Monday, 30th.—Mother and sister Mary came to-day.
(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)
June 2012
June 30
About four o’clock we emerged from this miasmatic terra incognita, and came out into the open country. Across the river, the ground was high and open, and already covered with the guns of the Second corps in position. We marched rapidly across the bridge, and up the hill, where the rest of our division were lying asleep, in rear of the artillery. Forming the brigade in line of battle, three or four hundred yards in rear of the crest of the hill, parallel to the lines already established, and just in front of Caldwell’s brigade, the Seventh New York, lying immediately in rear of the Fifty-seventh. As soon as the brigade was formed, the colonel directed me to ride back to the bridge and stay there, until it was destroyed. The pioneer corps had been at work on it since the moment of our crossing, and when I returned I found it already impassable, with hundreds of men chopping it away. We picketed the front along the stream, connecting on the left with that part of the army which crossed at Glendale, and on the right as far into the heavy woods and swamp as was necessary to secure that flank, and then awaited developments. We marched across the swamp, left in front, so that upon facing about and confronting the foe, we were always right in front. It is necessary to explain this in order to understand the relative positions. Facing then to the front the new position seemed admirable. On the right was a heavy piece of timber, extending back from the river six or eight hundred yards; in front, say half a mile in width, the ground was open, high, and gradually sloping back to the woods nearly a mile in rear, through which the road to James river lay. On the left the woods were dense, reaching to Glendale, the next crossing on the left, and from thence our lines extended clear back to the James river at Malvern Hill, where Porter’s corps was already in position. McCall’s division was at Newmarket road, Slocum on the Charles City road, and Kearney between the two, with Hooker’s next, connecting with our division of the Second corps. The line of defense conformed to the peculiarity of the ground, generally following the swamp from the right to Glendale, thence crossing to the left, until resting on Malvern Hill. The success of the movement entirely depended upon our ability to hold this position till after nightfall, as the teams would occupy the roads the whole day, and render any movement of troops impossible. The ground we occupied, made historical by our defense, presented a very interesting appearance, when we went into position. We being the rear guard were of course the last troops to come up. In front, the crest of the hill was bristling with guns, Hazzard’s, Mott’s, Ayers’s. and Thomas’s batteries, commanding the bridge, road, and swamp. To the left and rear was parked a splendid pontoon train, apparently deserted, and in the rear, and on the right, between the heavy timber land, the ground was literally covered with wagons, their teams unhitched, going to and from the river, where they were taken to water by the teamsters, preparatory to an early start. All the troops were lying down, almost every one fast asleep, and with the exception of the braying of the mules, and the chopping of the pioneer corps, all was quiet, and peaceful. As I had to await the complete destruction of the bridge, I dismounted; passed the bridle over an arm and lay down, and in a moment was fast asleep. Suddenly I jumped to my feet, awakened by what seemed to be a most terrific earthquake shock. Looking about me, I saw across the river a little to the left twenty-four guns within easy range furiously shelling our position. The hill upon which their guns were placed, the other side the stream, was ablaze with fire, and the air over my head filled with shot and shell, howling, screeching, and exploding amongst the guns and men on the ground above. At the very opening, the mules took fright and galloped wildly about the field. Many of the teamsters, panic-stricken, leaped upon their backs, and galloped to the rear at full speed, overthrowing everybody and everything in their way. At the train, the stampede was complete; everybody, and every team galloped away as fast as possible, abandoning the wagons to find safety for themselves. The scene was so ridiculous, that for a moment the men forgot the enemy’s fire, to laugh at the misfortunes of the quartermaster’s department. It was not long however, before the officers in charge stopped the skeedaddle, brought their men and teams back again, and marched off their trains in good order. The bridge being destroyed I rode up the hill to the brigade; gave Seth my horse, and went to the center of the Fifty-seventh regiment, and lay down alongside the colonel and Captain McKay, just behind the men. We all lay flat on our bellies, eyes fixed on the rising ground in front, where most of the shells struck and then came ricocheting down the slope amongst us. We could do nothing but try and dodge them, the batteries alone being able to reply. Hazzard and the other batteries, replied vigorously, and for three hours sustained this iron storm, losing heavily in both men and horses. Some of Hazzard’s caissons were blown up, and Ayers lost a gun, dismounted. Finally Hazzard was obliged to withdraw, out of ammunition, and pretty well disabled. His place was taken by Captain Pettit, who came on the ground at a trot and as usual with him, got the enemy’s range the first shot. In a few minutes the tables were turned, and now it was the enemy’s caissons which blew up, and they were obliged to shift their position half a dozen times in half an hour, finally withdrawing out of range.
While we lay on our faces, dodging the shot and shell, McKay was struck in the heel, and yelled, like a Comanche Indian. He had to be carried off the field, and sent to the rear.
The regiment in rear of us, the Seventh New York, was particularly unfortunate; losing a file or two of men, every few minutes, they kept a pioneer party, constantly at work, burying their men as fast as they were killed, just in rear of the regiment. Shortly after the cannonade commenced, the rebels sent forward a line of skirmishers and made a dash for the bridge, but were easily repulsed by the picket line. They next attempted to cross further to the right, and brought on a lively affair, in which they were ultimately worsted. The serious attempt, however, was not on our front, but at Glendale, and still further to the left. Here the enemy concentrated his forces, and made the most heroic, and persistent efforts to break through. Throughout the entire morning the fight was continued, and severe deafening volleys of musketry came rolling through the woods, and were echoed back from hill to hill, until the earth seemed to shake from its foundation. About noon, Meagher’s Irish brigade, of our division, was sent to their assistance, followed a short time afterwards by Caldwell’s, leaving us alone to defend the swamp. The contest at Glendale was prolonged till evening, and we were greatly delighted to observe the position unchanged since morning, judging by the firing, which is generally a safe guide. If we could hold the enemy in check throughout the day, against his best efforts, we should have nothing to fear, for by the next morning we should be in position on the James, our rear secure, and in condition to fight and win. In our own front, Pettit gained complete control about noon, and kept the enemy’s batteries quiet. The captain is a charming, quiet, harmless person to his friends; but a terror to the enemies of his country. As soon as he gained control, he arranged for sighting his guns on the bridge after dark, by driving a series of sticks into the ground in front of his pieces, in such a manner that the gun trained on them would exactly command the bridge, and so we could hold our position as long as we choose. About dark firing ceased along the whole front and nothing but the minute guns fired by Pettit at the bridge and the chopping of the enemy’s pioneers broke the stillness of the summer evening. Towards eight o’clock, some one set fire to the pontoon train, which for some reason unknown to us, had been abandoned. There being no horses to haul it away, nothing could be done but destroy it. It probably cost fifty thousand dollars at the least, and ought never to have been abandoned. The enemy began chopping timber to repair the bridge as soon as it became dark, and the ring of their axes, the regular and monotonous discharge of the cannon, followed by the bursting of the shells in the swamp below, and the burning pontoons in rear, made the situation memorable, and extremely fascinating. The troops stacked arms after dark, and lounged in rear of them, doing what they pleased, which was a great relief from lying prone throughout the day.
General French resumed command at daybreak and Colonel Zook went to his regiment. After dark he ordered Zook to assume command again for the night, so we mounted our horses, and rode entirely around the brigade and down near the broken bridge to observe the shells explode, which generally happened exactly over it, effectually preventing the rebels from repairing it. At nine o’clock, an aide from General Richardson, reported the roads ahead free, and directed us to retire. The order was given, and with astonishing alacrity the column formed and resumed the march to the James; moving by the left flank again, we soon reached the main road running through heavy timber, and as the night was cool and the road superb, the men stepped out most astonishingly. Two of Pettit’s guns remained in position with a company of infantry until half an hour after the column was fully stretched out; then firing their last shot, both guns at once, limbered up, and joined the column at the trot, giving the infantry company a lively shaking up. The rebels were now at liberty to repair the bridge and follow as fast as they chose. With good roads, free of obstruction, and a two hours’ start, no infantry could overtake us and cavalry dare not, so we felt perfectly comfortable; when the column was well closed up and all in motion, I rode ahead and joined the colonel and staff, and again ate hard tack, drank more commissary, and smoked my pipe, our horses walking for dear life to keep out of the way of the men. Frequently during the night we fell asleep, but the horses kept their places in the column, without any effort on our part.
June 30th.—First came Dr. Trezevant, who announced Burnet Rhett’s death. “No, no; I have just seen the bulletin-board. It was Grimke Rhett’s. When the doctor went out it was added: “Howell Trezevant’s death is there, too. The doctor will see it as soon as he goes down to the board.” The girls went to see Lucy Trezevant. The doctor was lying still as death on a sofa with his face covered.
June 30.—C. C. Fulton, one of the proprietors and editors of the Baltimore American, was committed to Fort McHenry by order of the Secretary of War.
—Lord Brougham made a speech in the House of Lords concerning the civil war in the United States. His lordship was informed that horrible cruelties and crimes were committed on both sides; he deprecated these barbarities, but he threw no imputation on the character of the American people, for it was incident to and inseparable from civil war that horrible crimes should occur. He thought that neither England nor France should interfere. But all must have felt equally anxious that the conflict should cease. Those who were most friendly to America were the most anxious that this should take place, and he had ever been most friendly to her. If war was to go on, it would produce a state of things worse than American slavery. The whites would suffer more by the war than ever the negroes suffered under the most cruel masters. It was his lordship’s opinion that the war was creating more mischief and misery, and would lay the foundation of more lasting animosity and injury than all that had been said against what was called the “domestic institution.” If the Americans would only listen to their true friends, they would see the absolute necessity, if they regarded the continuance of their reputation in Great Britain, and the affection entertained for them there, of putting a speedy end to the civil war. This was what the truest and staunchest friends of America most ardently desired.
—General Crawford, with a portion of his brigade and a cavalry force under Col. Tompkins, made a reconnoissance in force up the Valley of the Shenandoah, and entered Luray, Va., this morning, driving out the rebel picket-guard, and capturing one of them. Four companies of rebel cavalry which occupied the town fled on his approach. They were pursued a mile out on the New-Market road, when a skirmish ensued, the cavalry charging the rebels, wounding several of them, and capturing four prisoners. The Union loss was one killed and three wounded. The object of the reconnoissance was fully accomplished. —The bombardment of Vicksburgh was reopened to-day at two P.M., and continued all night.
—General Butler, at New-Orleans, issued the following order: John W. Andrews exhibited a cross, the emblem of the sufferings of our blessed Saviour, fashioned for a personal ornament, which he said was made from the bones of a Yankee soldier, and having shown this, too, without rebuke, in the Louisiana Club, which claims to be composed of chivalric gentlemen:
It is therefore ordered, that for this desecration of the dead, he be confined at hard labor for two years on the fortifications at Ship Island, and that he be allowed no verbal or written communication to or with any one except through these headquarters.—Special Order, No. 152.
—A Turnpike bridge between Harrodsburgh and Ferryville, and another between Nicholasville and Pekin, Ky., were burned, supposed by rebel guerrillas.—Louisville Journal, July 1.
—The United States gunboat Sagamore made an attack upon the town of Tampa, Fla. After firing sixty or seventy shells, she succeeded in silencing the battery on shore, but finding it impossible to get near enough to the town to protect the boats that intended to land, she was obliged to retire without effecting the object for which she went.
—Fidel Keller and Mrs. Philip Phillips, of New-Orleans, were arrested by order of Major General Butler, and sent to Ship Island. The first for “exhibiting a human skeleton, labelled ‘Chickahominy,’ in his bookstore window,” and the latter for laughing and mocking at the remains of Lieut. De Kay, during the passage of his funeral procession before her residence.
—The battles of Glendale or White Oak Swamp, and Charles City Cross-Roads, Va., were fought this day.—(Doc. 78 and Supplement.)
JUNE 29TH.—The battle still rages. But the scene has shifted farther to the east. The enemy’s army is now entirely on this side of the Chickahominy. McClellan is doggedly retiring toward the James River.
June 29th, Sunday.
“Any more, Mr. Lincoln, any more?” Can’t you leave our racked homes in repose? We are all wild. Last night, five citizens were arrested, on no charge at all, and carried down to Picayune Butler’s ship. What a thrill of terror ran through the whole community! We all felt so helpless, so powerless under the hand of our tyrant, the man who swore to uphold the Constitution and the laws, who is professedly only fighting to give us all Liberty, the birthright of every American, and who, nevertheless, has ground us down to a state where we would not reduce our negroes, who tortures and sneers at us, and rules us with an iron hand! Ah! Liberty! what a humbug! I would rather belong to England or France, than to the North! Bondage, woman that I am, I can never stand! Even now, the Northern papers, distributed among us, taunt us with our subjection and tell us “how coolly Butler will grind them down, paying no regard to their writhing and torture beyond tightening the bonds still more!” Ah, truly! this is the bitterness of slavery, to be insulted and reviled by cowards who are safe at home and enjoy the protection of the laws, while we, captive and overpowered, dare not raise our voices to throw back the insult, and are governed by the despotism of one man, whose word is our law! And that man, they tell us, “is the right man in the right place. He will develop a Union sentiment among the people, if the thing can be done!” Come and see if he can! Hear the curse that arises from thousands of hearts at that man’s name, and say if he will “speedily bring us to our senses.” Will he accomplish it by love, tenderness, mercy, compassion? He might have done it; but did he try? When he came, he assumed his natural rôle as tyrant, and bravely has he acted it through, never once turning aside for Justice or Mercy. . . . This degradation is worse than the bitterness of death!
I see no salvation on either side. No glory awaits the Southern Confederacy, even if it does achieve its independence; it will be a mere speck in the world, with no weight or authority. The North confesses itself lost without us, and has paid an unheard-of ransom to regain us. On the other hand, conquered, what hope is there in this world for us? Broken in health and fortune, reviled, contemned, abused by those who claim already to have subdued us, without a prospect of future support for those few of our brothers who return; outcasts without home or honor, would not death or exile be preferable? Oh, let us abandon our loved home to these implacable enemies, and find refuge elsewhere! Take from us property, everything, only grant us liberty! Is this rather frantic, considering I abhor politics, and women who meddle with them, above all? My opinion has not yet changed; I still feel the same contempt for a woman who would talk at the top of her voice for the edification of Federal officers, as though anxious to receive an invitation requesting her presence at the Garrison. “I can suffer and be still” as far as outward signs are concerned; but as no word of this has passed my lips, I give it vent in writing, which is more lasting than words, partly to relieve my heart, partly to prove to my own satisfaction that I am no coward; for one line of this, surrounded as we are by soldiers, and liable to have our houses searched at any instant, would be a sufficient indictment for high treason.
Under General Williams’s rule, I was perfectly satisfied that whatever was done, was done through necessity, and under orders from Headquarters, beyond his control; we all liked him. But now, since Butler’s arrival, I believe I am as frantic in secret as the others are openly. I know that war sanctions many hard things, and that both sides practice them; but now we are so completely lost in Louisiana, is it fair to gibe and taunt us with our humiliation? I could stand anything save the cowardly ridicule and triumph of their papers. Honestly, I believe if all vile abusive papers on both sides were suppressed, and some of the fire-eating editors who make a living by lying were soundly cowhided or had their ears clipped, it would do more towards establishing peace, than all the bloodshedding either side can afford. I hope to live to see it, too. Seems to me, more liberty is allowed to the press than would be tolerated in speech. Let us speak as freely as any paper, and see if to-morrow we do not sleep at Fort Jackson!
This morning the excitement is rare; fifteen more citizens were arrested and carried off, and all the rest grew wild with expectation. So great a martyrdom is it considered, that I am sure those who are not arrested will be woefully disappointed. It is ludicrous to see how each man thinks he is the very one they are in search of! We asked a twopenny lawyer, of no more importance in the community than Dophy is, if it was possible he was not arrested. “But I am expecting to be every instant!” So much for his self-assurance! Those arrested have, some, been quietly released (those are so smiling and mysterious that I suspect them), some been obliged to take the oath, some sent to Fort Jackson. Ah, Liberty! What a blessing it is to enjoy thy privileges! If some of these poor men are not taken prisoners, they will die of mortification at the slight.
Our valiant Governor, the brave Moore, has by order of the real Governor, Moïse, made himself visible at some far-distant point, and issued a proclamation, saying, whereas we of Baton Rouge were held forcibly in town, he therefore considered men, women, and children prisoners of war, and as such the Yankees are bound to supply us with all necessaries, and consequently any one sending us aid or comfort or provisions from the country will be severely punished. Only Moore is fool enough for such an order. Held down by the Federals, our paper money so much trash, with hardly any other to buy food and no way of earning it; threatened with starvation and utter ruin, our own friends, by way of making our burden lighter, forbid our receiving the means of prolonging life, and after generously warning us to leave town, which they know is perfectly impossible, prepare to burn it over our heads, and let the women run the same risk as the men. Penned in on one little square mile, here we await our fate like sheep in the slaughter-pen. Our hour may be at hand now, it may be to-night; we have only wait; the booming of the cannon will announce it to us soon enough.
Of the six sentenced to Fort Jackson, one is the Methodist minister, Mr. Craven. The only charge is, that he was heard to pray for the Confederate States by some officers who passed his house during his family prayers. According to that, which of us would escape unhung? I do not believe there is a woman in the land who closes her eyes before praying for God’s blessing on the side on which her brothers are engaged. Are we all to cease? Show me the dungeon deep enough to keep me from praying for them! The man represented that he had a large family totally dependent on him, who must starve. “Let them get up a subscription,” was General Butler’s humane answer. “I will head it myself.” It is useless to say the generous offer was declined.
From Library of Congress:
Title from back of card.
Summary: Stereograph showing wounded soldiers on railroad cars at Savage’s Station, Virginia.
Photographed by Brady & Co. (Washington, D.C.),
Part of the series, Photographic History. The War for the Union. War Views. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.
Record page for this image: http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2010648600/
Sunday, 29th—We had inspection this morning at 8 o’clock by the general inspector. Colonel Hall and Captain McLoney arrived from home this morning. The Colonel had been wounded at Shiloh and went home to let the wound heal. Mrs. Hall is with the Colonel in camp and the men of the regiment have great respect for her; she is so kind to the sick in the regimental hospital.
29th. Sunday. Started from camp at 5 A. M. Marched by long road from Neosho towards Cowskin. Encamped on a high piece of ground, over an excellent spring of water.
Off Norfolk, Sunday Evening, June 29.
We are coaling here to-night, and leave at daybreak for Harrison’s Bar, James River, where our gunboats are said to be. We hope to get farther up, but General Dix warns us that it is not safe. What are we about to learn? No one here can tell.
