Three Paths to Gettysburg
Gordon McCrea Fisher
gfisher@shentel.net
Prologue
No one who reflects, certainly no one who gives rein to his imagination, can approach even the slightest attempt to tell the story of a man’s life upon earth, whether it be his own or another’s, without feeling that he is doing so in obedience to one of the overruling impulses, one of the deep-seated instincts of humanity. . . . We cannot know, we can only guess.
Henry Cabot Lodge, Memorial Address (1915),
in Charles Francis Adams 1835-1915, An Autobiography (1916).Glaucus son of Hippolochus and Tydeus’ son Diomedes
met in the no man’s land between both armies:
burning for battle, closing, squatting off
and the lord of the war cry Diomedes opened up,
Who are you, my fine friend? – another born to die?
. . . . . . . . . .
The noble son of Hippolochus answered staunchly,
"High-hearted son of Tydeus, why ask about my birth?
Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.
Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth,
now the living timber bursts with the new buds
and spring comes round again. And so with men:
as one generation comes to life, another dies away.
Homer, The Iliad, between 725 and 675 B.C., trans. Robert Fagles, 1990.
This is a story of three relatives of mine who took three different paths to the Battle of Gettysburg in the Civil War. Two of them are ancestors of mine: my paternal grandfather, Captain Charles Wiley Fisher of Company I of the 104th New York Volunteer Infantry, and a great-grandfather on my mother’s side, Corporal Elvin Gilman Hill, of Company E of the 1st Minnesota Volunteer Infantry. The third is Lieutenant Tully McCrea of Battery I of the U. S. First Artillery, a West Pointer. He is a collateral relative, husband of my great-aunt Harriet Camp, sister of my grandmother Sophia (Camp) Fisher, wife of Charles.In a sense, these three members of my family converged at Gettysburg, and there was another kind of convergence by way of marriages. In other senses, they converged and are now converging in me.
My great-grandfather Elvin Hill, it appears, was involved in one of the more famous events at Gettysburg, the charge of the First Minnesota regiment ordered by General Winfield Hancock on a brigade of Alabamians, which resulted in the largest percentage of casualties suffered by any unit of comparable size during the Civil War, and indeed in any war. My great-uncle Tully McCrea was a member of an artillery battery notably involved in the repulse of what is known as Pickett’s Charge. This action is sometimes said to have been a turning point of the Civil War, one of the keys of a turn from Southern to Northern dominance. My grandfather Charles Fisher was wounded twice in the war, once at Second Bull Run (Manassas), and again at Gettysburg. At Bull Run, he was also captured and spent some time in the Libby Prison. He was paroled in time to take part in the Battle of Gettysburg, and was again captured, on the first day, but this time managed to get fairly quickly back to the Union lines.
In what follows, the parts in bold-face type (other than headings) are direct quotations, identified with authors’ names, which can be taken as references to the bibliography at the end of the work. I have chosen to quote copiously the words of actual participants in the events described, and also the words of some early and, occasionally, current historians. Sometimes quotations are altered slightly to promote an easier flow of words. Parts of what is being quoted are often omitted, as signaled by the usual dots. Hopefully, intended meanings are not distorted. Often enough, I think, intended meanings have been emphasized by the omissions. For some events, I quote several different descriptions by people who were involved or commented on them. This gives views of these events from different perspectives; for example, those of officers, from lieutenants to generals, and of men from the ranks, from privates to sergeants, as well as of a few civilians.
1. Great-grandfather Elvin ‘Gil’ Hill
Compared to the untold myriads of human beings who have lived and died, the number of biographies, of epitaphs, of bare mention even, in lists or catalogues, is trifling, and yet each one of the countless and unnoted millions had his trials and sorrows and joys, his virtues and his crimes, his soul history, deeply interesting if truly narrated and rightly considered. But we can only deal with what we have, and from what we possess must infer the rest, for that alone is permitted to us.
Henry Cabot Lodge (loc. cit., 1915).
1.1 Where He Came From
My great-grandfather Elvin Gilman Hill was born May 9th, 1833, in St. James Parish, New Brunswick, Canada. He was descended from people who migrated from England sometime in the 17th century to what is now the state of Maine. Elvin’s grandfather Samuel Hill migrated from Machias, Maine, to New Brunswick during the American Revolutionary War.
Elvin was the son of Samuel’s son, Stephen Hill, and Hannah (Philips) Hill. In 1833, when Elvin was 6 months old, they moved back to the United States from New Brunswick to Calais, Maine. In 1855, Stephen and his family migrated to Bellevue, Morrison County, Minnesota. Stephen was a farmer and Methodist preacher in the frontier region where his family lived, perhaps a so-called lay preacher. His wife used to hold Sunday School in their home. Elvin was one of 12 children of Stephen and Hannah. Among the other children were my great-great-uncle Jonas R. Hill, who served with Elvin in Company E of the First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry in the Civil War and was wounded at Gettysburg, and also Henry Stephen Hill, who served with the Second Minnesota Light Artillery.
1.2 Formation of the First Minnesota Volunteer Infantry
To anathematize war is to gibber like a fool, and to declare it to be unreasonable, is to twaddle like a pedant. Love is unreasonable and so is madness. All things divine and diabolical are unreasonable, and mixed with clay from out these two unreasoning opposites emerges man, a vibrating mass of unreasoning instincts which will out, and demoniacally so when they are imprisoned. As well attempt to damp down Erebus with a duster as to attempt to control the primitive instincts of man by oath, syllogism, or agreement.
Col. J. F. C. Fuller, The Reformation of War, 1923.Of course the people don't want war. But after all, it's the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it's a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger.
Hermann Goering, at the Nuremberg trials, 1946.
The First Minnesota was officially commissioned on April 29th, 1861 at Fort Snelling, which lies near the junction of the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers, now in St. Paul. Company E of the regiment was formed in St. Anthony, later a part of Minneapolis, and was known as the St. Anthony Zouaves. The original Zouaves were French troops recruited in 1831 from among Berbers of Algeria, people of mixed Middle Eastern and Black African descent. They were known for their gaudy uniforms and spirited drill. Later, the name Zouave was applied to purely European troops, mainly French, who maintained the tradition of gaudy dress, and became known for their fighting skills, especially during the Crimean War of 1854-1855, and in later wars of the French up to the time of World War I. There were a number of units during the Civil War, both Union and Confederate, who called themselves Zouaves and imitated the style of the French Zouaves, at least early in the war. Grandfather Fisher’s New York regiment was known as the National Zouaves.Elvin Hill was mustered into the St. Anthony Zouaves of Company E of the First Minnesota on May 23rd, 1861. He had just turned 28. He had traveled, maybe by foot, about 100 miles southward from Morrison County to Fort Snelling to enlist.
The formation of the regiment was beset with problems. One was the lack of proper clothing, not a pleasant situation for Zouaves. None of the clothing was of regulation design and most of it was faulty. . . . The lack of clothing both in quantity and quality remained a serious problem until shortly after the first battle at Bull Run. . . . A letter stated that fifty members of the regiment did not participate in the Battle of Bull Run because they did not have pants. (Imholte)
In the first part of June, 1861, Companies E and A were sent to do garrison duty at Fort Ripley, Minnesota, not far from where Elvin lived, near Little Falls. By numerous accounts, this assignment to frontier forts of several companies made the men unhappy, since they had expected to be sent quickly to see action somewhere in the South. Nevertheless, there was some point to the assignment, since at the time there were hostile Indians in regions north of St. Paul. In 1862, this hostility turned into a war of the Sioux with several other regiments of Minnesota Volunteers.
James A. Wright, a sergeant in Company F of the First Minnesota, wrote in the years 1906-1911 an extensive memoir of his experiences in the Civil War, based in part on his own wartime diaries and letters. His work has been edited and published by Steven J. Keillor, in his book No More Gallant a Deed (2001). About the garrison duty, Wright says: On Thursday, June 6th, Captain George N. Morgan with Company E started to join Company A, then eight days on the march towards Fort Ripley. We knew that efforts were being made to get the order sending our regiment to the frontier changed and hoped that this might be accomplished, as there was strong preference for Southern service rather than the border forts, but as additional companies were detached and sent away it seemed a failure. . . . [The subsequent departure of companies C and D for Fort Abercrombie] left those remaining at Snelling depressed and dissatisfied. There seemed to be nothing for the regiment but service outside the lines of civilization. The real service for which we had enlisted – restoring the authority of the government and recovering its property – was apparently to be left in other hands than ours while we wasted our energies fighting buffalo flies and mosquitoes in the wilderness. Four days later all of this was changed, and the camp was wild with excitement. Friday, June 14th, . . . there came a dispatch from Washington ordering the First Regiment to Harrisburg [PA]. . . . We were already getting suspicious of ‘camp rumors’ and ‘grapevine dispatches’ and did not take much stock in it. A little later,, it was confirmed from the officers’ quarters, and there was great rejoicing. (Wright)
The regiment was ordered to assemble at St. Paul in preparation for going to Harrisburg. From Harrisburg, they moved to Washington DC via Baltimore MD, and then to Alexandria VA, where they arrived on July 3rd, 1861. So eager were the boys to go that Capt. [George N.] Morgan’s Company E marched the whole of Thursday night, after a long march on the preceding day, on the strength of a rumor that that Col. [Willis A.] Gorman purposed to leave on Friday, and the company entered Fort Snelling soon after sunrise on Friday morning. (Lochren) This may have been the third time that Elvin walked about 100 miles between Morrison County and Fort Snelling – once in order to enlist, and twice after he enlisted.
On April 19th, 1861, 2½ months earlier, the 6th Massachusetts regiment had had 4 killed and 17 injured by a hostile mob at Baltimore. For this reason, on the march through Baltimore, Colonel [Willis A.] Gorman [commanding the First Minnesota] was determined to take no chances. We were ordered to load our muskets, which we did in the presence of the crowd, putting in a ball and three buckshot and then capping our guns. (Wright)After arriving in Washington, the troops spent a few days there, and then encamped about a mile from Alexandria. The sentiment of the people of Alexandria was decidedly ‘secesh’, and they were not averse to letting us know that they had no sympathy with us. While we were in the city, we observed a number of posters – handbills – giving notice of a sale of Negroes to be held soon. The status of the Negro in the war was at that time not very well defined. The government had announced its purpose to ‘restore the Union as it was’, and there was no disposition to interfere with the relations of the master and the slave. . . . There was considerable talk about the proposed auction of slaves, and some of it was emphasized pretty strongly, too. It was the almost unanimous opinion that there ought not to be any auction of slaves within the Union lines. That auction was not held, but I do not know if the talk of the Minnesota and [5th] Massachusetts boys had anything to do with it. I am satisfied that a very large majority of the boys felt then that slavery was doomed. Though none of us had any inclination to pose as abolitionists, I think all were glad when a slave went free. Most certainly so if his owner was a secessionist. (Wright)
While in Alexandria the regiment was assigned to General William B. Franklin’s 1st Brigade of General Samuel P. Heintzelman’s 3rd Division of General Irvin MacDowell’s Army of the Potomac, together with the 5th and 11th Massachusetts and Battery I of the First U. S. Artillery. Battery I was the unit to which my great-uncle Tully McCrea was later assigned, a little before the battle of Antietam. While at Camp Franklin, as they called their quarters, the men registered numerous complaints about the quality of the rations they received . . . Crackers were substituted for bread, and the salt pork that became a part of the daily diet was ‘rusty’. To dramatize their protest the Winona company held a mock funeral, ceremoniously burying their breakfast. The next day fresh bread arrived and ‘good humor’ was restored. . . . The poor diet explained in part the increase in sickness that occurred during the regiment’s stay near Alexandria. . . . when the regiment was ordered to march to Manassas, at least one hundred men whose health was less than perfect remained behind as camp guards. (Imholte)
On Monday, July 8th . . . Companies E [Edwin Hill’s company], F, and K were sent out under command of Lieutenant Colonel [Stephen] Miller to scout the country towards Fairfax Court House. This was our first incursion into the ‘enemy’s country’, and it was a great day for the three companies, who had never attempted a like service before. . . . We went as far as Bailey’s Cross Roads before we were recalled and saw nothing but a few solitary horsemen, who quickly disappeared when they saw us. (Wright).
In the time before their first engagement with the enemy, writing little poems was a popular pastime for some of the men. The sweaty days and amateur washing – or the nature of the goods – or something else, had made our nice red shirts shrink, and the more they were washed the smaller and shorter they grew – and they were never very long. Some of them also turned black and were so short that they would scarcely connect with the waistband of the trousers. It was about this time that I heard one of the minstrels chanting to this effect:
A man without a wife,
A ship without a sail,
But the meanest thing in life
Is a shirt without a tail.
Soon after our location back to Alexandria, Oscar King, who had been appointed the regimental sutler – that is, had been given the privilege of selling goods to the regiment – came with a stock of goods which he offered for sale. . . . Some of the boys declared that a part of the sutler’s business was an assumption of the duties of the chaplain, as it included ‘spiritual’ consolation. As this was for officers only, it was considered an unfair discrimination. The ‘spirits’, of course, were alcoholic refreshments.One thing surprised me then – and I have wondered at it since -- how some of the boys managed to get so much information as to what was being done and what it was planned to do. Every day had its story of what was to be done on the morrow, but when tomorrow came it failed to materialize. Many fanciful stories were current in camp for the week preceding the march for Bull Run. Of course, they soon failed to pass current and were referred to as ‘grapevine dispatches.’ (Wright)
1.3 First Minnesota at the First Battle of Bull Run
That one army was fighting for union and the other for disunion is a political expression; the actual fact on the battle-field, in the face of cannon and musket, was that the Federal troops came as invaders, and the Southern troops stood as defenders of their homes, and further than that we need not go. . . . The personal material on both sides was of exceptionally good character, and collectively superior to that of any subsequent period of the war. . . . No people ever warred for independence with more relative advantages than the Confederates; and if, as a military question, they must have failed, then no country must aim at freedom by means of war. . . . As a military question it was in no sense a civil war, but a war between two countries – for conquest on one side, for self-preservation on the other. . . .
General Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, in command of the
Confederate Army at First Manassas (called Bull Run by the North),
in Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, 1887.At that moment some person in high official position said: ‘Our soldiers behaved like cowards.’ General Scott immediately spoke out: ‘That is not true! The only coward, Mr. President, is Winfield Scott. When I was urging that this untoward battle should not be fought . . . I should have insisted that my resignation be accepted rather than the battle should be fought.’
J. H. Stine, History of the Army of the Potomac, 1893. General Scott was in
command of the Federal Army at First Bull Run (called Manassas by the South).
The first engagement of the First Minnesota with the enemy was at the first battle of Bull Run (Manassas). On the evening of July 15 – when we had about concluded that it was all talk – we were ordered to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice. . . . It is almost surprising – realizing the possibilities of death or wounds as we did – that we marched out so cheerfully the next morning to take our chances. I am quite sure that we all understood the personal risks – perhaps exaggerated them – but I think none of us thought seriously of being defeated. (Wright)On the way to the battle, as they marched into position on the brink of Henry Hill, they passed a small stream flowing in a shallow valley and as they ascended saw the dead bodies of a few Zouaves that had been killed a few minutes before, their gaudy uniforms now dabbled with blood, their forms and faces distorted by an agonizing death, and their glassy eyes staring up into the sky. The spectacle was not encouraging or inspiring. (Holcombe). They were probably Fire Zouaves of the 11th New York Volunteers.
On July 19th, our division (Heintzelman’s) marched to Centreville, where the entire army was concentrated, and remained the next day, while the enemy’s position along Bull Run was examined, and considerable skirmishing took place. On Sunday morning, July 21st, we were called up at one o’clock, and, an hour later, marched to the top of the hill at Centreville, where we were kept under arms until about six o’clock, while other troops, batteries and wagons were passing us. Congressmen and other sight-seers, from Washington, began to throng the high ground near us, armed with field glasses. About six o’clock we moved through Centreville, and, on reaching Bull Run, turned to the right, and marched by a circuitous route, that seemed many miles in the sweltering heat, to the vicinity of Sudley Church, where we got the first extensive view of the battlefield, from which the continued roar of musketry and artillery had hastened our march. This view was obtained from Buck Hill, from which the Confederates had retired before our arrival. (Lochren)
We marched for some distance in the rear of other troops over a good road, the Warrenton Turnpike. Soon after crossing a small stream, Cub Run, we turned to the right on a woods road. We – the regiment – were now at the head of the column and were followed by Ricketts’ battery. . . . The day was very hot and, in the woods, on the narrow roads, exceedingly close. From these conditions and our rapid marching, we were sweating profusely, and the march was taxing the men severely. About this time, we began to hear the report of a cannon occasionally, which continued for some time and increased in frequency. . . . When still some distance from the ford, near Sudley Springs Church, the artillery firing was heard again and increased to quite a rapid discharge. Musketry firing was also heard. . . . There was but a short halt at the ford, when we reformed and waded the stream, following the road up a little rise, and then leaving it by turning to the left into a small, open wood. . . . Here we could smell the smoke and hear firing out in the field in front.
Coming out of this wood, the regiment was formed in ‘column of division’ and marched almost directly to the front. . . . The ridge we were then on, I presume, was Buck Hill. . . . We remained here but a very short time, and, when we moved, marched by the right flank – in fours – obliquely to the right – across the fields down the hill to a road, which we followed across the stream (Young’s Branch) for a little distance, then turned to the left into a pasture or field, marching toward the hill on which the rebel battery was situated. . . . The distance marched must have been a mile or more. . . . A good many things happened in the thin space of time we were getting into line . . . Just as we were beginning the movement, I heard a shouting, the thunder of hoofs, and the chucking of wheels behind us. Looking backwards, I saw the artillery coming towards us – apparently over nearly the same route we had come. The horse had their noses and tails extended, and the drivers were lying low over their necks, yelling and plying their whips. It was a splendid, thrilling sight. It was Ricketts’ and Griffin’s batteries racing into position – and to destruction. . . . I only had time for a glance as we hurried into line, when other things absorbed my attention, and I thought no more of the batteries until we were later taken to the left to try to recover them – then a wreck on the plateau [Henry House Hill] and covered by the enemy’s guns. . . . The most of the regiment . . . except the two companies, A and F – now followed in support of the batteries. (Wright)
Companies A and F became separated from the rest of the regiment. They were involved in fierce fighting for three hours or so, back and forth. After this difficult time, the regiment was directed to the ford across Bull Run, where we found what remained of the left wing of the regiment. It was the first time we had seen or been in close connection with them since forming in line at the beginning of our fighting, and we now learned something of their part in the fight. It had been a terrible experience. Following Ricketts’ Battery – with the left very near the guns – they had come into line and faced the woods. At almost the same time, they saw a force coming out of the woods, and there was uncertainty as to their identity, which caused them to hold their fire – until fired upon. Almost the same time, they received the fire from the batteries which Colonel Franklin says were only about 1,000 feet away.
This was a very destructive fire – killed and wounded many men of the regiment and practically disabled the battery, as it was able to fire but a few rounds. The regiment returned this fire with such effect as to drive back this force, but their position was untenable on account of the enemy’s artillery. They were obliged to retire to the shelter of the hill [Henry House Hill], which position they maintained until ordered to withdraw, but – in the meantime – they took part in one or two other attempts to recover the guns. These attempts were failures – but all attempts of the enemy were also failures. If we could not remove the guns, neither could they so long as our forces remained in the shelter of the hill to protect them. It was after we had reached the top of the hill and were nearly ready to march, when a large force came out of the woods and charged on the deserted guns, swinging their hats and cheering. (Wright)
Lochren quotes a narrative he received from General William Colvill (at the time captain of Company F of the First Minnesota): We arrived at Buck Hill soon after [General William Tecumseh, then Colonel] Sherman . . . At that time [Charles] Griffin’s Battery of [Andrew] Porter’s Brigade, and [James] Ricketts’ Battery of our (Franklin’s) brigade, were pounding vigorously at a battery near the right of Stonewall’s position, the former from the northwest, and the latter from the northeast, angle of the cross-roads, and the enemy made but feeble reply. Stonewall was, of course, Stonewall Jackson.
Ricketts’ Battery, as I have said, refers to Battery I of the U.S. First Artillery. Captain James B. Ricketts, at that time commander of Battery I (later a brevet major-general), was severely wounded and captured during this battle. Ricketts’ wife, then 23 years old, obtained a pass from General Winfield Scott to pass through Confederate lines. She spent 6½ months in a makeshift hospital in Richmond nursing her husband, helped by a lady (name not given). She was reported to have been a lady from the North who left her husband to become the mistress of a noted gambler in Richmond. She brought Ricketts’ wife clothing and, every Sunday, a basket of food which consisted of leftovers from an elegant Saturday dinner held by high officials of the Confederacy in Richmond. James Ricketts was eventually exchanged and returned to service in the Union army. He then served at Cold Harbor, the siege of Petersburg, in the Shenandoah campaign of 1864 under General Sheridan, and was again severely wounded at Cedar Creek VA on October 19th 1864. He then remained on sick leave for another 6½ months. Thereafter, he left the volunteer service and returned to the regular army, where his permanent rank was major. He was retired from active service in 1867 for disability from wounds received in battle, and died in 1887 in Washington DC, aged 70. (Stine)
Colvill continues with his description of what happened to the First Minnesota at the First Battle of Bull Run: Stonewall had his trap set, and did not choose to disclose it. He was the strong man of that day. We drew up at Buck’s Hill, with eight other regiments, all screened from the enemy. . . . The commanders were all in consultation. The result was that Ricketts’ Battery, supported by the First Minnesota, and Griffin’s Battery, supported by the Fourteenth New York of Porter’s Brigade, were sent to take position at the Henry House Hill, within eighty rods of the enemy’s position.
From here, the regiments and batteries marched toward the brink of the hill. When the first two companies of the First Minnesota came into line there, Gen. Heintzelman, who had led our regiment to the foot of the hill . . . gave our two companies the order, "Feel in the woods for the enemy," to which we responded by volleys, and then by a continued fire. It would have been more sensible to have pushed a few skirmishers into the wood, who, in two minutes, would have notified us of the near approach of the enemy, although I suppose that within two, or at most three, minutes the regiments was in line at the brink, and the batteries in position, and the fate of the batteries determined. For they had barely unlimbered, and got in altogether but two or three shots, when the concentrated fire of all the enemy’s guns had killed all their horses and many of their men, practically disabling both the batteries. (Colvill, in Lochren)
The Confederate Fourth Alabama had advanced through a woods. The movement had been observed by the batteries, but they were senselessly held by Griffin and Maj. Barry, the chief of artillery, as friends; and so, coming close up, our regiment withholding its fire on account of the Griffin-Barry statement, delivered the first volley, which took effect in the center of our regiment as well as the batteries, killing our color sergeant, and wounding three corporals of the color guard and wounding thirty men in the color company. Capt. Lewis McKune of Company G was killed, and other companies suffered severely, and the colors were riddled with bullets. (Colvill, in Lochren)
Enemy attacks were . . . launched by the 33rd Virginia, J. E. B. Stuart’s First Virginia Cavalry, the Fourth Alabama, and the Second Mississippi. The initial advance, that of the 33rd Virginia, succeeded in driving both the leftmost Minnesota troops and the Fire Zouaves from their positions in support of Ricketts. As a result both Ricketts’ battery and that of Charles Griffin, posted on Ricketts’ left, abandoned their guns to the Confederates. One reason for the success of the assault was the confusion of the Northern commanders over the identity of the attackers. [Col.Willis A.] Gorman [commander of the First Minnesota] believed that the 33rd Virginia was a Union unit; he ordered his men to hold their fire despite the pleading of his sergeant-major, Edward Davis, who thought otherwise. [This is a kind of obverse to ‘friendly fire’ – ‘lack of fire at the unfriendly’.] But the success of the 33rd Virginia was brief. It was pushed back, and the battery once again passed into Union hands. At least two additional charges and countercharges took place before the guns remained in permanent Confederate possession. (Imholte)
When it had become clear that that the Union forces had been driven back, the First Minnesota took advice to retreat toward Centreville, which was done in perfect order, in column by platoons. . . . Going through Centreville, we halted near our bivouac of the night before about dark, so fatigued that most of the men dropped upon the ground, and were asleep at once, expecting a renewal of the battle the next day. In about half an hour the cooks called us up for coffee, and to receive the order to march at once for Alexandria. This was the hardest of all. We knew we had met with a repulse, but had not realized it was to be accepted as a defeat, and the prospect of a march of twenty-five miles, after such a day of phenomenal heat, long marches, and hard fighting, seemed an impossible undertaking. How it was accomplished cannot be told. The writer, carrying knapsack, haversack, musket, and complete soldier’s outfit, was, on this march, several times awakened from deep sleep by stumbling against some obstruction. In the forenoon of the next day we were back in our tents at Alexandria, thoroughly exhausted and soon asleep, but in the afternoon were called up and marched to Washington, six miles or more, by way of Long Bridge. This was done in a heavy rain, and we were compelled to stand on the street more than an hour, in torrents of rain, when churches and halls were assigned for temporary shelter. (Lochren)
Wright gives other details about the Union retreat from Bull Run, from the point of view of a man in the ranks (Lochren was a lieutenant, Wright a sergeant): On the way to Centreville, when we reached the main road, we found carriages, hacks, wagons, and artillery on the road, and all moving – or trying to move – in the same direction. . . . It was getting dark when we reached Centreville . . . We sat or laid down on the ground, and for a little time there were inquiries about this and that one – when and where they had been seen last – but nature asserted herself, and it was but a few minutes before the majority were sleeping soundly. It seemed but a moment – though it might have been an hour – when we were awakened and found a supply of coffee and crackers awaiting us. . . . We drank an unknown quantity of the coffee, but it was not a small quantity, and we felt greatly refreshed and strengthened. We also filled out canteens. It was now quite dark and threatening rain, but we again laid down to sleep. It was not long after this that we were again called up and told that we were to march soon. This was a surprise to us, as we expected to spend the night there. . . . .
When we fell in, we marched down to the Warrenton Turnpike and formed on the left-hand side of the road, and we began to consider the probability of our going back. Up to that time, I do not think there was any expectation of a general retreat. . . . Everyone who made that terrible march knows that ‘confusion worse confounded’ was produced in large quantities that were painfully evident to all of the senses but seeing. When we started on the march, it was raining hard and so dark that you could not recognize the comrade with whom you touched elbows. . . . Since leaving the bivouac [at Centreville] 20 to 22 hours before, we had marched 25 to 20 miles, under the scorching heat of the mid-summer sun, much of the way through smothering clouds of pulverized clay, which covered our clothing and filled the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, and was breathed into the lungs. Added to these were the excitement and mental strain of the battle and the bitter, humiliating results: defeat and disaster. To all of these was now to be added another march of 25 miles or more. None of us – of the ranks – really knew where we were going or what distance it was intended to march. All we actually knew was that we were headed back over the road we had come, and that it was dark as Egypt and raining diligently.
When this mixed multitude of men, mules, horses, and wheels was set in motion, the situation was intensified. Wagons collided or got off the pike into the ditch; teams balked, and drivers swore and called for assistance; we of the infantry blundered along the sides of the road as best we could – bumping into each other and everything else bump-able – tired beyond all previous experience and in anything but an amiable frame of mind. After vain attempts to keep some kind of formation by touch and by calling each other’s names or the company letter, all efforts in that direction were given up, and we just plodded along in the pouring rain the best we could. (Wright)
Heintzelman, commander of the Third Division, said in his official report: Such a rout I never witnessed before. No efforts could induce a single regiment to form after the retreat was commenced. Our artillery was served admirably, and did much execution. Some of the volunteer regiments behaved very well, and much excuse can be made for those who fled, as few of the enemy could at any time be seen. Raw troops cannot be expected to stand long against an unseen enemy. Still, Heintzelman says that, at a certain moment in the battle, I then led up the Minnesota regiment, which was also repulsed, but retired in tolerably good order. It did good service in the woods on our right flank, and was among the last to retire, coming off the field with the Third Infantry. Captain Ricketts’ battery of artillery was taken and retaken three times before it was finally lost, and Ricketts was severely wounded. Lieutenant Kirby of that battery behaved with great gallantry, and succeeded in carrying off one caisson. It was Kirby who took over command of the battery until he was killed at the Battle of Antietam.
The First Minnesota Regiment moved from its position on the left of the field to the support of Ricketts’ Battery and gallantly engaged the enemy at that point. It was so near the enemy’s lines that friends and foes were for a time confounded. The regiment behaved exceedingly well and finally retired from the field in good order. The other two regiments of the brigade (the Fifth and Eleventh Massachusetts) retired in confusion, and no effort of myself or staff was successful in rallying them. (Col. William Buel Franklin, brigade commander)
The men of the First Minnesota fought like veterans, and it received special commendation in the reports of both Franklin and Heintzelman. The character of the fighting appears from its losses, which were forty-two killed, one hundred and eight wounded, and thirty missing, one hundred and eighty in all, being more than twenty per cent of the men engaged, and the heaviest loss, in proportion to men engaged, of any regiment in that battle. The missing were nearly all wounded prisoners in the hands of the enemy. (Lochren)
Some say the Union soldiers were severely beaten at First Bull Run. Wright thought otherwise: I believe the plain truth to be that, when the fighting ceased Sunday afternoon [July 21st, 1861], they [the Confederates] were in no better condition to continue it than the Union troops were. It is certain that they made no attempt at pursuit worthy of the name nor any real effort to reap the legitimate results of the great victory they claimed later. It is true that they had the semblance of victory, but it was – in reality – a drawn battle which left neither party in a condition to immediately resume hostilities. It is true that the Union army abandoned the field, and that demoralization followed; but it is also true that its opponent was left paralyzed and too demoralized to follow. The result encouraged and inflated the South, as it made things look easy, but otherwise it did not help much. This result was indeed bitter medicine to the North, and humiliating to its pride, and we in the army felt it keenly, but it also revealed the magnitude of the contest, made the situation plain, and aroused it to put forth efforts commensurate to the work to be done.
1.4 Duty at Camp StoneAll quiet along the Potomac, they say,
Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing – a private or two now and then
Will not count in the news of the battle;
Not an officer lost – only one of the men,
Moaning out, all alone, the death rattle.
Popular Civil War song by Ethel Lynn Beers, 1861.There was a class of eloquent, earnest patriots who came prominently before the people early in the war and remained active until it closed, but so far as I know, none of them every shouldered a musket or did any other kind of fighting, except with their mouths. Their intention were the best, and they had great zeal, but it was not always ‘according to knowledge’ and only tended to embarrass and discourage the government and its soldiers. They put themselves in evidence chiefly through the public press and first made themselves felt when they raised the cry of "On to Richmond." Then – apparently appalled by the results of that abortive effort by the way of Bull Run – for a little time they were still, but reappeared again under the veiled sarcasm of a headline in quotation marks declaring that it was "All quiet along the Potomac." In fact, it was not ‘all quiet’ on that portion of the Potomac where the Corps of Observation was located.
Sgt. James A. Wright, First Minnesota Volunteers, quoted in No More Gallant a Deed,
2001. The Corps of Observation was an early name for what became Stone’s Division.
After First Bull Run, the First Minnesota went by stages through Fairfax and Alexandria, and then moved to a camp near Washington for a short time. In August, they took up a position in Maryland not far from the Potomac River near a small town named Poolesville, not far from Edwards Ferry, about two miles from the Potomac River. The location was called Camp Stone.During the time shortly after the battle of First Bull Run, especially when they were in Washington, the discontent of the men in the regiment was at a peak, especially when they were in Washington for about two weeks. The men wrote back to Minnesota about their hardships. Ten letters from the St. Anthony company [Elvin’s Co. E] were received in one week. (Holcombe) Here . . . for the only time in the service of the regiment, was manifested some slight feeling of discontent and lack of morale. Aside from the depression naturally following the reverse at Bull Run, there were many other causes for dissatisfaction. The rations were poor, -- salt beef that defied mastication, and ancient hardtack, on which the brand ‘B.C.’ was claimed by the boys to mark the date of baking. Neither pay nor clothing had yet been received from the Government, and most of the men still wore the flannel shirts and black pantaloons picked up hastily by the state at the time of enlistment from clothing stores in St. Paul and elsewhere, the original poor material of which had come to rags and tatters, reminding one of the uniform of Falstaff’s vagabonds. Gen. John B. Sanborn, adjutant general of the states, learning of the condition of the regiment, came on to Washington, and, by persistent efforts, procured an issue of clothing to be made about the first day of August. On August 2nd the regiment broke camp and marched for the upper Potomac, halting at Brightwood, after a march of four or five miles, where, on the next day, the men received their first pay, at the rate of eleven dollars a month for privates. Discontent vanished at once. (Lochren)
However, Wright notes that the amount actually received was much less than $11 as – under the allotment system – before we had left the state, arrangements had been made by which an amount as the soldier designated was reserved and paid directly to the parents or those dependent upon him. . . . Many of the boys in the company in this way sent home from $6 to $8 a month . . . . .
The First Minnesota remained at Camp Stone for some six months. The pleasant sojourn at Camp Stone lasted well through the golden days of October with their many delightful features to be seen only in the mountain districts of the Border States. The camp was located near the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and spurs of that elevated range penetrated all the region round about. The foliage of the trees in the Indian summer time was red, yellow, and green in all shades. The lowlands and dales were spread with autumn blooms. Gazing over them and the beautiful vari-colored woodlands, one could see the line of the Blue Ridge lying like a low storm-cloud on the horizon, and imagine that just beyond that line was the Land of Beulah. (Holcombe) The Land of Beulah (Isaiah 62:4) is, in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim's Progress, a joyful land where the pilgrims rest after their pilgrimage, until they are summoned to cross the River of Death and enter the Celestial City, the Paradise before the Resurrection.
However, during their time at Camp Stone, the men of the regiment performed picket duty along the Potomac River, and drilled a lot. Furthermore, numerous incidents, many of which were caused by liquor, punctuated the camp life of the regiment at Camp Stone. Although Gorman’s orders prevented Oscar King, the regimental sutler, from selling whiskey to the enlisted men, they purchased it from Negro slaves who contradicted their servile backgrounds and displayed pecuniary talents on a par with those of the most successful contemporary entrepreneurs. Unfortunate results followed. During September, an intoxicated private from Company H, shot and killed a Negro cook. For punishment he spent fifteen days in the guardhouse and was fined twelve dollars. [Imholte]
1.5 Battle of Ball’s Bluff near Leesburg VA, 35 miles west of WashingtonWhoever asked of any champion of the prevailing strategy why our armies stood idle, and as if paralyzed, in the presence of inferior forces of Rebels, were assured, in a confidential whisper, that our men had been so demoralized and spirit-broken at Bull Run, that there was no fight in them . . . Ball’s Bluff repelled and dissipated this unworthy calamity – by showing that our soldiers, though most unskillfully handled, precipitated into needless perils, entrapped, surrounded, hopeless, had still the courage to fight and the manhood to die.
Horace Greeley, The American Conflict, 1864.The 15th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry was in the same brigade as the First Minnesota, and took a severe beating at Ball’s Bluff. Capt. Edward Justin Russell of Company F of the 15th Massachusetts wrote in his diary after the battle that every plate, cup, knife and fork which the boys took with them was lost, and the quartermaster has been unable to get them any more. Blankets are short, also. While I am writing it rains and the wind blows from the northeast like a hurricane, and some of the tents have blown down. Such times as this make me a little homesick – a cold rain and no fire. . . . See what it is to serve your country.
Quoted by Andrew E. Ford, The Story of the Fifteenth Regiment
Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry in the Civil War, 1861-1864,
W. J. Coulter, Clinton MA, 1898.
On October 20, 1861, the First Minnesota and Eighty-second New York were marched [from Camp Stone] to Edwards’ Ferry in the afternoon, and, after being displayed on the north bank, Companies E [great-grandfather Elvin Hill’s company] and K of the First Minnesota crossed the Potomac in flatboats, frightening away the enemy’s pickets and reserves, and some cavalry; and after some time, recrossed near sunset, when the regiments returned to their camps. On October 21st, at half-past one in the morning, the regiment was called up and breakfasted, and, with knapsacks and full equipments, reached Edwards’ Ferry at daybreak, and immediately crossed in the flatboats, two companies at a time. In a short time the regiment was in line, with two companies advanced as skirmishers, and the other regiments of the brigade, and some other troops, then crossed, to the number in all of about 2,000 men, sending out a strong picket, and entrenching, to some extent, near the bank, to be ready in case of attack. Gen. E. D. Baker crossed, at about the same time, at Harrison’s island, about four miles higher up the river; but instead of entrenching and waiting till his crossing was complete, and then acting in concert with Gen. Stone, who was in command at the Ferry, on some report that the Confederates were evacuating Leesburg, he pushed forward a part of his troops toward that place, while the rest were still crossing, and, meeting a greatly superior force of the enemy, was quickly defeated and killed, and his troops, being driven back to where the others were crossing, were slaughtered and captured in large numbers, and many drowned while attempting to re-cross the river. . . . On Tuesday, October 22nd, reinforcements were crossed, and there was some skirmishing on the picket line, in which one man of the First Minnesota was killed and some wounded. On Wednesday, October 23rd, Gens. McClellan and Banks arrived, and it was determined that our force should be withdrawn. Gen. Stone placed Gen. Gorman in charge of the crossing, who, as soon as it was dark, launched several canal-boats into the river, and manned them with lumbermen, mainly from Companies B, D and E [Elvin was a lumberman] of the First Minnesota, who, with poles, handled the boats expertly. (Lochren)It is not pleasant or satisfactory to contemplate or write about Ball’s Bluff . . . Briefly, it was another of those unfortunate affairs that seemingly ought never to occur but – in war and in peace – are of frequent occurrence. It should be classed with railroad wrecks and steamship disasters that result from misapprehension, incompetence, negligence, or criminal carelessness when ‘somebody has blundered’. There were several ‘somebodies who blundered’ in the production of that bloody contretemps.
The affairs at Ball’s Bluff and at Edwards Ferry occurred at the same time, and, no doubt, they were intended to be cooperative, but there was no unity of action and apparently no attempt in that direction. I will first try to tell what happened at Edwards Ferry – as that was where the regiment was – and then give some idea of the more important matter farther up the river. . . . It was Sunday afternoon, October 20th, 1861 – soon after one o’clock – when the seven companies then in camp got orders to prepare to march at once with one day’s rations and full cartridge boxes. . . . Sometime between midnight and morning orders came to be at the ferry at daylight, fully equipped with one day’s rations. Reaching the ferry before sunrise, the three scows (all there were) were manned. Companies C and D crossed under a fire of artillery – as on the evening before – and deployed and advanced to cover the crossing of the rest of the regiment. The three scows had to be ‘poled’; they would carry only about 100 men at a time; and it took nine or ten minutes each way – which made crossing slow work. But the seven companies [including Company E] were all on the Virginia side by about 8:30 o’clock. . . . There was no more fighting that day nor any further attempt to advance, all efforts being devoted to the crossing of the men. . . . By night 2,250 men had crossed the river at Edwards Ferry. It was during this day that the fighting and disaster at Ball’s Bluff occurred – something like four miles further up the stream – but nothing was known of this until it was all over. . . . . .
On Sunday afternoon, October 20th – at the time that the demonstration was made at Edwards Ferry – a similar move was made at Harrison’s Island (opposite Ball’s Bluff). . . . It was afternoon – probably between one and two o’clock – when Colonel [Edward D.] Baker joined Colonel [Charles] Devens and assumed command. About that time or very soon after, an attack was begun from the woods on the right of his force and continued along the front to the left. . . . It was an unequal contest from the first. Colonel Baker was killed, and Colonel Devens and Colonel [Milton] Cosgwell did the best they could to save their commands. The men fought bravely but were driven back to the river in confusion – where some succeeded in recrossing to Harrison’s Island, but more than half of the force were shot, captured, or drowned. The disaster was complete before any information of the critical condition of affairs reached Gen. Stone, in command at Edwards Ferry, and any attempt to succor was hopeless and useless. . . . . .
That unfortunate affair caused much depression through the North; and there was much adverse criticism – in and out of the army; and the responsibility for the failure charged here and there. It is certain that there was no proper and sufficient means provided for crossing the river at either place, and it is not probable that it was intended to cross any large force or do any serious fighting. (Wright)
Private Roland E. Brown of the 15th Massachusetts Infantry, a companion regiment of the First Minnesota, avoided capture and drowning at Ball’s Bluff, as many of his fellow soldiers didn’t, by discarding most of his equipment and swimming across the Potomac from the Ball’s Bluff side on the west to the eastern shore – the Potomac runs approximately north to south in this region. In a detailed letter written four days after the battle, Brown wrote: I feel a little dubious at times. When I lie down at night, on my left there is a man gone, on my right is another, at my feet on the opposite side is another. Ah, God only knows where the poor fellows are. (Brown)
The events at Ball’s Bluff led to Congressional concern, and to the arrest of the commander of the forces there, General Charles P. Stone. Congress . . . appointed the Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War, and began the investigation for itself, and in a mood which may be inferred from the denunciation of the affair, in advance, as "the most atrocious military murder in history." . . . The Committee on the Conduct of the War proceeded to investigate Ball’s Bluff by the methods common to nearly all similar bodies. Witnesses were summoned and examined without order; there was no cross-examination; the accused was not confronted with the witnesses nor told their names, nor the charge upon which he had been already tried, condemned, and sentenced before he was even allowed to appear. . . . Not only were no charges ever preferred, but no acknowledge of error was ever made, unless Stone’s retention in the service and his restoration to duty, long subsequently, and under secret surveillance, be so considered. General McClellan in vain applied for him. General Hooker’s first act on taking command was to ask for him as chief-of-staff. At last, in May, 1863, upon the earnest request of General Banks, commanding the Department of the Gulf, Stone was ordered to report to him. . . . In the following August, Lieutenant-General Grant assigned him to the command of a brigade in the Fifth Army Corps. A month later, worn out at by the strain of the unmerited suffering he had so long endured in silence, he resigned. And thus it was that this most gallant, accomplished, and faithful soldier was, upon no charges, without a hearing, upon "evidence" on which no humane or fair-minded man would punish a pet terrier, condemned not merely to long and rigorous imprisonment [for 189 days at Fort Lafayette NY], but to a punishment so much worse than death that in all ages men have sought death because they lacked the courage to endure it. (Richard Irwin, in Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, 1887-1888).
After the Battle of Ball's Bluff, the First Minnesota returned to Camp Stone, and resumed picket duty and constant drilling. Lively competitive demonstrations developed between the various units encamped along the Potomac. The contests were usually along military or allied lines – drilling, marksmanship, horse racing; although on one occasion Gorman learned from the chaplain of the 15th Massachusetts that a corporal and two other men had recently been baptized in that regiment. Not to be outdone by the Easterners, Gorman commanded his adjutant to ‘detail a sergeant and four men to be baptized at dress parade’. (Imholte)
1.6 Virginia Peninsular Campaign
Executive Mansion
Washington, Feb. 3, 1862Major General McClellan
My dear Sir: You and I have distinct, and different plans for a movement of the Army of the Potomac – yours to be down the Chesapeake, up the Rappahannock to Urbana, and across land to the terminus of the Railroad on the York River –, mine to move directly to a point on the Railroad South West of Manassas. . . . . .
A. Lincoln
From The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, as published in 1953.On Feb. 25th, 1862, the men left Camp Stone and marched into Virginia, and via Harper's Ferry to Berryville, about 13 miles east of Winchester. On March 13th, the regiment marched toward Winchester, where a battle with Stonewall Jackson's force was expected. However, when they were within two miles of Winchester, the men learned that Jackson had moved up the valley (i.e., southward), and the troops marched back to Berryville. Next, they were marched to Bolivar Heights, near Harper's Ferry, where they remained in a nearly continuous storm of alternate rain and snow, until March 22nd, when [they] crossed the Potomac to Sandy Hook, and took cars [a train] for Washington, reaching that place about midnight, and, after some delay, getting coffee and shelter from the storm at the Soldier's Retreat. Camping again near the Capitol, we remained until the night of March 26th, when we marched by way of Long Bridge into Virginia, and were then conveyed by cars to Alexandria, where, through some blunder, we were left standing on the street, in a drenching rain, until morning, and then were taken to the ground on which we had camped before Bull Run. The men, wet and shivering, quickly resurrected the barrel of sutler's whisky, which they had buried the year before, and its contents, fairly distributed, were probably beneficial in counteracting the effects of the exposure. (Lochren)
The part of Virginia which lies toward the southern end of Chesapeake Bay between the James and York Rivers is called the Peninsula. On March 19th, 1862, the First Minnesota embarked on two small steamers, sailed down the Chesapeake Bay and disembarked at Hampton on the southern end of the Peninsula. From there they marched northward some 25 miles or so to within a few miles of Yorktown, where Confederate works were located. Our bivouac, which we occupied for several days, was in mud; it rained all the time, and we were employed building corduroy roads [made of logs laid transversely, for passing through muddy and swampy terrain]. From the constant discomfort, the boys named the place Camp Misery. Early in the morning of April 11th . . . we were moved from Camp Misery to within about a mile of the enemy's line . . . We spent the [next] month in constant and hard duty, either in picket or building fortifications or corduroy roads, and aroused nearly every night by musketry on the picket lines, and marched to threatened points; and were most of the time wet to the skin with the continued rains. (Lochren)
The amount of physical labor performed by the troops in front of Yorktown was great and severe. . . . Who of the comrades does not recall ‘those hours of toil and danger,’ as some of the boys used to sing, when we were making corduroy roads and trying to get up supplies? Who does not remember the mules of the Peninsula campaign? How they used to struggle along over those miserable roads, tugging doggedly at their heavy loads, suffering and dying – literally and numerously – in the service of their country? . . . It was a dreary, cheerless, miserable existence for men and mules in front of Yorktown – made so to a great degree by the adverse weather conditions. . . . There was scarcely a night without its alarms or a day without its tragedies, and frequently there was sharp firing at several places at the same time. (Wright)
On May 4th, there was a report that the Confederates had evacuated their works near Yorktown, and were retreating toward Richmond. The regiment marched to take over the works. Not long after entering the works, we were warned to keep away from the forts and out of the roads, and were told that torpedoes were buried in many places; that a number had been exploded; and several persons had been killed by them. . . . these ‘torpedoes’ were large shells prepared to explode upon being moved, and to be the innocent cause of their explosion was almost certain death. This plan of operations was devised by General Gabriel J. Rains, an old regular army officer, and it was them considered a very despicable method of warfare. (Wright)
By various marches and a trip up the York River by steamer, the regiment made their way to West Point VA (not West Point NY!). Thereafter the men marched westward, until they encamped on May 23rd near the Chickahominy River which runs down the middle of the Peninsula until it empties into the James River. On May 27th, they were ordered to build a bridge over the Chickahominy which became known as the ‘Grapevine Bridge’ because its logs were tied together with grave vines rather than the usual long twigs. A Union disaster at Fair Oaks was prevented by the opportune arrival of [Gen. Edwin] Sumner’s troops. Grapevine Bridge, constructed by the Minnesota regiment, played an important part in facilitating this timely movement. If the bridge had collapsed before a sufficient number of troops had passed over it, as had the Lower Bridge opposite Richardson’s camp, the result may well have been a crushing Union defeat. [Imholte
1.7 Battle of Fair Oaks (Seven Pines), a few miles east of Richmond
Field of Battle before Richmond
Sunday, June 1, 1862A battle before Richmond has at last put to the test the rebel boast as to what they would do with Gen. McClellan’s army when they should get it beyond the protection of the gunboats. Though the advantage of a sudden movement, against the weakest point in our lines, gave the enemy a temporary success, the final result has not been such as to afford encouragement to their disheartened and demoralized troops, or occasion any fears as to our ultimate possession of the rebel capital.
From the New York Times, June 3rd, 1862.On May 29th, the regiment marched further west to reinforce the troops under General Fitz-John Porter, who was advancing southward down the Peninsula. On Saturday, May 31st, about 1 P.M., we were suddenly aroused by very heavy firing of artillery and musketry, indicating a hard fought battle on the south side of the Chickahominy . . . The river had become greatly swollen from heavy rains, and the only passable bridge in our vicinity was the grapevine bridge, which we had built four days before . . . Gorman marched his brigade to the river . . . [and] crossed . . . with the First Minnesota in the lead, and hurried to the nearest sound of the conflict, -- through mud knee-deep part of the way. The condition of the air or direction of the wind made the sound of musketry seem nearer than it was in fact; but with the rapid stride taken by the regiment we soon encountered the fleeing stragglers and cowards, who reported utter and irretrievable defeat. Paying no attention to these, about three miles from our crossing we reached Couch's Brigade, as it was taking up a new position in rear of Fair Oaks. (Lochren)
It was a tense and anxious few minutes as we waited for the attack which we felt sure was coming. General Gorman says it came within ten minutes after he got his brigade in line . . . but it seemed a long time to wait before we heard the thunder of Kirby’s guns [U. S. 1st Artillery Battery I again] as the enemy came out of the woods in a furious assault. This was followed by some splendid volleys of musketry that rolled along the line with deadly effect, and was succeeded by a rapid firing at will. Our fire was heavier than the enemy could make headway against or endure, and they were compelled to retire. . . . Everything being obscured by the smoke which seemed to cling to the ground, it was impossible to see any of the movements, but the noise of the fighting, and the yelling and cheering, was evidence that things were going our way. Northern men cheered, and Southern men yelled. I cannot, on paper, describe the difference, but there was as much difference as there is between the crowing of a rooster and the cackling of a hen. . . . . .
It was growing dark when the enemy advanced to their last attack . . . but it ended as before by a retreat to the cover of the woods. . . . As the enemy yielded, the left of the regiment was swung into the woods, and a number of prisoners were taken. As it was now getting dark, the firing died away to the occasional crack of a rifle in the woods, where a skirmish line remained. It was evident that the fighting for the day was over. (Wright)
Lochren describes the action this way: The First Minnesota formed near troops under the command of General Darius Nash Couch. Our deployment on his right was just in time, for the disposition was hardly complete when a heavy attack came. We were in a field of wheat, and behind a rail fence. . . . Our presence in the field was clearly unexpected by the enemy, who had hoped for easy victory, and fought with great vigor and tenacity. The Eighty-second and Thirty-fourth New York regiments of our brigade, now in battle for the first time, fought like veterans, and by a resolute and successful bayonet charge, saved Ricketts’ Battery, when in great danger from a sudden advance of the enemy . . . The victory on our part of the field was complete and decisive that night.
After the Battle of Fair Oaks, the First Minnesota encamped again near the Chickahominy River, as part of the Union force some 12 miles or so to the west-southwest of Richmond. During the rest of June, until the movements and battles resulting in the change of base, the regiment was kept on constant and severe duty on picket and building corduroy roads, and felling the forest in front of our lines. During this time our extended lines south of the river were every day threatened and subjected to heavy artillery fire, especially at the angle occupied by the First Minnesota, where previous attacks had caused us to build a strong breastwork, with traverses to protect us from enfilading artillery. Night and day we were in readiness for conflict. (Lochren)
Every hour of the day and night we were ready for attack or defense. Our whole line was bombarded by artillery by day; and the pickets were firing all night; and the point held by our brigade seemed to be the objective. . . . The whole medical establishment of the Army of the Potomac was burdened to a point that threatened a breakdown. They were doing all that men could do to meet the emergency forced upon them by a three-fold excess of typhoid, malaria, and dysentery, which was almost an epidemic. . . . The months of hard work and exposure in the swamps; the drinking of impure water, additionally polluted by the drainage from the camp and the battlefield, where thousands of dead were buried (not to mention dead horses and mules everywhere) – had done their work, a more deadly work than the enemy’s bullets. More than one-half of the company [F] were suffering from malaria or dysentery to a degree that greatly impaired their strength or wholly unfitted them for duty, and but few who were not suffering in some way. (Wright)
1.8 Seven Days' Battles
On board the John A. Warner, York River
Saturday, June 28, 1862There can be no doubt whatever that Gen. McClellan, finding the York River "played out" as a point of strategy, has wisely determined to vacate waters upon which the enemy have not a single tub afloat, and concentrate his energies where they can be most effective henceforth – on the James River. . . . The falling back of Porter really amounts to nothing. He doubtless fell back to allow the rebel general – Stonewall Jackson or whoever it may be to run quietly into a trap. . . . No, this was a masterly retreat, and no skedaddle.
From the New York Times, July 2nd, 1862.
On June 29th, the First Regiment helped repulse attacks by Confederates under General John Bankhead Magruder. Moving on from the position they had held, with difficulty, since May 31st, the regiment joined a large body of the Second Corps near a road leading across White Oak swamp. The rest of the army had passed on, and a large amount of material at the railroad was being destroyed. When the bridge, with engines and trains upon it, was blown up, an immense body of dense smoke arose, assuming perfectly symmetrical, and continually changing forms and colors, beautiful and grand to the view, in whatever form it took, like the changes in a kaleidoscope, and observed by all for several minutes before it was dissipated. (Lochren)During an ensuing battle near White Oak Swamp, the fighting was most persistent and severe, and as we got the enemy's fire diagonally from its extended right, our loss was considerable. We held the position, however, without yielding an inch, and about sunset the Vermont Brigade . . . came in on our left, and, joining in a last counter attack, the enemy was driven back. The First Minnesota lost forty-eight killed and wounded in this battle. (Lochren)
When once it became evident that a fight was on, there was no time lost in preparing for it. As the first shell shrieked over our heads, there was a multitudinous cry of "Fall in!" from the orderly sergeants, and the companies were prompt;y in line. Company, regimental, and general officers came quickly. . . . The regiment as it was placed for action formed an obtuse angle with the apex at or near the Willliamsburg road. Seven companies formed the line on the left of the angle and three on the right. . . . All of our movements had been made as quickly as possible, for there seemed urgent need of haste. The distance we had gone was a mile or more, and, as the heat was intense, we reached the edge of the wood out of breath and sweating profusely. . . . . .
Our skirmishers began to work their way into the tangled undergrowth, and they did not have far to go before they came in contact with the enemy . . . The brush completely hid the enemy from our sight, but, as the bullets came with vicious, spiteful force, it was evidence that they were in effective range, and the order was given to commence firing. We immediately leveled our rifles at the woods and blazed away. The enemy came on yelling and firing, and we replied to the best of our ability. It was a red-hot fight in short mete, and both sides meant apparently to settle the future of the Nation and the Confederacy then and there. . . . . .
We were suffering seriously from the fire that was poured into us. . . . It was at this moment we heard the sharp, penetrating voice of Lieut. Col. [Stephen] Miller close behind us saying, "Minnesota, stand firm! Don’t run, Minnesota!" It was more an entreaty than a command, but it answered just as well. . . . We felt sure, too, that others would be sent to our relief. Once or twice, a cheer that sounded faint and far-off in the confusion of the fighting had been heard behind us, but in a hasty glance in that direction nothing could be seen through the smoke and gathering darkness save the lurid flash of our batteries on the hill, which were still throwing shells over our heads (and over the heads of the rebels, too). The enemy came through the opening on our right, and we were enveloped – front and flank – in a scorching fire that seemed impossible to stand for another minute. Retreat, surrender, or annihilation seemed to be the alternatives.
Then we heard the cheering once more – close behind us, too – a good, open-mouthed, ringing hurrah. No music ever sounded sweeter or more melodious than that welcome, defiant cheering to our battle-stunned ears. It was the ever-reliable Fifteenth Massachusetts and Eighty-Second New York of our own brigade, led by [John W.] Kimball and [Henry W.] Hudson. "We are with you, Minnesota!" they shouted as – crowding to the front and extending to the right – they emptied their rifles into the faces of the enemy that had been punishing us so severely. The crisis was safely passed. The enemy who had passed us on the right now turned back, and their whole line retreated into the woods. . . . There had been pleasant comradeship between the Massachusetts and Minnesota men before, and thenceforth they were brothers.
The enemy had left us in undisturbed possession of the field, and it was now quite dark with some gathering clouds. . . . Before the wind rose, we could hear the cries and calls of the wounded – and voices occasionally – out in the woods. Aside from that, there was almost an oppressive stillness, compared with the uproar of the fighting. As we lay there waiting, we began to notice the glimmer of lightning and hear the distant rolling of thunder. Soon there came a murmur of wind among the trees, and a breeze brought a little relief from the sweltering heat. . . . After we had lain on the ground for a little time, the companies were called up quietly, and the regiment formed in line, was led out, and joined the brigade. While we were doing this, a mass of whirling clouds – heralded by a display of lightning and thunder and driven by a strong wind – passed over us. There was a dash of summer rain – big, splashing drops and just enough of it to thoroughly wet us – and then the clouds rolled by, and in a little while the stars were seen overhead. Meantime, we had gained the road and were marching back towards the station. The dash of rain and the breeze were refreshing while they lasted, but when the breeze ceased the het was as great as before. The marching was a series of starts and halts, and was wearisome and aggravating – as most night marches are – particularly after we had started over the rough and imperfect road across the swamp. . . . . . (Wright)
Late in the afternoon of June 30th, the regiment was sent to Glendale at double-quick. We were at first place in support of troops then hotly engaged, throwing ourselves on the ground to recover breath and avoid needless exposure to the storm of bullets passing over us. . . . General [Edwin Vose] Sumner [in command of the Second Corps] personally ordered us into the front line to relieve a regiment which was hard pressed, saying: "Boys, I shall not see many of you again, but I know you will hold that line." The men rose with a cheer . . . But the brunt of the battle had then passed, and although firing was kept up between our line at the edge of a wood and the rebel line within the wood, no further serious attack was made by the rebels, and darkness soon substantially closed the conflict. Several of our men were wounded here, among them Capt. William Colvill, who, after dark, was desperately wounded by a shot in the left breast. . . . . . (Lochren)
Wright gives a more harrowing account of this part of the action so laconically described by Lochren: It was fairly daylight of the 30th of June when we emerged from White Oak Swamp. . . . After an hour, there was a brief halt, but before the coffee was boiling, orders came to ‘move on’ . . . we moved in a southerly direction. . . . We were moving to a point at Glendale crossroads near Nelson’s farm. Then we halted again . . . We were sleepy and, if permitted, could have slept on undisturbed ‘despite the roar of great guns,’ but there seemed no rest for us. There was a call for the reserve, and our brigade was hurriedly returned to the right. . . . When we had reached a point near our former position, we halted and laid down to rest, which we greatly needed. . . . While waiting here, someone brought me some coffee and urged that I drink it to keep up my strength. . . . I drank the coffee and ate some crackers and pork, and for a little time felt better – but not for long. I had not really relished it; and it did not take long to discover that I had added nausea to my aching head. For the first time in my soldier life, I found myself unable to go when the regiment advanced. . . . Notwithstanding the heat of the day, I felt chilly; a deathly sensation came over me; and, after a violent effort, there was an expulsion of all that I had eaten recently – accompanied by a liberal amount of a greenish and exceedingly bitter liquid substance, which may have been a concentration of the quinine I had been taking for the malaria. . . .
After a while, I followed after the regiment and found it lying down to protect itself from shells and stray bullets. There was a ‘hurry up call’ for the reserves, from some point off to the left, and out brigade was sent forward at the double-quick. The boys were suffering intensely from heat, thirst, and fatigue, but did their best to meet the demands made upon them. . . . The sounds of strife increased moment by moment as we hurried on.
Firing by batteries and sections, the artillery vomited forth their murderous missiles with fire, smoke, and stunning explosions. . . . The flying shells shrieked wildly over our heads; tore through the trees; plowed along the ground or burst in the air, scattering their severed fragments with sharp, incisive explosions. . . . It was a wild, awe-inspiring scene and well calculated to make a small man like myself feel his insignificance. . . .
It was in truth a memorable scene as we hurried up to aid the shattered and hard-pressed fighting line. Sweating and panting for breath, we reached the desired point . . . When we arrived, the regiment was at first held in reserve in support of a battery, and we laid down to avoid needless exposure and to rest until our turn should come. . . . The regiment was called up and ordered to advance and attack. . . . The colors moved to the front, and the line of battle followed. It was a tense, critical moment as we advanced and must, seemingly, be fraught with the most serious consequences, as the enemy was still pouting out of the woods. Their assault, however, had already spent its force; or they were not ready to engage a new enemy; and they did not wait to try conclusions with the bayonet, but with a parting volley retired into the woods. We had been exposed to a rattling fire as we advanced; and this was continued in an irregular way for a time; and we had suffered considerable loss, but not in the wholesale manner that appeared probable.
Halting at the edge of the woods after firing a few rounds, we laid down in line – very glad for an opportunity to rest, though still exposed to a random fire. The contest for the day was closing. The sun sank, red and fiery, behind the great curtain of smoke that hung like a pall over the battle-scourged woods and fields. The day was merging into night, and the sounds of strife had died away to the occasional booming of a cannon or the spasmodic cracking of rifles. These were heard off to the left, then far away to the right, and again near us, and once more on our left – the death rattle of the expiring conflict.
The most serious loss of the day to Company F came in one of those temporary outbreaks that marked the close of the fighting, just as it was getting too dark to see anything with distinctness or certainty. When we halted at the woods, we had been cautioned not to fire, as it was believed that our own men were coming in front of us, and though shots came frequently from the front it was still thought that they were only stray bullets. . . . One of these stray shots struck Captain [William] Colvill in the left shoulder, and he was obliged to go to the rear, being seriously wounded. This left the company in command of Second Lieutenant Martin Maginnis, who had also been wounded in the left shoulder at Savage’s Station but was still with the company. . . . . .
It was very soon after the wounding of Capt. Colvill when some men’s heads and the top of a standard appeared in the brush almost directly in front of the right of the company. . . . Something had aroused Lieut. Maginnis’s suspicions that the flag he had caught a glimpse of was not the Stars and Stripes. . . . One of them came a little ways towards us and said quietly, "Who are you?" To this informal challenge, Lieut. Maginnis answered evasively – as is usual in cases of doubt – saying, "Well! Who are you?" – or something to that effect. The response to this came in decisive tones and a little louder than before, "Are you Confederate or Yankee?" This left no doubt in the mind of Lieut. Maginnis or anyone else that heard it that they were rebels, and he ordered the company to fire . . . Other companies took it up, and the fire ran down the regiment towards the left . . . we got only a light return fire, and they withdrew promptly from their unfavorable position rather than try to rectify it in the dark after being fired on.
There was doubt on the part of Lieut. Col. [Stephen] Miller as to whether we had not made a mistake, as he had been informed that some of our own troops were in his front. . . . He was not convinced to the contrary until some of the men wounded by our fire were brought in from the bushes, and it was made certain that the Sixteenth North Carolina had been in our front. . . . . .
The only loss to the company [F] was Robert W. Leeson, who was shot through the lower part of the body and died soon after. . . . Robert was the first of the boy friends I made in the territory [Minnesota then not yet being a state], and I have reason to remember him kindly. . . . Together we shared the vicissitudes of soldier life until the closing hours of that terrible, trying day on the Peninsula when he was called to give ‘the last full measure of devotion’ in the cause for which we had volunteered. I am glad of this opportunity to pay a feeble tribute of respect to a boyhood friend, classmate, and comrade. . . . . .
From the wounding of Capt. Colvill and the killing of Leeson to the end of the affair with the Carolinians was but a few minutes – as day changes to night – and after it came comparative silence, as far as firing was concerned. (Wright)
On July 1st, the troops headed toward Malvern Hill. They moved around during the day, expecting attack at any moment, but did not come into contact with the enemy. On the morning of July 2nd, they moved southward about seven miles, from Malvern Hill to Harrison's Landing on the James River., and were massed for camp in a field of finely ripened wheat . . . But with the mass of men who covered it, and the rain still pouring, within an hour there was not a sign of wheat -- merely a field of black mud, upon which the soldiers set up their dog tents, and supplied them with bedding from large stack yards, where from some cause, the crops of previous years still stood unthreshed. In a few days we were moved further from the river, camping on drier ground, near a small rivulet, and were kept busy during the month with fatigue and picket duties. (Lochren)
Sgt. Wright gives a more detailed assessment: After a little delay, the regiment formed and marched quietly back to a road, where it joined the rest of the brigade and started on another wearing night march. . . . When there was light enough to look in each other’s faces again, it was plain we were all getting rapidly worse – in appearance at least – in the last few days. Seemingly, everyone had aged perceptibly in the last 24 hours and showed it in appearance and action. . . . We were passing among fields and farmhouses, apparently forsaken, but with growing crops and on higher ground than any on which we had yet been on the Peninsula. In some of the fields the wheat had been cut and was standing in shocks, but generally it was not yet harvested, though it was fully ripe. The sun was shining in all the glory of a mid-summer morning when we came in sight of our lines at Malvern Hill. . . . Malvern Hill is a crest or range of high land near Turkey Bend on the James River – the top of which is practically level and about 200 feet above the water. It is a mile and a half (perhps more) in length and about half that in width on an average. . . . . .
On this elevated plateau, along its sloping sides and on the low ground at the edge of the woods, the several corps of the Army o the Potomac were now assembled and were being assigned to positions to defend it. . . . As soon as we were permitted to halt, we spread ourselves out on the grass and went to sleep, because we could not keep awake more than sixty second if at rest. . . . We were returned to consciousness by the booming of guns and shrieking of shells, showing that our enemies had taken the road early and followed us closely. . . . Soon after the firing began, we formed in line and waited for orders. The rebel artillery practice was uncommonly good that morning, and several men were hit by scraps of the bursting shells, but I do not recall that anyone was killed. . . . I apprehend that there are but few men with self-control sufficient and nerves so strong that they are undisturbed by the close flight of those fiendish, howling, screeching missiles. . . . . .
We had many guns in position on the hill, and it did not take many minutes to shift some of them to bear on the battery that was using us for a target in their morning practice. . . . After a few shots from another position, they withdrew out of range. Before the first shelling ceased, we were under arms and moved to the right and formed in line of battle in support of some batteries. It was here that we received the second shelling. It was a savage, spiteful fusillade, and the shells burst in the air above us and plowed the hillside behind us, but all passed over us without serious damage. Shortly after this, some of the enemy’s skirmishers came through the woods along the stream in front. There was scattering rifle fire for a short time, but they were driven back by the skirmishers of the first line. . . . . .
Shortly after the skirmish in front of us, we were again moved to the right . . . and were put in the first line. . . . This led us to expect an immediate attack, but none of the enemy attempted to come through the woods in our front while here. . . . It was noon or later when we took our last position. Being now in the front line, we were cautioned to expect an attack at any moment. . . . It was some hours later when the first serious attack was made. This was the last of the rapid series of battles known as the ‘Seven Days.’ . . . The most of us were dozing as we sat or lay on the ground, when there was a burst of artillery and a roll of musketry that startled the echoes and aroused us all. It was an attack on the right of Couch’s Division and the left of Kearney’s a quarter of a mile or so to our left. . . . Out regiment took no more active part than as attentive listeners. Until night came, we were constantly expecting an attack, as there was a force of the enemy in the woods across the run, but there seems not to have been any available road for artillery. . . . While fighting continued, men were kept aroused and ready for action, but when the noise of strife ceased and danger seemed less imminent, the feeling of fatigue and exhaustion reasserted itself. Whenever we were halted – even for a few minutes – the boys would lie down and be asleep very quickly . . . . .
It was in the early dawn of Wednesday, July 2, when we were ready to leave the hill and continue the march down the river. . . . By the time we came to the River Road, it was raining hard, we were water-soaked and chilled, and the road was slippery and muddy. . . . In our worn-out condition, the movement to Harrison’s Bar [Harrison’s Landing] proved a severe trial. . . . We reached a halting place and – without formality – were told to make ourselves as comfortable as we could. . . . Before halting, we had turned from the road into a field of standing wheat – a large field ripe for harvesting – and it is one of the minor incidents of war that it was quickly and totally destroyed. In an hour’s time that promising field was only a trampled muddy bivouac covered with soldiers – wet, weary, and hungry to a degree unknown in ordinary life. It was a highly esteemed privilege and an absolute positive enjoyment to be allowed to lie down undisturbed in the mud, and I lost no time in making a personal use of the opportunity. . . . . .
During the 3rd, we tried to renovate our clothing and personal appearance a little, and the most of us found an opportunity to write a few words to our friends at home. . . . Early Friday morning, July Fourth, somewhat improved by the rest but still lame and tired, we marched about two miles and took up a new position, halting in line of battle and stacking arms. . . . For a low-lying section, it was a place of great natural strength, and capable of an easy defense. . . . The enemy fully recognized this, and never at any time tried to do more than annoy us from the opposite side of the [James] river, under cover of night. . . . About noon time [July 4th] we formed in line, and General McClellan rode by followed by a numerous staff, and the batteries fired the national salute. . . . His management of the retreat from the Chickahominy to the James had not lessened the confidence or enthusiasm of his army. They still trusted him as a capable and patriotic leader.
On that day, General McClellan issued an address to his army: " . . . Your achievements of the last ten days have illustrated the valor and endurance of the American soldier. Attacked by vastly superior forces, and without hope of reinforcements, you have succeeded in changing your base of operations by a flank movement, always regarded as the most hazardous of military expedients . . . Your conduct ranks you with the celebrated armies of history. On this our Nation’s birthday we declare to our foes, who are rebels against the best interests of mankind, that this army shall enter the Capital of their so-called Confederacy, that our National Constitution shall prevail, and that the Union, which alone can insure internal peace and external security to each State, must and shall be preserved, cost what it may in time, treasure and blood.
George B. McClellan, Major-General, Commanding"Wright adds: Lee also issued an address to his army congratulating them that "the siege of Richmond was raised" and the object of McClellan’s campaign "completely frustrated." Jefferson Davis proclaimed a day of thanksgiving for the people of Richmond on the same grounds, and as events proved both were timely and appropriate.
Although the Peninsular Campaign was a failure as far as accomplishing its ultimate purpose – the capture of Richmond – it was militarily beneficial to the First Minnesota. Despite the hardships undergone during the campaign, such as poor weather, long and enervating marches, poorly planned battles, inglorious retreats, and the desertion of wounded comrades, the complaints from the members of the regiment were less frequent and biting than previously when mere inconvenience seemed reason enough to start a ‘crusade.’ The men were now accepting their lot with resignation. They were beginning to realize that their physical preservation depended upon the efficient functioning of the military unit to which they belonged. It was becoming obvious that as an individual each was incapable of insuring his own safety. A kind of blind faith in the military started to emerge . . . A machine was being constructed and gradually being perfected in which the human parts were commencing to react automatically. (Imholte)
An evaluation by Lieutenant Lochren, who took part in the battle, is given in one sentence, published in 1890: The campaign planned and managed by Stanton and Halleck had ended in disgraceful and utter defeat.
Each day of the Seven Days added a full year to our ages, and the whole campaign left us ten years older than we began it. I am sure that every man of the company felt that, practically, that was true. They ‘looked it’ any way, and not one of them was the rollicking noisy boy he was before. And he never was afterwards. (Wright)
The day after McClellan’s congratulations on July 4th, the soldiers of the 2nd Corps started building and settling into a camp at Harrison’s Landing. On Wednesday, July 9th, President Lincoln visited the camp, and the army was called out in review. Our corps formed near its camp, and President Lincoln and Gen. McClellan, with a numerous staff, rode by. The officers were in their best uniforms, but the President was only plainly dressed. He rode a fine-looking horse but wore a venerable-looking ‘plug’ hat. The president did not appear to the best advantage on horseback. I saw him on several occasions; and he did not appear at ease; and his hat, when not in his hand, was usually well pulled down or tipped back. (Wright)
There was a series of reviews on July 21st, the anniversary of the First Battle of Bull Run. In the night of July 31st, the 60,000 or 70,000 soldiers camped at the landing were sleeping – or trying to – when something happened. . . . This great camp of sleeping men was suddenly aroused by bursting shells, thrown among them at the rate of about 60 a minute. This midnight assault by half a dozen batteries created a momentary panic and more. . . . But the damage was nothing like what might have been expected. I think the actual loss was about 30 men killed and wounded, some horses and mules killed, and some wagons, tents, and other property damaged. . . . It was not long . . . before some of the Union batteries got into action, followed by some of the others. . . . A brigade of Union troops crossed over and occupied Coggin’s Point, and there was no further attempt at molestation. (Wright)
Starting on August 16th, the corps started on a march out of the Virginia Peninsula. An informative and in many ways universal account of an army march has been provided by a member of the First in describing this movement from Harrison’s landing to Newport News [in an unsigned letter published in the Stillwater MN Messenger, August 23, 1862, quoted by Imholte]: Our first orders came to be ready to move in light marching order on Monday, August 11th, but owing to change of programme, or some other cause, we were kept in camp constantly on the qui vive until Saturday the 16th, when we finally got under way and dragged our slow length along out of the fortifications and over about four miles of road, and encamped for the night within a mile or two of Charles City Court House. In civil life we do not regard a walk of ten or twenty miles in one day as anything very arduous. A good traveler will make his forty miles per day without any great effort. But a march of an army is quite a different affair. An unskilled general will manage to make a march of five miles in one day by an army corps a very exhausting day’s work for the men. The reveille will sound at half past two in the morning, and every man must get his coffee and gird on his armory. One hour later the bugles sound ‘attention’ and the men fall in, all strapped up and loaded down. Here they wait under arms right in their tracks one hour and a half – this is a moderate statement – when the welcome ‘forward’ is sounded, and your regiment marches off promptly for ten or twenty rods and halts to let by a long column of cavalry, or infantry, or a wagon train. This occupies from fifteen minutes to three hours, according to the brilliancy and magnitude of the movement. By this time the sun is high and the heat is great. Dust ditto. Finally the regiment will get out of sight of camp, and it is time to take a lunch. No sooner has the whole corps got stretched out on the road, than the hateful, but inevitable order to ‘close up,’ and the poor devils toward the rear are compelled to take up a sort of double quick step until some obstruction delays the head of the column, and they come slap up against their file leaders. Then a long halt and another weary quick to make up for the accumulated time and distance lost by all the men and trains in front. And thus we march and stand, no matter how great the heat, how thick the dust, or how heavy the loads on our shoulders.
On August 25th, the First Minnesota and some other troops boarded an ocean steamer, the Mississippi, at Newport News VA, and landed at Alexandria VA on August 28th, and then moved on. During the next two days, the Second Battle of Bull Run was fought. Wright says that all we knew of it at the time was the occasional sound of the artillery. . . . If we had continued the march direct to Centreville on the afternoon of the 28th, we should have reached the front in time to have participated in the fighting on the 30th.
The troops reached the outskirts of Fairfax VA on September 2nd. The army was retreating, says Wright, – ‘retiring on Washington,’ we called it. In subsequent days, the regiment was engaged briefly with some enemy cavalry., and had an officer and four men wounded. During the retreat, the First Minnesota was at one time about a hundred yards behind the 19th Massachusetts regiment, when a squadron of New York cavalry charged the 19th Massachusetts, mistaking them for the enemy. The First Minnesota became involved, and lost two killed and nine wounded. The loss of the 19th Massachusetts and the New York cavalry was about the same.
The regiment continued its march northward during the first part of September, 1862. On the morning of September 16th, it bivouacked just east of Antietam Creek, near Sharpsburg MD.
1.9 Battle of Antietam (Sharpsburg)As a general thing, the white race will work eagerly for the reward of labor. In this fact exists the broad distinction between the white and the black race. The latter, it is sufficiently proved by the world's experience, will not work at all if he can help it. Idleness is his chief good, and pauperism and theft are for the race not an unwelcome means of attaining their object. The vis inertia of the black blood is so great, that even a large mixture of white blood will overcome it only so far as to induce the individual to perform menial offices, clinging to the skirts of white society. It never suffices to impart energy or enterprise to the black descendant.
From Southern Wealth and Northern Profits, Thomas Prentice Kettell,
Editor of the Democratic Review, 1860.That on the first day of January in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any state, or designated part of a state, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free . . .
A. Lincoln, September 22, 1863, five days after the battle of Antietam,
in The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 1953.
The thrust into Maryland on September 5th by troops under Gen. Robert E. Lee meant that the Army of the Potomac had to do likewise. The corps left Tennallytown on September 6th, and on September 16th, marched to some high ground overlooking the Antietam Creek. The next morning the men were aroused at 2 a.m., and got coffee and a full supply of ammunition. . . . At 7 a.m. our corps moved about two miles in a northeasterly direction, crossing the creek . . . we advanced about three-fourths of a mile, crossing, under a heavy artillery fire, a battlefield where dead and wounded of both sides lay in great numbers. Reaching a wood occupied by the Confederates, we drove them rapidly through it, and into a corn field beyond, where, apparently strongly reinforced, they advanced in turn, and the musketry fire here was very heavy and long sustained, our men firing about fifty rounds, and the enemy's artilly using grape and canister. . . . our loss here was heavy . . . [after a while, due to some error] the First Minnesota was left without support on either flank. Still, it held its place until peremptory orders to retire came. . . . It was much the most sanguinary contest in the battle, as is shown by the great losses of the Second Corps. . . . We remained on the battlefield, engaged in burying the dead, and in picket duty an reconnaissances for four days after the battle . . . (Lochren)
According to Holcombe's account, General Willis Gorman’s brigade, including the First Minnesota, took positions in the woods north of the Dunker church. The regiment was forced to move back to the north end of the woods around the Dunker church, where they came under Confederate attack. Casualties in the First were heavy: 15 killed, 79 wounded, and 21 missing; although they were less severe than those suffered by their companion regiments. (Imholte) The men retreated a short distance. After a short time, an artillery battery was sent to assist them. Once more, it was Battery I of the U. S. 1st Artillery, the one my great-uncle Lt. Tully McCrea was in, having been assigned there not long before the battle at Antietam took place. When this battle began, it was commanded by Lt. Edmund Kirby, but when the battle was over, it was commanded by Lt. George Woodruff, Kirby having been mortally wounded.Our corps remained on the field for three days – the 19th, 20th and 21st – with large details engaged in burying the dead and burning the dead horses. This naturally gave us an opportunity to see some of the revolting things that follow a great battle. I have no disposition to try to give them in detail and refrain from any general description. It was a gruesome, unpleasant task that shocked one’s better nature and offended the sight – and sense of smell. Bishop [Henry B.] visited the regiment and preached on Sunday, September 21st, and it was fortunate that the wind was from the east to carry the stench away. (Wright)
On September 22nd, the Second Corps left the Antietam battlefield and marched to Bolivar Heights where it remained for six weeks. During the stay there a relatively uneventful reconnaissance was made with six other regiments to Charlestown. Except for this slight interruption, the interval at Bolivar was a restful one with only routine picket duty to perform. (Imholte)
1.10 Battles of Fredericksburg and Marye’s HeightsBut all the sacrifice, devotion and heroism cannot be justly claimed by the men. The devotion of the women on both sides was very intense. However, but few of the gentler sex went squarely into battle; but an instance is given by Major Small, in his history of the 16th Maine, where a girl disguised her sex and attired in a soldier’s uniform, joined Company I of that regiment, and fought until she was captured in the charge on Taliaferro’s division. She is thus spoken of by the Richmond Whig:
"Yesterday a rather prepossessing lass was discovered on Belle Isle, among the prisoners of war held there. She gave her name as Mary Jane Johnson, belonging to the 16th Maine Regiment. She gave as an excuse for adopting soldier’s toggery, that she was following her lover to shield and protect him when in danger. He had been killed, and now she had no objection to return to the more peaceful sphere for which nature, by her sex, had better fitted her. Upon the discovery of her sex, Miss Johnson was removed from Belle Isle to Castle Thunder. She will probably go North by the next flag of truce. She is about sixteen years of age."
J. B. Stine, History of the Army of the Potomac, 1893, Chapter IX, Fredericksburg.On the other hand, from the National Tribune, Grand Army of the Republic, 7/11/1889:
In reading my diary of Dec. 9, 1863, I find the following: "This morning a young woman was discovered in camp on Belle Isle, belonging to the 11th Ky. Cav., named Mary Jane Johnson, 16 years of age. She has been in the Union army a year, has neither father nor mother, and was induced to join the army by the Captain of her company, who was killed in the battle where she was taken prisoner. She was sent over to Richmond to be sent North."
Does any old comrade remember the circumstance?
W. W. SPRAGUE, Co. B, 13th Mass., St. Johnsbury, Vt.
Was Mary Jane in the 16th Maine Infantry or the 11th Kentucky Cavalry? And what became of Mary Jane after this?
At the end of October, the Second Corps, of which the First Minnesota was a part, left Bolivar Heights moving eastward until in mid-November they arrived at Stafford Hills near Falmouth, above Fredericksburg, Va.The First Minnesota got off easier than some at the battles of Marye’s Height and Fredericksburg. In the evening of December 11th, 1862, the First Minnesota formed near Falmouth VA, on the northern bank of the Rappahannock River, across from Fredericksburg. The Confederates still held most of the town [of Fredericksburg], and there was desultory firing till midnight; but some of our boys made their way to the houses and stores, and returned laden with provisions, wines, liquors, tobacco, and a violin, and soon quadrilles and contra dances were under way, the melody of the fiddle being often varied by the hissing of passing bullets. (Lochren)
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