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| The "Gallant" Pelham- 23 at the time of the action below |
This reconnoiter of New Kent would have taken place at the beginning of July 1862 some two weeks after Stuarts famous ride around the Union lines.
Leaving the Cold Harbor field that morning, our regiment marched in advance of General Ewell's troops towards Dispatch Station, and on the way found two field pieces of Tidball's Battery, which had been abandoned on their retreat. Soon we separated from the infantry, they inclining towards James River and we directing our course to the White House, on the Pamunkey. Some skirmishing occurred as we approached the latter place. Captain Pelham did some cannonading. Very soon the smoke of burning buildings and army supplies gave signs that the Federal troops there were abandoning the place. We approached cautiously for a time (a gunboat still remaining to guard the place), and then took eager possession. We found our colonel's (W. H. F. Lee's) house was a bed of red hot embers. A number of adjacent houses were still hot and smoking from the torches that had been applied.
The mass of commissary, quarter-master, medical, and sutler's supplies not yet burned was enormous. Army wagons had been backed over the river bank until they formed an island, the wagon tongues in great numbers protruding out of the water. Muskets and carbines had been cast into the river until one could stand on them dry shod above the current, so large was the pile.
A hospital of new white tents occupied a large part of one of the fields of the plantation, arranged in orderly rows, and furnished with cots, and every necessary facility and utensil for the care and comfort of the wounded of a great battle. As I moved among them, the thought could not be suppressed of how sadly the thousands of McClellan's bleeding men on the Chickahominy needed the hospital, and how utterly useless it had proved to them.
Having observed some locomotives and cars standing on the tracks, I examined them to see if the cars were there which had run the gauntlet of our fire at Tunstall's Station two weeks previously, during the raid made by Stuart. They were soon found, and the bullet marks on them bore witness to the severity of the fire through which they had passed.
Our physical wants were abundantly supplied here, and the next day we moved back towards the Chickahominy, and halted on the wooded hills above Forge Bridge. A body of Federal infantry and a section of artillery held positions near this bridge. The hill beyond was elevated and unobstructed by timber. Some delay and reconnoitering resulted from seeing the enemy here. Suddenly, as we were watching from our sheltered position, Pelham dashed forward, with two guns, down the incline and across the plain, and taking position near the river, opened on the guns on the hilltop. He had already received their fire. The duel became rapid and exciting. It was quickly apparent that Pelham's guns were aimed with fatal effects. At each discharge of them a man, or a horse, was seen to fall or flee.
In a few minutes after the firing began, the Federal guns were in full retreat. As they dashed along the road in the distance, we saw the branches of the cedars falling about them, cut down by Pelham's parting shots.
As illustrative of the exaggeration and unreliability which often marked reports of engagements sent in from the field, that of Lieutenant Val. H. Stone, commanding the Federal guns on this occasion at Forge Bridge, is a striking example. He reported: "June 30, 11 A.M., the rebels appeared on the opposite side. At 1 P.M. they opened fire with eight guns. I was under fire the greater portion of the time until 6 P.M. For two hours of the time, I had their guns completely silenced. . . . My riding horse was killed with a shell. No men killed in my command. One of the cavalry killed. Considerable loss on the enemy's side.''
It is quite likely that other participants in this affair on the Union side gave a different version of it, since the officer, Major Robert M. West, to whom the above quoted report was addressed, indorsed on it: "This young officer, with new horses and men that had never been tried, performed exceedingly well, considering." To those of us on the opposite side it seemed that the only performance in which he acted "exceedingly well" was the rapidity of his flight.
No attempt was made by us that evening to cross the abandoned bridge, but about dark I was sent along with our squadron to ascertain the position of the enemy in the direction of New Kent Courthouse. It fell to my lot to ride with another man in advance, and it was an exciting ride, not knowing at what moment a watchful enemy might salute us with a volley. We had come within one or two hundred yards of the court house, when, discerning an object in a ditch by the road side, my comrade said in a low tone: "It's a cow," whereupon the Yankee picket spurred his horse from the ditch, and too much startled to fire a shot, disappeared at a gallop in the darkness. We turned back to report the circumstance, when the officer commanding us, having heard a bustle, as of troops mounting, in the direction of the enemy faced about, and hastened back at a trot.
My position became then in the rear, and before going far, from carelessness in sitting properly in my saddle it turned on the horse's back precipitating me to the ground. The column moved on rapidly, no one in the line being conscious of the accident. I was left alone in the road with my saddle loosely strapped to the horse's belly instead of his back.
Hearing that the enemy was in pursuit, and might dash up on me in a moment, I led my impatinet(sic) and restless horse (neighing lustily for the others of the command) down into the woods and fastened him to a limb, and then proceeded to adjust the saddle while he pawed and pranced. I succeeded in saddling and mounting him with intense satisfaction, and on getting back into the road, gave him the rein. He followed the track of the other horses and before long caught up with them.
It was daybreak when we reached our regiment, and by the time our horses could eat we were in motion for Bottom's Bridge, twelve miles higher up the river. From some over sanguine source we were informed that we were marching to witness the surrender of McClellan's army — information which, however groundless, made us forgetful of fatigue and the last night's sleeplessness.
On reaching the above-named bridge with slight delay, our column was turned about and somewhat impatiently and wearily we marched back to the point we had left in the morning. We were not halted here, but passed over the Forge Bridge, and on the hill beyond saw a dead horse, and under the cedars farther on two freshly made graves — silent witnesses of Pelham's death- dealing shots seen by us the day previous. Our march was towards Malvern Hill, near which place we halted for the night. Having ridden fifty miles or more, I tied my horse to a fence and gave him his frugal meal, and then threw myself down, sleepy and almost exhausted, in a shallow ditch by the fence side, and was soon in the deepest unconsciousness. The rain fell during the night in a heavy downpour, but I knew it not. When I awoke next morning, water stood around me, and as I raised my body up out of it, I could hear the noise of suction such as a log makes when lifted up out of soft mud.
- A Lieutenant of Cavalry in Lee's Army by G. W. Beale
