Edwin M. Stanton to Major-General Irvin McDowell, May 25, 1862

Washington, May 25, 1862.

Intelligence received this morning shows that General Banks has been attacked in force at Winchester and is retreating towards Harper's Ferry. The entire forces of Jackson, Ewell, and Johnson are operating against Harper's Ferry. The Vanderbilt was ordered up to Aquia creek yesterday with a view to bring up some force by the river from your command. You had better have a regiment ready to embark at a moment's warning. The movement ordered yesterday should be pressed forward with all speed. The President thinks your field of operations at the present is the one he has indicated.

EDWIN M. STANTON,

Secretary of War.

General Mcdowell.

SOURCE: Report of the Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War: In Three Parts, Part 1. – The Army of the Potomac, p. 275

Major Wilder Dwight: June 6, 1862

The last year has been the richest of my life. For the first time in my life, I have been sure, every day, that I was doing good. I have worked hard in the profession of the law, and gained cases for people, and they have been very grateful to me, but I never knew with certainty whether I had done them good or not. Now I know, every day I live, that I do good to those poor fellows in our regiment, and I shall not give it up. I would not if I could, and I could not if I would, with honor.

Then, as to my life, my experience at Winchester taught me that is God's care, not mine. I took no care of it then myself. I was all the time in front of the line; I went forward into the most exposed positions possible. I saw a dozen men take aim at me. They did not hit me. I was as safe there as I should have been at home. And I shall be so again, till God's time comes to take my life. When that time comes, I am perfectly willing to give it up.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 271

Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday, May 31, 1862

To-day (Saturday, P. St., May 31) they have loaded all their wounded into wagons for transportation in their retreat.

Colonel Kenly and I have been paroled this afternoon. Colonel Kenly's wound in the head improves daily. Most of the prisoners, officers and men, marched off this Saturday morning.

I have furnished bread and some vegetables to our friends at the court-house every morning. Now that they have gone, I fear that they will suffer, perhaps for want of food.

Lieutenant-Colonel Cunningham, Twenty-first Virginia Volunteers, who has just taken my parole, tells me that his regiment was on the hill opposite our position.

“Your battery was splendidly served,” said he; “and your line of sharpshooters behind the stone wall on your right picked off every officer of our regiment who showed himself. Seven or eight of our officers were wounded by them. We fired spherical case over the wall at them, and, at last, round shot at the wall from the Rockbridge artillery.”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 263

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: The Final Order, July 12, 1865

Headquarters Second Mass. Infantry,

Washington, D. C, July 12, 1865.

General Orders, No. 26.

To The Officers And Men Of The Second Massachusetts InFantry :—

The Lieutenant-Colonel commanding takes this, his last, opportunity to tender to you his congratulations, that, after more than four years of hard service, you are enabled again to go to your homes, and resume your peaceful avocations.

A brief review of your history in this regiment cannot fail now to interest you.

At the very outbreak of the late rebellion, the Second Massachusetts Infantry was organized. Its first year of service was not an eventful one, and it became famous only for its good discipline and appearance.

In the campaign of 1862 it had a more distinguished part to act. On the night of May 24, your regiment, by its steadiness and bravery, beat back greatly superior forces of the enemy, and saved Banks' little army from total destruction. All of honor that can be associated with the disastrous retreat of the next day certainly belongs to you. Next came Cedar Mountain; there, with the same determined bravery, this regiment faced and fought three times its numbers ; and, in twenty minutes, lost more than one-third of its enlisted men, and more than one-half its officers. Antietam, Chancellorsville, Beverly Ford, Gettysburg, and the great campaigns of the West, with their numerous battles and skirmishes, followed in quick succession; and the war ended, leaving with you a most brilliant and satisfactory record, — a record of courage, gallantry, and tenacity in battle, of unflinching steadiness in defeat, of good discipline in camp, and of respect and prompt obedience to all superiors; this is the record which you can take to your homes, and it is known and acknowledged throughout the length and breadth of your State.

The Lieutenant-Colonel commanding does most sincerely congratulate you who are now left in this command, on having passed safely through this great struggle, which has terminated so gloriously. He feels sure that no one of you will ever regret your part in this war. As long as you live, and whatever your future in life may be, you will think of your soldier's career with the greatest pride and satisfaction; its hardships and sufferings, its dangers and glories, have made you all nobler, better, and more self-reliant men.

It will not be with pleasure alone, that you recall the events of the past four years. With sadness you will bring to mind the appearance of this regiment as it marched out of Camp Andrew, July 8, 1861; and will think how many of the noblest and best officers and men then comprising it now fill soldiers' graves. You will cherish the memories of these gallant men; and though you lament their loss, you will remember that they died in battle, bravely doing their duty, fighting for their country and right; and you will thank God, when you look about you, and see peace restored to this entire country, that the sacrifice of their lives has not been in vain.

The Lieutenant-Colonel commanding thanks you for your adherance to your duties, and your fidelity to him, since he has had the honor to command you. He assures you, that, in taking leave of this old organization, he feels more pain than pleasure; he has been with it since its first existence, has shared its dangers, privations, and glories; and now that it has devolved upon him to write these words of farewell he does so with unfeigned regret.

In conclusion, he hopes that the lessons taught by this war will exert a beneficial influence on your future lives, and that you may become good citizens and worthy members of society.

C. F. MORSE,

Lieut.-Col., Commanding Second Mass. Infantry.

(Official.)

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 221-2

Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: May 30, 1862

Winchester, Virginia, Friday, May 30, 1862,

Braddock Street, at Mr. Bernhardt's.

The first news of an attack on Banks's column reached the camp of the Second Massachusetts Regiment at Strasburg, Virginia, on Friday evening after parade (May 23). The Third Wisconsin Regiment was despatched by Colonel Gordon, commanding brigade, toward Front Royal, to protect the bridges. At eleven o'clock that night we were ordered to pack wagons. After despatching our train we lay down and spent the night in bivouac. No marching orders came. It was understood by us that many of the other trains had not yet gone toward Winchester. At or near ten o'clock, A.M., Saturday, the order came for us to march. As we passed head-quarters on the way to Winchester, it was reported that the Rebel forces were pushing forward direct from Front Royal to Winchester, and we were hurried on, as it was said, to meet them or anticipate them. When we drew near the bridge over Cedar Creek, the battery was ordered forward in haste, and it was said that part of our train at Newtown had been attacked by cavalry. We pushed forward, found the trains halted, and some evidences of panic and disorder. We halted half an hour before reaching Middletown. Then pushed on again. The day, which had been rainy and clouded, grew more clear and hot. The march was through the trains, and a rapid push toward Winchester. Donnelly's brigade was before ours. Between Middletown and Newtown it became evident that our rear was being pressed. The rear-guard had been composed of cavalry and artillery. A large drove of loose horses overtook us near Newtown; one of cattle soon came also; the wagons, also, were crowding the way. Still we pushed on. At about two miles beyond Newtown General Banks appeared, and announced to Colonel Gordon that our advance was in Winchester, and all quiet there. The evidences of panic and pursuit in the rear had been rapidly multiplying, and it had been reported that our train was cut at Middletown by a force coming by the Front Royal road. The Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment had been ordered to return to the rear with a section of Best's battery at Newtown. As soon as General Banks announced the entry of our force into Winchester, he ordered the Second Massachusetts Regiment to the rear to protect the train. The regiment, jaded by their march and fatigue, sprang to the duty. At Bartonsville, a little more than a mile this side of Newtown, we left our knapsacks, and pushed on.

As we came near Newtown, evidences of panic filled the road, — abandoned wagons, flying teamsters, &c. The regiment formed near the edge of the town. Two companies were deployed as skirmishers on each side of the road. Two companies were ordered to support Best's section, and the rest of the regiment moved into the town by the road by the flank. They had just entered the town, when the enemy's artillery from the other end of the town threw a few shells at them with skill. The shell burst directly over the battalion. Colonel Andrews ordered them within the yards on the right of the road. The skirmishers and reserve moved on, and the rest of the regiment followed, keeping within shelter of buildings. Before entering the town we had seen cavalry on our right and left. The line of skirmishers was halted in a hollow just beyond the town, and the reserves and battalion kept within the town. The artillery of both sides kept up a rapid fire. It was, perhaps, five, P. M., when we turned back. We held the position till sunset. At the edge of the town, on a door-step, was a half-eaten pile of corn. The man of the house said Ashby's horse was eating there when we came into town. I fed my horse with what was left. This was the only forage, I believe, taken from the enemy. Before we withdrew from Newtown we set fire to the abandoned wagons. It grew dark rapidly as we withdrew. I had a detail of two companies, A and C, as a rear-guard. One platoon of each company was deployed in the fields, on each side of the road. The reserves were united within the road. The enemy soon followed our retreat. As they came in sight of the burning wagons their yells and shouts were demoniacal. Expecting an attack by their cavalry upon the rear-guard, I prepared for it. When we came near Bartonsville a halt was ordered, to pick up the knapsacks. We could hear the yells of the men coming on. Soon the sound of approaching horses was heard. The growing darkness, confused by the glare of the burning wagons, compelled us to trust our ears. I drew the line of skirmishers into groups near the road, formed the reserve into a square, and directed the three bodies, so formed, to pour their fire upon the approaching cavalry at the command from me. The cavalry came on. The fire was ordered and delivered. The cavalry went back.

Their advance seemed checked. I rode back up the hill over which the cavalry had come, but could hear no sound. It then became necessary to draw in and relieve the rear-guard, to enable it to take its knapsacks. At the foot of the hill on which we had been posted was a little run which the road crossed over a small bridge. The rear-guard was drawn in across that run, together with Company B, which had come out to their support.

Company I had been ordered to report to me as a rearguard; Colonel Andrews stating that he thought the pursuit checked. Company I came down near the run to wait there till the knapsacks should be taken and till the column should move. Hardly had they got there when I could hear voices beyond the run. It had been reported to me that orders were being given to infantry. I heard a voice saying, “There they are! there they are! in the road!” As a few shells had been thrown at us when we were in position beyond the run, I thought the enemy might intend some such compliment, and I directed the company which was in column by platoon to break back against the roadsides. The doubt was soon scattered. A galling and severe infantry fire opened on us. Company I replied at once, and with admirable coolness and effect. In spite of their inferior numbers, and of the wounded falling about, they kept their position and maintained their fire. I sent back to Colonel Andrews for support, and parts of Companies C and B in the clover-field on the right of the road soon opened a fire that relieved us speedily.

Company I, however, had lost eight or ten killed or wounded in this sudden and vigorous attack.

We withdrew slowly, the column having now got in motion again. The enemy pressed us only a little way; then all was quiet. When we came to a brick house our wounded were carried into it, and a halt was ordered till ambulances, which were sent for, could be brought back for them.

I posted a line of sentries across the road and in the fields, and posted the reserve of Company I within that line, and the regiment was taking some rest, while Dr. Leland¹ was busy dressing the wounded in the house. After about half an hour the sentries reported sounds as of an advancing column. Upon going back, I found that I could hear it, and so reported to Colonel Andrews. Colonel Andrews expressed an unwillingness to leave the wounded unless we were compelled to do so, and ordered me to return again. I did so; and leaving word with my sentinels to fire at once upon hearing or seeing anything suspicious, I was on my way to report to Colonel Andrews that the enemy were certainly approaching, when I was stopped by a fire from the direction of the sentinels. Immediately a sharp and extended line of fire opened from the enemy's skirmishers close upon us. The column moved at once, as soon as it could be got in order.

Our sentinels and reserve from Company I stood their ground under a second severe fire. Part of Companies B and C were rapidly deployed, and we moved on in retreat. Part of Company D, under Lieutenant Abbott, was unluckily left behind on our right, where they had been deployed as flankers. For a moment they were between two fires, but the fact was discovered in season to avoid disaster. We were compelled, however, to leave Dr. Leland and the wounded prisoners in the hands of the enemy. The enemy pursued us closely beyond Kernstown. Soon after passing that village, I drew in the skirmishers, and followed the column rapidly. We passed our cavalry picket at the tollgate. Between twelve and one o'clock the whole regiment lay down to a dreary bivouac just outside of Winchester on the left of the road.

I met Colonel Gordon on the road, and went with him into town. He sent out his Adjutant, Lieutenant Horton, to attend to the posting of pickets. We went to see General Banks. I had only a few words with him. I told him the nature of the pursuit, and intimated the opinion which I had formed, that an attack would be made at daylight. I got no orders nor any intimation of any plan or purpose for the next day. I went back and lay down by a small fire for about an hour.

Soon after three o'clock, A. M., Colonel Andrews requested me to go into town, to hurry out some ammunition for our regiment. I saw Colonel Gordon, but could get no ammunition. When I came out of Colonel Gordon's room I met a messenger from Colonel Andrews, saying that an attack seemed imminent, and there was no general officer on the field. As I went back to the regiment I met Generals Williams and Hatch, and gave them the message. I then went back to the regiment. I found Colonel Andrews and Colonel Ruger together. I said to the former: “Ought we not to take possession of that ridge?” pointing to the one on the right of the road. Colonel Andrews said, “I have already selected it, but where is Colonel Gordon?” I replied he was coming. The regiment was formed, and Colonel Gordon, on his arrival, sanctioning the position, the regiment moved by the flank, across the road, and up the hillside.

We had just crossed the road when a Rebel regiment, in line (Fifth Virginia), appeared on the ridge, showing that they had anticipated us.

As we moved up the hill Colonel Andrews told me to ride forward, to examine the position. I did so. A fire from some sharpshooters saluted me, and I could see a battery and some regiments opposite the position that we were advancing to occupy. Meantime, Cothren's battery opened on the Fifth Virginia Regiment, and scattered them out of view. The Second Massachusetts moved on to its position, and took the line of a broken stone-wall, the right of the regiment resting on the crest of the hill. The rest of the regiments of the brigade formed on our left down to the pike. The battery was posted on a rise of ground behind our regiment. The Second Massachusetts was ordered to lie down. Part of Company D was deployed on the right as skirmishers. There was a warm fire of artillery and musketry on our position. The three right companies kept up a brisk fire on the battery and infantry opposite; rising and lying down again. Colonel Andrews and I dismounted. We could see one of the enemy's guns deserted. The enemy's pieces, I have since found out, belonged to the Rockbridge artillery. Our fire drove them from their guns, and I have also heard that their loss at this point was considerable. Soon, however, their fire ceased, for the most part, to annoy us; though their battery and ours kept up a rapid interchange over our heads, with more or less effect on both sides.

I happened to notice one or two mounted officers of the enemy pointing and gesticulating in the direction of our right flank, and suggested to Colonel Andrews whether they did not mean to send round a force to flank us. He seemed to think it probable. There was a stone-wall on our right and in front of our line about thirty yards or forty. Colonel Andrews ordered Companies D and I to deploy forward to that wall as skirmishers to protect that flank, and also to observe and harass any movement of the enemy like the one anticipated. At about this time a sharp fire of grape and spherical case, as I suppose, began upon the wall and the field in rear of us. I have since found out that the guns of the Rockbridge artillery were ordered to divide their fire between this wall and the battery to prevent our pushing a regiment up to the wall.

I went forward to the wall, dropping occasionally, as I saw the flash of the enemy's guns, to avoid their somewhat importunate projectiles. It appeared that the expected movement had commenced. There was one piece of low ground where the enemy's flank was exposed in their movement. They then passed behind a wooded knoll which covered them. Colonel Andrews ordered me to go to Colonel Gordon to report the movement. I did so, finding him in a hollow in rear of the centre of the brigade. He directed me to return, and ascertain in what force the enemy were moving. I went out to the wall, and ascertained that two or more regiments had already passed. Our skirmishers were exposed to a sharp fire at the wall. I reported the fact of the number of the enemy moving on our right to Colonel Gordon. He told me to tell Colonel Andrews to throw back the right of the regiment, and he would send up a force to support him. He also directed me to see that some of the artillery moved forward and to the right to play upon the enemy at this point; I was busy attending to these matters.

One of Cothren's pieces was brought forward, our skirmishers were withdrawn from the wall, the Twenty-seventh Indiana and Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania moved up to our right. I had dismounted to go down toward the wall, and was directing the officer in charge of the piece where his fire could be directed with most effect, when I heard a cry. I turned and saw that the Twenty-seventh Indiana, which had just opened its fire, had broken and was running. I saw that the enemy were pouring up the hillside and round on our right. I saw, also, that the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania had broken and was following the Twenty-seventh Indiana. The enemy were coming on at a run, with yells, but not in any regular order. The officer commanding the piece said to me, “What shall I do? I have got no support for my gun.” “Blaze away at ’em,” said I. “I shall lose my gun,” said he. “Well,” said I, “you must do as you choose.” I turned and found that our regiment was withdrawing. I could not see my horse anywhere, and so I followed on foot. As we passed off the hill the enemy rose on its crest. Their cracking and whistling fire followed us closely. I recollected an unmailed letter in my pocket, and preferring to have it unread, rather than read by hostile eyes, I tore it up as we went down the hill. A few of our men would turn and fire up the hill, reloading as they went on. I delayed a little to applaud their spunk.

But the flight before me and the flight behind me are not reminiscences on which I like to dwell.

We passed down into the edge of the town. As I came along, a young soldier of Company C was wounded in the leg. I gave him my arm, but, finding that he was too much injured to go on, advised him to get into a house, and went on. The regiment was forming in line when I reached it. Before I had time to go to the left, where Colonel Andrews was, the regiment moved off again, and I followed. It now became a run. A fire began to assail us from the cross streets as well as from the rear. I turned in at the Union Hotel Hospital to get on to the next street, but found the same fire there. Just as I was near the edge of the town one of our soldiers called out to me, “Major, I'm shot.” I turned to him, and took him along a few steps, and then took him into a house. I told the people they must take care of him, and laid him down on a bed, and opened his shirt. I then turned to go out, but the butternut soldiery were all around the house, and I quietly sat down. “Under which king,” &c. A soldier soon came in and took me prisoner. I made friendly acquaintance with him. He went with me for a surgeon for my wounded soldier, and also to pick up the overcoat which I had thrown off in the heat. I soon went down with my captor to the Taylor House, where I found Colonel Bradley Johnson, First Maryland Regiment, who took charge of me.

As I came back through the streets secession flags were flying from many of the houses; the town was full of soldiers and rejoicing. I found many of our soldiers prisoners in the court-house yard. I was busy about the wounded, and was allowed to go out to get a dinner.

In the afternoon I went upon the field with some of the prisoners of our regiment and buried our dead: two of our own regiment and two from some other. They were buried under the cedar at the right of our line on the hill, and I read a portion of Scripture over their open grave.²

In the evening I went up to the Academy Hospital, where I found Major Wheat of Wheat's battalion, who took care of me, and with whom I passed the night, and who treated me with the utmost kindness and courtesy.

The next morning (Monday, May 26) Major Wheat took me, together with Colonel Murphy, to breakfast at the Taylor House. There I saw Pendleton, of General Jackson's staff, and through him sent in a request to General Jackson. First, to see him; this was refused. Second, to send information, by a flag, to our friends of our number of prisoners, wounded, and dead; this was refused, on the ground that General Banks, after the battle of Kernstown, took no such step; and, as the aid said, “If it had not been for our private sources of information we could have known nothing of our wounded and prisoners.” Third, for a parole for our soldiers who were suffering from want of food; this was also refused on similar ground to the former. Fourth, then for a parole for myself, to enable me to board at some private house in Winchester; this was granted.

I went to the house of Mr. George Barnhardt, on Braddock Street, where I had stopped when we were in Winchester before.

I was at the Union Hotel Hospital on Tuesday morning, May 27, where our wounded were being collected, when I was delighted to see Colonel Kenly, of the First Maryland, from Front Royal, wounded with a sabre-cut on the head, but not dead, as reported. The Colonel came with me to Mr. Barnhardt's house, and has been with me ever since.

On Wednesday, May 28, I attended the funeral of Sergeant Williams, Company F, who died on Tuesday morning soon after I left him. General Jackson gave permission to eight of the Second Massachusetts prisoners to go out with me as an escort for the burial of their companion.

The number of killed, wounded, and prisoners of the Second Massachusetts may be approximately stated thus: killed, eight; wounded, thirty; prisoners, ninety.

Our men have suffered from want of food, but only because the Confederates had it not to give them.

The wounded are doing well, and are in fine spirits. Company I, especially, is in fine spirits.

It should not be omitted in the record of the scenes of Sunday, that, in the retreat through the town, citizens fired from the houses upon our flying and straggling soldiers.

Within an hour after the Rebel occupation of the town, Confederate flags were flying from windows, the women appeared gayly dressed on the streets, with Confederate colors, and wearing also little flags. The houses were vocal with “Maryland! my Maryland!” and “The Bonnie Blue Flag!”

There is little doubt, however, that the Rebel loss far exceeded ours. The hospitals are crowded with their wounded. They lost, also, many officers. Their wounded are much more severely wounded than ours. I have heard that the official reports show the loss on Sunday to be ninety-six killed and one hundred and ninety-two wounded.

I got, from conversations with various officers and soldiers, certain interesting facts connected with the pursuit and retreat. I inquired about the charge of cavalry near Bartonsville. “Who was it ambuscaded us there?” was their inquiry. And it seemed, from further conversation, that it was a serious interruption of their advance, and a cause of loss to them. It led them to bring forward their infantry, which gave us a fortunate delay to get our knapsacks. At General Jackson's head-quarters I saw the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fifth or Second Virginia Regiment. He asked, with interest, who it was that was at the run near Bartonsville. I told him I had that honor. He said that he had three companies deployed there of his regiment, and he added that he did not care to fight us again in the dark. Privates of the Fifth and Second Virginia reported that Jackson told them they should be in Winchester on Saturday night. The Fifth and Second are from the neighborhood of Winchester, and were coming home. Some unexplained cause led Jackson to hold them back at Newtown, otherwise they would have attacked us there.

In the battle on Sunday morning, it was Taylor's Louisiana brigade that went round to our right. Wheat's battalion was a part of that command, and he told me about the movement. Jackson had a very large force, eight or ten thousand men, moving on the pike. On our left was a part of Ewell's force, which engaged the First Brigade. One of their regiments (a North Carolina regiment) suffered severely from the fire of the Fifth Connecticut; but their force swept into the town even before the Louisiana brigade turned our right.

Jackson's forces were so jaded and worn down that they could not keep up the pursuit. The infantry was halted about four miles from town. The cavalry continued the pursuit. The colonels of the infantry regiments kept sending word to Jackson that their men could not keep on. Jackson had been marching his men without baggage, almost without food, from Franklin, where he had engaged Milroy. He crossed the Massanattan Gap at New Market, kept up the Valley at Front Royal. The number of his forces must have been between twenty and thirty thousand. It consisted of Ewell's and Johnson's (Edward) and his own command. They pushed rapidly on, and were promised that they should go into Maryland!

The young soldier who took possession of me was on foot, but he told me he belonged to the Second Virginia Cavalry. “Where is your horse?” said I. “He was shot last night when we were ambuscaded,” was the reply. Then I informed him that we shot him.

To-night (Friday evening, May 30) there is every evidence of alarm and retreat on the part of our captors. We are expecting every kind of good news, and hoping that they will be too late to carry us off on their retreat.

_______________

¹ Dr. Francis Leland, Surgeon of the Second Massachusetts Infantry.

² Four years later, almost on the very anniversary of this burial, friends of Major Dwight sought and found the consecrated spot. They were guided thither by a man from the immediate vicinity, who, when asked if he remembered, on Sunday afternoon, after General Banks's retreat in May, 1862, seeing a Union officer with some of his men, under a Rebel guard, come out upon the hill yonder to bury four Union soldiers, replied, “I should think I ought to remember it; I helped to dig the graves.” The cedar had been recently cut down, but the stump remained, and beside it were the four graves. The bodies had only the week before been removed to a soldiers' cemetery in Winchester, and those who visited the spot stood, as Major Dwight had stood, over the open graves. The form of the bodies was distinctly visible, and outside the graves were portions of the blankets in which they were wrapped, the visor of one of their caps, and other relics of them. Nearby was the “broken stone-wall,” behind which the two of the buried men belonging to the Second Massachusetts had perished, and within sight were all the most interesting points connected with the battle and the retreat.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 252-63

Chaplain Alonzo H. Quint to the Family of Major Wilder Dwight

I should not intrude now into your anxiety, your grief, but because your son was, let us say is, so dear to us. He had won the universal love of our regiment. Our hopes that Massachusetts will be proud of the late history of the Second Regiment are clouded by the anxiety felt by every man as to the Major's fate. Brought into constant personal intercourse with the men, I have every opportunity to know their feelings. He was always so attentive to the comfort and welfare of the men, was such a friend to every soldier, and was so useful to their needs, that no man could replace him. They love him.

He has been to me a kind friend, in my peculiar office, and I have always relied greatly on his influence and help in plans for the spiritual good of the men. His interest in our public worship has been great, and it was but a few weeks ago that we were together considering measures for the special improvement of the regiment as to religious plans.

I hope you have heard that he fell behind the column coming out of Winchester by helping and encouraging along a wounded soldier.

You will know, of course, how nobly he commanded the little band of skirmishers on Saturday night last, when his small force he formed against cavalry and infantry with entire success; how his clear, cool, deliberate words of command inspired the men, so that no man faltered, while in ten minutes one company lost one fourth of its number.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 248-9

Colonel George H. Gordon to Captain William D. Wilkins, May 28, 1862

HEADQUARTERS THIRD BRIGADE,

Camp near Williamsport, Md.

[May 28, 1862.]

CAPTAIN: Agreeably to instructions received from headquarters of the division, I have the honor to report the movements of my brigade in all engagement with the enemy on the 25th instant in front of and less than a third of a mile from the town of Winchester, Va.. At dawn in the morning I received information through the officer commanding the pickets that the enemy in large numbers were driving them in and approaching the town. I immediately formed my brigade in line of battle, the right resting upon the commanding ridge, the left extending into the valley. The ridge surrounds the town, which it holds as in a basin. It is less than one-third of a mile distant, and presents many key-points for positions. I placed my artillery, Battery M, of First New York, composed of six 6-pounder Parrotts, under Lieutenant Peabody, upon the ridge, and thus awaited further developments.

About 5 a.m. skirmishers from the Second Massachusetts, on the right and crest of the hill, became sharply engaged. At about the same time I directed the battery to open upon the columns of the enemy evidently moving into position just to the right and front of my center. This was done with admirable effect. The columns disappeared over the crest. For more than an hour a fire of shell and canister from several rebel batteries was directed upon my position. My brigade, being somewhat protected by a ravine, suffered but little loss. The fire of our skirmishers and the spirited replies of the battery, with heavy musketry and artillery firing on our left in Donnelly's brigade, were the only marked features of the contest until after 6 a.m.

At about 6.30, perhaps nearer 7 a.m. large bodies of infantry could be seen making their way in line of battle toward my right. They moved under cover of the dense wood, thus concealing somewhat their numbers. I directed the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania Regiment, Colonel Murphy, and the Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment, Colonel Colgrove, to change position from the left to the right of line, holding the Second Massachusetts, Lieutenant-Colonel Andrews, first on the right, in the center, the Third Wisconsin Regiment, Colonel Ruger, forming the left. This movement I had hardly completed, despite a new battery which opened upon my line, when three large battalions of infantry moving in order of battle, came out from their cover and approached my brigade. They were received with a destructive fire of musketry, poured in from all parts of my line that could reach them. Confident in their numbers and relying upon larger sustaining bodies (suspicions of which behind the covering timbers in our front were surely confirmed), the enemy's lines moved on, but little shaken by our fire. At the same time, in our front, a long line of infantry showed themselves, rising the crest of the bills just beyond our position. My little brigade, numbering in all just 2,102, in another moment would have been overwhelmed. On its right, left, and center immensely superior columns were pressing. Not another man was available; not a support to be found in the remnant of his army corps left General Banks. To withdraw was now possible; in another moment it would have been too late.

At this moment I should have assumed the responsibility of requesting permission to withdraw, but the right fell back under great pressure, which compelled the line to yield. I fell back slowly, but generally in good order, the Second Massachusetts, in column of companies, moving by flank; the Third Wisconsin, in line of battle, moving to the rear. On every side above the surrounding crest surged the rebel forces. A sharp and withering fire of musketry was opened by the enemy from the crest upon our center, left, and right. The yells of a victorious and merciless foe were above the din of battle, but my command was not dismayed. The Second Massachusetts halted in a street of the town to reform its line, then pushed on with the column, which, with its long train of baggage wagons, division, brigade, and regimental, was making its way in good order toward Martinsburg.

My retreating column suffered serious loss in the streets of Winchester. Males and females vied with each other in increasing the number of their victims, by firing from the houses, throwing hand grenades, hot water, and missiles of every description. The hellish spirit of murder was carried on by the enemy's cavalry, who followed to butcher, and who struck down with saber and pistol the hapless soldier, sinking from fatigue, unheeding his cries for mercy, indifferent to his claims as a prisoner of war.

This record of infamy is preserved for the females of Winchester. But this is not all. Our wounded in hospital, necessarily left to the mercies of our enemies, I am credibly informed, were bayoneted by the rebel infantry. In the same town, in the same apartments where we, when victors on the fields of Winchester, so tenderly nursed the rebel wounded, were we so more than barbarously rewarded. The rebel cavalry, it would appear, give no quarter. It cannot be doubted that they butchered our stragglers; that they fight under a black flag; that they cried as they slew the wearied and jaded, “Give no quarter to the damned Yankees.”

The actual number of my brigade engaged was 2,102.

In estimating the force of the enemy I turn for a moment to the movement of the First Division from Strasburg to Winchester on the preceding day, the 24th, and my engagement with the enemy during the march, which assured me of their presence in great force upon our right flank.

The capture and destruction of Colonel Kenly's command (First Brigade) on the 23d at Front Royal while guarding our railroad communication with Washington and the facts set forth in my report of my engagement on the 24th tended to a conviction of the presence of a large force under General Ewell in the valley of the Shenandoah. The union of Jackson with Johnson, composing an army larger by many thousands than the two small brigades, with some cavalry and sixteen pieces of artillery,, which comprised the entire army corps of General Banks, furnishes evidence justifying a belief of the intention of the enemy to cut us off first from re-enforcements, second to capture us and our material, beyond peradventure.

From the testimony of our signal officers and from a fair estimate of the number in rebel lines drawn up on the heights, from fugitives and deserters, the number of regiments in the rebel army opposite Winchester was 28, being Ewell's division, Jackson's and Johnson's forces, the whole being commanded by General Jackson. These regiments were full, and could not have numbered much less than 22,000 men, with a corresponding proportion of artillery, among which were included two of the English Blakely guns. Less than 4,000 men in two brigades, with sixteen pieces of artillery, kept this large and unequal force in check for about three hours; then retreating in generally good order, preserved its entire trains and accomplished a march of 36 miles.

Where all the regiments in my brigade behaved so well it is not intended to reflect in the least upon others in mentioning the steadiness and perfect discipline which marked the action of the Second Massachusetts, Lieutenant-Colonel Andrews, and Third Wisconsin, Colonel Ruger. The enemy will long remember the destructive fire which three or four companies of the Third Wisconsin and a like number of the Second Massachusetts poured into them as these sturdy regiments moved slowly in line of battle and in column from the field.

I herewith inclose a list* of the killed, wounded, and missing of the several regiments of my brigade, hoping that the numbers will hereafter be reduced by arrivals of those marked missing. How many were captured it is impossible now to determine.

Colonel Murphy, Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania, is known to be a prisoner. Major Dwight, of the Second Massachusetts, while gallantly bringing up the rear of the regiment, was missed somewhere near or in the outskirts of the town. It is hoped that this promising and brave officer, so cool upon the field, so efficient everywhere, so much beloved by his regiment, and whose gallant services on the night of the 24th instant will never be forgotten by them, may have met no worse fate than to be held a prisoner of war.

To my personal staff, Lieut. C. P. Horton, Second Massachusetts Regiment, my assistant adjutant-general; to Lieut. H. B. Scott, of the same regiment, my aide-de-camp, I am indebted for promptness in transmission of orders, for efficiency and gallant services in action.

I desire to express my thanks to Colonels Murphy, Ruger, Colgrove, and Andrews, and to the officers and men generally of my command, especially to officers and men of Battery M, whose skill and courage tended so much by their destructive fire to disconcert the enemy and hold him in check.

In fine, in the two days of the 24th and 25th of May the larger portion of my brigade marched 61 miles, the Second Massachusetts skirmishing on the 24th for more than six hours with infantry, cavalry, and artillery, the entire command on the 25th fighting a battle.

I herewith inclose such reports of colonels of regiments as have been forwarded.

Respectfully,

 GEO. H. GORDON,

Colonel Second Massachusetts Regt., Comdg. Third Brigade.

 Capt. WILLIAM D. WILKINS,

 A. A. G., -Fifth Army Corps.

_______________

* See revised statement, p. 553

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 247; The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 12, Part 1 (Serial No. 15), p. 616-8

Major Wilder Dwight: April 6, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, April 6, 1862.

It might be a June morning, by its sunshine and warmth. This broken valley, the “interval” of two sharp, dark-wooded ranges of cuts, itself broken and furrowed by impatient “runs,” as they call every water-flow in Virginia, might be a fitting scene for a pleasure journey. All the air might a Sabbath stillness hold, but another solemn influence is everywhere present. Within a mile of our quiet camp the outposts of two armies are watching one another. The cannon and rifle tone break the silence now and then. If you go down to our line of pickets, you will see the men watching with eager though patient eyes for a good shot; and as the smoke breaks from some cover on the opposite bank of the stream, you may hear a ball whistle near you, and some sentry near by will send his quick reply. I had quite an animated day yesterday. As field-officer of the day, I had charge of our line of outposts. I found in the morning that the Rebel pickets were quite importunate and vexatious. I also thought it important to change the position of some of our pickets; and, in order to do so, desired to reconnoitre the ground. I was soon interrupted in my quiet use of my field-glass by the whistle of bullets following the crack of rifles. The devils had probably worked down through the ravines. I moved my horse quietly under cover of a small house, and could listen to the sound without exposing any other sense. I soon changed my position; and thought, that, as the road went quite too close to the river, I would take the field. But I had not gone far in that direction when a rapid volley assailed me from behind a straw-rick, and I was again led to turn back, more especially as some of the shots seemed to be from some quarter quite too near for security. That is the working of these Rebels. They work themselves into safe covers, and pop away. Even their artillery, from which we have three or four attacks every day, is often so masked that even the smoke fails to disclose it. I leaped my horse over a fence, and made arrangements for my picket on a line a little less exposed. But you can get some idea of the persistency of the devils. They seem to act with a bitter personal hate and venom. In my ride yesterday afternoon I came to a house about which there was a gathering of curious soldiers. The poor woman was in great trouble. The Rebel battery had just thrown two shells through the house, shattering windows and plastering, &c. She was in terror, and her husband was away serving in the army whose missiles had terrified her. “Pa is pressed into the militia,” said the little boy to me. “He's gone away to New Market.” Yet these people explain their misfortunes by our invasion, not by their rebellion. “I wish you'd move your men away or stop their firing,” said a young girl to me at a farm-house. “Our boys'll shell the house sure, if you don't take care.” They cling to their allegiance to their flying army, — and why shouldn't they? It is made up of their brothers and sons and lovers. We find very few men. Indeed, their practical conscription leaves nothing male and able-bodied out of the ranks.

But I must not omit to tell you of my revenge on the men who fired at me. The straw-rick stood just in front of a barn. From the hill on which a section of our battery was posted it was a good mark. On my return to that point I directed a few shell to be thrown there. With lucky aim two of them struck the barn itself; and their explosion had, at least, the result to scatter the men within, who were seen to run back to the woods.

We hear an odd story of an incident in the battle at Winchester. It shows that the Second Regiment has a name in this valley. Probably its long continuance here, and the fact that a flag was given to it at Harper's Ferry, have attracted Rebel attention to it. It is said by some of the soldiers who were in the battle, that when one of the Ohio regiments was broken by the Rebel fire, and faltered a little, some of the Rebels jumped up from the corner of their stone-wall and shouted, “Where's Gordon's bloody Second? Bring it on.” A good deal of curiosity was also expressed by the Rebel wounded and prisoners to know about the regiment, and if it was here. They might any of them have seen it the other day if they would only have waited!

It seems that the Rebels swell their numbers now by a systematic and general compulsion. Such troops will only be an embarrassment to them, I think. But their unscrupulous tyranny spares nothing. An old free negro woman, living in a small hut near our camp, says, “They took away my son last summer to Manassas, and I've had a hard winter without him; but they left me my young son, a poor cripple boy. The other day they come and took him, and my horse and wagon to carry off their sick. He's a poor, weak boy, and all I've got, but they wouldn't spare him to me. I can't help it, but I feel more kind to you all whom I never saw than to them that I was born among.” So she talked on sadly of her troubles.

Look at another picture of this free and happy people, with their patriarchal institutions. Colonel Gordon stopped for the night at a house near Snicker's Ferry. The master was out of the room, and a mulatto slave woman was busy about the table. “You are happy, are you not?” says Colonel G. “No,” with a dull, whining, sad tone in her reply. “Your master's kind to you, isn't he?” “No, he sold my mother fifteen years ago.” That memory and loss had been her life and sorrow for fifteen years, and it would last. Pretty pictures of pastoral content!

“Do not take my corn and grain,” says Mr. Ransom, of Charlestown, a courtly Virginian gentleman. “I've a large family of negroes dependent on me, and I must have enough left to feed them, and to take care of my horses and cows till spring. My poor servants will starve.”

The army moves on; a week passes, and Mr. Ransom may be seen taking care of his single remaining cow and horse. His dependent servants have taken care of themselves, and Mr. Ransom is rubbing his eyes over the abrupt lightening of his burdens. Let us clear our minds of cant, — pro or anti slavery. There is full as much of the former cant as of the latter.

It was Sunday when I began this letter; it is now Monday. We make no movement yet. The Rebel shells have not been thrown among us for a whole day! so life is a little monotonous.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 227-30

Major Wilder Dwight: April 4, 1862

Camp Near Edinburg, Virginia, April 4, 1862.

We make life musical these hot sunny days with the screeching whir of shells or the sharp buzz and sping of rifle-balls. But the enemy keep at a respectful distance, for the most part, and our own shameful mismanagement about supplies, or some large wisdom affecting other forces, keeps us quiet. Our tents came up yesterday, and we are now in camp again. This morning Colonel Andrews and I have been out “prospecting” round, as they say in this country.

The Rebel pickets are in plain sight, just beyond the river, but there is no evidence of any force there, and when we conclude to go on, on we shall go without difficulty. Our advance to this point was made by our regiment in fine style. The men skirmished over a distance of fifteen miles, and did their work well. Neither the musketry nor the artillery delayed or embarrassed our progress, which was as rapid as an ordinary day's march. The impetus and stimulant of pursuit spurred on the march, over a difficult and broken country. At the “Narrow Pass,” where the Shenandoah and a creek crossing the pike a little below almost come together, but are kept asunder by a piece of rock, over which the road passes with just the width of a carriage path, was the sharpest conflict. It was mainly an “artillery duel,” as the phrase is. Our skirmishers had learned, however, before this, that, to their deployed line, the shell, though assailing the ear with terror, were sound and fury signifying nothing. Their effect was aimed at the reserves or our artillery, and it really had an unpleasant sound as it whizzed or spanged near us. It is high time that being “under fire” should be among our “has beens.” I am quite satisfied that the order and discipline of the regiment will tell there as it has everywhere else, and our recent experience is a proof of it. I suppose you must have read General Shields's “private” letter about the battle at Winchester. A more barefaced series of Irish romances I never read. The man actually has the effrontery to connect his fortunate blunders into a chain of shrewd stratagems, and with after-event wisdom to glorify himself. The idea of a man in bed, with a broken arm, four miles from the field, not knowing of the enemy's force or positions till four, P. M., directing and guiding a battle that commenced at once and closed in two hours!! Pshaw! It is like Sir Lucius O'Trigger or Mickey Free.

“An attack having many of the elements of a surprise,” says General Banks in his order, praising the courage and constancy of the soldiers.

“Och, sure,” says our Irish general, turning with a shrewd wink to the public; “but it was a sthratagim o' me own. It's the clivir bye that I am, be dad! Troth, but I decaved 'em. And I, too, with only twelve thousand men to me back, and only a brigadier. It's I should be major-general at laste, then ye would see. Gineral Banks, indade! Och, he's a foine man intirely, and thrates me well. But it's I that inwents the sthratagims!”

Possibly there will be truth in history hereafter; there is none in the present record.

I advise you to subscribe for or buy regularly the Congregationalist newspaper. It contains our Chaplain's letters, which I consider very clever and entertaining.

Is it not about father's birthday? At any rate, I may wish him a happy return next year, and may I be there to see.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 225-7

Major Wilder Dwight: March 31, 1862

Camp Near Strasboro, Virginia, March 31, 1862.

I was glad to hear, from your letter of the 23d, that you have been doing something, and leading others to do, for the wounded and suffering from Pea Ridge. You will never appreciate, except feebly and by conjecture, the relief and soothing of which you may be the happy cause. If, on Monday evening last, you had gone with me into the courthouse at Winchester, and seen the wounded and dying lying upon the bare floor, “heads and points,” as the surgeon expressed it, the victims at once of hunger and cold and wounds, you would know what could be done with the heart to do and the things to do with.

Of those people who make a luxury of good works, and are, so to speak, epicures in benevolence, I know not how they could get so much for their money as by coming upon one of these recent battle-fields.

I rejoice in Howard's safety more than I can bring myself to do in my own. While you are thinking of the bodily security of your sons, there is one of them who is jaded and depressed by the inglorious military drudgery to which “the best regiment in the service” is hopelessly condemned.

I have just returned from twenty-four hours’ picket duty in a cold rain-storm. The enemy's line of pickets is about a mile from our own. Ashby brought up his cannon, and threw a few shells at our outposts. They whistled through the air and fell near us, but were only bravado and insolence. When we go on he will run faster than we can follow. Meantime, the large movements and the decisive actions of the Potomac campaign are probably taking place, and we are stupidly trailing after an evanescent and puny, but resolute, foe. Bah! One of our companies is in Centreville, I suppose; one at Snicker's Ferry; the rest here, drying themselves in the sun after twenty-four hours' hard, wet, useless work, unrecognized and unknown. Whenever the division wants a commissary, or an acting assistant-adjutant, or what not, he is detailed from us. We have not a single full brigadier in the whole corps d’armée. Five brigades all commanded by colonels, — unorganized and undisciplined, except a few regiments.

Do you wonder that I get down in the mouth? It will soon be a year that we have been in service, with nothing to show for it but the effects of the hardest possible work.

You see I am in no mood for letter-writing. I write because there is a mail going. I shall not write again till I feel better. You need not feel concerned at not hearing from me. I almost feel as if I would not take up a pen again till I could speak of something else than the inglorious details of our present life. Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 223-4

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 28, 1862

Camp Four Miles Beyond Strasburg, March 28, 1862.

I had just finished my letter yesterday, and started to mail it, when I was turned back by a hurried order to “march at once.” Our long roll was beating as I got back near camp, and in a few minutes the line was formed and the brigade in motion through Strasburg. It was reported that our outposts were threatened by cavalry, infantry, and artillery of the enemy. As we passed out of the town we could hear the occasional sullen tone of a cannon. My incredulity was proof, however, against any faith in an attack in force; so I was not surprised when the brigade was halted a few miles from town, and ordered to go into camp, and send back for its train. It seems that the enterprising and clever Ashby, with his two light pieces of artillery, was amusing himself and exciting us by a slight demonstration. Ready for a rapid and elusive retreat at a moment's notice, he would like to continue his game which he has safely and pleasantly played so long. He is light, active, skilful, and we are tormented by him like a bull with a gad-fly. We chose a fine oak-wood for our camp, and at sunset were quietly in tents again. This morning the sun rose warm and glorious. The singing birds anticipated our reveillé, and we have the sunniest, happiest camp to-day possible.

I have had an opportunity to hear directly from Jackson's camp yesterday. He is a few miles beyond Woodstock. He has no tents, and his wagons carry only subsistence, and are ready to move at a moment's notice. His force is four or five thousand men. He says, “My men have no uniform, they wear multiform.” He keeps Ashby in his rear with his cavalry and two pieces of artillery. His game is a winning one even when he loses. With his small force he detains twenty thousand men in this valley. It seems probable that his attack on Winchester was in pursuance of a positive order from Johnson to make the attack at all hazards, to arrest and detain our force from its intended movement to Centreville. In this aspect it was a success. In my judgment our weakness was in turning back. The force left behind was large enough to take care of this valley. But, indeed, it seems as if we had no plan and no courage or decision. Vacillation is our name. We cannot take Jackson. If we mean to hold the valley, we should establish our force in position to do so, take the rest to Centreville, and thus perform our part in the campaign. The life that we have led for the week past is a waste of men and of energy. It quells the spirit of our troops, and destroys the prestige of our leaders. My admiration and sympathy go with the gallant Ashby, and the indefatigable and resolute Jackson. With an equal force, the latter would have beaten us at Winchester. Banks, in his general order, speaks of a “subtle” foe, a most unlucky word for a shrewd observer of our movements. As soon as we give him a chance by dividing our forces or exposing a detachment, Jackson may seize the occasion for an attack. While we remain strong in numbers or position, he will do neither, you may be sure. I hope in McClellan's generalship, and am very glad father gains faith in it. You will soon, as I know, hear of movements which show boldness, plan, and decisiveness. The campaign is not to be a timid waiting on the movements of the enemy. I hope events may soon take us to Centreville, where we can feel the direct grasp of McClellan's hand. But I try to be patient, and to feel that “they also serve who only stand and wait.” At present we are safe and comfortable enough. God bless you all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 221-3

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 27, 1862

camp Bivouac, Near Strasburg, March 27, 1862.

I must write you a line from our hillside-wooded bivouac this bright morning.

On Tuesday night we made a forced march toward Strasburg from Winchester, to be within supporting distance of General Banks. We marched till one o'clock in the morning, and then the regiment laid down by the roadside, and built fence-rail fires and rested. Yesterday morning we came on to Strasburg, where we now await the future. Jackson is supposed to be at Mount Jackson, about fifteen miles from here, with part of his force. The force was very much demoralized by the defeat and loss. Their killed, wounded, and prisoners cannot be less than one thousand; three hundred will cover our loss, killed and wounded. At our bivouac, night before last, a few of the officers, including the Colonel and myself, took possession of a comfortable house, and slept in the “best room.” The next morning at breakfast, when the master was out of the room, the mulatto that served us said: “Jackson took breakfast here day before yesterday. He told massa that he could not make much, but he should try you again.' But he won't, think I. As we marched through Middletown yesterday, whose houses are full of secession wounded, dropped on their march by the retreating army, our band poured out its national music, and there was a somewhat unfeeling sauciness in the swing and tramp of the regiment over the way so lately passed by the panic-stricken fugitives. At one house near which we rested we found a poor Rebel soldier whom a shell had overtaken in his retreat. One arm gone, one leg nearly so, and the other leg mangled. Poor fellow! his life will be short. By his bedside was a Union soldier of the Seventh Ohio, — the regiment that suffered most, on our side, in the fight. That soldier was nursing and tending the poor wounded man as affectionately as a sister. He had been with him a day, and said he was afraid of being court-martialled if he stayed; but, said he, “I can't leave him alone.” Our surgeon, who has been behaving like a trump, gave him a certificate, and advised him to stay. We left him dressing the hopeless wounds.

At one of the hospitals in Winchester, a Rebel soldier, wounded and suffering, said: “How kind you are to us! They told us that you would kill us, and kill all the wounded.” Such are some of the lies with which they keep their men up to the fighting point. The women of Winchester began by bringing delicacies for their wounded, as they said. After a day, however, when they saw our equal kindness, they began themselves to get a little humanity, and to work for all.

There is a base and brutalizing influence at work here in Rebeldom, beyond all question.

The scenes through which I have passed for the last three days remain with great vividness. Take the Winchester court-house as an example. You enter the door, and the vestibule is full of dead. You go in farther, and the court-room is a hospital, in which every variety of wound and suffering meets your eye.

It is little enough that human aid can do in such a place, but it is wonderful to see the comfort that is given by human sympathy. I noticed one boy shot through the jaw and the back. He had been looking intently at the man next him, when he began some inarticulate address to him. Through the wounded and disturbed jaw he at last made himself understood as saying, “Do you feel better?” “Yes,” said the man next him. “Glad of it,” he worked out, with difficulty, and lay back, having imperfectly expressed the sympathy which most men would hardly think he had to spare. Young Lieutenant Crowninshield was walking through one hospital. “Hallo, Crownie, how are you?” said a wounded Rebel soldier. On looking at him, he recognized a classmate, named Washington, who left Cambridge a year ago. He was a private in Jackson's army. His mother and sister were living near Charlestown. The poor fellow was wounded through the lungs probably mortally. What a war this is!

An odd incident occurred to one of our regiment. Private Alexander, of Company E, was taken prisoner last summer at Maryland Heights, and brought to Winchester and thence to Richmond. He was released with Colonel Lee, and sent back here to rejoin his regiment. He arrived in Winchester just after we had left for Centreville, but just in season for the battle. He went out on to the field, took a gun from some fallen soldier, and went in with all the bitterness of a six months' captivity. At the close of the engagement he returned to Winchester, bringing with him two Rebel guns and a Rebel prisoner as his booty and revenge. He thinks he is even with them now. Captain Cary's company was on duty in Winchester, at the time of the battle, as part of the provost guard. Three of the men got leave of absence in the afternoon and went out to the field, picked up guns, and sailed in. The last that is known of one of them is, that he was seen in the advanced line of skirmishers fighting like a hero. The others, after the battle, returned. So you see our regiment had only four men in the engagement. I believe we remain here quietly to-day. We are on the line of the Manassas Gap railway, but the bridges have been burnt. I think that we shall not be attacked again, nor be able to overtake Jackson, whose movement was against a divided force, and unsuccessful at that. He will not, therefore, assail us when we are reunited. It is a splendid, mild morning. We are camped in a pine and cedar grove facing the south, and resting after a march of sixty-five miles in four days, — awful hard work with very little glory. Those fellows who are put on cars and then shipped to an exploit, with no service in the field, are lucky men. Ours is the labor and heat of the day with no penny as yet. The eleventh-hour men are getting their pennies first! Will there be any left for us? Who knows? Love to all at home. I am writing on your little portable writing-case, which is a convenience. Your letter of the 20th was received last night.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 218-21

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 25, 1862

winchester, Virginia, March 25, 1862.

A blue March morning, and I have just returned from the battle-field. A sight to forget. I question much if description of it is well. You may fancy the scattered dead through woods and over hillsides.

The oddest coincidence of blunders brought about a battle.

Banks's division had left Winchester on Saturday noon. Shields drew back from Strasburg, and had gone on the back of the town (Winchester). No forces or pickets were on the Strasburg road on that side of the town.

On Saturday evening there was some skirmishing by Ashby's cavalry, in which Shields was wounded. It seems that Jackson had been informed that every one had left the town. His skirmish on Saturday failed to develop any large force.

On Sunday, therefore, the fight commenced by our and their artillery. It continued through the day till half past three without any development of infantry on their side. At three o'clock General Banks, supposing it to be only Ashby's cavalry, with a few pieces of artillery, continuing his system of annoyance, went to Harper's Ferry. But, at about four o'clock, Jackson, with his infantry, attempted to turn our right by sending round over a ridge through the woods. No one was in command of our forces. Colonel Kimball, the ranking colonel of Shields's forces, was, so to speak, in charge of the battle. Shields was abed in town. The staff were galloping about, and the soldiers fought like heroes. General Banks had gone to Harper's Ferry. Jackson had put his artillery on the commanding ridge on his left. He had two regiments of infantry behind a stone-wall in rear of the batteries. Here was the sharp fighting. We sent round our force to turn their position and take their artillery. It was done. Then they tried to retake it. Their force came over a hill, and fired over our men. Our men shot up at them and took them in the head and breast. The woods are torn and shivered by musketry and cannon. Thirty men in Confederate homespun, shot in the head, lie in this wood. Their upturned faces seemed to me looking reproach at Jeff Davis. The fight lasted till dark, when Jackson withdrew, leaving us the field and two pieces of artillery and five caissons; leaving also his dead and wounded and two hundred and fifty prisoners in our hands.

Both parties had blundered, — they, by acting on our retreat; we, by acting on his retreat. The upshot is a glorious victory for us. I have just come back from a sad visit to the hospitals; seeing wounded, dying, and dead, Rebels and Loyalists lying side by side, and receiving equal care. The loss on our side is one hundred or more killed, and two to three hundred wounded. Theirs is nearly three hundred killed and probably five hundred wounded. Everything shows how easy it is to kill a great many men by shooting very often! Jackson's men, as some of their wounded state, came down expecting to find Winchester empty. They consider our actual movement a feint. Some of their troops marched two days, and came into action late in the afternoon. I give you my impressions.

We go to Strasburg to-morrow. We shall meet no opposition. We left a door open, and in came Jackson. We must not leave another door open. That's the moral of this story. The sheer fighting of our men saved us. Good by. Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 216-8

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, June 14, 1862

Camp Near Newtown,

June 14, 1862.

After about eighteen days' absence, here we are back again in Virginia, camped on the identical piece of ground where the fight raged the fiercest on Saturday night, the 24th of May. We crossed the Potomac the 10th, Tuesday, and bivouacked on this side of the river; the next morning we started early, six o'clock, and marched to Bunker Hill, twenty-two miles, camping there that night; the next day we marched twenty miles to this place. Our march through Winchester was with closed ranks, band playing “John Brown,” “Yankee Doodle” and “Dixie,” and our old Harper's Ferry flag flying, almost torn to pieces by the bullets of the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-fifth. People scowled as we marched through town.

As I said before, our camp is on the ground occupied by us in the first skirmish of Saturday night, and what is a still more striking coincidence, our mess tent is pitched on the exact piece of ground that our skirmishers rallied on when they poured in such a deadly fire to the rebel cavalry. The last man of ours that was killed here was buried close by, by a citizen. Yesterday afternoon, I rode back to Winchester and over the battle field. The effects of the artillery were still very apparent; stone walls and fences knocked to pieces, trees cut off, etc. Near where our right was, are three graves of our men who were killed there.

I had a very pleasant visit to the hospital where our wounded are; they are mostly looking very well. It does one good to see how they brighten up when one of their officers comes into the room where they are. I believe I spoke in one of my last letters about a private named Stevens, in our company, whom I saw wounded, first by a piece of shell, then by a bullet. The poor fellow is dead; I could not find out any particulars about him yesterday, only that he died in hospital June 4th. He was a very good boy, not more than eighteen years old; he was one of the recruits that joined us last fall; he always did his duty faithfully, and was a brave little fellow. It seems sadder about him because he had an older brother in the company, who always took care of him when anything was the matter. He has been very anxious since the fight, and now the first news he has received is of his death. It is a severe shock, but he bears it bravely, and says he feels happy that his brother never showed himself a coward.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 68-9

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, May 29, 1862

May 29, 1862.

I am going to start to give you a detailed account of what has transpired during the last week; whether I shall be interrupted or not, I cannot tell. Last Friday, after dress parade, I went out for my usual ride with Jim Savage. We met an artillery man, who cautioned us about riding outside of the camps, as they had just had a man shot by guerillas within a short distance of camp, and several others had been fired at. This shortened our ride. No sooner were we back at camp than we heard of an attack at Front Royal. The Third Wisconsin of our brigade was immediately ordered over there. At half-past two that same night, we were roused and ordered to strike tents and pack wagons at once. From that time till daylight, we sat around waiting further orders; none came till Saturday at ten A. M., when the whole division started down towards Winchester. After marching five or six miles, one of Banks' aides came galloping back from the front to order up a battery, saying that the enemy were right ahead of us attacking the wagon train. We halted for a short time, but the alarm proved to be false; only one wagoner had been shot by a guerilla, but this was sufficient for Banks to make up his mind that the wagons were safer behind than in front.

We kept on in this way till the town of Newtown was passed. Soon after, we halted, and a section of Cathran's and a section of Best's batteries were sent to the rear. In less than fifteen minutes a brisk cannonading commenced, and our regiment and the Twenty-seventh Indiana were ordered double quick towards the sound of it. We found the wagon train in a perfect heap in and on each side of the road, some wagons tipped over, and a great many deserted by their drivers. The men were allowed here to take off their knapsacks and overcoats which were left piled up in the field under a guard. The rebel cavalry ran as soon as we deployed, leaving a good many killed and wounded by our shells. The enemy were drawn up (how many we do not know) just beyond Newtown, with cavalry stretching out on each flank; they commenced the skirmish by shelling us; the second shell wounded two men of Company A. We took up a good position on each side of them, with the artillery on each flank. We fought here with our artillery for nearly two hours until our wagon train was fairly started and most of it in Winchester. Then, just as it began to get dark, the artillery and the Twenty-seventh Indiana filed away and left us alone to cover the retreat to Winchester. Companies A, B, C and D were thrown out as skirmishers; hardly were we out of town than the enemy's cavalry and artillery dashed in, with a tremendous yell of triumph. They attacked us at once. We fell back without any hurry, firing all the time, till we got to a little bridge the other side of Cairnstown, where half the regiment made a stand while the other half got their knapsacks. The rebels here closed right around us; they were so near we heard every order, and were able to make our dispositions accordingly. There was not a word spoken in our regiment, by officer or man, above a whisper, and it was so dark that nothing could be seen except by the flashes of our muskets. Finally, we heard the order given to the rebel cavalry to “Charge!” A square was instantly formed in the road, and the skirmishers rallied on each side. The rebels came thundering down the road, literally making the ground shake. Not a shot was fired until they were within fifty yards of us, when Major Dwight gave the order, “Rear rank, aim! fire! load! Front rank, aim! fire! Charge bayonets!” But the bayonets were not needed. Men and horses were rolled over together, breaking the charge and sending them back in confusion.

This was the last attack of their cavalry that night; they fell back and their infantry took their place. The firing here was very heavy, but we finally drove them back again after losing about twenty of our men killed and wounded. The men had now all got their knapsacks, and we again started back. All of the wounded that could walk were sent on ahead towards Winchester, but nine had to be carried into a house to wait for ambulances. Colonel Andrews wouldn't abandon these, so we halted again, throwing out a strong guard in every direction. It was now eleven o'clock, the men were tired out, having been up for twenty-four hours. They sank right down in the road and a great many went to sleep, I among the rest. I don't know how long it was, but we were awakened by a tremendous volley being poured into us from almost every side, and for about a minute I could hardly collect myself, but I gave the orders for my platoon, which was then in the rear, to “dress, face about and fire!” I lost two men by their volley, both badly wounded. We were obliged to abandon our dead and wounded here and Doctor Leland was taken prisoner.

At one A. M., Sunday morning, we reached the bivouac of our brigade, stacked arms, lay down tired enough, to get a short sleep. Our total loss that night was somewhere about twenty or thirty. Company I suffered the most severely, losing about twelve.

I have been as minute as possible in describing this fight because I believe that we saved the entire train from destruction and kept the whole rebel force in check. Great credit is due to Colonel Gordon, Colonel Andrews and Major Dwight; the latter especially displayed the most perfect bravery and coolness. The men never obeyed better on drill or parade than they did under the hottest fire; they behaved splendidly throughout the whole.

At daylight on Sunday, our cavalry picket was driven in and soon afterwards the infantry; still no orders arrived as to the disposition of our brigade. Finally, after the rebel infantry began to deploy, Colonel Gordon would wait no longer and ordered us into line. On the right, the Second Massachusetts succeeded by the Wisconsin Third, Pennsylvania Twenty-ninth, Indiana Twenty-seventh, then came Colonel Donnelly's brigade consisting of the Fifth Connecticut, Forty-sixth Pennsylvania, and Twenty-eighth New York. In all, seven regiments not averaging six hundred men apiece. We had three first-rate batteries, and one or two regiments of cavalry that might just as well have been at home for all we saw of them. We had no sooner taken arms and faced to the right, than the infantry commenced firing. Not many of our men were hit, and we moved steadily on till we reached our appointed place. Meanwhile, the batteries on each side were keeping up an incessant roar. We attacked the two regiments opposite our position and drove them away. Two companies, G and D, were then deployed as skirmishers to attack the battery in front of us; their fire was so well directed that the guns were abandoned by the gunners, but the rebel infantry pressed them (Companies D and G) so closely that they were withdrawn by Colonel Andrews' order just as the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania and the Twenty-seventh Indiana came up to their support. These latter fired a few volleys; then, as two rebel regiments came out of the woods, prepared to charge them, but before they had fairly started, seven more regiments emerged from the woods stretching almost down to Winchester. The firing was then tremendous, and, I am sorry to say, the Twenty-seventh Indiana broke and ran, every man for himself. The Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania filed off in good order at the double quick. Colonel Andrews gave the order: “Attention! battalion! About face! By company right wheel!” We marched away from the enemy in ordinary time, company front, in the most perfect order. The rebels instantly took our former position and commenced a pelting fire; they were within short range, yet almost all their shots went over our heads, otherwise our regiment would have been destroyed. It was cruel to see our poor fellows shot through the back and pitch forward on to their faces, as we marched down the hill. As soon as we reached the town, we took the first street on our right hand, and there formed line. Then it seemed to be first discovered how completely we were outflanked and the strong probability that, in a few minutes, their artillery would be posted in our rear, cutting off all avenues of retreat.

We were then again faced to the left and started on the double quick through the town. Meanwhile, the enemy had gained the Martinsburgh pike parallel to the street we were on, and were pouring a heavy fire on us through the side streets, and numbers of men fell dead here that can only be accounted for as missing.

After getting out of town, they again began with their artillery, throwing grape and canister. Here the retreat was better organized: the whole division formed into five parallel columns, two or three hundred yards apart, all going on the double quick. We continued this for a considerable distance when, having passed all their flanking batteries, the lines were closed in more to the centre, the artillery and cavalry formed in the rear, and we went on in ordinary time. This was the last I saw of any fighting, although there was a constant firing in the rear of us. We marched twenty-three miles to Martinsburgh without a halt. There we rested for about ten minutes, then marched on to the Potomac, thirteen miles further. We brought up here between seven and eight o'clock P. M., after twelve hours' incessant marching. From twelve o'clock Saturday noon till seven o'clock Sunday night, we had marched sixty miles,* been in two severe fights, had only three hours' rest, and had scarcely a particle of food.

Our loss in the regiment, as well as it can be ascertained to-day (Friday), is nineteen killed, forty-seven wounded, eighty-three missing. None are considered killed unless they were seen dead by some one. We were the last regiment that left the field from the right flank, and the very last in Winchester. I forgot to say that the United States storehouses were in flames as we passed by them, and the heat was perfectly terrible. The loss in our company was eleven.

Monday morning at three o'clock, I was roused by the Adjutant and ordered to report with Company B, together with Companies A, K, and E, and two companies of the Third Wisconsin, to Lieutenant Colonel Pinckney of the Third Wisconsin, to act as rear guard and support to a section of Cathran's battery and some cavalry, while the wagon train and troops crossed the river. We were in this responsible place till Wednesday night, when we were relieved. It was a most anxious time, as the enemy, in what force we did not know, were within a mile of us and we were receiving constant alarms from our cavalry. The first night, we kept our men under arms all the time, tired as they were. However, we got safely across Wednesday night, and I had the pleasure of taking my shoes and clothes off and getting a little quiet sleep for the first time since last Friday night.

Our greatest loss is the poor Major, but he may turn up yet. The men think everything of him and speak constantly of the “bully little Major.” Captain Mudge is at Frederick, shot through the leg. Lieutenant Crowninshield is at Williamsport, shot in the leg.

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* The actual distance from Strasburg to the Potomac is 54 miles, but including countermarching and movements on the field, the total distance marched was not much less than 60 miles.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 57-64