James Island, June 17th, 1862.
My dear Mother:
Yesterday was for us a hard, cruel, memorable day, memorable
for its folly and wickedness, memorable for the wanton sacrifice of human life
to gratify the silly vanity of a man already characterized . . . You have heard
already from rebel sources, I doubt not, of yesterday's disaster. I can only
say that the plan of the attack was ordered by Gen. Benham in direct defiance
of his subordinate Generals' opinion. Gen. Wright, Gen. Stevens and Gen.
Williams pronounced on the evening of the 15th, the project of storming the
battery attacked, as conceived in utter folly. They entered their earnest
protest against the whole affair. But Benham was excited by stories of Donelson
and Newberne, and would not yield. Had the fort been taken, it would have done
us no good, except that we could have spiked the three guns it contained, but
had it been taken, the éclat,
perhaps, would have made Benham a Major-General, and for this contemptible
motive between six and seven hundred men strewed the field, dead and dying. I
do not know how I escaped unhurt — it must have been your prayers, mother — but
this I know, that sixteen boys of my company were killed or wounded, fighting
nobly, fighting like heroes on the parapet of the work, but fighting vainly to
give a little reputation to . . . Mother, when I see their pale fingers
stiffened, their poor speechless wounds bleeding, do you wonder at the
indignation that refuses to be smothered — that my blood should flow feverishly
to think that the country which our soldiers love so well, loves them so little
as to leave them to the mercies of a man of . . . I can give you no particulars of the affair
now — you will read of it in the papers. I must busy myself to-day to assist in
getting the requisite information for Gen. Stevens's report.
I do not know whether I can return in July. It hardly looks
as though I should be able to leave before Charleston is taken.
A thousand kisses for my dear sisters. May Lilly's life be
very happy. Ever so much love for the children. Bless them.
Tell Walter that when galloping across the field yesterday I
saw a sword and scabbard lying in my path. I looked instinctively at my side,
and found, when or how I cannot say, my sword-belt had been torn or cut, and
the sword was gone, but you can understand the pleasure I experienced at
discovering the sword in my path was Walter's gift, which I strangely
recovered.
Good-bye. I have much to do to-day. Capt. Rockwell's Battery
did excellent service yesterday.
Lovingly and thankfully,
Your son,
Will.
SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters
of William Thompson Lusk, p. 156-7
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