Camp near Potomac Creek.
February 21st 1863.
I returned to camp ^ ‘last night,’ after eleven days’ absence, and
a pretty tough “five days” it has been. As I told
the Colonel last night – “I felt obliged to him for
the distinction conferred by giving the battalion in
charge of so young an officer, but he might keep
his distinction and battalion together for the future,
in others hands then mine, for I did not appreciate
it.” The men have not yet returned, but the
officers were relieved yesterday, and a jolly set we
were on our return. We started out in a
drenching rainstorm, mud Harrison’s Landing style,
and a bleak wind blowing, marched fifteen miles
and reached our place of destination about 4 P.M.
I wish I could give you some idea of the sacred soil,
42.
but tis’ impossible – perhaps I will send you a box
of it. You know what quick sand is – this is
quick mud; if you stop on one spot long, you sink
to rise no more: so without joking, my dear parents,
if you miss me for a month or two, and then hear
of my rising in some soft spot in the antipodes,
with military accoutrements on, don’t be surprised,
for should you express the least surprise, you would
only be laughted at by those in the Army who
have experienced that sort of thing.
We arrived at 4 P.M. had to pitch our tents in the
slops, throw out a strong picket, and slept on our
arms. In the morning – a pleasant day! –
I detailed 120 men and 2 officers for fatigue duty,
which consisted in corduroying and bridge building.
We had three engineers with us, and the work was
done in style. That night our picket was
attacked by a small body of rebel cavalry, who,
after killing our horse, and shooting one ear
off another man (Irish) was repulsed. So
our picket was re-inforced, and we lived in hopes
of a little excitement, but none came. The
2nd day, we had a snow storm, and no work, of
course, and what a shivering was there, my parents.
3rd day, too much snow to work. 4th day, 180
43.
men detailed. 5th day, 120 men do. 6th day,
120 men ditto. 7th day, snow storm. 8th day,
rain storm, and roads so bad that rations could not
be sent out; officers and men half starved.
9th day, weather do., and men wholly starved.
10th day, rations – including whiskey – came out
on mules, weather pleasant, sun warm – ordered
all tents taken down to let the ground dry, and
guns and equipments cleaned before issuing whiskey,
had an inspection, issued whiskey – grand finale,
officers and men singing. 11th day, damp and
cold, had a fireplace built – 9 o’clock at night,
fireplace burnt down, – grand finale, officers growling.
12th day, rain. 13th day, pleasant, 120 men at work.
14th day, rain but whiskey, men happy after issuing
the latter. 15th day, relieved officers, and
since beginning the letter, the men have all come
in as jolly as possible, and that work is ended.
I presume our lines of defense will be on the
Rappahannock, that is, our first line, instead of
confining them to Washington, and that the
Army will go to Suffolk, or that vicinity.
44.
Camp near Falmouth.
March 7th 1863.
. . . . . . My trouble has been neuralgia,
principally, which has, at times, driven me almost
crazy. I am now in excellent spirits, how-
ever, and doing duty again. You say you
wonder whether the fierce snowstorm raging
with you on Sunday last, prevailed with us also.
It seems to have begun here about the same
time as with you, and blocked us in pretty
well, rendering mud knee-deep since melting.
Weather today mild and damp, drizzling
withal. We all – with the exception of those
superceded, – are delighted with Capt. Edmunds’s
appointment to the majority – He will
make a jolly Major. My 2nd Lieut, Geo.
R. Reed also went up a peg, which he richly
deserved, as he understands his duties thoroughly.
45.
(After a leave of absence of 10 days, Capt. Dana
writes as follows, on his return to camp)
Camp Dissatisfaction
Near Falmouth.
April 13th 1863.
Here I am in my superannuated tent again, and,
as you may see by the heading of my letter, very
miserable, for I was never so homesick in my life;
partly owing, no doubt, to the state of the weather
last night, as it rained heavily, and I was pretty
well soaked. I suppose, however, I shall get
used to it in a few days, though I think I should
have preferred a more gradual initiation.
I trust we shall move in a few days, as every thing
indicates it, and I want to see some fight, for
the more of it we have, the sooner shall we get
through with it. The Southrons [sic] have far
from their fill yet, and that they must have
before the war can cease.
I had a very pleasant trip to New York; to the
southward of that point it is horribly tedious, as
you know. . . . . I was greeted here very
46.
warmly by all, and shall soon be accustomed
to the disagreeable part of the life again.
And now, my dear ones, I must close, as I am
“Officer of the Day” (already at work, you see)
and have much to do.
In camp, near Falmouth, Va.
April 20th 1863.
. . . . I shall very likely not hear from you
now before we move, as the roads are pretty well
dried up. Should have moved last Wednesday
-so Hooker intended, – but Providence tipped
over Hooker’s bucket, making it very wet and
muddy, so we have lain here for another week, but
are now all prepared, with eight days rations,
indicating a long march, and probably plenty
of fight. God defend the right!
I send you an ambrotype of myself as ‘officer of
the day.’ I look a little cross, and felt so,
as I had just put a drunken man into the Guard-
house, and had some trouble with him.
I thought you might value it, as taken in the
field.
47.
Near Barnett’s Ford.
April 20th 1863.
At last we’ve started – left about 11 o’clock yesterday
morning, marching about fifteen miles in a hot sun,
and over dusty roads. It was a very hard
march for the men, as they carry guns, equipments,
blankets, 60 rounds cartridges, and eight days’ ra-
tions, about 80 pounds altogether. I left with
very heavy cold and such influenza that I had to
have my eyes bandaged at first. It clouded
over a little, and I was enabled to take off my
bandage. . . . Excuse the dirt, as this
is written on top of a dirty drum.
(May 4th ’63) 7 miles from Fredericks burg
on Main Road.
As I have but a few moments, I will without prelude
give a few extracts from diary since I last wrote.
April 28th.
Raining hard. If yesterday’s was a hard march,
what shall I call today’s in the mud? About
noon, ceased raining – afternoon hot and sultry –
marched till 8 P.M., then halted for the night.
48.
Many men dropped by the roadside from sheer
exhaustion, and I had a kind of droppy feeling
myself. I turned in at 9 P.M., soaked
with rain.
April 29th.
Woke with addition to cold – probable result death –
don’t know yet. What a difference between
this life and my experience at home; where I had
to go around the corner of the street to sneeze, lest
Mother should hear me, and wish me to take cream
of tartar water – God bless her! – she’d go
stark mad could she see me now.
Broke camp at 7 A.M., and marched to Kelley’s
Ford on the Rappahannock, where we crossed, about
11 A.M. on pontoons; then marched on, with no rest
to speak of, hour after hour, on, on, on, like the poor
Wandering Jew, the men calling out as a General
passes, “Bring him a fresh horse.” At every
little halt of a moment or two, every man and
officer falls flat in the muddy road, and when
ordered ‘forward’ again, ‘tis amusing to hear
“caw, caw, caw,” from a thousand throats, for they
49.
look very much like an immense flock of crows.
At 7 P.M. reached Ely’s Ford, on the Rapid Ann,
-improperly called Rapidan – and found that
our pontoons, which had been brought up, were
insufficient to stretch across, so we were ordered
to wade it. In the men went, with shouts
and laughter, though the water was above their
waists; and now the officers had their hands full,
to see that the ammunition was kept dry.
The ‘Rapid Ann’ is a very rapid stream, and the men
kept their understanding with difficulty.
We reached the other side with few accidents, – a
few guns lost, and a few cartridge boxes wet, – and
have really for once stolen a march on Johnnie
Reb., for had he known of our advent, ‘twould
have been a matter of sheer impossibility to cross.
So here we are at 8 o’clock, wet almost to the
armpits, a drizzling rain falling, and so tired
that it will be almost impossible to keep eyes open
long enough to dry our clothes, yet in good spirits,
as we know we have got ahead of the Rebels.
Saw “Fighting Joe Hooker” twice today on the road –
50.
he looked hale and happy. Our advance took a
squad of rebel prisoners on this side. At a
house on the opposite side of the river, we found a
negro in charge. He reported that his master,
hearing in the morning, of our approach, moulded
some bullets, forded the river, and cut stick for the
rebel camp – an old man of sixty at that – it makes
one feel sad to see such zeal expended in such a
wicked cause.
Thursday, April 30th.
Again a rainy day, and the roads are heavy with
mud. Left at 6 A.M., marched about 3 miles,
– hard work in the clayey soil- men throwing
away blankets and overcoats in order to keep up.
My contraband sprained his ankle, so have to carry
part of his load.. 9 A.M. Drawn up in line
of battle, expecting attack of the enemy. Sent
out cavalry ahead to reconnoiter, who report that
rebels have fallen back – moved on again, and
found a line of breastworks, commanding the road,
but evacuated before completion, owing to our rapid
approach. Took quite a number of prisoners,
51.
some armed and equipped. Marched to main
road to Fredericksburg, and halted 9 miles from
that place, still raining and chilly. At 9 P.M
this circular was sent around –
“The 5th (ours) 11th and 12th Corps are highly credited
for their successes of the past four days. The
enemy is completely surrounded, and must sur-
render, or fight us on our own ground, where success
is certain –
“(S’d) Joseph Hooker –“
How soon were blistered feet forgotten, how soon
our chilled marrows warmed. It is a
glorious achievement. The moon and stars
struggled out while we were reading the order to
our companies (whom it made almost frantic with
joy) and a glorious night followed.
May 1st.
It is a glorious morning, this May Day morning,
a splendid sun and mild spring air, and I feel
fresh as a lark, though my heart beat too wildly
to allow me sleep. I can repose as quietly with
whizzing bullets and screaming shell flying about
52.
me as in bed, but not when filled with such
savage joy. But the end is not yet. We
must, in my opinion, have hard work yet, before
our desperate foes give in.
At 11 A.M. left camp and were marched and
counter marched up and down till 11 P.M., when
my company was detailed to go into the woods,
and move on a line with our troops as “flankers.’
We struggled along for about three miles, through
swamps, abounding in tangled undergrowth, but
about 12 ½ were recalled to the road where our
brigade was resting. It was cold and damp
as well could be, but I was so exhausted, that as
soon as I had brought the company into line,
without stopping to undo my blankets, I threw
myself on the mud, and slept soundly till about
3 A.M., when we were moved a short distance, and
slept till 6 A.M., and were then ordered to throw
up abattis. We soon cleared a space of trees
with which we built strong barricades. Hard
fighting going on all day in front of us – the rebels
are desperately attempting to force a passage.
53.
Sunday May 3rd [1863]
At 4 A.M. were ordered to the front, where the
rebels have been trying to force a passage for retreat.
Shells are bursting in rather unpleasant proximity,
musket and rifle balls fizzing close over our heads.
As I write that at 9 A.M., wounded men are carried
by, and a continual stream of rebel prisoners are
passing. — At 12 M. the rebels got a temporary
advantage, driving in our advanced lines, leaving
our brigade in the immediate front. We are
protected by strong breastworks, and are lying on the
“Orange Court House and Fredericksburg Road” – the
point which the rebels must get to retreat on
Richmond. Hooker has visited us several times
today, and impressed upon us the vital importance
of the post we hold. He looks cool and
sanquine (I might add ary).
The rebels, in order to reach us, have to cross a broad,
open field, and will be slaughtered in thousands
should they make any attempt, as we have 65 heavy
guns planted to rake the field, beside a whole
Corps at our backs.
54.
P.M. The rebels occasionally shew themselves on
the edge of the wood on the opposite side of the
field from us, but a few doses of grape and canister
send them back howling with a row of their com-
rades left to mark their standing place.
Genl Griffin – our Division Genl – was here a mo-
ment since – said he; “32nd, I rely on you to hold
this point.” “We’ll do it” was the answer from
a hundred voices. Gen. Griffin had his horse
shot under him this morning.
Monday, May 4th.
We fully expected an attack on our breastworks
last night. I was up all night – pacing up and
down behind the ^ ‘works’ and seeing that my com-
pany kept on the “qui vive.” At 3 A.M. the
rebs poured a few heavy vollies upon us. Most
of our heads were below the intrenchments, so only
a few were wounded. I thought for a moment
that a hornet’s nest was in my cap. Two of
the 32nd wounded – one mortally, both privates.
12 M. Sergeant of Pickets just came in – reports
rebels planting batteries and massing troops in
55.
the woods in front. An occasional messenger
from a sharpshooter whizzes over our heads, one
of which mortally wounded Gen. Whipple, who was
sitting by the road side, a few rods from my post.
Be easy about me – I’m very careful of myself,
and am doing my duty, for a vanity –
Camp near Potomac Creek.
May 7th 1863.
I feel myself blushing to the roots of my hair,
as I date my letter ‘Potomac Creek”, for I never
expected to write the name of the detestable place
again. But here I am, so I will give you my
diary, from the last item copied, till now.
May 4th; at 4 P.M. our brigade
was ordered to feel the position of the enemy.
We accordingly climbed over our earth works, and
advanced across the open field in our front to the
woods, the 4th Michigan leading, deployed as
skirmishers, the 32nd Mass., 62nd Penn., 9th Mass., and
14th N. Y. following in that order. We advanced
to the middle of the woods, with little opposition,
but there ‘Johnnie Reb.’ opened upon us a raking
56.
fire of shell, grape and canister, as well as heavy
infantry firing. Our position in the woods
sheltered us greatly, as the enemy could not tell
our precise where abouts, and their pieces in general
were much too elevated, and our brigade lost but
few men. One of our sergeants was struck in
the temple with a piece of spent shell, which re-
bounded from the ground. It knocked him
over, but caused only a slight contusion – This,
to our surprise, we found was the only casualty
in the 32nd and it seems almost beyond belief,
when I think how the ground around us was
torn up, large trees cut off and toppled to the
ground, and the air full of bees – the fittest
simile, in sound, to the musket ball –
Some other regiments of our brigade suffered
severely however. Being satisfied by the infernal
shower we had succeeded in drawing upon us
that the rebels were still in force, we were or-
dered to retire. The line of the 32nd (we were
in line of battle) as we emerged from the woods,
was as good as on parade – no confusion – and we
57.
were cheered by the other regiments, as we resumed
our position behind the earth works. I picked
up a rebel grape shot in the woods. It differs from
ours in being very rough, while ours are smooth and
polished. Immediately after retiring,
our batteries opened a terrific fire upon the rebels.
The undergrowth in the woods caught fire from the
bursting of the shell, and some spread over a space
of half a mile. How awful to contemplate
the agonies of the wounded roasting to death.
Hundreds must have met that fate.
All quiet till about 1 A.M.
May 5th.
when the enemy attacked our picket line, but were
soon repulsed. Again at 9 A.M. and at 11 A.M.
-a large number killed and wounded on both
sides – enemy twice driven back. While Col.
Stephenson and I were talking, a rifle ball ploughed
into the ground less than a foot from us. In
fact, the sharpshooters, who are posted and hidden
in trees in the wood in front are picking off
officers all the time. It is dangerous for a
58.
pair of shoulder straps to move about – I found that
mine attracted a leaden messenger almost every
time I showed myself from behind the breast-
works, so took them off. They seem almost as
much an attraction to sharpshooters as to the fair
sex – God bless them – at home.
[The next two lines inked out.]
At 3 P.M. east wind set in cold, and rain came down
finely, and continued all night. As soon as
the first shades of night were falling, our artillery
began to ‘limber up’ and move, and a rumor was
soon afloat that there was a ‘hitch’ some where, and
that a retreat was ordered. Up to that mo-
ment, from the commencement of our expedition,
every man had been in the highest spirits – in
fact, I had never seen the Army so happy and
full of confidence. So you can imagine what
a ‘damper’ this must have been to us all, in the
midst of a cold rainstorm, without tents, and no
fires allowed; and to cap the whole, our brigade
ordered to remain till the whole Army moved,
59.
to cover the retreat. There we shivered and
shook till 3 A.M.
May 6th, [1863]
when we were ordered to start. It was still
raining hard, the artillery had mashed the ground
to a pulp which was knee deep. The enemy
was fully expected to follow us up, so we were
rushed through the mud to U.S. Ford – about
four miles – and from there to our camp – about
fourteen miles more – We were covered with
mud from head to foot, but used up and sick as
I felt, I could not resist bursting into a laugh
as my eyes occasionally caught sight of a brother
officer. Imagine how a man would look
after being plunged into a barrel of mud, and
you can form an idea of our appearance, for
positively neither face nor even hair had escaped.
Every one had fallen at least once. We had
only one short halt during the whole of that
dreadful march, and the road at the wind-up
was a perfect mob of horses struggling and
splashing through the mixture – often falling –
60.
cannoniers vainly endeavouring to force their poor
jaded beasts to drag their guns out of the deep
ruts; men swearing and cursing their commanders
for their sufferings – What a sight! When
our Colonel reached camp, he had four officers and
eight men with him – the rest came straggling in
all through the night. [Three lines inked out.]
Thus ended the hardest expedition
we have lived through, thus far. But the
hardships were not yet at an end, for I found
that the tents of the line officers had been all
turned in, and that for the future we should be
obliged to use ‘shelter tents’, – so called because
they afford no shelter at all – It still rained
hard, but I spread my ‘shelter’, threw myself on
the ground, wet to the skin; yes, and soaked some
distance inside of that; feverish, teeth chattering,
and legs extending some two feet out of the
covering, envying my dog his kennel, as being
much warmer, and quite as long.
61.
Thursday, May 7th.
I awoke in a pool of water, dirty and happy as a
pig. My sleep was continually disturbed during
the night by dreaming that I was still in my old
earthworks, and that the enemy was attacking us.
My Lieut. said that I called out once (think he must
have been mistaken about the emphatic part of it)
“D – n you, Company A, if you don’t start up
quicker when they fire, I’ll reduce the size of some
of your families.” He said he thought it was
time to awake me, so he shook me into better humor.
The officers are all suffering with sore throats,
blistered feet and stiff joints – At 3 P.M.,
orders came to the regiment for the men to be sup-
plied with eight days’ rations again, company
commanders to inspect their companies, and have
them ready for immediate action. Where we
are going, no one in this vicinity seems to know, – the
Army is certainly in no condition for action, sick and
dispirited to the core, as it is. Should we fight
now, we should be whipped, I fear – The current
rumor is, that Fredericksburg is our destination.
62.
If so, it must be evacuated, as Hooker surely cannot
be so crazy as to put this Army into immediate
action, for a large portion of it is again thoroughly
demoralized –“ This ends my diary up to
tonight, my dear ones, and now let me come down
and talk to you. . . . . You ask how my
contraband is getting along. He is the only
negro servant who has stuck to the regiment.
The others all left, carrying their masters’ blankets,
as soon as we took our exposed position in front
of the enemy – and had been popped at a few
times – But Bill has been with me all
the time, brought up my blankets at night, shared
all my hardships from the time I engaged him on
the Peninsula, looks after me with a motherly care,
and really seems to be attached to me, and
faithful as a dog. He shall never want
as long as I live.
Camp near Potomac Creek.
May 9th 1863.
. . . . We are all fast recovering from the ill
effects of our exhausting ten days’ work. I
63.
can walk nearly erect today, and sore throat is better.
Am glad to hear that my ambrotype or “appetite” as
Bill calls it, pleased you so much. . . . .
I have just been reading a remedy for cramp which
you sent me some time ago. I have suffered
much with it, on account of my veins swelling
so that I thought sometimes they would burst.
The remedy is excellent – Heat water expeditiously
and immerse the sufferer completely. – How
ridiculous that sounds, when the largest receptacle
