Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Wednesday, July 1, 1863

We did not leave our camp till noon, as nearly all General Hill's corps had to pass our quarters on its march towards Gettysburg. One division of Ewell's also had to join in a little beyond Greenwood, and Longstreet's corps had to bring up the rear. During the morning I made the acquaintance of Colonel Walton, who used to command the well-known Washington Artillery, but he is now chief of artillery to Longstreet's corps d’armée; he is a big man, ci-devant auctioneer in New Orleans, and I understand he pines to return to his hammer.

Soon after starting we got into a pass in the South mountain, a continuation, I believe, of the Blue Ridge range, which is broken by the Potomac at Harper's Ferry. The scenery through the pass is very fine. The first troops, alongside of whom we rode, belonged to Johnson's division of Ewell's corps. Among them I saw, for the first time, the celebrated “Stonewall” Brigade, formerly commanded by Jackson. In appearance the men differ little from other Confederate soldiers, except, perhaps, that the brigade contains more elderly men and fewer boys. All (except, I think, one regiment) are Virginians. As they have nearly always been on detached duty, few of them knew General Longstreet, except by reputation. Numbers of them asked me whether the General in front was Longstreet; and when I answered in the affirmative, many would run on a hundred yards in order to take a good look at him. This I take to be an immense compliment from any soldier on a long march.

At 2 P.M. firing became distinctly audible in our front, but although it increased as we progressed, it did not seem to be very heavy. A spy who was with us insisted upon there being “a pretty tidy bunch of blue-bellies in or near Gettysburg,” and he declared that he was in their society three days ago.

After passing Johnson's division, we came up to a Florida Brigade, which is now in Hill's corps ; but as it had formerly served under Longstreet, the men knew him well. Some of them (after the General had passed) called out to their comrades, “Look out for work now, boys, for here's the old bull-dog again.”

At 3 P.M. we began to meet wounded men coming to the rear, and the number of these soon increased most rapidly, some hobbling alone, others on stretchers carried by the ambulance corps, and others in the ambulance waggons; many of the latter were stripped nearly naked, and displayed very bad wounds. This spectacle, so revolting to a person unaccustomed to such sights, produced no impression whatever upon the advancing troops, who certainly go under fire with the most perfect nonchalance: they show no enthusiasm or excitement, but the most complete indifference. This is the effect of two years' almost uninterrupted fighting.

We now began to meet Yankee prisoners coming to the rear in considerable numbers: many of them were wounded, but they seemed already to be on excellent terms with their captors, with whom they had commenced swapping canteens, tobacco, &c. Among them was a Pennsylvanian colonel, a miserable object from a wound in his face. In answer to a question, I heard one of them remark, with a laugh, “We're pretty nigh whipped already.” We next came to a Confederate soldier carrying a Yankee colour, belonging, I think, to a Pennsylvanian regiment, which he told us he had just captured.

At 4.30 P.m. we came in sight of Gettysburg and joined General Lee and General Hill, who were on the top of one of the ridges which form the peculiar feature of the country round Gettysburg. We could see the enemy retreating up one of the opposite ridges, pursued by the Confederates with loud yells. The position into which the enemy had been driven was evidently a strong one. His right appeared to rest on a cemetery, on the top of a high ridge to the right of Gettysburg, as we looked at it.

General Hill now came up and told me he had been very unwell all day, and in fact he looks very delicate. He said he had had two of his divisions engaged, and had driven the enemy four miles into his present position, capturing a great many prisoners, some cannon, and some colours; he said, however, that the Yankees had fought with a determination unusual to them. He pointed out a railway cutting, in which they had made a good stand; also, a field in the centre of which he had seen a man plant the regimental colour, round which the regiment had fought for some time with much obstinacy, and when at last it was obliged to retreat, the colour-bearer retired last of all, turning round every now and then to shake his fist at the advancing rebels. General Hill said he felt quite sorry when he saw this gallant Yankee meet his doom.

General Ewell had come up at 3.30, on the enemy's right (with part of his corps), and completed his discomfiture. General Reynolds, one of the best Yankee generals, was reported killed. Whilst we were talking, a message arrived from General Ewell, requesting Hill to press the enemy in the front, whilst he performed the same operation on his right. The pressure was accordingly applied in a mild degree, but the enemy were too strongly posted, and it was too late in the evening for a regular attack. The town of Gettysburg was now occupied by Ewell, and was full of Yankee dead and wounded. I climbed up a tree in the most commanding place I could find, and could form a pretty good general idea of the enemy's position, although, the tops of the ridges being covered with pinewoods, it was very difficult to see anything of the troops concealed in them. The firing ceased about dark, at which time I rode back with General Longstreet and his Staff to his headquarters at Cashtown, a little village eight miles from Gettysburg. At that time troops were pouring along the road, and were being marched towards the position they are to occupy to-morrow.

In the fight to-day nearly 6000 prisoners had been taken, and 10 guns. About 20,000 men must have been on the field on the Confederate side. The enemy had two corps d’armée engaged. All the prisoners belong, I think, to the 1st and 11th corps. This day's work is called a “brisk little scurry,” and all anticipate a “big battle” to-morrow.

I observed that the artillerymen in charge of the horses dig themselves little holes like graves, throwing up the earth at the upper end. They ensconce themselves in these holes when under fire.

At supper this evening, General Longstreet spoke of the enemy's position as being “very formidable.” He also said that they would doubtless intrench themselves strongly during the night* The Staff officers spoke of the battle as a certainty, and the universal feeling in the army was one of profound contempt for an enemy whom they have beaten so constantly, and under so many disadvantages.

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* I have the best reason for supposing that the fight came off prematurely, and that neither Lee nor Longstreet intended that it should have begun that day. I also think that their plans were deranged by the events of the first.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 257-62

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 27, 1861

I visited several of the local companies, their drill-grounds and parades; but few of the men were present, as nearly all are under orders to proceed to the camp at Tangipao or to march to Richmond. Privates and officers are busy in the sweltering streets purchasing necessaries for their journey. As one looks at the resolute, quick, angry faces around him, and hears but the single theme, he must feel the South will never yield to the North, unless as a nation which is beaten beneath the feet of a victorious enemy.

In every State there is only one voice audible. Hereafter, indeed, state jealousies may work their own way; but if words means anything, all the Southern people are determined to resist Mr. Lincoln's invasion as long as they have a man or a dollar. Still, there are certain hard facts which militate against the truth of their own assertions, “that they are united to a man, and prepared to fight to a man.” Only 15,000 are under arms out of the 50,000 men in the State of Louisiana liable to military service.

“Charges of abolitionism” appear in the reports of police cases in the papers every morning; and persons found guilty, not of expressing opinions against slavery, but of stating their belief that the Northerners will be successful, are sent to prison for six months. The accused are generally foreigners, or belong to the lower orders, who have got no interest in the support of slavery. The moral suasion of the lasso, of taring and feathering, head-shaving, ducking, and horseponds, deportation on rails, and similar ethical processes are highly in favor. As yet the North have not arrived at such an elevated view of the necessities of their position.

The New Orleans papers are facetious over their new mode of securing unanimity, and highly laud what they call “the course of instruction in the humane institution for the amelioration of the condition of Northern barbarians and abolition fanatics, presided over by Professor Henry Mitchell,” who, in other words, is the jailer of the work-house reformatory.

I dined at the Lake with Mr. Mure, General Lewis, Major Ranney, Mr. Duncan Kenner, a Mississippi planter, Mr. Claiborne, &c., and visited the club in the evening. Every night since I have been in New Orleans there have been one or two fires; to-night there were three — one a tremendous conflagration. When I inquired to what they were attributable, a gentleman who sat near me, bent over, and looking me straight in the face, said, in a low voice, “The slaves.” The flues, perhaps, and the system of stoves, may also bear some of the blame. There is great enthusiasm among the townspeople in consequence of the Washington artillery, a crack corps, furnished by the first people in New Orleans, being ordered off for Virginia.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 239-40

Lieutenant William Brockenbrough Newton to Mary Page Newton, July 22, 1861

Centreville, July 22,1861.

My Dear —: — For the last four days we have never been longer than two hours in any one place, have slept upon the ground in good weather and bad, eaten nothing but crackers and fried bacon, and rested little at any time; for all of which privations and a thousand others we have been more than compensated (thanks to the just God who governs the councils of history and decrees the destiny of nations) in the glorious results of yesterday. On the morning of the 17th, we had received reliable information that the enemy was advancing, over 50,000 strong, and were not surprised, at five o'clock in the morning, to hear the fire of our pickets, who were slowly retiring before the advancing foe. The order was given to pack. In ten minutes baggage was packed, tents struck, and the wagons driven to the rear; and the whole command forward to line of battle. In a few minutes the glittering bayonets of the enemy lined the neighbouring hills. From the heavy signal-guns being fired at intervals along our line — commencing at Germantown and stretching along to Fairfax Court-House — it was evident that the enemy was endeavouring to surround our little band; but our “Little Trump,” as the men call Beauregard, was not to be taken by any such game. Every preparation was made to deceive the enemy, by inducing him to believe that we meditated a vigorous resistance Meantime our column defiled through a densely wooded road, and was far on the way to Centreville when the enemy discovered his mistake. He followed on very cautiously.  To our troop, with Kemper's Battery, was assigned the post of honour, and charged with the duty of covering the retreat. We were the last to leave the village, and as we went out at one end of the street, his column appeared at the other. We halted at this place about four o'clock in the afternoon, and again made show of battle — slept until twelve o'clock at the heads of our horses. We silently left the place, the enemy's pickets being within hailing distance of our own. At daybreak we were across Bull Run, having marched very slowly to keep pace with the infantry. We found beds of leaves in the woods, wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and slept for an hour or two, until we were aroused by the roar of the enemy's guns as he opened his batteries upon our lines. For two mortal hours shot and shell flew thick along our whole line. This day's work was evidently intended only to draw the fire of our artillery, and show where our batteries were, in consequence of which our gunners were ordered not to fire a single shot, unless within point-blank range. After thus opening the ball, two dense masses of infantry were sent to defile to the right and left, to make two separate attacks. It was indeed a beautiful sight as they came down in perfect order, and with the stealthy step of veterans. They came nearer and yet nearer, and yet no shot from our guns. Our men began to mutter, and say that we were preparing for another retreat. But in a few moments the appointed time arrived. A single shot from the Washington Artillery gave the signal of death, and for half an hour there was nothing but a continuous sheet of flame along the right of our lines. The enemy fell back, rallied, and charged again, with a like result. Again they rested, and rushed forward, but old Virginia was true to herself, and the gallant Seventeenth and Eighteenth Regiments charged them with the bayonet, and drove them back in utter confusion. The cavalry were held in reserve, and although within range of the artillery, and constantly experiencing the sensation which men may be supposed to indulge, who know there is a hidden danger hovering in the air, without knowing where it is to light, took no part in the action. Our time came yesterday, however. Our troop was for four hours in the hottest of the fight, and every man in it won the applause and approbation of the whole camp. The action commenced at eight o'clock on the sweet Sabbath morning. The enemy commenced with quite a heavy cannonade upon our right, which proved to be a mere feint, to distract our attention, as his main attack was directed to our left wing. At ten o'clock the enemy had crossed the river on our left, and then the fighting commenced in earnest. From the hill on which we stood, we could see, from the smoke and dust, though at the distance of several miles, how the fight was waging on our left. Some thought the enemy was retreating; others that our men had fallen back. It was an hour of painful interest. At eleven o'clock an aid-de-camp rode up in a gallop, and said our men were retiring — the cavalry was ordered to the left. We were temporarily attached to Radford's regiment — ours was the first company, and mine was the first platoon. On we dashed in a gallop, and as we passed within range of a battery of rifled cannon a ball was fired at us which passed between Wickham and myself, knocking up a cloud of dust. Without wavering in their ranks, the men and horses dashed forward at a gallop. As we reached the scene of action the sight was discouraging in the extreme. The enemy had at first the advantage of every attacking party. He had concentrated his forces for an attack upon one point. The First Louisiana Regiment and the Fourth Alabama, attacked in flank and centre by 30,000 men, were literally cut to pieces. They refused to surrender, but retired slowly, disputing every inch of ground. As we rode up we could meet parts of companies which had been utterly overwhelmed—the men wounded, their arms broken, while some of them were carrying off their dead in blankets. Every thing looked like retreat. We were ordered up to within five hundred yards of the enemy's artillery, behind a hill which afforded some protection against their destructive fire. For one hour the fire raged with incessant fury. A ball passed over the hill and through our ranks, grazing one of our men. A shell exploded just under Radford's horse, and every minute shot and shell were continually whistling by us. I can give you no conception of that awful hour. Not a man shrank from his post. Two of our men were taken exceedingly sick, one fainting from the heat and excitement. Such calmness and composure I never witnessed. To make the matter worse, despondency, if not despair, was fast writing itself upon every face. The fire was evidently approaching us. Our friends were retiring, and the whispered rumour passed from lip to lip that our artillery ammunition was running low. In a moment, however, a cloud of dust in our rear showed the approach of our wagons, coming up at a dashing rate, with a fresh supply. Our reinforcements now commenced pouring in. Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi, and Tennessee swept by in their glittering array with the calm light of battle on their faces, and their bayonets gleaming in the quiet Sabbath sunshine. No man faltered, no man lagged behind. Neither the groans of the dying nor the shrieks of the wounded, as they passed by in crowded ambulances, seemed to produce any impression except to fix the determination upon the countenances of all, to win or to die upon the field. The tide now seemed to ebb, just enough to keep us from despair. The firing did not advance, although the explosion of their shells was terrific in the extreme. A gleam of hope, too, gradually broke in upon us, when Kemper's Battery, which had been posted in our centre, galloped up and opened a destructive fire upon our extreme left. The advance was evidently checked, when a loud cheer in the front told us that something unusual had happened. What was it? Was it the triumph of our enemies over our poor stricken friends; or was it some advantage gained by courage in defence of right? The suspense was awful. Men stood straight in their stirrups and stretched their eyes as if they could pierce the rugged bosom of the barren hill which raised its scarred front between them. An aid passed up. His message is written on his face, and before he speaks a word a wild shout breaks from the throats of thousands. When he speaks, another, another and another round of cheers told the story to our hitherto sinking hearts. The Fourth Virginia Regiment had taken Sprague's Rhode Island Battery of six pieces, at the point of the bayonet. Scarcely had the echo of our cheers died away when again the noise of shouting broke upon the air. What was it? Had the enemy rallied and retaken the guns? Fear struggled with hope. But no: the gallant Twenty-seventh, envious of the glorious achievement of the Fourth, at a single dash had charged a regiment of regulars, swept them from the field, and taken every gun in Sherman's Battery.¹  The firing of musketry and the rattling of bayonets was now terrible beyond description. For one hour there was an incessant cracking of rifles, without a single moment's pause. The enemy were evidently retiring, and unless reinforced from the left and centre, the day was ours.

To prevent this, our field telegraph had already given the signal for movement upon our own right, and a heavy fire of musketry and artillery told us that Bonham's Brigade, to which we had been attached in the morning, had crossed the run and were pouring it into the enemy's centre. The South Carolina boys dashed up the hill in face of a murderous fire, bayoneted their gunners, and took quiet possession of their central battery. It was three o'clock, and the day was ours. The Washington Artillery galloped up the hill on which we were posted, and opened a perfect Vesuvius of shot and shell upon the receding foe. Colonel Lay then rode up and told us that the time for us to act had arrived. Our whole body of cavalry, 2,700 strong, now rushed like the wind to the front. It was indeed a brilliant spectacle, as, with slackened rein and sabres drawn, the whole command dashed past. The whole line resounded with continued cheering. The force was divided into different detachments. Colonel Radford, with six companies, was ordered to cross a short distance below the enemy's extreme right, and intercept his column. Our company was in front, and I was riding in front of my platoon, when, after crossing the swamp, we came suddenly on a detachment of the enemy concealed in the bushes, with their pieces levelled. The Colonel ordered the charge, and our boys rushed on. Poor Edmund Fontaine was at my side when we rode over two of them, and they grounded their arms to Ed. Winston, who was just in our rear. We galloped on in pursuit of the rest, who retreated across a field, towards the road on which the enemy was retreating. Fontaine was just behind me. Saunders, a fine young fellow, just twenty-four years of age, and splendidly mounted, dashed by us. The enemy had concealed themselves behind a fence; we rode up, and I demanded their surrender; they made no reply. I ordered Saunders to fire; before he levelled his carbine the whole squad poured in a volley. Saunders fell dead at my feet, and Edmund Fontaine reeled in his saddle, exclaiming, “Save me, boys; I am killed!” He was caught in the arms of his cousin, who was just in my rear. Three of my platoon fired, and the two who had shot Fontaine and Saunders fell dead in their tracks. We were now in full view of the enemy's columns, passing in rapid and disorderly retreat along the road, with two pieces of artillery, a large number of baggage-wagons, and some officers' carriages. Colonel Radford, who is a soldier of experience, knew the strength of the enemy and ordered a halt, commanding the men to form. But such a thing was utterly impossible. The men seemed perfectly delirious with excitement, and with a wild shout of, “The guns, the guns!” our whole company rushed pell-mell upon the battery, which proved to be another detachment of the Rhode Island Artillery. Such a scene of wild excitement I never witnessed. My platoon had been detached from the company, and the company from the regiment. There were two caissons and two guns; the guns behind the caissons. My platoon, which was furthest down the road, rushed upon the men who guarded them. One fellow was standing on the caisson, whipping the horses to make them run; they had become so much alarmed that they stood perfectly still, and trembled. I made a blow at him with my sabre, knocked him off the caisson, and he was shot twice before he reached the ground. Meantime Wms. C. Wickham (who behaved admirably), with the main body, crossed the road higher up, and when the main body of the regiment came up, our company, with some of the Alexandria cavalry, had killed and wounded every man at the guns, and driven the infantry supports in rapid retreat. When we left we expected to be supported by infantry and artillery, and you may imagine our astonishment when, with not quite 300 men, we found that we had nearly cut into the enemy's column, and upon looking one hundred yards down the road, we found them preparing to open on us with two guns supported by six regiments of infantry. The Colonel at once ordered a retreat, so we shot the horses to the caissons, so as to block up the road, and retreated, not, however, before they had poured in upon us four rounds of grape and canister at one hundred and fifty yards' distance. How we escaped a perfect massacre I cannot say. Had they not been so close to us the slaughter would have been terrible. Four of our men were killed. Captain Radford, brother of the Colonel, was literally blown to pieces.  I escaped without a scratch, (as did all the rest of the officers,) excepting quite a severe bruise caused by my horse having pressed my leg against the wheel to the gun-carriage. We brought off several prisoners, a great many pistols, and several horses. Just ahead of the guns was a very handsome open carriage. As soon as they saw us, such a rush! It is suspected, or rather hoped, that Wilson, of Massachusetts, (who was, it is known, on the field,) was in it. One of our men, Linkey by name, took it into his head that General Scott was in it, pursued and overtook it, but at the distance of thirty steps fired his musketine, with eighteen buck-shot, right into the back window.

As we returned, a melancholy mistake occurred. Bowles, our second lieutenant, who was carrying poor Fontaine to the hospital, with one or two others, met a detachment of four of the Appomattox cavalry, who hailed him. It is said that, instead of giving the signal agreed upon in our camp, by raising the hand to the top of the head, he took them for the enemy, and answered “Federal troops.” They fired and he fell dead. Our company received, upon its return, the congratulations of every officer on General Bonham's staff, to whom Colonel R. had spoken of the conduct of our men. To-day it has been raining incessantly. Our column pushed on this morning to this place. Our company was assigned the advance-guard, and this morning at ten o'clock, I had the honor of occupying the city of Centreville. The citizens tell us that about twelve o'clock last night the cry passed through the camp that the Virginia horsemen were upon them, when they left in wild confusion. Our triumph has been complete. In two days our noble army has driven them back to Alexandria, captured forty-two guns, many colors, and how many prisoners I will not venture to say. After we reached this place, we were ordered to explore the surrounding country in quest of fugitives. We took eighteen prisoners, and got back just at night, very wet. You never saw such a collection of property as was left in their flight. Hundreds of muskets, gun-carriages, wagon horses; thousands of knapsacks, oil-cloths and blankets, hogsheads of sugar, barrels of pork, beans, etc.; in short, every thing you can conceive. We found to-day over five hundred splendid army overcoats.

The men are amusing themselves to-night reading letters, of which there were thousands left on the field. Some of them were directed to Mr. So-and-So, expected at Manassas Junction. Some asked for a piece of the floor of the house in which Ellsworth was killed, with blood on it; while others confidently express the belief that Beauregard's scalp was to be carried to Washington. When I tell you that we supped to-night on Yankee crackers, Yankee coffee, and a nice beef-tongue, actually left on the hearth of one of the officers' quarters, in a kettle, ready to be set on the fire — that this is written with a Yankee pencil, given me by one of the men, and on Yankee paper, taken from their wagons, and that I am sitting on a Yankee camp-stool, and writing by a Yankee candle, you can form some idea of the utter rout. I have a pincushion for L., picked up on the field, a needle-case for K., and a sword taken from a Vermont volunteer, for W. Our troops occupy Fairfax Court House to-day. I will try and see you soon. Good-night. God bless and protect you. I feel that he has protected me in the last few days, in answer to the prayers of a pious wife. I hope that I feel grateful for my preservation.

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¹ The capture attributed to the 27th Virginia is probably a mistake. The honor claimed for that regiment has since been ascribed to Fisher's 6th North Carolina regiment. In the excitement of the occasion, the writer of the letter may have been misinformed. The author is glad to make the correction. All honor is certainly due to the noble “Old North State,” which, it has always been said, sent a larger number of troops to the field, in proportion to its population, than any other State in the Confederacy, and which buried so many thousands of its gallant sons, in defence of our “lost cause.”

Note By The Publishers. — Both the statements are probably true, to some extent. We have unquestionable evidence that Fisher's regiment captured one section of Sherman's battery just before Col. Fisher received his mortal wound. But the same evidence shows that there was another section (both under Captain Ricketts) which was captured by other troops; our friend does not know what troops, but no doubt the 27th Virginia.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 55-64, 360

A brass secesh six pounder, captured at Pittsburgh . . .

. . . by a Wisconsin regiment, passed up the river Saturday on its way to Madison, on board the steamer Prima Donna. The gun belonged to the Washington artillery of New Orleans and was cast in that city.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 3, 1862, p. 1

General W. S. Smith

{Correspondence Cincinnati Commercial}

EXTRACTS.

Four miles from Savannah, we halted to allow Nelson to get out of the way, as we were at the rear of his trains. At 6 P.M., having distributed two days’ rations of the necessaries of life to the soldiers, (that is, hard crackers,) we were taking arms preparatory to start, when in rode Col. Smith, the commander of our brigade, accompanied by a mounted Orderly only, after a ride of nearly sixty miles, accomplished in ten hours. He had reached us at the critical moment, and we already felt his presence more than the addition of five hundred men; and then sequel will show that the enthusiasm manifested on the occasion was the result of an earnest conviction that, in this instance, the right man was in the right place.

(I will state in parenthesis that for several weeks previous Col. Smith had been separated from his command, engaged in superintending the repairs of the railroad leading from Nashville.)

His reception, as I have intimated already, was of the warmest and most cordial description. He made a few brief remarks, and off we started, arriving in Savannah about 8 o’clock in the evening. The scene here was indicative of the days struggle.

The final capture of the famous Washington battery, of New Orleans, which did so much damage to us at Bull Run, will send a thrill of pleasure through the heart of the Nation, and Ohio must feel proud of the brave men whose strong arms and stout hearts contributed so much to the achievement. Gen. Buell rode fearlessly along the lines throughout the day and [watched] with a keen eye our advance and capture of the battery. Gen Crittenden proved worthy of the confidence [reposed] in him, and our men desire no other to lead this division to battle. Acting Brigadier Gen. W. S. Smith commanding our brigade, the 14th, was the hero of this fight, however within the scope of my eye, and you must bear in mind that I am only describing this part of the great battle. Other and abler hands will doubtless attempt the whole. Believe me, however, that I make no invidious distinction in claiming this title for our brave commander. The officers and men of the 11th and 26th Kentucky Regiments, which, with the 13th Ohio, compose our brigade, all concede him this honor.

Seizing our beloved flag from the color bearer, he waved it over his head and with a few words of a kind to kindle the enthusiasm of the men he led the charge himself; mounted, and exposed to the terrible fire of the infuriated rebels, and with sword in hand, was the first to dash upon the battery and knock out the brains of one if not more, of the gunners with his sword. It is [in] scenes of this kind that we fully realize the force of individual character, in infusing multitudes with a spirit of daring that inspires each man to deeds of valor. Confident of success, they never stop to count the cost till the victory is won. Ours has not been cheaply bought; Major Runkel fell severely wounded, sword in hand, in the very front of the battle. Capts. Gardner and Henderson and Lieut. Lindenberg were also wounded while leading their men to victory. I will mention here for the comfort of the families and friends of the above named officers that their wounds, though sever and painful, are not dangerous.

Where all did so well it does not become me to speak of individual daring, but the conduct of our color-sergeant, Stone, deserves the highest praise, and this particular position, as the bear of our flag, enables me to speak his praise without even indirectly reflecting upon others, which the mention of officers of the same rank does, unless you praise them all.

Our loss is not more than two thirds of that of the enemy, and ours, in the two days, in killed alone, is estimated at three thousand.

We now hold a position three miles in advance of that occupied by us on Monday morning. But we do not regard the victory as decisive, although we believe the back-bone of their grand army to be broken.

Respectfully, T. B. G.

– Published in The Athens Messenger, Athens, Ohio, Thursday, April 24, 1862

The Fight at Pittsburgh

NEW YORK, April 14. – A correspondent of the [Philadelphia] Enquirer, after being captured by the rebels at Pittsburgh Landing and afterwards escaped, has arrived at Cairo. He states our loss at 4,000 killed and 12,000 wounded. The battle lasted thirteen hours and a half on Sunday and eight hours on Monday.

We captured all but two or three of their cannon, including the famous Washington artillery of New Orleans.

– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 19, 1862