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

June 29

Just before daylight next morning, the 29th, the entire corps, under cover of a slight fog, withdrew from the works, and massed just in rear of them. The picket line was left in front, in order to deceive the enemy as long as possible as to our movements, at the risk of its ultimate capture. At sunrise the fog lifted, exposing the abandoned works to the enemy’s view from Gaines’ mill, Franklin, who had occupied the works on our right, moved to the rear, and right, taking a position from the Chickahominy, to Savage’s Station, which protected our rear. As there was nothing to prevent the rebel army from closing in upon us, we prepared for an immediate attack. Summer, surrounded by his staff, sat on horseback from long before daylight, anxiously awaiting the order to retire. Zook, French, and a crowd of staff officers formed another picturesque group, while the men lay down, quietly waiting for orders, apparently unconcerned. About 8 o’clock, the order came to fall back in the direction of Peach Orchard and Savage’s Station, and was promptly obeyed. Near Peach Orchard, the column was halted and dispositions made to hold the ground. Our division had the right of the line, connecting with Franklin; Sedgwick came next, connecting with Heintzleman; and so we formed an immense arc, the right resting on the Chickahominy, the center on Peach Orchard, and the left on White Oak swamp. Our brigade took position in the front line, Caldwell now commanding Howard’s brigade, forming the second line, with Hazzard’s battery posted just in rear. When everything was prepared to resist the advance of the enemy, heavy details were made to destroy the immense accumulation of stores the wagons were unable to carry away. There were thousands of boxes of bread, hundreds of barrels of whiskey, pork, beef, vinegar, molasses, etc., thousands of bags of coffee, piles of every kind of equipment, clothing, and a famous rocket battery, that had excited great hopes. All these things were quickly piled together, the whiskey barrels stove in, and then set on fire. The flames leaped from box to barrel, from base to summit, like a lightning flash, while black wooly looking clouds of dense smoke curled and rolled and spread over the surrounding country, advising the enemy beyond doubt of our intentions. In a few seconds, the fire became a seething furnace of white heat, from which all were obliged to run for their lives. As the fire reached the whiskey barrels, great explosions followed, filling the air with burning debris. It was a magnificent fire, and fully accomplished its end, but a sad sight to see so much valuable property destroyed, in order to keep it out of the hands of the enemy. As soon as the rebel officers saw the smoke and heard the great explosions, they cautiously advanced their line until they came within sight of our dear old works. Finding no one to defend them, they sent up a howling yell, and immediately occupied them. Our picket line had gradually retired as soon as we had taken up the position at Peach Orchard, and were now at the edge of the woods in which we were formed. Towards nine o’clock we saw the enemy forming his columns of attack, and moving towards Sedgwick’s front. Very shortly a number of guns opened upon us, and shelled the woods we were in. Hazzard’s battery replied over our heads, and the whizzing of shells flying both ways, made a great row. In a few moments the enemy’s infantry came up with the utmost confidence, but were met by a tremendous fire from the Fifty-third, Fifty-seventh, and Sixty-sixth regiments, commanded by Zook, French being sick. There was no confusion this time, nor hesitancy; every man stood to his work, and for over an hour, the fight was fast and furious; we holding firmly to our position and three times drove the enemy back with great loss. About ten o’clock Captain Pettit, the beau ideal artillery officer of the army, came on the field with his eight ten-pounder Parrots, and soon silenced the enemy’s guns. They advanced again later on, but hesitatingly. Our men delivered a well directed volley and amid ringing cheers, charged, and drove every thing before them, clearing the ground in front for over a mile. I was acting adjutant general of the brigade, and had a good opportunity of seeing what was going on. The last repulse was enough for the Johnnies for the time being, and they withdrew out of sight. The attack was general, from Franklin on the right, to Heintzleman on the left, everywhere persistent, and in some places impetuous, determined, and well maintained, but everywhere unsuccessful. The Stars and Stripes, fluttering in the breeze in the tangled mazes of the woods, or in the open fields, never sheltered more gallant men, than those who this day defended its sacred folds. There was no skulking, nor hesitancy, but a fearless determination to hold the ground at all hazards. As soon as the rebels were driven out of sight, we gathered up the wounded, and carried them to Savage’s Station, where the immense hospitals containing over twenty-five hundred patients, were established. When this was done, we contracted our lines about Savage’s Station, again taking a defensive position, to protect the retrograde movement. Here we found Slocum’s division just preparing to follow Heintzelman into the great swamp, which began at the declivity of a steep hill, a short distance in rear of the Station. We formed in front of the station, connecting on the right with Smith’s division of Franklin’s corps, which extended to the Chickahominy, and on the left with Sedgwick, who continued the line to the swamp, covering the roads over which the troops were retreating. The enemy had discovered our intention by this time, and were swarming across the Chickahominy by thousands, eager to complete the annihilation of the Union army, which they seemed to think a foregone conclusion. Great bodies of rebels were reported marching down the Charles City, Darbytown, and Long Bridge roads, which intersected our line of march within the dismal swamp, and matters certainly looked very serious, but did not make us in the least despondent. General McClellan took every precaution for guarding these threatened intersections, stopping a full corps at every threatened spot, and only retiring when another had come up, and was ready to take its place. Soon after taking position, we examined the ground in rear, and found in an immense field near to the swamp, a great park of wagons, ambulances and artillery, and several thousand men, in close column, awaiting their turn to move along. We saw at once that it would be necessary for us to hold the ground till long after dark, to enable them to get away, and so we returned to the front, and busied ourselves with strengthening the lines. About three o’clock the enemy appeared in force all along the line; clouds of skirmishers covered the advancing lines of battle, which soon drove in our pickets. We held our fire until they came within easy range, and then poured volley after volley into them, and the artillery, well posted, fired shell and shrapnel with capital effect. The firing easily kept the rebels in check although they formed and broke, and formed again, several times during the afternoon. Their losses were enormous, but they evidently thought it worth the while to risk everything to capture the Grand Army. Just before sunset a heavy line of infantry, under cover of a heavy artillery fire, marched boldly up to within a few hundred yards of our position, delivered a deafening volley, and then, amidst the wildest yells, gallantly charged our whole front. Our men stood like rocks, carefully reserving their fire till the rebels got within a hundred yards of them, then opened such a murderous fire, that half the advancing hosts were placed hors du combat. At once, observing the effect of the fire, our line gave one grand Union cheer, and charged at the point of the bayonet, driving everything before them. The smoke was so dense we could see nothing for a while, which stood the enemy in good stead, and enabled many of them to get away who otherwise would have been captured; as it was, we got many and killed them by the score. The woods in front now being cleared, we fell back to our original position, and awaited orders to retire. The artillery, however, keeping up a steady fire of shells, to let them know we were still on guard. After dark the situation became horrible; everywhere about us the ground was strewn with dead and wounded men and the cries of the latter in the still night air were most distressing. Stern necessity compelled us to leave most of them where they fell, to bleed to death, and to suffer unspeakable anguish in the dark sombre woods, or star lit fields. A great many, near the station, were brought in by parties from the hospitals, but as the hospitals were full, they could only place them on the grounds surrounding the large tents. Still, this was better than lying alone in the distant fields, and all were anxious for even this relief. The numerous parties, searching the fields and woods, with lanterns, gave a weird and melancholy appearance to the surroundings. There must have been several thousand rebel dead and wounded scattered about the fields, most of whom, being furthest away, were entirely neglected. About nine o’clock, the colonel and I rode to the rear, to see how the retreat was progressing, and were glad to find the wagons, ambulances, and artillery all gone; their small deserted camp fires alone indicating the position they had occupied. A column of infantry, moving at a rapid pace down the hill into the black swamp, showed the column was well under way, so we returned to our command, to await orders. On our way back, we rode past the great hospitals, and were astonished to see such a multitude of wounded men. Hundreds of those brought in from Peach Orchard and the evening’s battlefield, lay on the ground about the tents, and hard-working surgeons, lanterns in hand, were going amongst them here and there, saving a gallant life by timely aid. It began to rain as we rode past, which added to the distress of this great multitude of wounded and dying men. Something after nine o’clock, an aide from General Richardson rode up, and informed Zook that his brigade would form the rear guard, assisted by two light twelves from Thomas’s battery, which had been ordered to report to him. We mounted our horses, and impatiently waited the signal to withdraw, which came about ten o’clock. I was ordered to ride in rear of the column and keep the colonel informed as to the situation; and so while the colonel passed to the right I went to the left, notifying regimental commanders to move off by the left flank; as we used no bugles or drums, it was necessary to convey all commands by aide or orderly. We marched out of the woods, past the hospitals, and down the declivity leading into the swamp. I took a position just at the edge of the swamp under the shadow of the huge dark pines, sitting on horseback, entirely alone, watching the troops as they rapidly marched past, occasionally taking in the gloomy prospect above, where thousands of our bravest men were to be deserted, and left to the mercy of the enemy; luckily, not entirely so, as we left nearly five hundred doctors and attendants, besides enormous supplies for their use. From my position, I could see the will-o-the-wisp lanterns of the hospital parties moving about the battle field, still searching for wounded men, and the dying embers of abandoned camp fires, but everything else was shrouded in darkness, not a single star being visible in the heavens.

The column came stretching over the hill, like some great serpent, only occasionally distinguishable by the reflection of a stray camp fire on the bright bayonets, except directly in front, where it formed a solid dark mass, moving rapidly forward, controlled by a single mind. As the last regiment passed by, I detached the rear company and ordered the section of artillery to take its place, the company to follow about two hundred yards in rear. The guns were loaded with cannister in readiness to make it uncomfortable for any one attempting to hurry our movements. Now we opened our haversacks, and as the horses and men stepped out at a rattling pace, ate the first mouthful of food since early dawn, and washed it down with copious supplies of eau de vie. There were no obstructions ahead, and the men marched so rapidly, they crowded the horses all the time. It was amusing to notice the anxiety of the horses to keep up with their companions; they seemed to recognize the necessity for keeping well closed up; and whether their riders were asleep or awake, carefully kept their places in the ranks. There was no straggling, as that meant certain capture; and so it happened that scarcely a word was spoken by any one throughout the night, and the pace never relaxed. We occasionally encountered a broken down wagon, which was summarily pitched into the swamp with its contents, and the column passed along again, making every effort to get across before daylight. Another road, running parallel to this on our right, was used by troops of Franklin’s corps, but was not within sight, or hailing distance. They both emerged from the swamp at the White Oak swamp stream, a deep river, only passable by bridges, separating the swamp from the high rolling ground on the other side. Our object was to get across the swamp, destroy the bridges, and take a defensive position on the high ground on the other side before daylight hold it during the day, and continue the retrograde movement the following night. This allowed for the movement of the trains, and was essential for the safety of the whole army. We found the utmost difficulty in keeping awake, having had no sleep the preceding night; I went off several times, but Billy never lost his place, and did just as well without my guidance. On either side of us the swamp was knee deep in water, and probably three times that depth, in mud, effectually securing our flanks, so that there was no danger from attack except in rear: our whole energy therefore, was confined to moving ahead as fast as possible. It seemed a terribly long night; I thought of Zenophon and his nine hundred and all the other notable retreats I could think of, and wondered whether they were any better soldiers than we, or capable of making greater efforts.

June 28, 1862.

IT seems almost incredible that this fine army, planted solidly, so near Richmond that the ringing of the bells within the city can be distinctly heard in its camps, should give up the task, surrender its magnificent works, much of its immense supplies, and undertake a difficult and dangerous movement, without making one supreme effort to accomplish its original purpose. Such is the determination of the general commanding however, and our great expectations are frustrated and in the judgment of most of us, without sufficient cause. The whole army is disgusted, and greatly disappointed; much more anxious to fight than retreat, and ready on the instant to make a dash forward at the signal of its commander, however, “Ours not to reason why.” Throughout the 28th there was a complete lull; the enemy apparently loth to follow up his success, probably from his astonishment at our withdrawing from the Gaines’ Mill position. The delay on his part was of the greatest importance to us as it gave the teams and impedimenta time to get well ahead. We remained under arms during the day, and throughout the night, but did not move.

June 27th. Contrary to expectations, the night was unusually quiet. We only fell in twice and remained in line less than hour, all told. At daybreak, however, a general fusilade opened all along the line, and the troops were kept under arms till seven o’clock. Then came a general lull, during which we got our breakfast. Heard from the right later on that Porter had been obliged to contract his lines and expected a renewal of the attack. What seems remarkable is that we are not sent over there to assist him in holding the position.

About 2 P. M. the enemy renewed the attack on Porter’s corps, while we stood under arms and watched the whole affair. This time no skirmish line commenced the fight, but immense lines of infantry, under cover of scores of guns, marched directly to the attack, followed by several other lines in succession. It was a fine sight for us, but as the rebel line of fire gradually advanced and ours retired, we grew nervous and wondered whether we were to stand by and see them thrashed, without being called to their assistance. Every little while a fusilade broke out on our front, but did not amount to much. Colonel Zook, who was field officer of the day, came in and reported most of the enemy’s force in front had disappeared. He crept out in advance of the picket line, and saw a whole lot of niggers parading, beating drums, and making a great noise; with true military instinct he concluded the enemy in front had gone to join in the attack on Porter and immediately rode in to General Sumner and demanded permission to lead an attack, asserting his ability to convince the general at once of the truth of his discovery. General Sumner was afraid to act on his own responsibility, but sent an aide to General McClellan to report the colonel’s conclusion, and that was the last we heard about the matter. Zook was greatly chagrined and amazed at the want of activity on Sumner’s part, feeling certain we could have got into Richmond or into the rear of Lee’s army. Nothing was done, however, to distract the rebels’ attention, and they were allowed to continue the fight with their whole army against our one corps. In the meantime, the battle progressed with great fury; the fighting was stubborn, our men falling back slowly and reluctantly, fighting every inch of the ground; the hills soon became entirely enveloped in thick smoke, the flashes only visible from the big guns, so we could only judge of the result by the sound of the musketry; this sufficiently indicated the gradual advance of the rebels and increased our anxiety. At three o’clock, Meagher’s Irish brigade, of our division, was ordered across to Porter’s assistance and a little later we received similar orders. We started immediately and marched directly for the pontoon bridge at the bend of the river; here there was some delay, waiting for orders. About six o’clock we crossed over and ascended the steep hill on the north side, which was crowded with a disorderly mass of wounded men and skulkers, all making their way to the rear. Rush’s regiment of lancers was riding furiously and aimlessly about the road, adding to the excitement. As the immediate rear of a battle is always a disorderly place, we did not think much of it and marched briskly forward to the heights above, and there formed in line of battle. Everything about us was in disorder; troops to right and left were hurrying away, and there was no doubt but that Porter’s corps was thrashed. After standing in line a while, we were ordered to move forward and select the best position we could find. There was no one to lead the way, and General French was not to be found, so we went ahead, passing a deserted field battery and a splendid siege battery, whose horses had been killed and the guns abandoned; at a loss what to do we moved down the side of the hill towards the rebels’ line, which was not, however, in sight, and finding a good ridge halted and lay down in a field of very tall grass. It was quite dusk by this time, and the action was over; the rebel batteries, however, fired at us with solid shot and made it slightly uncomfortable. The colonel threw out a skirmish line a short distance in front and directed me to ride back and find French and explain our position and get instructions. I rode back over the field now deserted, or occupied only by dead men and horses and abandoned guns, a most melancholy sight. I searched a long time without finding a solitary man; apparently, our brigade was alone in front, all the other troops having gone to the rear. I passed through an orchard, near which the siege guns were deserted, and after wandering about for some time, stumbled on General French, sitting beneath an apple tree, and told him where we were and asked for instruction. He said he did not know what was on our right or left, but that there must be somebody, and I must go back and try and make connections, if it had not already been done. He further directed Zook to hold the line at all hazards until relieved; then he added, confidentially, that he expected we should be withdrawn during the night, so there was no necessity for any particular formation. Billy was with the general, who was not very well. On my way back, I rode past the field hospital, where strewn around a house were hundreds and hundreds of wounded men, crying and groaning, while in the house, by the aid of candles and lamps, the surgeons were working away, stripped to their shirt sleeves. This time I passed many lines of troops, all marching to the rear, which satisfied me we were going to abandon the position before daylight. I had much trouble in finding the brigade, and as the enemy still sent their round shot skipping around the field, it was anything but a comfortable ride; finally, I came out in the right place and explained the situation to the colonel, who suspected what had happened. While we lay in the long grass, keeping a sharp lookout, Doctor Dean came straggling in from the front, with thirty men, who proved to belong to the Sixth Alabama regiment. He had strayed outside the picket line and ran into a squad of men who asked him where the Sixth Alabama lay. He told them to follow him, which they did, coming directly into our line. They were highly disgusted; not disguising their chagrin at being deceived and captured by a sawbones. We gained some knowledge of the rebel lines from these prisoners, which induced us to change ours somewhat on the left. No adventure of any kind occurred during the night. Just before daylight Billy came along and gave an order to withdraw and form the rear guard, Meagher’s brigade preceding us, and everything else in the shape of troops, guns, supplies, and ambulances. French rode up to us when we reached the large orchard, and told Colonel Zook we had been selected for continuous service as rear guard, on account of our reputation for discipline, and must be prepared for all contingencies. Porter’s corps had been withdrawn during the night, and I was rejoiced to find the abandoned siege battery I noticed last night conspicuous by its absence. I felt an extreme pleasure to think it was not to be left behind. All the badly wounded were to be abandoned. Surgeons have been detailed to remain behind and care for them. We hear over thirty guns have been abandoned, but hope this is not true. Just as we reached the brow of the hill descending to the river over which we advanced yesterday, an immense pile of stores of all kinds was set on fire, and in a few moments was a mass of flames. The enemy made no attempt to follow or interrupt our retreat, and by daybreak we were across the river and the bridge destroyed. Our brigade marched directly to their camp, struck tents, and loaded everything not absolutely necessary into the wagons; as soon as this was done the wagon train started off in the direction of Savage’s Station.

After the wagon train started, the regiment lay down on their arms to await further orders and the colonel and I rode over to our one place of general information, Sumner’s headquarters, where from Captain Taylor we are always sure to get all the information it is legitimate to give. He is a genial, pleasant gentleman and remembers us all familiarly since our Camp California experiences brought us so much together. We learned from him that Stuart’s cavalry and Early’s division of infantry had been making a grand raid around the rear of our army, tearing up railroads, destroying, and capturing stores; intercepting communications, and generally scaring everybody into fits. The result of this great raid is the determination of General McClellan to change his base from Pamunkey to the James river; and, hence, the refusal to support Porter and fight a great battle. In fact, we are to turn tail, without making any further effort to perform the duty we came here for, and under the respectable guise of a change of base are really to give up the effort to capture Richmond, at least for the time being. This is not all; we are to attempt a most difficult and dangerous operation, in which we must abandon all our dead and wounded, to say nothing of immense quantities of every kind of stores. It is certainly mortifying to contrast our present situation with what might have been, and what we had good reason to believe would have been, if we had a genius in command.

In order to get to the James, we must cross the White Oak swamp; a densely wooded morass, varying from one to two feet in water, passable only by two or three wood roads. There are many roads from Richmond intersecting the crossing, which will afford ample opportunity for the enemy to make himself felt, and in the course of events will no doubt play an important part in the retreat. Casey’s division, which was on duty at the White House, has gone by transport around to the James already, together with the whole fleet of transports, gunboats, floating hospitals, etc.; all the stores that could not be loaded into wagons have been destroyed.

June 26th. Magnificent day, with little or nothing doing until towards evening; then came a magnificent display of actual war. If the scene had been expressly prepared for our delectation it could not have been done in a more magnificent manner. Away to the right, the Chickahominy curves southerly, flowing at the foot of high, rolling hills, fringed at their base with heavy masses of dark pines, their slopes and crest open and covered with the white canvas villages of Porter’s corps. From our position, which is on lower ground, we look upwards, and have the entire position in full view, which is certainly at all times picturesquely beautiful. About four o’clock we were attracted by heavy cannonading, which gradually increased until every gun was brought into action. We mounted our horses and rode towards the river, and by the aid of our glasses watched the battle. At first there was little to be seen but by degrees the enemy’s forces came into full view; whole lines of batteries advancing in eschelon and firing with great rapidity; the slopes were soon enveloped in a mass of smoking clouds, through which the flashes from the guns only was visible. For a long time the deep mouthed cannon played its part alone, and we concluded it was nothing more than a great artillery duel. Along towards six o’clock, however, the long, continuous roll of infantry fire told us of a serious attack. We strained our eyes to catch a glimpse between the curling clouds of white-wreathed smoke, but could see nothing except the lightning-like streaks of flame, which issued from the muzzles of the guns, this indicating to us, however, the progress of the fight, and to our chagrin we noted the gradual withdrawal of Porter’s lines and corresponding advance of the enemy’s. Darkness at length suspended operations, and we returned to our quarters. In our own front nothing unusual happened, but we are all convinced the enemy has at last concluded to go for us. If they only would have selected our front, how happy we should be. It is absolutely certain they would be defeated, and nothing would give us more pleasure; we can hold our works against the whole Confederacy combined. At a late hour we turned in, after taking a whiskey sour, fully expecting to be called upon during the night. Last night we were out every half hour.

June 25th. The wind blew terrifically all day long. Early detailed six companies for picket duty. Shortly after they left camp the firing along the lines grew fast and furious, and at eight o’clock, we, with the other regiments of the brigade, were ordered to Seven Pines, to man the works in front of Heintzleman’s corps. We took position on the site of the original camp of Casey’s division, now transformed into a formidable fortress. Heintzleman moved forward through a heavy piece of timber to a clearing in front and met with determined opposition. All the forts and redoubts belched forth their murderous fire over the heads of the advancing columns, and thus assisted, they drove the enemy before them and got within four miles of Richmond. If they had remained there, and we had all marched forward, it would have amounted to something, but towards evening the whole force returned, and reoccupied their works, and we returned to our own camp. There was an immense expenditure of powder and shot, but little good resulted from it.

June 24th. Almost every man in the regiment got a thorough drenching last night; their arms, too. The colonel ordered fires lighted to dry the blankets and clothing, and on the color line at break of day every ball cartridge was withdrawn and the men ordered to clean their muskets. After breakfast the regiment fell in, and arms were carefully inspected, then reloaded. It is extraordinary how little the men require looking after in regard to their muskets! There are few men who do not keep them in perfect order all the time.

June 23d. Hot during the day, nothing important to note. In the course of the night it rained and blew terrifically. I was awakened by the tent blowing down on top of me and was obliged to crawl out and run to the guard house for assistance. Puffy, the quartermaster, who tents with me crawled out too, on the other side, swearing like a Dutch trooper. After a considerable struggle we succeeded in getting it up again and making the pegs hold; the difficulty is the ground is all sand and when it rains hard the pegs will not hold, and, consequently, the tent must come down. We got a famous bath by the operation.

June 22d. Sunday morning. Splendid weather; were routed out twice during the night, but nothing more than the ordinary firing occurred. Had a fine bath in the half barrel; dressed in full uniform and took breakfast at nine o’clock with the colonel and the lieutenant-colonel; at ten o’clock held regimental inspection, and the remainder of the day remained quietly in camp. In the evening, McKim, Broom, and I rode over to the camp of the Lincoln cavalry and renewed our acquaintance with Quartermaster Bailey, from whom I bought the gray. The cavalry officers tell us they have had glorious sport, scouting, raiding, and exploring the country on our right flank. They passed to the rear of the enemy the other day and created quite an alarm. They think the rebels are up to something and will soon make a move. It seems certain they will not otherwise hear from us, so that the rumor may be true. If we can’t fight now, we never can, as it would be impossible to have troops in better condition.

June 21st. Weather broiling hot, and water as poor as can be; the sick list growing longer all the time, whole regiments of men going to the hospitals. At 4 P. M. fell in for a brigade drill, the first drill we have had this side of the Chickahominy; made a good appearance and performed promptly and correctly several complicated movements; we all enjoyed the excitement and display. Drill dismissed at 6:30 p. M. In the evening rode from one end to the other of the corps line; turned in early.