Edwin M. Stanton to Major-General Nathaniel P. Banks, May 1, 1862

WAR DEPARTMENT,

May 1, 1862.

Major-General BANKS:

The President directs that you fall back with the force under your immediate command to Strasburg, or such other point near there as will be convenient for supplies and enable you to hold the passage along the valley of the Shenandoah. General Shields will receive orders within a day or two to pass with his division into the Department of the Rappahannock.

EDWIN M. STANTON,

Secretary of War.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 12, Part 3 (Serial No. 18), p. 122

Alexander Hamilton Jr. to Abraham Lincoln, May 26, 1862

New York May 26. 62

My Dear Sir

In the present embarrassed situation of our affairs, I feel it to be a duty to make the following suggestions, with the remark, that what has occurred, in the Shenandoah Valley, has not come to me unanticipated, and, when, a full development shall be made of the movements of the enemy, you will find there exists more reason to apprehend an attack on the federal city, than you imagine—

That there has been the greatest mismanagement in the War Department, there can be no question, and none, more so, than was exhibited, in the subdivision of the command of General McClellan, whereby he lost all control and supervision of the important wing, the right of his operations, while the forces under McDowel were pushed to a position, worse than useless, from which they cannot retreat, without a positive demonstration of extreme weakness—

In the stupid ignorance, which has been shown, in withdrawing the main strength from Banks, himself a military failure, there would seem to be almost sufficient grounds for the suspicion of disloyalty somewhere, at all event, the mischief occasioned is irrepareable, a disgraceful route, paralyzing to our efforts and confidence every where.

It would appear, that your telegraphic communications have been so cut off, that you have no reliable information with regard to the onward progress of the enemies forces from Front Royal, either down the Shenandoah to Harpers Ferry, or to Leesburg, or by the Manassas Gap railroad, cutting off the supplies proceeding to our army on the Rappahanoc—

In this dilemma, and pregnant uncertainty, the course of the War Department should exercise no other discretion, than an instant call for an overwhelming militia army from the North, a few regiments in small detachments, or in any thing, but in army divisions, with pious boys play—

If Washington should be fall, the great object and aim of the present strategical movements of the South, the whole financial operations of the government would come to a deplorable stand still, carrying with the default, the most fatal consequences to all future movements of troops or supplies, every thing, every where, would be reduced to a state of complete abeyance—

I may speculate too far in supposing that you have no efficient military strength in front of Washington, still, I fear, the luck is sadly against any estimate of reliable security, especially, in the panic condition which surrounds you, seriously intensified, with the extraordinary imbecility which has recently brought into collision, the civil with the military authorities, the end of which, may open a vista, too serious to be portrayed, too dangerous to be contemplated, as the inevitable overthrow of our republican institutions, a revolution which may carry the government of Washington into precipitate retirement—

If the enemy should reach Harpers Ferry they will command the Canal and Railroad along the entire line of the Potomac, where they will not only cut off your supplies, but by a rapid movement, from the river to the interior of Maryland, the remnant of the fighting army of Banks may be caught, the distance to past, to effect that object, cannot exceed fifteen miles. It will open the whole route to Baltimore and Washington, by canal and railroad, the City of Frederick will of course be taken on the way, through a slight detour of about three miles, it is therefore all important, that a sufficient force should be dispatched from Baltimore to resist the torrent, and that instant measures be taken to prepare for the necessary obstructions on both lines of conveyance—

Within a few miles of the Frederick I ascertain, there is a heavy bridge structure crossing the Monocacy, the waters of which is entirely too deep to be forded, this ought to be looked to, so along the whole line of the road to the Riley House—

A short distance above Ellecotts Mills, there is a short and easy way to the rear of Baltimore, affording a most convenient opportunity for a surprise, especially, as along that approach, a strong secession force of sympathizers would be very likely to congregate—

In the present distresses of the government I should be happy to lend any aid and counsel, and, as I have had military experience in the United States services, if the president will send me a commission as Brigadier General, I will lose no time in presenting myself at Washington

With great regard

Your Ob Sevt

A Hamilton.

To Abraham Lincoln

President

SOURCE: The Abraham Lincoln Papers at the Library of Congress, Washington D.C.

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Sunday, July 5, 1863

The night was very bad — thunder and lightning, torrents of rain — the road knee-deep in mud and water, and often blocked up with waggons “come to grief.” I pitied the wretched plight of the unfortunate soldiers who were to follow us. Our progress was naturally very slow indeed, and we took eight hours to go as many miles.

At 8 A.M. we halted a little beyond the village of Fairfield, near the entrance to a mountain-pass. No sooner had we done so and lit a fire, than an alarm was spread that Yankee cavalry were upon us. Several shots flew over our heads, but we never could discover from whence they came. News also arrived of the capture of the whole of Ewell's beautiful wagons.* These reports created a regular stampede amongst the waggoners, and Longstreet's drivers started off as fast as they could go. Our medical trio, however, firmly declined to budge, and came to this wise conclusion partly urged by the pangs of hunger, and partly from the consideration that, if the Yankee cavalry did come, the crowded state of the road in our rear would prevent our escape. Soon afterwards, some Confederate cavalry were pushed to the front, who cleared the pass after a slight skirmish.

At noon, Generals Lee and Longstreet arrived, and halted close to us. Soon afterwards Ewell came up. This is the first time I ever saw him. He is rather a remarkable-looking old soldier, with a bald head, a prominent nose, and rather a haggard, sickly face: having so lately lost his leg above the knee, he is still a complete cripple, and falls off his horse occasionally. Directly he dismounts he has to be put on crutches. He was Stonewall Jackson's coadjutor during the celebrated valley campaigns, and he used to be a great swearer — in fact, he is said to have been the only person who was unable to restrain that propensity before Jackson; but since his late (rather romantic) marriage, he has (to use the American expression) “joined the Church.” When I saw him he was in a great state of disgust in consequence of the supposed loss of his waggons, and refused to be comforted by General Lee.

I joined Longstreet again, and, mounted on Lawley's venerable horse, started at 3 P.M. to ride through the pass. At 4 P.M. we stopped at a place where the roads fork, one leading to Emmetsburg, and the other to Hagerstown. Major Moses and I entered a farmhouse, in which we found several women, two wounded Yankees, and one dead one, the result of this morning's skirmish. One of the sufferers was frightfully wounded in the head; the other was hit in the knee: the latter told me he was an Irishman, and had served in the Bengal Europeans during the Indian Mutiny. He now belonged to a Michigan cavalry regiment, and had already imbibed American ideas of Ireland's wrongs, and all that sort of trash. He told me that his officers were very bad, and that the idea in the army was that M'Clellan had assumed the chief command.

The women in this house were great Abolitionists. When Major Fairfax rode up, he inquired of one of them whether the corpse was that of a Confederate or Yankee (the body was in the verandah, covered with a white sheet). The woman made a gesture with her foot, and replied,”If it was a rebel, do you think it would be here long?” Fairfax then said, “Is it a woman who speaks in such a manner of a dead body which can do no one any harm?” She thereupon coloured up, and said she wasn't in earnest.

At 6 o'clock we rode on again (by the Hagerstown road) and came up with General Longstreet at 7.30. The road was full of soldiers marching in a particularly lively manner — the wet and mud seemed to have produced no effect whatever on their spirits, which were as boisterous as ever. They had got hold of coloured prints of Mr Lincoln, which they were passing about from company to company with many remarks upon the personal beauty of Uncle Abe. The same old chaff was going on of “Come out of that hat — I know you're in it — I sees your legs a-dangling down,” &c. When we halted for the night, skirmishing was going on in front and rear — Stuart in front and Ewell in rear. Our bivouac being near a large tavern, General Longstreet had ordered some supper there for himself and his Staff; but when we went to devour it, we discovered General M'Laws and his officers rapidly finishing it. We, however, soon got more, the Pennsylvanian proprietors being particularly anxious to propitiate the General, in hopes that he would spare their live stock, which had been condemned to death by the ruthless Moses.

During supper women came rushing in at intervals, saying —“Oh, good heavens, now they're killing our fat hogs. Which is the General? which is the Great Officer? Our milch cows are now going.” To all which expressions Longstreet replied, shaking his head in a melancholy manner — “Yes, madam, it's very sad — very sad; and this sort of thing has been going on in Virginia more than two years — very sad.”

We all slept in the open, and the heavy rain produced no effect upon our slumbers.

I understand it is impossible to cross the lines by flag of truce. I therefore find myself in a dilemma about the expiration of my leave.

_______________

* It afterwards turned out that all escaped but thirty-eight.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 283-7

Major Wilder Dwight: April 2, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, Virginia, April 2, 1862.

I promised not to write you till our monotony ceased. It has done so; yet the story is a short one. Our regiment started yesterday morning (April 1) to advance. A few shots, as we started, from some of our Parrott guns, scattered the enemy's vedettes, and five of our companies, deployed as skirmishers, led the way. The other three companies were the reserve, four hundred yards in rear, and were under my command. The occasional interchange of shots now and then, a rapid rattle of rifle-shots from our skirmishers as they came upon a retreating line of the enemy's cavalry, kept us in excitement till we got near Woodstock. When we came over the hill to that town, spang! went a gun from the opposite hill, and whirr-r-r came a shot over my reserve; the men ducked their heads a little, and I drew them under the shelter of a bank. Here there was a rapid interchange of cannon-shot; and when we had shelled out their battery, our skirmishers again advanced, driving their cavalry before them. Just beyond the town we came upon their burning camps, which they had set on fire and deserted. Again we advanced, and came to the “Narrow Pass” (so called). Here the bridge over the creek was burning. Our skirmishers put it out.

The pass is a strong position for the Rebels, and we were not surprised to hear another “spang,” and the rushing of more shells. Our batteries got into position, and there was a brisk interchange of shots over our heads, the reserve being in the hollow, and getting an occasional bursting shell near it from each side. Here one of our skirmishers came back shot in the breast. As luck would have it, however, his brass plate turned the ball, so that he was not dangerously hurt. Again we went on till we came to this place. Here both bridges, the turnpike, and railroad were burning. We halted a little while before entering the town, and when we pushed on the inevitable “spang” assailed us. Our skirmishers drove the enemy across the river, and back into the woods. Our batteries silenced theirs. One poor fellow, in a regiment in rear of our reserve, had his head taken off by a shell. These were the only casualties on our side. Here we paused and went into bivouac; and, after fourteen miles' skirmishing in heavy-trim knapsacks, all our tired regiment went to sleep. This morning there has been a little more shelling. We halt for supplies. We are in bivouac, our tents having been left behind.

I hope Jackson will make a stand, but fear he will not. Yesterday was quite a brisk, exciting day. The regiment did splendidly, as all agree. I am very well, and recovering my spirits. Love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 224-5

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 28, 1862

Camp Four Miles Beyond Strasburg, March 28, 1862.

I had just finished my letter yesterday, and started to mail it, when I was turned back by a hurried order to “march at once.” Our long roll was beating as I got back near camp, and in a few minutes the line was formed and the brigade in motion through Strasburg. It was reported that our outposts were threatened by cavalry, infantry, and artillery of the enemy. As we passed out of the town we could hear the occasional sullen tone of a cannon. My incredulity was proof, however, against any faith in an attack in force; so I was not surprised when the brigade was halted a few miles from town, and ordered to go into camp, and send back for its train. It seems that the enterprising and clever Ashby, with his two light pieces of artillery, was amusing himself and exciting us by a slight demonstration. Ready for a rapid and elusive retreat at a moment's notice, he would like to continue his game which he has safely and pleasantly played so long. He is light, active, skilful, and we are tormented by him like a bull with a gad-fly. We chose a fine oak-wood for our camp, and at sunset were quietly in tents again. This morning the sun rose warm and glorious. The singing birds anticipated our reveillé, and we have the sunniest, happiest camp to-day possible.

I have had an opportunity to hear directly from Jackson's camp yesterday. He is a few miles beyond Woodstock. He has no tents, and his wagons carry only subsistence, and are ready to move at a moment's notice. His force is four or five thousand men. He says, “My men have no uniform, they wear multiform.” He keeps Ashby in his rear with his cavalry and two pieces of artillery. His game is a winning one even when he loses. With his small force he detains twenty thousand men in this valley. It seems probable that his attack on Winchester was in pursuance of a positive order from Johnson to make the attack at all hazards, to arrest and detain our force from its intended movement to Centreville. In this aspect it was a success. In my judgment our weakness was in turning back. The force left behind was large enough to take care of this valley. But, indeed, it seems as if we had no plan and no courage or decision. Vacillation is our name. We cannot take Jackson. If we mean to hold the valley, we should establish our force in position to do so, take the rest to Centreville, and thus perform our part in the campaign. The life that we have led for the week past is a waste of men and of energy. It quells the spirit of our troops, and destroys the prestige of our leaders. My admiration and sympathy go with the gallant Ashby, and the indefatigable and resolute Jackson. With an equal force, the latter would have beaten us at Winchester. Banks, in his general order, speaks of a “subtle” foe, a most unlucky word for a shrewd observer of our movements. As soon as we give him a chance by dividing our forces or exposing a detachment, Jackson may seize the occasion for an attack. While we remain strong in numbers or position, he will do neither, you may be sure. I hope in McClellan's generalship, and am very glad father gains faith in it. You will soon, as I know, hear of movements which show boldness, plan, and decisiveness. The campaign is not to be a timid waiting on the movements of the enemy. I hope events may soon take us to Centreville, where we can feel the direct grasp of McClellan's hand. But I try to be patient, and to feel that “they also serve who only stand and wait.” At present we are safe and comfortable enough. God bless you all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 221-3

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 27, 1862

camp Bivouac, Near Strasburg, March 27, 1862.

I must write you a line from our hillside-wooded bivouac this bright morning.

On Tuesday night we made a forced march toward Strasburg from Winchester, to be within supporting distance of General Banks. We marched till one o'clock in the morning, and then the regiment laid down by the roadside, and built fence-rail fires and rested. Yesterday morning we came on to Strasburg, where we now await the future. Jackson is supposed to be at Mount Jackson, about fifteen miles from here, with part of his force. The force was very much demoralized by the defeat and loss. Their killed, wounded, and prisoners cannot be less than one thousand; three hundred will cover our loss, killed and wounded. At our bivouac, night before last, a few of the officers, including the Colonel and myself, took possession of a comfortable house, and slept in the “best room.” The next morning at breakfast, when the master was out of the room, the mulatto that served us said: “Jackson took breakfast here day before yesterday. He told massa that he could not make much, but he should try you again.' But he won't, think I. As we marched through Middletown yesterday, whose houses are full of secession wounded, dropped on their march by the retreating army, our band poured out its national music, and there was a somewhat unfeeling sauciness in the swing and tramp of the regiment over the way so lately passed by the panic-stricken fugitives. At one house near which we rested we found a poor Rebel soldier whom a shell had overtaken in his retreat. One arm gone, one leg nearly so, and the other leg mangled. Poor fellow! his life will be short. By his bedside was a Union soldier of the Seventh Ohio, — the regiment that suffered most, on our side, in the fight. That soldier was nursing and tending the poor wounded man as affectionately as a sister. He had been with him a day, and said he was afraid of being court-martialled if he stayed; but, said he, “I can't leave him alone.” Our surgeon, who has been behaving like a trump, gave him a certificate, and advised him to stay. We left him dressing the hopeless wounds.

At one of the hospitals in Winchester, a Rebel soldier, wounded and suffering, said: “How kind you are to us! They told us that you would kill us, and kill all the wounded.” Such are some of the lies with which they keep their men up to the fighting point. The women of Winchester began by bringing delicacies for their wounded, as they said. After a day, however, when they saw our equal kindness, they began themselves to get a little humanity, and to work for all.

There is a base and brutalizing influence at work here in Rebeldom, beyond all question.

The scenes through which I have passed for the last three days remain with great vividness. Take the Winchester court-house as an example. You enter the door, and the vestibule is full of dead. You go in farther, and the court-room is a hospital, in which every variety of wound and suffering meets your eye.

It is little enough that human aid can do in such a place, but it is wonderful to see the comfort that is given by human sympathy. I noticed one boy shot through the jaw and the back. He had been looking intently at the man next him, when he began some inarticulate address to him. Through the wounded and disturbed jaw he at last made himself understood as saying, “Do you feel better?” “Yes,” said the man next him. “Glad of it,” he worked out, with difficulty, and lay back, having imperfectly expressed the sympathy which most men would hardly think he had to spare. Young Lieutenant Crowninshield was walking through one hospital. “Hallo, Crownie, how are you?” said a wounded Rebel soldier. On looking at him, he recognized a classmate, named Washington, who left Cambridge a year ago. He was a private in Jackson's army. His mother and sister were living near Charlestown. The poor fellow was wounded through the lungs probably mortally. What a war this is!

An odd incident occurred to one of our regiment. Private Alexander, of Company E, was taken prisoner last summer at Maryland Heights, and brought to Winchester and thence to Richmond. He was released with Colonel Lee, and sent back here to rejoin his regiment. He arrived in Winchester just after we had left for Centreville, but just in season for the battle. He went out on to the field, took a gun from some fallen soldier, and went in with all the bitterness of a six months' captivity. At the close of the engagement he returned to Winchester, bringing with him two Rebel guns and a Rebel prisoner as his booty and revenge. He thinks he is even with them now. Captain Cary's company was on duty in Winchester, at the time of the battle, as part of the provost guard. Three of the men got leave of absence in the afternoon and went out to the field, picked up guns, and sailed in. The last that is known of one of them is, that he was seen in the advanced line of skirmishers fighting like a hero. The others, after the battle, returned. So you see our regiment had only four men in the engagement. I believe we remain here quietly to-day. We are on the line of the Manassas Gap railway, but the bridges have been burnt. I think that we shall not be attacked again, nor be able to overtake Jackson, whose movement was against a divided force, and unsuccessful at that. He will not, therefore, assail us when we are reunited. It is a splendid, mild morning. We are camped in a pine and cedar grove facing the south, and resting after a march of sixty-five miles in four days, — awful hard work with very little glory. Those fellows who are put on cars and then shipped to an exploit, with no service in the field, are lucky men. Ours is the labor and heat of the day with no penny as yet. The eleventh-hour men are getting their pennies first! Will there be any left for us? Who knows? Love to all at home. I am writing on your little portable writing-case, which is a convenience. Your letter of the 20th was received last night.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 218-21

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 25, 1862

winchester, Virginia, March 25, 1862.

A blue March morning, and I have just returned from the battle-field. A sight to forget. I question much if description of it is well. You may fancy the scattered dead through woods and over hillsides.

The oddest coincidence of blunders brought about a battle.

Banks's division had left Winchester on Saturday noon. Shields drew back from Strasburg, and had gone on the back of the town (Winchester). No forces or pickets were on the Strasburg road on that side of the town.

On Saturday evening there was some skirmishing by Ashby's cavalry, in which Shields was wounded. It seems that Jackson had been informed that every one had left the town. His skirmish on Saturday failed to develop any large force.

On Sunday, therefore, the fight commenced by our and their artillery. It continued through the day till half past three without any development of infantry on their side. At three o'clock General Banks, supposing it to be only Ashby's cavalry, with a few pieces of artillery, continuing his system of annoyance, went to Harper's Ferry. But, at about four o'clock, Jackson, with his infantry, attempted to turn our right by sending round over a ridge through the woods. No one was in command of our forces. Colonel Kimball, the ranking colonel of Shields's forces, was, so to speak, in charge of the battle. Shields was abed in town. The staff were galloping about, and the soldiers fought like heroes. General Banks had gone to Harper's Ferry. Jackson had put his artillery on the commanding ridge on his left. He had two regiments of infantry behind a stone-wall in rear of the batteries. Here was the sharp fighting. We sent round our force to turn their position and take their artillery. It was done. Then they tried to retake it. Their force came over a hill, and fired over our men. Our men shot up at them and took them in the head and breast. The woods are torn and shivered by musketry and cannon. Thirty men in Confederate homespun, shot in the head, lie in this wood. Their upturned faces seemed to me looking reproach at Jeff Davis. The fight lasted till dark, when Jackson withdrew, leaving us the field and two pieces of artillery and five caissons; leaving also his dead and wounded and two hundred and fifty prisoners in our hands.

Both parties had blundered, — they, by acting on our retreat; we, by acting on his retreat. The upshot is a glorious victory for us. I have just come back from a sad visit to the hospitals; seeing wounded, dying, and dead, Rebels and Loyalists lying side by side, and receiving equal care. The loss on our side is one hundred or more killed, and two to three hundred wounded. Theirs is nearly three hundred killed and probably five hundred wounded. Everything shows how easy it is to kill a great many men by shooting very often! Jackson's men, as some of their wounded state, came down expecting to find Winchester empty. They consider our actual movement a feint. Some of their troops marched two days, and came into action late in the afternoon. I give you my impressions.

We go to Strasburg to-morrow. We shall meet no opposition. We left a door open, and in came Jackson. We must not leave another door open. That's the moral of this story. The sheer fighting of our men saved us. Good by. Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 216-8

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: November 13, 1864

The “military situation” seems very much the same. Some cheering intimations from Georgia. Hood has made movements on Sherman's flank, and Forrest upon his rear, which it is thought promise most valuable results, but nothing final has been yet accomplished, and we may be too sanguine.

General Price is still successful in Missouri. In the Valley of Virginia an immense amount of private property has been destroyed. Sheridan, glorying in his shame, boasts of, and probably magnifies, what has been done in that way. He telegraphs to Grant that he has burned 2,000 barns. The Lord shorten his dreadful work, and have mercy upon the sufferers!

Nothing new about Richmond. A few days ago the enemy made several attempts to advance upon the Darbytown road, and were handsomely repulsed. The firing of cannon is so common a sound that it is rather remarkable when we do not hear it.

Mr. ––– has been telling us of some other interesting cases in his hospital; among them, that of Captain Brown, of North Carolina, has awakened our sympathies. He came into the hospital bright and cheerful, with every appearance of speedy recovery. He talked a great deal of his wife and six children at home, one of whom he had never seen. Knowing that his wife would be sick, he had obtained a furlough, and made arrangements to go home, but the recent battles coming on, he would not leave his post. Through many a hard-fought action God had kept him unharmed; he had never been touched by a solitary weapon, until he began to feel that there was not the slightest danger to him, amid the harvest of death. He wrote that he should be at home as soon as this fight was over; but it was not to be so, and he soon came into the hospital severely wounded. As he lay upon his bed of suffering, the image of his dear wife in her sickness and sorrow, and then with her new-born infant, seemed constantly before him. “I intended to be there,” he would say dreamily; “I made all my arrangements to be there ; I know she wants me; she wrote to me to come to her; oh, I wish I was there, but now I can't go, but I hope I did right; I hope it is all right.” A letter from her, speaking of herself and infant as doing well relieved his anxiety, and he tried to bear the disappointment with patience, still hoping soon to be at home. God, however, had ordered it otherwise. The word had gone forth, “He shall not return to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.” Gangrene appeared, and it was melancholy to see his strength giving way, his hopes fading, and death coming steadily on. He was a professor of religion, and Mr. ––– says he was always ready to hear the word of God, and, though anxious to live, yet he put himself into the Lord's hand, with humble faith and hope, such as may give his friends assurance that death was gain to him.

The war news seems encouraging. Many persons are very despondent, but I do not feel so — perhaps I do not understand the military signs. Our men below Richmond have certainly had many successes of late. Sheridan, instead of capturing Lynchburg, as he promised, is retreating down the Valley. In the South, the army of Tennessee is in Sherman's rear, and Forrest still carries every thing before him. General Price seems to be doing well in Missouri; Arkansas and Texas seem to be all right. Kentucky, too, (poor Kentucky !) seems more hopeful. Then why should we despond? Maryland, alas for Maryland! the tyrant's heel appears too heavy for her, and we grievously fear that the prospect of her union with the South is rapidly passing away. If we must give her up, it will not be without sorrow and mortification. We shall mournfully bewail her dishonour and shame. If her noble sons who have come to the South must return, they will take with them our gratitude and admiration for their gallant bearing in many a hard-fought battle. Readily will we receive those who choose to remain among us; and in holy ground take care of her honoured dead, who so freely gave their lives for Southern rights. The Potomac may seem to some the natural boundary between North and South; but it is hard to make up one's mind yet to the entire surrender of our sister State; and if we could, gladly would we hope for Maryland, even as we hope for the Southern Confederacy herself.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 314-6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 24, 1862

Gen. Lee's plan works like a charm! Although I have daily orders from Mr. Randolph to send persons beyond our lines, yet the precautions of Lee most effectually prevent any spies from knowing anything about his army. Even the Adjutant-General, S. Cooper, don't know how many regiments are ordered into Virginia, or where they are stationed. Officers returning from furlough, cannot ascertain in the Adjutant-General's office where their regiments are! They are referred to me for passports to Gen. Lee's headquarters. No man with a passport from Gen. Winder, or from his Provost Marshal, can pass the pickets of Gen. Lee's army. This is the harbinger of success, and I predict a career of glory for Lee, and for our country! There are some vague rumors about the approach of Stonewall Jackson's army; but no one knows anything about it, and but few believe it. Recent Northern papers say he is approaching Winchester, and I see they are intrenching in the valley to guard against his terrible blows. This is capital! And our people are beginning to fear there will be no more fighting around Richmond until McClellan digs his way to it. The moment fighting ceases, our people have fits of gloom and despondency; but when they snuff battle in the breeze, they are animated with confidence. They regard victory as a matter of course; and are only indignant at our long series of recent reverses, when they reflect that our armies have so seldom been led against the embattled hosts of the enemy.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 135

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 22, 1862

There is lightning in the Northwest, and the deep thunder of avenging guns is heard at Washington! Gen. Jackson, sent thither by Gen. Lee, is sweeping everything before him, defeating Shields, Banks, Fremont, and one or two other Yankee major-generals, with his little corps d’armée! And his coadjutor, Ewell, is worthy of his companionship. He has swept them out of the valley, scattering their hosts like quails before the fowler! They fly in every direction; and the powers at Washington are trembling for the safety of their own capital. Glorious Jackson! and he gives, as is justly due, the glory to God.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 128

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 25, 1863

The enemy repulsed at Vicksburg, though it is still in a state of siege. General Johnston is there, and we hope that the best means will be used to save that heroic little city; and we pray that God may bless the means used.

A friend called this morning, and told us of the fall of another of those dear youths, over whose boyish sojourn with us memory loves to linger. Kennedy Groghan, of Baltimore, who, in the very beginning of the war, came over to help us, fell in a skirmish in the Valley, a short time ago. The only account given us is, that the men were forced to retreat hastily, and were only able to place his loved body under the spreading branches of a tree. Oh! I trust that some kindly hand has put him beneath God's own earth, free from the din of war, from the strife of man, and from the curse of sin forever. I remember so well when, during our stay in Winchester, the first summer of the war, while General Johnston's army was stationed near there, how he, and so many others, would come in to see us, with their yet unfaded suits of gray — already sunburnt and soldier-like, but bright and cheerful. Alas! alas! how many now fill the graves of heroes — their young lives crushed out by the unscrupulous hand of an invading foe!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 216-7

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Monday, May 18, 1863

This morning we had the gratification of a short visit from General Lee. He called and breakfasted with us, while the other passengers in the cars breakfasted at the hotel. We were very glad to see that great and good man look so well and so cheerful. His beard is very long, and painfully gray, which makes him appear much older than he really is. One of the ladies at table, with whom he is closely connected, rallied him on allowing his beard to grow, saying, “Cousin R., it makes you look too venerable for your years.” He was amused, and pleaded as his excuse the inconvenience of shaving in camp. “Well,” she replied, “if I were in Cousin Mary's place (Mrs. L’s) I would allow it to remain now, but I would take it off as soon as the war is over.” He answered, while a shade passed over his bright countenance, “When the war is over, my dear L., she may take my beard off, and my head with it, if she chooses.” This he said as the whistle summoned him to his seat in the cars, not meaning to depress us, or imagining for an instant that we would think of it again; but it proved to us that he knew that the end was not yet, and disappointed us, for after every great victory we cannot help hoping that the Federal Government may be tired of war and bloodshed, rapine and murder, and withdraw its myriads to more innocent pursuits.

Yesterday evening we were agreeably surprised by a call from W. B. C., just recovered from his dreadful wound, received at Fredericksburg last winter. He is an infantry captain of the Stonewall Brigade, and is just returning to his company. Alas! alas! his great Captain has passed away during his absence, which makes his return very sad. He thinks that General Ewell is the man of all others to put in his place, though no man can fill it. General Ewell, he says, is one of General Jackson's most enthusiastic admirers, believing him to have been almost an inspired man. General E. relates an incident of him, when on their victorious march through the Valley last summer, which is beautifully characteristic of General J. One night, when it was evident that there must be a battle next day, he (General E.) went to General Jackson for his plans. General J. replied that he would give them to him next morning, as they had not yet been formed. General E. felt uneasy and restless, and could not sleep. About midnight he arose, and, passing through the sleeping multitudes, he reached General Jackson's tent, and was about to raise the curtain to enter it, when his attention was arrested by the voice of prayer. General Jackson was praying fervently for guidance through the coming day. General E. remarked to a friend that he had never before heard a prayer so devout and beautiful; he then, for the first time, felt the desire to be a Christian. He retired to his tent quietly, without disturbing General J., feeling assured that all would be well. The next morning a fight came off, replete with victory. General Ewell was subsequently wounded at the second battle of Manassas, and it is said that he has since become a Christian. God grant that it may be so!

I have been in Richmond for two days past, nursing the wounded of our little hospital. Some of them are very severely injured, yet they are the most cheerful invalids I ever saw. It is remarked in all the hospitals that the cheerfulness of the wounded in proportion to their suffering is much greater than that of the sick. Under my care, yesterday, was one poor fellow, with a ball embedded in his neck; another with an amputated leg; one with a hole in his breast, through which a bullet had passed; another with a shattered arm; and others with slighter wounds; yet all showed indomitable spirit; evinced a readiness to be amused or interested in every thing around them; asked that the morning papers might be read to them, and gloried in their late victory; and expressed an anxiety to get well, that they may have another “chance at them fellows.” The Yankees are said to have landed at West Point, and are thence sending out raiding parties over the country. Colonel Davis, who led the party here on the third, has been severely wounded by a scouting party, sent out by General Wise towards Tunstall's Station. It is said he has lost his leg. So may it be!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 214-6

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, July 12, 1862

Camp Near Warrenton,

July 12, 1862.

Last Sunday our division broke camp, and after a tedious day's march, accomplished only about five miles, the whole day being used up getting the wagon train across the Shenandoah. The weather was fearfully hot, equal to the famous eighth, last July. When we formed line before going into camp, many men fell fainting in the ranks.

Monday, we made an early start, and crossed the Blue Ridge through Chester Gap. The scenery was beautiful, but the weather was fearful; we camped for the night in a fine wood near the village of Flint Hill. Next morning we went on, five miles farther, to near Amesville. We stayed there until yesterday, when we marched to this camp, two miles west of Warrenton. All along our route, the men have almost subsisted on cherries and blackberries, both growing in the greatest profusion here; the men would fill their quart dippers in less than ten minutes.

We have got into a new country in appearance; the mountains have entirely disappeared and given place to splendid, great rolling hills and valleys, with beautiful woods scattered over them. The views that you get in this State are certainly wonderful in their extent. From the top of a comparatively slight elevation you can see for a distance of twenty miles all about you. I think that there is to be a large army concentrated here, and that, then, we are to move “On to Richmond,” by the present indications; there is already considerable force here and it is increasing.

I rode into Warrenton yesterday with Bob Shaw and Dr. Stone; we found the place a great improvement on most southern towns. There are some very pretty houses and well kept lawns and gardens in the vicinity. We took tea at the “Warren Green Hotel,” regaling ourselves on iced milk and corn-bread, finishing the evening by smoking our cigars on the piazza. Just as we were coming away, Charley Horton arrived with his General; it was a great mutual surprise to us and a very pleasant one. We have received orders to-day to turn in all tents except a limited number for the officers, to send away all trunks, each officer to keep only a small valise and roll of blankets. Regiments, etc., are also to keep constantly on hand ten days' rations, so you see we are all ready for a long march; don't care how soon it comes if it carries us towards Richmond! I am acting Adjutant for the present, but shall not be appointed, as Colonel Andrews says the time will be too short before I get my promotion, to make it worth while.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 70-2

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, April 28, 1862

April 28, 1862.

Yesterday, having just completed the usual Sunday inspection, we received an order in hot haste to get ready at once with one day's rations to make a reconnoissance. Our regiment, the Twenty-seventh Indiana, and eight hundred of the Vermont cavalry, formed the party. We went out on the Gordonsville road about nine or ten miles and drove in the rebel pickets, forcing them to display near two thousand cavalry and four regiments of infantry; this showed pretty plainly their position, and our object was accomplished. Jackson has apparently been reinforced by about five thousand troops, and is now in an entrenched position just the other side of the south fork of the Shenandoah, with a bridge between us and them, which has been stuffed full of combustibles ready to burn on our approach. We took two of Ashby's cavalry prisoners, and one of our cavalry was killed.

After a hard twenty-mile walk, we got back to camp about eight P. M. Our division (General Williams's) marched to this place last Thursday, eighteen miles from Newmarket. We are now distant from Staunton twenty-five miles, and from Gordonville sixty-five. The enemy have saved us the trouble of going to the former place by turning off on the Gordonville road. I suppose by this time some of General Fremont's force must be in Staunton.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 55

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, April 21, 1862

Camp “Misery,” Two Miles South

Of Newmarket, April 21, 1862.

The name of our camp did not originate at headquarters, but it is the most appropriate one I can think of for it. The regiment has been here for three days without tents, on a bare field, with no other shelter than what the men could rig up out of rails and straw. The rain has been pouring down in torrents most of the time, making the whole surface of the ground a perfect mire. We are lying around, like pigs, in straw, with wet blankets, wet feet, wet everything, and a fair prospect of nothing for dinner. We have had some pretty tough times lately, but this knocks everything else higher than a kite! I think even Mark Tapley would get credit for being jolly here.

Last Tuesday our company went on picket. I was stationed just at night at a barn on the extreme outpost on the edge of Stony Creek. The following morning I went out, taking Hogan with me, to make a little reconnoissance of the enemy's pickets. It was foggy, and I couldn't see more than a hundred yards. All of a sudden the sun came out and the mist disappeared. I had hardly brought my field glass to my eyes, when pst — pst — pst — three bullets came past me. One cut a sprig off a pine tree over my head; another struck a rail of the fence I was sitting on; the other went into the ground. You may have seen the Ravels execute some pretty lively movements, but the one that Hogan and I made to get behind the fence beat them all.

As soon as we were under cover we looked for our enemies. None could be seen, but Hogan shifted his position, exposing himself a little and drawing their fire again. This time I saw the smoke come from behind a fence about two hundred and fifty yards off. 1 saw at once that we could not touch them. The nearest cover from where we were was about one hundred feet away; that place had got to be reached in order to get back to my post: I waited some time before I could make up my mind to exposing my valuable life, but I got across safely in this way: I put my cap on the point of my sword and raised it over the fence; their bullets struck in the rails all around it. Hogan fired a shot where the smoke came from, and then we ran for it! I tell you, I never felt more comfortable than when I got two thicknesses of a barn between me and the other side of the river. In the barn there was a little window; one of the men was taking aim to fire, when a ball struck his hand, inflicting a slight wound and tearing up his sleeve for six inches. Four other bullets struck the barn, going in one side and out the other. After that, I kept the men entirely out of sight, and no more harm was done. To give you an idea of how well they can fire, one of our sergeants put a board in sight, which they took for a man's head, and they put three bullets through it.

We returned to camp towards night. Reveillé sounded the next morning at two-thirty. At four A. M., we started, and marched all day over the most confounded roads, constantly fording the streams, the bridges being burnt. Our movement was off on the flank; Shields's division moved straight down the pike. At one time we were within two hours of Jackson's army, but they got away. After twenty-two miles of the hardest marching we've ever had, over mud roads, we got into bivouac about nine P. M. I had nothing but my overcoat, but I never slept sounder than I did that night on the leaves. I don't know whether I ever told you that I had been appointed ordnance officer of this regiment; such is the fact. Early Friday morning I started out to look up my three ammunition wagons. I found my armorer, who told me they were stuck fast about seven miles back on the road. Colonel Andrews, on hearing this, ordered me to take a guard and go back to them. This was pleasant, but no help for it. It took us till Saturday night to get those wagons up to this present camp, which is between Newmarket and Sparta.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 52-5

Major-General John Sedgwick to John A. Andrew, December 5, 1862

Washington, D. C, December 5, 1862.

To his Excellency,

John A. Andrew,

Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,

Governor:

In compliance with your circular of the 5th ultimo, I have the honour to submit a brief report of the operations and actions of such Massachusetts regiments as have been under my command. On the 25th of February, 1862, I assumed command of the division previously commanded by Brigadier-General Stone, at that time doing important guard duty on the upper Potomac. The 15th, 19th, and 20th Massachusetts regiments formed a part of the division, and had for the four previous months performed active and arduous duty in guarding the river. The 15th and 20th were engaged in the battle of Ball's Bluff, and are reported to have behaved with great gallantry. On the 27th of February the division was ordered to Harper's Ferry to operate with General Banks in driving the enemy out of the Shenandoah Valley. This having been successfully accomplished without a general engagement, the division was ordered to Washington to form part of the Army of the Potomac, there embarking for the Peninsula.

We landed at Hampton, Virginia, March 30, 1862, and on the 5th of April found the enemy strongly entrenched around Yorktown. The siege lasted thirty days, and although no brilliant action was fought, skirmishing and picket warfare were carried on the whole time.

After the evacuation of Yorktown, the division formed a part of the expedition, under General Franklin, ordered up the York River to seize the railroads at West Point. The enemy having attempted to interrupt the landing, the 19th and 20th were engaged in the brilliant skirmish in which the enemy was repulsed. On the 31st of May the 15th and the 20th were engaged in the great battle of Fair Oaks. The 15th, as a part of Gorman's brigade, made a brilliant bayonet charge, which routed and drove the enemy from that portion of the field, and there we bivouacked. The next morning the enemy renewed the attack, but principally on Richardson's division, and these regiments were but partially engaged. During this time the 19th was performing important duty in guarding the bridge across the Chickahominy.

From this time until the movement on James River no action was fought, but the troops were constantly engaged in reconnoissances, skirmishes, picket duty, and labour of the most arduous kind. On the 30th of June we commenced the march upon James River. This was a scene of battles and combats the whole distance. In the morning the 20th, temporarily attached to Burns's brigade, was warmly engaged at Allen's Farm with a superior force, and behaved most handsomely. In the evening the battle at Savage's Station was fought, in which the 15th, 19th, and 20th were engaged, repulsing the enemy at every point. After a long night's march across White Oak Swamp, the next day found the same regiments at Glendale (Nelson's Farm), engaged with the enemy at close quarters for three hours, routing and driving them from the field. Another day's march, and daylight found them ready for action at Malvern Hill. After this day's hard fight another night's march brought them to Harrison's Landing.

During all this — marching by night, fighting by day, without rest, and short of rations — no troops ever behaved better. On the 3rd of August these regiments formed part of the force under General Hooker which retook and held Malvern Hill. On the 16th of August the evacuation of the Peninsula was commenced. The division marched via Yorktown to Newport News, embarked for Alexandria, landed the 29th, marched to Chain Bridge, returned to Alexandria, and then marched to the relief of General Pope's army.

After its retreat on Washington, the division formed a part of the army under General McClellan ordered in pursuit of Lee, then invading Maryland. On the 15th of September the enemy was found strongly posted in the passes of South Mountain, from which he was driven with great loss. On the 17th, near Sharpsburg, was fought the battle of Antietam, where these regiments (now greatly reduced in numbers) were in the hottest of the fight, as their list of killed and wounded testifies. As I was wounded early in the action, I had no opportunity of seeing them, and have not seen the reports of the Brigadiers, but have no reason to believe their conduct different from that on all other occasions. Since that the division marched to Harper's Ferry, Warrenton, and are now in front of Fredericksburg.

I have already forwarded through the military channels a list of officers and soldiers who were distinguished for gallantry and good conduct, recommending them for promotion; and I would again commend to your Excellency Colonel Lee of the 20th, Colonel Hinks, 19th, Lieutenant-Colonel Kimball, 15th, and Lieutenant-Colonel Palfrey of the 20th. Great credit is due these officers for the splendid condition in which their regiments were prepared for the field. The 15th and 19th are in my opinion fully equal to any in the service; the 20th was badly cut up at Ball's Bluff, many officers wounded and taken prisoners, and the regiment was thereby deprived of their services.

I have on two occasions strongly recommended the appointment of Colonel Hinks as Brigadier. He disciplined and brought into the field one of the finest regiments, and has been twice wounded while gallantly leading it in battle. I again urge the appointment and respectfully ask your Excellency's favourable endorsement.

I trust your Excellency will not think me presumptuous in offering you a suggestion in regard to promotions and appointments. The system, which seems to have been adopted and carried out to a limited extent, of promoting officers who by their gallantry and good conduct have merited it, is an excellent one, and I would not confine their promotion to their own regiments. I think it adds to an officer's usefulness to place him in a regiment in which he has no acquaintances, and this holds good to a greater extent in promotions from the ranks.

I would also call your attention to the importance of filling up the old regiments. Recruits sent to these learn their duties and become acquainted with the details of camp life much sooner, while they impart new life and vigour to the old regiments.

I have the honour to be, very respectfully,

Your Excellency's obedient servant,

John Sedgwick,

Major-General Volunteers

SOURCES: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 82-7

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Tuesday. September 16, 1862

The papers to-day give no account of our army in Maryland. General Loring has been successful in the Kanawha Valley, in driving the enemy, taking prisoners, and 5,000 stand of arms, etc. Our success in the West still continues. Kentucky is represented to be in a flame of excitement. General Kirby Smith asks for 20,000 stand of arms to be sent him to arm Kentuckians, who are rushing to his standard. Cincinnati preparing for defence, etc.

Yesterday I was surprised and delighted to see my nephew, W. B. C. After passing through the bloody fight at Manassas, he found he could not march into Maryland, in consequence of the soreness of his wound received last spring at Kernstown. He gives a graphic account of our army's trials, tribulations, and successes at Manassas. Our dear ones all passed safely through the fights.

Winchester once more disenthralled. My dear S. B. S. about to return to her home there — but in what state will she find it? When Jackson drove Banks down the Valley, Dr. S., in passing through Winchester, stepped into the open door of his house; found it had been Banks's headquarters; the floors covered with papers torn up in haste; the remnant of the General's breakfast on the dining-room table, and other unmistakable signs of a recent and very hurried departure.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 154-5

Diary of Mary Brockenbrough Newton: June 13, 1862

Good news at last. Four letters were received last night by way of Ashland. We learn that we certainly whipped the Yankees on the 31st of May and 1st of June, and that Jackson has had a most glorious campaign in the Valley. We are grieved to hear that the gallant Ashby has been killed, and trust that it is a mere rumour, and that God has spared his valuable life. My sons were not in the late fight, but are stationed at Strawberry Hill, the home of my childhood. Every thing is being stolen on these two places and elsewhere. A lieutenant on General Porter's staff rode up this evening to ask M. to sell him butter, fowls, eggs, etc. She told him that her poultry-yard had been robbed the night before by some of his men. He professed great horror, but had not gone fifty yards when we heard the report of a pistol, and this wonderfully proper lieutenant of a moment before had shot the hog of an old negro woman who lives here.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 142

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: June 9, 1862 - Night

General Jackson is performing prodigies of valor in the Valley; he has met the forces of Fremont and Shields, and whipped them in detail. They fought at Cross Keys and Port Republic yesterday and to-day. I must preserve his last dispatch, it is so characteristic:

Through God's blessing, the enemy, near Port Republic, was this day routed, with the loss of six pieces of artillery.

T. J. Jackson,

Major-General Commanding.

And now we are awaiting the casualties from the Valley. This feeling of personal anxiety keeps us humble amid the flush of victory. What news may not each mail bring us, of those as dear as our heart's blood? Each telegram that is brought into the hospital makes me blind with apprehension, until it passes me, and other countenances denote the same anxiety; but we dare not say a word which may unnerve the patients; they are rejoicing amid their pain and anguish over our victories. Poor fellows! dearly have they paid for them, with the loss of limb, and other wounds more painful still. They want to be cured that they may be on the field again. “Thank God,” said a man, with his leg amputated, “that it was not my right arm, for then I could never have fought again; as soon as this stump is well I shall join Stuart's cavalry; I can ride with a wooden leg as well as a real one.”

The “Young Napoleon” does not seem to be dispirited by his late reverses. The New York Herald acknowledges the defeat of the 31st, but says they recovered their loss next day; but the whole tone of that and other Northern papers proves that they know that their defeat was complete, though they will not acknowledge it. They are marshalling their forces for another “On to Richmond.” O God, to Thee, to Thee alone, do we look for deliverance. Thou, who canst do all things, have mercy upon us and help us!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 120-1

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: June 7, 1862

Sad news from the Valley. The brave, gallant, dashing General Ashby has fallen! He was killed yesterday, in a vigorous attack made by the enemy on our rear-guard, at a point between Harrisonburg and Port Republic. The whole country will be shocked by the calamity, for it had a high appreciation of his noble character and achievements. General Jackson valued him very highly, as did both men and officers. His daring was wonderful, and wonderfully did he succeed in his dashing and heroic efforts. “His sagacity in penetrating into the designs of the enemy seemed almost intuitive.”*  It is so hard, in our weakness, to give up such men!

_______________

* From General Jackson's telegram announcing the death of General Ashby.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 119-20