Showing posts with label James B Ricketts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label James B Ricketts. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Abraham Lincoln to Lieutenant-General Ulysses S. Grant, July 10, 1864 — 2:30 p.m.

WASHINGTON, July 10, 1864 2.30 p.m.
Lieutenant-General GRANT:

Your dispatch to General Halleck referring to what I may think in the present emergency is shown me. General Halleck says we have absolutely no force here fit to go to the field. He thinks that with the 100-days' men and invalids we have here we can defend Washington, and scarcely Baltimore. Besides these there are about 8,000, not very reliable, under Howe, at Harper's Ferry, with Hunter approaching that point very slowly, with what number I suppose you know better than I. Wallace, with some odds and ends and part of what came up with Ricketts, was so badly beaten yesterday at Monocacy that what is left can attempt no more than to defend Baltimore. What we shall get in from Pennsylvania and New York will scarcely be worth counting, I fear. Now, what I think is that you should provide to retain your hold where you are, certainly, and bring the rest with you personally, and make a vigorous effort to destroy the enemy's force in this vicinity. I think there is really a fair chance to do this if the movement is prompt. This is what I think, upon your suggestion, and is not an order.

A. LINCOLN,                       
President of the United Slates.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 37, Part 2 (Serial No. 71), p. 155

Saturday, June 27, 2020

Major Thomas T. Eckert to Brigadier-General John A. Rawlins, July 15, 1864—10 p.m.

WASHINGTON, D.C., July 15, 186410 p.m.
Brig. Gen. J. A. RAWLINS:

We have no report from Wright since this morning, nor from the troops of the Nineteenth Corps, nor Ricketts' and Kenly's since they passed Fort Reno. Mr. Ashley, member of Congress from Ohio, tells me confidentially that in an interview the other day with Butler, that officer showed him the order directing him to report to Fortress Monroe, and said he would be damned if he paid any attention to it; he did not receive orders from staff officers. Mr. Ashley tells me also that he found a good deal of discontent and mutinous spirit among staff officers of the Army of the Potomac. A good deal of McClellanism, he says, was manifested, especially by officers of very high rank. He tells me also that Meade is universally disliked by officers of every sort.

T. T. ECKERT,          
Major.


SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 37, Part 2 (Serial No.71 ), p. 331

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, September 19, 1864 – Part 12

“We now opened fire for the first time during the day, in the direction of the regiment or brigade that had so frightfully thinned our ranks, but they were almost out of reach from us, as well as we from them. At this moment, however, the Third Division approached them and they filed away.”

It is difficult to conceive why if the enemy could fire at the union forces here they could not return the compliment, at any rate to one who has so recently studied the ground. It was a good thing the Third Division was ’round to drive the rebs away, otherwise they might have more “frightfully thinned” Col. Walker's ranks. It would be interesting to know exactly how many men Col. Walker lost here.

“When this was discovered, and after gaining breath, our own advance was resumed, but with little pretense at order. Emerging upon the plain before us at the summit of the hill we had climbed, we again turned obliquely towards the road and charged upon a long breastwork filled with rebels, in our immediate front. The retreat of their comrades from the ravine apparently demoralized them; many fled, many more were captured; in fact as we clambered over the parapet it seemed as if the prisoners who then surrendered exceeded in number our entire Brigade.”

I saw this movement when the men advanced seemingly to me in an undeployed skirmish line over the open flat ground beyond the ravine not shown in No. 7 illustration, but further to the right. It was a weak force and could not have met any determined resistance from any considerable body; indeed there was but a small force of the enemy's infantry on that part of the field.

“But we did not stop to count them or to care for them. The principal position of the enemy in this portion of the field had now been gained, and we rushed onward toward the distant spires of Winchester, with shouts and cheers, now thoroughly excited by our unexpected success. A battery of the enemy was before us, but it limbered up and retired as we advanced. Several times it turned, fired a round of canister, and resumed its flight. At our left the other Brigades of our Division were seen moving on in our support. At our right an unfortunate ridge now rose, parallel with our line of advance, along the top of which ran the road so often referred to, and which hid our friends from view; we could only hope that they were equally successful, and push wildly forward. A point was reached probably three-fourths of a mile beyond the entrenchments where we had captured the prisoners, when luckily a ditch running across our path suggested cover and a pause. This ditch was reached only by the colors of the Fifth, with perhaps two hundred men from the various regiments. Exhausted with running, they opened fire as vigorously as they could, but a line of rebels was seen gradually collecting in their front, as the fugitives were rallied, and the position held by our troops was presently dangerously threatened. And now to their dismay, the Brigade on the higher ground to their left saw reason for retiring and called for them to follow. What it could mean they did not know, but it seemed prudent to withdraw, if only for the purpose of keeping up the connection. An officer sent to investigate soon reported that at least a Division of the enemy were far behind their right in an orchard, which they supposed had been carried by the Third Division. Orders were given therefore to fall back to the line of the army, following the low ground on the left, thus keeping under cover of the hill at the right, the enemy meantime being absorbed in their movement against Ricketts; and thus the detachment successfully escaped from its dangerous position and re-formed with the balance of the Brigade near the works we had carried, being as before on the right of the other Brigades of our Division, connecting with and at first even in front of the support which was put in to meet the emergency.”

Having watched this whole proceeding, which Sheridan saw, too, through his field glass just behind me, after I was wounded and the enemy from the ravine in my front and its artillery were in full retreat, it reads absurdly. The action of the enemy in Col. Walker's front largely depended on that of the enemy in ours, which had been routed and was in full pell mell retreat when Col. Walker's men were advancing in small irregular groups away from the before-mentioned ravine (see No. 7 illustration) they were so seemingly anxious to leave. As a matter of fact if they had swung to the right in and on the high ground west of the ravine, together with the left of our brigade, they would have done much more effective service. The retreating battery mentioned — and others further north not mentioned — retreated because its infantry in the ravine in my front was routed. As a matter of fact these Second Division men were operating comparatively uselessly far on the enemy's rear right flank and were in a dangerous situation as soon as the bulk of the enemy's infantry in my front should reach that neighborhood. I saw this, as did Sheridan, and it was one thing that caused him to put spurs to his horse and dash away to send a staff officer to recall these forces. The five succeeding quoted paragraphs are disingenuously conceived and misleading. They are worse than worthless for historical purposes because mischievous. The Vermont Brigade was too grand a body of men to be mortified by exaggerations and overdrawn situations. The truth is glorious enough, and to write on such a basis is dignified and fair.

“We afterwards learned that a break had taken place on the right which for a time seemed likely to result in complete disaster. The report in our Corps was, that the Nineteenth, advancing through a long stretch of forest and at first successful, had afterwards been repulsed, and fled in disorder, many of the fugitives even going back to the Creek, and that our Third Division had been checked soon after we lost sight of it, presently becoming more or less involved in the flight of the Nineteenth Corps. On the other hand Gen. Emory, commanding the Nineteenth Corps, in a letter published in the World, which was fortified with affidavits, insisted that the break began at the right of our Third Division, which led to the turning of his left and the consequent retiring of his Corps. The official reports disagree as much as the letters of the correspondents, who of course reflected the opinions of the several headquarters to which they were attached, and who created considerable ill-feeling by the discrepancies in their accounts, and by their insinuations; the truth is probably between the claims of both, and the real cause of the enemy's temporary success seems to have been the unfortunate bend in the road above mentioned, which interfered with and destroyed the symmetry of our first advance. Our Third Division obliqued to the left as it moved against the enemy, following the order to guide on the road, (there were few or no fences in that vicinity) and so left an interval between its right and the Nineteenth Corps, which appears to have gone in impetuously and with little order; the enemy presently made a counter-charge, and, luckily for them, struck the gap with a heavy force, crumbling off the troops on either side of it, and causing the troops on each side of the interval to think that the others had let the enemy through. The front line of the Nineteenth Corps was almost entirely disorganized, and was replaced by the second line, while only the right of our Third Division was broken up, its left with our own Division merely retiring a short distance under orders, as was necessary in order to keep a continuous front.”

This is widely erroneous; Emery's left was somewhat broken at first by the terrific shelling from our front, but it was only in the edge of the shell storm at first when going through the wood. His alleged collapse virtually of the right of our Third Division, or Second Brigade, going through the narrow belt of timber behind which we formed, is correct as before stated, for it was immediately on my right, and I know it; it was largely what we halted and laid down for after getting through the timber. We feared being flanked; but the delay was short, for I almost immediately moved forward with my men and others alone over that flat, unsheltered ground, then being unmercifully swept by artillery and musketry till it was virtually untenable. The Nineteenth Corps instead of obliquing to the left towards us to shorten the interval and help us, intuitively obliqued the other way; but fortunately there was no road or bend in it to blame it to. In my opinion it was as clear a case of shirk as to the left of the Third Division, or a desire to find an easier point to attack. Emery's corps didn't retire that I know of, and our brigade I know didn't. The marching of his troops in two long lines was one of the spectacular sights of the day; it was a beautiful feature. It assaulted to the north of the slight divide running east and west, where I saw no infantry nor artillery except a little of the latter far across the breaks. The enfilading infantry and artillery fire from our front at first was about all Emery had to fear, but his Corps soon obliqued away from it. There was no counter charge by the enemy in my front or to either side, and in this I am emphatic, as well as in the fact that general officers were not where they could see as well as I. There has been more fiction written about this fight than any I was ever in.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 187-92

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, September 19, 1864 – Part 11

The following pertaining to Sheridan's battle of Winchester has been discovered since writing the foregoing. It will be answered in detail. Says Col. Aldace F. Walker in his “History of the Vermont Brigade in the Shenandoah Valley, 1864,” pp. 91-100:

“Our movement commenced at 3 o'clock Monday morning, September 19th, Getty's Division having the advance, the Vermont Brigade being the last in the Division. Striking directly across the country, at first in the darkness, we presently reached the main road from Berryville to Winchester, and moved down it to the crossing of the Opequan. This stream is considerably below the level of the adjoining country, and the road on its further side keeps the low level of the stream for a mile or more, winding through a long, tortuous wooded ravine, our unobstructed passage whereof was for the time a mystery. It seems that Wilson's Division of cavalry had already cleared the way and was then holding desperately a position that it had gained with considerable loss, but which proved a most admirable one in which to deploy our line of battle.

“As we filed out of the ravine which toward the last was lined with wounded cavalrymen, we found Sheridan, his headquarters fixed on a conspicuous elevation, personally superintending from the commencement the operations of the day. It was to be our first battle under his command, as well as his first independent battle; the troops were hitherto destitute of all enthusiasm for him; fortunately, however, no impression save a favorable one had as yet been received, it being universally conceded that he had so far handled his army handsomely. And it was with great satisfaction that we found him in this early twilight at the very front, and under the fire of the enemy, carefully attending to details which we had been accustomed to see more celebrated commanders entrust to their staff.

“Our Division promptly relieved the cavalry and formed its line facing west, the Third Brigade which was in advance going to what was to be the extreme left of the infantry line, resting on Abraham Creek; the First Brigade following, took up its position on the right of the Third, and our own Brigade filled the remaining distance between the First and the road on which we had reached the battlefield. It had been intended to place us in two lines, but the unexpected extent of the ground we had to cover forbade that formation. We were just on the hither edge of a narrow fringe of wood that concealed us from the enemy; the Sixth Vermont was thrown forward as a skirmish line perhaps one hundred yards to the further side of the little forest, and at once engaged the enemy's skirmishers.”

About three regiments, I believe, of the First Brigade, Third Division, Sixth Corps, were to the left or south of the road, so the Vermont Brigade didn't reach to the pike.

“Near us in the road at our right was a rebel field work, taken by Wilson in the night. The hill on which it was situated commanded the country in both directions, and it was already occupied by a battery engaged in feeling the enemy, which was answered vigorously, many of the rebel shell plunging over into the troops as they successively came up the road.

“Our Division thus formed in a single line was the only Division on the south or left of the road. The Third Division, Ricketts’, followed us and prolonged the line across and on the north of the road, placing its two Brigades in two lines. The First Division, Russell's, came next, and was drawn up behind the Third as a third line or reserve, also somewhat overlapping the right of our Brigade.”

About three regiments or more of the Third Division, Sixth Corps, I believe, were south of the road, on the right of the Second Division. When General Russell's Division charged it was about two hundred yards to the right of the Tenth Vermont, or about seven hundred yards or more to the right of Col. Walker's brigade.

“Then to our surprise no more troops appeared, and our Corps was alone confronting the enemy. There were two or three anxious hours, but Early was engaged in hurrying up his detachment from Bunker Hill, which this delay gave him ample time to do, and made no assault. It was said that the Nineteenth Corps, being ordered to follow the Sixth, had filed into the road behind our wagon train, instead of keeping closed up on our column. It is certain that with this loss of time, from whatever reason it occurred, we lost the opportunity of attacking the enemy in detail, and gave him time to prepare for our reception. It was noon before the Nineteenth Corps had reached its place and was formed in three or four lines on the right of the Sixth.”

The Nineteenth Corps was formed in two lines on the right of the Sixth.

“Our men during the forenoon had been resting, sitting or lying on the ground. When at last the disposition was completed and the signal gun was fired, they sprang to the ranks, and the line advanced. Particular instructions had been received to the effect that the road was to give the direction of attack, and that the guiding regiment was to be the left regiment of the Third Division, just across the road from our right.”

The guiding regiments were the Tenth Vermont and Fourteenth New Jersey, on the right of the First Brigade, about the center of the Third Division.

“In passing through the bit of trees in our front, which was filled with underbrush, our line was necessarily thrown somewhat into confusion. When we emerged from the wood and the ground over which we must make our attack was developed, the prospect was appalling. The hill gradually sloped away before us, for a quarter of a mile, to a long ravine, irregular in its course, but its windings extending either way as far as we could see. The ascent beyond it was in most places sharp, and the enemy held its crest in force, perfectly commanding with musketry and artillery the long slope down which we must pass, though the acclivity on the further side of the hollow was so steep as to actually present a cover from their fire—if it could once be reached.

“When this fearful prospect opened the line involuntarily halted, and the men threw themselves on the ground as was their wont when under fire. Our own Brigade was properly waiting for the movement of the guiding regiment which lay across the road a little to our rear, and which could not be prevailed upon to stir. To add to the peril of the situation, the road, instead of continuing straight on, as seems to have been expected, here made a bend to the left so that our original orders could not be obeyed without an amount of obliquing that would have resulted in demoralization; from this cause our own Brigade was soon afterwards thrown into temporary confusion, and the Third Division was presently so disorganized as to be unable to resist a counter-charge made against it by the enemy.”

The whole line in front of the enemy's infantry in the ravine in front of the Third Division halted after through the narrow belt of timber behind which we had formed, as the trees, brush and terrible shelling had broken the lines and the advanced men where I was laid down to avoid the storm of shells which filled the air till the men got together, which they soon largely did. It was here found the Second Brigade on my right had excusably gone to pieces, the ground in its front being untenable, which caused some delay; but soon we advanced alone without that Brigade, as did the Nineteenth Corps. This was why the Tenth Vermont or guiding regiment, at this time where I was, didn't move forward sooner. The bend to the left in the road is largely a myth. The line of battle wasn't formed at right angles with it which, as the line advanced led to some confusion, as our colors had to be kept on the pike. There was no counter charge in front of where I was in the Tenth Vermont or disorganization, except in the Second Brigade, but what was soon remedied. The enemy could do more effective work by remaining in cover with little loss, which it did.

“At length the commander of the Brigade at our right crossed to our side of the road and urged us to set his men the example. Col. Warner took the responsibility, brought the Brigade to its feet, corrected the alignment, and gave the command to advance, which was promptly obeyed. The Third Division followed and the line was again in motion. But our point of direction was lost, for we were in advance of our guides, and when it was seen that owing to a curve in the ravine before us the cover on its further side could be reached much sooner by obliquing sharply to the left, we took that direction almost by common consent, and left the road-side.”

Why shouldn't Col. Warner with virtually no enemy in his immediate front be able to set an example of advancing his line when the Third Division was up against the real thing, it being confronted with overwhelming numbers of the enemy's infantry in the ravine and artillery back of it in our immediate front pretty much all that confronted the army in that midday assault? The situation in front of our lines is fully explained in this work elsewhere, and an alleged “bend” in the road or a “curve” in the ravine will not suffice to excuse the troops on our immediate left for not at once helping to flank the enemy's infantry from in front of us in the ravine, at once when on high ground across the ravine instead of running off on the field on a comparatively useless easy task and then have to come back. Where was there any infantry of any amount except in the ravine in front of the Third Division? Why not give the Third Division its due? The killed and wounded tell the story. Didn't our Division have about as many killed and wounded as both the First and Second Divisions together, although smaller than either? No fair-minded soldier or person can study the illustrations even, in this work, and fail to see the facts.

“Our whole Brigade, every man at the top of his speed, making for the coveted protection of the hill beyond us, plunged pell mell into the hollow. The troops at our right and left were lost sight of. The ravine was of some considerable width and its bottom was marshy, being the head waters of a little branch of Abraham Creek. The steep slope on its further side was covered with evergreens six or eight feet high. To our intense consternation, as we reached its swampy bottom, we saw at our right, at short pistol range, at least a full regiment of the enemy drawn up in line near the point where the road crosses the hollow, in anticipation of our taking precisely the course we did, and firing coolly, as rapidly as they could load, directly along our line, thus enfilading us completely. Its position is indicated on the plan. The slaughter was for a few moments murderous. We could not retreat, for we should again enter the fire that had been mowing us down in the charge, now cut off by the hill before us. We therefore floundered on, our coherence entirely lost, entered the clusters of evergreens through which the cruel bullets whistled fearfully, and at last, a confused mass at best, those of us who escaped unhurt reached comparative safety under the very crest of the hill, and high above the deadly hollow.”

The probabilities are that old soldier-like seeing or suspecting the true situation, the men intuitively or purposely obliqued away to an easier place of attack; at any rate they did it. Yes, the rebel regiment which was seen in the ravine was in front of the left of our brigade, but crossed to the north side of the pike to my front early in the fight leaving no rebel force in the ravine south of the pike in front of the Second Division on the left of ours.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 180-6

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Saturday, July 9, 1864

We left Frederick under the cover of darkness last night, and after marching a round-about way which took nearly all night, brought up at Frederick Junction, about three miles away on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, where on a ridge of hills skirting the Monocacy river probably on an average eighty feet high more or less across and on the east side of the river opposite the junction the railroad steel and Georgetown turnpike covered wooden bridges, the latter of which we burnt early in the day to keep the enemy from crossing — we formed line of battle in a naturally strong position about 7 o'clock a. m. probably about three miles long. The river was virtually crescent-shaped opposite the Third Division with the concave side towards Frederick, but a little way above the railroad bridge ran northwesterly for fully six miles or more, it being about three miles distant from the Baltimore pike stone bridge northeasterly from Frederick, and the same distance southeasterly to the Georgetown pike wooden bridge. A skirmish line of two hundred and seventy-five enlisted men and three officers was established as soon as practicable under the command of Maj. C. G. Chandler. It was also crescent-shaped with the convex side also towards Frederick with its flanks resting practically on the river. Captain C. J. Brown and two hundred enlisted men were from General E. B. Tyler's command, and Major C. G. Chandler, First Lieut. G. E. Davis and seventy-five enlisted men were from General J. B. Rickett's Third Division of the Sixth Corps, the latter officers, — Davis and Chandler, — being from the Tenth Vermont. Here we waited for the enemy to approach. We didn't have long to wait for soon the whole country across the Monocacy was alive with Johnnies who attacked us with overwhelming numbers about 8 o'clock a. m. and kept it up till about 5 o'clock p. m.

It was a brilliant little fight on our part, although when we formed line we were much depressed for we knew we were greatly outnumbered. General E. B. Tyler guarded the Baltimore pike stone bridge with a goodly portion of his command, and Crum's Ford with three companies of Colonel Gilpin's regiment of the Potomac Home Brigade. At first three pieces of Captain Alexander's Battery were given General Ricketts who protected the railroad bridge and Georgetown pike, and three pieces were given General Tyler but later only one piece. The left of our main line was refused or bent back just north of the Thomas house, Colonel Clendenin's squadron of cavalry being far to our left. Our infantry left ran along the Georgetown turnpike which led to the wooden bridge burnt early in the morning to keep the enemy from crossing. The pike runs as a whole from the river about southeast forming an obtuse angle with it, and it was along it which runs through a slight cut here, which formed an excellent natural breastwork, Company D of Burlington, Vt, and two other companies of the Tenth Vermont were stretched out fully a quarter of a mile or more under Major E. Dillingham of our regiment his right being near the junction of the Georgetown pike and the Urbana road. It was little more than an attenuated skirmish line but nevertheless the main line of battle. The command of Company D fell to me as Lieut. G. E. Davis was on the skirmish line. It was an anxious time for having little faith in our cavalry I feared a cavalry charge from the enemy down the pike to my left, as a sharp cavalry skirmish had occurred here when this part of the field had been first occupied by our forces in the morning before my arrival. The skirmishers in my front were very busy, too, exchanging shots with the enemy's skirmishers till the first assault by the enemy in the afternoon about 2 o'clock on the east side of the river which was a brilliant one. The enemy in strong force had forded the river a goodly distance south of us, left its horses out of sight and appeared from the edge of the woods on top of a high hill bordering the river about three-quarters of a mile away to the south in solid lines which moved in double time down the long green sloping open field in perfect order all the while shouting their ominous defiant battle cry. It was General McCausland's Brigade of dismounted cavalry in two lines; and let me say right here that if this was an average sized brigade in Early's army then half the truth as to its numbers has not been told. I could see this assaulting column being nearest to it probably, better than any other officer on the field, and know whereof I write.

The long swaying lines of grey in perfect cadence with glistening guns and brasses, and above all the proudly borne but to us hated banner of the Confederacy with its stars and bars, was a spectacle rarely surpassed in the bright sunlight of a perfect summer day. I for one looked on the scene with mingled feelings of bitterness, dread and awe, for they were so far away there was nothing else to do. As soon as they first appeared on the hill all firing largely ceased in my front on the skirmish lines and everything was as hushed later save the indistinct distant battle cry of the enemy as on a Sabbath day even the men looking at the spectacle in silent awe for apparently the enemy which greatly outnumbered us, was making directly for our part of the line. On, on, they came down the long slope, through a wide little valley out of sight every moment seeming an age until finally they appeared about a half mile away still in excellent order when they slightly changed direction to their left along the hills near the river which greatly relieved my anxiety inasmuch as we wouldn't have to bear the brunt of the attack; but a suspicion of being cut off from the rest of the line and captured, which I feared a little later, made the situation still more trying. On they came, swaying first one way and then another, keeping us in breathless suspense, but determined to hold our ground as long as possible when the shock of battle should come. Finally as they got near enough to be shelled our artillery opened on them to our right and then the infantry supporting it when the enemy's lines wavered and broke and they were temporarily repulsed until reinforced.1 I was then ordered with Company D about a half mile more or less to my right nearer the left centre of our line from the railroad to support with others four or more guns of Alexander's battery, in a sharp artillery duel with the enemy across the Monocacy in which First Lieutenant C. E. Evans, an unassuming, quiet officer, but good fighter, took an active part and did excellent work, together with Second Lieutenant P. Leary — now Brigadier-General U. S. A., retired — of that battery. It was here, too, that I was painfully wounded by an exploding shell from the enemy on the tip of the right hip bone. It was so bad that Major J. A. Salsbury of my regiment advised me to go to Colonel Henry for permission to go to the rear as it was well known that soon the Union forces would have to hastily retreat as the enemy had crossed the Monocacy river on both flanks and were fast surrounding our intrepid little force with overwhelming numbers, which, when the order came to retreat meant a rapid one and Salsbury, an elderly man, did not think me in condition to keep from being captured.

Knowing that every one who possibly could should remain on the fighting line in such a vital emergency as the possible loss of the National Capital, and especially an officer, for the effect such an example would have on the men, and being the only officer with and in command of my Company, I declined to ask for such permission. Major Salsbury rather emphatically in effect replied: “If you don't go and ask Colonel Henry for permission to go to the rear, I shall go myself!” and he did. Before he returned, the whole limb having been numbed by the shock produced by the shell, the reaction had caused excruciating pain, especially at the sensitive point where the glancing butt end of a shell in full flight had mangled the flesh and turned it black and blue for several inches around.2 It was the sensitive end of the hip bone, however, which afterwards affected the whole limb producing with age numbness especially in the toes and heel of the foot and of the whole limb when on horseback scouting for Indians after the Civil War, which disability was one of the principal causes of my retirement from active service in the regular army in 1885, that was most affected. Lying on the ground with blanched face and clenched teeth to keep from crying out with pain, which pride prevented, Major Salsbury returned, and to my amusement, even in such circumstances, jerkily took the position of a soldier, saluted his junior officer, then a Second Lieutenant, who was still lying on the ground in great distress, in the most respectful and dignified way saying, disappointedly, sympathetically and snappishly, for obvious reasons, with an anxious look: “Colonel Henry has denied my request!” or to that effect.

While these events were transpiring, First Lieutenant G. E. Davis, of Company D, Tenth Vermont, who after Captain Samuel Darrah of that Company — a most intrepid fighter, — was killed at Cold Harbor, had commanded Company D, but was now in command of the skirmish line on the opposite or west side of the Monocacy River where he so ably directed, fought and finally withdrew it with so much dash,—he and some of his men sensationally escaping by running along the ties under fire across the open railroad bridge forty feet above the water, Private Thomas O'Brien of Company D, Tenth Vermont, falling through the bridge into the river and escaping,—as to attract the attention of General Lew Wallace, and thereby won lasting fame and was also awarded a Medal of Honor later on. For some reason Major C. G. Chandler had left his command, when it fell to Captain C. J. Brown, the next in rank, who, being inexperienced, and the skirmishers in a hot place and hard pressed, sensibly relinquished his command to Lieutenant Davis who had had more experience, and thus had enviable fame and valor most dramatically forced upon him, although he was grandly equal to the emergency.

Within a very short time after I was wounded the valiant little command was in places virtually cutting its way through the enemy's lines, which almost completely enveloped it, in full retreat. It was during this time that one of the color guard, Corporal Alexander Scott, a brave and efficient soldier of the same Company (D, of Burlington), who was retreating near me under a hot fusilade of shot and shell, saved the regimental colors from capture for which he deservedly afterwards, partly on my recommendation, received a Medal of Honor. But I did not take to being captured as some who were even able-bodied did, and hobbled away. Feeling piqued, however, because not allowed to go sooner to the rear from the battlefield in my maimed condition — although I would not have gone anyway, but wanted permission because I thought I deserved it, as up to that time I had never asked to do so in any battle — still I made no complaint to anyone afterwards, but stubbornly, grieved and in constant pain, marched with my command all night and the following day to the Relay House, near Baltimore, bathing the wound occasionally en route with cool water from a friendly well or running stream as I passed, which was a great relief. But my feelings were greatly wounded at the lack of consideration received, as I thought, from Colonel Henry. As my pride got the best of my judgment I have suffered in consequence ever since. Had I ridden instead of marched, it would have at least saved a game leg and hip of undue strain and possibly from disappointing results afterwards, for had I been in active service at the breaking out of the Spanish-American war, as I would have been but for this wound, it goes without saying that I would then have been given high rank with others of my rank at that time and in the end retired from active service with the rank any way of Major-General.

Owing to a greatly superior force we were obliged to fall back in disorder having eleven officers and five hundred and forty enlisted men captured and leaving most of our wounded and dead on the field.

For some unaccountable reason the three regiments of the Second Brigade mentioned in this diary yesterday as not having arrived were detained at Monrovia, Md., a station on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad about eight miles east of Monocacy and were not in the fight. If they had been, I believe we could have stood the enemy off even longer than we did, and Early might not think of appearing before Washington — though this is doubtful — which he may now do. I cannot understand though, why veteran troops should have been kept in reserve if such was the case in such a contingency—the capital of the nation being in jeopardy — instead of hundred days' men or in fact any force whatever. It seems to me that in case they were not kept in reserve purposely by competent authority, someone should be court-martialed and punished, let it fall where it may, and that General Lew Wallace should insist upon it in justice to himself and to the gallant men who so valiantly fought of the Third Division as to hold an enemy so greatly outnumbering us at bay for almost an entire day.3

If General Lee knew the facts in the premises it would not redound to General Early's military valor, genius or judgment so far as his conduct of this battle is concerned, any way. He ought to have driven us from the field at once, and would with his usual dash. Had he done so, he might capture Washington and may now if other troops haven't been sent from the Army of the Potomac, but I'm sure they have. The enemy is estimated at 20,000 strong. At any rate it is many times our size as I could see it from a hilltop where I was during a part of the battle. We are falling back over the pike to the Relay House.

General Early says in his “Memoirs” in regard to this fight: “McCausland, crossing the river with his brigade, dismounted his men and advanced rapidly against the enemy's left flank, which he threw into confusion, but he was then gradually forced back. McCausland's movement, which was brilliantly executed, solved the problem for me, and orders were sent to Breckenridge to move up rapidly with Gordon's Division to McCausland's assistance, and, striking the enemy's left, drive him from the position commanding the crossings in Ramseur's front, so that the latter might cross. The Division crossed under the personal superintendence of General Breckenridge, and, while Ramseur skirmished with the enemy in front,” — which didn't deceive us at all — “the attack was made by Gordon in gallant style, and with the aid of several pieces of King's artillery, which had been crossed over, and Nelson's artillery from the opposite side, he threw the enemy into great confusion and forced him from his position, Ramseur immediately crossed on the railroad bridge and pursued the enemy's flying forces; and Rhodes crossed on the left and joined in the pursuit. Between six hundred and seven hundred unwounded prisoners fell into their hands, and the enemy's loss in killed and wounded was very heavy. Our loss in killed and wounded was about seven hundred. The action closed about sunset.”

According to General Grant's “Memoirs,” Early's command at this time consisted of four divisions or twenty brigades, composed of the very sinew or hardened veterans made so from the constant fighting of sixty-five depleted regiments of infantry, three brigades of cavalry and three battalions of artillery since the commencement of the war. It must be taken into consideration, too, that the corps, divisions and brigades of the Confederate army were just as big again when its army was reorganized in 1863, as ours. The foregoing does not include the brigades of infantry composing Breckenridge's division as its composition is unknown to me, but all of which confronted us on some part of the field together with the other foregoing mentioned organizations. At one time we were fighting in our two fronts to our left center, facing southerly and westerly, forty-five infantry regiments and more, McCausland's brigade of dismounted cavalry, and several pieces if not all of Nelson's and King's artillery either on one side of the river or the other; fourteen of which infantry regiments were with Ramseur on our west front across the river and thirty-one with Gordon in our south front near the Thomas house on the east side of the river behind which a line of McCausland's dismounted cavalry was formed by Gordon, after it was defeated in its first assault.

Although General Early admits that it took until about sunset to fairly dispose of us, it being then mid-summer when the days are about the longest of the year, what he says as a whole, in some respects is misleading. He did not at once rout us as soon as Gordon's assault commenced at about 3 o'clock p. m. as even with the help of McCausland's brigade and Nelson's and King's artillery he was repulsed, when he says himself he asked twice that another brigade be sent him from the west side of the river and even then after getting it he was held in check some time when, General Rhodes having forced a crossing on our right at or near the Baltimore pike, and having to weaken our line at the railroad bridge to reinforce our line in front of Gordon, we were so weak that a retreat was ordered, being fast surrounded, but we didn't give up until told to. The Ninth Regiment of New York Heavy Artillery, one Hundred and Sixth, One Hundred and Tenth, One Hundred and Twenty-sixth and One Hundred and Fifty-first Regiments of New York Infantry, and the Fourteenth New Jersey not being fortunate as was the Tenth Vermont in finding natural breastworks in their front at first, their casualties were larger than in the other regiments or at least than in the Tenth Vermont. General Tyler's command lost one officer and fourteen enlisted men killed, four officers and seventy-nine enlisted men wounded, seven officers and one hundred and sixteen enlisted men were captured or missing, making a total of two hundred and twenty-one casualties all told in that command. Early levied a contribution of $200,000 on Frederick, burnt Governor Bradford's suburban residence, Postmaster-General Blair's home at Silver Springs, in the suburbs of Washington, D. C, and later Chambersburg and Williamsport, as well as other small places which did not pay tribute in money.

General Gordon, when speaking of this fight to a survivor on the Union side afterwards, stated that it was one of the hardest fights he saw during the war and he was in many, many of them. A division of his command and McCausland's brigade confronted six or more regiments of the Third Division, including the Tenth Vermont, and still the enemy here had to be reinforced. Let us hope that Time, our kindliest and truest friend in all things but One, will yet place the brilliant little Battle of the Monocacy in history before the world as it belongs.

General Grant in his “Personal Memoirs” makes this interesting reference to Monocacy: “The force under General Wallace was small in numbers to move against Early. The situation in Washington was precarious. Wallace moved with commendable promptitude and met the enemy at Monocacy. He could hardly have expected to gain a victory, but hoped to cripple and delay the enemy until Washington could be put in a state of preparation to meet Early. With Rickett's Division at Monocacy on time, Wallace succeeded in stopping Early for the day on which the battle took place.

“The next morning Early started on his march to the capital of the Nation, arriving before it on the 11th. Learning of the gravity of the situation, I ordered Meade to send the other two Divisions of the Sixth Corps to Washington for the relief of the city. The latter reached there the very day that Early arrived before it. The Nineteenth Corps, under General Emory, arrived in Washington from Fort Monroe about the same time.

"Early made his reconnoissance with the view of attacking the city on the 12th, but the next morning he found intrenchments fully manned. He commenced to retreat, with the Sixth Corps following. There is no telling how much this result was contributed to by General Lew Wallace's leading at Monocacy what might well have been considered almost a forlorn hope. If Early had been but one day sooner, he might have entered the capital before the arrival of the forces I had sent there.

“Whether the delay caused by the battle amounted to a day or not, General Wallace contributed on this occasion a greater benefit to the cause than often falls to the lot of a commander of an equal force to render by means of a victory.”

One would get the impression from the foregoing, that the whole of Rickett's Division was engaged at Monocacy. It was not. Two and a half regiments or more, I was credibly informed at the time and have been since, was in a train of cars eight miles to the rear as before stated. The reason for this, it was said, was because the engineer refused to go with the train any nearer the front; but, if so, why not have marched, or better still, have compelled the engineer at the point of a bayonet and loaded gun to have taken the train to the front? Surely the commanding officer of that force could not have been a model soldier or man of force, and much less an ardent, devoted patriot, in this instance.

According to Dr. E. M. Haynes’ History of the Tenth Vermont, the Union loss in killed, wounded and missing in this fight was 1,294, of which 1,072 were of Rickett's Third Division of the Sixth Corps. There were eleven officers and five hundred and forty-nine enlisted men taken prisoners, thirty-five officers and five hundred and seventy-five enlisted men wounded and ten officers and one hundred and thirteen enlisted men killed. Early mentions the killed and wounded of his command in his official report as “about” seven hundred, which was about the same as ours, showing when the strength of the two commands is taken into consideration, about three to one, how desperately our force contested every inch of ground at Monocacy in this fight. The Third Division lost fully one-fourth or more of its men engaged. General Ricketts, one of the best fighting generals in the army and much beloved by his men, commanded the Third Division, Sixth Corps and was second in command to General Wallace of all the forces there.

The Battle of the Monocacy for obvious reasons, was one of the most stubbornly contested fights and the most important in its result of any I was in during the war. It is remarkable when it is taken into consideration that the Union force of about 5,850 men — of whom about 2,500 had never fired a gun in real battle — and seven pieces of artillery, with no trains or reserve ammunition of any kind, not even a newspaper reporter, so suddenly by reason of Early's invasion had everything come about, could fight from 8 o'clock a. m. to 5 o'clock p. m., a force of from 15,000 to 20,000 of Lee's veterans, and about forty pieces of field artillery with plenty of ammunition, under such a dashing, strategic commander as General Early. But through the grace of God, it is thought he was over-cautious in this fight; he had lost his accustomed dash. It will ever be a disputed point, however, exactly how many men Early had, as twenty-five years after the battle General Lomax who was in it under Early, informed me that many of Early's organizations had been so reduced from constant fighting in the summer's campaign, that even regiments with but few men left were commanded by non-commissioned officers who made no morning reports and that the exact strength of Early's force was unknown. Lomax placed it under 13,000 all told, but I think it was more.

Great credit is due General Wallace for his excellent judgment in his selection of a battlefield, as but for that to have fought against such odds, whatever it was, would have been folly outside the strong fortifications of Washington; but Baltimore had to be protected, too, which necessitated the Battle of the Monocacy. Wallace should have been commended in orders and thanked by Congress for his splendid judgment and pluck to confront such an overwhelming force as well as for the indirect benefits which resulted from his having had the intrepidity to undertake, from a purely military viewpoint, as Grant says "almost a forlorn hope"; but instead of this he was ignominiously treated by General Halleck because Wallace's command had not accomplished an impossibility, it is presumed, by defeating Early. It should be vigorously resented in history by every honest, fair-minded man who is an advocate of fair play, and especially by the surviving members of that intrepid little army, discredited by General Halleck by his treatment of Wallace, the stubbornness of which army, according to General Gordon's official report of the fight, caused the waters of the Monocacy to run red with the mingled blood of the blue and the gray on that memorable day when it fought not only to save the National Capital, but to prevent the disastrous moral and other effects its loss would have produced, and the comfort it would have given to northern copperheads, allies of the Confederacy, and especially to the enemy wherever found. If Washington had fallen into the hands of the enemy, even though only temporarily, at this time, it would of course have been sacked and its public buildings destroyed; Grant's plan of campaign, even if it hadn't put an end to his military career, might have been changed, the Confederacy might possibly have been recognized by foreign powers — for it is no small matter for an enemy to occupy a belligerent's capital — and the war might have been somewhat prolonged, if nothing more.

The ovation given that part of Rickett's Division of the famous historic fighting Sixth Corps, which bore the brunt of the Monocacy infantry fighting, as it marched up Pennsylvania Avenue a few days later, and especially the bullet, shell, weather-beaten and battle-torn flags of the Tenth Vermont, as they appeared along the line of march, is a proud and pleasant memory never to be forgotten. It was the event of the day, no other regiment within hearing, receiving such a continuous and noisy reception. It will go with the men of that most excellent regiment throughout eternity; it was a proud day. The regiment had been one of the most valiant of some nine or more in the Monocacy fight to save the capital; it was known in Washington and it was pleasant to feel the city understood and appreciated it. It has never been thought, though, by the survivors of the command who fought in the Monocacy battle that the general public did appreciate, or has since appreciated it, as a defeat is generally looked upon as a disaster and with discredit; but indirectly in this case it was a great victory, one of the most important of the war for obvious reasons aside from having saved the National Capital, as without the delay of a day or more, caused by this fight, Early certainly would have found no veteran troops to defend the city, for even as it was some of them had to double quick through the city — a fact not before given in history it is believed — into line of battle just north of it at Fort Stevens from the transports which had brought them from in front of Petersburg to fight Early whose appearance before the city they were just in season to confront with hardly a moment to spare. Says Hon. L. E. Chittenden, Registrar of the Treasury in his “Recollections of President Lincoln and his Administration”: “The importance of a battle is determined by its ultimate consequences rather than its immediate results. If that fought on the Monocacy did delay General Early so as to save the capital from his assault and probable capture, it was one of the decisive battles of the world.”4 Thus we have the matter summed up here in barely two sentences for it did delay Early just enough to save the capital.

This was forty years ago this 9th day of July, 1904, when many of the survivors, including myself, have been celebrating the anniversary of the Monocacy fight at Frederick, Md., and on the battlefield; and even now old department clerks who largely formed the Home Guard in 1864, and were in the trenches in front of Washington when Early approached the city, mention with wonder the apparent indifference and yet alertness with which the veteran Sixth Corps skirmish line double quicked from in front of the works to meet and repulse Early's advance. They did it in a matter of fact way, it seemed to the clerks, as though going to the drill ground in time of peace for manoeuvres. Those were days though, when we fought with clenched teeth, and learned to smother our emotions. We had no time to growl over rations, as in the Spanish-American War, in more recent times, and did not murmur if at times we got but a hard tack a day and nothing else and most of the men not even that, as at Mine Run, and many other places. We were in the field to preserve the Union and to eliminate the National parasite of human slavery, and constant fighting had taught every man who from conscientious motives could always be found when well, on the fighting line and nowhere else, exactly what to do under most circumstances; and hence, they were generally cool having thoroughly learned the science of war.
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1 It was here that General Early mentions in his “Personal Memoirs” of this battle, an extract from which will be found further along, that he had to send General Gordon's Division to reinforce McCausland under the superintendence of General Breckenridge, etc. This was what kept us waiting so long after McCausland's repulse, it took so long to get reinforcements across the river. It was the desperate fighting here, too, where there were three or more separate assaults, that years afterwards drew forth an acknowledgment from Gordon that It was one of the hardest fights he had ever been in or to that effect, and that it caused the waters of the Monocacy to run red with the mingled blood of the blue and the gray.

2 As time and history has developed other facts in connection with this battle and this wound, it is fitting that the facts should be introduced here, which will be the case from this time on in the case of battles.

3 Colonel J. W. Keifer of the Second Brigade says in his official report of this battle that the regiments at Monrovia were unnecessarily detained by Colonel J. F. Staunton. — See Haynes’ History Tenth Regiment Vermont Infantry.

4 Haynes’ History of the Tenth Regiment Vermont Infantry.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 98-118

Friday, August 21, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, August 13, 1862

On Picket Near Culpepper,
August 13, 1862.

At last I believe I have a chance to write you an account of our doings during the last few days, and to relieve all your anxiety about myself. Last week Wednesday, our army corps marched from Washington, making about fourteen miles under a terribly hot sun; the next day, we went on five miles further to Hazel River. Friday night we made a moonlight march to Culpepper. Saturday morning, we started away again at ten o'clock towards the Rapidan River, leaving everything behind us, knapsacks and all, taking only two days' rations and plenty of ammunition.
We were ordered to the front to support General Crawford's brigade; following our brigade was General Augur's division, consisting of two small brigades, the whole making up Banks' army corps; we formed line of battle about six miles from Culpepper in a very strong position, our brigade on the right and Augur's division on the left. Nothing occurred until about half-past three in the afternoon, when a cannonading gradually began, increasing every minute until our entire left became engaged. From our position, we could see all that was taking place, and it was a sight that I shall never forget, to see two lines of infantry gradually approach each other across an almost level plain, both under a heavy artillery fire. As they drew near enough, we could see them exchange volley after volley of musketry; then everything became enveloped in smoke and we could see only whether our line advanced or retreated by watching the colors. It was easy to see that the men were falling fast by the constant lines of ambulances that we saw going and returning from the field.

About five o'clock, Crawford's brigade moved up in front of us and became engaged. The firing of musketry now became tremendous. We could see nothing of it in front on account of an intervening bill. At about six o'clock, our brigade (Second Massachusetts, Third Wisconsin, and Twenty-seventh Indiana), was ordered up on the double quick to relieve Crawford, his brigade having been literally cut to pieces by the terrible fire of the rebels. After going about a mile over the hardest kind of swampy and wooded ground, we reached the edge of the woods and came under fire. We marched steadily along, our whole flank being exposed, and took a position behind a low rail fence, the men being ordered to lie down. I will give you an idea of how things stood at the time. General Augur's division had been obliged to fall back to their original position and was now disengaged. Of General Crawford's brigade which went into the fight two thousand strong, twelve hundred had been killed, wounded or taken prisoners; the small remainder was rallying at some distance from the field, so there was nothing left to fight the rebels with but our three small regiments. Crawford met with his great loss in charging across the open field lying between the woods. General Gordon was ordered by Banks to do the same thing with our brigade; Gordon protested against it as an impossibility without supports, and finally gained his point.

At first, we sustained a fire from the rebels only in the woods, which was not very severe, but soon the enemy made their appearance in an oblique line and commenced a cross fire which was perfectly fearful. The Twenty-seventh Indiana gave way almost at once; the Third Wisconsin stood it nobly and did not fall back until the enemy was almost in their rear. In our regiment, not a shot was fired until Colonel Andrews gave the order “Commence firing!” which was not until the rebels were within two or three hundred yards of us. The effect was tremendous; we actually tore great gaps through their ranks, and their whole right was wavering; if we could have had any support at that time, we might have charged and driven their line like sheep, but that wasn't in Banks' programme. Meanwhile, the roar of musketry was perfectly deafening; the noise of the bullets through the air was like a gale of wind; our poor men were dropping on every side, yet not one of them flinched but kept steadily at his work.

Sergeant Willis of my company (I forgot to say I was in command of Company I), who was acting first sergeant, stood directly in front of me; he received a ball in his head and fell back into my arms saying, “Lieutenant, I'm killed!” and almost instantly died; he was a very handsome young fellow, and as he expired his face had a beautifully calm expression. I laid him down gently on the ground beside me and had hardly done so, when one of my corporals named Pierson, who was touching me on the left, was shot almost in the same place, but not killed. It is impossible to relate all the incidents that took place; it seemed as if only a miracle could save any one. I received two bullets through my trousers, but wasn't scratched. Colonel Andrews was splendid! He kept riding from one end of the line to the other, giving his orders coolly, as if on drill; his horse was wounded twice.

I never was more surprised in my life than when I heard the order to retreat. I did not know what had taken place on our right, and could not understand what it was for. With Lieutenant Abbott's assistance, I managed to help Lieutenant Oakey off the field to the hospital; he was quite severely wounded. Our regiment formed behind the hospital, about a quarter of a mile from the field, the rest of the brigade joining us. It was not until I saw the regiment in line that I began to appreciate our loss. Major Savage had been left severely wounded on the field; Captain Abbott, dead; Captains Carey, Goodwin, Williams and Quincy, Lieutenants Perkins and Miller, wounded and left behind; Lieutenants Robeson, Grafton, Oakey, Browning and Surgeon Leland, wounded and brought off, and Captain Russell missing, and our regimental line was not more than half its usual length. The only officers left were Andrews, Adjutant Shelton, Captain Bangs, Lieutenants Pattison, Choate, Fox, Abbott and myself. Our colors, those which the Boston ladies gave us, had five bullet holes through them; the eagle was shot off and the staff was shot through by a minié ball, splintering it into two pieces; our color-bearer, Sergeant George, brought off the whole of it. This is the second flag we have had honorably used up in battle.

Soon after forming our second line, I was detailed by the Colonel to go to the hospital to take charge of sending off the wounded. A house with quite a large yard had been taken for hospital use; the scene in and about it was very painful. Soldiers lying in all directions, with every variety of wounds. I took hold and worked hard, loading the ambulances, for about an hour, when our regiment moved and I was ordered to join it.

Our brigade now took up a position on the left of the line of battle, to do picket duty, Ricketts' division being on the right. Our sentinels were close to the rebels and we had continual skirmishes throughout the night. We had one man killed, and took several of the rebel cavalry prisoners. Once the enemy crept down on us, as they did that night at Newtown, and poured a volley over us, which, luckily, was too high and did no harm. Morning came at last, after, to tell the truth, a pretty nervous, disagreeable night. Daylight showed us that large reinforcements had arrived and that we were now in a condition to fight, but the day wore on, still no attack was made by the enemy. Banks' division was in reserve.

The battle I do not consider a victory to either side; we held our original position and they theirs, the ground between being neutral. Our brigade was withdrawn from the field about noon and bivouacked in a wood near by. I was sent into Culpepper on official business for Colonel Andrews. The town seemed to be one great hospital, every hotel and private house, almost, being used for that purpose. I saw Robeson, Grafton, Oakey and Browning; they were all suffering considerably from want of attention; the first is wounded in the wrist, the second in the forehead, the third in the hip, and last in the thigh, a very severe, dangerous wound. I got back to camp early in the evening. Soon after, Lieutenant Abbott, Mr. Quint and a burial party, left for the battle field to perform the last duties for our poor men. Abbott returned early in the morning and brought the shocking and sad intelligence that Captains Abbott, Carey, Goodwin and Williams and Lieutenant Perkins, were lying dead on the field, and that a number of our wounded were still there. I was sent right off with all our ambulances to the field. The scene there was too awful to attempt to describe; very few of the dead had been buried, and they were lying thick in every direction. Captain Carey had lived nearly twenty-four hours and looked as natural as if alive.

I had the bodies of all the officers put into the ambulances and sent them back to the regiment; the wounded also were all cared for. I then went over to the rebel lines with Bob Shaw, under a flag of truce, to see what could be heard of Harry Russell, the Major, Captain Quincy and Lieutenant Miller. We met some very pleasant rebel officers who were very gentlemanly and kind, and found out from them and some other sources, that Russell was unhurt and a prisoner, Quincy and Miller wounded and prisoners; we managed to get some money to Savage and Russell.

Our loss, as it stood yesterday morning, was as follows:—

  5 Commissioned officers killed,
8 wounded,
  1 prisoner.

25 Enlisted men killed,
97 wounded,
33 missing.

30 killed,
106 Wounded,
34 missing,
Total 169.*

We carried into action twenty-two commissioned officers and four hundred and seventy-four enlisted men, a little more than one out of three meeting with some casualty. In Company I, there are, one sergeant killed, one sergeant wounded, one corporal wounded, nine privates wounded and one missing. Yesterday afternoon, Banks' army corps moved back to Colpepper to reorganize. I was sent out on picket immediately after arriving last night, and am taking the opportunity to write this long letter. I have not had my clothes off since last Thursday night, so you can imagine I am not very pretty to look at. I am a full-fledged Captain now, and have got my commission. I shall be assigned to Company B, if possible.

Poor Captain Williams! I saw him standing perfectly erect only a few minutes before he was shot, and ran over and spoke to him. His was the next company to mine. He will be a great loss to us all.
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* The actual loss was 58 killed and mortally wounded, 101 wounded, 15 prisoners not wounded. Total loss 174.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 75-81

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, December 13, 1864

December 13, 1864

As the Rebels have known the fact for some time, and as the newspapers have hinted at it in unmistakable terms, I conceive there is no impropriety in my saying that we have now with us the 6th Corps once again. A week ago Sunday night the first division came from City Point on the cars, having come straight from the neighborhood of Winchester by car and boat. The next morning we were treated to the sight of the familiar red crosses, and soon General Wheaton rode up, to see the General and report. . . . Very loath were the Sixth Corps bucks to leave the valley (where they had plenty of sheep and chickens and victories, and no fighting except in the regular battles), and come to a place with which they only connected more or less fighting, day and night (rather more than less), much dust, heat, and drought, and no particular victories. However, they find things better now, and will doubtless get contented in time. What must have gratified them was that they relieved Crawford's division of the 5th Corps, on the line, and took possession of their very nice log huts, which had been carefully constructed uniformly in all the brigades. Crawford's people by no means saw the thing in the same light. They took down their canvas roofs and rolled them up with dudgeon, and marched off to take a temporary camp, previous to the Weldon road expedition. I rode along the breastworks as the red crosses marched into the deserted camps, and observed the aspect of grim satisfaction with which the new comers went about, looking into the abandoned huts. The luxurious Crawford had his nice log cabin taken down and carted to his new locality. “However,” said Wheaton, “I slept in Crawford's kitchen, and that was good enough for me.” On Tuesday came the 3d division, also with a new commander, for brave General Ricketts lies at Washington, still suffering from his wound; and General Seymour, he who was taken the second day of the Wilderness, has the command. Seymour is a fiery and irrepressible sort of party, and enraged the inhabitants of Charlottesville beyond measure. When they told him they had had most extraordinary victories over Grant, he made them a speech, in which he said it didn't make any sort of difference how many victories they had, it wouldn't do them any sort of good; that in every battle we killed off a good many of them, and that we intended to keep piling up men indefinitely, until they knocked under, or were all shot! This enraged them much, and they invited him to air himself for sixteen miles on foot, after it.  . . . It was only last Monday that the 2d division got here, under Getty, and with it came General Wright, commanding the corps. Good General Wright, though always pleasant, is, I think rather in low spirits. He has had poor luck, on numerous occasions, and it culminated at Cedar Creek, where he chanced to have command of the army when it was surprised. He had rallied it, when Sheridan arrived on the field; but of course Sheridan had the credit of the victory, and indeed he deserved it. All the officers say that Wright made prodigious exertions and rode along all parts of the line in the hottest fire.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 298-300

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Diary of Gideon Welles: Thursday, September 4, 1862

City full of rumors and but little truth in any of them.

Wilkes laid before me his plan for organizing the Potomac Flotilla. It is systematic and exhibits capacity.

Something energetic must be done in regard to the suspected privateers which, with the connivance of British authorities, are being sent out to depredate on our commerce. We hear that our new steamer, the Adirondack, is wrecked. She had been sent to watch the Bahama Channel. Her loss, the discharge of the Oreto by the courts of Nassau, and the arrival of Steamer 290,1 both piratical British wolves, demand attention, although we have no vessels to spare from the blockade. Must organize a flying squadron, as has been suggested, and put Wilkes in command. Both the President and Seward request he should go on this service.

When with the President this A.M., heard Pope read his statement of what had taken place in Virginia during the last few weeks, commencing at or before the battle of Cedar Mountain. It was not exactly a bulletin nor a report, but a manifesto, a narrative, tinged with wounded pride and a keen sense of injustice and wrong. The draft, he said, was rough. It certainly needs modifying before it goes out, or there will be war among the generals, who are now more ready to fight each other than the enemy. No one was present but the President, Pope, and myself. I remained by special request of both to hear the report read. Seward came in for a moment, but immediately left. He shuns these controversies and all subjects where he is liable to become personally involved. I have no doubt Stanton and Chase have seen the paper, and Seward, through Stanton, knows its character.

Pope and I left together and walked to the Departments. He declares all his misfortunes are owing to the persistent determination of McClellan, Franklin, and Porter, aided by Ricketts, Griffin, and some others who were predetermined he should not be successful. They preferred, he said, that the country should be ruined rather than he should triumph.
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1 The cruiser Alabama.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 109-10

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, October 2, 1864

October 2, 1864

. . . The Washington boat was much in the style of the other — rather worse and more crowded, people and freight similar. There were more Christian Commissioners, who were joined by those who had come with me. The funniest people you ever saw! Their great and overshadowing anxiety was dinner; that was the thing. Accordingly they had deputed the youngest — a divinity student, and supposed to be a terribly sharp fellow — to lie in wait at sundry times and secure tickets for the meal. “I have arranged it all with the steward; we shall sit together,” said this foxy one. Long before the hour, they all went down and stood against the door, like the queue at a French theatre. One of them came up, a little after, wiping his mouth; and asked me with surprising suddenness, if I “was on the side of the Lord.” They were mostly Methodists, and of course very pious. One of the soldiers on the lower deck, suddenly cried out: “Oh, H---!” upon which a Christian Commissioner said: “Mr. Smith, did you think to bring a bundle of the tracts on swearing?” I told him I hoped he had brought a good many, and of several kinds, as there was a wide field in the army. All of which reminds me of an anecdote. A group of these gentlemen, going on foot and with their carpet-bags towards the front, were addressed by a veteran with “Hullo! got any lemons to sell?” “No, my friend, we belong to the army of the Lord.” Veteran, with deep scorn: “Oh, ye—es; stragglers! stragglers!” I respect these Christian Commissioners, though they are somewhat silly often. Some of them had come all the way from Wisconsin. I arrived in camp somewhat after dark and was tenderly welcomed by all, from the General down. Barstow and Humphreys were highly pleased with their gifts. To-day a curious thing occurred. While I was away, looking for a place for the new camp, General Meade rode out with the Staff. There came a conical shell, which shaved a patch of hair off the tail of General Humphrey's horse, scraped the leg of General Meade's boot, passed between General Ricketts and Griffin who were standing within a foot of each other, and buried itself in the ground, covering several officers with sand and dirt. Four Generals just escaping by a turn of the head, so to speak! I got this shell and shall send it home as a great curiosity.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 231-2

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, August 8, 1864

August 8, 1864

“What do you think of filling up with Germans?” you ask. Now, what do you think of a man who has the toothache — a werry, werry big molar! — and who has not the courage to march up and have it out, but tries to persuade himself that he can buy some patent pain-killer that will cure him; when, in his soul, he knows that tooth has to come out? This is what I think of our good people (honest, doubtless) who would burden us with these poor, poor nigs, and these nerveless, stupid Germans. As soldiers in the field the Germans are nearly useless; our experience is, they have no native courage to compare with Americans. Then they do not understand a word that is said to them — these new ones. So it has proved with the Massachusetts 20th (which has a perfection of discipline not at all the rule). Under the severe eyes of their officers the German recruits have done tolerably in simple line, mixed with the old men; but they produced confusion at the Wilderness, by their ignorance of the language; and, only the other day, Patten told me he could not do a thing with them on the skirmish line, because they could not understand. By the Lord! I wish these gentlemen who would overwhelm us with Germans, negroes, and the off-scourings of great cities, could only see — only see — a Rebel regiment, in all their rags and squalor. If they had eyes they would know that these men are like wolf-hounds, and not to be beaten by turnspits. Look at our “Dutch” heavy artillery: we no more think of trusting them than so many babies. Send bog-trotters, if you please, for Paddy will fight — no one is braver. It should be known, that ill-disciplined, or cowardly, or demoralized troops may be useful behind walls, but in open campaigning they literally are worse than useless; they give way at the first fire and expose the whole line to be flanked. At the Wilderness the 6th Corps would have been stronger without Ricketts's division; at Spotsylvania the whole army would have been stronger without Mott's division. Howland1 has influence in recruiting; impress upon him, therefore, that every worthless recruit he sends to this army is one card in the hand of General Lee and is the cause, very likely, of the death of a good soldier. The trouble is this: we have not the machinery to work up poor material. They won't let us shoot the rascals, and few regiments have the discipline to mould them into decent troops; the consequence is, they are the stragglers, pillagers, skulkers and run-aways of the army. If you had seen as many thousands as I, you would understand what sort of fellows they are. I don't believe in recruiting another man! We have recruited already more volunteers than any country ever saw. Volunteers are naturally exhausted; and now we pay huge bounties to every sort of scoundrel and vagabond and alien. These men will not fight and you can't make 'em fight. But draft men and you will get good ones, without bounty. They will not want to go, but they have the pride of native-born Americans, and they fight like devils. The very men that desert the next day will fight the day before, for sake of avoiding shame. I have written quite a disquisition, but the topic is an important one, and I have the honor, in conclusion, to suggest to the honorable City of Boston that, when the Germans arrive, they should be let out as gardeners, and the poor remnants of the old regiments should be allowed to fight it out alone.
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1 His brother-in-law.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 207-9

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, July 6, 1864


July 6, 1864

We have no rain here — never expect any; air hazy with a faint dust, finer than twice volted flour, which settles on everything — but that won't kill anybody. So Ewell is (or was — don't know his whereabouts at this precise moment) at Harper's Ferry. We knew he was poking up there somewhere. As to the A. of P., it is sitting here, trying to get some fresh cabbages, not very successfully, so far — the last issue, I am told, furnished one small one to every fifteen men. Old Uncle Lee is “in posish,” as General Williams would say, and seems to remark: “Here I am; I have sent off Ewell; now why don't you come on?” I suppose you think I speak flippantly of what the French call the “situation”; but one gets so desperate that it is no use to be serious. Last night, after I had got to bed, I heard the officer of the day go with a despatch into the General's tent and wake him up. Presently the General said: “Very well, tell General Wright to send a good division. I suppose it will be Ricketts's.” And he turned over and went asleep again. Not so Ricketts, who was speedily waked up and told to march to City Point, thence to take steamers for Washington, or rather for Baltimore. We do not appreciate now, how much time, and labor, and disappointment, and reorganization, and turning out bad officers, have to be done, before an army can be got in such condition that a division of several thousand men may be suddenly waked at midnight and, within an hour or so, be on the march, each man with his arms and ammunition ready, and his rations in his haversack. Now, nobody thinks of it. General Meade says, “Send Ricketts”; and turns over and goes to sleep. General Ricketts says, “Wake the Staff and saddle the horses.” By the time this is done, he has written some little slips of paper, and away gallop the officers to the brigade commanders, who wake the regimental, who wake the company, who wake the non-commissioned, who wake the privates. And each particular private, uttering his particular oath, rises with a groan, rolls up his shelter-tent, if he has one, straps on his blanket, if he has not long since thrown it away, and is ready for the word “Fall in!” When General Ricketts is informed that all are ready, he says: “Very well, let the column move” — or something of that sort. There is a great shouting of “By the right flank, forward!” and off goes Ricketts, at the head of his troops, bound for City Point; and also bound, I much regret to say, for the Monocacy,1 where I fancy his poor men stood up and did all the fighting. From what I hear, I judge we had there about 10,000, of whom a good part were next to worthless. The Rebs had, I think, some 12,000, all good troops. This General Wallace is said by officers here to be no general at all, though brave; and General Tyler is the man whom General Humphreys had tried for cowardice, or some misbehavior in the presence of the enemy; and who has, in consequence, an undying hate for the Chief-of-Staff. I remember thinking to myself, as I went to sleep — “division — why don't they send a corps and make a sure thing?” Behold my military forethought!
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1 Monocacy Bridge — the scene of Early's defeat of Lew Wallace, which terrified Washington, and caused much consternation in the North.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 184-5

Monday, January 5, 2015

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 24, 1864

It is praise not to be pitched into by the Great Peppery: and he is very kind to me. To be sure, I watch him, as one would a big trout on a small hook, and those who don't, catch volleys at all hours! Poor Biddle, for instance, an excellent, bettyish sort of man, with no fragment of tact, when the General is full of anxiety for something that is not going right, is sure to come in, in his stuttering way, with “Ah, aw, hem, aw, General, they are going to pitch camp in a very sandy, bad place, sir; you will not be at all comfortable, and there is a nice grassy —” “Major Bid dle!!!” — and then follows the volley. Sometimes it is very effective to contradict the General, provided you stick to it and are successful. I came in last night, feeling cross and not at all caring for commanders of armies or other great ones of this earth. “Well, Lyman, you're back, are you?” “Yes, sir: I reported that the enemy were moving along our rear, but they got no further than —” “Rear! not at all! they were moving along the front.” “No, sir, they were not, they were moving along our rear.” “What do you mean by that? There is Russell, and there is Ricketts, and here is Wheaton; now of course that's your front.” “Russell isn't in such a position, sir, nor Wheaton either. They face so (dabs with a pencil), so that is our rear and can't be anything else.” Whereupon the good chief graciously said no more. I do not know that he ever said anything pleasant about me except the day after the Wilderness battles, when I heard Hancock say that “Colonel Lyman had been useful to him, the day before.” To which the General replied: “Yes, Lyman is a clearheaded man.” I have heard him volunteer several favorable things about Captain Sanders; also he has remarked that Old Rosey (my tent-mate) was good at finding roads; and that is pretty much all of his praises, whereof no man is more sparing. By the way, old Rosey has his commission as captain. One thing I do not like — it is serious — and that is, that three years of bitter experience have failed to show our home people that, to an army on active campaign (or rather furious campaign), there must be supplied a constant stream of fresh men — by thousands. What do we see? Everyone trying to persuade himself that his town has furnished its “quota.” But where are they? We have large armies, but nothing compared with the paper statements. No! The few produced by drafts in good part run away; so too many of the “volunteers” — miserable fellows bought with money. None are shot — that is unmerciful — but the Powers that Be will let brave, high-toned men, who scorn to shirk their duty, be torn with canister and swept away with musketry, and that is inevitable.

This morning appeared General Grant with two French officers, who since have taken up their quarters with us and mess with us. They are two artillery officers, the elder a Colonel de Chanal, the other a Captain Guzman, both sent as a commission to observe the progress of the campaign. The Colonel is a perfect specimen of an old Frenchman, who has spent most of his life in provincial garrisons, in the study of all sorts of things, from antiquities down to rifled projectiles. He has those extraordinary, nervous legs, which only middle-aged Frenchmen can get, and is full of various anecdotes. Many years he has lived in Toulouse. The other is young and little and looks like a black-eyed and much astonished grasshopper. He is very bright, speaks several languages, and was on the Chinese expedition. General Grant staid some time in council, and took dinner with us. I was amused at him, for, the day being warm, he began taking off his coat before he got to the tent; and by the time he had said, “How are you, Meade?” he was in his shirt-sleeves, in which state he remained till dinner-time. He attempted no foreign conversation with the Gauls, simply observing; “If I could have turned the class the other end to, I should have graduated at West Point, very high in French!”

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 176-8