Tom Somers bore his full share of the trials and hardships of that eventful period; and when McClellan’s scientific engineering had driven the rebels from their strong works without a struggle to retain them, he moved forward with the gallant army. “On to Richmond!” again sounded along the lines, and the soldiers toiled through mud and mire, hoping and expecting to strike the final blow that would crush out the rebellion.
Yorktown was evacuated. The rebels were fleeing from their frowning batteries, and the order came for Hooker’s division to join in the pursuit. At noon the brigade—now under command of General Grover commenced its forward movement.
“Rather rough,” said Hapgood, as the regiment struggled on through the mire. “Rather soft, I think,” replied Tom, laughing.
“I hope we haven’t got to march far through this mud,” added Ben Lethbridge.
“That will depend upon how soon we come up with the rebels. If it rests with Hooker, I tell you he will get a fight out of the rebs, if such a thing is possible.”
After the regiment had marched five or six miles, the order came to halt; and the intelligence passed along the column that the cavalry had come up with the enemy, and were waiting the arrival of an infantry force to assist in the attack.
“Good!” shouted Tom. “We shall have a battle before night.”
“Perhaps not,” added Hapgood. “It takes the cat a good while to catch the mouse, even after she smells the critter.”
“Why don’t we march? What are we stopping here for?” said Tom, impatiently.
“They say Smith’s division has got in ahead of us. Keep cool, Tom; never be in a hurry for a battle. Some of us that stand here now won’t be alive in twenty-four hours from now; for I don’t believe the rebs are going to let us have it all our own way,” said the veteran.
“Nor I,” added Fred Pemberton. “I shall be killed in this fight.”
“How do you know, Fred?” demanded Hapgood, sternly.
“Of course I don’t know, but I feel it in my bones that I shall fall in the first battle.”
“Your bones ain’t no guide at all. I know something about this business, and I’ve seen croakers afore to-day. Don’t talk about being killed, or even hit. Be ready to die, do your duty like a soldier, and leave all the rest to your Maker,” said the veteran, solemnly.
“I don’t have any such feeling as that. I know I shan’t be killed,” laughed Ben. “The bullet hasn’t been cast yet that will stop my wind.”
“Perhaps it has, my boy. It may be in some rebel soldier’s cartridge box over yonder, even now. I tell you, boys, you don’t know any thing about it. Just afore we went in at Cerry Gordy, a feller by my side said the same thing you did, Ben; and he was the first man that went down. I tried to pick him up, and do something for him, but he was stone dead. I tell you, Ben, you don’t know any thing about it. Leave it all to the Almighty.”
“Pooh, uncle!” sneered Ben, trying to laugh down the solemn words of the old man. “Don’t you think we’d better have a prayer meetin’ before we go in?”
“I think we should fight the better for it, for he who trusts in God don’t fear death.”
But it was evident that the words of Hapgood, especially the incident of Cerro Gordo, had made a deep impression upon the mind of the thoughtless young man. Though the division did not move for three hours, he was very silent and sober. He seemed to feel that he had been tempting Providence by his bold speech, and even expressed his regret to Tom for what he had said.
It was dark when the order to march was given. The night was exceedingly gloomy, and the rain poured down upon the devoted army, as it moved forward to do its great work. Hour after hour, in the deep darkness and the pouring rain, the men struggled through the mire, expecting every moment to be hurled upon the rebel battalions, or to meet the impetuous onset of the foe.
Between ten and eleven, when the men were nearly worn out by the exhausting labors of the march, they were ordered to halt in the road, and bivouac for the rest of the night. What a time and what a place for repose! They could only wrap themselves up in their wet blankets, and stretch themselves upon the ground, soaked with water, and with the rain still pouring down upon them. But they slept, and enjoyed their rest, for Nature was imperative in her demands.
At daylight the march was resumed; for the intrepid Hooker, ever faithful to the trust confided to him, was wholly in earnest. At half-past five the column was halted in the woods. The rebel works before Williamsburg were in sight, and General Hooker rode to the front to examine the position of the enemy.
In front of the rebel batteries, and on each side of the roads, the trees had been felled, in order to give the guns in the field works full play upon an approaching force.
“Hurrah!” shouted some of the boys on the right of the column. “Our brigade is to commence the attack.”
“How do you know?” growled Hapgood, who did not think a soldier ought to know any thing about the plan of the battle.
“We are ordered to move,” replied Tom. “I suppose that’s all they know about it.”
The prophets on the right were correct this time, for the regiment was soon sent to the right of the road, and ordered to deploy as skirmishers. A battery was thrown forward in front of the felled timber; but before a gun could be fired, two officers and two privates were seen to fall before the unerring aim of the rebel sharpshooters, occupying the rifle pits which dotted the cleared land in front of the forts.
“That’s a hot place,” said Ben Lethbridge.
“We shall all see hot work before the sun goes down to-night,” replied Tom. “But let us stand up to it like men.”
“That’s the talk, Tom!” exclaimed Hapgood.
“Have you got those socks on, my boy?”
“I have, uncle; and I have the letter and the photograph in my pocket.”
“Good, Tom! After this day’s work is over, you can write the lady a letter, and tell her that her socks have been in a battle.”
“And that I didn’t run away in them.”
The roar of the guns in Fort Magruder interrupted the conversation. The gunners of the battery in front of them had been driven from their pieces; but it was almost instantly manned by volunteers, and a destructive fire poured into the works. Other batteries were brought up, and the fort was soon silenced. The roar of battle sounded all along the line; the thunder of cannon and the crash of musketry reverberated through the woods and over the plain, assuring the impatient troops that they were engaged in no trivial affair; that they were fighting a great battle, of which thousands yet unborn would read upon the pages of history.
Our regiment closed up its lines, and the gallant colonel gave the order to move forward in the direction of the field works. On, on, steadily and firmly marched the men of Massachusetts, through ditch and swamp, through mud and mire, loading, firing, and charging, as the enemy presented opportunity. The hot work of the day had commenced; for, from every bush, tree, and covert, which could conceal a man, the rebels poured a deadly fire into the ranks of the advancing Federals.
Tom stood as firm as a rock. The doubts and fears which beset him in his first battle had no existence on this day. So thoroughly had he schooled his mind to the fearful ordeal of carnage, that he felt quite at home. He was cool and determined, and continually encouraged those around him by his cheering words as well as by his example.
“Ben is down!” exclaimed Hapgood.
“Poor fellow!” replied Tom, without taking his eye off the foe in front.
“There goes Bob Dornton!” added Hapgood.
“Stand up to it, my men!” said Tom, firmly, for he had no time then to think of the fallen.
“Forward!” shouted the impetuous colonel, who, if he had never been popular with the men before, was rapidly establishing himself in their good graces by his unflinching heroism. “Forward! double quick! march!”
And on dashed the gallant regiment, mounting the enemy’s lofty works, and driving the foe before them like sheep, at the point of the bayonet. This was the first experience of this exciting description which Tom had seen, and he entered into the spirit of it with a hearty zeal.
“Halt!” was the order, as a regiment filed out in front of them, with a flag of truce flying on its front. “Steady—don’t fire,” repeated several officers along the line.
“What regiment are you?” shouted a person, as the flag came within speaking distance.
“What are you?” demanded an officer of the storming party.
“We’re the Alabama eighth!”
“We are the Massachusetts —th,” replied our men.
“Then you are the villains we want!” returned the rebel, plentifully interlarding the sentence with oaths.
The flag of truce dropped, and the dastardly foe poured in a volley of musketry, before which a dozen of our brave boys fell, either killed or wounded.
“Fire!” yelled the colonel; and the order was obeyed with a will. “Charge bayonets! Forward—double quick—march!”
The men, burning with indignation at the treachery of the rebel horde, sprang forward to wreak their righteous vengeance upon the cowardly traitors. So impetuous was the charge, that the rebel regiment broke, and sought safety in flight.
“Down with them!” hoarsely screamed Tom, as the line swayed forward, and pursued the panic-stricken foe into the woods on the left. The even line was broken, and the boys scattered to do their work to the best advantage.
Tom’s legs seemed to be in excellent condition, notwithstanding the toilsome marches of the last twenty-four hours; and he dashed forward into the woods followed by only a dozen choice spirits, whose enthusiasm was equal to his own. A squad of flying rebels in front of them was the object of their present anxiety, and they soon distanced their companions.
The rebels, seeing by how small a force they were pursued, rallied and formed line again.
“Give it to them!” cried Tom, as he led his little force upon the rebels.
“Hold on, Tom!” said Hapgood; “we have gone far enough. There’s a rebel regiment forming behind us.”
“Can’t help it,” said Tom, as he rushed forward, with the veteran by his side. “Give it to them!”
Tom and his men threw themselves upon the rebel squad, and a sharp fight ensued, in which the parties fought with bayonets, clubbed muskets, and even with the death grip upon each other’s throats. The traitors could not stand it, and fled again.
The sergeant glanced behind him, and saw the rebel regiment formed ready to charge upon his own. He was cut off from his friends, with the enemy on his front and rear. Three of his men had fallen in the sharp encounter with the rebels, and most of them were wounded or bruised, and all of them out of breath. To add to the peril of the situation, the squad they had been pursuing were rallying and being reënforced by their fugitive companions.
“Bad, Tom, bad,” said Hapgood, who was puffing and blowing like a porpoise, as he ominously shook his head.
“Follow me!” said Tom, confidently, as he led the way in a direction at right angles with the advance of the party.
Our regiment had reformed again, and soon gave that in front of them enough to do. The rebels in their rear caused the sergeant’s squad no little annoyance; but they continued on their course, loading and firing as they retreated.
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