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On July 16, 1861, the new Union volunteer army under Brig. Gen. Irvin McDowell marched from Washington DC toward the Confederate army under Gen. Pierre G. T. Beauregard, drawn up behind Bull Run creek west of Centreville.

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Battle of First Bull Run - 2pm (Detailed View) | Civil War Trust

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As he walked down a White House corridor en route to a meeting with President Abraham Lincoln and his Cabinet on June 29, 1861, Brig. Gen. Irvin McDowell had no way of knowing how dramatically the next 23 days would change his life and the lives of thousands of others, transforming the course of the young Civil War. Well regarded by his peers - including the venerable Winfield Scott, general-in-chief of the Federal armies, on whose staff he had once served - the 42-year-old McDowell was a career Army officer. But, despite his decades of military service, the newly minted commander of the Department of Northeastern Virginia, like so many officers of 1861, had never led a large body of men in combat.
While Lincoln and his Cabinet members listened, McDowell laid out a plan to attack the 24,000-man Confederate Army under Gen. Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, deployed near the winding Bull Run creek about 25 miles southwest of Washington. The general intended to use about 30,000 troops in the effort, marching in three columns, while another 10,000 men were held in reserve. With such numerical superiority, it appeared McDowell would overwhelm his Southern counterpart. Meanwhile, the 15,000 Federal troops under aging veteran Maj. Gen. Robert Patterson stationed in the lower Shenandoah Valley were tasked with preventing a Confederate force of about 11,000 men under Gen. Joseph Johnston from slipping out of the Valley and reinforcing Beauregard near the vital rail link of Manassas Junction. It was a complex plan, especially for an inexperienced army, and even McDowell had reservations about taking the offensive. Although some of Lincoln's advisors questioned Patterson's ability to hold Johnston in the Valley, the plan was ultimately approved.

On paper, it was a solid, if ambitious plan; but, in practice, a number of factors were working against
McDowell. Available maps were woefully inadequate, leading to mistakes in march routes and distances. The troops were green and undisciplined, and the complex plan required a level of precision marching and coordination challenging to a veteran army. Pressed by political rather than military considerations, McDowell's army started west on July 16, making slow but steady progress toward its rendezvous with Beauregard.

As the federal column composed of Brig. Gen. Daniel Tyler's division approached Centreville at midmorning on July 18, its commander decided to continue south toward Bull Run after local citizens told him about Rebels in the vicinity. Taking Col. Israel Richardson's brigade with him, Tyler encountered Confederate Brig. Gen. James Longstreet's Virginia brigade on the opposite side of the stream. Fighting erupted and continued for the next several hours, with neither side gaining a clear advantage. Knowing he had exceeded his orders, Tyler pulled out after a combined loss of about 150 men. This skirmish at Blackburn's Ford offered a preview of the fighting to come; Tyler and Richardson had pushed their units into combat piecemeal, with each defeated in turn.

Although minor, Tyler's engagement had a profound effect on what transpired three days later. Blackburn's Ford eroded McDowell's confidence in one of his most experienced subordinates and may have led him to again question the readiness of his army just as it was about to be committed to serious battle. The fight at Blackburn Ford, together with his own reconnaissance on the Confederate right flank, convinced McDowell that his chances for success were better if he employed a flanking movement around the Confederate left. McDowell dispatched his chief engineer, Maj. John Barnard, to find a suitable crossing area to flank his opponent. Although hampered by poor maps and a desire to avoid detection, Barnard found a route to Sudley Ford and surmised another to Poplar Ford. Once he informed McDowell of his observations on July 20, planning began in earnest.

Meanwhile, in the Shenandoah Valley, Gen. Joseph Johnston's Southerners were moving across the mountains to reinforce Beauregard. Largely because of Patterson's inaction, the normally cautious Johnston marched to Piedmont Junction, where his troops boarded cars on the Manassas Gap Railroad. Beginning about 8:00 a.m. on July 20, a steady stream of Southern troops began arriving at Manassas Junction, utterly unbeknownst to McDowell. Brig. Gen. Thomas Jackson's Brigade was the first to make the trip. Before the battle would end the following day, three additional brigades from the Shenandoah Valley would reach the field and play a key role in defeating McDowell.

McDowell's plan was as audacious as it was complicated. While Tyler's division demonstrated in front of the enemy at the Stone Bridge on the Warrenton Turnpike and Blackburn's Ford on the Union left, two divisions under the command of Brig. Gen. David Hunter and Brig. Gen. Samuel Heintzelman would undertake a flanking movement to envelop the Confederate left flank and crush it. But first, the troops had to get into position. McDowell wanted his men on the march to Sudley Ford in the pre-dawn hours of July 21. Such a maneuver might have worked for hardened veterans, but these were green troops with little or no marching experience.

Tyler had his men up at 2:00 a.m. and on the march 30 minutes later. Groggy from little sleep, the column made fitful progress in the inky blackness, further hampered by a large and cumbersome three-ton Parrott cannon. Somewhat inexplicably, McDowell did not put the two-division flanking column, which had farther to go, at the head of the column, instead placing Hunter and Heintzelman behind Tyler. Crossing Cub Run, the flanking column turned right down a narrow lane at the Widow Spindle's farmhouse.
The pace of the march improved quickly, but the men still had 12 miles to cover before reaching the ford.

Meanwhile, Beauregard was forced to scatter his brigades along the banks of Bull Run, defending the numerous fords available to McDowell's army. Only Col. Evans's small brigade guarded the vital Confederate left flank at the Stone Bridge. His force consisted of the 4th South Carolina and 1st Louisiana Battalion, two cannon and two cavalry troops. These 1,100 men, most hidden behind Van Pelt Hill with a skirmish line near the bridge, were all that stood between Beauregard's main army and three Federal divisions.

Once Tyler reached his assigned position in front of the Stone Bridge his artillery opened fire, while Richardson created a diversion in front of Blackburn's Ford. But as an hour passed and no attempt to force a passage across the stream came, Evans wondered what his enemy was up to. About this time he received a message from the Confederate signal station several miles away that informed him, "Look out for your left, you are turned." The men on the heights had glimpsed the sun bouncing off Federal muskets as Hunter's and Heintzelman's men made their flanking movement.

The lead brigade in Hunter's division belonged to Col. Ambrose Burnside, who would eventually command the Union army during the Fredericksburg Campaign in late 1862. When they splashed across Bull Run at Sudley Ford about 9:30 a.m., almost three hours behind schedule, the Confederates were waiting for them.

Leaving but four companies of the 4th South Carolina to keep an eye on Tyler, Evans quickly moved his men to face this new threat, eventually positioning them on the rear slope of Matthews Hill. The 1st Louisiana Battalion arrived first and its skirmish line engaged its counterpart of the 2nd Rhode Island. The balance of the 4th South Carolina then came up, but, in the confusion, fired into the backs of the Louisianans. Incensed, the Creoles turned and fired back at the South Carolinians until officers ended the friendly fire fiasco. Seeing confusion in the Yankee ranks atop the hill, the Louisianans attacked, only to be driven back by the combined musketry of the 1st and 2nd Rhode Island. The confusion probably resulted from the 2nd Rhode Island sliding to its left to provide room for its sister regiment.

Reinforcements arrived for both sides. Brig. Gen. Bernard Bee, commanding his own brigade and exerting control over Col. Francis Bartow's as well, halted his command on Henry House Hill. Impressed by its defensive possibilities, Bee rode down the hill to encourage Evans to abandon his position on Matthews Hill and join his command on Henry House Hill, but despite the growing host of enemy soldiers on the crest of the hill, and the repulse of the charge of his 1st Louisiana Battalion, Evans refused to budge. His refusal left Bee with little choice but to send down his 4th Alabama, followed by the rest of his two brigades.

Confusion also reined on the Federal side, as units did not move where ordered or did not respond to orders quickly enough. Eventually, Burnside put his entire brigade on the firing line and gave battle to Evans, Bee and Bartow. Flanked on his right, Bee was forced to pull his defeated units out of combat. The retreat was anything but orderly, and the survivors milled about as their officers attempted to reform the shattered units.

Col. Andrew Porter's Union brigade next took up the fight. Like Burnside's before them, Porter's regiments were sent in piecemeal and defeated in succession. Because of the effective fire of Capt. John Imboden's battery, perched atop Henry Hill, Porter's regiments were unable or unwilling to follow Bee's disorganized Confederates. Instead, they veered to the left and made their way along the Warrenton Turnpike where they were battered by the remnants of Bartow's Brigade and Col. Wade Hampton's Legion near the Robinson homestead.

No sooner had Brig. Gen. Thomas Jackson's Brigade arrived on Henry Hill and taken up position just behind the slope than two regiments of Brig. Gen. Erasmus Keyes's Federal brigade advanced up the hill, passing the Robinson House and audaciously attacking the 5th Virginia and Hampton's Legions, both of which were forced to retreat into the woods behind them. The Southern setback was but momentary, for the Virginians and South Carolinians trained their muskets on the exposed and unprotected Northerners and forced them to abandon the hill and return to the Warrenton Turnpike.

Maj. William Barry, commander of the Federal artillery, changed the face of the brisk and spreading battle around 2:00 p.m., when he ordered Capt. James Ricketts and Capt. Charles Griffin to redeploy their unsupported batteries on Henry Hill, despite their vehement objections. Much of the remainder of the battle involved a desperate struggle to capture or recapture these ill-fated cannon. The Confederates brought up their own field guns and the two sides slugged it out at close range, while Jackson's men waited, protected on the opposite side of the hill.

Frustrated by his inability to make headway against the Confederates on Henry House Hill, Griffin moved some of his guns around to the enemy's left flank. It was a dangerous and bold move, for which Griffin paid a terrible price when the 33rd Virginia advanced and captured both pieces. During the remainder of the battle, four Union regiments and seven Confederate regiments would fight over these guns.

Farther north, Ricketts's guns were deployed just south of Judith Henry's home, where they attracted considerable attention from the infantry of both armies. They were initially captured by the 4th and 27th Virginia regiments (Jackson), then recaptured by the 5th and 11th Massachusetts, only to be retaken by the 5th Virginia and Hampton's Legion. A succession of Federal regiments, including the 13th New York, 2nd Wisconsin, 79th New York, 38th New York and 69th New York launched independent attacks on the guns, but most failed miserably. The latter two regiments finally attacked up the hill in some semblance of an organized assault and finally drove the two Rebel regiments away from Ricketts's guns. They would not hold them for long, however, as three fresh Confederate regiments from Col. Philip Cocke's Brigade, which had been guarding Ball's and Lewis's Fords, reached the area and stormed across the open plain to recapture the guns.

McDowell and his inexperienced commanders had not handled their men well. Although they outnumbered the Confederates and were better equipped, most regiments were sent in piecemeal and so beaten in turn. It didn't help matters that several of the regiments wore gray uniforms, which invited confusion and friendly fire.

The last major action of the day unfolded on Chinn Ridge about 4:00 p.m., when McDowell sent his final fresh brigade under Col. Oliver Howard sweeping south. The brigade's route might have taken it around to the vulnerable Confederate flank with potentially devastating results to the Southerners. Instead, a Confederate brigade under Col. Arnold Elzey, fresh off the trains from the Shenandoah Valley, fired into the unsuspecting Northerners and attacked, forcing the Federal troops to the rear. A horse battery also hastened Howard's retreat.

The Federal army's retreat, initially calm and well organized, became less so with fears of Confederate cavalry and accurately aimed cannon fire. Hundreds of men were scooped up, including Congressman Alfred Ely from New York. Most of the troops finally found their way to safety, depressed and worn out by their long day.

By later standards the losses during the day-long battle were modest; Union casualties amounted to about 2,700, with 1,900 more in the Confederate ranks. Still, the campaign provided important lessons to both sides, including a more sobering and realistic sense that the war would be long and bloody. It was truly an end to innocence.

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As he walked down a White House corridor en route to a meeting with President Abraham Lincoln and his Cabinet on June 29, 1861, Brig. Gen. Irvin McDowell had no way of knowing how dramatically the next 23 days would change his life and the lives of thousands of others, transforming the course of the young Civil War.

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See our online gallery of Battle of Bull Run (First Manassas) photos featuring modern and historical images from this first major battle of the American Civil War.

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Contents

1. Prelude to the First Battle of Bull Run (Manassas)

2. Battle Begins at Bull Run

3. The "Rebel Yell" at Bull Run (Manassas)

4. Who Won The Battle of Bull Run (Manassas)?

The First Battle of Bull Run, also known as the Battle of Manassas, marked the first major land battle of the American Civil War. On July 21, 1861, Union and Confederate armies clashed near Manassas Junction, Virginia. The engagement began when about 35,000 Union troops marched from the federal capital in Washington, D.C. to strike a Confederate force of 20,000 along a small river known as Bull Run. After fighting on the defensive for most of the day, the rebels rallied and were able to break the Union right flank, sending the Federals into a chaotic retreat towards Washington. The Confederate victory gave the South a surge of confidence and shocked many in the North, who realized the war would not be won as easily as they had hoped.

Prelude to the First Battle of Bull Run (Manassas)

By July 1861, two months after Confederate troops opened fire on Fort Sumter to begin the Civil War, the northern press and public were eager for the Union Army to make an advance on Richmond ahead of the planned meeting of the Confederate Congress there on July 20. Encouraged by early victories by Union troops in western Virginia and by the war fever spreading through the North, President Abraham Lincoln ordered Brigadier General Irvin McDowell to mount an offensive that would hit quickly and decisively at the enemy and open the way to Richmond, thus bringing the war to a mercifully quick end. The offensive would begin with an attack on more than 20,000 Confederate troops under the command of General P.G.T. Beauregard camped near Manassas Junction, Virginia (25 miles from Washington, D.C.) along a little river known as Bull Run.

Did you know? After First Manassas, Stonewall Jackson further distinguished himself in the Shenandoah Valley, Second Manassas and Fredericksburg. The man Lee called his "right arm" was accidentally shot by his own men at Chancellorsville and died of complications relating to the injury.

The cautious McDowell, then in command of the 35,000 Union volunteer troops gathered in the Federal capital, knew that his men were ill-prepared and pushed for a postponement of the advance to give him time for additional training. But Lincoln ordered him to begin the offensive nonetheless, reasoning (correctly) that the rebel army was made up of similarly amateur soldiers. McDowell's army began moving out of Washington on July 16; its slow movement allowed Beauregard (who also received advance notice of his enemy's movements through a Confederate espionage network in Washington) to call on his fellow Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston for reinforcements. Johnston, in command of some 11,000 rebels in the Shenandoah Valley, was able to outmaneuver a Union force in the region and march his men towards Manassas.

Battle Begins at Bull Run

McDowell's Union force struck on July 21, shelling the enemy across Bull Run while more troops crossed the river at Sudley Ford in an attempt to hit the Confederate left flank. Over two hours, 10,000 Federals gradually pushed back 4,500 rebels across the Warrington turnpike and up Henry House Hill. Reporters, congressmen and other onlookers who had traveled from Washington and were watching the battle from the nearby countryside prematurely celebrated a Union victory, but reinforcements from both Johnston and Beauregard's armies soon arrived on the battlefield to rally the Confederate troops. In the afternoon, both sides traded attacks and counterattacks near Henry House Hill. On Johnston and Beauregard's orders, more and more Confederate reinforcements arrived, even as the Federals struggled with coordinating assaults made by different regiments.

The "Rebel Yell" at Bull Run (Manassas)

By four o'clock in the afternoon, both sides had an equal number of men on the field of battle (about 18,000 on each side were engaged at Bull Run), and Beauregard ordered a counterattack along the entire line. Screaming as they advanced (the "rebel yell" that would become infamous among Union troops) the Confederates managed to break the Union line. As McDowell's Federals retreated chaotically across Bull Run, they ran headlong into hundreds of Washington civilians who had been watching the battle while picnicking on the fields east of the river, now making their own hasty retreat.

Among the future leaders on both sides who fought at First Manassas were Ambrose E. Burnside and William T. Sherman (for the Union) along with Confederates like Stuart, Wade Hampton, and most famously, Thomas J. Jackson, who earned his enduring nickname, "Stonewall" Jackson, in the battle. Jackson, a former professor at the Virginia Military Institute, led a Virginia brigade from the Shenandoah Valley into the battle at a key moment, helping the Confederates hold an important high-ground position at Henry House Hill. General Barnard Bee (who was later killed in the battle) told his men to take heart, and to look at Jackson standing there "like a stone wall."

Who Won The Battle of Bull Run (Manassas)?

Despite their victory, Confederate troops were far too disorganized to press their advantage and pursue the retreating Yankees, who reached Washington by July 22. The First Battle of Bull Run (called First Manassas in the South) cost some 3,000 Union casualties, compared with 1,750 for the Confederates. Its outcome sent northerners who had expected a quick, decisive victory reeling, and gave rejoicing southerners a false hope that they themselves could pull off a swift victory. In fact, both sides would soon have to face the reality of a long, grueling conflict that would take an unimaginable toll on the country and its people.

On the Confederate side, accusations flew between Johnston, Beauregard and President Jefferson Davis over who was to blame for the failure to pursue and crush the enemy after the battle. For the Union, Lincoln removed McDowell from command and replaced him with George B. McClellan, who would retrain and reorganize Union troops defending Washington into a disciplined fighting force, thereafter known as the Army of the Potomac.

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The First Battle of Bull Run was the first major battle of the American Civil War. The battle, fought in 1861 by poorly trained volunteers, ended in Confederate victory. The high casualty count from the battle made both sides realize it would be a long, costly war.

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First Battle of Bull Run Audio - HISTORY.com

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In a recorded interview in 1947, 101-year-old General Julius Howell recalls fighting as a Confederate soldier during the Civil War and the moment he heard about Lincoln's assassination.

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Ken Burns' Civil War analysis of the Seven Days in an attempt to capture Richmond, VA. Union forces won all but one, yet Gen. George McClellan treated them as defeat & failed to finish off Gen. Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia.

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Proving his skeptics wrong, Robert E. Lee took command of the Confederate Army at Richmond and after the Seven Days Battles pushed back Union forces and ensured his reputation as a brilliant commander.
On June 1, 1862, Robert E. Lee replaced a wounded Joseph E. Johnston as the commander of the Confederate army defending Richmond. This change of leadership occurred as George B. McClellan and his Army of the Potomac, which numbered more than 100,000 men, approached the climax of their grand offensive against the Southern capital. Although Lee later achieved a towering reputation, news of his appointment provoked widespread concern across the Confederacy. A North Carolina woman gave voice to a common evaluation of Lee: "I do not much like him, he 'falls back' too much ... His nick name last summer was 'old-stick-in-the-mud' ... There is mud enough now in and about our lines, but pray God he may not fufill the whole of his name."

The next five weeks proved Lee's doubters wrong. No general exhibited more daring than the new Southern commander, who believed the Confederacy could counter Northern numbers only by seizing and holding the initiative. He spent June preparing for a supreme effort against McClellan. When "Stonewall" Jackson's command from the Shenandoah Valley and other reinforcements arrived, Lee's army, at nearly 90,000 strong, would be the largest Confederate force even placed in the field. By the last week of June, the Army of the Potomac lay astride the Chickahominy River, two-thirds of its strength south of the river and one-third north of it. Lee hoped to crush the portion north of the river then turn against the rest. Confederates repulsed a strong Union reconnaissance against their left on June 25, opening what became known as the Seven Days Battles and setting the stage for Lee's offensive.

Heavy fighting began on June 26 at the Battle of Mechanicsville and continued for the next five days. Lee consistently acted as the aggressor but never managed to land a decisive blow. At Mechanicsville, he expected Jackson to strike Union General Fitz John Porter's right flank. The hero of the Valley failed to appear in time, however, and A. P. Hill's Confederate division launched a futile frontal assault about mid-afternoon. Porter retreated to a strong position at Gaines's Mill, where Lee renewed his offensive on the 27th. Once again Jackson stumbled, as more than 50,000 Confederates mounted savage attacks along a wide front. Late in the day, Porter's lines gave way, and he withdrew across the Chickahominy to join the rest of McClellan's army. Jackson's poor performance, usually attributed to exhaustion verging on numbness, joined poor staff work and other factors in allowing Porter's exposed portion of McClellan's army to escape.

In the wake of Gaines's Mill, McClellan changed his base from the Pamunkey River to the James River, where Northern naval power could support the Army of the Potomac. Lee followed the retreating McClellan, who insisted the Rebels badly outnumbered his army, seeking to inflict a crippling blow as the Federals retreated southward across the Peninsula. After heavy skirmishing on June 28, the Confederates mounted ineffectual attacks on the 29th at Savage's Station and far heavier ones at Glendale (also known as Frayser's Farm) on the 30th. Stonewall Jackson played virtually no role in these actions, as time and again the Confederates failed to act in concert. By July 1, McClellan stood at Malvern Hill, a splendid defensive position overlooking the James. Lee resorted to unimaginative frontal assaults that afternoon. Whether driven by vexation at lost opportunities or his natural combativeness, he had made one of his poorest tactical decisions. Southern division commander Daniel Harvey Hill famously said of the action on July 1, "It was not war, it was murder." As evening fell, more than 5,000 Confederate casualties littered the slopes of Malvern Hill. Some of McClellan's officers urged a counterattack against the obviously battered enemy; however, "Little Mac" retreated down the James to Harrison's Landing, where he awaited Lee's next move and issued endless requests for more men and supplies.

Casualties for the Seven Days were enormous. Lee's losses exceeded 20,000 killed, wounded, and missing, while McClellan's surpassed 16,000. Gaines's Mill, where combined losses exceeded 15,000, marked the point of greatest slaughter. Thousands of dead and maimed soldiers brought the reality of war to Richmond's residents. One woman wrote, "death held a carnival in our city. The weather was excessively hot. It was midsummer, gangrene and erysipelas attacked the wounded, and those who might have been cured of their wounds were cut down by these diseases."

The campaign's importance extended far beyond setting a new standard of carnage in Virginia. Lee had seized the initiative, dramatically altering the strategic picture by dictating the action to a compliant McClellan. Lee's first effort in field command lacked tactical polish but nevertheless generated immense dividends. The Seven Days Battles saved Richmond and inspirited a Confederate people buffeted by dismal military news from other theaters. The victory also caused Lee's reputation to shoot upward, beginning the process by which he and his army would emerge, by the late spring of 1863 at the latest, as the principal national rallying point for the Confederate people. One of the Richmond newspapers captured this element of the campaign's aftermath when it commented that "the brilliancy of Lee's genius" manifested at the Seven Days had "established his reputation forever, and ... entitled himself to the lasting gratitude of his country."

On the Union side, the campaign dampened expectations of victory that had mounted steadily as United States armies in Tennessee and along the Mississippi River won a string of successes. McClellan's failure also exacerbated political divisions in the United States, clearing the way for Republicans to implement policies that would strike at slavery and other Rebel property. The end of the rebellion had seemed to be in sight when McClellan prepared to march up the Peninsula; after Malvern Hill, only the most obtuse observers failed to see that the war would continue in a more comprehensive manner. "We have been and are in a depressed, dismal, ... state of anxiety and irritability" wrote a perceptive New Yorker after McClellan's retreat. "The cause of the country does not seem to be thriving just now."

The campaign also underscored the degree to which events in the Virginia theater dominated perceptions about the war's progress. Despite enormous Northern achievement in the western campaigns, most people North and South, as well as observers in Britain and France, interpreted the Seven Days as evidence that the Confederacy was winning the war. Lincoln wrote about this phenomenon in early August, complaining that "it seems unreasonable that a series of successes, extending through half-a-year, and clearing more than a hundred thousand square miles of country, should help us so little, while a single half-defeat should hurt us so much." Lincoln did not exaggerate the impact of McClellan's failure. Taken overall, the ramifications were such that the Richmond campaign must be reckoned one of the turning points of the war.

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Proving his skeptics wrong, Robert E. Lee took command of the Confederate Army at Richmond and after the Seven Days Battles pushed back Union forces and ensured his reputation as a brilliant commander. On June 1, 1862, Robert E. Lee replaced a wounded Joseph E. Johnston as the commander of the Confederate army defending Richmond.

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Proving his skeptics wrong, Robert E. Lee took command of the Confederate Army at Richmond and after the Seven Days Battles pushed back Union forces and ensured his reputation as a brilliant commander.
On June 1, 1862, Robert E. Lee replaced a wounded Joseph E. Johnston as the commander of the Confederate army defending Richmond. This change of leadership occurred as George B. McClellan and his Army of the Potomac, which numbered more than 100,000 men, approached the climax of their grand offensive against the Southern capital. Although Lee later achieved a towering reputation, news of his appointment provoked widespread concern across the Confederacy. A North Carolina woman gave voice to a common evaluation of Lee: "I do not much like him, he 'falls back' too much ... His nick name last summer was 'old-stick-in-the-mud' ... There is mud enough now in and about our lines, but pray God he may not fufill the whole of his name."

The next five weeks proved Lee's doubters wrong. No general exhibited more daring than the new Southern commander, who believed the Confederacy could counter Northern numbers only by seizing and holding the initiative. He spent June preparing for a supreme effort against McClellan. When "Stonewall" Jackson's command from the Shenandoah Valley and other reinforcements arrived, Lee's army, at nearly 90,000 strong, would be the largest Confederate force even placed in the field. By the last week of June, the Army of the Potomac lay astride the Chickahominy River, two-thirds of its strength south of the river and one-third north of it. Lee hoped to crush the portion north of the river then turn against the rest. Confederates repulsed a strong Union reconnaissance against their left on June 25, opening what became known as the Seven Days Battles and setting the stage for Lee's offensive.

Heavy fighting began on June 26 at the Battle of Mechanicsville and continued for the next five days. Lee consistently acted as the aggressor but never managed to land a decisive blow. At Mechanicsville, he expected Jackson to strike Union General Fitz John Porter's right flank. The hero of the Valley failed to appear in time, however, and A. P. Hill's Confederate division launched a futile frontal assault about mid-afternoon. Porter retreated to a strong position at Gaines's Mill, where Lee renewed his offensive on the 27th. Once again Jackson stumbled, as more than 50,000 Confederates mounted savage attacks along a wide front. Late in the day, Porter's lines gave way, and he withdrew across the Chickahominy to join the rest of McClellan's army. Jackson's poor performance, usually attributed to exhaustion verging on numbness, joined poor staff work and other factors in allowing Porter's exposed portion of McClellan's army to escape.

In the wake of Gaines's Mill, McClellan changed his base from the Pamunkey River to the James River, where Northern naval power could support the Army of the Potomac. Lee followed the retreating McClellan, who insisted the Rebels badly outnumbered his army, seeking to inflict a crippling blow as the Federals retreated southward across the Peninsula. After heavy skirmishing on June 28, the Confederates mounted ineffectual attacks on the 29th at Savage's Station and far heavier ones at Glendale (also known as Frayser's Farm) on the 30th. Stonewall Jackson played virtually no role in these actions, as time and again the Confederates failed to act in concert. By July 1, McClellan stood at Malvern Hill, a splendid defensive position overlooking the James. Lee resorted to unimaginative frontal assaults that afternoon. Whether driven by vexation at lost opportunities or his natural combativeness, he had made one of his poorest tactical decisions. Southern division commander Daniel Harvey Hill famously said of the action on July 1, "It was not war, it was murder." As evening fell, more than 5,000 Confederate casualties littered the slopes of Malvern Hill. Some of McClellan's officers urged a counterattack against the obviously battered enemy; however, "Little Mac" retreated down the James to Harrison's Landing, where he awaited Lee's next move and issued endless requests for more men and supplies.

Casualties for the Seven Days were enormous. Lee's losses exceeded 20,000 killed, wounded, and missing, while McClellan's surpassed 16,000. Gaines's Mill, where combined losses exceeded 15,000, marked the point of greatest slaughter. Thousands of dead and maimed soldiers brought the reality of war to Richmond's residents. One woman wrote, "death held a carnival in our city. The weather was excessively hot. It was midsummer, gangrene and erysipelas attacked the wounded, and those who might have been cured of their wounds were cut down by these diseases."

The campaign's importance extended far beyond setting a new standard of carnage in Virginia. Lee had seized the initiative, dramatically altering the strategic picture by dictating the action to a compliant McClellan. Lee's first effort in field command lacked tactical polish but nevertheless generated immense dividends. The Seven Days Battles saved Richmond and inspirited a Confederate people buffeted by dismal military news from other theaters. The victory also caused Lee's reputation to shoot upward, beginning the process by which he and his army would emerge, by the late spring of 1863 at the latest, as the principal national rallying point for the Confederate people. One of the Richmond newspapers captured this element of the campaign's aftermath when it commented that "the brilliancy of Lee's genius" manifested at the Seven Days had "established his reputation forever, and ... entitled himself to the lasting gratitude of his country."

On the Union side, the campaign dampened expectations of victory that had mounted steadily as United States armies in Tennessee and along the Mississippi River won a string of successes. McClellan's failure also exacerbated political divisions in the United States, clearing the way for Republicans to implement policies that would strike at slavery and other Rebel property. The end of the rebellion had seemed to be in sight when McClellan prepared to march up the Peninsula; after Malvern Hill, only the most obtuse observers failed to see that the war would continue in a more comprehensive manner. "We have been and are in a depressed, dismal, ... state of anxiety and irritability" wrote a perceptive New Yorker after McClellan's retreat. "The cause of the country does not seem to be thriving just now."

The campaign also underscored the degree to which events in the Virginia theater dominated perceptions about the war's progress. Despite enormous Northern achievement in the western campaigns, most people North and South, as well as observers in Britain and France, interpreted the Seven Days as evidence that the Confederacy was winning the war. Lincoln wrote about this phenomenon in early August, complaining that "it seems unreasonable that a series of successes, extending through half-a-year, and clearing more than a hundred thousand square miles of country, should help us so little, while a single half-defeat should hurt us so much." Lincoln did not exaggerate the impact of McClellan's failure. Taken overall, the ramifications were such that the Richmond campaign must be reckoned one of the turning points of the war.

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Proving his skeptics wrong, Robert E. Lee took command of the Confederate Army at Richmond and after the Seven Days Battles pushed back Union forces and ensured his reputation as a brilliant commander. On June 1, 1862, Robert E. Lee replaced a wounded Joseph E. Johnston as the commander of the Confederate army defending Richmond.

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Robert E. Lee makes a spectacular entrance onto the Civil War's main stage and in less than a week, later termed the Seven Days Battles, the Federal war effort is set back almost a year.
By late afternoon on May 31, 1862, the tens of thousands of sweat-soaked, powder-grimed, battle-deafened men near the rural crossroads of Seven Pines, Virginia, might well have wondered if the sun would ever go down. They had fought for hours, wet to the knees in flooded fields or blinded or blocked by dense thickets. It had been one of the bloodiest and more brutal days in American history to that point - the second most bloody and brutal, in fact, trailing only the first day of the Battle of Shiloh in Tennessee, seven weeks earlier.

Late in the day, Confederate army commander General Joseph E. Johnston went forward to gain a better sense of events. Johnston commanded the Southern army in the field near Seven Pines, east of Richmond, Virginia, the Confederate capital. He had that day attacked a much larger Federal army attempting to capture the city. It had been a bold move, but Johnston sat on his horse calmly that afternoon near Fair Oaks Station listening both to reports from officers and to bullets as they buzzed by him. Johnston turned to admonish a subordinate for ducking in unmanly fashion and, a moment later, he felt a bullet hit his shoulder. Johnston stoically bore the pain, but seconds later shell fragments from a bursting artillery round tore into his chest and leg and knocked him from his mount. In agony and uncertain of whether he would live or die, the army commander was laid in an ambulance and started for the capital.

As darkness fell, Confederate President Jefferson Davis prayed not only for the life of the general but also of his fledgling nation, which seemed perilously close to death. The war had already lasted more than a year; tens of thousands of men had been killed or maimed on battlefields and the Federals were advancing in great strength from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. Throughout the early months of 1862, the Southern armies had suffered enormously costly defeats in Tennessee, on the Mississippi, in the Carolinas, and in the Virginia Tidewater. Now, with a Federal army of nearly 120,000 men less than ten miles from his capital and with his own army commander unable to lead, Davis knew the moment of crisis had arrived. The Confederacy could scarcely live if it lost Richmond, which served not merely as its political center but as its chief industrial city as well.

In that darkest of hours of the aspiring Confederate nation, Davis was fortunate to have at his disposal a dignified and unassuming Virginian who, during nearly 30 years of service in the Old Army, had earned the respect of his colleagues as much for his demeanor as for his excellence as a soldier and engineer. General Robert E. Lee was one of the highest-ranking generals in a Confederate uniform; however, he had never commanded an army in the field and most of his assignments in the first year of the war had ended inauspiciously. On the night of May 31, 1862, Jefferson Davis rode with the general westward from the battlefield to Richmond. The conversation between the two mounted men was not recorded, but when Davis uttered the words that placed Lee in command of the army he changed American history forever.

Lee went to work immediately. The battle at Seven Pines continued on June 1 and cost the Confederates more than 6,000 men, but the aggressive Lee had his own ideas about how to defeat the North and worried less about winning the battle than saving what men he had and embarking on a new plan. Lee believed Richmond could not be held against the enormous Federal army. The three options before the Confederate government, therefore, were to abandon Richmond, to fight a defensive battle for Richmond, or to attack. Lee personally rejected the first two alternatives and convinced Davis and his government to do likewise. He urged an attack as the best means by which to preserve Richmond Within three weeks of taking command Lee had his plan, had articulated it, and made ready to launch it.

Lee detailed his plan in General Order No. 75, sent to his commanders on June 24. Though it has been called complex, in truth Lee's plan was the essence of simplicity. He required three separate columns to be prepared to march on the same morning. Each column would move on its own road, and each would march - or attack - only if the commander saw an advantage. The advantage, to be sure, depended upon the success of the other columns, but if one column did not succeed, another was not required to attack. Lee based his plan to dislodge the largest army in the history of the New World on what would prove to be an accurate understanding of the Federal position and its weaknesses. He believed that the immense size of the Federal army could actually be used against it. Major General George B. McClellan's army required more than 600 tons of food and supplies each day. The long tendrils of the Union supply line began in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Annapolis and wound southward over the waves of the Atlantic and the Chesapeake Bay and up the broad York and Pamunkey Rivers to White House, Virginia, from whence the food and supplies traveled over the Richmond & York River Railroad. The railroad provided McClellan with a lifeline, and to protect it he had to divide his army by placing part of it south of the Chickahominy River (the Richmond side) and part of it north of the Chickahominy (the White House side). From Lee's perspective, the Federals' dependence on the railroad made it an obvious target, and their deployment astride the river suggested that he might be able to attack and defeat one wing before the other wing could intervene.

But there were great risks involved. To move upon the railroad and still maintain a defensive force before Richmond, Lee would have to divide his own army. If McClellan saw through the plan and decided to throw the bulk of his troops upon the token force of 25,000 men that Lee had left in the defenses of the city, the capital might fall and Lee's plan would forever be seen as folly. Thus Lee's first offensive revealed what would become over the next two years his hallmarks: opportunism and a willingness to take risks. Lee studied the enemy, exploited his weaknesses as early as possible, and sought every opportunity to attack before he could be prepared.

Lee planned to begin his offensive on June 26, but on June 25 he suffered an anxious day. McClellan, correctly guessing that Lee was up to something, launched a preemptive attack against the defenses of Richmond just west of Seven Pines in a battle that became known as Oak Grove. After insignificant gains, the Federal commander withdrew his troops in the evening, confident that he controlled both the battlefield and the campaign. In truth, by not pressing his attack, McClellan had given Lee a great gift - more time - and Lee wasted none of it.

On the morning of June 26, 1862, all of Lee's columns were either in motion or in position to move when their turn should come. Three Confederate divisions waited south of the Chickahominy River for an opportunity to cross at two bridges. The timing of those crossings depended on the progress of a fourth division, commanded by Major General Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson. Having defeated two Federal forces in the Shenandoah Valley earlier in the month, Jackson's men had stealthily hurried 100 miles eastward to participate in Lee's offensive. On this morning, Jackson was to march his 18,000 men past the Federal right flank and into the enemy's rear. Lee hoped this movement would force the Federals to abandon their strong defensive positions on the bluffs above Beaver Dam Creek. Clearing the bluffs would permit the three Confederate divisions on the south side to cross the river and, in Lee's words, "sweep down the Chickahominy and endeavor to drive the enemy from his position above New Bridge."

But Jackson did not appear on schedule and, as morning became afternoon, Lee fretted that he had lost the element of surprise. Unaware of Jackson's whereabouts, Lee decided he could wait no longer and ordered an attack with the three divisions, some 40,000 men in all, that already stood in position. Major General A.P. Hill's men moved across Meadow Bridges and drove Federal pickets and skirmishers eastward through the village of Mechanicsville. The Federal withdrawal opened Mechanicsville Bridge, and more Confederates streamed across to join the advance. North and west of the village, the Federals had placed artillery and dug gun pits on the brow of a ridge above Beaver Dam Creek. The waist-deep stream ran through a marsh and served as a moat to the Federal position. Jackson did not reach his assigned position until late in the day - well after the Confederate brigades assaulting the Federals at Beaver Dam Creek had suffered several bloody repulses. Lee lost more than 1,500 men in the futile attacks while the Federals suffered only 450 casualties.

But on the morning of the 27th, Lee learned that Jackson's flank march had had its desired effect; McClellan realized he could no longer hold the line at Beaver Dam Creek. Just before dawn the Federals withdrew. Engineers hastily selected a new defensive position three miles to the east on a plateau above a broad, sloping ravine at the bottom of which ran Boatswain's Creek. There, the Federals, some 35,000 men under the command of Major General Fitz John Porter, built impromptu breastworks of fallen trees and brush. Porter crowned the ravine with scores of artillery pieces and had reason to believe he could hold the strong position until reinforcements arrived from McClellan south of the river.

Lee had pressed his troops onward in pursuit of the Federals, and his plan of march looked very much like it had the day before. He met briefly with Jackson and instructed him to again march around the Federal right and seize a key crossroads called Old Cold Harbor. Once there, he would be within a few miles of the railroad - the primary goal of Lee's offensive - and also in position to threaten the Federals' main escape route across the Chickahominy. While Jackson moved toward the Federal right and rear, Lee would continue with the rest of the army to "sweep down the Chickahominy" to be in position to cooperate with Jackson in the afternoon.

The skirmishing began near Dr. William Gaines's mill and spread eastward as A.P. Hill's Confederates advanced. Lee was at a distinct disadvantage as he groped toward the enemy for he had no maps of any value and knew little of the terrain. The fighting intensified when Hill's men reached Boatswain's Creek, and the commanding general could do little but encourage the men and bustle about trying to learn what he could of the enemy's position. Hill's men suffered grievously in the early afternoon, but Lee felt confident that all would be well once Jackson reached Old Cold Harbor.

But once again, Jackson was delayed. In the absence of maps he had relied upon a guide, who had improperly understood his desires. After marching for a few miles toward New Cold Harbor rather than Old Cold Harbor, Jackson discovered his error, and the guide put the advance on the correct road. But the delay prevented Jackson and his nearly 20,000 men from reaching the battlefield until late in the afternoon. Lee immediately issued instructions for a general assault from the Confederate right, where Major General James Longstreet's fresh men waited in position, to the left, where Jackson might seize the Federal retreat route.

At the climax of the fighting, nearly 95,000 men clashed in combat along a two-mile front and the carnage eclipsed anything witnessed or ever before imagined by the participants. In less than half a day 15,000 men became casualties (9,000 Confederate, 6,000 Federal). In the end, however, the Confederate assaults overwhelmed Porter's defenders (McClellan had sent only a handful of reinforcements), and forced the Federals from the battlefield.

Gaines's Mill not only turned out to be Robert E. Lee's first battlefield victory, but it also secured the success of his offensive. During the night, the Federals crossed to the south side of the Chickahominy, thereby abandoning their ability to use the Richmond & York River Railroad. As a result of the defeat at Gaines's Mill, McClellan no longer had a supply line. He could not take another single step toward his goal of capturing Richmond until he had established a new line by which his men and animals could be fed. That same night, McClellan began withdrawing his army southward toward the James River where, he hoped, in a few days he would find both U.S. Navy gunboats and supply ships in plentiful numbers.

Lee had succeeded in dislodging the enormous enemy, but he did not stop to savor success. He immediately devised a plan by which he might catch and destroy in detail the fleeing Federals. Jackson would follow directly behind McClellan's army while Longstreet's and A.P. Hill's columns re-crossed the Chickahominy upstream, west of the Gaines's Mill battlefield, and tried to cut off the Federals before they could reach the James.

Skirmishing broke out at Garnett's and Golding's Farms the next day, south of the Chickahominy, but June 28 was primarily a day of hard marching for the Federals, and for Longstreet's and Hill's men as well. On the 29th, a Sunday, Jackson should have crossed the Chickahominy and advanced on the Federals, but a mix-up in orders left him marking time on the north bank throughout the day.

That same morning, the Northerners had concentrated part of their rear guard at Savage's Station, a former supply depot and field hospital complex just a few miles south of where Jackson sat. They busied themselves destroying small mountains of supplies and rations until a 14,000-man Confederate column under Major General John B. Magruder - part of the force Lee had left behind when he had launched his offensive north of the Chickahominy - emerged from the defenses of Richmond to offer battle. Now, Lee sent Magruder forward to cooperate with Jackson in attacking the Federals at Savage's Station. But Lee's staff had sent confusing orders to Jackson, and Magruder's men advanced alone against approximately 26,000 Federals under Brigadier General Edwin V Sumner. The fighting at Savage's Station ended quickly, and Sumner was content simply to blunt the advance. After suffering almost 1,000 casualties (to the Confederates' 440), Sumner withdrew through the night across White Oak Swamp, just seven miles from the James River.

Meanwhile, the long Federal column continued snaking its way southward over heavily congested and unfamiliar roads. By morning on June 30, the lead elements had reached Malvern Hill and could see the James. The rear of the army still straddled White Oak Swamp five miles back up the road. Between Malvern Hill and White Oak Swamp McClellan posted another rear guard force at a key crossroads known as Glendale. Three main roads came together at Glendale, two of which the Federals needed in order to reach the James. If the Confederates seized the intersection, McClellan knew, his army would be broken in two.

Lee, too, recognized the importance of Glendale, and by the morning of the 30th had all of his army concentrating on it from three directions. The strong column of Longstreet's and A.P. Hill's combined forces, almost 20,000 men, waited in position on the Long Bridge Road southwest of the intersection. Major General Benjamin Huger led 9,000 Confederates southeastward on the Charles City Road, and Jackson, with his own division as well as Major General D.H. Hill's - a total of more than 20,000 men - pressed southward from Savage's Station. Despite delays, miscommunications, and missed opportunities, Lee had managed to place his army in a very favorable position to deal the Federals a crippling blow. If all went well, the Confederates might destroy a portion of McClellan's army.

But all did not go well. Well-placed and well-served Federal artillery hindered Jackson's advance at White Oak Swamp, and, strangely, "Stonewall" made no vigorous effort to force a crossing. The artillerymen exchanged fire all day across White Oak Swamp, but scarcely an infantryman fired a musket. To the west, on the Charles City Road, Federal artillery likewise stopped Huger's column well short of Glendale. All that remained of Lee's three-pronged pincer movement was the combined column of Longstreet and Hill on the Long Bridge Road. Lee himself surveyed the fighting, as did President Jefferson Davis, and both came under hot artillery fire. Lee directed Longstreet to attack about four p.m. For almost six hours, well after dark, Longstreet and Hill sent their men forward. Portions of the Federal line collapsed early, but always reinforcements moved up to stop the Confederate advance. When the firing stopped, the Confederates had lost 3,600 men trying to take the crossroads and the Federals had lost 2,700 men defending it. Ultimately, the Northerners retained a tenuous hold on their real estate, and the army passed safely on to Malvern Hill and the James.

McClellan devoted most of three full corps, about 56,000 men, to defending Glendale while the rest of the army continued southward, but, surprisingly, McClellan himself did not remain to conduct the all-important defense. He rode southward to locate a safe haven for the army on the James.

Frustrated, Lee fumed about the opportunity lost at Glendale. Nearly 70,000 Confederates had been available within a few miles of Glendale, but because of poor communication and a lack of vigor among the column commanders some 49,000 Southern soldiers never made it into the fight. Lee believed he had just one more chance. He urged his generals forward on the morning of Tuesday, July 1, and they again found the Federals in defensive array, this time on the imposing heights of Malvern Hill.

Shaped like a large horseshoe, its open end facing northward, toward the Confederates, Malvern Hill featured extremely steep, wooded slopes on its southern and western sides. The northern slope of the hill hardly sloped at all and was covered by a broad, open wheat field. Federal officers posted artillery in thick masses on the top of the hill and dared the Southerners to come. Lee and Longstreet carefully examined the position and believed that they might breach the obviously strong Union line by converging artillery fire followed by a prompt and very strong infantry assault.

But once again miscommunication and poor timing doomed the Confederate plan. The Federal guns overwhelmed the Southern artillery, and the Confederate infantry, though well led and gallant as always, fell to pieces, mowed down by the peerless Union artillery. It is a testimony to the valor of the Southern infantry that they inflicted nearly 3,000 casualties under such disadvantageous circumstances. The Federals had every advantage at Malvern hill and culled 5,000 more men from the ranks of Lee's army. "It was not war," wrote Confederate General D.H. Hill, whose brigades suffered severely, "it was murder."

Lee's late June offensive would ever afterward be known as the Seven Days Battles. It might have been, in its way, as shocking to Americans in 1862 as Pearl Harbor in 1941, or the terrorist attacks in 2001. First, it had produced unimaginable carnage. It had been the bloodiest week in American history, producing more than 34,000 casualties (19,000 Confederate, 15,000 Union). Second, the reversal of fortune in the Seven Days Battles has been identified as the first great turning point in the war. For almost a year the Union juggernaut had been rolling seemingly irresistibly toward victory, and, indeed had rolled to the very threshold of Richmond. Americans (and others) who read newspapers developed expectations. The New York Times opined that the war would be over by Independence Day. But events in June 1862 proved that all the Confederate cause had lacked was a military leader of superior ability. Robert E. Lee did not seek the reins of control, but his experience, sound counsel, and impressive bearing led Jefferson Davis to give him command of the Confederacy's most important army. Within a month, Lee and his men had reversed the expectations of millions by routing the largest army the United States had ever put in the field. Those seven days remain among the most important in U.S. history because they gave new life to the Confederacy. Lee's rejuvenation of the Confederate cause began on the banks of the Chickahominy but extended across scores of future battlefields and across hundreds of miles and days and thousands of tragic deaths of principled men, North and South.

William Miller has written or edited seven books and published more than 100 articles on the Civil War including Mapping for Stonewall: The Civil War Service of Jed Hotchkiss, winner of the Fletcher Pratt Award. His next book, Great Maps of the Civil War, will be published in 2004. A former editor of Civil War Magazine, Miller is a strong advocate of battlefield preservation. He was a founding director of the Richmond Battlefields Association and has served as a director or adviser of various preservation organizations, including the Kernstown Battlefield Association, Protect Historic America, and the Save the Battlefield Coalition.

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Robert E. Lee makes a spectacular entrance onto the Civil War's main stage and in less than a week, later termed the Seven Days Battles, the Federal war effort is set back almost a year.

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Battle Of Seven Days Facts

Location

Henrico County, Virginia

Dates

June 25 - July 1, 1862

Generals

Union: George B. McClellan
Confederate: Gen. Robert E. Lee

Soldiers Engaged

Union: 103,000
Confederate: 92,000

Important Events & Figures

Battle of Oak Grove
Battle of Mechanicsville
Battle of Gaines' Mill
Battle of Garnett & Golding's Farm
Battle of Savage Station
Battle of Glendale
Battle of Malvern Hill

Outcome

Confederate Victory

Seven Days Battle Casualties

Union: 15,500
Confederate: 20,000

Seven Days Battle Articles

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Seven Days Battle Summary: The Seven Days Battle or Seven Days Campaign took place from June 25 to July 1, 1862 and featured six different battles along the Virginia Peninsula east of Richmond. The Union Army of the Potomac, led by Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan, was over 100,000 men strong yet was steadily driven away from the ultimate goal of Richmond and back to the James River by Confederates led by a new field commander-Gen. Robert E. Lee.

Lee had been serving as military adviser to Confederate president Jefferson Davis, but when Gen. Joseph E. Johnston was wounded May 31 during the Battle of Seven Pines (Battle of Fair Oaks), Davis asked Lee to take command of the army in the field. Lee immediately set the men to work building defensive positions around Richmond, leading his grumbling soldiers to dub him "the Prince of Spades." But Lee knew he could not protect the Confederate capital for long against such overwhelming odds. After Gen. Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson arrived with troops from the Shenandoah Valley Campaign, Lee prepared to strike McClellan's Army.

McClellan struck first, sending two divisions of the III Corps to secure the Richmond & York River Railroad. The fighting on June 25 in the swamps around Oak Grove proved indecisive.

Lee took the initiative the next day, assaulting Federal positions along Beaver Dam Creek, north of the Chickahominy River. The plan depended on a rapid movement by Jackson's tired men, who arrived too late. Major General A. P. Hill's Confederate troops attacked as planned but were beaten back. However, the Federals, with Jackson on their right flank and Hill and Lt. Gen. James Longstreet to their front and left, fell back behind Boatswain Creek east of Gaines Mill.

On June 27, the Confederates attacked those positions in a series of costly charges. On the south side of the Chicahominy, a Confederate force from Maj. Gen. "Prince John" Magruder's command attacked Federals at Garnett's Farm but were repulsed. The savage attacks convinced the cautious McClellan that he needed to give up his plan to capture Richmond and fall back along his line of supply.

The 28th saw little fighting except for a failed Confederate reconnaissance attempt at Golding's Farm. On June 29, Magruder struck the Union rear guard at Savage's Station but with little effect.

On the 30th, three Confederate divisions hit Union positions in a battle known as Glendale or Frayser's Farm. The Union division of Brig. Gen. George A. McCall routed, and their commander was captured, but counterattacks stopped the Rebel advance. Farther north, an assault by Jackson stalled in White Oak Swamp, and to the south, a half-hearted attempt by Maj. Gen. T. H. Holmes was turned back by Federal gunboats.

McClellan took up a strong defensive position on Malvern Hill a little north of the James River. Lee hammered the defenders with repeated assaults that cost the Confederate army 5,600 men but failed to carry the position. Strategically, however, Lee had won. McClellan retreated down the peninsula. Richmond was saved. Lee, whose reputation had previously suffered as a result of campaigns in Western Virginia over which he had little control, emerged as the Savior of the South. By August, he will have carried the fight back to Northern Virginia and, the following month, he and McClellan will clash again, this time along Antietam Creek outside Sharpsburg, Maryland.

Banner image Battle of Friday on the Chickahominy, created by Alfred Waud, Library of Congress.

Articles Featuring The Seven Days Battle From History Net Magazines

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Information about The Battle Of Seven Days, a Civil War Battle of the American Civil War Battle Of Seven Days Facts Location Henrico County, Virginia Dates June 25 - July 1, 1862 Generals Union: George B. McClellan Confederate: Gen. Robert E. Lee Soldiers Engaged Union: 103,000 Confederate: 92,000 Important Events & Figures Battle of Oak [...]

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The Civil War Trust's Battle of New Market page includes battle maps, history articles, recommended books, and the latest preservation news for this 1864 Civil War battle in the Shenandoah Valley.

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The Battle of New Market | Civil War Trust

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BATTLE MAP | Civil War Trust's map of the Battle of New Market Heights on May 15, 1864

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The Battle of New Market is one of the most-written about minor engagements of the entire Civil War. This fascination is in large part due to the participation of the Corps of Cadets from the Virginia Military Institute. Yet for all the literature that has been written about New Market - much of it centering on the cadets - some aspects of the battle have not been fully appreciated, and other aspects of the battle that have been viewed as "fact" for decades may not be so. Valley Thunder: The Battle of New Market and the Opening of the Shenandoah Valley Campaign, May 1864 is the first book-length assessment of the battle to appear in nearly four decades.
New Market was the opening phase of the 1864 Shenandoah Valley Campaign. A small Federal army of about 10,000 troops under Maj. Gen. Franz Sigel was ordered to move south from Martinsburg, in what is now West Virginia, up (the Shenandoah River flows from south to north, thus, one moving south is going "up" the Valley) the Shenandoah Valley to Staunton, Virginia, a vital rail link between the Confederate capital of Richmond and the Valley. At Staunton Sigel was expected to meet up with another Federal column coming from the southwestern part of Virginia, and together to move against either Lynchburg or Charlottesville. Sigel's assignment was in large part a diversionary one designed to attract Confederate attention away from the main Union army in Virginia, the Army of the Potomac, and also to deprive the Confederacy of the supplies coming from the Shenandoah Valley.

Sigel was opposed by an even smaller Confederate force of about 4,500 men under Maj. Gen. John C. Breckinridge, which included about 250 young cadets from the Virginia Military Institute.

The two armies met on a rainy Sunday, May 15, at New Market, a small crossroads town in the central Shenandoah Valley. In a day-long battle, Breckinridge's Confederates defeated Sigel's forces, largely due to mismanagement by the Federal commander. During the battle's climatic stage, the VMI cadets earned themselves a place in history by capturing a Federal cannon in the final charge. Sigel retreated to the vicinity of Winchester and was replaced several days later, and operations in the Valley would escalate shortly after Sigel's removal.

This excerpt from Valley Thunder describes the opening skirmishing of the battle, shortly after John Breckinridge has decided to take the offensive with his small Confederate force. Only a portion of the Federal army - the 18th Connecticut, 123rd Ohio and 1st West Virginia infantry regiments, supported by several artillery batteries and cavalry detachments, all under Col. Augustus Moor - is present and occupies a ridge to the north and northwest of New Market. The entire Confederate force is arrayed on higher ground to the south facing Moor's position, sheltered from artillery fire at present on the reverse slope of the hill. At least four, and possibly all six, companies of the 30th Virginia Battalion have been deployed forward as skirmishers covering Breckinridge's front. As the front of the hill occupied by the Confederates offers little shelter against Federal artillery fire, the commander of this part of the line, Brig. Gen. Gabriel Wharton, issues orders for his infantry to run down the hill to the shelter of the ravine at its base as quickly as possible, with little regard to order - the lines can be reformed at the base of the hill, Wharton orders. However, these orders are either not relayed to or are misunderstood by the commander of the VMI Cadet battalion, Lt. Col. Scott Ship, which results in a number of casualties as the cadets come under fire for the first time in the war.

Confronting the 30th Battalion were Companies A and B of the 18th Connecticut Infantry under Capt. William Spaulding. The 18th's commander reported that "severe skirmishing shortly ensued" between the opposing lines. As the skirmishing intensified, wounded men began trickling to the rear. One of the injured was the 18th's Joe Abbey, who had been shot in the back between the shoulder blades. A comrade jokingly remarked, "They must have fired from a balloon to hit you like that." The wounded man was in no mood for humor and curtly explained that he had been lying prone on the side of the hill, his back exposed to enemy fire when the bullet found him. His company commander, continued Abbey, "sent me to the rear" to have his wound inspected and dressed. The spreading fight, and likely the pain brought about from his wound, confused the injured Connecticut solder. "Where in Hell is 'the rear'?" he asked his comrade.

The noise and the movement of the troops also agitated a farmer's animals. In addition to Confederate lead, the men of the 18th Connecticut also had to endure an "attack" from a herd of some 10 cows being chased by "a large black New Foundland [sic] dog [which] came charging along our line of battle. At first I thought it was a cavalry charge in flank," remembered one Connecticut soldier.

While directing the fight from the skirmish line, Capt. Spaulding fell with a shot to the abdomen. The wound would prove mortal. The regimental chaplain recalled that Spaulding "was brave to a fault" and had been a conspicuous target on the skirmish line, giving encouragement to his men. "Are they driving us?" were the last words he uttered before dying.

The Confederates were indeed driving everything from their front - "sweeping like an avalanche," as one Ohio soldier graphically recalled the initial push. The skirmishers of the 30th Battalion were engaged for only a very short time before Breckinridge ordered his infantry to advance. Within a few short minutes all three Confederate lines emerged over the crest of Shirley's Hill. The manner in which they were deployed impressed the Federals who watched the parade-like advance - and convinced them that the Southern army was much stronger than it was in reality. Any deception on Breckinridge's part was unnecessary, for the flanks of his extended line of battle stretched well beyond the flanks of Moor's Manor's Hill line, making the Federal position instantly untenable. "As soon as the Confederate support came in sight we were ordered to fall back," one Connecticut soldier recalled.

Only at that moment, with three lines of Confederate battle striding toward him and his advance elements falling back, did Franz Sigel realize the mortal danger he faced. "It now became clear to me that all the troops could not reach the position close to New Market. I therefore ordered Colonel Moor to evacuate his position slowly ... and to fall back into a new position," was how Sigel later spun the event. Moor's line was withdrawn several hundred yards and reformed just south of Jacob Bushong's house and barn, a retreat that abandoned the town of New Market to the advancing Confederates. As Moor fell back, the Federal commander sent orders to Brig. Gen. Jeremiah Sullivan to hurry forward with the rest of the army.

Moor's new position was held by the 18th Connecticut on the right and the 123rd Ohio on the left, with von Kleiser's battery in support on the Valley Pike. The 1st New York Veteran Cavalry, and likely detachments of other units, were placed in support of von Kleiser's guns. The new line was even shorter than the previous one on Manor's Hill. The other Federal troops on the field were being arrayed in line behind Moor just north of the Bushong farm, leaving Moor's short line to act as a breakwater position to slow the Confederate attack and thus buy time for the main line of resistance to form. By placing his defensive position farther north, Sigel was shortening - albeit slightly - the distance the remainder of the army would have to cover to reach the battlefield.

Writing in Century magazine long after the war, Sigel sought to shift some of the blame for making a stand on this ground to the commander of his cavalry escort company. The new line on the Bushong farm was already beginning to take shape, explained Sigel, when "it was reported to me by Captain R. G. Prendergrast [sic], commander of my escort, that all the infantry and artillery of General Sullivan had arrived, the head of the column being in sight, and that they were waiting for orders." In fact, only the 54th Pennsylvania and 12th West Virginia (Col. Joseph Thoburn's brigade) had reached the field and were moving into position, all the while under hostile fire. Still absent were the 28th and 116th Ohio (Moor's brigade) and DuPont's battery.

As the Federal infantry scurried to find their new place in line, the artillery duel - which had fallen away when the Confederate attack stepped off - resumed. Supported by some of Imboden's men on its right, the 30th Virginia Battalion pushed the Federal skirmishers out of New Market, clearing the way for the smooth advance of the main body. "The Rebels were in the town in force," one resident recalled, "and occasionally we saw them lead by a wounded prisoner, or carry into shelter some dying comrade."

Following Wharton's instructions, the first waves of Confederate infantry pushed down Shirley's Hill quickly, avoiding much of the hostile fire hastily aimed in their direction. Looking back from his position with the skirmish line, Maj. Peter Otey described the advance as "rather pell-mell." Wharton was pleased with the swift moving advance, confident he had not lost a single man from his first line. The Corps of Cadets, however, either did not receive Wharton's order or misinterpreted it. Instead of swiftly moving up and over Shirley's Hill, the cadets tramped forward in perfect formation - presenting a perfect target for the Union guns. Otey, himself an 1860 VMI graduate, described the advance in a postwar speech: "Soon I saw the cadets who were in rear come over the little crest ... and down they came in as a beautiful and solid a line as I ever saw go across the parade ground." Their disciplined advance impressed even the men in blue who witnessed it. "Nothing could be finer than their advance," agreed Col. George Wells of the 34th Massachusetts.

Visually impressive it was, but the cadets' parade ground tactics proved costly. "The Yankee gunners had gotten the exact range, and their fire began to tell on our line with fearful accuracy," Lt. Col. Scott Shipp, commander of the cadet battalion, reported. "Great gaps were made through the ranks, but the cadet, true to his discipline, would close in to the center to fill the interval and push steadily forward."

For most of the officers of the VMI cadet battalion, battle was nothing new. Many had served in the Army of Northern Virginia earlier in the war. This was not the case for the cadets. To them, combat was something new and utterly terrifying - far different from the glorious images of the romance of war they had conjured up while hard at their studies in Lexington. "We began to learn, much to our regret, that fighting was not as pleasant as we had anticipated," Cadet John J. Coleman confided (and admitted) to his parents several days after the battle. "I saw wounded men stretched out for the first time," Cadet Nelson B. Noland recalled, "and here for the first time it occurred to me that maybe we were not 'playing soldier' this time." Another cadet, John S. Wise, also quickly discovered just how terrible fighting and warfare really was. "Down the green slope we went," he recalled after the war.

He continued, "Then came a sound more stunning than thunder, that burst directly in my face; lightning leaped; fire flashed; the earth rocked; the sky whirled round, and I stumbled. My gun pitched forward and I fell upon my knees. Sergeant [William H.] Cabell looked back at me sternly, pityingly, and called out 'Close up, men,' as he passed on. I knew no more. When consciousness returned it was raining in torrents. I was lying on the ground, which all about was torn and plowed with shell."

Wise was one of the first cadets wounded in the battle. About the same time he was struck, Prof. Capt. A. G. Hill, commander of Company C, and cadets Charles Read, James L. Merritt, and Pierre Woodlief also fell wounded. Capt. Hill, according to one observer, "fell like a log." Merritt, who was injured by artillery fire, wrote to his father the next day that a shell fragment "knocked me about ten feet .... I thought the wound was mortal." Another injured cadet stumbled across Woodlief, who had been hit in the leg. The wounded Woodlief, he wrote with no little disgust, was "whimpering like a child with a cut finger ... he thought his leg was shot off."

The wounded Corp. Wise was the son of former Virginia Governor Henry Wise, who was now leading a brigade in General Lee's Army of Northern Virginia. The younger Wise had been detailed that morning with three other cadets - including Pierre Woodlief - to guard the Institute's baggage. Their orders were unequivocal: remain with the wagon. "When it became evident that a battle was imminent," Wise later wrote, "a single thought took possession of me ... that I would never be able to look my father in the face again if I sat on a baggage wagon while my command was in its first, perhaps its only, engagement." Having made up his mind to abandon the wagon and join his comrades in battle, Wise gave a short but stirring oration to his fellow guards, advising them that he planned to go to the front. "If I return home and tell my father that I was on the baggage guard when my comrades were fighting I know my fate. He [General Wise] will kill me with worse than bullets - ridicule." When he finished speaking, all four cadets abandoned the wagon and set out for the front, leaving the baggage in the charge and care of its driver. Of the four cadets detailed to guard the wagon, one would be killed and two wounded in a battle they joined by choice.

Charles R. Knight is a native of Richmond, Va. He is a former historical interpreter at New Market Battlefield State Historical Park, and currently serves as Curator of the Douglas MacArthur Memorial in Norfolk, Va. Knight has written articles for various Civil War and railroad publications, including Blue & Gray Magazine, Classic Trains, and the National Railway Historical Society Bulletin. He lives in Norfolk with his wife and son.

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The Battle of New Market is one of the most-written about minor engagements of the entire Civil War. This fascination is in large part due to the participation of the Corps of Cadets from the Virginia Military Institute.

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THE RECKONING WAS LONG OVERDUE. SINCE THE CIVIL WAR'S INITIAL WEEKS, THE Shenandoah Valley of Virginia had stood as a lance pointed at the Union's heart: Washington, D.C. In 1862, Confederate General Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson's campaign in the region had redirected the conflict's course in Virginia. A year later, Robert E. Lee's Confederate Army of Northern Virginia had followed the Valley's roads across the Potomac River and into Pennsylvania. If there were to be a resolution to the war in the Old Dominion, it would have to include the Shenandoah Valley.

As the nation's struggle entered its fourth spring in 1864, operations in the Valley began as a minor phase of overall Union strategy. General-in-Chief Ulysses S. Grant's offensive plans in Virginia involved a three-pronged movement. While Major General George G. Meade and the Army of the Potomac engaged Lee's veterans, a force under Major General Benjamin E Butler would land on Bermuda Hundred, between Richmond and Petersburg, and move against either or both cities. The final effort would be beyond the Blue Ridge, where Major General Franz Sigel would advance south, up the Valley. In Grant's thinking, the primary campaign was Meade's army against Lee's.

Sigel met with defeat at New Market on May 15. Major General David Hunter replaced Sigel and, with a larger force, penetrated deeper into the Valley. By mid-June, Hunter's troops threatened Lynchburg. Faced with the capture of the railroad center, Lee sent Lieutenant General Jubal A. Early and the Second Corps of the army to confront Hunter. After a month of fearful carnage in the Overland Campaign and with the campaign stalled on the Peninsula at Cold Harbor, Lee committed one fourth of his infantry and two battalions of artillery to the Valley. His decision - a risky move - affected operations in Virginia for the next four months.

Racing west, Early's troops - they had been Jackson's "foot cavalry" - secured Lynchburg and chased Hunter's men into the Allegheny Mountains. With the Valley cleared of Federals, Early marched north, crossing the Potomac into Maryland. On July 9, the Rebels defeated a Union force at Monocacy before reaching the defenses of the Union capital. Early tested the strongly held works and then withdrew into the Valley. On July 24, Early attacked part of the Union pursuit force, routing the Yankees in the Second Battle of Kernstown. Less than a week later, Confederate cavalrymen rode into Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. When town officials could not pay a tribute, the Southerners ignited fires, which burned more than four hundred residences, businesses, and public buildings.

Early's raid and the Chambersburg conflagration stunned Northerners. It was "the old story over again," editorialized the New York Times. "The backdoor, by way of the Shenandoah Valley, has been left invitingly open." In Washington, meanwhile, Abraham Lincoln saw the prospects for his reelection waning. In his estimation, something had to be done about the "back door" of the Valley.

Lincoln traveled to Fort Monroe, where he met with Grant on July 31. Grant had paid scant attention to the Valley operations until recently. Both men agreed that Union efforts in the region demanded a consolidation of four departments into one military division and a force of sufficient strength to close the back door and to defeat the enemy. At the meeting, however, Lincoln and Grant could not agree on a commander for the soon-to-be designated Army of the Shenandoah. Grant had initially proposed Meade for the command, but Lincoln rejected the idea. Returning to the capital, Lincoln received word from Grant the next day that he had chosen Major General Philip H. Sheridan for the command.

When Grant had assumed the post of general-in-chief, he brought Sheridan from the west to lead the cavalry corps of Meade's army. The 33-year-old Sheridan- a man who possessed energy, intensity, and self-confidence - had commanded an infantry division at Missionary Ridge in Tennessee and had impressed Grant with his aggressiveness. Grant originally brought Sheridan east to instill his combative spirit in Meade's mounted units - and now he tapped Sheridan's belligerence to direct operations in the Valley.

There was not much to Sheridan physically. A short man, about five feet, three inches, with a thick body, he looked like a sawed-off oak stump set upon wooden pegs. A New Yorker described him as "the little man who rode so large a horse." A joke soon circulated in the army that the general had to shinny up his sword to mount his horse. To his men, he was "Little Phil."

Sheridan arrived at Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, on August 6, after conferring with Grant outside of Washington. Grant's orders to Sheridan read in part: "In pushing up the Shenandoah Valley, as it is expected you will have to go, first or last, it is desirable that nothing should be left to invite the enemy to return. Take all provisions, forage, and stock wanted for the use of your command; such as cannot be consumed, destroy ... Bear in mind the object is to drive the enemy south, and to do this you want to keep him always in sight. Be guided in your course by the course he takes."

The army that gathered with Sheridan at Harpers Ferry consisted of the veteran Sixth Corps of the Army of the Potomac, two divisions of the Nineteenth Corps transferred from Louisiana, and two infantry divisions and a cavalry division of the Army of West Virginia. Within weeks, Grant sent the First and Third Cavalry divisions from Meade's army at Petersburg to Sheridan. The Army of the Shenandoah and the garrison at Harper's Ferry amounted to upwards of 50,000 officers and men.

South of the Yankees, in camps around Bunker Hill, sat the roughly 13,000 to 14,000 Confederates of the Army of the Valley. Despite the disparity in numbers between them and the enemy, these Southerners were some of the finest combat infantrymen and artillerymen left in their beleaguered nation. Conversely, their comrades in the cavalry units were poorly equipped, armed, and mounted. In a region conducive to cavalry operations, the Rebels faced a daunting foe.

Jubal Early, or "Old Jube" to his men, commanded the Confederates. A redoubtable fighter, Early had more than fulfilled Lee's expectations since assuming command of the Second Corps in May - and Lee's expectations had been high. When he detached Early's troops and approved of the raid into Maryland, Lee tried to retrieve the strategic or operational initiative that he had lost to Grant. To Lee, success in the Valley might lessen the pressure Union forces could bring to bear in the siege at Petersburg and offer the Southerners battlefield victories that could affect the presidential election in the North. The Shenandoah Valley assumed once more a strategic significance.

It was then with August' heat that the final reckoning began. The Yankees marched south on August 10, with the Rebels withdrawing to Fisher's Hill. Before this formidable defensive position, Sheridan halted his army along Cedar Creek. When Sheridan had passed through Washington en route to his command, he had been counseled to act cautiously and to avoid a defeat, which could adversely affect Lincoln's reelection. In Petersburg, meanwhile, Lee ordered an infantry and a cavalry division to bolster Early's numbers in the Valley. Lee had decided to risk even more on a victory in the region.

When these Confederates entered the Valley, Sheridan retired northward, halting at Halltown, outside Harpers Ferry. During the retreat, Union cavalrymen began destroying crops and barns, a harbinger of the night of fire and smoke that would descend upon the Valley folk. Early followed the Federals, and operations stalemated for weeks. Sheridan shifted his army south to the Berryville area, with Opequon Creek dividing the opponents. A Union officer described the campaign during these weeks as "mimic war."

On September 2, Union general William T. Sherman wired Washington, "Atlanta is ours, and fairly won." The capture of the city reinvigorated Lincoln's reelection campaign and heralded a change in the Valley campaign. Two weeks later, Grant traveled to the region and met with Sheridan at Charlestown, West Virginia. The general-in-chief had come to order an offensive against Early's army. Before Grant arrived, Sheridan had learned from Rebecca Wright, a loyal Quaker schoolteacher in Winchester, that Major General Joseph Kershaw's infantry division had started back toward Petersburg. With this intelligence, Sheridan presented his own plans for an offensive. Grant approved it, saying: "Go in." Sheridan designated September 19 for the advance.

The Yankees marched before daylight on September 19, with cavalry leading the army across Opequon Creek. Before the Federals stood Major General Stephen Dodson Ramseur's Confederate infantry division. Two days earlier, Early had led two of his divisions to Martinsburg, only to countermarch them when he learned of Grant's visit to the region. Now, however, his army faced a piecemeal destruction if he could not regroup his scattered commands before Sheridan swept aside Ramseur's troops. The preceding weeks of relative inactivity had convinced Early that Sheridan lacked aggressiveness. It was a critical misjudgment.

The Third Battle of Winchester began soon after daylight as Ramseur's veterans fought stubbornly against Union cavalry and then infantry, gaining precious hours for Early to bring his other units on to the field east of town. Fortunately for the Rebels, Sheridan funneled his infantry through two-mile-long Berryville Canyon, which resulted in a jammed roadway and delays. It was not until 11:40 a.m. that the Nineteenth and Sixth Corps rolled forward in an assault. Initially, the Federals pushed back the gray-coated defenders, but as the Yankees advanced, a gap opened between the two corps. The Confederate brigades of Major General Robert E. Rodes counterattacked, driving into the gap. Rodes was killed by a piece of an artillery shell, but his veterans stopped the attackers and sent them rearward. Union Brigadier General David A. Russell's division met Rodes's and Major General John B. Gordon's Rebels, and the combat raged for thirty minutes in what a soldier called "a stand-up fight."

The musketry burned the ground, leveling men. A Georgian described the effects of one volley, "It was so terrible that it really looked sickening." A Yankee claimed that the Rebels "fought more like redskins, or like hunters, than we." Russell fell mortally wounded, but his troops sealed the breach, repulsing Rodes's and Gordon's Confederates.

A lull ensued, lasting for more than two hours. Brigadier General George Crook brought up his two divisions of the Army of West Virginia and bolstered the Union lines. In turn, Crook shifted one division across Red Bud Run to turn the Confederates' left flank. (Crook formed his ranks on the ground secured by CWPT.) In his report, Sheridan claimed that the turning movement had been his idea, but the evidence indicates that it had been Crook's. Sheridan's assertion and other claims caused a postwar rift between the two former West Point roommates.

Mid-afternoon, Crook's two divisions aligned one north and one south of the run. To their right along the Valley Pike, Sheridan's cavalry, after pushing their foe rearward during the morning, aligned ranks for a mounted charge. Crook's men stepped out followed by the Sixth Corps and then the mounted units. A whirlwind of Union might engulfed Early's Rebels. The Southerners fought valiantly, but Federal numbers prevailed, overwhelming the Confederates' inverted L-shaped line east and north of Winchester. Sheridan rode among the infantry, shouting, "to give 'em hell" and to "Kill Every Son of a Bitch."

Early's left flank collapsed first, under the onslaught of Union cavalry and Crook's infantry. Some Confederate units waged stubborn rear guard actions, but they could not stay the rout. In the words of one of Sheridan's staff officers, the Yankees had sent the enemy "whirling through Wmchester." Union casualties amounted to slightly more than 5,000 killed, wounded, and missing, while Confederate losses totaled between 1,900 and 2,000. No previous engagement in the Valley had been as bloody.

The Confederates retreated south during the night, halting on Fisher's Hill. Described as "the bugbear of the valley," Fisher's Hill consisted of a series of ridges wedged between Massanutten and Little North mountains. A month before, Sheridan had refused to assail the formidable position, but the victory at Winchester had changed operations. Now, too, Early had too few men to man the works securely. He compounded his numerical weakness by placing his cavalry units in the low ground at the base of Little North Mountain on his left or western flank.

The Federal attack came late on the afternoon of September 22. George Crook had proposed another flank attack against the Rebels. Leading his troops on to Little North Mountain, Crook struck Early's left flank. Rebel cavalry scattered, and the Yankees rolled off the mountainside, smashing into Southern infantry units. To the front, the Union Sixth Corps charged up the face of Fisher's Hill. The attackers, in the words of one of them, poured over the works "in a confused delirious mass."

The defenders fled in a rout worse than at Winchester. In one rear guard action, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander S. "Sandie" Pendleton, who was Early's chief of staff as he had been Stonewall Jackson's, fell mortally wounded. This campaign was killing the soul of Old Jack's Second Corps. The Southerners lost probably 1,000 men, and the Northerners sustained fewer than 500 casualties. As a Rebel soldier, sang, "Old Jube Early's about played out."

The victory at Fisher's Hill opened the upper valley to the Federals. While Early retreated to the gaps of the Blue Ridge, Sheridan marched his army to the Harrisonburg- Staunton area. Here the Yankees remained for nearly two weeks, gathering up livestock and foodstuffs and burning barns and mills. From Petersburg, Grant prodded Sheridan to cross the Blue Ridge and to advance to Gordonsville and perhaps on Richmond. Grant saw the strategic opportunity, but Sheridan disagreed, citing a number of reasons against such a movement.

The Union retrograde march began on October 6, accompanied by a pall of flames and smoke. For three days, Federal cavalrymen torched farms, houses, crops, and mills. The destruction was systematic and organized, unlike anything before in the war. A Pennsylvanian wrote, "the blackened face of the country from Port Republic to the neighborhood of Fisher's Hill bore frightful testimony to fire and sword." Another Yankee exclaimed, "The Valley is all ablaze in our rear." The local residents called it simply, "The Burning." By one estimate the damages exceeded three million dollars.

Confederate cavalry pursued the Northerners, striking at the enemy horsemen. Angered by the Southerners' forays, Sheridan ordered his mounted units to attack the pursuers. On October 9, the Yankees routed the Rebels at Tom's Brook, chasing them for nearly twenty miles in what became known as the "Woodstock Races." Finally, the Federal army halted along Cedar Creek south of Middletown. Sheridan departed for Washington, D.C. to discuss future movements with his superiors. In the camps along Cedar Creek it seemed that the universal view was the Rebels were "disposed of."

From the south, however, Early's troops were coming. Lee had ordered Joseph Kershaw's infantry division back to the Valley and prodded Early to attack the enemy, whom Lee thought was not as numerically strong as Early had stated. To his subordinate, Lee wrote: "I have weakened myself very much to strengthen you. It was done with the expectation of enabling you to gain such success that you could return the troops if not rejoin me yourself."

On October 17, Early sent John Gordon and a few officers up Massanutten Mountain to examine the Union position along Cedar Creek. The next morning the senior generals met, and Gordon proposed a night march by the Second Corps around the exposed Federal left flank, followed by a daylight assault by the entire army. The officers approved Gordon's plan, and Early issued the orders. It was a brilliantly conceived gamble, unparalleled in the war.

The Second Corps filed off of Fisher's Hill at 8 p.m. on October 18. The officers and men forded the North Fork of the Shenandoah River and on to the Massanutten. Following a "pig's path," they reached the mountain's northern end, waded across the river again at Bowman's Ford, and angled north, halting to align into battle ranks. They were on time, a remarkable achievement. Along Cedar Creek, Kershaw's four brigades waited at Bowman's Mill.

A dense, cold autumn fog enveloped the fields and woodlots around Middletown on the morning of October 19. Minutes after daylight, the Rebels advanced. Kershaw's veterans, emerging from the fog, overran Colonel Joseph Thoburn's Union position on a hill above Cedar Creek, scattering the Yankees. Wheeling northwestward, the Southerners charged toward the Valley Pike. On their right, Gordon's three divisions struck the Federal campsites east of the pike. The Rebel yell echoed through the fog. Beyond the roadbed, men of the Nineteenth Corps reversed their trenches as regiments of the corps were sent forward to slow the assault. Men in these units sacrificed themselves but could not stem the Southern flood tide.

A soldier called combat a "hell carnival." On this morning, amid a blanket of fog, it was a time for the demons in men. The Yankees held for a while, and then were engulfed, fleeing west past Belle Grove, army headquarters, and across Meadow Brook. Beyond the small stream, the Union Sixth Corps shifted to face the assault. Hundreds of Southerners, tempted by the abandoned enemy camps, left the ranks temporarily to get food and discarded items.

Nevertheless, the Confederates drove across Meadow Brook, shoving the Sixth Corps northward in fierce fighting. Brigadier General George W Getty placed his Sixth Corps division in the town cemetery west of Middletown. Getty's men withstood enemy charges. At this point, Early rode into the action and sent his final division, Brigadier General Gabriel C. Wharton's, against Getty's troops. It was a critical mistake, as Early should have directed Wharton's brigades north, down the pike, to outflank any new Union line. Instead, Federal cavalry reached the pike north of town, securing the vital avenue of advance.

With their line outflanked, Getty's men joined in the retreat. Their stalwart defense had saved many of their comrades from capture. The Federals regrouped about a mile north of the village, where Sheridan joined them. He had returned to Winchester from the capital the day before and spent the night there. When he arrived on the battlefield after a storied ride from Winchester, Sheridan was told that units were organized to cover a retreat. "Retreat - Hell!" shot back Sheridan, "We'll be back in our camps tonight."

In Middletown, meanwhile, Early and his officers reorganized their ranks. The Confederates had won a stunning victory, capturing 1,300 prisoners and twenty cannon. About 1 p.m. Early ordered three divisions forward in a reconnaissance-in-force. When the advance disclosed that the Northerners had rallied, Early should have withdrawn the infantry back to the army's position on the north edge of town. Instead, he left them where they had halted, with both flanks exposed and beyond immediate support. The Confederates soon paid dearly for Early's misjudgment.

At 4 p.m., as Sheridan had vowed, the Yankees came. Once more, the Southerners resisted stubbornly, until Union cavalry struck their left flank and Federal infantry lanced through a gap in the line. "Regiment after regiment, brigade after brigade, in rapid succession was crushed," asserted Gordon, "and, like hard clods of day under a pelting rain, the superb commands crumbled to pieces." While rallying some men, Stephen Ramseur, who had just learned of the birth of a child, toppled from the saddle with a mortal wound, dying in Belle Grove the next day.

Sheridan urged his men to "put a twist on 'em," and the Federals swept Early's army from the field. Union cavalry pursued, bagging prisoners, cannon, and wagons. The victory was as complete as the morning's defeat. In all, nearly 9,000 men were killed, wounded, or captured on both sides at Cedar Creek. A Union veteran argued that of . all the battles that he had been in, Cedar Creek "beats them all."

And, so, the reckoning had ended. Ina span of a month, Sheridan and his army had won four battlefield victories and had inflicted destruction upon a large swath of the Shenandoah Valley. Early and his outnumbered command had fought with their usual valor, but critical mistakes doomed them against such a formidable opponent. Sheridan emerged from the campaign as a Union hero, and his army achievement helped insure Lincoln's reelection. No longer did the ghost of Stonewall Jackson haunt the Yankees in the Shenandoah Valley. The back door had been closed.
Jeffry D. Wert is a retired high school high school teacher and the author of seven books, including From Winchester To Cedar Creek: The Shenandoah Campaign of 1864. His forthcoming book, The Sword Of Lincoln: The Army of the Potomac, will be published in the spring of 2005.

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THE RECKONING WAS LONG OVERDUE. SINCE THE CIVIL WAR'S INITIAL WEEKS, THE Shenandoah Valley of Virginia had stood as a lance pointed at the Union's heart: Washington, D.C. In 1862, Confederate General Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson's campaign in the region had redirected the conflict's course in Virginia. A year later, Robert E.

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Blood and Glory: The Civil War in Color: Sherman's March to Savannah | History

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On the evening of Nov. 15, 1864, Union Lt. Col. Charles Fessenden Morse sat on the roof of a house and watched Atlanta burn. It was a "magnificent and awful spectacle," he wrote later to his brother Robert. "For miles around the country was as light as day, ... the flames shooting up for hundreds of feet into the air." Earlier, over the roar and crackle of the flames, Morse had heard the 33rd Massachusetts band serenade Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman, who ordered the city torched. "It was like fiddling over the burning of Rome." The next morning, nothing was left of the city "except its churches the city hall and the private dwellings. You could hardly find a vestige of the once splendid R.R. depots, warehouses, &c. It was melancholy," Morse lamented, "but it was war, prosecuted in deadly earnest."

Morse, an officer in the Second Massachusetts, had volunteered for the Union war effort at the first opportunity in April 1861. He and his comrades fought in the Eastern Theater from 1861 to 1863; Morse was promoted to captain in Company B and, after Gettysburg, to lieutenant colonel. He and his men then took trains to Tennessee and served under Henry Slocum in Sherman's Georgia campaign.

When he arrived on its outskirts in the summer of 1864, Atlanta was intact. Morse yearned to see "that devoted city," whose "spires and towers [rose] in plain sight above the everlasting forests" of northern Georgia. He participated in the siege and watched the lit fuses of shells as they arced over Union camps and disappeared into the city's streets, exploding and kindling large fires. During the battles for Atlanta that fall, Morse had a couple of close calls. "One shell burst within ten feet of me throwing me flat by its concussion and covering me with dirt," he told Robert. And another time, "while I was trying to eat a little breakfast a shot struck the board which my plate was on and sent things flying."

When Atlanta finally fell on Sept. 2, Morse had an opportunity to observe the wreckage. Most of the buildings had been abandoned and some had been burned by retreating Confederates attempting to keep war matériel out of Union hands. "Our shells destroyed a great deal of property," Morse noted. "I am sorry now that a single one was thrown into the city. I don't think it hastened the surrender by a day, it did no harm to the rebel army, the only casualties being twenty harmless old men, women, and children, and two soldiers. There are differences of opinion about this kind of warfare, but I don't like it."

Morse's assessment of siege warfare and his feelings of regret were common in Union camps in 1864. On the one hand, cities played a central role in both Union and Confederate military strategies. It was not enough to have the strongest or largest army in the field; one must take the enemy's centers of production and politics as well. And under the established laws of warfare, cities were legitimate military targets.

On the other hand, the presence of noncombatants within them complicated the moral calculus of bombardment. In the discussions about "civilized warfare" that circulated during the Civil War, engaging in acts of destruction hurtful to "women, children, sick, wounded, and aged" was disreputable at best and the work of what Southerners called "the Vandal horde" at worst. Morse vacillated on this issue but ultimately embraced the most common defense of siege and hard war tactics: military necessity.

Morse agreed with Sherman - whom he judged "the most original character and greatest genius there is in this country" - that the citizens of Atlanta had brought destruction upon themselves. Even though the shelling of the city seemed "almost inhuman," Morse concluded that it was simply "one of the horrors of war."

In early November, Union Col. William Cogswell, who had been "ordered to prepare this place for destruction," gave Morse - a trained architect who had studied engineering at Harvard before the war - "charge of about half of it." Morse submitted a proposal for how to raze the city; he and his men would "mine and blow up two depots larger and finer than any in Boston ... [we] also shall blow up some solid stone round houses, freight houses, chimneys &c. the rest of the destruction will be by fire- ... For at least two miles along the railroad the buildings are almost continuous. The warehouses cover at least five acres so you see there will be quite a fire." Morse was proud of his proposed strategy. "This is new business for me," he admitted to Robert, "but I believe I have made a perfectly feasible plan for it."

Morse sat up on that roof until the early morning hours of Nov. 16 watching the "grand display" that reduced Atlanta to a city "of no more importance than the most insignificant town in Georgia." Then he clambered down, gathered his men and marched out of the city toward Decatur. As he did, he turned his back on the smoking ruins of Atlanta, material reminders of the significance of urban areas to military strategy, and of war prosecuted in deadly earnest.
Follow Disunion at twitter.com/NYTcivilwar or join us on Facebook. Sources: Charles F. Morse Papers, Massachusetts Historical Society; Morse, "Letters Written During the Civil War" (1898) and "A Sketch of My Life" (1927); Anne Sarah Rubin., "Through the Heart of Dixie: Sherman's March and American Memory"; Marc Wortman, "The Bonfire: The Siege and Burning of Atlanta."
Megan Kate Nelson is a writer, historian and cultural critic. She is author of "Ruin Nation: Destruction and the American Civil War." Her blog, Historista, examines how people engage with history in everyday life.

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On the evening of Nov. 15, 1864, Union Lt. Col. Charles Fessenden Morse sat on the roof of a house and watched Atlanta burn. It was a "magnificent and awful spectacle," he wrote later to his brother Robert. "For miles around the country was as light as day, ...

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Sherman's March - American Civil War - HISTORY.com

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Find out more about the history of Sherman's March, including videos, interesting articles, pictures, historical features and more. Get all the facts on HISTORY.com

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Atlanta was theirs. Now, it was time to make the rest of Georgia understand the consequences of war.

One hundred and fifty years ago Saturday, Union Gen. William Sherman left Atlanta, which had fallen two months earlier. He separated his army into two forces - one bound toward Macon, the other marching across the countryside toward Augusta. They comprised about 60,000 troops.

Before beginning a march to the sea, the general had a final order.

As the forces left Atlanta on Nov. 15, 1864, smoke rose behind them; it must have darkened the sun. In the downtown area, flames spread from one brick storefront to the next. "I believe," one departing soldier said, "Sherman has set the very river on fire."

Thus began the Burning of Atlanta. That episode in the 1861-65 war looms so large in our city history that it commands capital letters.

The event has helped define Atlanta. On our city seal is the phoenix, the mythical bird that rose from the ashes. Our motto: Resurgens, Latin for "rising again." It's burned in the memory of anyone who's seen "Gone With the Wind."

The destruction is memorialized in song, too. Famed guitarist Dickey Betts resurrected the episode in a 1978 recording of "Atlanta's Burning Down."

The conflagration also has been a topic of fiery debate: Just how much of our city did the Yankees really burn?

Local scholars figure the Union forces burned about 40 percent of Atlanta, the bulk of it in the business district on and around Peachtree Street. No one is sure of the full extent of the damage.

Truth, the saying goes, is the first casualty of war. Union witnesses reported about 25 percent of Atlanta was put to the torch; Confederate sympathizers placed the estimate much higher.

Some of the conflicting reports may stem from what happened before the flames, said Gordon Jones, a military historian at the Atlanta History Center. Atlanta, he said, had already taken a beating before any blue-clad invader reached for a torch.

"It wasn't, all of a sudden, a bunch of guys just setting fire to the place," he said.

In August, the federals began bombing the city. And Confederate Gen. John Bell Hood, before evacuating Atlanta on Sept. 1, destroyed supply depots so they wouldn't fall into Union hands. He also ordered his troops to burn an ammo train, a conflagration that must have rocked the earth.

When it was Sherman's turn to leave, the Union general borrowed the same page from Hood's book: He ordered more facilities burned.

Stephen Davis, author of "What the Yankees Did to Us: Sherman's Bombardment and Wrecking of Atlanta," has visited spots in the city where factories and storefronts stood. His book is based on maps, photos and correspondence from witnesses to the destruction.

One correspondent, Atlantan Zachary Rice, visited the city days after Sherman and his minions had left. Much of Atlanta was still habitable, Rice concluded.

"He was saying, 'The city is safe. Come on back,'" Davis said.

A young Atlanta girl offered a different perspective. Carrie Berry, who lived with her family in Atlanta, wrote a series of frightened entries in her diary during mid-November 1864. Renegade Union troops, she wrote, took out revenge on their unwilling hosts.

"Some mean soldiers set several houses on fire in different parts of the town," she wrote on Nov. 12. "We all dread the next few days to come for they said that they would set the last house on fire if they had to leave this place."

They did not live up to their threat. The Yankees left the Berry home intact.

They left the city in ruins, concluded Confederate W.P. Howard. He visited Atlanta on behalf of Georgia Gov. Joseph Brown to assess damage to state property. He didn't stop at an inventory of state losses. Howard walked the city, counting destroyed homes and businesses.

The city, he determined, once had between 4,000 and 5,000 homes. Four hundred were left.

Turning his gaze to parks and homes just outside downtown, Howard made a dismal conclusion: "The suburbs," he wrote to the governor in December 1864, "present to the eye one vast naked, ruined, deserted camp."

Atlanta had no choice but to rebuild at war's end, said Wendy Venet, a professor at Georgia State University who teaches classes in Civil War and 19th-century U.S. history. The city, whose population had more than doubled during the war, became a magnet for people wanting to make their postwar fortunes, she said.

"This town was run by, and populated by, people of great ambition," she said. "There was money to be made."

Still, resentment lingers. Davis, the author, recalls visiting a Civil War interest group, where one member pledged allegiance only to the Confederate flag. "The American flag," he told Davis, "is a bloody, striped rag."

Hard feelings, like mythical birds, are resurgens.

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150 years later, Burning of Atlanta stands as a defining event

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Atlanta was theirs. Now, it was time to make the rest of Georgia understand the consequences of war. One hundred and fifty years ago Saturday, Union Gen. William Sherman left Atlanta, which had fallen two months earlier. He separated his army into two forces - one bound toward Macon, the other marching across the countryside toward Augusta.

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A strategic overview of the Atlanta Campaign of 1864, when Maj. Gen. William T. Sherman pushed his army through Georgia in hopes of capturing Atlanta.

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Battle of Atlanta - July 22, 1864 | Civil War Trust

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The Civil War Trust's map of the July 22, 1864 , battle of Atlanta, a fierce battle that saw the only death of a Union army commander during the entire war - James B. McPherson.

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The Civil War Trust's battle summary of the July 22, 1864, Battle of Atlanta includes history articles and more on the bloodiest battle of the Atlanta Campaign

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On May 20 [1861], the Confederate Congress voted to move the government to Richmond...With that, Virginia's capital had become the very symbol of the Confederacy, and the ultimate prize in a bloody war.
--Ernest B. Furgurson, Ashes of Glory

Robert E. Lee

When the Confederate government moved from Montgomery, Alabama to Richmond, Virginia, the quiet, prosperous Virginia state capital was transformed into a noisy, crowded metropolis that, as Furgurson notes, was capital, military headquarters, transportation hub, industrial heart, prison, and hospital center of the Confederacy. It was also a target for the Union army. In fact, the effort for both the Union and the Confederate armies during much of the Civil War in the east focused on capturing or threatening the enemy's capital city. Since the Union capital--Washington D.C.--and the Confederate capital--Richmond--were located a mere 100 miles apart, much of the fighting raged between these two cities. Washington was never seriously threatened by Southern forces, but Richmond experienced more than its share of alarms and battles.

By early spring 1865 the citizens of Richmond had become used to the threat of capture by the Federal army whose soldiers the Richmond newspapers described with great imagination as the vilest of humanity. Richmond had endured some frighteningly close chances, and its inhabitants had grown accustomed to the sound of artillery fire from just ten miles outside the city. Their faith in Robert E. Lee was so complete that they knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would never allow Richmond to be taken.

But the time had come for General Lee to consider just such a necessity. He had been able to hold back the Union forces for almost 10 months at Petersburg until his depleted forces were worn out and his supplies dwindled to nothing. Finally, he came to believe that he could best serve the Confederate cause by abandoning its capital. Furgurson records that Lee asked Lt. Gen. John B. Gordon for his opinion as to the Confederate Army's next steps. Gordon advised that the Confederacy should seek peace terms. If the terms were not acceptable, Gordon argued, the army should leave Richmond and Petersburg and retreat south to join Gen. Joseph E. Johnston's army in the Carolinas where their combined forces could concentrate on defeating the Union army under General William T. Sherman.

From a "moral and political" viewpoint, Richmond's fall would be "a serious calamity," Lee...conceded, but once it happened, he could prolong the war for two more years on Virginia soil. Since the war began he had been forced to let the enemy make strategic plans for him, because he had to defend the capital, but "when Richmond falls I shall be able to make them for myself."
--Ashes of Glory

Lee had always felt constrained by the duty to defend the Confederate capital. But abandoning it, he knew he could move more freely. So when General Philip Sheridan's troops overran Confederate defenses at Five Forks on Saturday April 1, Lee made the decision to abandon the Petersburg defenses and, in doing so, to abandon Richmond.

Jefferson Davis

Confederate President Jefferson Davis had discussed the probability of quitting Richmond with Lee a month earlier, and he had already sent his wife and family out of the city. Despite these precautions, Davis still believed Lee could stave off disaster. The people of Richmond knew far less of what was happening at the Petersburg lines than Davis, and they went about their business on Saturday ignorant of their impending fate. Frank Lawley, the correspondent for London newspaper, The Times, observed: "Upon the afternoon of Saturday, the first of April, Richmond, long familiar with the signs and sounds of war, wore its usual look of unconscious security, and there were few persons acquainted with the fact that Sheridan, with some 6,000 or 8,000 cavalry, supported by Warrens's corps of infantry and artillery, was at work upon General Lee's right, that he was opposed only by a handful of Confederate cavalry, and that momentous events were probably at hand."

I advise that all preparation be made for leaving Richmond tonight.
--General Lee's telegram to President Jefferson Davis

Davis read General Lee's telegram while attending Sunday morning church service. He immediately issued the first orders for the Confederate government's evacuation. Word spread across the city. Lawley reports, "...quickly from mouth to mouth flew the sad tidings that in a few hours Richmond's long and gallant resistance would be over." Officially, the citizens of Richmond did not hear anything for hours, but they could not help but notice the fires in front of the government offices as official documents burned. They kept asking each other what was happening.

Crowds gathered at the Spotswood and at General Ewell's office, a block away at Seventh and Franklin Streets, swapping rumors, trying to confirm them. At first those who knew had been evasive; one man with government connections told a friend he was "not at liberty to communicate" what he knew - but there had been terrible fighting near Petersburg ... "I'll tell you that I shouldn't be surprised if we are all away from here before twenty four hours."
--Ashes of Glory

Official word of the Confederate government's departure was finally announced at 4 o'clock. Lawley reported: "The scene that followed baffles description. During the long afternoon and throughout the feverish night, on horseback, in every description of cart, carriage, and vehicle, in every hurried train that left the city, on canal barges, skiffs, and boats, the exodus of officials and prominent citizens was unintermitted."

Davis refused to believe it was necessary to leave. His train was scheduled to depart on April 2 at 8:30 Sunday night. He kept hoping that somehow Lee would send news of a reversal of fortunes and that the government would not have to abandon the city. Finally, at 11 o'clock, he boarded the train and began the sad trip to Danville. Lawley wrote: "Up to the hour of their departure from Richmond I can testify that Mr. Davis and the three most prominent members of his cabinet went undaunted forth to meet the future, not without hope that General Lee would be able to hold together a substantial remnant of his army, and to effect a junction with General Johnston."

All through the night preparations for fleeing from the city kept the Richmonders busy. When the last Confederate soldiers rode across the pontoon bridge to catch up with Lee's troops, those left behind believed they would return soon, to take the city back from the Yankees. In the city small fires of document still burned.

Richard S. Ewell and Godfrey Weitzel

Despite every effort made on the part of the few remaining Confederate soldiers and the city's officials, chaos ruled Richmond that night. Knowing that the Union army was about to enter the town, and having heard how badly the city of Columbia, South Carolina had fared when Union soldiers discovered the stores of whisky, Richmond's officials ordered all liquor to be destroyed. In the need for haste, however, those men charged with going through the stocks of every saloon and warehouse found the most expedient way was to smash the bottles and pour the kegs into the gutters and down the street drains. The stench attracted crowds. They gulped the whisky from the curbstones, picked it up in their hats and boots, and guzzled it before stooping for more. So the action taken to prevent a Union army rampage started a rampage by the city's own people.

Lt. Gen. Richard S. Ewell, Richmond's military commander, was also under orders to destroy the city's tobacco, cotton, and foodstuffs before the Yankees got to them. To destroy the tobacco, Ewell had it moved to buildings that he believed could burn without setting the rest of the city on fire and asked the fire department to stand by to keep the fire from spreading.

In a city that had been suffering from scarcity, where high officials held "Starvation Balls," no one believed there could be much food left to destroy. But they were wrong. "The most revolting revelation," wrote LaSalle Pickett, "was the amount of provisions, shoes and clothing which had been accumulated by the speculators who hovered like vultures over the scene of death and desolation. Taking advantage of their possession of money and lack of both patriotism and humanity, they had, by an early corner in the market and by successful blockade running, brought up all the available supplies with an eye to future gain, while our soldiers and women and children were absolutely in rags, barefoot and starving." The crowd, seeing the commissaries filled with smoked meats, flour, sugar, and coffee, became ugly.

Enraged, they snatched the food and clothing and turned to the nearby shops to loot whatever else they found. They were impossible to stop. Ewell tried, but he had only convalescent soldiers and a few army staff officers under his command at this point. Not nearly enough men to bring order back to the streets. The fires, though, grew out of control, burning the center of the city and driving the looters away.

Embers from the street fires of official papers and from the paper torches used by vandals drifted. The wind picked up. Another building caught fire. The business district caught fire. Worse, as Admiral Raphael Semmes wrote, "The Tredegar Iron Works were on fire, and continual explosions of loaded shell stored there were taking place....The population was in a great state of alarm." Lawley reported that as he walked toward the railroad station he saw a column of dense black smoke. Semmes had set his ironclads on fire to keep them out of Union hands. Moments later, the warships' arsenals exploded blowing the windows out for two miles around, overturning tombstones, and tearing doors from their hinges.

The Union cavalry entered town. By 7:15 Monday morning, April 3, two guidons of the Fourth Massachusetts Cavalry flew over the capitol building. Not long after, two officers of the 13th New York Artillery took down the little triangular flags and ran up the great United States flag. Union General Godfrey Weitzel sent a telegram to General Grant: "We took Richmond at 8:15 this morning. I captured many guns. The enemy left in great haste. The city is on fire in two places. Am making every effort to put it out. The people received us with enthusiastic expressions of joy."

Weitzel ordered his troops to put out the fire. The city's two fire engines worked, bucket brigades were formed. Threatened buildings were pulled down to create firebreaks. Five hours later the wind finally shifted, and they began to bring it under control. All or part of at least 54 blocks were destroyed, according to Furgurson. Weitzel wrote "The rebel capitol, fired by men placed in it to defend it, was saved from total destruction by soldiers of the United States, who had taken possession." And the city rested.

Abraham Lincoln

At City Point a few miles downstream, U.S. President Abraham Lincoln had learned of Richmond's capture and was eager to visit the city. Rear Admiral David Dixon Porter arranged for a grand trip upstream for his president on Tuesday. His gunboats, flags flying, lined the river and the sailors cheered as Lincoln, in Porter's flagship, the Malvern, sailed upstream. The trip, however, was not as smooth as the admiral would have liked. The Malvern encountered sunken Confederate boats in the James River. He transferred the president into a barge, which was tugged upstream. But then the tug encountered another Confederate obstruction. The ropes were thrown off the tug and the sailors leaned into their oars. They pulled against the current until they came to the rapids. The sailors jumped into the river, freed the boat, and headed toward the first safe landing spot they could find.

The barge landed at Rocketts, two miles from their destination, Capitol Square. No Union soldiers met them, but those on the shore recognized the tall man. A crowd, many recently freed slaves, formed as they strode along the streets. Recalled one contemporary: "Every window was crowded with heads. But it was a silent crowd. There was something oppressive in those thousands of watchers without a sound, either of welcome or hatred. I think we would have welcomed a yell of defiance." Others were exuberant, laughing, yelling. They tried to grab Lincoln's hand and kiss his boots. The sailors formed a guard around him. Admiral Porter and his men were anxious; the crowd could crush his president or an assassin could come close without ever being seen. The sailors cleared the way with bayonets until, at last, a cavalry party met them and escorted the president to what had been the Confederate Executive Mansion. According to Carl Sandburg,

Any one of many kinds of fools could have taken a pot shot at Lincoln that day.
--Carl Sandburg

Soon afterward Lincoln set out on a sightseeing tour of the burned-out, sad-looking Confederate capital with General Weitzel as his guide and a large cavalry escort to protect him. He visited Libby Prison and Castle Thunder, the two prisons where not long before Union soldiers had suffered. They rode to Camp Lee where the U.S. Colored Troops had set up their camp. They drove around the burned out business district. Weitzel asked President Lincoln for guidance: how should he treat the people of the city? "If I were in your place," Lincoln told him, " I'd let 'em up easy, let 'em up easy."

After the afternoon tour, the presidential party returned to Porter's flagship, to Admiral Porter's relief.

Word of Richmond's fall had been telegraphed across the United States. Newspaperman George Townsend wrote, "This town is the rebellion. It is all that we have directly striven for; quitting it, the Confederate leaders have quitted their sheet-anchor, their roof-tree, their abiding hope. Its history is the epitome of the whole contest, and to us, shivering our thunderbolts against it for more than four years, Richmond is still a mystery." To honor the long struggle to take the Confederate capital, an official order was given. And so, at noon, while Lincoln toured the city, a one-hundred-gun artillery salute was fired at all military posts, arsenals and naval bases.

Five hard-fought days later General Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia surrendered to U.S. Grant. And four days after that, Lincoln was assassinated. Johnston surrendered his army to Sherman on April 18. Lee had gambled that the Confederacy could survive the fall of its capital--that leaving Richmond would offer him a freedom of movement that could spell hope. But hope died when Richmond fell.

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On May 20 [1861], the Confederate Congress voted to move the government to Richmond...With that, Virginia's capital had become the very symbol of the Confederacy, and the ultimate prize in a bloody war. --Ernest B.

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The Rebel capital of Richmond, Virginia, falls to the Union, the most significant sign that the Confederacy is nearing its final days.

For ten months, General Ulysses S. Grant had tried unsuccessfully to infiltrate the city. After Lee made a desperate attack against Fort Stedman along the Union line on March 25, Grant prepared for a major offensive. He struck at Five Forks on April 1, crushing the end of Lee's line southwest of Petersburg. On April 2, the Yankees struck all along the Petersburg line, and the Confederates collapsed.

On the evening of April 2, the Confederate government fled the city with the army right behind. Now, on the morning of April 3, blue-coated troops entered the capital. Richmond was the holy grail of the Union war effort, the object of four years of campaigning. Tens of thousands of Yankee lives were lost trying to get it, and nearly as many Confederate lives lost trying to defend it.

Now, the Yankees came to take possession of their prize. One resident, Mary Fontaine, wrote, "I saw them unfurl a tiny flag, and I sank on my knees, and the bitter, bitter tears came in a torrent." Another observer wrote that as the Federals rode in, the city's black residents were "completely crazed, they danced and shouted, men hugged each other, and women kissed." Among the first forces into the capital were black troopers from the 5th Massachusetts Cavalry, and the next day President Abraham Lincoln visited the city. For the residents of Richmond, these were symbols of a world turned upside down. It was, one reporter noted, "...too awful to remember, if it were possible to be erased, but that cannot be."

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Confederate capital of Richmond is captured - Apr 03, 1865 - HISTORY.com

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The Rebel capital of Richmond, Virginia, falls to the Union, the most significant sign that the Confederacy is nearing its final days. For ten months, General Ulysses S. Grant had tried unsuccessfully to infiltrate the city. After Lee made a desperate attack against Fort Stedman along the Union line on March 25, Grant prepared for a major offensive.

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The capital of the Confederacy since 1861 and the target of Union armies that had smashed themselves against its defenses in a dozen battles, the city was falling at last.

The cry, "On to Richmond!" had been raised in the North before the first major battle of the war, at Manassas, Va., in July 1861.

That battle had been a disaster for the Union, and it would be followed by many others as Yankee armies assailed the Rebel capital from the north, east and south.

Now, at least 600,000 deaths later, Grant had driven Lee out of his lines, and Richmond was being evacuated.

"It is all that we have . . . striven for," the New York reporter George Alfred Townsend wrote. "Its history is the epitome of the whole contest . . . to us, shivering our thunderbolts against it for . . . four years."

Watching from afar, Frederick Chesson of the Union's 29th Connecticut Regiment recalled: "We began to realize as we had not till then . . . that this was one of the great days of the Lord.

"Right out there in the open in sight of the flaming city we went wild with excitement," Chesson wrote, according to historian Ernest B. Furgurson's study of Richmond during the war. "We yelled, we cheered, we sang, we prayed, we wept, we hugged each other and threw up our hats."

The fire, started by Confederates to wreck anything of use to the enemy, raged all night and into the morning.

It destroyed Richmond's banks, two hotels, three newspapers (the Enquirer, the Dispatch and the Examiner), a flour mill, a paper mill, railroad depots, bridges over the James River and the Confederate Post Office.

"The entire business part of the city on fire," eyewitness John Leyburn wrote a year later, a "sea of flame."

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union capture of richmond;confederacy final days

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'Richmond at last!': The final, fiery days of the Confederacy

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The capital of the Confederacy since 1861 and the target of Union armies that had smashed themselves against its defenses in a dozen battles, the city was falling at last. The cry, "On to Richmond!" had been raised in the North before the first major battle of the war, at Manassas, Va., in July 1861.

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Compare photos taken in Richmond during the mid-1800's to images at the same locations taken this year. The Times-Dispatch will tell the story of Richmond's past, from 1850 to 1965, in a keepsake magazine.

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On the morning of Sunday April 2, 1865 Confederate lines near Petersburg broke after a nine month seige. The retreat of the army left the Confederate capital of Richmond, 25 miles to the north, defenseless. This video provides a visual overview of some of the most significant events of the dramatic days that followed.