Pleasant Valley, July 17, 1863.
As usual it is raining to-day, for I think it has rained
almost every day for three weeks, more or less, so I am going to write to you
some account of our last campaign.
I believe my last letter describing our progress was from
Leesburg. From there, by a succession of long marches, we went to Littleton;
here we had a little excitement caused by a cavalry skirmish just in front of
us, but we were not called on to do anything. The first of July, we moved
towards Gettysburg to a small place called “Two Taverns;” there we began to
hear cannonading in our front, and in the afternoon, we were ordered forward to
support the force which was engaged. We were put into position but did nothing
that afternoon and lay on our arms that night. We heard, that night, of the
death of General Reynolds. Next morning, we changed position again. It was a
fine place in a beautiful, open wood. About three o'clock in the afternoon, the
battle began on the left; the musketry became fearful; it was a terribly
anxious time with us, more so, I think, than if we were actually engaged. Every
eye was turned in the direction of the firing, fearful lest at any moment we
might see our troops coming back through the woods. Happily, we saw no such
sight, but we did see, with pleasure, the old Fifth Corps going up to support
the gallant troops who were fighting.
About half-past six our turn came; we, too, were ordered
from the right to the left; only one brigade of our corps was left in the
breastwork we had constructed. We arrived on the battle-ground, but before we
got there the enemy had been repulsed severely, so back we started to our old
position. It was now between eight and nine o'clock, clear and moonlight. While
we had been away, Mr. Johnny Reb had come with a strong force and got our
breastworks; the brigade left behind had had a severe fight and had partially
driven the enemy out, but darkness came on, and the fight stopped. Our brigade
was ordered to advance cautiously and get into the breastwork. We crept quietly
along; not a word was spoken nor an unnecessary noise made. All the regiments
had got into their former positions without trouble except the Second. We were
just marching out of the woods into a little open meadow in the clear
moonlight, when our skirmishers brought in a rebel prisoner; this showed our
proximity to the enemy, so we changed our front and made preparation to fight
for our position.
The skirmishers were reinforced and again advanced. In five
minutes we had captured a captain and twenty-two other prisoners; still not a
shot was fired. These men appeared to be stragglers who had lost their command.
We began to think that, after all, perhaps there was no force in front of us;
so the regiment was again ordered to advance. Colonel Mudge put me in charge of
the line of skirmishers; the meadow was narrow, and we soon entered the woods
again, where it was quite dark. We crawled along cautiously and quietly, till
we began to hear a confused sound of talking in front of us; we now halted. Not
daring to do anything more without being certain what troops they were (for we
knew our Second Division was trying to work down towards us), I ordered two men
to go forward and ask them. They walked up to within a few paces of the line; one
of them said, “Boys, what regiment do you belong to?” The reply was, “Twenty-third.”
“Twenty-third what?” “Twenty-third Virginia.” Then some one cried out, “Why,
they are Yanks,” and seized one of my men; the other bolted back to me and
escaped. I sent word back to Colonel Mudge what I had discovered, and he
withdrew the regiment beyond the meadow.
The behavior of the rebels puzzled me; I couldn't make out
what they were up to; they were certainly there within talking distance, but
they seemed in confusion as if they didn't know their ground and showed no
inclination to fire or advance upon us. I now resolved on a bold stroke. The
men were ordered to advance with some noise; almost instantly the challenge rang
out from the rebel lines, “Who comes there?” Captain Fox had received his
instructions and called out in answer, “Surrender! Come into our lines.” The
impudence of this request must have struck the rebel commander, for his answer
was, in a loud voice, “Battalion, ready, aim, fire!” A heavy volley was fired,
but luckily the ground where we were was low and the men scattered at
intervals, so that not much damage was done, only three men being wounded.
They followed this up by a rush, and we ran for it; they
followed only a short distance, but I made up my mind that we had had enough
skylarking for one night, and returned therefore with all the men to the
regiment, bringing three more rebel prisoners. It was now between twelve and
one; we lay down with arms in our hands, to get a little rest. At the first
streak of daylight, we were waked up by heavy musketry firing in the direction
of our second division, the enemy being in force between our two divisions.
Captain Robeson with his company were out as skirmishers in
front of our line; they became engaged as soon as it was light enough to see
anything. At about half-past five, Colonel Colgrove gave the order to Colonel
Mudge to advance his regiment and charge the woods opposite us. Colonel Mudge
gave the order, “Forward;” the men jumped over the breastworks and rushed
forward with a splendid cheer. We had to cross the little meadow I have spoken
of; here was where we suffered so heavily; the enemy was in the woods and we in
the open. We reached the opposite woods and commenced firing at the shortest
range I have ever seen two lines engaged at. We fought the rebs before us for
about ten minutes; then I learned that Colonel Mudge had been hit and that I
was in command; I was on the left at the time. I went up to the right to see
how things were getting along there; I found, to my surprise, that the regiment
that had advanced with us was not on our right and the enemy were working round
that way trying to get in our rear. I ordered a change of position to the rear,
throwing our right back a little, which put the rebels in as bad a place as
they thought to put us and we drove them back again. We stayed here till all
our ammunition was expended, when we were ordered back by Colonel Colgrove.
It was a sad thing calling the rolls and looking at the
vacant places of so many officers; our only consolation was that they had done
their duty nobly in as brave an action as ever a regiment went into. Five color
bearers were shot down, one after another, three were killed, two badly
wounded, but the tattered flag never touched the ground. The third man who
seized it jumped on to a rock in advance of the regiment and waved it
triumphantly in the air, but the brave action cost him his life; he fell dead
beside the others.
_______________
[During the interval between the next letter and the
preceding one, the writer was on detached service engaged in bringing
conscripts from Long Island, Boston Harbor, to the Army of the Potomac.]
SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written
During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 143-7
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