Tuesday, June 14th.
A detail of a thousand men from the regiment was made this morning to go to the river near the Charles City Court House, which had been burned, and cut a way for the trains to the pontoon bridge and the boat landings, and was engaged in this work pretty much all day. The country about here is very attractive, perhaps the most so of any part of Virginia which we have traversed.
Monday, June 13th
At 10 A. M. we took up our line of march, very much impeded by the wagon trains and the artillery, crossed the Chickahominy River at Long Bridge about 2 P. M., and reached Dr. Wilcox’s plantation on the James River, opposite Windmill Point, at half-past 8 P. M. Here, near what is called Wilcox Landing, we camped in a magnificent clover and wheat field which had theretofore apparently been spared the ravages of war. The Fifth Corps followed the Second Corps to this landing and the Sixth Corps struck the river a mile or two below us. Baldy Smith, with the Nineteenth Corps, occupied the attention of the enemy until we were well on our way, and then fell back to the White House. This is the first day since we left Culpepper on the 4th of May, when my company has not been actually exposed to the fire of the rebels the whole or some part of the twenty-four hours, and it is not very remarkable that the reaction from the strain of thirty-nine days under fire should make this day’s march of about twenty miles seem to me particularly fatiguing. At one point I felt so weak and faint that I strayed off a little way from the line of march and laid down in the dry but cool and shady bed of a little stream. In about an hour, having recuperated somewhat, I arose and trudged along, soon overtaking the company, or what there was left of it.
Lieut. Edmonston, who detested beans in any form, and before we left Fort Marcy was accustomed to refuse them with a sneer whenever they formed part of our bill of fare, marched along to-day toting in his hand a little pail of the Boston berries soaking in water preparatory to boiling them when we should halt long enough to do so, and this unusual indication of a compulsatory education of taste, coupled with a marked tendency to “travel wide,” as if my mercurial ointment had taken effect elsewhere than on the “graybacks” in the seams of his trousers, led me to think that he did not enjoy this day’s experience any more than I did.
Sunday, June 12th.
About 10 P. M. we were ordered to withdraw very quietly from the line we had held so long, and did so, moving to the rear of Col. Tidball’s Artillery Brigade headquarters, where we rested in line until 9 o’clock P. M., when we marched off in an unknown direction with the artillery, continuing to travel until 5 o’clock in the morning. On the march we crossed the Richmond and York River Railroad at 3 A. M., and it was estimated that we made something like twenty miles during the night.
Saturday, June 11th
Saw my friend Duncan Paul, of Canandaigua, to-day. The Second and Third Battalions were sent out to build a heavy line of breastworks in our rear, which was finished about noon and the troops returned to camp. These works are evidently intended to check the advance of the enemy if any attempt is made to follow our army when we fall back.
Friday, June 10th. The rebels shelled the Coehorn Mortar Battery manned by Capt. Jones’ Co. D to-day, but did no damage. Clothing and more rations were issued, and it looks as if preparations are being made for another “flank movement.” For the first time in a long while the band played in front of Col. Alcock’s quarters this afternoon.
Thursday, June 9th.
After being out all night “the Sheriff” was relieved and reported at camp about 8 o’clock this morning. All was quiet along the lines to-day, and an extra ration of pork, beans and cabbage was issued to the men by the Sanitary Commission, which was most gratefully received. The provisioning of an army is no small matter, but it does seem as if better food, or at least more of it, could be supplied by the department in charge. Sometimes our men have had practically nothing to eat for twenty-four hours, and I have actually seen them pick up ribs and other very stale bones left where cattle have been slaughtered, and roast them in their little coffee-boiling fires and gnaw them as they resumed the march. It was no very unusual thing to see hardtack crackers bought by the men from each other at twenty-five cents apiece, and I have known a man whose pay was $13 per month to offer a dollar for one.
For the first time since May 4th my satchel was brought to me to-day, and I was able to indulge in the luxury of a comparatively clean shirt and suit of underclothing, but that exhausts my wardrobe, for the garments removed were so ragged and infested with “gray-backs” that I burned them all at once, trusting to luck some time to run across a Quartermaster’s train.
Notwithstanding the rough experiences which the war entails, there are occasional incidents which save us from altogether losing confidence in human nature. For instance, to-day at a point where the picket lines were not more than fifteen yards apart, the men on these lines agreed not to fire upon each other and at once got out of their burrows, exchanged papers, traded knives, tobacco and coffee and discussed politics, it being generally agreed among them that if a few men on both sides who stayed at home were hung, matters could be easily arranged. So many men got together that the rebel officers, fearing demoralization, ordered the firing to commence again, and the “Johnnies” sung out, “get into your holes, Yanks, we are going to fire,” and when the incredulous “Yanks” moved very deliberately, the “Johnnies” actually fired over their heads to give them time to hide. Our pickets often hear those on the other side discussing the advisability of coming into our lines and surrendering in the night time, and every night some of them come in, and yet when it comes to fighting, one would not suppose that any of them had the faintest idea of surrendering. It is currently reported that each side is driving mines under the field-works of the other, and that pretty soon somebody will be blown up, but no one seems to have any definite information on the subject. Lieut. Vanderpoel reported for duty with my company, I having had but one lieutenant since Lieut. Clark was detailed to Co. E.
Wednesday, June 8th.
Discovered to my consternation that I was actually lousy. Lieut. Edmonston, whom I call “the Sheriff,” he having been a deputy sheriff of Ontario County, one of the neatest men I ever knew, indignantly repelled the insinuation as to himself when inquired of, and I turned the company over to him and went to the rear two or three miles to the hospital, and procured some camphor gum to hang in little bags about my neck and shoulders, and some mercurial ointment with which to “police” the seams of my clothing. On my return I saw that the gopher-hole tent which he and I occupied was closed, and creeping up quietly to the back of it, and peeping through the opening where the ridge-pole protruded, I saw “the Sheriff” sitting on the ground, naked as the day he was born, going up and down the seams of his trousers and diligently crushing the inhabitants and their eggs with the backs of his thumb nails. I could not but laugh heartily, but he saw no fun in the situation and kept on with his work until I divided my “hospital stores” with him. It had been quiet all day, but about 7 o’clock P. M. artillery fire was opened very briskly. Later Edmonston, with a detail from the company, was sent out to clear a way to the rear for the withdrawal of the artillery.
Tuesday, June 7th.
There was a good deal of desultory musketry last night, but the day was quiet, each side apparently watching the other. A flag of truce was sent out and the body of Col. McMahon, of the 164th N. Y., among others killed on the 3rd, was recovered. His features were not recognizable, his pockets were rifled and the buttons were cut from his uniform.
Monday, June 6th.
Occupied the intrenchments all day. Considerable picket-firing was going on but no serious movement was made by either side. We heard the rebel bands playing very distinctly.
Sunday, June 5th.
Under sharpshooters’ fire all day, but none of my men was hit. The body of Col. Porter, of the Sixth N. Y. Heavy Artillery, who was killed on the 3rd, was recovered to-day, as were the bodies of several other officers and men. A charge was made upon us by the enemy but it was easily repulsed, and later my company was sent to build more breastworks on other parts of our line.
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