camp Near Winchester, March 15, 1862.
Of all the platitudes and jingles that ever amused and deluded
a chivalrous people, the assertion, “You can't subjugate a State,” is the
wildest. These people were first subjugated to secession, and now they are
rapidly being subjugated back to loyalty. Subjection is what vast numbers of
them sigh for. If only they were sure that the Union authority would last.
Therein lies McClellan's wisdom. No step backward, is his motto. With such
tactics, and with a bold and confident advance, I care not whether we fight
battles or follow retreats, though the former is far better, we restore the
Union.
I fear the people will regard the retreat from Manassas as a
disappointment to our arms, and almost a Rebel success. I fear that they will
think McClellan's preparation and generalship wasted. A little patience,
however, may show that they are wrong. We have gained an immense moral victory
over the Rebellion, and a short time hence we shall begin to see palpable
material results. Only let us not, by a sudden and rash revulsion, begin at
once to undervalue our foe. Nothing but the presence everywhere, in the seceded
States, of Union bayonets will accomplish the Union's restoration. That is a
work of some time and struggle, yet it must be done. The most dangerous heresy
seems to me to be the suggestion that the States, having gone out, are to be
governed as Territories. This involves the admission of the theory we went to
war against. Martial law may be necessary within the States for a time; but the
State, as well as the national government, is to be restored, or our contest is
fruitless. Changes, rapid and unexpected, are the order of the day.
Heintzelman's promotion to a corps d’armée leaves open his division. Yesterday, when I
went to town, I found that General Hamilton was promoted to the command of that
division. He went off yesterday afternoon, regret following him from every one.
He is a great loss to us. His departure leaves a brigade vacant; accordingly
our regiment is to-day transferred to Hamilton's old brigade, and Colonel
Gordon, as senior Colonel, assigned to its command, as Acting Brigadier. This
is a pleasing change, and it gives the Colonel room to show himself. It
probably, for the present, may find me in command of the regiment, as Colonel
Andrews is still on detached duty; but I shall make every exertion to have him
returned to the regiment, in justice to him. He has fairly earned the right to
the command, and I should not feel content to have him or the regiment deprived
of it, though my own personal ambition might be gratified by so desirable a
command. I hope I can sink myself in seeking always the welfare of the
regiment, and the interest of so faithful an officer and friend as Colonel
Andrews. I think more and more, though I am unwilling to write about it, that
we missed the cleverest chance at cutting off and bagging Jackson and his force
that ever fell in one's way. Caution is the sin of our generals, I am afraid;
but military criticism is not graceful, and I will waive it for the present.
Yet if you knew how we ache for a chance at fighting, how we feel that our
little army corps out in this valley has no hope of it, you would not wonder
that a leaden depression rests heavily upon us, as we think of our hesitating
and peaceful advent to Winchester. And now why we do not push on upon Jackson
at Strasburg passes my limited conjectural capacity to guess. I presume the
reason to be that his evanescent tactics would be sure to result in his
evaporation before we got there.
This morning a few companies of cavalry, four pieces of
artillery, and five companies of infantry, Massachusetts Thirteenth, went out
on an armed reconnoissance, and chased Colonel Ashby's cavalry several miles.
The cavalry were too quick for them, and our own cavalry has no more chance of
catching them than the wagon train has. They are admirably mounted and
thoroughly trained. Where our men have to dismount and take down the bars, they
fly over fences and across country like birds.
General Banks has just gone off to Washington. Conjecture is
busy, again, with “why”? My guess is, that we have outlived our usefulness in
the Shenandoah Valley, and that we shall make a cut through the gap into the
path of the Grand Army. At any rate, nothing more can happen this side the
mountains, and I certainly hope we shall not be absorbed into any force that is
to be handled by General Fremont.
Our little town of Berryville is also called, as you may see
on some of the maps, Battletown, probably with prescient sarcasm on –––'s
anticipated cannonade of that peaceful agricultural implement, the
threshing-machine. Who shall say that we are not engaged in the noble task of
fulfilling prophecy and making history!
It is now Sunday morning. After two days' cloud and rain, we
have bright sunshine. Colonel Andrews comes back to the regiment, and Colonel
Gordon assumes his slippery honors as provisional brigadier.
I should like to go to church with you this morning, even in
an east wind. Instead of it, however, I must content myself with thinking of
you in my wind-swept camp near Winchester. I see that Governor Letcher appoints
Winchester as a place of rendezvous for his new levy of militia. I only wish
they would obey his order.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 211-3
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