This is an account of a fight at Sweeney's Pottery near Deep Bottom Virginia. It was written by a member of the Hampton Legion. I think it may be describing the fighting around July 20-24, 1864 but I'm not sure. It is definitely not about the First Battle of Deep Bottom on July 27th.

Bryce

“….. We went into camp at Malvern Hill, getting our water out of a huge spring at the foot of the hill, running from under a large gum tree; spout of spring was three feet across. We remained here several days doing picket duty along the river where the Yankee gunboats lay in sight. The marine band discoursed beautiful music every night, which we enjoyed very much. We could hear them giving orders too and any common conversation. Under cover of trees and hills intervening we grazed our horses. . . each morning [and] early and late in the afternoons in clover fields waist high bought by our quartermaster for the government. We had to avoid raising any dust to prevent being shelled by the enemy, which was often done. We lay here three or four weeks, having weekly and sometimes daily skirmishes with the marines from gunboats and Federal cavalry raiders who were always harassing our front.

One day, hearing an unusual skirmish fire some mile or more distant, we were ordered to the front and found the fight to be over possession of some hogs our boys had shot near the river to supplement our short rations. The Federal pickets came forward to dispute possession, and a spirited fight occurred. The enemy landed more men to support pickets and our men supported ours, and the fight became general, involving all our brigade. We drove in the picket line and held the hogs, but they became then a small factor. Blood was up on both sides and the hog incident was forgotten. After driving in their skirmish line under cover of the guns of their gunboats, we were halted and formed into a close skirmish line up and down the river road lined in our front with heavy oak forest and thick undergrowth of gaulberry bushes and other thick growth. We were posted behind every large oak tree for protection, as the fire from the concentrated enemy was severe, and the gunboats, in addition, were shelling us, but we got so close under their guns that it was difficult for them to reach us, but they soon put mortar shells upon us, dropping them all around us. The infantry charged us several times, but were repulsed. They had a skirmish line much stronger than ours, with superior breach loading rifles and ours muzzle loading, were vastly in advantage over us. However we held our line under a very trying fire. Here. . . I shot a Yankee, the only one I ever knew I hit. One interval of our line found no convenient tree for protection, so our captain (Jack Palmer) stationed a man some thirty yards forward of our line behind the trunk of a large oak tree. The enemy was not slow in learning of his disadvantage and cross fired him so sharply that they ran him from the tree, and another man had to be sent to close the gap. . . When in a few minutes he was run in, a third and tried old Legion man was sent there, but fire became so hot that he too retired. . . It looked like our line would be broken, when our Orderly Sergeant (Mat Dannerly) ordered me to go forward and hold the tree and post.

[A]ll eyes were centered upon me and how I would bear myself, a new man. . . among the old Legion men. . . I expected to be killed before I reached the tree, but I got there safely and found it the center target of all that section of the line. . . Their balls were ripping the bark off the tree all around from the ground ten feet up, and cutting twigs and leaves all around my head, as it was a very low branched tree . . . My comrades to rear, right and left shouted words of encouragement as they loaded and shot at the advancing line of the enemy. Among these especially were M. Hamer on my left and P.M. John on my right, both of my mess. All yelled at me to stand close up to the tree. . . I maintained [my position] with much fatigue, under stern necessity, for an hour, the balls fairly raining upon the tree and around me and the shells dropping and exploding just in my rear. It was very demoralizing, but pride held me to my post. It was now getting late in the afternoon and the enemy made a last rally and dash. . . I was desperate and felt I had as well be killed one time as another and was about to change position and get a shot myself and risk consequences when their line became visible to our men. Philip M. Hamer called quickly and urgently for me to look out, that the enemy were upon me and to fire. I sprang from behind the tree and not 20 steps from me I saw three bluecoats in a huddle with guns seemingly upon me, advancing through a thick clump of gaulberry bushes. As quick as lightning I fire upon them. I suppose the suddenness of my nervous fire took them by surprise. One of them fell yelling like a goat with his head hung in the fence.
The suspense was awful but short, for as the fellow fell yelling our whole line fell to cheering and applauding me. Comrades Hamer and John, especially exultant, calling to me that I had killed him.

. . . As soon as I got my gun loaded, which you may be sure, was in an incredible short time, I sprang out again to die game. But instead the other two bluecoats had taken up the one I brought down and hustled him to the rear, and he was yelling at every step. I peered anxiously through every opening and watched the tops of every clump of bushes to detect any enemy passing through [the] foot of same, but none came. This seemed to put a quietus on things, for in a few moments their line was withdrawn and we remained in line an hour longer, when our scouts reported all safe and quiet in front and we were ordered back into camp. This little episode fully established me in the confidence and esteem of the old men, and especially my officers.. . The fight occurred very near an old jug manufactory called the “Old Pottery” and we soldiers always called it the “Fight of the Old Pottery.”

Source: Charles Crosland, Reminiscences of the Sixties. Columbia: The State Co., 1910, 52 pp. This selection appears on pp. 23-26. It is not quoted in Lulu Crosland Ricaud, The Family of Edward and Ann Snead Crosland, 1740-1957. Columbia: The State Printing Co. 1958, 546 pp. which quotes much of Crosland’s reminiscences.