On the 28th McClellan wrote to the Secretary for War: “I have lost the battle because my force was too small. If I save this army now I tell you plainly that I owe no thanks to you or to any other person in Washington. You have done your best to sacrifice this army.” The Federal rearguard did their best to cover the retreat. They blew up the ammunition which had to be deserted, emptied the barrels of whisky and molasses, bent the muskets, and dismantled the forsaken waggons. But the roads were thronged with the sick and wounded, and hundreds lay down to die in the awful sun. Ever the victorious South were riding in upon them and making havoc. On one of these charges General Butterfield, seeing the utter misery and downheartedness of the men, gathered together all the regimental bands and placed them at the head of a brigade. In one great burst of sound, which rose above the clamour of the battle, they started “The Star-spangled Banner.” With the first few notes the men’s spirits rose and a new energy came to them. They stepped out and sang lustily, and other regiments caught the brave infection and cheered in chorus. Such are the uses of music in war. In our own regiments in the Boer War, when the men got weary with the long march, a Colonel would shout to his sergeants: “Have you any men who can sing? Put them in front.” Then the regiment would step out and forget their weariness. The _Richmond Dispatch_ describes the battle-field thus: “Money was found abundantly among the slain. One man found not less than 150 dollars in gold. One lucky finder had no less than six chronometers ticking in his pocket at the same time. Our men seemed to take great delight in assuming Federal officers’ uniforms, and strutted about serio-comically, much to the amusement of powder-begrimed youths who sat lolling and smoking in the shade. The cannon and arms captured in this battle were numerous and of very superior workmanship. The twenty-six pieces were the most beautiful we have ever seen, while immense piles of guns could be seen on every hand, many even hardly tarnished.” The road to James River was strewn with stragglers, tired to death. Hospitals were filled to overflowing. When they came to White Oak Swamp Bridge there was a block of waggons, cannon, ambulances, etc. Twenty rows of waggons stood side by side; teamsters swore, and horses gibbed, and officers shouted.