Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: The Battle of Averysboro

March 15, 1865, the day preceding this battle, was cloudy and rainy, the brigade marching about ten miles on a plank road, getting into camp after dark. The camp was in an ancient grave-yard, very damp and disagreeable. Our men had just started fires and were preparing their frugal supper, when a mounted orderly clattered up to my shelter tent with orders for the regiment to be ready to march at once. Our brigade was soon in motion through the pitchy darkness, over the most execrable of mud roads. We marched only about five miles, but it was nearly twelve o'clock when we filed off the road into a pine thicket, and lay down on the wet ground for the remainder of the night. During the night march we learned that Kilpatrick's cavalry had encountered a force of the enemy, and that we had been ordered up to relieve one of his brigades. This force was General Hardee's command, which had been halted in a strong position for the purpose of holding Sherman's advance, to give time for Johnson to concentrate his army at some point beyond. About seven A. M., I received orders to form the regiment on the left of the brigade, throw out skirmishers and engage the enemy, and was told that my left would be supported by cavalry. The ground in our front, over which we advanced during the day, was a pine swamp, the water in some places being a foot or more in depth.

As soon as the regiment had taken its position, I ordered. Captain J. I. Grafton, who commanded the left flank company, to take his company and the one next on his right, and deploy them in front of the regiment. The skirmishers were at once engaged, and we came under a well-directed, scattering fire. Captain Grafton was just placing his men in position when he was wounded in the leg and started to the rear, but when within a few yards of the place where I was standing he turned again to the front, and almost immediately was struck by a bullet in the neck. Even with this mortal wound he staggered several paces to the rear, when he fell, and died a few moments afterwards. Captain Grafton was a gallant soldier, and a gentleman in every sense of the word. He joined the regiment as junior second lieutenant in November, 1861. He was severely wounded at Cedar Mountain, and again at Chancellorsville. The latter wound was in one of his legs, which caused a lameness from which he never fully recovered, but in spite of pain and discomfort he maintained his place at the head of his company at all times, and with his fine bearing was an example of a gallant soldier. It seemed hard that he should meet his death after passing through the great campaigns of the war, and when the regiment was in action for the last time; but so it was, and we had to mourn the death of one more brave and true comrade.

The skirmishers of our brigade steadily pushed back those of the enemy, and after our ammunition was exhausted, we were relieved by General Coggswell's brigade of the Third Division, the remainder of the Twentieth Corps having now come up to the front and taken the place of the cavalry. Coggswell continued to press the enemy with his brigade, and advanced for about a mile until he encountered a line of breastworks into which the enemy had retreated. In the meantime our brigade, the Third of the First Division, had been transferred to the right, and late in the afternoon we were ordered forward again. Our last advance carried us close to the enemy's works, and we became hotly engaged. The action lasted until dark, when the firing subsided, and during the night the enemy retreated from our front.

The regiment carried into this action only 141 officers and men: the companies were mere skeletons. Captain Grafton, with two companies, had but twenty men under his command when he was killed. The casualties in the action were Captain Grafton and seven enlisted men killed or mortally wounded; Lieutenant-Colonel Morse and fourteen enlisted men wounded. Lieutenant Samuel Storrow, who had joined the regiment at Atlanta and had made the “March to the Sea,” was detailed as aide on General Coggswell's staff when the latter was placed in command of a brigade at Savannah. Averysboro was his first real battle, and he went into it full of zeal and courage. While carrying an order he was struck by a bullet, and although the wound did not seem serious he could not rally from its effect, and died a few hours after. He was a fine, spirited young fellow, and his loss was greatly felt by those who had been associated with him during his short term of service.

The battle of Averysboro was a comparatively small affair, but the fighting was spirited, and the march of Sherman's army was but little delayed by Hardee's efforts.

The battle of Bentonville followed on March 19, but the Second Massachusetts Regiment was not actively engaged.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 219-21

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: The “Veteran” Furlough

The regiment received its orders to go home for its thirty days' furlough January 9, 1864, those who had not re-enlisted remaining in camp at Tullahoma, Tenn. Movements by rail were slow in those days, owing to insufficient transportation, and it was not until the evening of January 18th that the regiment reached Boston. There was a great throng at the Boston and Albany station awaiting it, but no formal reception was given that evening. The men were marched to barracks on Beach Street, and quartered there for the night; the officers were entertained by Mr. E. R. Mudge at the United States Hotel, and many of them went to their homes for the night.

The next day, January 20th, was a fine, bright, winter day, not too cold for comfort. At about 9 A. M., the regiment filed out of the Beach Street barracks, and, under the escort of the Boston Cadets, began its march. It was an ovation from the start. The men had spent much of their time the preceding night in polishing their brasses and belts, and brushing up their well worn uniforms. Their rifles and bayonets were burnished to the last degree, and would have passed the inspection of the most rigid West point martinet. It is difficult to say too much in praise of the appearance of the command on this occasion. The men were veterans in the truest sense, and their whole appearance indicated it. Their march was the easy swing of the old soldier, but in perfect time and alignment, with every face set squarely to the front. Their faces, bronzed by exposure to the sun and the weather, had the expression of hardihood which only comes to men accustomed to meet dangers and privation. The officers were all young men, hardly one who marched that day being more than twenty-five years old, yet from the military point of view they were entitled to be called veterans. Colonel Coggswell, who commanded the regiment, was then in his twenty-fifth year; Captain Crowninshield, who had been three times wounded, was in his twenty-first year and was the youngest captain, but several other officers of this rank were only a year or two older.

The march was first through the West End of Boston, passing through Arlington Street to Beacon Street, — the reception proper really beginning on the latter street. The sidewalks were filled with a cheering multitude, and every window and balcony were crowded with friends, who gave the most enthusiastic greeting to the regiment as it passed. It was a stirring march, to fine martial music, and no one who marched with the regiment that day will ever forget this thrilling episode of his military life.

From Beacon Street the march proceeded through the business streets, where the principal stores had been closed by common consent. On State Street was another ovation from "the solid men of Boston," who filled the street and cheered most enthusiastically as the column marched by. When Faneuil Hall was reached the men filed in, and every inch of available room was immediately filled by the crowds which followed. The galleries were occupied by ladies and many of the immediate friends of the officers and men. The hall was handsomely decorated by flags and streamers, with the State arms and shield on each side of the clock.

The officers and color guard with their shot-riddled battle flag were on the platform, where Governor Andrew and his staff, Mayor Lincoln, General Burnside, and other distinguished men were assembled. Mayor Lincoln presided on the occasion, and after prayer by the Rev. Dr. Lothrop, a collation was served to the men. Mayor Lincoln then made an address of welcome, which he closed by introducing "His Excellency the Governor, who, in behalf of our honored Commonwealth, will formally tender you that welcome which your merits and patriotic services deserve."

Governor Andrew followed with an eloquent address, in which he recounted the services of the regiment and followed its career through its various campaigns. He referred by name to many of those who had fallen in battle, and told the story of the color bearers who fell one after another at Gettysburg, but who never let the flag touch the ground, in a manner which thrilled every one who heard him. In conclusion he said: “Now, Mr. Commander and soldiers of the Second, I have not attempted by words to declare how deep is the gratitude of the Massachusetts heart towards the living, — how sacred our remembrance for the memory of the dead. Brave and true men lean not on the speech, rely not on the assurance of the lips. Soldiers, you know that from the bottom of her heart Massachusetts admires, reveres and loves you all.”

Colonel Coggswell made a modest, well-spoken reply to Governor Andrew's speech of welcome, and was followed by General Burnside, who happened to be present in Boston at that time, and who made a few remarks suitable to the occasion.

After the exercises at Faneuil Hall were concluded, the regiment marched to Coolidge Block, Court Street, where the arms and equipments were deposited, and the men received their thirty days' furlough.

The officers scattered to their homes to enjoy this brief season of rest, although an active effort was made to secure recruits to take back into the field. This effort entirely failed, mainly owing to the unfortunate policy, then in effect, of creating and filling up new military organizations, rather than placing every recruit in the old regiments or other organized commands.

On Monday, February 22, the regiment assembled at Beach Street barracks, and the next day, at half-past four P. M., left Boston for Tennessee. An entire week was spent on the return trip, and the regiment finally reached its camp at Tullahoma on a dark, rainy morning, where it rejoined the comrades who had been left behind.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 217-9

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

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: June 18, 1865

Washington, D. C., June 18, 1865.

Since my last letter we have made one more change, and the regiment now forms part of the garrison of Washington. That we have been detailed for provost duty in this city shows that though we are now among strangers, we are not altogether unknown.

We are camped quite near the Capitol, in a not very aristocratic neighborhood. We have considerable guard and patrol duty to do, now that so many troops are passing through on their way home.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 216

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: July 8, 1865

Washington, D. C., July 8, 1865.

I suppose you have seen the announcement before this that we are to be mustered out of the service at once. We shall probably be home in a week or ten days; how long we shall be delayed there, I can't tell.

You may not hear from me again till I get home.

_______________

[The regiment was mustered out of the service at Readville, Mass., July 26, 1865. The total losses of the regiment in killed and wounded during its entire term of service were: 14 officers and 176 enlisted men killed or mortally wounded, and 26 officers and 410 enlisted men wounded, not mortally. Total casualties in action, 626. Died of disease, 84; drowned, 4.]

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 216

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

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: June 10, 1865

Headquarters Second Mass. Inf'y,

June 10, 1865.

Our old corps, division and brigade, have been broken up, and yesterday we marched out of our beautiful camp and away from every old association. The Third Wisconsin cheered us and we cheered them, but a good many of us felt more like blubbering. Our division is composed of the veteran regiments of the Twentieth Corps belonging in the Eastern States.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 215

Captain Edward G. Abbott on Major Wilder Dwight

His courage and coolness are worthy of all praise. He walked about, apparently as unconcerned as if lounging on Washington Street. His devotion to the wounded is sublime. He is my hero of the fight. The men never tire of talking of him and praising him.*

_______________

* See also remarks of Hon. Josiah G. Abbott upon the same occasion. Appendix III.

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

Captain Samuel M. Quincy on Major Wilder Dwight

Our Major Dwight has won for himself the heartfelt admiration of the regiment. His indomitable pluck and perfect sang-froid were beautiful. I watched him on Saturday and Sunday with wonder and delight. Bullets and death he utterly despised and ignored. In short, he is a genuine hero.*

_______________

* See remarks of Hon. Josiah Quincy at the meeting of the Suffolk Bar, upon the occasion of the death of Wilder Dwight . Appendix III.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 247-8

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: May 23, 1865

Headquarters Second Mass. Inf'y,

Near Alexandria, May 23, 1865.

I have been sorely exercised for the last few days on account of learning, when I joined my command, that I had been mustered out of service by order of the War Department, on account of being absent from the effects of wounds received in action.* Yesterday, through the kindness of General Slocum, I obtained an interview with General Townsend, Adjutant General, and presented to him an application for the rescinding of the order; it had received pretty heavy endorsements from all my superiors, and was at once granted. The veteran regiments are probably to be retained, for the present at any rate; they will be filled up to the maximum by consolidation.

Everybody is scrubbing up for the review to-morrow, which will be a great affair. I am sorry you are not coming on. I am getting along very well with my wound.

_______________

* Immediately after the surrender of Lee's and Johnston's army, the War Department issued a General Order honorably discharging every officer then absent from his command on account of wounds or sickness.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 213-4

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

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: March 12, 1865

Camp Near Fayettevtlle, N. C,

March 12, 1865.

An hour ago, we were all astounded by the announcement that a mail would leave headquarters at four P. M. If you had quietly stepped up to my shelter and asked me to come and take a comfortable Sunday dinner at home, I should have hardly been more astonished. It seems that there is a steam tug up from Wilmington, and that we have captured two steamers at this city. I write now only to say that I am perfectly well, and have been in but one skirmish since leaving Savannah. When I have time, I will give you a history of this campaign; all I will say of it now is that it has been a hard one. We have had a great many severe storms; the roads have been awful, and the obstacles in the shape of rivers, streams, and swamps, most numerous; but we have conquered them as we have everything else.

When I tell you that since the eighth day of February I have not drawn from the commissariat a single government ration, you can understand how entirely we have lived on the country. There have been times of great anxiety, when it seemed as if the country could yield nothing, but we have always had great herds of cattle to fall back on, so that there was never much danger of suffering. This has been no picnic excursion, I can assure you, and I am not sorry we are nearing a base. Another Sunday will, I hope, see us in Goldsborough. I hope to get some express matter soon, as I am in sad condition in the way of clothing.

We have marched from Cheraw since last Tuesday morning, about seventy miles.

[The writer was wounded at the battle of Averysboro, March 16, and went to Massachusetts, where he remained about sixty days.]

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 212-3

Major Wilder Dwight, May 9, 1862

camp Near New Market, Virginia, May 9, 1862.

After passing three days in bivouac on the other side of the gap, we returned here last night, and went again into camp

Our cavalry made a brisk and bold charge the other day. They are coming up finely under the new general, Hatch. They actually brought in ten men wounded with sabre-cuts; a thing not before done in the war, and really a most healthy indication.

Our life in the woods on the mountain was listless, but pleasant enough. I got a letter from Mrs. Ticknor, which I have answered. I hope your funds will all be saved against the wants which weather or battle will surely develop before autumn. It is a pity that your fund should not do its utmost good, and in this direction that work can best be done.

Just now our own prospects are not such as to give us much claim on home solicitude or benevolence. The Secretary of War has ordered us back to Strasburg.

Shields, now a major-general! takes his division across the gap to McDowell. General Banks remains with two brigades, one of them ours, at Strasburg. This is the programme.

With that pitiful force to which Banks's “army corps” is now reduced, and at that point fifty miles back of our recent advance, we have no other hope or purpose than protecting Maryland! A proud sequel, is it not?

Of course all this is a severe trial to me, — the severest, I think, of my life. But equally, of course, I keep a cheerful spirit, and mean to do my best to the end. Whether the whirligig of time has any revenges in our favor or not we must wait to see.

Service is obeying orders, and we are in service. Perhaps we shall make some effort to get into an active department as soon as things have taken shape. We certainly shall if we can see any way to do so. It is rather hard luck for the first regiment recruited for the war, isn't it?

We are having very bright, warm weather, and this valley is beautiful under it. On our night march through the gap, we had sunrise just at the crest of the mountain. Both the valleys lay beneath us in their morning bath of sunshine, picturesque with camps and wheat-fields and villages.

Yesterday the box arrived; the blanket is just what I want; the stockings went right on men's feet

I wait patiently for news from William. It may well be that his opportunity will soon come or has come.

It is a year since our camp life at West Roxbury. What a different year from that to which we then looked forward!

May the next year be a different one from that which now appears before us.

Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 244-5

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: January 31, 1865

Headquarters Second Mass. Inf'y,

RoBeRTSVille, S. C, January 31, 1865.

Since my last letter we have pushed farther into this miserable, rebellious State of South Carolina. We came very slowly, as we had to cut our way for the first ten miles through continuous rebel obstructions; but after that distance, the enemy evidently began to think it was no use trying to stop us, and the fallen trees became fewer and further apart. As we marched on from Purysburg, we gradually got out of the swamps and into rich plantations showing signs of the wealth of their old owners. Just think of single fields comprising at least one thousand acres. In the centre or in some part of each one of these great fields, would stand the universal cotton press and cotton gin. The planters' houses were rather better than the average through Georgia, but none of them were what we should call more than second or third class houses in the North; generally they stand half a mile or a mile back from the road, at the end of a perfectly straight, narrow avenue, in fact, nothing more than a cart path.

The most of them are surrounded by magnificent old live oaks and cypress trees, draped all over with the gray Spanish moss which gives to the deserted mansions a very sombre, funereal appearance. In rear of the houses are the rows of negro quarters, and the various outbuildings required on large plantations. So far, on this march, I have seen only one white male inhabitant and very few negroes. Every place is deserted; the valuables and most of the provisions are carried off; but I went into one house where there were rooms full of fine furniture, a fine piano, marble-topped tables, etc.; there was a valuable library in one room, of four or five thousand volumes. I saw a well bound copy of Motley's Dutch Republic, and a good set of Carlyle's works. This property is, of course, so much stuff strewn along the wayside. Unless there happens to be a halt near by, no one is allowed to leave the column to take anything; but stragglers, wagon-train men, and the various odds and ends that always accompany an army on the march, pick up whatever they want or think they want, and scatter about and destroy the rest, and by the time the last of a column five or six miles long gets by, the house is entirely gutted; in nine cases out of ten, before night all that is left to show where the rich, aristocratic, chivalrous, slave-holding South Carolinian lived, is a heap of smoldering ashes.

On principle, of course, such a system of loose destruction is all wrong and demoralizing; but, as I said before, it is never done openly by the soldiers, for every decent officer will take care that none of his men leave the ranks on a march. But there is no precedent which requires guards to be placed over abandoned property in an enemy's country. Sooner or later, of course, as we advanced and occupied all of the country, it would be taken, and I would rather see it burned than to have it seized and sent North by any of the sharks who follow in the rear of a conquering army. Pity for these inhabitants, I have none. In the first place, they are rebels, and I am almost prepared to agree with Sherman that a rebel has no rights, not even the right to live except by our permission.

They have rebelled against a Government they never once felt; they lived down here like so many lords and princes; each planter was at the head of a little aristocracy in which hardly a law touched him. This didn't content these people; they wanted “their rights,” and now they are getting them. After long deliberation, they plunged into a war in order to gratify their aristocratic aspirations for a Government of their own, and to indulge in their insane hatred for us Yankee mud-sills. The days of the rebellion are coming to an end very fast; even its lying press cannot keep up its courage much longer. For a year they have met with a series of reverses sufficient to break the spirit of the proudest nation, and this next spring will see a combination of movements which must destroy their only remaining bulwark, Lee's army, and then the bubble will burst; and I believe that we shall find that Jeff Davis and other leading Confederates will be abused and hated by men of their own section of country more than they will by the Northerners.

No, I might pity individual cases brought before me, but I believe that this terrible example is needed in this country, as a warning to those men in all time to come who may cherish rebellious thoughts; I believe it is necessary in order to show the strength of this Government and thoroughly to subdue these people. I would rather campaign it until I am fifty years old than to make any terms with rebels while they bear arms. We can conquer a peace, and it is our duty to do it.

This little, deserted town of Robertville we reached two days ago; our whole left wing is close by. We shall fill up again with supplies, and in about two days strike into the country. Barnwell, Branchville, Augusta, Columbia, and Charleston are all threatened. I hope the rebels know as little as we do which one is in the most immediate danger of a visit. Wheeler's cavalry is all around us, but as yet no infantry. A regiment of his command tried to stop our coming into this town. The Third Wisconsin, without firing a shot, charged them, broke them all to pieces, and lost only three men.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 209

Major Wilder Dwight, May 6, 1862

in Bivouac Massanatan Pass, Opposite New Market,

May 6, 1862.

A word with you in the rough confusion of our mountain bivouac.

Sunday last I should have written, but being a little out of sorts, put it off. In the afternoon we had an alarm, the long roll beaten, and marched toward the front. The regiment spent the night by the roadside. At three, A. M., started for New Market, in retreat. Marched all day in oppressive heat and dust, delayed by baggage-trains and batteries. Got into camp at eight, P. M. 1 was busy posting grand guards and outposts till eleven. At twelve, another alarm, and we marched again, foot-sore, hungry, weary, in the dark, over the mountain pass. You should have seen the sunrise from the head of the pass. To-day we rest. We found the alarm a false one, owing to the stupidity of General of Shields's division. Our work has been awful and useless utterly. My soul is aweary — so, indeed, is my body.

I could prose you a long story of our experiences; but to what good?

I am well now. We bivouac again to-night. The scenery is glorious, the weather fine. I have two letters from you since I wrote.

As to ——'s secession friend, let him alone. Colonels Corcoran and Wilcox are still in captivity; so is Botts and the Governor of North Carolina. Smooth no pillows for traitors.

Love to all. I am glad to hear such good news of Charley. I hope William is now lucky. Memphis will fall before you get this. Hurrah!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 243-4

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: January 25, 1865

Headquarters Second Mass. Inf'y,

Purysburg, S. C, January 25, 1865.

On the 17th, we broke camp, and after some delay crossed the Savannah River (i. e., our division), and marched about eight miles into South Carolina, camping at night in the old camps of the Third Division. The next day we marched at twelve, noon, and accomplished seven miles more. The 19th, we started at nine A. M., marched through Hardeeville, and camped at Purysburg, on the river. The march was over a very bad road, overflowing in some places to a depth of two feet. About noon, the rain began to fall in torrents, and it became evident, even then, that forward movements would be suspended for a time. Late in the afternoon the gunboat Pontiac came up the river, convoying the transport R. E. Lee (late rebel), loaded with rations.

The 20th, 21st, 22d and 23d, it rained almost incessantly, flooding the whole country about us, so that it was possible almost to row a boat over the road we had marched, back to Savannah. The corduroying was washed away, and the pontoon bridge broken; part of our train was cut off and had to return to Savannah. Of course all movement was stopped, and we set to work to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. By a system of very extensive ditchings, I managed to get the camp on comparatively dry ground. We had quite easy communication with our base by the river, so that supplies were received without difficulty.

Yesterday I rode back to Hardeeville and called on General Coggswell. I found him very pleasantly situated. He has a good staff. I believe that, if he has time and opportunity, he will have the best brigade in this army; his faculty for commanding is very great, and he is interested in his work.

I am very much in hopes that my application for conscripts will do some good. I put it pretty strong, and I think got a good endorsement from General Slocum, and I hope from Sherman. The fact that we have never yet received a single drafted man under any call, ought to go a great ways; the oldness of the organization, its small numbers, and its being the only veteran Massachusetts regiment in Sherman's army, ought to do the rest. I am glad to see that the Provost Marshal General has ordered that no recruits be received for any but infantry commands. With all these things in my favor I shall expect to receive, at the end of this campaign, at least eight hundred good men, all of the best moral character and warranted not to desert for at least three days after assignment.

What a delightful proof of Butler's unfitness for command was General Terry's gallant and successful assault of Fort Fisher. Grant's letter transmitting the official reports was one of the best snubs I ever read.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 207-9

Major Wilder Dwight, April 29, 1862

camp Near Harrisonburg, April 29, 1862.

I believe I wrote you a short letter since our arrival here. Written in a northeast storm, perhaps it had a little of the gloom of the sky that overhung it. Let me try what brighter skies may inspire. Sunday morning last broke; yes! broke, and the spell — of weather which had held us so long yielded at last. The snows which we found on the field vanished.

In the midst of our morning inspection an order came to march at once on a reconnoissance towards Jackson's position in the Swift Run Gap on the Blue Ridge. We got off at about eleven o'clock, with the Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment. It was our duty to support the cavalry and artillery under General Hatch. We went out on the “mud pike” to Magaugheysville, or rather toward that euphonious town. Such a road! We toiled out eleven miles. The cavalry pushed beyond Magaugheysville and had a brisk little skirmish, in which we took two prisoners and lost one. The Rebels have the bridge that crosses the Shenandoah full of brush and combustibles, ready to burn when we press them. It is reported that Jackson is reinforced by a brigade or more, and that he will make a stand in the gap. If this is so, perhaps we may get a little fight out of him. But I am still of the persuasion which I have always held. Our problem in this valley has always been, the movement and subsistence of our army. The enemy has always been a secondary consideration, though he has kept up a vigorous resistance.

In the ripeness of time we must cross the ridge and find ourselves close on the flank of that army that resists McClellan at Yorktown. This is certainly the right way.

What politics or jealousy or a divided command may confuse us into blundering, I cannot say.

We have reduced our baggage, and I send home a trunk. The hard pan is what we come down to, and miss only the opportunity to drive twice our force of Rebels from any position they may take.

I rejoice in the capture of New Orleans, and believe that the 1st of June will show the Rebellion crushed and bleeding.

Yesterday I was busy all day on outpost duty. On Sunday our regiment marched twenty-two miles between eleven o'clock and sunset: good work. We have met one misfortune since our arrival here. A corporal of Company H, who was a capital man, and a good soldier, marched into our present camp with the regiment, was taken sick the next day of typhus fever, and died within forty-eight hours. This morning he was buried, and I could not help thinking how little of the soldier's reward he would receive, yet how much he deserves.

We are all well, and hoping to move on toward Richmond.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 242-3

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: January 16, 1865

Headquarters Second Mass. Inf'y,

Savannah, Ga., January 16th, 1865.

This afternoon, orders came quite unexpectedly for us to be ready to move to-morrow morning at seven o'clock. Our corps, I believe, crosses the river and marches up to Sister's Ferry, where the Fourteenth joins us from the south side; after that, it is a mere speculation where we may go. I am inclined to believe that the railroads towards Columbia will receive our attention, so that communication between Richmond, Charleston and Augusta may be cut off.

General Coggswell has been assigned to duty according to his rank, by the President, and takes command of the Third Brigade, Third Division, of this corps, — not our brigade, as I expected. He published a very good order, taking leave of the regiment, and left, taking with him, I believe, the good wishes of all.

To-day I sent a request to the War Department for six hundred conscripts; whether it will effect anything or not, remains to be seen. I think they ought to be willing to fill up the oldest regiment in the volunteer service of the country.

Every one anticipates hard fighting on this campaign, and I don't think we shall be disappointed; if we are successful, Richmond is on its last legs.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 207

Major Wilder Dwight, April 26, 1862

camp Near Harrisonburg, April 26, 1862, Saturday.

Rain! rain! rain! March! march! march! What a life! We marched fifteen miles yesterday, in mud and rain, to this point, and got into camp at night in reasonable comfort, but almost without rations, and now we are busy with the miserable interrogatory of what to eat?

Such is our experience. Colonel Andrews is again on detached duty, and, for the past few days, I have been in command. It is impossible to exaggerate the difficulty of taking care of a regiment when the whole Quartermaster and Commissary Departments of the army corps are in such hopeless confusion and debility.

No other army corps has the obstacles to contend against of this kind that we have. At Yorktown they have the sea, and the Western rivers bear supplies as well as gunboats. Here our wagons cannot bring supplies enough to last until they return from a second trip. We shall be driven to forage from the country; and I do not see any system adopted wise enough and prompt enough for that effort. But there is no use in croaking; we shall get out of the woods somehow, I suppose.

Among other short supplies, we are wholly without newspapers since a week ago. What is the news? I hope McClellan is silencing his opponents by silencing the enemy's batteries. That's his best answer.

Well, the first year of my military service expires this week. It has been a busy one. I am willing to enter on another, but I wish I could see the beginning of the end more clearly than I can. We didn't think the Southern Confederacy had a year's life in it a year ago. They have illustrated the power of able and unscrupulous leaders, and we have furnished some hints, at least, of the weakness of feeble and scrupulous leaders. I am in such a trite and moralizing frame of mind that I will spare you any further prosing.

We may go on to Staunton, and we may cross the gap to Gordonsville. We can't stay here much longer, and I hope my next letter may give you some guess at our future.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 240-1

John L. Motley to Anna Lothrop Motley., September 8, 1862

Marien Villa, Vöslau,

September 8, 1862.

My Dearest Mother: I wish it were possible for me to say anything that would interest you from this place. I should like to write you at least a note once a week to assure you of my affection; but when I have said that, it seems that there was nothing left to say. I do not care to be always talking of the one great subject which occupies all our thoughts, because, in the first place, my own feelings and opinions are so different from those which you are most in the habit of hearing that you must sometimes fail to sympathize with me; and, secondly, there is always such a difference in my position when writing from yours when reading. Our latest news leaves the Union army concentrating on the Rappahannock, with McClellan uniting his forces with Pope and Burnside. And so all the slaughter and fever and digging of ditches and building of corduroy roads on that fatal Peninsula has been for nothing, and McClellan's army, what is left of it, is about where it was six months ago.

Well, we are a patient and long-suffering people, and I admire the energy and courage and hopefulness of my countrymen more than I can express, and I have as stanch a faith as ever in the ultimate result, although it may be delayed for a generation. I wish I had as much faith in our generals-in-chief. I know nothing of parties or men as motives, but certainly the Peninsular campaign will never form a brilliant chapter in our history. I can only hope that the one opening on the Rappahannock may be more successful. But perhaps ere you read this a decisive battle may have been fought. At least I hope, when the next pull comes, we may not be on the retreat. Considering that McClellan took the field in the spring with those memorable words, “We have had our last retreat,” one must allow that he has given the country enough of that bitter dose. Our men have certainly behaved nobly. You may suppose with what tearful interest we read of the Cedar Mountain battle, and saw the well-known and familiar names of the brave youths who have fallen. But it is such a pang to speak their names, and words of consolation to the mourners are such a mockery, that it is as well to leave them unsaid. My heart thrilled when I read of Gordon's brigade, and especially of the devoted and splendid Massachusetts Second, to whom I had the honor of presenting the banner on that sunshiny afternoon about a year ago. Gordon seems to have behaved brilliantly. Poor Mr. Savage! I hope he bears the painful captivity of his son well. The Russells are expected here soon, I believe.

We are stagnant as usual here. I try to write, but it is hard work with one's thoughts so perpetually absorbed with our own war against tyrants more bloody than Philip or Alva, and an institution more accursed than the Spanish Inquisition. The ever-living present is so much more entrancing with its horrors than the past, which, thank God! is dead and buried with its iniquities. We remain here till the middle of October, and shall go to town with heavy hearts, for in the winter we must go into the world and see society, for which we have little inclination. We have had the Hugheses (Tom Brown) staying with us, and enjoyed the visit. He is as stanch an American as I am, and almost as much interested in the great struggle. Miss Stanley, sister of Canon Arthur Stanley, was with them. She was a nurse in the Crimea. They were on a rapid tour to Constantinople.

Good-by, my dear mother. Give my love to my father and my precious Mary and to all the family. Believe me, your ever-affectionate

J. L. M.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, editor, The Correspondence of John Lothrop Motley in Two Volumes, Library Edition, Volume 2, p. 279-81