Long after the Battle of Cold Harbor ended, African American men were paid to dig up the bodies of Union soldiers who had been hastily buried on the battlefield. A historic photograph shows a leg dangling over the side of a wheelbarrow, several skulls stacked together, and mangled corpses in uniforms scattered across the fields. Most of those men died without anyone recording their final moments. But one soldier, Colonel James Powers McMenamin of the 164th New York, became the subject of dramatic accounts of his death — even though none of the people who wrote about it actually witnessed him fall.
McMenamin was Irish-born, from County Wexford. He emigrated to New York and became part of a militia. When the Civil War broke out, he joined Company K of the 69th New York, part of the famed Irish Brigade. On November 17, 1861, at age 26, he was elected captain of Company K.
In 1862, he became a staff officer under General Meagher, serving with the Irish Brigade for four months, and later held the role of provost marshal staff officer. At the Battle of Antietam, the 69th made a name for itself through repeated charges toward the Sunken Road. Though the attacks were not successful in the way the men had hoped, they bought time with lives. Several soldiers from the 69th earned the Medal of Honor after breaking apart a fence to let troops advance.
McMenamin was part of that fight. General Hancock mentioned him by name in his after-action report, noting that he and the other officers fought heroically after General Richardson went down. Being singled out by a commander in an official report marked him as a notably brave officer. After Antietam, McMenamin was promoted, discharged, and reinstated as lieutenant colonel of the 155th New York, serving with that unit for about five months.
Then he was discharged again and reinstated as colonel of the 164th New York, a Zouave regiment under Corcoran. The promotion came through tragedy. His brother had been in charge of the 164th and died of disease, opening the position for James to step in. He led the regiment well and was considered a good and brave officer.
That path eventually led to the Overland Campaign and Cold Harbor. Before that, the 164th would endure many fights — Cold Harbor was only part of a much longer ordeal. The Battle of Cold Harbor began in earnest on June 1, 1864, when Union soldiers moved into position. The largest portion of McMenamin’s fight came on June 3.
On the morning of June 1, Colonel Lawrence M. Keitt, a signer of the South Carolina Ordinance of Secession, led an attack toward the crossroads. Captain Augustus Dickert later wrote that every man in ranks knew they were being led by one of the most gifted and gallant men in the South, but every soldier also saw at a glance his inexperience and want of self-control. Keitt led his South Carolinians into battle against well-positioned Union cavalry and infantry behind quickly built breastworks.
The attack failed within about five minutes, and the Confederates could not secure the crossroads. That evening, the 48th New York arrived under Ingram, continuing the fight. On June 3, the 164th New York crossed Boatswain’s Creek and advanced across open fields toward the Confederate earthworks held by the 17th North Carolina. McMenamin was out in front of his line, moving toward the enemy position.
According to accounts written afterward, he reached the enemy’s works and planted his regimental colors in the parapet with his own hand. He was reportedly struck by six to eight bullets, falling covered with wounds and dying behind enemy lines. General Hancock wrote of McMenamin’s actions, stating that he planted his colors in the parapet, where he fell covered with wounds and expired in the enemy’s hands, losing his colors with honor. But Hancock was not there to see it.
He was back near the tavern watching the fight unfold from a distance. Other accounts came from Confederate soldiers from the Carolinas, who described seeing an officer out in front of his lines, alone after the soldiers around him had been killed, refusing to surrender before being shot and killed. Even the man who wrote a well-known poem about McMenamin dying at Cold Harbor and lying on the field did not witness the death. The poem describes someone wiping sweat from his brow and putting water on his lips — details the poet could not have observed.
The attack itself was largely a failure. The assault collapsed on most fronts, and it happened again and again. It was during this campaign that General Grant earned the nickname “the butcher” for sending wave after wave of men into the fighting. Grant himself was reportedly in the fields, watching the assault unfold alongside Hancock.
Soldiers on both sides spent twelve to fourteen days in the trenches around Cold Harbor, which became their homes and their protection from sharpshooters. That style of warfare foreshadowed the trench fighting of World War I. The battlefield today includes preserved land from the National Park Service and the American Battlefield Trust. Visitors can walk the same fields, see the earthworks, and cross the same creek the 164th New York crossed before the assault.
One nearby story reflects the war’s grim reality. A soldier from the 16th New Jersey dug a grave for a comrade and, just as he began to report it, was hit by a sharpshooter and killed instantly. He was buried in the same grave he had just dug, widened to fit two men. Cold Harbor left thousands of casualties.
For many, the exact circumstances of their deaths were never recorded by anyone who saw them fall. For McMenamin, accounts of his final moments were written by men who were not present. He was still a relatively young man when he died at Cold Harbor, remembered for charging ahead of his men, planting his flag, and refusing to surrender. His body was taken by Confederate soldiers, and he died behind their lines.
The Battle of Cold Harbor went down in history as one of the bloodiest and most controversial assaults of the Civil War, and the story of the Irish colonel who carried his regimental colors to the enemy parapet became one of its most celebrated — and most contested — tales of heroism.