Maryland Heights, September 21, 1862.
To go back a little; last Sunday, we marched through
Frederick, almost the last corps of McClellan's army. We marched to the sound
of the cannon to Middletown Heights, reaching the latter place about half-past
one Monday morning, after the battle had been fought and won by our men. We lay
down on the ground and slept till daylight.
Monday we marched to within about five miles of Sharpsburgh.
Tuesday we united our corps to the main army. A battle was expected that day,
but nothing took place beyond a little shelling. We were aroused that night at
ten o'clock and marched to our position on line, reaching it between one and
two A. M. We were just behind Hooker's division. There was continual picket
firing throughout the night.
I awoke at daylight with the full conviction that we were
going to fight a battle that day. The first thing to do, of course, was to eat
a good breakfast, which I fortunately had with me. I had scarcely finished
before the cannonading began, followed quickly by heavy musketry volleys. We
got under arms at once and our corps marched forward. We halted just before
reaching the field, while our gallant general, Mansfield, gave the orders for
our disposition. He was a splendid old veteran; fine white hair and beard. He
had commanded us for three days only, but we all felt his good influence. The
poor man received his mortal wound before we had been under fire five minutes.
Our brigade moved up into an apple orchard; we had the
right. The Third Wisconsin was engaged first, receiving a tremendous fire; we
were quite well protected. Captain Mudge was slightly wounded, and about a half
a dozen men. Our regiment was now called upon to support the Third Wisconsin.
We formed a line almost at right angles with theirs, and poured a heavy
cross-fire on the rebels, who were in a cornfield not a hundred yards off; this
continued about ten minutes, when the rebel line broke, turned and ran. Our
brigade now advanced with a tremendous cheer; the whole field before us was
literally covered with dead and dying; we took a number of prisoners from the rebels
and the battle flag of the Eleventh Mississippi. We advanced in line for
several hundred yards, then halted; our part of the work had been done for the
present.
It was sad, now, to look around and see the shattered
battalions that were left in the places of the comparatively full regiments we
had seen an hour before. The Third Wisconsin had lost more than half its
numbers, and almost all its officers; it was very much the same with the
Forty-sixth Pennsylvania. Our loss had been very small, though I think our fire
was altogether the most effective of any regiment. Colonel Dwight caught up our
rebel flag and rode by our line, waving it triumphantly; every cap went off and
a cheer went up that you must almost have heard at Jamaica Plain. It was one of
our poor Lieutenant-Colonel's last gallant acts, and I don't believe many who
saw him will ever forget it.
All of a sudden, Sumner's whole corps came up behind us; we
gave them a cheer as they passed by. They were in three lines and looked
splendidly. They advanced into a wood and were met by an awful fire; they
returned it gallantly, but were unequal to their task and were obliged to give
way to the right a little, leaving the woods to the enemy. All this time we
were lying down flat under a heavy fire of solid shot and shell, which tore the
ground up around us, but as usual did no harm.
Now came our turn again; Gordon's brigade was ordered to
attack the woods on the right. We crossed a high rail fence into a lane1
and ensconced ourselves behind the fence on the other side within fifty yards
of the woods; we had on our right and left two new regiments. We had hardly
taken our position when the rebel line came out of the woods, so near you could
distinguish the features of the men. We gave them a volley which sent them back
in quick time under cover of a natural breastwork they had there; then, without
any cause, the new regiments bolted, officers [Sept. 22, 1862, The first sheet
was written on picket: I was suddenly relieved and am now in camp in Pleasant
Valley] and men, and we were left alone. We stood it for about ten minutes,
losing a third of our men and several officers, when the order was reluctantly
given to fall back. This we did in good order (though it was hard work getting
over that high fence in our rear, with much appearance of dignity), for about a
hundred yards, when the regiment was halted; then ranks closed up and again
made ready for attack or defence.
Now, too, it was sad to look at our thinned ranks; I found I
had lost two men killed and five wounded; many of the companies had suffered
more severely, but our greatest loss was Colonel Dwight. I saw his horse shot,
and saw him dismount and try and hold his horse by the head, but the animal
struggled so violently that he broke away; almost immediately afterward,
Colonel Dwight received his death wound. He was within six feet of Colonel
Andrews at the time, and as he was struck and sank to the ground, said,
"That's done for me." As soon as our regiment halted, four men
immediately volunteered to bring him in; this they succeeded in doing, though
all the time under a heavy fire. He was carried to a farmer's house, but lived
only about thirty-six hours. Lieutenant Mills, acting Adjutant, was badly shot
through both legs; Crowninshield received a flesh wound in the leg. Captain
Francis was shot through the hand and lost two fingers. Colonel Andrews' horse
was shot through the shoulder. Captain Shaw was struck by a spent ball in the
neck; Robeson was grazed in two places; I was struck by a spent ball in the
temple, which laid me on my back for a moment and raised a pretty black and
blue spot; I thought at first it was all up with me, but I soon got the better
of that idea. We carried into action less than two hundred and forty men and
lost about eighty killed and wounded.2 During the rest of the
battle, we were on different parts of the field supporting batteries. We lay
down that night about ten o'clock, glad enough to get a little rest. The dead
and dying were all around us and in our very midst.
At the first streak of daylight, I awoke; the first sight I
saw was a squad of wounded rebels coming into our lines: you can't imagine such
miserable looking objects as they were; their wounds undressed, and bleeding,
and their clothes torn in tatters. I found that Bob Shaw and I had slept within
fifty feet of a pile of fourteen dead rebels, and in every direction about us
they were lying thick.
One of the most brilliant actions of the day was a charge of
Smith's division; they passed our left and swept the rebels from their front
like chaff. Our artillery was splendidly served and did great execution.
Everywhere the rebels fought with desperation. Rebel prisoners stated that
their army numbered over one hundred thousand, and that they expected to win
the day and annihilate our army and have an open road to the North. Friday
morning, we had been reinforced by at least thirty thousand men, and McClellan
moved his whole army forward, but the rebels had gone, leaving dead and wounded
on the field uncared for; the sight everywhere was dreadful, and one that I
hope you may never see the like of; it cannot be imagined or described.
Our corps marched until two o'clock Saturday morning, over
the roughest of roads and through the darkest of nights, reaching the summit of
Maryland Heights ridge about ten miles from Sandy Hook; here we lay down till
daylight, then marched along the ridge over rocks and stumps to Maryland
Heights. Our old crowd had a nice dinner at Mrs. Buckles'; it was very
pleasant. I was sent out upon our old camping ground with my company to do
picket duty. Here I stayed until Sunday evening, when I was relieved and marched
my company down a breakneck road to the regiment which was bivouacking in
Pleasant Valley. 1 arrived about nine P. M., and lay down and slept under a
blanket for the first time for a week. It was luxury enough, though there was
nothing overhead but blue sky.
To-day we pitched camp and began our work with company books
and papers, thinking at last we were going to rest; but to-night our hopes are
dashed by an order saying, “Reveille at four o'clock; march at daylight.” I am
now sitting up to finish this letter, because if we move as we have been
moving, it is actually impossible to write.
_______________
1 The Hagerstown turnpike, which is quite narrow
at this place.
2 Actual loss 18 killed and mortally wounded, 54
wounded. Total loss, 72.
SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written
During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 86-90
