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Our little Peninsula world had now become a real “Theater of War.” [George B.] McClellan had advanced from Fort Monroe with 120,000 men and on the 11th April, Brigadier General Magruder withdrew all his little force behind his Yorktown and Lee’s Mill line of works and stood ready to defend them. On the 12th a strong column of “blue jackets” came in sight on the Warwick Road and, deploying right and left in front of Lee’s Mill, began to skirmish heavily. Another strong column appeared in front of the line near Yorktown, deployed, and “felt our position .” My regiment, with a battalion of infantry, was ordered to defend a portion of the line about half a mile long. The shallow, sluggish stream known as the Warwick River, being very small near its sources, ¤ve dirt dams had been thrown up between Yorktown and Lee’s mill to back up the water and make it spread out into the marshes on either bank. These dams afforded a good passage for troops two abreast. Hence, our ¤rst business was to throw up earthworks in front of and commanding them. I really felt like laughing when, with one squadron of dismounted cavalry and one company of infantry to hold down dam No. 3, I began collecting old broken logs and pieces of brush wood to shield my precious person from the view and the ¤re of the enemy. The rest of the regiment and the battalion were in line of battle in rear, being a “corps de reserve.” Armed as we were with muzzle-loading, smoothbore carbines and the infantry with smoothbore muskets, I trembled to think of the stampede and awful gap which would be made in the line if some ten or a dozen really good ri®emen had posted themselves a hun3 “Our Little Peninsula World” dred yards off across the dam among the thick trees and opened ¤re on us. Would we have run? Why, yes, like clever fellows for there we were on a damp, rainy day in a ®at with miserable popguns which probably wouldn’t go off. And if they did, couldn’t hit an elephant a hundred yards off.1 Besides, we knew that we had only 11,000 men and McClellan 100,000 or more.2 We felt that Magruder was playing his old game of “Bluff” and that, if the enemy seriously attacked us, we must depend on our heels as our only salvation. But smart old Joe Johnston with his quick, restless eye and ready ear was now energetically and laboriously working his weary way through the heavy Peninsula mud, eager to succor and to support us. He had withdrawn from McClellan’s front at Centreville in March, sent a portion of his forces to Richmond and halted the rest at Orange Court House. When McClellan made his great advance on Manassas and captured the wooden cannon and abandoned works, he was greatly chagrined and almost lost his place. It was not long after this time that H[enry] W. Halleck, who left the Missouri Department on 9th April to the command of the Department of Tennessee, superceded McClellan as general commanding-in-chief and the latter adopted the Peninsula route for the 2nd “On to Richmond” as this campaign was called.3 And now, when the sun had set and nothing was heard save the occasional crack of a picket’s ri®e along the line, our regiment withdrew to camp to feed our poor beasts and ourselves and to get such rest as we could upon the wet ground with the continually dripping rain to keep moist our faces and the rheumatic limbs throughout the night. As we stood weary and thoughtful and anxious and gazed upon the feeble, unsteady ®ame which rose from the wet sticks we had piled together and dolefully thought of “tomorrow,” a trooper galloped into camp and shouted, “Glorious news, boys. Old Joe’s at Yorktown with ¤ve thousand infantry and plenty more coming.” And this was indeed glorious news, a great load was taken off each heart and a bright smile lit up each face. A buzz of happy voices bespoke the universal joy and we gladly talked of the morrow. Yes, gladly for our Southern hearts were then proud and brave and con¤dent. We believed that with Old Joe and his 25,000 men behind our works we could do up McClellan about right. Instead of our usual bugle...

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