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

May 27th. Rained hard until noon; the river is rising, and the low grounds are all under water. On the 25th, the fourth corps marched forward to Seven Pines, on the main turnpike road, and is intrenching. The third corps crossed the river, and is in support of the fourth. Hooker’s division has gone to the White Oak Swamp bridge, and Kearny’s to Savage Station, on the York river railroad; this leaves Franklin. Sumner and Porter north of the river, with most of the cavalry. General headquarters are established at Gaines’ Mill and all is ready now for the great battle, as soon as the roads dry up. We hear to-night that McDowell’s army is not coming to join us, on account of the serious turn in affairs in the valley, which if true, is unfortunate for us; but we must have enough men in this fine army to win, if properly led. Courage Messieurs! who’s afraid!

May 26th. Rained all day long, again making operations difficult and disagreeable. A meeting of the officers of the regiment was held, the colonel presiding, during the afternoon, when the following resolution was prepared, and read by Lieutenant C. B. Curtiss:

“Whereas, it has seemed good to the All Wise Dispenser of human events to remove from our midst our late brother in arms, and friend, Lieutenant James McKibbin, quartermaster of the regiment, and acting quartermaster of the brigade. Resolved, That we deeply deplore the sad event that has withdrawn from the stormy scenes in which his usefulness was conspicuous, one, who by his assiduous attention to his military duties, and whose engaging social virtues cause us to mourn him equally as a faithful soldier and an honored friend. Resolved, That fully assured it requires a more elevated spirit and a higher patriotism, to yield calmly to death among friends, than to rush forth to meet him when he comes with the shock of arms, we cannot count his death less glorious than that of the soldier who dies on the battle field; for he too, died for his country. Resolved, That in their bereavement, we tender to the family of the deceased our unaffected sympathies, with the assurance that our sorrow, if it be not so deep, is not less sincere than theirs. Especially, with her, who was the sharer of his life, and the children, whom he left behind do we sorrow, humbly trusting that He who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, may give the strength and consolation it is beyond the capacity of the human heart to impart. Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be sent to the family of the deceased.”

Sunday, 25th. Fine clear day; regiment inspected at nine A. M., made a good appearance; in the evening at dress parade, I read a lot of orders, the accumulation of a week. After the parade, we reorganized the regiment into its original ten companies; since landing at Ship Point, it has been consolidated into eight companies, as a matter of convenience for fatigue duty. Weather turned cold last night.

May 24th. Rained hard most of the day, putting a stop to all military work. In the afternoon Captain McKay and I made an inventory of the effects of poor McKibben, our late jovial quartermaster, who died of a fever contracted at Ship Point, on the 17th ult. We all regret him very much, for his amiable disposition, and excellent abilities. Broom will now be commissioned in his place; he has been acting as such since McKibben was taken sick. Wrote home (as did almost every man in camp I think), and told them how close we are to the enemy, and what they may expect very soon. Camp dull and cheerless to-night, all anxious for the rain to stop, so that we may continue the forward movement.

May 23rd. At seven o’clock I rode out and withdrew the picket line under Jones, and when the brigade came along, we fell in to form the advance. It is by all odds the best position in a large army; one has first chance at everything, and there is a great fascination in leading an advancing army through an unknown, hostile country, especially when the armies are close together; although so near to Richmond at the start, we managed to make a long and tiresome march, roads dusty, and the day hot; about noon filed off the road into a field to the left, and went into bivouac. The pioneers put my office tent up and I went to work making out sundry reports. We are close to the Chickahominy now, and the rebels are within four miles of us, entrenched on the other side. On the 20th, Casey’s division, of the fourth army corps, crossed the river at Bottom bridge, and to-day the remainder of the corps is crossing. Franklin’s corps is on our right, with Porter’s in reserve; our second corps has the centre, and Keys the left; Stoneman and the cavalry are on the extreme right, about New Bridge; all facing the left bank of the river. We commenced bridging the river as soon as we got our tents up, and I suppose as soon as it is done, we shall cross over and attack. In the afternoon I packed up a large box of records, regimental books, and also the two silk guidons, and turned it over to the quartermaster to send to Washington for safe keeping; this diary goes with it, for no man can guess what the next few days may bring forth. Other preparations all indicate the near approach of the deadly struggle for supremacy. Three days’ rations are ordered to be prepared, and constantly maintained; sixty rounds of ammunition were served to each man at parade to-night, and all unnecessary camp equipage turned in to be sent away. One can easily see that something of great importance is near at hand by the quiet demeanor of the troops; they are evidently doing a good deal of thinking.

May 21st. The regiment drilled to-day for the first time since we left Yorktown; the colonel put us through many movements, completely tiring the men out. Towards evening while enjoying our otium cum dig, after the fatigue of the drill, and laying out plans for the evening sport, orders came to strike tents and march at once. By five o’clock we were en route, and to our surprise and disgust, marched till twelve o’clock, over circuitous, poor wood roads, mostly running through dark pine woods. At midnight we debouched into an opening, at the junction of two railroads and bivouacked for the rest of the night. Just as we were preparing our bivouac, an order came for the regiment to go out on picket duty, in front of the division, so we fell in again, and marched out about a mile in front, and established a line of pickets just inside the cavalry videttes; reserves were posted at convenient distances, and then selecting an immense tree, on the side of a hill, near a house, for headquarters, we posted a sentry, wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and went to sleep. At daylight our people built a fire, and the cook served a good breakfast. The colonel and I rode out immediately afterwards, inspected the whole line, and made a sketch of the country, dotting down the picket line upon it. At the foot of the tree, our headquarters, there is the finest spring I ever saw; the water is as clear as crystal, and cold as ice, so cold in fact, one cannot wash in it; it bubbles out in great volumes; rushing down the hill, emptying into a fine brook, in which I counted six trout. When the colonel and I came in from the inspection of the lines, he proposed we go down to the spring and take a bath, I got undressed first, and jumped in and was almost frozen, so the colonel concluded not to try it, contenting himself with a good sponging. In the course of the day the colonel, McKim and I called at the house and looked over it, and also the garden, which is a very fine one. All the white people were gone, leaving the place in charge of negroes; they told us the cavalrymen had been there and carried off almost everything of value, but we thought the house had been very little disturbed. It belongs to a doctor, and is luxuriously furnished throughout. There is an excellent library, containing many standard works, and lots of Latin and Greek books. The beds in some of the rooms were covered with silk and satin covers, and hung with silk curtains. Many of the cabinets had been broken open, but perhaps the niggers had been at them themselves. In the garden, were beds of asparagus, onions, lettuce and peas; plenty of currant and gooseberry bushes, and delightful beds of flowers. We stationed a guard at the house, to keep the men away. One of the colored women gave us some fresh milk, and on our return home, the doctor made it into a punch. At two P. M. a terrific thunder shower came up, soaking us to the skin before we could find shelter. It lightened terrifically, making it mighty dangerous to be near the lines of stacked muskets. It soon cleared off, however, and was very hot afterwards. Just before turning in for a little sleep, we received orders to be ready to march at eight o’clock in the morning. There is a mile stone at the railroad junction, which says fourteen miles to Richmond, so we cannot make many more marches without coming in front of the forts.

May 20th. The entire corps is encamped upon nine separate hills, facing the Chickahominy. All about us are, or rather were (for they are fast disappearing), waving fields of corn and wheat, evidences of better cultivation than we have seen before. The corn makes fine feed for our horses, and is about the only useful thing we have found in this state so far. Regimental headquarters are pleasantly situated in a piece of woods just in front of the regiment. We swing our hammocks between the trees, and sleep in them to keep clear of snakes, which abound near this swampy river. We are closed up now very near to the enemy, and expect a battle at any moment; get little news, and know almost nothing of the situation.

May 19th. The division moved this morning to St. James Church; when the column was formed, the colonel ordered me back to the White House, to tell Broom to fetch up the regimental wagons. I rather liked the idea of riding back, although the road was lonesome and a little risky for a man alone; about half way, I met the colonel’s brother traveling in search of the regiment, half scared to death through fear of being captured. He was delighted to see me, and so we dismounted, and over a beverage he detailed all the news and gossip from the rear; amongst other things, he says that our forces in the valley are being roughly handled, and that at Washington there is quite a scare. Jackson has been detached from Lee’s army, and is making things lively there. What a shame it is McClellan does not pitch into them here promptly, and take advantage of Jackson’s absence. After a comfortable chat we parted company, and I rode along, meeting no one, until close to the White House, where I passed an immense drove of cattle, and apparently an endless string of wagons; by good luck, I ran across Quartermaster Demarest, of the Sixty-sixth, in charge of the brigade train, and asked him to send our wagons up to the regiment, which he promised to do. After taking a look at the immense piles of stores, and prodigious number of wagons. I rode back, overtaking Doctor McDermot, of the Sixty-sixth, on his way to join the regiment, which belongs to our brigade, and so we rode together. He is a rollicking, jovial, drinking, Charles O’Malley style of surgeon, and made the journey back most agreeable. We lost our way once, and had a narrow escape from running into the enemy’s mounted pickets, whom we saw uncomfortably close, but arrived in camp safely, about four o’clock.

The regiment is encamped around St. James Church, situated about a mile north of the Chickahominy. It is a very ancient and interesting little church, built of brick brought from England, in shape a parallelogram, having a small belfry at one end and a heavy porch and entrance at the other. There are many simple tablets on the walls, commemorating the virtues of some of the early settlers in these parts, and under the floor and in the church yard, many vaults and tombstones. Upon one of these I read the date 1725, which is quite old for this country. Some of the natives here claim Washington was married in this church, and frequently attended worship in it; I do not know whether this is true or not; now the poor old church is doing duty as a stable for cavalry horses, the pews having been taken out and piled up on the ground. Of course, they are gradually disappearing and will soon be all burned up.

May 18th. About noon we struck tents and marched four miles, towards the Chickahominy, this time bivouacking in the open field; the woods were too hot and close, and the pine ticks have ceased to be interesting; plenty of good springs about here with just a taste of civilization.