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
