Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, Friday, September 30, 1864

At 8.30 in the morning, the General, with the combative Humphreys and all the Staff, rode towards the left, stopping of course at the irresistible Hancock's. At noon we got to Globe Tavern, which is some six miles from our old Headquarters. Crawford's division still held the works on the Weldon road, while Warren, with two divisions, followed by Parke, with two divisions of the 9th Corps, had moved out to the west, and already we could hear the Rebel artillery shelling our advance.  . . . At the Poplar Grove Church the Rebels began to throw shells, with a good deal of accuracy, into the road; for they had the range, though they could not see for the woods. Near here was a swampy run, where our skirmishers drove those of the enemy across, and the division then got over and kept ahead. General Meade, meantime, staid at the Globe Tavern, waiting for the movement to develop. He sent out an aide or two, to tell Warren he was there and to bring news of the progress. Warren sent in word that; having got across the run, he would soon see what could be done. At 12.45 we could hear pretty brisk musketry, which continued a short time and then ceased. Some time after, an aide came in from General Warren, with news that Griffin had captured a strong line and a redoubt, in handsome style. Not long after, the General rode to the front, where we arrived at 2.45. Most of the road was through a pleasant wood, chiefly oak. Passing the “church” (a little, old, wooden building that might seat forty persons), we turned to the right and came out on a large, open farm. On a roll of land, just ahead, was the Peeble house (pretty well riddled with bullets), and hence you looked over more open land ending in a fringe of wood. Perhaps 400 yards in front was the captured line and the redoubt: the former very strongly and handsomely made; the latter not quite finished inside, wanting still the platforms for the guns; otherwise it was done, with a ditch outside and an abattis. So far as I can learn, the occupying force was about equal to the attacking; but they did not make as good a fight as usual. The two assaulting brigades advanced very handsomely and rushed over the works. The enemy began at once to draw off their cannon, but the horses of one piece were shot, and it fell into our hands. The loss was very small in the assault, not over 100, which shows how much safer it is to run boldly on: the enemy get excited and fire high. I went into the redoubt. A Rebel artillery-man lay dead on the parapet, killed so instantly, by a shot through the head, that the expression of his face was unchanged. In front they were burying two or three of our men and a corporal was marking their names on a headboard, copying from letters found in their pockets. Parke was now ordered to form on the left of Warren (Ayres being on the right of Griffin), and it was understood that the whole line would then advance from its present position, near the Pegram house, and see if it were practicable to carry the second line, which lay perhaps three fourths of a mile beyond. As I understand it, General Meade's orders were not properly carried out; for Griffin did not form, so as to make an extension of Parke's line. At 5.30 we were sitting in the Peeble house, waiting for the development of the attack, when we heard very heavy musketry beyond the narrow belt of the woods that separated us from the Pegram farm; there was cheering, too, and then more musketry, and naturally we supposed that Parke was assaulting. But presently there came from the woods a considerable number of stragglers, making their way to the rear; then came even a piece of a regiment, with its colors, and this halted inside the captured works. The musketry now drew plainly nearer, and things began to look ticklish. I watched anxiously a brigade of the 5th Corps that stood massed in the edge of the wood, beyond the redoubt. Suddenly it filed to the left, at a double-quick, the brigade colors trotting gaily at the head, then formed line and stood still. In another moment the men leveled their muskets, fired a heavy volley and charged into the wood. The musketry receded again; a battery went forward and added itself to the general crash, which was kept up till darkness had well set in; while we sat and watched and listened, in comparative safety, just beside the captured redoubt. Potter had been taken in the flank by the Rebels charging, and had been driven back in confusion. Griffin had advanced and restored the retired line. And who rides hither so placidly? It is General Humphreys: he has stolen off and, bless his old soul, has been having a real nice time, right in the line of battle! “A pretty little fight,” said he gingerly, “a pretty little fight. He! he! he!” Poor Potter! it wasn't his fault. Our extreme advance was driven back, but the day was a great success, with important strategic bearing.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 234-7

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 23, 1864

June 23, 1864

All were up at an early hour and ready for an advance, which had been ordered. On the right, towards the Gregory house, we were already against them, and I suppose my friend there, Major Crow, had seen us under more hostile circumstances.  . . . By 4.30 General Meade started for General Wright's Headquarters at the Williams house, where he ordered me to stay, when he left at seven.  . . . I rode about with General Wright, who visited his line, which was not straight or facing properly. That's a chronic trouble in lines in the woods. Indeed there are several chronic troubles. The divisions have lost connection; they cannot cover the ground designated, their wing is in the air, their skirmish line has lost its direction, etc., etc. Then General Meade gets mad with the delay. The commanders say they do as well as they can, etc. Well, Ricketts ran one way and Russell another; and then the 2d Corps — how did that run? and were the skirmishers so placed as to face ours? and what would General Birney do about it? How long was the line? could it advance in a given direction, and, if so, how? All of which is natural with a good many thousand men in position in a dense wood, which nobody knows much about. All this while the men went to sleep or made coffee; profoundly indifferent to the perplexities of their generals; that was what generals were paid for. When General Wright had looked a great deal at his line, and a great deal more at his pocket compass, he rode forth on the left to look at the pickets, who were taking life easy like other privates. They had put up sun-shades with shelter-tents and branches, and were taking the heat coolly. . . .

About this time a Vermont captain (bless his soul!) went and actually did something saucy and audacious. With eighty sharpshooters he pushed out boldly, drove in a lot of cavalry, and went a mile and a quarter to the railroad, which he held, and came back in person to report, bringing a piece of the telegraph wire.  . . . Some time in the morning, I don't exactly know when, the signal officers reported a large force, say two divisions, marching out from the town, along the railroad, whereof we heard more anon. At noon there still had been no advance, and General Wright went to General Birney to arrange one. There was General Meade, not much content with the whole affair. They all pow-wowed a while, and so we rode back again, through the dreary woods, through which fires had run. It was after two when we returned. Now then — at last — all together — skirmishers forward! And away they go, steadily. Oh, yes! but Rebs are not people who let you sit about all the day and do just as you like; remember that always, if nothing else. There are shots away out by the railroad — so faint that you can scarce hear them. In comes a warm sharpshooter: “They are advancing rapidly and have driven the working party from the railroad.” Here come the two divisions, therefore, or whatever they are. “Stop the advance,” orders General Wright. “General Wheaton, strengthen that skirmish line and tell them to hold on." The remainder of Wheaton's division is formed on the flank, and begins making a breastwork; more troops are sent for. The fire of the skirmishers now draws nearer and gets distinct; but, when the reinforcement arrives, they make a stout stand, and hold them.  . . . All the while the telegraph is going: “Don't let 'em dance round you, pitch into them!” suggests General Meade (not in those exact words). “Don't know about that — very easy to say — will see about it,” replies the cautious W.; etc., etc. Pretty soon the cavalry comes piling in across the Aiken oat-field; they don't hold too long, you may be certain. This exposes the flank of the picket line, which continues to shoot valiantly. In a little while more, a division officer of the day gallops in and says they have broken his skirmishers and are advancing in line of battle. But the Rebels did not try an approach through the open oat-field: bullets would be too thick there; so they pushed through the woods in our rear. I could hear them whooping and ki-yi-ing, in their peculiar way. I felt uncomfortable, I assure you. It was now towards sunset. Our position was right in the end of the loop, where we should get every bullet from two sides, in event of an attack. General Grant, of the Vermont Brigade, walked up and said, in his quiet way: “Do you propose to keep your Headquarters here?” “Why not?” says Ricketts. “Because, when the volleys begin, nothing can live here.” To which Ricketts replied, “Ah?” as if someone had remarked it was a charming evening, or the like. I felt very like addressing similar arguments to General Wright, but pride stood in the way, and I would have let a good many volleys come before I would have given my valuable advice. A column of attack was now formed by us, during which the enemy pushed in their skirmishers and the bullets began to slash among the trees most spitefully; for they were close to; whereat Wright (sensible man!) vouchsafed to move on one side some seventy yards, where we only got accidental shots. And what do you think? It was too dark now for us to attack, and the Rebs did not — and so, domino, after all my tremendous description! Worse than a newspaper isn't it? I was quite enraged to be so scared for no grand result.¹

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¹ “I look on June 22d and 23d as the two most discreditable days to this army that I ever saw! There was everywhere, high and low, feebleness, confusion, poor judgment. The only person who kept his plans and judgment clear was General Meade, himself. On this particular occasion Wright showed himself totally unfit to command a corps.” — Lyman's Journal.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 173-6

Diary of Private Charles H. Lynch: June 5, 1864

Late last night our company detailed for picket duty. Located at the ford, near the town. It was a fearful, dark, rainy night. Every man was on duty and on the alert all night. By order of General Hunter a large woolen mill was burned this morning. I noticed a number of women were crying as the mill burned. It had been used to make cloth for the South. Death and destruction follows in the path of war. This is a quiet Sunday morning in old Connecticut. Here a battle is about to begin. Came off picket, ordered to join the regiment. After a forced march, about six miles, overtook the regiment, taking our position in the line. Soon skirmish firing began and grew hot. Our boys driving the Rebs as we advanced. About 7 A. M. the enemy opened fire on our line with batteries well posted on high hills, distance about two miles, getting range on our colors. At the time we were advancing by division front, when the shells began to come lively. Our Colonel's voice rang out clear “By division, into line, right and left, half wheel, forward, double quick.” The command was quickly executed as the regiment advanced in line through the open lots, taking the extreme right of the line of battle. We could plainly see all that was taking place in the open country. The enemy's line of battle was formed in a wooded field at the top of the highest hills. We were forced to jump brooks, some quite wide, and climb over fences, all this time under fire. We could not return the fire because of our skirmish line in our front, between us and the enemy.

Reaching the foot of the hill on which the enemy was posted, we were ordered to crawl up it on our hands and knees. Reaching the brow we were ordered to rise, at the same time the enemy poured a deadly volley into our ranks. A number fell, and the stock of my gun was shot off. As we started on a charge for the enemy in the woods they broke and ran. As we poured a sharp fire into their ranks, they left their first line of earthworks and fell back to the second. We continued the charge on through the woods, coming out into an open lot. Our Colonel being mounted, saw the second line of earthworks in the edge of another wooded field, commanded a halt, which was done after a while. Then we were ordered to fall back and re-form in the edge of the woods and to wait for orders. My gun having been shot and no good, I picked up another one on the field. I was very sorry to lose the old musket. A number of our boys had fallen. The enemy was strongly posted on another hill across an open field which we must charge through in order to get at them.

Orders came for us to take their works. A charge was again ordered, but we were ordered to fall back and reform. Another attempt was made to capture the works. Owing to our heavy loss the Colonel ordered us to fall back. Our regiment was holding the extreme right of the line. In the second charge across the field a bullet pierced my tin coffee cup, hanging on my haversack, making, as the boys said, two close calls for me. After the second charge our Colonel called for a battery, posted it in a good position on our right, where it did great execution. The enemy attempted to take the battery but we drove them back. A third charge was ordered across the open field. We were again obliged to fall back. The enemy's fire was too hot for us and we were losing many good fellows. In the third charge the colors went to the ground, the corporal of the color-guard, who was carrying them, being shot down. I jumped and picked up the flag, waving it and holding it up.

Later, orders came to prepare for another charge on the enemy's earth works. A desperate effort must be made to capture those works. As a signal, a cheer would ring out from the left of the line, extending to the right, for the entire length of the line, to charge. It was quickly done and the battle was won.

The enemy threw down their arms and were prisoners. In the fourth and final charge, the Confederate commander, Major General Wm. E. Jones, was killed. He was known as Billy Jones. I saw the dead commander lying on the field, he having been shot through the forehead. I also saw the flag of truce when the Confederates came for the body. I spoke to the escort, they telling me who the dead General was.

The day had been a long, hard one. We were under fire from 7 A. M. to 5 P. M. Sorrow came to us over our loss, but we must have something to eat in order to keep up. I carried several canteens over to the Shenandoah River, filled them. On my return I stopped to see a young wounded Confederate. Bathed his wound on his foot with the water from my own canteen. He thanked me kindly as he lay on the ground, patiently waiting for his turn to be cared for. After having rations I picked up a few blankets, visited the field hospital, and covered our boys over with them, as the nights were cool. It was a sickening sight to me. No more desire to visit a field hospital after a battle. I made my way back to our company in the dark. Lay down on the battle field for the night, for rest and sleep. Dead and wounded around us.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 68-70

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, July 23, 1861

Harper's Ferry, Va., July 23, 1861.

Since my letter from Martinsburg, I have hardly had time to take a pen in my hand, we have been so busy.

We left Martinsburg at the time when we were ordered, and took up our position in the column and commenced our march towards “Bunker Hill,” where about six thousand of the rebels were encamped six or seven miles from Martinsburg. It was a sight I never shall forget, to see this great army, covering the roads for miles in each direction, with colors flying and bands playing in nearly every regiment; then, after marching about two hours, to hear cannon firing at the head of the column, telling us plainly that we had come up with some part of the enemy. The firing soon stopped, however, and we learned, in a short time, that the rebels were flying in confusion, and that we had killed two and taken several men and horses prisoners.

Before long, we came up to their camps, and it was a singular sight to see them all deserted while the fires were burning and everything in readiness for dinner. We marched on till near night, when our regiment camped in a beautiful grove on the so-called “Bunker Hill.” We lay down on the ground that night, as our wagons hadn't come up. However, we were undisturbed and got a good night's rest. The next day, the whole army was allowed to rest, which was needed very much; the only thing that troubled us officers was, that we could get nothing to speak of to eat; we fairly envied the soldiers as they ate their rations. The only way we got along was by begging some coffee and hard bread of the men. At night came the order to have everything ready to start at a moment's notice, and to see that every man was supplied with forty rounds of cartridges and caps. Soon after, Colonel Gordon sent for us to say that, in all probability, we were to move on and attack General Johnston and his army of about twenty-six thousand men, in a very few hours.

The men slept with their rifles In their hands, and we with our swords buckled on, but we were not roused until three o'clock, when “reveille” was sounded in the various camps and, in a short time, we were marching again; but, to our surprise and, I must say, disappointment, we found that we were making what is called a flank movement instead of an advance. Towards afternoon, our line was threatened by cavalry; our company was ordered out by Brigadier-General Abercrombie to act as skirmishers. The enemy, however, kept out of the way, and we soon returned to our position in column. About dark, we halted by the side of a wheat field, and the men were allowed to stack arms and rest, which they needed very much. Captain Curtis and I had just got fast asleep for the night on a pile of wheat, when I was aroused by the Sergeant-Major to be told that I must get ready to go on guard immediately; very disagreeable, of course, but no help for it, so I got up and reported myself for duty. The Colonel came around before long to caution me about being especially vigilant, as there was a strong chance of an attack. I don't know how I should have got through the night if Major Dwight had not, with his own hands, brought me out some hard-boiled eggs and bread and butter. I devoured them as if I had never eaten anything before. I managed, afterwards, to get some coffee, so I was all right.

The news of our defeat at Bull Run has evidently shaken our General. We are ordered to get ready to move at a moment's notice.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 7-9

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 18, 1864

Headquarters Army Of Potomac

Wednesday, May 18, 1864

I have no right to complain: I have less hardship, more ease, and less exposure than most officers, and, if I must be with the army in the field, I have as good a place as one can well expect. I did hope (though there was no proper ground for it) that we might have the great blessing of an overwhelming victory. Such things you read of in books, but they do not happen often, particularly with such armies to oppose as those of the Rebels. . . .

The great feature of this campaign is the extraordinary use made of earthworks. When we arrive on the ground, it takes of course a considerable time to put troops in position for attack, in a wooded country; then skirmishers must be thrown forward and an examination made for the point of attack, and to see if there be any impassable obstacles, such as streams or swamps. Meantime what does the enemy? Hastily forming a line of battle, they then collect rails from fences, stones, logs and all other materials, and pile them along the line; bayonets with a few picks and shovels, in the hands of men who work for their lives, soon suffice to cover this frame with earth and sods; and within one hour, there is a shelter against bullets, high enough to cover a man kneeling, and extending often for a mile or two. When our line advances, there is the line of the enemy, nothing showing but the bayonets, and the battle-flags stuck on the top of the work. It is a rule that, when the Rebels halt, the first day gives them a good rifle-pit; the second, a regular infantry parapet with artillery in position; and the third a parapet with an abattis in front and entrenched batteries behind. Sometimes they put this three days' work into the first twenty-four hours. Our men can, and do, do the same; but remember, our object is offense — to advance. You would be amazed to see how this country is intersected with field-works, extending for miles and miles in different directions and marking the different strategic lines taken up by the two armies, as they warily move about each other.

The newspapers would be comic in their comments, were not the whole thing so tragic. More absurd statements could not be. Lee is not retreating: he is a brave and skilful soldier and he will fight while he has a division or a day's rations left. These Rebels are not half-starved and ready to give up — a more sinewy, tawny, formidable-looking set of men could not be. In education they are certainly inferior to our native-born people; but they are usually very quick-witted within their own sphere of comprehension; and they know enough to handle weapons with terrible effect. Their great characteristic is their stoical manliness; they never beg, or whimper, or complain; but look you straight in the face, with as little animosity as if they had never heard a gun.

Now I will continue the history a little. But first I will remark that I had taken part in two great battles, and heard the bullets whistle both days, and yet I had scarcely seen a Rebel save killed, wounded, or prisoners! I remember how even line officers, who were at the battle of Chancellorsville, said: “Why, we never saw any Rebels where we were; only smoke and bushes, and lots of our men tumbling about”; and now I appreciate this most fully. The great art is to conceal men; for the moment they show, bang, bang, go a dozen cannon, the artillerists only too pleased to get a fair mark. Your typical “great white plain,” with long lines advancing and manoeuvring, led on by generals in cocked hats and by bands of music, exist not for us. Here it is, as I said: “Left face — prime — forward!” — and then wrang, wr-r-rang, for three or four hours, or for all day, and the poor, bleeding wounded streaming to the rear. That is a great battle in America.

Well! to our next day — Saturday, May 7th. At daylight it would be hard to say what opinion was most held in regard to the enemy, whether they would attack, or stand still; whether they were on our flanks, or trying to get in our rear, or simply in our front. However, it was not long before they were reported as fallen back — a good deal back from the left and right and somewhat from our centre on the pike. Reconnaissances were at once thrown out; and the General sent me to the front, on the pike, to learn how matters stood; where I found, on the most undoubted evidence, that we were throwing solid shot and shell at the rebels, and they were throwing solid shot and shells at us. . . .

There was heavy skirmishing, with some artillery, all that morning, until we determined that the enemy had swung back both wings; and shortened and straightened his line. There lay both armies, each behind its breastworks, panting and exhausted, and scowling at each other. At five this morning a novel sight was presented to the Potomac Army. A division of black troops, under General Ferrero, and belonging to the 9th Corps, marched up and massed in a hollow near by. As I looked at them, my soul was troubled and I would gladly have seen them marched back to Washington. Can we not fight our own battles, without calling on these humble hewers of wood and drawers of water, to be bayonetted by the unsparing Southerners? We do not dare trust them in the line of battle. Ah, you may make speeches at home, but here, where it is life or death, we dare not risk it. They have been put to guard the trains and have repulsed one or two little cavalry attacks in a creditable manner; but God help them if the grey-backed infantry attack them! . . .

As General Grant sat under a pine tree, stoically smoking his briarwood pipe, I heard him say: “To-night Lee will be retreating south.”¹ Ah! General, Robert Lee is not Pemberton; he will retreat south, but only far enough to get across your path, and then he will retreat no more, if he can help it. In fact, orders were out for the whole army to move at dark on Spotsylvania Court House. But Lee knew it all: he could see the waggons moving, and had scouts besides. As night fell, his troops left their works and were crowding down the Parker's Store road, towards Spotsylvania — each moment worth untold gold to them! Grant had no longer a Pemberton! “His best friend,” as he calls him. And we marched also. . . .

We [Headquarters] did not start till nearly nine o'clock.  . . . It was a sultry night — no rain for many days; the horses' hoofs raised intolerable clouds of dust, which, in this sandy region, is fine almost like flour. I never saw — nobody could well see — a more striking spectacle than that road as we passed slowly along. All the way was a continuous low breastwork behind which lay crowded the sleeping infantry. They were so close as almost to be on top of each other; every man with his loaded musket in his hand, or lying at his side. A few yards outside stood a line of sentries, their muskets cocked, and others sat on top of the breastwork. Few of the officers allowed themselves any rest, but paced up and down, in their great coats and slouched hats, looking sharply after the sentries. That looked like war, I do assure you. By the roadside was Gibbon, and a tower of strength he is, cool as a steel knife, always, and unmoved by anything and everything. There we lay down, literally in the dust, after a drink of iced water (for all the farms have ice-houses in this region, which our men are not slow to hunt out), and then we waited for General Meade, who had waited behind to speak with Hancock. By and by he came, with more clouds of dust, and then on again, past more sleeping men, and batteries in position, losing the road, finding it again, tearing our clothes among trees and bushes, then coming to cavalry pickets and finally to Todd's Tavern, where General Gregg had his Headquarters, with his division of cavalry camped about there. . . . There was a porch in front with a dirt floor, and there I lay down, with my head on a timber, and got some sleep. On Sunday morning, May 8th, — it was not much like a Sabbath, — we were all staring sleepily about us, forlorn with dust and dirt. The road was full of the infantry, passing at a rapid rate; in light order they were, many without knapsacks, or coats: most had thrown away all baggage but a blanket and haversack. Then came batteries, then more infantry, all of the 5th Corps; the Second had not yet begun to pass.  An old nigger made us some coffee and hoe-cake — very acceptable. . . .

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¹ The day before, “Grant told Meade that Joe Johnston would have retreated after two such days' punishment. He recognized the difference of the Western Rebel fighting.” — Lyman's Journal, May 6.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 99-104