At one o'clock we were ordered to the left, and moved by the left flank. The heat was intense, and the roads dusty. After marching about two miles that portion of the corps which had left the line was massed in an open field near General Meade's head-quarters, in rear of the Fifth Corps right. Almost as soon as we halted we were overtaken by a furious shower, which soon settled into an easterly storm. The rain poured in torrents, and each one was sheltering himself as much as possible, when the enemy made an attack. Rhodes' division of Ewell's corps, supported by Hill and Gordon, had been thrown forward along the road from Hundley's Corner, and had struck the skirmish line that covered our flank. The corps was at once put in position to resist the enemy's advance. The movement was on open ground, and the only corps manœuvre we had witnessed during the campaign. It was directed by General Burnside in person. The corps moved in three long lines by division fronts, and presented a splendid spectacle. It was a review under fire. When we came into position the First Division was in the front, on high ground near Bethesda Church. The Second and Third Divisions supported the First. Two batteries of artillery opened upon the advancing enemy, who replied with artillery and musketry, and for a time there was a brisk duel. The attack of the enemy was handsomely repulsed, although, in the surprise occasioned by his first attack upon the skirmish line of the First Division, he succeeded in capturing a large number of prisoners. Toward dusk the division was moved by the right flank to extend the line of battle in that direction, and a line of rifle-pits was thrown up. Later in the evening we advanced farther to the right and front, where the brigade was massed, and ordered to bivouac for the night. The men had hardly time to roll themselves in their blankets when the Thirty-sixth was sent for to prolong the line of the Second Brigade. It was raining hard when the regiment moved out. We halted in rear of the left of the Second Brigade line, which formed the extreme right of the army. In front of us and to the left was a line of deserted intrenchments, which the regiment was now ordered to occupy. This was a very hazardous operation. We were ignorant of the position, but knew that the enemy was in the immediate vicinity, if not in the very works we were ordered to occupy. Not a ray of light illumined the more than midnight darkness. The trees were dripping with moisture and every drop sounded like a footfall. As discovery would frustrate the entire plan, the men were sent in singly, each being cautioned to move quietly. We were obliged to use the utmost vigilance, and as it was, we drew some shots in moving in. We soon discovered the enemy to be on the other side of our line of pits, but a little on our left. A long, anxious night followed, a fitting prelude to the fearful day to follow.
We now fully comprehend what then we could not clearly understand. Of the previous movements we had been able to form some conception; but the operations since crossing the Pamunkey, conducted rapidly in jungles, swamps, and labyrinths of forest; in storm and darkness; by marches and countermarches, advances and withdrawals,—all seemed to us to be without consistent plan or purpose. But these operations had been necessary to develop the strong position of the enemy along the line of the Chickahominy, covering the railroad approach and the principal roads leading to Richmond. The only direct path to the Confederate capital lay across this noted stream, which one writer says may be regarded as a wet ditch in front of the outer fortifications of Richmond. In order to further advance upon his chosen line, it was necessary for General Grant to force a passage of this stream. The enemy's position along its front was so strong and unassailable that no course seemed open except to extend the left, and, by a movement lower down, outflank his right, and endeavor to pass the Chickahominy at Cold Harbor.
On the first day of June Grant sent the Sixth Corps and other troops to take possession of Cold Harbor at the left extremity of the line, it being the junction of important roads leading to White House Landing, Dispatch Station, Hanover, and Richmond. It commanded these divergent roads, and was of particular importance, as it covered the road leading to the base of supplies at White House. The place was occupied after a sharp struggle, and the severe attack of the enemy to repossess the place had been handsomely repulsed. That evening General Grant determined there to force the passage of the Chickahominy, and drive Lee's army within the intrenchments of Richmond. For this purpose the Second Corps had been withdrawn from our right, and massed on the left during the night of the 1st. The enemy had detached correspondingly to his right, and the terrific shower in the afternoon, while it interrupted Grant's plan of attack, did not prevent the enemy from crowding all his available troops toward Cold Harbor, and perfecting his arrangements for defence. Our line was now being contracted and prepared to attack. Though the manœuvre during the afternoon had been intercepted, the enemy had gained no special advantage in following up our movement. Our line extended from near Bethesda Church on the right, to the Dispatch Station road at Barker's Mills on the left, a distance of about six miles. The Second Corps was now on the extreme left, the Second Division of the Ninth Corps held the extreme right. We were on historic ground. Two years before this had been the scene of several of the great battles between the armies of Lee and McClellan, with the positions, however, somewhat changed. That soil had drank the blood of thousands of our gallant comrades; it was again to drink the blood of thousands more.
The orders had been issued for a general assault along the entire line at daybreak, and the final preparations were now being made. As we have already said, the night was stormy and intensely dark. The men had no shelter, and could not sleep, and suffered much discomfort. Just before day the regiment, with one or two others of the Second Brigade, was withdrawn from the woods and ordered to construct a new line of breastworks. This work was prosecuted with all possible despatch, and was nearly completed when, most unexpectedly, the regiment was ordered to join our own brigade, then forming for attack. Without a moment's delay, though weary, hungry, and cold, these brave men leaped the breastworks and formed on the extreme left of the brigade, joining it on the double-quick. The line was short. The brigade had dwindled to a handful compared with its former numbers, but for the beauty and military precision with which it moved across the field it could challenge no superior in any corps of the army. The enemy's heavy skirmish line was posted in the edge of the forest, and, as we approached the woods, opened a sharp fire. Our rapidly advancing line caused them hurriedly to withdraw. As we neared the woods a withering volley swept the line. At the first fire the brave Color-Sergeant, Adams E. French, of Company D, who had borne the national colors in all the battles of the campaign, received a mortal wound, and fell in the line. The hands of the gallant Corporal Stevens, of Company K, caught the flag, and it did not reach the ground. The regiment pressed forward under a galling fire, pressing toward the right, and the enemy was driven rapidly across a creek, through a swampy morass, over a ridge, and into their strong intrenchments, within a few yards of the Shady Grove road, upon which was their main line. It was with great difficulty that a line could be maintained in the dense jungle under such a deadly fire. It was Spottsylvania over again. We were even nearer to the enemy's works. Captain Barker, commanding the regiment, looked to the connection on the right, while Captain Smith gave attention to the left. As we moved forward, a rise of ground in our front afforded slight protection; but when we reached the crest the fire was terrific. The men held up to the work nobly. Comrades were falling on every side, and very few escaped without slight bruises, or having clothing cut by flying balls.
The right of the brigade encountered a strong line of works in open ground, covered by artillery in position, which could not be overcome. We on the left were exposed to the fire from the enemy's intrenched line, not ten rods distant, and our flank was entirely exposed to a heavy cross-fire. Having no support, it was impossible to advance or retire. As at the Wilderness and Spottsylvania, we were on the extreme left, with no protection on that flank. The enemy's line was longer than ours, and as the shots came in from the flank, with the recollection of those dread days fresh in mind, two companies, B and K, were deployed far to the left to keep up a show of numbers, and prevent a surprise on the part of the enemy. The ammunition was soon exhausted, and the cartridge-boxes of the killed and wounded comrades were emptied for a fresh supply. We were ordered not to give an inch of ground. Men crawled to the rear and rolled fallen trees and logs up the slope to the top of the crest, and loosened the soil with their bayonets, and scooped up the earth with tin cups and plates, until inch by inch they secured some protection. As soon as a slight cover was raised, and the supply of ammunition replenished, a close and deadly fire was opened on the rebel line in response to their murderous volleys. The colors were placed upon the works, and during the day were flying in the face of the enemy. In our advance the enemy opened upon us with four pieces of artillery posted in an earthwork. Our attack was made with so much dash and vigor that the right of the brigade secured a position which commanded the enemy's guns and prevented them from using the pieces. Two caissons were blown up, many of the men and horses were killed by our fire, and the guns stood silent and harmless throughout the day.
Meanwhile we were exposed to a merciless fire from the rebel sharp-shooters, who were stationed in the tops of trees within their works; but after a few hours we got their range, and were enabled to inflict some damage, which had the effect to slacken their fire. Late in the forenoon General Griffin's brigade, in moving around our right, secured a position from which it could make a successful advance, and force the enemy across the Shady Grove road. An attack was ordered, to be delivered at one o'clock, and preparations were made to advance at that time, in connection with an attack by our entire corps; but before that hour the order was countermanded on account of the failure of the assault along the left, at Cold Harbor.
Early in the afternoon, and again toward night, the enemy opened a furious fire on our brigade, under cover of which they attempted to draw off their artillery by prolonge; but our men had such perfect range, and poured in such a close fire, that their object could not be accomplished. At sunset a brigade of the First Division moved up and connected with our left, and Companies B and K returned to their original position in the line of battle. At nightfall videttes were posted, and thus ended a dark and bloody day.
The loss in our brigade had been especially severe. Many of its best officers and bravest soldiers had fallen before that fearful fire, and had fought their last battle. The loss in the regiment was proportionately greater than at the Wilderness or Spottsylvania; in fact, it was the most destructive battle in which we were ever engaged. As nearly as can be ascertained we carried into action that morning eight commissioned officers and two hundred enlisted men. From that short line we lost eight killed and forty-nine wounded, ten of them mortally—a total of fifty-seven. Seven of this number belonged to the Forty-sixth New York detachment. Of the commissioned officers Captain Barker, commanding regiment, and First Lieutenant Burrage were wounded by minie balls, the former in the arm, the latter in the shoulder. Captains Smith and Ames were struck, but not seriously injured. The proportion of non-commissioned officers, killed and wounded, was very large. The regiment was deprived, also, of some of its bravest and most faithful men. One of the first to fall was Color-Sergeant French, of Company D. He had won a reputation for bravery and coolness of which any soldier might be proud. During the entire campaign he had carried the national color through leaden hail, and on long and weary marches, never for a moment flinching in the face of danger, hunger, thirst, or weariness. While the line was securing a foothold in front of the enemy's works, we experienced the most terrific fire, and sustained the severest loss. It was there that nearly all the brave men who fell went down. It was there that we lost Acting Sergeant Major Humes, who was struck down by a mortal wound in the chest, while he was bravely cheering on the men. He had rejoined the regiment but three weeks before, having been on recruiting service at home; but in that brief time he had won the esteem and confidence of all by his cool, intrepid bearing. The heaviest loss fell upon Company D. Its loss of nine men, four of whom were mortally wounded, was a repetition of Spottsylvania.
Although inured, as the regiment was, to scenes of blood and carnage, to loss and toil and suffering, the sacrifices of this dark day could not be recounted in any spirit other than that of deep sorrow and pain. The "faithful unto death" were mourned as on no previous day by the little remnant who survived. It seemed to us that they were too brave and good and noble to fall in the dark hour of battle in those dripping woods, without the knowledge or the hope even of success. Every company had lost some of its best and most faithful men; some who had been in every scene of strife hitherto, and whose calm, hopeful, and even happy spirits had often cheered and sustained the despondent, and imparted fresh life and courage to those who were ready to faint. They would be missed in every added battle, in every hour of future trial and gloom. The regiment would never again seem quite the same without them; the lonely picket would be more lonely, the long marches longer and more fatiguing, the camp-fire and bivouac less cheerful, because they had gone. But the sudden rupture of earthly ties could not and cannot sever the bond that united the living and the valiant dead; and we thought of them that night as more than ever comrades bound to us by ties of battle-blood.
It had been a disastrous day, not alone to our regiment, but to the entire army. The assault along the whole line had been repulsed. No advantage had been gained, and the loss was upwards of ten thousand men.
The names of our killed and wounded in this battle are as follows:—
Wounded.—Captain Thaddeus L. Barker, commanding regiment, arm; Lieutenant Henry S. Burrage, shoulder.
Company A. Died of Wounds.—Joseph A. Humes, (acting Sergeant-Major). Wounded.—Privates Charles H. Robinson, John J. Thornton, Joseph W. Chase.
Company B. Killed.—Private John S. Rackliffe. Wounded.—Sergeant Charles Raymond; Corporals John Lamont, L. Porter Abbott; Private John T. Priest (leg amputated).
Company C. Wounded.—Private George W. Wood.
Company D. Died of Wounds.—Sergeant Adams E. French (Color-Sergeant); Corporal Roland N. White; Privates George A. Raymond, Francis L. Whitney. Wounded.—Corporal Cyrus Alger; Privates Stephen H. Patterson, William J. Barrus, J. Monroe Rich, Daniel W. Chase.
Company E. Wounded.—First Sergeant Bela B. Tiffany; Corporal Henry Macomber; Privates George Fletcher, George D. Shaw, Edward Waters.
Company F. Killed.—Corporal Edwin A. Martin; Private John Keenan. Wounded.—Sergeant Benjamin F. Montague; Corporals John J. Higgins, Orrick H. Adams.
Company G. Killed.—Corporal Andrew Moore; Privates Frank Chenery, William A. Dunn. Died of Wounds.—First Sergeant Livingston Mower; Private Estes E. Elliott. Wounded.—Privates Andrew Adams, Lyman F. Partridge.
Company H. Wounded.—First Sergeant, Philip G. Woodward (commanding company), Sergeant J. Hervey Miller; Private Josiah Foster.
Company I. Killed.—Private Elijah H. Woodbury. Wounded.—Corporal Watson Wilson; Privates, Davis B. Engly, John McGrath, George I. Carter.
Company K. Died of Wounds.—First Sergeant Charles K. Avery; Privates Albert C. Smith, John Flynn. Wounded.—John Doyle.
| Killed and died of wounds:— | |
| Enlisted men | 17 |
| Wounded,—Commanding officers | 2 |
| Enlisted men | 31 |
| Total | 50 |
The detachment of the Forty-Sixth New York Regiment serving with the Thirty-Sixth Regiment lost one man killed and six wounded.
We expected to be relieved at night, having had no sleep for forty-eight hours; but, after waiting two hours for a fresh brigade to arrive, we received orders that no relief could be furnished, and that we must hold the line.
At daylight our videttes reported that the enemy had retired or was lying low for an attack. They cautiously advanced and found the works deserted, and a strong reconnoitring party, under Captain Ames, was sent out to discover their whereabouts. No trace of the enemy could be discovered; but they had left many dead unburied, and several wounded on the field, together with much artillery, ammunition, and several hundred muskets. From the wounded we learned that we had fought Cook's brigade (five North Carolina regiments), of Heth's Division, A. P. Hill's corps, and that the regiment opposed to us was the North Carolina Tigers. Their losses had been more severe than ours. Our fire had been very destructive, judging from the new-made graves and the dead found upon the ground. Large numbers of dead horses were found near the position occupied by their artillery, and the vain endeavor to drag off the guns must have been very costly to the enemy.
In the afternoon the brigade was withdrawn to the left, and relieved a portion of Birney's division of the Second Corps, near the Tucker house. On that day the German detachment of the Forty-sixth New York, which had been connected with the Thirty-sixth since March 19th, rejoined their regiment, which had returned to the corps, leaving the effective strength of our regiment six commissioned officers and one hundred and sixty-eight enlisted men.
On the evening of the 5th the brigade line was changed. The right was drawn back and extended, holding the ground near Tucker's. The regiment worked all night, and by daylight had built a strong breastwork. The enemy opened a furious artillery fire in the morning from the two batteries near the Tucker house, but the loss was slight, considering the range and rapidity of the firing. Among the wounded in this fire was Solon Carter, of Company A, whose foot was torn off by a shell. He was one of the coolest and bravest men in the regiment, and bore his terrible wound with wonderful calmness. A heavy attack was made on the extended picket line, and the pickets were driven out; but toward night Captain Holmes went out with a reinforcement and restored the line, after a sharp skirmish, in which he captured four prisoners belonging to a North Carolina regiment.
The operations of the 7th were a repetition of those of the 6th on a more extended scale. The division was exposed to a most furious shelling from the batteries on the hill, which, however, caused no loss in our regiment. Captain Smith was brigade officer of the day, and while out in the afternoon with a large working-party was suddenly attacked by a strong force of the enemy, who drove in the skirmish line with a rush. They advanced a line of battle, broke our line, and captured a portion of the working party, consisting of details from the Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Fifty-eighth Massachusetts. Captain Smith narrowly escaped capture. In the attack Aaron Edmister, of Company B, was mortally wounded. The enemy did not advance beyond the skirmish line, and at six o'clock the line was reinforced, and ordered forward, and General Potter detailed our regiment to support the attack, and went out with us to retake the hill. We were exposed to a severe fire, but took shelter behind a rise of ground in our front as we lay in reserve, and suffered no loss. As we advanced the enemy fell back. At sunset a truce of two hours prevailed along the contending lines, excepting on our front, for the purpose of burying the dead. A white flag was sent out from our brigade head-quarters; but the bearer met with such a hot fire that he was obliged to return. After the truce the firing became general along the line.
The regiment remained in line of battle outside our works all night, and in the morning advanced to support the attack of our skirmish line. The rebel skirmishers were driven out of the pits, and across a field, over the top of the hill, into the woods beyond. The hill was then fortified and held, the entire brigade moving out and going into position. Later in the day the brigade was moved to the right, and after several halts went into line on the extreme right of the division, at nearly a right angle with the line of battle, facing a wide, open plain, the right resting on an impenetrable swamp. At night the fire was very sharp and close, and the men were under arms several times; but, with the exception of the burning of three houses in front of the lines, nothing unusual occurred.
For four days the regiment occupied this line. Being but little exposed to the enemy's fire we enjoyed a season of comparative rest and quiet, when not detailed for duty in the skirmish line. The country around us was traversed with intrenchments and field-works of every description, extending in all directions. The duty in the picket pits was severe. The enemy evidently expected another assault, and were extremely hostile, narrowly watching every movement within our lines, and constantly on the alert to detect any changes in our position. During these days the company had been gradually moved to the left, and concentrated behind strong intrenchments, until at length preparations had been completed for another change of base.
On Sunday, the 12th, indications of a general movement prevailed throughout the corps. Baggage was packed, teams were loaded, rations issued and cooked. The long, hot summer day passed wearily, and at dusk Captain Smith was detailed as division officer of the day, and placed in charge of the picket line, with orders to hold it until midnight and then withdraw. At half-past eight o'clock the brigade silently withdrew to the rear, and was soon on the march. The night was excessively hot, the roads dusty, and the halts were so brief and at such long intervals that many of the men fell out exhausted. The road was crowded with troops. The Ninth and Eighteenth Corps marched side by side,—the latter destined for White House Landing, to embark for City Point, on James river. About two o'clock in the morning the regiment lost the right of the brigade, and became merged with the troops of the Eighteenth Corps, and kept on with them until daylight found us near White House. At half-past five, after an hour's search, we rejoined the brigade near Tunstall's Station.
We rested during the forenoon while the corps was concentrating, and were joined by Captain Smith, and the picket detail. At one o'clock that afternoon we resumed our march in a southerly direction, through forest and swamps and across bottom lands. The march was very rapid and well conducted. We halted at seven o'clock for supper, resumed the march at eight, and bivouacked at half-past twelve about three miles from the Chickahominy. Early on the 14th the command was in motion. At nine o'clock we crossed the Chickahominy, at Jones' bridge, twenty miles from Richmond. We halted on its banks until noon, when the march southward was resumed, through a splendid farming country. The elegant mansions and well-tilled lands presented a beautiful contrast to the battle-scarred and fortified fields of Cold Harbor. The noble forests had not yielded to the axes of the engineers, and the blight and desolation of war were nowhere visible. We marched by way of Charles City cross-roads and court-house, and halted for supper on the splendid plantation once the home of ex-President Tyler.
At sunset we were again on the road. At half-past eight we passed the camps of the Sixth Corps, and the first and third divisions of the Ninth. The men were gathered in groups around piles of blazing rails, busily cooking their evening meal; the bands were discoursing patriotic music, and the whole scene was one of the most striking and magnificent of war. At half-past nine we went into bivouac on the bank of the historic James, at a point about three miles below Wilcox's wharf, having made a laborious and painful, yet most successful, march of fifty-five miles in less than forty-eight hours.