Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 25, 1863

[In the morning] we marched three miles further round towards the enemy's right, in the rear of some woods where the 91st New York deployed as skirmishers, and the First Louisiana fell into line as a reserve. The skirmishers had penetrated the woods but a short distance when they encountered the enemy's pickets and a sharp engagement was commenced, but the enemy soon gave way before advancing skirmishers. After pursuing them about half a mile, they obtained our range with three heavy guns from their works and we were obliged to fall back to their old encampment. We were not yet out of range, but the ground falling off in the opposite direction, his shot and shells flew harmlessly, hissing over our heads. After dark a serious catasttrophe happened on our left. The 31st Massachusetts stationed there mistook the 91st N. Y. on picket guard for the enemy, and fired into them. It cost the life of a captain of the 31st Massachusetts, but none of the 91st New York was injured.

The union line of investment was said to be seven miles long, from the river above Port Hudson to the river below. General Banks had most all the forces in the Department of the Gulf there; and were all stationed ready to invest the works preparatory to an assault. One in my position could not of course be expected to know much more than what was transacted directly under his own observation, so that those who desire a more extended view of the operations of the army during this siege must consult those who had better opportunities for observation than the writer of these pages.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 56-8

Major Wilder Dwight: April 4, 1862

Camp Near Edinburg, Virginia, April 4, 1862.

We make life musical these hot sunny days with the screeching whir of shells or the sharp buzz and sping of rifle-balls. But the enemy keep at a respectful distance, for the most part, and our own shameful mismanagement about supplies, or some large wisdom affecting other forces, keeps us quiet. Our tents came up yesterday, and we are now in camp again. This morning Colonel Andrews and I have been out “prospecting” round, as they say in this country.

The Rebel pickets are in plain sight, just beyond the river, but there is no evidence of any force there, and when we conclude to go on, on we shall go without difficulty. Our advance to this point was made by our regiment in fine style. The men skirmished over a distance of fifteen miles, and did their work well. Neither the musketry nor the artillery delayed or embarrassed our progress, which was as rapid as an ordinary day's march. The impetus and stimulant of pursuit spurred on the march, over a difficult and broken country. At the “Narrow Pass,” where the Shenandoah and a creek crossing the pike a little below almost come together, but are kept asunder by a piece of rock, over which the road passes with just the width of a carriage path, was the sharpest conflict. It was mainly an “artillery duel,” as the phrase is. Our skirmishers had learned, however, before this, that, to their deployed line, the shell, though assailing the ear with terror, were sound and fury signifying nothing. Their effect was aimed at the reserves or our artillery, and it really had an unpleasant sound as it whizzed or spanged near us. It is high time that being “under fire” should be among our “has beens.” I am quite satisfied that the order and discipline of the regiment will tell there as it has everywhere else, and our recent experience is a proof of it. I suppose you must have read General Shields's “private” letter about the battle at Winchester. A more barefaced series of Irish romances I never read. The man actually has the effrontery to connect his fortunate blunders into a chain of shrewd stratagems, and with after-event wisdom to glorify himself. The idea of a man in bed, with a broken arm, four miles from the field, not knowing of the enemy's force or positions till four, P. M., directing and guiding a battle that commenced at once and closed in two hours!! Pshaw! It is like Sir Lucius O'Trigger or Mickey Free.

“An attack having many of the elements of a surprise,” says General Banks in his order, praising the courage and constancy of the soldiers.

“Och, sure,” says our Irish general, turning with a shrewd wink to the public; “but it was a sthratagim o' me own. It's the clivir bye that I am, be dad! Troth, but I decaved 'em. And I, too, with only twelve thousand men to me back, and only a brigadier. It's I should be major-general at laste, then ye would see. Gineral Banks, indade! Och, he's a foine man intirely, and thrates me well. But it's I that inwents the sthratagims!”

Possibly there will be truth in history hereafter; there is none in the present record.

I advise you to subscribe for or buy regularly the Congregationalist newspaper. It contains our Chaplain's letters, which I consider very clever and entertaining.

Is it not about father's birthday? At any rate, I may wish him a happy return next year, and may I be there to see.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 225-7

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: Saturday, March 8, 1862

Charlestown, Virginia, March 8, 1862, Saturday.

We are quite at home in Charlestown now. We went into camp on Wednesday. On Thursday I was detailed as brigade officer of the day.

That kept me in the saddle all day and until night. And now I have a story of a midnight march for you. It is midnight of Thursday night. It may have begun to be Friday morning. I am sleeping in my tent; my nose alone apprising me that it is bitter cold. The rattle of an orderly is heard galloping into the camp. Soon, again, my reviving wakefulness hears the voice of Major Perkins, General Banks's Chief of Staff, talking to the Colonel in the next tent.

At last I am called. “Get the regiment under arms at once, Major,” is the order, “and move down on the Berryville Pike.” Colonel Maulsby, who is at Kabletown, near the Shenandoah, with part of his regiment, is reported to have been attacked by Rebel cavalry, and “cut to pieces.” A force of cavalry, artillery, and two regiments of infantry, under Colonel Gordon, is to move at once, cautiously, to his relief. It is dark, and so cold. A discussion of the best route ensues. The regiment is turned out. I mount my horse and ride down to take command. In the darkness, it is difficult to see whether the regiment is facing one way or another. We move down upon the road. The Sixteenth Indiana follows us.

After proceeding a mile upon the pike, we turn off upon the “Dirt Road,” so called, toward Kabletown. Over rocks, through ruts and mire, half frozen, we make a slight headway. The artillery cannot proceed. It is too dark for even safe progress by infantry. “Halt! Build fires, and bivouac till daylight.” In fifteen minutes, from our position at the head of the line to the rear of it is a succession of bright fires, with groups of men gathered round them. Down the hill, and along the winding road is one blaze of camp-fires. The sight is a fine one. At last the morning star rises, like a flame, and the day follows her. We move again, with flankers and advance guard. As we had been sitting about the fire, waiting for day, a teamster of Colonel Maulsby's regiment, who was our guide, had told his story, how the cavalry charged upon them, cut them down, and “now,” said he, “Colonel Maulsby and all his officers are either dead or on their way to Richmond.”

As we drew near to Kabletown we saw pickets and outposts. A company of our regiment, deployed as skirmishers, went down on the field toward them. They withdrew; but suddenly it appears that they are part of Colonel Maulsby's Home Guard!

We advance again, when, at a turn in the road, the quiet camp of Colonel Maulsby appears in tranquil unconsciousness. The teamster opens his eyes in blank amazement. We halt. I go on and find Colonel Maulsby, delighted and surprised to see me.

Then come the explanations. A patrol of our cavalry lost its way, last night, came rapidly in on the camp by the wrong road. Maulsby's men fired, and so did the cavalry. The teamsters and a few of the outposts were panic-stricken, and their terror drew a picture which had little resemblance to the reality.

In the unlucky blunder, a horse and man were shot. The fugitive teamsters and outposts had led us a pretty chase. The joke and collapse were ridiculous. “Come in to breakfast,” said Colonel Maulsby. Ha! ha! ha! We are the heroes of Kabletown! On our return, I told General Banks that Kabletown should be inscribed on our banners!

We had a night march, and at ten o'clock in the morning we got back to our camp, after fourteen miles of marching over the worst road in the world. Well! what of it? There is no harm done, and perhaps this wretched cavalry has learnt a lesson.

I am writing in the Provost Marshal's office in the Charlestown jail. Colonel Andrews is still Provost Marshal. John Brown's cell, on the opposite side of the entry, is full of contrabands, fugitives within our lines, most of them to be sent to work at Harper's Ferry. Again I give you an odd retribution from the whirligig of events.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 203-5

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: July 9, 1864

Near Vining's Station, Ga.,

July 9, 1864.

The 2d of July, Saturday, I was Field Officer of the day, and had charge of the brigade picket. That night I received notice that the enemy were expected to leave very soon, and to watch them closely. I went out to the picket line, intending to stay there till morning; the night was pretty dark, and though only about three hundred yards of open field lay between our line and the rebels', yet nothing could be seen at that distance. Occasionally, shots were fired. At one in the morning I ordered three men and a corporal, whom I knew to be cool, brave men, to crawl up within a few yards of the nearest rebel picket post, if possible, and see if they were still there. In about an hour they returned, and reported that they had been near enough to hear the enemy talking, and had been fired upon twice; however, from general appearances, I made up my mind that they were going, and so reported.

At a little before daylight, the whole picket line was ordered forward. We advanced and got into the enemy's works without opposition, taking quite a number of prisoners. These works were the most formidable I have yet seen, — more of the nature of permanent fortifications than ordinary field works. The breastworks were of the strongest kind; then about ten yards in front was a chevaux de frise of a double row of pointed rails, and in front of this, an almost impenetrable abattis about one hundred yards wide.

I got into Marietta among the first with my skirmishers. I found it to be a beautiful place, though now almost deserted by its inhabitants. We drove out the rear guard of cavalry and artillery; among them could be seen numbers of citizens, men and women, running off like fools, leaving their property to be destroyed. For the first time in the South, I saw here pretty, neat country places, like those of Jamaica Plain and Brookline, with green lawns and hedges, and ornamental shrubs and trees about them; the houses appeared to be well furnished, but I suppose before this, the riff-raff of the army has rifled them of all worth taking. The Military Academy was a fine building, with gymnasium, etc., about it; it has been converted into a hospital. By sunrise the whole army was moving and on the heels of Johnston. We were right on him when he got into another of his lines of works. My skirmishers took about fifty prisoners; judging from that, the army must have taken at least one or two thousand.

July 4th, nothing occurred except a few changes of position. On the morning of the 5th, the enemy were gone from our front; we followed them up, and found them in their next line, about three miles off.

From one part of our line I had a distant view of Atlanta, the spires and towers rising in plain sight above the everlasting forests, which seemed to extend without a break, excepting an occasional corn-field, from Tullahoma to this place. We are now in front of the rebel position, their two flanks resting on the Chattahoochie, as do ours. We are told that we shall be here a few days, so I suppose there can be no obstacle to the enemy crossing the river whenever they want to do so. In my limited sphere of observation, I can give you for facts only what I see; the causes are all beyond me, as I know nothing of any movements beyond our own corps.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 173-5

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: June 24, 1864

Near Marietta, Ga., June 24, 1864.

My letter of the 19th brought our operations up to that date, and closed just as we were about to start on a fresh move. An advance of a few hundred yards brought us to their works, — a line so strong that if decently well held, I don't think it could be carried by assault by the best infantry in the world. We pushed on by the flank about a mile, then struck the enemy. All this movement was in a pouring rain (from the 1st to the 21st, inclusive, eighteen of the days were rainy), which finally came in such torrents that we were obliged to halt for two or three hours before making our dispositions.

The enemy was found entrenched on a ridge in our front. We began, just before night, to throw up a slight line of works to protect us from sharpshooters. I had the extreme right of the division. One of our men, First Sergeant Lord, of Company K, was mortally wounded while constructing breastworks; he was a splendid fellow, and had been recommended for a commission.

At five o'clock on the 20th, our division was relieved by Wood's Division, Fourth Corps. We moved gradually along the line to the right, connecting at night with the left of the Twenty-third Corps; this gained us a position pretty well on the enemy's left flank. On the 21st our line was slightly changed; on the 22d, our corps swung forward on its left in a north-easterly direction, the Twenty-third Corps following our movement, except that its right was well refused. The object of the movement was to take possession of the Powder Spring road, an important highway leading from Marietta. By stretching out our division into a single line, and connecting some parts of it with a line of skirmishers, its right just reached this road, and connected with the left of the Twenty-third Corps.

Before the troops were all in line, word was sent in from the skirmishers that the enemy was massing for an attack on our centre and left. We were just ready and nothing to spare, when Hood's Corps came out of the woods in our front (to my left, the length of about two regiments), and advanced, with their usual yell, in four lines. The division opened upon them with musketry and artillery, and before their first line had gotten within fifty yards, they were all broken and repulsed; their loss was very heavy, as they were in entirely open ground. I think three or four hundred will cover our division's loss. I had only two men wounded. Towards the close of the attack our situation was very critical; our ammunition was nearly exhausted, and not a single support was near. If there had only been one line behind us, we could have advanced at once and taken large numbers of prisoners. As soon as support did arrive, we advanced our skirmish line, but the enemy had gone, leaving their dead and hundreds of small-arms on the ground. I enclose you a fragment of the Fifty-third Virginia's flag, which was captured by the Fifth Connecticut.

I think our division has a right to brag a little on this tight, for if a single regiment had misbehaved, our line would have been broken. We are still in the same position as on the 21st, but there is a constant movement of troops to our right, threatening, you see, all their lines of communications and retreat. They still hold Kenesaw Mountain, which is due north from here. If they can only be forced to attack us, I think we can use them up completely. On the 21st, we took prisoners from three divisions, comprising the whole of Hood's Corps, which forms at least one quarter of their entire army.

I will give the Western army credit for their superior use of artillery. Wherever infantry goes, the batteries follow right in line, and in this way guns can be used continually at very short range, producing, of course, deadly effect. At Gettysburg, every colonel in our brigade besought the chief of artillery to put some guns in position in our line, but we were told that it couldn't be done, as the gunners would be picked off by sharpshooters. Here they have to take the same chances as an infantry man.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 171-3

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: August 23, 1864

Sun shining bright this morning. Skirmishing firing began at daylight. A number of the enemy's sharpshooters are up in high trees. They annoy us very much. Not safe to show one's head above the rifle pits. Saw General Sheridan pass quickly along the line, just as a shell dropped inside our intrenchments. No damage from it, as it exploded just beyond our line. We are on the watch, as the skirmishers are kept very busy.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 116

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: August 26, 1864

This morning finds us still in line at Halltown. A large force of skirmishers ordered outside the rifle pits. Must charge on the enemy, drive them back. The enemy in strong force, well posted. The skirmish was hot while it lasted. A number of our boys were wounded, carried inside our lines. Late in the day all became quiet. I am detailed for picket duty tonight. The boys are sleeping tonight with equipments on, ready for a sudden call to duty. We are often obliged to sleep with our guns in our arms.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 117

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, March 21, 1865

We advanced our line of battle a half mile, driving in the rebel skirmishers. Our loss was quite large in killed and wounded. All our artillery was brought into action and at times this afternoon the roar of cannon was fearful; but the rebels made no reply. Their loss in killed and wounded was large. There was some hard skirmishing on both sides. The Fifth and Twenty-fourth Corps under command of General Ord joined us this afternoon, thus reinforcing General Sherman's army. The army is in fine spirits for all that the men are poorly clothed and short of rations; but anything that General Sherman wants done now, they are willing to do. All know that when we gain this battle, we will have a short rest and a chance to draw some clothing, besides securing rations, for forage is scarce.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 263

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, March 4, 1865

We remained in bivouac all day. The Fifteenth Corps just came in on a road to our left and is to cross the Pedee ahead of the Seventeenth. The rebel skirmishers are just across the river and our skirmishers are keeping up a lively fusillade. Our engineers cannot lay the pontoons so long as the rebels are on the opposite bank of the river and the plan is to send a detachment above or below and cross the river after dark, and flank them. The foragers of the Seventeenth Corps were put in command of the colonel of the Ninth Illinois today and sent out on a raid to Society Hill, fifteen miles south of Cheraw on the railroad. They captured and destroyed two trains of cars loaded with ammunition and provisions, and then tore up the tracks for some miles and burned everything in town that would burn.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 258

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Monday, December 19, 1864

Weather pleasant. Reveille sounded at 1 a. m. and at 2 o'clock our brigade started for the rifle pits in front of Savannah. The first brigade was left at the bridge to guard the landing and to unload the boats. A little before daylight, unnoticed by the rebels, we passed over the same causeway that we went down on, and after marching about nine miles we formed a line of battle and sent out skirmishers. We soon drove the rebels across the swamp. They used grape and canister on us, but did little harm. At all the points where they have the roads blockaded, we have planted sixty-four-pounders, which keep their guns silent. There is some heavy cannonading and brisk skirmishing all along the lines.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 238-9

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Friday, December 9, 1864

It is cloudy with a strong northeast wind. We started early again this morning and after laying off ten miles went into bivouac. The Twenty-fifth New Jersey was on the skirmish line today, skirmishing commencing at 10 o'clock and continuing till dark. They lost four men killed and fifteen wounded. The First Division of our corps was in the front, and their quartermaster was killed by a ten-pound solid shot fired from a small cannon on a flat car which the rebels ran up and down the railroad. Our way today was through one continuous swamp, but we had a fine road, a high causeway which runs to Savannah. Our camp tonight lies within ten miles of Savannah.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 235-6

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, June 14, 1862

Camp Near Newtown,

June 14, 1862.

After about eighteen days' absence, here we are back again in Virginia, camped on the identical piece of ground where the fight raged the fiercest on Saturday night, the 24th of May. We crossed the Potomac the 10th, Tuesday, and bivouacked on this side of the river; the next morning we started early, six o'clock, and marched to Bunker Hill, twenty-two miles, camping there that night; the next day we marched twenty miles to this place. Our march through Winchester was with closed ranks, band playing “John Brown,” “Yankee Doodle” and “Dixie,” and our old Harper's Ferry flag flying, almost torn to pieces by the bullets of the Twenty-fourth and Twenty-fifth. People scowled as we marched through town.

As I said before, our camp is on the ground occupied by us in the first skirmish of Saturday night, and what is a still more striking coincidence, our mess tent is pitched on the exact piece of ground that our skirmishers rallied on when they poured in such a deadly fire to the rebel cavalry. The last man of ours that was killed here was buried close by, by a citizen. Yesterday afternoon, I rode back to Winchester and over the battle field. The effects of the artillery were still very apparent; stone walls and fences knocked to pieces, trees cut off, etc. Near where our right was, are three graves of our men who were killed there.

I had a very pleasant visit to the hospital where our wounded are; they are mostly looking very well. It does one good to see how they brighten up when one of their officers comes into the room where they are. I believe I spoke in one of my last letters about a private named Stevens, in our company, whom I saw wounded, first by a piece of shell, then by a bullet. The poor fellow is dead; I could not find out any particulars about him yesterday, only that he died in hospital June 4th. He was a very good boy, not more than eighteen years old; he was one of the recruits that joined us last fall; he always did his duty faithfully, and was a brave little fellow. It seems sadder about him because he had an older brother in the company, who always took care of him when anything was the matter. He has been very anxious since the fight, and now the first news he has received is of his death. It is a severe shock, but he bears it bravely, and says he feels happy that his brother never showed himself a coward.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 68-9

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, April 7, 1862

Camp Near Edinburgh, April 7, 1862.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1st Lieutenant Charles Fessenden Morse, March 2, 1862

Headquarters Co. B, 2d Mass. Reg't,

Charlestown, Va., March 2, 1862.

I wrote in my last that we had received marching orders and were liable to be off at any moment. We remained in a state of uncertainty till Wednesday afternoon, when we had the following order: “Reveille at four Thursday morning; march at five; take cars from Frederick at seven.”

These orders were complied with on a dark, cloudy, muddy morning, except that we had to wait till half-past seven on the railroad track before we started for Sandy Hook. Our whole brigade went on this train. After a hard ride of about four hours, we arrived at Sandy Hook. We disembarked as soon as possible, and formed line along the canal. Everything looked as natural as if we had only left the day before, except the lower part of Harper's Ferry, which, you know, Colonel Geary destroyed by burning. We marched down to the ferry, across which there had been a pontoon bridge constructed. We had to cross this in single file to avoid much jarring. It is a beautiful bridge, built in this manner: at intervals of every twenty feet are the pontoons, which look like common flat-bottomed scows, and are connected together by planking about eight feet wide. The whole arrangement is connected to the shore by a system of ropes. The bridge must be at least eight hundred and sixty feet long.

After crossing, we marched through Harper's Ferry, which seemed perfectly full of troops; we went down the Shenandoah road about a mile and quartered the regiment in some empty houses we found. The weather had changed since morning, and the night was very cold, with a perfect gale of wind. Captain Williams, Lieutenant Oakey and myself, found a very good room which we occupied together. At four o'clock next morning, we were awakened by the “officer of the day” ordering us to have our men get their breakfasts. As the regiment was going to move in light marching order at daylight, I got up and hunted for some coffee. I was lucky enough to find one house pretty well supplied, and engaged them to make me ten gallons for our company. We were very fortunate in getting this, as it enabled the men to start off feeling warm and comfortable, which is a great thing.

At seven, our line was formed, and then we learned that we were to form part of a reconnoitering force, to consist of four squadrons of cavalry, four pieces of artillery and two regiments of infantry, the whole under command of Colonel Gordon. As this was a very good specimen of a reconnoissance in force, perhaps you would like to know how it was conducted.

First, a few cavalry skirmishers to scour the roads and fields; then the main body of cavalry; then two pieces of artillery supported by a company of infantry, followed by two more supported similarly; then on each side of the road, a platoon of skirmishers covering near a third of a mile each way; these protect the advance of the main body of infantry; the flanks are protected by skirmishers deployed as flankers. I had the second platoon of our company deployed on the left of the road to drive in any pickets that might be out, or obtain other information; every house we came to, I had a man search from top to bottom, for arms or anything else that might be hidden in them.

Our cavalry skirmishers met those of the enemy just this side of Charlestown, and drove them into their main body; our cavalry then came up at the gallop and sent the enemy flying out of town and a couple of miles into the countiy, many of them throwing away their arms in their hurry. We followed along and took quiet possession of the town, probably as thoroughly secesh a place as any in Virginia. People scowled at us from their windows, but did not venture much into the streets; those who did seemed almost frightened to death, every one thinking we were going to burn the town. The guns were put in position at once, commanding the Winchester roads. The cry was suddenly set up, “The General is coming!” Ranks were formed and dressed. Presently, Generals McClellan, Banks, and Hamilton, with their staffs and guards, rode by; we saluted, and the General took off his cap to us; he is a splendid looking man, though not much like his pictures. They rode out about two miles and returned. He was so well satisfied with the movement that he decided to have our force remain and occupy the town. Most of our regiment are quartered at the Court House; our company occupies the toll-house of the Charlestown, Berryville and Winchester turnpike, a short distance from the town, supporting a section of Hampton's battery; very comfortable quarters.

We were reinforced, Friday night, by two regiments and a regular battery. That night, our cavalry was several times driven in by the enemy's cavalry; we lost four horses and three men by these attacks, and captured one of the enemy. One of the sentinels of our company shot a cavalry horse through the neck while on picket last night, about a half a mile from our house; the picket fired three times and drove them back.

The only currency here in town is the Southern shinplaster, dreadful mean looking stuff; I will send you a five cent bank bill in a day or two. Coffee costs four dollars a pound here and hard to be had at that. We shall be off from here in a day or two for Winchester, but I do not believe we shall have to fire a gun to take it; then for Richmond via Manassas. This is a little better than sticking in the mud at Frederick. Direct to General Banks' Division, War Department, Washington.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 36-9

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, April 9, 1865

April 9, 1865

We all were up, according to habit, about daylight, with horses saddled, having staid near Stute's house for the night. In reply to a summons from Grant, Lee has sent in a note to say that he would meet Grant at ten A.M. to confer on measures for peace. The Lieutenant-General answered that he had no authority in the premises and refused the interview; but repeated his offer to accept the army's surrender on parole. Indeed, we suspected his affairs were from bad to worse, for last night we could hear, just at sunset, the distant cannon of Sheridan. He, with his cavalry, had made a forced march on Appomattox Station, where he encountered the head of the Rebel column (consisting, apparently, for the most part of artillery), charged furiously on it, and took twenty cannon and 1000 prisoners; and checked its progress for that night, during which time the 24th and 5th Corps, by strenuous marching, came up and formed line of battle quite across the Lynchburg road, west of Appomattox C.H. Betimes this morning, the enemy, thinking that nothing but cavalry was in their front, advanced to cut their way through, and were met by the artillery and musketry of two corps in position — (Ah! there goes a band playing "Dixie" in mockery. It is a real carnival!) This seems to have struck them with despair. Their only road blocked in front, and Humphreys's skirmishers dogging their footsteps! Well, we laid the General in his ambulance (he has been sick during the whole week, though now much better) and at 6.30 A.M. the whole Staff was off, at a round trot — (90 miles have I trotted and galloped after that Lee, and worn holes in my pantaloons, before I could get him to surrender!). An hour after, we came on the 6th Corps streaming into the main road from the upper one. A little ahead of this we halted to talk with General Wright. At 10.30 came, one after the other, two negroes, who said that some of our troops entered Lynchburg yesterday; and that Lee was now cut off near Appomattox Court House. This gave us new wings! An aide-de-camp galloped on, to urge Humphreys to press the pursuit, and all waggons were ordered out of the road, that the 6th Corps might close in immediately on his rear. Away went the General again, full tilt, along the road crowded by the infantry, every man of whom was footing it, as if a lottery prize lay just ahead! A bugler trotted ahead, blowing to call the attention of the troops, while General Webb followed, crying, “Give way to the right! Give way to the right!” Thus we ingeniously worked our way, amid much pleasantry. “Fish for sale!” roared one doughboy. “Yes,” joined in a pithy comrade, “and a tarnation big one, too!” The comments on the General were endless. “That's Meade.” “Yes, that's him.” “Is he sick?” “I expect he is; he looks kinder wild!” “Guess the old man hain't had much sleep lately.” The heavy artillery firing we had earlier heard, now had suddenly ceased, and there was a perfect stillness — a suspicious circumstance that gave us new hope. Somewhat before noon we got to General Humphreys, some five miles east of the Court House and at the very head of his men. He reported that he had just struck the enemy's skirmish line, and was preparing to drive them back. At that moment an officer rode up and said the enemy were out with a white flag. “They shan't stop me!” retorted the fiery H.; “receive the message but push on the skirmishers!” Back came the officer speedily, with a note. General Lee stated that General Ord had agreed to a suspension of hostilities, and he should ask for the same on this end, of the line. “Hey! what!” cried General Meade, in his harsh, suspicious voice, “I have no sort of authority to grant such suspension. General Lee has already refused the terms of General Grant. Advance your skirmishers, Humphreys, and bring up your troops. We will pitch into them at once!” But lo! here comes now General Forsyth, who had ridden through the Rebel army, from General Sheridan (under a flag), and who now urged a brief suspension. “Well,” said the General, “in order that you may get back to Sheridan, I will wait till two o'clock, and then, if I get no communication from General Lee, I shall attack!” So back went Forsyth, with a variety of notes and despatches. We waited, not without excitement, for the appointed hour. Meantime, negroes came in and said the Rebel pickets had thrown down their muskets and gone leisurely to their main body; also that the Rebels were “done gone give up.” Presently, the General pulled out his watch and said: “Two o'clock — no answer — go forward.” But they had not advanced far, before we saw a Rebel and a Union officer coming in. They bore an order from General Grant to halt the troops. Major Wingate, of General Lee's Staff, was a military-looking man, dressed in a handsome grey suit with gold lace, and a gold star upon the collar. He was courageous, but plainly mortified to the heart. “We had done better to have burnt our whole train three days ago”; he said bitterly. “In trying to save a train, we have lost an army!” And there he struck the pith of the thing. And so we continued to wait till about five, during which time General Humphreys amused us with presents of Confederate notes, of which we found a barrel full (!) in the Rebel waggons. It was a strange spectacle, to see the officers laughing and giving each other $500 notes of a government that has been considered as firmly established by our English friends!

About five came Major Pease. “The Army of Northern Virginia has surrendered!” Headed by General Webb, we gave three cheers, and three more for General Meade. Then he mounted and rode through the 2d and 6th Corps. Such a scene followed as I can never see again. The soldiers rushed, perfectly crazy, to the roadside, and there crowding in dense masses, shouted, screamed, yelled, threw up their hats and hopped madly up and down! The batteries were run out and began firing, the bands played, the flags waved. The noise of the cheering was such that my very ears rang. And there was General Meade galloping about and waving his cap with the best of them! Poor old Robert Lee! His punishment is too heavy — to hear those cheers, and to remember what he once was! My little share of this work is done. God willing, before many weeks, or even days, I shall be at home, to campaign no more!

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 355-8

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Monday, June 27, 1864

There was a general line of battle formed this morning and orders given to make a charge all along the lines. The center charged in full force, but as the flanks failed to charge, soon had to fall back. The Eleventh and Sixteenth Iowa furnished the skirmishers for our brigade and charged the rebels' skirmish line, but were driven back to their old line. Our side lost several in killed and wounded, and what little was gained did not pay for the loss of life. Company A of our regiment was in the charge and had one man killed; so close was he to the rebel works that our men had to raise the white flag in order to get his body. The Fifty-third Indiana made a charge on the rebel rifle pits and lost about forty men, taken as prisoners. When they made the charge, the rebels lay down in their pits, allowing them to come close up, when they rose up with their rifles drawn and said: “Come on, boys, we won't hurt you,” and took them prisoners.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 201-2

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, June 15, 1864

The day has been clear and quite warm. This morning Company E was sent out as sharpshooters. During the night the Eleventh and Sixteenth Regiments had thrown up a new line of rifle pits, about a half mile in advance of the old one, and at noon today moved forward in line of battle into the new trenches. At the same time our skirmish line was ordered to advance on the rebel skirmish line, and it being our company's turn to go out on the line, we were deployed and advanced, driving in the rebel skirmish line for almost a half mile, pushing them back from their first and second lines of fence rails piled up for their protection. We approached so near to their rifle pits at the foot of Kenesaw mountain as to make it possible for their artillerymen to use grape and canister upon us, killing one man, William Alexander. The rebel skirmishers now received reinforcements, while our skirmishers on the left failing to come up with us, made a gap in our lines and left us in a very hot place for a little while, as it gave the rebels a cross fire on us. and we were compelled to fall back, thus losing some of the ground taken. But just then our colonel sent another company in double quick to relieve us, and our lost position was regained. We had become completely used up and lost one man killed, one mortally wounded, seven slightly wounded, and one man taken prisoner.¹ Our stretcher bearers, after the fight, raised the white flag and went to get the body of Alexander for burial.

_______________

¹ As was supposed at the time. See note, under June 16th. — Ed.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 197

Captain William Frances Bartlett to Brigadier-General Charles P. Stone, October 23, 1861

Camp Benton, October 23, 1861.

To Gen. Stone, Commanding Corps of Observation: —

General, — I have to report that one hundred men of the Twentieth Regiment crossed from Swan's (or Harrison's) island on Monday morning, October 21st, to support the detachment of the Fifteenth and cover its retreat. We climbed the steep bank, one hundred and fifty feet high, with difficulty, and took post on the right of the open space above, sending out scouts in all directions. The detachment of the Twentieth consisted of two companies, I and D, in all one hundred and two men, under command of Colonel Lee.

A little after daylight, First Sergeant Kiddle of Co. I was brought in, shot through the arm by some pickets of the enemy on the right.

At 8 A. M., a splendid volley was heard from the direction of the Fifteenth (who had advanced half a mile up the road leading from the river), and soon wounded men were brought in towards the river. We were then deployed by Colonel Lee as skirmishers, on each side of the road mentioned, leaving an opening for the Fifteenth to pass through in retreat. They fell back in good order at about 10 A. M. At 11, the other companies of the Fifteenth arrived from the island, and Colonel Devens with his command moved inland again. At this time the remaining men of the Twentieth, under Major Revere, joined us. Major Revere had during the morning brought round from the other side of the island a small scow, the only means of transportation, excepting the whale boat holding sixteen and the two skiffs holding four and five respectively, with which we crossed in the morning. At 2 o'clock, the detachment of Baker's Brigade and the Tammany Regiment had arrived, and Colonel Baker, who disposed the troops under his command. The three hundred and eighteen men of the Twentieth were in the open space, the right up the river; the Fifteenth were in the edge of the woods on the right a part of the California (Baker's) Regiment on the left, touching at right angles our right.

One company of the Twentieth under Captain Putnam was deployed as skirmishers on the right in the woods, one under Captain Crowninshield on the left. Captain Putnam lost an arm in the beginning of the engagement, and was carried to the rear. His company kept their ground well under Lieutenant Hallowell. The Fifteenth had before this, after the arrival of General Baker, fallen back the second time, in good order, and had been placed by General Baker as above mentioned. The enemy now opened on us from the woods in front with a heavy fire of musketry, which was very effective. They fired low, the balls all going within from one to four feet of the ground.

Three companies of the Twentieth were kept in reserve, but on the open ground, exposed to a destructive fire. It was a continual fire now, with occasional pauses of one or two minutes, until the last. The rifled cannon was on the left, in the open ground, in front of a part of Baker's regiment, exposed to a hot fire. It was not discharged more than eight times. The gunners were shot down in the first of the engagement, and I saw Colonel Lee carry a charge to the gun with his own hand. The last time that it was fired, the recoil carried it down the rise to the edge of the bank. The men of the Twentieth Regiment behaved admirably, and all that were left of them were on the field, after the battle was declared lost by General Baker. They acted, at least all under my command, with great coolness and bravery, and obeyed every command implicitly, and even after the intimation had been given that we must surrender in order to save the men that had been left, they cheerfully rallied and delivered a well directed fire upon two companies which we met, which had just advanced out of the woods.

We were slowly driven back by their fire in return, and covered ourselves with the slight rise mentioned above. We tried to induce the Colonel to attempt an escape, and got him down the bank unhurt. I turned to collect the remnant of my company, and when I returned to the bank, they told me that the Colonel (Lee), Major, and Adjutant had got into a small boat, and were by this time safely across. Feeling at ease then about them, I collected all that I found of the Twentieth, and gave permission to all those who could swim and wished to, to take to the water, and sent over reports and messages by them. I then ordered those of the regiment who could not swim to follow up the river, in order to get them out of the murderous volleys which the enemy were pouring down upon us from the top of the bank. About twenty of the Twentieth Regiment, twenty of the Fifteenth, and forty of the Tammany and California regiments, followed us.

We went up as far as the large mill, where I found, by means of a negro there, a small sunken skiff in the mill-way, and induced him to get it out of water and down to the river. It was capable of holding five men, and I began to send them over, expecting every minute to be discovered by the enemy. In an hour they were all over, and I crossed with Lieutenant Abbott of my company, and Captain Tremlett of Company A, Twentieth. I reported with the men at the hospital on the island. They got across to this side during the night. They were obliged to stop at the ferry and sleep out, many of them without overcoats or blankets, till morning. Out of twenty-two officers that were with us in the engagement, thirteen are killed, wounded, or missing; of three hundred and eighteen men, one hundred and forty-six are killed, wounded, or missing. The Colonel (Lee), I learned at the island, had not crossed, but I have since learned that he and his companions went farther up the river, found the boat which I afterwards used, thought it impracticable, and went on. They were (by the report of one or two men who have since come in) taken prisoners. Colonel Lee, Major Revere, Adjutant Peirson, Dr. Revere, and Lieutenant Perry are supposed to have been together. I supposed it was my duty to make this report of that part of the regiment engaged, as senior officer of those saved.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 16-9

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, Friday, October 4, 1864

October 4, 1864

The General rode along the whole front of the new line and carefully examined it, accompanied by his Staff and by the taciturn Roebling. R. is a character, a major and aide-de-camp and engineer, and factotum to General Warren. He is a son of the German engineer, Roebling, who built the celebrated suspension bridge over the Niagara River. He is a light-haired, blue-eyed man, with a countenance as if all the world were an empty show. He stoops a good deal, when riding has the stirrups so long that the tips of his toes can just touch them, and, as he wears no boots, the bottoms of his pantaloons are always torn and ragged. He goes poking about in the most dangerous places, looking for the position of the enemy, and always with an air of entire indifference. His conversation is curt and not garnished with polite turnings. “What's that redoubt doing there?” cries General Meade. “Don't know; didn't put it there,” replies the laconic one. The Chief growled a little while at the earthwork, but, as that didn't move it, he rode onward. We passed at a clever time, for, a few minutes after, the Rebel skirmishers made a rush, and drove ours out of a house, and their bullets came over the corner of a field where we had been. Thereat our skirmishers made a counter-rush and drove theirs again away from the house, and our cannon fired and there was a small row generally. Some of our earthworks were really very workmanlike, handsomely sloped in front, and neatly built up with logs in the rear. It is really a handsome sight to get a view of half a mile of uniform parapet, like this, and see the men's shelter-tents neatly pitched in the pine woods, just in rear, while in front a broad stretch of timber has been “slashed,” to give a good field of fire and break up any body of troops advancing to attack. It is quite interesting, too, to see a redoubt going up. The men work after the manner of bees, each at the duty assigned. The mass throw up earth; the engineer soldiers do the “revetting,” that is, the interior facing of logs. The engineer sergeants run about with tapes and stakes, measuring busily; and the engineer officers look as wise as possible and superintend. . . .

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 240-1