Chapter III: By J. M. Martin

Battle of Fair Oaks--Death of Major Culp--Increasing Sick
List--Advancing Our Lines--The Seven Days' Battles--Glendale or
Charles City Cross Roads--The Fifty-Seventh Under Captain Maxwell as
Rear Guard--Malvern Hill--Retreat to Harrison's Landing.

On the 7th the army resumed the march "on to Richmond," the 57th diverging from the main line to Cumberland Landing on the Pamunkey, where for several days it guarded the army stores that had been shipped by steamer to that point. Afterwards we rejoined the brigade at Baltimore Store, and on the 24th crossed the famous Chickahominy at Bottom's bridge and camped on a pine covered bluff to the left of the railroad, a short distance from the river and near Savage station.

As soldiers we knew little of the danger that confronted us, and nothing of the councils being held by the enemy plotting our discomfiture. This knowledge was reserved for us until the 31st. On that day about one o'clock, just after the regiment had its midday ration, like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky the crash of musketry came to our ears from the front. Casey's division of Key's corps, which had pushed about three miles to our front, and had erected some slight fortifications near Fair Oaks station, had been suddenly and fiercely attacked by overpowering numbers. For what seemed to us hours, that probably did not exceed minutes, we stood listening to the crash and roar of the battle. Soon the long roll was beaten, the bugle blast sounded, the order to "fall in" was given, and we knew our hour had come. Forming in line with the other regiments of the brigade, we were soon on the march toward the front at a quick-step. Taking the line of the railroad, and the sound of the battle for our guide, we pressed on. Nearing the battlefield we began to meet the scattered and retreating men of Casey's division, many of them wounded and bleeding, but the majority suffering only from panic. Among this fleeing and panic-stricken mass, field and staff officers rode, seeking to stay their flight and reform their broken lines. General Kearny rode among them shouting, "This is not the road to Richmond, boys." Approaching nearer the field of battle the lines assumed a more defiant order, and it was evident that the greater mass of the troops were nobly standing, and lustily cheered us as we passed. A short distance beyond Fair Oaks station the brigade was deployed in line of battle in an open field to the right of the railroad. The thick woods to our front afforded an excellent cover for the enemy's sharpshooters, of which they speedily availed themselves, field and staff officers being their tempting targets. In a few moments orders were received to move to the left. There was a slight cut at the point of crossing the railway track and under the sharp fire from the enemy there was some confusion in making the crossing. While effecting this movement Major Culp was instantly killed and several of the line wounded. After crossing to the left of the railroad the brigade was again formed in line, face front, and stood waiting orders to advance. Immediately in our front was a "slashing," several rods in width. Beyond that was standing timber quite open. We were not long waiting orders and soon were moving cautiously forward, scrambling over and through the felled timber. Once beyond the "slashing," our lines that had become disarranged were again formed. From our position we could see an open field beyond, across which extended a line of Confederate infantry, their compact ranks presenting a fine mark and in easy range of our Austrian rifles, with which we were then armed. Colonel Campbell, who had dismounted, having left his horse beyond the "slashing," standing a few paces to the rear of the column, in low, but distinct tone gave the command, "Ready! Aim! Fire!"

Every gun in the line responded. What the execution was is not known, the smoke from our pieces completely excluding our view, but that every Johnnie had not bitten dust was soon evident from the lively manner in which they sent their missiles amongst us in very brief time. After the first volley the regiment loaded and fired "at will," the men seeking cover behind logs and trees as best they could from the enemy's returning compliments. How long this duel was maintained it is impossible to state, as the occasion was such that to take note of passing time was out of question. The troops holding the extreme right of our line at length gave way, and the enemy, seizing the opportunity, threw forward a strong flanking column that soon began a severe enfilading fire that compelled us to fall back obliquely to avoid a retreat through the slashing, and take a position in the woods beyond the open field in which we first formed. This closed the fighting for the day, and night soon settled over the scene, and while we had met with reverses, yet we were encouragingly satisfied, for the enemy had not succeeded in his purpose, by overwhelming numbers, to drive us into the Chickahominy before reinforcement could come to our aid from the north side. That night we slept on our arms, without tents or blankets, for these we had left in our camp to the rear. During the night Sumner's corps succeeded in crossing the river, swollen by recent rains, and by daybreak was on the field, and engaging the enemy, drove him back to the shelter of his works about Richmond. The regiment lost severely in this engagement. Colonel Campbell was dangerously wounded in the groin and while being carried to the rear was again shot in the arm. Major Culp, as before stated, was killed, and Captain Chase, of Company K, mortally wounded. The loss in the line was eleven killed and forty-nine wounded. The command of the regiment now devolved on Lieutenant Colonel Woods, and Captain Simonton of Company B, was promoted to the rank of major. The battle was immediately followed by heavy rain storms. Tents and camp equipage were back in the rear and were not forwarded for two or three days. In the meantime the men stood about, drenched to the skin, or sat upon logs drying their saturated clothing upon their backs in the hot sunshine that interspersed the showers. The earth was soaked with water, which for lack of springs or wells, was used for drinking and cooking purposes, it only being necessary to dig a shallow hole anywhere to gather the needed supply. The damp hot weather brought about rapid decomposition of the dead and unburied animals and the chance bodies of friend or foe who had fallen in "slashing" or thicket and thus remained undiscovered, produced a sickening stench. These causes soon produced much sickness and the swamp fevers carried many to the hospitals, some never to return. Rumors of the renewal of hostilities, possibly by night attack, kept the army constantly on the alert, and our accouterments were rarely taken off night or day; orders being issued to sleep in shoes ready to "fall out" and "into line" at a moment's notice. On one occasion a kicking mule was the innocent cause of a hasty mustering of our forces, to the great chagrin of the weary and sleepy soldiery.

General Hooker, ever anxious for fight and adventure, made an advance on his own motion, in which he was actively supported by General Kearny, pushing his lines close up to the enemy's defenses, so that from a lookout station established in the top of a large tree the church spires and steeples of the coveted Confederate capital could plainly be seen. But this movement was not in accord with General McClellan's plan of campaign. The position was hazardous in the extreme, inviting another onset by the enemy, and we were soon withdrawn to our original lines and the shelter of our breastworks. This was our nearest approach to Richmond until after Appomattox in the spring of 1865. Amid these scenes of constant picket duty, digging rifle-pits, and building fortifications the regiment passed the month of June. On the 26th the sound of heavy firing on the extreme right came to our ears all the afternoon. The enemy in our front was exceedingly vigilant and we drew the fire of their pickets on the slightest exposure. Late in the evening loud cheering was heard to our right, and the report was circulated, and credited, that that wing of our army had carried the Confederate defenses to the north of the city, and we lustily joined our comrades, as we supposed, in their shout of victory. But, alas! for the truthfulness of camp rumors! It was all a mistake; our lines had only successfully repulsed the enemy's repeated assaults at Mechanicsville! That was all. The next day, the 27th, the battle was renewed at Gaines Mill, a little nearer to our position. The day following, the 28th, our immediate line withdrew from its advanced position and stood ready to repel any attack that might be made on the battle-worn troops of Porter and Warren as they slowly filed across the Chickahominy to the south side. Late in the afternoon General Kearny directed the distribution to each man of one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition (more than twice our usual allowance), and also that each officer in his command should place a red patch in conspicuous view upon his hat or cap. What to do with the superfluous ammunition was a question, and called forth many uncomplimentary remarks, some even suggesting that it was intended to relieve the mules of the ammunition trains by making pack-horses of the soldiery. But we had not long to wait to know the real cause and the wisdom of it, and glad were we to have the extra cartridges for convenient use! The red patch order also proved an important event in army history, in that it was the beginning of the corps badge so popular and useful in the after years of the war. The afternoon of the next day, the 29th, after a day of anxious waiting and expectancy, the regiment took up the line of march, with the crash of the battle of Savage station ringing in their ears, southward across the White Oak swamp. Late in the evening we filed off upon a by-road leading at right angles to the road on which we were moving. Soon we reached a wide swamp, across which had recently been constructed a causeway, or bridge of logs laid in the mud and water side by side, and which was perhaps twenty rods in length. Without hesitation the regiment marched out upon this bridge. When the head of the column had about reached the opposite end it was fired upon by the enemy's pickets. Here was a dilemma calculated to try the nerve of the bravest. What the enemy's force was none knew, but anyone could realize the terrible slaughter that might be wrought had a section of artillery been turned upon that narrow roadway with a swamp of unknown depth on either side. General Kearny, with his accustomed daring, was at the head of the column. Turning about, he rode back along the line, his face grave, but calm. "Keep quiet, boys, keep quiet. Don't be alarmed. About face and move to the rear!" he said as he passed. Every man in the regiment seemed to realize the gravity of the situation, and that upon his personal coolness depended the safety of the retreat, and without noise or confusion the regiment "about faced" and soon was back on the road from which we had strayed. That night we bivouacked without tents or fires, wrapping ourselves in our blankets, and, lying down, star gazed until our eyes closed in slumber.

The 30th dawned hot and sultry, and as the men trudged along under the fierce glare of the sun, and their burden of knapsack, haversack, and extra ammunition, many succumbed and fell out of the ranks. Arriving at the intersection of the Charles City road with that upon which we were marching about mid-day, the regiment filed to the right into an open field, stacked arms and broke ranks. Some of our number sought rest in convenient shade, others busied themselves building fires and cooking coffee. In all our surroundings there was not a sign of the enemy's presence, or that from the cover of the woods beyond the field his scouts were watching our every movement. Cannonading from the direction whence we had come gave evidence that he was yet beyond the dismal swamps through which we had passed the day before, and the rank and file at least was not aware that a strong force was at that moment marching upon our line from the west with a purpose to intercept us on our way toward the James. To the left of us a section of Randolph's battery stood unlimbered, a circumstance rare to be seen while on the march, and to the old soldiers suggestive of possible battle, but the gunners were lolling upon their pieces or sitting about the ground chatting, apparently indifferent, and if they were so, why need others feel concern? Thus time passed until 2 o'clock p. m., when suddenly one of those unlimbered pieces, with a crash that brought every man to his feet, sent a screaming shell far out over the woods beyond. This defiant shot seemed at once to be accepted by the enemy as a challenge to action, for immediately there followed a spattering discharge of musketry along our front, the bugle notes sounded and the command to "fall in" rang out along the lines.

"And there was mounting in hot haste, the steed,
The mustering squadrons, and the clattering car
Went pouring forth with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldiers."

In advancing to take our position in the line of battle each man seized a rail of a convenient fence that stood in the way, and when halted, out of these constructed an improvised shelter, behind which we crouched to meet and repel the enemy's desperate onslaughts. From that hour until darkness covered the scene, the battle raged furiously and almost incessantly. Charge after charge was made upon our lines, often coming so near that faces were clearly discernible through the smoke of battle, so determined was the enemy to break our lines and reach the road in our rear, over which our wagon trains and unengaged forces were pressing toward the James river.

Perhaps in no battle of the war was there so long and continuous fighting by the same troops as in this engagement. It was all important that the army should be safely guarded past this most vulnerable point, and posted on the river bluffs and under the protection of our gunboats. The enemy, as well, seemed to realize the need of breaking our lines or lose the fruits of their victory purchased at such fearful cost, and therefore pressed our line hard and continuously, so that if disposed to do so, there was little time given to relieve us by the substitution of other troops.

In this engagement Major Simonton was wounded in the shoulder about 6 o'clock in the evening. Lieutenant Colonel Woods was absent on sick leave, and the command of the regiment devolved upon Captain Ralph Maxwell, of Company F. Before midnight the troops were withdrawn from the line of battle and were on the march to Malvern Hill, the place of rendezvous of the army, near the James river. As we moved quietly along in the darkness General Kearny rode up and asked Captain Maxwell what regiment we were. When informed, he complimented us very highly for the part we had taken in the recent battle, then ordered him to return us to our old position and hold it until daylight, when he would have us relieved. We "about faced" and were soon back in our old place as nearly as could be determined in the darkness. The supposition was that the whole brigade was with us and we did not discover differently until an hour or more later. Of this occurrence Captain Maxwell says: "I thought along toward midnight I would go and have a talk with whoever commanded the 105th. I went to the right of the 57th, but could find no one; all was vacancy. I immediately retraced my steps and, passing to the left, found the 63d gone also. Nobody there but one poor, little, lone regiment! It then came to me that we were placed there to be sacrificed for the safety of the rest of the army. I knew the penalty for violating General Kearny's orders, but at the same time I could not think of sacrificing these men to certain capture and imprisonment. I did not like to break orders and I could not do the other. Soon after we heard the trundle of artillery, and the tread of the marching men to our front, and then lights gleaming to our front. Evidently this was the enemy. I made up my mind I would try and save the regiment, orders or no orders, and let them court-martial me and be d--d. I ordered the regiment to form silently in two ranks, then gave the order to march and file right. They did so and all filed past me and got on the road. I then ran along the line to the head of the regiment and gave the order to double quick, and we went down that road on the run, and none too soon. Five minutes more and we would have been prisoners! We caught up to the main body of the army and took our usual position in the brigade. I was afraid to ask any questions and never heard anything about our disobedience of orders. But one thing is certain, I am glad I did what I did that night!"

In this engagement our regiment lost seven killed and fifty-six wounded, a number of whom subsequently died.

The next morning found the regiment in line on Malvern Hill. This position was almost impregnable. On the south side flowed the James river on which floated the Union fleet of gunboats. On the north side was an impenetrable swamp. To attack, the Confederates had to charge from the west and in our front over long stretches of open ground in the face of our batteries posted along the hill side, their right flank enfiladed by the fire from our gunboats. General Porter, speaking of the strength of this position, says that when by inspections he realized its natural advantages, and had seen his division properly posted, he returned to the Malvern House, where he had established his headquarters, and, lying down on a cot, dropped at once into so sound a sleep, that although the battle following surged up to the front yard of the house, he was not awakened, although at any other time during the campaign the snap of a cap would rouse him instantly, so great was his sense of the security of his position. Notwithstanding these natural advantages, the elated, but weary forces of Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, reinforced by the fresh troops of Magruder and Hugar, charged and recharged our lines with desperate persistence deserving of a better cause, but each time were repulsed with fearful slaughter. The losses of the 57th in this engagement were two killed and eight wounded, Lieutenant Charles O. Etz and the orderly sergeant of Company D being the two fatal casualties. The death of Lieutenant Etz and his companion occurred under peculiarly sad circumstances. Wearied with the battle of the preceding afternoon and the night vigil following, these two comrades had lain down together, the sergeant's head resting on the lieutenant's breast, and were snatching a moment's sleep. A shot from one of the enemy's batteries struck the two sleepers, killing them instantly. Thus, all unconscious of their danger, they were swept by one swift stroke into that sleep that knows no waking.

The battle over and the enemy severely chastised, the grand Army of the Potomac, with thinned and broken ranks, a mere shadow of its former greatness, continued the retreat, Harrison's Landing, a place of historic importance in that the line of its occupants has given to our country two chief executives, lying a few miles below Malvern Hill on the James, being the place selected for final rendezvous. During the night following the battle the 57th was again on outpost duty, but early the following morning was quietly withdrawn and in a drenching rain that continued throughout the day, again took up its wearisome march, arriving in the vicinity of the landing toward evening, weary, wet and worn!

The Harrison mansion, a substantial structure of brick, reared in colonial days, stood on an eminence overlooking the broad sweep of the James river. Between the mansion and the river was a stretch of grass-covered field gently sloping to the water's edge. Adjoining this to the west, or northwest, was a large wheat field. A greater part of the standing grain had been cut and was in shock. These golden sheaves were quickly appropriated by our troops and spread upon the water-sodden ground, whereon to rest their weary bodies. A few brief hours sufficed to obliterate every trace of this harvest scene, and where the husbandman had so recently been reaping in peace the fruits of his field, batteries were now thickly packed and soldiers' tents, not white, but wet and earth soiled, stood in long ranks.