maryland Heights, Advanced Post, July 30, 1861,
Tuesday Afternoon, in
Camp.
With your passion for fine prospects and high hills, you would
like to climb with me from the dripping ford of the Potomac up the abrupt steep
that overhangs it to the thick wooded side of the Heights on the Maryland
shore. You might enjoy the tangled pathway through the woods; you would
certainly find a thirsty pleasure at the spring of pure water which pulses from
the heart of the mountain; and when you came out of the silent wood-path upon a
broad table-flat, and found it white with tents and alive with armed men and
vocal with martial music, you would wonder, as King George before the dumpling,
how the d----l we got there. This is precisely what I am going to tell you.
Giving you first, however, a moment to cast your delighted eyes up the Potomac
Valley to the blue hills beyond, and across Harper's Ferry town to the gorge of
the Shenandoah, which gives the name to the lazy military department which
waits a new life from the energy of General Banks. And, interrupting you again,
to say that I have all your letters safe, and have every pleasure in reading
them and in rereading them. Now for the story. In this melting heat of the
sultriest afternoon my memory is relaxed, and I cannot recollect when I wrote.
On Sunday, however, the army moved across the Potomac and occupied Maryland
Heights below Sandy Hook, leaving the Massachusetts Second in full possession
of Harper's Ferry. The Colonel leaving the upper part of the town where we had
been, I spent Sunday evening in posting our pickets and outposts, and in taking
what military precautions were possible against a night surprise and attack. Of
course we spent a wakeful night, though I could not think there was any chance
of attack. The next morning I was off again on the road towards Charlestown to
fix a point for a strong picket, and generally to cruise about the country.
Colonel Andrews and myself spent three hours in sunny riding (you don't quite
appreciate the meaning of the sunny South). When we got back we found that
Colonel Gordon had got an order changing the disposition of our forces thus:
Colonel Andrews to remain in Harper's Ferry with three companies (Captains
Cary's, Abbott's, and Cogswell's), a battery of three guns to be mounted on the
table-land above the ford on the Maryland shore, and the rest of the regiment
to cross and encamp near it, to support the battery and protect the ford. This
sounds plain and easy, but it gave us a lively afternoon. I will tell you the
story by and by. Now the call is sounding for dress-parade. The heat is
ridiculous. I have philosophized myself, however, into great good spirits, and
I do not wilt. With humility I hope to get through. Now for parade. . . . .
If you had happened in on our parade you would have had the
pleasure to see me preside. We do not look as gay as we did at Camp Andrew, but
we also do not have so many friends to see us. I have got my tent finely
pitched, with a rich carpet of oak-leaves, and have extemporized a
writing-desk. Tattoo is just beating, and I will go on with my story.
After the order to divide our forces came, the regiment was
soon paddling and splashing through the water. We left Colonel Andrews making
everything secure. The regiment mounted the steep ascent on this side, and at
last made the plateau. But our wagons, which had to take a longer and more
circuitous ascent, were not so lucky; and tentless, almost supperless, the men
bivouacked for the night. The officers found a friendly supper in the house of
a man on whoso farm we are, — the only inhabitant of the neighborhood, if that
can be called a neighborhood where neighbors there are none. This farmer* knew
John Brown; and, indeed, John Brown's school-house, where he hid his arms, is
down just below our camp, in the woods. I may exaggerate the effect of John
Brown, but certain it is that the whole military organization in Virginia dates
from his raid. And the other day a woman said, “We have not dared to command our
slaves since John Brown came.” The man's name is a terror and a bitterness to
them. To-day we have been getting our wagons up, pitching tents, organizing an
encampment. In Colonel Andrews's absence this falls a good deal on me. New work
is hard work, but the aptitude, I suppose, will come. I suppose when an old dog
is going to learn new tricks he does not do it in dog-days. I certainly
should like to take my lessons in cooler weather. I have been riding about the
hills a good deal, and have been to head-quarters to see General Banks. Old Mr.
Weller generalized quite broadly when he said, “Sammy, a man as can form a
ackerate judgment of a horse can form a ackerate judgment of anything.” Perhaps
we generalize a little rapidly in making Governor Banks the commander of
a division and a department. We shall see. Just now military civilians must
look sharp lest they fall. I am making a long story of very little, but if I
could have brought you up to our sunset view, you would have easily understood
the new pleasure of our fine camp life after the dull work of garrisoning
Harper's Ferry. It does no good to write of scenery, you want to hear of
achievement. We must wait for that. Think of us, now in perfect safety, getting
ready for better things, I hope. The events of the past week show that every
man who is fit for it must do his part to fight now.
_______________
* See Appendix VIII.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 61-3
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