BATTLE OF WILLIS'S CHURCH, OR FRAYSER'S FARM,
MONDAY, JUNE 30TH, 1862.
I was in the saddle
from a little after sunrise yesterday morning until daybreak this morning, and
then, after taking a nap of an hour, had to move on to find my company.
McClellan, having been so terribly punished on his right flank by the fierce
onslaughts of Lee and Jackson, has now concentrated his forces on this (the
south) side of the Chickahominy, and is making his way to his gun-boats on the
James River. We are following him up as rapidly as possible. Our two divisions
moved a few miles farther down the Darbytown Road, when our advanced guard
captured a Yankee picket, who reported their men to be but a short distance in
advance.
Longstreet quickly
disposed his troops, and advanced to meet the enemy; my battery was posted in
an open field, but we could see no enemy, as a heavy wood was between us.
The enemy soon
rained a storm of shot and shell upon us, and we returned the fire with vigor,
but as soon as our infantry charged beyond us, as at Gaines's Mill, we were
compelled to cease firing," our guns being of such short range.
Nevertheless, we
were compelled to receive their fire, and, being unable to return
it, it made our situation anything but pleasant. Nothing is more demoralizing
to troops than to be subjected to a heavy fire from an unseen foe and to remain
perfectly inactive. The wood completely shut us out from sight, yet shielded us
but little from the shot and shell.
Here a member of my
company (Edward F. Cullen) was struck upon the forehead by a piece of shell; we
thought at first he was seriously wounded, but we were mistaken. I also made a
very narrow escape, for a two ounce ball from a Belgian rifle passed through my
gunner's-bag, which was, as is customary during an engagement, thrown over my
shoulder. I had in this bag about 500 friction primers, each and every one a
little miniature cannon of itself, filled with rifle and a poisonous fulminating
powder, the explosion of one of which would have caused the explosion of the
whole. The ball passed through three thick pleats of leather, breaking the
fourth and last pleat. Had it not have been for this leather bag, I would have
received this ball just below my heart. The fighting was still going on in our
front at a terrific rate. Again and again our men charged the enemies' works,
but were as often driven back. At one time Featherstone's brigade had to reform
a few yards to the right of our battery, and could only muster 250 men. One
more grand effort—a dashing charge and our men have carried the entrenchments.
Kemper's men are holding their position without ammunition; Featherstone's
brigade has melted away from 1,200 to 200; still our brave troops hold their
position, and have captured many a piece of artillery. Night comes on, but
still the fight continues—volley after volley of musketry pours its stream of
death into our ranks, but our men cannot be driven back, and McClellan has to
keep moving on. Our field of observation is so extremely limited, we can learn
but little of the general plan of the battle or of the specific results. The
wounded stragglers all pass through our battery and tell the same old tale of
being "cut up," "badly whipped," etc., so that
for a long time we were really in doubt whether we or the Yankees had been
successful. The enemy fought bravely and contested the ground inch by inch. Our
General, Featherstone, has been badly wounded. We have captured many prisoners
and a number of pieces of artillery; also, a Brigadier-General by the name of
McCall.
We spent the night
on the field, and, for the season, it was bitterly cold.
SOURCE: William S.
White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 122-4
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