June 1.—The loss yesterday comparatively small. General Johnston had managed his command with great success and ability until he received his wound. What a pity that he should have exposed himself! but we are a blessed people to have such a man as General Lee to take his place. He (Gen. J.) is at the house of a gentleman on Church Hill, where he will have the kindest attention, and is free from the heat and dust of the city.
Friday, June 1, 2012
June 1—Arrived at Weldon, North Carolina, at 7 o’clock. We set up our tents at Gerresburg, a short march from Weldon. Our company is close to the railroad track. We collected broom straw and made a bed of down of it.
Headquarters 5th Prov. Army Corps,
Camp near New Bridge, June 1, 1862.
Dear Father, — We have been ready all day to start out, and join in the fight which has been going on,[1] but unfortunately the Chickahominy has been overflowed by the recent heavy rains, so that it is a swamp on both sides of the stream, making it impassable for artillery. We shall have to delay our advance,— that is, the advance of our corps, until the water subsides. The day has been hot and sultry, and I therefore hope that by to-morrow we shall be able to cross over the stream at New Bridge. So far we have been successful, Heintzelman having driven them to-day a mile and a quarter at the point of the bayonet. Yesterday afternoon they attacked us, driving back Casey’s division, and then being driven back by Kearny’s division. The fighting lasted till 8 o’clock in the evening, the firing, in the general’s language, being terrific. It sounded so to us certainly, who were about three miles distant, and what must it have been for those who were in the fight. We could hear whole vollies of musketry, but the firing most of the time was by file, the guns keeping up a continual pop pop, for several minutes at a time. Then the artillery firing at times would be very severe. This morning the firing began at 5 o’clock and continued pretty lively till 10 o’clock, since which time it has been pretty quiet. The men in the balloon say that they could see the roads from Richmond full of soldiers, coming out to reinforce their men. We have captured to-day two generals and several field officers. Among the captured yesterday was Lieutenant Washington (I think it must be the one who left College a year ago. John Bushrod Washington is the lieutenant’s name), an aide of General Johnston’s, who came into our lines by mistake. The name of one of the generals taken is Pettigrew. The other one refuses to give his name. . . .
I am wholly well now, my cough having left me, and my strength having returned. I feel fully prepared for a summer’s campaign and think that with care I shall get along very well. . . .
JUNE 1ST.—The ambulances are now bringing in the enemy’s wounded as well as our own. It is the prompting of humanity. They seem truly grateful for this magnanimity, as they call it; a sentiment hitherto unknown to them.
The battle was renewed to-day, but not seriously. The failure of Gen. Huger to lead his division into action at the time appointed, is alleged as the only reason why the left wing of the enemy was not completely destroyed. But large masses of the enemy did cross the river, on bridges constructed for the purpose, and they had 50,000 men engaged against a much less number on our part; and their batteries played upon us from the north bank of the Chickahominy. The flying foe kept under shelter of this fire—and these guns could not be taken, as the pontoon bridge was defended by heavy artillery.
All day the wounded were borne past our boarding-house in Third Street, to the general hospital; and hundreds, with shattered arms and slight flesh wounds, came in on foot. I saw a boy, not more than fifteen years old (from South Carolina), with his hand in a sling. He showed me his wound. A ball had entered between the fingers of his left hand and lodged near the wrist, where the flesh was much swollen. He said, smiling, “I’m going to the hospital just to have the ball cut out, and will then return to the battle-field. I can fight with my right hand.”
The detectives are jubilant to-day. They say one of their number, ——, did heroic feats of arms on the field, killing a Yankee colonel, and a private who came to the rescue. At all events, they brought in a colonel’s sword, pistols, and coat, as trophies. This story is to be in the papers to-morrow!
Sunday, 1st—It rained all day. I took “French leave” this morning and went into Corinth. The town appears to be deserted and it is a dilapidated looking place, as so much of it has been destroyed. I found it to be a fine place, however, on high ground, and when rebuilt it will be beautiful. There are two railroads running through the town and there are good schools and a college. The country around is rich and the farms are well fenced.
June 1st, Sunday.
From the news brought by one or two persons who managed to reach here yesterday, I am more uneasy about mother and the girls. A gentleman tells me that no one is permitted to leave without a pass, and of these, only such as are separated from their families, who may have left before. All families are prohibited to leave, and furniture and other valuables also. Here is an agreeable arrangement! I saw the “pass,” just such as we give our negroes, signed by a Wisconsin colonel. Think of being obliged to ask permission from some low plowman to go in or out of our own house! Cannon are planted as far out as Colonel Davidson’s, six of them at our graveyard, and one or more on all the other roads. If the guerrillas do not attempt their capture, I shall take it upon myself to suggest it to the very next one I see. Even if they cannot use them, it will frighten the Yankees, who are in a state of constant alarm about them. Their reason for keeping people in town is that they hope they will not be attacked so long as our own friends remain; thereby placing us above themselves in the scale of humanity, since they acknowledge we are not brute enough to kill women and children as they did not hesitate to do.
Farragut pleads that he could not restrain his men, they were so enraged when the order was once given to fire, and says they would strike a few houses, though he ordered them to fire solely at horses, and the clouds of dust in the street, where guerrillas were supposed to be. The dust was by no means thick enough to conceal that these “guerrillas” were women, carrying babies instead of guns, and the horses were drawing buggies in which many a sick woman was lying.
A young lady who applied to the Yankee general for a pass to come out here, having doubtless spoken of the number of women here who had fled, and the position of the place, was advised to remain in town and write to the ladies to return immediately, and assure them that they would be respected and protected, etc., but that it was madness to remain at Greenwell, for a terrific battle would be fought there in a few days, and they would be exposed to the greatest danger. The girl wrote the letter, but, Mr. Fox, we are not quite such fools as to return there to afford you the protection our petticoats would secure to you, thereby preventing you from receiving condign punishment for the injuries and loss of property already inflicted upon us by you. No! we remain here; and if you are not laid low before you pass the Comite Bridge, we can take to the woods again, and camp out, as many a poor woman is doing now, a few miles from town. Many citizens have been arrested, and after being confined a while, and closely questioned, have been released, if the information is satisfactory. A negro man is informing on all cotton burners and violent Secessionists, etc.
Sunday night.
The girls have just got back, riding in a mule team, on top of baggage, but without either mother or any of our affairs. Our condition is perfectly desperate. Miriam had an interview with General Williams, which was by no means satisfactory. He gave her a pass to leave, and bring us back, for he says there is no safety here for us; he will restrain his men in town, and protect the women, but once outside, he will answer neither for his men, nor the women and children. As soon as he gets horses enough, he passes this road, going to Camp Moore with his cavalry, and then we are in greater danger than ever. Any house shut up shall be occupied by soldiers. Five thousand are there now, five more expected. What shall we do? Mother remained, sending Miriam for me, determined to keep us there, rather than sacrifice both our lives and property by remaining here. But then — two weeks from now the yellow fever will break out; mother has the greatest horror of it, and we have never had it; dying is not much in the present state of our affairs, but the survivor will suffer even more than we do now. If we stay, how shall we live? I have seventeen hundred dollars in Confederate notes now in my “running-bag,” and three or four in silver. The former will not be received there, the latter might last two days. If we save our house and furniture, it is at the price of starving. I am of opinion that we should send for mother, and with what money we have, make our way somewhere in the interior, to some city where we can communicate with the boys, and be advised by them. This is not living. Home is lost beyond all hope of recovery; if we wait, what we have already saved will go, too; so we had better leave at once, with what clothing we have, which will certainly establish us on the footing of ladies, if we chance to fall among vulgar people who never look beyond. I fear the guerrillas will attack the town to-night; if they do, God help mother!
General Williams offered Miriam an escort when he found she was without a protector, in the most fatherly way; he must be a good man. She thanked him, but said “she felt perfectly safe on that road.” He bit his lip, understanding the allusion, and did not insist. She was to deliver a message from parties in town to the first guerrillas they met, concerning the safest roads, and presently six met them, and entered into conversation. She told them of the proffered escort, when one sprang forward crying, “Why did n’t you accept, Miss? The next time, ask for one, and if it is at all disagreeable to you, I am the very man to rid you of such an inconvenience! I’ll see that you are not annoyed long.” I am glad it was not sent; she would have reproached herself with murder forever after. I wonder if the General would have risked it?
June 1 — This morning we renewed our march up the Valley. Near Strasburg we went in position on a commanding hill northwest of town. On top of the hill was a strong redoubt surrounded and protected by an abatis, that was constructed by General Banks’ troops a few weeks ago. We had occupied the hill but a few moments before we heard the boom of a cannon in the direction of Cottontown, a small hamlet in a northwestern course and about six miles from Strasburg.
It was the van of General Fremont approaching us from the mountains of West Virginia. Their objective point was Strasburg, with the intent to intercept Jackson’s retreat up the Valley. Immediately after we heard the first gun we received orders to move in the direction of the opening fight. After we had proceeded about a mile the order was countermanded, and we returned to the pike and moved to Fisher’s Hill, where we remained until sunset.
Late this evening I saw a heavy skirmish line advancing on Strasburg from the east, which was the advance guard of Shields’s army approaching from Front Royal.
Our infantry fell back slowly on the Cottontown road from before Fremont’s advance, not, however, before the last of Jackson’s wagons and men were on the safe side of Strasburg. Just about the same time that Shields’s skirmish line advanced from the east I saw Fremont’s men coming in from the northwest. But it was too late. The Rebel game had made its escape, for the last man, wagon, and sign of Jackson’s army had already slipped through the jaws of the closing vice like a greased rat.
It was dusk when we left Fisher’s Hill. We had fixed to camp at the Four Mile House, four miles from Strasburg, but received orders after dark to move to Tom’s Brook, six miles from Strasburg.
1st. Wrote a line home. Marched south at 7. Went forward with Colonel Salomon and Adj. Ninth Wisconsin to find camping ground. Indian trading post. Several Indian graves. Cold day, drizzly rain. Enjoyed the trip well. 25 miles, Humboldt.
“Wilson Small,” Sunday, June 1.
Dear A., — I write amid the distant booming of cannon and the hourly arrival of telegrams from the scene of action. The battle[1] began yesterday afternoon. Up to 11 P.M. the accounts received were not wholly favorable. The attack was made on our weakest point, General Casey’s division, which is the advanced body on the Chickahominy. It was attacked on front and flank, and retreated; but being reinforced by General Heintzelmann, the ground and a lost battery were recovered. The second telegram to Colonel Ingalls was written off by the operator on the envelope of your letter of the 26th; I shall keep it as a souvenir. It says: “General Kearny has driven the enemy a mile at the point of the bayonet. General Heintzelmann is driving back the enemy. Prisoners, General Pettigru and several field and staff officers.” A little later, and we heard: “We are driving them before us at every point;” and now the last word is, “Our victory is complete.”
The wounded are pouring in. All our ships, except the “Spaulding,” are here. Even the “Elm City,” which started with five hundred sick for Yorktown at four o’clock this morning, has just returned, beds made and all, — a triumph for her hospital company! The “Commodore,” a Pennsylvanian boat, the “Vanderbilt” and “Whilldin,” Government boats, are full. The “Knickerbocker” filled up, before we left her, with three hundred men from Casey’s division, — a sad sight. We left her this afternoon, after the men were comfortably settled, in the hands of those who are to take her to Newport News, and came home here,”Wilson Small,” with all our belongings. Mrs. Howland and Georgy went off soon after to fit up the “Daniel Webster No. 2.”
I am writing on our little after-deck by the light of the moon. The shore resounds with cheering; even the wounded are elate. All around me lie hundreds, well-nigh thousands, of the poor fellows. Noble boys!
June 1st.—Am so much better, to-day, that I have to report for duty. Am instructed to remain at my quarters near the hospital till further orders. I think I can foresee a plan in this to keep me at this hospital during the fights before Richmond. It is a dangerous thing in this army for a subordinate officer to think.
