On the day after the battle, rain poured in a continuous storm; deluging the roads and swelling what had been but rivulets the day before, into rivers. In the midst of this tempest of rain, Casey's division, dest.i.tute of tents and blankets, weary from fighting and disheartened by injustice, marched six miles to the rear to find a new encampment. On the 5th of June, Smith's division, of the Sixth corps, was ordered to cross the Chickahominy, and encamp on "Golden's Farm," nearly opposite.

The Third brigade took the advance, followed by the rest of the division. Owing to the swollen state of the river, and the impossibility of bridging it, the division was forced to march to Dispatch Station before effecting a crossing. The march was a long and weary one to gain a distance less than three miles.

Some of our troops were found skirmishing with the enemy, and our batteries opened upon the gray coats, who quickly surrendered the ground and took to flight. Our Second division encamped in a pleasant locality, yet in close proximity to the swamp.

The Chickahominy wound its doubtful course among mult.i.tudes of islands scarcely raised above the surface, yet covered with trees, shrubs and vines in profusion, within a few rods of our camp. Beyond us, in our front, were forests of luxuriant growths of trees and climbing shrubs, and the country all about us was interrupted with rank growth of timber.

The division at once proceeded, as did all the other divisions in the army, to throw up earthworks; making slow advances at certain points by pushing these works further toward the front. On the 18th, we were joined by the other division, Sloc.u.m's. The Sixth corps now formed the right of the new line of battle on the south of the river. The line reached from Golden's Farm to Fair Oaks. Day and night the men worked at the breastworks and bridges. One-third of the army was employed constantly at these works, and the immense lines of intrenchments were marvels of achievements in engineering. These were all constructed under the fire of the enemy; no day pa.s.sing without its skirmish. Soldiers were daily brought to the hospitals with wounds, even in the most quiet times.

Everything combined to exhaust the energies of the men and produce fevers, diarrheas and scurvy. Day after day the men worked under a burning sun, throwing up the immense walls of earth, or toiled standing to their waists in water, building bridges. Night after night they were called to arms, to resist some threatened attack of the enemy. Their clothing and tents were drenched with frequent rains, and they often slept in beds of mud. With the hot weather, the malaria became more and more deadly. The whole country was alternately overflowed and drained; and the swamps were reeking with the poisoned air. The hospitals became daily more crowded. The strongest were constantly falling. Diarrhea, typhoid fever, and other miasmatic maladies, became almost universal.

Men who worked at the breastworks one day would be found in the hospitals on the next, burning with fever, tormented with insatiable thirst, racked with pains, or wild with delirium; their parched lips, and teeth blackened with sordes, the hot breath and sunken eyes, the sallow skin and trembling pulse, all telling of the violent workings of these diseases.

Day after day, scores of brave men, who had left their northern homes to aid in the hour of their country's need, were borne to lowly graves along the banks of that fatal river; and at times one might sit in the door of his tent and see as many as six or seven funeral parties bearing comrades to their humble resting places.

Hospital steamers plied constantly from the White House to Washington, Alexandria and Philadelphia, bearing thousands of these victims of disease; and many, with stoic indifference, lay down in their shelter tents and gave themselves over to death, without even applying to comrades or surgeons for a.s.sistance.

Everywhere at the north, men were seen on cars and steamers, on the streets and in the houses, whose sallow countenances, emaciated appearance, and tottering steps, marked them as the victims of "Chickahominy fever." Express cars groaned with the weight of coffins containing the remains of youths who but a few months before had gone to the war in the pride of their strength, and had now yielded, not to the bullets of the enemy, but to the grim spirit which hovered over that river of death.

Our army seemed on the point of annihilation from disease; and matters were constantly growing worse. At White House landing, great temporary hospitals were established, where hundreds languished, and waited their turn to be sent north.

Thus, for nearly a month, the two armies looked each other in the face, each engaged in throwing up defenses against the approach of the other, but neither attempting to bring on any general engagement. The pickets of the two opposing forces were within speaking distance, but they contented themselves with watching each other, and, as a general rule, amicable relations existed between them. But occasionally, when a belligerent regiment would be on picket on one or the other side, some fellow, who imagined he had a capital chance to pick off an opposing picket, would blaze away; when in a moment the whole line on either side would flash with the discharge of musketry. Night demonstrations on the part of the enemy were so common, that it was a rare thing for our troops not to turn out at midnight, or at two or three o'clock in the morning, and stand under arms until after daylight.

The men of our Third brigade were a part of the time engaged in building a strong fort, near the river bank, which, in honor of our dashing brigadier, was named Fort Davidson.

A new regiment was added to Davidson's brigade during the month of June, the Twentieth New York. The regiment was composed entirely of German Turners. Nearly every man had served his three years in the Prussian service.

They had been stationed in the works at Newport News, and their drill excelled anything in the army, either in the regular or volunteer branch of service. Their full ranks, and their unsoiled uniforms, were in striking contrast with the shattered and worn-out regiments forming the rest of the brigade.

Among the causes of discouragement and anxiety for the safety of our army, was the notorious raid of General Stuart in our rear. This energetic officer, with a body of about two thousand rebel cavalry, had swept round our entire rear, causing something of a panic, not only at White House, where all the shipping dropped down the river, but in the ranks of the army, where it was feared that our communications were destroyed, and we were liable to be hemmed in and overthrown at any time.

CHAPTER IX.

THE SEVEN DAYS' BATTLES.

The army united--Plans and counter plans--Battle of Fair Oaks--Lee's plan--The situation--Stonewall Jackson on the flank--Battle of Mechanicsville--Joy in camp--Porter's corps retreats--An astonished army--Battle of Gaines' Farm--Sloc.u.m's division at Games' Farm--Retreat to the river--Battle of Golden's Farm--A young hero--A Union victory--Our right exposed--The sick abandoned--A night of sorrow--The grand retreat commenced--Sad scenes at Savage's Station--A meteor railroad train.

At length, after great labor, the bridge across the river, near our own camps, was finished. It was an immense structure, spanning not only the river, but the swampy banks on either side to a great distance. Sumner's forces had also rebuilt and enlarged the bridge below, and now the two wings of the army, after weeks of separation, were united by means of these bridges. Communications were now rapid and easy, and there was no difficulty in reinforcing one wing with troops from the other.

General McClellan now determined to act; and an advance of our picket line was ordered on the 25th of June, preparatory to a general forward movement.

But General McClellan was not alone in deciding upon this particular time for commencing offensive operations.

General Lee, who had succeeded to the command of the rebel army when Johnston was wounded, aware of McClellan's intentions of approaching the city by regular approaches, and aware that it was in no condition long to withstand a siege, determined to act on the offensive.

The two armies were now about equal in numbers, each consisting of a little more than one hundred thousand men for duty. (Our army had 115,000 men for duty.) Our own army had recently been reinforced by McCall's division, and five or six thousand troops from Fortress Monroe; and the rebel army had been strengthened by the accession of Jackson's force, of nearly twenty thousand, from the valley.

McClellan's first move was to advance the left wing, under Heintzelman, who occupied the ground on which had been fought the battle of Fair Oaks. General Hooker was ordered to advance his division about a mile across a clearing in his front. This the gallant general essayed to do.

In front of his camp, before reaching the clearing, was a thick entanglement of low pines and bushes, filled with swamps and ponds. This chaparral was about five hundred yards wide. Beyond was the clearing, in which were the rifle pits and strong redoubts of the enemy, and still farther on a forest. Hooker's brigades, commanded by Sickles, Grover and Robinson, protected on the left flank by Kearney's division, and on the right by a Ma.s.sachusetts regiment, moved into the tangled forest, about eight o'clock on the morning of the 25th. Grover's pickets soon fell in with those of the enemy, and sharp skirmishing commenced; but the rebel picket line was steadily driven back into the clearing, where it was strengthened by their reserve. The fighting now became general. The woods rang with the sharp sounds of musketry and the deep tones of the artillery, and clouds of smoke obscured the scene from view. Ambulances were emerging from the woods bearing the wounded; and b.l.o.o.d.y forms on stretchers, and the less seriously wounded leaning on the shoulders of comrades, made up a melancholy procession.

The fire in the edge of the woods and in the open fields increased in intensity, until all of Hooker's and part of Kearney's forces were brought into action. The rebels finally retreated across the field to the cover of their rifle pits. The retreat was slow and orderly, every foot of the way being disputed.

Our men were exultingly pushing forward, determined to drive them from their pits also, when an order from General McClellan directed General Hooker to retire with his division to the original position. Here was evidently a sad misconception of the state of affairs, for, when the Commander-in-Chief, an hour later, arrived on the field and consulted with General Hooker, the men were ordered forward once more to occupy the ground they had once taken and surrendered.

This time there was less resistance. The rebels steadily gave way, giving up their rifle pits and yielding the whole of the open field.

Under cover of the forest beyond the field they made another stand, and late in the afternoon a brigade charged upon our lines; but they were bravely met by men of Grover's brigade, and driven back, leaving three hundred of their dead on the field.

By the action of this day, our line was advanced on the left nearly a mile. The victory, such as it was, cost us six hundred and forty men in killed and wounded. The men remained under arms all night, in readiness to meet the frequent sorties of the enemy, who intended nothing more serious than preventing reinforcements from being sent to the right of our line.

Little did General Lee heed these operations on our left. It was all the better for his plan that the attention of our army should be engaged in this direction. He was ready now to execute his plan of raising the siege of Richmond; and a tremendous force had been ma.s.sed against our right, ready to advance upon it and our rear, with the hope of cutting the Union army off from its supplies, and placing it in the greatest jeopardy.

Let us, for a moment, recall the position of our army, which, since the first battle of Fair Oaks, has been somewhat changed. Porter's corps, consisting of McCall's, Morrell's and Sykes' divisions, still held the right, on the north bank of the Chickahominy, at Gaines' Farm and Mechanicsville. The several bridges which had been constructed since the 1st of June, formed avenues of communication between the two portions of the army separated by the river. Next, near the river, and opposite Porter's corps, was our own Sixth corps, Sloc.u.m's and Smith's divisions, Smith's nearest the stream. Then, on our left was Sumner's corps, Sedgwick's and Richardson's divisions; and finally, on the left of all, was Heintzelman, with his divisions under Hooker and Kearney, and Couch's division, of Keyes' corps. Casey's shattered division was in the rear, guarding Bottom's Bridge and the road to the White House.

The line stretched from Mechanicsville across the river to Golden's Farm, and thence to Fair Oaks.

The whole of this extensive line was protected by earthworks of marvelous magnitude, and whole forests of timber slashed in front of some parts of the line formed almost impenetrable abattis.

On the other hand, Lee's army had been as actively engaged in ditching and throwing up redoubts, and Richmond was surrounded by a cordon of most powerful works. Stonewall Jackson had been recalled from the Shenandoah Valley; and now, with an army of thirty thousand men, a very large proportion of them being men of his original army, he hung upon our right and rear, ready to come down upon our communications and flank like an avalanche.

Scarcely had General McClellan finished his dispatch to the Secretary of War, in which he announced the glad tidings that he had got his pickets in the right place, preparatory to a general advance, before he was aroused from his illusion by the intelligence that the pickets on the right were being driven in. He had already, during the day, learned something of Jackson's position, and it was now easy to divine the intention of that energetic chief.

During the night, Hill and Longstreet crossed the upper Chickahominy; and, by rapid marches, confronted the pickets of McCall's division at Mechanicsville before daylight on the morning of the 26th. Jackson, delayed by our skirmishers, was still behind. Without waiting for Jackson, Hill ordered an attack by daylight. Our pickets were forced back upon the main line, and the battle of Mechanicsville commenced.

McCall's division, consisting of Reynolds', Meade's and Seymour's brigades, was strongly posted behind Beaver Dam creek; a stream about twelve feet wide, wooded on either side, with water waist deep, and a steep bank on the side held by the Union forces. Along this bank, timber had been felled, rifle pits dug, and other careful preparations made for meeting an attack. The only accessible places for artillery were the two roads which crossed the stream, one at Ellison's Mills, and the other a mile above. Against these two points the rebels directed their princ.i.p.al efforts. Hill's division made the first a.s.sault. Clearing their rifle pits, his men rushed forward with a yell, gaining the creek, within a hundred yards of our line. Here the creek and the almost impenetrable abattis checked their progress, and a murderous fire of shot, sh.e.l.ls, cannister and musketry was opened upon them, which threw them into confusion, and repulsed them with fearful loss. Again and again the charge was renewed; each time with equal want of success. More and more grand and terrible the battle became, as the combatants struggled with each other at close range. Thus far there had been no such terrific artillery firing during the war. The uproar was incessant, and sublime beyond description. Finding the position too strong to be carried by direct a.s.sault, the confederates fell back to their rifle pits; leaving their many dead and wounded on the ground. The men of McCall's division, securely posted behind their breastworks, had suffered comparatively little; our loss not exceeding three hundred in killed and wounded, out of the six thousand belonging to the brigades engaged.

On the other hand, the rebels had lost heavily. From their own official reports, it is known that of the twelve thousand engaged, the loss in killed and wounded was fifteen hundred; Ripley's single brigade losing five hundred and seventy-four men.

Both Davis and Lee were present on the field, directing in person the movements, and exposed to the fire where the battle was fiercest.

General McClellan was at the head-quarters of General Porter, where he remained until the close of the battle, when he rode over the field.

From the camp of the Sixth corps, the battle-field was not more than four or five miles distant in a direct line, though by way of the bridge it was much farther.

We could watch the columns of smoke as they rolled up from the scene of carnage, and see the flashes of bursting sh.e.l.ls, like sheets of lightning in dark thunder-clouds, and hear the tremendous roar of arms.

In the afternoon, as the rebels charged upon a certain part of our lines, we could watch the movements of both armies. Our only part in the engagement was to stand to arms, ready to rush to the a.s.sistance of those on the other side of the river, at a moment's notice. In the evening, the news of our success spread through the army, creating the wildest joy. Men who had, by constant hardships, and by continually looking on death, almost forgotten the feelings of joy, now broke out in loud shouts of gladness; and for the first time in many weeks the bands played those heart-stirring national airs, which in times past had been wont to fill the hearts of the soldiers with enthusiasm.

The night pa.s.sed in constant watchfulness, the men resting upon their arms; for a renewal of the attack might be expected at any moment.

Still, the men of the whole of the left wing of the army were exulting in the glad hope that in the morning we were to march into Richmond, almost without opposition; and that their high hopes of success were to be speedily realized. The prize which they had so often been promised, seemed almost within their grasp. Men shook hands with each other, sung patriotic songs, and shouted in greatest glee.

Bands continued to ring out their notes of gladness until long after nightfall; general officers rode about announcing a grand victory; all was the most intense excitement; and the men lay down upon their arms to dream of reveling in the streets of Richmond before another night. For weeks, even the drum calls and the bugle notes had not been heard in our camps. Now, as if suddenly waked from a long slumber, the strains of the bugle and the roll of the drum were added to the general rejoicing.

It was known that the rebel troops engaged were not those of Jackson. He then must be working around to our rear. He was known to have a very large force; not less than thirty thousand. It was evident that our communications were in great danger, and that unless the main force of our army, now on the right bank of the Chickahominy, were hastily concentrated on the left bank, we could not expect to hold the line to the Pamunkey another day. If this were done, the rebels could easily prevent our retreat to the James river, and leave us on the banks of the Pamunkey. Accordingly, General McClellan gave up all hope of being able to maintain the position of that portion of the army on the north side of the Chickahominy, and at once issued orders with a view of preparing for a change of base. The quartermaster at White House was directed to "send cars to the last moment, and load them with provisions and ammunition." "Load every wagon you have," said the dispatch, "with subsistence, and send them to Savage's Station. If you are obliged to abandon White House, burn everything you cannot get off."

The quartermaster was directed, also, to throw all his supplies, not burned or sent to the army, up the James river, and there establish depots of supplies. General Casey, who was now in command of the guard at White House, was instructed to see these orders carried out. He burned immense quant.i.ties of stores, consisting of clothing, subsistence, and other war material, and then hastily marched his force to rejoin the army.

The evening of the 26th was pa.s.sed in gladness over our victory; but while the army was rejoicing at this temporary success, it was losing one of the grandest opportunities ever presented it for entering the rebel capital. The whole plan of Lee had been based upon a false calculation; and had this mistake been improved by our commanders, the history of the war would have been entirely changed. Both Lee and Davis believed that the main body of our army was on the north side of the Chickahominy; whereas, of the five corps const.i.tuting our army, only one, that of Porter, remained on that side. Under this erroneous impression, Lee had brought nearly the whole of his army across the river to a.s.sail the Union army on its right. This was known to our generals, for while positive information had been received that Jackson, with his large army, was making for our rear, the prisoners taken during the day were from Hill's command, and from them it was known that the troops of A. P. Hill, Longstreet and D. H. Hill, were confronting us on the right. Thus, between our main force, of over seventy-six thousand men, and Richmond, less than twenty-five thousand rebels guarded their extensive line of works. A concentrated a.s.sault of the four corps on the south side of the river must have resulted in the utter rout of the force opposed to them, and the road to Richmond would have been opened.

But the error of General Lee was never suspected, and this grand opportunity was lost.