Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, November 2, 1862

Camp Near Sharpsbitrgh, Md.,
November 2, 1862.

You see at once that our position is changed, although we are still on the Maryland side of the river. The orders we received at the time of my last letter were countermanded the next day, and another corps was sent across the river. Everything remained as usual for several days; Wednesday, I was sent on picket with my company up the canal to guard a length of three miles of the river. It was a beautiful October day, and I enjoyed the scenery along the Potomac very much; the trees on both sides were very brilliant. If it had not been for the existing animosity between us and our Southern brethren, I could have had some capital shooting, as the river was full of ducks.

About eight o'clock, P. M., the field officer of the day paid me a visit and informed me that I was instantly to draw in my men; that our brigade had received marching orders and probably had already started. This was interesting, but no time was to be lost. It was after nine when I left my post, and after ten when I reached the old camp ground. The regiment was gone, but one of the surgeons who was left with the hospital told me that the brigade had moved towards Sharpsburgh about two hours before. I was relieved at once by this information, for I knew I could find them there. After a little deliberation, I made up my mind that it was best to spend the night where I was. The men found no difficulty in making themselves tolerably comfortable in the skeletons of their old houses with the aid of good fires. I borrowed a blanket of the sutler and lay down on some straw on one of our old tent floors. Towards three o'clock in the morning, I woke up with awfully cold feet and amused myself till daylight making a roaring great fire, burning up our old bedsteads and other furniture.

Soon after daylight, I started with my command; after between two and three hours' pretty smart marching over a splendid road through a fine country, I came up with the brigade bivouacking by the side of the road. Very soon, we marched again to our present camp, where we relieved some regular regiments of Sykes' brigade which were on picket here. Our camp is in a beautiful open wood about five hundred yards from the river; we are on a sort of a perpetual outpost duty. Our regiment guards the principal ford (running for three-quarters of a mile along the river). This takes a hundred per day for the actual guard; the remainder of the regiment acts as a reserve. The rebel cavalry pickets are on the other side within talking distance. They seem to be peaceably inclined, and I trust the murderous practice of picket firing will not be begun on either side. It would make the duty dangerous and uncomfortable; now we can ride along the tow path within pistol shot of the enemy without feeling any anxiety.

McClellan is probably pushing southward with his army. We have heard pretty heavy and rapid cannonading to-day in the distance. I wish now that we were with the army; if the main body of it is going through a winter campaign, I want to be with it. We shall not stay here if our forces occupy Winchester and the intermediate points, I feel sure.

Yesterday I had a mighty pleasant call from Major Curtis and a friend of his from Boston, Mr. Edward Flint; they took dinner with us and we had a very pleasant time talking over old experiences. I rode back with them to the place where Major Curtis is on picket with a part of his regiment, six miles above us. I took tea there and rode home by moonlight. I lost my way about three miles from here, among an endless number of wagon tracks, paths, etc., so I threw my rein on my horse's neck and she brought me across the fields in almost a bee line to our camp.

I don't know whether I mentioned, in any of my last letters, that we had heard, the day we were at McClellan's headquarters, that Major Curtis had been mentioned as having distinguished himself on the reconnoissance towards Martinsburgh, where he had command of the cavalry.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 101-3

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