April 18th. At twelve o’clock last night we were suddenly routed out by a heavy cannonading and musketry, apparently in our front. As we always sleep here fully accoutred, we had nothing to do but grasp our arms and rush for the color line. Stood in line about an hour, watching the beautiful effect of the shell fire in the dark night, and then dismissed the regiment, but got little sleep, as the firing continued, apparently, without any object. We learned subsequently that the pickets had been engaged in our front, and that quite a little engagement had taken place on the left, where the officer commanding has made a reconnoisance. During the afternoon a string of ambulances came in, bringing about one hundred wounded men and passed to the rear. In the evening we gathered some particulars of the last two or three days’ operations about the movement of the troops. The reconnoisance was made by General Smith, commanding a division of Key’s corps, at a place known as dam No. 1, on the Warwick river, between Lees and Wigans mills. The dam, defended by a rebel battery of two guns and a line of rifle pits, was attacked by Brook’s Vermont brigade, under cover of the fire of a battery of artillery. After the battery had shelled the works, the brigade made a rush for the dam, driving back the rebel pickets, and captured and occupied their rifle pits. Smith found but few troops to oppose him, and in one of the small redouts nothing but wooden guns. Later on, several companies of the Third Vermont crossed the river below the dam and carried the works there with ease, driving the enemy pell mell before them. Expecting to be reenforced, they held on to this position till the enemy moved down upon them in force, obliging them to retire across the river under a heavy and destructive fire, losing nearly one hundred men in the retreat. The heavy cannonading we heard yesterday in that quarter was Smith’s guns. There are a host of unpleasant rumors afloat which we have no means of verifying, and, therefore, I shall not mention them, but the affair was undoubtedly badly managed. The greatest need of our army seems to be general officers that know something, to lead it, but, of course, we can’t believe all we hear. After tattoo, received orders to hold ourselves in readiness to move forward into the advanced trenches to-morrow.
Diary of a Young Officer–Josiah Marshall Favill (57th New York Infantry)
April 17th. Awakened early by heavy cannonading in the front. All hands turned out and stood under arms, but contrary to expectations, were not ordered to attack. The rebel shells flew thick and fast over our heads, landing amongst the troops in rear, who were busy with their breakfast. About eight o’clock the firing ceased, the sun came out, and the day grew very warm; at ten o’clock the colonel ordered a battalion drill within full view of the rebels, and at four P. M. an inspection, followed by a splendid dress parade under the very noses of the enemy. Before moving up to the works, the only way to obtain water was by digging holes four or five feet deep in the sandy soil. Of course, the water was simply surface drainage, and many of the men were badly affected by it, more than fifty being sent to the hospital. Here we found some good natural springs of pure cold water, which is a great luxury indeed. Camp full of rumors of an impending assault, but nothing definite.
April 16th. Had a fine night’s sleep, due to the luxury of a soft bed Seth made for me, out of pine needles stripped from the branches; glorious morning; in fact, the weather is enchanting, although yet early spring. After breakfast, sat in the open air in my shirt sleeves at the desk, making various reports and official documents. At two P. M. the regiment was inspected in full marching order and subsequently engaged in battalion drill. Before the drill was over an aide rode up and directed the colonel to strike tents and be ready to march at a moment’s notice; within half an hour we were en route, with the rest of the brigade directly towards the front. We were greatly astonished to find the ground we marched over deserted, the immense number of troops that were in front of us having disappeared. We marched into the batteries and earthworks, stacked arms, and pitched tents just in rear of the works. A few shells came over from the rebel guns, but did not hurt us; one, however, burst so close that my horse reared and plunged and started to run away, directly toward the enemy’s lines. Luckily, I soon had him under control. We all turned in at eight o’clock, expecting lively times at daylight.
April 15th. This afternoon, Major Parisen and I rode over to the mouth of the inlet which is about two hundred yards wide, shallow, and full of oysters; on the other side stood a large white house, and when we rode up there appeared to be several women walking about it. Being in search of adventure, we dismounted, gave our horses to the orderly, and bailed out an old boat we discovered sunk on the beach. Finding it all right, we paddled across and walked up to the house. Three women, two young and one old, received us at the door and gave us a hearty welcome. They were dreadfully nervous, fearing our men would raid their house and murder them. They were almost beside themselves with fear, telling us they had heard such dreadful tales of the Yankee soldiers, and that they went to bed every night, expecting to have their throats cut and house burned down before morning. We quieted their fears, in exhibiting ourselves as specimens of the terrible Yankee, and soon talked them into a better state of mind. We staid over an hour; the girls were very sociable; then promising to come again, rowed back in our muddy scow, taking with us a live duck and pail of milk, for which we duly paid, in Uncle Sam’s currency. The major carried the duck and I the milk; both of us became disgusted with our burdens; the duck quacked and flapped its wings, scaring the horses out of their wits; the major’s horse got away from the orderly and ran into the woods, and it took more than half an hour to recapture him; the milk would not stay in the pail, and by the time we got home, there was little of it left, but we had lots of fun and intend repeating our visit. In the evening, the major called on General French, and explained to him the exposed situation of the women, resulting in the general’s permission to establish a guard there for their protection.
April 15th. Weather dull and looked like rain in the morning, but towards noon the clouds disappeared and the sun shone beautifully. Regiment still building roads and docks. At twelve o’clock, received orders to recall all fatigue parties and be prepared to march at a moment’s notice. As the guard placed yesterday at the house across the creek where the ladies lived had to be withdrawn, the major and I thought we might as well do it ourselves, and so took a gallop to the creek and rowed ourselves over again. The women were dreadfully sorry to lose the guard and entertained us very pleasantly, urging us to call again, if we ever came back, which we promised to do. The rowing, or rather paddling, of that old boat gave me a lot of pleasure. I was almost brought up on a boat and love the water dearly. At two P. M. we received orders to strike tents and move to the front. We marched about five miles, coming in sight of the Yorktown works, then turned into a field to the right, stacked arms, and awaited further orders. Just before dark, we were directed to pitch tents and form a regular camp. The regimental headquarters tent was soon up, and by eight o’clock we sat down around a pleasant camp fire and ate our supper of roast duck, the spoils of our creek adventure. The evening closed with much hilarity.
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Note: The two entries for the 15th are as published in the book. There was probably a day mis-dated in the diary or the book — perhaps the tenth — with subsequent entries off by one day.
April 14th. Another fine morning. After an hour of orderly room work, I took a long walk with Doctor McKim to the beach, where we were greatly interested in the disembarkation of troops, horses and big guns. We also met several officers, from whom we got a good deal of gossip; amongst other things it is said that if McClellan had pushed forward the troops as soon as they were landed, he might easily have taken Yorktown, and saved the tedious and expensive operations of a regular siege. He is much criticised for his lack of dash and enterprise, and there are many who doubt already his ability as a general commanding.
It seems the enemy have established an irregular line extending from the York to the James river, their left resting on Yorktown, and right on Mulberry Island, in rear of the river Warwick, which takes its rise about three miles from Yorktown and flows thence into the James. This rather small stream has been made a formidable barrier by means of dams, thus raising the water and making it unfordable. Its banks are swampy woods, impassable for guns and wagons, and so constitutes a formidable defensive work. Yorktown is on high rolling ground and capable of making a good defense with the works already built. It is strongly supported as well as commanded by heavy forts at Gloucester on the opposite shore of the York river, whose guns, we are told, are powerful enough to prevent all the fleets of the United States from passing up the river. General Magruder, the rebel commander, had less than twenty thousand men when we first landed. As we had at least fifty to seventy-five thousand men the second day of our arrival, it is easy to see we could have entirely overwhelmed them if McClellan had been more enterprising.
The army is posted as follows: Heintzlemen on the right, Sumner in the center, and Keys on the left. General Fitz John Porter is director of the siege, General Barry, chief of artillery, and General Barnard, chief of engineers. Lines of investment have been laid out, and much work done. Heavy mortars, some of them throwing a shell two feet in diameter; siege Parrot guns and big howitzers are being mounted in batteries and will soon be ready to open fire. Our division, is in reserve and occupied almost exclusively in building docks and roads, but the work is very nearly finished, and then we shall take our turn in the works.
April 13th. Sunday morning. Awoke from an unusually refreshing sleep, jumped into the bath tub (another half barrel) and had a glorious wash, then dressed and went outside to enjoy the magnificent spring morning and sniff the balmy breeze. The weather is so fine now, it makes one impatient of this slow siege, but I suppose we can’t hurry matters any more than we are doing. In the afternoon, the major and I rode out for an airing again; the gray in splendid condition, full of life and anxious to jump every fence and ditch we came across. He is a magnificent little horse; never tires, and is without a fault. I got a great bargain in him, surely.
Heavy fatigue party under Captain Gott returned, and joined the regiment tonight.
April 12th. Another delightful morning: Continuous streams of troops still arriving and marching to the front. Stores and guns too, are landing now, and the siege train is getting ready for its terrible work.
Detailed four hundred and fifty men for fatigue duty in the trenches before Yorktown, with Captain La Valley to command them. They greatly enjoyed the change from road building to making forts, all hoping to get a view of the enemy. Enjoyed myself immensely to-day, having entirely recovered my health. In the afternoon, Major Parisen and I rode out to see the country, and on our way stopped at one of the two houses in the neighborhood. We found an old lady and a young one, who were both glad to have some one to talk to. The girl told us her lover was in the rebel army, as was every other young man belonging in that part of the country, and she hoped they would soon drive us all away. She seemed to have no doubt of their ability to do this, thinking them much better soldiers than we are. We gathered from what they said, that they have had communication with some of the rebels, their friends, since we landed, which would be an easy matter in this thickly wooded country at night.
April 11th. After much rain, the weather has become fine, and to-day is perfect. All our energies are bent upon road building, while the troops still arriving are mostly sent to the front, to invest historic Yorktown. I have been unwell during the last two days, but got through with a good deal of work; made field returns, and quarterly returns of deceased soldiers; in the evening felt something better.
April 9th. Captain Fiske returned to-day from sick leave, and resumed his duties of adjutant general. The general, in relieving me, complimented me gracefully on the performance of my duties, and told me not to forget to call upon him. I returned to the regiment, and resumed the duties of regimental adjutant. Neither Seth nor I much relished the change, but made the best of it.
This day the army was supplied, or at least our division, with shelter tents, the tent d’abri, of the French soldier, which is the greatest boon thus far granted the enlisted men. It is so very important, and necessary to health as well as comfort, that I wonder we have not had them sooner. Up to this time, the only shelter from the elements the men have had was such as pine or cedar branches afforded, and in consequence of the great amount of rain that has fallen they have all had a hard time of it, many giving way, and going back to the hospitals. Now they will always have their tents with them, ready for immediate use. They are simply small pieces of canvas seven feet by five, made to button together, every man carrying one piece. The operation of spreading them for use is very simple; you take two sticks cut with crotches about three feet long, stick them into the ground, seven feet apart, and upon these lay a light ridge pole, then two men button their pieces together, throw it over the ridge pole, pull it tight and fasten it down to the ground with pegs, little loops being made in the shelter tent for that purpose, and the tent is complete. When this is done, spread a rubber blanket over the ground, carefully turning up the edges against the sides of the tent to keep the water out in case of rain; make up the bed of blankets with knapsacks for pillows, and you may then creep in, and sleep as comfortably and securely, in ordinary weather, as in a full sized tent. When the march is resumed, the piece of tent is folded with the blankets, and all the rest abandoned.
We received orders still further reducing officers’ baggage, Regimental, field, and staff are not to have any wagons, but must put up with pack horses; brigade headquarters get one wagon only, which will make General French wink worse than ever. The trains have been and still are much too large, and the order is important, and will add to the efficiency of the army. At present it takes about a third of the army to look out for wagon trains, and they monopolize the roads completely.
Over ten thousand men are at work building corduroy roads, the native roads being utterly impassable for artillery or wagons. They seem to be in many places nothing but quicksand, and the wagons go down almost out of sight; the country is flat and without drainage, so the water stands in small lakes sometimes over a foot deep. These corduroy roads are substantial, but beastly things to ride over, the horses frequently getting their hoofs caught between the poles. Fatigue duty at present is about all the army has to do. The first duty I did with the regiment was to detail the bulk of it to work on the docks at Cheesman’s Bay, which are already in such shape that vessels can land troops upon them, and by working night and day we hope to have them ready for horses and stores by to-morrow. I rode down to the dock in the evening to see how matters stood, and found the bay covered with almost every variety of vessel and transport under the sun. At least a dozen bands were playing, and our deserted sand beds and quiet waters of a day or two ago transformed into the bustle and confusion of an immense commercial port.
We hear to-day that the rebels have taken position at Yorktown, and are fortifying a line across the peninsula upon the identical ground once occupied by Cornwallis and the British Army in 1781, and our first duty will be the siege of Yorktown; and this is why so much dock building and corduroy road work is being done, as Ship Point is to be the base of supplies during the siege. We also got the glorious news of the battle of Corinth, and capture of Island No. 15, which put us in fine spirits, and made us anxious to deal a blow in this quarter. We are just beginning to hammer the confederacy now with our new weapons, and I think the country will not be disappointed in the result.
April 8th. This morning nearly all the brigade was detailed on fatigue duty to build docks, bridges and roads; thousands of men are at work on the docks, as no artillery or stores can be landed until this is done. I rode over the country in the afternoon, finding it barren and deserted; saw two houses which were occupied by women only. Not a man here outside of our own army.
