Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 13, 1862

McClellan is gone, bag and baggage, abandoning his “base;” to attain which, he said he had instituted his magnificent strategic movements, resulting in an unmolested retreat from the Peninsula and flight to Washington, for the defense of his own capital. So the truth they crushed to earth on the Chickahominy has risen again, and the Yankees, like the Cretans, are to be known henceforth as a nation of liars.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 149

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 29, 1862

The battle still rages. But the scene has shifted farther to the east. The enemy's army is now entirely on this side of the Chickahominy. McClellan is doggedly retiring toward the James River.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 139-40

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 27, 1862

At the first dawn of day, the battle recommenced, farther round to the east. This was enough. The enemy had drawn in his right wing. And courier after courier announced the taking of his batteries by our brave defenders! But the battle rages loud and long, and the troops of Jackson's corps, like the march of Fate, still upon McClellan's right flank and rear. Jackson's horse, and the gallant Stuart, with his irresistible cavalry, have cut the enemy's communications with their base on the Pamunky. It is said they are burning their stores!

What genius! what audacity in Lee! He has absolutely taken the greater portion of his army to the north side of the Chickahominy, leaving McClellan's center and left wing on the south side, with apparently easy access to the city. This is (to the invaders) impenetrable strategy. The enemy believes Lee's main forces are here, and will never think of advancing. We have so completely closed the avenues of intelligence that the enemy has not been able to get the slightest intimation of our strength or the dispositions of our forces.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 138

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Friday, May 12, 1865

It rained very hard all night. We left our bivouac at 4 o'clock this morning and at 6 o'clock passed through Richmond.¹ The town looks fine and business seems to be good. We marched ten miles and went into bivouac on the Chickahominy river. The entire army is taking the same route and thus we cannot move fast.

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¹ The Union general in command at Richmond requested General Sherman to have his army pass in review through Richmond, but Sherman flatly refused, declaring that he would march his army around the city before he would do anything of the kind, and Sherman had his way as to how we should pass through. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 274

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 1, 1862

The ambulances are now bringing in the enemy's wounded as well as our own. It is the prompting of humanity. They seem truly grateful for this magnanimity, as they call it; a sentiment hitherto unknown to them.

The battle was renewed to-day, but not seriously. The failure of Gen. Huger to lead his division into action at the time appointed, is alleged as the only reason why the left wing of the enemy was not completely destroyed. But large masses of the enemy did cross the river, on bridges constructed for the purpose, and they had 50,000 men engaged against a much less number on our part; and their batteries played upon us from the north bank of the Chickahominy. The flying foe kept under shelter of this fire — and these guns could not be taken, as the pontoon bridge was defended by heavy artillery.

All day the wounded were borne past our boarding-house in Third Street, to the general hospital; and hundreds, with shattered arms and slight flesh wounds, came in on foot. I saw a boy, not more than fifteen years old (from South Carolina), with his hand in a sling. He showed me his wound. A ball had entered between the fingers of his left hand and lodged near the wrist, where the flesh was much swollen, He said, smiling, “I’m going to the hospital just to have the ball cut out, and will then return to the battle-field. I can fight with my right hand.”

The detectives are jubilant to-day. They say one of their number, –––, did heroic feats of arms on the field, killing a Yankee colonel, and a private who came to the rescue. At all events, they brought in a colonel's sword, pistols, and coat, as trophies. This story is to be in the papers to-morrow!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 131-2

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 31, 1862

Everybody is upon the tip-toe of expectation. It has been announced (in the streets!) that a battle would take place this day, and hundreds of men, women, and children repaired to the hills to listen, and possibly to see, the firing. The great storm day before yesterday, it is supposed, has so swollen the Chickahominy as to prevent McClellan's left wing from retreating, and reinforcements from being sent to its relief. The time is well chosen by Gen. Johnston for the attack, but it was bad policy to let it be known where and when it would be made; for, no doubt, McClellan was advised of our plans an hour or so after they were promulged in the streets. Whose fault is this? Johnston could hardly be responsible for it, because he is very reticent, and appreciates the importance of keeping his purposes concealed from the enemy. Surely none of his subordinates divulged the secret, for none but generals of division knew it. It must have been found out and proclaimed by some one in the tobacco interest. It is true, Mr. Randolph told Mr. Jacques a great battle would begin at 8 A.M., to-day; but he would not propagate such news as that!

But the battle did not occur at the time specified. Gen. Huger's division was not at the allotted place of attack at the time fixed upon. His excuse is that there was a stream to cross, and understanding Gen. Longstreet was his senior in command (which is not the fact, however), he permitted his division to have precedence. All the divisions were on the ground in time but Huger's, but still no battle. Thousands of impatient spectators are venting their criticisms and anathemas, like an audience at a theater when some accident or disarrangement behind the scenes prevents the curtain from rising.

At last, toward noon, a few guns are heard; but it was not till 4 P.M. that Huger's division came upon the field. Nevertheless, the battle began in earnest before that hour; and we could hear distinctly not only the cannon but the musketry.

The hearts of our soldiers have been inspired with heroic resolution, and their arms nerved with invincible power to overcome the difficulties known to be in the way. Every one is aware that the camp of the enemy, on this side of the Chickahominy, is almost impregnably intrenched; and in front of the works trees have been cut down and the limbs sharpened, so as to interpose every obstacle to our advance.

Ever and anon after rapid firing of cannon, and a tremendous rattle of musketry, a pause would ensue; and we knew what this meant! A battery had been taken at the point of the bayonet, and we cheered accordingly. One after another, we could in this manner perceive the strongholds of the enemy fall into our hands.

Toward sundown it was apparent that the intrenched camp had been taken; and as the deep booming of cannon became more distant, and the rattle of musketry less distinct, we felt certain that the foe was flying, and that our men were pursuing them. But we knew that our men would take everything they were ordered to take. They care not for wounds and death. This is their only country. But the enemy have a country to run to, and they hope to live, even if defeated here. If they kill all our young men, the old men and women, and even our children, will seize their arms and continue the conflict.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 129-30

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 31, 1862, Night

The ambulances are coming in with our wounded. They report that all the enemy's strong defenses were stormed, just as we could perceive from the sounds. They say that our brave men suffered much in advancing against the intrenchments, exposed to the fire of cannon and small arms, without being able to see the foe under their shelter; but when they leaped over the breastworks and turned the enemy's guns on them, our loss was more than compensated. Our men were shot in front; the enemy in the back — and terrible was the slaughter. We got their tents, all standing, and a sumptuous repast that had just been served up when the battle began. Gen. Casey's headquarters were taken, and his plate and smoking viands were found on his table. His papers fell into our hands. We got a large amount of stores and refreshments, so much needed by our poor braves! There were boxes of lemons, oranges, brandies and wines, and all the luxuries of distant lauds which enter the unrestricted ports of the United States. These things were narrated by the pale and bleeding soldiers, who smiled in triumph at their achievement. Not one in the long procession of ambulances uttered a complaint. Did they really suffer pain from their wounds? This question was asked by thousands, and the reply was, “not much.” Women and children and slaves are wending to the hospitals, with baskets of refreshments, lint, and bandages. Every house is offered for a hospital, and every matron and gentle daughter, a tender nurse.

But how fares it with the invader? Unable to recross the swollen Chickahominy, the Yankees were driven into an almost impenetrable swamp, where they must pass the night in water up to their knees. The wounded borne off by them will have no ministrations from their sisters and mothers, and their dead are abandoned on the field. If Huger had come up at the time appointed, the enemy would have been ruined.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 130-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 30, 1862

It is said some of the enemy's mounted pickets rode through the city last night! Northern papers manifest much confidence in the near approach of the downfall of Richmond, and the end of the “rebellion.” The 15th of June is the utmost limit allowed us for existence. A terrific storm arose yesterday; and as our scouts report the left wing of the enemy on this side of the Chickahominy, Gen. Johnston has determined to attack it to-morrow. Thank God, we are strong enough to make the attack!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 129

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 14, 1864

The cavalry fight on the Chickahominy was very severe. The Yankees escaped on Thursday night; they should not have been allowed to get off. Our sad deficiency in numbers is always in our way.

The death of another of our beloved E. H. S. boys has shocked us greatly — I mean that of Colonel Robert Randolph, of Fauquier, for a long time the chivalric captain of the famous “Black Horse Company.” After fighting desperately for hours, he was ordered to change his position; he immediately raised himself in his saddle, exclaiming, “Boys, we will give them one round more before we go!” fired, and was at that moment struck in the forehead by a Minié ball, and laid low, a few hours after the fall of his General. Thus our young men, of the first blood of the country — first in character and education, and, what is more important to us now, first in gallantry and patriotism — fall one by one. What a noble army of martyrs has already passed away! I tremble for the future ; but we must not think of the future. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

General Lee's last telegram tells of a furious fight on Thursday, near Spottsylvania Court-House. The enemy was repulsed, and driven back; and yet General Grant prepares for a fresh attack. It is said that 15,000 wounded Yankees are in Fredericksburg. We have heard cannon all day in the direction of Drury's Bluff; yet we are calm!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 267-8

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, Sunday, June 29, 1862

Sunday, 29th.

Another note from your dear father this morning. It was written last night, the other side of the Chickahominy at Headquarters. He says they were still driving the enemy before them and that operations would begin again at daybreak, and that he hoped it would be over to-day. I shall not expect him back until it is entirely concluded. He says the slaughter has been terrible, but our success glorious.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 83

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 28, 1862

We have just heard of our success, and that Jackson and Ewell have come from the Valley, and have flanked the enemy on the Chickahominy. Two of our troopers called in this morning.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 148

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: July 4, 1862

A beautiful, glorious day, and one which the Yankees expected confidently to spend triumphantly in Richmond. Last Fourth of July old General Scott expected to be there, to tread in triumph the fallen fortunes of his quondam friends, and to-day McClellan has been obliged to yield his visions of glory. “Man proposes, but God disposes.” Many of their companions in arms are there, in the Libby and other prisons, wounded in the hospitals, and dead in the swamps and marshes, or buried on the battle-fields while the “Grand Army” and the “Young Napoleon” are struggling desperately to get out of the bogs of the Chickahominy to his gunboats on James River. I sent the carriage to Richmond a day or two ago for Mr. N., but he writes that he is sending it backwards and forwards to the battlefields for the wounded. It is a season of wide-spread distress; parties are going by constantly to seek their husbands, brothers, sons, about whose fate they are uncertain. Some old gentlemen passed yesterday, walking all the way from Lancaster County. All the boats and bridges have been destroyed on the rivers, and conveyances can't be put across. Ladies are sent from river to river by those persons who have conveyances and horses left to them. Oh, I trust that blood enough has been spilled now!. Dr. S. has just arrived; he has been twenty miles below Richmond. He says the Yankee dead still lie unburied in many places — our men are too much worn out to undertake to bury them. The Yankee hospitals, as well as our own, are all along the roads; their hospital flag is red; ours is orange. They have their own surgeons, and, of course, many delicacies that our men can't have. The Northern papers speak of this retreat of McClellan's as a “strategic movement.” The bloody fights of eight days, the retreat of thirty miles, attended by immense loss of life, thousands of prisoners, many guns, stores of all kinds, etc., a “strategic movement !” But our loss is heavy — so many valuable lives, and such suffering among the wounded. O God! interpose and stop this cruel war!

[Returning to her diary, Mrs. Judith W. McGuire writes:]

I quote no further from Mrs. N[ewton]'s diary, as the next page was devoted to the visits of those dear ones whom God had preserved amid strife and carnage. She mentions the return of our dear W. B. N. from Fort Delaware on the 5th of August, where he had been for several months. He asked but five days' furlough to be with his family, and then returned to his regiment, (Fourth Cavalry.) His reception by his company was most gratifying. As soon as he got to camp, it drew up in line, and requested him to come to the front, when the “Orderly” came up, leading a very handsome bay horse, elegantly equipped, which he presented to his “Captain,” in the name of the company.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 148-9

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 22, 1862

Dr. T. called to-day, to say that the firing we heard on Friday was from our guns shelling the enemy, to drive them lower down the Chickahominy. Letters, by underground railroad, from our dear William, at Fort Delaware. He complains of nothing but his anxiety to be exchanged, and the impossibility of hearing from home. C, at the same time, got a letter from my brother. He writes in good spirits about our affairs. Jackson's career is glorious. The sick and wounded are doing well; hospitals are in good order, and the ladies indefatigable in nursing. Surgeon-like, he tells more of the wounded than any thing else. Rev. Mr. C. came up to-day, and gave us some amusing incidents of Stuart's raid. As some of our men rode by Mr. B's gate, several of them went in with Mr. B's sons for a few moments. A dead Yankee lay at the gate. Mrs. W. (Mrs. B's daughter) supposing he was only wounded, ran out with restoratives to his assistance. While standing there, two Yankees came up. Mrs. W. ordered them to surrender, which one did without the slightest hesitation, giving up his arms, which she immediately carried in to her younger brother, who was badly armed. The other escaped, but her prisoner went along with the crowd. Yankee wagons are again taking off corn from W. The men are very impertinent to C.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 146-7

Diary of Gideon Welles: Wednesday, August 20, 1862

Memo. Soon after hostilities commenced, in the spring or summer of 1861, a letter from William D. Porter to his son was published. The son had joined the Rebels, and so informed his father, who wrote him he thought he had committed a mistake. But, having taken this step, he advised him to adhere and do his duty. At that time W. D. P. was on duty in the Pacific. I immediately detached and ordered him home. He reported to me in great distress; disavowed the letter; said it was a forgery, that his son and himself were on bad terms and the letter had been written and published to injure him. There was, he informed me, much disagreement in the family; his son had been alienated from him, and, like David, sympathized with the Secessionists, while he (W.) had taken the opposite course. David, he remarked, was the intimate friend of Jefferson Davis and the Rebel conspirators, and he had expected that he would act with them, and he had no doubt that David's course had injured him; confounding him with D., he was made accountable for D.'s acts. David said he had no doubt that Bill wrote the letter, and I was of that opinion.¹ William had, not without reason, the reputation of being very untruthful, — a failing of the Porters, for David was not always reliable on unimportant matters, but amplified and colored transactions, where he was personally interested especially, but he had not the bad reputation of William. I did not always consider David to be depended upon if he had an end to attain, and he had no hesitation in trampling down a brother officer if it would benefit himself. He had less heart than William.

Had a conversation with the President in relation to W. D. Porter, who was the efficient officer that attacked and destroyed the Rebel armored ram Arkansas. Porter is a bold, brave man, but reckless in many respects, and unpopular, perhaps not without reason, in the service. He has been earnest and vigorous on the Mississippi, and made himself. The Advisory Board under the late law omitted to recommend him for promotion. It was one of the few omissions that I regretted, for whatever the infirmities of the man I recognize his merits as an officer. His courage in destroying the Arkansas was manifest. Both the flag officers were delinquent in the matter of that vessel at Vicksburg, and I so wrote each of them. Admiral Farragut cannot conceal his joy that she is destroyed, but is not ready to do full justice to Porter.

I canvassed the whole question, — the law, the proceedings, the difficulties, the man, the officer, the responsibility of promoting him and of my advising it, — yet I felt it a duty, if service rendered in battle and under fire were to govern. The President conversed with me most fully, and said, “I am so satisfied that you are right generally, and in this case particularly, that I say to you, Go ahead, give Porter as you propose a Commodore's appointment, and I will stand by you, come what may.”

Sent a letter of reproof to Colonel Harris and also one to Lieutenant-Colonel Reynolds of the Marine Corps, between whom there is a bitter feud. Almost all the elder officers are at loggerheads and ought to be retired. Reynolds had been tried by court martial on charges preferred by Harris, and acquitted, though by confessions made to me personally guilty. But a majority of the anti-Harris faction constituted the court, and partisanship, not merit, governed the decision. I refused to approve the finding. In his turn, Reynolds brought charges against Harris, and of such a character as to implicate others. To have gone forward would have been to plunge into a series of courts martial for a year to come.

McClellan's forces have left the banks of James River several days since. Their exodus I think was not anticipated at Richmond, nor believed until after all had left and crossed the Chickahominy. We are beginning to hear of the arrival of the advance guard at Acquia Creek, Alexandria, and Fredericksburg. In the mean time Pope is being heavily pressed at Culpeper by Stonewall Jackson and the whole accumulated forces from Richmond, which has compelled him to fall back on the left bank of the Rapidan, his policy being to keep the enemy in check until McClellan's forces can unite with him.

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¹ I some years later, and after William's death, learned from Admiral Farragut and Mrs. Farragut that they knew the letter to be a forgery and that it was got up for mischievous purposes. — G. W.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 87-9

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 13, 1864

June 13, 1864

Last night, at dark, the whole army was in motion for "Charles City" on the James River (there is no "city" there, but I believe a house and a barn). . . . This morning we were on our way by 5.30 and, making a cut across the woods, we soon came on Barlow's division of the 2d Corps going rapidly toward the river, close to which we found Hancock, sitting on the grass and waiting for his Corps. At this point the Chickahominy is nothing of a stream, but, as it is bordered by considerable flats, it suddenly widens, during heavy floods, to perhaps half a mile, the water being just deep enough to stop waggons. This was a great trouble McClellan had: we have met with no such obstacle. This river is characteristic; a good drawing of this very scene at Long's Bridge might pass as the incarnation of malaria and swamp fever. Fancy a wide ditch, partly choked with rotten logs, and full of brown, tepid, sickly-looking water, whose slow current would scarcely carry a straw along. From the banks of dark mould rises a black and luxuriant vegetation: cypresses of immense size, willow oaks, and swamp magnolias, remind you that you are within the limits of a sub-tropical climate, and so does the unhealthy and peculiar smell of decaying leaves and stagnant water. A great contrast to this landscape, so suggestive of silence and loneliness, was the rumbling and clatter of Barlow's batteries, as they passed over the resounding pontoon bridge. We clattered over too, as soon as the last of the regiments had passed (which was about 10.30), designing to follow in rear of this division.  . . . We kept on, on the flank of the column, admiring its excellent marching, a result partly due to the good spirits of the men, partly to the terror in which stragglers stand of Barlow. His provost guard is a study. They follow the column, with their bayonets fixed, and drive up the loiterers, with small ceremony. Of course their tempers do not improve with heat and hard marching. There was one thin, hard-featured fellow who was a perfect scourge. “Blank you! — you—“ (here insert any profane and extremely abusive expression, varied to suit the peculiar case) “get up, will you? By blank, I'll kill you if you don't go on, double-quick!” And he looked so much like carrying out his threat that the hitherto utterly prostrate party would skip like the young lamb. Occasionally you would see a fellow awaiting the charge with an air of calm superiority, and, when the guard approached, pull out the aegis of a “surgeon's pass.” The column marched so fast that I was sent forward to tell General Barlow to go more gently. I found that eccentric officer divested of his coat and seated in a cherry tree. “By Jove!” said a voice from the branches, “I knew I should not be here long before Meade's Staff would be up. How do you do, Theodore, won't you come up and take a few cherries?” However, I could not stay, and so kept on till we came, somewhat suddenly, on well-cultivated fields with good crops of wheat, oats, and clover. I was speculating on the reason of this when somebody said we were within a mile of James River! and just after, General Meade ordered me to ride down and see what sort of a position there was and how the land lay.

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon that I caught the first sight of the water, as I cantered round the corner of a little grove. To appreciate such a sight you must pass five weeks in an almost unbroken wilderness, with no sights but weary, dusty troops, endless waggon-trains, convoys of poor wounded men, and hot, uncomfortable camps. Here was a noble river, a mile wide, with high green banks, studded with large plantation houses. In the distance, opposite, was Fort Powhatan, below which lay two steamers; and, what seemed strangest of all, not a Rebel soldier to be seen anywhere!  . . . There was a signal-man waving away with his flag to attract the attention of the steamers, to notify all concerned that the head of the Army of the Potomac had struck the James. We went to a field by the Tyler house for our camp — the birthplace of John Tyler, he of the big nose and small political principles — once Vice President, with Tippy-canoe and Tyler too. Nobody was there, save a lot of nigs, that were too funny; for there suddenly appeared among them one of our black servants, who had left that very place in McClellan's time. Such a “Lord a-a massy! is dat a-ar you? Wha-ar d'ge come from?” as never was heard, and great rejoicings over the distinguished traveller! What was more to the purpose, I got some green peas, a great coup; likewise milk, though “them a-ar infants” (meaning infantry) got the most of it.  . . . A pontoon bridge, 2000 feet long, was made in ten hours, and over this passed a train of waggons and artillery thirty-five miles long; more than half the infantry in the army and 3500 beef cattle; besides 4000 cavalry; all of which was chiefly accomplished within the space of forty-eight hours!¹ In civil life, if a bridge of this length were to be built over a river with a swift current and having a maximum depth of eighty-five feet, they would allow two or three months for the making of plans and collecting of materials. Then not less than a year to build it. This was a busy night on the river, messages going to City Point and Fort Monroe, and ferryboats and gunboats coming up as fast as possible to the neighborhood of Charles City. . . .

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¹ As before stated, these letters were written after the events described.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 156

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 12, 1864

June 12, 1864^l

General Grant has appeared with his moustache and beard trimmed close, giving him a very mild air — and indeed he is a mild man really. He is an odd combination; there is one good thing, at any rate — he is the concentration of all that is American. He talks bad grammar, but he talks it naturally, as much as to say, “I was so brought up and, if I try fine phrases, I shall only appear silly.” Then his writing, though very terse and well expressed, is full of horrible spelling. In fact, he has such an easy and straightforward way that you almost think that he must be right and you wrong, in these little matters of elegance.  . . . At 3 P.M. tents were struck and we all rode to Despatch Station, where we turned up to the left and went as far as Moody's house.  . . . We halted in a field hard by and waited for the train, an operation that required much patience: for the waggons undertook to go over a sort of mill-dam, and tumbled down a bank and had many mishaps, so that they arrived only at ten. General Grant, however, had made a big fire, got a piece of board, lain down on it, with a bag under his head, and was fast asleep. At eleven, before getting to bed; we had news that Wilson's cavalry had forced the passage of the Chickahominy at Long's Bridge (the bridge was long since burnt) and that the pontoon was going down for the passage of the 5th Corps. Fain would I write more, but I am so stupid and sleepy that I am not equal to it.

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¹ On this date the army began its march to the James River.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 156

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 3, 1864

June 3, 1864

We had very severe fighting this morning, all along the lines. If you look on the map you may follow our lines. The line of battle faced westerly, towards Gaines's Mill and Mechanicsville, with a corps covering the right flank, and the left refused (a wing is “refused” when it is swung back from the direction of the main line). In some sort this was the battle of Gaines's Mill reversed. . . . The Rebel lines were about parallel with ours and they were throwing up dirt as hard as they could. No country could be more favorable for such work. The soldiers easily throw up the dirt so dry and sandy with their tin plates, their hands, bits of board, or canteens split in two, when shovels are scarce; while a few axes, in experienced hands, soon serve to fell plenty of straight pines, that are all ready to be set up, as the inner face of the breastwork. I can't say I heard with any great hope the order, given last night, for a general assault at 4.30 the next morning! You see Wright and Smith took their front line and drove them back Wednesday afternoon. Thursday afternoon was twenty-four, and Friday morning would be thirty-six hours, for them to bring up and entrench their whole army. If we could smash them up, the Chickahominy lay behind them; but I had no more hope of it, after Spotsylvania, than I had of taking Richmond in two days. Half-past four found us at Kelly's, the Headquarters of General Wright; the brave General himself, however, had gone to the front. At that moment the cannon opened, in various directions, and the Rebels replied vigorously. There has been no fight of which I have seen so little as this. The woods were so placed that the sound, even, of the musketry was much kept away, and the fighting, though near us, was completely shut from view. All the warfare for us was an occasional roundshot, or shell, that would come about us from the Rebel batteries. In the direction of the 18th Corps the crash of the musketry was very loud, but elsewhere, scarcely to be noticed.  . . . About five we had a gleam of hope for our success. News came that Barlow had carried their works and taken seventeen guns; and so he did; but it is one thing to get in, another to stay in. His men advanced heroically and went over the breastworks with a rush; but the enemy had reserves massed behind, well knowing that his extreme right was seriously threatened. Before our supports could get up, their forces were down on our men, while a heavy enfilade of canister was kept up from flanking batteries. Barlow was driven out with heavy loss, and succeeded in getting off only about 300 of the prisoners he took. Like good soldiers, however, his men stopped and turned about, close to the works, and there entrenched themselves. At six we got notice that Russell's division could not carry the line in their front. Ricketts, however, on the right of the 6th Corps, got their first line, and so did the 18th Corps on his right; but the 18th people were forced back, and this left Ricketts a good deal exposed to enfilade; but he held on. A singular thing about the whole attack, and one that demonstrated the staunchness of the troops, was, that our men, when the fire was too hot for them to advance and the works too strong, did not retreat as soldiers often do, but lay down where some small ridge offered a little cover, and there staid, at a distance from the enemy varying from forty to perhaps 250 yards. When it was found that the lines could not be carried, General Meade issued orders to hold the advanced position, all along, and to trench. The main fight lasted, I suppose, some three hours, but there was sharp skirmishing and artillery firing the whole day. The Rebels threw canister in large quantities, doing much damage. . . .

In the afternoon came Wright and Hancock, with their Staff officers, to consult with General Meade. They looked as pleasant as if they had been out to dine, instead of standing all day with shells, bullets and canister coming about them; for we now have a set of corps commanders who, in action, go, as they say, where they “can see”; which means sitting calmly in places where many people would be so scared they wouldn't know the left wing from the right. Which reminds me of a ludicrous circumstance — there always is something of the ludicrous mixed in every tragedy. Three or four vulgar and very able-bodied civilians had got down to the army, in some way or other, and were at our standpoint for a little while. Having come from the White House and hearing little musketry, they concluded it would be quite safe to go further to the front. “Come,” said one, in a flippant way, “let's go forward and see the fun.” So off they trotted down the Gaines's Mill road. One of Wright's aides said they came pretty soon, as far as where they were standing. All was quiet, but these braves had hardly dismounted when the Rebel guns again opened and the shells came with fearful precision over the spot! One gentleman, a fat man, rushed wildly to his horse, convulsively clutched the mane and tumbled on the saddle, galloping hotly off. But it so happened that two successive shells, passing with their hideous scream, burst just behind his horse, giving him the wings of panic! The other cit, quite paralyzed, lay down flat behind a ridge; in a few minutes he looked up at a Staff officer and, with the cold sweat rolling off him, exclaimed: “Oh! I wish they would stop! Don't you think, sir, they will stop pretty soon?” What became of the third I know not; but they all “saw the fun.” Not a thing did I have to do till six in the evening, when General Meade told me to go to General Birney, ascertain his position and what he thought of the force in his front; then keep on to Warren and ask him if he could so close in his Corps to the left as to set Birney free to return to the Second Corps. I found General Birney, with his usual thin, Puritanic face, very calmly eating tapioca pudding as a finish to his frugal dinner. He remarked drily that his man had selected that hollow as particularly safe; but, as half a dozen shells had already plumped in there, he did not exactly believe the theory a good one. I had a great mess finding General Warren.¹ First I went, by the road leading through the woods, to Bethesda Church. There were his aides and his flag: but the General had “ridden out along the lines” — confound that expression! That is the luck of a Headquarters aide. You say: “Is the General here?” “No, sir, he has gone, I believe, along the line.” “Do you know where?” “Well, Colonel, he did not say exactly; but, if you will follow down the breastworks, I think you will find him.” (Delightful vision of a line of two miles or so of breastworks with the infantry safely crouched behind, and you perched on a horse, riding down, taking the chance of stray shot, canister, and minié balls, looking for a general who probably is not there.) The greatest piece of coolness is when you are advised to make a short cut by the picket line! . . .

Warren looks care-worn. Some people say he is a selfish man, but he is certainly the most tender-hearted of our commanders. Almost all officers grow soon callous in the service; not unfeeling, only accustomed, and unaffected by the suffering they see. But Warren feels it a great deal, and that and the responsibility, and many things of course not going to suit him, all tend to make him haggard. He said: “For thirty days now, it has been one funeral procession, past me; and it is too much! To-day I saw a man burying a comrade, and, within half an hour, he himself was brought in and buried beside him. The men need some rest.”. . .

At nine at night the enemy made a fierce attack on a part of Gibbon's division, and, for a time, the volleys of musketry and the booming of the cannon were louder, in the still night, than the battle had been by day. But that sort of thing has not done with the Rebels, since the brilliant attack of Johnson, the second night of the Wilderness. This time they were repulsed completely. It was then that our men called out: “Come on! Come on! Bring up some more Johnnies! You haven't got enough!” . . .

To-night all the trenching tools were ordered up and the lines were strengthened, and saps run out, so as to bring them still closer to the opposing ones. And there the two armies slept, almost within an easy stone-throw of each other; and the separating space ploughed by cannon-shot and clotted with the dead bodies that neither side dared to bury! I think nothing can give a greater idea of deathless tenacity of purpose, than the picture of these two hosts, after a bloody and nearly continuous struggle of thirty days, thus lying down to sleep, with their heads almost on each other's throats! Possibly it has no parallel in history. So ended the great attack at Cool Arbor. The losses were far greater for us than for the Rebels. From what I can gather I doubt not we lost four or five to one. We gained nothing save a knowledge of their position and the proof of the unflinching bravery of our soldiers.²

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¹ “This was Warren's great way, to go about, looking thus after details and making ingenious plans; but it kept him from generalities, and made it hard to find him, so that he finally came to trouble as much by this as by anything else.” —Lyman's Journal.

² “I do think there has been too much assaulting, this campaign! After our lessons of failure and of success at Spotsylvania, we assault here, after the enemy had had thirty-six hours to entrench, and that time will cover them over their heads and give them slashings and traverses besides! The best officers and men are liable, by their greater gallantry, to be first disabled; and, of those that are left, the best become demoralized by the failures, and the loss of good leaders; so that, very soon, the men will no longer charge entrenchments and will only go forward when driven by their officers.” — Lyman's Journal.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 143-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 27, 1864

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

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Mead, June 17, 1864 – 12 M

Field Of Battle Near Petersburg,

Headquarters Second Army Corps, 12 M., June 17, 1864.

I have not written you for several days, as we have been moving, our mail facilities for the time being interrupted. Our march from Cold Harbor to this place has been most successful, including, as it has done, the crossing of two streams, the Chickahominy and the James, over the former of which a bridge of one thousand seven hundred feet had to be thrown, and over the James one of two thousand feet, in eighty-five feet of water—an exploit in military bridge building that has never been equaled. I reached this field yesterday, having been placed by General Grant in command of all the troops in front of Petersburg, consisting of the Army of the Potomac, and two portions of Butler's army, Grant being back at City Point. After arriving on the ground, although our men had been marching all the night before and during the day, I at once ordered an attack, which commenced at 6 P. M. and lasted pretty much continuously till 4 A. M. to-day—that is, ten hours—eight of which was by moonlight, another unparalleled feat in the annals of war.

Our attack was quite successful, as we captured several of their works, four guns and five hundred prisoners. The first prisoners brought in replied, on being asked to what command they belonged, Wise's¹ Legion. I asked where the general was; they said right in my front. I asked how he was, and they replied, the old man seemed quite well. I inquired what members of his family were with him, and they replied, he had two aides, named Wise, one of whom was his son and the other a nephew. This is the latest intelligence I can send you from your Virginia connections.

We find the enemy, as usual, in a very strong position, defended by earthworks, and it looks very much as if we will have to go through a siege of Petersburg before entering on the siege of Richmond, and that Grant's words of keeping at it all summer will prove to be quite prophetic. Well, it is all in the cruise, as the sailors say.

I have to-day received your letters of the 10th and 12th. Hancock was with me when I read them. Hancock and I have great fun over the sword contest at the fair, I telling him that he made use of his time last winter to make friends with the “Shoddy,” and of course, as they have the money, I can't expect to compete with him. We laugh and joke a good deal about it, and whenever a paper comes in we look for the state of the vote. The last date we have is the 14th, and that shows me about one hundred and fifty ahead, which, as I have been behind him all the time, is the source of much merriment.

Your account of the fair is very interesting. I should think, from the newspapers, you would be likely to beat the New York fair in receipts, and that your expenses would be much less.

I wish Sargie² would get well enough to travel; he might pay me a visit, now the weather is warm. I don't suppose Sargie cares much about seeing war, but I and George² would like hugely to see him. The weather is getting quite warm. I continue in excellent health and spirits.

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¹ General Henry A. Wise, brother-in-law of Mrs. Meade.

² Son of General Meade.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 204-5

Major-General Thomas J. Jackson to Mary Anna Morrison Jackson, June 30, 1862

Near White Oak Swamp Bridge.

An ever-kind Providence has greatly blessed our efforts and given us great reason for thankfulness in having defended Richmond. To-day the enemy is retreating down the Chickahominy towards the James River. Many prisoners are falling into our hands. General D. H. Hill and I are together. I had a wet bed last night, as the rain fell in torrents. I got up about midnight, and haven't seen much rest since. I do trust that our God will soon bless us with an honorable peace, and permit us to be together at home again in the enjoyment of domestic happiness.

You must give fifty dollars for church purposes, and more should you be disposed. Keep an account of the amount, as we must give at least one tenth of our income. I would like very much to see my darling, but hope that God will enable me to remain at the post of duty until, in His own good time, He blesses us with independence. This going home has injured the army immensely.

SOURCE: Mary Anna Jackson, Life and Letters of General Thomas J. Jackson (Stonewall Jackson), p. 297