The Retreat Continued—Battles of White Oak Swamp, Charles City Cross Roads, and Malvern Hill—The Army Falls Back to Harrison’s Landing—General Meagher’s Speech to the Twenty-ninth—President Lincoln Visits the Troops—Their Destitution—The Army Leaves the Peninsula—The Regiment Goes to Newport News.

The storm spoken of in the last chapter continued all night. The roads were in a very bad condition; the entire army and trains had passed over them, and this, together with the rain, had served to render them almost impassable. The effects of the retreat were apparent all along the route; lying beside the road were broken wagons and hundreds of sleeping men. These men had straggled from their commands and lain down to spend the night; but as the rear guard passed along, they were aroused and forced to move toward White Oak Swamp. Through this swamp runs a sluggish stream called White Oak Swamp Creek, bounded on both sides by an extensive morass, which, in its natural condition, was impassable for an army and its heavy trains. While the preparations for the retreat were being made, General Barnard and his engineers performed the remarkable feat of constructing a raised corduroy road over the whole space of this swamp and morass, about two hundred yards, throwing across the creek a number of bridges, and arranging for each bridge an independent wagon-road through the forest. When the Brigade reached here, on Monday morning, the 30th of June, a large number of wagons were found waiting for their turn to cross over the stream, and the greatest confusion prevailed. By daybreak, however, the trains had all crossed over the creek, and, shortly after, followed the troops. General Richardson’s division was the last to cross, and when over, formed in line of battle, the Irish Brigade and Twenty-ninth Regiment being nearest the creek, and thereby constituting the rear of the entire army.

The men were so weary from the great fatigues they had endured, that many fell asleep as they stood leaning on their guns. Soon after sunrise, the cavalry crossed, driving before them a horde of stragglers; the bridges were blown up, and the necessary disposition made of the troops to repel an attack of the enemy. The Irish Brigade retired a few hundred feet from the stream, and took up a position in a little valley, a short distance from a large farm-house (Nelson’s). Here the entire forenoon was passed in quiet; the men made a little coffee, the last of three days’ rations, and received a small supply of raw salt pork and hard-tack.

The regiment was here occupying an open country; the opposite side of the creek was heavily wooded. There had been no indications of the enemy during the forenoon, but, as it afterward appeared, the whole of General Jackson’s army had approached without the knowledge of our officers, through the woods, and noiselessly placed in position several batteries, one authority giving the number of their guns as forty.

About one o’clock in the afternoon, while our men were asleep upon the ground, the enemy suddenly, without any warning, opened with all their guns a furious fire. There had been gathered here a large number of our wagons and several pontoon trains. Just as the fire opened, these trains were preparing to move on, and the mules, several hundred in number, had been detached from the wagons and driven to the creek for water. The result was a stampede of all these animals; and the men, suddenly aroused from sleep by the firing, found themselves in the midst of a herd of crazed mules, braying and running in all directions. The shot and shell from the enemy’s batteries were falling like hail about the troops, and at one time a movement to the rear commenced. This was quickly checked, however, and the Irish Brigade was ordered forward to support our batteries, which were now being placed in position on the crest of a little hill at the left of Nelson’s house, to reply to the fire of the enemy. A desperate contest ensued, for the crossing of the stream by Jackson at this time would have been attended by the most disastrous consequences to our army. One of the most famous batteries in Richardson’s division was that commanded by Captain Pettit. The enemy’s fire was sweeping the brow of the hill, rendering the placing our guns in position a task of great difficulty and danger. The situation was serious; it was necessary to get the trains away; and to do this, the enemy must be prevented from crossing the creek. General Richardson rode up to Captain Pettit and said, “Captain, can you place your battery in position and reply to them?” Pettit answered promptly that he could, and asked the General to give him the Twenty-ninth as a support. Captain Pettit at once started with his guns, the regiment being ordered to follow him; but before the latter had advanced a distance of twenty yards, Colonel Pierce was severely wounded, losing his right arm. At the same time, Captain Pray and Lieutenant Davis were also wounded, and Sergeant Kellam and privates Austin, Smith, and Short were killed.

Colonel Barnes at once took command of the regiment, and stepping to the front, ordered it a little farther to the left; for in the confusion caused by the first fire of the enemy, it got out of the position indicated by General Richardson, who was on the ground directing the movements of both the infantry and artillery. Once in its true position, the regiment lay down upon the ground, a few yards in the rear of Pettit’s battery. Pettit was a hero. In the midst of one of the wildest storms of shot and shell, and the tumult of the moment, which alone was almost enough to unnerve a man, he came up with his battery, the horses on a keen run, unlimbered his pieces on the very crest of the hill, and in an incredibly short time was engaged in firing. When Pettit had got fairly in position, General Richardson, who had been sitting on his horse close by, looking on in an admiring manner, turned to the regiment, and said, “Now, men, I think you ought to give Pettit and his boys three cheers.” The cheers were given; as much, however, for the brave General, whose life was in constant danger, as for the gallant Captain. Pettit’s guns did fine execution that afternoon, at one time silencing several of the enemy’s pieces.

With such pauses on both sides as were necessary to give the guns a chance to cool, or to place new batteries in position, the fire was kept up till sundown. Both artillery and infantry suffered greatly from the fire and the extreme heat of the sun. The majority of the enemy’s shell exploded near our batteries, but the fragments would scatter many yards in all directions, throwing upon the prostrate soldiers large pieces of turf and masses of earth, and frequently passed through the ranks, causing great havoc. Hazard’s battery, which was a little to the left of Pettit’s, was almost unmanned. Hazard and many of his men were killed, while others were wounded; and at the close of the fight, a detail was made from the Brigade to drag off his guns.

During the afternoon, Jackson made several determined efforts to cross the creek, but was each time driven back. The house of Mr. Nelson, which was occupied by some members of his family, was several times struck and considerably shattered by random cannon-balls.

While this action was going on, a large force of the enemy, with artillery, coming down the Charles City Road from Richmond, attacked a portion of General Sumner’s corps, and other Union troops, about two miles south of the creek, at Charles City Cross Roads. Earlier in the day there had been some severe fighting at Glendale, near this point, where the First and Sixteenth Massachusetts regiments had been engaged; the former losing its Major, Charles P. Chandler, and the latter its brave Colonel, Powell T. Wyman.

The battle at the Cross Roads began about three o’clock in the afternoon. As the day closed, the firing at this point increased greatly. The Pennsylvania Reserves, under General McCall, had been driven from the field with great loss; and many had been taken prisoners, including the General himself and a number of his staff. One of our batteries, known as the “Dutch Battery,” had created a considerable panic by cutting their horses from the guns and posting pell-mell through the lines of our infantry. When matters had reached this pass, General Sumner sent for the Irish and French’s brigades at the creek. The march to the Cross Roads was performed at a rapid run; the men were already overheated and weary, and now they threw away even their blankets, having already parted with their knapsacks. As they neared the field, our retreating troops sent up a loud cheer, prolonged by “Tigers!” and “Here comes the Irish Brigade! Now we’ll have ‘em!” The brigades had come, indeed, just in season to enable General Sumner to maintain his position.31 The arrival of fresh troops put a sudden termination to the battle. The enemy fell back to their side of the field, and from thence to the woods, the two brigades following them, exchanging a few shots and an occasional volley. It being nearly dark, but little was seen of the field by our men.

The Twenty-ninth was posted on the left, near a Virginia fence, where were a number of field-pieces with their carriages broken; and strewn about the ground, in great confusion, were knapsacks, clothing, and guns. The burial parties and surgeons had not even begun their sad labors, and it seemed doubtful whether they would that night, for the battle was no sooner over, than the army began to retreat towards Malvern Hill. That night’s march is memorable. The road ran through a thick forest, and was crowded with stragglers, who, having skulked in the woods all day, and aware of the fact that our army was retreating, were now hastening away to escape capture. These unfaithful soldiers were a sore trial to our more faithful officers and men. They were panicky to the last degree, and, like so many timid children, ran along beside our column, nearly crowding our men out of the ranks.

The Brigade reached Malvern Hill just before daylight, and lay down to rest. It halted on a long plain that runs parallel with the James River, where was also resting a large body of our infantry. The men had had little, if any, sleep since the 27th of June; they had been engaged in battle a considerable part of Friday, Sunday, and Monday preceding; had marched nearly the whole of the nights of each of those days, and of the night of Saturday the 28th. During this time the weather had been extremely hot, the mercury ranging all the way from 90° to 100°; and it therefore reflects no discredit upon the Twenty-ninth, that on this morning, after such unexampled hardships and sufferings, many of its most trusty officers and men failed to respond to the roll-call, and were reported “missing.” The ranks had been badly thinned by the causes recited, one company being without a single commissioned officer, and reporting only fifteen enlisted men present for duty.

The rest here obtained was very brief. As soon as it was fairly day, the men were aroused and started toward the front. The Brigade took up a position in a field near a road, where it supported several of our batteries. The enemy had already come up, and from a neighboring hill, a mile away, was throwing shell in the direction of our lines; and in the course of an hour the firing became quite brisk, several of the shell falling within a few yards of the Brigade, and in one instance striking a Virginia fence that intersected our line. The fence was pulled down to lessen the danger of the situation, and shortly afterward the Brigade was ordered to the rear, joining its division, which was stationed behind a range of high hills on the extreme right of the lines of our army. A meadow and wheat-field of several hundred acres stretched from the foot of this ridge toward the James River, bounded on the south by a pine forest, into which General Richardson threw a line of skirmishers.

There had been more or less firing at different points since sunrise, but it did not become general till about one o’clock. The regiment, within easy hearing distance of the battle, remained in this position till about five o’clock in the afternoon. A large herd of cattle was feeding upon the meadows; the soldiers being without rations, a detail was made from each brigade, soon after noon, to slaughter a sufficient number of these animals to supply the troops; and when this was done, the meat—scarcely cold—was served out by regiments. When the turn of the Twenty-ninth came to have a “bite,” it was late in the afternoon. The slaughtered animals lay upon the grass, and the men by scores swarmed around them, each soldier helping himself to a piece of such size and quality as his fancy dictated.

The meat having been cut, was placed upon the end of a sharp-pointed stick and thrust into the fire to broil. In the process of cooking, being very fresh, it swelled greatly, so that more than one soldier was astonished to find his small ration of meat suddenly grown to a ball of the size of his head. As the men stood about the fire gnawing their beef like so many half-famished dogs, the bugle sounded “fall in!” With his meat in one hand and his gun in the other, each soldier took his place in the ranks. It was amusing to look down the line and observe the disappointment marked upon the countenances of the men at being torn away from their rude but much-relished repast. Fault-finding and severe scolding—soldiers’ privileges—were freely indulged in; while some of the witty ones and wags gave the incident a laughable turn by sticking their half-cooked pieces of meat upon the points of their bayonets, declaring their intention of carrying their rations with them. At this moment, however, there was more serious work on hand than fault-finding or joking. The left of the Union line was being severely pressed by General D. H. Hill; and General Sumner—who was that day in command of the field—had sent for the Irish Brigade to re-enforce our troops. As at Charles City Cross Roads, the regiments were started off on a brisk run, hardly slacking their pace till they reached the front. Here was General Griffin’s artillery, of nearly one hundred pieces, on the side of a long hill, at the base of which was a cleared grass-field of several hundred acres, flanked on three sides by woods. When the Brigade arrived at this point, the noise of the battle was almost deafening. A thick cloud of smoke overhung the field. The Confederates had just made the last of a series of brave but desperate charges upon the artillery, and the remnant of the Ninth Massachusetts Regiment, which had been in support during the most of the day, was engaged in a severe struggle with the only partially-repulsed enemy. The Twenty-ninth was detached from the Brigade and ordered to move up, under this terrible fire, to the support of the brigade of regulars under Lieutenant-Colonel Buchanan, then on the advanced line supporting several batteries of artillery. The regiment moved briskly forward to the immediate rear of the regulars, where they were ordered to lie down.

Buchanan’s troops had suffered severely during the battle, and, with their greatly-lessened numbers, were in imminent danger of being at any moment swept away and captured. In less than an hour from this time it was pitchy dark, and the firing on both sides, save that of our gunboats, ceased. During the night the artillery hauled off, and all the troops except the regulars and the Twenty-ninth left this part of the field. After the regiment was detached from the Brigade and sent forward to this position, Colonel Barnes received no further orders; but later in the evening the indications were plain that his failure to receive orders to retire was probably due to some mistake on the part of his brigade commander; and these suspicions were more than confirmed upon holding a consultation with Colonel Buchanan, who stated that the brigade of regulars was not to leave the field till the next morning.

The position of Colonel Barnes was not an enviable one; while he received no order to withdraw, he was nevertheless in possession of information that caused him hardly to doubt that it was intended the regiment should join the Brigade; yet, should he retire, he might be censured for moving without orders, and should he remain till morning and hazard his whole command in attempting to retreat in the presence of the entire Confederate army, he might also be blamed severely. In reaching the conclusion he did, therefore, namely, to remain with the regulars and share with them the perils of the service assigned to them, he simply obeyed the instincts of a good soldier, and, as it will hereafter appear, his conduct was duly appreciated.

During the night, the enemy in large numbers, with lanterns and torches, were engaged in succoring their wounded, sometimes approaching almost to the muzzles of our guns, but not a shot was fired at them; their labor was one of love, and in this light our men regarded it. Toward midnight, Buchanan—who had expressed great gratification at having the regiment remain with him—became uneasy because of the wooded nature of the ground on his left, and after stating to Colonel Barnes that he could not spare any men from his attenuated line, intimated his desire that a reconnoissance should be made in that quarter. Thereupon Captain Clarke, with companies A, G, and K, was detailed to explore the aforesaid woods. It was a perilous service, as can readily be conceived, for no one knew, as he entered the dark and secluded spot, but that the next step would arouse thousands of the sleeping enemy. The woods were thoroughly scoured, however, without revealing the presence of the enemy, and, to the great relief of all, Clarke returned in due time, bringing this report.

A novel and yet a frightful feature of that night, was the shelling of the enemy’s lines by our gunboats. These, some five in number, lay about two miles in the rear of our army, in the James River. The shells, mostly of great size, plowed through the air with a loud roar, their pathway being marked by the burning fuse; “then, when they entered the forest, great trees were shivered into a thousand fragments, the branches were torn from others and tossed into the heavens, or thrown far into the deep shades, and when they burst, it was with an explosion that shook the earth for miles.”32 A Confederate officer, with whom the author conversed after the battle, described the confusion in their army, produced by this fire, as being very great.

Near daybreak, Colonel Buchanan informed Colonel Barnes that he was about to move to the rear; it was yet quite dark, and one of the regiments of regulars, which lay just in front of the Twenty-ninth, in moving rearward, passed through the lines of the latter, by which the Twenty-ninth became divided, the two wings separating in the darkness. When it became day, the two wings united near the field, and started for Harrison’s Landing. The march to this point, where the regiment arrived toward noon of this day (Wednesday, July 2), was hurried and exceedingly toilsome. Not long after daylight a cold rain-storm set in, which lasted for nearly forty-eight hours. The men were without overcoats, and were consequently thoroughly drenched, many of them taking severe colds, which in not a few instances resulted fatally. The officers were equally as destitute as the men. Everything except what they wore had been lost during the retreat; they were without tents, and when the regiment halted at the Landing, in an old orchard, the soldiers stretched themselves upon the ground thoroughly exhausted, passing the night at this place under a pelting, merciless rain. Many who had straggled during the retreat, joined the regiment here, and kind greetings and personal explanations followed.

When the regiment reached its destination, and joined the other regiments of the Brigade, already in camp, the supposition as to the error in leaving the regiment on the field at Malvern Hill was fully confirmed; and they were highly complimented by General Meagher for their action in remaining, who addressed them in the presence of the whole Brigade. The General was an orator of rare ability, and in this speech, which will be long remembered by those to whom it was addressed, he pictured in impressive language, the varied scenes and hardships of the retreat, and of the desperate battles that attended it. In the course of his remarks, he took occasion to say some very clever things of the regiment. He was an educated Irishman, possessing a very strong national pride, and was especially proud of the high reputation of his three Irish regiments. He told the soldiers of the Twenty-ninth, that they had proved themselves the equals of any others in the Brigade, and had no superiors in the army. As sons of the Pilgrims and Puritans, and natives of the fair land he was glad to call his adopted country, they had shown themselves worthy of their honorable ancestry and high heritage; his heart had swelled with pride as he had stood upon the various fields and witnessed their sturdy valor.

Although these glowing compliments were duly appreciated, yet they did not cause the soldiers to forget their sufferings, nor to banish from their minds, even during their utterance, the thought that they would much prefer a good meal or a comfortable overcoat to all the compliments in the world. Nor did the General’s eloquence overcome the disposition of some of the men to be mischievous, for while he was speaking, certain soldiers of the regiment abstracted from his tent nearly all the whiskey he possessed.

As the arrival of the army at this point was a practical termination of the campaign, it seems altogether proper to pause here in our narrative, and give a statement of the losses sustained by the regiment during this time.

KILLED.

At Fair Oaks, June 15.—George D. Brown, Co. C.

Battle of Gaines’ Mill, June 27.—Second Lieutenant Thomas A. Mayo, Co. E.

White Oak Swamp (Nelson’s Farm), June 30.—Henry Austin, Co. F; Sergeant Ansel B. Kellam and George W. Smith, Co. H; and Joseph A. Short, Co. I.

WOUNDED.

Nelson’s Farm, June 30.—Colonel Ebenezer W. Pierce, right arm shot off.

Fair Oaks, June 15.—Charles Kleinhans, Co. E.

At Savage’s Station, June 29.—Cornelius L. White, Co. G; Augustus J. Leavitt, Co. K.

At White Oak Swamp (Nelson’s Farm), June 30.—George E. Wadsworth, Co. E (died in hospital August 31, 1863); Alfred B. Warner and Sergeant Samuel C. Wright, Co. E; Sergeant L. A. Howard, Co. A; Charles Ross, Co. A; Minot S. Curtis, Co. C; Sergeant Walter A. Kezar, Corporal A. A. Blaney, and John H. Shaw, Co. I. (Sergeant Kezar was wounded in the head, and captured.) Captain William Pray, Second Lieutenant William W. Davis, and Sergeant Henry A. Hunting, Co. K.

At Malvern Hill, July 1.—Charles E. Merriam, Co. E (died November 12, 1862); Irving Bates (in the hand), and William H. Osborne (severely in left leg), Co. C.

A full statement of the losses of the regiment during this period should include the names of those who were disabled by sickness and overwork, but there are no data from which such a list can be compiled.

Assistant Surgeon George B. Cogswell voluntarily remained behind at White Oak Swamp (and subsequently fell into the hands of the enemy), for the purpose of attending to the wounded of his regiment who could not be removed, and while in the enemy’s lines, made himself exceedingly useful. He rejoined the regiment about July 19, 1862.

When it had once become understood that our army had retreated, a deep feeling of gloom settled down upon the North, while the South became highly elated and confident. The Richmond “Whig” of July 12, 1862, in an article entitled, “The Tide in Our Affairs,” urged upon the Confederate government the necessity of continuing aggressive movements toward the Union army, saying: “The foe should never be allowed to recover from their stunned and bewildered state. We should rain blows upon them so fast and thick that they would have no chance to collect their faculties. The watchword of Danton should now be ours, ‘L’audace! l’audace! toujours l’audace!‘”

The same paper, in an article headed, “Effects of Rain,” said: “One of the effects of rain in this city is the appearance of numerous Yankee overcoats in the street. Nearly every Confederate soldier is provided with one; and on rainy days, when they are worn, an imaginative person would fancy that the city was garrisoned by Yankee troops.” This was written in order to magnify their victory, and to convey the impression that our soldiers had been virtually stripped of their clothing.

The barbarous sentiment that prevailed among the Confederates is shown by the following extract from a Richmond paper of this period: “What has become of the buzzards? It is a singular fact, that very few buzzards have been seen in this section for some time past. One explanation of their absence is, that they have been driven away by the stench from the carcasses of the slain wretches who came here to desolate our State and murder our citizens.”

With all this boasting and blasphemy, it was still apparent that the people of the South had quite as much reason to mourn as had the people of the North. All the Southern, and especially the Richmond papers, were filled with long lists of the slain and wounded in the late battles. One of the Richmond papers published about this time a list of the killed and wounded of the Twenty-sixth Alabama Regiment at Gaines’ Mill, June 27, which alone contained the names of over one hundred and fifty. The same paper contained numerous obituary notices of brave officers and men who had lost their lives in these battles; and under the title, “Information Wanted,” many inquiries were made of the fate and whereabouts of missing Confederate soldiers.

It would, however, in effect, be falsifying history to speak of the retreat as “a grand strategic movement,” as was done by some of the Northern newspapers of those days. That the retreat was skilfully conducted cannot be doubted, nor can it be questioned on the other hand that it was a sore defeat to our army, resulting in the loss of many of our gallant soldiers, in the capture of several thousand, many of whom died, and in seriously depressing the spirits of our troops.33

Harrison’s Landing is on the north bank of the James, about fifteen miles from Richmond, and was formerly the property of President Harrison. The river at this point is scarcely a mile in width. The grounds in the vicinity of the Landing had been under a high state of cultivation, and when the army arrived, were covered with golden grain nearly ready for harvest. The grain was soon trampled out of sight, and the earth being soft, was, under the influence of the rain, quickly reduced to a deep bed of mud.

The Fourth of July was a proud day for the regiment. In the afternoon, the Brigade was visited by General McClellan, who addressed the men in relation to the recent movement; thanked them for the valuable services rendered by them during the campaign; and concluded by telling them they would soon be supplied with all things requisite to their comfort. At that moment not one in ten had a change of underclothing, and all were destitute of tents. A soldier’s letter, written about this time, speaks in undisguised terms of envy of the sleek and comfortable appearance of Colonel Parker’s Thirty-second Massachusetts Regiment, which arrived at the Landing on the 3d. “They looked as fat and well dressed as we when at Newport News,” says the writer.

On the 5th, the Brigade marched a distance of nearly two miles, and encamped in the woods, a very comfortable place, but quite destitute of water. Near this forest ran a road, on the river-side of which was an extensive wheat-field. Considerably in advance of the regiment, across this field, was a line of cavalry pickets. In one corner of the field, just outside the line held by the cavalry, was a large stack of wheat, from behind which shots were occasionally fired toward our camp. At last this became so annoying, that an effort was made to capture the daring fellows who had been guilty of the insolence. The next time that shots were fired, a squad of our cavalry dashed toward the stack, but no enemy were to be seen. Supposing they had fled into the forest, our men returned; but no sooner had they got back to their lines, than bang! went four guns from behind the same stack. The cavalry again rushed for the wheat, and seeing no sign of an enemy, concluded as before, that they had skulked into the woods; but this time they determined to destroy the wheat, and accordingly set fire to it. In a few minutes the grain was ablaze, and the troopers, standing near, were looking on with feelings of satisfaction, when suddenly the head of a man, and presently the heads of three more, were seen peeping out at the bottom of the stack. These were the self-same fellows who had done the firing, and finding themselves fairly caught, began begging loudly for mercy. The cavalrymen, not wishing to kill them, but bent on punishing them severely, refused to allow them to come out until they were thoroughly smoked. After sundry jests about the quality of “smoked Confederate hams,” and amidst roars of laughter, the cavalry boys pulled the “Johnnies” out from the smoking mass of wheat, and marched them into camp. The “Johnnies” themselves, much elated at their escape, and appreciating the joke, joined in the fun, and laughed as loud as the rest. Under this stack was found an excavation of sufficient size to contain a dozen men.

The promise of General McClellan, who was always keenly sensitive to the wants and comfort of his soldiers, was partially fulfilled on the 6th. On this day each man received one shirt, one pair of drawers, and one pair of stockings. They were so much pleased at this, that they recorded it in their diaries, and mentioned it in their letters home.

On the 8th, President Lincoln visited the army, and, with General McClellan, reviewed the troops. The visit of the good-hearted President, who was regarded as a loving father by the men, had the effect of reviving their spirits greatly.

July 19. The regiment was mustered for pay, the first time in several months. Many were absent, not a few never to return, and as their names were called, and one comrade after another responded for them, “Dead!” “Sick!” “Missing!” a deep feeling of sadness crept over all present.

The enemy had brought a few batteries down the river, and stationed them on Coggin’s Point, opposite the Landing, from which place, on the night of August 2, they shelled our camp, creating some confusion, but doing no material damage. In a few days afterwards the Point was occupied by Generals Smith and Sedgwick, and the houses there, which had been used as a cover by the enemy, were burned.

On the 4th of August, the regiment, together with one other regiment of the Brigade, were ordered to the vicinity of Malvern Hill, there to perform outpost duty, in connection with General Pleasanton’s command of cavalry and horse artillery, remaining at this place about two weeks, and performing very valuable service. After awhile the Irish regiment was recalled, and the Twenty-ninth constituted the only infantry force there. During this time, by direction of General Pleasanton, the regiment made an important reconnoissance to Malvern Hill, encountering the enemy’s pickets, and driving them in; Colonel Barnes submitting to General Pleasanton, on his return, a full report of the condition of the roads and the situation of the enemy’s camps.

On the 15th of August, the Twenty-ninth, with the rest of General Pleasanton’s troops, were recalled, and marched to Haxall’s Landing, the regiment being here supplied with tents, having been without them since the retreat. The Army of the Potomac was about to make another move; the sick and disabled were gathered up among the various camps and sent on board of the transports, as were also the knapsacks of the men and the officers’ baggage.

Towards evening of the 16th, Sumner’s corps left its camp and started down the river, marching about five miles and halting for the night. The next morning the march was resumed; but the army moved so slowly, that only six miles were travelled during the day. This brought the regiment to the mouth of the Chickahominy, where it empties into the James; and here it crossed on the remarkable pontoon bridge, said to have been over 2,000 feet long. In this manner, by short and easy marches, the corps proceeded to Yorktown; on the 18th, passing Charles City Court-house, and the following day, Williamsburg, the seat of William and Mary College. At noon of the 20th, the regiment reached the heights of Yorktown and went into camp, affording the men an opportunity of inspecting the fortifications, of which they had heard so much while at Newport News. Among these works were several that had been erected in the war of the Revolution by the English and American armies.

At Yorktown, all the troops save Sumner’s took transports for the Potomac, his corps having been ordered to Newport News, where it arrived on the 22d. To the Twenty-ninth Regiment, which were among the first troops to arrive, this seemed very much like going home. They encamped near the “Brick House,” where, during the first year of their service, they had often been on guard. Every tree and fence was familiar to them; the long plain near by was the scene of their drilling under Phelps and Mansfield, and the adjacent river-bank their target ground. The arrival here would have been far more pleasant, had it not been attended by very inclement weather and a hard march; but all these discomforts were forgotten the next day, when there reached camp a large mail, the first which had been received since the regiment left Harrison’s Landing.