Battery L, 1st Artillery Regiment (Light) - George Breck Columns: Chapter 12: “Why Are We Lying Still So Long” Too Quiet Along The Potomac, Sept. 29, 1862 – Nov. 4, 1862

Though Lee’s army had been badly battered at Antietam, McClellan refused to pursue the Confederate army, citing his own losses and need to re-supply. An exasperated Lincoln prodded the general as best he could, but to no avail.

In Camp, Near Sharpsburg, Md.,
Sept. 29, 1862
(Appeared Tuesday, Oct. 7, 1862)

Dear Union: -- Still resting. Still encamped on the same spot, in the woods, where my last was written. Ten days without marching or fighting. A long while to be quiet, it seems, considering the great activity in our army for so many weeks up to the time of the battle of Antietam. I must confine these remarks, however, to the division or corps to which our battery is attached. Other divisions may have been quite active along the Potomac since we began to rest. We have seen quite a number of troops pass our camp, going, where we don’t know – to Harper’s Ferry probably. But we expect to march again very soon, perhaps before I can close this letter. Orders came last night to get ready and move this morning, as the whole division and all the troops in this vicinity were to be assigned to new quarters near the banks of the river. There were orders also that the water from the river should be drank in preference to water found in wells, the latter being regarded unsuitable to drink. Why unsuitable I cannot say, unless the water is too hard and limy, and it may be, the wells being in such close proximity to the battle ground, when it rains the water becomes tainted with matter derived from the multitude of human bodies, many buried in a state of putrefaction, and the carcasses of dead horses deposited a little below the surface of the earth. The rain drenching the earth, the water finds its way into these wells. This hardly seems probable, but is it impossible? Independent of what may be the character of the water, however, our present camp is becoming very unpleasant on account of the malaria that surrounds it, arising in part from the battle field and from the fact that it has been the camping ground now of two armies and a great deal of debris has accumulated as a necessary consequence. The killing of cattle in front and rear of us almost every day doesn’t create the most odoriferous of compounds.

While speaking of wells, we forgot to mention the camp rumor in circulation last week. Two wells were said to have been discovered, not far from camp, filled with the dead bodies of rebels. A slight sprinkling of earth concealed the horrid spectacle, which was revealed to light while some soldiers were exploring the wells. We never troubled ourself to investigate the truthfulness of the report. Soldiers’ “yarns” very frequently have a smack of the incredulous, deeply tinctured with the marvelous. The lull or monotony of camp life is often broken with news of so startling a nature that it requires more belief to credit it than the most credulous person can possibly summon.

Why are we lying still so long is a question that agitates the minds of many in our camp. We shall not attempt to answer the question. Speculation is very rife, of course, in your midst, as here, about the matter. We think the reason of this long quietness is the want of reinforcements. Had McClellan, the day succeeding the battle of Antietam, followed the rebel army and endeavored to rout it with the forces he had, we believe direful would have been the results to our own army. The short but deadly battle of Saturday (Sept. 20), in which Martindale’s Brigade was engaged across the Potomac, shows, we think, conclusively that it would have been bad policy to follow up the rebels after they had entrenched themselves quite securely on the Virginia side of the river. McClellan was too smart to be led into the trap laid by Hill or Jackson. The want of reinforcements now is not because there are no reinforcements to furnish, but because they are made up of new troops, and these troops, though all that bravery and courage can ask, are hardly fit for immediate service. Drill must be had first. How to handle the musket and bayonet skillfully must be learned before used with effect. Discipline is acquired in marching as well as in camp, but the using of deadly weapons against the enemy cannot be done efficiently without previous instruction and knowledge in the matter.

The two armies are at present confronting each other, as all our readers know, almost plain enough in sight to see each other. McClellan is busy arranging affairs pertaining to every department of his great command – commissary, quartermaster, sanitary, etc. – and when he gets ready to move he will be heard from as moving to defeat the enemy, and not be defeated. (1) His headquarters, recently at Sharpsburg, are now about half way between Sharpsburg and Harper’s Ferry, with Gen. Burnside.

Our battery has not been reduced to a four gun battery as remarked in my last communication it was to be, or had been, in consequence of a deficiency of men. We have received 30 new men, detailed from Gen. Patrick’s brigade, to remain with the battery as long as the battery is attached to the brigade. This addition to our company of well tried and disciplined men fills materially our thin ranks, and enables us to retain our six pieces. It will tend to keep us in Gen. Patrick’s brigade, to which we certainly have no objections. We cannot but wish, however, that these men were to belong permanently to the company whether we remain in Gen. P.’s brigade or are transferred to some other. They are loaned to us on a certain condition, and so we cannot claim them as really our own. What say the citizens of Rochester to this? Are they not sufficiently interested in the welfare of Reynolds’ Battery to spare a few more men from their goodly and patriotic city, that has done more nobly than any other city in the State in furnishing recruits for the army, to join the only light artillery company which Rochester directly represents in the war, and which, may we not say without egotism, has done her no discredit in twelve months service to the country.

Sergeant Benjamin Wilber has been commissioned to recruit for the battery, and he took his departure from the company for Rochester last week for that purpose. We hope to welcome him back shortly, accompanied by a lot of good men, the fruit of his recruiting tour. We make this “draft” on Rochester with becoming modesty, knowing what she has already accomplished to defend and save the old flag, and yet we make it boldly, for that very reason, which is one of encouragement.

Not only has our battery been furnished with a detail of 30 men, but it has been supplied with 70 new horses, taken from the teams belonging to Gen. M’Clellan’s head-quarters. We exchanged 30 old horses and the remaining 40 went to replace what had been lost or killed in service. The horses are among the best furnished by government, and this additional strength to our battery in horse flesh makes us all right again on the war question. All ready to resume marching, and if need be, give chase again – only we hope with better success – to the “rebs” through the Valley of the Shenandoah. We trust, if obliged to ascend and descend the mountains of Virginia once more, Little Mac will not lead us out of the back door as Major General Pope did.

There is an “item,” which I hav’nt seen published, that may be construed decidedly against the enemy’s favor. It is all true. Two or three Union soldiers, one of them attached to the battery, were bathing in the Potomac the other day, when they discovered a “gray-back” on the south side of the river who signified a wish to cross over into Yankeedom. They thought Mr. Secesh might be playing a ruse of some kind, trying to entrap them, perhaps, and so they were rather chary about approaching him. He appeared to be in earnest, however, and one of the soldiers, a Wisconsin boy, swimming across the river accosted the would be deserter from Rebeldom, and told him he would be glad to have him come over to our lines. He replied that he did’nt know how to get across, as he could’nt swim. The Union boy told him to “strip,” and he would ferry him over the broad Potomac. Mr. Grayback did so, and a rude raft being hastily constructed, he was advised to take hold of and cling to that while the Wisconsin boy pulled it over to the opposite bank. Secesh had no sooner touched the soil of loyal Maryland when, jumping from the ground, he exclaimed, “thank God I am safe.’ He belonged to a Georgia regiment, had been impressed, I believe, into the rebel service, was heartily sick of, and rejoiced to escape from it. Are there not thousands in the Confederate service who would swim if they could, or be dragged on a raft, the whole length of the Potomac, if, thereby, they could enjoy again the protection of the American flag?

We regret to be obliged to announce the death of one of our company who was wounded in the recent great battle. Myron Annis from Scottsville, who was mentioned as being wounded in my communication of the 18th, died from the effects of his wound on Thursday night of last week, the 24th inst. He was hit by a Minie ball while driving his team, the ball penetrating his left lung, passing through the body, entering the wrist and finally lodging in the palm of his left hand. The wound was not considered so serious at first. The deceased died at an hospital some four miles from the battle field, and his remains were put into a plain but neat coffin and deposited on the banks of the Antietam river, where there is a number of graves of Union soldiers who have died from wounds received in the battle of Antietam. We were told that the only grave among the number containing a coffin was the newly made one in which had been deposited the remains of our brother soldier. The deceased was a faithful soldier, one of the first to join the company, and fell a sacrifice to his country while actively discharging his duties in the defence of that country. Martin Annis, a brother of deceased – a member of the company – has the ball that accomplished the work of death. (2)

In going to attend the burial of our friend, we passed over the battle-ground. About the only evidences which now mark the memorable spot are the numerous graves of the brave men, who fell fighting for Union and Peace. Here a single grave, a small board at its head with name and date, and surrounding it, a rail fence which the hand of affection or friendship erected. There a cluster of graves in a rail enclosure. And so all over the battle-field are mounds of earth thrown up which tell a story, more graphically and significantly of the terrible conflict near the banks of the Antietam, than has yet been, or can be furnished by the pen of the most eloquent writer.

We saw several large trenches in which had been thrown the rebel dead. One, we were informed, contained 600 bodies; another, 80; another, 30.

Yesterday, religious services were again held in our camp, or rather a little outside the camp in a field, on a small hill. Gen. Patrick, by request of the chaplain, addressed the men, and with the same eloquence and effect characteristic of his remarks on the previous Sabbath. In a very happy manner, he alluded to the marchings and counter-marchings of the children of Israel though the wilderness, remarking that the discipline they derived from these marches made them the brave men they were, and fitted them to enjoy the rest on which they entered. His men ought not to complain of their long marches, when viewed in connection with those performed by the ancient people of God.

Gen. Patrick also referred to the controversy that occurred between the eleven tribes of Israel and the tribe of Benjamin, the latter violating the principles and breaking the bond of unity existing between all the tribes, and the former resorting to the sword to bring back the revolting, seceding tribe. It was accomplished in the end, but not before the slaughter of tens of thousands, and not until the eleven tribes had been made to deeply realize that, notwithstanding their immensely superior strength in numbers and resources over their enemy, they could do nothing without help and deliverance from the Almighty.

After conquering the revolted tribe, with immense destruction of human life, and getting the remnant in their power, the question arose whether to slay them all or to extend to them forgiveness. The Benjamites were their brethren, and though they had committed a terrible guilty act, could they now, that they had subdued and got them in their power, totally destroy or exterminate them? They had gone so far as to solemnly avow the utter destruction of this tribe, but having driven them to the wall, can they now crush them without sparing a life? No, they could not, they did not. They were allowed to take their place again among the other tribes.

We need not repeat to our readers the “lessons” or “conclusions” that Gen. P. drew from the history of the “rebellion” amongst the Jews. They are plainly evident and eminently sound and correct.

Tuesday, Sept. 30

We are now encamped on quite a high hill, near a wood, and in one direction about a quarter of a mile from the Potomac. The change from our old quarters is an improvement. The air is very much sweeter and the conveniences for getting water much better. We are favored with a splendid spring not far from camp.

Appearances indicate as if we were going to tarry here some time. We cannot complain for want of rest. Our tired energies may go to the other extreme if too long rest be granted.

We are waiting anxiously for the paymaster to show the light of his countenance. Five months pay is due us. Just at present we are a poverty-stricken company. New recruits have been faring well, somewhat to the detriment of old recruits, so reported, but there ought not to be any further delay in replenishing the empty pockets of “old veterans” in the service.

Prof. Steiner is in this vicinity reconnoitering in the “regions of space” with his balloon. What he has discovered on the other side of the river, where it is supposed the “rebs” are almost starving and freezing to death, we are unable to say. An aerial voyage, not far from our camp, has been made this morning. An extended view of matters doubtless reports “all quiet along the Potomac.”

The weather is delightful. If the equinoctial paid you a visit, it has passed us by. G.B.

In Camp, near Sharpsburg, Md.
October 6th, 1862.
(Appeared Tuesday, Oct. 14, 1862)

Dear Union: -- We are disposed to grumble, complain, yes, to scold, not we personally only, but individually and collectively as a company. We are sensible that all the grumbling, complaining or scolding we may do, however, will do no real good; but isn’t it too bad, a “downright shame,” that Reynolds’ Battery doesn’t get any mail regularly or irregularly, when every infantry company in the brigade and division, and corps too, I may add, to which we are attached, receive a mail almost daily? We think it is an outrage, speaking as mildly as our feelings will allow, for we know letters and papers are sent to some members of the company as regularly as the sun rises, and so addressed that there is no reason why they should not be received whenever a mail comes for this division. Not since we were favored with that large mail, the accumulation of five weeks, mentioned in a communication of the 21st ult., have we again been favored with a mail of any kind, with the exception of three or four straggling letters and one newspaper, which, to the great joy of the recipients, found their way into the company. We were fortunate enough yesterday to borrow two copies of the Rochester Union – Sept. 23d and 25th – from an officer in Patrick’s brigade, and they consoled us wonderfully. It was like welcoming a new friend. The fault of our not receiving our mail lies, doubtless, at the Washington post office where, we trust, it will be rectified in the course of time.

So much for a matter that we are well aware is of no importance to the public, but we speak for an aggrieved company of readers, who think that Uncle Sam is hardly doing the fair thing with them, withholding not only all monetary but epistolary favors, both of which a soldier has the highest appreciation for. That the company may not possibly be to blame in default of the latter matter, we would advise its friends for the future to direct letters and papers for the battery “Care Capt. J.A. Reynolds, 1st N.Y. Light Artillery, Patrick’s Brigade, 1st Division 1st Army Corps, Washington, D.C.” If this extensive address doesn’t bring us a mail we don’t know what method to suggest to insure to us the receipt of home news, unless to engage the special services of a mail carrier for our benefit.

Now, what can we chronicle that will interest our readers? No marches to describe, no battles to relate, no skirmishes to mention, nothing of a fighting, war-like character to communicate that has befallen our experience or transpired within our observation or even told to our hearing since we last wrote. To be sure, we have occasionally heard the firing of pickets and the loud or distant rumbling of cannon, and it was no longer ago than the early hour of two o’clock this morning when we were aroused from a cold sleep, by the coming of an Orderly to Lieut. R.’s tent with a dispatch from Gen. Patrick, stating that it was rumored that the enemy had planted a battery on the opposite bank of the river, and that the Commanding General of our division had ordered a rifle battery to be in readiness to move and go into action at daybreak, if necessary, and that battery to be Reynolds’ battery. This rumor and these orders created no little stir in our camp, for the limber and caisson chests were but partially filled with ammunition, a fresh supply not coming to hand till late last night. They must be filled with the new supply, to meet all emergencies, and to do this the company must have their slumbers disturbed and go to work immediately, unpacking ammunition boxes and transferring their contents to the ammunition chests.

Up the boys jumped, not all of them, for the services of all were not required, but the Sergeants and some of the cannoneers were on hand, and they were soon handling the iron missiles, arranging them where they belonged, etc., which, perhaps, at the rising of the sun were to become the messengers of death, carrying with them the terrors and horrors of war. The moon was shining brightly and afforded plenty of light for performing the serious task, but dawn came before it was accomplished. Everything was ready to meet the foe. Will he make his appearance or greet our ears and eyes with the peal of cannon and with the crushing demonstrations of shot and shell? There was a heavy mist shutting out from view almost every object a few yards in advance, and it might be that when the mist disappeared, secesh would send us a morning salutation that would make the surrounding hills and mountains echo with the noise, and that would really terrify those who had been in the habit of receiving many salutes of a like nature. We waited and still waited for the “ball to open,” but no ball opened, and the whole thing was declared a “scare.” Some one had got frightened and started the report that the “rebs” were to make us a visit this morning, crossing at a ford about two miles below our camp. This was the conclusion we came to, but be that as it may, we were told this forenoon that Gen. Porter was informed that the enemy had planted two pieces of artillery near the above mentioned ford, with quite a large support of infantry concealed behind a wood, and there was every probability that an attempt would be made to cross the river. To prevent this, necessitated orders to be ready for action were given, and this explains the movements of our battery at so early an hour this morning.

From the lengthy account we have furnished of this affair it may seem that we regard it of considerable importance, but no such thing. Before referring to it at all we were about to remark, as our “chum,” Lieutenant A., remarked to us only a short time ago, that picket firing, occasional cannonading, orders to be ready to move at a moment’s notice, reports that the enemy is in sight, etc., have got to be matters of such antiquity that “veterans” don’t mind them or give them but little thought. Their composure or equanimity isn’t at all disturbed by the occurrence of these incidents of war. Don’t let our readers, however, suppose for a moment that we are anxious for another big “brush” with the rebels, by way of something exciting. Our taste hain’t become so vitiated as all that. We are satisfied with the “incidents” alluded to.

Last week, as the public know, President Lincoln paid the troops along the Upper Potomac a visit, reviewing them, accompanied by Gen. McClellan and staff. We were ordered to turn out Thursday afternoon (Oct. 2) to pay our respects to our worthy Chief Magistrate, the order coming at noon just as we sat down to luxuriate over some hot coffee and “hard tack,” we were going to say, but something better than that regaled our eyes at that meal. No time could be allowed to refresh the “inner man,” but the battery must hurry off to the review ground. That coffee must be despatched, however, and so it was at the expense of blistered tongues, and off we went to see “Honest Abe.” Nearly, if not all of Hooker’s corps, were in the field in line or forming in line to be reviewed. We took the position assigned our battery and there remained for seven hours, long after dark, for the President to make his appearance; but no President came, and so we were told to march back to camp and be ready to turn out again the next day.

Friday came, and at 10 a.m. we marched to the same field where we had waited so long the day previous. A hot sun was pouring down, and the President’s arrival was looked for with an eagerness that tired, wearisome men long for rest. Six hours passed slowly away, and then the firing of cannon was heard, which joyfully announced the arrival of His Excellency, the President of the United States. There was cheering along the right of the line, where the President and McClellan first appeared, but it soon subsided, and the remainder of the line was reviewed in silence. Thirteen hours’ tedious waiting, even for the President, put a damper on the enthusiasm of soldiers, who ceased some time ago to be of the holiday stripe. You can count on them in time of battle, but long reviews they don’t relish a bit, when they are obliged to wait hour after hour, unnecessarily, it appears to them, for the appearance of the reviewing party.

A great deal has been said and written of late, relative to “stragglers” in the army, both in time of marching, and just before, and in battle. To such an extent has this shameful and disorderly conduct been carried that it has become necessary to issue the most stringent and severe orders against this “destructive waste of strength” in our army. It has become a gigantic evil and puts in peril the very safety of our arms, but as just observed, active measures have been adopted to put a stop to it, and they will undoubtedly be enforced. If so, woe to the officer who absents himself without abundant excuse from his command in the hour of action, and woe to the soldier who is seen or caught skulking from the battle field. Straggling, hereafter, is to be punished with death. The man guilty of it is to be shot.

It is well known that Jackson and Lee, early in (the) war, instituted the penalty of death against stragglers in the rebel army, and it has often been executed. Men have been freely shot by Jackson, who were found straggling or “sneaking” away in the hour of battle. It is said that after one of the recent battles in the valley, Jackson ordered to be shot in the presence of the whole army not less than twenty men who had been caught straggling. (3)

Such measures may appear altogether too severe, but anything milder will not remedy the evil, and then, in justice to those who bravely go into the field and face and fight the enemy, no matter what the danger may be; who bear the brunt of the battle, these men, who cowardly desert their heroic comrades ought to be made to suffer in a manner that will tell with a warning voice to all who may be disposed to play the “sneak” in future engagements.

At the battles of Cedar Mountain and Bull Run this evil of straggling was palpably noticeable. One out of every three avoided the conflict, or if they entered it, they were shortly seen sneaking back to the rear. In many instances, those who fall out of the ranks in battle are of course obliged to do so, in consequence of wounds received, but it does not require half a dozen sound and well men standing near, to fall back with one wounded companion, which in the above-named battles was frequently the case.

In the recent great battle precautions were taken to prevent this skulking away from the ranks, by cavalry being drawn up in the rear, who stopped all stragglers and compelled them to return to the conflict.

What will our readers say when they are told that on the morning of the 18th of September, the day after the battle of Antietam, the reports of the three divisions comprising Hooker’s corps, or as it is now designated, the 1st Army Corps, showed a total number of officers missing 201, and of enlisted men 6,378. Where were they? Had they been killed or wounded in the desperate struggle of the previous day? Surely, the absenteeism of such an army of officers and men must be reasonably accounted for. But what did the reports of these same divisions tell on the morning of the 22d of September, just four days after the reports of the 18th? Why, there had been a gain of 201 officers and 6,378 enlisted men in the course of four days. The missing army had turned up again. The officers and men were neither killed nor wounded. Where had they been, where were they on the day of the battle, for the reports of those absent on the morning of the 18th covered, doubtless, the number absent when the fight occurred? What a gain in four day’s time! One of the divisions – Rickett’s – showed a disproportion of 101 officers and 2,768 men.

Of course, General McClellan’s attention was brought to this “shameful condition of things” – that is the language of the circular relative to the matter addressed to the delinquent divisions – and an investigation of the matter was ordered to be made, particularly by one division. Comment is unnecessary. No wonder we are whipped, badly beaten, sometimes. The 1st Army Corps is said to have once numbered in the neighborhood of 30,000 effective men. (4) There were 7,000 or little more engaged in the battle of Antietam, provided the number reported absent on the 18th ult. didn’t participate. Unpleasant, bad looking figures these.

Not only has straggling been made punishable with death, but marauding also. Discipline in the army will be enforced hereafter to the fullest extent of army regulations.

No prospects of moving very soon. A general quietness reigns along the Upper Potomac. We have been told that McClellan is waiting for the river to rise, when an advance will then be made. By crossing over now, when the river is so easily fordable, and attacking the enemy might result in the rebels invading Maryland again.

We are of the opinion, however, that the cause of the army’s inactivity in this vicinity is the extensive preparations that are in progress to prosecute the next campaign with unprecedented vigor and activity. Once more in Virginia, the enemy will be pushed to the wall, if a possible thing, without stopping to rest this side of Richmond. There will be marches – quick and rapid ones – but no countermarches. The accomplishment of all this depends very much on the strength and bearings of the preparations made. If the attempts heretofore put forth to crush the rebellion have taught us any one lesson, it is the folly to go forth and fight a strong, earnest and desperate army without having counted the cost of the undertaking. When M’Clellan’s troops are in fit condition to advance, depend upon it there will be no further delay of a forward and aggressive movement.

Capt. Reynolds has been appointed Chief of Artillery in our division, now commanded by Gen. Doubleday. Lieut. Reynolds is acting commander of the Company. The health of the Company was never better.

The weather continues very pleasant. Yesterday was one of the most delightful days we ever knew. The nights are getting to be cold, and woolen blankets are fully appreciated. How our hostile brethren across the river manage to keep warm, sans clothes, sans shoes, and sans everything, almost, is a puzzling question. But though we know that they are in a very shabby and destitute condition, we are not of the number who believe that they are yet reduced to the pinch of poverty and starvation. They may be fast coming to it, and this may be one of the chief instrumentalities in the hands of Providence to terminate the “great rebellion.” Would there not be thousands less of precious lives to mourn the loss of? May God hasten the day of peace to our land, purchased, however, by right and honorable means – a peace bringing with it the restoration of the Union and the return of national happiness and prosperity.

Oct. 7 – Congratulate us on the arrival of a mail which came to hand to-day. Not a large one, but though small, most thankfully received by the company. Some of the letters and papers are of ancient date, but nevertheless very interesting. Not a few have doubtless been going the rounds of the whole army of the Potomac. The many yet due will probably “turn up” in the course of human events.

Gen. Patrick has been appointed Provost Marshall of the army of the Potomac – an excellent appointment. Col. (William F. Rogers) Rodgers (5) will assume command of Gen. Patrick’s brigade.

I wish to correct a statement in my letter of the 18th ult. As published, two or three companies of the 8th Illinois cavalry are made to chase through Boonsborough a hundred rebel cavalry. Eight hundred rebel cavalry it ought to have been, and I have since been told the number was nearer a thousand. The 8th Illinois cavalry regiment have done excellent service ever since taking the field. Everything quiet again to-day.

All absentees, including officers and enlisted men, from their companies, who are supposed to be unfit for service, or whose absence cannot reasonably be accounted for, are to have their names stricken from the rolls. This will make a clean sweep of delinquent soldiers, with and without shoulder straps. Whether they are to come under class of deserters or not, we are unable to say. G.B.

On Oct. 9, Lee’s superb cavalry commander, Gen. J.E.B. Stuart, led 1,800 of his men in a raid on Chambersburg, Pa., behind McClellan’s army, capturing 500 horses and returning to his own lines unscathed on the 12th. This was the second time Stuart had literally ridden in a circle around McClellan’s army, the first time being during the Peninsular campaign. (6) As reflected in Breck’s letter below, it was a source of acute embarrassment to the Union soldiers.

Camp Near Sharpsburg, Md.
Oct. 16
(Appeared Friday, October 24, 1862)

Dear Union: -- A very shameful, humiliating thing indeed to the Army of the Potomac is the late dashing rebel raid of Gen. Stuart into Pennsylvania, and his escape back into Virginia, with a most boldly captured and large booty of horses, shoes, clothing, etc. It was hard for us to credit the report of such a daring adventure right into our very midst almost, and we thought surely if the report of the adventure was true, it would prove in the end a disastrous one to the daring adventurers. How could they slip through the hands of McClellan without being taken? But the news soon came confirming not only the undertaking of the adventure but its success, its brilliant achievement. Gen. Stuart had come and gone, making an extraordinary tour attended with extraordinary results; his 3,000 cavalry had paid a visit to one of the quiet settlements of the old Key-Stone State, and a jolly time they had had there too, being “complete monarch of all they surveyed” while they remained in the peaceful and loyal town of Chambersburg, helping themselves gratuitously to boots, shoes, clothing and whatever their eyes feasted or their hands could lay upon; doffing their grey and butternut uniforms, all filth and rags, and donning in their stead the bright, new suits furnished by Uncle Sam to his brave soldiers; appropriating, regardless of all ceremony, and doubtless to the wonderment and consternation of many an honest Pennsylvania farmer, a thousand good horses, varying in price from $100 to $200 each, and finally scampering off at an unprecedented rate of speed, their horses loaded with the trophies of their raid, and their dashing and fearless General in high glee over the success of the exploit, leaving behind him by way of consolation to our outwitted army, his compliments to certain U.S. officers. And this was all done almost in plain sight of the thousands of troops that composed the great army of Gen. McClellan. No wonder there has been some excitement in the many camps along the east banks of the Potomac over this brilliantly achieved foray of our rebel brethren. The soldiers at first experienced a feeling of humiliation at the disgraceful affair, but it was followed by a feeling of indignation, which made them desire most eagerly for an opportunity to do something, they don’t care what, that will completely “wipe out” all memory of this rebel feat.

There is no use of disguising the fact. This raid into Chambersburg, in open defiance of our large army, and going all around it, is a “big thing,” speaks very “largely” for rebel dash, impudence, and smartness. Sure it is, the Yankees have been “fooled,” as Stuart is reported to have remarked, and we may as well own up to it. Why we were so “fooled,” why it happened that this impudent rebel foray proved a success, why the adventuresome “rebs” and their still more adventuresome leader were not overtaken or cut off in some way, we have nothing to say. Of course, the enemies, revilers, and doubtful friends of McClellan lay the blame of the affair at the door of our young Commander-in-Chief, and hold him guilty for its success. If there is any guilt in the matter, and McClellan is meriting it, it will probably be assigned to him. But don’t let our readers imagine that as a consequence of this raid “Little Mac” is now certainly “burnt out,” or that he is certainly to burn out, his persecutors and traducers to the contrary notwithstanding. (7)

Perhaps our readers ask us to explain to them the mystery of the inactivity of McClellan’s army. What is he waiting for, when sun, sky, earth, and air are so favorable for military movements and operations? Why are his troops permitted to lie so long idle, when the return of every day hastens the approach of winter which, when it really sets in, must inevitably put a stop to our doing anything further toward crushing the rebellion in Virginia until spring shall come? Why not hurry, and try to bring the war to a close before the advent of another new year? Very many persons are asking these or similar questions, wondering why in the world General McClellan does not advance.

We shall not attempt to solve the “mystery,” or to answer the questions alluded to. We are as much in the dark about the whys and wherefores of the army’s inactivity as are our curiously inquisitive friends. We have made up our minds to follow the sage advice of President Lincoln, and be “patient,” waiting and hoping for the best. It may be making a virtue of necessity, but it is a virtue nevertheless.

Orders were issued several days ago to be ready to move at an hour’s notice, and that we shall “move” very soon, appearances more strongly indicate from day to day.

While I am writing, this p.m., cannonading is going on, and has been since 8 o’clock this morning. It was quite rapid and heavy this forenoon, and seemed to be in the direction of Harper’s Ferry. It is nearer this afternoon – only two or three miles distant. It may be the commencement of the great fall campaign that has been in contemplation since the battle of Antietam.

We regret to say that our battery is illy prepared to obey marching orders just at present on account of the very bad and cruel condition of our horses, which present a truly skeleton and starving appearance. They ought to look just the reverse and be in tip top order – fit for a movement maybe to Richmond, but in consequence of culpable neglect, mismanagement or something else at headquarters of the Quartermaster’s Department, they are in such a poor condition that a march of fifteen or twenty miles would use them up entirely. The horses have had rest, but very little to eat. Scarcely any forage has been furnished and we have known the poor animals to go without a morsel of grain or a spire of hay for thirty-six hours while we have been here in camp.

Other batteries in the division have suffered likewise. There is gross, inexcusable negligence of duty in some quarter which is the cause of all this. So ravenous for feed have our horses been that to satisfy hunger they have gnawed and devoured the picket-posts, not all up, but to a very alarming extent, and the tails of some of them which three weeks ago were ornamental appendages, are now anything but of an ornamental character. Decidedly ratty in looks. It is to be hoped this bad state of affairs pertaining to horse flesh will be remedied very soon.

Somewhat against orders, left under the circumstances, we concluded to send out a force this morning on our own responsibility to forage. The foraging party has just returned, bringing two loads of hay which the poor half-starved horses seem to smell afar off, for they are pricking up their ears and winnowing with apparent delight at what has come for them. Sergeant Hayes, who had charge of the foraging expedition, reports that the hay was obtained a few miles beyond Boonesboro from a minister who was loath to part with it at first, remarking that the Good Book forbade robbing the poor, whereupon the sergeant replied that a little further on the same Good Book said “give a little, and take a little.” The minister made no objection, letting his hay go.

Gen. (Gabriel R.) Paul, recently from New Mexico, a Lieut. Col. in the regular army, and who has seen thirty years of military service, has been assigned to the command of our brigade, recently commanded by Gen. Patrick. Gen. Paul distinguished himself in the war of Mexico by planting the American colors in time of battle on the heights of a fortification. He has been engaged a good deal in Indian warfare. The whole brigade appear to be very much pleased with their new commander. (8)

Gen. (John) Gibbon, who has proved himself such a brave soldier and good general, is the regular Captain of Battery B, 4th (Regular) Artillery, which is attached to his brigade. He still retains the captaincy, though of course not actively, of this battery. He has three brothers in the Southern army, all holding positions of some kind, and they have expressed the determination to capture the battery, of which Gen. Gibbon is the real commander. They call him the “Southern renegade.”

The battery in question is a six brass gun battery, 12-pounders – and it has been used most effectively in the recent battles in which King’s, or the first division, has been engaged. Captain (Joseph B.) Campbell of the Regulars commanded it till the Battle of Antietam, where he was severely wounded.

The orders about shooting stragglers and marauders have been modified. They are not to be shot, but detailed to dig entrenchments, work on fortifications, etc. Shooting will be done in extreme cases, no doubt.

Well, I shall have to close, for the want of news to communicate. There is a great dearth of the article in the camp of the Battery L. We might mention that we have received a detail of ten men from Gen. Doubleday’s brigade. While I have been writing, new orders have come to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. That is the usual time for readiness, 60 minutes. For the past few days, we have been required to be ready to move upon an hour’s notice. Matters begin to look ominous. There will be a general breaking up of camps along the Potomac very shortly. My next letter may find me once more in Dixie. G.B.

Camp Near Bakersville
Oct. 24th, ‘62
(Appeared Thursday, Oct. 30, 1862

Dear Union: After a rest of thirty odd days we have at last made an advance – not a very extensive one, nor out of the State of Maryland. We had been under marching orders some ten or twelve days, part of the time to be supplied with two days’ cooked rations, and to be ready to march at a moment’s notice, when notice was received on Sunday night last (Oct. 19) not only to be in readiness to move, which had been repeatedly given, but actually to move at an early hour the next morning to Bakersville. Monday morning came and Monday afternoon found us with the whole of Gen. Doubleday’s Division encamped about a mile north of the above mentioned place. Bakersville is a little north-east of Sharpsburg some five miles, and is a small, insignificant settlement, containing not over a dozen buildings, including dwellings, stores, a church and an old stone edifice, which was once used for “meeting” purposes, secular and sacred, but it is now in a dilapidated condition – minus windows and all interior conveniences for holding public assemblages. It has been converted into a store house for grain forage for horses since the advent of Doubleday’s Division in the village. The brick church is, or is to be, used for an hospital.

Franklin’s Corps was stationed in this vicinity before we came, and a portion of it is near here at present.

It was reported at the time we left Sharpsburg that the rebels were attempting to cross the river not far from here. The Potomac is about a mile and a half distant from us and the rebel pickets can be seen on the opposite bank. Our division is performing picket duty on this side. It is for this object that it was ordered here. Artillery is exempt from this duty.

Since coming to Bakersville new orders have been issued to artillery companies in the army of the Potomac. The artillery assigned to divisions is not to be distributed to brigades, as heretofore, but is to be kept together under the orders of the commandants of division artillery.

These orders took effect with the batteries in the division to which we belong, to-day, and the four batteries of the division have been brought together and are encamped near each other. – […] but in battle I presume the batteries will be united with the same brigades in the division with which they have been identified. Not necessarily so, but this will very likely be the case. This change, it is hoped and expected, will correct certain irregularities and neglects for the supply of rations, forage, and quartermaster’s stores for artillery service which have to some extent hitherto prevailed. The artillery of every division will doubtless have a Commissary and Quartermaster of their own, but not to be detailed from any battery which has not a surplus of officers for the number of its guns.

In addition to these orders, instructions have been issued to battery commanders obliging them to give a weekly inspection of their batteries of the most thorough character, extending to the “personnel and material” of their commands; the result of each inspection to be reported monthly to the artillery commanders of each division. Instructions about marches, etc., have also been issued – obedience to all which will render the artillery branch of the service in McClellan’s army perfect in every respect. We mention this to show how particular our young commander-in-chief is, that his entire command shall be wanting in nothing to make it “mighty” to the putting down of this great and iniquitous rebellion.

But, perhaps, the impatience of my readers demand that General McClellan shall consume no more time in making preparations to put down the rebellion, thinking that his command must, by this time, be “wanting in nothing” to advance immediately and attack the army of Virginia. “Is McClellan never to advance?” is the question frequently asked in our hearing. “Is his great army to remain inactive all winter?”

All predictions of forward movements and active operations of the army of the Potomac since the battle of Antietam have failed so far. A few reconnoissances have been made, but our lines are about where they were one month ago. As observed in a previous communication, the cause of the army’s delay in advancing has been the want of necessary indispensable supplies which in a great measure are still wanting. If there is any blame in this matter, it lies at the door of some other person or persons besides Gen. McClellan. Without a sufficiency of good clothes and forage, and without transportation for keeping the army supplied, it is impossible to make an advance. If marching and fighting were all that a soldier had to do, there would long ere this have been a forward and rapid movement of McClellan’s troops; but soldiers have to eat and be clothed, and horses have to eat, and this eating, though it consists of “hard tack” only, is a consideration which the Federal army, however the Confederates may despise and thrive without it, cannot neglect, especially when contemplating the “invasion” of the mountainous and now barren, impoverished State of Virginia, and the attack of a great and desperate army who, perchance, might by a daring, dashing raid, cut off and capture a few hundred wagons of provisions, which would leave our army in a sad plight if the provisions could not be readily replaced by sufficient transportation service.

That the great Army of the Potomac eagerly wish to advance and attack the rebels, and if possible enter the city of Richmond before Christmas, or if not able to accomplish such a brilliant achievement, make their winter quarters at Leesburg or Gordonsville; and that this great army would be willing, if either of the above grand results could be effected, to go half rationed and half clothed, is evident from the earnest, hearty desires and expressions of McClellan’s troops that something might be done which would wind up the rebellion in Virginia, if nowhere else, before the advent of spring. The bright, golden days of October are fast disappearing, however, and the army of the Potomac must certainly winter in Maryland if the great march into the Old Dominion is not very soon undertaken.

Well, if we do linger on this side of the river till spring, we shall try and believe that we can far better afford to remain inactive than the rebels can, and our inactivity will be “masterly” in the sense that it will weaken and demoralize the rebel army, and oblige it by the demands of hunger and cold to fall back upon the Confederate Capital. We anticipate, however, if the rebels do not fall back, more or less active work preventing rebel incursions being made on loyal soil, which will undoubtedly be attempted by the enemy if he does not retreat to Richmond. But why speculate about what may or may not be done? Our readers are as well qualified to do this as those in the army. We must wait the development of events.

Our company is being re-clothed, and the boys, in anticipation of going into winter quarters just where we now are, are making their shelter tents and arranging their paulins as comfortably as possible. They wish for the Sibley tents which they had last winter. Old Jack Frost is beginning to nibble, and camp fires are a decided luxury and comfort come night. We are very pleasantly encamped, and if we are to remain here all winter, we shall doubtless, in a few days, have in course of erection a variety of frame and log houses which will equal, in point of elegance and comfort, the far-famed tenements built by rebel hands at Manasas a year ago.

But this will do for a dull and newsless letter. I will close by fulfilling a request relating to that oft-mentioned and provoking matter, the mail. It continues to be as slow and irregular as ever. The request is to change or alter the company’s address from that given in my letter of the 6th inst. We hope to get it right this time. Address as follows: “Care of Capt. J. A. Reynolds, Battery L, 1st N.Y. Artillery, 1st Division, 1st Army Corps, Washington, D.C.” No brigade need be specified, as the batteries are no longer brigades. G.B.

McClellan finally sent his army across the Potomac on Oct. 26. With Lee’s army still concentrated in the Shenandoah, Lincoln had high hopes that McClellan could interpose his army between Lee and Richmond – if, for once, McClellan would only move quickly. Indeed, Lincoln told his private secretary that if McClellan failed to do this, and allowed Lee to block his path, he would remove McClellan from command once and for all. (9)

Camp Near Berlin, Md.
Oct. 30, ‘62
(Appeared Wednesday, Nov. 5, 1862)

Dear Union: Already the news has spread throughout the North of an advance of the grand Army of the Potomac into and towards Virginia, and that this forward movement is probably initiatory of immediate active operations against the enemy, which we, of course, hope will prove a death blow to the rebellion and gloriously triumphant to the Federal cause. The old story, “Onward to Richmond,” so often told but never verified, is soon, it may be, to assume the form of a reality; a reality that will make the heart of the nation leap with unspeakable joy and cause the voices of millions to break forth in songs of the greatest praise and gratitude. O! would that this might be so! But shall we confess that we hope tremblingly for the accomplishment of such a glorious result? Our past hopes in this respect have been so frequently dashed to the ground as to render future hope not over sanguine, but to cause it to be tempered with a moderate, and may we not say wholesome, amount of fear.

All signs, so the adage reads, fail in dry weather. There certainly were strong signs when I last wrote of our remaining in the vicinity of Bakersville many days, if not many weeks, and my letter was an intimation of this fact. I remarked our camp was assuming a wintry aspect, in that the “boys” were arranging their quarters with an eye to snugness, warmth, permanency, etc., in anticipation of encountering where they were the rains, frosts, snows, winds and colds of the approaching winter. Some of them had bestowed a good deal of care and time in the erection and construction of what might be their winter homes – laying sound foundations, putting up log walls, making floors from evergreens, and everything, in fact, began to have a settled appearance for a long stay in that locality.

But our stay was very brief, for on Sunday last (Oct. 26), about one o’clock p.m., there suddenly came an order to break up camp and pack our traps immediately for a movement to Crampton’s Gap. It was raining when the order came, a cold blustering wind was blowing, and the pleasures of a midnight march were anything but delightful. In an hour’s time we were ready to move and proceed to the road, to wait for Gen. Patricks’ or rather Gen. Pauls’ brigade to come along, behind which we were to fall in, we being in rear of the column of the whole division. Three or four hours we waited for Pauls’ brigade to make its appearance, the wet and cold not diminishing in the least, on the contrary, growing more so.

It was past 8 o’clock before the brigade passed, not before everything else had passed, baggage wagons, ambulances and all, and when we took our position in the road we found a sea of mud to march through. The night was dark, very dark, the road was rough, and a tedious march we had, going some three miles when we halted and encamped on the side of a hill, in a searching, drenching rain, the wind blowing almost a hurricane. A rough, bitter night that to the company, exceeding in roughness and bitterness all previous nights in our experience. There were some who found shelter in a large barn, but most of the company either lay down in the wet, muddy earth, or stood up by camp fires, without tents or shelter.

The next morning we resumed our march, the clouds looking cold and angry, but by noon the sky was clear, though the wind was piercingly sharp. Some parts of the road were steep and narrow, so narrow that two teams couldn’t pass each other, and with a steep embankment on one side. We saw an army wagon at the bottom of the bank, which had been pitched over by the horses backing down the road, and an ambulance was thrown over as a consequence, containing three sick men, the wagon falling on top of it. Most fortunately the men escaped with but little injury.

We passed through Kedysville where there is a hospital established, and near where the fighting occurred the day before the battle of Antietam.

A little beyond Kedysville we went into park, remaining till eight p.m., when we pushed on and encamped near Rohersville that night. On going into camp there was the greatest destruction of rail fences we ever witnessed. The first thing a regiment or brigade does on going into a new camp is to make a rush for a rail fence, which is laid to the ground and disposed of with the most astonishing celerity. The rails are used for poles and ridges to support shelter tents, and for camp fires. On the night in question, soon as the brigade broke ranks, every man seemed to be running in all directions for rails, and such a leveling of fences, such a wanton destruction of private property; such a disregard for hard labor – it is no easy matter, as every farmer can testify, to cut rails for fences – was a spectacle sadly amusing.

It may be asked if this is not “marauding,” and if so, why is it permitted? It is not approved by officers, and yet, as a general thing, no stringent measures are taken to stop it, for a temporary encampment doesn’t afford scarcely any time to cut and collect wood or rails, and then it often happens that a camp is pitched where there is no timber except in the shape of rail fences. Soldiers think they must have something to put up their tents with, and camp fires are indispensable, especially these cold nights. Perhaps the losses sustained by the people in Maryland in this particular and in damages done to their fields and farms, will be indemnified by government at the close of the war.

Tuesday morning (Oct. 28) was ushered in with a bright sun and blue sky, and the day was one of the loveliest October days which this month has favored us. At an early hour we again took up our line of march towards Crampton’s Gap, which lies in South Mountain and is the place where Burnside attacked and forced the rebels in the battle of the 14th September.

While marching here we saw the Rev. Dr. Van Ingen on his way to join his regiment, not far, we understood him to say, from the Gap. The field evidently agrees with the excellent Chaplain of the 6th N.Y. cavalry regiment, for he was looking “hale and hearty.” His intelligent views and ripened judgment about the “situation,” and about McClellan, we could not but fully endorse. Dr. Van Ingen has perfect confidence in Gen. McClellan as a patriot and a General; but behind him there are, to say the least, dark and dubious forces at work. Will they be successful, we wonder?

On arriving at Crampton’s Gap we found the three other brigades belonging to Doubleday’s division encamped, but we did not stop, as we were ordered to keep right on. The three other batteries attached to the division fell in our rear and we all marched together with the infantry back of us. With nothing in front to halt or hinder us, our march the rest of the way to where we are at present encamped was performed very quickly, and passing through a beautiful country arrayed in all the diversified and gorgeous colors of autumn, our march was exceedingly pleasant. We shall never forget the magnificent sight that was magically presented to us just as we reached the top of Crampton’s Gap. Spread out before our extended view was a panorama of which only nature could be the artist, for it was a living scene, perfect in every detail, a landscape scene of the most exquisite beauty, dotted here and there with a pretty village, abounding with rich and ample fields, with orchards and gardens, with trees whose variegated leaves give to autumn that richness of coloring which makes it the “gorgeous” season of the year, and all this lay in the mountain valley of a chain of the great Blue Ridge.

At the foot of Crampton’s Gap is a little place called, I believe, Bucketville (Burkittsville). We passed through here, welcomed by the Stars and Stripes, and marching over a good road, we soon reached Petersville, and turning to the left of this town we arrived at our present encampment Tuesday afternoon about four o’clock. Doubleday’s division is all here, but not to remain. Orders have come, as I write, to get ready and move across the river, and so we must pack up and be off to the land of Dixie once more, which, we will frankly acknowledge, we have a dread of entering, but if we can only enter it to beat the enemy, and conquer an honorable Peace, all right, the sooner we can make our entrance on the “sacred soil” of Virginia again the better.

Berlin lies west of us about a mile, on the bank of the Potomac. Harper’s Ferry is said by some to be seven and by others to be four miles south of us.

I think I may easily say, taking our own company as a criterion, that the army never was in better spirits, and never more eager to meet and whip the foe. The desire is not to fight for the sake of fighting, but to fight that the war may no longer be prolonged, and that our Union may be as it was, and our Constitution as it is.

The recent opportunity presented to volunteers to enter the regular service has caused a general stampede from the volunteer service, not to enter the regular infantry, but the cavalry and more particularly the navy. The mania prevails in our battery, and quite a number of names was handed in yesterday as candidates for the regular service, provided they could use their option as to what branch of the service to enlist in, all desiring to go into the navy. Of course, the offer contemplates nothing of this kind, and this morning an order was read materially affecting the one just promulgated. Not more than five in a company of a volunteer regiment can enlist in the regulars, and these cannot be taken unless the regiment numbers 500. This ends the thing so far as artillery batteries are concerned.

But now the order comes to “fall in” immediately, so no more letters from my pen for a long time to come, it may be, in “My Maryland.” G.B.

Camp Near Lovettsville, Va.
Thursday night, Oct. 30.

I didn’t have time to mail this letter this afternoon, and before trying to get it off in the morning let me add a P.S.

We are in Virginia, we perceive. The Potomac is no longer in our front, but in our rear. We crossed the pontoon bridge at Berlin about four o’clock this afternoon and moved briskly over the splendid turnpike through Lovettsville, and are now encamped in a large grass field some three miles from the above place. We are on ground that belongs to a secesh who has two sons in the Confederate army. This part of Virginia appears never to have been perceptibly molested by the tramp and encampment of armies, but before to-morrow’s sun rises what a change there will have been produced since the entrance and occupancy of our division in this vicinity. The road is now full of marching troops, and already we begin to hear the breaking and tottling of fences, preparatory to going into quarters. A land of waste and desolation this will very soon become. The soldiers seem to have a spite against “Old Virginia,” and if they march thro’ the State again they will be apt to carry General Pope’s unmodified confiscation orders into full effect.

How long we are to stay here I cannot say. The road over which we came, and which lies by the side of our camp, leads to Leesburg and to Winchester. We have been told to be in readiness for a fight at any moment.

When we leave the “Old Dominion” again it is our hope and prayer that we may do so under different and more glorious and happy circumstances than when we left it in the month of September. G.B.

Camp near Bloomfield, Va.
Nov. 4, 1862
(Appeared Friday, Nov. 14, 1862)

Dear Union: -- Forward the grand army of the Potomac is still pushing its way. Onward is heard the tramp of the mighty hosts that have been marshaled to fight for God and Country.

“Marching along, marching along,
To crush Rebellion, Treason and Wrong.”

is the song which is again sung by the Peninsula heroes and Virginia braves; and with hearts more courageous, and with wills more determined than ever before to conquer, cost what it may, the gallant soldiers under the command and leadership of their gallant and beloved General are pressing – can we not say it now, with certainty? – towards what has so long been the goal of their hopes and desires, namely, the capture of Richmond. And yet, the troops, both old and new, do not feel over-confident of victory, for they have been taught a lesson from the past that has caused them to cast aside all those proud and easy expectations of success over the enemy which were so freely indulged and cherished and loudly boasted of when the first march “On to Richmond” was undertaken. The utter frustration and thorough defeat of past hopes and plans have not been without their good results.

We wish our readers might see the Federal army of Virginia as it now presents itself to view. We can describe it only as magnificent. Never, it seems, was there an army equal to it in personel, materiel and morale. It is truly grand, and at no time during the war have the troops been in a better and finer condition to fight than at present. In the best of spirits, and all are really eager to press forward, and, if possible, give a death blow to rebellion before the dawn of another year. Two months to accomplish such a glorious consummation so long prayed for and “devoutly wished.” Will it be accomplished? The quickly passing days will soon inform us.

My letter dates near Bloomfield. We arrived here this afternoon and are encamped on a rise of ground along side the road leading to a great many places in fact, but to a place called Rectortown in particular, where, I understand, our destination will be to-morrow.

We left near Lovettsville Saturday morning (Nov. 1), marching over a fine road and through a beautiful country, and about four p.m. we reached Purcellville, seven miles east of Snicker’s Gap. On the march we heard cannonading for the first time after our recent entrance into Virginia. It came from the direction of the above gap, and proved a victorious cannonading for our side as you are aware. Part of our division helped to take Snicker’s Gap.

We remained at Purcellville till yesterday morning, Monday (Nov. 3), when we packed up for another march, going through a country which had experienced very few, if any of the effects of war, as the fields of shocked corn, the stacks of hay, the apple orchards, and let me also add, the hen roosts, amply testified. All these and similar things suffer at the appearance of an army, especially of the Federal army in the State of Virginia. The orders of Major-General John Pope in relation to our troops subsisting on the productions of the enemy’s country havn’t been forgotten by his old command, albeit the Major-General may be forgotten. These orders – they were No. 5, I think – received a latitude of meaning amongst the soldiers that must have astounded Gen. Pope, for not long after he issued another series, which almost completely upset the “contribution” ones. The latter, however, had been tried, according to the liberal construction put on them by the “boys” and they were found eminently satisfactory. They couldn’t see the propriety of changing them and thereafter making hen roosts, like the soil of Virginia, “sacred” property. We had something to say last summer about the “depredations” of the above fowl character, committed by Gen. Pope’s troops, and they were continued after nullifying orders had been enunciated by the same wise General.

Well, as remarked, the orders making your enemies feed you are remembered to the letter by the army of Virginia, and though we decidedly deprecate such things, believing it to be nothing more or less than pillaging, pilfering, or whatever you may call it, and as such demoralizing, the soldiers manifest no compunction of conscience in their now repeated journeyings through the land of Dixie, appropriating in their marches whatever their hands can conveniently, or inconveniently lay upon.

The march from Purcellville was a triumphant in one sense, as the squeaking of pigs, the cackling of hens, the gobbling of turkeys, the buzzing of bees, etc., fully attested. Of course we might say a good deal in praise or extenuation of such a triumph. We might cite “hard tack,” “salt horse” and “ram pork,” the sustenance afforded to the country’s defenders and protectors, day after day, and, then too, the crime of being a rebel. Why should’t a rebel suffer, says many a soldier, in the little matter of chickens, etc., if he refuses to honor the stars and stripes? That’s a soldier’s private revenge. He ought, he thinks, to be allowed some satisfaction individually for leaving home and its sweet comforts for war and its privations, and risking life to help to crush the rebellion.

Do you think you would stop a soldier, in consideration of all this reasoning that he offers, if you saw him chasing one of the domestic feathery tribe in a rebel garden or on rebel premises? And, if a capture should be made, do you think you would have any conscientious scruples about partaking of the same, if proffered the opportunity, when served up?

Though we have rendered our verdict of disapproval, we will be honest enough to confess that our appetite has frequently been indulged at the expense of our judgment on the subject in question.

There was one strong secesh family along the road whose property, in the shape of honey, cider, domestic birds, etc., was liberally confiscated by the soldiers. The lady of the house told some of our boys that she would be happy to have them stop and take supper with her, and she would treat them to milk and strychnine. Had not the column gone forward, the invitation doubtless would have been accepted, notwithstanding its repugnant qualities, for soldiers are not easily frightened at anything in the form of eatables or drinkables that may be offered them, whatever they may be said to contain.

To-day is election in the great Empire State. – We are anxious to know the result. A vote was taken for the “fun of the thing,” in our company this forenoon. 101 votes were cast. Wadsworth had 52, Seymour 49. A close vote. If Horatio Seymour is a “traitor and ought to be hung,” we wonder if those professing his principles, as enunciated by him in the present gubernatorial campaign in New York, are traitors also, and ought to be hung? If so, what an army of open traitors there is in the field, and what a vast number of candidates for the gallows! Fort Lafayette will have to be enlarged to receive such a multitude. (10)

But we must close. Our fire is out, it is late, and our fingers are numb with cold. G.B.

Warrenton, Nov. 7

My letter still remains unmailed. Who says Gen. McClellan is “snail like” in his movements and operations? Who says “Little Mac” marches and fights by “driblets?”

Here we are in the pretty, but ill-fated town of Warrenton for the third time in our army experience; little more than two months since we were last here, making rather rapid strides under the auspices of Gen. McDowell towards the Potomac, the enemy following us up. Now the “game” is the other way. We are following hard after the enemy, and Warrenton is a kind of post where both armies seem to stop awhile to take breath, after a vigorous and severe chase. – The place plainly shows the ravages and devastations of war. It was once one of the prettiest and most thriving towns in Virginia, and contains many beautiful residences and homes, but everything has the most deserted aspect now. – Every store is closed, and about every dwelling appears to be vacated. We arrived in Warrenton yesterday, just as the sun was setting behind the mountains, and the sun set scene was one of the finest we ever witnessed.

Our march from Bloomfield was begun Wednesday morning (Nov. 5), or it was noon before we fairly got started, and then we traveled over the hilliest, stoniest, rockiest, roughest and crookedest road we ever traversed or ever saw. We thought the road from Front Royal to Gaines Cross Roads was about as bad as a road could be, but that one was smooth in comparison to this. It runs every point of the compass, twisting and turning like the maze of a dance. Our gun carriages received a severer shaking than ever before on any one march, and it is a wonder in going through this gulley that they were not shattered all to pieces. The trail of a caisson broke just before we reached camp, and the caisson, with forge and battery wagon, is still behind. We camped near Rectortown Wednesday night, and early the next morning, before we had time to eat our breakfast, orders came to march to Warrenton, 15 miles distant. We crossed the Manasas Railroad, passed Salem, and marched quite rapidly till we arrived at Warrenton, as above stated. The infantry marched through the fields, side of the road, while the artillery, baggage wagons, etc., took the road. This expedited the march somewhat, but not a great deal, for very frequently the infantry had to cross and recross the road to avoid passing through woods, and this would of course delay the artillery and teams.

When about five miles from Warrenton it was reported that there was a large force of rebel cavalry ready to greet our arrival. The column was halted, and two brigades of the division that were in front of our battery made a counter march, and moved off to our right over the hills, supported by a battery, to attack the rebels. – What were supposed to be rebel cavalry, however, turned out to be our own, some of Bayard’s cavalry, in the direction of Waterloo.

We are encamped very near the spot we occupied as an encampment last August. It is very windy and cold, and it has just commenced snowing. The clouds look as if they were to give us the benefit of a large fall of snow. Not a desirable benefit, however, by any means. What a condition it will put these Virginia woods in.

There comes an order to get ready and move to the front about half a mile. No pleasant matter to tear down, pack up and move off this snowing, freezing, cold morning. But it must be done.

Friday Evening, Nov. 7.

We are now quartered a little below the crest of a hill, on which our battery is planted, all ready for action, the guns pointing toward Sulphur Springs. The 1st N.H. battery is on our left, in command of Capt. Garrish (George A. Gerrish), who has relieved Capt. Reynolds as chief of artillery in our division. We do not anticipate being attacked, but are in readiness for an attack. Our stay here may last two or three days, as commissary supplies are needed before undertaking another march.

The storm to-day may retard the operations of McClellan a good deal. The ground is quite white with snow, and when it melts, deplorable roads there will be. Our destination from here will probably be Culpepper. G.B.

Transcribed And Donated By Bob MarcotteTranscribed And Donated By Bob Marcotte
​​​​​​​Robert E. Marcotte
Rochester, N.Y.
February 2005