Diary of a Young Officer–Josiah Marshall Favill (57th New York Infantry)

July 23d. [22d] Returned to camp after a delightful and refreshing little jaunt. The sail down the river was magnificent. There were few passengers, mostly invalided officers, but a very agreeable lot of fellows, of course. The ship carried at her cross trees, boiler iron nests, in which riflemen were stationed, watching the shore all along the route. Her guns were shotted and run out ready for instant work, and all about one tended to a delightful exhilaration. I sat well forward, and was in ecstasy to find myself on the water again. The James is a beautiful river, with fine commanding banks, abrupt in many places, and mostly wooded to the water’s edge. It is considered a dangerous route, and everyone is on the alert for a concealed enemy along the shores. We met scores of transports, gunboats, and troop ships; and there was plenty to occupy one’s attention. Arriving at the fort, I went to dine at the hotel, and sat down to a regular dinner, at a regular table, for the first time in over a year. The situation was embarrassing at first, but I found myself, as an officer from the front, of considerable importance, which was equally unexpected and agreeable. I met many civilians, who were all anxious to talk about the war. I made myself agreeable, and did as little boasting perhaps as the situation allowed.

They told me General Sumner was considered one of the principal heroes of the last campaign. After dinner I looked over the fortress, which is the largest regular work, I think, in the United States. It is surrounded by a moat full of water and has a fine array of mounted guns peeping over the ramparts. When I went to my room at night, the first sight of a regular bed almost took away my breath, and I was strongly tempted to take the floor in preference. I got in after some hesitation and found it comfortable, but very strange. The next day I visited the negroes’ quarters, bought various articles for the colonel and myself; sent the diary home, also a rebel officer’s sword, captured at Savage’s Station, and then went on board a transport, bound back to the camp. The return sail was equally agreeable. I felt like returning home from a strange country; the regiment is now, in fact, my home, where all my interests center.

July 19th. Since July 6th, nothing worthy of especial mention has occurred. The quiet of a garrison life has succeeded the stirring campaign days so suddenly that the former seem altogether uneventful and unworthy of notice, consequently I do not write anything, being busy all the time with routine duties, drills, parades, and reviews. I notice the men are improving physically since our arrival here, owing to better food. I was down to about one hundred and twenty pounds, but am pulling up again slowly. Heavy reinforcements are constantly joining us, so that our losses will soon be more than made up, and we may reasonably expect another advance before long. The heat has been, and still is, excessive; in the nineties every day, but cool and pleasant at night. The fly pest goes on increasing prodigiously; many of the specimens are perfect monsters in size and possess boundless activity and audacity. Just now they are our worst enemies.

This afternoon I got leave of absence for forty-two hours from General Sumner, and a pass to go to Fortress Monroe and return. I start to-morrow morning by one of the transports and expect a delightful trip. I take my diary, covering the events from the north side of the Chickahominy to Harrison’s Landing, July 6, 1862, and intend sending it home by express.

July 7th. Weather very hot, in consequence of which drills have been suspended. We got a Richmond paper to-day, with a rebel account of the battle of Malvern Hill. It is the Richmond Examiner, of Friday, July 4th. It says “The battle of Tuesday was perhaps the fiercest, and most sanguinary of the series of bloody conflicts, which have signalized each of the last seven days. Early on Tuesday morning, the enemy, from the position to which he had been driven the night before, continued his retreat in a southeasterly direction, towards his gunboats, on James river. At eight o’clock A. M., Magruder recommenced the pursuit, advancing cautiously, but steadily, and shelling the forests and swamps in front, as he progressed. This method of advance was kept up throughout the morning, and until four o’clock P.M. without coming up with the enemy. But between four and five o’clock our troops reached a large open field, a mile long, and three-quarters in width, on the farm of Doctor Carter. The enemy were discovered, (sic) strongly entrenched, in a dense forest on the other side of the field, their artillery, of about fifty pieces, could be plainly seen, bristling on their freshly constructed earthworks. At ten minutes before five o’clock P. M. General Magruder ordered his men to charge across the field, and drive the enemy from their position. Gallantly they spring to the encounter, rushing into the field at a full run. Instantly, from the line of the enemy’s breastworks, a murderous storm of grape and cannister was hurled into their ranks with the most terrible effect. Officers and men went down by the hundreds, but yet undaunted and unwavering, our lines dashed on until two-thirds across the field. Here the carnage from the withering fire of the enemy’s combined batteries and musketry was dreadful. Our line wavered a moment, and fell back into the cover of the woods. Thrice again the effort to carry the position was renewed, but each time with the same results. Night at length rendered further attempt injudicious, and the fight, until ten o’clock, was kept up by the artillery of both sides. To add to the horrors, if not to the dangers of the battle, the enemy’s gunboats from their position at Carl’s Neck, two and a half miles distant, poured on the field, continuous broadsides from their immense rifle guns. Though it is questionable, as we have suggested, whether any serious loss was inflicted on us by the gunboats, the horrors of the fight, were aggravated, by the monster shells, which tore shrieking through the forest, and exploded with a concussion which seemed to shake the solid earth itself. The moral effect on the Yankees of these terror inspiring allies, must have been very great, and in this, we believe, consisted their greatest damage to the army of the South. The battlefield, surveyed through the cold rain of Wednesday morning, presented scenes too shocking to be dwelt on without anguish. The woods and fields mentioned were on the western side, covered with our dead, in all the degrees of violent mutilation, while in the woods on the west of the field lay in about equal numbers, the blue uniformed bodies of the enemy; many of the latter were still alive, having been left by their friends, in their indecent haste to escape from the rebels.

“Great numbers of horses were killed on both sides, and the sight of their distended and mutilated carcases, and the stench proceeding from them, added much to the loathsome horrors of the bloody field. The corn fields, but recently turned by the plowshares, were furrowed and torn by the iron missies. Thousands of round shot and unexploded shells lay upon the surface of the earth; among the latter were many of the enormous shells thrown by the gunboats; they were eight inches in width by twenty-three in length. The ravages of these monsters were everywhere discernible through the forest. In some places long avenues were cut through the tree tops, and here and there, great trees, three and four feet in thickness, were burst open and split to very shreds. In one remarkable respect this battlefield differed in appearance from any of the preceding days. In the track of the enemy’s flight there were no blankets cast away, blue coats, tents, nor clothing, no letters and no wasted commissary stores. He had evidently before reaching this point, (sic) thrown away everything that could retard his hasty retreat. Nothing was to be found on this portion of the field but killed and wounded Yankees, and their guns, and knapsacks.” In another place it says: “The battle of Tuesday evening has been made memorable by its melancholy monuments of carnage, which occurred in that portion of General Magruder’s corps, which had been ordered in very inadequate force, to charge one of the strongest of the enemy’s batteries. There are various explanations of this affair. The fire upon the few regiments who were ordered to take the enemy’s battery, which was supported by two heavy brigades, and which swept the thin line of our devoted men, who had to approach across a stretch of open ground, is said to have been an appalling sight.”

So frank an admission of great loss has never been made before to my knowledge, on the part of the enemy, and it must have been great, indeed, to have them admit so much. The rule seems to be to grossly exaggerate the losses of the Yankees, and minimize their own. That we should have left our wounded on the field at Malvern Hill, is an indelible disgrace, as the enemy were so soundly thrashed they had not energy enough to find out we were gone, until long afterwards the next day. So far as I can find out, we left very few if any wounded, but if one is not an eyewitness, it is difficult to ascertain the truth, even amongst one’s own friends.

The camp is already invaded by a new enemy in overwhelming numbers, and we are completely helpless to protect ourselves; the common house fly is the pest. Where so many of them come from, in so short a time, is a complete mystery; but they are ubiquitous, and the greatest nuisance imaginable. General Richardson, now a major-general, has gone to Fortress Monroe to recoup his health, French is in command of the division, and Colonel J. R. Brooke of the brigade, Zook having gone home to recuperate. Supplies are up in abundance now, and all necessary articles will be replaced immediately. Drilling regularly again.

July 6th. I was present at an interesting conversation between General French and Zook, regarding the campaign just closed. Both of them admitted it had been a complete failure, in spite of the gallant and meritorious conduct of the troops. From the time the army first started for Manassas, until the second day of July, its movements, except in retreat, have been timid, vacillating, and indecisive. In no instance has it initiated the fighting, although organized for that purpose. When attacked, it has shown itself capable of great deeds, and has invariably succeeded in defeating its opponent, but never was allowed to take advantage of the fact. Upon landing before Yorktown, that stronghold could, as is well known now, have been captured by a coup-de-main, with almost no loss, the enemy being in small force, and wholly unprepared for defence. That plan, however, never seems to have occurred to the general commanding, his brain being filled with the idea of a great siege, like Sebastopol, in the Crimea. Having decided on the siege, everything else was neglected and the slow, laborious operation of digging entrenchments, and erecting batteries went along just as in the sieges of the Middle Ages, every one taking his time, and only careful to do things regularly. When the enemy evacuated the place, through lack of alertness on our part, they were able to move everything of value, and make an orderly and secure retreat, not a single wagon being abandoned. The advance and operations at Williamsburg were of the most perfunctory order, ill advised, indifferently carried out, and wholly without result. While the general commanding ostensibly undertook to cut off part of the enemy’s force at West Point, or near there, the movements of the Army of the Potomac were so sluggish that the enemy easily got out of the way. Our army met with no resistance on the advance to West Point, and yet was nearly ten days in getting there. The advance from the White House to the Chickahominy was extraordinarily slow and hesitating, the troops not averaging more than five miles a day. Arriving at the Chickahominy, the grave military error of isolating a part of the army by a treacherous and difficult stream, was inexcusable, and has lost us much prestige. On the first of June everything was propitious, the army concentrated, the men anxious for a trial of their strength, and all abundantly supplied. At the very outset we forgot our plans; our theory, and our duty, and instead of taking the initiative with the combined army, and attacking the enemy, we awaited his attack and contented ourselves throughout the entire day with simply repulsing his efforts and holding our ground. Was there ever so great a miscarriage before? That a general attack would have resulted in success, and possibly an overwhelming victory, was the opinion of almost every officer in the field with whom I talked. But the general commanding seemed to be satisfied with holding his ground. Why we should have remained at Fair Oaks passes understanding. If we could not advance and attack advantageously, on the first of June, how could we do so subsequently, when the enemy had fortified himself? Fortifying ourselves on the southern, or right bank of the Chickahominy, we remained constantly under fire, powerless and inactive. How long this state of things would have lasted, had not the enemy renewed the fighting, is hard to guess. Gaines’ Mills afforded one more capital chance for carrying out our plans. The enemy concentrated his army, and made a powerful attack on our right, a formidable position, which might have been held had troops enough been sent to support Porter’s command, but in arranging for their attack, the enemy withdrew nearly all his troops in front of Sumner, Franklin, and Heintzleman’s splendid corps, which lay inactive behind impregnable earthworks. As we knew, at least in front of our corps negroes were marched about their lines, beating drums, and making a noise, to deceive us with the belief that the troops were still there. Zook ascertained they were not there, and begged for permission to attack. If late in the afternoon, when Lee was concentrating all his forces, and pushing the fighting against Porter’s corps, Sumner had made a dash for the works in front, they would certainly have been carried, and our advance moved to within shelling distance of Richmond, which would have been a position worth obtaining. In any case, we should inevitably have drawn off the force attacking Porter, and probably had the chance to fight them in rear of their own works. Admitting the retreat was conducted superbly, the general’s Fourth of July address to the contrary, there was an immense amount of all kinds of material destroyed. At Savage Station, while we lay there, a heavy train loaded with stores, was set on fire and sent under full headway over the burning bridge across the Chickahominy, to plunge headlong into the stream, where all was absolutely destroyed. The fight at Malvern Hill was entirely favorable to our side, the enemy lost enormously, while we suffered very little, and at the close of the fight, the rebel troops were dispirited and thoroughly exhausted; our corps, and the troops on the right were mostly fresh, excepting two brigades of our division. If a grand attack in force, of the entire army, well led, had been ordered immediately after the repulse of the enemy’s last attack, who can doubt the result? But the same timid methods continued and the army was withdrawn, exactly as though it had sustained an overwhelming defeat. With such a commander, we can’t hope for success, at least in anything more than a defensive warfare. Such certainly is the opinion of a great many of our brightest officers.

July 5th. The army is formed in very close order, nearly all the corps being camped in close column of division. We are told the entire front does not exceed five miles, therefore the troops must be packed pretty closely together. The general plan of the camp is seen from the sketch; it is impregnable, and can be defended easily against all comers and if that were all expected of the army, it would be entirely satisfactory, but it is a poor place for an aggressive, invading army.

The army now settled down for a comfortable rest, and the administrative bureaus began their activity, the executive officers working from morning till night. After the tremenduous campaign just closed, there is an immense amount of work to do. Every man must be satisfactorily accounted for, as well as every article of public property. Our losses cannot have been less than six or eight thousand men, and a fabulous lot of stores, of every description. All of this must be accounted for, and the reason given for its abandonment, or destruction. The muster rolls require the greatest care, to avoid doing injustice, for every man reported absent without leave, must be restored to his place by court martial, which is slow and uncertain. In the meantime the man, if again with his regiment, is debarred from drawing pay, or doing duty, and is a source of weakness, rather than strength to his regiment. Consequently, adjutants are busy people in camp, as well as regimental quartermasters, who have to re-equip the whole command wherever necessary. I have only one clerk, and write every morning till noon. Weather frightfully hot, and the water very poor; each regiment has its well, which is nothing more than a hole eight to ten feet deep, collecting the surface water; the soil being mostly sand, the water easily percolates through it. Many of the men have been taken sick since we arrived, perhaps as much from their past experiences as from the poor water here.

July 3rd – 4th, 1862.

EARLY this morning a detachment of cavalry, artillery, and infantry was sent back to recover the guns abandoned yesterday. No signs of the enemy were found until near the woods on the further side of the battle ground, where there was a picket line, which withdrew at their approach. They reported the enemy’s dead as something astonishing, covering the fields, in many places piled up several deep. They did not press the enemy but returned to camp, bringing in the guns and everything else abandoned. In the afternoon, a section of rebel guns opened upon the camp directly in our front, sending their shells whistling over our heads, to explode amongst the teams in rear. The Fifth Maine regiment was ordered to make a detour through the woods and try to capture them, which they succeeded in doing without loss. The guns were part of a horse battery on a reconnoitering expedition; every man belonging to it was brought into camp with the guns, without loss on our side.

For the first time since the thirtieth of May, the bands were permitted to play and soon put the troops in good humor. The day was exceedingly pleasant, and at night we turned in and undressed, getting out of harness for the first time in thirty-five days.

I mounted guard this morning with all the formality prescribed by the regulations, in presence of a great crowd of visitors, besides our own men; drums and bugles beat off, making us all happy again. In the evening the regiment made a very gallant appearance at dress parade, and after the evolutions, listened to the following circular which I read in front of the regiment.

Circular

July 3, 1862. A national salute will be fired at noon to-morrow, at the headquarters of each army corps. Immediately thereafter, the bands will play appropriate national airs. The general commanding will visit all the troops during the afternoon, when the troops will be paraded, and a major general’s salute fired in each corps. The troops will be notified of the hour of the visit.

By command of

Major General McClellan,

S. Williams., A. G.

Also the following, dated July 3rd, from headquarters, Army of the Potomac:

Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac:—Your achievements of the last ten days have illustrated the valor and endurance of the American soldier; attacked by superior forces and without hope of reinforcement, you have succeeded in changing your base of operations by a flank movement, always regarded as the most hazardous of military expedients. You have saved all your material, all your trains, and all your guns, except a few lost in battle, taking in return, guns and colors from the enemy; upon your march you have been assailed day after day with desperate fury by men of the same race and nation, skilfully massed and led. Under every disadvantage of numbers and necessarily of position also, you have in every conflict, beaten back your foes with enormous slaughter. That your conduct ranks you among the celebrated armies of history, no one will ever question; then each of you may always say with pride, “I belonged to the Army of the Potomac.” You have reached the new base, complete in organization, and unimpaired in spirit. The enemy may at any time attack you; we are prepared to meet them; I have personally established your lines. Let them come and we will convert their repulse into a final retreat! Your Government is strengthening you with the resources of a great people. On this our Nation’s birthday, we declare to our foes, who are rebels against the best interests of mankind, that this army shall enter the capitol of the so-called Confederacy, that our National Constitution shall prevail, and that the Union, which can alone insure internal peace, and external security to each state, must, and shall be preserved, cost what it may, in time, treasure, and blood.

General G. B. Mcclellan.

We were a good deal amused at this Napoleonic and spread eagle address, but the men cheered it on parade, and seemed to think it very fine.

Directly after guard mount, Broom and I rode over to the landing to get a view of the river; we were surprised at its width. It makes a big bulge here and must be nearly a mile across. We looked up McKim and the brigade hospital fellows, whom we found busily engaged shipping the sick and wounded men away on transports. The river is crowded with all sorts of vessels, and the landing reminds one of a busy seaport city. Several gunboats lay at anchor in the stream, part of a regular James river flotilla which patrols the river from Turkey Bend to Fortress Monroe. We were delighted to get amongst the busy throng of workers, and see the water, boats, and ships; after so much experience, in which one’s range of vision is so limited, it gives one a zest for the water almost indescribable.

The doctor gave us a piece of ice, and from other sources we got several bottles of wine, which we sent to our quarters by Kelly, Broom’s man. On our return, Seth dug a hole which he called a wine cellar, at the foot of Broom’s bed, in which he placed the ice and wine wrapt in a blanket. It kept pretty well, considering the heat.

The review took place during the afternoon, and was quite a success. The men looked well, their clothes a little shabby, but altogether soldierly, and business like. We performed no duty during the day, other than the guard mounting and review; celebrating the Nation’s birthday by taking a good long rest, and generally cleaning up. In the evening, Seth proved himself a connoisseur in the matter of mixed drinks, a luxury to which we had long been strangers.

July 3

When the last regiment had taken up its alloted space I found the regimental headquarters, hitched my horse to a small oak, and completely exhausted, crawled into a shelter tent and was instantly asleep. Promptly at break of day, the whole army stood in line of battle and remained in position for about an hour when they were dismissed and ordered to build fires and dry their clothes.

The storm was over and the sun shone with all the brilliancy of a July day. We formed in close column of division and laid out a regular camp, our whole corps being in reserve about half a mile from the river bank in the center of the army. Broom, with his regimental wagons intact, came up and was received with immense applause. At the sight of our wall tents, we forgot the trials of the past and eagerly watched the men as they pitched them in a comfortable spot, just in rear of the regiment. Seth was not slow in arranging matters in orthodox fashion, and by noon the beds garnished with red blankets, were ready for occupancy, a luxury to which we had long been entire strangers and so at last the great retreat, or change of base, was ended and the Army of the Potomac, just as sound as ever, was firmly planted along the James river, in spite of all the efforts of its formidable antagonist.

Thankful for my good fortune in escaping unhurt, and for the long desired repose from excessive fatigue, I slept for many hours, oblivious to all surroundings.

July 2

From midnight, until 4 A. M., the movement of troops continued; till at last we were the only brigade left on the field. General French finally concluded his brigade had been forgotten, through somebody’s negligence, and reluctantly gave the order to fall in and follow the crowd. We stepped out, and soon overtook the retiring column, which was spread out on either side of the road, marching without much order and apparently indifferent to discipline. It rained a little during the night, and about daylight poured down in torrents, turning the roads into streams, and fields into sticky mud, making the marching execrable. Many of the batteries were obliged to double their teams on the guns, at certain places on the road, and only succeeded in getting them along by the greatest exertion. In the course of the day we passed several guns deserted in the road, and later on a siege battery, which effectually blockaded the route. The ground was slippery, the men fatigued, and everybody disgusted, which must have accounted for the great disorder. It really began to look like another Bull Run, and when a detachment of pioneers came up the road, and began felling trees across it, directly in front of the moving train of wagons, and artillery, we concluded some one must have gone crazy, and in sheer despair gave up thinking at all. When the battery commanders expostulated with the pioneer officer, he said he had his orders from the chief of staff of the army, and must obey them. The result was all the wagons and guns in rear of the obstructions, had to be hauled up the side of the road, and move in the fields, which was an immense and unnecessary labor. Our brigade marched in the fields in good order, without instructions till 4 P. M., when one of Sumner’s staff came along, and was surprised to learn we had been forgotten. He told us we were bound for Harrison’s Landing, where the army would remain and entrench itself. That Turkey bend, the position about Malvern Hill, was considered too weak to hold. The river was too narrow for the operations of the gunboats, and there was no natural protection on our right flank. Consequently, Harrison’s Landing had been selected as an ideal position. It seems the general commanding never thought of following up his success, which is the most curious thing, as almost every one else belonging to the army thought it a matter of course. Very shortly after the interview with this staff officer, we were directed to file off into a piece of shrub oak, and there pitch our tents for the night, until the storm subsided. The men were covered from head to foot with mud and made a miserable appearance. The army of Flanders was noted for its swearing, but I should like to back this army, on this particular occasion, against it, and give odds to boot.

Everything was disagreeable; the ground low and almost covered with water, the bushy trees dripping from every leaf and branch and the men thoroughly soaked to their waist in water. It was nearly eight o’clock before the brigade was wholly under cover, and resting from its efforts of the past six days.

July 1

During the march we captured several rebel scouts, who were standing by the road side watching our movements, and hustled them into our ranks, but every one of them managed to escape before daylight. In this way, we marched all night long without a halt, emerging into an immense open plain, in sight of the James river shortly after daylight. Off to the right lay gunboats and transports riding at anchor, while the immense plain, low flat river land apparently, was entirely covered with wagons, ambulances, forges, etc., etc. There were no troops in sight and the teams and wagons were spread all over in the greatest confusion. After the colonel had taken a view of the surroundings, and noted the lack of defensive measures, and the absence of any one to direct our movements, he halted the column, formed it in line of battle across the road we had marched over, then stacked arms, and ordered the men to rest. Everybody lay down and fell asleep at once. Seth took my horse, and for the first time in three days removed his saddle. Billy lost no time in taking a roll and showing his pleasure at being free of incumbrances. As we were much exhausted, we slept soundly and were not disturbed until about eight o’clock, when the colonel woke me up and said he thought things looked suspiciously like a surrender; and seemed very nervous. He ordered me to ride until I found somebody to report to, and so, accompanied by an orderly, I rode away, traversing vast camps of wagons and artillery, and in fact everything but troops, and wondered what had become of the army. In the course of half an hour’s travel, I found myself in front of a line of wall tents, pitched along the bank of the river. I enquired for army headquarters, and was not surprised to learn that this was the spot, but that the general-in-chief and most of his staff were on the gunboat Galena. I waited a long time for some one to turn up, and was at last rewarded by one of Sumner’s staff officers appearing on the scene. He said orders had already been sent to the brigade to move into position, and explained the absence of troops from the plains by stating that the army was in position on the high ground above, admirably posted, and that the trains were perfectly secure. This put altogether a better aspect on the state of affairs and so, taking a loving view of the beautiful river, and graceful forms of the vessels at anchor, which reminded me so much of home, I turned reluctantly away, and rode back to the brambly wilderness. I met Zook some time afterwards, riding at the head of the brigade, heading for the steep hill above and told him what I had seen and heard. Our orders were to go into position at Malvern Hill, the name of the great hills overlooking the river; and there fight our last fight, and make our last stand, for win or lose, we could no further go; and so our night marches for the present at least were over. When we reached the summit of the high ground above, about half past nine o’clock, we saw a fine open country, gradually sloping back from our position to the rear, fringed with thick woods at a distance of perhaps a mile in our front, to less than half that distance on the left.

The army was collected here, and formed in a semicircle, either flank resting on the James, supported by gunboats on the river. On the left, the ground rises to form a considerable hill, around which were clustered the whole reserve artillery of the army, thirty-two pounders, heavy siege guns, and with twenty, ten, and twelve-pounders sandwiched in or posted lower down the slopes. The field was in every way admirably adapted for the use of artillery; and whenever or wherever a battery could be of use, it was promptly on hand. The enemy were firing a few shells as we advanced, and several dead horses lay about the field. We moved forward a few hundred yards and went into position in the center of the army, our whole corps being in reserve. In this position, we commanded the entire field, and could see everything going on. The day was glorious, bright and clear, and judging from the surroundings, the Army of the Potomac was just as lively as ever and in a most advantageous position. Porter held the left, Heintzleman and Keys the center; and Franklin the right. During the day the artillery fire was almost constant; the enemy at times pushing forward field guns, in the vain attempt to silence our heavy batteries. Towards three o’clock the enemy’s infantry appeared, streaming down the road along the river side, and into the woods in front of Porter, where they formed for the attack. Our dispositions were promptly made, and everything got ready to receive them. They did not keep us long in suspense. Under cover of strong skirmish lines, they advanced in brigade masses, and made a desperate and savage attack upon the great hill, the key to our position. When they emerged from the woods, they were met by the shells of the thirty-two pounders, which exploding in front of them, tore huge gaps in their column. Gallantly closing up the ranks, they advanced at the charge, yelling furiously; the ground seemed to shake to its foundations, as at once hundreds of guns poured forth a storm of iron hail. The whole reserve force of artillery was in full play, and from shell to shrapnel, and thence to cannister, all played its alloted part. Still they advanced, although, as we could plainly see, more than one-half their men already covered the ground. Finally, as they advanced, their left flank became exposed to our artillery, posted in the center, which immediately opened fire with shocking and terrible effect. One battery near to me fired cannister by volley into them, mowing them down by hundreds. It was a dreadful sight, apparently hopeless for the enemy, and yet they persisted; many of them actually got within close range and sustained for several minutes the fire of our infantry. Then they turned, and ran, but only to be succeeded by others equally courageous. Again, and again they reformed at the edge of the wood, set up a wild yell of revenge, and gallantly came forward, hoping against hope, to carry our position. During the action the gunboats fired their hundred pound shells, dropping them into the woods where the enemy formed, by the aid of signal officers, creating dreadful confusion, even if they did not hit anything. And so the fight continued until about six o’clock; the enemy successively sending forward fresh assaulting colums, hoping by force of numbers, to finally carry everything before them. Porter’s men were pretty well exhausted towards evening, and an aide coming to Sumner for assistance, General Caldwell, and Meagher were promptly ordered to his support. They were comparatively fresh, and went into action immediately, contributing much to the final success of the day.

The whole fighting was concentrated on the left, and was a continuous repetition of the story I have attempted to tell, ceasing only at nightfall, when the enemy abandoned the field; leaving it literally covered with their dead and wounded. Their gallantry was superb, and their losses prodigious; and yet at no time throughout the afternoon, was there the slightest chance of their success.

A desultory cannonading was maintained till nearly nine o’clock with some picket firing, but the men were greatly exhausted, and soon after the action ceased, fell asleep in their ranks lying on their arms. While the men slept, many of the officers were obliged to be on the alert. I was continually sent from one point to another, and remained in the saddle during the whole night. Towards midnight those of us on duty observed several columns of troops leaving the field toward the right flank, followed by some of the batteries lately in position near our brigade; later on the great siege guns from Porter’s position went by and to our astonishment, the whole army began to move again, and in a direction away from the enemy; as the great success of the preceding day warranted us in beleiving it would advance at daylight, and take the initiative, we were greatly astonished. General French, who was still sick, yet remained with us, in conversation with Colonel Zook, thought the movement very singular, as he had received no orders and believed with the rest of us that at daylight we should advance. At last he ordered Willie and me to ride over to the moving columns, and find out where they were going. We were soon amongst the troops and accosted a dozen or more commanders of infantry and artillery, none of whom could give us the slightest information. They said they were directed to march down the river, much to their surprise, but did not know their destination.