Battery L, 1st Artillery Regiment (Light) - George Breck Columns: Chapter 16: “Mortifying, Isn’t It?" The Mud March, Jan. 24, 1863

“What remarkable weather!” Breck observed in early January. “. . . like that of May or June … An excellent time for marches … But we will not dwell longer on the subject of the weather . . . Fickleness is its character.” Prophetic words those. The string of glorious weather, and resultant dry roads, prompted Burnside to set his army in motion once again. This time, rather than assaulting Lee head on at Fredericksburg, he would march upstream, cross the Rappahannock at various fords, and force Lee out of his trenches into a fight in the open. The strategy was sound. Indeed, Hooker would virtually duplicate it a little more than three months later. But Burnside’s timing was awful, for reasons that will soon become obvious….

Camp Near Waugh Point, Va.
Jan. 24, 1863
(Appeared Saturday, Jan. 31, 1863)

Dear Union: The King of France, with 40,000 men, marched up a hill and then marched down again. The Commanding General of the Army of the Potomac, with two Grand Divisions of that army, marched up a river, and then marched back again. The story does not tell us whether the French King accomplished any useful results by his march, does not inform us what he saw, what he did, when he reached the top of the hill, whether he met a large opposing force and was engaged in a battle, or whether on meeting the enemy he became frightened and beat a hasty retreat, or whether, indeed, there was any person seen or anything done at all, save the mere fact of marching. No particulars of the march are furnished, whether it was a pleasant or tedious one, attended with fine or bad weather, whether the hill was difficult of ascent, how high or long it was, whether there was any “straggling” in the army, nothing is related about the march, but everything is left to conjecture. The natural inference is that the King of France and his 40,000 troops simply made an up-hill and down-hill march, without engaging in battle or seeing anything to battle with, a march which ended where it began and resulted in nothing. What the King’s purpose was in making such an upward move is also left unrevealed. Perhaps a “strategetic” operation was intended, or a “feint,” merely to deceive the enemy, and it may have worked successfully, for ought we know to the contrary.

Concerning the recent march of the Army of the Potomac, it is like that which the King of France performed, so far as it relates to is commencement and end, terminating as it did at the identical places from where the troops first began to move, and resulting, apparently, in no good or gain whatever. Nobody who can read, however, need be left in the dark in relation to all the details of this march, or what the design was in undertaking it. Doubtless you have received full particulars already respecting the movement, and our pencil may not be able to add anything more of interest. But we shall venture to give an account of the affair, as a witness of and a participant in it. It was a march which capped the climax to all other marches we ever saw or performed.

As remarked in one or two previous letters, there was every indication that the Army of the Potomac would very soon cease to lie idle, and begin another vigorous movement “onward to Richmond.” Minute inspections of the various arms of the service had begun to be the order of the day; inquiries as to the condition of the men, whether clothed and shoed properly were made; the amount of transportation required was requested to be made known; the sick and disabled were sent to hospitals; orders were issued to have so many days’ rations on hand – all these things went to foretell that a move was on the tapis. On Friday of last week, the 16th inst., explicit orders came to be ready to move the following morning. Shall we say that these orders were exultingly received, that the troops were rejoiced at the prospect of moving forward without further delay? We shall say nothing of the kind, though we picked up a newspaper this afternoon whose army correspondence did say the above, or something similar, and on reading the statement we remarked to ourself, “that’s false; the man who wrote that letter isn’t a soldier, and doesn’t know the feelings of a soldier.” The truth is, the army, could they have had their way about it, would have delayed moving till spring. They had no desire to break up and leave their snug quarters for an active, vigorous winter campaign. And yet, in saying this, we do not wish it to be understood that the army desired or preferred to remain in idleness, if, as observed in Gen. Burnside’s address to his troops, “the auspicious moment seemed to have arrived to strike a great and mortal blow to rebellion.” If that “auspicious moment” had really come, and a great victory was to be gained which would speedily restore peace, the troops in all the corps would unquestionably have received the tidings to go forward with exulting hearts, winter or no winter; but, please recollect, the soldiers have been told this thing before, and it is not strange that some allowance should now be made for a little incredulity in the matter on their part. They know very well that they have no easy and pusillanimous foe to fight, and they know that a winter campaign means anything but pleasure. But we are digressing.

Saturday morning came, but there was no movement made. It was postponed – why, we do not know; not on account of the weather then, for it was a lovely day. The postponement made none of the boys feel very badly that we know of. The building of stables for horses, which had been begun and suspended on receipt of marching orders, was resumed again, but with confidence of a winter’s sojourn in this vicinity considerably abated. The next day marching orders were repeated, with full instructions as to the order of the march, and everything must be in readiness to start Monday morning. Monday morning (Jan. 19) arrived and so did Monday night, and we still found ourselves clinging to the confines of our pleasant camp. The weather still propitious, but no move yet, though all ready to be off, with three days’ cooked rations on hand – meaning raw pork and hard tack – and four days’ forage. What’s the matter – is the movement abandoned? No. To-morrow, Tuesday the 20th, at 12 o’clock precisely, and we shall start sure. So the latest orders read, and so we believed. When Tuesday came it found us at an early hour breaking up, packing, loading and getting everything in shape to march. It seemed not a little hard to give up our pleasant camp, to abandon our comfortable quarters, in exchange for the open field and the hardships and privations connected therewith; but the work once begun, it was prosecuted with spirit and energy. The log huts with their chimneys and fireplaces were soon roofless, and presented a most deserted appearance. These edifices, which had been erected with no small amount of skill and labor, must be forsaken. “Who knows,” said one of the boys, “but these beautiful shanties will again be occupied by Battery L! Shouldn’t be at all surprised,” he remarked, “if the army came skedaddling back to their old quarters. Better not burn them up,” was his advice to his comrades as one or two of these pristine residences were being consumed by the “devouring flames.” We wonder if that soldier had a “presentiment” of what was actually to occur. His jocose remarks verified the adage that “many a truth is spoken in jest.” But we shall never get through with our march if we linger in this way.

Tuesday noon (Jan. 20) our battery was in the road ready to start with the division, the infantry going ahead and the artillery in the rear. There was no bright sun shining that day as there had been for days and weeks previous, no clear, blue sky and spring-like air, but old Sol was concealed behind dark and frowning clouds, which portended snow more than rain, and the air had a sharp, winterish tingle. The roads were unexceptionable, however. They could not have been better scarcely, had it been summer. The long column soon began to move under command of Gen. Wadsworth, in the direction of Falmouth; but the troops in front of us moved slowly, and it was “halt” and “forward” every few minutes, making the march very tedious. One division or brigade cut off another and made bad work of it. And then, not long before dark, it began to rain, and in a short time the roads grew slippery and muddy, and the marching became tedious enough. On we went, turning to the right of Burnside’s headquarters, across fields, over newly made roads, up hill and down hill, until we reached what is known as Stoneman’s Switch, on the Aquia Creek and Falmouth railroad, near which spot we encamped for the night. What a night that was! We shall never forget it. Dark, rainy, muddy, cold, all that was disagreeable and cheerless. The boys put up their shelter tents or paulins the best they could, and lay down on the wet ground with their blankets. The rain fell faster and faster, and the mud grew deeper. Six of us got under cover of a tent which had been pitched over a trench, and made friends with the moist earth, which received us in the softest manner desirable. Sleep after such a march as we had gone through was no stranger, but favored us promptly with pleasant dreams in the bargain, notwithstanding the character of our couch and the circumstances surrounding us. But our slumbers were seriously disturbed in the course of the night by one of our bed companions who awoke to find himself and brother officers in imminent danger of being drowned. The water was pouring into our tent, soaking blankets and covering the ground ankle deep, and there we lay with a fair prospect of a complete “immersion,” whether we subscribed to that particular tenet of Holy Writ or not. Of course further sleep was impossible under such an aspect of affairs, and matters must be remedied, which they were after some labor. We cite our own cases in this night’s encampment as illustrating what many thousands of troops experienced, only, in many instances, no doubt, a great deal worse. This was the first chapter in winter campaigning. – An “exultant” chapter really, to begin with.

You can imagine what a dreary morning the ensuing one was, taking into consideration the character of the past night, and when we tell you that the rain continued, and the meanest kind of a rain, cold and drizzling. The men cooked their coffee and eat their pork and hard bread, and about 9 o’clock we were on the march again up the river, above Falmouth. We understood we were to cross about eight miles above Fredericksburg, near Kelly’s Ford. It had been a question with some whether the march would be resumed in consequence of the horrible condition of the roads, but surely the grand army of the Potomac will not turn and go back without another trial to push forward. What will the North say – what will be the verdict of the heroic army of the West, who contended successfully with the elements as well as the rebels, under the gallant and indomitable (Gen. William S.) Rosecrans – what will the “gray-backs” across the Rappahannock think if Burnside’s army give up their contemplated attack against them in consequence of one night’s rain? (1) No, it will never do to relinquish the pursuit of an object under present circumstances, the plans of which had been carefully maturing in Burnside’s mind perhaps for many weeks. It was not given up, but, as results proved, it is a pity it was not, for Uncle Sam would have saved an immense amount of treasure lost in the loss and wear of horse flesh, wagons, etc., and would have retained the services of hundreds, it may be thousands of soldiers who left the service unceremoniously, not to come back again, unless compelled, and of others in whose constitutions or systems the seeds of disease were sown which are certain to produce disability or death.

The batteries of our division, under command of Capt. Reynolds, Chief of Artillery in the division, took a separate route from the infantry, and marched independently. There had been pulling and tugging the first day’s march, but it was light work compared with what was now to be done. We had not traveled far before the system of doubling teams had been resorted to, and our progress was snail-like in the extreme. The strength of the horses was tested to the utmost, and brought into exercise by a pretty vigorous application of whip and spur. “Get up,” was the oft repeated expression of the drivers, but very frequently they would’nt get up, for the good reason that they could not. Then it became necessary to apply human power, and cannoniers were summoned to the rescue. “Heigh ho, heave!” “get up,” “all together,” “there she goes,” and once more we were under way; but, alas! to find our heavy carriages, before advancing very far, stuck fast in another “slough of despond.” Army wagons were almost buried in the mud, and teamsters were hard at work trying to extricate them. Horses and mules were floundering in this element, which, ever since the war commenced, has been a barrier to the progress of our armies. To relieve the poor but grateful animals from their muddy dilemma, ropes would have to be put around their necks and the process of dragging them out on the surface of terra firma adopted. What a plight they presented on coming to light!

We had marched about two miles when we reached near the camp of the 108th regiment, and it was now nearly dark. Here, in this vicinity came the “tug of war.” A large ditch had to be crossed, and before we succeeded in getting the battery over, it cost the task of a Hercules. A little further on was another hole, and here and there was more hard pulling and hauling, lifting and heaving, and more time expended than there had been at any previous place. Ten and twelve horses were attached to a gun or caisson, but it was like attempting to move the rock of Gibraltar…It was not before the pieces or caissons were unlimbered and the half of all the cannoniers was brought into requisition that we effected the deliverance of our carriages from their condition, and it was past 9 o’clock before we went into park a short distance from the 108th N.Y. Regiment. All day we had been marching two or three miles through a cold rain and through a sea of mud. The infantry seemed to march in squads of various numbers, and hard work it was for them to get along under the burden of packed knapsacks and heavy guns. There was any amount of straggling, but somewhat excusable under the circumstances, if straggling by strict military rules is susceptible of apology. Artillery was stretched along, a piece here and a caisson there, and the left and centre grand divisions – we have been informed the centre grand division moved, but not the right, which was all ready to move, -- of the Army of the Potomac were absolutely stuck fast in the mud. What a picture! The Army of the Potomac stuck in the mud! Think of that, ye men and women, who have been impatient for the army to go forward and have been wondering what such a vast army could be thinking of lying idle, doing nothing, becoming demoralized, it may be, by inactivity! Stuck in the mud! Can’t advance another rod. What shall be done? Go into permanent quarters where we brought up so suddenly to a stand still? where were the supplies to come from, or how could they be transported through an ocean of mud a distance of several miles? Must we go back? Was it not just as easy to try and go ahead as it was to make a retrograde movement? But suppose we should succeed in crossing the river, what then? What kind of a show would artillery make attacking the enemy in the mud? How could batteries manoeuvre with mud almost up to the horses’ loins and up to the hubs of the carriages? Doubtless, Mr. Secesh would be in readiness to give us the warmest kind of a reception, and there was every probability the Army of the Potomac would soon find themselves in a terrible “fix,” and possibly they might be “gobbled” up by the rebels. The military powers must have decreed that to advance further was an impossibility, for the next day orders came that the troops would be ready to move back to their old quarters at 8 o’clock on Friday morning. Wind and weather had proved too much for Burnside’s army. The elements were as formidable as the enemy, and the Commanding General had to succumb, for a second time, and make a retreat, which was accomplished as admirably as the first, and without there having been a shot fired or a drop of blood shed, to our knowledge. We did hear three reports of cannon, Thursday morning, which sounded like rebel signaling.

On our return march the batteries moved independently of the infantry, and we struck the turnpike, passing through Falmouth. The horses must have known that they were going back to their old quarters, for they worked much better than they had in the advance, and we were but eight hours making the trip to our old camp, which may serve to illustrate the proficiency the Army of the Potomac have acquired in all movements that partake of a “skedaddling” character. Rather a sad commentary this is, on the soldiers being “eager for the fray.”

On arriving at our old quarters, they were found occupied by an Ohio Battery, belonging to Sigel’s Division; but they were soon made to vacate the premises, or rather they did so without compulsion, and we are now located exactly where we were before the grand and memorable march. The troops are still coming back, as we now write, in squads of from one to twenty, mostly. If straggling were punished with death, as we have read it is in the rebel army, the Left Grand Division would be reduced to something like a brigade.

We shall not attempt to define the object of this expedition, as it was made known in Burnside’s address, and his report of the same will be forthcoming very soon, no doubt. It is time to close this long communication, and we will do so by asking our readers if they do not agree with us in calling the expedition a tramp on the most momentous scale, and in pronouncing winter campaigning in the State of Virginia a failure?

Of course the question again arises in our mind, What next? G.B.

P.S. – We have just been informed that the rebels across the Rappahannock have put up sign boards on trees and posts with the inscription, “The Army of the Potomac stuck fast in the mud.” Mortifying, isn’t it?

Some of the army’s generals, Hooker and Franklin among them, had become outspoken in their criticism of Burnside after Fredericksburg. The discord only intensified after the debacle of the Mud March. Burnside hastened to Washington, and demanded that Lincoln either fire Hooker, Franklin, and a half-dozen other generals, or turn the command of the army over to someone else. Lincoln removed Burnside, and appointed “Fighting Joe” Hooker in his place. (2)

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