Читать книгу Civil War Live - Charles Carleton Coffin - Страница 28

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The first battle in the Peninsular campaign of the Army of the Potomac was fought at Williamsburg, one of the oldest towns in Virginia. It was settled in 1632, and was capital of the Colony for many years before the Revolution. William and Mary's College is there, which was endowed by the king and queen of England with twenty thousand acres of land, and a penny on every pound of tobacco sent out of the Colony, and duties on all the furs and skins. The college buildings were designed by Sir Christopher Wren, architect of St. Paul's in London.

The colonial governors resided at Williamsburg. The courts were held there. The government buildings were the noblest in America. The Governor's residence was a magnificent edifice, with a great estate of three hundred acres attached, laid out in lawns, parks, groves, flower-gardens, and peach-orchards. It was intersected by a brook. There were winding graveled walks, shaded by oaks and lindens.

On public occasions, and on birth-nights, there were grand receptions at the palace, as it was called, where all the public officers and gentlemen assembled to pay their respects to the governor. The judges and counselors, in flowing robes and powdered wigs, the gentlemen of the Colony in broidered waistcoats, ruffled shirts, buff breeches, black stockings, and red, yellow, green, blue, or purple coats, with gold and silver shoe-buckles, and ladies in silks and satins, rode up in their carriages, driven by coachmen, and attended by footmen in livery.

During the sessions of the House of Burgesses there were gay times. The town was filled with visitors. The wealth, fashion, and refinement of the Colony gathered there. It was there in the House of Burgesses that Patrick Henry uttered the patriotic sentiment, — "Give me liberty, or give me death." It was from Williamsburg that Sir William Berkeley wrote to the King's commissioners, thanking God that there were no common schools or printing-presses in Virginia. Washington, when but twenty-one years of age, mounted his horse at the palace-gate, for his long journey to the head-waters of the Ohio, chosen by Governor Dinwiddie, out of all the aristocratic families of the Colony, to bear a message to the French commander in that far-off region; and there, at the same gate, he dismounted from his horse on the 22d of January, 1754, having faithfully accomplished what he had undertaken.

East of this old town, a small stream, which rises in the center of the Peninsula, runs southeast and empties into College Creek. Very near the head-waters of this stream another has its rise, which runs north to the York River, and is called Queen's Creek. On both streams there are mills. The main road from Yorktown to Williamsburg runs on the high land between the head-waters of the creeks. About a mile east of the town the road forks. General Magruder had thrown up a strong fortification at that point, which contained thirteen guns, and was called Fort Magruder. There were ten other earthworks which effectually commanded the roads, the ravines, and all the approaches from the east.

In pursuing Magruder, General Stoneman, with the cavalry and Gibson's battery, went up the Yorktown road, and came out of the dense forest in front of Fort Magruder. The guns opened fire, throwing shells, which killed and wounded several of the cavalrymen. Gibson brought his battery into position and replied. The Sixth United States Cavalry moved on towards the fort, but were met by infantry and cavalry, and were compelled to fall back with the loss of thirty men. Gibson was obliged to move his guns, for the batteries in the fort had the range of his position. The mud was deep, and one of the guns sunk to the axle. The horses tugged and pulled, but they also sunk. Other horses were added, but the ground was marshy, and gun and horses went still deeper.

The Rebel gunners saw the confusion, and threw their shells upon the spot. Some burst harmlessly in the air, some fell into the mud, others tore up the ground and covered the artillerymen and teamsters with earth, others burst among the horses and men. The Rebel infantry came down upon the run, and Captain Gibson was obliged to leave.

The night came on dark and dismal. The rain fell in torrents. The troops who had been marching all day were drenched. The roads were narrow and muddy. There was a want of arrangement in the order of marching, and the divisions became confused. Wagons broke down, artillery sunk in the mire; but the troops were eager to get at the enemy, who had eluded their commander, first at Manassas, and now at Yorktown. They marched, some of them, till midnight, and then, without kindling a fire, lay down drenched, upon the dead forest leaves, having had no dinner, and without a supper. The rain-drops dripped from the trees through the night, but the soldiers were in line at daybreak, ready to move again in pursuit of the enemy.

General Hooker being in advance upon the Lee's Mills road, came upon the enemy's pickets posted along a deep ravine above the mill-pond, on the stream which empties into College Creek.

General Smith's division, when the army advanced from Yorktown, was on the Lee's Mills road, but it moved towards the north and came in front of the enemy on the Yorktown road.

General Hooker's skirmishers, as soon as they saw the enemy, dashed on and drove them across the ravine, and approached within musket-shot of the fort. The artillery in the fort opened with a rapid fire of shells, but the skirmishers concealed themselves in the underbrush, and gave so deadly a fire that they silenced the guns. No gunner could show his head without getting a ball through it.

General Hooker formed his division in line of battle. His first brigade was commanded by General Sickles, and was composed of the First, Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth Excelsior regiments from New York. His second brigade, General Grover's, was composed of the First and Eleventh Massachusetts, Second New Hampshire, and Twenty-sixth Pennsylvania. The third brigade was composed of the Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth New Jersey regiments, and was commanded by Colonel Starr, — in all, about eight thousand men.

The First Massachusetts had the left of the line, then the Second New Hampshire, Eleventh Massachusetts, with the Twenty-sixth Pennsylvania on the right. The other brigades did not arrive till nearly noon. They formed on the left of Grover's brigade, towards the mill-pond.

The Rebel force in position behind the forts is supposed to have been about thirty thousand, commanded by General Longstreet. A Rebel officer states that it numbered not over twenty-five thousand.18

During the forenoon but a small force confronted General Grover's brigade, but in the afternoon dark columns appeared south of the fort, and, advancing down the ravines, crossed the stream above the mill-pond.

They attacked General Hooker's left wing in great force. The skirmishers were driven in. Bramhall's battery came into position as the enemy advanced. "Shell with short fuses!" shouted the captain to his gunners.

The shells exploded in, around, and above the advancing columns, which still kept coming on. The musketry began, — quick and sharp volleys; yet the lines came on, across the open space, through the woods.

"Canister and spherical case!" was the order to the gunners. The cannon spouted a deadly fire, filling the air with terrible hail. The Rebel lines were checked. Foiled in the attack upon the center, they advanced once more upon the left flank, and the contest went on with increasing fury, like the rising of a winter tempest.

Grover and Sickles held their ground tenaciously, but were forced back inch by inch and step by step.

The contest was in the edge of the forest, over fallen trees, where men fell headlong in their endeavors to take new positions. The rain was falling, the ground was miry. The men were worn and weary; but they fought on, minding not hunger or thirst or exhaustion, calling for ammunition. Their cartridge-boxes were empty, but they would not turn their backs upon the enemy, or desert their comrades whose cartridges still held out.

From noon till four o'clock General Hooker fought unaided. He sent to Sumner for reinforcements, but Sumner felt that he could not spare any men from his front. He sent officers to bring up the brigades in the rear.

General McClellan was at Yorktown, and did not know there was a battle going on till late in the day.

The Rebels saw that Hooker received no reinforcements, and pressed him heavily. His troops supporting some of the batteries gave way. The Rebels came on in a desperate charge, shot the horses, and five cannon fell into their hands.

"Reinforcements! I want reinforcements!" was Hooker's cry. The impetuous Kearney, whose division was the last to leave Yorktown, had heard the roar of battle, and rode ahead of his troops. He was an old soldier, had stormed the heights of Chapultepec, and was with Louis Napoleon in the great battle of Solferino. He started back to hasten forward his division, but it was already advancing.

The brave, energetic, resolute Berry, who commanded one of Kearney's brigades, met an aide of General Sumner's.

"Who is engaged at the front?" he asked.

"Hooker is at it."

"Is he supported by Sumner?"

"No. Sumner is taking position farther to the right."

The road was filled with teams and troops of other brigades belonging to Sumner's corps. Berry looked at the blockade a moment, then said to a captain of one of his batteries, —

"Captain, go ahead and clear the road for my brigade."

"Let the march be upon the double-quick," was the order sent down the line.

"Clear the road!" was the authoritative order sent up the line. The troops, the wagons, the artillery, the ambulances, turned aside, and the brigade went on.

His quick ear caught the sound of musketry, — a constant, steady rattle, like the pattering of the rain-drops on the dead leaves.

"Throw aside your knapsacks, and place a guard over them," was his order. The men, panting for breath, came to a halt, threw their heavy knapsacks into a heap, and went on again, faster than before.

Kearney met them. "You have done well, General," was his salutation to Berry. He stimulated the men, and fired their ardor with his own wild enthusiasm. They rushed on through by-paths, across pastures and fields.

Hooker's line was giving way. It had been pushed back a mile, had lost a portion of its guns, and the exultant enemy were advancing for a decisive, a finishing stroke. Many had fired their last round of ammunition, and stood with empty muskets. How earnestly they looked towards the rear to see if the promised aid was ever to arrive!

Help at last. A dark column comes through the woods upon the run. A wild, tumultuous cheer rends the air. The men who are ready to drop from sheer exhaustion, who have confronted the enemy through the lagging hours, feel new strength as Berry sweeps past them, deploys his line right and left, and becomes a living barrier between them and the tide already rolling on over the bloody field. The enemy advances, but whole ranks go down before the deadly volleys given point-blank into their faces by that body of men whose brows are wet with the sweat of their fast running. The breaker is broken. The wave which was ready to sweep Hooker from the face of the earth, instead of setting onward, begins to recede. It is beaten down before the fiery breath pouring like a furnace blast from the three thousand muskets.

The Rebels retreat. Berry advances. His volleys are steady and regular. Nothing can daunt his men. They feel that they are a power. Kearney sees that the time has come to decide the day.

"Give them the bayonet!" is the thrilling order which rings along the line.

An officer, young in years, fair of countenance, polished in manner, who has traveled at home and abroad, the same who in the silent hours of the last night at Yorktown wrote his last will and testament, the adjutant of General Berry, leads the men from Michigan. His voice rings loud and clear above the wild uproar. The men follow where he leads, into the leaden rain. They fall by scores, but on — on — on, — over the bloody field, — over fallen friends and foes, — they press the foe, regaining the ground, the lost cannon, — the victory!

"You are the hero of the day," said Kearney to Captain Smith, who had led the charge so gallantly, as he returned and reported for further duty, his clothes torn by the bullets of the enemy.

While this was transpiring on the left, there was its counterpart on the right.

General Hancock was detached by General Smith to cross the milldam at Queen's Creek, and attack the Rebels in that direction. He crossed the stream with the Sixth Maine, Fourth Wisconsin, Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, and Forty-third New York, Wheeler's battery, and a squadron of cavalry.

He came upon a small party of Rebels, who rapidly retreated.

"I can go to Fort Magruder if well supported," was the despatch he sent back to General Smith.

He could see the fort across the open plain, smoking and flaming and throwing shells upon Hooker's command. General Smith sent the message to General Sumner, requesting permission to send supports.

"Stay where you are," was the reply.

Again Hancock sent for permission to go on. Smith sent the request to Sumner.

"Go," was the welcome answer.

The troops were on the march, when an aide from Sumner stopped the movement. The Rebels were threatening an attack on the center.

"I want more force to support us. The enemy is coming in superior force to attack me," was Hancock's third message.

His position was in a field near a farm-house, where the Rebels had thrown up a square redoubt, which they had abandoned.

From the farm-house to the woods west of it there was a rail-fence. Hancock threw out his skirmishers towards Fort Magruder, beyond the farm-house. Wheeler's battery was brought up and placed upon a knoll near the house. The Fifth Wisconsin and Forty-Third New York were stationed west of the house behind the fence. The Forty-ninth Pennsylvania was placed behind the house. Two companies of the Sixth Maine held the abandoned redoubt, while the other companies of that regiment were placed in support of the battery.

Two brigades of Rebels marched out from the forest into the field. Wheeler's battery opened with shells. The Rebels were half a mile distant, but, notwithstanding the fire, they moved steadily and rapidly over the intervening space. The skirmishers which had been thrown out from Hancock returned to the lines. The Rebels were near enough for canister, and the six pieces of cannon threw it into the advancing line. The Rebel cavalry dashed upon the Fifth Wisconsin, but only to lose a dozen men and horses. The infantry were close upon Wheeler, who covered the hillock with a murky cloud. Suddenly his fire ceased, then with whip and spur and shout the pieces went to the rear and took a new position and opened again. The regiments by the fence fell back and closed up in closer order. The Rebels again advanced, and the musketry began. The fight was at short range. The battery fired shell, canister, and shrapnel, and made terrible havoc.

Hancock saw that the moment for decisive action had come. He waved his cap to his troops. The officers along the line understood the meaning of the signal. They spoke but one magical word. The men, as if animated by an electric impulse, moved towards the enemy. Their bayonets became a gleaming, glittering, bristling, moving hedge. They broke into a run. Each man felt the enthusiasm of the moment. They heeded not the deadly volleys, but went on through the storm, with a cheer louder than the roar of the battle.

The Rebels did not wait to receive the blow, but fled in confusion from the field.

It was a glorious moment. Berry at that instant was throwing in a living barrier against the flood which had swept Hooker back. The battle was won. Night came on. It had rained through the day, and the men, victorious at last, lay down to sleep upon the field, while the Rebels fled towards Richmond, leaving several cannon, many wagons, and several hundred of their wounded in Williamsburg.

The total Union loss was two thousand two hundred and eighty-eight. The loss to the Rebels was from two thousand five hundred to three thousand.

"Our loss amounted to about two thousand five hundred," says the chaplain of the Fourth Texas.

When the news of the battle reached Richmond there was great consternation, which was increased by the news of the blowing up of the Merrimack on the morning of the 11th of May.

"In the President's mansion about this time all was consternation and dismay," says Pollard, the Southern historian.19

Jefferson Davis's niece wrote a letter to a friend in Vicksburg, but the mail-bag was captured by the Yankee pickets.

"General Johnston," said the young lady, "is falling back from the Peninsula, and Uncle Jeff thinks we had better go to a safer place than Richmond. O mother! Uncle Jeff is miserable. He tries to be cheerful and bear up against such a continuation of troubles, but oh! I fear he cannot live long, if he does not get some rest and quiet.

"Our reverses distressed him so much, and he is so weak and feeble, it makes my heart ache to look at him. He knows that he ought to send his wife and children away, and yet he cannot bear to part with them, and we all dread to leave him too. Varina and I had a hard cry about it to-day.

"O, what a blow the fall of New Orleans was! It like to have set us all crazy here. Everybody looks depressed, and the cause of the Confederacy looks drooping and sinking; but if God is with us, who can be against us? Our troops are not doing as well as we expected.... The regiments most apt to run are from North Carolina and Tennessee.... I am afraid that Richmond will fall into the hands of the enemy, as there is no way to keep back the gunboats. James River is so high that all obstructions are in danger of being washed away, so that there is no help for the city....

"Uncle Jeff was confirmed last Tuesday in St. Paul's Church, by Bishop Johns. He was baptized at home, in the morning, before church."20

The Confederate Congress adjourned hastily. They sent off their families. The railroad trains going out were crowded with passengers. The public documents were boxed up and sent away. Mrs. Jefferson Davis took down her window-curtains, tore up the carpets, packed her silver plate and pictures, and left the city.21 The Treasury Department removed its printing-presses to Georgia, and everybody prepared to leave the city, which they feared was doomed to fall into the hands of the Yankees.

When the Merrimack was blown up, the James River was open to the gunboats to Fort Darling, within ten miles of Richmond. The fort mounted four guns. Three of the gunboats bombarded it on the 13th, but were not able to silence the guns.

General McClellan's transports were at Yorktown and Fortress Monroe, — an immense fleet. His army was within five miles of the James. It will be for the future historian to inquire whether the army ought not to have been sent up the James instead of the Chickahominy.

After the battle of Antietam, a wounded Rebel officer who was left behind when Lee retreated, and who was General Magruder's Adjutant-General, conversed freely upon the Peninsular campaign.

"We were very much surprised at Yorktown," he said, "when we saw General McClellan make preparations for a siege."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, for we were ready to retreat at any moment. We had only a handful of men compared with his great army."

"How many men had Magruder at that time?"

"Not more than nine thousand and five hundred fit for duty, and they were strung out on a line thirteen miles long, from Gloucester to James River. If General McClellan had acted with vigor, and pushed our center as soon as he landed, he could have trampled us all down in the mud."

"But you had a large number of cannon, which swept the approaches, and could have inflicted great damage."

"He could have covered his real attack by feints on distant parts of the line, and Magruder's force was so small that he could not have resisted an earnest attack. The woods were so dense that McClellan could have effectually concealed all his movements."

"Some of General McClellan's officers were in favor of advancing at once."

"It was, in my judgment, if you will allow a Rebel to criticise your generals," said the officer with a smile, "his first mistake."

"Then you think it was a mistake on the part of General McClellan."

"Yes, for Lee's army had not reached us. Every day's delay on the part of General McClellan gave us reinforcements. It gave us time to fortify Richmond. The Confederate army was much reduced at that time. The term of enlistments of many regiments had expired, and the Conscription Act had not been enforced. The fortunes of the Confederacy at that time were not very bright, I must confess. Even the Confederate Congress closed its session and left Richmond, and, had it not been for McClellan's delay and the energy with which troops from all quarters were conscripted and rushed into Richmond, it would have gone hard with us. And when we evacuated Yorktown, General McClellan did not do as I should have done, had I commanded you Yankees."

"Ah! how so?"

"The Virginia, or the Merrimack, as you call her, was blown up on the 10th. It was a bitter pill to us, and if I were Jefferson Davis I would hang old Huger, who commanded at Norfolk, for his cowardly conduct in evacuating the place. When the Merrimack was destroyed, General McClellan, instead of following us up the Peninsula through the mud, ought to have re-embarked his troops and made all haste up the James. Your gunboats went up to Fort Darling and got smashed, but if he had landed below the Fort he could have carried it from the rear with his infantry, for we had few troops there. He could have then brought his gunboats to Richmond ahead of us who were paddling in the mud of the Chickahominy."

"I suppose that General McClellan did what he thought was best at the time."

"Probably; but it happened to be the very best movement he could have made for us," said the officer, with a smile.

There was much suffering in the hospitals on the Peninsula. The medical department was not well organized, but the delegates of the Christian and Sanitary Commissions were present, and saved the lives of many men.

They saw a soldier in a tent one day who was fast passing away. He had fought his last battle with the enemy of his country. He was a noble man, but he was worn out by disease. He had worked in the slimy swamps, on the fortifications, and was covered with filth. He had lost all his strength, and was so weak that he could not raise his hand to his head. They washed him, changed his clothing, lifted him from the damp ground and placed him on a cot, gave him nourishing food, talked to him of home, of mother, of Jesus, his best friend, of a better world. The soldier tried to thank them, but was too weak to articulate the words. He could only take the chaplain's hand, press it to his cheek, and bathe it with tears of gratitude.

Thus the friends at home, by their Christian sympathy and charity, sustained and comforted the brave defenders of their country, in their last hours.