Major Charles Fessenden Morse: December 24, 1863

Tullahoma, Tenn., December 24, 1863.

In my last letter, I spoke of having something important to write in a day or two; I referred to the very matter that you speak of in your letter, the re-enlistment of the old regiment. I have always been very earnest about it, but little was done in the matter till quite lately. Last Saturday night, General Ruger came over to headquarters and told us that the Third Wisconsin was busy re-enlisting and meant to get home during the holidays.

The next morning, I wrote as stirring a letter as I could to Colonel Coggswell; it had the effect to bring him to headquarters that same afternoon. We consulted together for some time; I found that he was very enthusiastic and quite sanguine about the success of the movement, and that he spoke the sentiments of nearly all the officers of the regiment. The next day the colonel made a speech to the men and a good start was made, nearly one hundred putting their names down. On Tuesday, I went over to the camp; I found that some companies had done nobly, having already more than filled their quota (that is, more than three-quarters); others were hanging back. My old company hadn't made much of a start. I made them a little speech at “tattoo,” and persuaded some half-a-dozen to face the music again. So far, we have got about a hundred and fifty names, that is, a little more than half the requisite number.

Colonel Coggswell writes me to-night that everything is going on well, so that I've strong hopes of ultimate success, but I shall not give way to any excitement about it at present.

The spirit with which the line officers have gone into this thing is most noble. There's that young Crowninshield, with three bullet holes in his body, who is the most active of any of them, and has secured a great part of his company. One thing is sure — the bounty money is having very little to do with this re-enlistment; I don't think one man in ten thinks of it as a consideration; the going home is what moves them. These old fellows who have been knocking about, and have been shot at for the last three years, may not have much care for money now, but they all show that they have not forgotten their homes and families. I tell you, if they do go in again, it will show what splendid stuff they are made of, and the regiment should gain more honor and credit for this than for any other act in its history.

You can easily imagine that it takes some inducement a good deal stronger than money to get soldiers in the ranks to exchange comfortable homes and firesides for the hard knocks and dangers of a campaign.

It is rather exciting to think of marching through Boston with our drum corps and old flag riddled with bullet holes.

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* A sufficient number of the regiment re-enlisted to secure a furlough, and it returned to Boston in a body with all of its officers.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 160-2

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: October 15, 1863

Wartrace, Tenn., October 15, 1863.

You see where I am at once, but before telling you how it came about I will go back a little. My last letter was from Nashville, dated the 8th. The next day, Friday, the railroad was reopened. I took a train about two, P. M., and started to find my regiment. At Murfreesboro, where we arrived about five, I came across General Williams and staff, who told me that the Second was at Christiana, about ten miles further on. It was after dark before we got there, but the regiment was near at hand, and I soon found myself in camp again, much to the surprise of the Colonel and other officers, who welcomed me with open arms. That night, I returned to first principles, hard bread and coffee out of a tin cup, sleeping under a shelter tent with no covering but my rubber cloak. We were roused up before daylight in the morning, to start on a long march towards Tullahoma. I started on foot, but one of General Ruger's aides soon after furnished me with an ancient Government animal which had been turned away as unfit for service and was caparisoned with a saddle and bridle of the country, in a very lamentable state of decay; however, this was better than walking, so I mounted him, not without serious misgivings that I should suddenly be lowered to the ground by reason of his knees giving way under him. This did occur once when I urged him to a trot, but I stuck manfully to my seat and made him rise with me.

Colonel Cogswell's charger was also of the Rosinante pattern, and being white showed his “points” to a still greater advantage. Thus mounted, you can imagine we did not make a very imposing appearance. We marched till eight P. M., accomplishing about twenty-four miles, and camped in a corn field. We were off again before daylight the next morning, and marched fifteen miles to within four miles of Deckard, camping on the banks of the Elk Run, over which there is an important railroad bridge. For the present, this bridge is to be guarded by our regiment, the Third Wisconsin, One Hundred and Seventh New York, First Tennessee Black Regiment, a battery and a few other detachments. Our camp was right alongside of the “darks.” Their Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel came over to see us and proved to be very pleasant gentlemen; they were profuse in their offers of hospitality. This is one very noticeable characteristic of western officers; no matter how rough they are, or how much they blow for their army, etc., they are perfectly liberal in their ideas and are as hospitable as men can be, offering us horses, rations or anything else we want. They brag a great deal of the fighting and marching of the Army of the Cumberland, and pretend to think that the Army of the Potomac has done very little of either, but the western regiments in our corps give these gentlemen very emphatic information as to our fights and losses, and they seldom have as good stories to tell in return. They acknowledge to have been very severely handled both at Stone River and Chickamauga, although at the former place, the enemy retreated and we claimed a victory.

To go back to the black regiment. The night of our arrival, we all went over to see dress parade. We were told beforehand by Colonel Thompson (formerly of General Rosecrans' staff) that his men had not been in camp quite a month and had not yet been drilled on account of the heavy amount of picket duty, so we went prepared to excuse a great deal. I was very agreeably surprised by the whole appearance of the regiment; the men had a soldierly bearing, marched well, and stood in line better than nine-tenths of the white regiments I have seen. I didn't have an opportunity, myself, but the Colonel and Major both visited their picket line, and said that they never saw sentinels do their duty better. These men are nearly all of the blackest description, and very ignorant.

All our privates went over to see their parade. I would not want any severer critics. During the whole ceremony I saw no sneering or attempt to laugh, and after it was all over and the companies were marching off, our men applauded by a very hearty clapping. I looked upon this as a very strong indication of what the general feeling would be among our troops.

Monday morning, I received a telegram ordering me to report at corps headquarters at Wartrace. I was very much surprised at receiving it, as General Slocum had given me no intimation of it at Nashville. I felt sorry to leave the regiment so soon again; but, of course, there were some reasons that made me glad to get to headquarters. I received that night the written order appointing me Provost Marshal and acting Assistant Adjutant General of the Twelfth Corps.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 147-50

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: June 22, 1863

Near Leesburg, June 22, 1863.

I wrote a short note yesterday to let you know my whereabouts and relieve any anxiety you might feel for me; to-day I'll try to give you a few particulars of our movements.*

Friday, the 12th, I left headquarters, ease and luxury. The regiment was still away with the cavalry. However, the camp was standing and about sixty men and two or three officers were there who had been left behind for various reasons, so I had a small command.

That night, orders came to march at daylight. We moved back about three miles towards Acquia Creek, stayed there through the day, and at night started forward again and marched till eight the following morning, halting this side of Dumfries. Sunday, we rested all day while the train of our corps and the Sixth passed by. Monday, we started at three in the morning and marched twenty-three miles under a burning sun to Fairfax C. H., getting into camp about ten P. M. This was a really terrible march; the day was very hot and a great part of the time we were marching side by side with a column of wagons, which raised a dust that was almost choking. Next morning, Tuesday, about eight, the Second Massachusetts and Third Wisconsin made their appearance from their cavalry excursion; they marched into camp covered with dust and dirt, but looking soldierly as ever. All the regiments of the corps that were near by turned out to have a look at them and give them very hearty greetings, for the two old regiments are now pretty well known in the corps.

I had a very pleasant time hearing the accounts of the fight at Beverly Ford; all seemed to think that if they had to fight cavalry only till the end of the war, they would have a very jolly time. Whenever our infantry skirmishers made their appearance, the cavalry left in a hurry, showing a great respect for our Enfields.

A company of the Second and one of the Third Wisconsin, made an attack on about two hundred of the enemy's cavalry who were dismounted and lying behind a stone wall firing their carbines; our men, not numbering more than forty in all, fired one volley, then made a rush, capturing over twenty and finding, at least, as many killed by their shots. Wednesday morning, we marched again to near Drainsville. Thursday, we marched again, reaching Leesburg towards night. All of the corps, except our regiment and the Third Wisconsin with a battery of artillery, remained east of the town; we kept on a mile farther and occupied a fort and strong position on one of the Katoctin Hills.

We are still in this same position, how long to remain, no one here knows. Our army lies stretched away for a number of miles towards Thoroughfare Gap, the Eleventh Corps occupying an important position on our right, its flank touching the Potomac.

We can only surmise whether Lee will attack us here or not; he is moving somewhere in our front but not very near. We have at last had a severe rain storm and the weather is more comfortable. It hailed for about an hour very severely; the hailstones were, at least, as large as rifle bullets; I was riding at the time and could hardly force my horse against the storm; he would rear and kick, and didn't seem to understand at all what was going on.

The battle that I spoke of yesterday proves to have been quite a success for us; we drove the rebels three miles and captured three guns and some prisoners. Our wagon camp is on the field where Ball’s Bluff was fought. I am in command of the regiment now, Major Mudge being on Court Martial. I don’t see anything of my commission yet.

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* The writer had been promoted to be Major of his regiment but had not yet received his commission.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 139-41

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse: June 12, 1863

Headquarters Twelfth Corps,

June 12, 1863.

The picked regiments of the different corps were sent off with the cavalry Saturday evening on an expedition; of course, this took in the Third Wisconsin and the Second Massachusetts. I see by the papers that there has been a fight and that our regiments have lost several men each.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 139

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, January 2, 1863

Fairfax Station, January 2, 1863.

Last Saturday night we suddenly received orders to march at a moment's notice, but we remained undisturbed that night. Sunday morning, about eight o'clock, we started off; our whole corps was posted in the Dumfries road, our brigade guarding the Wolfrun Shoals on the Oecoquan. This was all done on account of a large rebel cavalry force coming up on our left flank; we were sent out to endeavor to intercept them, but they didn't come our way; they went around north of Fairfax Court House, having a slight skirmish there. Infantry will never catch cavalry in this country, and I hope they will give up attempting it before long.

We bivouacked that night near the Occoquan, and marched back to camp next afternoon. There was some very pretty manoeuvring, on the telegraph wires, between the two parties on Sunday. The rebels cut the wires at Burke's Station, and telegraphed to the commander of the post at Fairfax Station to “burn all stores, wagons, etc., and abandon the post.” The officer in command suspected something wrong, and telegraphed back, “I have plenty of force to hold the place, more infantry and a battery of artillery will be here in an hour.” The truth was, there was only one small regiment of infantry, the Third Wisconsin, and two pieces of artillery, and no chance of any more for a considerable time. This undoubtedly saved the station. A message was intercepted from the Quartermaster-General at Washington about a lot of mules. Stuart telegraphed back: “That last lot you sent me were not good; be more careful in future,” and signed his own name to it. This raid accomplished nothing in our vicinity, and could be repeated any number of times; they know every road in the country, and every house contains a friend and spy to them. We could do the same thing in Massachusetts, though I hope we shall never have the opportunity. There is considerable fear felt in some quarters that this cavalry is to be followed up by a large force. Isn't it shameful that, at this late day, anybody should be trembling for the safety of Washington? But so it is! I don't know but what it would be better for the whole country if Washington was taken and burned. What we need is to feel that we are fighting for our lives and liberties; that is the way the rebels feel: they think that if they don't win, they will lose every liberty. Our people seem to be in an indifferent state, not caring much about it either way; they would like to see the South conquered, if it could be done by any moderate means; but when it comes to every man and woman making some great sacrifice, they don't think it worth while, and would rather have a disgraceful peace than a continuance of the war. They don't seem to see that in case of such a peace, to be a native of the North would be sufficient to disgrace a man, and that we should always be considered a whipped nation. Abroad, a Northern man would be despised, and rightly. I feel much stronger about the war than I ever have before, and certainly hope that I shall never live to acknowledge such a nation as the Southern Confederacy.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 115-7

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, November 14, 1862

Camp Near Sharpsburgh, November 14, 1862.

I wonder if you are having as charming a day at home as we are having here. It is genuine Indian summer, with that soft, hazy atmosphere so peculiar to the season. The sun is almost hot, and only the chill in the air occasionally tells one how near winter it is. The leaves have nearly all fallen from the trees around us, and the river is almost in view from my tent door. Our camp must now be in plain sight from the other side, but I trust the rebs won't be so ill-mannered as to throw any shells into it.

Everything about our camp has the appearance of winter quarters; the men have, most of them, built themselves very comfortable houses of logs, boards, etc., with fire-places of various kinds in them, all far more comfortable than anything we had last winter. We officers are all fixed up in some shape or other, very pleasantly. I am living alone now and have my tent nicely floored; at the end of it, I have had the seam ripped up and have had built a good, open brick fire-place, so that now these cold evenings, and, in fact, nearly all the time, I have a fine blazing wood fire. You have no idea how cheerful this is; it seems almost like sitting down at home.

We heard, yesterday, the joyful news that Harry Russell had been exchanged. He won't allow much time to elapse before he joins the regiment. I know we shall all be glad enough to see him. He is one of our very best officers and a first-rate fellow; I hope he will never have to go through another such experience as he has had this summer.

You don't know what an interesting thing it is to ride over the hard fought ground of Antietam. Yesterday, Bob Shaw and I visited all the places where we were engaged, saw where our men were killed, etc.

We could follow our first line along by the graves; next to ours came the Third Wisconsin's, which lost terribly in this place; next to that was a battery which was splendidly fought. Where it stood, in one place there are the remains of fifteen dead horses lying so close that they touch each other. Farther on, towards our left, we found numerous graves of the Twenty-eighth Pennsylvania men; they were in a wood. Every tree in the vicinity is scarred by bullets, and the branches torn by shell and shot. No language could describe more forcibly the severity of the fight. It is hard to realize, in riding through these now peaceful and beautiful woods, that they could have been filled so lately with all the sights and sounds of a great battle.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 105-6

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, September 21, 1862

Maryland Heights, September 21, 1862.

To go back a little; last Sunday, we marched through Frederick, almost the last corps of McClellan's army. We marched to the sound of the cannon to Middletown Heights, reaching the latter place about half-past one Monday morning, after the battle had been fought and won by our men. We lay down on the ground and slept till daylight.

Monday we marched to within about five miles of Sharpsburgh. Tuesday we united our corps to the main army. A battle was expected that day, but nothing took place beyond a little shelling. We were aroused that night at ten o'clock and marched to our position on line, reaching it between one and two A. M. We were just behind Hooker's division. There was continual picket firing throughout the night.

I awoke at daylight with the full conviction that we were going to fight a battle that day. The first thing to do, of course, was to eat a good breakfast, which I fortunately had with me. I had scarcely finished before the cannonading began, followed quickly by heavy musketry volleys. We got under arms at once and our corps marched forward. We halted just before reaching the field, while our gallant general, Mansfield, gave the orders for our disposition. He was a splendid old veteran; fine white hair and beard. He had commanded us for three days only, but we all felt his good influence. The poor man received his mortal wound before we had been under fire five minutes.

Our brigade moved up into an apple orchard; we had the right. The Third Wisconsin was engaged first, receiving a tremendous fire; we were quite well protected. Captain Mudge was slightly wounded, and about a half a dozen men. Our regiment was now called upon to support the Third Wisconsin. We formed a line almost at right angles with theirs, and poured a heavy cross-fire on the rebels, who were in a cornfield not a hundred yards off; this continued about ten minutes, when the rebel line broke, turned and ran. Our brigade now advanced with a tremendous cheer; the whole field before us was literally covered with dead and dying; we took a number of prisoners from the rebels and the battle flag of the Eleventh Mississippi. We advanced in line for several hundred yards, then halted; our part of the work had been done for the present.

It was sad, now, to look around and see the shattered battalions that were left in the places of the comparatively full regiments we had seen an hour before. The Third Wisconsin had lost more than half its numbers, and almost all its officers; it was very much the same with the Forty-sixth Pennsylvania. Our loss had been very small, though I think our fire was altogether the most effective of any regiment. Colonel Dwight caught up our rebel flag and rode by our line, waving it triumphantly; every cap went off and a cheer went up that you must almost have heard at Jamaica Plain. It was one of our poor Lieutenant-Colonel's last gallant acts, and I don't believe many who saw him will ever forget it.

All of a sudden, Sumner's whole corps came up behind us; we gave them a cheer as they passed by. They were in three lines and looked splendidly. They advanced into a wood and were met by an awful fire; they returned it gallantly, but were unequal to their task and were obliged to give way to the right a little, leaving the woods to the enemy. All this time we were lying down flat under a heavy fire of solid shot and shell, which tore the ground up around us, but as usual did no harm.

Now came our turn again; Gordon's brigade was ordered to attack the woods on the right. We crossed a high rail fence into a lane¹ and ensconced ourselves behind the fence on the other side within fifty yards of the woods; we had on our right and left two new regiments. We had hardly taken our position when the rebel line came out of the woods, so near you could distinguish the features of the men. We gave them a volley which sent them back in quick time under cover of a natural breastwork they had there; then, without any cause, the new regiments bolted, officers [Sept. 22, 1862, The first sheet was written on picket: I was suddenly relieved and am now in camp in Pleasant Valley] and men, and we were left alone. We stood it for about ten minutes, losing a third of our men and several officers, when the order was reluctantly given to fall back. This we did in good order (though it was hard work getting over that high fence in our rear, with much appearance of dignity), for about a hundred yards, when the regiment was halted; then ranks closed up and again made ready for attack or defence.

Now, too, it was sad to look at our thinned ranks; I found I had lost two men killed and five wounded; many of the companies had suffered more severely, but our greatest loss was Colonel Dwight. I saw his horse shot, and saw him dismount and try and hold his horse by the head, but the animal struggled so violently that he broke away; almost immediately afterward, Colonel Dwight received his death wound. He was within six feet of Colonel Andrews at the time, and as he was struck and sank to the ground, said, "That's done for me." As soon as our regiment halted, four men immediately volunteered to bring him in; this they succeeded in doing, though all the time under a heavy fire. He was carried to a farmer's house, but lived only about thirty-six hours. Lieutenant Mills, acting Adjutant, was badly shot through both legs; Crowninshield received a flesh wound in the leg. Captain Francis was shot through the hand and lost two fingers. Colonel Andrews' horse was shot through the shoulder. Captain Shaw was struck by a spent ball in the neck; Robeson was grazed in two places; I was struck by a spent ball in the temple, which laid me on my back for a moment and raised a pretty black and blue spot; I thought at first it was all up with me, but I soon got the better of that idea. We carried into action less than two hundred and forty men and lost about eighty killed and wounded.² During the rest of the battle, we were on different parts of the field supporting batteries. We lay down that night about ten o'clock, glad enough to get a little rest. The dead and dying were all around us and in our very midst.

At the first streak of daylight, I awoke; the first sight I saw was a squad of wounded rebels coming into our lines: you can't imagine such miserable looking objects as they were; their wounds undressed, and bleeding, and their clothes torn in tatters. I found that Bob Shaw and I had slept within fifty feet of a pile of fourteen dead rebels, and in every direction about us they were lying thick.

One of the most brilliant actions of the day was a charge of Smith's division; they passed our left and swept the rebels from their front like chaff. Our artillery was splendidly served and did great execution. Everywhere the rebels fought with desperation. Rebel prisoners stated that their army numbered over one hundred thousand, and that they expected to win the day and annihilate our army and have an open road to the North. Friday morning, we had been reinforced by at least thirty thousand men, and McClellan moved his whole army forward, but the rebels had gone, leaving dead and wounded on the field uncared for; the sight everywhere was dreadful, and one that I hope you may never see the like of; it cannot be imagined or described.

Our corps marched until two o'clock Saturday morning, over the roughest of roads and through the darkest of nights, reaching the summit of Maryland Heights ridge about ten miles from Sandy Hook; here we lay down till daylight, then marched along the ridge over rocks and stumps to Maryland Heights. Our old crowd had a nice dinner at Mrs. Buckles'; it was very pleasant. I was sent out upon our old camping ground with my company to do picket duty. Here I stayed until Sunday evening, when I was relieved and marched my company down a breakneck road to the regiment which was bivouacking in Pleasant Valley. 1 arrived about nine P. M., and lay down and slept under a blanket for the first time for a week. It was luxury enough, though there was nothing overhead but blue sky.

To-day we pitched camp and began our work with company books and papers, thinking at last we were going to rest; but to-night our hopes are dashed by an order saying, “Reveille at four o'clock; march at daylight.” I am now sitting up to finish this letter, because if we move as we have been moving, it is actually impossible to write.

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¹ The Hagerstown turnpike, which is quite narrow at this place.

² Actual loss 18 killed and mortally wounded, 54 wounded. Total loss, 72.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 86-90

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, June 24, 1862

Camp At Nineveh, Near Front Royal,

June 24, 1862.

I don't think I have ever mentioned in any of my letters anything about the Third Wisconsin regiment. We have camped alongside of it now since the last of March. It is, without exception, the best regiment we have ever seen, leaving out our own; the men are in good discipline, and the officers are gentlemen. For about a month, most of us of the Second have boarded at their mess-table; it is a very pleasant one. Colonel Ruger sits at the head. He is one of the finest gentlemen I know, a graduate of West Point. If we had a few more such regiments as this, our army would be very different from what it is now.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 70

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, May 29, 1862

May 29, 1862.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, April 7, 1862

Camp Near Edinburgh, April 7, 1862.

As I write less often now, you must expect me to be more voluminous, and I shall stick to my form of journal, as it may be interesting to me as well as you, some of these days, to have a connected history of our small share in this campaign.

The Saturday following my last letter, our whole regiment was ordered to go on outpost duty. We started about four o'clock and relieved the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania. By the way, at this time our regiment consisted of only eight companies, Company G being on provost marshal and off at Centreville, and Company A being at Snicker's Ferry guarding the bridge over the Shenandoah. I had command of Company D, Captain Savage was sick. Three companies were held in reserve, the other five, B, D, E, H, and K, formed the pickets, furnishing the outposts and sentinels. We did not get our men posted till dark, and then it began to storm, raining, hailing, thundering and lightening. My company did not have the slightest shelter, and at the outposts no fires were allowed. The rain froze as fast as it fell, giving everything a coating of ice; altogether it was what might be called a pretty tough night. Morning came at last, and then I found that we were within a hundred yards of a big barn full of hay and straw; of course I moved the company right into it and had big fires built in front of the door, making things seem quite comfortable. The next thing to do was to push out the outposts and sentinels; this I did in connection with the other officers, until we came in sight of the enemy's vedettes. They do all their outpost duty in our neighborhood with Ashby's cavalry. It is an interesting sight to see their line of horsemen slowly walking back and forth on a ridge, standing full out against the sky.

About nine o'clock, Company F was sent out to make a reconnoissance of their position, but was driven back by a large force of cavalry. In the afternoon, they ran a gun down to within a mile of us and fired a few shells; one of them burst within a few yards of one of my men, but did no damage. We were relieved in the afternoon by the Third Wisconsin.

Monday night, we were waked up to draw and cook rations, and received orders to march in the morning. At nine next morning, our line was formed; our brigade had the advance of all. As soon as we came in sight of the enemy's vedettes, the column was halted; five of our companies were deployed as skirmishers, H, C, F, B, and I, forming a line a mile or more wide. As we advanced within rifle range, they fell back: wherever they had any woods to take advantage of, they would stay on the edge and fire at us as we came across the open, but they shot very badly, most of their bullets going over our heads. One of Company I received a bullet in his breast-plate, bending it all up and passing through his overcoat, dress coat and shirt, inflicting a slight wound. Occasionally they would give our men a chance to fire, but very seldom, though we managed to kill several of their horses, and, I think, wound some of their men. Going through Woodstock was very lively; the rebels planted their battery in the middle of the street, and shelled away at our main body until our skirmishers almost flanked them. One of our shells went straight through a church steeple and through one wall of the jail.

We marched thirteen miles, the shelling and firing continuing the whole way. The enemy burnt their bridges as they retreated; there were four splendid railroad bridges burned in this way. We almost caught them at Edinburgh; the two bridges across Stony Creek had not been on fire fifteen minutes when we arrived. The enemy, knowing we could not ford that stream, took up a position and shelled away at us, but our battery silenced them in less than a quarter of an hour, firing with great accuracy right into the middle of them. One of the Third Wisconsin was killed here, and three or four others slightly wounded. It seemed impossible that we should get off with so small a loss; the shells seemed to strike everywhere except where our men were. My good boy Hogan knocked one of their cavalry out of his saddle at nearly five hundred yards; he is quite a hero now in the company. As night came on, the firing ceased and we went into bivouac near by. The day was a very exciting one, and though it really amounted to nothing as a fight, on account of none of our men being hurt, yet it was good practice for us and gave us confidence under fire. Our pickets along the river are in sight of the enemy's all the time.

Last Friday our company was detailed to accompany some signal officers up one of the mountains of the Blue Ridge, to establish a signal station. We had a hard climb of it; the mountain was very steep, the view on top superb. You could see up and down the Shenandoah valley for miles; could see some of Jackson's camps and a section of a battery within a short distance of our outposts; most of his force is concealed by woods. That night we bivouacked about half-way down the mountain. Our position was so isolated that we didn't dare to have any fires, but we did not mind much, as the night was warm and the moon bright. I thought, as I lay down, how impossible it would have been for me to conceive of being in such a position a year ago. It was the wildest place we have ever been in, the nearest house being a mile or more off.

Towards morning I was awakened by hearing the pleasant sound of rain-drops pattering around my head; a delightful sound, you know, when you have a roof over you, but not so pleasant when there is nothing between you and the clouds. There was nothing to do but pull my blanket over my head and sleep until daylight. No signalling could be done that day, so we marched down the hill and put the company in the nearest barn; we officers took a room in an adjoining house. Sunday was a beautiful day, and we again ascended the mountains. Monday I returned to camp.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 48-52

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, March 28, 1862

Camp South Of Strasburg, March 28, 1862.

You must be expecting, by this time, to hear some account of what we have been up to for these last ten days. I will give you a journal of things as they have happened.

Last Friday afternoon, our brigade received orders for a four days' march to Centreville, fifty-five miles across the Shenandoah and over the mountains; the Second brigade had gone the day before; the First was to follow us. Our brigade formed line and started at ten Saturday morning, and made a good march of fifteen miles to Snicker's Ferry on the Shenandoah, passing through Berryville; we camped there. Reveille the next morning was beaten at five o'clock; at seven, things were moving; our regiment that day being put in the rear of everything. The Third Wisconsin, Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania, and Twenty-seventh Indiana, had crossed the bridge and half the supply train was over, when a refractory team of mules succeeded in making a bad break, two mules were drowned, and of course our chance of crossing was small until the bridge was repaired.

It was near night before it was ready, and we were ordered to camp again where we were. Reveille Monday morning at five o'clock. Mounted orderlies coming at the gallop brought us news of a fight at Winchester. Our march was countermanded and we were ordered back with a section of artillery and some cavalry to Berryville. Here we stayed, guarding the approaches till noon, when the rest of the brigade came up. Starting at about one, we marched back to Winchester, arriving there just before dark. Our regiment was quartered in some empty warehouses. We officers had the ticket office of the railroad for our quarters. I will give you now an account of the skirmish and fight of Saturday and Sunday, as I have heard it from eye-witnesses and from soldiers engaged. A few hours after the First and Third brigades had marched away from Winchester, Colonel Ashby, with a few hundred cavalry and a battery of artillery, drove in the pickets of General Shields' division, and came with his force almost into town; our side pitched in and took a good many prisoners; no great harm was done except that General Shields had his arm fractured by a shell grazing it.

That night, every precaution was taken to guard against surprise. The next morning, the enemy again appeared in small numbers, and there was cannonading on both sides throughout the day till three o'clock, when their infantry appeared. Our line was formed and the fight began. We had six regiments engaged; their force must have been between seven and eight thousand. The fighting was of the fiercest description for two hours, when the rebels gave way and retreated, leaving in our hands two hundred and forty-two prisoners, and between two and three hundred dead on the field and several hundred wounded. Our loss was about a hundred killed and four or five hundred wounded. The rebels fought as well as they ever can fight. They were close to their homes, numbers of them living in Winchester, and we whipped them by sheer hard fighting at short range. Persons who were near by told me that for two hours there was not an interval of a second between the firing of the musketry. Captain Carey, of our regiment, whose company is on provost marshal duty in Winchester, had a pretty hard duty that night; he had to provide quarters for the wounded of both sides as they were brought into town. All night long they were brought in by the wagon load, every empty house and room in town was filled with them; the poor fellows had to be laid right down on the floor, nothing, of course, being provided for them. Monday they were gradually made more comfortable, yet as late as Monday night, when we arrived in town, there were numbers of wounded who had not seen a surgeon.

Tuesday morning, I went into the Court House, which had been turned into a hospital. In the yard, there were two cannon which we had captured; one of them was taken from us at Bull Run and belongs to a battery in our division. Just in the entrance were about twenty of our men that had died, laid out in their uniform for burial, their faces covered by the cape of their overcoat. The sight inside was of the most painful description; there were sixty or seventy of the wounded in the room, mostly of the enemy, and the most of them very severely wounded. Generally they did not seem to suffer much, but there were some in dreadful agony. I saw one nice-looking young fellow that I pitied very much. He could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old, and was mortally wounded, shot through the body. He was sitting up resting against the wall; his eyes were closed and there was almost a smile on his face. You could see, though, by the deathly color of his face, that he had only a few minutes to live. It seemed hard that he should have to die there with no one near that knew him. There was one rebel captain who was shot across the forehead, blinded and mortally wounded, who, when our surgeon attempted to help him, slapped him in the face and said he wouldn't let any “damned Yankee” touch him; he relented, however, in the afternoon and had his wounds dressed. I will say this for our two surgeons, they worked nobly for nearly twenty-four hours without rest.

During the day, the ladies of the town brought a great many comforts to the wounded of their side, but everything was refused for particular individuals, and they became more charitable and gave a great deal of aid to the surgeons.

One of the rebel wounded was George Washington, of the present Sophomore class at Cambridge; as he was brought in, he recognized Lieutenant Crowninshield, who was his classmate, and spoke to him. G. W. is of the old Washington family and, of course, one of the “F. F. Vs.” He was serving as a private; he has been made a great hero of in Winchester; he is said to be mortally wounded.

About ten o'clock, after visiting the hospital, Captains Savage and Russell and myself walked out to the battle-field, four or five miles from town. On the road as we approached it, were the marks of shells, dead horses and cows lying about where they were struck. At the side of the road where our artillery turned off, we found one of our men, the top and back of whose head had been entirely knocked off by a shell. The hardest fighting was along a ridge which the enemy attempted to hold. Along it for nearly a mile, the bodies of our soldiers and those of the enemy were scattered thick, although most of them were the enemy. In one little piece of thick woods, there were at least thirty of the enemy lying just as they fell; they were sheltered by a ledge of rocks, and most of them were shot through the head and had fallen directly backwards, lying flat on their backs with their arms stretched out in an easy, natural manner over their heads. Some were terrible to look at, but others looked as peaceful as if they were asleep. Men killed by a shot scarce ever have an expression of pain on their faces. It is astonishing how much less repulsive the bodies were that were lying about in this manner, than those that were regularly laid out in rows for burial.

The countrymen about here had, when we visited the ground, taken every button and other article of value off the bodies. I saw one who had had a daguerreotype cut out from a case that was hanging around his neck; almost all had had their boots taken off their feet. A number of people were out from Winchester, trying to recognize their townsmen. The bushes and trees here were completely riddled with bullets; there was not a twig the size of your finger that was not cut off, and trees the size of a man's body had every one at least three or four bullets in it. Our men shot remarkably well, as these things go to show. Several soldiers of Captain Carey's company got passes and went out to the fight and joined the Seventh Ohio; they fought well and took two prisoners and two rifles.

One of Captain Quincy's company, who was taken prisoner at Maryland Heights last year, and was released about a month ago, arrived at Winchester, on his way to join the regiment, the day of the fight; he went out to the battle and took a prisoner and a gun. At six o'clock that night (Tuesday), we got marching orders; at seven, we were on the way to Strasburg; we marched thirteen miles to just the other side of Middleton, arriving there between one and two A. M. We built fires here and lay down till daylight, then proceeded on to Strasburg, where we marched into a wood to bivouac. There was a good deal of sleeping done that night although we lay on the ground with nothing over our heads. Thursday morning, as we were quietly sitting around our fires, we heard the long roll beaten at the guard tent. An attack had been made on our outposts, and all disposable forces were marched in that direction. After going four miles, the firing stopped. Our brigade was halted in a fine wood where we are now camping.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 43-8

Robert Gould Shaw to Francis G. Shaw, September 21, 1862

maryland Heights, September 21, 1862.

Dear Father, — . . . We left Frederick on the 14th instant, marched that day and the next to Boonsborough, passing through a gap in the mountain where Burnside had had a fight the day before. On the 16th our corps, then commanded by General Mansfield, took up a position in rear of Sumner's, and lay there all day. The Massachusetts cavalry was very near us. I went over and spent the evening with them, and had a long talk with Forbes about home and friends there We lay on his blanket before the fire until nearly ten o'clock, and then I left him, little realizing what a day the next was to be, though a battle was expected; and I thought, as I rode off, that perhaps we shouldn't see each other again. Fortunately, we have both got through safely so far. At about eleven, P. M., Mansfield's corps was moved two or three miles to the right. At one in the morning of the 17th we rested in a wheat-field. Our pickets were firing all night, and at daylight we were waked up by the artillery; we were moved forward immediately, and went into action in about fifteen minutes. The Second Massachusetts was on the right of Gordon's brigade, and the Third Wisconsin next; the latter was in a very exposed position, and lost as many as two hundred killed and wounded in a short time. We were posted in a little orchard, and Colonel Andrews got a cross-fire on that part of the enemy's line, which, as we soon discovered, did a great deal of execution, and saved the Third Wisconsin from being completely used up. It was the prettiest thing we have ever done, and our loss was small at that time; in half an hour the brigade advanced through a corn-field in front, which until then had been occupied by the enemy; it was full of their dead and wounded, and one of our sergeants took a regimental color there, belonging to the Eleventh Mississippi. Beyond the corn-field was a large open field, and such a mass of dead and wounded men, mostly Rebels, as were lying there, I never saw before; it was a terrible sight, and our men had to be very careful to avoid treading on them; many were mangled and torn to pieces by artillery, but most of them had been wounded by musketry fire. We halted right among them, and the men did everything they could for their comfort, giving them water from their canteens, and trying to place them in easy positions. There are so many young boys and old men among the Rebels, that it seems hardly possible that they can have come of their own accord to fight us; and it makes you pity them all the more, as they lie moaning on the field.

The Second Massachusetts came to close quarters, i. e. within musket range, twice during the day; but we had several men wounded by shell, which were flying about loosely all day. It was the greatest fight of the war, and I wish I could give you a satisfactory account of everything I saw. . . .

At last, night came on, and, with the exception of an occasional shot from the outposts, all was quiet. The crickets chirped, and the frogs croaked, just as if nothing unusual had happened all day long; and presently the stars came out bright, and we lay down among the dead, and slept soundly until daylight. There were twenty dead bodies within a rod of me. The next day, much to our surprise, all was quiet, and the burying and hospital parties worked hard, caring for the dead and wounded

I never felt before the excitement which makes a man want to rush into the fight, but I did that day. Every battle makes me wish more and more that the war was over. It seems almost as if nothing could justify a battle like that of the 17th, and the horrors inseparable from it.

SOURCE: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Editor, Harvard Memorial Biographies, Volume 2, p. 199-200

EDINBURG, Va., [April] 5 [1862].

The enemy attempted to retard the operations of our bridge builders, but we shelled them off.  One of the enemy’s videttes was killed 600 yards distance, by sharp shooters of the Wisconsin 3d.  The enemy are encamped near Jackson.  The position occupied by our advanced batteries commanding all elevations beyond Stony Creek, were selected by Gen. Banks Tuesday amid the hottest fire of the enemy.  Jackson’s force is principally composed of impressed men, who refused to fight against us.  Those from Page and Rockingham counties retired to a point below these two counties, and there entrenched themselves, defying Jackson’s attempt to compel them to join him.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Tuesday Morning, April 8, 1862, p. 1

Leesburg Taken

LEESBURG, Va., March 8.

Col. Geary has taken Leesburg and driven Gen. Hills away from the town and surrounding forts.  The American flag floats over all the rebel entrenchments to-night.  This is one of their greatest strongholds.

We took many prisoners, stores, the bank, post office and other public buildings.

This brilliant achievement is of the utmost importance.  A detachment of the 1^st Michigan Cavalry did good service.

CHARLESTOWN, Va., March 9.

The occupation of Leesburg by our forces is officially confirmed.  The enemy evacuated the town on Friday morning, taking all the supplies and baggage to Middleburg.  It is not known that the rebels have gone to Winchester.

CHARLESTOWN, Va., March 9.

Hundreds of contrabands are arriving from the country.  The course adopted in regard to them, if they have been employed by secession authorities, is to turn them over to the division quartermaster, to be employed by the Federal government; but if proven otherwise, they are returned to their owners.

On Friday Capt. Cols, Co. F, Maryland cavalry, 40 in number, came upon about 140 of the rebel cavalry, between Bunker Hill and Winchester.  A skirmish ensued, lasting one hour, resulting in the killing of six of Ashley’s men and wounding five.  Capt. Cole had three men wounded.  A section of Mathews’ battery came up to Capt. Cole’s support, when Adj. Wilkins, of Gen. Williams’ staff had his horse shot under him.  It is believed at Bunker Hill that the force at Winchester has been greatly reduced, leaving not over 3,000 to 6,000 men there.  Others say that Gen. Jackson’s force has been strengthened by the regiments from Leesburg.

Capt. Cole’s scouts last night reached a point only four miles from Winchester, but encountered no resistance, except form a small cavalry picket.

It is stated that but 400 of the 19^th Miss. Regiment remained at Leesburg at the time of the evacuation.  These retreated in the direction of Manassas Gap.

This morning secession scouts attacked Gen. Hamilton’s pickets, near Smith’s Mills, killing one and wounding another of the 27^th Ind.  They were pursued by the 3d Wisconsin, who had not returned at last account.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Tuesday Morning, March 11, 1862, p. 1