev. Dr. James J. Marks, Chaplain of the Sixty-third Pennsylvania Regiment, who witnessed this event from Savage’s house, where he was piously engaged in caring for our sick, thus describes it: “I could not think of anything as a suitable representation of a scene so grand but that of a thousand thunderbolts chained together and wreathed with lightning, rushing with scathing fury and the roar of the tornado over the trembling earth. In a few seconds the engine, cars, and wheels were nothing but one long chain of fire,—a frightful meteor flashing past us.” The distance from Savage’s Station to the Chickahominy is not far from two and a half miles. When the train had reached the deep forest beyond the station, a deafening explosion burst upon the ears of the troops. The fire had reached the ammunition, and now in quick succession began to burst the shells. The noise thus produced was simply terrific; first the loud, sullen sound of a huge shell rent the air, echoing far and wide through the deep recesses of the forest; now came the explosion of smaller ammunition, sounding like the rattle of musketry. The scene of war seemed transferred for awhile to the upper regions; the shrieking, hissing missiles were coursing in all directions through the clear sky, far above the topsof the tallest trees; columns of white smoke were shooting up in gracefully tapering cones toward the zenith; beautiful circles, well defined, marked the explosion of shells. The rattle and roar of the rushing train were distinctly heard for some minutes, ending at last in a succession of crashing sounds. The cars leaped off the end of the track at the railroad bridge, the engine and tender jumping full twenty feet, and lodging on the top of a tall pier, from which they were afterward taken by the Confederates.
Once more all was quiet. The men, momentarily relieved from excitement, began to think of refreshing themselves with food and water. The Twenty-ninth Regiment was fortunate in being near a well, in the yard of an old farm-house, and though the water was muddy, they managed to slake their thirst with it. True to their soldierly instincts, they embraced this opportunity to make a little coffee; but they had scarcely swallowed it before the booming of a cannon was heard, the sound coming from the direction of Fair Oaks. During the afternoon, several large fuse-shells, fired from this gun, fell about the yard of the house, but none of the men were hurt. As the day waned, the firing of artillery increased. The main body of the Confederates appeared to be advancing from the direction of the Chickahominy, and as they neared our lines, cautiously feeling their way, they opened fire with several field-pieces. This fire was vigorously replied to by our batteries, and continued till five o’clock, when, as if by general consent, it suddenly ceased. A state of almost complete stillness existed for about fifteen minutes, during which a thick cloud of dust was seen rising up among the trees, about a mile in front of our lines, indicating the approach of a large body of troops, for the dust-cloud came nearer and nearer to us every moment. Suddenly the whole mass of the Confederate infantry debouched from the woods on the easterly side of Savage’s house, and sprang forward with wild yells and screams toward the open ground in front of the station, filling the ravine at the foot of the hill on which stood the troops of Sumner and Franklin; for Heintzleman had, from some misunderstanding, retreated toward White Oak Swamp early in the afternoon.
General Sedgwick’s division, being nearest the railroad,was the first to receive the fire of the enemy; but his men met it most valiantly, showing a firm front. Not an inch of ground was yielded to the enemy; and now the foe, ranging themselves along the track in an extended but compact line, began firing over the bank into our equally compact lines. The two armies were now face to face, and only a few yards apart. The enemy must be dislodged at any cost of life, no matter how great; and several brigades, among them the brigade of Vermont troops, were ordered to charge them. The Green Mountain boys started from the brow of the hill on a sharp run; the musketry of the enemy swept their whole line from right to left; they staggered and huddled together, as troops are apt to do when exposed to a dreadful fire, and for an instant they nearly paused, dreading to go on. Looking back, they saw the Sixty-ninth New York and other troops pressing on close behind; their line immediately straightened, and again they dashed toward the ravine from which was issuing a sheet of flame. Passing their left flank, the Sixty-ninth New York, with fixed bayonets, ran straight toward the gorge, and with an impetuosity so characteristic of them, and such as few troops can withstand, rushed directly upon the enemy’s soldiers. The Vermont troops, and others on their right, followed the brave example of the dauntless Irishmen, and in less than three minutes the railroad was ours; the thoroughly-routed enemy were running wildly and in great confusion for the woods in their rear, their flight being hastened by a shower of shells thrown from our batteries stationed on the crest of the hill. While this remarkable charge substantially checked the advance of the enemy, it did not end the battle; for we were contending with the veteran troops of Magruder, themselves trained in all the most daring feats of war, taught by their fearless commander never to quit a fight as long as the slightest hope of victory survived. At the time the fighting on the railroad was in progress, a body of the enemy made their appearance on the track near Fair Oaks, moving down on our left, and following a locomotive which propelled in front of it a flat car on which was mounted a heavy cannon. As soon as this movement was discovered, the left wing of the Twenty-ninth was ordered through the woods to checkit. This was done in a very complete manner, a single volley from our men causing an immediate retrograde movement of the enemy. Dislodged from the railroad, the Confederates, who filled the woods on our right, now appeared in force in that quarter, and began a sharp attack on a portion of Franklin’s corps. This, like the first, was of short duration; but it dwindled into an irregular fire of musketry, and lasted till nearly nine o’clock. As it grew dark, the sky became black with storm-clouds. Vivid flashes of lightning shot through the heavens, followed by deep and sullen peals of thunder,—“nature’s artillery.” Presently rain-drops began to patter down upon the dusty field, cooling the parched earth and the smarting wounds of the victims of the battle. The storm that followed was tropical in its character and very severe, ending at once all hostilities. In the midst of the drenching rain, when it was near midnight, the jaded troops of Sumner and Franklin quit their field of victory and entered the dark forest on their route to the James.
The Retreat Continued—Battles of White Oak Swamp, Charles City Cross Roads, and Malvern Hill—The Army Falls Back to Harrison’s Landing—General Meagher’s Speech to the Twenty-ninth—President Lincoln Visits the Troops—Their Destitution—The Army Leaves the Peninsula—The Regiment Goes to Newport News.
The storm spoken of in the last chapter continued all night. The roads were in a very bad condition; the entire army and trains had passed over them, and this, together with the rain, had served to render them almost impassable. The effects of the retreat were apparent all along the route; lying beside the road were broken wagons and hundreds of sleeping men. These men had straggled from their commands and lain down to spend the night; but as the rear guard passed along, they were aroused and forced to move toward White Oak Swamp. Through this swamp runs a sluggish stream called White Oak Swamp Creek, bounded on both sides by an extensive morass, which, in its natural condition, was impassable for an army and its heavy trains. While the preparations for the retreat were being made, General Barnard and his engineers performed the remarkable feat of constructing a raised corduroy road over the whole space of this swamp and morass, about two hundred yards, throwing across the creek a number of bridges, and arranging for each bridge an independent wagon-road through the forest. When the Brigade reached here, on Monday morning, the 30th of June, a large number of wagons were found waiting for their turn to cross over the stream, and the greatest confusion prevailed. By daybreak, however, the trains had all crossed over the creek, and, shortly after, followed the troops. General Richardson’s division was the last to cross, and when over, formed in line of battle, the Irish Brigade and Twenty-ninth Regiment being nearest the creek, and thereby constituting the rear of the entire army.
The men were so weary from the great fatigues they had endured, that many fell asleep as they stood leaning on their guns. Soon after sunrise, the cavalry crossed, driving before them a horde of stragglers; the bridges were blown up, and the necessary disposition made of the troops to repel an attack of the enemy. The Irish Brigade retired a few hundred feet from the stream, and took up a position in a little valley, a short distance from a large farm-house (Nelson’s). Here the entire forenoon was passed in quiet; the men made a little coffee, the last of three days’ rations, and received a small supply of raw salt pork and hard-tack.
The regiment was here occupying an open country; the opposite side of the creek was heavily wooded. There had been no indications of the enemy during the forenoon, but, as it afterward appeared, the whole of General Jackson’s army had approached without the knowledge of our officers, through the woods, and noiselessly placed in position several batteries, one authority giving the number of their guns as forty.
About one o’clock in the afternoon, while our men were asleep upon the ground, the enemy suddenly, without any warning, opened with all their guns a furious fire. There had been gathered here a large number of our wagons and several pontoon trains. Just as the fire opened, these trains were preparing to move on, and the mules, several hundred in number, had been detached from the wagons and driven to the creek for water. The result was a stampede of all these animals; and the men, suddenly aroused from sleep by the firing, found themselves in the midst of a herd of crazed mules, braying and running in all directions. The shot and shell from the enemy’s batteries were falling like hail about the troops, and at one time a movement to the rear commenced. This was quickly checked, however, and the Irish Brigade was ordered forward to support our batteries, which were now being placed in position on the crest of a little hill at the left of Nelson’s house, to reply to the fire of the enemy. A desperate contest ensued, for the crossing of the stream by Jackson at this time would have been attended by the most disastrous consequences to our army. One of the most famous batteries in Richardson’s division was that commanded by Captain Pettit. The enemy’s fire was sweeping the brow ofthe hill, rendering the placing our guns in position a task of great difficulty and danger. The situation was serious; it was necessary to get the trains away; and to do this, the enemy must be prevented from crossing the creek. General Richardson rode up to Captain Pettit and said, “Captain, can you place your battery in position and reply to them?” Pettit answered promptly that he could, and asked the General to give him the Twenty-ninth as a support. Captain Pettit at once started with his guns, the regiment being ordered to follow him; but before the latter had advanced a distance of twenty yards, Colonel Pierce was severely wounded, losing his right arm. At the same time, Captain Pray and Lieutenant Davis were also wounded, and Sergeant Kellam and privates Austin, Smith, and Short were killed.
Colonel Barnes at once took command of the regiment, and stepping to the front, ordered it a little farther to the left; for in the confusion caused by the first fire of the enemy, it got out of the position indicated by General Richardson, who was on the ground directing the movements of both the infantry and artillery. Once in its true position, the regiment lay down upon the ground, a few yards in the rear of Pettit’s battery. Pettit was a hero. In the midst of one of the wildest storms of shot and shell, and the tumult of the moment, which alone was almost enough to unnerve a man, he came up with his battery, the horses on a keen run, unlimbered his pieces on the very crest of the hill, and in an incredibly short time was engaged in firing. When Pettit had got fairly in position, General Richardson, who had been sitting on his horse close by, looking on in an admiring manner, turned to the regiment, and said, “Now, men, I think you ought to give Pettit and his boys three cheers.” The cheers were given; as much, however, for the brave General, whose life was in constant danger, as for the gallant Captain. Pettit’s guns did fine execution that afternoon, at one time silencing several of the enemy’s pieces.
With such pauses on both sides as were necessary to give the guns a chance to cool, or to place new batteries in position, the fire was kept up till sundown. Both artillery and infantry suffered greatly from the fire and the extreme heat of the sun. The majority of the enemy’s shell explodednear our batteries, but the fragments would scatter many yards in all directions, throwing upon the prostrate soldiers large pieces of turf and masses of earth, and frequently passed through the ranks, causing great havoc. Hazard’s battery, which was a little to the left of Pettit’s, was almost unmanned. Hazard and many of his men were killed, while others were wounded; and at the close of the fight, a detail was made from the Brigade to drag off his guns.
During the afternoon, Jackson made several determined efforts to cross the creek, but was each time driven back. The house of Mr. Nelson, which was occupied by some members of his family, was several times struck and considerably shattered by random cannon-balls.
While this action was going on, a large force of the enemy, with artillery, coming down the Charles City Road from Richmond, attacked a portion of General Sumner’s corps, and other Union troops, about two miles south of the creek, at Charles City Cross Roads. Earlier in the day there had been some severe fighting at Glendale, near this point, where the First and Sixteenth Massachusetts regiments had been engaged; the former losing its Major, Charles P. Chandler, and the latter its brave Colonel, Powell T. Wyman.
The battle at the Cross Roads began about three o’clock in the afternoon. As the day closed, the firing at this point increased greatly. The Pennsylvania Reserves, under General McCall, had been driven from the field with great loss; and many had been taken prisoners, including the General himself and a number of his staff. One of our batteries, known as the “Dutch Battery,” had created a considerable panic by cutting their horses from the guns and posting pell-mell through the lines of our infantry. When matters had reached this pass, General Sumner sent for the Irish and French’s brigades at the creek. The march to the Cross Roads was performed at a rapid run; the men were already overheated and weary, and now they threw away even their blankets, having already parted with their knapsacks. As they neared the field, our retreating troops sent up a loud cheer, prolonged by “Tigers!” and “Here comes the Irish Brigade! Now we’ll have ‘em!” The brigades had come, indeed, just in season to enable General Sumner to maintain his position.31The arrival of fresh troops put a sudden termination to the battle. The enemy fell back to their side of the field, and from thence to the woods, the two brigades following them, exchanging a few shots and an occasional volley. It being nearly dark, but little was seen of the field by our men.
The Twenty-ninth was posted on the left, near a Virginia fence, where were a number of field-pieces with their carriages broken; and strewn about the ground, in great confusion, were knapsacks, clothing, and guns. The burial parties and surgeons had not even begun their sad labors, and it seemed doubtful whether they would that night, for the battle was no sooner over, than the army began to retreat towards Malvern Hill. That night’s march is memorable. The road ran through a thick forest, and was crowded with stragglers, who, having skulked in the woods all day, and aware of the fact that our army was retreating, were now hastening away to escape capture. These unfaithful soldiers were a sore trial to our more faithful officers and men. They were panicky to the last degree, and, like so many timid children, ran along beside our column, nearly crowding our men out of the ranks.
The Brigade reached Malvern Hill just before daylight, and lay down to rest. It halted on a long plain that runs parallel with the James River, where was also resting a large body of our infantry. The men had had little, if any, sleep since the 27th of June; they had been engaged in battle a considerable part of Friday, Sunday, and Monday preceding; had marched nearly the whole of the nights of each of those days, and of the night of Saturday the 28th. During this time the weather had been extremely hot, the mercury ranging all the way from 90° to 100°; and it therefore reflects no discredit upon the Twenty-ninth, that on this morning, after such unexampled hardships and sufferings, many of its most trusty officers and men failed to respond to the roll-call, and were reported “missing.” The ranks had been badly thinned by the causes recited, one company being without a single commissionedofficer, and reporting only fifteen enlisted men present for duty.
The rest here obtained was very brief. As soon as it was fairly day, the men were aroused and started toward the front. The Brigade took up a position in a field near a road, where it supported several of our batteries. The enemy had already come up, and from a neighboring hill, a mile away, was throwing shell in the direction of our lines; and in the course of an hour the firing became quite brisk, several of the shell falling within a few yards of the Brigade, and in one instance striking a Virginia fence that intersected our line. The fence was pulled down to lessen the danger of the situation, and shortly afterward the Brigade was ordered to the rear, joining its division, which was stationed behind a range of high hills on the extreme right of the lines of our army. A meadow and wheat-field of several hundred acres stretched from the foot of this ridge toward the James River, bounded on the south by a pine forest, into which General Richardson threw a line of skirmishers.
There had been more or less firing at different points since sunrise, but it did not become general till about one o’clock. The regiment, within easy hearing distance of the battle, remained in this position till about five o’clock in the afternoon. A large herd of cattle was feeding upon the meadows; the soldiers being without rations, a detail was made from each brigade, soon after noon, to slaughter a sufficient number of these animals to supply the troops; and when this was done, the meat—scarcely cold—was served out by regiments. When the turn of the Twenty-ninth came to have a “bite,” it was late in the afternoon. The slaughtered animals lay upon the grass, and the men by scores swarmed around them, each soldier helping himself to a piece of such size and quality as his fancy dictated.
The meat having been cut, was placed upon the end of a sharp-pointed stick and thrust into the fire to broil. In the process of cooking, being very fresh, it swelled greatly, so that more than one soldier was astonished to find his small ration of meat suddenly grown to a ball of the size of his head. As the men stood about the fire gnawing their beef like so many half-famished dogs, the bugle sounded “fallin!” With his meat in one hand and his gun in the other, each soldier took his place in the ranks. It was amusing to look down the line and observe the disappointment marked upon the countenances of the men at being torn away from their rude but much-relished repast. Fault-finding and severe scolding—soldiers’ privileges—were freely indulged in; while some of the witty ones and wags gave the incident a laughable turn by sticking their half-cooked pieces of meat upon the points of their bayonets, declaring their intention of carrying their rations with them. At this moment, however, there was more serious work on hand than fault-finding or joking. The left of the Union line was being severely pressed by General D. H. Hill; and General Sumner—who was that day in command of the field—had sent for the Irish Brigade to re-enforce our troops. As at Charles City Cross Roads, the regiments were started off on a brisk run, hardly slacking their pace till they reached the front. Here was General Griffin’s artillery, of nearly one hundred pieces, on the side of a long hill, at the base of which was a cleared grass-field of several hundred acres, flanked on three sides by woods. When the Brigade arrived at this point, the noise of the battle was almost deafening. A thick cloud of smoke overhung the field. The Confederates had just made the last of a series of brave but desperate charges upon the artillery, and the remnant of the Ninth Massachusetts Regiment, which had been in support during the most of the day, was engaged in a severe struggle with the only partially-repulsed enemy. The Twenty-ninth was detached from the Brigade and ordered to move up, under this terrible fire, to the support of the brigade of regulars under Lieutenant-Colonel Buchanan, then on the advanced line supporting several batteries of artillery. The regiment moved briskly forward to the immediate rear of the regulars, where they were ordered to lie down.
Buchanan’s troops had suffered severely during the battle, and, with their greatly-lessened numbers, were in imminent danger of being at any moment swept away and captured. In less than an hour from this time it was pitchy dark, and the firing on both sides, save that of our gunboats, ceased.During the night the artillery hauled off, and all the troops except the regulars and the Twenty-ninth left this part of the field. After the regiment was detached from the Brigade and sent forward to this position, Colonel Barnes received no further orders; but later in the evening the indications were plain that his failure to receive orders to retire was probably due to some mistake on the part of his brigade commander; and these suspicions were more than confirmed upon holding a consultation with Colonel Buchanan, who stated that the brigade of regulars was not to leave the field till the next morning.
The position of Colonel Barnes was not an enviable one; while he received no order to withdraw, he was nevertheless in possession of information that caused him hardly to doubt that it was intended the regiment should join the Brigade; yet, should he retire, he might be censured for moving without orders, and should he remain till morning and hazard his whole command in attempting to retreat in the presence of the entire Confederate army, he might also be blamed severely. In reaching the conclusion he did, therefore, namely, to remain with the regulars and share with them the perils of the service assigned to them, he simply obeyed the instincts of a good soldier, and, as it will hereafter appear, his conduct was duly appreciated.
During the night, the enemy in large numbers, with lanterns and torches, were engaged in succoring their wounded, sometimes approaching almost to the muzzles of our guns, but not a shot was fired at them; their labor was one of love, and in this light our men regarded it. Toward midnight, Buchanan—who had expressed great gratification at having the regiment remain with him—became uneasy because of the wooded nature of the ground on his left, and after stating to Colonel Barnes that he could not spare any men from his attenuated line, intimated his desire that a reconnoissance should be made in that quarter. Thereupon Captain Clarke, with companies A, G, and K, was detailed to explore the aforesaid woods. It was a perilous service, as can readily be conceived, for no one knew, as he entered the dark and secluded spot, but that the next step would arouse thousands of the sleeping enemy. The woods were thoroughly scoured,however, without revealing the presence of the enemy, and, to the great relief of all, Clarke returned in due time, bringing this report.
A novel and yet a frightful feature of that night, was the shelling of the enemy’s lines by our gunboats. These, some five in number, lay about two miles in the rear of our army, in the James River. The shells, mostly of great size, plowed through the air with a loud roar, their pathway being marked by the burning fuse; “then, when they entered the forest, great trees were shivered into a thousand fragments, the branches were torn from others and tossed into the heavens, or thrown far into the deep shades, and when they burst, it was with an explosion that shook the earth for miles.”32A Confederate officer, with whom the author conversed after the battle, described the confusion in their army, produced by this fire, as being very great.
Near daybreak, Colonel Buchanan informed Colonel Barnes that he was about to move to the rear; it was yet quite dark, and one of the regiments of regulars, which lay just in front of the Twenty-ninth, in moving rearward, passed through the lines of the latter, by which the Twenty-ninth became divided, the two wings separating in the darkness. When it became day, the two wings united near the field, and started for Harrison’s Landing. The march to this point, where the regiment arrived toward noon of this day (Wednesday, July 2), was hurried and exceedingly toilsome. Not long after daylight a cold rain-storm set in, which lasted for nearly forty-eight hours. The men were without overcoats, and were consequently thoroughly drenched, many of them taking severe colds, which in not a few instances resulted fatally. The officers were equally as destitute as the men. Everything except what they wore had been lost during the retreat; they were without tents, and when the regiment halted at the Landing, in an old orchard, the soldiers stretched themselves upon the ground thoroughly exhausted, passing the night at this place under a pelting, merciless rain. Many who had straggled during the retreat, joined the regiment here, and kind greetings and personal explanations followed.
When the regiment reached its destination, and joined the other regiments of the Brigade, already in camp, the supposition as to the error in leaving the regiment on the field at Malvern Hill was fully confirmed; and they were highly complimented by General Meagher for their action in remaining, who addressed them in the presence of the whole Brigade. The General was an orator of rare ability, and in this speech, which will be long remembered by those to whom it was addressed, he pictured in impressive language, the varied scenes and hardships of the retreat, and of the desperate battles that attended it. In the course of his remarks, he took occasion to say some very clever things of the regiment. He was an educated Irishman, possessing a very strong national pride, and was especially proud of the high reputation of his three Irish regiments. He told the soldiers of the Twenty-ninth, that they had proved themselves the equals of any others in the Brigade, and had no superiors in the army. As sons of the Pilgrims and Puritans, and natives of the fair land he was glad to call his adopted country, they had shown themselves worthy of their honorable ancestry and high heritage; his heart had swelled with pride as he had stood upon the various fields and witnessed their sturdy valor.
Although these glowing compliments were duly appreciated, yet they did not cause the soldiers to forget their sufferings, nor to banish from their minds, even during their utterance, the thought that they would much prefer a good meal or a comfortable overcoat to all the compliments in the world. Nor did the General’s eloquence overcome the disposition of some of the men to be mischievous, for while he was speaking, certain soldiers of the regiment abstracted from his tent nearly all the whiskey he possessed.
As the arrival of the army at this point was a practical termination of the campaign, it seems altogether proper to pause here in our narrative, and give a statement of the losses sustained by the regiment during this time.
KILLED.At Fair Oaks, June 15.—George D. Brown, Co. C.Battle of Gaines’ Mill, June 27.—Second LieutenantThomas A. Mayo, Co. E.White Oak Swamp (Nelson’s Farm), June 30.—Henry Austin, Co. F; SergeantAnsel B. KellamandGeorge W. Smith, Co. H; andJoseph A. Short, Co. I.WOUNDED.Nelson’s Farm, June 30.—ColonelEbenezer W. Pierce, right arm shot off.Fair Oaks, June 15.—Charles Kleinhans, Co. E.At Savage’s Station, June 29.—Cornelius L. White, Co. G;Augustus J. Leavitt, Co. K.At White Oak Swamp (Nelson’s Farm), June 30.—George E. Wadsworth, Co. E (died in hospital August 31, 1863);Alfred B. Warnerand SergeantSamuel C. Wright, Co. E; SergeantL. A. Howard, Co. A;Charles Ross, Co. A;Minot S. Curtis, Co. C; SergeantWalter A. Kezar, CorporalA. A. Blaney, andJohn H. Shaw, Co. I. (Sergeant Kezar was wounded in the head, and captured.) CaptainWilliam Pray, Second LieutenantWilliam W. Davis, and SergeantHenry A. Hunting, Co. K.At Malvern Hill, July 1.—Charles E. Merriam, Co. E (died November 12, 1862);Irving Bates(in the hand), andWilliam H. Osborne(severely in left leg), Co. C.
At Fair Oaks, June 15.—George D. Brown, Co. C.
Battle of Gaines’ Mill, June 27.—Second LieutenantThomas A. Mayo, Co. E.
White Oak Swamp (Nelson’s Farm), June 30.—Henry Austin, Co. F; SergeantAnsel B. KellamandGeorge W. Smith, Co. H; andJoseph A. Short, Co. I.
Nelson’s Farm, June 30.—ColonelEbenezer W. Pierce, right arm shot off.
Fair Oaks, June 15.—Charles Kleinhans, Co. E.
At Savage’s Station, June 29.—Cornelius L. White, Co. G;Augustus J. Leavitt, Co. K.
At White Oak Swamp (Nelson’s Farm), June 30.—George E. Wadsworth, Co. E (died in hospital August 31, 1863);Alfred B. Warnerand SergeantSamuel C. Wright, Co. E; SergeantL. A. Howard, Co. A;Charles Ross, Co. A;Minot S. Curtis, Co. C; SergeantWalter A. Kezar, CorporalA. A. Blaney, andJohn H. Shaw, Co. I. (Sergeant Kezar was wounded in the head, and captured.) CaptainWilliam Pray, Second LieutenantWilliam W. Davis, and SergeantHenry A. Hunting, Co. K.
At Malvern Hill, July 1.—Charles E. Merriam, Co. E (died November 12, 1862);Irving Bates(in the hand), andWilliam H. Osborne(severely in left leg), Co. C.