Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  When Jackson had been at headquarters he may or may not have learned enough about the terrain to realize that the change in orders reflected a purpose on the part of Lee to avoid a direct attack on Beaver Dam Creek, which was known to be a difficult position. The point of the orders, as they related to Jackson, was that he had a longer and perhaps more difficult march set for him on the day the battle was to open. Further, as he read, he could not have failed to reason that the time allotted him to get into position was running fast. Delay, change of orders, the prospect of long marches and hard fighting—and now, too, secrecy was lost. The Federals had wind of Jackson’s approach. He could not hope for another Front Royal.7

  2

  THE NEW ORGANIZATION FAILS

  The start of Jackson’s march on the twenty-fifth was slow and without spirit. “The brigade commanders,” Major Dabney indignantly wrote years afterward, “would not or could not get rations cooked, their own breakfasts, and their men under order earlier than an hour after sunrise, probably because their supply-trains were rarely in place, by reason of the indolence and carelessness of julep-drinking officers.”8 The “New Model” Army of the Valley, in a word, had not shaken off the habits of Old Virginia.

  From the “Forward, march,” mud and high water were encountered. The roads were heavy; the streams roared. Halts were frequent and long. At last, as nightfall approached, the tired, mud-covered troops had not passed Ashland, but they were so weary that Jackson had to stop and let them go into camp. He was about five miles short of the crossing of the Virginia Central, where Lee had ordered him to camp that evening. The march had been twenty miles, excellent in the circumstances. Jackson was in manifest distress that he had not reached the objective assigned him.

  He decided that he would start his march at 2:30 A.M. instead of 3 o’clock. A courier brought him a dispatch from Lee, and eagerly, carefully, Jackson read the document. “By the map before me,” the commanding general explained, Jackson the next day might march in two columns from the Virginia Central instead of one, following roads to Shady Grove Church and Pole Green Church, then toward Old Cold Harbor; “either of the latter routes would entirely turn Beaver Dam Creek.”9

  This information was supplemented by the arrival of an officer who was to become an unfailing admirer of the victor of the Valley campaign. Jeb Stuart was assigned to cover Jackson’s left flank, and he had ridden out to Ashland in the hope he might assist Jackson in an unfamiliar country. Then, past midnight, Ewell and Whiting came to Jackson’s quarters to ask about routes for tomorrow’s march. He promised to think over the matter and communicate with them later. Said Ewell, when they were out of earshot: “Don’t you know why Old Jack would not decide at once? He is going to pray over it first!” Indeed, when Ewell returned for something he had forgotten, he found the general on his knees.10

  If Jackson slept at all after that, it could not have been for long. For a man who had spent two of the three preceding nights in the saddle, it was poor preparation for the coming conflict. He could not have counted for himself more than ten hours’ sleep in ninety-six of anxious activity, hard riding, and vexatious administration.

  Now, as if on two stages, began a grim drama. On the eastern stage, across the Chickahominy from Richmond, the gaunt figure of Jackson was to stand out as if the 18,500 men of his army were mere supernumeraries for the day. West of the river were several actors—Lee, Longstreet, D. H. Hill—but Fate was to have it that the most conspicuous, half hero, half marplot, was to be the youngest and the most recently risen of the major generals—A. P. Hill.

  Jackson’s camps scarcely were astir at daylight, despite his orders for the march to begin at 2:30. At 8 o’clock the columns were advancing cautiously down the Ashcake Road. At 9 o’clock the van approached the Virginia Central Railroad, five miles from Ashland. That is to say, Jackson was now six hours behind the schedule set in Lee’s combat order. Jackson wrote Branch, as directed, that he was crossing the railroad. Three quarters of a mile east of the crossing Ewell turned to the right and moved south toward Shady Grove Church. Jackson went 1,200 yards farther and made a similar turn on his march in the direction of Pole Green Church.11

  On the other stage, before light, D. H. Hill and Longstreet moved to the Mechanicsville Turnpike and the heights overlooking the Chickahominy. Branch marched his brigade into the open fields near the west bank of the Chickahominy, to be ready to cross when the expected message came from Jackson. A. P. Hill was concentrated opposite the Meadow Bridge. There was nothing to indicate the enemy sensed approaching danger or was preparing for it. On the front of Magruder and Huger all was quiet. At 10 o’clock Branch received Jackson’s message and crossed the Chickahominy without opposition, taking the road southeast and parallel to the river.12

  The sun was hot, the sky cloudless. At noon Jackson halted for an hour and rested his men. At 3 o’clock, which was to prove the decisive hour in the day’s operations, he drove in a Federal cavalry outpost at Totopotomoy Creek. The retreating Unionists fired the bridge, but through the ingenuity of engineer officers the crossing was soon repaired. Cautiously, before advancing, Jackson shelled the woods on the opposite bank to drive out any enemy who might be lurking there.13

  At 1 o’clock Branch approached Atlee’s Station on the Virginia Central. He was not in touch with the rest of A. P. Hill’s division west of the river, nor was he in liaison with Ewell or Jackson ahead of him. After a stiff skirmish he drove the Federals back toward Mechanicsville, his objective. By 3 o’clock A. P. Hill’s thin patience was worn out. He had received no dispatch from Branch for several hours, and not a word directly from Jackson. Impetuously Hill determined to cross, as he later reported, “rather than hazard the failure of the whole plan by longer deferring it.” Without sending word to Lee, he easily forced a crossing and started down the river toward Mechanicsville.14

  By 4:00 P.M. Ewell had discovered Branch’s column moving on a parallel road. After a brief exchange, the two resumed their march by routes that slowly diverged. Jackson’s column, across the Totopotomoy, heard artillery fire and musketry at 4 o’clock, but of its significance nothing was known. Jackson passed Pole Green Church and, at 5 o’clock, reached Hundley’s Corner, on the road from Shady Grove Church to Old Raleigh, as directed in Lee’s orders. Ewell had meanwhile reached Shady Grove Church and turned eastward, according to the plan, to rejoin Jackson. Soon Ewell came into position on Jackson’s right. Although the sound of a heavy engagement was audible, Ewell had no information of what was happening in the direction of Mechanicsville. Jackson’s face showed that he was deeply disturbed. Late he was, lamentably late, but he was where Lee had told him A. P. Hill would be on his right, and D. H. Hill in support, for a general advance en échelon. Neither Hill was there; no notice of any change of plan—no directions of any sort—had come. Jackson decided he should move no farther. While the battle to the south still raged, he bivouacked for the night.15

  A. P. Hill’s division was across the Chickahominy by 3:30 and marching in two columns toward Mechanicsville, one of the columns on the road from Atlee’s Station in advance of Branch on the same road. No courier was sent to Branch, nor was the proximity of Ewell known to Hill. About 4 o’clock the advance of A. P. Hill’s division came within artillery range of Mechanicsville, and his guns opened. This fire led Longstreet and D. H. Hill to prepare their divisions to cross the Mechanicsville Bridge. Lee’s assumption was that A. P. Hill had “discovered” the movement of Branch and of Jackson opposite his front, as required by orders, and he was advancing in liaison with them. By 5 o’clock A. P. Hill was under heavy fire, but deferred assault on the Federal positions along Beaver Dam Creek because he knew this would entail heavy losses. The confusion was great. Branch would not arrive for an hour. Longstreet and D. H. Hill were delayed for want of pioneer troops to repair the Mechanicsville Bridge. A. P. Hill was waiting for the sound of Jackson’s guns in the belief that Stonewall would attack at any moment, turning the creek and forcing the Federals
to retreat from in front of Hill’s brigades.16

  Routes of Jackson, Ewell, and Branch, June 26, 1862.

  Ere twilight came, A. P. Hill succeeded in establishing his line of battle, but he could advance his infantry no farther than the fringe of Beaver Dam Creek. D. H. Hill’s and Longstreet’s men crowded up behind, but in the confusion of the struggle there was little these troops could do. A. P. Hill hurled Ripley’s brigade of D. H. Hill’s division in support of Pender’s North Carolinians against the Federal right. There the two brigades attacked, most gallantly and in vain. The repulse was complete. Infantry fire continued aimlessly until 9 o’clock; artillery disputed for an hour thereafter.17

  Lee brought his division commanders together to review the situation. There was as yet no report of any sort from Jackson. No effort had been made to have a staff officer find him. On the field of combat it was manifest that all the Federals had been called upon to do was to wait for the Confederates to come into range and then mow them down. Already casualties were known to be heavy.18

  Responsibility for this slaughter appeared to be divided. A. P. Hill was the conspicuous offender. Without waiting for Branch or for Jackson he had crossed Meadow Bridge in violation of orders. The defense of Hill was that he moved when he did because he believed further delay would jeopardize the whole plan. In the ranks the soldiers had done everything that could reasonably have been demanded of them. It was the high command that had failed. Hardly a detail of the plan of action had been executed on time and in accordance with the plan. A costly attack had been directed against a position the strength of which was so well known that a turning movement upstream had been regarded as the sine qua non. Concentration for an advance en échelon down the Chickahominy had not been effected. Worst of all, Jackson, the hero of the South, the unfailing Jackson who had dazzled the continent by his swift marches—Jackson had not arrived in time to have any share in the attack that was to save Richmond!

  3

  FIRST BATTLE OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA

  When the front brigade of A. P. Hill’s division renewed its attack on the line of Beaver Dam Creek in the early morning of June 27, it encountered feeble resistance. The Federals, learning of Jackson’s presence, had drawn out their guns; their infantry had followed. Soon the entire Southern army was across the stream and in pursuit. Its general direction was eastward in four columns. Nearest the Chickahominy, using farm roads, was Longstreet’s division. On his left A. P. Hill followed the county road toward Gaines’ Mill and Old Cold Harbor. North of him marched D. H. Hill. By the same route, Jackson followed.

  Of the ardor of the troops, and their determination, there could be no dispute. Whether General Lee could coordinate the attack of 56,000 men; whether the division commanders were equal to their duty; whether some of the new regimental and company officers chosen under the elective system were competent—these were the doubtful questions added to the usual uncertainties of battle. All the hazards, all the hopes, all the prowess of the thirty-five brigades of infantry seemed to be dramatized when, at Walnut Grove Church, Lee met Jackson. Scores of eyes were fixed at decent distance on Lee, who sat on a stump. As many gazed in admiration at the mysterious, bearded man from the Valley. Cap in hand, he stood by his horse opposite Lee and said little. At 11 o’clock, after a short conference, Jackson mounted and resumed the march.

  A. P. Hill’s Light Division (as he styled it) already had contact with the retreating Federals. The leading brigade was that of Maxcy Gregg. Forty-eight years of age was Gregg, a South Carolina lawyer, a bachelor, and culturally one of the best-furnished men of the Confederacy. Few knew the Greek dramatists or the philosophers so thoroughly. Perhaps none combined so precise a knowledge of botany, of ornithology, of astronomy. A scholar he was, a scientist and a gentleman. Was he a soldier? That day would show. He would open the battle.

  Gregg’s skirmishers sighted Federals behind the trees on a hill that overlooked a little north-and-south stream known as Powhite Creek. A scattered volley and then the Federal rear guard slipped away, and Gregg’s men piled down the hill to the creek. There, at Gaines’ Mill—a cool and pleasant place on a drowsy day—was a strong position, one where Lee had expected the Federal commander to give battle. No Federals were there, but enough and to spare in the distance! On Gregg pressed, his direction a little south of east, until he came to the crossroads of New Cold Harbor. His eager van hurled the Union skirmishers back and moved down a long hill. Suddenly and with a crash the enemy delivered a powerful volley. Before its echo died, Union artillery opened. The enemy was flushed, was ready, was awaiting attack.19

  Here was the position General McClellan had chosen to defend. All the cleared ground visible to the Confederates led down to a boggy little stream which natives styled Boatswains Swamp. This was bordered widely by almost impenetrable underbrush and by large trees and small. South of the swamp, at a good elevation, most of it open farm land, the Federals had their infantry and their artillery. It was a perfectly protected position. At some points the enemy had three lines of temporary works in front of his commanding artillery. He could have searched the countryside and not have found a position easier to defend or more difficult to assail.

  Powell Hill was as anxious to press the issue as he had been the previous day, but there was nothing of wild excitement about him now. Dressed in a fatigue jacket of gray flannel, with his felt hat pulled down over his eyes, he sat his horse easily and watched proudly the arrival of his other brigades. It was not easy for Hill to draw a line in the fields and fringes of woods that looked down on Boatswain’s Swamp. As each of his brigades got within striking distance it drove at the enemy—only to be repulsed bloodily. Gregg did his utmost but could not shake the stubborn Federals. Branch, on Gregg’s right, fought as hard as at Hanover Junction. Dorsey Pender, supporting Branch, could easily lead his men to a certain point; then even the stout North Carolinians would recoil. J.R. Anderson, Archer, and Field, in that order to the right, all had the same experience. Their men could get to the swamp; they could not penetrate it. The fire was too heavy.20

  Longstreet’s powerful command was at an angle of almost ninety degrees to the Light Division, but he had a difficult position from which to assault. “I was, in fact,” said Longstreet, “in the position from which the enemy wished us to attack him.”21 Lee felt it prudent, in these circumstances, to defer Longstreet’s attack until the arrival of Jackson on the extreme Confederate left forced the Federals to extend their line eastward. Then, when the force in front of Longstreet had been diminished, he would assail the Federal left.

  That was a prudent, logical plan, but its success depended on the arrival of Jackson before A. P. Hill’s division was wrecked. Including D. H. Hill, Jackson had under his command fourteen brigades, the largest force he ever had directed. Where was he? What delayed him? When would his men be thrown against the Federal right? Anxiously the questions were asked, but there was not the staff organization to answer them. From the time Jackson left Walnut Grove Church, no word had been heard of him.

  The explanation was one of circumstances, of the trivial, unforeseen circumstances that so often wreck battle plans. D. H. Hill had taken the road ahead of Jackson and had advanced promptly to Old Cold Harbor, taking position on the upper end of Boatswain’s Swamp. He found Federals there strongly posted and decided to remain until Jackson arrived. Jackson was late because his soldierly reticence, which perhaps was deepened in a strange country, had got him in trouble. To his guide he said only, in effect, Take me to Old Cold Harbor. Naturally the guide had chosen the shortest route, which struck the Cold Harbor road near Gaines’ Mill. As they approached the millpond and heard firing, Jackson asked the guide where the road was leading them. Past Gaines’ Mill to Old Cold Harbor, he was told. “But,” Jackson broke out, “I do not wish to go to Gaines’ Mill; I wish to go to Cold Harbor, leaving that place on the right.” In that case, said the guide in exasperation, they should have taken the left-hand road back at the fork. I
t meant reversing the column and marching it about four miles to Old Cold Harbor.22

  Battlefield of Gaines’ Mill, June 27, 1862, with Jackson’s line of advance.

  There Dick Ewell, at the head of the column, met Major Walter H. Taylor of Lee’s staff, who had been sent to look for Jackson’s troops. How far Jackson and Whiting were behind him, Ewell did not know, but he had troops at hand—Dick Taylor’s, Trimble’s, and Elzey’s brigades—and he would use them as Lee wished. They at once were put in support of the left half of A. P. Hill’s division. Ewell’s seasoned troops found a task to test their staunchness. The enemy’s fire shook the Louisianians. Gallant Colonel Isaac Seymour, commanding in place of the ill Dick Taylor, was killed. As Rob Wheat, leading the Tigers, cheered on his men he fell of a mortal wound. For the first time in its history the Louisiana brigade broke. Ewell had to withdraw it.

  Of Trimble’s brigade one regiment only and part of another got to the front on the first advance. Ewell himself could not resist the impulse to join them. He sensed the danger: If his thin line broke, the enemy might take the offensive. Trimble hurried back to bring up his other regiments, and Ewell remained near the front. Regardless of losses he must hold off the Federals. It was now past 4 o’clock. Over the field hung the smoke; dim and red shown the June sun. Close was the issue. The battle on the Confederate side clumsily had been one of divisions—first A. P. Hill’s, later part of Ewell’s. To the left D. H. Hill merely had occupied the enemy in his front. On the right Longstreet was ready, but still was being held for the arrival of Jackson to lead the other wing.