There he found the 24th Virginia and 5th North Carolina still struggling over the heavy ground toward the enemy. The men were falling fast. The 24th and 5th came then to a stout rail fence where they paused a moment before they climbed over to a final grapple with the enemy. Perhaps Colonel McRae, as senior officer, then realized for the first time how many of his officers had fallen; perhaps he saw how scant was the force that lined the fence. In any event, he ordered his men to take such cover as they could behind the fence, and, as they were doing so, he got word from Hill to retire.
The 24th Virginia quickly obliqued into the woods on their left with little further loss, but the North Carolinians had to recross the field under fire. In doing so the regiment was shattered. The futile, bungling action ended. Early’s men bivouacked where they had been when the engagement began.26
Casualties in Early’s brigade were at least 600, and may have been higher. Of 1,560 Confederate losses that day, this adventure on the left accounted for more than 38 per cent. For the troops engaged that was excessive. There was much praise for the gallant attack, which was as fine as anything the war had witnessed, but there was no compensatory gain. The repulse of the Unionists on the Confederate center and right had been so complete, and the Northern casualties there so heavy in comparison with those of Longstreet’s command—approximately 2,110 against 1,024—that the Confederates laid their emphasis on the success in front of Fort Magruder and on the right. Conversely, the Federals talked only of their accomplishments on the Confederate left, where Union losses were less than a fourth those sustained by Early.27
Johnston, who in his report treated the battle at Williamsburg in five brief paragraphs, did not mention the fight on the left. He had praise for Magruder’s “forethought” in constructing the works there, and he commended two officers, McLaws and Longstreet, warmly. Longstreet wrote a casual, almost complacent report: “My part in the battle was comparatively simple and easy, that of placing the troops in proper positions at proper times.” He distributed compliments broadly. Early’s part in the battle was handled with reticence in the reports. Longstreet explained that when “a diversion,” as he styled Early’s attack, was made against the left, D. H. Hill was “ordered to watch it.” That was all he had to say of Early, except that he “was severely wounded through the body, while leading an impetuous assault on the enemy’s position.”28
While this language was considerate, the reports and subsequent publications showed a purpose on the part of both Early and Hill to disclaim responsibility for ordering the attack on the left. Early stated in his official account that D. H. Hill expressed a wish to capture the Federal battery with Early’s brigade, but first he “must see General Longstreet upon the subject.” In Hill’s report he stated that Early went to Longstreet, told of the battery in his front, and “asked leave to take it with his brigade….” To that account Hill adhered, though he subsequently wrote that he never thought of the attack “without horror.” Longstreet, late in life, maintained that the charge was suggested by Hill to Johnston. Johnston’s recollection was that Early—not Hill—sent his request to Longstreet, who passed it on to the commanding general: “I authorized the attempt, but enjoined caution in it.”29
However this conflict of testimony may be resolved by present-day readers, contemporary opinion in the army seems to have acquitted D. H. Hill of blame and to have raised concerning the brigade commander no question save one of impetuosity. Beyond doubt, the absence of detailed critique was due in large part to the controversies over bloodier battles that soon were fought. Williamsburg dwindled, by comparison, to a small affair, a practice battle in which commanders learned what they should not do. Had there been an appraisal of those who had been most conspicuous in the largest action in Virginia after that of Manassas, the result would have been about as follows:
Joseph E. Johnston—intent on his major plan, contemptuous of mere loss of ground, disposed to leave the tactical direction of combat to subordinates.
James Longstreet—composed, almost “jolly” in battle, subjected as yet to no test of strategical ability, but tactically master of his position and able to retain a grip on his brigades.
Lafayette McLaws—undeniably able to handle at least a small force with skill and an accurate understanding of his mission.
R. H. Anderson—perhaps not altogether careful in reconnaissance, but steady and capable of handling more than one brigade with none of a beginner’s uncertainty; possibly a bit negligent in watching small details.
A. P. Hill—capable, hard-hitting, and skillful in control of his men; the most conspicuous brigadier, save Anderson, on the right.
D. H. Hill—ambitious; tenacious and wholly master of himself in battle; perhaps too much disposed to the offensive and too little conscious of the tactical limitations of new troops.
George E. Pickett—distinctly promising.
Cadmus M. Wilcox—definitely capable in brigade command.
J. A. Early—brave, ambitious to win renown, impetuous, and possibly reckless.
J. E. B. Stuart—cooperative and useful, even when his own troops were not engaged.
In addition to these general officers, Colonel Micah Jenkins of the Palmetto Sharpshooters had handled Andersons brigade and the artillery in Fort Magruder with a fiery zeal and a military judgment that won many plaudits. On the right, in an open field, a young captain of twenty-three, with gunners who had been drilling only three weeks, had commanded a battery with a gallant daring that made men ask his name. It was John Pelham. He and Jenkins were men worth watching.
4
ELTHAM INTRODUCES JOHN B. HOOD
Johnston could not be easy of mind while the danger remained of an attack on his flank or rear by a force that might land from the York. On the evening of the fourth he had ordered Magruder to resume the withdrawal toward Richmond. Smith had been started in the same direction at dawn on the fifth, the day of the rear guard action. By evening Magruder had reached Diascund Bridge. Smith camped that night at Barhamsville.
As Barhamsville was particularly vulnerable to attack from the river, Johnston reasoned that his wagon train would be exposed, and he ordered Smith to remain at the village until the column was closed by the arrival of the rear divisions. Word came on the afternoon of May 6 that Federal transports, under the protection of gunboats, had arrived, precisely as Johnston had anticipated they might, at the head of the York River and were landing troops below Eltham plantation, opposite Smith’s flank. Johnston prepared for the worst. Magruder’s troops were diverted, and Longstreet and D. H. Hill instructed to advance in support of Smith. By the morning of May 7 the entire army was concentrated around Barhamsville.30
Smith had refrained from contesting the debarkation of Federals because the heavy ordnance of the gunboats cast its shadow over the heads of the infantry. When the morning of the seventh brought no Federal advance, other than of skirmishers in woods that faced the Confederate lines, Smith changed his plan. He decided to advance the division of Brigadier General W. H. C. Whiting—the same Whiting whose official neck Johnston had saved the previous winter—to clear the woods and then, if practicable, to move up field artillery to where it could bombard the landing place and the transports.
Whiting easily drove the skirmishers back a mile and a half through the woods, between 10 o’clock and noon; but the gunnery officers reported the ships out of range. The Federal infantry meanwhile had taken shelter under a protecting bluff. With the loss of 48 of their own men, the capture of 46 prisoners, and the usual overestimate of Federal casualties, the Confederates returned in high satisfaction. Trivial as was this clash at Eltham’s compared with the struggle Johnston had anticipated, the steady, well-organized advance through the woods and the ease with which the enemy had been driven under the bluff confirmed Johnston’s high opinion of Gustavus Smith and of Whiting.31
The action, moreover, brought anew to the attention of Johnston the military qualifications of Colonel Wade Hampton. During the
winter, Hampton had worked zealously to recruit and enlarge his command. He had won the professional respect and personal friendship of Johnston, who in January had given Hampton a provisional brigade. Now, after Hampton led his men successfully through Eltham Forest, Whiting had official praise for his “conspicuous gallantry.” Johnston wrote of his “high merit,” in the same bracket with Whiting’s, and asked his promotion.32
At Eltham a fourth man, previously little known, made his first bid for fame. John B. Hood, son of a Kentucky physician, had served in the 2nd United States Cavalry under Albert Sidney Johnston and R. E. Lee. As his sympathies had been wholly with the South, Hood had resigned in April 1861, gone to Montgomery to receive commission as a first lieutenant, and reported to General Lee in Richmond. Lee had assigned him to Magruder, who welcomed joyfully the young, well-trained trooper and put him in charge of the cavalry companies on the lower Peninsula. As the temporary Rupert of Prince John’s horse, Hood had one brush with the enemy before a colonel was sent to form the cavalry into a regiment.
Hood was not left long without like rank. He previously had decided that he would make Texas his home and accounted himself a citizen of the Lone Star State. This led the War Department, which could put its hand on few Texas officers so far away from home as Virginia, to select Hood to organize companies into the 4th Texas infantry. Hood had drilled these troops for some months at Richmond, and later had taken his regiment to northern Virginia to join a Texas brigade under ex-Senator Louis T Wigfall.33
Just twenty-nine years of age, Hood stood six feet, two inches and had a powerful chest and a giant’s shoulders. His hair and beard were a light brown, almost blond; his penetrating, expressive, kindly eyes were blue. When he spoke it was with a booming, musical richness of tone. On his arrival at Manassas he looked “like a raw backwoodsman, dressed up in an ill-fitting uniform,” but physically he filled out rapidly and socially he learned fast. By the autumn of 1862 he was to be one of the most magnificent men in Confederate service. For the admiration of the lettered he might have stepped out of the pages of Malory; to the untutored boy in the ranks, Hood was what every hero-worshipping lad wished his big brother to be.
So quickly had Hood brought his regiment to high efficiency that, on the eve of the retreat from Manassas, he had been made brigadier general. On March 7 he had been assigned to the leadership of Wigfall’s Texas Brigade. That command, which then consisted of the 1st, 4th, and 5th Texas and the 18th Georgia, was a part of Whiting’s division and as such had no part in the action at Williamsburg; but now at Eltham’s Landing it showed its mettle.34
Hood saw, ere the advance began, that there was danger of confused firing in the woods, and determined not to permit his men to load their guns until they reached the Confederate cavalry picket. With Hood in the lead, they ran squarely into a heavy Federal skirmish line. “Forward into line,” he cried. “Load!” One coolheaded Union corporal picked out the figure of Hood and deliberately drew down his rifle on the general. A military career of high promise seemed at its end. At that instant a single shot was fired, but it was the Federal corporal, not Hood, who was killed. One strong-minded individualist of the 4th Texas, John Deal, had surreptitiously loaded his piece before starting and, by instant aim, saved Hood’s life. The general scarcely knew whether to bless his deliverer or reprimand him for violation of orders. Naturally, after this experience, Hood’s name was on many a lip.35
Thus, in a brief action, did Smith vindicate Johnston’s confidence in him, while Whiting and Hampton added to their reputation and Hood first held the gaze of admiring eyes. The aftermath was undramatic. Smith was content to continue his retreat as far as New Kent Court House. Johnston decided to send the entire army farther toward Richmond. “The want of provision,” he wrote General Lee, “and of any mode of obtaining it here … makes it impossible to wait…. The sight of the iron-clads makes me apprehensive for Richmond, too….”36
CHAPTER 6
Seven Pines
1
TWENTY-FOUR UNHAPPY DAYS
The safety of Richmond now became a concern in itself and the symbol of the multiplying vexations of the anxious mind of General Johnston. He was fated to encounter and to display the carping and the crimination that always attend the gloom of a darkening cause. Between May 8 and May 31, more than any other time in the Virginia campaign, were the strain and misunderstanding of retreat and inactive defense exhibited.
Johnston saw his problem in this form: An army superior to his in numbers and equipment was pursuing him. Hostile forces of undetermined size faced Stonewall Jackson, who was in the Shenandoah Valley with about 8,400 infantry and perhaps 1,000 cavalry. Dick Ewell’s division, 6,500, not immediately involved, was on the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge. Developments in that quarter were unpredictable.
Developments at the opposite end of Johnston’s large department were all too plainly forecast. Major General Benjamin Huger, in charge at Norfolk, would be compelled to abandon his position immediately. Otherwise he might be cut off. Quite apart from this unhappy prospect, the evacuation of Norfolk would entail the loss of the invaluable Gosport navy yard. The ironclad Virginia-Merrimack would have no port. She drew too much water to ascend the James to Richmond.
To make a dark picture black, the 10,000 men under Brigadier General Joseph R. Anderson, defending the R.F. & P. Railroad south of the Rappahannock, were far outnumbered by a Federal column under General Irvin McDowell. This Union force probably would advance on Richmond from the north to form a junction with McClellan’s Army of the Potomac. McClellan could be stopped on the York because his gunboats and transports were near the head of navigation there, but he could not be prevented from landing troops for a march on Richmond from the east. Similarly, he might attempt to send his fleet up the James. The only substantial barriers in his way were the homeless Virginia-Merrimack and the uncompleted batteries and obstructions at Drewry’s Bluff, seven miles downstream from Richmond. If the obstacles were passed McClellan might get to Richmond before Johnston could.
What, then, should Johnston do? Here was his solution: Concentrate close to Richmond, in rear of his retreating army, all the forces that could be gathered from other parts of the Confederacy; give these forces unified command; retreat and maneuver as necessity and the enemy’s movements demanded; when opportunity offered itself at the proper stage of concentration—strike.
With the broad principles behind this policy President Davis was in accord. The principles, in fact, were not debatable. He disagreed concerning details and application. Although the lives of soldiers and the independence of the South were at stake, the peculiarities of two strange men weighed more heavily on the scales of decision. Fundamentally, though never set forth explicitly, Johnston was expected to demonstrate to a some-what skeptical President, fully satisfied of his own military knowledge, that he was as competent to administer the army as he was to command it, and that the plan of operations would be as well executed as it was soundly conceived. Johnston doubted Davis’s confidence in him; Davis doubted whether Johnston was of a temperament to justify him in trusting to the general without reservation the entire conduct of a campaign on which the fate of the Confederacy depended.
President and commanding general first were to have a bristling correspondence over unity of command. Johnston attempted to direct his own field army and, at the same time, to cover Richmond and supervise the operations of Jackson, Ewell, Anderson, and Huger. All of this he undertook with a small, mediocre staff. Distance, poor communications, and, perhaps, Johnston’s distaste for details soon produced misunderstanding and confusion. In Richmond Lee sought as tactfully as he could to respect Johnston’s authority and yet to meet emergencies that confronted the minor forces with which Johnston lost touch.
The first of a succession of unpleasant exchanges involved orders to Huger’s command at Norfolk. Johnston was ruffled by what he termed a “countermanding” of his orders to the troops south of the James. When Lee explained that thi
s had been an emergency, without time to wait on ceremony, Johnston dropped that discussion in favor of one about the request by the President on May I for the assignment of Longstreet or Smith to command the force south of Fredericksburg: “This army cannot be commanded without these two officers; indeed, several more major-generals like them are required to make this an army.” Johnston proceeded: “The best mode of arranging this matter will be to unite the two armies…. It is necessary to unite all our forces now.”1
Thus Johnston was upheld on one essential of his plan—unity of command. The need of competent subordinate leadership seemed to be supplied, in part, by word from Lee that the near approach of the army to Richmond rendered the transfer of Longstreet or Smith to the Rappahannock less important than previously it had been. In expressing the President’s view, Lee spoke with his usual consideration for Johnston’s sensibilities, but Mr. Davis himself, seldom dropping controversy, took this occasion for an inopportune return to his demand that troops from the same state be brigaded together. In terms that might not unjustly be described as scolding, the President insisted on action, regardless of the situation of the army at the time. Upon receipt of the letter Johnston might well have asked, as he had of one of Benjamin’s orders, whether such an order ever had been given before—at least in such circumstances.2
Those circumstances soon were of a character to call for a cessation of controversy. Apprehension for the security of Richmond had prompted Johnston to order withdrawal from Barhamsville. On May 9, Longstreet was ordered to concentrate near Long Bridge on the Chickahominy; Smith was moved to Baltimore Crossroads. By these moves Johnston had the bridges of the Chickahominy conveniently to the rear. Supplies now could be brought from Richmond by the York River Railroad. Improved as was this position, Johnston could not breathe easily there. The very day he took up his new line he received the disconcerting information that only three guns were in position at Drewry’s Bluff. While work was progressing furiously to strengthen the defenses at the bluff, it remained obvious that the presence of the Virginia-Merrimack at the mouth of the James was the only means of keeping the Federal fleet from ascending the river. Once the ironclad was scuttled or lost, it was more certainly apparent than ever that the enemy would be hammering at Drewry’s Bluff. Panic spread in the capital. The government packed up the archives. Belief in the invincibility of Southern leaders was shaken where it was not destroyed.3
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