Headquarters 1st Division,
9th Army Corps, Meridian Hill, Washington, D. C.
Sept. 6th, 1862.
My dear Mother:
Now that our General is dead, a Colonel commands the old
Division temporarily, and I continue to superintend the office, running the old
machine along until different arrangements can be made, when I suppose I shall
be set adrift with no pleasant prospects before me. I would resign, were I
permitted to do so, and would gladly return to my medical studies this winter,
tired as I am of the utter mismanagement which characterizes the conduct of our
public affairs. Disheartened by the termination of a disastrous campaign —
disasters which every one could and did easily foresee from the course pursued —
we find as a consolation, that our good honest old President has told a new
story apropos of the occasion, and the land is ringing with the wisdom of the
rail-splitting Solomon. Those who were anxious and burning to serve their
country, can only view with sullen disgust the vast resources of the land
directed not to make our arms victorious, but to give political security to
those in power. Men show themselves in a thousand ways incompetent, yet still
they receive the support of the Government. Politicians, like Carl Schurz,
receive high places in the army without a qualification to recommend them.
Stern trusty old soldiers like Stevens are treated with cold neglect. The
battle comes — there is no head on the field — the men are handed over to be
butchered — to die on inglorious fields. Lying reports are written. Political
Generals receive praises where they deserve execration. Old Abe makes a joke.
The army finds that nothing has been learned. New preparations are made, with
all the old errors retained. New battles are prepared for, to end in new disasters.
Alas, my poor country! The army is sadly demoralized. Men feel that there is no
honor to be gained by the sword. No military service is recognized unless
coupled with political interest. The army is exhausted with suffering — its
enthusiasm is dead. Should the enemy attack us here however, we should be
victorious. The men would never yield up their Capitol. There is something more
though than the draft needed to enable us to march a victorious host to the
Gulf of Mexico. Well, I have been writing freely enough to entitle me to
accommodations in Fort Lafayette, but I can hardly express the grief and
indignation I feel at the past. God grant us better things in future.
I had said my own prospects are somewhat gloomy. When the
changes are made in this command, and new hands shall take charge of it, I will
have to return to the 79th Regiment — a fate at which I shudder. The Regiment
has been in five large battles, and in ten or twelve smaller engagements. While
adding on each occasion new luster to its own reputation, it has never taken
part in a successful action. The proud body that started from the city over a
thousand strong, are now a body of cripples. The handful (230) that remains are
foreigners whose patriotism misfortunes have quenched. The morale is
destroyed — discipline relaxed beyond hope of restoration. The General and all
the true friends of the Regiment were of the opinion that it should be mustered
out of the service. After performing hard duties in the field for fifteen
months I find there is nothing left me, but to sink into disgrace with a
Regiment that is demoralized past hope of restoration. This for a reward. I am
writing this from the old scene of the mutiny of last year. A strange year it
has been. God has marvellously preserved my life through every danger. May he
be merciful to my mother in the year to come. My old friend Matteson is dead.
He was a Major in Yates' Regiment of Sharpshooters which distinguished itself
at Corinth. He died at Rosecrans' Headquarters, of typhoid fever.
We are going to move from here to-morrow, but your safest
direction will be Capt. W. T. Lusk, A. A. A. G., 1st Div. 9th Army Corps,
Washington (or elsewhere). All the letters sent me since I left Fredericksburg
have miscarried, and I am very anxious for news.
Affec'y.,
WILL.
SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters
of William Thompson Lusk, p. 188-90
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