Showing posts with label Robert Gould Shaw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Gould Shaw. Show all posts

Thursday, September 12, 2019

John L. Motley to the Duchess of Argyll, February 7, 1864

Vienna,
February 7, 1864.

Dear Duchess Of Argyll: We get on very well in Vienna. We have an extremely pleasant house with a large garden. Many of our colleagues are very kind and agreeable; your ambassador most especially so — high-minded, honorable, sympathetic, good-tempered, amiable. Everybody respects and loves him for his fine qualities of mind and character. Lady Bloomfield is very charming and accomplished, and has but one fault in the world: she has been away from us three or four months, and we all miss her very much.

I have purposely avoided speaking of the one topic of which my mind is always full, because when I once begin I can never stop, and I become an intolerable bore.

I am glad you spoke of Colonel Shaw. His father and mother are intimate friends of ours, and I have had a touching letter from Mr. Shaw since his son's death. I knew the son, too, a beautiful, fair-haired youth, with everything surrounding him to make life easy and gay. When I was at home in 1861 I saw him in camp. He was in the same tent with one of my own nephews, both being lieutenants in what has since become a very famous regiment — the Massachusetts Second. I had the honor of presenting their colors to that regiment, and saw them march out of Boston 1040 strong. Since that day they have been in countless actions, some of the bloodiest of the war. A large proportion of its officers, all of them young men of well-known Boston families, have been killed or severely wounded; and in the last papers received I read that the regiment, reduced to about two hundred, has returned on a few weeks' furlough and to recruit its numbers, having reenlisted — like most of the other regiments whose term expires this year — for three years longer, or for the duration of the war. I believe that they would serve for twenty years rather than that our glorious Republic should be destroyed. But be assured that the government of the United States is firm as the mountains.

Young Robert Shaw is a noble type of the young American. Did you see the poem to his memory in the January number of the "Atlantic"? It is called "Memorise Positum," and is, I think, very beautiful. The last verse is especially touching. It is by Russell Lowell, one of our first poets, as you know. The allusion is to his two nephews who were killed in Virginia. A third nephew (he has no sons), Colonel Lowell of the Second Massachusetts Cavalry, is in active service in Meade's army. He lately married a sister of Colonel Shaw, and she is with him now. Shaw fought all through the campaigns of Virginia, in the Massachusetts Second, until he took the command of the Massachusetts Fifty-fourth (colored). His was a beautiful life and a beautiful death.

I shall say no more. My wife and daughters join me in sincerest remembrances and best wishes for the duke and yourself and all your household. I beg to remain, dear Duchess of Argyll,

Most truly yours,
J. L. M.

I wish you would whisper to the duke that he owes me a letter, and that if he should ever find time to write I will write a short letter in return.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley, Volume III, p. 4-6

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Joshua Bates to John M. Forbes, August 22, 1863

21 Arlington Street, 22 August, 1863.

Many thanks for your letter of the 4th August. I grieve with you for the loss of good young men in battle; and when taken from the families of intimate friends or relatives, and such noble fellows as young Shaw, it touches every heart.

Cabot did his duty well, and less blood will have been shed by his mode of dealing with the mob than by using blank cartridges first; these may be fired after the mob begins to run, not before. Governor Seymour is a rebel, or as bad as a rebel, for he called the mob “my friends.” I hope something may come out that will enable you to fix his treason upon him. This outbreak at New York was expected by Roebuck here; the defeat of Meade, the rising in New York, and the upset of the Washington government, were mentioned by him to a friend as certain.

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 2, p. 54-5

Thursday, June 27, 2019

Fanny Kemble to John M. Forbes, about July 1863

How I wonder how it fared with those you love in all these late disasters, — with Willy, and Frank Shaw's son, and young Russell, and all the precious, precious lives offered up for sacrifice to redeem your land. Oh, what a country it ought to be hereafter, ransomed at such a cost! I leave my own folks and friends in London immersed in their own amusements and pursuits; and as by far the most serious half of my thoughts and feelings are just now dwelling all but incessantly on your side of the Atlantic, I am not very sorry to go away from England, where I heard constantly opinions and sentiments expressed about your country and its trials that were very painful to me. Our government and our people are, I believe, sound; that is, the latter feel and think rightly about your war, and the former will act rightly. But our upper classes have shown that like will to like, and sympathize (as was perhaps to be foreseen) with the aristocratic element in your constitution. I knew very well that in the abstract they were sure to do so, but the experience of it has been bitterly painful to me.

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 2, p. 51-2

Monday, June 3, 2019

John M. Forbes, after July 12, 1863

We landed in New York on Sunday evening [July 12], the day before the great draft riots there broke out. When the pilot came on board, the news of our military success at Gettysburg was coming in, though we could not know at what cost of life among our friends. There was just time for Aspinwall to reach a train that would take him to his home on the North River, and so he left me with our servant John to take care of the rather numerous trunks.

It was after sundown that the little steamer landed John and myself on the wharf, far down the East River, among as bad-looking a lot of roughs as I ever saw assembled. We did not know that the great riot was about breaking out, nor luckily did the gentry around us know what a prize lay within their grasp; but it was easy to see that the dangerous classes were out: the police were hardly to be seen, outside of the custom-house officers, and these, knowing something of us, readily passed our baggage without examination; and I found myself on the wharf in the increasing darkness with my pile of trunks, which included three containing six millions of 5-20 bonds (worth to-day [1884] about eight millions in gold). With some difficulty I fought off, without an absolute quarrel, the horde of persistent hackmen who claimed me as their legitimate prey; and I was standing at bay, wondering what to do next, when I was saluted by the mellifluous Hibernian accent of a rough-looking customer. “Here, Mr. Forbes, take my carriage!” I looked at him without much to increase my confidence in his wretched trap, but asked how he knew me. “And was I not in the regiment at Port Royal when you was there?” “Take these three trunks, my good fellow,” said I, pointing to the treasure-bearers; “and, John, you must get a cart and bring the rest to the Brevoort.” We rattled safely over the rough, dark streets, and I was soon glad to deposit my charge among the heaps in the old Brevoort House entry, and then to find my wife and Alice awaiting me.

I found also that Governor Andrew was in town, and the intercourse with the North was already cut off by the mob. We heard that night the most exciting stories, from callers, of what was going on, and especially from Collector Barney of the New York Custom-house, whose house was threatened. The draft was made a pretext for the mobbing of negroes, as it was reported that the object of the draft was to free their race; and so the Irish were called upon to kill all Africans. It was said that about fifteen hundred persons were killed during the skirmishes of those two days.

For safety we dispatched Alice early Monday morning to Staten Island to our cousin, Frank Shaw,1 where, as he was a well-known abolitionist, she found herself out of the frying-pan into the fire; but good George Ward took her and all the Shaws into his house, and no harm came to them.

Captain Anthony and his family were at the Fifth Avenue Hotel on their way to Europe, and he saw a great deal more of actual violence than we did. The house was threatened, and many of the guests and servants deserted it, but the captain stuck to his guns and helped to allay the panic.

We discussed with Governor Andrew the expediency of bringing Colonel N. P. Hallowell's 55th Regiment of Colored Troops, just leaving Boston on its way South, into New York, but decided that the experiment was too dangerous a one. The different method pursued in managing the riot at this time in Boston would be a good lesson for the future. Governor Andrew put into all the armories, and places like the Spencer Rifle Company's factory, where arms were made, a sufficient force to protect them, and only one was attacked by the mob. This was at the North End, and was garrisoned by a company of artillerymen under Colonel Stephen Cabot, brought up from the fort. He loaded his guns, and made arrangements by cutting slits in the windows to defend them, and then tried to persuade the mob to disperse. Brickbats drove him back into the armory, and they then began to batter down the doors. He waited till there was some danger of their giving way, and then fired through the doors with his cannon into the mob, as well as through the windows with musketry. It is said there were thirty men killed. However that may be, his prompt action put an end to all further disturbances, and this was the only real outbreak in Massachusetts. These riots were no doubt instigated by Southern conspirators for the purpose of rousing up the Irish element in opposition to the draft which was going on; and their attacks upon negroes were wholly in consequence of their well-known jealousy against negro labor. With the great foreign population of Boston once roused, the consequences might have been quite as bad as they were in New York.
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1 Francis George Shaw, the father of Col. Robert G. Shaw. —Ed.

SOURCE: Sarah Forbes Hughes, Letters and Recollections of John Murray Forbes, Volume 2, p. 48-51

Sunday, February 10, 2019

Sergeant Major Lewis H. Douglass to Frederick & Anna (Murray) Douglass, July 20, 1863

MORRIS ISLAND,
S[outh] C[arolina]
July 20th, 1863

MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER:

Wednesday July 8th, our regiment left St. Helena Island for Folly Island, arriving there the next day, and were then ordered to land on James Island, which we did.  On the upper end of James Island is a large rebel battery with 18 guns.  After landing we threw out pickets to within two miles of the rebel fortification.  We were permitted to do this in peace until last Thursday, 16th inst., when at four o’clock in the morning the rebels made an attack on our pickets, who were about 200 strong.  We were attacked by a force of about 900.  Our men fought like tigers; one sergeant killed five men by shooting and bayoneting.  The rebels were held in check by our few men long enough to allow the 10th Conn[ecticut]. to escape being surrounded and captured, for which we received the highest praise from all parties who knew of it.  This performance on our part earned for us the reputation of a fighting regiment.

Our loss in killed, wounded and missing was forty-five.  That night we took, according to our officers, one of the hardest marches on record, through woods and marsh.  The rebels we defeated and drove back in the morning.  They, however, were reinforced by 14,000 men, we having only half a dozen regiments.  So it was necessary for us to escape.

I cannot write in full, expecting every moment to be called into another fight.  Suffice it to say we are now on Morris Island.  Saturday night we made the most desperate charge of the war on Fort Wagner, losing in killed, wounded and missing in the assault, three hundred of our men.  The splendid 54th is cut to pieces.  All our officers with the exception of eight were either killed or wounded.  Col. [Robert Gould] Shaw is a prisoner and wounded.  Major [Edward N.] Hallowell is wounded in three places, Adj’t [Garth W.] James in two places.  Serg’t [Robert J.] Simmons is killed, Nat[haniel]. Hurley (from Rochester) is missing, and a host of others.

I had my sword sheath blown away while on the parapet of the Fort.  The grape and canister, shell and minnies swept us down like chaff, sill our men went on and on, and if we had been properly supported, we would have held the Fort, but the white troops could not be made to come up.  The consequence was we had to fall back, dodging shells and other missiles.

If I have another opportunity, I will write more fully.  Goodbye to all.  If I die tonight I will not die a coward.  Goodbye.

LEWIS

SOURCE: Donald Yacovone, Editor, Freedom's Journey: African American Voices of the Civil War, p. 108-9 which states this letter was published in Douglass’ Monthly, Rochester, New York, August 1863.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

General Pierre G. T. Beauregard to Samuel Cooper, July 21, 1863

CHARLESTON, S.C.,
July 21, 1863 9 p.m.
General S. COOPER,
Adjutant and Inspector General, Richmond, Va.:

Enemy recommenced shelling Wagner yesterday, with few casualties on our part. We had in battle of 18th about 150 killed and wounded. Enemy, including prisoners, about 2,000. Nearly 800 were buried under flag of truce. Colonel Putnam, acting brigadier, and Colonel Shaw, commanding negro regiment, were killed.

 G. T. BEAUREGARD.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 28, Part 2 (Serial No. 47), p. 214

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 23, 1863

We have the following dispatch from Gen. Beauregard, which is really refreshing in this season of disasters:

Charleston, July 22d, 1863.

The enemy recommenced shelling again yesterday, with but few casualties on our part. We had, in the battle of the 18th inst., about 150 killed and wounded. The enemy's loss, including prisoners, was about 2000. Nearly 800 were buried under a flag of truce.

Col. Putnam, acting brigadier-general, and Col. Shaw, commanding the negro regiment, were killed.

G. T. Beauregard, General.

It is said the raiders that dashed into Wytheville have been taken; but not so with the raiders that have been playing havoc with the railroad in North Carolina.

Another letter from J. M. Botts, Culpepper County, complains of the pasturing of army horses in his fields before the Gettysburg campaign, and asks if his fields are to be again subject to the use of the commander of the army, now returning to his vicinity. If he knows that Gen. Lee is fallen back thither, it is more than any one here seems to know. We shall see how accurate Mr. B. is in his conjecture.

A letter from Mr. Goodman, president of Mobile and Charleston Railroad, says military orders have been issued to destroy, by fire, railroad equipments to the value of $5,000,000; and one-third of this amount of destruction would defeat the purpose of the enemy for a long time. The President orders efforts to be made to bring away the equipments by sending them down the road.

Col. Preston, commandant of conscripts for South Carolina, has been appointed Chief of the Bureau of Conscription; he has accepted the appointment, and will be here August 1st. The law will now be honestly executed — if he be not too indolent, sick, etc.

Archbishop Hughes has made a speech in New York to keep down the Irish.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 385-6

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Diary of John Hay: Saturday, January 23, 1864

Saturday night I went on board the Ben Deford with the General to visit Folly and Morris Islands. Col. J——, Major B——, Capt. R—— and F—— were in the party. In the morning we were at Pawnee Landing, Folly River. We mounted and rode to Gen’l Terry’s headquarters; saw model of Fort Wagner. Terry joined Gilmore and we went up the beach to Light House Inlet; saw the scene of the crossing by Shaw; crossed and went in ambulances to Wagner; spent some time there. From Wagner walked up to Gregg, leaving our ambulance. Saw the mortar batteries before getting there. From Gregg had a good view of Fort Sumter — silent as the grave—flag flying over it — a great flag flying over the battery on Sullivan's Island. The city, too, was spread out before us like a map; everything very silent; a ship lying silent at the wharf. No sign of life in Ripley, Johnson or Pinckney.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 157-8; William Roscoe Thayer, John Hay: In Two Volumes, Volume 1, p. 158-9.

Monday, June 13, 2016

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: November 28, 1863

Tullahoma, Tenn., November 28, 1863.

We are in the midst of exciting news from the front, yet we have had no particulars. It is evident, however, that we have taken several thousand prisoners and a large quantity of artillery.*

Since the fight at Wauhatchie, there has been no slurring of the Army of the Potomac men. That little affair was a great thing for us. By our own and rebel accounts, there is no doubt that our men fought most gallantly there against superior numbers of their old antagonists.

Every train that comes from the South brings a load of prisoners or wounded men, and rumors that fighting is still going on at the front. It seems to me, now, for the first time since the war began, that the rebellion is nearly crushed. They have not met with any very decisive success for nearly six months, and are now contracted into the smallest territory they have ever occupied.

Atlanta is our important point now; get that, and we have again cut the Confederacy in two, and in a vital place What a glorious thing it would be if we could wind up this rebellion before our original three years are out! It would exceed all my expectations to do this.

Thanksgiving Day was a very pleasant one, warm and bright as May. I took an escort of half a dozen cavalry and rode down to the regiment, which is about ten miles from here. I found them camped very comfortably just outside strong earthworks built to command the railroad bridge over the Elk river. Colonel Coggswell is in command of the post and has a battery in addition to his regiment. lie has made himself very strong, and could defend the place against a large force.

I took a very quiet dinner with the field and staff. Of course we could not help thinking of our other Thanksgiving Days in the regiment, and it brought up many sad memories. At our first dinner at Seneca, Maryland, all our old officers were present; last year there had been many changes, but there were still left a goodly number of the old stock, and we were knit closer together by our losses. This year I couldn't help a feeling of desolation as I remembered that, of all my friends in the regiment, very few were left. How little I thought, when we left Camp Andrews, that we should have such a sad experience!

In looking over his trunks for a photograph, Colonel Coggswell found a letter that had come for me while I was in Massachusetts; he gave it to me, and I found the address was in Bob Shaw's writing. You can imagine how glad I was to get it. I always thought it a little strange that he had not answered my last letter. I opened it the first chance I got. It was mostly a description of his movements to Darien and other places; but at the close he spoke in a very feeling way of our friendship and intimacy, and of his happiness since his marriage. It was written on the 3rd of July; in it he asked to be remembered to Robeson, Mudge, and Tom Fox; little did he think that, at the moment he wrote, one of them was lying dead on the field of battle, and the other two suffering with mortal wounds.

The men of the regiment had a very pleasant day; they had plenty of geese and turkeys for dinner, and in the evening the brigade band came down from Tullahoma, and gave them some music. I am glad that our men have each been able to keep this day somewhat as if they had been at home.

I stayed next morning and saw guard mounting done as it is done nowhere else, and then rode back here again.
_______________

* The battles of Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 158-60

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse: May 7, 1863


Stafford C. H., May 7, 1863.

I am going to give you, without any introduction, a history of this last campaign against Richmond by the army under the great Joe Hooker. I believe I have seen it and judged it fairly.

On Monday, April 27th, our corps broke camp early in the morning and marched to Hartwood Church, ten miles; there it went into camp for the night. The Eleventh and Fifth Corps also came up there and camped in our vicinity; next morning, we all moved and camped that night near Kelly's Ford. A pontoon bridge was thrown across and the Eleventh was over before daylight Wednesday; the other corps followed rapidly and the advance began towards the Rapidan. The Eleventh and Twelfth marched on the road to Germana Ford, the Fifth on the road to Ely's Ford; all three of the corps were under command of General Slocum. I was detailed, the morning of the advance, as Aide to General Slocum, and another officer was made Acting Provost Marshal. All the companies of the Second Massachusetts were sent to the Regiment. We skirmished all the way to Germana Ford; there we met quite a determined resistance; our cavalry was drawn in and the Second Massachusetts and the Third Wisconsin sent forward to clear the way; they drove everything before them and, by their heavy fire, forced the rebels at the Ford to surrender (about one hundred officers and men). We lost in this skirmish about a dozen killed and wounded.

General Slocum now determined to cross the Rapidan, though there was no bridge and the ford was almost impassable. He sent the First and Third Brigade, (First Division, Twelfth Corps), through the water although it was more than waist deep, also five batteries of artillery, which took position on the other side of the river. A bridge was then constructed, and before daylight Thursday morning, the remainder of the Twelfth and Eleventh Corps were across the river. By eight o'clock, A. M., we were moving again. The rebels kept attacking us on our flank with cavalry and artillery, and any less bold officer than General Slocum would have halted his column and delayed the march; but he kept along steadily, detaching a small force at intervals to repel the enemy. I had the pleasure of superintending, at one of these skirmishes, having in charge the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania Regiment; we drove the rebels before us for nearly a mile, almost capturing their artillery, taking a large number of prisoners. At about noon, we arrived at Chancellorsville, and found the Fifth Corps already there. We had a small cavalry skirmish, in which Colonel McVicars was killed with about a dozen of his men, but besides that, nothing of importance occurred that day; the troops were formed in line of battle, but were not attacked. Up to this time you see everything had gone well and success seemed certain.

Towards night, General Hooker arrived with his staff, and we heard of the crossing at the U. S. Ford of the Second, Third and First Corps. All the headquarters were in the vicinity of the Chancellor House, a large, fine brick mansion. General Hooker took supper with General Slocum; he didn't seem to be able to express his gratification at the success of General Slocum in bringing the three corps up so rapidly. Then, in the most extravagant, vehement terms, he went on to say how he had got the rebels, how he was going to crush them, annihilate them, etc.

The next morning at ten, the Fifth and Twelfth Corps advanced in order of battle on two parallel roads; we soon met the enemy and skirmished for about two miles, when they appeared in considerable force and the battle began. We were in a splendid position and were driving the enemy when an order came to General Slocum to retire his command to its former position. No one could believe that the order was genuine, but almost immediately, another of General Hooker's staff brought the same order again. Now, perhaps, you don't know that to retire an army in the face of an enemy when you are engaged, is one of the most difficult operations in war; this we had to do. I carried the order to General Geary to retire his division in echelon by brigades, and stayed with him till the movement was nearly completed. It was a delicate job; each brigade would successively bear the brunt of the enemy's attack. Before the last brigades of the Fifth and Twelfth Corps were in position, the enemy made a furious attack on the Chancellor House; luckily, we had considerable artillery concentrated there and they were driven back. The next attack was on our corps, but the enemy were severely repulsed. This about ended the fighting on Friday; we lost, I suppose, about five hundred men.

During the night, the men were kept at work digging trenches and throwing up breastworks of logs. Our headquarters were at Fairview, an open piece of ground rising into quite a crest in the centre. Skirmishing began at daylight next morning and continued without much result to either side, till afternoon, when the enemy began to move, in large force, towards our right, opposite General Howard, Eleventh Corps. This corps was in a fine position in intrenchments, with almost open country in front of them, the right resting on Hunting creek. At about four P. M., the Third Corps, General Sickles, was moved out to the right of the Twelfth and advanced towards Fredericksburgh. The order then came to General Slocum that the enemy were in full retreat, and to advance his whole line to capture all he could of prisoners, wagons, etc. Our right, General Williams’ Division, advanced without much trouble, driving the enemy before it, but the Second Division had hardly got out of the trenches before it was attacked with great determination, yet it steadily retained its position. At about five P. M., a tremendous and unceasing musketry fire began in the direction of the Eleventh Corps. As it was necessary to know what was going on there in order to regulate the movements of the Twelfth Corps, General Slocum and the rest of us rode for our lives towards this new scene of action. What was our surprise when we found, that instead of a fight, it was a complete Bull Run rout. Men, horses, mules, rebel prisoners, wagons, guns, etc., etc., were coming down the road in terrible confusion, behind them an unceasing roar of musketry. We rode until we got into a mighty hot fire, and found that no one was attempting to make a stand, but every one running for his life. Then General Slocum dispatched me to General Hooker to explain the state of affairs, and three other staff officers to find General Williams and order him back to his trenches with all haste.

I found General Hooker sitting alone on his horse in front of the Chancellor House, and delivered my message; he merely said, “Very good, sir.” I rode back and found the Eleventh Corps still surging up the road and still this terrible roar behind them. Up to this time, the rebels had received no check, but now troops began to march out on the plank road and form across it, and Captain Best, Chief of Artillery of our corps, had on his own responsibility gathered together all the batteries he could get hold of, had put them in position (forty-six guns in all) on Fairview, and had begun firing at the rate of about one hundred guns a minute, into the rebels. This, in my opinion, saved our army from destruction. After delivering my message to General Hooker, I went back and tried to find General Slocum, but it was now after eight o'clock and I was unsuccessful in my search, so I took hold and tried to rally some of the cowardly Dutchmen. With the help of one cavalry orderly, I succeeded in forming a good many of them on the left of the new line, but an unusually heavy volley coming, they broke and ran like sheep. After this little episode, I again searched after the General. Towards ten, I found the rest of the staff, and soon after, we came across the General. At about eleven, the fighting stopped, but we were all hard at work getting the men of our corps into position. You see, while our First Division was advancing, the rebels had routed the Teutons and were now occupying our trenches. The Second and Third Brigades got into their former position, but the First made out only to cut through the rebels, losing a large part of its men and taking a position considerably in the rear of its former one. General Sickles fought his way through with the exception of one division and one battery, which were left out in front of our lines that night. The artillery men were hard at work all night, throwing up traverses to protect their guns, and about two in the morning we all lay down on the ground and slept until about four, when daylight began to appear. Our right was now formed by the Third, Fifth and First Corps, about five hundred yards in the rear of our first position. The rebels began the attack, as soon as there was light enough, from the left of our First Division to about the right of the Third Corps. General Birney's Division of the Third Corps was out in front of General Williams; his men behaved badly, and after a slight resistance, fell back into our lines, losing a battery.

The rebels now charged down our First Division, but were met with such a deadly fire that they were almost annihilated. Their second line was then sent in, but met the same fate, and their third and last line advanced. Our men now had fired more than forty rounds of cartridges and were getting exhausted. General Slocum sent almost every one of his staff officers to General Hooker, stating his position and begging for support; Hooker's answer was, “I can't make men or ammunition for General Slocum.” Meantime, Sickles' Corps was holding its own on the right of ours, but it was rapidly getting into the same condition as the Twelfth. The rebels were driven back every time they advanced, and we were taking large numbers of prisoners and colors. All this time while our infantry was fighting so gallantly in front, our battery of forty-six guns was firing incessantly. The rebels had used no artillery till they captured the battery from Birney, when they turned that on us, making terrible destruction in General Geary's line. General Meade, Fifth Corps, now went to Hooker and entreated that he might be allowed to throw his corps on the rebel flank, but General Hooker said, “No, he was wanted in his own position.” On his own responsibility, General Meade sent out one brigade, which passed out in rear of the enemy's right, recaptured a battery, three hundred of our men who were prisoners, and four hundred of the rebels, and took them safely back to their corps.

It was now after seven o'clock. Our men had fired their sixty rounds of cartridges and were still holding their position; everything that brave men could do, these men had done, but now nothing was left but to order them to fall back and give up their position to the enemy. This was done in good order and they marched off under a heavy fire to the rear of our batteries. The rebels, seeing us retreating, rushed forward their artillery and began a fearful fire. I found I could be useful to Captain Best, commanding our artillery, so I stayed with him. I never before saw anything so fine as the attack on that battery; the air was full of missiles, solid shot, shells, and musket balls. I saw one solid shot kill three horses and a man, another took a leg off one of the captains of the batteries. Lieutenant Crosby of the Fourth Artillery was shot through the heart with a musket ball; he was a particular friend of Bob Shaw and myself; he lived just long enough to say to Captain Best, “Tell father I die happy.”

The rebels came up to the attack in solid masses and got within three hundred yards, but they were slaughtered by the hundreds by the case-shot and canister, and were driven back to the woods. Still not an infantry man was sent to the support of the guns. More than half the horses were killed or wounded; one caisson had blown up, another had been knocked to pieces; in ten minutes more, the guns would have been isolated. They, too, therefore, were ordered to retire, which they did without losing a gun. You see, now, our centre was broken, everything was being retired to our second line, the rebel artillery was in position, their line of battle steadily advancing across our old ground. This fire of the batteries was concentrated on the Chancellor House, Hooker's original headquarters, and it was torn almost to pieces by solid shot and was finally set on fire by a shell.

The army was now put in position in the second line; the centre was on a rising piece of ground and protected by a battery of forty or fifty guns. The Fifth Corps was on the right and was the last to fall back out of the woods and it was closely followed by the rebel masses, but these were met by such a tremendous artillery fire that they were actually rolled back into the woods. Our corps was ordered to support first the Third, afterwards the Second and Eleventh. Towards night the enemy made another desperate assault on our centre, but they were again repulsed. Our corps was now ordered to the extreme left to form behind the Eleventh. I believe that General Slocum remonstrated with General Hooker so firmly that he finally got permission to put the Twelfth Corps on the extreme left and to have only one division of the Eleventh in the trenches on his right.

You can easily see that, if the enemy once forced our right or left, our communications would at once be cut and all possibility of retreat prevented. Late that night, we lay down close beside the Rappahannock. By three o'clock next morning, we were awakened by a heavy artillery fire and shells bursting over us. Our guns replied and kept at it for about an hour, when the enemy's batteries were silenced. We now mounted our horses and rode along the lines to look at our position; we found that it was a very strong one and capable of being made very much more so.
We found that the sharpshooters were getting altogether too attentive to our party, so we moved back to our line and had hardly turned away, when a sergeant was shot dead almost on the spot where the general had been standing. All that day, our men were hard at work throwing up breastworks, cutting abattis, etc. No attack was made on us, but throughout that day and night, we heard Sedgwick fighting in the direction of Fredericksburgh.

Tuesday morning, I knew by appearances that a retreat was to be effected, as a large part of the artillery, all the ambulances, etc., were removed across the river, although the men were kept at work making line after line of trenches and breastworks. Just before dark, the order of retreat came, the Fifth and Twelfth Corps being the last to cross. About four o'clock that afternoon it began to rain in torrents. There were originally three pontoon bridges, but before most of the crossing had been effected, the river became so swollen that one of the bridges had to be taken up to piece out the other two; this caused a great delay. At about twelve, I was sent down to the ford to examine into the condition of things; it was a terrible night, the wind blowing a gale and the rain pouring, the road for a mile full of artillery. I found, at the bridge, that not a thing was moving, and learned from General Patrick that the order for retreat had been suspended and everything was to move back to its former position. This order came, remember, when half of the artillery was on the north side of the Rappahannock, the soldiers without a ration and the supply trains ten miles the other side of the river. I ran my horse back to headquarters and made my report; the telegraph was down between U. S. Ford and Falmouth, where General Hooker was. General Slocum wrote a dispatch, saying, that unless the movement was continued, our army would have to be surrendered within twenty-four hours; this was sent by an orderly who was ordered to kill his horse carrying it. Then to prepare for the worst, General Slocum sent one of his aides and myself back to the Ford to get our artillery ready to move back into position, that our corps might, at least, be ready to make a desperate fight in the morning; but at about two-thirty A. M., the messenger returned from General Hooker with orders for the movement to continue.

At about five, one of our divisions began to cross. The two or three succeeding hours were the most anxious I ever passed in my life. A large part of our army was massed on the south side of the river, only two bridges for the whole of it to cross, the river full to the edge of its banks; a very little extra strain would have carried away the upper bridge, and this would have swept away the lower one and all retreat would have been cut off. The rebel artillery began to fire on our troops and bridges, but was silenced by our guns; we had sixty in position on the north side.
It soon became evident that the enemy were not in force in our vicinity, but for all that, it was one of the happiest moments of my life when I saw the last of our corps over the bridge. We all started then for Stafford C. H., where our corps was ordered to its old camp. We arrived at our old headquarters at about two P. M., and found, to our joy, that our wagons had arrived and tents were being pitched. It was not until after we were in comfortable quarters that the terrible fatigue of the last ten days began to tell on us. Since we had left Stafford, we had been without wagons or blankets, with nothing to eat except pork and hard bread, and half the time not even that, and we had averaged each day at least twelve or sixteen hours in the saddle. The moment we touched a seat, we sunk into the most profound sleep and stayed in this condition for several hours. It may seem strange to you that I speak of being happy to get back into our old quarters, but you must remember that we had been through danger and hardship for ten days and had met with constant disappointment and were now safe back again where we were going to have sleep, rest, and food.

Now, let us see what this campaign shows. It seems to me that the plan was a very good one, with the exception of separating Sedgwick with thirty thousand men from the army, and that it was carried out with great success till General Hooker arrived at Chancellorsville. The next thing shown is that the commander of our army gained his position by merely brag and blow, and that when the time came to show himself, he was found without the qualities necessary for a general. If another battle had been fought on Monday, it would have been by the combined corps commanders, and the battle would have been won.

I doubt if, ever in the history of this war, another chance will be given us to fight the enemy with such odds in our favor as we had last Sunday, and that chance has been worse than lost to us. I don't believe any men ever fought better than our Twelfth Corps, especially the First Division; for two hours, they held their ground without any support, against the repeated assaults of the enemy; they fired their sixty rounds of cartridges and held their line with empty muskets till ordered to fall back. The old Second, of course, did splendidly, and lost heavily, twenty-two killed, one hundred and four wounded, ten missing; my company had five killed and eleven wounded. Lieutenant Fitzgerald was killed, Coggswell, Grafton, Perkins, and Powers, wounded. George Thompson had a narrow escape; a grape shot tore one leg of his trousers and his coat almost off and grazed his leg. Our colors got thirty new holes in them and the staff (the third one), was smashed to pieces.*

You cannot imagine the amount of admiration I have for General Slocum, for the gallant way in which he conducted himself throughout the campaign, and his skillful management of his command; then besides all that, we have been so together, that he has seemed almost like my old friends in the regiment.

I have written in this letter a pretty full account of the operations as I have seen them, and I don't believe any one has had a better chance, for during the fighting, I was at different times at every part of our lines, and in communication with General Hooker and other generals.

Our staff casualties were as follows: — Lieutenant Tracy, badly wounded in right arm, his horse shot in four places; one of our orderlies shot and two more horses. I feel thankful to have come out unharmed from so much danger. Tracy was carrying an order to General Williams, when he was hit: somehow, he got outside our lines and was ordered to surrender; he said he thought he wouldn't, turned his horse and ran for it, while the rebels put two volleys after him.

I telegraphed, last Monday, that I was all right; I hope you received the message.
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* Actual loss: 31 killed and mortally wounded, 91 wounded, 7 prisoners. Total loss, 129.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 127-39

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, February 12, 1863

Camp Near Stafford C. H., Va.,
February 12, 1863.

Tuesday I rode over with Major Mudge to the First Massachusetts Cavalry; we found our friends there well and glad to see us. Lieut.-Col. Curtis has been laid up with a lame leg from a horse's kick, but was nearly right again. The same morning, Captain Shaw went off to go to work on his new command, the First Massachusetts Blacks. He has a hard piece of work before him, but I hope he will be entirely successful. The greatest doubts in my mind are whether the Northern negroes will enlist; I don't put much faith in them myself.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 120-1

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, February 8, 1863

February 8, 1863.

What do you think of the First Massachusetts Black Infantry? I suppose there is no doubt but that the regiment will be raised; one of our captains  has had the offer of the colonelcy, and he has accepted it. As a military measure, I entirely believe in it, and I hope it will be entirely successful. It is ridiculous for persons to try and laugh this thing down; there is no reason in the world why black troops raised in this country shouldn't be as good as those used by the English and French. I always argue that any men who have understanding enough to obey orders implicitly, where they are led by brave officers, can make good soldiers. I think negroes could be more easily disciplined than most white men. The understanding, of course, is that all the commissioned officers shall be white. If I had anything to do with such a regiment, I should not want to raise much of it in the North, but get enough men there to form a skeleton, and then go South and fill up with contrabands.

You will probably hear before long who the Captain is, that I have referred to; he doesn't want it mentioned at present.

No one pretends to have an idea about our next campaign here in Virginia. I hope and trust that we shall all find ourselves with our right on the James River by the middle of next month, and that the Ninth Corps led off in that direction to-day, but these are only my hopes; I have nothing to ground them on.
_______________

Captain Robert G. Shaw.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 119-20

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, January 10, 1863

Camp Near Fairfax Station,
January 10, 1863.

Our rainy season has begun at last, I think; to-day it has poured. Everything looks muddy and damp enough. If it continues for a week as it did last winter at this time, mark my words, there will be no more campaigning in Virginia this winter. We are well settled now in a comfortable camp, with a strong probability of staying here for a while.

I agree in part with what you say about the administration, but I don't fear an armed interference in six months or six years. 1 feel certain that England will do nothing but stand aloof and badger both the North and South, and it cannot be policy for France to quarrel with us, it seems to me. As for what foreign nations may think of the corruption of the Government, I don't care; I've made up my mind that there never was a government in time of war, European or any other on the face of the earth, that wasn't as corrupt as corruption itself; all history shows it. If Napier in his “Peninsular War” is good authority, there never were more dishonesty, knavery, and bribery in a government than there were in England's at that time. That war was managed, at first, till Wellington took hold of it, very much as ours has been; generals were interfered with as ours have been, and newpapers’ stories and home criticisms were believed by the people sooner than official dispatches.

From the first of March to the first of June, I predict that there will be the liveliest fighting we have ever seen in this country, and with good fortune, we may end the whole war and have a happy and honorable peace. If we had any other than a conquered peace, I should never feel that I had done with my uniform, but should always expect war and fighting. If the South got its confederacy, I fully believe the States would be fighting among themselves in less than five years; it is the strong military government and their feeling about slavery that is binding them together so now; their strong feeling about States' rights is what they will break on. I think the weakest points in our own government are these very States' rights, which allow State Governors to interfere and dictate to the Central Government.*
_______________

* A ten-days' leave of absence was granted about this time and the writer went home accompanied by Captain Shaw.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 118-9

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, December 15, 1862

Bivouac Near Fairfax Station,
December 15, 1862.

I will take the opportunity of a few hours' respite from marching, to let you know of my present whereabouts and good condition. We have arrived at this place after about five days' marching, making seventy miles from Sharpshurgh. We have been called up at half-past three every morning, and have not stopped until after dark any night, though our marching has been very much interrupted by bad roads, delays about the wagon trains, etc.

I met with the greatest misfortune, on my third day's march, that I have had during the war. Hogan started out about a mile ahead of the column, as was his usual custom, to forage for us; he had just got through a small town called Hillsborough, when a party of guerillas made a dash out from the side of the road, and before he had time to put spurs to my horse, they had ridden him down and seized him. They had hardly done this when our advance came in sight, and our cavalry saw them and gave chase. I saw the scamps as they rode off for their lives, but I had no idea, until nearly two hours afterwards, that my poor mare was among them. It was an awful blow when I did hear it; they told me that Hogan was between two of them; one held a pistol to his ear while they whipped the horse. The pursuit was vain, and I lost everything, Hogan, horse, saddle, bridle, overcoat, dressing-case, tobacco, rations and all. You can hardly imagine how badly I felt: to lose all my comforts and conveniences, and my poor horse also, was a great deal; but to have Hogan taken by a parcel of ruffians who haven't anything good about them, was worst of all.

Harry Russell and Bob Shaw have been very kind to me since this happened, lending me their servants and doing everything they could. Of course, our “mess” is now broken up, but we three stick together and sleep under the same blankets. We've had very good weather for marching and sleeping out since we started, being quite warm. We heard, yesterday, that Burnside had met with some success, but had been pretty badly cut up, and that fresh troops were being pressed forward in large numbers to the front. Our regiment is rear guard to-day; it will be very late before we start, and after midnight when we get into bivouac.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 111-3

Friday, October 2, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, November 14, 1862

Camp Near Sharpsburgh, November 14, 1862.

I wonder if you are having as charming a day at home as we are having here. It is genuine Indian summer, with that soft, hazy atmosphere so peculiar to the season. The sun is almost hot, and only the chill in the air occasionally tells one how near winter it is. The leaves have nearly all fallen from the trees around us, and the river is almost in view from my tent door. Our camp must now be in plain sight from the other side, but I trust the rebs won't be so ill-mannered as to throw any shells into it.

Everything about our camp has the appearance of winter quarters; the men have, most of them, built themselves very comfortable houses of logs, boards, etc., with fire-places of various kinds in them, all far more comfortable than anything we had last winter. We officers are all fixed up in some shape or other, very pleasantly. I am living alone now and have my tent nicely floored; at the end of it, I have had the seam ripped up and have had built a good, open brick fire-place, so that now these cold evenings, and, in fact, nearly all the time, I have a fine blazing wood fire. You have no idea how cheerful this is; it seems almost like sitting down at home.

We heard, yesterday, the joyful news that Harry Russell had been exchanged. He won't allow much time to elapse before he joins the regiment. I know we shall all be glad enough to see him. He is one of our very best officers and a first-rate fellow; I hope he will never have to go through another such experience as he has had this summer.

You don't know what an interesting thing it is to ride over the hard fought ground of Antietam. Yesterday, Bob Shaw and I visited all the places where we were engaged, saw where our men were killed, etc.

We could follow our first line along by the graves; next to ours came the Third Wisconsin's, which lost terribly in this place; next to that was a battery which was splendidly fought. Where it stood, in one place there are the remains of fifteen dead horses lying so close that they touch each other. Farther on, towards our left, we found numerous graves of the Twenty-eighth Pennsylvania men; they were in a wood. Every tree in the vicinity is scarred by bullets, and the branches torn by shell and shot. No language could describe more forcibly the severity of the fight. It is hard to realize, in riding through these now peaceful and beautiful woods, that they could have been filled so lately with all the sights and sounds of a great battle.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 105-6

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, November 11, 1862

Camp Near Sharpsburgh, Md.,
November 11, 1862.

We had an interesting little reunion and supper at my tent last evening. Yesterday morning, Bob Shaw and I rode into Hagerstown where the First Massachusetts Cavalry are stationed, about fourteen miles from here. We found our friends there getting ready for a move, having a preliminary inspection of men, horses, etc., they having received orders to join Pleasanton. By dint of a little persuasion, we got Curtis and Higginson to ride back with us. We had already arranged a supper to which the five captains in the regiment had been invited; Cogswell, Bangs, Robeson, Shaw, and myself. We sat down immediately after “tattoo” and had a jolly time; there were seven of us, all original “Seconds.” Of course, there were innumerable recollections recalled, many of them sad, but a great many very pleasant; old times were talked over and the many changes that had befallen us since our first Camp Andrew experience. The supper was very good; a capital soup, followed by roast quail and “fixings,” claret, coffee, cigars, etc., all done up in pretty good shape for camp. An occasion like this makes up for many vexations, and we all appreciate it.

Last night we received the news that Andrews had been appointed Brigadier-General and assigned to Banks; so we have lost our second Colonel, as honest and faithful a man as ever lived. He is one of the officers in the army who has worked his way up himself, and has been promoted purely on account of his own merit without political influence or wire-pulling. By this promotion and the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Savage, Quincy becomes Colonel, Cogswell, Lieutenant-Colonel, and Mudge, Major. I shall be third Captain and have the colors, Savage's original place. Sawyer will be tenth Captain; at Camp Andrew he was tenth Second Lieutenant, twenty grades he has gone through.

That was a very good article you sent me, taken from the “Advertiser,” about Colonel Savage. It was evidently written by some one who knew him well. It was perfectly true and did not exaggerate his good qualities an atom. He was nearer to being a perfect man than any one I ever knew.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 104-5

Friday, September 25, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, October 20, 1862

Maryland Heights, October 20, 1862.

To-night I am all alone and naturally feel a little blue, so my letter may not be very cheerful. Bob Shaw is on picket; so is Captain Robeson; Tom Fox is sick with a light fever down in Sandy Hook, and his brother has gone down to see him; my tent, therefore, is deserted. To-day I have been out again with one hundred axe-men; it is an interestsing sight to see so many men at work at once felling trees; we began our labor at the bottom of a ravine and worked up a steep hill. Sometimes there would be as many as twenty or thirty fine trees falling at once; they reminded me of men falling in battle, that same dead, helpless fall. The effect was still stronger from the fact that the choppers were almost always concealed by underbrush. I very nearly lost one of my men in an accident to-day. He had just given the coup de grace to a large, heavy ash tree, and had cleared himself from the fall of it, when another tree falling from above, struck it, changing the direction of the fall of the first and bringing it down with tremendous force where the man was standing. He attempted to dodge, but had not time and was thrown to the ground. I was near by, and ran up to him. I found him perfectly senseless, and I thought, at the time, dying. He proved to be a man of my company named Conlan, one of my very best soldiers, the only one that I mentioned as having distinguished himself by bravery at the battle of Antietam. I had him moved to a comfortable place and sent for our surgeon and a stretcher. After lying insensible for about half an hour, he came to himself for a little and was moved to our hospital. I was much relieved by Dr. Stone's telling me that there were no bones broken; his shoulders and back were terribly bruised, though, and it will be a long time before he gets about again.

Major Higginson of the First Massachusetts Cavalry made us a passing call the other day, on his way to Washington, arriving last Friday night about ten o'clock and taking breakfast with us and spending the forenoon Saturday; he gave us all the latest news of our friends in his regiment. They are having considerable work to do now, scouting about over the country. I had one of the pleasantest times, Sunday, that I've had for some time; after inspection, Shaw and I mounted our steeds and rode off into Pleasant Valley. The road was very pleasant and the day beautiful, a genuine October one, with a hot sun but a bracing air. The country is looking its best now, though the trees don't change here as they do around home. Yet there was some bright color on the sides of the mountains. We made our first call on Captain Charles Lowell at General McClellan's headquarters. We found Major Higginson there, and a Mr. Bancroft of Boston, who is visiting his friends in the army. After spending an hour very pleasantly there, we proceeded to accept an invitation we had received a few days before, to take dinner with a friend of ours, Johnny Hayden, of Captain Edwards' battery, Third United States Artillery. We met some pleasant, jolly officers there, who had been all through the Peninsular campaign. Of course, there were plenty of yarns told on both sides, and experiences compared. We had a nice dinner and rode back to camp at sunset satisfied that we had had a thoroughly good time.

Days like these are like oases in our ordinary dull routine, and they come rarely enough to be enjoyed.

So many of our officers are sick, absent or on some extra duty, that there are only about seven of us in the line left to do all picket and fatigue duty, bringing each one of us on once in three or four days. There are at least two hundred men detailed from our regiment every day now for guards, or other purposes.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 99-101

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, October 6, 1862

Maryland Heights, October 6, 1862.

Everything continues quiet with us. We have a nice camp and are beginning to make ourselves comfortable. I have a floor in my tent and a patent bedstead of Hogan's invention. Our mess gets on finely; we have plenty to eat and very good too. I know you will be pleased to feel that I am no longer in danger of starvation. You'd hardly believe we had suffered any hardships lately, to see us after dinner or supper, sitting or lying around my tent, enjoying our pipes and cigars, reading the papers or having a quiet discussion on some subject.

Last week, we had a visit from President Lincoln, accompanied by Generals Sumner and Howard and a large staff of other officers. He reviewed our regiment briefly, we receiving him with the customary honors. General Sumner paid our regiment the handsomest compliment that I have heard come from any officer of high rank. He said, in our hearing, to the President, “This is the Second Massachusetts Regiment, the first regiment that volunteered for the war. I have it on good authority, General Sedgwick, that it is the best regiment in the service.”

Such praise as this, coming from the source it does, is very pleasing. After the review, I was detailed (I suppose from my knowledge of the mountain paths and the fact that I had a horse), to guide the party to the summit of the Maryland Heights. I showed the way until we got to a path where it was right straight up, when Abraham backed out. I think it must have reminded him of a little story about a very steep place; at any rate, around they turned and went down the mountain. I gave “Uncle Abe” a few parting words of advice with regard to the general management of things, bade them farewell, and went back to camp.

I am afraid we have lost Colonel Andrews; he was detailed day before yesterday, to take command of a brigade of four new regiments; this is probably but an intermediate step before being commissioned Brigadier. Captain Cogswell is now in command; if neither Major Savage nor Captain Quincy ever come back, he will be Colonel, making Mudge Lieutenant-Colonel, and Russell, Major, and me second Captain, Curtis' old place on the left of the line.

Has the death of Major Sedgwick been spoken of in any of the Boston papers? You remember he was formerly a first Lieutenant in our regiment; he left us last autumn to go to his cousin's, General Sedgwick's, staff, where he was made Assistant Adjutant General and promoted to be Major. We have seen a good deal of him since we left Washington. He was one of the most interesting men in conversation I ever knew, full of stories and experiences of the Peninsular campaign, in which he took an active part, having been present at most of the principal battles. The night before Antietam, he was around at our bivouac. We were discussing the probabilities as to when Richmond would be taken; I made him a bet of a basket of champagne that it wouldn't be taken the 1st of January, 1863. This wager he accepted and registered in my pocket book and signed his name to it. The next day was the battle. General Sedgwick went into it with his division in Sumner's corps; Major Sedgwick received his wound in that terrible wood where our right wing suffered its heaviest loss. The bullet went through his body, grazing his backbone, instantly paralyzing the whole lower parts. He remained on the field two or three hours perfectly conscious, though suffering the worst pain. During this time he wrote several pages in his book, requests, etc. He was removed to Frederick, Maryland, where he died two or three days ago. He was only one among many, but he was one of the original “Second,” and a man I always liked very much.

I believe I have not told you about our old flag. Sergeant Lundy is color-bearer now (the old Crimean soldier of whom I sent the daguerreotype); he's a splendid fellow and plucky as can be; all through the action, he kept the flag up at full height, waving it to and fro. Well, on examination of it after the fight was over, we found twenty new bullet holes through the colors and three through the staff. The socket in which the butt rested was shot away close to the Sergeant's belt. Our old staff was shot in two at Cedar Mountain, and is now at home being mended. While I think of it, I must tell you of one most singular incident that happened the day of the battle. As we were advancing over one part of the field, which was pretty thickly covered by our dead and wounded, a man of Company F, Captain Mudge's company, suddenly came upon the dead body of his father, who was in the Twelfth Massachusetts Regiment and had been killed early in the day. It was a terrible meeting for father and son; they had not seen each other for over a year. The next day the son got permission to bury his father in a decent manner and put a head-board at his grave.

Have you made up your mind about the Emancipation Proclamation? At first, I was disposed to think that no change would be produced by it, but now, I believe its effect will be good. It is going to set us straight with foreign nations. It gives us a decided policy, and though the President carefully calls it nothing but a war measure, yet it is the beginning of a great reform and the first blow struck at the real, original cause of the war. No foreign nation can now support the South without openly countenancing slavery. The London Times, no doubt, will try to make out slavery a Divine Institution, but its influence does not extend everywhere. I think the course of that paper, since this war began, has been more outrageous than anything I ever knew of; you wouldn't think any paper could be so base as to say, as it has just said, that the President's Proclamation was published to produce a servile insurrection. It may have the effect to cause disturbances among the troops from the extreme Southern States, who will think, perhaps, that their presence is needed more at home than up in Virginia. There is no mistake about it, if the fact becomes generally known among the slaves of the South that they are free as soon as within our lines, there will be a much more general movement among them than there has been before. It is evident that Jeff Davis is frightened by it, to judge by the fearful threats of retaliation he is making.

Yesterday, Bob Shaw and I took a fine horseback ride of about twenty miles, visiting the vicinity of Antietam. Most of McClellan's army is encamped near there. We expected to find the First Massachusetts Cavalry, but they had moved up the river to Williamsport. My horse is in fine condition, now; she seemed to enjoy the exercise yesterday as much as I did.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 95-9

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, September 29, 1862

Maryland Heights, September 29, 1862.

I rode over to Harper's Ferry, yesterday afternoon, with Bob Shaw and Charley Whittier (the latter you remember of the Twentieth; he is now on General Sedgwick's staff). We went to Colonel Lee's headquarters and to the Twentieth regiment. I saw John Ropes's brother; he is now Acting Assistant Adjutant-General to Colonel Lee who is commanding Dana's brigade.

There is a rumor that Andrews is going to be made Brigadier-General; it would be hard for us, but he deserves it.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 94-5

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, September 26, 1862

Maryland Heights, September 26, 1862.

In my last letter, I wrote that we had orders to march the next morning. Our whole corps was routed out before daylight; our division, under command of General Gordon, marched to Maryland Heights, our brigade occupying our old last year's camping ground. Green's division crossed the Potomac and now occupies London Heights, the other side of the Shenandoah. Sumner's corps is encamped on Bolivar Heights. I think at last we are going to have a little rest; I can't tell. Everything seems about as it did last year up here; we have as splendid views and fine sunsets as ever. We have been very busy making up our pay rolls for the last two days. They are now a month behind time; there is any quantity of other papers which have been accumulating for the last six weeks, which will keep us hard at work for a week at least.

One of the men of my company killed at Sharpsburgh, the other day, lived in Brookline, and had been out here only about six weeks; his name was Thomas Dillon, and he was a good, faithful fellow. He was buried by two men in my company who volunteered to do it. A letter came for him two days after his death, which I think, under the circumstances, was one of the most affecting things I ever read, and yet it is only one instance among thousands. I do not know of anything that has brought the horrors of the war more plainly before me than this letter. I have written to the father of Dillon, telling him of his son's death.

You remember, don't you, of my speaking of a young boy named Stephens, who was killed at Winchester; his brother was wounded at Cedar Mountain, and has since died; they were their poor father's and mother's only sons; it is one of the hardest cases I have known.

I have talked with a number of the rebel prisoners. You have no idea what innocent, inoffensive men most of them seem to be; a great many are mere boys; there are some old men, too, with humped backs. Scarcely any of them seem to have any idea of what they are fighting for, and they were almost all forced into the army. I talked with one -poor little fellow from Georgia who had received a severe wound; he could not have been more than sixteen years old. He said that all he wanted was to get into one of the hospitals at the North; that he had been abused and knocked around ever since he had been in the army, and that the first kind treatment he had received and the first kind words he had heard were from our men. He expected to be bayoneted as soon as we came up. The more I see of battle fields convinces me that instances of cruelty to the wounded are extremely rare, and that they are treated, almost universally, with kindness by the men of both sides. When we crossed the field, we drove the rebels from where their wounded were lying everywhere; but our men took the greatest pains not to touch them or hurt them in any way, although sometimes it was almost impossible to avoid it. And when we halted, the men gave almost every drop from their canteens to the poor rebels. The idea that a soldier could ever bring himself to bayoneting a wounded man, strikes me now as almost absurd; it may have been done during this war, but I don't believe it.

Our wounded at Cedar Mountain were treated with the greatest kindness by the rebels; they gave them plenty of water and built shelters to protect them from the sun in many cases. This making out the Southerners to be a lot of cut throats is perfect nonsense; their leaders give a great many harsh orders, but the soldiers are not responsible for them.

I wonder if R. knows that his class-mate and friend, Breck Parkman, was killed at the battle of Sharpsburgh, the other day. He was on some general's staff and was probably killed by the fire of our brigade. Charley Horton saw a rebel surgeon who told him of it.

I believe that we are in quite a permanent camp now. It must be so, I think, for the whole army has endured a hard campaign of six months and must have rest; neither men nor horses can hold out forever. Then we have our recruits to make soldiers of, and the new regiments need any amount of drill. But there is another thing also true, that we have only got two months more in which any work can be done before we go into winter quarters.

The best news that we have heard lately is that Harry Russell is at liberty and exchanged; we hope soon to have him back here with us. There is no one I feel more pity for than Major Savage; we heard that he had lost a leg and would probably lose one arm; I don't believe he can live through it. He is one of the finest men I ever knew; nothing coarse or rough about him. He had a very delicate constitution, but was so plucky that he would do his work when a great many in his situation would have been on the sick list. He was one of my intimate friends, and had been particularly so during the last few months before Cedar Mountain.

Captain Quincy is at last heard from, it seems, badly wounded and a prisoner at Staunton. I doubt whether he or Major Savage ever will rejoin the regiment again to do duty with it; if that is the case, Captain Cogswell will become Lieutenant-Colonel, and Mudge will be Major. I shall be third Captain and shall have the colors. No one in our regiment can complain that he has not had promotion enough to satisfy him during the last few months. You will be pleased, I think, to know that a few of us have now got a first-rate “mess” in working order. It consists of Bob Shaw, Lieutenants Oakey, John Fox, Tom Fox, Abbott and myself. We have a really good cook, who can make good coffee, cook eggs in any way very nicely, and also make pies and puddings; to roast and broil or stew is child's play to him, and although our cooking materials are of the most limited description, we have not, since we have been this side of the Potomac, had a poor meal.

We found it, in our last campaign, to be an unmistakable fact, that a horse couldn't stand as much marching as a man; it got to be a common remark among the men on our march from Culpepper here, as we passed the dead or dying animals which had been abandoned, “There, we've killed one more horse; bring on some fresh ones, we're good for a few more yet.”

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 90