Off Yorktown, May 11.
Up at five o’clock to give the last finishing touches to the wards. At seven called to breakfast, and found Mr. Olmsted and Mr. Knapp on board; McClellan nine miles beyond West Point. We are to get sick men on board this afternoon, and sail to-morrow, — unless Mr. Olmsted wants us to go elsewhere; Mrs. Griffin and I have volunteered to do so.
Last evening, as we entered the Chesapeake, we saw the crimson glow of a great fire in the direction of Fortress Monroe or Norfolk; and this morning early we heard the dull, heavy sound of an explosion or brief cannonading in the same direction. We are now going ashore to look at Yorktown, for the wards are all in perfect order, and the men can’t be shipped till evening. The press of work here is overwhelming, they say. I am writing with everybody about me. Surgeons are coming off to us in tugs and row-boats, clamorous for brandy, beef-stock, lemons, and all stimulating and supporting things.
Good-bye! This is life. It is by mere luck that I am here, for Mrs. Griffin never received my letter, and only heard by chance that I had written it.
Adair’s, ten and one-half miles from Parisburg [Pearisburg], Saturday, May 10, 4 P. M. — We were attacked at 4 o’clock this morning. I got up at the first faint streak of light and walked out to see the pickets in the direction of the enemy. As I was walking alone I heard six shots. “No mistake this time,” I thought. I hurried back, ordered up my own and the adjutant’s horse, called up the men and officers, [and] ordered the cavalry to the front. [I ordered] Captains Drake and Sperry to skirmish before the enemy and keep them back; the rest of the regiment to form in their rear. Led the whole to the front beyond the town; saw the enemy approaching—four regiments or battalions, several pieces of artillery in line of battle approaching. The artillery soon opened on us. The shell shrieked and burst over [our] heads, the small arms rattled, and the battle was begun. It was soon obvious that we would be outflanked. We retreated to the next ridge and stood again. The men of the Twenty-third behaved gloriously, the men of Gilmore’s Cavalry, ditto; the men of Colonel Paxton’s Cavalry, not so well. I was scratched and torn on the knee by a shell or something, doing no serious injury. I felt well all the time. The men behaved so gallantly! And so we fought our way through town, the people rejoicing at our defeat, and on for six hours until we reached the Narrows, five and one-half miles distant. The time seemed short. I was cheered by Gilmore’s Cavalry at a point about three and one-half miles from Giles Court-house, and we were all in good humor. We had three men killed, a number wounded, none severely, and lost a few prisoners.
London, May 10, 1862
