Resting Near Bull Run,
August 29, 1862.
I resume my narrative again like a shipwrecked mariner,
hoping at some distant day I may be able to send it to you. Since the
twenty-first, we have been marching and countermarching, manœuvering and skirmishing,
almost constantly, in all that time not having quarter rations or more than one
or two whole nights' sleep. We have really suffered hardships, now, for the
first time; we have known what it is to be grateful for a drink of the muddiest
of water and for a half of a hard cracker and an ear of corn or a green apple
for dinner, and to be able to lie down and get two hours' quiet sleep. Last
night, I took off my shoes, washed myself and got a whole night's sleep
for the first time in ten days; this morning, I had a beefsteak, a cup of
coffee and a piece of hard bread for breakfast; I feel now like starting again,
and shall probably be gratified before long.
For six or seven days, we skirmished along the Rappahannock,
moving constantly from one point to another of the river, generally marching in
the early part of the night, stacking arms at eleven or twelve o'clock, and
lying down on the ground until daylight to catch a little sleep, half the time
not being able to take our blankets from our horses for fear of a sudden move.
At daylight, cannonading generally began, either by our batteries or others
along the river. One morning, we had a pretty lively time; our battery
(Cathran's First New York), became engaged with two rebel batteries and, for an
hour, we saw and heard the smartest artillery fighting we have heard yet. At
the end of that time, the two rebel batteries were silenced and withdrawn; four
of our Parrotts were burned out and rendered unserviceable, and a number of
horses and mules, and one man, killed. The solid shot and shell came tearing
through the woods where we were supporting the guns, in great style, making the
branches fly; one tree was cut down close to where Colonel Andrews was.
Fortunately, none of us were hit, though the noise of the shot and shell was
terrific.
Day before yesterday, our army was withdrawn from the river
on account of a movement of the enemy to our rear. We reached this place last
night, after two days' toiling along after Sigel's wagon train, over the
dustiest of roads, under the hottest of hot suns. Two days ago, a battle was
fought near here, in which we were victorious; the graves of some thirty of
each side are in the field; this is all we know of the fight.
Last night a fight* began which is still going on, four or
five miles north of us, where the enemy seems to be in force. Everything seems
to be upside down and wrong end to. I have not heard a man yet wild enough to
suggest how it is all going to end. The enemy are certainly using the most
desperate measures to capture Washington and invade Maryland; they may be
successful, but I trust not. The whole of McClellan's and Pope's army is near
by somewhere, and there are large reinforcements around Washington. We don't
feel very anxious now, except about our next meal. Somehow or other, officers
and men seem to keep up their spirits wonderfully through all these hard times,
and I hope will continue to, as there is nothing I can see now to change the
times. Hogan and the mare are safe and perfectly invaluable in this emergency.
Rumors come to us now that Jackson is at Centreville with his whole army.
_________________
* 2nd Battle of Bull Run.
SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written
During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 82-4
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