Lieutenant-Colonel Francis W. Palfrey to Charles L. Bartlett, April 25, 1862

Before Yorktown, Va., April 25, 1862.

C. L. Bartlett, Esq.: —

My dear Sir, — Yesterday morning the Twentieth Regiment was detailed for picket duty. Captain Bartlett went out a little before noon to visit the advanced posts. He found what he considered a good and safe position for observing the enemy. He knelt down behind a tree and watched their movements through a glass. He had been watching them some ten minutes, when he received a shot from a rifle in his left knee. A litter was sent for him and he was brought to the rear. When I got to him his color had not left him, and he was suffering only at intervals, when spasms of pain seized him for a moment, and quickly passed and left him comparatively comfortable again. His thoughtfulness for others and self-forgetfulness were shown by his repeatedly urging me to leave him, as I was suffering from a slight lameness. He was carried to a house near by, and then the surgeons gave him chloroform and examined his wound. Drs. Hayward and Crehore of the Twentieth, Dr. Haven of the Fifteenth, and Dr. Clark, a surgeon from Worcester, were unanimous in the opinion that amputation was not only proper, but necessary. I urged upon them to be sure, before proceeding, that there was no chance of recovery, and that it would not do to delay for consultation with other surgeons.

They assured me positively that there was no room for doubt, and that the operation must be performed immediately; that the ball had totally destroyed the knee joint, and shivered and destroyed the bone of the leg for six inches below; furthermore that delay would materially diminish the chances of recovery. The leg was taken off by Dr. Hayward, in the lower third of the portion above the knee. Examination made subsequently fully confirmed the opinions of the surgeons, and Brigade Surgeons Crosby and Dougherty, and Dr Liddell, Medical Director of the Division, who arrived presently, pronounced everything well and wisely done, and every one of the surgeons were of the opinion that your son had gone through the operation most favorably. He suffered a good deal after he returned to consciousness, but not to the point of faintness. His sufferings arose mostly from the necessary dressings. He bore the announcement of what had been done very firmly, and told me that he had expected it. Every exertion was made to put him at once on his way to Washington, and he presently started for York River, in a four horse ambulance, attended by Dr. Clark and my servant, who is as gentle as a woman, and who has a strong feeling of personal attachment for your son. There went with him, also, seven or eight stout fellows of his own company, to carry him on a litter, should the motion of the ambulance increase his sufferings.

His color returned soon after the operation was ended, his smile was ready and sweet, his eyes clear, the grasp of his hand and the tone of his voice firm. I hardly need tell you that he bore his fate with his own gallant spirit, and that he did not break down for a moment. His escort report that he arrived safely at the river, and was there placed on board the Commodore.

To you who know so well my opinion of your son's merits, and what close companionship has existed between us for six months, I need say little of the affliction that this event causes me. The loss to the regiment is terrible, and officers and men unite with me in lamenting the misfortune. Your son was the most brilliant soldier I have known in the Volunteer Army, and I anticipated for him the highest distinction. You have my sincerest sympathy, you and Mrs. Bartlett and your daughters, in this painful moment, and my love and admiration for your son cause me to feel the most bitter sorrow at this heavy calamity.

Very respectfully and truly yours,

F. W. Palfrey, Lieut.-Col, Comd'g.

The surgeons encourage me to believe that he will be comparatively comfortable in a day or two.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 42-4

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, April 2, 1865

April 2, 1865

Last night was a busy one and a noisy. Some battery or other was playing the whole time, and, now and then, they would all wake up at once; while the skirmishers kept rushing at each other and firing, sometimes almost by volleys. All of which did good, because it wore out the enemy and made them uncertain where the main attack might come. At a quarter past four in the morning, Wright, having massed his three divisions in columns of attack, near Fort Fisher, just before daylight charged their works, burst through four lines of abattis, and poured a perfect torrent of men over the parapet. He then swept to the right and left, bearing down all the attempts of the enemy's reserves to check him; a part also of his force went straight forward, crossed the Boydton plank and tore up the track of the South Side Railroad. The assault was, in reality, the death-blow to Lee's army. His centre was thus destroyed, his left wing driven into the interior line of Petersburg, and his right taken in flank and left quite isolated. At the same moment Parke attacked the powerful works in his front, somewhat to the right of the Jerusalem plank road, and carried the strong outer line, with three batteries, containing twelve guns; but the fire was so hot from the inner line that his men could get no further, but continued to hold on, with great obstinacy, for the rest of the day, while the Rebels made desperate sorties to dislodge them. In this attack General Potter received a wound which still keeps him in an extremely critical condition. You may well believe that the musketry, which had spattered pretty well during the night, now broke out with redoubled noise in all directions.

Under the excitement of getting at my valise and having some fresh paper, I am moved to write you some more about the great Sunday, which I so irreverently broke off.¹ I was saying that the musketry broke out pretty freely from all quarters. Do you understand the position of the troops? Here is a rough diagram.² On the right Parke, from the river to west of the Jerusalem road; then Wright and Ord, stretching to Hatcher's Run; then Humphreys, forming the left wing. To the left and rear were Sheridan and Griffin, making a detached left wing. Humphreys' left rested somewhat west of the Boydton plank. Ord and Humphreys were now crowding in their skirmishers, trying for openings in the slashings to put in a column. Ord tried to carry the line, but could not get through; but the 2d division of the 2d Corps got a chance for a rush, and, about 7.30 in the morning, stormed a Rebel fort, taking four guns and several hundred Rebels; in this attack the 19th and 20th Massachusetts were very prominent. About nine o'clock the General rode off towards the left, from our Headquarters near the crossing of the Vaughan road, over Hatcher's Run. He overtook and consulted a moment with Grant, and then continued along our old line of battle, with no “intelligent orderly” except myself. So that is the way I came to be Chief -of -Staff, Aide-de-camp, Adjutant-General, and all else; for presently the Chief took to giving orders at a great rate, and I had to get out my “manifold writer” and go at it. I ordered Benham to rush up from City Point and reinforce Parke, and I managed to send something to pretty much everybody, so as to keep them brisk and lively. In fact, I completely went ahead of the fly that helped the coach up the hill by bearing down on the spokes of the wheels!

And now came the notice that the enemy were going at the double-quick towards their own right, having abandoned the whole of Ord's front and some of Humphreys'. We were not quite sure whether they might not contemplate an attack in mass on Humphreys' left, and so this part of our line was pushed forward with caution while Humphreys' right was more rapidly advanced. We met sundry squads of prisoners coming across the fields, among them a forlorn band, with their instruments. “Did you not see that band?” said Rosie to me that evening, in great glee. “Ah! I did see them. I did them ask for to play Yan—kay Doodle; but they vould not!” About 9 o'clock we got to General Humphreys on the Boydton plank road, by Mrs. Ramie's. It was now definitely known that the enemy had given up his whole line in this front and was retreating northwesterly, towards Sutherland's Station. He was reported, however, as forming line of battle a mile or two beyond us. Immediately Miles's division marched up the Claiborne road, while Mott, followed by Hays (2d division, 2d Corps), took the Boydton plank. Still more to our left, the cavalry and the 5th Corps were moving also in a northerly direction. Meanwhile, Wright had faced his Corps about and was marching down the Boydton plank, that is to say towards the 2d Corps, which was going up; on his left was the 24th Corps, which had formed there by Grant's orders; so you will see, by the map, that the jaws of the pincers were coming together, and the enemy hastened to slip from between them! As soon as Wright found that this part of the field was swept, he again faced about, as did the 24th Corps (now forming his right), and marched directly up the Boydton plank to the inner line of Petersburg defences, rested his left on the river, swung the 24th round to join Parke, on the right, and voila the city invested on east, south, and west. I am afraid this double manoeuvre will rather confuse you, so here are two diagrams, with the corps numbered, in their first and second positions.

By eleven o'clock the General had got all his troops in motion and properly placed, and the Staff had come from the camp. We all started up the plank road, straight towards the town. It was a strange sensation, to ride briskly past the great oak, near Arnold's Mill, where we got so awfully cannonaded at the first Hatcher's Run; then on till we came to the earthwork, on this side of the Run, whence came the shot that killed Charlie Mills; then across the Run itself, passing their line with its abattis and heavy parapet, and so up the road, on the other side, marked by deep ruts of the Rebel supply-trains. As we got to the top of the rise, we struck the open country that surrounds the town, for several miles, and here the road was full of troops, who, catching sight of the General trotting briskly by, began to cheer and wave their caps enthusiastically! This continued all along the column, each regiment taking it up in turn. It was a goodly ride, I can tell you! Presently we spied General Grant, seated on the porch of an old house, by the wayside, and there we too halted. It seemed a deserted building and had been occupied by a Rebel ordnance sergeant, whose papers and returns were lying about in admirable confusion. A moral man was this sergeant, and had left behind a diary, in one page of which he lamented the vice and profanity of his fellow soldiers. He was not, however, cleanly, but quite untidy in his domestic arrangements. From this spot we had an admirable view of our own works, as the Rebels had, for months, been used to look at them. There was that tall signal tower, over against us, and the bastions of Fort Fisher, and here, near at hand, the Rebel line, with its huts and its defenders sorely beleagured over there in the inner lines, against which our batteries were even now playing; and presently Gibbon assaults these two outlying redoubts, and takes them after a fierce fight, losing heavily. In one was a Rebel captain, who told his men to surrender to nobody. He himself fought to the last, and was killed with the butt end of a musket, and most of his command were slain in the work. But we carried the works: neither ditches nor abattis could keep our men out that day! You may be sure Miles had not been idle all this time. Following up the Claiborne road, he came on the enemy at Sutherland's Station, entrenched and holding on to cover the escape of their train. Though quite without support, he attacked them fiercely, and, at the second or third charge, stormed their breastwork, routed them and took three guns and near 1000 prisoners. With this gallant feat the day ended, gloriously, as it had begun. We went into camp at the Wall house and all preparations were made to cross the river next morning and completely shut in the town.

[The preceding letter like many others, was written several days after the events described. The victory was so overwhelming that all Lyman actually wrote home that night was:]

Headquarters Army Of The Potomac

Sunday, April 2, 1865

11 P.M.

My Dear Mimi: —

THE 

REBELLION

HAS 

GONE UP!

Theodore Lyman

Lt.-col. & Vol. A.D.C.

_______________

¹ Actually written April 13.

² No diagram is found with the letter.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 334-9

Captain William Francis Bartlett to Harriett Plummer Bartlett, April 10, 1862

Camp Before Yorktown, April 10, 1862.

Dear Mother: — I have been through some danger safely since I wrote you Sunday. Monday morning our regiment, with the Nineteenth Massachusetts, went out on a reconnoissance towards Yorktown. We marched three or four miles through the woods and mud, when we came to a rebel entrenchment on the opposite side of a swamp, which they had made by damming a stream.

The engineer who went with the General reconnoitered it, covered by our skirmishers. We exchanged perhaps a hundred shots with them, without doing any damage to any one, and, the engineer having accomplished his object, we left, and kept to the left; about two miles. We came to another battery on the same stream. Here they opened on us with shell from a thirty-two-pounder. Three men of the Nineteenth were wounded. One died that night. We got under the cover of some woods and covered the engineer while he reconnoitered. It looked pretty squally when they opened on us with shell, as we had no artillery with us. We withdrew about dark, having effected the object of the reconnoissance. We had to march home in the dark, through the woods, in mud up to our knees. It had rained hard all day.

I had the fortune to wear my rubber coat, so that I wasn't much wet above my waist. I walked, and wore my shoes. We were pretty tired when we got back. The Colonel and I had a tent to sleep in, but the men had nothing to do but lie down in the mud and let it rain. Most of them stood up round the fires all night to keep warm. I managed to get two dozen bottles of whiskey from the sutler, which he had brought for officers, and distributed it so that each man got a small drink of hot whiskey and water. I stayed out till eleven o'clock in the rain doing it. I then came in, took off my stockings and pants, which were wet through, rubbed my feet dry, and lay down and slept soundly enough. I woke all right in the morning. It was still raining, and is today, the third day. I hope it will stop soon. This has delayed the advance very much, as it is impossible to move artillery.

John Putnam is going back to Fort Monroe; he can't stand this, it is too rough for him. Riddle, the same.

Two or three of the officers are sick, but I am as well as ever. Arthur is a little unwell to-day, but you needn't tell his mother, because he will be all right tomorrow, and she would be only worried. General Sumner arrived to-day with the rest of his corps. I haven't seen General McClellan since he passed on the road. He is here. Colonel Lee is at the fort. He will not join us at present, he thinks.

Love to all.

W.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 37-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, March 11, 1865

From Grant we got a despatch that he would come up, with some ladies and gentlemen, to see our left and to review a few troops. The General rode down to the terminus of the railroad (which is not very far from Hatcher's Run), and soon after came the train, with Grant and his party. Among them was our old friend Daddy Washburn, the same who came to the Rapid Ann, last May, to behold Grant swallow Lee at a mouthful, and — didn't see it! Two divisions of the 2d Corps were turned out under the eye of the redoubtable Humphreys. They made a fine appearance, marching past; but I could have cried to see the Massachusetts 20th with only a hundred muskets or so, and commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Curtis, whom I used to see at Culpeper with a lieutenant's shoulder-straps. How changed from last spring, when they passed in review with full ranks, and led by Abbot! . . .

That evening we were invited to City Point, to see a medal given to General Grant. This medal had been voted by Congress in honor of him and his soldiers, after the battle and capture of Vicksburg. And you now see the rationale of the Hon. Washburn's presence. He was to present it. The Corps commanders with a few aides, and some division commanders, were all the General took with him in the special train. We arrived about 8.30 P.M. and at 9 the ceremony began, in the upper saloon of the steamer Martyn, lying at the wharf. The solemnities were these: General Grant stood on one side of a small table, with an expression as if about to courageously have a large tooth out. On the other stood Washburn, with what seemed an ornamental cigar-box. Whereupon W., with few words, remarked that the Congress of the United States of Amerikay had resolved to present him a medal, and a copy of their resolutions engrossed on parchment. “General” (unrolling a scroll), “this is the copy of the resolutions, and I now hand it to you.” (Grant looked at the parchment, as much as to say, “That seems all right,” rolled it up, in a practical manner, and put it on the table.) “This, General” (opening the ornamental cigar-box, taking out a wooden bonbonnière and opening that), “is the medal, which I also hand to you, together with an autograph letter from President Lincoln.” The “all-right” expression repeated itself on Grant's face, as he put down the bonbonnière beside the scroll. Then he looked very fixedly at Mr. Washburn and slowly drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. Everyone was hushed, and there then burst forth the following florid eloquence: “Sir! I accept the medal. I shall take an early opportunity of writing a proper reply to the President. I shall publish an order, containing these resolutions, to the troops that were under my command before Vicksburg.” As he stopped, Major Pell drew a long breath and said: “I thought we were sure of a speech this time, but now we never shall get one out of him.” The medal was of gold, three pounds in weight; on one side a bad likeness of Grant; on the reverse a goddess, in an impossible position, who, as General Meade remarked, “seemed to keep a general furnishing shop of guns and sabres.” “What is the meaning of the allegory?” he enquired of the Lieutenant-General. “I don't know,” replied Grant, with entire simplicity, “I don't know, but I am going to learn, so as to be able to explain it to people!” Then the distinguished militaries crowded round to gaze. Major-General Ord, who can't get over his Irish blood, said: “I believe, sir, you are the first man who medalled with his battalion.” To which Grant, not taking the point in the faintest degree, replied gravely: “I don't know but I was.” There was a heavy crowd of Hectors, I can tell you. Generals Meade, Warren, Wright, Parke, Humphreys, Ord, Gibbon, Ayres, Griffin, Rawlins, Ingalls, etc., etc. Very few ladies. After this a moderate collation, and so home to bed.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 318-20

Captain William Francis Bartlett to Harriet Plummer Bartlett, Saturday Night, October 25, 1861

Camp Benton,

Saturday Night, October 25, 1861.

My Dear Mother, — . . . . I have not had time or heart to write you, who had such good news to hear, when I thought of those who could not get anything but bad tidings. I have been very busy during the whole week (which seems like one long day, or rather night), being in command of the regiment nearly all the time. To my great joy Lieutenant-colonel Palfrey returned in safety with his men Wednesday night, when all the forces were withdrawn from the Virginia shore by order of McClellan, who was here.

General Lander was brought here wounded in the leg that day, and when I went up to headquarters, I heard that McClellan had just been up to see him. It was cheering news for me, for I knew that we had by this time got four thousand men across, below our battle ground, at Edwards' Ferry, and I was in hopes some General would come who could take command.

In your letter of Sunday, which I got Wednesday, you hoped I should have a day of rest; you little thought that I should be the other side of the Potomac at two the next morning. I had neither food nor sleep from Saturday night until I got back to camp Tuesday morning. We crossed the river, Caspar and I, under command of Colonel Lee, in all one hundred men, in a whale boat that would carry sixteen, and two small boats holding five and four respectively. I went over first, and found a steep bank one hundred and fifty feet high, with thick wood on it. There was not room enough to form ten men, and the banks were so slippery that you could not stand. I formed the men in single file up the path, waiting for the Colonel and the rest of the men.

After they were all over, we wound our way up this precipice and formed on the open space above. The detachment of the Fifteenth, three hundred men, now moved up the road leading from the top of the bank inland. We were to remain there to support them, and cover their retreat. We gave the men distinctly to understand that they must stand fast if the Fifteenth came running down the road, wait till they had passed, and then cover their retreat. It looked rather dubious. The Fifteenth might get across, but we must check the advance of the enemy and get cut to pieces. We sent out scouts in all directions; three men under a sergeant composed each party.

My First Sergeant Riddle went out on our right. At this time we did not know how many of the enemy there might be within gunshot of us. It was now about sunrise, when we heard three or four shots in rapid succession on our right. In a few minutes my First Sergeant (Riddle) was brought in, shot through the elbow. He was fainting from loss of blood. We tied a handkerchief around his arm and sent him down to the river. (I might as well finish with him here. It was a sad opening for me, he was the best sergeant in the regiment, a favorite of both the Colonel and General Lander, and perfectly invaluable to me. He is now at the hospital, and I am in hopes of saving his arm; the bone is shattered; he has great pain but good spirits.) It was nearly nine when we heard a splendid volley in the direction of the Fifteenth. We knew we were in for it then. Soon wounded men were brought down the road mentioned. How large a force they had met we did not know, but we learned from the wounded that the volley was from the enemy. We expected now to see the Fifteenth falling back on us. The firing ceased and we were in suspense, thinking that they might have been surrounded, and waiting to see the enemy come down that road and sweep our hundred men into the river. We were then deployed as skirmishers across the road, Company I on the right, Caspar on the left, an opening at the road to let the Fifteenth pass through to the river, and then check their pursuers until they could get across. I never expected to see Camp Benton again, then, and I remember being sorry that my bundle had not yet come from home before I left camp, and that there would be no one there to open it when it came. I wondered what you were thinking of at the time, and was glad that you little dreamed of our critical position.

At ten A. M. Colonel Devens with his men came down the road in good order. He reported that there were three to four regiments of the enemy, besides cavalry. Our case was looking rather unpleasant, to say the least We were not attacked, the enemy fearing that we might have a larger force. They seem to refuse a fight unless you give them odds. At eleven, the remainder of the Fifteenth came over, and they went back up the road again, six hundred in all. The rest of our regiment which crossed over on to the island with us the night before, — the island, Harrison's, is midway between the two shores, low and flat, — now came over to us, making with Caspar's company and mine three hundred and eighteen. The California Regiment, of Philadelphia, now began to get over, and the prospect for a more even fight looked better. But you can imagine what a long morning it was, waiting either for reinforcements or the order to withdraw, with nothing to eat since dinner the day before. My company being deployed as skirmishers, I had given the order “Lie down,” and I myself reclined on my elbow and dozed for half an hour. I woke up and found that nearly all my skirmishers lying down had taken the opportunity to go to sleep, poor fellows. I couldn't bear to wake them until the first volley of musketry was heard from the woods near us. It shows that the boys were either indifferent to danger, or were worn out with fatigue, to go to sleep on the field, where balls were occasionally dropping in.

General Baker arrived with his regiment (California it is called, composed of Philadelphia men). He disposed the troops under his command as follows: —

The Twentieth, three hundred and eighteen men, in the open space, their right up the river. The Fifteenth, six hundred, in the edge of the woods on the right. The California Regiment, part of it, on their left, touching at right angles our right.

A part of the Tammany Regiment was placed in front of us by Baker, but I am sorry to say that after the first volley there was nobody in front of us but the enemy; they broke and fell in behind us.

The following plan will show you our position after one or two volleys had been fired on us. [See Plan.]

Well the first volley came and the balls flew like hail. You can see from our position on the plan that we were exposed to their full fire. The whizzing of balls was a new sensation. I had read so much about being under fire and flying bullets that I was curious to experience it. I had a fair chance. An old German soldier told me that he had been in a good many battles, but that he never saw such a concentrated fire before. They fired beautifully, too, their balls all coming low, within from one to four feet of the ground. The men now began to drop around me; most of them were lying down in the first of it, being ordered to keep in reserve. Those that were lying down, if they lifted their foot or head it was struck. One poor fellow near me was struck in the hip while lying flat, and rose to go to the rear, when another struck him on the head, and knocked him over. I felt that if I was going to be hit, I should be, whether I stood up or lay down, so I stood up and walked around among the men, stepping over them and talking to them in a joking way, to take away their thoughts from the bullets, and keep them more self possessed. I was surprised at first at my own coolness. I never felt better, although I expected of course that I should feel the lead every second, and I was wondering where it would take me. I kept speaking to Little, surprised that he was not hit amongst this rain of bullets. I said two or three times “Why Lit., aren't you hit yet?” I remember Macy was lying where the grass was turned up, and I “roughed” him for getting his coat so awfully dirty. Lit. was as cool and brave as I knew he would be. The different companies began to wilt away under this terrible fire. Still there was no terror among the men; they placed implicit confidence in their officers (I refer to our regiment particularly), and you could see that now was the time they respected and looked up to them. We were driven back inch by inch, towards the top of the bank. The rifled cannon was not fired more than eight times; the last time, the recoil carried it over the bank, and it went crushing through the trees, wounding many. General Baker was standing near me about four o'clock; he seemed indifferent to bullets. He said it was of no use, it was all over with us. A few minutes after, he fell, struck by eight balls all at once; so you can judge by this how thick they flew. No one took command after he fell; in fact the battle was lost some time before. At this time I came on Captain Dreher; he was shot through the head in the upper part of his cheek. I took hold of him, turned his face towards me, thought that he could not live but a few minutes, and pushed ahead. When we fell back again, he had been taken to the rear, and was got across. He is now in a fair way to recovery, the ball not striking any vital part. Lieutenants Lowell and Putnam and Captain Schmitt were now down, but were carried to the bank and taken across.

Captain John Putnam, I forgot to say, was brought down by where we were from the right, where he was skirmishing, in the very first of the fight. I remember how I envied him at getting off with the loss of an arm, and I wished then that I could change places with him. For I knew then, that we should either be killed or taken prisoners. The field now began to look like my preconceived idea of a battle field. The ground was smoking and covered with blood, while the noise was perfectly deafening. Men were lying under foot, and here and there a horse struggling in death. Coats and guns strewn over the ground in all directions. I went to the Colonel and he was sitting behind a tree, perfectly composed. He told me there was nothing to be done but “surrender and save the men from being murdered.” Most of the men had now got down the bank. I thought it over in my mind, and reasoned that we might as well be shot advancing on the enemy, as to be slaughtered like sheep at the foot of the bank.

I called for Company I for one last rally. Every man that was left sprang forward, and also about six men (all who were left) of Captain Dreher's company, and ten men of Company H under Lieutenant Hallowell, all of whom followed me up the rise. As we reached the top, I found Little by my side. We came upon two fresh companies of the enemy which had just come out of the woods; they had their flag with them. Both sides were so surprised at seeing each other — they at seeing us coming up with this handful of men, we at seeing these two new companies drawn up in perfect order, — that each side forgot to fire. And we stood looking at each other (not a gun being fired) for some twenty seconds, and then they let fly their volley at the same time we did.

If bullets had rained before, they came in sheets now. It is surprising that any one could escape being hit. We were driven back again. I had to order sharply one or two of my brave fellows before they would go back. Everything was lost now.

One of the Philadelphia papers says, “After everything was given up as lost, a captain of the Fifteenth Regiment rallied the remnants of two companies, and charged gallantly up the rise, but was driven back by overpowering numbers, after delivering a well directed volley.” So far so good. Then it says, “but seeing the hopelessness of the case, he tied a white handkerchief on his sword and surrendered himself and the remnant of his regiment.”

The officer in question did not get quite so far as the last part of the story, nor did he belong to the Fifteenth Massachusetts, . . . .

When we got back to the bank, we induced the Colonel to go down and try to escape. The Adjutant took his left arm and I his right, and we got him down the bank unhurt. Here was a horrible scene. Men crowded together, the wounded and the dying. The water was full of human beings, struggling with each other and the water, the surface of which looked like a pond when it rains, from the withering volleys that the enemy were pouring down from the top of the bank. Those who were not drowned ran the chance of being shot. I turned back and left the Colonel, to collect the remnant of my company, and when I returned he was gone. I asked for him, and they told me that he, the Major, and Adjutant had got into a small boat and gone across safely. I looked, and saw a small boat landing on the other side, and took it for granted they were safe. I then, being in command, collected what I could of the regiment, and told those who could swim, and wished to, to take the water, it was the only means of escape. Nearly all my company could swim, and I made them stop and take off their clothes. We sent over reports and messages by them. Little and I thought it our duty to stay by those men who could not swim. I allowed Macy to go, hoping that one of us might get home to tell the story. Little sent his watch over by Kelly, the bravest boy in our company, and I told him to go to Boston, and go to you and tell you that your son was probably a prisoner. What should you have said to the news? Little did you think or know what was taking place on that Monday afternoon, when

Volleys on right of us,

Volleys on left of us,

Volleys in front of us,

Battled and thundered.

I now determined to get the men out of this fire, and surrender without any more loss. I started up the river, followed by about twenty men of the Twentieth Regiment, twenty of the Fifteenth, and forty of the Tammany and California regiments. Captain Tremlett, Company A, Twentieth, Lieutenant Whittier, ditto, and Little Abbott went with me. An officer of the Fifteenth also was with the party. We followed up the edge of the river, and came to an old mill which we knew was up in this direction. It was owned and run by a man named Smart, who lived in Leesburg, so the negro told me, whom I questioned as to who was there. We expected to stumble on a party of the rebels every step. I asked him where his boat was. He wondered how I knew that they had one, and said it was up in the mill-way.

I went up there and found a skiff under water, twenty rods away from the edge of the river. It was capable of holding five persons. Those with me declared it useless and impracticable, and proposed going into the mill, get a good night's rest, and give ourselves up in the morning. I thought, though, that if I only got one load of five over, it would be worth trying; so we got it down to the river and began the transportation, expecting every minute to be discovered and fired at by the rebels. When the boat was put into the water, the whole crowd made a rush for it. I had to use a little persuasion by stepping in front of it, drew my pistol (for the first time, this afternoon), and swore to God that I would shoot the first man who moved without my order. It was the only thing that saved them. They were obedient and submissive, and avoided being shot by me or taken prisoners by the enemy. I selected five men of my own company and sent them across first, with a man to bring back the boat. So, by degrees, I got those of the Twentieth, next those of the Fifteenth (whose officer, by the way, sneaked off, got across on a raft, and left his men on my hands), and lastly those of the Tammany and California regiments. I sent Lieutenant Whittier over in the second load, to look out for the men as they came over. It was a tedious job. At last I went over with Tremlett and Little, and was once more back on the island. We thus saved eighty men and three officers from being taken prisoners. I learned afterwards that the Colonel, Major, and Adjutant were ahead of me up the river, had been to the mill, found the boat, thought it impracticable, and went on. They were afterwards taken prisoners. Lieutenant Perry and Dr. Revere were with them. We went down to the hospital opposite our battle-field, where we found the wounded being cared for. They had heard, and believed, that I was shot, and the welcome that the men gave me brought the first tears to my eyes.

I got to the Maryland side with all that I could find of my company (five men) about twelve, midnight. Then we had still that long walk down the tow-path and up to our camp from the river, where we arrived at three A. M. I got to bed pretty well tired out at half past three. When I awoke there were several waiting at my tent door for me to awake, to welcome me and congratulate me on my safe return.

On waking, I sent telegraphs to Jane by mail to send to Boston; did you get them?

By the time I was up, Colonel Palfrey had started off with the only remaining company of the regiment (Company K) to cross the river at Edwards' Ferry. He got back safe, as I told you, and relieved me from the command of the regiment.

The first night that I was here in command, I thought it best to have a dress parade as usual, both to let the men see that everything was not broken up, and to cheer them with the music. It had a very good effect. I published to them that night the following order: —

Headquarters Twentieth Regt. Mass. Vols.,

Camp Benton, October 23.

General Order No. —

It is the pleasant duty of the commanding officer to congratulate the men of the Twentieth Regiment on their admirable conduct in the late battle. Your courage and bravery under a galling fire for hours was only equaled by your coolness and steadiness throughout.

He laments, with you, the loss of so many brave officers and men; but hopes, with you, that the time may soon come when we may avenge that loss.

You have established your reputation for bravery, and gained honor, though you lost the victory.

By order Commanding Officer.

The men were quite affected, and the next time the Twentieth is engaged she will leave a mark that will not be lost sight of in history.

Out of twenty-two officers that were engaged, only nine returned safe. Of three hundred and eighteen men, one hundred and forty-six were killed, wounded, or missing; a loss which, in proportion to the number engaged, you seldom see. I send you a list of officers killed, wounded, and missing, and also of Company I, as they may send to you to learn.

Col. W. Raymond Lee, missing, prisoner (unhurt).

Major P. J. Revere, missing, prisoner (unhurt).

Dr. E. H. R. Revere, missing, prisoner (unhurt).

Adj. C. L. Peirson, missing, prisoner.

Lieut. G. B. Perry, missing, prisoner.

Lieut. Wesselhoeft, missing, probably drowned.

Capt. Babo, missing, probably drowned.

Lieut. W. L. Putnam, wounded, since died.

Capt. G. A. Schmitt, wounded badly, doing well.

Lieut. Lowell, wounded slightly (flesh), doing well.

Capt. Dreher, wounded in the head, doing well.

Capt. Putnam (John), wounded (lost right arm), doing well.

Lieut. Holmes (O. W.), wounded (breast), doing well.

A sad report, but it might have been worse.

Of Company I, forty-eight men were engaged, twenty (nearly half) were killed, wounded, or missing, as follows: —

Those that are missing were either shot or drowned in the river.

First Sergt. Riddle (W. R.), wounded, right arm shattered.

Corp. Thomas Hollis, wounded (finger shot off), doing well.

Private A. M. Barber, wounded (right arm), doing well.

A. Davis, killed, shot through heart.

Thomas Dolan, wounded, finger shot off.

Lewis Dunn, missing, probably shot.

W. F. Hill, missing, probably shot.

Albert Kelly, missing, probably shot.

M. V. Kempton, missing, probably a prisoner.

Sam. Lowell, missing, probably a prisoner.

Tete McKenna (my pet and pride), missing, took the water, probably shot.

G. C. Pratt, wounded badly (will recover).

Julius Strick, wounded (right arm).

James Seddon, wounded (heel), doing well.

Albert Stackpole, wounded, since died.

George G. Worth, missing, probably shot swimming.

Summerhays, wounded slightly in the hand.

O. Gammons, wounded, finger shot off.

E. V. Skinner, missing, perhaps a prisoner.

I. Barker, missing, perhaps a prisoner.

Killed and wounded, 11; missing, 9; total loss, 20.

Worth and McKenna were two noble fellows. I was saying to Little a day or two before, how sorry I should be to have any of these men killed, in whom we took such an interest! I send you a little piece of a knot of crape which went through the fight on Monday last. It was tied on to my sword hilt the day before. Caspar had a piece on his hilt, but said that he saw it when we were marching up the tow-path, and tore it off instantly. He and I were the only captains that had crape on our swords, and were the only two that were not hit. Captain Putnam is getting along finely. Captain Schmitt will recover. He has a great deal of pain, but bears it splendidly.

Well, mother, I have written a pretty long letter, but I guess you will be interested enough to read it through. I have written of course what I should not have done to any one else, and you must not show it . My official report to General Stone was in substance like this, except, of course, the parts relating to myself, which it did not become me to speak of to any one else but you at home. I have now been through my first battle, and it was a fierce one. If we should have a campaign of ten years, we could never get in such a place where we should lose so many men or be under such severe fire. General Stone told Colonel Palfrey last night that the rebels' official report made them lose three hundred men killed and wounded, and that they had five thousand troops engaged to our sixteen hundred.

W.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 19-36

Captain William Frances Bartlett to Brigadier-General Charles P. Stone, October 23, 1861

Camp Benton, October 23, 1861.

To Gen. Stone, Commanding Corps of Observation: —

General, — I have to report that one hundred men of the Twentieth Regiment crossed from Swan's (or Harrison's) island on Monday morning, October 21st, to support the detachment of the Fifteenth and cover its retreat. We climbed the steep bank, one hundred and fifty feet high, with difficulty, and took post on the right of the open space above, sending out scouts in all directions. The detachment of the Twentieth consisted of two companies, I and D, in all one hundred and two men, under command of Colonel Lee.

A little after daylight, First Sergeant Kiddle of Co. I was brought in, shot through the arm by some pickets of the enemy on the right.

At 8 A. M., a splendid volley was heard from the direction of the Fifteenth (who had advanced half a mile up the road leading from the river), and soon wounded men were brought in towards the river. We were then deployed by Colonel Lee as skirmishers, on each side of the road mentioned, leaving an opening for the Fifteenth to pass through in retreat. They fell back in good order at about 10 A. M. At 11, the other companies of the Fifteenth arrived from the island, and Colonel Devens with his command moved inland again. At this time the remaining men of the Twentieth, under Major Revere, joined us. Major Revere had during the morning brought round from the other side of the island a small scow, the only means of transportation, excepting the whale boat holding sixteen and the two skiffs holding four and five respectively, with which we crossed in the morning. At 2 o'clock, the detachment of Baker's Brigade and the Tammany Regiment had arrived, and Colonel Baker, who disposed the troops under his command. The three hundred and eighteen men of the Twentieth were in the open space, the right up the river; the Fifteenth were in the edge of the woods on the right a part of the California (Baker's) Regiment on the left, touching at right angles our right.

One company of the Twentieth under Captain Putnam was deployed as skirmishers on the right in the woods, one under Captain Crowninshield on the left. Captain Putnam lost an arm in the beginning of the engagement, and was carried to the rear. His company kept their ground well under Lieutenant Hallowell. The Fifteenth had before this, after the arrival of General Baker, fallen back the second time, in good order, and had been placed by General Baker as above mentioned. The enemy now opened on us from the woods in front with a heavy fire of musketry, which was very effective. They fired low, the balls all going within from one to four feet of the ground.

Three companies of the Twentieth were kept in reserve, but on the open ground, exposed to a destructive fire. It was a continual fire now, with occasional pauses of one or two minutes, until the last. The rifled cannon was on the left, in the open ground, in front of a part of Baker's regiment, exposed to a hot fire. It was not discharged more than eight times. The gunners were shot down in the first of the engagement, and I saw Colonel Lee carry a charge to the gun with his own hand. The last time that it was fired, the recoil carried it down the rise to the edge of the bank. The men of the Twentieth Regiment behaved admirably, and all that were left of them were on the field, after the battle was declared lost by General Baker. They acted, at least all under my command, with great coolness and bravery, and obeyed every command implicitly, and even after the intimation had been given that we must surrender in order to save the men that had been left, they cheerfully rallied and delivered a well directed fire upon two companies which we met, which had just advanced out of the woods.

We were slowly driven back by their fire in return, and covered ourselves with the slight rise mentioned above. We tried to induce the Colonel to attempt an escape, and got him down the bank unhurt. I turned to collect the remnant of my company, and when I returned to the bank, they told me that the Colonel (Lee), Major, and Adjutant had got into a small boat, and were by this time safely across. Feeling at ease then about them, I collected all that I found of the Twentieth, and gave permission to all those who could swim and wished to, to take to the water, and sent over reports and messages by them. I then ordered those of the regiment who could not swim to follow up the river, in order to get them out of the murderous volleys which the enemy were pouring down upon us from the top of the bank. About twenty of the Twentieth Regiment, twenty of the Fifteenth, and forty of the Tammany and California regiments, followed us.

We went up as far as the large mill, where I found, by means of a negro there, a small sunken skiff in the mill-way, and induced him to get it out of water and down to the river. It was capable of holding five men, and I began to send them over, expecting every minute to be discovered by the enemy. In an hour they were all over, and I crossed with Lieutenant Abbott of my company, and Captain Tremlett of Company A, Twentieth. I reported with the men at the hospital on the island. They got across to this side during the night. They were obliged to stop at the ferry and sleep out, many of them without overcoats or blankets, till morning. Out of twenty-two officers that were with us in the engagement, thirteen are killed, wounded, or missing; of three hundred and eighteen men, one hundred and forty-six are killed, wounded, or missing. The Colonel (Lee), I learned at the island, had not crossed, but I have since learned that he and his companions went farther up the river, found the boat which I afterwards used, thought it impracticable, and went on. They were (by the report of one or two men who have since come in) taken prisoners. Colonel Lee, Major Revere, Adjutant Peirson, Dr. Revere, and Lieutenant Perry are supposed to have been together. I supposed it was my duty to make this report of that part of the regiment engaged, as senior officer of those saved.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 16-9

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, October 24, 1861

Camp Near Conrad's Ferry, Md.,

October 24, 1861.

My last letter left off rather abruptly, and as a series of exciting events has taken place since then, I will try and detail them nearly as they occurred. I left off just as Captain Curtis got back from Banks' headquarters with the good news that we were to join our regiment and march at once towards the river.* We didn't stop to strike tents or pack the wagons, but left a small squad of weak men to do it. We packed our trunks and other traps and piled them up together in our tent. At half past eight P. M., the regiment marched by so quietly that one would not have known that there were more than ten men on the road; no drum or any other music. At nine, our company was ready and started. Before we were off, we could see, by the camp fires, that the whole division had marching orders. Going at quickest time, we caught the regiment at a halt; the night was cloudy, but the moon made it quite light. At twelve thirty we got to Poolsville, distance ten miles; here we began to hear rumors of the fight; men on guard told us that the Fifteenth Massachusetts and several other regiments had been cut to pieces in crossing the river near Conrad's Ferry; one said the Fifteenth had lost seven hundred men; we disbelieved them almost entirely.

As we got nearer to the river, the stories began to get more probable, and when within two or three miles of it, to confirm them, we met numbers of wounded who said that the Twentieth and Fifteenth Massachusetts and the California and Tammany regiments were in the fight and were all more or less cut up. At about five A. M., we reached the river, distance twenty-one miles from the camp, a splendid march, made with very few halts, the men all carrying their knapsacks.

Here, as daylight came on, we began to hear the terrible truth; the houses all about us were filled with dead and wounded, and down the river about a mile, there was a temporary hospital with over a hundred men in it. Of course, my first inquiries were for my friends in the Twentieth; I could hear nothing definite. Shortly afterwards, Captain Curtis received a message from Lieutenant Willie Putnam, a splendid young fellow, saying he would like to see him. From the Major, Captain C. and others, I learned, when they came back, the following: That Colonel Lee and Major and Doctor Revere were prisoners and probably carried to Leesburgh; that Lieutenant W. Putnam was mortally wounded by a shot through the body; Captain C. saw him and said he conversed as calmly about the events of the battle as if he had been a spectator instead of an actor; he said the wound was quite painful, but by his face you would not have known it. (He died this morning.) Captain John Putnam had his arm taken off close to the shoulder by a round shot; he was brought across the river and is in the hospital. Captain Crowninshield had just swam across the river; he had fought splendidly, others say, all through the battle, had been unable to retreat with the rest, and had hid over night. He was unhurt. Poor young Holmes was badly shot through the body and arm; he and Lieutenant Lowell saw Charley Peirson, the Adjutant, fall, and ran up to attempt to bring him off; as they lifted him from the ground, they were all three shot down, Lowell through the leg. Holmes is likely to recover, Lowell is doing well, Peirson is a prisoner. George Perry is missing. Harry Sturgis, Harry Tremlett and Charley Whittier, got off safely. All of these that I have mentioned were down at Fort Independence in the Guards, and Putnam, Peirson and Tremlett were in the same mess with me. Captain Schmidt, I believe, is badly shot through the body. I am not certain about it.

My understanding of the affair is this: — Brigadier-General Baker was ordered by Brigadier-General Stone to take a certain number of regiments and cross the river at Conrad's Ferry, while he, Stone, was crossing at Edward's Ferry, five miles below, with his force. The troops were all landed on an island first, I believe; their only means of conveyance was one flat boat. Four companies of the Fifteenth crossed first, and, without waiting for reinforcements, foolishly moved forward towards Leesburgh, of course stirring up the enemy's pickets and alarming the country.

Parts of the Twentieth, Fifteenth, California and New York regiments now followed, making the whole force over the river about fifteen or eighteen hundred men and two guns. The fight, at first, was skirmishing almost entirely, the enemy being out of sight in the woods; their firing was very heavy, and it was evident, from the first, that they had numbers of sharpshooters lodged in the trees and everywhere else, to pick off the officers. Those who were there say that the Massachusetts men fought splendidly, making no confusion, and falling back perfectly orderly to the river, which they were fairly driven into, numbers drowning, others swimming to the island and Maryland shore. Of course, the great mistake of the whole affair was trying to cross an unfordable river with an insufficient force, unsupported by artillery and with no means of retreat; any one of these things would almost be sure to cause defeat. It is almost fortunate that General Baker was killed, as he would have been constantly reproached by everybody and could have hardly kept his commission. How much General Stone was to blame, no one can yet say; his orders to Baker were to cross in a discreet manner.

About the detail of the loss of the Fifteenth, I cannot say, as I know no one in it. The Colonel of it told Mr. Quint last night that he had lost near half of his regiment and twelve of his commissioned officers. The Lieutenant-Colonel lost his leg. To go back to our regiment. We were left along between the canal and the river. Early in the morning, it commenced to rain, pouring, and continued till night; we had nothing but mud to stand in and were wet and uncomfortable. At about ten A. M., I was detailed by Colonel Gordon to take a dozen good men and get a small flat boat there was up the river, and cross with it to the island to bring off a number of our men who were beckoning for aid from there. We got the boat and crossed successfully. The men were from different regiments and had hidden over night; they were very glad of the chance to get back into a friendly State. Not a Secesher made his appearance. The current was strong but the water was not very deep.

Towards night, our regiment moved a little ways back into the woods, where we pitched tents, built fires, got dry, and changed stockings, besides getting something to eat for a change. Next morning, we changed camp, moving back about two miles to get out of reach of the enemy's shells. Five of our companies were out on picket the whole of the night before, in all the rain, without fires. On arriving in camp, our company was put on guard. Just before supper time, I saw a mounted officer ride fast into camp and go up to a group where Lieutenant-Colonel Andrews was standing, and whisper something to him. Two minutes afterwards, I received an order to have the “general” beaten, which is the signal for every man to be at his quarters and strike tents; twenty minutes afterwards, the “assembly” was beaten, the line formed and immediately put in motion towards Edward's Ferry. Although the regiment was jaded, it moved off in fine shape, every one thinking we were sure of a fight. Getting near the river, we were surprised to see the camp of a large army about their usual duties, no signs of a movement. We marched straight to the river and halted for orders. The first I heard was, “Countermarch by file right, march!” The Colonel came by and said to Captain Curtis, “Where do you suppose we are going?” “I don't know.” “Back to camp!” An attack on the other side had been expected and the order had been sent to us to come on. The alarm blew over, our orders were countermanded, but by some miserable mistake, were not transmitted. We had marched six miles for nothing. We started back at ten and got into camp at twelve.

Our dead on the other side of the river were treated shamefully; every pocket was slit down and rifled and every button and shoe taken off. Probably our company goes on picket to-night at the island; if it does not, I shall go over to the Twentieth. Just heard that Captain Schmidt got four balls in his leg and side. He only feels afraid he will not be able to fight them in the next battle. He is doing well. You had better direct to General Banks' division via Washington.

_______________

* Company B had been on detached service as Provost guard for about ten days.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 25-9

Captain John C. Putnam, Co. H, 20th Massachusetts Infantry

SOURCE: This item was offered for sale on April 12, 2015 at HenryDeeks.com.

Major Henry L. Abbott to Mr. & Mrs. Charles Cushing Paine, July 28, 1863 (Extract)

Near Warrenton Junction, Va., July 28, '63.

There is one thing I can bear testimony to, and that is, your son's wonderful talent in making himself one of the most accomplished officers 1 know in the army, in two months' time. Col. Hall, our brig, commander, tells me that it was not wonderful to him after knowing his brother at West Point. His memory and application were so great that in a month's time he knew the whole book of Tactics and Regulations, and commanded a division on battalion and brigade drill as well as any old officer, besides doing all his guard and police duty, with an exactness, a vigor, an enthusiasm that the comdg. of. in vain tried to stimulate in some of the older officers, sparing neither himself nor his men. When Lt. Paine was Officer of the Guard, his influence was felt by the remotest sentinel on the outskirts of the town. His intelligence and discipline and indomitable resolution, were so fully recognized by Col. Macy that he often spoke of promoting him over nearly all the other 2d Lts., in fact over all with the exception of Summerhayes.

Besides Lt. Summerhayes who saw him as I have described, he was seen by Lt. Perkins during the action; his face, according to both, actually glowing with pleasure, as it used to in Falmouth when he had the best of an argument. I saw him immediately the battle was over, and had the body taken to a small barn in the rear. He was lying flat on his back, close to the clump of trees within fifteen feet of the rail fence where the rebels were forced to halt. His face though very white, was absolutely calm and natural. He was shot through one of his arms and the breast on the same side, which, nobody can remember, whether by a case bullet or by a musket bullet, I can't say, but certainly not by a fragment. One foot was bent clear out from the leg at the ankle, and the ankle was apparently broken by a fragment of a shell.

SOURCE: Sarah Cushing Paine, Compiler and Charles Henry Pope, Editor, Paine Ancestry: The Family of Robert Treat Paine, Signer of the Declaration of Independence, p. 325-6

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, September 18, 1861

September 18, 1861.

I had the pleasantest time, yesterday, that I have had this long while. General Lander's Brigade, including the Twentieth Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, was on the march from Washington to Poolsville; they were to pass within about two miles of our camp, so Captain Curtis and I got permission to go off and see them. It was the first time I had left camp except for picket or other duty, since I left Camp Andrew; it seemed very much of a holiday. We met the Twentieth after about three-quarters of an hour's march. I tell you we were glad to see so many good fellows; at least a dozen of them were intimate friends; Charley Pierson, the Adjutant, Bill Bartlett, Caspar Crowninshield, John Putnam, Harry Tremlett, and lots of others. They were all looking well, dusty and sunburnt. Captain Schmidt seemed very glad to see me; he was very unchanged. After walking a mile or two with them, we returned to camp well pleased with our visit. Poolsville, where they are now encamped, is seven miles from us.

I have just made me a delicious cup of black coffee; it will keep me awake the rest of the night, I think, as it is now near one. I have been on court-martial for the last two or three days; Rufus Choate was Judge Advocate. The way we put cases through would have astonished a police court.

Captain Curtis went on to Washington, to-night, to rectify an error in the date of pay roll; he will be back some time to-morrow or next day. General McClellan is going to review General Banks' division Tuesday. It will be a great sight, if they can find a good place for it; fifteen thousand troops marching company front. Ellis has been made brigade commissary, a regular staff appointment. Sedgwick has received an appointment on some staff with the rank of major. Lieutenant Howard and Tom Robeson have been made signal officers, and are detached. Copeland has gone on to Banks' staff, and there is some talk of making Charley Horton or Steve Perkins ordnance officers of this division, so you see our roster of officers is quite reduced. If anybody is wanted for any purpose in this division, our regiment is sure to be called on to supply him; it is complimentary to us, to be sure, but it makes it rather hard for the rest. You asked me, in a letter some time ago, if I was trying to get a commission in the regular army. Not a bit of it! I shall try for one some of these days, likely, but not till I have seen some service. I should not care for anything less than a captaincy in the regular army, and it will be a good while before I can expect that. I suppose you notice by my talk that I don't think we have a short war before us; the more I think of it, the more I think it will be a long one. I saw a list of Tom Stevenson's officers, the other day. There are several very good companies, Bob Clark's, Bob Steve's and some others.

Captain Robert Williams, General Banks' Assistant Adjutant-General, has got a furlough from the regular army, and is going to take command of the cavalry regiment now raising in Massachusetts; rather singular that he, a Virginian, should be the Colonel of a regiment raised to fight his own State. He is a very fine officer, and I should think would be much liked; his present rank is that of captain.

You will hardly believe it when I tell you that the men of our regiment look better now as regards their rifles, accoutrements and dress, than they did at Camp Andrew. At dress parades and inspections, we insist on every man having his shoes and belts shining bright with blacking, also on every button and bit of brass about their firelock being polished, and, if on drawing the rammer from the barrel, there is enough rust or dirt on it to soil a white glove, the man who owns it is obliged to clean it (the rifle), immediately after parade, to the satisfaction of his officer. Their clothes are considerably worn, but the general effect is far better than ever before. We have earned the name of the “stuck up” Massachusetts Regiment, which amuses us considerably. Others think we cannot get along well with our men, as they never see them sitting around in our tents smoking and joking with us and enjoying themselves generally, as they are allowed to do in some regiments. We let them think so.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 22-4

Major Henry L. Abbott to Mr. & Mrs. Charles Cushing Paine, July 13, 1863 (Extract)

Near, Williamsport, Md., July 13, '63.

As an officer, he was generally considered fitter to command a company than one half of the old officers. The loss of your son and Ropes, considered merely as officers, is irreparable.

You have the full consolation of knowing that Sumner has kept up the glory of the name he bears, since no man could be more brave, capable and faithful in camp, or more devotedly courageous in the field.

SOURCE: Sarah Cushing Paine, Compiler and Charles Henry Pope, Editor, Paine Ancestry: The Family of Robert Treat Paine, Signer of the Declaration of Independence, p. 325

Captain William Francis Bartlett: September 15, 1861

I have let one of my men copy this out of my journal, which I wrote after we got here Sunday night. Part of it was a letter to Ben. I am well and comfortable.

Camp Foster, September 15, 1861.

After three days' continual marching, we have arrived at the most magnificent spot I ever saw. To go back: I last wrote home from Camp Burnside, near Washington. We received orders on the 12th to move immediately across the river. We had heard firing all the day before, and every one was on the qui vive. We had tents struck, baggage packed, and knapsacks slung, and had reached the foot of the hill on which our camp was pitched, when an aide-de-camp of General Lander rode up at full speed, and asked for the Colonel. I directed him, and in a moment the word came down the line, “Column halt!” The order for crossing the river here had been countermanded, and we were ordered to start for Poolesville, up the river towards Harper's Ferry. We countermarched, and started up the main road. It was very hot but not dusty. We made about nine miles over an uneven road, and at night bivouacked under the starlit skies. The water was deep in the hollows of our blankets in the morning, and the dew-drops glistened on our noses and hair in the rising sun.

I caught no cold and never rose more refreshed. We fell in for the march about half past nine. To-day it was cooler on account of a fresh breeze from the west. I led the column at a smart step until the Colonel rode up and said that the men were complaining of having to march too fast, and asked for an easier gait. We slackened up. We marched on through a hilly country for some miles, when we struck off the main road to the left for Rockville. It now began to look more like my idea of an army on the march, now fording a shallow stream and now climbing a long, steep, and rocky hill. Being at the head of the column, I could look back as we reached the top, and see the bayonets glisten down the narrow road until the rear was lost in a cloud of dust.

We stopped two miles outside of Rockville for dinner, which consisted of hard bread and salt meat from our haversacks. The men have an idea that we live better than they do, wherever we are, but in many cases we do not fare so well. After a short rest we fell in at the beat of the drum, and struck Muddy Branch at sundown, passing through Rockville under the waving of Union flags. In talking with natives here they are strong Union, but this one and that one, their neighbors, are secession.

We bivouacked at Muddy Branch, on a steep hillside, where lying on the ground brought you to almost a perpendicular position. It was very wet before morning. The sensation is a new and not altogether unpleasant one, of opening your eyes and seeing the stars above you. Saturday morning we received orders from General Lander to take extra precautions, as the rebel cavalry had crossed the river in great numbers, and were intending to cut us off with our large baggage train and ammunition.

An advanced guard of picked men of Company I was sent forward under my command, with ten rounds of ball cartridges, rifles loaded and capped. Caspar Crowninshield, being second Captain, was given command of the rear guard, with an equal number of men. The regiment had cartridges distributed, but were not allowed to cap their pieces. We left Muddy Run at ten, with a faint hope in my mind of meeting anything like rebel cavalry, but the men were quite elated at the idea of having a brush. We had to halt several times to make the streams fordable for the wagons, and halted without adventure at Seneca Creek, six miles from Poolesville, for the noonday rest and meal.

We passed on our march within a mile of Gordon's regiment, which is in camp near the road, and saw Lieutenant Morse of the same. During our halt, Captain Abbott, Little's¹ brother, rode up, having heard of our approach. Of course we were glad to see him. All the fellows of their regiment are well and sent love.

Tom Robeson is at Washington on signal duty, telegraphing, etc. Ned Abbott rode on with us when we marched, as far as Poolesville, where we halted. The gradual rise to this place is imperceptible, until you see before you in the distance what appear to be clouds in the western horizon. They do not seem to change their shape, and you recognize them soon as mountains, the famous Blue Ridge of Virginia. But what is more surprising, you find yourself on a mountain, and looking across a valley of some sixty or seventy miles, through which the Potomac runs. Imagine yourself on the summit of Mount Washington, or higher if you please, and then have the summit stretched out into a flat tableland of fifty square miles, with nothing to obstruct the horizon, and you have a slight idea of our position and view. We were thousands of feet above the level of the sea, and still on every side it was perfectly level until your eye stretched across the surrounding valley and rested on the blue hills beyond. Towering above the others was the famous Sugar Loaf Mountain, from whose summit the signal fires tell the numbers and movements of the foe.

The scenery was appreciated even by the tired men, and exclamations of surprise would occasionally be heard from the ranks. Our bivouac here at Poolesville has surpassed all others. We are so high that very little dew falls, our blankets being only damp in the morning, and the air is so invigorating that a person is inclined to be pleased with everything. Although this was our third day on the march, and we had come farther than on any other day, the men were in better spirits and really not so tired as on the night of our first bivouac.

The river is but four miles from here, and our pickets there exchange shots daily with the rebels. To-day one of ours was killed. Sometimes the pickets will make friendly advances to each other across the river, and leaving their arms will meet half way on the ford, and chat in the most friendly manner. In one case they exchanged a Boston Journal for a Mobile paper. We have seen nothing of the Rebel cavalry, and before stacking I ordered the guns to be uncapped.

September 15, Sunday, we had looked forward to as a day of rest, literally, but at eleven we were ordered to have dinner as early as possible, as we must start again for a new camping ground two and a half miles nearer the river. The sun was broiling. I picked up a tin cup lying in the sun, without thinking, and dropped it as though it was red. I believe if my hand had been wet, it would have sizzled. We fell in at two, and passing the advanced regiment of Minnesota Volunteers, descended from our table-land towards the river, and are now in advance of everything in this direction. We have the post of honor. In the first advance into Virginia, our regiment, having the right of the brigade, leads; Company I, having the right of our regiment, also leads. The Minnesota regiment which is to support us is the same that behaved so well at Bull's Run, and was the last to leave the field, and in good order.

The Colonel considers it a great compliment, placing his regiment so well in advance. But we compare in appearance and drill certainly with any that I have seen since I left home. We reached our final camp ground about four o'clock, have got our camp laid out, our tents pitched, and guard mounted, and hope to stay here a week or two to get up again on our drill, etc., which must have lost something from our late irregularities. As soon as our brigade is full, we shall probably go on picket duty on the river, which they say is quite pleasant, having just enough danger to make it exciting. A whole company is detailed for a certain number of days, perhaps a week, when it is relieved by the next. I will write at the first opportunity, giving you some of my adventures and experience on picket.

The Colonel was down at the river to-day with General Stone, and got one of our pickets to make advances to his neighbor opposite, and draw him into conversation across the river. They kept in the back-ground, and listened to the dialogue, which of course wasn't in a whisper. The rebel said they had but two or three hundred cavalry there, and only one or two batteries. Of course their information goes for what it is worth. But it seems rather laughable, the whole thing. It is impossible for me to realize that we are so near the enemy. I shall, perhaps, when I hear a bullet whistle by my head.

I have written a good deal, considering we have been on the march for the last four days, but I do not feel tired in the least; the men are somewhat used up, it being their first march, but they have stood it very well, especially my company. I haven't had one straggler.

I must stop, not for want of matter but for brevity of candle. The air of the tent feels close and uncomfortable after living so long in the open air.

My next may be dated from the “Banks of the Potomac.”

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¹ Little, here and elsewhere, is Henry L. Abbott, the accomplished officer who was killed in the Wilderness in May, 1864, as Major of his regiment. The story of his life is told in the Harvard Memorial Biographies.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 1-13

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Major Caspar Crowninshield,* June 20, 1863

Camp Brightwood, June 20, '63.

We are lying here anxiously expecting orders, — two squadrons are just back from over the river collecting stragglers from the Army of the Potomac. The First Massachusetts Cavalry had a severe fight at Aldie on Wednesday afternoon. Captain Sargent and Lieutenant Davis (not Henry) reported killed, — Major Higginson wounded in four places, not seriously, — Lieutenant Fillibrown wounded, — Jim Higginson captured, — loss killed, wounded, and missing, 160 out of 320, according to Major Higginson, who is at Alexandria, — but this is evidently a mistake.¹ The loss in prisoners is great, because Adams's squadron was dismounted and was supposed to be supported by the Fourth New York, which neglected to support at the proper moment and left our fellows unprotected.

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* Major Caspar Crowninsbield of Boston, noted in college for his great strength and rowing prowess in victories of Harvard over Yale, had done good service in the Twentieth Massachusetts Infantry. Thence he was commissioned Major of the Second Massachusetts Cavalry, took the field in command of the First Battalion, and continued in service throughout the war. After Colonel Russell's promotion to the Fifth Massachusetts Cavalry he became lieutenant-colonel, and, as such, commanded the regiment from the moment that Colonel Lowell commanded a brigade. After the colonel's death, he, for a time, commanded the Reserve Brigade.

¹ Major Higginson's wounds from shot and sabre proved so severe as to necessitate his resignation, after a long period of suffering. His brother was, as here reported, taken prisoner on the same field. Captain Lucius Manlius Sargent, left for dead on the field, recovered, and did active service until December, 1864, when he was killed in action at Bellfield, Virginia. Captain Adams, the son of our minister to England, has since become well known as a good citizen and author.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 262, 427

Diary of William Francis Bartlett: Thursday [sic], July 2, 1861

Received a note from Palfrey. I have been appointed captain.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 5

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, November 13, 1864

November 13, 1864

We had a Lieutenant-Colonel C––– , a Britisher, up for a visit; he is commander of the forces in that tropical climate of New Brunswick. In aspect Colonel C––– was not striking; he had done injustice to what good looks he had by a singularly shapeless suit of city clothing, which I judge must have been purchased ready made from a village tailor in New Brunswick. He had a sort of soft cloth hat, an overcoat of a grey-rhubarb tint and trousers which once might have had a pure color, but seemed to have become doubtful by hanging in the sun outside a shop. I don't think the gallant Lieutenant-Colonel was much interested in matters military. Perhaps he had read out, perhaps he had no natural taste that way, or perhaps he felt cold and uncomfortable. At any rate he looked bored, and his only military remark did not indicate deep reflection. “This,” said I, “is what we call a corduroy road.” “Oh! ah! Indeed; yes, well, it's very well now, you know, but what will you do when it comes wet weather?” I was too much overcome at this putting the cart before the horse, to inform him that the corduroy was built for no other purpose than for wet weather. After this I confined myself to considerations of the state of health of the Hon. Mr. Yorke (he who came back with us from Liverpool). He is under the command of the Colonel, it would appear, and afforded an innocent topic of conversation. Since then two other English officers have been entrusted to the fatherly care of Rosencrantz, and diligently shown round. When they got near the end, they said: “Now we are much pleased to find you are a foreigner, because we can frankly ask you, what you consider the general feeling towards the English in this country.” To which Rosie (who don't like to miss a chance) replied: “Vell, I can tell you that, so far as I have observed, some Americans do just care nothing about you, and many others do say, that, when this war is over, they will immediately kick you very soon out from Canada!” When the horrified Bulls asked: “Aw, aw, aw; but why, why?” Rosie replied in the following highly explanatory style: “Be-cause they say you have made for the Rebs very many bullets.”

General Gibbon dined with us and was largely impressed by our having oysters on the shell, which he pitched into with the fervor of a Baltimorean long separated from his favorites. Gibbon is by birth a Pennsylvanian, but lived, since boyhood, in North Carolina. When the Rebellion broke out, two of his brothers went into the Rebel service, but he remained loyal. One of his sisters was in the South but could not escape, and it was only the other day that they allowed her to come on board the flag-of-truce boat and come down the river to our lines, where her brother met her and took her North. He had sent word to his younger brother to meet him on the same occasion, but the young gentleman sent word, “It would not be agreeable”; which shows they are pretty bitter, some of them. Gibbon has an Inspector named Summerhayes, who is of the 20th Massachusetts, and who has got so used to being shot at, that he seems not to be able to do without it, and so gallops along the picket line to rouse the foe to pop at him. Which reminds me of what Grant said (either by accident or on purpose). He had come out, with a great crowd of civilians, to ride round the lines. Someone proposed to go out and visit the pickets. “No,” said Grant, innocently, “no; if I take a crowd of civilians, the enemy may fire and some of the soldiers might get hurt!”

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 267-9