On Picket Near Culpepper,
August 13, 1862.
At last I believe I have a chance to write you an account of
our doings during the last few days, and to relieve all your anxiety about
myself. Last week Wednesday, our army corps marched from Washington, making
about fourteen miles under a terribly hot sun; the next day, we went on five
miles further to Hazel River. Friday night we made a moonlight march to
Culpepper. Saturday morning, we started away again at ten o'clock towards the
Rapidan River, leaving everything behind us, knapsacks and all, taking only two
days' rations and plenty of ammunition.
We were ordered to the front to support General Crawford's
brigade; following our brigade was General Augur's division, consisting of two
small brigades, the whole making up Banks' army corps; we formed line of battle
about six miles from Culpepper in a very strong position, our brigade on the
right and Augur's division on the left. Nothing occurred until about half-past
three in the afternoon, when a cannonading gradually began, increasing every
minute until our entire left became engaged. From our position, we could see
all that was taking place, and it was a sight that I shall never forget, to see
two lines of infantry gradually approach each other across an almost level
plain, both under a heavy artillery fire. As they drew near enough, we could
see them exchange volley after volley of musketry; then everything became
enveloped in smoke and we could see only whether our line advanced or retreated
by watching the colors. It was easy to see that the men were falling fast by
the constant lines of ambulances that we saw going and returning from the
field.
About five o'clock, Crawford's brigade moved up in front of
us and became engaged. The firing of musketry now became tremendous. We could
see nothing of it in front on account of an intervening bill. At about six
o'clock, our brigade (Second Massachusetts, Third Wisconsin, and Twenty-seventh
Indiana), was ordered up on the double quick to relieve Crawford, his brigade
having been literally cut to pieces by the terrible fire of the rebels. After
going about a mile over the hardest kind of swampy and wooded ground, we
reached the edge of the woods and came under fire. We marched steadily along,
our whole flank being exposed, and took a position behind a low rail fence, the
men being ordered to lie down. I will give you an idea of how things stood at
the time. General Augur's division had been obliged to fall back to their
original position and was now disengaged. Of General Crawford's brigade which
went into the fight two thousand strong, twelve hundred had been killed,
wounded or taken prisoners; the small remainder was rallying at some distance
from the field, so there was nothing left to fight the rebels with but our
three small regiments. Crawford met with his great loss in charging across the
open field lying between the woods. General Gordon was ordered by Banks to do
the same thing with our brigade; Gordon protested against it as an
impossibility without supports, and finally gained his point.
At first, we sustained a fire from the rebels only in the
woods, which was not very severe, but soon the enemy made their appearance in
an oblique line and commenced a cross fire which was perfectly fearful. The Twenty-seventh
Indiana gave way almost at once; the Third Wisconsin stood it nobly and did not
fall back until the enemy was almost in their rear. In our regiment, not a shot
was fired until Colonel Andrews gave the order “Commence firing!” which was not
until the rebels were within two or three hundred yards of us. The effect was
tremendous; we actually tore great gaps through their ranks, and their whole
right was wavering; if we could have had any support at that time, we might
have charged and driven their line like sheep, but that wasn't in Banks'
programme. Meanwhile, the roar of musketry was perfectly deafening; the noise
of the bullets through the air was like a gale of wind; our poor men were
dropping on every side, yet not one of them flinched but kept steadily at his
work.
Sergeant Willis of my company (I forgot to say I was in
command of Company I), who was acting first sergeant, stood directly in front
of me; he received a ball in his head and fell back into my arms saying, “Lieutenant,
I'm killed!” and almost instantly died; he was a very handsome young fellow,
and as he expired his face had a beautifully calm expression. I laid him down
gently on the ground beside me and had hardly done so, when one of my corporals
named Pierson, who was touching me on the left, was shot almost in the same
place, but not killed. It is impossible to relate all the incidents that took
place; it seemed as if only a miracle could save any one. I received two
bullets through my trousers, but wasn't scratched. Colonel Andrews was
splendid! He kept riding from one end of the line to the other, giving his
orders coolly, as if on drill; his horse was wounded twice.
I never was more surprised in my life than when I heard the
order to retreat. I did not know what had taken place on our right, and could
not understand what it was for. With Lieutenant Abbott's assistance, I managed
to help Lieutenant Oakey off the field to the hospital; he was quite severely
wounded. Our regiment formed behind the hospital, about a quarter of a mile
from the field, the rest of the brigade joining us. It was not until I saw the
regiment in line that I began to appreciate our loss. Major Savage had been
left severely wounded on the field; Captain Abbott, dead; Captains Carey,
Goodwin, Williams and Quincy, Lieutenants Perkins and Miller, wounded and left
behind; Lieutenants Robeson, Grafton, Oakey, Browning and Surgeon Leland,
wounded and brought off, and Captain Russell missing, and our regimental line
was not more than half its usual length. The only officers left were Andrews,
Adjutant Shelton, Captain Bangs, Lieutenants Pattison, Choate, Fox, Abbott and
myself. Our colors, those which the Boston ladies gave us, had five bullet
holes through them; the eagle was shot off and the staff was shot through by a
minié ball,
splintering it into two pieces; our color-bearer, Sergeant George, brought off
the whole of it. This is the second flag we have had honorably used up in
battle.
Soon after forming our second line, I was detailed by the
Colonel to go to the hospital to take charge of sending off the wounded. A
house with quite a large yard had been taken for hospital use; the scene in and
about it was very painful. Soldiers lying in all directions, with every variety
of wounds. I took hold and worked hard, loading the ambulances, for about an
hour, when our regiment moved and I was ordered to join it.
Our brigade now took up a position on the left of the line
of battle, to do picket duty, Ricketts' division being on the right. Our
sentinels were close to the rebels and we had continual skirmishes throughout
the night. We had one man killed, and took several of the rebel cavalry
prisoners. Once the enemy crept down on us, as they did that night at Newtown,
and poured a volley over us, which, luckily, was too high and did no harm.
Morning came at last, after, to tell the truth, a pretty nervous, disagreeable
night. Daylight showed us that large reinforcements had arrived and that we
were now in a condition to fight, but the day wore on, still no attack was made
by the enemy. Banks' division was in reserve.
The battle I do not consider a victory to either side; we
held our original position and they theirs, the ground between being neutral.
Our brigade was withdrawn from the field about noon and bivouacked in a wood
near by. I was sent into Culpepper on official business for Colonel Andrews.
The town seemed to be one great hospital, every hotel and private house,
almost, being used for that purpose. I saw Robeson, Grafton, Oakey and
Browning; they were all suffering considerably from want of attention; the first
is wounded in the wrist, the second in the forehead, the third in the hip, and
last in the thigh, a very severe, dangerous wound. I got back to camp early in
the evening. Soon after, Lieutenant Abbott, Mr. Quint and a burial party, left
for the battle field to perform the last duties for our poor men. Abbott
returned early in the morning and brought the shocking and sad intelligence
that Captains Abbott, Carey, Goodwin and Williams and Lieutenant Perkins, were
lying dead on the field, and that a number of our wounded were still there. I
was sent right off with all our ambulances to the field. The scene there was
too awful to attempt to describe; very few of the dead had been buried, and
they were lying thick in every direction. Captain Carey had lived nearly
twenty-four hours and looked as natural as if alive.
I had the bodies of all the officers put into the ambulances
and sent them back to the regiment; the wounded also were all cared for. I then
went over to the rebel lines with Bob Shaw, under a flag of truce, to see what
could be heard of Harry Russell, the Major, Captain Quincy and Lieutenant
Miller. We met some very pleasant rebel officers who were very gentlemanly and
kind, and found out from them and some other sources, that Russell was unhurt
and a prisoner, Quincy and Miller wounded and prisoners; we managed to get some
money to Savage and Russell.
Our loss, as it stood yesterday morning, was as follows:—
5 Commissioned
officers killed,
|
8 wounded,
|
1 prisoner.
|
|
25 Enlisted men killed,
|
97 wounded,
|
33 missing.
|
|
30 killed,
|
106 Wounded,
|
34 missing,
|
Total 169.*
|
We carried into action twenty-two commissioned officers and
four hundred and seventy-four enlisted men, a little more than one out of three
meeting with some casualty. In Company I, there are, one sergeant killed, one
sergeant wounded, one corporal wounded, nine privates wounded and one missing.
Yesterday afternoon, Banks' army corps moved back to Colpepper to reorganize. I
was sent out on picket immediately after arriving last night, and am taking the
opportunity to write this long letter. I have not had my clothes off since last
Thursday night, so you can imagine I am not very pretty to look at. I am a
full-fledged Captain now, and have got my commission. I shall be assigned to
Company B, if possible.
Poor Captain Williams! I saw him standing perfectly erect
only a few minutes before he was shot, and ran over and spoke to him. His was
the next company to mine. He will be a great loss to us all.
_______________
* The actual loss was 58 killed and mortally wounded, 101
wounded, 15 prisoners not wounded. Total loss 174.
SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written
During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 75-81
