Major-General George G. Meade to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, July 2, 1863 – 8 p.m.

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF THE POTOMAC,

July 2, 1863 — 8 p.m. (Received July 3, 5.15 p.m.)

Maj. Gen. H. W. HALLECK,

General-in-Chief:

The enemy attacked me about 4 p.m. this day, and, after one of the severest contests of the war, was repulsed at all points. We have suffered considerably in killed and wounded. Among the former are Brigadier-Generals Paul and Zook, and among the wounded, Generals Sickles, Barlow, Graham, and Warren, slightly. We have taken a large number of prisoners. I shall remain in my present position to-morrow, but am not prepared to say, until better advised of the condition of the army, whether my operations will be of an offensive or defensive character.

GEO. G. MEADE,    

Major-General.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 27, Part 1 (Serial No. 43), p. 72

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw Lowell, Sunday, September 11, 1864 – 8 a.m.

Ripon, Sunday, 8 A. M. (Sept. 11).

A lovely morning after one of the most stormy nights I ever remember. Torrents of rain and continuous thunder and lightning and wind for six or eight hours, — the Doctor¹ and I were quite washed out, — our tent seemed to be a through-drain for all the surrounding country. Did you see the moon last evening? — here, she was a perfect stage moon, — the whole scene what scene-painters aim at, when they have to put her to sleep on a bank. We had the band up and they were quite sentimental in their choice of music, and I grew as homesick as possible.

I received a long note yesterday from the Governor's Secretary, Colonel A. G. Brown, — it occupied me yesterday afternoon, and stimulated me to writing to such a degree that I wrote to Mr. H. L. Higginson and to Barlow and to Blagden and to Major-General Hitchcock and to Cousin John, — the latter about Will, who is soon to be released, and about Billy and about another little horse (two sizes smaller than Billy) which he wishes me to take and ride. I accepted the offer conditionally, and with scruples. It is a colt of “Countess's,” a “Bob Logic” colt, and Mr. F. says is good, though small. I hope it won't stop so many bullets as Billy.

I stopped here to send for a paper, and have read McClellan’s letter. It won’t do, though it’s much better than a Peace platform.

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¹ Dr. De Wolf, then acting as brigade surgeon, occupied the same tent with the colonel. Some years after the war, he became the head of the Board of Health of Chicago.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 345-6, 463

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Brigadier-General Francis C. Barlow, September 10, 1864

Ripon, Va., Sept. 10, '64.

Take care of yourself, old fellow. Just get your mother to take you to some quiet place and make much of you — don't think too much of campaigns and of elections. This isn't the end of the world, though it is so important for us. Don't mind Lincoln's shortcomings too much: we know that he has not the first military spark in his composition, not a sense probably by which he could get the notion of what makes or unmakes an Army, but he is certainly much the best candidate for the permanency of our republican institutions, and that is the main thing. I don't think even he can make the people tire of the war. What you want is rest and care; don't be foolish, my dear fellow, and neglect to take them. Unless you give yourself some time now, you will never half complete your career. What the devil difference does it make where a man passes the next six months, if the war is to last six years? If it is to be ended in one year, you have done and suffered your share in it.¹

There are better things to be done in the Country, Barlow, than fighting, and you must save yourself for them too. I remember we said to each other six months ago, that the man who wasn't in the coming campaign might as well count out. Bah! it hasn't proved. There are as many campaigns for a fellow as there are half years to his life.

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¹ The brilliant career of General Barlow was well sketched by Mr. Forbes, in a letter to a friend, written May 30, 1862, just after Barlow's wounding in the Wilderness Campaign: “You, out West, may not know about Barlow. Graduating high at Harvard some four or five years since [Mr. Forbes was mistaken; Barlow graduated in 1855], he entered one of the New York regiments either as a private or in some subordinate capacity; rose to be Colonel, led his regiment gallantly in the Peninsula and the great battle of Antietam. While lying on the field, supposed mortally wounded, he received his commission as Brigadier for his services on the Peninsula. Barely recovered from his wounds, he served at Fredericksburg, and again fell at Gettysburg, shot in several places, and pronounced by the Faculty fatally shot. He laughed at their predictions; his strong will prevailed, even under the disadvantage of a feeble frame, and he slowly recovered to be just able to head a Division in the late battles, under Hancock. He led the attack on the ‘Salient’ [Spottsylvania], when Johnston and his Brigade were captured. . . .

“From his slight frame and youthful appearance, he is often called the ‘boy-General,’ though there is about as much man to him as to any one I know; and, moreover, he is one of the few men who have achieved distinction without coming through the portals of West Point, or of politics. It is said Hancock or Meade recommended him for a Major-General’s commission the day after that assault, the credit for which Hancock distinctly gives him.”

General Barlow survived the war some thirty years, and practised law with distinction in New York. He married Mrs. Lowell's younger sister.

General Francis A. Walker, in his History of the Second Corps, tells the story of Colonel Barlow's masterly and successful tactics with his brigade at a dark moment at Antietam, and also of his desperately successful capture of the Salient at Spottsylvania. Another officer who served with him on both these fields, Lieutenant-General Miles, said, “Under the most depressing circumstances, he never was without hope and fortitude. He was apparently utterly devoid of the sensation of fear, constantly aggressive, and intensely earnest in the discharge of all duties. His integrity of purpose, independence of character, and sterling honesty in the assertion of what he believed to be right and just, made him a marked man among public men. He abhorred a coward; had a perfect contempt for a demagogue, and despised a hypocrite. He believed in the administration of public affairs with the most rigid integrity, and did not hesitate to denounce wrong as he believed it to exist, and maintain what he believed to be right under all circumstances.” The same qualities shone out in time of peace. In his short term as United States Marshal in New York he is said to have cleaned out a nest of corruption, and, given special powers by President Grant, he broke up by force a large filibustering expedition about to sail for Cuba, thus averting a war with Spain. As Attorney-General of New York, he officially instituted most of the legal proceedings ending in the impeachment of corrupt judges. Hon. Charles S. Fairchild said of him, "The State owes General Barlow more than she does any single man for results, without which the life of any honest man would have been intolerable in this State.”²

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² See an admirable sketch of Barlow's life, in the Harvard Graduates' Magazine for June, 1896, by Edwin H. Abbot.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 343-4, 461-3

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to John M. Forbes, August 4, 1863 – P. M.

Washington, Aug. 4, P. M.

With what you say about Negro Organization west of the Mississippi I entirely agree; it is a more aggressive movement than the Army of the Potomac has ever ventured upon, and in a larger view, it is incomparably important; every black regiment is an additional guarantee for that settlement of these troubles which we regard as the only safe one, and will continue to be a guarantee for the permanency of that settlement when made. Mr. Sumner has told me some of the difficulties in finding the man. I do not know any General who has the stuff in him, who is not too much tied up. Would it be impossible to get Mr. J. W. Brooks made Major-General and appointed to that Department, — he is so peculiarly the right man, — that is, if there is a chance of getting him? It ought to be tried. He is almost the only man I know who has the grasp and the originality for so large and so novel a work. Convince Stanton of his fitness, and by next December Brooks would have convinced everybody.¹ Military knowledge is the only thing he lacks, and that is the least of the things required. Brigadiers enough can be found to supply it; for a start, I would suggest General George L. Andrews; he is very strong on drill and discipline and minor organizations. He is already in the Southwest, and has probably lost by nine months' men the best part of his command.² Harry knows about him. Others could be found in the West and, when the fighting time comes, Barlow and many others would jump at the chance. In selecting officers from the Western Army, Brooks would have peculiar advantages, — he knows so many people there who would assist him in his inquiries. If there is to be cavalry (and of course there should be) I shall be very glad, if no better officer can be found, to try my hand under any General commanding. I shall probably never be so much with my regiment as I have been — I am now in command of the Cavalry of this Department (not very much), and if we go to the Army of the Potomac shall undoubtedly have a Brigade. This in reply to your remark about my leaving the Second.

Since Rob's death I have a stronger personal desire to help make it clear that the black troops are the instrument which alone can end the rebellion; he died to prove the fact that blacks will fight, and we owe it to him to show that that fact was worth proving, — better worth proving at this moment than any other. I do not want to see his proof drop useless for want of strong men and good officers to act upon it. I did what little I could to help the Fifty-Fourth for his sake and for its own sake before, but since July 18th, I think I can do more.

N. B. I have no wish to be made a Brigadier for any specific purpose, — when I am promoted I wish to be Brigadier for blacks, whites and everybody, and wherever I go. I am sure that will come in good time, but I shall be very glad to assist in the organization of black cavalry — if I am wanted.

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¹ Mr. John W. Brooks left Massachusetts as a youth to begin life as a civil engineer on the New York Central, and, later, the Michigan Central Railroad. He had grown in power even more rapidly than these growing roads, and was occupying an important position in the management of the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad. He had no military experience whatever except as having helped Governor Andrew by his advice in the purchase, through Mr. Forbes, of English cannon. Yet Lowell, a soldier, who knew Brooks's powers and intelligence, recommends him for a major-general, in a place where his administrative powers would be worth more than one or two battles gained. Mr. Forbes, in the spring of the same year, writing to Governor Andrew, had said of him, “Brooks is more than engineer or man of business: he has that wonderful combination which seems to me to amount almost to Genius; his mind is both microscopic and telescopic, according as the valves are pulled, and, above all, is sound at the medium, every-day insight which makes common sense; just as Napoleon could make parties and command armies while reforming his code of laws in detail. In fact, Brooks is more like Napoleon I than anybody else. Now, on all matters relating to the handling of men, Brooks has had great experience, and on any questions that come up about managing the draft, or giving bounties, or getting men, . . . nobody's judgment will be as good as his.”

² General George L. Andrews, an officer in the Regular Army, had been the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Second Massachusetts Infantry, which he had helped to raise.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 292-4, 433-4

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, August 16, 1864

August 16, 1864

I have been well content to get your letter this afternoon. In regard to what you say for the troops for the assault,¹ it is true that General Meade should have ordered in the best — and so he did. Express orders were given to put in the best troops and have the division generals lead them if necessary. General Meade made examinations in person of the enemy's lines, and the orders drawn up by General Humphreys were more than usually elaborated. People have a vulgar belief that a General commanding a great army can, and ought to arrange in person every detail. This is not possible, nor is it desirable; the corps and division commanders would at once say: “Very well, if you have not enough confidence in me to let me carry on the ordinary business of my command, I ought to be relieved.” I see great discussion in the papers as to the conduct of the negroes. I say, as I always have, that you never, in the long run, can make negroes fight with success against white men. When the whole weight of history is on one side, you may be sure that side is the correct one. I told General Meade I had expressed myself strongly, at home, against the imported Dutchmen, to which he replied: “Yes, if they want to see us licked, they had better send along such fellers as those!” As I said before, the Pats will do: not so good as pure Yanks, but they will rush in and fight. There was a report at first that Colonel Macy of the 20th Massachusetts was mortally wounded, but I have since heard that it is not so. On Sunday, he had command of a brigade, and had his horse killed: he then came back, got another horse from Barlow and returned to the front. This horse either was shot or reared over with him, frightened by the firing, and crushed him badly. Let me see, I told you this before; never mind, you will be sure now to know it. Sometimes I get rather mixed because I write often a few words about a day, on the eve of the same, and then detail it more at length afterwards. The Rebels got well alarmed about Hancock and sent reinforcements, recalling troops that had started to help Early in the valley; an important point gained. Hancock had some hard fighting to-day, with considerable success, taking several hundred prisoners and driving the enemy. The Rebel General Chambliss was killed, and we found on him a valuable map containing the fortifications of Richmond. They also are said to have killed a General Gherrard; but I have an idea there is no such General in their service.² Perhaps he was a new appointment, or a colonel commanding a brigade. As to giving you an account of the engagement, it would be out of the question; as it is a perfect muddle to me. I only know that Gregg, with a cavalry division, went out on the Richmond road, to within six and one half miles of the city, and encountered a big crowd of infantry and had to come back. Barlow had to leave his division, sick, and go to friend Dalton, at City Point.

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¹ When the mine was exploded.

² It was Brig. Gen. Victor J. B. Girardey.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 214-6

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, July 12, 1864

July 12, 1864

I sent off a detail of fifty men at daylight to prepare the ground for the new camp, and at eight o'clock, the waggons moved off with all our worldly effects, and the Staff remained under the shade of the abandoned gourbis.¹ We live very much after the way of Arabs, when you think of it — nomadic, staying sometimes a day, sometimes a month in a place, and then leaving it, with all the bowers and wells that cost so much pains. Afterwards most of the officers went to the new camp, while the General, with two or three of us, went down the road, towards the Williams house. There was an odd group at Hancock's temporary Headquarters, by a little half-torn-to-pieces house, on whose walls some fellow had inscribed “the Straggler's Rest.” Hancock lay, at full length, in a covered waggon, which had been placed under a weeping willow, one of the few green objects midst the desert of dust. He was attired in a white shirt and blue flannel pantaloons, quite enough for the intensely hot day. He lies down as much as he can, to give his wounded leg rest. General Meade mounted on the front seat, put his feet on the foot-board and lighted a cigar; and we all knew he was fixed for an hour at least. When he gets down with Hancock they talk, and talk, and talk, being great friends. Hancock is a very great and vehement talker but always says something worth hearing. Under the ruined porch was Barlow, in his costume d’été — checked shirt and old blue trousers, with a huge sabre, which he says he likes, because when he hits a straggler he wants to hurt him. He immediately began to pump the Captain Guzman, for he never neglects a chance to get information. After we had been well fried and dusted, General Meade rose to go, but I budged not, for I knew he would sit down again. He always rises twice or three times before he finally leaves Hancock. By the time we got to camp, it was all ready and looked quite neat.

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¹ An Algerine word for a bower over a tent.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 189-90

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, July 7, 1864

July 7, 1864

I paid a visit to Brigadier-General Barlow, who, as the day was hot, was lying in his tent, neatly attired in his shirt and drawers, and listening to his band, that was playing without. With a quaint hospitality he besought me to “take off my trousers and make myself at home”; which I did avail of no further than to sit down. He said his men were rested and he was ready for another assault! — which, if of real importance, he meant to lead himself; as he “wanted no more trifling.” His ideas of “trifling,” one may say, are peculiar. It would be ludicrous to hear a man talk so, who, as De Chanal says, “a la figure d’un gamin de Paris,” did I not know that he is one of the most daring men in the army. It would be hard to find a general officer to equal him and Joe Hayes — both my classmates and both Massachusetts men. Hayes now commands the Regulars. He could not have a higher compliment.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 186

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

June 13, 1864

Last night, at dark, the whole army was in motion for "Charles City" on the James River (there is no "city" there, but I believe a house and a barn). . . . This morning we were on our way by 5.30 and, making a cut across the woods, we soon came on Barlow's division of the 2d Corps going rapidly toward the river, close to which we found Hancock, sitting on the grass and waiting for his Corps. At this point the Chickahominy is nothing of a stream, but, as it is bordered by considerable flats, it suddenly widens, during heavy floods, to perhaps half a mile, the water being just deep enough to stop waggons. This was a great trouble McClellan had: we have met with no such obstacle. This river is characteristic; a good drawing of this very scene at Long's Bridge might pass as the incarnation of malaria and swamp fever. Fancy a wide ditch, partly choked with rotten logs, and full of brown, tepid, sickly-looking water, whose slow current would scarcely carry a straw along. From the banks of dark mould rises a black and luxuriant vegetation: cypresses of immense size, willow oaks, and swamp magnolias, remind you that you are within the limits of a sub-tropical climate, and so does the unhealthy and peculiar smell of decaying leaves and stagnant water. A great contrast to this landscape, so suggestive of silence and loneliness, was the rumbling and clatter of Barlow's batteries, as they passed over the resounding pontoon bridge. We clattered over too, as soon as the last of the regiments had passed (which was about 10.30), designing to follow in rear of this division.  . . . We kept on, on the flank of the column, admiring its excellent marching, a result partly due to the good spirits of the men, partly to the terror in which stragglers stand of Barlow. His provost guard is a study. They follow the column, with their bayonets fixed, and drive up the loiterers, with small ceremony. Of course their tempers do not improve with heat and hard marching. There was one thin, hard-featured fellow who was a perfect scourge. “Blank you! — you—“ (here insert any profane and extremely abusive expression, varied to suit the peculiar case) “get up, will you? By blank, I'll kill you if you don't go on, double-quick!” And he looked so much like carrying out his threat that the hitherto utterly prostrate party would skip like the young lamb. Occasionally you would see a fellow awaiting the charge with an air of calm superiority, and, when the guard approached, pull out the aegis of a “surgeon's pass.” The column marched so fast that I was sent forward to tell General Barlow to go more gently. I found that eccentric officer divested of his coat and seated in a cherry tree. “By Jove!” said a voice from the branches, “I knew I should not be here long before Meade's Staff would be up. How do you do, Theodore, won't you come up and take a few cherries?” However, I could not stay, and so kept on till we came, somewhat suddenly, on well-cultivated fields with good crops of wheat, oats, and clover. I was speculating on the reason of this when somebody said we were within a mile of James River! and just after, General Meade ordered me to ride down and see what sort of a position there was and how the land lay.

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon that I caught the first sight of the water, as I cantered round the corner of a little grove. To appreciate such a sight you must pass five weeks in an almost unbroken wilderness, with no sights but weary, dusty troops, endless waggon-trains, convoys of poor wounded men, and hot, uncomfortable camps. Here was a noble river, a mile wide, with high green banks, studded with large plantation houses. In the distance, opposite, was Fort Powhatan, below which lay two steamers; and, what seemed strangest of all, not a Rebel soldier to be seen anywhere!  . . . There was a signal-man waving away with his flag to attract the attention of the steamers, to notify all concerned that the head of the Army of the Potomac had struck the James. We went to a field by the Tyler house for our camp — the birthplace of John Tyler, he of the big nose and small political principles — once Vice President, with Tippy-canoe and Tyler too. Nobody was there, save a lot of nigs, that were too funny; for there suddenly appeared among them one of our black servants, who had left that very place in McClellan's time. Such a “Lord a-a massy! is dat a-ar you? Wha-ar d'ge come from?” as never was heard, and great rejoicings over the distinguished traveller! What was more to the purpose, I got some green peas, a great coup; likewise milk, though “them a-ar infants” (meaning infantry) got the most of it.  . . . A pontoon bridge, 2000 feet long, was made in ten hours, and over this passed a train of waggons and artillery thirty-five miles long; more than half the infantry in the army and 3500 beef cattle; besides 4000 cavalry; all of which was chiefly accomplished within the space of forty-eight hours!¹ In civil life, if a bridge of this length were to be built over a river with a swift current and having a maximum depth of eighty-five feet, they would allow two or three months for the making of plans and collecting of materials. Then not less than a year to build it. This was a busy night on the river, messages going to City Point and Fort Monroe, and ferryboats and gunboats coming up as fast as possible to the neighborhood of Charles City. . . .

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¹ As before stated, these letters were written after the events described.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 156

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 5, 1864

June 5, 1864

This afternoon I carried a flag of truce — quite an episode in my military experiences. At three in the afternoon General Meade sent for me and said, as if asking for a piece of bread and butter: “Lyman, I want you to take this letter from General Grant and take it by a flag of truce, to the enemy's lines. General Hancock will tell you where you can carry it out.” I recollect he was lying on his cot at the time, with his riding boots cocked up on the footboard. My ideas on flags of truce were chiefly mediaeval and were associated with a herald wearing a tabard. However, I received the order as if my employment had been that from early youth, and proceeded at once to array myself in “store” clothes, sash, white gloves and all other possible finery. After searching in vain for a bugler who could blow a “parley,” I set forth with only a personable and well-dressed cavalry sergeant, and found the gallant Hancock reposing on his cot. “Well, Colonel,” says H., “now you can't carry it out on my front, it's too hot there. Your best way is to go to the left, where there are only pickets, and the officers there will get it out.” So the ever-laborious Major Mitchell was summoned and told to provide some whiskey for the Rebs and a flag. The last was a great point: there seemed nothing white about, except the General's shirt, but at last he found a pillowcase which was ripped up and put on a staff, and you would have admired it when it was completed! Then we made our way towards the left and found General Birney's men moving that way, who furnished us information about the road, and a guide, Colonel Hapgood of the 5th New Hampshire, corps officer of the day. He was a live Yankee, a thorough New Hampshire man — tall, sinewy, with a keen black eye, and a driving way about him. He was ornamented with a bullet-hole through his hat, another through the trousers, and a third on his sword scabbard. We rode forward till we struck the breastwork at Miles's Headquarters. It was a curious sight! Something like an Indian family camped half underground. Here was the breastwork, behind which were dug a number of little cellars, about two feet deep, and, over these, were pitched some small tents. And there you could see the officers sitting, with only their heads above ground, writing or perhaps reading; for it was a quiet time and there were no bullets or shells. We followed the line to its end, near by, and then rode through the pine woods a little way. Here Colonel Hamyl remarked in a ghostly voice: “Do you know where you are going? There have been two field officers killed just here.” To whom Colonel Hapgood (with injured pride): “Yes sir! I do know where I am going. There's some bullets comes through here; but none to hurt.” Without definitely settling what precise minimum of balls was “none to hurt,” we continued on. Presently the cautious Hapgood pulled up and peered round; and I could see an open field through the trees and another taller wood behind. “Now,” said the New Hampshire patriot, “those tallest trees are full of their sharpshooters; if we strike into the field fifty yards above here, they will fire; but, just below, they can't see.” So we followed on, and, as soon as we were in the open ground, started at a gallop and got into another wood, close to where I have put my flag on the map. There was here a road, leading past a mill-pond, which however was some quarter of a mile away. Our pickets held this road for some hundred or two yards from us, and then came the enemy's pickets. The Colonel said he knew a good place to approach, and went forward to call to some of them. After a great deal of delay, the lieutenant on our side got one of them to send for an officer, and then word was sent down each line to cease firing in that command, as a flag of truce was going in. Then we left our horses and went forward, the sergeant carrying the flag. As we turned a corner, close by, we came almost upon their party, standing some paces off. It looked exactly like a scene in an opera; there was never anything that so resembled something got up for stage effect. The sun was near setting, and, in the heavy oak woods, the light already began to fade. On the road stood a couple of Rebel officers, each in his grey overcoat, and, just behind, were grouped some twenty soldiers — the most gipsy-looking fellows imaginable; in their blue-grey jackets and slouched hats; each with his rusty musket and well-filled cartridge-box. I walked up in all stateliness (fully aware, however, that white cotton gloves injured the ensemble), and was introduced to Major Wooten of the 14th North Carolina sharpshooters, belonging to A. P. Hill's Corps. He was a well-looking man,, with quiet and pleasing manners; and, to see us all together, you would suppose we had met to go out shooting, or something of that kind. I am free to confess that the bearing of the few Rebel officers I have met is superior to the average of our own. They have a slight reserve and an absence of all flippancy, on the whole an earnestness of manner, which is very becoming to them. They get this I think partly from the great hardships they suffer, or, still more, the hardships of those at home, and from a sense of their ruin if their cause fails. We attack, and our people live in plenty, with no one to make them afraid; it makes a great difference. . . .

Major Wooten said he would enquire if the despatch could be received, and soon got notice that it could, if in a proper form. So it was sent in, an answer promised in a couple of hours, and we all sat down on the grass to wait — or rather on the leaves, for this sandy soil produces no grass to speak of. As I had time to look about and, still more to sniff about, I became aware that the spot was not so charming as it looked. There had been a heavy cavalry skirmish in the woods and they were full of dead horses, which, as the evening closed, became, as Agassiz would say, “highly offensive.” It was positively frightful! and there I waited till eleven at night! Not even the novelty of the position was enough to distract one's attention. As to the pickets, they were determined to have also a truce, for, when a Reb officer went down the line to give some order, he returned quite aghast, and said the two lines were together, amiably conversing. He ordered both to their posts, but I doubt if they staid. At half-past eight we had quite a disagreeable experience. There suddenly was heard a shot or two towards our left centre, then quite a volley, and then, whir-r-r-r, the musketry came running down right towards us, as one regiment after another took it up! The next thing I expected was that both sides just near us would take a panic and begin blazing away. The officers sprung to their feet and ran down the lines, to again caution the men; so nobody fired; and there we sat and listened to the volleys and the cannonading, that opened very heavily. . . .

As it got to be after ten, Major Wooten said he would go back and see what was the delay. There came back a lieutenant soon, that is about eleven, with a note from a superior officer, saying that “General Grant's aide-decamp need not be delayed further,” but that an answer would be sent in at the same point, which could be received by the picket officer. So we shook hands with the Rebs and retreated from the unsavory position.  . . . We stopped at Barlow's Headquarters, and then I kept on to camp, where the General greeted me with: “Hullo, Lyman, I thought perhaps the Rebs had gobbled you during that attack.” . . .

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 149-53

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 3, 1864

June 3, 1864

We had very severe fighting this morning, all along the lines. If you look on the map you may follow our lines. The line of battle faced westerly, towards Gaines's Mill and Mechanicsville, with a corps covering the right flank, and the left refused (a wing is “refused” when it is swung back from the direction of the main line). In some sort this was the battle of Gaines's Mill reversed. . . . The Rebel lines were about parallel with ours and they were throwing up dirt as hard as they could. No country could be more favorable for such work. The soldiers easily throw up the dirt so dry and sandy with their tin plates, their hands, bits of board, or canteens split in two, when shovels are scarce; while a few axes, in experienced hands, soon serve to fell plenty of straight pines, that are all ready to be set up, as the inner face of the breastwork. I can't say I heard with any great hope the order, given last night, for a general assault at 4.30 the next morning! You see Wright and Smith took their front line and drove them back Wednesday afternoon. Thursday afternoon was twenty-four, and Friday morning would be thirty-six hours, for them to bring up and entrench their whole army. If we could smash them up, the Chickahominy lay behind them; but I had no more hope of it, after Spotsylvania, than I had of taking Richmond in two days. Half-past four found us at Kelly's, the Headquarters of General Wright; the brave General himself, however, had gone to the front. At that moment the cannon opened, in various directions, and the Rebels replied vigorously. There has been no fight of which I have seen so little as this. The woods were so placed that the sound, even, of the musketry was much kept away, and the fighting, though near us, was completely shut from view. All the warfare for us was an occasional roundshot, or shell, that would come about us from the Rebel batteries. In the direction of the 18th Corps the crash of the musketry was very loud, but elsewhere, scarcely to be noticed.  . . . About five we had a gleam of hope for our success. News came that Barlow had carried their works and taken seventeen guns; and so he did; but it is one thing to get in, another to stay in. His men advanced heroically and went over the breastworks with a rush; but the enemy had reserves massed behind, well knowing that his extreme right was seriously threatened. Before our supports could get up, their forces were down on our men, while a heavy enfilade of canister was kept up from flanking batteries. Barlow was driven out with heavy loss, and succeeded in getting off only about 300 of the prisoners he took. Like good soldiers, however, his men stopped and turned about, close to the works, and there entrenched themselves. At six we got notice that Russell's division could not carry the line in their front. Ricketts, however, on the right of the 6th Corps, got their first line, and so did the 18th Corps on his right; but the 18th people were forced back, and this left Ricketts a good deal exposed to enfilade; but he held on. A singular thing about the whole attack, and one that demonstrated the staunchness of the troops, was, that our men, when the fire was too hot for them to advance and the works too strong, did not retreat as soldiers often do, but lay down where some small ridge offered a little cover, and there staid, at a distance from the enemy varying from forty to perhaps 250 yards. When it was found that the lines could not be carried, General Meade issued orders to hold the advanced position, all along, and to trench. The main fight lasted, I suppose, some three hours, but there was sharp skirmishing and artillery firing the whole day. The Rebels threw canister in large quantities, doing much damage. . . .

In the afternoon came Wright and Hancock, with their Staff officers, to consult with General Meade. They looked as pleasant as if they had been out to dine, instead of standing all day with shells, bullets and canister coming about them; for we now have a set of corps commanders who, in action, go, as they say, where they “can see”; which means sitting calmly in places where many people would be so scared they wouldn't know the left wing from the right. Which reminds me of a ludicrous circumstance — there always is something of the ludicrous mixed in every tragedy. Three or four vulgar and very able-bodied civilians had got down to the army, in some way or other, and were at our standpoint for a little while. Having come from the White House and hearing little musketry, they concluded it would be quite safe to go further to the front. “Come,” said one, in a flippant way, “let's go forward and see the fun.” So off they trotted down the Gaines's Mill road. One of Wright's aides said they came pretty soon, as far as where they were standing. All was quiet, but these braves had hardly dismounted when the Rebel guns again opened and the shells came with fearful precision over the spot! One gentleman, a fat man, rushed wildly to his horse, convulsively clutched the mane and tumbled on the saddle, galloping hotly off. But it so happened that two successive shells, passing with their hideous scream, burst just behind his horse, giving him the wings of panic! The other cit, quite paralyzed, lay down flat behind a ridge; in a few minutes he looked up at a Staff officer and, with the cold sweat rolling off him, exclaimed: “Oh! I wish they would stop! Don't you think, sir, they will stop pretty soon?” What became of the third I know not; but they all “saw the fun.” Not a thing did I have to do till six in the evening, when General Meade told me to go to General Birney, ascertain his position and what he thought of the force in his front; then keep on to Warren and ask him if he could so close in his Corps to the left as to set Birney free to return to the Second Corps. I found General Birney, with his usual thin, Puritanic face, very calmly eating tapioca pudding as a finish to his frugal dinner. He remarked drily that his man had selected that hollow as particularly safe; but, as half a dozen shells had already plumped in there, he did not exactly believe the theory a good one. I had a great mess finding General Warren.¹ First I went, by the road leading through the woods, to Bethesda Church. There were his aides and his flag: but the General had “ridden out along the lines” — confound that expression! That is the luck of a Headquarters aide. You say: “Is the General here?” “No, sir, he has gone, I believe, along the line.” “Do you know where?” “Well, Colonel, he did not say exactly; but, if you will follow down the breastworks, I think you will find him.” (Delightful vision of a line of two miles or so of breastworks with the infantry safely crouched behind, and you perched on a horse, riding down, taking the chance of stray shot, canister, and minié balls, looking for a general who probably is not there.) The greatest piece of coolness is when you are advised to make a short cut by the picket line! . . .

Warren looks care-worn. Some people say he is a selfish man, but he is certainly the most tender-hearted of our commanders. Almost all officers grow soon callous in the service; not unfeeling, only accustomed, and unaffected by the suffering they see. But Warren feels it a great deal, and that and the responsibility, and many things of course not going to suit him, all tend to make him haggard. He said: “For thirty days now, it has been one funeral procession, past me; and it is too much! To-day I saw a man burying a comrade, and, within half an hour, he himself was brought in and buried beside him. The men need some rest.”. . .

At nine at night the enemy made a fierce attack on a part of Gibbon's division, and, for a time, the volleys of musketry and the booming of the cannon were louder, in the still night, than the battle had been by day. But that sort of thing has not done with the Rebels, since the brilliant attack of Johnson, the second night of the Wilderness. This time they were repulsed completely. It was then that our men called out: “Come on! Come on! Bring up some more Johnnies! You haven't got enough!” . . .

To-night all the trenching tools were ordered up and the lines were strengthened, and saps run out, so as to bring them still closer to the opposing ones. And there the two armies slept, almost within an easy stone-throw of each other; and the separating space ploughed by cannon-shot and clotted with the dead bodies that neither side dared to bury! I think nothing can give a greater idea of deathless tenacity of purpose, than the picture of these two hosts, after a bloody and nearly continuous struggle of thirty days, thus lying down to sleep, with their heads almost on each other's throats! Possibly it has no parallel in history. So ended the great attack at Cool Arbor. The losses were far greater for us than for the Rebels. From what I can gather I doubt not we lost four or five to one. We gained nothing save a knowledge of their position and the proof of the unflinching bravery of our soldiers.²

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¹ “This was Warren's great way, to go about, looking thus after details and making ingenious plans; but it kept him from generalities, and made it hard to find him, so that he finally came to trouble as much by this as by anything else.” —Lyman's Journal.

² “I do think there has been too much assaulting, this campaign! After our lessons of failure and of success at Spotsylvania, we assault here, after the enemy had had thirty-six hours to entrench, and that time will cover them over their heads and give them slashings and traverses besides! The best officers and men are liable, by their greater gallantry, to be first disabled; and, of those that are left, the best become demoralized by the failures, and the loss of good leaders; so that, very soon, the men will no longer charge entrenchments and will only go forward when driven by their officers.” — Lyman's Journal.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 143-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 31, 1864

May 31, 1864

Last night, what with writing to you and working over some maps of my own, I got to bed very late, and was up tolerably early this morning, so to-day I have passed a good deal of time on my back fast asleep; for the General has not ridden out and has sent out very few officers. As I implied, to-day has been an occasion of Sybarite luxury. What do you think we mustered for dinner? Why, green peas, salad, potatoes, and fresh milk for the coffee! Am I not a good forager? Yes, and iced water! The woman (a fearful Secesh) asked two dollars for half a bushel of ice; upon which I, in a rage, sent a sergeant and told him to pay only a reasonable price and to take what we needed. But, in future, I will not pay for ice; it costs these Rebels nothing, and they can't eat it. For food I will always pay the scoundrels. They have usually plenty of ice for the hospitals, and the bands are kept there to play for the wounded, which pleases them. The Sanitary are doing, I believe, a great deal of good at the rear, between this and Washington. There is room for any such people to do good, when there are such multitudes of wounded. I was amused to read a letter from one of the Sanitaries at Fredericksburg, who, after describing his good works, said that, for eight days, his ears were “bruised by the sound of cannon.” To me, Fredericksburg and Montreal seem about equally far away!

The armies lay still, but there was unusually heavy fighting on the skirmish line the whole time; indeed there was quite an action, when Birney, Barlow, and Wright advanced and took the front line of the enemy. We used, too, a good deal of artillery, so that there was the noise of battle from morning to night. We took in some cohorn mortars, as they are called. These are light, small mortars, that may be carried by two or three men, and are fired with a light charge of powder. They throw a 24-lb. shell a maximum distance of about 1000 yards. As these shells go up in the air and then come down almost straight, they are very good against rifle-pits. General Gibbon says there has been a great mistake about the armies of Israel marching seven times round Jericho blowing on horns, thereby causing the walls to fall down. He says the marching round was a “flank movement,” and that the walls were then blown down with cohorns. Some of the heavy artillerists of the German regiment were first sent to fire these mortars; but it was found that they could give no definite account of where the projectiles went, the reason of which was that, every time they fired, the officer and his gunners tumbled down flat in great fear of Rebel sharpshooters!

"Baldy" Smith arrived, by steamer, at Whitehouse, from Bermuda Hundreds, with heavy reinforcements for this army. The Rebels, on their side, have been also bringing up everything — Breckinridge from the valley of the Shenandoah, Hoke from North Carolina, and everything from the South generally. . . . General Wilson's division of cavalry was sent out towards our rear and right, to cover that quarter and to continue the destruction of the railroads below Hanover Junction. General Sheridan, with the remaining cavalry, swung round our left flank and pressed down towards Shady Grove and Cool Arbor (this name is called Coal Harbor, Cold Harbor, and Cool Arbor, I can't find which is correct, but choose "Arbor" because it is prettiest, and because it is so hideously inappropriate). In vain I try to correct myself by the engineer maps; they all disagree. The topographical work of the engineers is rather uphill in this country. Before we opened the campaign the engineers prepared a series of large maps, carefully got up from every source that they could come upon, such as state, county, and town maps, also the information given by residents and refugees, etc., etc. In spite of all this the result has been almost ludicrous! Some places (e.g. Spotsylvania) are from one to two miles out of position, and the roads run everywhere except where laid down. I suppose the fact is that there was no material whatever wherewith to make a map on a scale so large as one inch to a mile. It is interesting to see now how the engineers work up the country, as they go along. Topographers are sent out as far as possible in the front and round the flanks. By taking the directions of different points, and by calculating distances by the pacing of their horses, and in other ways, they make little local maps, and these they bring in in the evening, and during the night they are compiled and thus a map of the neighborhood is made. If the next day is sunny, photographic copies are taken of this sketch and sent to the principal commanders, whose engineers add to, or correct it, if need be, and these corrections are put on a new sketch. Much information is gotten also by the engineers sent with the cavalry. . . .

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 134-7

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, Tuesday, May 17, 1864

Our Headquarters were moved to the left, and back of the Anderson house. We rode, in the morning, over, and staid some time at the house, one of the best I have seen in Virginia. It was a quite large place, built with a nest of out-houses in the southern style. They have a queer way of building on one thing after another, the great point being to have a separate shed or out-house for every purpose, and then a lot more sheds and outhouses for the negroes. You will find a carpenter's shop, a kindly man in conversation, despite his terrible looks. . . . The waggoners and train rabble and stragglers have committed great outrages in the rear of this army. Some of the generals, particularly Birney and Barlow, have punished pillagers in a way they will not forget; and they will be shot if they do not stop outrages on the inhabitants. The proper way to stop the grosser acts is to hang the perpetrators by the road where the troops pass, and put a placard on their breasts. I think I would do it myself, if I caught any of them. All this proceeds from one thing — the uncertainty of the death penalty through the false merciful policy of the President. It came to be a notorious thing that no one could be executed but poor friendless wretches, who had none to intercede for them; so that the blood of deserters that was shed was all in vain — there was no certainty in punishment, and certainty is the essence of all punishment. Now we reap the disadvantage in a new form. People must learn that war is a thing of life or death: if a man won't go to the front he must be shot; but our people can't make up their minds to it; it is repulsive to the forms of thought, even of most of the officers, who willingly expose their own lives, but will shrink from shooting down a skulker.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 115-7

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 10, 1864

May 10, 1864

[Tuesday] there was sharp fighting all along the line. General Mott's division of the 2d Corps was put on the left of the 6th Corps, with the idea of making a connection with Burnside and then swinging our left to take the enemy in flank. I was ordered early to go to General Wright and explain to him, then to General Mott and direct him to demonstrate along his front and feel on the left for Burnside. General Wright had moved his Headquarters and had put them a little back and on one side, being moved thereto by the fact that the first selection was a focus for shells. Then I rode along the lines to General Mott and got his position as well as I could, and gave him the order. Coming back to General Wright, I had a sharp corner to go through. A battery was firing at one of ours and the shells coming over struck right among our infantry. They cut the pine trees about me in a manner I didn't like, and one burst close by, throwing the pieces round just as you see them in French battle pictures. All day there was firing. About eleven came General Meade and told me to go out at once to Mott and to get a written report from him, which I did; and a sharpshooter shot at me, which I hate — it is so personal. More by token, poor General Rice, a Massachusetts man and very daring, was to-day killed by a sharpshooter. The ball broke his thigh, and, when they amputated his leg, he never rallied. As he lay on the stretcher, he called out to General Meade: “Don't you give up this fight! I am willing to lose my life, if it is to be; but don't you give up this fight!” All day we were trying to select places for an assault. Barlow crossed the Po on the right, but was afterwards ordered back, and had a brilliant rear-guard fight in which he punished the enemy. From five to six P.M. there was heavy cannonading, the battalions firing by volley. At 6.30 Upton, with a heavy column of picked men, made a most brilliant assault with the bayonet, at the left of the Sixth Corps. The men rushed on, without firing a shot, carried the breastworks in the face of cannon and musketry, and took 900 prisoners. Some of the men, who faltered, were run through the body by their comrades! But Mott's men on the left behaved shamefully, and so Upton was obliged again to fall back, bringing his prisoners with him.¹ . . .

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¹ “11 P.m. Grant in consultation with Meade. Wright came up also; he uttered no complaints, but said quietly and firmly to Meade: ‘General, I don't want Mott's men on my left; they are not a support; I would rather have no troops there!’ Warren is not up to a corps command. As in the Mine Run move, so here, he cannot spread himself over three divisions. He cannot do it, and the result is partial and ill-concerted and dilatory movements.” — Lyman's Journal.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 108-10

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 20, 1864

Headquarters Army Of Potomac

Friday, May 20, 1864

To-day has been entirely quiet, our pickets deliberately exchanging papers, despite orders to the contrary. These men are incomprehensible — now standing from daylight to dark killing and wounding each other by thousands, and now making jokes and exchanging newspapers! You see them lying side by side in the hospitals, talking together in that serious prosaic way that characterizes Americans. The great staples of conversation are the size and quality of rations, the marches they have made, and the regiments they have fought against. All sense of personal spite is sunk in the immensity of the contest.

In my letter of yesterday I got you as far as the evening of Sunday the 8th. On Monday, the 9th, early, Burnside was to come down the Spotsylvania and Fredericksburg road to the “Gate,” thus approaching on the extreme left; Sedgwick and Warren respectively occupied the left and right centre, while Hancock, in the neighborhood of Todd's Tavern, covered the right flank; for you will remember that the Rebel columns were still moving down the Parker's Store road to Spotsylvania, and we could not be sure they would not come in on our right flank and rear. Be times in the morning General Meade, with three aides, rode back to General Hancock, and had a consultation with him. The day was again hot and the dust thicker and thicker. As we stood there under a big cherry tree, a strange figure approached; he looked like a highly independent mounted newsboy; he was attired in a flannel checked shirt; a threadbare pair of trousers, and an old blue kepi; from his waist hung a big cavalry sabre; his features wore a familiar sarcastic smile. It was General Barlow, commanding the 1st division of the 2d Corps, a division that for fine fighting cannot be exceeded in the army. There, too, was General Birney, also in checked flannel, but much more tippy than Barlow, and stout General Hancock, who always wears a clean white shirt (where he gets them nobody knows); and thither came steel-cold General Gibbon, the most American of Americans, with his sharp nose and up-and-down manner of telling the truth, no matter whom it hurts. . . .

It was about ten o'clock, and I was trotting down the Piney Branch road, when I met Colonel McMahon, Adjutant-General of the 6th Corps; I was seriously alarmed at the expression of his face, as he hurriedly asked where General Meade was. I said, “What is the matter?” He seemed entirely unnerved as he replied: "They have hit General Sedgwick just here under the eye, and, my God, I am afraid he is killed!” It was even so: General Sedgwick, with a carelessness of consequences for which he was well known, had put his Headquarters close on the line of battle and in range of the sharpshooters. As he sat there, he noticed a soldier dodging the bullets as they came over. Rising from the grass, he went up to the man, and, laying his hand on his shoulder, said, “Why, what are you dodging for? They could not hit an elephant at that distance.” As he spoke the last word, he fell, shot through the brain by a ball from a telescopic rifle.  . . . The dismay of General Sedgwick's Staff was a personal feeling; he was like a kind father to them, and they loved him really like sons. So fell “good Uncle John,” a pure and great-hearted man, a brave and skilful soldier. From the commander to the lowest private he had no enemy in this army. . . .

I found General Meade with Generals Wright, Warren, and Humphreys consulting together in the same spot where Grant sat yesterday among the bullets, for no apparent reason. You never saw such an old bird as General Humphreys! I do like to see a brave man; but when a man goes out for the express purpose of getting shot at, he seems to me in the way of a maniac.  . . . In the afternoon there was some fighting on the right centre, without result; Burnside pushed down on the left, driving the enemy before him; and so the day closed, our army crowding in on Lee and he standing at bay and throwing up breastworks.

[At this period Lyman was in the habit of writing a few lines about the events of the day, and then taking up his narrative several days back. A bit of foresight of which he characteristically remarks: “I make a rule to speak chiefly of what has passed, not deeming it prudent to properly describe the present.” To avoid confusion, the letters have been chronologically separated.]

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 106-8

Captain Charles Russell Lowell to Henry Lee Jr., July 23, 1862

Harrison's Landing, July 23, '62.

I have no doubt I could get permission from the War Department to take a Massachusetts regiment, if offered me, and I should have no hesitation in making an application to Governor Andrew, if that is the proper course — unless you think that better men are likely to be appointed.

I have had my training in what I may now without boasting call a “crack” regiment, — through the whole campaign, I have commanded a squadron, though not by my regimental rank entitled to it, and in campaign you know a squadron of cavalry is quite as much an independent command as a regiment of infantry. I can safely refer to General Emory for testimony as to the discipline and efficiency of my squadron and as to my general qualifications,¹ — and to General Stoneman for evidence as to what I have done.

Perhaps you think me too young — it is eight years to-day since I graduated — I have to apologize to myself for being so old. Younger men than I have done good service in command of regiments and even brigades during this campaign, witness my friend Barlow.²

I hear there is some chance of Henry's being ordered North: I hope he may come to the “Army of the Potomac,” — though I am convinced by observation that, here on the Peninsula, infantry is the arm for hard fighting.

Since we have been at this place I have been getting a little experience of Staff life and duty, being now Acting A. D. C. to General McClellan — it is an honourable position and valuable in the way of education, but I much prefer a command.

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¹ General Emory, formerly Lowell's colonel, regarded Lowell as the best officer appointed from civil life he had ever known.

² Colonel Francis C. Barlow, a man of extraordinary gifts, who had graduated at Harvard the year after Lowell, — like him, first scholar in his class. He enlisted as a private, April 19, 1861, was married on the 20th, and sent to the seat of war on the 21st. Distinguishing himself on every field on which he fought, he rose rapidly in the service, and, though badly wounded again and again, returned to the field, and was at the close of the war Major-General of Volunteers. Lieutenant-General Miles said of him: “The clear and comprehensive intellect that had enabled him to pass his rivals in his educational race also enabled him to absorb the books on military affairs, and to acquire a useful knowledge of military history. Within a few months he had made himself absolute master of military tactics. It was as familiar to him as the alphabet or the multiplication table, and equally so were the Army Regulations. He not only knew what they required, but comprehended the principles and was enabled to comply with them, and also to instruct his subordinates.”  More will be said of General Barlow in a later note.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 222-3, 408-9

Review: Hell or Richmond

Hell or Richmond By Ralph Peters 

In a series of battles between May 4 & June 24, 1864 the Army of the Potomac directed by Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant and commanded by Major General George G. Meade clashed with the Army of Northern Virginia, commanded by General Robert E. Lee, in what would later become known as The Overland Campaign.  The ferocity and near daily combat during those two months shocked the divided and warring nation. The combined casualties of both armies totaled over 88,000 men killed, wounded, captured or missing.  It was the last year of the war, a baptism of fire that lasted four long years, the beginning of its cataclysmic end, that would forge a new, united nation from its warring factions.

Best-selling author, Ralph Peters, uses the backdrop of The Overland Campaign for his novel, “Hell or Richmond.”  From the battles at The Wilderness, and Spotsylvania Court House to The Battle of Cold Harbor Peters graphically covers much of The Overland Campaign.

Officers such as Ulysses S Grant, General-in-Chief of the United States Army; Major General George G. Meade, commander of the Army of the Potomac; and Francis Channing Barlow, the Union’s Harvard-valedictorian “boy general,” as well as Confederate General Robert E. Lee, Major General John Brown Gordon, and William C. Oates, Colonel of the 15th Alabama Infantry take their places in Mr. Peters’ narrative beside the enlisted men of both armies.

Historical fiction fills the gaps where its counterpart, nonfiction, cannot go.  Peters’ narrative breathes life into his the men of our historical past, and viscerally reveals the life of a civil war soldier before, during and after a battle; the hunger, the dirt and grime, the smell, the blood and gore.  Where more often than not historical fiction authors fail, Peters excels and does not hold back with his bloody and gory descriptions of wounds received by 18th century projectiles.  His dialogue is sometimes salty and profane, but nevertheless rings true of combat veterans.

Ralph Peters’ “Hell or Richmond” masterfully combines descriptive narrative and coarse dialogue which doesn’t sound as if had been vetted for a prime-time television viewing audience, and successfully transports his 21st century readers to the unpleasantness of the summer of 1864 Virginia.

ISBN 978-0765330482, Forge Books, © 2013, Hardcover, 544 pages, Maps, $25.99.  To purchase this book click HERE.