May 27, 1864
Last night Russell's trusty division of the 6th Corps set
out on a very long march, as our advanced guard in a flank movement to the
Chickahominy. . . . This necessitated
our early “getting out of that,” for we were on the bank of the river, and the
Rebel skirmishers would be sure to follow right down with the first daylight to
the opposite side. Indeed, a little while after we were gone they did come down
and fired into the telegraph waggon, wounding the side of the same. By four we
had taken our breakfast and were in the saddle. Wonderful how promptly all the
servants pack the things and strike the tents when they expect to be shot at!
We rode first to Burnside, into whom the General pitched for cutting the march
of General Warren and not sending up the brigades to hold the fords; and B.
rather proved that he was right and Warren wrong. I can tell you aquafortis is
mild to the Major-General commanding when he gets put out; which is quite not
at all unfrequently; but I have seen him in no such fits as in the falling back
from Culpeper to Centreville. Here he can lean upon Grant more or less,
though he does all the work; so much so that Grant's Staff really do nothing,
with the exception of two or three engineer officers. Then we passed by the
gushing Hancock, who explained what he was going to do, in his usual flowing
style. At Chesterfield Station we found two divisions of the 6th Corps massed,
and just then beginning to march out. They were issuing rations, to each man
his bit of beef and his “hard tack.” We got ahead of the infantry and kept on
the way, sending some cavalry ahead in case of wandering Rebels. The road was strown
with dead horses, worn out and shot by the cavalry, when they came this way
from their raid. Really whenever I may see civilized parts again, it will seem
strange to see no deceased chargers by the roadside. We made a halt to let the
column get up, at a poor house by the way. There were a lot of little children
who were crying, and the mother too, for that matter — a thin ill-dressed
common-looking woman. They said they had been stripped of nearly everything by
the cavalry and expected to starve. So the soft-hearted General, who thought of
his own small children, gave them his lunch, and five dollars also; for he is a
tender-hearted man. We kept on, through a very poor and sandy country, scantily
watered; for this was the ridge and there was no water except springs. At 9.30
we dismounted again at an exceptionally good farm, where dwelt one Jeter, . . . who was of a mild and weak-minded turn.
He said he was pleased to see such well-dressed gentlemen, and so
well-mannered; for that some others, who had been there two days since, had
been quite rude and were very dusty; whereby he referred to the cavalry,
who, I fear, had helped themselves. . .
. About one o'clock, having ridden some twenty-two miles in all, we stopped at
the house of one Thompson and, that afternoon, camped near by, just close to
Mangohick Church. . . . Mr. Thompson was
an odd specimen. He talked just like a nigger, and with a squeaky voice. He was
sharp withal, and pretended to have been entirely stripped; but I presently
discovered he had a good deal, or, as he would have said, right smart, of corn.
I discovered to-day that the Lieutenant-General has sick-headaches periodically
— one now, for example, for which he put some chloroform on his head.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 128-30
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