Nelson Taylor chafed at inaction. With orders in hand to load the Excelsior Brigade on ships bound for Virginia, the newly appointed commander was stymied by the lack of suitable ships. Chadwick’s Company C and the rest of Third Excelsior packed aboard the Elm City beginning Saturday, April 5, but by Tuesday the other regiments were still stranded without transport. While waiting, they received an additional two days of rations on Elm City, but Taylor’s patience was growing thin. Insistent the entire brigade move as one, Taylor took matters into his own hands. “By Col. Taylor’s orders, the next two steamers passing up were brought to by a gunboat, and taken nolens volens to transport our brigade,”1 wrote Arthur McKinstry. Despite Taylor’s dubious legal authority to commandeer the vessels, he could now move his men.
The men’s uncertainty over the destination, Port Royal or Fortress Monroe, was removed at 4 p.m. on Wednesday, when Taylor’s impressed flotilla cast off for Fortress Monroe at the tip of the Virginia peninsula, a peninsula that ran straight up to the Confederate capital of Richmond. At the beginning of the war, while other Federal forts and installations along the southern coast were falling into Rebel hands, war planners in Washington recognized Fortress Monroe’s value and fought to keep it a Union possession. This was the starting point for McClellan’s long-awaited offensive to end the war by taking Richmond. By starting at Fortress Monroe instead of Washington, he could avoid crossing countless rivers and streams, any of which the rebels could build into a defensive nightmare for the advancing Federals. So here they were. Since mid–March the Army of the Potomac had been gathering and preparing for the great shove that would lead to Richmond’s capture and the end of the war.
But for the boys of Third Excelsior the trip onboard the Elm City was not going well. Soon after loading, a snow storm set in. The Elm City now rode at anchor near the mouth of Port Tobacco awaiting navigable weather. McKinstry wrote of the trip:
We at last got off and steamed down as far as the mouth of Port Tobacco creek, where we dropped anchor for the night. We had two barges and two schooners in tow, and the Elm City kept their hawsers as taut as fiddle strings. On Thursday morning we steamed down as far as Point Lookout, at the mouth of the Potomac. As the seas were running high in the bay, we lay at anchor until they should subside, fearing that the tow lines would part.2
Planners expected the time on Elm City to be short, only two days, so the regiment had been crowded aboard in conditions unsuitable for a longer voyage. As conditions conspired to make men sick, the men accustomed to the water, the Lake Erie and Chesapeake Bay fishermen, fared better in warding off the collywobbles than the upstate farmers and Chadwick’s New York City men.3 There was a sense of confidence among the regiment. This campaign would be a quick one with glory enough for everyone, assuming it wasn’t over before they reached Virginia. Those who managed to avoid sickness surely pondered their role in the upcoming crusade. Nelson Taylor too must have had time to wonder as he waited out the storm from his brigade commander’s cabin. Had the petition signed weeks before gone too far? Certainly no one had wanted to have the general removed from command when they signed; no one had schemed to have Taylor run the entire brigade; but despite their intentions, both had come to pass, and in the eyes of the other regiments Third Excelsior was to blame.
It is unknown whether Third Excelsior’s petition carried any weight back in the Senate. Dan Sickles carried enough political impedimenta of his own to be rejected regardless of an officers’ petition. But back at the front, McKinstry felt compelled to explain the regiment’s position to folks in Fredonia:
I presume that the final rejection of Sickles has created some surprise among your readers. The other regiments of the brigade accuse us of being the cause of his rejection. I have no doubt that they are correct in their opinion, though the movement which caused his downfall was not initiated with any intention of creating that result. It was a petition, signed almost unanimously by our line officers, requesting that the regiment might be transferred to the command of an experienced officer; which, instead of affecting the desired transfer, defeated Sickles’ confirmation.…
When this brigade was organized, our feeling were strongly enlisted in favor of Gen. Sickles, and Governor Morgan’s double dealing with him, created against the latter a feeling of distrust and prejudice, which still holds good as originally. We gave Sickles the credit of great energy and patriotism, and we do not yet see cause to deny him those attributes. But Bull Run and Big Bethel forced upon us the reflection that something more than mere civilian talent and shrewdness were necessary in a military commander. Gen. Sickles was not a soldier, and you might as well suppose the babe an hour old to perform the labors and duties of experienced manhood, as for a peaceful citizen to assume the responsibilities of a grade which a lifetime of service most frequently fails to attain. His labors and responsibilities deserved a high reward, but are the lives and fortunes of five thousand men to be risked on that account?4
McClellan started his move toward Richmond the day before the 72nd boarded Elm City, and Chadwick’s Gothamites didn’t need to worry that the war would pass them by. Upon moving up the peninsula, Union troops immediately discovered their maps were faulty. Bad roads combined with foul weather turned their advance into a wet and muddy ordeal. Despite the poor conditions, McClellan moved north and was drawn up in front of Yorktown before the Warwick River. Confederates fooled McClellan into stalling by making their positions and troop strength look more formidable than they actually were. Calling up ever more troops, McClellan, “Little Mac,” started siege operations against Yorktown while he massed his forces for a great push across the Warwick.5
Back on Elm City things were beginning to look up. The weather cleared, allowing the steamer to leave Maryland waters on the night of the 10th from Fortress Monroe. Elm City arrived at Hampton Roads early the next morning. Dawn’s light revealed the ship to be anchored next to the ironclad USS Monitor,6 which famously had fought the CSS Virginia, formerly the USS Merrimac, in these very waters a month earlier. James Hall describes what happened next:
While I was on the hurricane deck of the Elm City, looking at the Monitor, I noticed that the watch on the top of the turret was looking very anxiously with a spy-glass towards Craney Island, near Norfolk. On looking that way myself, I saw four large vessels approaching. These, on coming nearer, proved to be the Merrimac, with the rebel flag floating over her, accompanied by the Jamestown, Yorktown, and another vessel.
The crew of the Monitor were soon clearing her deck and greasing it. Her smoke-stack was lowered, and the American flag hoisted in the twinkling of an eye. A signal gun was fired, and she was ready for action…. We were anxious to see a fight, but none occurred.7
Arriving in Virginia, rumors abounded among the Excelsior’s ranks that Yorktown had already fallen and they’d missed the real action of the campaign. But the Confederate works were still occupied, even if lightly. McClellan, always with an eye to the butcher’s bill of an upcoming clash, chose to lay siege to Yorktown rather than take it by direct assault. While the men under him who would do the actual fighting and dying very much appreciated the general’s thrift, McClellan often missed opportunities to exploit enemy weaknesses. This slowness caused Lincoln great consternation; he wanted swifter execution of the campaign and an end to the war.
Disembarking Elm City, the boys of Third Excelsior were astonished by what they saw. Though the port was not much more than a collection of a few wooden docks used to service the fort, the amount of men and material collected there was mind-boggling. Everywhere were stacked crates of food, ammunition, and other supplies an army of 100,000 men would need. And the artillery! It was said there were 100 batteries present, each with four to six guns.8 With artillery like this, the New Yorkers assured themselves, Yorktown and the other towns on the road to Richmond would soon fall.
Now on dry land, George Grecheneck’s company of Germans and the rest of the Excelsior Brigade began its march away from Fort Monroe. They were headed towards Yorktown and the front, which was teeming with activity every bit as frenzied as back at the dock. McClellan was digging in his army, sinking earthen redoubts that would protect the heavy artillery from enemy counter-battery fire and excavating parallel lines of trenches for the infantry. These infantry trenches were as old as siege warfare itself and allowed attackers to move very close to the defenders while remaining safe behind mounds of earth or other moveable protection such as a log or earth-filled cylindrical basket. When diggings were close enough and the time was right, attacking infantry would enter the protection of the trench, rush forward and overwhelm the defenders. Taylor’s men wanted to fight, but for now they toiled with the pick and shovel.
All five Excelsior regiments settled into camps about two miles from the enemy’s works. Camping on the property of Confederate general John Magruder, they enjoyed a plantation of nearly 100 acres of fruit trees and wheat fields, all in full blossom. Despite the idyllic surrounding of the Virginia Peninsula, life in camp was anything but. The constant digging, frequent rain, and Rebel bullets made some men long for the relative ease of Southern Maryland. One Company I man, who signed off his letter only as “F,” described his ordeal this way:
I have just finished my dinner, such it may be called. We had a tin cup of poor bean soup, not more than two beans to a cup and a chunk of fat bacon and hard crackers…. We have had pretty hard fare since we left camp Wool. I thought it was hard there, but we lived like kings to what we do now. We have to sleep on the ground, with a rubber blanket and our overcoats under, and two pieces of canvass, about 6 feet square, buttoned together for a shelter over our heads, with both ends open…. Some would find a better shelter for their hogs, but we are willing to put up with this for the sake of our glorious country! But I think if I was home I would not enlist, but there is not use of grumbling here. All we have to do is obey orders.9
By the time the regiment set up camp near Yorktown, many duties had become routine, and some procedures in place back on Staten Island had long since been abandoned as overly controlling. One such rule was regarding the selection of tent mates. In the beginning, men were assigned tents alphabetically based on last names, so men such as David Parker initially tented with those whose last names all started with P. But that had changed, and company men tented with whom they pleased.10 Therefore by the time they reached Yorktown, Parker’s tent mate was one of the more interesting characters of the regiment, Claus Wriborg.
Wriborg had come from Holland but spoke English well. He was considered “merry, jolly,”11 but unused to the ways of America. Additionally, he was almost totally deaf. Though Wriborg soon became the subject of ridicule and jokes, he showed no resentment over his treatment, and young Parker took pity on the Dutchman. When a vacancy became available David invited “Carl” to tent with him. Immediately David discovered Carl wasn’t the bumbler others imagined. The only child of a high ranking officer in the Dutch navy, Carl had come to America to seek his fortune when his father died. Well-educated and fluent in several languages, Wriborg secured a position with the Chautauqua county clerk’s office in Mayville. When war broke out, the 28-year-old enlisted to fight for his adopted country. When offered the position of Company D’s clerk because of his exquisite handwriting, Carl turned down the post, insisting he could be a clerk anytime, choosing instead to serve as a regular soldier. Despite the early mocking, Claus eventually became popular with the men of the regiment, remaining zealous in his soldierly duties and always the gentleman.12
Routines and organization within the regiment continued to evolve and change, and so had those of the Federal army. Before leaving southern Maryland, Hooker’s division folded in with two others to form the new III Corps, one of several corps now composing the Army of the Potomac. Command of III Corps fell to Major General Samuel P. Heintzelman, a 57-year-old West Point graduate. After serving in the quartermaster service during the Mexican War, Heintzelman saw enough action in the Southwest to earn a brevet promotion to brigadier general in May of ’61 when rebellious storm clouds gathered.13 The new corps consisted of three divisions: Fitz John Porter commanded the First Division and Hooker commanded the Second Division. In the beginning, Charles S. Hamilton commanded the corps’ Third Division. But that soon changed when on April 30, 1862, Hamilton was replaced by Philip Kearny. On April 30, the new III Corps counted on paper 39,710 men with 64 pieces of artillery, although fewer than 35,000 were actually listed as “present for duty.”14 Ultimately the lives of David Parker, Martin Boyden, Lorey Wilder, and the rest would rely upon the skills of generals such as McClellan, Heintzelman and Hooker.
Taylor still commanded the brigade, but by the end of April there was growing frustration that neither had Taylor been promoted nor had another brigadier been brought in to take his place. This frustration only heightened when word arrived that President Lincoln was set to resubmit Sickles’ nomination to the senate. Editors at the Fredonia Censor felt that politics was taking precedence over the lives of their boys and that the Excelsior Brigade would be condemned to second-rate generalship:
We see it announced that the President has re-nominated Gen. Sickles as a Brigadier General. By what maneuvering he was induced to do this is the face of the unanimous rejection of Sickles’ previous nomination by the Senate, is a mystery which the people would like to have unraveled. Sickles, friends pretend that this rejection was brought by the misapprehension of facts, which has been explained away. But no explanation can do away with the damaging fact that Sickles has not the confidence of his men, and that his best officers signed a petition to be transferred from his command. In time of war no one ought to be appointed to a military position unless fully competent for the discharge of its duties. The lives of 5,000 men are of too much value to be hazarded recklessly, for the purpose of rewarding politicians ambitious of military glory. We believe President Lincoln has been bamboozled, in making this re-appointment, and trust that the Senate will again save the country from the disgrace, and the army from the hazard which must result from investing Sickles with such a responsible position.15
Below Yorktown, 72nd men anticipated a big fight to take the town against an enemy pulling out all the stops. “We will lose more than we have in any other battle that has been fought,” wrote one Company I man. “This is their last hope, if they lose this, all is gone. They have drafted every man that can bear arms, even boys not over 16, and some not more than 15 years old.”16 Still the digging went on, every day bringing the Federals that much closer to the Rebel lines and ultimate victory.
Siege warfare was more like hard labor and less like the adventure many of the boys had been expecting. Companies rotated between the trenches, picket duty, and recuperation in camp. Even the dangers of picket duty were seen as preferable to the digging. After a couple of weeks in the trenches, Emerson Merrell wrote his brother:
I have been on picket duty for the last 36 hours and had a bully time too—we were close enough to the rebels pickets so we could hear them talk—they are industrious cusses for they work all the night on their breastworks and make their niggers work days—they fired at us several times through the day from their batteries and were constantly sending messengers in the shape of a piece of lead weighing about an ounce at us when they could get a fair chance.17
Arthur McKinstry penned a letter to readers back home on April 29 relating his experience on recent picket duty:
At 4 p.m. Co. D fell in and relieved Capt. Bliss’ men, who had been in the advance all day. We were now in plain view of the enemy, and could see them by looking over the wall beyond the trench. Great care was necessary, however, that the observer did not get hit by the enemy’s sharp shooters. On the right, Burdan’s [sic] sharp-shooters had tormented the enemy very much, and when darkness fell, their artillery began to play at our woods, to disturb the men who were working upon our batteries. Another object was probably to draw our fire, and thus discover the situation of our principal works, which are still masked by trees but can be unmasked at very short notice, when all is ready. Growing tired of this fruitless business, they began to depress their guns until they bore directly upon the rifle pit where our pickets lay. Their aim was perfect, but so too was our shelter. A few men were thrown out in advance of the pit as look-outs. Averill and Babcock were sent out from the squad I was in, and as they lay close to the ground, a shell with blazing fuze rolled within a few feet and stopped. The boys lay low as possible, and the shell, exploding, scattered its fragments near them, but left them unharmed.18
Israel Moses was a prominent Jewish doctor in New York City with army experience before the war who set down his scalpel to accept the lieutenant colonelcy of the 72nd N.Y. A few months after commanding the regiment at Williamsburg, Moses resigned from the regiment to accept the duties of regimental surgeon with another unit (courtesy the U.S. Army Heritage and Education Center).
By May 1 Rebels inside the Yorktown works had maintained ten days of steady musket and cannon fire against besieging Yankee troops. “The rebels are getting very impatient, supposing that we are erecting formidable works to reduce their batteries and have been pouring their shot and shell pretty thick upon us,” wrote James Hall, “and though they fire at us night and day, very few have yet been seriously injured.”19 Two days later, men of the 72nd under command of Lt. Colonel Israel Moses received a half-hearted enemy push designed to drive in their pickets. Seventy-Second men fought all day in the rain, and in addition to being soaked through had had nearly nothing to eat. Eventually the poor weather and the regiment’s resolve combined to repel the attack. Confederate defenses at Yorktown could not resist the mighty siege guns of the Union, and the Southern commander Joseph Johnston knew it. That night, under the covering noise of his cannons, Johnston withdrew from Yorktown, one day before McClellan had planned to attack.
In the early morning darkness, while Rebel artillery shot and shell flew overhead, pickets from the various Federal commands crept forward to the furthest reaches of the trenches. As men peered toward Rebel lines it soon became clear the enemy had vacated their works. Officers went forth to confirm the news, and even before a final verdict was rendered, regiments began packing wagons for the anticipated move forward. With the 72nd and the rest of Hooker’s division in advanced positions, they would be among the first to mobilize in pursuit of the enemy.
The morning of May 4 was hectic for the Excelsiors and the other elements leading the pursuit of Johnson’s retreating Rebel army. Excelsiors who only hours before had been on picket duty fell in and readied themselves for a march. Some units, mostly cavalry under Brigadier General George Stoneman, moved out ahead of the Excelsiors and engaged in a day-long, running battle with the Confederate rear guard.
Two main roads ran up the peninsula from Yorktown to Williamsburg and beyond: the Yorktown Road and the Hampton Road. Of the two, the Yorktown Road serviced the more northerly, right side of the peninsula, while the Hampton Road traveled the southerly, left side. These roads first diverged then joined at Williamsburg, 12 miles distant from Yorktown.
By noon the regiment and the rest of Hooker’s division was on the march along the Hampton Road. Commanding the division’s First Brigade was Curvier Grover. Born in Maine in 1828, Grover graduated fourth in his class at West Point in 1850. After receiving his commission, he served in a number of western posts including the Mormon Expedition. When civil war broke out, Grover was serving as a captain with the 10th Infantry, stationed at Fort Union, New Mexico. Taking leave from his captain’s post in the regular army, Grover received a temporary appointment to brigadier general of volunteers and command of the First Brigade.20 Riding ahead of Third Brigade was Francis Patterson, who had taken over command of the brigade only two weeks earlier from Starr. Born in 1821 in Philadelphia, Patterson had served in the Mexican War as a second lieutenant on the artillery. After the war he remained in the service and rose to captain in the Ninth Infantry only to resign his commission in 1857. When war against the Confederacy broke out, Patterson was made colonel of a 90-day militia unit. Once this unit was mustered out, he was eventually made brigadier general and given Third Brigade.21
Passing through Yorktown, the men gazed at the once dangerous defenses, now abandoned and harmless, which only a few hours before they’d been preparing to assault. Nineteen-year-old Hartwell Dickenson, a musician in the regiment, described what he saw: “We passed through the fortifications at Yorktown, and all were surprised that the enemy should have such works. To me they appeared impregnable.”22 Initially marching was good, and with the First Brigade in the lead, the thousands of tramping feet of Hooker’s division quickly turned the dirt road to a fine dust. It was a humid day, and the men began to throw away equipment they deemed unnecessary. Blankets and overcoats littered the road. Pushing ahead, Rebel bullets weren’t the only hazard. As the New Yorkers continued toward Williamsburg they encountered improvised land-mines, known as torpedoes, placed by the retreating Rebs. The young musician Hartwell wrote:
We had to pick our way very carefully, on account of torpedoes being placed in every place the army would likely pass. For miles the road was strewn with articles of clothing, cast off by the flying rebels and occasionally would be found a rope or chain with one end buried in the ground, attached doubtless, to a shell that would explode upon pulling the rope or chain, but happily no accident occurred.23
Cavalrymen heading for the rear near 3:00 p.m. told the Excelsiors there was a skirmish ahead. With troops from another division blocking the road, Hooker’s pursuit ground to a halt. After a near five-hour delay the brigade continued their march as the rain and dark set it. Rain mixed with the pulverized dirt, turning the road into a nearly impassable morass. “The roads, which up to this time were splendid,” explained young Hartwell, “had become so cut up and muddy that it was almost impossible to advance.”24 With mud knee deep in places, Hartwell’s shoes became completely filled. Realizing they could not reach the skirmish that day, Hooker’s men camped for the night around 1 a.m., still three miles from the fight. By the time the Excelsiors fell out, their uniforms were soaked through to the skin—“wringing wet”25 as one man described it. Though the ground was wet, the men rested as best they could. At 5 a.m. the New Yorkers fell in, ready to go, but stood in the rain another 90 minutes as they waited for horse-drawn artillery to pass.
As Colonel Taylor’s men marched, General Stoneman pursued the enemy to behind the protection of their refuge, Fort Magruder: the culminating defensive position at the junction of the Yorktown and Hampton roads. Surrounding the fort was a series of trench-works, rifle pits, and lesser redoubts carefully planned and built. Enhancing these positions were cleared parcels of land designed to rob attackers of usable cover; in other places trees had been felled to create a maddening tangle of branches and timber called “slashings”26 by the men. All of these were designed to offer Johnston’s defenders the best possible fields of fire and the Federals the worst possible ground for a swift, orderly attack.27
General William Smith, commanding the Second Division of IV Corps, arrived near Fort Magruder early on the morning of the 5th. Smith had at first moved his troops along the Yorktown Road during the pursuit of May 4 but blocked Hooker’s advance when he shifted to the Hampton Road. Smith now awaited orders from Gen. Edwin Sumner, McClellan’s second-in-command, who was in charge of the pursuit. With no orders forthcoming, Smith waited.28
Moving up Hampton Road, less than a mile south of where Smith stopped, Hooker’s division prepared to attack. Confident in the knowledge that more than 30,000 Federal troops were within a few hours’ march of his position, the aggressive Hooker didn’t waste time engaging a force he estimated to be three times his number. Hooker was on Smith’s left and didn’t wait for orders before sending in his First Brigade at 7:30 a.m. under cover of a massive artillery barrage.29
First Brigade’s attack was led by General Cuvier Grover. Initially Federal fortunes went well: Grover’s men drove the enemy from the first lines of rifle-pits as day broke. Second Brigade struggled against persistent rain and the deplorably slow condition of Hampton Road and finally arrived around 9 a.m. Taylor had only four of his five regiments available to fight, since the 71st N.Y. had remained behind unloading ships back in Yorktown. Musician Dickinson described the scene as they approached: “We were now in dense pine woods, and the [artillery] firing continued to increase, accompanied by volleys of musketry, but still we thought it was nothing but a skirmish.”30 After waiting about half an hour for stragglers to come up, the regiment were directed to load their weapons and members of the regimental band ordered to report to the surgeon for service as litter bearers.31
Taylor now ordered his own regiment into the fray to relieve the 1st and 11th Massachusetts along with the 26th Pennsylvania of Grover’s brigade. Acting commander Moses received some last minute instructions from the withdrawing Grover upon moving the 72nd into line: “Repress any advance, destroy the horses and gunners of a section of a rebel battery on the left, and to protect a section of our own on the right, and in case of an opportunity presenting, to take the [Rebel] section.”32 The typical artillery battery consisted of six guns and was divided into sections of two guns each. With both enemy and Federal guns nearby, it was clear Moses’ boys and the rest of the regiment had their work cut out for them.
As the deployed regiment advanced, the magnitude of the obstacle presented by the fallen trees became apparent. Luther Howard of Company B described it as “a slashing of about forty acres, skirted by dense woods on three sides, and the Rebel works in the front of Williamsburg on the other.”33 The position of the felled trees served to limit use of Federal artillery and prevented the New Yorkers from charging the enemy to “capture or put to flight the whole lot.”34 Howard summarized the effect of the slashing in a letter:
This “slashing” was fallen for the very purpose which it was used for—that is to slaughter Union troops in. The woods were full of Rebel Infantry, and as our Brigade deployed in this “slashing” as skirmishers, they poured a murderous fire of musketry onto our heads. And beside all this, when they could they poured in the grape and canister to match. It was a terrible place for men to fight in, for nothing could be used but our Infantry, and the trees were felled so that a man could not advance or retreat without exposing himself to a deadly fire of musketry.35
The battle was shaping up to be much more than a protracted rearguard action, as the enemy showed no signs of withdrawal. Hooker sent a message at 11:20 a.m. to Sumner requesting help. The tone of the note reflected both his offensive spirit and his expectations:
I have had a hard contest all the morning, but do not despair of success. My men are hard at work, but a good deal exhausted. It is reported to me that my communication with you by the Yorktown road is clear of the enemy. Batteries, cavalry, and infantry can take post by the side of mine to whip the enemy.36
Despite pleas from Hooker, Sumner failed to act, leaving Smith’s division wide to the right of the main fighting, effectively out of the action and leaving Hooker to fight unsupported.37 Whether or not Hooker knew, the only relief headed his way was from his own corps commander, Heintzelman. First Division had been detailed elsewhere and was unavailable, so Phil Kearney’s Third Division was headed to Hooker’s aid by way of Hampton Road.
Around the same time Hooker was sending his note to Sumner, Confederate commander Johnston had ordered Major General James Longstreet to about-face and countermarch back to relieve Fort Magruder. Soon these additional troops would change the complexion of the fight, as Longstreet counterattacked around noon with eight brigades. It was about this time that heavy firing developed to the left of the 72nd. It was Gen. Francis Patterson and his four regiments, the New Jersey Brigade (5th through 8th N.J.), moving against the enemy at that point. With the New Jersey men now engaged, the battle began to seesaw as Longstreet’s regiments forced in the pickets of the 72nd, while Col. Moses reported the enemy advancing in strength on his position. Helped by the 70th N.Y. under Col. William Dwight, along with four companies of his own under Major Stevens, Moses initially stymied the Rebel advance. But Longstreet’s reinforcements were determined and launched at least three separate attacks along the Federal front.38
New Yorkers now buckled under the weight of the Confederate assault. Squads of men were swept away under the roar of massed volley fire. Captain Willard of Company B, fighting desperately with a rifle, was killed instantly when a bullet pierced his skull. Skirmishers Jerome Sprague, Elias Rowe, and Arthur McKinstry were amongst the first killed in Company D as Rebel lead shattered all in its path. Stevens, fighting at the center of the action, narrowly escaped death as a Southern bullet grazed the major’s chin while another claimed the tip of his sword. A treacherous Rebel colonel advanced his regiment under a flag of truce only to order his men to fire, cutting a swath through the 72nd’s line. But upon the regiment’s returning fire, the “black hearted Colonel”39 was among the first to fall.40
As the fighting continued, the greater number of Confederates began to have a telling effect. Soon both the 70th and 72nd began to run dangerously low on ammunition, forcing the two regiments to fall back.
The fallen trees intended to hinder the Union advance now played havoc with the Rebel counter-attack. Pvt. Edmund Patterson of the 9th Alabama described the assault:
We continued advancing as fast as we could under the circumstances, though it was impossible to preserve anything like a well-formed line and the Yankees being stationed and posted behind the logs had much the advantage of us, for we had to expose ourselves continually in getting over the logs, while we could but seldom get a shot at them.41
One Yankee who used his advantage against advancing Rebels was David Parker’s tent-mate, Claus Wriborg. Badly wounded in the leg and unable to retreat with the rest of the regiment, he lay among the fallen timber. As Confederates moved past him, a Rebel clubbed him with a musket. Still conscious, the Dutchman grabbed up another rifle and fired into the back of his attacker. Feigning death to avoid discovery, Carl continued his fight even after the Confederates were forced to retire. Pvt. Wriborg eventually claimed five dead Rebels for his day’s work.42
As the regiment slowly withdrew, Moses sent quartermaster Thomas Fry to request additional support. After forwarding this request on to Hooker, Col. Taylor took the remainder of the Excelsiors into action. Moving Col. William Brewster’s 73rd and the 74th under Lt. Col. Charles Burtis, Taylor marched these last two regiments into action at around 1 p.m. arranging them to the right of the two already engaged. Once they were in place, Taylor advanced them at an angle, putting the attacking Rebels in a cross fire, with the 70th and 72nd on the Confederate front and right, and the 73rd and 74th on their left. With the enemy receiving steady volleys from his regiments, “the enemy now began to fall back slowly, but desperately contending for every foot of ground forced from,” Taylor related.43
With the field a maddening tangle of fallen trees and stumps, units were unable to maintain their normal alignments. Since effective communication was impossible, company commanders were allowed extra latitude to “advance and retire under cover of the fallen timber as well as circumstances would permit,”44 Lt. Col. Burtis later reported. Corporal Henry Ford of Company I experienced a similar situation within Moses’ command. He wrote, “We were compelled to retreat slowly at time and would again gain ground.”45 Over in Company B, Luther Howard became separated from his command and wandered too close to the enemy position. When a group of Rebs demanded his surrender, he ran for the rear and upon hearing the enemy’s order to fire, Howard dropped to the ground as a volley flew over his head. Clambering back to his feet, the 18-year-old skedaddled back to his own lines to carry on the fight. Howard survived the battle but was wounded before it was over.46
Here, during the heavier fighting, two New Yorkers earned the Medal of Honor. Sgt. John Coyne of the 70th N.Y. garnered his for his capture of an enemy flag during hand-to-hand fighting, while 22-year-old Corporal John Haight of the 72nd’s Company G was recognized for carrying a wounded comrade from the field before being wounded himself and taken prisoner.47
As the battle raged into the afternoon, the lack of ammunition played havoc among the Excelsior Brigade regiments, forcing men to scrounge cartridges from the dead and dying. The 72nd was out of ammunition and placed in reserve, while the 70th teetered on the verge of collapse. “This state of affairs endured for some time, the enemy’s fire increasing, mine diminishing,”48 wrote Col. Dwight of the 70th. With the situation deteriorating and the enemy pressing in on his right, Dwight began to pull back, fearing a charge by the Rebels. While moving, Dwight was wounded twice, the second injury rendering him unconscious. In the withdrawal’s confusion Dwight was left behind and was eventually captured.49
With two of his regiments effectively out of ammunition, Taylor could not keep up the pressure on the enemy, and he withdrew the entire brigade. Under cover of Federal artillery, Taylor worked to reform his broken regiments as officers sorted out mixed and disorganized companies. Fresh supplies of ammunition finally made it to the Excelsiors, allowing the regiments to hold on until General Philip Kearney’s Third Division arrived on the scene near 4 p.m. Once deployed, Kearney’s men gradually forced back the Rebels, retaking all the lost ground and pushing the enemy back to the doorstep of Fort Magruder.50 A lieutenant in the Excelsior Brigade set out the scene:
Terrible was the roar of musketry, and dreadful the enemy’s fire; but suddenly came two terrific reports, louder than all.—Our artillery … was pouring [heavy fire] into the rebels. It checked the enemy, they were driven back, and then loud cheers, ringing through the woods, announced the arrival of Gen. Kearny, who appeared at the head of fresh troops. Oh what a relief. They passed us on the double quick, soon formed, attacked the enemy, and then the roar of musketry was louder than before. But fresh troops kept coming, and it was after dark before the firing ceased.51
With a fresh division in the fight, Hooker withdrew his badly mangled regiments. Three of Taylor’s four Excelsior regiments were pulled out of the line, retired to a stand of timber, and under the continuing rain, made camp for the night. Only the 73rd N.Y., those New York City firemen clad in their bright Zouave uniforms, stayed forward, posted in support of an artillery battery.52
While Hooker’s Division was bearing the brunt of the battle, Gen. Winfield S. Hancock, commanding two brigades of Smith’s division, found some unoccupied Rebel redoubts at the extreme right of the Union line. Recognizing their importance, Hancock seized the fortifications and requested permission to launch a flank attack, which he was sure would break the Confederate line. Sumner, realizing the pounding taken by Hooker’s men, became unsure of the overall situation and refused Hancock’s request for an attack. Seeing an opportunity slipping away, Hancock devised a plan. He hid much of his infantry behind the crest of a hill, then baited the Confederates with an artillery barrage. The gambit worked. The provoked enemy advanced on what they took to be unsupported batteries, only to be mowed down by musketry when the order to rise and fire was given at the murderous range of 30 paces. Scores of Confederates fell, including Gen. Jubal Early, who led the attack. Hancock’s men surged forward.53 Though the enemy was falling back in a rout, Sumner, still worrying about the overall flow of the battle, ordered the pursuit halted.
As Hancock’s men stopped their pursuit, the battle of Williamsburg drew to a close. McClellan was jubilant with the “superb”54 job done by Hancock and readied himself for an attack on Fort Magruder the following morning.
That night David Parker, Lorey Wilder, and the rest camped in the rain with no tents or shelter. In the wet camp of the 72nd, men reflected on their first taste of battle. Had they performed under fire as they imagined they would? Did they do their duty? Perhaps Emerson Merrell’s reflections on the fight were common. He’d been anxious prior to battle, probably frightened if the truth were told, but once the fighting started, he did the task before him. He was too busy to be afraid and did his duty, his hands never failing as “every fear seemed to leave me.”55 The fight had been furious; they had expected that. But how this fight played out was certainly unexpected. Of course there was the weather; a steady rain all day had served to soak friend and foe alike. Artillerymen serving their pieces were nearly knee deep in mud, while the guns were effectively immovable. Dead men, buried in the mud, were trampled on by infantry and driven over by wagons. Then there were the slashings, the felled timbers. For an army practiced in close order drills, movements and evolutions by companies, battalions and regiments, the broken ground forced commanders to throw away the drill manual and improvise. In between the logs, down low, men were safe in their private little Gibraltars, but try to move and they became instant targets, slow and exposed. The fight here proved a deadly one, due in part to the high percentage of head wounds directly attributable to the slashings. And while the day’s work was over and their numbers thinned from the night before, most must have taken some measure of pride in having done their duty that day. While it was unpleasant, dirty and deadly, most knew this was the soldier’s lot and there would be other battles to fight. Many had never imagined it would be like this, those many months ago back in Jamestown, Dunkirk, or New York City. The eloquent speeches made no mention of the mud and rain. Certainly the screams of the dying could never have been heard over the sound of the brass bands and cheering crowds in those village squares back in Westfield and Delhi. One Chautauqua man later described his experience following the battle:
The different Regiments now came in, but were scattered everywhere. The men had all thrown off their knapsacks, and had to sleep in the rain, without any covering, and expecting to commence the fight at an early hour the next day: but when the day broke, the enemy was gone. They had been out all night rifling the dead and wounded, and taking all prisoners that could walk. They treated the wounded kindly, giving them water, and in some instances covering them with blankets. I went out with a party early in the morning to look for the wounded of our Regiment, but did not find any, and so I took a tramp over the battlefield. The fight was all in the woods, and the rebels had felled trees so that it was impossible to make a bayonet charge. The dead lay thickly scattered around, and the sight was horrible. Nearly all the rebels killed were shot through the head, and their faces were covered with clotted blood. I soon became accustomed to the sight, and cooly turned the dead secesh over to find some trophy, but every one had been rifled. I managed to get three buttons, a canteen and a ten cent postage stamp, but could find nothing of any value. I have not time to write much more, for my candle is most gone.56
During the night, the commanding general planned his assault on Fort Magruder, but as dawn broke, McClellan discovered the Confederates had once again evacuated their strong point, denying him the smashing victory he sought.57 So while McClellan concentrated on moving beyond Williamsburg and pursuing the fleeing Rebels, the men of the 72nd recovered the wounded who had lain in the field all night, among them Carl Wriborg. While resting among the other injured, Wriborg told comrades about his lonely fight. When the surgeon examined him and said his leg must be operated on, Wriborg insisted three or four others be cared for ahead of him, but by the time the others had been treated, the kind-hearted Wriborg had lost too much blood, and he died before his surgery could begin.58
That night, the men knew many of their own to be either dead or dying, but the real scope of the butcher’s bill wasn’t fully realized till the next day. When the counting was done, 72nd’s loss for the half-day battle was 195. Sixty-one men were killed outright, and another 23 died later from their wounds. There were 67 men wounded, some of whom would recover and return to the ranks; another 44 men listed as missing, most captured, but whose fate would never really be known; and some who eventually found their way back into the ranks. The officers, the captains and lieutenants who fought side by side with the men, died too. Captain Darwin Willard, who had led the night-time reconnaissance to Boyd’s Hole, was dead on the field. Dunkirk man Patrick Barrett of Company E, whose company was among the first to enlist back on Staten Island, died on May 6 from his wounds. George Grecheneck, the Hungarian émigré and captain of the “German” Company A, lingered on for ten days but eventually died of his wounds on May 17. With numbers like these, everyone experienced a loss. But David Parker, who survived, must have felt doubly vexed, because not only did tent-mate Wriborg succumb to his wounds in the surgeon’s tent, but Martin Boyden, the man he’d traveled with to see Major Stevens back in Jamestown, was also dead; he was among those 61 killed on the field.
In all, the four regiments of the Excelsior brigade suffered a loss of 772 men—the size of an entire regiment. Though these numbers were chilling for the 72nd, theirs wasn’t the greatest loss within the brigade. The 70th N.Y. lost 330 men, nearly half the regiment, and suffered the capture of its commander, Col. Dwight.59
While McClellan heaped much of the official praise for repulsing the enemy on Hancock, the toll of the fighting tells a much different story.60 Hancock’s men suffered the loss of at most 97 men killed, wounded, captured or missing, while Hooker’s three brigades and the Excelsiors reported combined losses of 1,575. The New Jersey Brigade lost four senior officers, who were either killed or wounded, included in its loss of 526. Nearly half of all the divisional losses came from Taylor’s Excelsior Brigade.61 Such numbers demonstrated the lack of ability of Gen. Sumner to manage the attack and bring other units to bear upon the enemy, given that total Federal losses at Williamsburg amounted to 2,239. Commentary on the conduct of the battle came from III Corps commander Brigadier General S.P. Heintzelman, who lamented “the disheartening circumstances that our troops knew we had three divisions idle on their right, within hearing of their musketry.”62
The staggering sacrifice experienced by his division was not lost on Hooker, who wrote in his official report:
History will not be believed when it is told that the noble officers and men of my division were permitted to carry on this unequal struggle from morning until night unaided in the presence of more than 30,000 of their comrades with arms in their hands. Nevertheless, it is true. If we failed to capture the rebel army on the plains of Williamsburg, it surely will not be ascribed to the want of conduct and courage in my command.63