Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: Saturday, May 31, 1862

To-day (Saturday, P. St., May 31) they have loaded all their wounded into wagons for transportation in their retreat.

Colonel Kenly and I have been paroled this afternoon. Colonel Kenly's wound in the head improves daily. Most of the prisoners, officers and men, marched off this Saturday morning.

I have furnished bread and some vegetables to our friends at the court-house every morning. Now that they have gone, I fear that they will suffer, perhaps for want of food.

Lieutenant-Colonel Cunningham, Twenty-first Virginia Volunteers, who has just taken my parole, tells me that his regiment was on the hill opposite our position.

“Your battery was splendidly served,” said he; “and your line of sharpshooters behind the stone wall on your right picked off every officer of our regiment who showed himself. Seven or eight of our officers were wounded by them. We fired spherical case over the wall at them, and, at last, round shot at the wall from the Rockbridge artillery.”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 263

Journal of Major Wilder Dwight: May 30, 1862

Winchester, Virginia, Friday, May 30, 1862,

Braddock Street, at Mr. Bernhardt's.

The first news of an attack on Banks's column reached the camp of the Second Massachusetts Regiment at Strasburg, Virginia, on Friday evening after parade (May 23). The Third Wisconsin Regiment was despatched by Colonel Gordon, commanding brigade, toward Front Royal, to protect the bridges. At eleven o'clock that night we were ordered to pack wagons. After despatching our train we lay down and spent the night in bivouac. No marching orders came. It was understood by us that many of the other trains had not yet gone toward Winchester. At or near ten o'clock, A.M., Saturday, the order came for us to march. As we passed head-quarters on the way to Winchester, it was reported that the Rebel forces were pushing forward direct from Front Royal to Winchester, and we were hurried on, as it was said, to meet them or anticipate them. When we drew near the bridge over Cedar Creek, the battery was ordered forward in haste, and it was said that part of our train at Newtown had been attacked by cavalry. We pushed forward, found the trains halted, and some evidences of panic and disorder. We halted half an hour before reaching Middletown. Then pushed on again. The day, which had been rainy and clouded, grew more clear and hot. The march was through the trains, and a rapid push toward Winchester. Donnelly's brigade was before ours. Between Middletown and Newtown it became evident that our rear was being pressed. The rear-guard had been composed of cavalry and artillery. A large drove of loose horses overtook us near Newtown; one of cattle soon came also; the wagons, also, were crowding the way. Still we pushed on. At about two miles beyond Newtown General Banks appeared, and announced to Colonel Gordon that our advance was in Winchester, and all quiet there. The evidences of panic and pursuit in the rear had been rapidly multiplying, and it had been reported that our train was cut at Middletown by a force coming by the Front Royal road. The Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment had been ordered to return to the rear with a section of Best's battery at Newtown. As soon as General Banks announced the entry of our force into Winchester, he ordered the Second Massachusetts Regiment to the rear to protect the train. The regiment, jaded by their march and fatigue, sprang to the duty. At Bartonsville, a little more than a mile this side of Newtown, we left our knapsacks, and pushed on.

As we came near Newtown, evidences of panic filled the road, — abandoned wagons, flying teamsters, &c. The regiment formed near the edge of the town. Two companies were deployed as skirmishers on each side of the road. Two companies were ordered to support Best's section, and the rest of the regiment moved into the town by the road by the flank. They had just entered the town, when the enemy's artillery from the other end of the town threw a few shells at them with skill. The shell burst directly over the battalion. Colonel Andrews ordered them within the yards on the right of the road. The skirmishers and reserve moved on, and the rest of the regiment followed, keeping within shelter of buildings. Before entering the town we had seen cavalry on our right and left. The line of skirmishers was halted in a hollow just beyond the town, and the reserves and battalion kept within the town. The artillery of both sides kept up a rapid fire. It was, perhaps, five, P. M., when we turned back. We held the position till sunset. At the edge of the town, on a door-step, was a half-eaten pile of corn. The man of the house said Ashby's horse was eating there when we came into town. I fed my horse with what was left. This was the only forage, I believe, taken from the enemy. Before we withdrew from Newtown we set fire to the abandoned wagons. It grew dark rapidly as we withdrew. I had a detail of two companies, A and C, as a rear-guard. One platoon of each company was deployed in the fields, on each side of the road. The reserves were united within the road. The enemy soon followed our retreat. As they came in sight of the burning wagons their yells and shouts were demoniacal. Expecting an attack by their cavalry upon the rear-guard, I prepared for it. When we came near Bartonsville a halt was ordered, to pick up the knapsacks. We could hear the yells of the men coming on. Soon the sound of approaching horses was heard. The growing darkness, confused by the glare of the burning wagons, compelled us to trust our ears. I drew the line of skirmishers into groups near the road, formed the reserve into a square, and directed the three bodies, so formed, to pour their fire upon the approaching cavalry at the command from me. The cavalry came on. The fire was ordered and delivered. The cavalry went back.

Their advance seemed checked. I rode back up the hill over which the cavalry had come, but could hear no sound. It then became necessary to draw in and relieve the rear-guard, to enable it to take its knapsacks. At the foot of the hill on which we had been posted was a little run which the road crossed over a small bridge. The rear-guard was drawn in across that run, together with Company B, which had come out to their support.

Company I had been ordered to report to me as a rearguard; Colonel Andrews stating that he thought the pursuit checked. Company I came down near the run to wait there till the knapsacks should be taken and till the column should move. Hardly had they got there when I could hear voices beyond the run. It had been reported to me that orders were being given to infantry. I heard a voice saying, “There they are! there they are! in the road!” As a few shells had been thrown at us when we were in position beyond the run, I thought the enemy might intend some such compliment, and I directed the company which was in column by platoon to break back against the roadsides. The doubt was soon scattered. A galling and severe infantry fire opened on us. Company I replied at once, and with admirable coolness and effect. In spite of their inferior numbers, and of the wounded falling about, they kept their position and maintained their fire. I sent back to Colonel Andrews for support, and parts of Companies C and B in the clover-field on the right of the road soon opened a fire that relieved us speedily.

Company I, however, had lost eight or ten killed or wounded in this sudden and vigorous attack.

We withdrew slowly, the column having now got in motion again. The enemy pressed us only a little way; then all was quiet. When we came to a brick house our wounded were carried into it, and a halt was ordered till ambulances, which were sent for, could be brought back for them.

I posted a line of sentries across the road and in the fields, and posted the reserve of Company I within that line, and the regiment was taking some rest, while Dr. Leland¹ was busy dressing the wounded in the house. After about half an hour the sentries reported sounds as of an advancing column. Upon going back, I found that I could hear it, and so reported to Colonel Andrews. Colonel Andrews expressed an unwillingness to leave the wounded unless we were compelled to do so, and ordered me to return again. I did so; and leaving word with my sentinels to fire at once upon hearing or seeing anything suspicious, I was on my way to report to Colonel Andrews that the enemy were certainly approaching, when I was stopped by a fire from the direction of the sentinels. Immediately a sharp and extended line of fire opened from the enemy's skirmishers close upon us. The column moved at once, as soon as it could be got in order.

Our sentinels and reserve from Company I stood their ground under a second severe fire. Part of Companies B and C were rapidly deployed, and we moved on in retreat. Part of Company D, under Lieutenant Abbott, was unluckily left behind on our right, where they had been deployed as flankers. For a moment they were between two fires, but the fact was discovered in season to avoid disaster. We were compelled, however, to leave Dr. Leland and the wounded prisoners in the hands of the enemy. The enemy pursued us closely beyond Kernstown. Soon after passing that village, I drew in the skirmishers, and followed the column rapidly. We passed our cavalry picket at the tollgate. Between twelve and one o'clock the whole regiment lay down to a dreary bivouac just outside of Winchester on the left of the road.

I met Colonel Gordon on the road, and went with him into town. He sent out his Adjutant, Lieutenant Horton, to attend to the posting of pickets. We went to see General Banks. I had only a few words with him. I told him the nature of the pursuit, and intimated the opinion which I had formed, that an attack would be made at daylight. I got no orders nor any intimation of any plan or purpose for the next day. I went back and lay down by a small fire for about an hour.

Soon after three o'clock, A. M., Colonel Andrews requested me to go into town, to hurry out some ammunition for our regiment. I saw Colonel Gordon, but could get no ammunition. When I came out of Colonel Gordon's room I met a messenger from Colonel Andrews, saying that an attack seemed imminent, and there was no general officer on the field. As I went back to the regiment I met Generals Williams and Hatch, and gave them the message. I then went back to the regiment. I found Colonel Andrews and Colonel Ruger together. I said to the former: “Ought we not to take possession of that ridge?” pointing to the one on the right of the road. Colonel Andrews said, “I have already selected it, but where is Colonel Gordon?” I replied he was coming. The regiment was formed, and Colonel Gordon, on his arrival, sanctioning the position, the regiment moved by the flank, across the road, and up the hillside.

We had just crossed the road when a Rebel regiment, in line (Fifth Virginia), appeared on the ridge, showing that they had anticipated us.

As we moved up the hill Colonel Andrews told me to ride forward, to examine the position. I did so. A fire from some sharpshooters saluted me, and I could see a battery and some regiments opposite the position that we were advancing to occupy. Meantime, Cothren's battery opened on the Fifth Virginia Regiment, and scattered them out of view. The Second Massachusetts moved on to its position, and took the line of a broken stone-wall, the right of the regiment resting on the crest of the hill. The rest of the regiments of the brigade formed on our left down to the pike. The battery was posted on a rise of ground behind our regiment. The Second Massachusetts was ordered to lie down. Part of Company D was deployed on the right as skirmishers. There was a warm fire of artillery and musketry on our position. The three right companies kept up a brisk fire on the battery and infantry opposite; rising and lying down again. Colonel Andrews and I dismounted. We could see one of the enemy's guns deserted. The enemy's pieces, I have since found out, belonged to the Rockbridge artillery. Our fire drove them from their guns, and I have also heard that their loss at this point was considerable. Soon, however, their fire ceased, for the most part, to annoy us; though their battery and ours kept up a rapid interchange over our heads, with more or less effect on both sides.

I happened to notice one or two mounted officers of the enemy pointing and gesticulating in the direction of our right flank, and suggested to Colonel Andrews whether they did not mean to send round a force to flank us. He seemed to think it probable. There was a stone-wall on our right and in front of our line about thirty yards or forty. Colonel Andrews ordered Companies D and I to deploy forward to that wall as skirmishers to protect that flank, and also to observe and harass any movement of the enemy like the one anticipated. At about this time a sharp fire of grape and spherical case, as I suppose, began upon the wall and the field in rear of us. I have since found out that the guns of the Rockbridge artillery were ordered to divide their fire between this wall and the battery to prevent our pushing a regiment up to the wall.

I went forward to the wall, dropping occasionally, as I saw the flash of the enemy's guns, to avoid their somewhat importunate projectiles. It appeared that the expected movement had commenced. There was one piece of low ground where the enemy's flank was exposed in their movement. They then passed behind a wooded knoll which covered them. Colonel Andrews ordered me to go to Colonel Gordon to report the movement. I did so, finding him in a hollow in rear of the centre of the brigade. He directed me to return, and ascertain in what force the enemy were moving. I went out to the wall, and ascertained that two or more regiments had already passed. Our skirmishers were exposed to a sharp fire at the wall. I reported the fact of the number of the enemy moving on our right to Colonel Gordon. He told me to tell Colonel Andrews to throw back the right of the regiment, and he would send up a force to support him. He also directed me to see that some of the artillery moved forward and to the right to play upon the enemy at this point; I was busy attending to these matters.

One of Cothren's pieces was brought forward, our skirmishers were withdrawn from the wall, the Twenty-seventh Indiana and Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania moved up to our right. I had dismounted to go down toward the wall, and was directing the officer in charge of the piece where his fire could be directed with most effect, when I heard a cry. I turned and saw that the Twenty-seventh Indiana, which had just opened its fire, had broken and was running. I saw that the enemy were pouring up the hillside and round on our right. I saw, also, that the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania had broken and was following the Twenty-seventh Indiana. The enemy were coming on at a run, with yells, but not in any regular order. The officer commanding the piece said to me, “What shall I do? I have got no support for my gun.” “Blaze away at ’em,” said I. “I shall lose my gun,” said he. “Well,” said I, “you must do as you choose.” I turned and found that our regiment was withdrawing. I could not see my horse anywhere, and so I followed on foot. As we passed off the hill the enemy rose on its crest. Their cracking and whistling fire followed us closely. I recollected an unmailed letter in my pocket, and preferring to have it unread, rather than read by hostile eyes, I tore it up as we went down the hill. A few of our men would turn and fire up the hill, reloading as they went on. I delayed a little to applaud their spunk.

But the flight before me and the flight behind me are not reminiscences on which I like to dwell.

We passed down into the edge of the town. As I came along, a young soldier of Company C was wounded in the leg. I gave him my arm, but, finding that he was too much injured to go on, advised him to get into a house, and went on. The regiment was forming in line when I reached it. Before I had time to go to the left, where Colonel Andrews was, the regiment moved off again, and I followed. It now became a run. A fire began to assail us from the cross streets as well as from the rear. I turned in at the Union Hotel Hospital to get on to the next street, but found the same fire there. Just as I was near the edge of the town one of our soldiers called out to me, “Major, I'm shot.” I turned to him, and took him along a few steps, and then took him into a house. I told the people they must take care of him, and laid him down on a bed, and opened his shirt. I then turned to go out, but the butternut soldiery were all around the house, and I quietly sat down. “Under which king,” &c. A soldier soon came in and took me prisoner. I made friendly acquaintance with him. He went with me for a surgeon for my wounded soldier, and also to pick up the overcoat which I had thrown off in the heat. I soon went down with my captor to the Taylor House, where I found Colonel Bradley Johnson, First Maryland Regiment, who took charge of me.

As I came back through the streets secession flags were flying from many of the houses; the town was full of soldiers and rejoicing. I found many of our soldiers prisoners in the court-house yard. I was busy about the wounded, and was allowed to go out to get a dinner.

In the afternoon I went upon the field with some of the prisoners of our regiment and buried our dead: two of our own regiment and two from some other. They were buried under the cedar at the right of our line on the hill, and I read a portion of Scripture over their open grave.²

In the evening I went up to the Academy Hospital, where I found Major Wheat of Wheat's battalion, who took care of me, and with whom I passed the night, and who treated me with the utmost kindness and courtesy.

The next morning (Monday, May 26) Major Wheat took me, together with Colonel Murphy, to breakfast at the Taylor House. There I saw Pendleton, of General Jackson's staff, and through him sent in a request to General Jackson. First, to see him; this was refused. Second, to send information, by a flag, to our friends of our number of prisoners, wounded, and dead; this was refused, on the ground that General Banks, after the battle of Kernstown, took no such step; and, as the aid said, “If it had not been for our private sources of information we could have known nothing of our wounded and prisoners.” Third, for a parole for our soldiers who were suffering from want of food; this was also refused on similar ground to the former. Fourth, then for a parole for myself, to enable me to board at some private house in Winchester; this was granted.

I went to the house of Mr. George Barnhardt, on Braddock Street, where I had stopped when we were in Winchester before.

I was at the Union Hotel Hospital on Tuesday morning, May 27, where our wounded were being collected, when I was delighted to see Colonel Kenly, of the First Maryland, from Front Royal, wounded with a sabre-cut on the head, but not dead, as reported. The Colonel came with me to Mr. Barnhardt's house, and has been with me ever since.

On Wednesday, May 28, I attended the funeral of Sergeant Williams, Company F, who died on Tuesday morning soon after I left him. General Jackson gave permission to eight of the Second Massachusetts prisoners to go out with me as an escort for the burial of their companion.

The number of killed, wounded, and prisoners of the Second Massachusetts may be approximately stated thus: killed, eight; wounded, thirty; prisoners, ninety.

Our men have suffered from want of food, but only because the Confederates had it not to give them.

The wounded are doing well, and are in fine spirits. Company I, especially, is in fine spirits.

It should not be omitted in the record of the scenes of Sunday, that, in the retreat through the town, citizens fired from the houses upon our flying and straggling soldiers.

Within an hour after the Rebel occupation of the town, Confederate flags were flying from windows, the women appeared gayly dressed on the streets, with Confederate colors, and wearing also little flags. The houses were vocal with “Maryland! my Maryland!” and “The Bonnie Blue Flag!”

There is little doubt, however, that the Rebel loss far exceeded ours. The hospitals are crowded with their wounded. They lost, also, many officers. Their wounded are much more severely wounded than ours. I have heard that the official reports show the loss on Sunday to be ninety-six killed and one hundred and ninety-two wounded.

I got, from conversations with various officers and soldiers, certain interesting facts connected with the pursuit and retreat. I inquired about the charge of cavalry near Bartonsville. “Who was it ambuscaded us there?” was their inquiry. And it seemed, from further conversation, that it was a serious interruption of their advance, and a cause of loss to them. It led them to bring forward their infantry, which gave us a fortunate delay to get our knapsacks. At General Jackson's head-quarters I saw the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fifth or Second Virginia Regiment. He asked, with interest, who it was that was at the run near Bartonsville. I told him I had that honor. He said that he had three companies deployed there of his regiment, and he added that he did not care to fight us again in the dark. Privates of the Fifth and Second Virginia reported that Jackson told them they should be in Winchester on Saturday night. The Fifth and Second are from the neighborhood of Winchester, and were coming home. Some unexplained cause led Jackson to hold them back at Newtown, otherwise they would have attacked us there.

In the battle on Sunday morning, it was Taylor's Louisiana brigade that went round to our right. Wheat's battalion was a part of that command, and he told me about the movement. Jackson had a very large force, eight or ten thousand men, moving on the pike. On our left was a part of Ewell's force, which engaged the First Brigade. One of their regiments (a North Carolina regiment) suffered severely from the fire of the Fifth Connecticut; but their force swept into the town even before the Louisiana brigade turned our right.

Jackson's forces were so jaded and worn down that they could not keep up the pursuit. The infantry was halted about four miles from town. The cavalry continued the pursuit. The colonels of the infantry regiments kept sending word to Jackson that their men could not keep on. Jackson had been marching his men without baggage, almost without food, from Franklin, where he had engaged Milroy. He crossed the Massanattan Gap at New Market, kept up the Valley at Front Royal. The number of his forces must have been between twenty and thirty thousand. It consisted of Ewell's and Johnson's (Edward) and his own command. They pushed rapidly on, and were promised that they should go into Maryland!

The young soldier who took possession of me was on foot, but he told me he belonged to the Second Virginia Cavalry. “Where is your horse?” said I. “He was shot last night when we were ambuscaded,” was the reply. Then I informed him that we shot him.

To-night (Friday evening, May 30) there is every evidence of alarm and retreat on the part of our captors. We are expecting every kind of good news, and hoping that they will be too late to carry us off on their retreat.

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¹ Dr. Francis Leland, Surgeon of the Second Massachusetts Infantry.

² Four years later, almost on the very anniversary of this burial, friends of Major Dwight sought and found the consecrated spot. They were guided thither by a man from the immediate vicinity, who, when asked if he remembered, on Sunday afternoon, after General Banks's retreat in May, 1862, seeing a Union officer with some of his men, under a Rebel guard, come out upon the hill yonder to bury four Union soldiers, replied, “I should think I ought to remember it; I helped to dig the graves.” The cedar had been recently cut down, but the stump remained, and beside it were the four graves. The bodies had only the week before been removed to a soldiers' cemetery in Winchester, and those who visited the spot stood, as Major Dwight had stood, over the open graves. The form of the bodies was distinctly visible, and outside the graves were portions of the blankets in which they were wrapped, the visor of one of their caps, and other relics of them. Nearby was the “broken stone-wall,” behind which the two of the buried men belonging to the Second Massachusetts had perished, and within sight were all the most interesting points connected with the battle and the retreat.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 252-63

Chaplain Alonzo H. Quint to the Family of Major Wilder Dwight

I should not intrude now into your anxiety, your grief, but because your son was, let us say is, so dear to us. He had won the universal love of our regiment. Our hopes that Massachusetts will be proud of the late history of the Second Regiment are clouded by the anxiety felt by every man as to the Major's fate. Brought into constant personal intercourse with the men, I have every opportunity to know their feelings. He was always so attentive to the comfort and welfare of the men, was such a friend to every soldier, and was so useful to their needs, that no man could replace him. They love him.

He has been to me a kind friend, in my peculiar office, and I have always relied greatly on his influence and help in plans for the spiritual good of the men. His interest in our public worship has been great, and it was but a few weeks ago that we were together considering measures for the special improvement of the regiment as to religious plans.

I hope you have heard that he fell behind the column coming out of Winchester by helping and encouraging along a wounded soldier.

You will know, of course, how nobly he commanded the little band of skirmishers on Saturday night last, when his small force he formed against cavalry and infantry with entire success; how his clear, cool, deliberate words of command inspired the men, so that no man faltered, while in ten minutes one company lost one fourth of its number.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 248-9

Captain Edward G. Abbott on Major Wilder Dwight

His courage and coolness are worthy of all praise. He walked about, apparently as unconcerned as if lounging on Washington Street. His devotion to the wounded is sublime. He is my hero of the fight. The men never tire of talking of him and praising him.*

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* See also remarks of Hon. Josiah G. Abbott upon the same occasion. Appendix III.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 248

Captain Samuel M. Quincy on Major Wilder Dwight

Our Major Dwight has won for himself the heartfelt admiration of the regiment. His indomitable pluck and perfect sang-froid were beautiful. I watched him on Saturday and Sunday with wonder and delight. Bullets and death he utterly despised and ignored. In short, he is a genuine hero.*

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* See remarks of Hon. Josiah Quincy at the meeting of the Suffolk Bar, upon the occasion of the death of Wilder Dwight . Appendix III.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 247-8

Colonel George H. Gordon to Captain William D. Wilkins, May 28, 1862

HEADQUARTERS THIRD BRIGADE,

Camp near Williamsport, Md.

[May 28, 1862.]

CAPTAIN: Agreeably to instructions received from headquarters of the division, I have the honor to report the movements of my brigade in all engagement with the enemy on the 25th instant in front of and less than a third of a mile from the town of Winchester, Va.. At dawn in the morning I received information through the officer commanding the pickets that the enemy in large numbers were driving them in and approaching the town. I immediately formed my brigade in line of battle, the right resting upon the commanding ridge, the left extending into the valley. The ridge surrounds the town, which it holds as in a basin. It is less than one-third of a mile distant, and presents many key-points for positions. I placed my artillery, Battery M, of First New York, composed of six 6-pounder Parrotts, under Lieutenant Peabody, upon the ridge, and thus awaited further developments.

About 5 a.m. skirmishers from the Second Massachusetts, on the right and crest of the hill, became sharply engaged. At about the same time I directed the battery to open upon the columns of the enemy evidently moving into position just to the right and front of my center. This was done with admirable effect. The columns disappeared over the crest. For more than an hour a fire of shell and canister from several rebel batteries was directed upon my position. My brigade, being somewhat protected by a ravine, suffered but little loss. The fire of our skirmishers and the spirited replies of the battery, with heavy musketry and artillery firing on our left in Donnelly's brigade, were the only marked features of the contest until after 6 a.m.

At about 6.30, perhaps nearer 7 a.m. large bodies of infantry could be seen making their way in line of battle toward my right. They moved under cover of the dense wood, thus concealing somewhat their numbers. I directed the Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania Regiment, Colonel Murphy, and the Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment, Colonel Colgrove, to change position from the left to the right of line, holding the Second Massachusetts, Lieutenant-Colonel Andrews, first on the right, in the center, the Third Wisconsin Regiment, Colonel Ruger, forming the left. This movement I had hardly completed, despite a new battery which opened upon my line, when three large battalions of infantry moving in order of battle, came out from their cover and approached my brigade. They were received with a destructive fire of musketry, poured in from all parts of my line that could reach them. Confident in their numbers and relying upon larger sustaining bodies (suspicions of which behind the covering timbers in our front were surely confirmed), the enemy's lines moved on, but little shaken by our fire. At the same time, in our front, a long line of infantry showed themselves, rising the crest of the bills just beyond our position. My little brigade, numbering in all just 2,102, in another moment would have been overwhelmed. On its right, left, and center immensely superior columns were pressing. Not another man was available; not a support to be found in the remnant of his army corps left General Banks. To withdraw was now possible; in another moment it would have been too late.

At this moment I should have assumed the responsibility of requesting permission to withdraw, but the right fell back under great pressure, which compelled the line to yield. I fell back slowly, but generally in good order, the Second Massachusetts, in column of companies, moving by flank; the Third Wisconsin, in line of battle, moving to the rear. On every side above the surrounding crest surged the rebel forces. A sharp and withering fire of musketry was opened by the enemy from the crest upon our center, left, and right. The yells of a victorious and merciless foe were above the din of battle, but my command was not dismayed. The Second Massachusetts halted in a street of the town to reform its line, then pushed on with the column, which, with its long train of baggage wagons, division, brigade, and regimental, was making its way in good order toward Martinsburg.

My retreating column suffered serious loss in the streets of Winchester. Males and females vied with each other in increasing the number of their victims, by firing from the houses, throwing hand grenades, hot water, and missiles of every description. The hellish spirit of murder was carried on by the enemy's cavalry, who followed to butcher, and who struck down with saber and pistol the hapless soldier, sinking from fatigue, unheeding his cries for mercy, indifferent to his claims as a prisoner of war.

This record of infamy is preserved for the females of Winchester. But this is not all. Our wounded in hospital, necessarily left to the mercies of our enemies, I am credibly informed, were bayoneted by the rebel infantry. In the same town, in the same apartments where we, when victors on the fields of Winchester, so tenderly nursed the rebel wounded, were we so more than barbarously rewarded. The rebel cavalry, it would appear, give no quarter. It cannot be doubted that they butchered our stragglers; that they fight under a black flag; that they cried as they slew the wearied and jaded, “Give no quarter to the damned Yankees.”

The actual number of my brigade engaged was 2,102.

In estimating the force of the enemy I turn for a moment to the movement of the First Division from Strasburg to Winchester on the preceding day, the 24th, and my engagement with the enemy during the march, which assured me of their presence in great force upon our right flank.

The capture and destruction of Colonel Kenly's command (First Brigade) on the 23d at Front Royal while guarding our railroad communication with Washington and the facts set forth in my report of my engagement on the 24th tended to a conviction of the presence of a large force under General Ewell in the valley of the Shenandoah. The union of Jackson with Johnson, composing an army larger by many thousands than the two small brigades, with some cavalry and sixteen pieces of artillery,, which comprised the entire army corps of General Banks, furnishes evidence justifying a belief of the intention of the enemy to cut us off first from re-enforcements, second to capture us and our material, beyond peradventure.

From the testimony of our signal officers and from a fair estimate of the number in rebel lines drawn up on the heights, from fugitives and deserters, the number of regiments in the rebel army opposite Winchester was 28, being Ewell's division, Jackson's and Johnson's forces, the whole being commanded by General Jackson. These regiments were full, and could not have numbered much less than 22,000 men, with a corresponding proportion of artillery, among which were included two of the English Blakely guns. Less than 4,000 men in two brigades, with sixteen pieces of artillery, kept this large and unequal force in check for about three hours; then retreating in generally good order, preserved its entire trains and accomplished a march of 36 miles.

Where all the regiments in my brigade behaved so well it is not intended to reflect in the least upon others in mentioning the steadiness and perfect discipline which marked the action of the Second Massachusetts, Lieutenant-Colonel Andrews, and Third Wisconsin, Colonel Ruger. The enemy will long remember the destructive fire which three or four companies of the Third Wisconsin and a like number of the Second Massachusetts poured into them as these sturdy regiments moved slowly in line of battle and in column from the field.

I herewith inclose a list* of the killed, wounded, and missing of the several regiments of my brigade, hoping that the numbers will hereafter be reduced by arrivals of those marked missing. How many were captured it is impossible now to determine.

Colonel Murphy, Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania, is known to be a prisoner. Major Dwight, of the Second Massachusetts, while gallantly bringing up the rear of the regiment, was missed somewhere near or in the outskirts of the town. It is hoped that this promising and brave officer, so cool upon the field, so efficient everywhere, so much beloved by his regiment, and whose gallant services on the night of the 24th instant will never be forgotten by them, may have met no worse fate than to be held a prisoner of war.

To my personal staff, Lieut. C. P. Horton, Second Massachusetts Regiment, my assistant adjutant-general; to Lieut. H. B. Scott, of the same regiment, my aide-de-camp, I am indebted for promptness in transmission of orders, for efficiency and gallant services in action.

I desire to express my thanks to Colonels Murphy, Ruger, Colgrove, and Andrews, and to the officers and men generally of my command, especially to officers and men of Battery M, whose skill and courage tended so much by their destructive fire to disconcert the enemy and hold him in check.

In fine, in the two days of the 24th and 25th of May the larger portion of my brigade marched 61 miles, the Second Massachusetts skirmishing on the 24th for more than six hours with infantry, cavalry, and artillery, the entire command on the 25th fighting a battle.

I herewith inclose such reports of colonels of regiments as have been forwarded.

Respectfully,

 GEO. H. GORDON,

Colonel Second Massachusetts Regt., Comdg. Third Brigade.

 Capt. WILLIAM D. WILKINS,

 A. A. G., -Fifth Army Corps.

_______________

* See revised statement, p. 553

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 247; The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 12, Part 1 (Serial No. 15), p. 616-8

Major Wilder Dwight, May 9, 1862

camp Near New Market, Virginia, May 9, 1862.

After passing three days in bivouac on the other side of the gap, we returned here last night, and went again into camp

Our cavalry made a brisk and bold charge the other day. They are coming up finely under the new general, Hatch. They actually brought in ten men wounded with sabre-cuts; a thing not before done in the war, and really a most healthy indication.

Our life in the woods on the mountain was listless, but pleasant enough. I got a letter from Mrs. Ticknor, which I have answered. I hope your funds will all be saved against the wants which weather or battle will surely develop before autumn. It is a pity that your fund should not do its utmost good, and in this direction that work can best be done.

Just now our own prospects are not such as to give us much claim on home solicitude or benevolence. The Secretary of War has ordered us back to Strasburg.

Shields, now a major-general! takes his division across the gap to McDowell. General Banks remains with two brigades, one of them ours, at Strasburg. This is the programme.

With that pitiful force to which Banks's “army corps” is now reduced, and at that point fifty miles back of our recent advance, we have no other hope or purpose than protecting Maryland! A proud sequel, is it not?

Of course all this is a severe trial to me, — the severest, I think, of my life. But equally, of course, I keep a cheerful spirit, and mean to do my best to the end. Whether the whirligig of time has any revenges in our favor or not we must wait to see.

Service is obeying orders, and we are in service. Perhaps we shall make some effort to get into an active department as soon as things have taken shape. We certainly shall if we can see any way to do so. It is rather hard luck for the first regiment recruited for the war, isn't it?

We are having very bright, warm weather, and this valley is beautiful under it. On our night march through the gap, we had sunrise just at the crest of the mountain. Both the valleys lay beneath us in their morning bath of sunshine, picturesque with camps and wheat-fields and villages.

Yesterday the box arrived; the blanket is just what I want; the stockings went right on men's feet

I wait patiently for news from William. It may well be that his opportunity will soon come or has come.

It is a year since our camp life at West Roxbury. What a different year from that to which we then looked forward!

May the next year be a different one from that which now appears before us.

Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 244-5

Major Wilder Dwight, May 6, 1862

in Bivouac Massanatan Pass, Opposite New Market,

May 6, 1862.

A word with you in the rough confusion of our mountain bivouac.

Sunday last I should have written, but being a little out of sorts, put it off. In the afternoon we had an alarm, the long roll beaten, and marched toward the front. The regiment spent the night by the roadside. At three, A. M., started for New Market, in retreat. Marched all day in oppressive heat and dust, delayed by baggage-trains and batteries. Got into camp at eight, P. M. 1 was busy posting grand guards and outposts till eleven. At twelve, another alarm, and we marched again, foot-sore, hungry, weary, in the dark, over the mountain pass. You should have seen the sunrise from the head of the pass. To-day we rest. We found the alarm a false one, owing to the stupidity of General of Shields's division. Our work has been awful and useless utterly. My soul is aweary — so, indeed, is my body.

I could prose you a long story of our experiences; but to what good?

I am well now. We bivouac again to-night. The scenery is glorious, the weather fine. I have two letters from you since I wrote.

As to ——'s secession friend, let him alone. Colonels Corcoran and Wilcox are still in captivity; so is Botts and the Governor of North Carolina. Smooth no pillows for traitors.

Love to all. I am glad to hear such good news of Charley. I hope William is now lucky. Memphis will fall before you get this. Hurrah!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 243-4

Major Wilder Dwight, April 29, 1862

camp Near Harrisonburg, April 29, 1862.

I believe I wrote you a short letter since our arrival here. Written in a northeast storm, perhaps it had a little of the gloom of the sky that overhung it. Let me try what brighter skies may inspire. Sunday morning last broke; yes! broke, and the spell — of weather which had held us so long yielded at last. The snows which we found on the field vanished.

In the midst of our morning inspection an order came to march at once on a reconnoissance towards Jackson's position in the Swift Run Gap on the Blue Ridge. We got off at about eleven o'clock, with the Twenty-seventh Indiana Regiment. It was our duty to support the cavalry and artillery under General Hatch. We went out on the “mud pike” to Magaugheysville, or rather toward that euphonious town. Such a road! We toiled out eleven miles. The cavalry pushed beyond Magaugheysville and had a brisk little skirmish, in which we took two prisoners and lost one. The Rebels have the bridge that crosses the Shenandoah full of brush and combustibles, ready to burn when we press them. It is reported that Jackson is reinforced by a brigade or more, and that he will make a stand in the gap. If this is so, perhaps we may get a little fight out of him. But I am still of the persuasion which I have always held. Our problem in this valley has always been, the movement and subsistence of our army. The enemy has always been a secondary consideration, though he has kept up a vigorous resistance.

In the ripeness of time we must cross the ridge and find ourselves close on the flank of that army that resists McClellan at Yorktown. This is certainly the right way.

What politics or jealousy or a divided command may confuse us into blundering, I cannot say.

We have reduced our baggage, and I send home a trunk. The hard pan is what we come down to, and miss only the opportunity to drive twice our force of Rebels from any position they may take.

I rejoice in the capture of New Orleans, and believe that the 1st of June will show the Rebellion crushed and bleeding.

Yesterday I was busy all day on outpost duty. On Sunday our regiment marched twenty-two miles between eleven o'clock and sunset: good work. We have met one misfortune since our arrival here. A corporal of Company H, who was a capital man, and a good soldier, marched into our present camp with the regiment, was taken sick the next day of typhus fever, and died within forty-eight hours. This morning he was buried, and I could not help thinking how little of the soldier's reward he would receive, yet how much he deserves.

We are all well, and hoping to move on toward Richmond.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 242-3

Major Wilder Dwight, April 26, 1862

camp Near Harrisonburg, April 26, 1862, Saturday.

Rain! rain! rain! March! march! march! What a life! We marched fifteen miles yesterday, in mud and rain, to this point, and got into camp at night in reasonable comfort, but almost without rations, and now we are busy with the miserable interrogatory of what to eat?

Such is our experience. Colonel Andrews is again on detached duty, and, for the past few days, I have been in command. It is impossible to exaggerate the difficulty of taking care of a regiment when the whole Quartermaster and Commissary Departments of the army corps are in such hopeless confusion and debility.

No other army corps has the obstacles to contend against of this kind that we have. At Yorktown they have the sea, and the Western rivers bear supplies as well as gunboats. Here our wagons cannot bring supplies enough to last until they return from a second trip. We shall be driven to forage from the country; and I do not see any system adopted wise enough and prompt enough for that effort. But there is no use in croaking; we shall get out of the woods somehow, I suppose.

Among other short supplies, we are wholly without newspapers since a week ago. What is the news? I hope McClellan is silencing his opponents by silencing the enemy's batteries. That's his best answer.

Well, the first year of my military service expires this week. It has been a busy one. I am willing to enter on another, but I wish I could see the beginning of the end more clearly than I can. We didn't think the Southern Confederacy had a year's life in it a year ago. They have illustrated the power of able and unscrupulous leaders, and we have furnished some hints, at least, of the weakness of feeble and scrupulous leaders. I am in such a trite and moralizing frame of mind that I will spare you any further prosing.

We may go on to Staunton, and we may cross the gap to Gordonsville. We can't stay here much longer, and I hope my next letter may give you some guess at our future.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 240-1

Major Wilder Dwight, April 24, 1862

Camp Between New Market And Sparta,

Thursday, April 24, 1862.

When I awoke on Easter morning in my dripping bivouac, and looked gloomily at my boots, which, with studied carelessness, I had so placed as to receive the stream from the flimsy shelter over me, and which were full of water, when, more than all, I poured the water out and put the boots on, I might have known, by intuitive conjecture, that our forces would the next day occupy Sparta. The storm did not abate until Tuesday, and it left us in hopeless mud and rain. Our advance is now in Harrisonburg, and Jackson's force has crossed the gap, and is on its way to Gordonsville. “The Valley” is cleared; and General Banks has been enjoying himself with a “general order” of congratulation, back-patting, and praise, worthy of little Jack Horner, and his thumb and his plum. Still, one fact is stubborn. Our column has penetrated Virginia one hundred miles, and is very near to important Rebel lines of communication, and has achieved important results with reasonable promptness and without disaster.

We hear to-day that the freshets of the Potomac and Shenandoah have combined to carry away the railroad bridge over the Potomac at Harper's Ferry. This will interfere with our supplies, and, I think, hasten our course over the Blue Ridge towards Gordonsville.

I have enjoyed for the past two days the slight alleviation of weather. Tuesday afternoon the Colonel and I rode through the gap opposite New Market, over the Massannattan Mountain, into the other valley which is bounded by the Blue Ridge. The road is a graded, gradual ascent, winding in and out. At its summit is one of the signal-stations, whence the view into both valleys is very fine, and, under the changing, clouded, and showery light, the scene had a great charm, heightened by the camps which were scattered over the green fields of the valley. We descended into the other valley to visit the Third Wisconsin, a regiment of Colonel Gordon's brigade, which is stationed there to protect two bridges over the South Fork of the Shenandoah and another stream.

Yesterday was a bright, breezy, sunshiny day, tempting one strongly to out-door life, — otherwise I should have written you a word on my birthday. Colonel Gordon and I drove down to Rood's Hill to examine the position which Jackson occupied there. We found it of great natural strength, with a river on either flank, and a broad, flat bottom, over which our approach would have been made.

We saw one scene in the course of our ride which illustrates the vile tyranny, oppression, and outrage which has been practised by the Rebels here. A neatly-dressed woman, with five little children, — one in her arms, — was crossing the field. We stopped and spoke to her. “Indeed it is,” said she, “hard times for poor folks. Jackson took my husband off with him. They gave him his choice to go or death. I expect him back, though, now that you've got here. He promised to run away the first chance.” Comment on such a “volunteer’ system is unnecessary. I told you that we were living near the house of Mr. Williamson, and took our meals there. I am now writing in the parlor, which is brigade head-quarters. The husband and father of the family is off with the army, but his uncle, the owner of the farm, an old man of eighty years, is here. He is an intelligent man. He heard John Randolph's maiden speech in Congress at Philadelphia. He sat in Richmond in the Convention to amend Virginia's constitution with Madison and Monroe. His farm here contains sixteen hundred acres, and as he sees his rail-fences disappearing before our camps he recalls how it looked in New Jersey years after Washington's army had wintered there; not a fence for miles. This helps his philosophy a little, but he is a bitter Secessionist, though his hope flickers under the blast of Northern invasion. One of the most amusing things connected with our movement into this country is the constant and odd exhibition of its effect on the negro. Day before yesterday our pickets brought in six contrabands. They had fled from above Harrisonburg, to avoid being drawn off with Jackson's army. One of them was almost white; another was of quite mature years, and very much disposed to philosophize and consider and pause over this emancipation question, and act “for the best.” I must try to give you a snatch from the dialogue between Colonel Gordon and the negroes; but I must leave out the brogue and laugh and aspect of the men which made up the incomparable effect. After asking them where they came from, &c., the Colonel, “Well, why didn't you go off with your master?” Ans. I didn't want to go South. Q. The South are your friends, ain't they? A. No, dey isn't no friends to colored people. Q. Well, what made you think we should be? Didn't your master tell you we wanted to steal you and sell you to Cuba? A. Yes, but we don't believe no such nonsense as dat. De Norf is our friends. I've heard all about de Norf, and I never see black men chained together and driven off to de Norf, but I have seen ’em, hundreds of ’em driven off Souf. I'd ruffer trust to de Norf, and I'd like to try it. Q. Well, but you can't work and take care of yourself, can you? Your master always took care of you, didn't he? A. Bress you, if de nigger don't work, who does? De white folks don't do no work. I've hired myself out for five years, made de bargain myself, and my master got de money. Yah! yah! yah! And they all laughed. Q. Well, you want to go Norf, do you? A. Yes. Then the philosopher, who was named George, reasoned a little more about it. At last the Colonel said: “Well, you are free; you can go where you please. You ain't slaves any longer, unless you choose to go back. Now, what are you going to do? Ain't you going to do something? ain't you going to turn somersets?” The negroes laughed and were exuberant. “Turn over, George, turn over,” said the darkies; and down the old fellow dumped, and went heels over head on the floor amid a general conviviality.

That's what I call the practical effect of invasion. Where the army goes, slavery topples and falls. For my part, I enjoy it hugely.

As I write this letter, two men are brought in. They are just out of Jackson's army. They live over on the Blue Ridge. A fortnight ago they were hunted into the woods by cavalry, shot at, and caught and put into the army. They say that the woods are full of men hiding in the same way, and that the cavalry are hunting them out. “The South is fighting for independence,” says Lord John Russell; “the North, for empire.” “No man's liberty of speech or person is interrupted,” says Jefferson Davis.

I believe I am fighting in God's cause against the most diabolical conspirators, rebels, and tyrants in the world.

The bright sun of yesterday dried the ground so much that we had battalion drill, and I had the pleasure of drilling the battalion. This morning, however, this treacherous climate again betrayed us, and it is snowing! for all day, I fear.

I rejoice to receive your letter of April 14, just brought in. It brings me news of Howard and William and home, in which I delight. I hope William's forebodings are not well founded, but McClellan must gather fruit soon or go to the wall. Still, silence to all clamor against him, and let us await the issue. I agree with Howard, that this military life gets wearisome.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 237-40

Major Wilder Dwight, April 20, 1862

bivouac Near New Market, Virginia,

Raining from the East. Easter Sunday, April 20, 1862.

Looking back, it seems an age since we dwelt peacefully in the wooded camp near Edinburg. It was Wednesday night that our marching orders came. On Thursday morning at a quarter before two we had reveillé, and marched before light, under a pale moon, toward Mount Jackson.

Shields's division had gone on in advance. The day was a glowing one, and the valley spread itself out before us like a garden in its fresh green.

After a short halt at Mount Jackson, which is a town, and filled with evidences of Rebel occupation, such as large hospitals, one of them unfinished, we were ordered to march round to “turn the enemy's left.”

Our path was a rough one, through a river, over rocks, and through deep mud, on, on, on. We heard occasional cannonading over toward the centre, where Shields's force remained drawn up in line of battle, to await our tedious circuit. The day was long and hot; the artillery labored over the almost impassable road. I went on in advance, with some pioneers to aid a little by removing obstacles. As we passed through the little village of Forrestville, a party of young girls sang Dixie to us. I bought a loaf of bread there of a woman, and paid her five cents in silver. “It’s too much,” said she. “No,” said I. “It’s more money than I've seen for a year,” said she. On we go. We have got round the enemy's position. It is dark; too late to ford the North Fork of the Shenandoah to rejoin the rest of the army, who have now entered New Market, which Ashby even has left. Tired and foot-sore, we lay down to sleep in the woods. Marching for eighteen hours, and such marching! the bivouac, in the warm, pleasant night is a luxury. The next morning we start again, and ford the Shenandoah, and get on to the turnpike at New Market which we had left at Mount Jackson. The Shenandoah is swift, and up to one's middle. Fording is an exciting, amusing, long task. It is finished at last, and the brigade, led by our regiment, moves through the town of New Market to the saucy strains of Yankee Doodle. We move two miles beyond the town, and bivouac on a hillside. Our tents and baggage are all sixteen miles back, at Edinburg.

It is late Friday evening before we get bivouacked. Many of the men are barefoot and without rations. Saturday morning it begins early to rain, and ever since we have been dripping under this easterly storm. Luckily, Mrs. Williamson, whose husband is with the “other army,” and who has a fine farm and a roomy, old-fashioned, ante-Revolution-built house, surrounded by generous barns and outbuildings, swarming with negroes of every shade and size, — luckily, Mrs. Williamson and her six little boys and her aged uncle need our protection; and, in return, she gives us a shelter for our meals, and so alleviates the adversity which had reduced our commissariat to starvation. Mr. Williamson is a major in the Rebel army. His wife is true to him and to Virginia. The eldest boy, of fifteen years, is a stubborn little traitor. Mrs. Williamson invited us all to tea on the first night of our arrival. She spread a most bounteous meal for us, but hardly sweetened it by the bitterness with which she snarled at our invasion. The general statement that these people are traitors, and deserve all the horrors of civil war, is easy; but the individual case, as it comes up under your eye, showing the helpless family in their dismay at our approach, can hardly fail to excite sympathy. When we came into New Market on Friday, we met General Banks in high spirits. He complimented our march, and said the Secretary of War had telegraphed thanks to us, &c., &c., that when our movement was perceived, the rear of Jackson's force fled hastily, &c. My own opinion is, and was from the beginning, that the movement was all nonsense, and pretty expensive silliness for us.

Jackson was ready to run, and began to do so as soon as we began to move. But perhaps we hastened him a little. Here we are, eighty miles from our supplies, all our wagons on the road, our tents and baggage behind, our rations precarious, and following a mirage into the desert. Well, the Secretary of War is much obliged to us “for the brilliant and successful operations of this day.” So we ought to be happy, and to conclude that glory looks very different to those who see it close to. Our news now is, that Jackson is hurrying to Richmond as fast as possible. We are probably Pattersonized, as General Shields calls it, and shall be too late for any decisive part in what is now expected as the great battle of Yorktown. Still I do not regard it as impossible that the wheel may so turn as to give us a little conspicuousness in the next movements. It is our misfortune not to be in a condition of outfit, transportation, and supply to enable us to do much. We are working, too, on a frightfully long line of operations. Still hope.

Aha! the clouds begin to break. I wish you a pleasant Easter Sunday. One thing at least we may hope for, that before another Easter day we may be at home again; for this Rebellion will die rapidly when we hit its vitals. They have not been hit yet, however.

I wish you could look at our regiment under rude shelters of rails and straw, and dripping in this cold storm. Our shoes and clothing came up yesterday, and this morning we are giving them out. So we are not wholly helpless yet.

The first night that we bivouacked here a charge was made on our New York battery. A desperate cow swept in upon it, and actually knocked down and trampled on two men before it could be shot. It was a gallant charge! You need have no anxiety about us. We are safe enough. Our future is uncertain, and we are wet.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 234-7

Major Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, April 13, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, Virginia, April 13, 1862.

My Dear Mother, — We have been stirred by the news from Grant's and Buell's armies since I wrote, and even more, perhaps, by the attitude of McClellan's forces near Yorktown. This letter can hardly have a rapid flight enough to reach you as soon as decisive news from the Army of the Potomac. I hope large results; yet, in doing so, I must shut my eyes to everything around me, torpid as it is with the paralysis of — incapacity, shall I say? or mischance? To-day we obey the order of the War Department, and give thanks for our victories. The regiment will shortly be formed for that purpose. The time is a fitting one. It is the anniversary of that sombre Sunday of the dishonored flag which brought us the news of the fall of Sumter. It is also a fit time for McClellan's coup de grace. I received yesterday your copy of Howard's letter from Pea Ridge. Its clear description of what he saw and heard and did there is very interesting. After all, I was wiser for him than for myself, and urged him to go to the field where victory has come to be almost monotonous.

Our life here since I wrote is full of emptiness. Picket duty and occasional shelling. Now and then I go down and let the enemy's pickets fire at me, just by way of keeping up the illusion of war. One of our pickets the other day got hit, but the miss is the rule. Out of this nettle safety we will pluck the flower danger one of these days, but not yet. . . . .

Since I laid down my pen our service has taken place. I watched the faces of the men, and missed the light which gladdens them whenever they are called to action. Veterans in everything but conflict, it only quickens their impatience to hear of other achievements.

We shall stay here some days longer, I think. Subsistence, clothing, transportation, all limp and halt and stagger.

We are the most timid and scrupulous invaders in all history. It must be delicious to the finer feelings of some people to watch our velvet-footed advance. It keeps me in a state of chronic contempt.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 232-3

Major Wilder Dwight: April 11, 1862

camp Near EdinBurg, Virginia, April 11, 1862.

Dear D——, — Reduced in my finances: I have not been paid since January 1. Reduced in my commissariat: we are faring on soldiers' rations, our best luxury being hard aspiration: they have made —— a brigadier; who now would seek promotion? Reduced in ardor: rumor says the Rebels are quitting Virginia. Reduced, in a word, in everything, except size: the final reduction came, when, on Thursday, April 10, I received, on this outpost of invasion, a note from you out of the midst of such congenial and agreeable companionship tantalizing me with the suggestion that I should join you last Monday. I would I had the wings of memory to do it with. But alas! my face is turned toward the south, and my future is in other hands than my own. . . . . We might have hoped to see you, had not the perversity of General Jackson or the ' stratagem ' of General Shields turned us back from Manassas, whither our steps tended a fortnight ago. Well, there is a sequence, perchance a wisdom, in events, that is better than our plans or hopes. I cannot but rejoice that every day seems to bring us nearer to a military success over this Rebellion. The political solution of our difficulties is quite a more serious embarrassment. I see no wisdom in the government, and seem to myself to be fighting in the dark. One thing, however, is clear, — the more sharp and decisive our victory over their forces, the easier will it be to re-establish a wise government over them. . . . . We have had a very hard time since we came into the field in February, and cannot look for much else at present.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 231-2

Major Wilder Dwight: April 9, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, April 9, 1862.

Scene, camp, snowing and raining, and blowing angrily; Time, Tuesday morning. The Major Second Massachusetts Regiment enters his tent, shaking the dripping oil-skin cap and India-rubber clothing. He discovers John, his John, surnamed Strong i’ the arm, or Armstrong, digging a hole within the damp tent to receive some coals from the hickory fire that is trying to blaze without. John (loquitur). Sogering is queer business, sir. M. Yes, John. J. But it's hard, too, sir, on them that follers it. M. Yes, John. J. It's asy for them as sits to home, sir, by the fire, and talks about sogers and victories, very fine and asy like. It's little they know of the raal work, sir. M. Yes, John. J. ’T wouldn't be quite the same, sir, if they was out here theirselves trying to warm theirselves at a hole in the ground, sir. M. No, John. Then the coals are brought on, and a feeble comfort is attained. The woods are heavy without with snow and ice. In the afternoon I visit the pickets, and spend a chilly and wearisome day. This morning is again like yesterday. –––, who has shown himself  a trump in our recent exigencies, but who has certain eccentricities of manner and speech, came to breakfast this morning, rubbing his hands and saying, “You wouldn't hardly know that this was the South if you did n't keep looking on the map, would you? hey? What say?”

Since I wrote the above I have spent two hours in the hail-storm visiting pickets. This, then, is an invasion of the South, query?

We receive this morning news of the capture of Island No. 10, and the defeat of Beauregard.

Westward the star of — victory takes its way. How long can this thing last? Is it not collapsing with occasional throes of vigor, and are not these spasms the twitchings that precede death? I cannot say. But of one thing I am sure, that it will be warmer farther south; so I wish to go there. It is a week that we have hesitated on the bank of this stony creek; soon we will move on. Our signal-station on the neighboring mountain can see Jackson's camps beyond Mount Jackson, and his wagons, with teams hitched, ready to move at a moment's notice. We can advance again at any moment, by a prolonged skirmish.

I wish you all at home much better weather than we have, and the same peace and quietness.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 230-1

Major Wilder Dwight: April 6, 1862

camp Near Edinburg, April 6, 1862.

It might be a June morning, by its sunshine and warmth. This broken valley, the “interval” of two sharp, dark-wooded ranges of cuts, itself broken and furrowed by impatient “runs,” as they call every water-flow in Virginia, might be a fitting scene for a pleasure journey. All the air might a Sabbath stillness hold, but another solemn influence is everywhere present. Within a mile of our quiet camp the outposts of two armies are watching one another. The cannon and rifle tone break the silence now and then. If you go down to our line of pickets, you will see the men watching with eager though patient eyes for a good shot; and as the smoke breaks from some cover on the opposite bank of the stream, you may hear a ball whistle near you, and some sentry near by will send his quick reply. I had quite an animated day yesterday. As field-officer of the day, I had charge of our line of outposts. I found in the morning that the Rebel pickets were quite importunate and vexatious. I also thought it important to change the position of some of our pickets; and, in order to do so, desired to reconnoitre the ground. I was soon interrupted in my quiet use of my field-glass by the whistle of bullets following the crack of rifles. The devils had probably worked down through the ravines. I moved my horse quietly under cover of a small house, and could listen to the sound without exposing any other sense. I soon changed my position; and thought, that, as the road went quite too close to the river, I would take the field. But I had not gone far in that direction when a rapid volley assailed me from behind a straw-rick, and I was again led to turn back, more especially as some of the shots seemed to be from some quarter quite too near for security. That is the working of these Rebels. They work themselves into safe covers, and pop away. Even their artillery, from which we have three or four attacks every day, is often so masked that even the smoke fails to disclose it. I leaped my horse over a fence, and made arrangements for my picket on a line a little less exposed. But you can get some idea of the persistency of the devils. They seem to act with a bitter personal hate and venom. In my ride yesterday afternoon I came to a house about which there was a gathering of curious soldiers. The poor woman was in great trouble. The Rebel battery had just thrown two shells through the house, shattering windows and plastering, &c. She was in terror, and her husband was away serving in the army whose missiles had terrified her. “Pa is pressed into the militia,” said the little boy to me. “He's gone away to New Market.” Yet these people explain their misfortunes by our invasion, not by their rebellion. “I wish you'd move your men away or stop their firing,” said a young girl to me at a farm-house. “Our boys'll shell the house sure, if you don't take care.” They cling to their allegiance to their flying army, — and why shouldn't they? It is made up of their brothers and sons and lovers. We find very few men. Indeed, their practical conscription leaves nothing male and able-bodied out of the ranks.

But I must not omit to tell you of my revenge on the men who fired at me. The straw-rick stood just in front of a barn. From the hill on which a section of our battery was posted it was a good mark. On my return to that point I directed a few shell to be thrown there. With lucky aim two of them struck the barn itself; and their explosion had, at least, the result to scatter the men within, who were seen to run back to the woods.

We hear an odd story of an incident in the battle at Winchester. It shows that the Second Regiment has a name in this valley. Probably its long continuance here, and the fact that a flag was given to it at Harper's Ferry, have attracted Rebel attention to it. It is said by some of the soldiers who were in the battle, that when one of the Ohio regiments was broken by the Rebel fire, and faltered a little, some of the Rebels jumped up from the corner of their stone-wall and shouted, “Where's Gordon's bloody Second? Bring it on.” A good deal of curiosity was also expressed by the Rebel wounded and prisoners to know about the regiment, and if it was here. They might any of them have seen it the other day if they would only have waited!

It seems that the Rebels swell their numbers now by a systematic and general compulsion. Such troops will only be an embarrassment to them, I think. But their unscrupulous tyranny spares nothing. An old free negro woman, living in a small hut near our camp, says, “They took away my son last summer to Manassas, and I've had a hard winter without him; but they left me my young son, a poor cripple boy. The other day they come and took him, and my horse and wagon to carry off their sick. He's a poor, weak boy, and all I've got, but they wouldn't spare him to me. I can't help it, but I feel more kind to you all whom I never saw than to them that I was born among.” So she talked on sadly of her troubles.

Look at another picture of this free and happy people, with their patriarchal institutions. Colonel Gordon stopped for the night at a house near Snicker's Ferry. The master was out of the room, and a mulatto slave woman was busy about the table. “You are happy, are you not?” says Colonel G. “No,” with a dull, whining, sad tone in her reply. “Your master's kind to you, isn't he?” “No, he sold my mother fifteen years ago.” That memory and loss had been her life and sorrow for fifteen years, and it would last. Pretty pictures of pastoral content!

“Do not take my corn and grain,” says Mr. Ransom, of Charlestown, a courtly Virginian gentleman. “I've a large family of negroes dependent on me, and I must have enough left to feed them, and to take care of my horses and cows till spring. My poor servants will starve.”

The army moves on; a week passes, and Mr. Ransom may be seen taking care of his single remaining cow and horse. His dependent servants have taken care of themselves, and Mr. Ransom is rubbing his eyes over the abrupt lightening of his burdens. Let us clear our minds of cant, — pro or anti slavery. There is full as much of the former cant as of the latter.

It was Sunday when I began this letter; it is now Monday. We make no movement yet. The Rebel shells have not been thrown among us for a whole day! so life is a little monotonous.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 227-30

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