Sunday, June 3, 2012

June 3rd. Thank heaven I am still alive, and have gone through the stirring events of the past four days with credit, and am entirely unharmed; the only loss being my sword hilt, which was truck by a bullet and shattered to pieces, and so here I am again, at my old diary; criticising and having a good time all by myself. No one actually engaged in battle knows much about the details of the fight as a whole, at the time; if he can remember distinctly what happened under his own eye, he does well. The general details must be learnt after the fight. Of course certain officers, as staff and general officers, have greater facilities for observation than regimental officers, but in this particular fight, no one could see twenty yards ahead of him, and so it was all guess work. My account, therefore, of the battle, will not be complete, but to show what the regiment really did, I shall insert the official report of three of the prominent captains, besides giving an account of what I saw myself.

At a quarter past two P. M. of the thirty-first, our division filed out of camp, and marched rapidly to the Grape Vine bridge, frequently breaking into the double quick; arriving there we found the stream swollen to a mighty flood, rushing swiftly down the river. There were no signs of banks, or crossings, all being overflowed, the water coming far up over the meadows on either side. The bridge over which we expected to cross, was completely undermined, and wholly impracticable, and so to get across we must ford the stream. The general gave the order, and our brigade led the way fearlessly stepping into the seething waters and feeling their way across. The current was so strong that it was all the men could do to hold their feet, particularly in the middle of the stream, where the water reached their hips, and made it necessary for them to hold their arms and ammunition, high above their heads; every now and then, a misstep sent some unfortunate, over head and ears, but when the head of the column reached the opposite shore, and one continuous line was formed, matters were simplified. The river bottom proved tolerably even, and all went well until the southern shore was almost reached. Here we found a series of deep ditches, running parallel to the river, intended ordinarily, to drain the marshy banks, but now entirely hidden from view by the rising waters; we could only locate them by somebody suddenly dropping out of sight, occasionally whole ranks at a time; as the current was very swift, the danger was considerable, not to mention the discomfort. File after file bobbed under water, as they reached these hidden ditches, and were sometimes extricated with difficulty. My gallant old friend, Captain Kirk, stepping out at the head of his company, slipped into one of them, and although six feet tall, went entirely out of sight. His men soon yanked him out, and I gave him a pull at my canteen, which he always appreciates. I rode along famously, with legs well drawn up on the saddle, encouraging the men to step out, guiding them as well as possible, and occasionally laughing at their mishaps, inwardly rejoicing I was not as they, on foot, when Horrors! I was floundering in the water, paddling away for dear life to keep myself from drowning, while floating down the current. My horse had stepped into one of these execrable ditches, and stumbled head over heels. Some of the fellows pulled me out, while others caught my horse, laughing; thinking it a great joke, as I did myself, after I got the water out of my mouth, and boots; but it was beastly uncomfortable on horseback, with boots and pockets full of water, and if I had not had so much to do, should probably have been very wretched. It took the brigade nearly two hours to get across, and form on the right bank. When the last man was over, the head of the column marched off to the sound of the enemy’s guns, now playing a lively tune, apparently only a short distance ahead of us. Just before starting out, an aide-de-camp from the front told us that Casey’s division had been routed and almost annihilated, losing their camp equipage; Couch’s division driven back, and the devil to pay generally. We spurted, and did our best to get up before dark, but the roads were so bad, and the men so handicapped by their wet clothes, that we did not reach the battlefield until after dark, when the action for the day was over. Just before reaching Fair Oaks, we passed over a piece of scrub oak, strewn with dead and wounded men, and heard from the dark recesses of the woods the cries of wounded men calling for help. We hurried forward, coming out near a railroad track, marched across a large open field, and formed in line of battle, facing southward. This field had been the battle ground, stubbornly held till after dark by our men. There were many dead and wounded scattered about, and several parties of hospital attendants were searching the field for wounded, carrying lanterns, which looked like will-o-the-wisps, flitting here, and there, over the vast dark space.

The Sixty-sixth regiment was posted on our right, and the Fifty-third on the left. After completing the formation, we received orders to lie down with arms in our hands, and to make no fires nor noise. There were, of course, many stragglers, owing to the bad state of the road, and the rapid march, so after the line was formed, the colonel directed me to ride back, and pilot them up, especially Doctor McKim, with the led horses, who was still in the rear. I started back over the route we came up on, and soon after entering the scrub oak, lost track of the road and became hopelessly lost in the dark woods; while riding among the bushes, quite unable to see anything, I heard some one talking, just in front of me, and immediately hailed them. There was no reply, but the sound of rattling leaves, and breaking branches, gradually receding, indicated some one getting away. I knew the woods had been fought over, during the evening, and so concluded they were Johnnies, lost like myself, but who preferred to remain unknown. I drew my sword, and rode along, making as much noise as possible. Presently I heard the crackling boughs quite close to me again, and soon afterwards some one talking in whispers, followed by the sharp click of a musket. I began to think I had run directly into the rascals, and getting a little scared, concluded to try a strategem, and yelled out at the top of my voice, “This way, Fifty-seventh, follow me!” “All right, old fellow, we are coming,” rang out the cheery voice of Doctor McKim, and to my great relief he rode up, followed by a number of men, and all the pack horses. The pleasure of meeting was mutual. He said they had been fooling around the woods for over an hour, quite unable to extricate themselves and were delighted when they recognized my voice. Some time after we joined the regiment, directly in front of us, and not more than three hundred yards away, a whole string of camp fires were suddenly lighted. Whoever they were, they had no idea of our presence, as they stacked arms, and proceeded to make themselves at home. As the fires grew brighter, we could see the dusky forms of a rebel brigade, thrown into strong relief by the dark pine woods behind them busily at work preparing supper; our first impulse was to give them a volley, which we could easily have done, and probably killed a lot of them, but it would have disturbed the whole army, and besides we were not absolutely certain they were not our own men, so the colonel called for volunteers, and in response, a sergeant and six men stepped out to reconnoiter, and if possible, capture some of them on the quiet, the regiment, meantime, holding itself ready to give them a broadside, in case of alarm. In less than half an hour, the little party returned, bringing in three villainous looking fellows, wearing immense bowie knives, slouched hats, and butternut clothes. We first took away their knives, and then asked them all the questions we could think of. They belonged to a brigade of Texans that had just arrived from Richmond, and were entirely unconscious of our proximity. The prisoners were supposed to be on picket duty in front, but had stacked their arms, and laid down for a rest, when our little party pounced upon them, and gobbled them up, without a word being spoken. After we had exhausted their stock of information and given them some coffee, we sent them under guard to corps headquarters. This excitement over, we lay down in our wet clothes, on the muddy ground, protected only by our rubber blankets, and were soon asleep, the last sleep of many a man in the brigade. About four o’clock, just before daybreak, the colonel directed me to run along the ranks and wake up the officers, and have them form their men noiselessly, and stand under arms. We remained in line until break of day. The Texans had already gone. About daylight, the whole brigade faced to the left, and marched across the field, over the railroad and into the woods, in the direction of Seven Pines; making a connection with Birney’s division of Heintzelman’s corps; the column halted, just as the right of the Fifty-seventh crossed the railroad; faced to the front, and stood in line of battle. The Sixty-sixth was on the right, in the open field, supported by Pettit’s and French’s batteries. The Fifty-third, Pennsylvania Volunteers, on our left, and the Fifty-second next. About a hundred yards in rear of us, Howard’s brigade was formed, and in rear of Howard, the Irish brigade, forming a strong front in this particular position. Those of us who were mounted found it very difficult to get about, on account of the thick underbrush, but the colonel thought it better to remain on horseback. Standing on the railroad, on the right of our regiment, shortly afterwards, I saw a large body of rebs, hustling across the railroad, into the woods in front of us, evidently getting ready for the attack; we watched them for quite a while; finally Pettit opened on them with his guns, and soon drove them out of sight. The colonel, Captain McKay, and I took position in the center of the regiment, close to the men, and sat on horseback, straining our eyes to see the first approach of the enemy; after a few minutes’ anxious watching, we heard the voices of rebel officers, forming their troops in front of us for the attack, and also the crackling of boughs, and noise made by the men in forming; we peered long and anxiously into the dark, heavy woods, hoping to see them before opening fire, when suddenly, without any warning, a heavy musketry fire opened all along the enemy’s line. The noise was tremendous; and the bullets whistled about our ears like hailstones, tearing branches, twigs, and leaves from the trees. The horses reared and plunged, and the center and left of the regiment were thrown into some confusion, but most of the men stood their ground, and opened fire. I rode along the line towards the right close behind the men, encouraging them to keep closed up, and blaze away. Captains McKay and Kirk were at once conspicuous for activity, and in a few minutes, the line was straightened out, and delivering an effective fire. I noticed the enemy’s aim was high, and cautioned the men to aim low. The firing rolled in long continuous volume, now slacking, now increasing, until it seemed as if pandemonium had broken loose, and all the guns in the world were going off at once. With all the frightful racket, I did not fail to notice how few men were being hit, and told the men to take advantage of the little danger, and fire to some purpose. The enemy did not advance, and in the course of half an hour or so, which, of course, seemed twice as long, slackened their fire, and apparently withdrew; our wounded were removed, and the line reformed, or rather, straightened out, and then the colonel ordered the men to lie down and open fire the instant they saw anything in front. General French set the example of dismounting, and so we followed suit, sending our horses out of the woods where they were rather a hindrance than otherwise. It was not long before a deafening volley was fired into us again, at apparently a greater distance than the first attack. Sergeant Stuart, the color bearer, and Lieutenant Folger and several men were killed by this volley, the rebels firing much lower than before. They advanced after the first volley, and came within thirty yards of us, when they received a magnificent fire, steady, effective, and determined; our fellows had no idea of giving way this time, and stood their ground; the trees were riddled, and a heavy shower of branches and leaves continuously fell upon our heads. The air, in fact, seemed full of bullets, and yet so few were hurt we began to think they could not hit us. While the second attack was at its height, McKay and I were on the right, and noticed that the rebel line did not extend as far as ours, which I reported to the colonel, who immediately directed us to wheel the two right companies inward, and sweep the line in front, taking the enemy in flank. We quickly made the movement, French watching us. The moment the men opened fire, the rebels broke and ran, getting away as fast as they could; General Richardson came up just at this time, and immediately ordered the whole brigade out of the woods, so the batteries could sweep it clear with canister and shell; we filed out in quick time, forming behind the guns, which opened at once, filling the woods with bursting shells and showers of iron hail. It was a dreadful thing for the wounded men, who were unable to move, but seemed to be a necessary evil. Very soon the woods took fire, and many men who were not killed outright were burnt to death. The general did not seem to think of this, however, and was concerned only in clearing the woods of rebs; the artillery fire lasted about half an hour, and was then discontinued, and Howard’s brigade moved down the railroad, while Meagher’s Irish brigade came forward and occupied the line held by us during the fight. The Sixty-sixth of our brigade, which had not been in the engagement so far, deployed in front of the Irishmen, and swept down at right angles to their line, searching the woods without finding a sign of an enemy. Howard moved down the track to the very end of the big field, then halted, faced the woods, and marched forward to take in flank anything that was still in front. Just as he crossed the track, he received a heavy volley; instead of opening fire he ordered the whole brigade to charge, and amid deafening cheers dashed forward into the woods, sweeping everything before him as far as Seven Pines. In this operation, Howard lost an arm, but gained great praise, his movements being the first of a purely aggressive character, made during the day. Howard’s sweeping advance closed the battle at Fair Oaks: the lines were reformed by the troops in front, at the bottom of the great field, and the enemy retired, leaving us in possession.

We were greatly surprised not to be ordered to advance, for there seemed to be no reason why we should not have assumed the aggressive, and at least tried to win a great victory.

Many amusing things, and some sad ones, occurred. General French was with us most of the time, on the railroad track. For over an hour he attached Captain Kirk to his person, with a guard of ten men. In the course of the morning, while passing over the railroad to the right of our regiment, he fell into a deep hole full of water, and could not get out, much to the amusement of Captain McKay, who yelled out to the men, “The general will be drowned; come and pull him out!” The absurdity of getting drowned in a battle on dry land, made a great laugh, which caused the general’s face to grow redder than ever. He was pulled out, covered with mud, and as mad as a March hare. Our regiment lost twenty men killed, and fifty wounded. Lieutenant Folger, the only commissioned officer killed, was a fine looking young fellow, belonging to the left, Company I, and was killed while gallantly performing his duty. One of our best soldiers, the gallant color bearer, Henry L. Stuart, the English Crimean soldier, whom I enlisted in the City Hall Park, was shot directly through the forehead; when the colonel ordered the regiment to lie down, he thought the colors ought not to be lowered, and insisted upon standing up, and so was killed in the second attack. He was a fine soldier, and in battle proved as cool and fearless as on parade; his death is a great loss to the regiment. The battle was now over, and the enemy driven from the field, leaving his dead and wounded in our hands. No attempt was made to follow up the victory, except that on the left we recovered all the ground lost the previous day, together with the camp equipage, and a good deal of rebel material besides. The enemy’s plan had failed in any case; and instead of driving us into the Chickahominy, they had been driven almost into Richmond, losing all their early advantages, besides getting a moderate thrashing, so on the whole, we congratulated ourselves on a substantial victory.

General McClellan and staff rode up as the guns were shelling the woods, his first appearance, and was received with tremendous cheering. He remained only a few minutes on the field.

About two P. M., our regiment took position in rear of Meagher’s line, subsequently moving off to the support of Hazzard’s battery, and remained in that position all night. Towards evening we stacked arms, built fires, and prepared the first meal we had had since our breakfast on Saturday morning. During the evening it began raining, and later on, poured down in torrents.

The following morning, June 2d, the engineers staked out a line of earthworks, reaching from Gaines’ mill on the right, past Fair Oaks, Seven Pines, and away down to White Oak Swamp bridge. All the men that could be furnished with tools were set to work, digging ditches, felling trees, arid building parapets. The picket line was established about two hundred yards in front, and about the same distance from the enemy. They opened fire upon each other early in the morning, and have kept it up incessantly ever since; during the day the rebels disguised some sharpshooters by trimming them up with boughs and small branches of trees, and sent them into the tops of large trees where, unobserved by us at first, they picked off every man who came within their range. Our fellows at length saw something moving in the top of a big tree and fired at it, and were astonished to see a man drop to the ground.

The rebels are fortifying their position, too, not more than six hundred yards distant; we can hear their axes, night and day, felling timber, and the pickets report them hard at work, throwing up breastworks.

I have been busy all day long preparing the official report of the action with the colonel, and have had a lot of trouble to get things straightened out. The fact is, it was a poor fight for commanding officers, and when General Richardson refused to be complimented by General Sumner for what he had done, on the ground that he had done nothing, and the men everything, he explained the whole situation. The fighting done by our brigade was in the woods exclusively, under the control of regimental officers, and neither General Richardson nor General French knew much about it.

The woods were so thick, nothing could be seen twenty yards ahead of us, and I am quite certain the bulk of the men never saw the enemy at all in front of them. There was, however, plenty of work for regimental officers, and they performed it satisfactorily, and deserve credit. Colonel Zook was alert keeping a firm control of the regiment, and remained all the time in the center, sending me from flank to flank, as well as McKay, and Kirk, who acted as field officers. La Valley on the left, Chapman, Britt, and almost all the officers, showed plenty of gumption, and did their duty bravely. Lieutenant James G. Derrickson, the adjutant of the Sixty-sixth, was ubiquitous, riding gallantly into the woods, when his regiment deployed in front of Meagher, keeping entire control of himself, and aiding greatly in the manœuvering of his regiment. Only actual experience in war can make men competent officers. No amount of technical training will do it, as we have already discovered, some of our idols going to pieces at the very first shock.

Two of our officers were directed to send in their resignations this morning. I had to notify them, and felt very sorry for them, especially for the lieutenant who, I think, eventually would have turned out as well as any of us. I shall now give the report of the captains commanding the right, left, and color companies which will explain what I have omitted, and give a fair idea of what actually occurred by the very best authorities.

Lieutenant J. M. Favill,

Adjutant Fifty-seventh Regiment, New York Volunteers.

Sir: Having attached myself to the right wing of the regiment (in the absence on detached duty of the greater part of my company), I narrate what fell under my observation. At about seven A. M., we were ordered with the other regiments of the brigade, to take up a position in a wood, skirting the Richmond and York railroad. The right of the Fifty-seventh rested immediately on the railway, facing towards Richmond; on our right was the Sixty-sixth, New York; in the open field, and on our left, the Fifty-third, Pennsylvania Volunteers, and Fifty-second, New York. The brigade had barely formed into line, when fire was opened by the enemy; this was replied to by the three regiments to the left of the railroad, taking up the action from the left, beyond the turnpike, to Bottom Bridge. The right wing of the regiment, at the first fire from a concealed foe, slightly wavered, one company somewhere near the center taking up a position on the track; by the efforts of Captain McKay, yourself, and Lieutenant Ried, commanding the right company, and a quiet explanation to the men, the regimental line was immediately reformed, and firing was commenced, until the colonel’s orders, repeated along the line, to cease firing were received. It was necessary to stop the fire, for the wood was so dense at our place that it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe, and it was better to err on the right side. By command, the men then lay down, and such action, I believe, spared us a heavy loss. Shortly after this, by command of General French, the Sixty-sixth was thrown obliquely across the woods, from the railroad partially masking our right wing. The action at this spot appeared to me to last about two hours, the enemy being readily repulsed, as I have heard, with heavy loss, from the rapid fire from our brigade. After the action had lasted some half hour or so, with the colonel’s permission, I attached myself with a small guard, ten men, to Brigadier-General French, with whom I remained an hour, after which, I rejoined my regiment, and accompanied it about one P. M. to a position further to the left and rear. As to remarks I have little to say, except that I believe the men did their duty fairly well, in the nasty position we were in, and would have done anything more they might have been called upon to do.

The officers I have named exerted themselves, especially Captain McKay, acting field officer. I also consider that Lieutenant Paul M. Pou, attached to the right company, did his duty.

Respectfully,

W. A. Kirk,

Captain Fifty-seventh New York Volunteers.

Camp Near Fair Oaks, Va., June 3, 1862.

Adjutant J. M. Favill,

Fifty-seventh New York Volunteers.

Sir: I have the honor to submit the following report of the participation of my Company, A, in the affair of the first. The brigade having filed into the woods, and taken up the position assigned, in about thirty minutes from the time we entered the woods, the enemy suddenly opened a brisk fire upon us; as the impression was prevalent that the woods in which we were had been cleared of the enemy, my men were taken somewhat by surprise, and began to give way, firing as they retired. I, however, rallied them without much difficulty, about twenty feet in rear of our first alignment. The enemy soon ceased firing opposite us, and the regiment was moved further to the right. Here, the enemy opened fire on us again, their aim being uncomfortably accurate; as our front was partially masked by one of our own regiments, we were unable to return the fire, and the men were ordered to lie down. Having sustained this for some considerable time, we received orders to take position on the railroad, and file out of the woods, which we did in good order. The casualties in my company have already been reported. I regret to have to report that two men, Private W ̲ ̲ ̲ ̲ and Sergeant S ̲ ̲ ̲ ̲ , broke at the first fire, and did not return till after the action was over. With these exceptions, I can speak in terms of commendation of the conduct of the company generally.

Very respectfully,

A. B. Chapman,

Captain Company A, Fifty-seventh New York.

Camp On The Battlefield Near Fair Oaks, June 3, 1862.

Lieutenant J. M. Favill,

Adjutant Fifty-seventh New York Infantry.

Sir: I have the honor to transmit the following statement, in relation to the battle of the first instant, for the information of the colonel commanding. The regiment entered the woods in which the engagement took place, left in front. My company, K, was the leading company, and formed about twenty paces from the right of the Fifty-third, Pennsylvania Volunteers; the first fire of the enemy was received by my company, while the men were resting, and were neither in the ranks, nor even facing towards the enemy. My company took shelter behind a large log, and lying on the ground, returned the enemy’s fire, and then slowly retired, loading, but still facing the enemy. I fell back about thirty paces behind a clump of large trees, and called on my men to rally around me. They fired once more, and formed of themselves, less than ten paces from where they received the first fire of the enemy; they fired again, and as soon as they had loaded, I gave the order, “Cease firing,” and aligned the company. The enemy in my front, had ceased firing, but the right of the Fifty-third was still engaged. The right company of that regiment broke and fell back behind my company, and fired over and through my men, one shot taking effect on one of my men, who fell dead in my rank of file closers. With the help of Lieutenant Curtis, and two of my sergeants, I rallied the men of that regiment who were behind my men, and compelled them to return to their company, which they did, and, subsequently, behaved very well, keeping up a brisk fire. My company, receiving a few shots from the front, I opened fire again. Two men reported having seen several men in front firing at us. Thomas Ridings, private, said to the man in front of him that he had shot one of them, and immediately fell dead, shot through the head.

The right company of the Fifty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers, being moved to the right, was now nearly in front of my company, I sent Sergeant Alcoke to report the fact to the colonel, who thereupon moved the regiment further to the right. Shortly after, the order was given to lie down and not fire, as the Sixty-sixth was in front of us. This order had hardly been given, when a terrific fire was opened on the right of the Fifty-third and my company, and, I supposed, on the whole line of our regiment, which would have suffered very severely, if it had been standing up; the shots were so low that they barely passed over us, one ball grazing the neck and shoulder of Sergeant Brower. Shortly afterwards the order to march out was given, and we followed the regiment, marching in four ranks, in good order. I have every reason to be satisfied with the conduct of my company, and particularly with the coolness and efficiency of Lieutenant Curtis, and of my non-commissioned officers. I can assure the colonel that under more favorable circumstances, much can be expected of the men under my command, and that they desire nothing more than to follow wherever and whenever, they are led against the enemy.

Very respectfully,

A. J. La Vallee,

Captain Fifty-seventh New York Volunteers.

The following is the official regimental report of the action, finally adopted after numerous corrections and changes, at the dictation of the brigade commander:

Headquarters Fifty-seventh Regiment,

New York Volunteers,

French’s Brigade, Richadson’s Division.

Fair Oaks, June 3, 1862.

Sir: In accordance with orders received from General French, the regiment marched at half-past one P. M., Saturday, May 31st, with the other regiments of the brigade, to support Casey’s division and the troops on the other side of the Chickahominy, then engaged with the enemy.

The Chickahominy being much swollen, and the shores lined with deep ditches, rendered it very difficult and dangerous to ford; we succeeded, however, in a short time, in crossing directly west of Tyler’s, and advanced as rapidly as the bad state of the roads would permit, coming up too late to take any part in the action of that day.

I received orders from General French to form my command in line of battle nearly parallel to the railroad and on the left of the Sixty-sixth New York, within two hundred yards of thick woods, on our right and front, which were occupied by the enemy during the night. After forming, the men were ordered to sleep upon their arms in line. At 3:30 A. M., June 1st, I received orders to form my regiment, and at 5:30 A. M. follow on the right of the Fifty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers, into the woods, which were very dense. We halted, about thirty yards the other side the railroad, and formed in line of battle. In about half an hour, the enemy opened a very heavy fire upon the whole line, at about forty yards distance, which was instantly returned in the coolest manner, causing the enemy to fall back, whereupon we advanced at the “charge,” driving him entirely from his position, killing and wounding a large number, among the number several officers.

After the enemy were driven back, having no orders to follow any distance, I halted the regiment, and stood at shoulder arms; to our astonishment, and before we discovered him, the enemy had approached our line under cover of the thicket, and opened again a terrific fire upon us; killing two, and wounding eleven, Color Sergeant Henry L. Stuart being one of the killed. We immediately returned this second fire with vigor, and again drove him back. At this moment, General French came up from the left of the line, and seeing our position, and that of the enemy, ordered me to move to the front and right, throwing out two companies fifty yards in front, and faced towards the left, flanking our entire line. Captain McKay was charged with the execution of this movement. As soon as the disposition was made, we saw the enemy advancing in our front in great force, evidently intending to turn our right. We at once opened a rapid and continuous fire from the front, and, by the two flanking companies, which completely surprised him, causing him to break, and fly in great disorder, after making a desperate effort to break our line.

This movement cleared that part of the woods, and, in my opinion, contributed materially in deciding the action. Directly after this affair, I was ordered by General Richardson to take my command out of the woods, in order that the batteries might shell them, so we moved across the railroad, into the field we occupied the night previous, forming line of battle facing south, our right resting in the direction of the railroad station. In this position, two men of the right companies were wounded by the enemy’s sharpshooters. At 1 P. M., in accordance with General French’s order, I marched my regiment into the woods, in support of General Meagher, remaining in that position an hour and a half, then moved to the left, to support Hazzard’s battery, Fourth artillery, and remained there all night.

My staff were very efficient, Doctor Dean removing the wounded under heavy fire, and Doctor McKim discharging his duties at the hospital very creditably. I feel it my duty to call attention to Captain W. A. Kirk, who was present without his company, which was detailed on fatigue duty and afforded great assistance to the regiment.

Both officers and men behaved in the most admirable manner, and I am gratified to express my entire satisfaction with the behavior of all.

Very respectfully,

Samuel K. Zook,

Colonel Commanding.

The report of third brigade, first division, second corps, General French, claims a charge made by us, led by the general in person, and is altogether a great improvement upon the above, but my respect for truth will not permit of any further exaggerations, and so we leave those above us to continue the ornamentation, feeling confident that by the time the War Department receives the report of the general commanding the army, there will be nothing wanting to show how admirably everything was done.

Busy all day long with the official report, returns of killed, wounded, and missing, arms lost, destroyed, injured, etc. The aggregate losses of the division are about two thousand men, and for the entire army five thousand or thereabout; this shows our division was prominent in the fighting at any rate.