42
"Cut to Pieces" William Howard Russell at the Battle of First Bull Run
By William Howard Russell
WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL, A GROUNDBREAKING WAR CORRESPONDENT, BECAME WELLKNOWN FOR HIS REPORTING ON THE CRIMEAN WAR. IN 1861, HE ARRIVED IN THE U.S. WITH THE INTENTION OF COVERING THE CONFLICT AND WITNESSED THE RETREAT AT BULL RUN. HIS THOROUGH REPORT OF THE EVENT RUFFLED SOME FEATHERS IN WASHINGTON.
32
An Abolitionist at Bull Run
By Robert Beecham,
2nd Wisconsin A COURAGEOUS TWENTYTHREE-YEAR-OLD FROM THE MIDWEST, DRIVEN BY THE ANTI-SLAVERY MOVEMENT, STANDS TALL WITH A MUSKET AT BULL RUN.
Lincoln in the Telegraph Room
BY
THE TELEGRAPH OPERATOR DAVID BATES
4 from the editor
Jeffrey R. Biggs
8
SUGGESTIONS FROM AN OLD SOLDIER
In the early days of the Civil War, recruits were offered plenty of advice. A Mexican War veteran wrote an anonymous letter to the NewYorkTimes , providing "suggestions from an old soldier."
10
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYMORE WAR"
Jim Redmon, a civilian who lived near the Henry House hill, was interviewed by The WashingtonPost in 1911 about the events that engulfed his home in July 1861. In a poignant interview, the 87-year-old black man recalled watching the first battle of the Civil War.
18
A SANITARY COMMISSIONER MEETS THE REBS
James Gall of the United States Sanitary Commission had the unique opportunity to observe the Confederate army just days before the Battle of Gettysburg. Mr. Gall found General Ewell's corps stationed in York, Pennsylvania. He arrived at nine o'clock in the morning on Sunday, June 28,1863, to discover the Confederate army at rest.
Welcome to HardtackIllustrated
"I think the cause of the Civil War was basically how government was going to run..." - Nikki Haley, 2023
As we step into the autumnal season of a presidential year, Americans are once again faced with stark choices about the direction of our nation. While the issues today are different from those faced by voters in the 1860 and 1864 campaigns, we are still left with stark choices, often influenced by unexpected moments. Presidential campaigns are not just about policies and promises but also about the unscripted, human moments that reveal something of the candidates previously left unsaid. In the 2024 presidential campaign, the most telling unscripted incident (to me at least) was not candidates freezing on the campaign stage or rambling about cats and dogs being eaten but when a simple question seemed to stump the Republican presidential candidate, Nikki Haley.
At a town hall in New Hampshire in 2023, seasoned debater Nikki Haley was presented with a question that, on the face of it, should have been a softball pitch for a former governor of South Carolina: "What was the cause of the Civil War?" The answer was a word salad of the worst sort: "I think the cause of the Civil War was basically how government was going to run, the freedoms, and what people could and couldn't do. What do you think the cause of the Civil War was?" In an attempt to clean up the mess, she added, "I think it always comes down to the role of government, we need to have capitalism, we need to have economic freedom, we need to make sure we do all things so that individuals have the liberties - so they can have freedom of speech, freedom on religion, freedom to do or be anything they want to be without the government
getting in the way." Later, she suggested that the questioner was a plant by the opposition to trip her up. Huh? I will admit that I am being facetious when questioning the complexity of the question. From the war's end until today, the answer is rife with controversy and says more about yourself than the answer itself. To show my nonpartisanship when it comes to this, I am equally unimpressed with President Biden's curt response days later: "It was about slavery." Care to add to that, Mr. President?
So, Mr. Wise Guy, you may ask, what's the correct answer? Unfortunately, as with many aspects of the Civil War, there isn't one. However, some responses show more intellectual consideration and curiosity than our modern politicians display. How about this for starters: "The immediate and direct cause of the Civil War was the secession of seven southern states from the Union after the election of the first Republican president, Abraham Lincoln, followed by the firing on Fort Sumter. In a broader sense, and I think this was what Haley was trying to get at in a clumsy political way, the cause of the war was our government's enshrinement of slavery at its birth and the later generation's failure to deal directly with a moral issue: Would our government continue to allow slavery as an institution? I think we all know the answer." It took the sitting president four words to answer the question; Governor Haley took ninety-nine words and I took ninetynine as well. Is there a right answer? No. But what do I know? I doubt if I could be elected as the town dog catcher, but it's food for thought and the kind of mental exercise our I hope our magazine generates.
1864 Republican Ticket (Wikipedia Commons)
In our fourth issue, we are concluding a full year of publishing Hardtack Illustrated . We monitor the digital views and downloads to identify the most popular articles and understand our readers' interests. Our editions are available digitally through our partners at Issue, via browser, and for download from www. hardtackbooks.com.
During the past summer, I visited Manassas National Battlefield Park and developed a renewed interest in the campaign. As a result, I decided to dedicate a few pieces in the magazine to this significant battle. In "Cut to Pieces," William Howard Russell, a pioneering war correspondent from overseas, presents a poignant, somewhat Eurocentric perspective of the battle and the retreat to the capital. Russell's unflattering account made him unwelcome in Washington circles, leading to an early departure from American battlefields to British lecture halls. Another account of the First Battle of Bull Run is "An Abolitionist at Bull Run," which features Robert Beecham, a Wisconsin free-soiler. Although his fighting abilities were limited at Bull Run, he objectively evaluated the 2nd Wisconsin under the then-unknown William Sherman. Additionally, we have included an account from Jim Redmond, an African-American freedman who resided in Groveton during the battle. His often-overlooked account provides a fresh perspective from a silent witness to the battle.
"Lincoln in the Telegraph Room" contains several vignettes from David Bate's excellent memoir of the war years spent as a telegraph operator. This piece portrays Lincoln during the most challenging days of the Civil War, finding solace among the operators in the telegraph room.
During the war, James Gall, a U.S. Sanitary Commissionary, encountered Richard Ewell's men as they rested in York, Pennsylvania, just days before the two armies clashed at Gettysburg. His account in "A Sanitary Commissioner Meets the Rebs" is unique in that it offers a first-hand account of the Confederate soldiers' appearance during the Gettysburg campaign. Lastly, we included a brief piece from the NewYorkTimes from a Mexican War veteran who, in "Suggestions from an Old Soldier," offered some well-worn advice to the new recruits of 1861. I would like to extend to readers the opportunity to contact me in case you come across Civil War era material which you think would be great to include in future editions, or if you can think of ways to improve. I can be reached at jeffreybiggs@verizon.net.
JeffBiggs
HARDTACK BOOKS
George Alfred Townsend was a special war correspondent for the PhiladelphiaPress and NewYorkHeraldduring the Civil War. He followed McClellan’s Army of the Potomac and Pope’s Army of Virginia in the spring and summer of 1862, ling dozens of dispatches to his editors. Finally, a er su ering from the e ects of ‘swamp fever,’ he took a two-year break in Europe, where he lectured about his experiences. Townsend returned to the war front in 1865 and -a er taking the pen name of “GATH” - was the rst correspondent to describe the war’s climax at Five Forks. He released his memoir in 1866, detailing his personal experiences and recollections of the Civil War and those dramatic days.
Campaigns of a Non-Combatant: The Memoir of a Civil War Correspondent
ISBN 13: 978-0986361531
by: George Alfred Townsend
Release: 1st QTR 2024 | Price $17.99 |Pages: 269
Design & Editor: Jeffrey R. Biggs
INQUIRIES: Jeffrey Biggs, jeffreybiggs@verizon.net
AVAILABLE AT: Amazon.com | Ingram | Bookshop.com
is Hardtack Books reissue of Campaignsofa Non-Combatantis not a facsimile of the original work. Instead, it reimagines Townsend’s work in a modern font with dozens of illustrations and editorial footnotes.
About Hardtack Books: Hardtack Books specializes in republishing timeless Civil War narratives. Our goal is to make these captivating stories more accessible and appealing to today’s history enthusiasts at a moderate cost. By using modern styles in typography, graphics, and design, we bring to the twenty- rst century these rsthand accounts that shed light on both wartime experiences and the lives of those on the home front during the critical years of the Civil War.
At Hardtack Books, we are dedicated to preserving the rst-hand accounts of enlisted men, newspaper correspondents, and war leaders. Our mission is to bring these original sources, including memoirs, correspondence, and newspaper articles, together in contemporary publications.
Suggestions From an Old Soldier...
In the early days of the Civil War, recruits were offered plenty of advice. A Mexican War veteran wrote an anonymous letter to the New York Times, providing "suggestions from an old soldier."
TheNewYorkTimes,April 24, 1861
Allow an old soldier who has seen service to offer a few practical suggestions to our men who are marching South.
Avoid drinking water as much as possible while marching. When you feel dry rinse your mouth with water, but do no swallow it. Water along should not be drank, but mixed with wholesome beverage in a campaign.
While marching or on sentry never sit down for a second - bear up! The change of posture will affect your powers more than the actual marching.
Have plenty of buttons, needle and thread, rags of linen and some strong twine in your knapsack - you will all want it.
White linen gaiters over brogans are the best, boots offering too much reflection to the sun's rays. the gaiters are made white and shiny again by applying a mixture of common chalk and water with a rag or sponge, and let the gaiter get dry under the air or sun.
If you have a long march in warm weather before you, cut off the body of your pantaloons to the middle of the thigh and sew the legs to
your drawers, fastening the suspenders to the drawers, it will relieve you greatly. Drawers are essential.
Keep a vial of sweet oil and every night rub your gun with a rag dipped in oil. In the morning, or when starting, rub it clean, it is the best way to preserve it from rust and keep it in working order. When not using it put a piece of cork or something else in the mouth of your gun to keep out dust, rain, etc.
When marching, put some of the weight you have to carry on your breast - for instance, part of the cartridges, so as to relieve and counterpoise the weight to be carried.
Have some lard in a small tin box to grease your boots or shoes with, to keep them smooth and soft, particularly in wet weather or passing through a swampy country.
When on the march never let a weak comrade get behind the company - assist him in carrying his load. When once left behind he is at the mercies of the rear guard, and my perish before the ambulances arrive.
Finally, avoid spirituous liquors as you would poison.
This classic novel penned by Stephen Crane was published thirty years after the Civil War and was one of the first unsentimental works of fiction on the great American conflict. A psychological tale of the horrors of war, the novel is a timeless classic and still one of American fiction’s most acclaimed works. Initially serialized in newspapers in an abridged format, the text contained here is the final version published by Appleton in 1895.
The Red Badge of Courage: Illustrated Edition
ISBN 13: 978-0986361524 by: Stephen Crane
Release: 4th QTR 2023 | Price $12.95 | Pages: 158
Design & Editor: Jeffrey R. Biggs
INQUIRIES: Jeffrey Biggs, jeffreybiggs@verizon.net
AVAILABLE AT: Amazon.com
In this Illustrated Edition, each chapter is introduced with ambrotypes of ordinary Union soldiers inspired by Crane’s eternal tale of fear, redemption, and sacrifice in earning one’s own “red badge of courage.”
About Hardtack Books: Hardtack Books specializes in republishing timeless Civil War narratives. Our goal is to make these captivating stories more accessible and appealing to today’s history enthusiasts at a moderate cost. By using modern styles in typography, graphics, and design, we bring to the twenty-first century these firsthand accounts that shed light on both wartime experiences and the lives of those on the home front during the critical years of the Civil War.
At Hardtack Books, we are dedicated to preserving the first-hand accounts of enlisted men, newspaper correspondents, and war leaders. Our mission is to bring these original sources, including memoirs, correspondence, and newspaper articles, together in contemporary publications.
" I Don't Ever Want to
Before firing ceased at Bull Run on that bloody day of July 21, 1861 folks commenced to write descriptions of it – and they’ve been at it ever since. There have been enough accounts of McDowell’s flank movement by Sudley Springs and the surprise of Evan’s Brigade, of Stonewall Jackson’s stand near the Henry house, and of the sudden panic that seized the yet untrained volunteers of the Northern army, to fill a library.
And yet, among this mass of printed stuff, one nowhere finds a page that is really intelligible to the man of peace – one that tells how all this opening hell of war looked to the civilian gazing at it with an eye untrained and unmilitary. One may learn for the asking at any library how Tyler made a feint at the Stone bridge to cover Heintzelman’s turning movement, or how Bee and Bartow deployed on Buck Hill. But there is little of vividness in that knowledge to the reader, ignorant of just what a feint or a deployment looks like when it’s going on, however realistic it may be to the soldier who has been through all that sort of thing.
Now, within sight of this Bull Run battlefield, there has dwelt since he was born, 87 years ago, an ancient [black man], James Redmond by name, familiarly known all the country ‘round as plain “Jim.” He is a resident of Groveton, a small collection of houses hardly reaching the dignity of a hamlet, lying a mile or two southwest of the Henry plateau, the vortex in which the battle swirled doubtful for hours. Groveton is situated upon a ridge whence all the country over which the battle raged is in plain sight, and from a neighboring knoll. Jim Redmond, in company with Mrs. Lucinda Dogan, a lady who lived near Groveton, and a few neighbors, watched this first battle of the war.
For“two or three days before,” he told the writer, “The Union soldiers had been all around Centreville, or across the run, and a couple of days before the big battle we had heard a whole lot of cannon firing and seen a lot of smoke down the valley (this was the fight at Blackburn’s Ford on July 19). Whole strings of Southern cavalry kept coming along through Groveton that day and the next. They came from toward the mountains and rode off on the road to Manassas Junction (ed: This was the cavalry of Johnston’s army in the Shenandoah Valley, which had slipped away from Patterson and Winchester, and come over to join Beauregard at Manassas).
"It was along about sunup on Sunday morning when I heard shouting from the
soldiers down the pike toward the Stone bridge, and Mrs. Dogan called to me that “the Yankees are coming!” The Southern soldiers were all strung along for miles on this side of Bull Run, which was about 2 miles from where we were. We all came up on top this hill here, and some neighbors came up with us. We could hear a powerful firing of cannon going on down about the Stone bridge. It sounded just like thunder, and we could see the smoke rising down by the bridge.” (ed: This was Tyler’s division of the Union army engaging Evan’s brigade at the extreme west or left flank of the Southern army, to distract it from McDowell’s flank movement).
"By and by we could see a big cloud of dust across the run off to the left of where all this cannon firing was. It kept getting bigger and was moving up the run toward Sudley. (ed: This was McDowell’s main force under
THE FOLLOWING INTERVIEW WITH JIM REDMOND WAS PUBLISHED IN THE WASHINGTON POST , JULY 21, 1911.
LUCINDA DOGAN, A 44-YEAR-OLD WIDOW WITH SIX CHILDREN, LIVED IN GROVETON AND OWNED THE LAND WHERE PART OF THE RAILROAD CUT RAN. SHE EARNED THE NICKNAME "BELLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD" FOR HER EFFORTS ALONGSIDE JIM REDMOND, AS THEY PROVIDED WHATEVER ASSISTANCE THEY COULD TO THIS WOUNDED FROM BOTH SIDES. THIS IMAGE OF THE AGED LUCINDA DOGAN WAS FOUND IN THESUNDAYSTAR , BUT UNFORTUNATELY THERE IS NO RELIABLE PHOTOGRAPH OF JIM REDMOND.
Hunter and Heintzelman, executing their flank movement by Sudley Springs). The cannon shooting had been going on down by the Stone bridge for an hour or two, when we began to see crowds of Southerners running back from the bridge to the Sudley Road and running up that road toward Sudley. Then a lot of men team out of the timber over east of the Henry house, ran down in the hollow Yonder by Young's branch, then over buck hill across the hollow from the Henry house, and then on towards sudley after the others.” (ed:
The Confederates had discovered McDowell's flank movement by suddenly springs and were hurrying northwest to check it, drawing reinforcements from their center as rapidly as possible.)
Sudley Rd. and over buck hill toward the Young's branch hollow. They would come back in little bunches of ‘em and every now and then they would stop and shoot back, and then run on again. There kept coming more southerners out of the woods east of the Henry house from toward Manassas. They didn't cross the hollow though but scattered out in the fields around and back of the Henry house, and seemed to be standing there waiting for something.
Then“TheSundayStar , January 24, 1915
“It wasn't long after this before we commenced to hear the cracking of muskets over the other side of buck hill toward sudley. Than the cannon commenced to shoot over there like they had at the stone bridge, and we could hear men shouting and shouting. It seemed like it was all coming back from suddenly. Pretty soon we could see the southerners coming running back on the
the men who had come running back from Sudley crossed back over the Young's branch hollow, and got with the men you had stopped around the Henry house. (ed: The men running back were the brigades of Bee and Bartow which had been driven back by McDowell’s advancing forces and forced back from Buck Hill, and Young’s Branch valley until they met the reinforcements under Jackson on the Henry house plateau).
“Then the Union men commenced to pour down the Sudley Road and over buck hill,
shouting and shooting all the time period they followed the southerners across Young's branch and up the hill toward the Henry house. By that time swarms of southerners had come up into the fields around the and back of the Henry House. The shouting and shooting got so loud and mixed up you couldn't tell which side was doing the most.”
(ed: The whole of Beauregard's and Johnson's army had come up and taken position on the Henry house plateau and stayed McDowell’s advance there.)
"The shooting of the cannons had got so terrible now that it all sounded like one big roar, and the muskets went so fast that you couldn't hear anything but just continue rattling. The fields got so covered with dust and smoke now that we couldn't see the men, but the shouting and shooting kept getting
worse, and by and by fit all sounded just like one big sound there and the dust and smoke.” (ed: This was the doubtful and deadly conflict which raged around the Henry House for some hours.)
"About 3:00 we commenced to see bunches of men running out of the woods from toward Manassas, the other side of the Chinn place, and through the fields there between us and where all the fighting was going on. They kept coming and coming, and they'd run right across the fields and right into where all the smoke and dust and shooting was, like they wanted to hurry and get in it.” (ed: This was the belated reinforcements of Johnston’s valley army, which arrived at Manassas junction during the battle and, striking McDowell’s right flank, turned the tide of battle.)
THE HENRY HOUSE WITHSTOOD THE BATTLE AND REMAINED STANDING DESPITE BEING IN THE CROSSFIRE OF FEDERAL CANNONS. THE IMAGE HERE DISPLAYS THE REMAINING FOUNDATION AFTER THE HOUSE WAS DISASSEMBLED FOR FIREWOOD AND BATTLE SOUVENIRS.
ThePhotographicHistoryof
"About 6:00 Mr. and missus Dogan and I went over to the Henry place. There wasn't anything left there but a lot of ashes that were still smoking. All the trees around the house had been shot to pieces and some of them were nothing but ragged stumps"
“It was an awful sight to us up here on the hill, and most of the women were crying and wringing their hands. I don't know but what I cried some myself. Along about 4:00 in the afternoon that noise was at its loudest. We began to see little bunches of men running from out of the dust and smoke on the Henry place down into the hollow, where Young's branch is, and then running back up to sudley road or over buck hill. Then more and more men kept running back, and the smoke and dust and shooting got so thick down there we couldn't see any men anymore.” (ed: This was the beginning of McDowell’s repulse; His soldiers began to retreat but the way they had come).
"By and by the shooting quieted down a whole lot and the smoke and dust about the Henrys place and down and Young's Branch hollow got higher and thinner, And we could see swarms of men running along the road down the hollow toward the stone bridge. We saw some men on horses riding after them, and heard some musket shots, but not many.” (ed: This was the main retreat of McDowell’s army. The horsemen following were the Southern cavalry in pursuit).
“About 5:30 o'clock the shooting over there had all stopped, and some men had come up and told us to northern men had been driven back. About 6:00 Mr. and missus Dogan and I went over to the Henry place. There wasn't anything left there but a lot of ashes that were still smoking. All the trees around the house had been shot to pieces and some of them were nothing but ragged stumps. Some soldiers told Mrs. Dogan and old lady had been killed in the house by a shell that morning. She was
old Mrs. Henry, a great friend of Mrs. Dogan. The soldiers had taken her body over to the chin place, and missus Dogan went over there and helped to lay her out.”
“
Thesouthern soldiers were going about the fields picking up dead men and burying them, but the bodies were still lying around thick. I saw lots of wounded men, all crying for water. So, I took a bucket and filled it and carried water to what I could. There were a lot of soldiers and colored men doing the same thing. There were about as many wounded on one side as the other, but it didn't make any difference to any of us which side they were; They all got water from the same. The ground around the Henry house was plowed up like I'd been plowing it with a yoke of steers, and lying still about it were muskets and bayonets and caps and belts and knapsacks and every kind of thing period I worked along there giving them water and then helping to bury the bodies until late in the night. It certainly was awful.”
“No, Sir,” concluded Jim with a shake of the head that would have done good to The Hague peace conference,” I don't ever want to see any more war!”
The following year Jim observed the Second Battle of Bull Run, but not from the same hill, as it was a most active part of the field period last summer, he assisted in the burial of missus Dogan, then 96 years old - the same age as Jim - who had with him observed both these great fights.
A Sanitary Commissioner Meets the Rebs
In a telling narrative, James Gall of the United States Sanitary Commission had the unique opportunity to observe the Confederate army just days before the Battle of Gettysburg. Mr. Gall, advancing in whatever direction contact between the two armies was likely, happened upon units of General Ewell's corps stationed in York, Pennsylvania. He arrived at nine o'clock in the morning on Sunday, June 28, 1863, to discover the Confederate army at rest, breaking camp near the old Fair Grounds.
"ON ENTERING THE TOWN, General Early made a levy upon the citizens, promising in the event of its being complied with promptly, to spare all private property in the city; otherwise he would allow his men to take such things as they needed, and would not be responsible for the conduct of his men while they remained in the city. The beef, flour, and other articles, and twenty-eight thousand dollars in money were speedily collected, and handed over to the rebels. The General expressed himself satisfied with what he had received, and scrupulously kept his word in regard to the safety of private property. Nothing belonging to any citizen was touched; no one was molested in the streets; all was as quiet and orderly as if there were no soldiers there.
OnMonday the rebels were busy in carting off the levied articles. About four p.m., Gordon's brigade returned from Wrightsville, bringing with them some horses and cattle which they had picked up on the way. They had about eight supply and ammunition wagons, and twelve ambulances with them. Many of the latter were marked U. S. The ambulances were all filled with men. Who had apparently given out on the way. Physically, the men looked about equal to the generality of our own troops, and there were fewer boys among them. Their dress was a wretched mixture of all cuts and colors. There was not the slightest attempt at uniformity in this respect. Every man seemed to have put on whatever he could get hold of, without regard to shape or color. I noticed a pretty large sprinkling of blue pants among them, some of those, doubtless, that were left by Milroy at Winchester. Their shoes, as a general thing, were poor; some of tho men were entirely barefooted. Their equipments were light as compared with those of our men. They consisted of a thin woollen blanket, coiled up and slung from the shoulder in the form of a sash, a
haversack slung from the opposite shoulder, and a cartridge-box. The whole cannot weigh more than twelve or fourteen pounds. Is it strange, then, that with such light loads they should be able to make longer and more rapid marches than our men? The marching of the men was irregular and careless; their arms were rusty and ill-kept. Their whole appearance was greatly inferior to that of our
DuringMonday I visited the 'Fair Grounds,' as also the camp of a Louisiana brigade, situated about a mile from the city. The supply wagons were drawn up in a sort of straggling hollow square, in the centre of which the men stacked their arms in company lines, and in this way formed their camp. There were no tents for the men, and but very few for the officers. The men were busy cooking their dinner, which consisted of fresh beef, (part of the York levy,) wheat griddle-cakes raised with soda, and cold water. No coffee or sugar had been issued to the men for a long time. The meat was mostly prepared by frying, and was generally very plentifully salted. The cooking is generally done in squads, or messes of five or six, and on the march the labor of carrying the cooking utensils is equally divided among them. The
men expressed themselves perfectly satisfied with this kind of food, and said they greatly preferred the bread prepared in the way they do it, to the crackers issued to the Union soldiers. I question if their bread is as healthy and nourishing as the army biscuit. I asked one of the men how he got along without a shelter-tent. His answer was: 'First rate.'
'In the first place,' he said, 'I wouldn't tote one, and in the second place, I feel just as well, if not better, without it. 'But how do you manage when it rains?' I inquired. 'Wall,' said he, 'me and this other man has a gum-blanket atween us; when it rains we spread one of our woollen blankets on the ground to lie on, then we spread the other woollen blanket over us, and the gum blanket over that, and the rain can't tech us.' And this is the way the rebel array (with the exception of a few of the most important officers) sleeps.
Everything that will trammel or impede the movement of the army is discarded, no matter what the consequences may be to the men. In conversation with one of the officers, I mentioned about the want of tents in his army, and asked whether any bad effects were apparent from it. He said he thought not. On the contrary, he considered the army in better condition now than ever before. Granting the truth of what the officer said about the condition of the rebel army, I very much doubt the correctness of his conclusions. The present good condition of the rebel army is more likely to be due to the following circumstances: First, the army has been lying still all winter, under good shelter; has been tolerably well fed and clothed, and in this way has had a chance to recuperate after the fatiguing campaigns of last summer. Second, most of the weakly men, who could not stand a day's march without being sent to the rear, have been either discharged or have died, thus leaving a smaller portion of those remaining
liable to disease. Third, since that portion of the rebel army (Ewell's corps) moved from behind Fredricksburgh, on the fourth of June last, it has been favored with remarkably fine weather; has been stimulated with almost uninterrupted success in its movements; has been marching through a rich and fertile country, and, by levying on the inhabitants of which, the soldiers have been able to procure an abundance of good wholesome food, better, perhaps, than they had for many months. These, and not the want of tents, are probably the causes which give to the rebel army its present healthy tone. Under ordinary circumstances, I have no doubt the want of shelter would prove rather a detriment to the army than otherwise.
Infurther conversation with the Louisiana officer, I ascertained that this was the corps which moved down through the Shenandoah Valley, surprised Milroy at Winchester, and was the first to cross the Potomac at Shepherdstown into Maryland. He informed me that his own and the North-Carolina brigade were armed entirely with Enfield rifles taken at Winchester after Milroy's retreat. In speaking of our soldiers, the same officer remarked: 'They are too well fed, too well clothed, and have far too much to carry.' That our men are too well fed I do not believe, neither that they are too well clothed; that they have too much to carry I can very well believe, after witnessing the march of the army of the Potomac to Chancellorsville. Each man had eight days' rations to carry, besides sixty rounds of ammunition, musket, woollen blanket, rubber blanket, overcoat, extra shirt, drawers, socks, and sheltertent, amounting in all to about sixty pounds. Think of men, (and boys too,) staggering along under such a load, at the rate of fifteen to twenty miles a day."
This account is from the Rebellion Record, V. 7, pp 122 - 123.
Largely
For a wealth soldier's soldiers
Potomac's From to the candid flawed
BELLI CIVILIS PRESS an imprint of Hardtack Books
of the hardest fighting regiments in the Civil War, the First Delaware Volunteers battled in virtually every engagement the Army of the Potomac's Second Corps from Antietam to Appomattox. One of only a handful of regiments from a slave state, the First Delaware would pay a higher price than many for the cost of restoring a broken country.
TheyFoughtfortheUnion:AHistoryof theFirstDelawareVolunteersintheArmy ofthePotomacby Jeffrey R .Biggs
ISBN# 978-0986361517
Largely forgotten in post-Civil War memory, TheyFought theUnionrevisits these border state soldiers through wealth of untapped sources, personal accounts and soldier's diaries while always placing these conflicted soldiers into the larger context of the Army of the Potomac's struggles in the Eastern Theatre of the war. From the original recruitment as a three-month regiment the end of the conflict four years later, the author's candid retelling of these extraordinary and oftentimes flawed men is riveting.
ISBN#
Nearly twenty years after the close war, members of the First Delaware Regiment Association requested that its original adjutant, Captain William Penn Seville, prepare a history of the regiment's exploits in the late war. This revised edition of Seville's manuscript, while maintaining the dialogue and prose of the original, adds context to Seville's history by adding new voices to the work from other soldiers letters, diaries and accounts of the battles as they experienced it. New content uncovered during research on this fascinating regiment has been added in the form of footnotes and appendices.
William Penn Seville's History of the First Delaware Volunteers by William P. Seville, ed. by Jeffrey R. Biggs
978-0986361517
Lincoln in the Telegraph Room
By
DURING THE CHALLENGING DAYS ABRAHAM LINCOLN FOUND
AMONG THE TELEGRAPH OPERATORS FROM THE TELEGRAPH ROOM
By the Telegraph operator
DAYS OF THE CIVIL WAR, PRESIDENT MUCH-NEEDED PEACE AND SOLACE OPERATORS AS HE MANAGED THE WAR ROOM AT THE WAR DEPARTMENT.
David Bates
THE FOLLOWING VIGNETTES ARE FROM LINCOLNINTHE TELEGRAPHROOM: RECOLLECTIONSOF THEUNITEDSTATES MILITARYTELEGRAPH CORPSDURINGTHE CIVILWARBY DAVID HOMER BATES (1907). THE COMPLETE UNEDITED VERSION CAN BE FOUND HERE.
THE DIARY AND DAILY JOURNAL OF DAVID BATES HAS BEEN DIGITALIZED AND AVAILABLE HERE.
FOR ADDITONAL READING:
THE ENIGMATIC PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN SPENT NUMEROUS HOURS IN THE WAR DEPARTMENT'S TELEGRAPH OFFICE DURING THE CIVIL WAR, WHERE HE CLOSELY MONITORED DEVELOPMENTS ON THE FRONT. DAVID HOMER BATES, ONE OF THE FIRST MILITARY TELEGRAPHERS HAND-SELECTED FOR THE JOB, HAD A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY TO WITNESS THE PRESIDENT IN ACTION AS HE MANAGED THE WAR WHILE STILL IN THE CAPITAL. HERE, WE SHARE SOME OF THESE COMPELLING SCENES.
Lincoln in the Telegraph Office
When in the telegraph office, Lincoln was most easy of access. He often talked with the cipher-operators, asking questions regarding the despatches which we were translating from or into Lincoln’s habit was to go immediately to the drawer each time he came into our room, and read over the telegrams, beginning at the top, until he came to the one he had seen at his last previous visit. When this point was reached he almost always said, "Well, boys, I am down to raisins." After we had heard this curious remark a number of times, one of us ventured to ask him what it meant. He thereupon told us the story of the little girl who celebrated her birthday by eating very freely of many good things, topping off with raisins for dessert. During the night she was taken violently ill, and when the doctor arrived she was busy casting up her accounts. The genial doctor, scrutinizing the contents of the vessel, noticed some small black objects that had just appeared, and remarked to the anxious parent that all danger was past, as the child was "down to raisins."
"So," Lincoln said, "when I reach the
message in this pile which I saw on my last visit, I know that I need go no further." In the White House, Lincoln had little or no leisure, but was constantly under a severe strain from which, as he often told us, he obtained welcome relief by his frequent visits to the telegraph office, which place was in fact his haven of rest, his Bethany. There only was he comparatively free from interruption and he would frequently remain for hours, and sometimes all night, awaiting news that might mean so much to the country, and in the intervals of waiting he would write messages of inquiry, counsel and encouragement to the generals in the field, to the governors of the loyal states and sometimes despatches announcing pardon or reprieve to soldiers under sentence of death for desertion or sleeping on post. He almost lived in the telegraph office when a battle was in progress, and on other occasions would drop in, as he sometimes jocosely remarked, to get rid of the pestering crowd of office-seekers.
Panic in the Capital, July 1861
On Sunday, July 21, when the battle of Bull Run was fought, the military telegraph line had reached Fairfax Courthouse, and an improvised office had been opened at that point. Communication with General McDowell’s headquarters at the front was maintained by means of a corps of mounted couriers, organized by Andrew Carnegie, under the immediate direction of William B. Wilson, who then served as our manager. These couriers passed back and forth all day long between Fairfax and the front. Lincoln hardly left his seat in our office and waited with deep anxiety for each succeeding dispatch. At times during the awful day, General Scott would confer with the President or Secretary Cameron for a short period, and then depart to put into effect some urgent measures for
protecting the capital. Wilson says of these events:
"The group was composed of President Lincoln, Secretaries Seward, Cameron, Chase, Welles, Attorney General Bates, General Mansfield, Colonels Townsend, Van Rensselaer, Hamilton and Wright of Lieutenant-General Scott's staff, and Colonel Thomas A. Scott. With maps of the field before them they watched, as it were, the conflict of arms as it progressed, at the same time keeping up a running desultory conversation."
All the morning and well along into the afternoon, McDowell's telegrams were more or less encouraging, and Lincoln and his advisers waited with eager hope, believing that Beauregard was being pushed back to Manassas Junction; but all at once the dispatches ceased coming. At first this was taken to mean that McDowell was moving farther away from the telegraph, and then, as the silence became prolonged, a strange fear seized upon the assembled watchers that perhaps all was not well. Suddenly the telegraph instrument became alive again, and the short sentence, "Our army is retreating," was spelled out in the
Morse characters. This brief announcement was followed by meager details concerning the first great disaster that had befallen our troops and the panic that followed. The crowded telegraph office was quickly deserted by all except the operators, but Lincoln returned at intervals until after midnight, and shortly afterward the outlying office at Fairfax Courthouse was abandoned. When morning dawned, our demoralized troops began to straggle, and then to pour, in an ever increasing stream of frightened humanity over Long Bridge into Washington, the immediate capture of which seemed then to be, and really was, within the power of the Confederate army, if only they had pressed their advantage. Consternation reigned supreme, and all realized that a great crisis of the war, the next after Sumter, was upon us. The dark clouds that settled time upon Lincoln's wrinkled brow were destined never to lift their heavy weight, except for that all too brief period of exaltation, before his tragic ending, when Grant had pushed Lee to Appomattox, and Richmond was at last in our hands.
LEFT: AT JUST 18 YEARS OLD, DAVID HOMER BATES WORKED IN THE TELEGRAPH DEPARTMENT OF THE PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD. WHEN SUMMONED BY THE FUTURE INDUSTRIALIST ANDREW CARNEGIE, WHO WAS THEN A RAILROAD SUPERINTENDENT, BATES WAS ORDERED TO PROMPTLY REPORT TO WASHINGTON FOR TELEGRAPH WORK WHERE HE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO VIEW THE PRESIDENT ON A DAILY BASIS.
THIS 1844 TELEGRAPH KEY IS BELIEVED TO BE FROM THE FIRST BALTIMOREWASHINGTON TELEGRAPH LINE.
Anxious days in August 1862
There were many times when Lincoln remained in the telegraph office till late at night, and occasionally all night long. One of these occasions was during Pope's short but disastrous campaign, ending in the second battle of Bull Run. Lincoln came to the War Department office several times on August 26, the first of those strenuous, anxious days, and after
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Bates: Library of Congress
Telegraph: National Museum of American History
Suddenly the telegraph instrument became alive again, and the short sentence, "Our army is retreating," was spelled out in the Morse characters.
supper he came again, prepared to stay all night, if necessary, in order to receive the latest news from Pope, who was at the front, and from McClellan, who was at Alexandria. Hour after hour of the long night passed with no news from the front until just before dawn, when the following was received:
August 27, 1862, 4:25 a.m. A. Lincoln, President: Intelligence received within twenty minutes informs me that the enemy are advancing and have crossed Bull Run bridge; if it is not destroyed, it probably will be. The forces sent by us last night held it until that time. H. Haupt.
Lincoln, who was still keeping vigil with the telegraph operators, at once penned this answer:
August27,1862.ColonelHaupt: What became of our forces which held the bridge till twenty minutes ago, as you say? A. Lincoln.
Receiving no reply immediately, Lincoln telegraphed again:
War Department, August 27, 1862. Colonel Haupt: Is the railroad bridge over Bull Run destroyed ? A. Lincoln
To this Colonel Haupt replied, the following day:
August 28, 1862. President Lincoln: .
. . Colonel Scammon held Bull Run Bridge a long time against a very superior force, retired at last in perfect order. H. Haupt.
During the next few days, Lincoln sent other brief messages of inquiry to Colonel Haupt, upon whom he, as well as Secretary Stanton and General Halleck, seemed to depend for early information far more than upon Pope or McClellan, as shown by the following additional telegrams:
War Department, Aug. 28, 1862, 2:40 p.m.Col.Haupt:Yoursreceived. How do you learn that the rebel forces at Manassas are large and commanded by severalof their best generals? A. Lincoln.
August 28, 1862. President Lincoln: One of Colonel Scammon's surgeonswas captured and released; he communicated the information.One of our firemen was captured and escaped; he confirms it and gives important details. General McClellan has just seen him. ... H. Haupt.
August29,1862.ColonelHaupt: What news from direction of Manassas Junction? Whatgenerally?A.Lincoln. August 29, 1862. President Lincoln and General Halleck: General Pope was at Centreville this morning at six o'clock. Seemed to be in good spirits.H. Haupt.
August 30, 1862, 9:00 a.m. Colonel : What news? A.Lincoln.
August 30, 1862, 8:50 p.m. Colonel Haupt: Please send me the latest news. A. Lincoln.
August30,1862. A.Lincoln,President: Our operator has reached Manassas. Hears no firing of importance. . . . We have reestablished telegraphic communication with Manassas. . . . . ..Ourtelegraphoperatorsandrailway employees are entitled to great credit. They have been advanced pioneers, occupying the posts of danger; and the exploit of penetrating to Fairfax and bringing off the wounded when they supposed that 20,000 rebels were on their front and flanks, was one of the boldest performances I have ever heard of. H. Haupt.
August 31, 1862, 7:10 a.m. Colonel Haupt:Whatnews? Did you hear any firing this morning? A. Lincoln.
August 31, 1862. President Lincoln: No news received as yet this morning.
Firing heard distinctly in direction of Bristoe at six o'clock. H. Haupt.
And so the anxious hours passed, with "Lincoln in the Telegraph Office" on the watch until it was known that for the second time our army had met defeat on the fatal field of Bull Run.
Gettysburg and Vicksburg
Lee’s invasion of Maryland in June had greatly increased the anxiety felt by the President, especially as communication with our army was frequently interrupted. All the news we received dribbled over a single line of wire via Hagerstown; and when Meade's headquarters were pushed beyond that place through the necessity of following Lee's advance, we lost telegraphic connection altogether, only regaining it by the Hanover Junction route, a day or two later. From that point to Hanover there was a railroad wire. Thence to Gettysburg the line was on the turnpike, and the service was poor and desultory. Lincoln was in the telegraph office hour after hour during those anxious days and nights, until, on
THIS WARTIME IMAGE SHOWS THE WAR DEPARTMENT, SITUATED ONE BLOCK FROM THE WHITE HOUSE AT 17TH STREET AND PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. THE PHOTOGRAPH IS FROM BATE'S LINCOLNINTHE TELEGRAPHOFFICE AND INCLUDES A MALTESE CROSS MARKING THE TWO WINDOWS WHERE THE TELEGRAPH OPERATORS WORKED, ONE ON EACH SIDE OF THE CROSS.
FASCINATED AT A YOUNG AGE BY THE EMERGING TECHNOLOGY OF THE TELEGRAPH, THOMAS ECKERT WAS AN EARLY OPERATOR WITH THE MORSE TELEGRAPH COMPANY. HE WAS APPOINTED A MAJOR TO THE STAFF OF GEORGE MCCLELLAN DURING THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. IN SEPTEMBER 1862, HE WAS ASSIGNED TO THE WAR DEPARTMENT, WHERE HE WOULD PERSONALLY GET TO KNOW THE PRESIDENT. DURING CHALLENGING DAYS, LINCOLN WOULD SPEND HOURS MONITORING THE DISPATCHES AT ECKERT'S DESK IN THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE.
earned victory by allowing Lee's army to escape across the Potomac. So he still kept close to the telegraph instrument during the succeeding days. But even after leaving the office his thoughts returned to it lest something should be left undone to insure decisive success, for at 7 p.m. on July 6 he sent a telegram from the Soldiers Home to General Halleck saying:
"Ileft the telegraph office a good deal dissatisfied....Thesethingsallappear to me to be connected with a purpose to . . . get the enemy across the river again without a further collision."
When Lincoln came to the office the next morning, he received Grant's dispatch announcing the capture of Vicksburg with many thousand prisoners, and this welcome
news coming so soon after Meade's victory at Gettysburg revived his spirits and led him eight days later to issue his second thanksgiving proclamation, naming August 6 as a "day for national thanksgiving, praise and prayer." Nevertheless, Lincoln's thoughts were still with Meade, and in his note to General Halleck stating that Vicksburg had surrendered he said:
". . . Now, if General Meade can complete his work so gloriously prosecuted thus far, by the literal or substantial destruction of Lee's army, the rebellion will be over."
Notwithstanding the urgency of the telegrams from Lincoln and Halleck, Meade did not seem disposed to hurry, but, finally, on July 12, his dispatch reached the War Department stating his "intention to attack the enemy tomorrow, unless something intervenes." My colleague, Chandler, relates that when this message was received by Lincoln, he paced the room wringing his hands and saying: "They will be ready to fight a magnificent battle when there is no enemy there to fight." Lee recrossed the Potomac that night, and Meade did not attack him, and on July 15, the very day on which the thanksgiving proclamation was issued, Lincoln wrote his historic despatch to ex- Secretary Cameron, then at Meade's headquarters, saying:
" . . . Please tell me, if you know, who was the one Corps Commander who was for fighting, in the council of war on Sunday night. "
Abraham Lincoln wrote the first draft of the Emancipation Proclamation while seated at Thomas Eckert's desk in the cipherroom of the War Department telegraph office. Some of the incidents connected with the writing of that immortal document were recorded by Eckert, as follows:
"As you know, the President came to the office every day and invariably sat at my desk while there. Upon his arrival early one morning in June, 1862, shortly after McClellan's 'Seven Days' Fight,' he asked me for some paper, as he wanted to write something special. I procured some foolscap and handed it to him. He then sat down and began to write. I do not recall whether the sheets were loose or had been made into a pad. There must have been at least a quire. He would look out of the window a while and then put his pen to paper, but he did not write much at once. He would study between times and when he had made up his mind he would put down a line or two, and then sit quiet for a few minutes. After a time he would resume his writing, only to stop again at intervals to make some remark to me or to one of the cipheroperators as a fresh despatch from the front was handed to him.
"Once his eye was arrested by the sight of a large spider-web stretched from the lintel of the portico to the side of the outer window-sill. This spider-web was an institution of the cipher-room and harbored a large colony of exceptionally big ones. We frequently watched their antics, and Assistant Secretary Watson dubbed them 'Major Eckert's lieutenants.' Lincoln commented on the web, and I told him that my lieutenants would soon report and pay their respects to the President. Not long after a big spider appeared at the cross-roads and tapped several times on the strands, whereupon five or six others came out from different directions. Then what seemed to be a great confab took place, after which they separated, each on a different strand of the web. Lincoln was much interested in the performance and thereafter, while working at the desk, would often watch for the appearance of his visitors.
"On the first day Lincoln did not cover one sheet of his special writing paper (nor indeed on any subsequent day). When ready to leave, he asked me to take charge of what he had written and not allow any one to see it. I told him I would do this with pleasure and would not read it myself. 'Well,' he said, 'I should be glad to know that no one will see it, although there is no objection to your looking at it; but please keep it locked up until I call for it tomorrow.' I said his wishes would be strictly complied with.
"When he came to the office on the following day he asked for the papers, and I unlocked my desk and handed them to him and he again sat down to write. This he did nearly every day for several weeks, always handing me what he had written when ready to leave the office each day. Sometimes he would not write more than a line or two, and once I observed that he had put question marks on the margin of what he had written. He would read over each day all the matter he had previously written and revise it, studying carefully each sentence.
"On one occasion he took the papers away with him, but he brought them back a day or two later. I became much interested in the matter and was impressed with the idea that he was engaged upon something of great importance, but did not know what it was until he had finished the document and then for the first time he told me that he had been writing an order giving freedom to the slaves in the South, for the purpose of hastening the end of the war. He said he had been able to work at my desk more quietly and command his thoughts better than at the White House, where he was frequently interrupted. I still have in my possession the ink stand which he used at that time and which, as you know, stood on my desk until after Lee's surrender. The pen he used was a small barrel-pen made by Gillott — such as were supplied to the cipher-operators."
THE FINAL TELEGRAM ON PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S LEGACY WAS A STARK ONE, DICTATED BY THE SECRETARY OF WAR, EDWIN STANTON: "ABRAHAM LINCOLN DIED THIS MORNING AT 22 MINUTES AFTER SEVEN." THE TELEGRAM WAS SOON ISSUED TO THE PRESS AND DISSEMINATED THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY.
Lincoln's Kindly Nature
General Eckert has recently told me the following incident which well illustrates Lincoln's kindly nature.
On his way to the telegraph office early one morning in April 1864, just before Grant started on the Wilderness Campaign, Lincoln observed in the hall a young woman who seemed to be in great distress. She carried a baby in her arms and was pacing to and fro and crying. The President asked Eckert to go out and see the woman and learn the cause of her trouble. This was done, the major reporting that the woman had come to Washington thinking she could get a pass to the front to enable her to visit her husband, and let him see his child, who had been born since the father enlisted ; but she had learned that she would not be allowed to go to the army.
Lincoln said, "Major, let's send her down."
Eckert replied that strict orders had been given to let women go to the front. Stanton,
entering the office at the time and seeing the evident sympathy of Lincoln for the woman in her trouble, said, "Why not give her husband a leave of absence to allow him to see his wife in Washington?"
The President replied: "Well, come, let 's do that. Major, you write the message."
But Eckert said the order must be given officially, and Lincoln replied: "All right, Major; let Colonel Hardie (Assistant Adjutant-General) write the order and send it by telegraph, so the man can come right up."
Colonel Hardie wrote the message, which was telegraphed to the Army of the Potomac, and when the sorrowing woman was informed of what had been done, she came into the office to express her gratitude to the President. Lincoln then asked her where she was stopping. She said that she had not yet found a place, having come direct from the railroad station to the White House, and then to the War Department. Lincoln then directed Eckert to obtain an order from Colonel Hardie to allow the young mother and her baby to be taken care of in Carver Hospital until her husband arrived. This was done, and the soldier was allowed to remain with his wife and child for over a week before returning to his regiment.
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all things civil war.
During the summer and fall of 1864, Lieutenant Edmund Townsend, the regimental quartermaster of the 3rd Delaware, penned a series of letters to his brothers, Samuel and John Townsend, during the siege of Petersburg. His letters serve as a fascinating insight into the mind of an independent and somewhat cynical minded staff officer who had his share of scrapes with the army command. Lt. Townsend, considered middle-aged at the age of forty-five, rails in his letters about army politics and martinet generals. When not pining for his discharge, Townsend describes his experiences as a witness to the trenchlike fighting along the Petersburg line, the City Point explosion and the 1864 presidential election. The following selections of letters date from Cold Harbor on June 8, 1864 until Townsend's discharge in January 1865.
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LEFT: A CONFIDENT APPEARING CAPTAIN
ROBERT BEECHAM TAKEN C. 1864 AFTER ACCEPTING A COMMISION LEADING THE 23RD USCT.
RIGHT: A STUDIO PORTRAIT SHOWS A GAUNT ROBERT BEECHAM, LIKELY TAKEN AFTER ONE OF HIS TWO PRISON STINTS.
AN ABOLITIONIST AT BULL RUN
AN ACCOUNT OF THE FIRST BATTLE OF RUN
BY ROBERT BEECHAM, 2ND WISCONSIN
"I enlisted on May 10th, 1 86 1, in company H, Second
Wisconsin."
TheSecond Wisconsin was a three-year regiment, and one of the first mustered into the service of the United States in the war of the rebellion.
From the date of my enlistment until sometime in June we put in the time learning the art of war, hoping all the time that we would not be called upon to practice the art to any great extent. On June 11th, 1861, we were mustered into the United States service, and nine days later, we started for Washington, DC. And that time we enjoyed, to some extent, the pomp of war.
The country through which we passed was full of enthusiasm and the people seemed to wave us on, as if it were glory and not years of bitter war that awaited us. We stopped one day at Harrisburg PA where we received our arms - old Harpers Ferry, smoothbore muskets - which we loaded afterward in the day of battle, with one ball and three buckshot to each piece, with powder sufficient behind ball and buckshot to
drive them out of the gun barrel at the same time nearly knocked the life out of the man who stood behind the gun.
When we marched through Baltimore, we loaded our pieces and fixed bayonets, as a precautionary measure. In those days Baltimore was a hotbed of treason, and on that march through the city the people delighted our ears with cheers for Jeff Davis; but they carefully refrained from the use of brickbats and stones, so we had no occasion to use our muskets; but the demonstration did not auger an early peace, by any means.
We arrived in Washington all safe and sound, and the latter part of June, and then camped for several days in the outskirts of the national capital, which at that time, was nothing more or less than a great, overgrown village.
On July 2nd our regiment crossed the Potomac River by the way of Long Bridge, into the state of Virginia. We were there brigaded with the 69th, 79th and if any memory serves me, the 13th New York. The 69th was a famous Irish regiment, commanded by Colonel
THE FOLLOWING EXCERPT OF ROBERT BEECHAM'S MEMOIR APPEARED IN NATIONALTRIBUNE POPULAR NEWSPAPER FOLLOWED BY VETERANS, IN THE AUGUST 14, 1902 EDITION.
IN 2007, ROWMAN AND LITTLEFIELD PUBLISHED THE SERIALIZED MEMOIR IN FULL IN ASIF WEREGLORY:ROBERT BEECHAM'SCIVIL WARFROMTHEIRON BRIGADETOTHE BLACKREGIMENTS , EDITED BY MICHAEL E. STEVENS.
LEFT: A CONFIDENT APPEARING CAPTAIN ROBERT BEECHAM TAKEN C. 1864 AFTER ACCEPTING A COMMISION LEADING THE 23RD USCT.
FindaGrave,databaseandimages (https://www.findagrave.com/ memorial/13640168/robert_k-beecham: accessedAugust11,2024),memorial pageforCaptRobertK.Beecham(25 Mar1838–13Sep1920),FindaGrave MemorialID13640168,citingEvergreen Cemetery,Everett,SnohomishCounty, Washington,USA;MaintainedbyC•P
THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN, JULY 21, 1861. THE MODEL CARRIED "BUCK AND BALL" WHICH WAS A .69 ROUND BALL WITH THREE ROUNDS OF BUCKSHOT.
RIGHT: WILLIAM TECHUMSEH SHERMAN AS HE APPEARED IN MAY 1865 WITH A BLACK RIBON OF MOURNING NOTING THE ASSASINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. LINCOLN PROMOTED SHERMAN TO BRIGADIER GENERAL OF VOLUNTEERS AFTER THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN AND ASSIGNED HIM TO DUTY IN THE WEST.
honored with the command of this brigade of four regiments of volunteers, that this is Sherman’s first important command, he was just as proud of his four superb regiments as an old hen could possibly be with four broods of chickens.
National Museum of American History; National Archives, Record Group 11
Sherman’s brigade was assigned to General Tyler’s division, and further than that we knew but little about the organization of the army. Of course, we knew that General Scott was the general-in-chief, or in supreme command, with headquarters in Washington, while General McDowell commanded the army in the field; that Sherman’s brigade was part of Tyler’s division, and that there were other divisions in McDowell’s army; but we had very little knowledge of the situation, and I presume no army ever went into the field and into battle more completely unqualified to perform intelligently the duties of soldiers and officers. There was but little if any time to drill or study the art of war, for the Confederacy had taken the initiative and confronted us with an army better prepared for a campaign than we were, and that army actually threatened the capital; so we were obliged to put in our time building fortifications and preparing defenses. All that portion of Virginia opposite Washington seemed covered with woods, and the labor required in felling the thousands of
we occupied this position, but the bulk of our time was taken up with hard work in making the position of Washington more secure, until the advance of McDowell’s army began.
About the middle of July the Bull Run campaign opened. The Second Wisconsin and two or three others were three-year regiments, there were also a few two year troops, but the bulk of their army was composed of three month’s men, whose terms of enlistment would expire within the next 30 days, or the middle of August. Therefore, if McDowell’s army was to capture Richmond and end the rebellion, it was necessary for it to make a forward
An Abolitionist at Bull Run
Robert K. Beecham was born in New Brunswick, Canada, on March 25, 1838. When he was seven years old, his parents moved to Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, where he lived until adulthood. He was an advocate of the anti-slavery movement and joined James Lane's "border ruffians" in Kansas at the age of eighteen, fighting against pro-slavery elements. When the Civil War broke out, Beecham enlisted with the 2nd Wisconsin Volunteers, which became part of the famous "Iron Brigade." He was promoted to corporal and participated in the Battle of Gettysburg, where he was captured during the retreat through the town. He was later exchanged in 1863. While in captivity at Belle Island, Beecham was inspired by the burgeoning USCT troops and after his release was promoted to captain in the USCT. He recruited African-Americans from the Baltimore and D.C. area and led them as part of the 23rd USCT. He was captured again while leading troops at the Battle of the Crater on July 30, 1864, and paraded through the streets of Petersburg as a prisoner of war. Eight months later, he managed to escape from a prison camp in South Carolina known as "Camp Asylum" by tunneling out and made his way back to Annapolis.
Afterthe war, Beecham lived in Minnesota before moving back to Nebraska and then returning to Wisconsin. He worked as a lawyer and newspaper editor and gained some recognition for his poetry and philosophical writing. His memoirs of his Civil War experiences were published in serial form in the National Tribune starting in 1902, including this account of the First Battle of Bull Run, which was published in the August 14, 1902 edition. He passed away in Wisconsin in 1920 and was survived by his wife and three children.
RIGHT: "THE LITTLE CREOLE," P.G.T. BEAUREGARD, RECEIVED A HERO'S WELCOME AFTER THE FIRST BULL RUN DESPITE BEING DEMOTED TO CORPS COMMAND THE DAY BEFORE THE BATTLE. HE WAS PROMOTED TO FULL GENERAL AFTER THE BATTLE AND IMMEDIATELY DISPATCHED TO THE WEST.
OPPOSITE: THIS STUDIO PORTRAIT, AGAINST A PAINTED BACKGROUND, SHOWS A GAUNT ROBERT BEECHAM, LIKELY TAKEN AFTER ONE OF HIS TWO PRISON STINTS.
" I presume no army ever went into the field and into battle more completely unqualified to perform intelligently the duties of soldiers and officers."
movement without further delay, while we had soldiers to do the fighting, a fight should become necessary. So, the military authorities seem to reason, and the army moved out on its first great campaign. Sherman's brigade was encamped along the Warrenton Pikethe main thoroughfare leading to Centreville and Manassas - about a mile west of Fort Corcoran. We were supplied with good, comfortable wall tents, but when we started on that campaign, we left our encampment in charge of a Lieutenant and, probably 100 sick and convalescent soldiers. As we had no such thing as shelter tents in those days, each soldier rolled a woolen inside of a rubber blanket, which served for both bed and shelter, except, on rare occasions, where we took shelter beneath a bush or slept under a rail.
The Confederate army, under the command of Beauregard, did not seem to dispute our advance at first, and abandoned the defenses at Centerville, retiring behind Bull Run.
On the afternoon of July 18th Tyler’s division encountered the enemy and the Blackburn’s Ford, where we had our first skirmish, in which the Second Wisconsin lost one man.
Tyler's division did not gain a lodgment on the west bank of the Run and withdrew from the contest at that place. For the next two days McDowell’s army lay along the eastern bank of Bull Run, while he perfected his plans and prepared for a general battle. Beauregard stood on the defensive, and the sluggish waters of Bull Run wound their course between the opposing armies.
On Sunday July 21st, the first great battle of the Civil War, known in history as “The First Bull Run,” was fought, lasting about six or seven hours. Sherman's brigade had it very comfortable at first, and many of us thought our general was a born strategist.
From our camp, near the Warrington Pike, between Centreville and Cubb Run, Sherman marched us down the Pike, crossing Cub Run, and arriving near the stone bridge, which crosses Bull Run, where he led us to the right into a grand old forest which, with its friendly foliage, sheltered us from the scorching rays of the July sun until about 11:00 AM. We held
National Archives; Wisconsin Historical Society
that position in fine shape (we could have held a longer) until Hunters division had made a wide detour to the right, crossing Bull Run at Sudley’s Ford, far up the creek, thus striking Beauregard on the flank and opening the battle with apparent advantage to McDowell.
During the hours we held our position in the woods in the vicinity of Stone Bridge we were amused and encouraged by an occasional shot fired by a large 32-pounder smoothbore gun - the only big gun in McDowell’s army. This was planted in a commanding position near Stone Bridge, and for several hours Sherman’s brigade had nothing to do but watch the effect of the bursting shells thrown by it from time to time within the lines of the enemy.
After Hunter struck Beauregard's left in the battle had waxed hot in that direction for an hour or two, some military genius discovered that Sherman’s brigade might be used to
better advantage than supporting a one-gun battery on the safe side of the Bull Run, and forthwith we received orders to advance. Then Sherman moved his brigade at a double quick along the eastern shore of Bull Run for a mile or two. Once he halted us, not to rest, but to point us in late marching order, and to that end he ordered us to pile up our blankets and have our sacks in a convenient place by the wayside, where we it might return in camp for the night when the battle was over - then we knew of a certainty that he was a born strategist, or, if not at that moment, we knew it a few hours later when night closed in upon us and the whole brigade could not muster a single hard-tack, to say nothing about blankets.
After getting rid of our cumbersome blankets and useless provisions, we increased our speed, and shortly after arrived at Poplar Ford, pretty well fagged down, for the day was
THE FIRST SHOTS OF THE BATTLE WERE WITNESSED BY PRIVATE ROBERT BEECHAM AND THE SECOND WISCONSIN AS THEY PROTECTED THE STONE BRIDGE SPANNING BULL RUN. IN MARCH 1862, THE BRIDGE WAS DESTROYED BY THE RETREATING CONFEDERATE ARMY AFTER EVACUATING THEIR CAMPS IN MANASSAS.
Library of Congress
hot. At Popular Ford we waded the run, about waist deep in water, which was exceedingly refreshing. Once across the run, we moved over the fields in the direction of the Warrenton Pike, which we reached at a point in the valley where Spring Creek crosses the Pike where stood a stone house that was used for a hospital. From this point we moved up the hill eastward toward the stone bridge and went into battle.
Our brigade line extended across the turnpike and nearly at right angles with it, while the enemy seemed to be posted between our position and Bull Run. For a time, the battle seemed to progress favorably. The enemy was supposed to be in our front, but in the confusion that was not an easy manner to locate his position. When our line ceased to advance there was no well-defined battle line of the enemy opposing us, that I
could discover, but we halted all the same, and continued to blaze away with our old smoothbore muskets.
About this time the smoke of battle became thick and the confusion great, and I lost all trace of General Sherman, not seeing him again until we had returned to the defenses of Washington. I also lost track of our Lieutenant Colonel commanding this Second Wisconsin. Our Colonel, A. Park Coon, was on General Tyler’s staff, and Lieutenant Colonel Peck commanded our regiment in his stead that.
Colonel Peck was calculated by nature for a great military leader. He knew the duties of enlisted soldiers and was aware of the fact that officers were created out of superior clay, and therefore, always insisted that soldiers should not forget to doff their hats when they came into the presence of their superiors. It was said that Colonel Peck displayed superior leadership shortly after we went into the battle, by leading straight out to rearward. Whether or not that report was true, I cannot say; but I know that I never saw our gallant lieutenant colonel again. He was not killed that day, neither was he wounded nor a prisoner of war, and he arrived safely in Washington at an earlier hour the next morning, but when we returned to our camp, later in the day, our Lieutenant Colonel commanding was not there to welcome us, and we took our hats off in his magnificent presence no more forever.
This battle, called the First Bull Run to distinguish it from another fought on the same ground a little more than a year later, was never considered a very glorious affair, so far as it applied to the Union army. The strategy was deficient in some important particulars, but neither General Sherman nor his brigade were the only parties at fault.
Our battle losses, as compared with the wholesale slaughter of modern battles, prove that it was a small affair - a mere skirmish, but little fighting was done on either side. My regiment lost about 150 men and Sherman’s brigade sustained nearly 1/4 of the entire loss McDowell’s army, which was 401 killed and
1.071 wounded the Confederates lost 387 killed and 1582 wounded.
The retreat began sometime during the afternoon, probably about 4:30. I never learned just why we retreated, and I'm not sure that anyone knew. It began in this way: After blazing away with our kicking muskets until the exercise became monotonous, we ceased firing and fell back down the hill to the Creek that ran through the valley, to get a drink. While there we leisurely filled our canteens. Then, as it was getting toward night, it occurred to some of the boys that our blankets and haversacks were not safe where we had stored them, or would not be after dark - besides, we would need our haversacks about supper time, and our blankets before retiring for the night, and they concluded that would be the proper thing to do to go back and get them, and back they started. Some historians say we ran, but that's false. There was no enemy insight - nothing to run from, and nothing to run after, except our supper in beds, and it was not likely that we ran for fun, but it seemed easier to retreat than to advance dash it generally does on the
battlefield.
In retiring from the field, we recrossed Bull Run above the Ford where we crossed it in the morning, but struck the Warrenton Pike again between stone bridge and cub run. When I reached the bridge over the latter stream, lo and behold! There was that big 32-pounder that Sherman’s brigade had supported so gloriously all the forenoon, broken down and abandoned in the center of the highway, blocking the crossing of the bridge. Behind the gun along the turnpike stood a whole battery, guns, caissons and all, in complete order, but no horses and no artillery men. I learned, later, that the artillerymen had taken their horses down to the run to water them and soon after returned for their battery, which they secured alright, in fact, never intended to leave it there; but the old 32-pounder was not removed from the position where I last saw it as I crossed the bridge over Cub Run, until it was removed by Beauregard’s men a day or two later. This was the source of great rejoicing on part of the southern confederacy for months after. In capturing that old gun, which was of less actual value on the field than one must get well handled, Beauregard thought he had won the independence of the Confederacy.
I reached our old campground, west of Centerville, a little before sunset, but the ground was all that remained to us; for on our return trip from the battlefield we missed the locality where we had so carefully stored our blankets and haversacks at the request of General
RETREAT FROM BULL RUN, THE SIGHT OF CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN, A WELL-KNOWN WAR CORRESPONDENT, IN A PANICSTRICKEN STATE, OFFERED SOME MUCH-NEEDED COMIC RELIEF TO ROBERT BEECHAM. "I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT SIGHT WITHOUT BURSTING INTO LAUGHTER," HE RECALLED. THE NATIONALTRIBUNE PUBLISHED THIS ILLUSTRATION AS IT
TheNationalTribune , August 14, 1902.
TOP: THIS PHOTOGRAPH CAPTURES THE BRASS BAND OF THE SECOND WISCONSIN INFANTRY AS THEY APPEARED IN 1861. BY THE BEGINNING OF 1862, THE BAND HAD BEEN REDUCED TO FEWER THAN SIXTEEN MUSICIANS, IN LINE WITH THE TYPICAL DOWNSIZING OF REGIMENTAL BANDS DURING THAT TIME.
"It was said that Colonel Peck displayed superior leadership shortly after we went into the battle, by leading straight out to rearward... we took our hats off in his magnificent presence no more."
Sherman, and we were truly orphans in a strange land.
While we were preparing our campground for a night's rest, who should dash along the pike headed towards Washington but a whole brigade or division of congressmen and newspaper correspondents, who had gone out with the army and carriages to see the fun, and, having seen enough to satisfy them, were going home. Most of them had lost their carriages and were mounted on horseback, having left the harness on just as they unhitched, in order that they might have something to cling to, and they were clinging fast enough. There was one newspaper man in the division by the name of Carleton, who wrote a great deal about the battle and the retreat afterward, having reviewed the battle from afar, as he “stood on the roof of a house near stone bridge.” I believe he lived in New York, for some of the 69th boys seemed to recognize him, and as the cavalcade dashed down the pike, one of them remarked to a comrade, as he pointed out a gallant horseman with a huge roll of manuscript in his pocket and a bunch of quills over his ear, while his soft felt hat stood for a saddle: “do you mind that foin-looking late lad and lads on the whole gang there Barney? Well that's Carlton, he writes for the papers and is one of the raciest correspondents in the army.”
To which his comrade may reply, “begore Pat I believe you right he's the racist of that gang at events.” I'm not sure that Carlton soft felt hat felt soft, but it must have been some improvement on the bare back of a harnessed steed.
We cheered and laughed till the tears ran down our cheeks as long as the cavalcade was insight, and to the day of my death I shall never be able to recall the vision without laughing.
This cavalcade reached Washington early the next morning, safe and sound, but a little sore. From them it leaked out and gradually worked into the papers that “McDowell's army was panic stricken!”
We had settled for the night in our improvised camp when we were aroused by the bugle call which sounded fall in. It seemed that a council of war had been called by General McDowell, which, by common consent, had resolved itself into a council of retreat, where it was soon decided to begin the retreat to the defenses of Washington that night; in fact, there is nothing from McDowell to do but retreat, as they terms of a enlistment of half his army would expire within a week. There is no time to issue rations, and General Sherman obtained leave to put his brigade in the advance, next to the congressional
"Cut
William Battle
CuttoPieces"
William Howard Russell at the Battle of First Bull Run
IRIGHT: THE RETREAT OF THE FEDERAL ARMY UNDER GENERAL MCDOWELL IS DEPICTED HERE, SHOWING THE PANIC AMONG THE TEAMSTERS AND A GENERAL STAMPEDE TOWARDS ARLINGTON HEIGHTS.
BOTTOM RIGHT: WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL, WAR CORRESPONDENT
WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL'S ACCOUNT OF THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN WAS FOUND IN MANY NORTHERN NEWSPAPERS. THE TEXT HERE IS FROM THE REBELLION RECORD
sit down to give an account — not of the action yesterday, but of what I saw with my own eyes, hitherto not often deceived, and of what I heard with my own ears, which in this country are not so much to be trusted. Let me, however, express an opinion as to the affair of yesterday. In the first place, the repulse of the Federalists, decided as it was, might have had no serious effects whatever beyond the mere failure — which politically was of greater consequence than it was in a military sense — but for the disgraceful conduct of the troops. The retreat on their lines at Centreville seems to have ended in a cowardly rout — a miserable, causeless panic. Such scandalous behavior on the part of soldiers I should have considered impossible, as with some experience of camps and armies I have never even in alarms among campfollowers seen the like of it. How far the disorganization of the troops extended, I know not; but it was complete in the instance of more than one regiment. Washington this morning is crowded with soldiers without
officers, who have fled from Centreville, and with "three months' men," who are going home from the face of the enemy on the expiration of their term of enlistment. The streets, in spite of the rain, are crowded by people with anxious faces, and groups of wavering politicians are assembled at the corners, in the hotel passages, and the bars. If, in the present state of the troops, the Confederates were to make a march across the Potomac above Washington, turning the works at Arlington, the Capitol might fall into their hands. Delay may place that event out of the range of probability.
The North will, no doubt, recover the shock. Hitherto she has only said, “Go and fight for the Union.” The South has exclaimed, “Let us fight for our rights." The North must put its best men into the battle, or she will inevitably fail before the energy, the personal
WILLIAM HOWARD
RUSSELL'S ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN WAS CARRIED BY MOST NATIONAL NEWSPAPERS. THE EXCERPT USED IN THIS ARTICLE IS FROM THE REBELLION RECORD WHICH CAN BE FOUND FOUND HERE.
THE PRESS PASS ISSUED BY GENERAL SCOTT TO W.H. RUSSELL WOULD HAVE APPEARED SIMILAR TO THE ONE SHOWN HERE. IT WAS ISSUED TO WILLIAM CONANT CHURCH, A CORRESPONDENT OF THENEWYORKTIMES .
Previous spread: Library of Congress
Smithsonian Institution, National Museum of American History, Graphic Arts Collection
"The troops are green, and no one can tell what may happen."
hatred, and the superior fighting powers of her antagonist. In my letters, as in my conversation, I have endeavored to show that the task which the Unionists have set themselves is one of no ordinary difficulty; but in the state of arrogance and supercilious confidence, either real or affected to conceal a sense of weakness, one might as well have preached to the pyramid of Cheops. Indeed, one may form some notion of the condition of the public mind by observing that journals conducted avowedly by men of disgraceful personal character — the be-whipped, and bekicked, and unrecognized pariahs of society in New York — are, nevertheless, in the very
midst of repulse and defeat, permitted to indulge in ridiculous rhodomontade toward the nations of Europe, and to move our laughter by impotently malignant attacks on “our rotten old monarchy,” while the stones of their brand-new Republic are tumbling about their ears. It will be amusing to observe the change of tone, for we can afford to observe and to be amused at the same time.
On Saturday night I resolved to proceed to Gen. McDowell's army, as it was obvious to me that the repulse at Bull Run and the orders of the General directed against the excesses of bis soldiery indicated serious defects in his army — not more serious, however, than I had reason to believe existed. How to get out was the difficulty. The rumors of great disaster and repulse had spread through the city. The livery stable keepers, with one exception, refused to send out horses to the scene of action — at least the exception told me so. Senators and Congressmen were going to make a day of it, and all the vehicles and horses that could be
procured were in requisition for the scene of action. This curiosity was aroused by the story that McDowell had been actually ordered to make an attack on Manassas, and that Gen. Scott had given him till 12 o'clock to be master of Beauregard's lines. If Gen. Scott ordered the attack at all, I venture to say he was merely the mouthpiece of the more violent civilians of the Government, who mistake intensity
of feeling for military strength.
The consequences of the little skirmish at Bull Run, ending in the repulse of the Federalists, were much exaggerated, and their losses were put down at any figures the fancy of the individual item who was speaking suggested. "I can assure you, sir, that the troops had 1,500 killed and wounded; I know it," I went off to the headquarters, and there Gen. Scott's aide informed me that Gen. McDowell's official report gave 6 killed and 37 wounded. The livery keepers stuck to the 1,500 or 2,000. The greater the number horsdecombat , the higher the tariff for the hire of quadrupeds. All I could do was to get a kind of cabriolet, with a seat in front for the driver, to which a pole was affixed for two horses, at a Derby-day price, a strong led horse, which Indian experiences have induced
me always to rely upon in the neighborhood of uncertain fighting. I had to enter into an agreement with the owner to pay him for horses and buggy if they were "captured or injured by the enemy," and though I smiled at his precautions, they proved not quite unreasonable. The master made no provision for indemnity in the case of injury to the driver, or the colored boy who rode the saddlehorse. When I spoke with officers at Gen. Scott's headquarters of the expedition, it struck me they were not at all sanguine about the result of the day, and one of them said as much as induced me to think he would advise me to remain in the city, if he did not take it for granted it was part of my duty to go to the scene of action. An English gentleman who accompanied me was strongly dissuaded from going by a colonel of cavalry on the staff, because, he said, "the troops are green, and no one can tell what may happen." But my friend got his pass from Gen. Scott, who was taking the whole affair of Bull Run and the pressure of the morrow's work with perfect calm, and we started on Sunday morning — not so early as we ought, perhaps, which was none of my fault — for Centreville, distant about 25 miles southwest of Washington. I purposed
TOP: THE THREE MONTHS MEN OF THE THIRD CONNECTICUT WERE ATTACHED TO TYLER'S DIVISION OF MCDOWELL'S ARMY BUT SAW LITTLE ACTION IN THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN. THEIR TOTAL LOSSES, INCLUDING SICKNESS, AMOUNTED TO FIVE. MANY OF THESE MEN REENLISTED, HOWEVER, SO THEIR FATES ARE UNKNOWN.
LEFT: A BRITISH CARTOON IMAGE WHICH APPEARED IN PUNCHOF WILLIAM HOWARD RUSSELL PURSUING HIS LITERARY CRAFT IN THE FIELD.
ThePhotographicHistoryofthe CivilWar,V.1(1911); Punch Magazine , October 8, 1881
IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE WAR, THE LONG BRIDGE, OVER WHICH THE ROAD TO ALEXANDRIA PASSED, IN THE EVENING THE VIRGINIA SIDE WAS GUARDED BY A COMPANY OF FLYING ARTILLERY WITH THE DRAW RAISED IN FRONT OF THEM. IN THE DAYLIGHT HOURS TRAVEL WAS UNOBSTRUCTED WITH WAGONS PASSING FREELY. THE BRIDGE WAS ONE MILE LONG WITH THE WIDTH OF THREE CARRIAGES WITH DRAWS ON BOTH THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA SIDE AND VIRGINIA SIDE.
Harper'sWeekly,May 18, 1861
starting in the beautiful moonlight, so as to arrive at McDowell's camp in the early dawn; but the aides could not or would not give us the countersign over the Long Bridge, and without it no one could get across until after 5 o'clock in the morning. When McDowell moved away, he took so many of the troops about Arlington that the camps and forts are rather denuded of men. I do not give, as may be observed, the names of regiments, unless in special cases — first, because they possess little interest, I conceive, for those in Europe who read these letters; and secondly, because there is an exceedingly complex system — at least to a foreigner — of nomenclature in the forces, and one may make a mistake between a regiment of volunteers and a regiment of State militia of the same number, or even of regulars in the lower figures. The soldiers lounging about the forts and over the Long Bridge across the Potomac were an exceedingly unkempt, "loafing" set of fellows, who handled their firelocks like pitchforks and spades, and I doubt if some of those who read or tried to read our papers could understand them, as they certainly did not speak English. The Americans possess
excellent working materials, however, and I have had occasion repeatedly to remark the rapidity and skill with which they construct earthworks. At the Virginia side of the Long Bridge there is now a very strong tetedepont , supported by the regular redoubt on the hill over the road. These works did not appear to be strongly held, but it is possible men were in the tents near at hand, deserted though they seemed, and at all events reinforcements could be speedily poured in if necessary.
Thelong and weary way was varied by different pickets along the road, and by the examination of our papers and passes at different points. But the country looked vacant, in spite of crops of Indian corn, for the houses were shut up, and the few indigenous people whom we met looked most blackly under their brows at the supposed abolitionists. This portion of Virginia is well wooded, and undulating in heavy, regular waves of field and forest; but the roads are deeply cut, and filled with loose stones, very disagreeable to ride or drive over. The houses are of wood, with the usual negro huts adjoining them, and the specimens of the race which I saw were
Mr. Russell goes to Washington
Inthe 1850s during the Crimean War, William Howard Russell, who grew up in Dublin as a burly street fighter, became well-known as one of the first modern war correspondents while writing for the British newspaper TheTimes . Known for his fearlessness and the annoying habit of reporting the truth, he naturally often alienated powerful people. He was criticized for his vanity and Eurocentric bias, particularly by the American press, for his condescending attitude towards Americans. When he met Mary Lincoln, Russell candidly described her as "plain," with ordinary features, and a homely appearance and manner.
Although Russell didn't cover the American Civil War as extensively as he did the Crimean War, he was in the United States at the start of the war. He wrote detailed pieces describing the events in the capital in the spring of 1861, the march to Manassas, and the devastating loss of the Union army at the Battle of First Bull Run.
Despite disagreement with the prevailing belief in Great Britain that the Southern forces would prevail, the War Department issued press credentials to Russell to accompany the Union army in their search for the war's first battle somewhere south of Washington, D.C. Russell's account of the retreat upset many in Washington, who saw it as a breach of courtesy. In his writing on the retreat, Russell described it as having "no parallel in any description I have ever read." He seemed to take the retreat as a personal affront, claiming that the Americans had somehow dishonored their Anglo-Saxon heritage. By recounting stories of officers being driven to the rear in ambulances and the local population being delighted with reports of a Confederate victory, Russell became unwelcome in the circles of the capital, which led to his early departure from American battlefields to British lecture halls.
RECRUITED FROM NORRISTOWN, THE 4TH PENNSYLVANIA ENLISTED IN APRIL 1861 AND SAW ITS ONLY COMBAT CASUALTIES DURING PICKET DUTY ON JUNE 30. THEIR THREE-MONTH TERM EXPIRED ON JULY 20; WHILE SOME WERE WILLING TO STAY, MOST CHOSE TO MUSTER OUT ON THE PRESCRIBED DATE. MANY NOTED THEIR DEPARTURE BEFORE THE BATTLE, INCLUDING THE ASTUTE CORRESPONDENT RUSSELL. TO THEIR CREDIT, MANY IN THE THREE-MONTH REGIMENT ELECTED TO REENLIST AND WERE ORGANIZED IN NOVEMBER 1861 UNDER THE BANNER OF THE 51ST PENNSYLVANIA WHICH SERVED WITH DISTINCTION FOR THE REST OF THE WAR. THE NATIONAL COLORS OF THE 51ST PENNSYLVANIA, WORSE FOR WEAR AFTER FOUR YEARS OF USE, IS SHOWN TO THE RIGHT.
"We're going home because the men's time is up. We have had three month's of this work."
well-dressed, and not ill-looking. On turning into one of the roads which leads to Fairfax Courthouse, and to Centreville beyond it, the distant sound of cannon reached us. That must have been about 9:30 a.m. It never ceased all day; at least, whenever the rattle of the gig ceased, the booming of cannon rolled through the woods on our ears. One man said it began at 2 o'clock, but the pickets told us it had really become continuous about 7:30 or 8 o'clock. In a few minutes afterward, a body of men appeared on the road, with their backs toward Centreville, and their faces toward Alexandria. Their march was so disorderly that I could not have believed they were soldiers in an enemy's country — for Virginia hereabout is certainly so — but for their arms and uniform. It soon appeared that there was no less than an entire regiment marching away, singly or in small knots of two or three, extending for some three or four miles along the road. A Babel of tongues rose from them, and they were all in good spirits, but with an air about them I could not understand. Dismounting at a stream where a group of thirsty men were drinking and halting in the shade, I asked an officer, "Where are your men going, sir?"
"Well, I reckon, sir, there is."
"We're going home," he added after a pause, during which it occurred to him, perhaps, that the movement required explanation — "because the men's time is up. We have had three months of this work."
Pennsylvania Civil War Battle Flags, PA Capital Preservation Committe, http://cpc.state.pa.us
"Well, we're going home, sir, I reckon, to Pennsylvania." It was the 4th Pennsylvania Regiment, which was on its march, as I learned from the men.
“I suppose there is severe work going on behind you, judging from the firing?"
I proceeded on my way, ruminating on the feelings of a General who sees half a brigade walk quietly away on the very morning of an action, and on the frame of mind of the men, who would have shouted till they were hoarse about their beloved Union — possibly have hunted down any poor creature who expressed a belief that it was not the very quintessence of everything great and good in government, and glorious and omnipotent in arms — coolly turning their backs on it when in its utmost peril, because the letter of their engagement bound them no further. Perhaps the 4th Pennsylvania were right but let us hear no more of the excellence of three months' service volunteers. And so we left them. The road was devious and difficult. There were few persons on their way, for most of the Senators and Congressmen were on before us. Some few commissariat wagons were overtaken at intervals. Wherever there was a house by the roadside, the negroes were listening to the firing. All at once a terrific object appeared in the wood above the trees — the dome of a church or public building, apparently suffering from the shocks of an earthquake, and heaving to and fro in the most violent manner. In much doubt we approached as well as the horses' minds would let us and discovered that the strange thing
was an inflated balloon attached to a car and wagon, which was on its way to enable Gen. McDowell to reconnoiter the position he was then engaged in attacking — just a day too late. The operators and attendants swore as horribly as the warriors in Flanders, but they could not curse down the trees, and so the balloon seems likely to fall into the hands of the Confederates. About 11 o'clock we began to enter on the disputed territory which had just been abandoned by the Secessionists to the Federalists in front of Fairfax Court House. It is not too much to say, that the works thrown up across the road were shams and make-believes, and that the Confederates never intended to occupy the position at all, but sought to lure on the Federalists to Manassas, where they were prepared to meet them. Had it been otherwise, the earthworks would have been of a different character, and the troops would have had regular camps and tents, instead of bivouac huts and branches of trees. Of course, the troops of the enemy did not wish to be cut off, and so they had cut down trees to place across the road and put some fieldpieces in their earthworks to
command it. On no side could Richmond be so well defended. The Confederates had it much at heart to induce their enemy to come to the strongest place and attack them, and they succeeded in doing so. But, if the troops behaved as ill in other places as they did at Manassas, the Federalists could not have been successful in any attack whatever.
Itwas noon when we arrived at Fairfax Court House — a poor village of some 30 or 40 straggling wooden and brick houses, deriving its name from the building in which the Circuit Court of the county is held, I believe, and looking the reverse of flourishing — and one may remark, obiter , that the state of this part of Virginia cannot be very prosperous, inasmuch as there was not a village along the road up to this point, and no shops or depots, only one mill, one blacksmith and wheelwright. The village was held by a part of the reserve of McDowell's force, possibly 1,000 strong. The inhabitants were, if eyes spoke truth, secessionists to a man, woman and child, and even the negroes looked extra black, as if they did not care
THIS IMAGE OF A NORTHERN VIRGINIA FAMILY WITH A LADEN WAGON PULLED BY MULES WOULD HAVE BEEN SIMILAR TO THOSE ENCOUNTERED BY W.H. RUSSELL. THIS PHOTOGRAPH WAS DISPLAYED IN MATTHEW BRADY'S ALBUM GALLERY WITH THE FOLLOWING ENCRYPTION: "AND TREMBLING, SHRINKING FROM THE SPOILER'S HAND, FAR, FAR AWAY, THEY CHILDREN LEAVE THE LAND."
Library of Congress
THE NEWS OF THE APPROACHING BATTLE AT BULL RUN ON JULY 21, 1861, ATTRACTED A DIVERSE GROUP OF SIGHTSEERS AND ONLOOKERS FROM WASHINGTON D.C. THEY WERE EAGER TO WITNESS THE DEFEAT OF THE REBEL ARMY AND THE END OF THE CRISIS. HOWEVER, THE RETREAT OF GENERAL MCDOWELL'S ARMY AND THEIR HURRIED RETURN TO THE CAPITAL BECAME THE SUBJECT OF LEGEND. CORRESPONDENT W.H. RUSSELL'S REPORT PROVIDED THE INITIAL COVERAGE OF THIS DISASTROUS EVENT. Library of Congress
about being fought for. A short way beyond this village, Germantown, the scene of the recent excesses of the Federalists, afforded evidence in its blackened ruins that Gen. McDowell's censure was more than needed. The chimney stacks, being of brick, are the sole remains of the few good houses in the village. Here our driver made a mistake, which was the rather persisted in, that a colored chattel informed us we could get to Centreville by the route we were pursuing, instead of turning back to Germantown, as we should have done. Centreville was still seven miles ahead. The guns sounded, however, heavily from the valleys. Rising above the forest tops appeared the blue masses of the Alleghanies, and we knew Manassas was somewhere on an outlying open of the ridges, which reminded me in color and form of the hills around the valley of Baidar. A Virginian who came out of a cottage, and who was assuredly no descendant of Madame Esmond, told us that we were "going wrong right away." There was, he admitted, a byroad somewhere to the left front, but people who had tried its depths had returned to Germantown with the conviction
that it led to any place but Centreville. Our driver, however, wished to try "if there were no Seseshers about?"
"What did you say?" quoth the Virginian. "I want to know if there are any Secessionists there."
"Secessionists!" (in a violent surprise, as if he had heard of them for the first time in his life.)
"No, Sir-ee, Secessionists indeed!"
And all this time Beauregard was pounding away on our left front, some six or seven miles off. The horses retraced their steps, the colored youth who bestrode my charger complaining that the mysterious arrangement which condemns his race to slavery was very much abraded by the action of that spirited quadruped, combined, or rather at variance with the callosities of the English saddle. From Germantown, onward by the right road, there was nothing very remarkable. At one place a group of soldiers were buying "Secession money" from some negroes, who looked as if they could afford to part with it as cheaply as men do who are dealing with other people's property. Buggies and wagons
On the hill there were carriages and vehicles drawn up as if they were attending a small country race. They were afterwards engaged in a race of another kind.
with cargoes of senators, were overtaken. The store cars became more numerous. At last Centreville appeared in sight — a few houses on our front, beyond which rose a bald hill — the slopes covered with bivouac huts, commissariat carts and horses, and the top crested with spectators of the fight. The road on each side was full of traces of Confederate camps; the houses were now all occupied by Federalists. In the rear of the hill was a strong body of infantry — two regiments of foreigners, mostly Germans, with a battery of light artillery. Our buggy was driven up to the top of the hill. The colored boy was dispatched to the village to look for a place to shelter the horses while they were taking a much required feed, and to procure, if possible, a meal for himself and the driver. On the hill there were carriages and vehicles drawn up as if they were attending a small country race. They were afterwards engaged in a race of another kind. In one was a lady with an opera glass; in and around and on others were legislators and politicians. There were also a few civilians on horseback, and on the slope of the hill a regiment had stacked arms and was engaged in looking at and commenting on the battle below. The landscape in front was open to the sight as far as the ranges of the Alleghanies, which swept round from the right in blue mounds, the color of which softened into violet in the distance. On the left the view was circumscribed by a wood, which receded along the side of the hill on which we stood to the plain below. Between
the base of the hill, which rose about 150 feet above the general level of the country, and the foot of the lowest and nearest elevation of the opposite Alleghanies, extended about five miles, as well as I could judge, of a densely wooded country, dotted at intervals with green fields and patches of cleared lands. It was marked by easy longitudinal undulations, indicated by the form of the forests which clothed them, and between two of the more considerable ran small streams, or "runs," as they are denominated, from the right to the left. Close at hand a narrow road descended the hill, went straight into the forest, where it was visible now and then among the trees in cream-colored patches. This road was filled with commissariat wagons, the white tops of which were visible for two miles in our front.
Onour left front a gap in the lowest chain of the hills showed the gap of Manassas, and to the left and nearer to me lay the "Junction" of the same name, where the Alexandria Railway unites with the rail from the west of Virginia and continues the route by rails of various denominations to Richmond. The scene was so peaceful, a man might well doubt the evidence of one's sense that a great contest was being played out below in bloodshed, or imagine, as Mr. Seward sometimes does, that it was a delusion when he wakes in the morning and finds there is civil war upon him. But the cannon spoke out loudly from the green bushes, and the plains below were mottled, so to speak, by puffs of
FOR ADDITONAL
READING ON CIVIL WAR CORRESPONDENTS:
ABOHEMIANBRIGADE BY JAMES M. PERRY, (JAMES WILEY & SONS, 2000)
THENORTHREPORTS THECIVILWARBY J. CUTLER ANDREWS, (UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH PRESS, 1955)
CAMPAIGNSOFA NON-COMBATANT BY GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND, ED. BY JEFFREY R. BIGGS (HARDTACK BOOKS, 2024)
THE BEST-LAID PLANS OF GENERAL IRWIN MCDOWELL AND HIS STAFF, DEPICTED HERE ON THE STEPS OF ARLINGTON HOUSE, WERE THWARTED ON THE PLAINS OF MANASSAS ON JULY 21, 1861.
smoke and by white rings from bursting shells and capricious howitzers. It was no review that was going on beneath us. The shells gave proof enough of that, though the rush of the shot could not be heard at the distance. Clouds of dust came up in regular lines through the tree tops where infantry were acting, and now and then their wavering mists of light blue smoke curled up, and the splutter of musketry broke through the booming of the guns. With the glass I could detect, now and then, the flash of arms through the dust clouds in the open, but no one could tell to which side the troops who were moving belonged, and I could only judge from the smoke whether the gunfire toward or away from the hill. It was evident that the dust in the distance on our right extended beyond that which rose from the Federalists. The view toward the left,
as I have said, was interrupted, but the firing was rather more heavy there than on the front or right flank, and a glade was pointed out in the forest as the beginning of Bull or Poole's Bun, on the other side of which the Confederates were hid in force, though they had not made any specific reply to the shells thrown into their cover early in the morning. There seemed to be a continuous line, which was held by the enemy, from which came steady solid firing against what might be supposed to be heads of columns stationed at various points or advancing against them. It was necessary to feed the horses and give them some rest after a hot drive of some 26 or 27 miles, or I would have proceeded at once to the front. As I was watching the faces of the Senators and Congressmen, I thought I had heard or read of such a scene as this — but there was much more to come. The soldiers, who followed each shot with remarks in English or German, were not as eager as men generally are in watching a fight. Once, as a cloud of thick smoke ascended from the trees, a man shouted out, "That's good; we've taken another battery: there goes the magazine." But it looked like, and I believe was, the explosion of a caisson. In the midst of our little reconnaissance, Mr. Vizetelly, who has
been living, and indeed marching, with one of the regiments as artist of The Illustrated LondonNews , came up and told us the action had been commenced in splendid style by the Federalists, who had advanced steadily, driving the Confederates before them — a part of the plan, as I firmly believe, to bring them under the range of their guns. He believed the advantages on the Federal side were decided, though won with hard fighting, and he had just come up to Centreville to look after something to eat and drink, and to procure little necessaries, in case of need, for his comrades. His walk very probably saved his life. Having seen all that could be discerned through our glasses, my friend and myself had made a feast on our sandwiches in the shade of the buggy; my horse was eating and resting, and I was forced to give him half an hour or more before I mounted, and meantime tried to make out the plan of battle, but all was obscure and dark. Suddenly up rode an officer, with a crowd of soldiers after him, from the village.
"We've whipped them on all points!" He shouted. "We've taken their batteries, and they're all retreating!"
Such an uproar as followed! The spectators and men cheered again and again, amid cries of "Bravo" "Bully for us!" "Didn't I tell you so?" and guttural "hochs" from the Deutschland folk, and loud "hurroors" from the Irish.
movement among the large four wheeled tilt wagons, which raised a good deal of dust. My attention was particularly called to this by the occurrence of a few minutes afterward. I had met my friends on the road, and after a few words, rode forward at a long trot as well as I could past the wagons and through the dust, when suddenly there arose a tumult in front of me at a small bridge across the road, and then I perceived the drivers of a set of wagons with the horses turned toward me, who were endeavoring to force their way against the stream of vehicles setting in the other direction. By the side of the new set of wagons there were a number of commissariat men and soldiers, whom at first sight I took to be the baggage guard. They looked excited and alarmed and were running by the side of the horses — in front the dust quite obscured the view. At the bridge the currents met in wild disorder.
"Turn back! Retreat!" shouted the men from the front.
"We're whipped! we're whipped!"
They cursed, and tugged at the horse's heads, and struggled with frenzy to get past. Running by me on foot was a man with the shoulder-straps of an officer.
"Pray, what is the matter, sir?"
"It means we're pretty badly whipped, and that's a fact," he blurted out in puffs, and continued his career.
A UNUSED PAPER WRAPPED CHARGE FOUND ON THE BULL RUN BATTLEFIELD AND LEFT IN HASTE BY A RHODE ISLAND CAVALRYMAN WITH THE HAND-WRITTEN INK INSCRIPTION: "CARRIED ONTO THE FIELD AT THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN, JULY 21, 1861."
mentioned set out to walk toward the front — the latter to rejoin his regiment, if possible, the former to get a closer view of the proceedings. As I turned down into the narrow road or lane already mentioned, there was a forward
caught up the cry. "Turn back — turn your horses!" was the shout up the whole line, and, backing, plunging, rearing, and kicking, the horses which had been proceeding down the road, reversed front and went off
American Civil War Museum
Drivers flogged, lashed, spurred, and beat their horses or leaped down and abandonded their teams and ran by the side of the road.
toward Centreville. Those behind them went madly rushing on, the drivers being quite indifferent whether glory or disgrace led the way, provided they could find it. In the midst of this extraordinary spectacle, an officer, escorted by some dragoons, rode through the ruck with a light cart in charge. Another officer on foot, with his sword under his arm, ran up against me.
"What is all this about?"
"Why, we're pretty badly whipped. We're all in retreat. There's General Tyler there, badly wounded." And on he ran. There came yet another, who said, "We're beaten on all points. The whole army is in retreat." Still there was no flight of troops, no retreat of an army, no reason for all this precipitation. True, there were many men in uniform flying toward the rear, but it did not appear as if they were beyond the proportions of a large baggage escort. I got my horse up into the field out of the road and went on rapidly towards the front. Soon I met soldiers, who were coming through the corn, mostly without arms; and presently I saw firelocks, cooking-tins, knapsacks, and greatcoats on the ground, and observed that the confusion and speed of the baggage carts became greater, and that many of them were crowded with men, or were followed by others, who clung to them. The ambulances were crowded with soldiers, but it did not look as if there were many wounded. Negro servants on led horses dashed frantically past; men in uniform, whom it were a disgrace to the profession of arms to call " soldiers," swarmed by on mules, chargers, and even draught horses, which had been cut out of carts or wagons, and
went on with harness clinging to their heels, as frightened as their riders. Men literally screamed with rage and fright when their way was blocked up.
On I rode, asking all, "What is all this about?" and now and then, but rarely, receiving the answer, "We're whipped," or, "We're repulsed."
Faces black and dusty, tongues out in the heat, eyes staring — it was a most wonderful sight. On they came, like him,
"Who,havingonceturnedround,goes on,Andturnsnomorehishead.Forhe knoweththatafearfulfiendDothclose behindhimtread."
But where was the fiend? I looked in vain. There was, indeed, some cannonading in front of me and in their rear, but still the firing was comparatively distant, and the runaways were far out of range. As I advanced, the number of carts diminished, but the mounted men increased, and the column of fugitives became denser. A few buggies and light wagons filled with men, whose faces would have made up "a great Leporello" in the ghost scene, tried to pierce the rear of the mass of carts, which were now solidified and moving on like a glacier. I crossed a small ditch by the roadside, got out on the road to escape some snake fences, and, looking before me, saw there was still a crowd of men in uniforms coining along. The road was strewn with articles of clothing — firelocks, waist-belts, cartridge-boxes, caps, greatcoats, mess-tins, musical instruments, cartridges, bayonets and sheaths, swords and pistols — even biscuits, water-bottles, and pieces of meat. Passing a white house by the
roadside, I saw, for the first time, a body of infantry with sloped arms marching regularly and rapidly towards me. Their faces were not blackened by powder, and it was evident they had not been engaged. In reply to a question, a non-commissioned officer told me in broken English, "We fell back to our lines. The attack did not quite succeed." This was assuring to one who had come through such a scene as I had been witnessing. I had ridden, I suppose, about three or three and a half miles from the hill, though it is not possible to be sure of the distance; when, having passed the white house, I came out on an open piece of ground, beyond and circling which was forest. Two fieldpieces were unlimbered and guarding the road; the panting and jaded horses in the rear looked as though they had been hard worked, and the gunners and drivers looked worn and dejected. Dropping shots sounded close in front through the woods; but the guns on the left no longer maintained their fire. I was just about to ask one of the men for a light, when a sputtering fire on my right attracted my attention, and out of the forest or along the road rushed a number of men. The gunners seized the trail of the nearest piece to wheel it round upon them; others made for the tumbrils and horses as if to fly, when a shout
was raised, "Don't fire; they're our own men," and in a few minutes on came pell-mell a whole regiment in disorder. I rode across one and stopped him.
"We're pursued by cavalry," he gasped, "they've cut us all to pieces."
THE PAINTING CAPTUREOFRICKETT'S BATTERY , DEPICTING ACTION DURING THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN. THE BATTERY WAS OVERRUN AFTER BEING MET WITH CONFEDERATE CANNON, SMALL ARMS FIRE AND AN INFANTRY ASSAULT.
As he spoke, a shell burst over the column; another dropped on the road, and out streamed another column of men, keeping together with their arms, and closing up the stragglers of the first regiment. I turned, and to my surprise saw the artillerymen had gone off, leaving one gun standing by itself. They had retreated with their horses. While we were on the hill, I had observed and pointed out to my companions a cloud of doubt which rose through the trees on our right front. In my present position that place must have been on the right rear, and it occurred to me that after all there really might be a body of cavalry in that direction; but Murat himself would not have charged these wagons in that deep, well-fenced lane. If the dust came, as I believe it did, from field artillery, that would be a different matter. Any way it was now well established that the retreat had really commenced, though I saw but few wounded men, and the regiments which were falling Sidney E. King, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
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and journalistic cavalry, as his men were minus blankets and provisions and some of them being three-year troops, their lives were worth saving. We learned, also in that mysterious way through which knowledge is often gained in camp, that General Sherman had this very retreat in contemplation when he instructed us to pile our blankets and haversacks on the Bull Run, so that we might be laid afoot and fleet as the wind for the home stretch. Sherman's brigade took its place in advance of the infantry, and during that memorable night march we would have kept in sight of the flying calvary, but for thick darkness that concealed them from view. Soon it began to rain, a gentle mist at first, then a drizzle, and by daylight it was coming down in fine shape. On our homeward march we did not sing as much as we did on the advance, but we made better time period in fact it was the old camp before breakfast, after which we might sing again
We reached camp in sections, from 9:00 to 11:00 in the forenoon of July 22nd and I had the honor of being among the first. Our comrades who remained behind in charge of the camp, had caught a glimpse of the congressional calvary an hour or two earlier in the day, and heard the voice of Carleton as he shouted in passing: “the whole army is panicked stricken.” Then they put on the camp kettles and prepared coffee and hard tack and such other articles of food as they could obtain, for our refreshment. Immediately after breaking our 24 hour fast we seem to hear a voice of command saying: “to your tents oh Second Wisconsin, and we got there.” When we retired to our tents, we
hoped to enjoy season of sleep and repose, after our long and weary march; but about noon we were aroused from our slumbers, not to partake of a nicely prepared dinnerno, and really I never learned exactly for what purpose we were aroused. I intended to ask General Sherman why it was, but the general left us and went west before I found the opportunity. However, we received orders to gather up everything we possessed, and forming in line, we abandoned our camp and were marched to Fort Corcoran, where, we stood around in the rain and mud all the afternoon, while our unoccupied tents, only a mile away, were supposed to be in such dangerous proximity to Beauregard’s victorious army, the advance outposts which reach Centreville sometime the next day. That our wise general deemed it prudent to sacrifice our camp, if necessary, but to save the fort at all hazards, that was the grandest display of military sagacity that came under my notice during the war.
About 100 yards distant from Fort Corcoran there stood an old barn from which the weather boarding had been stripped, the frame and roof were still intact. As he shades of evening began to gather over the hills of Virginia, the orphans of the Second Wisconsin began to gather beneath the roof of that lowly asylum, which afforded us not standing room for all, but even a prospect to shelter with some relief from the pelting rain. It did not seem possible that General Sherman, or whoever might be in control of affairs, would keep us standing around there all night. The strategy of leaving our blankets and provisions on the banks of Bull Run was hard enough, but leaving our comfortable tents unoccupied, only a mile away, we stood out in the rain or crowded into an old dilapidated barn
for shelter the live long night, seen beyond reason. Therefore, I stood outside with two of my teammates, without making an attempt to secure shelter beneath the crowded roof, until almost dark, hoping that we would either be marched back to our camp or order our tents brought up. Finally, I said to my comrades: “boys we must hunt cover.” A few yards from where we stood the end of an old plank protruded from the barnyard filth, which lead we followed and quickly unearthed not one, but two very dirty, but sound substantial planks, foot or more in width and about 16 feet long. To clean these planks was but the work of a moment, but to elevate them into the lofty from being to beam above the heads of our comrades crowded therein like sardines in a box, was not so easily accomplished. With us, however, it was no roost, no shelter; and after a victorious push we succeeded. Then drawing up our guns, cartridge boxes and other meager belongings, we perched ourselves upon our improvised balcony in the shelter of that old roof tree, like birds of paradise in the green branches, above and beyond the reach of the alligators and anacondas of the Amazon. Perhaps we did not enjoy that night of peaceful rest, we three who were above the clouds, so to speak. If Beauregard’s army had penetrated our lines at night and had to run up against us, we were in a position to fix them plenty. On the whole, our position both for comfort and for defense, in case of an attack, was far ahead and greatly more strategic than it could possibly have been had we remained in camp.
The next morning our quartermaster hustled around and found a few boxes of heart attack and some Switzer cheeses, upon which we breakfast. About 10:00 the rain ceased, and a scouting party that had been sent out to reconnoiter returned and reported that our camp had not been captured by Beauregard during
the night, but was still standing, where we left it. Then a party with teams was detailed to bring up our tents, and we established camp in a position where we could protect the fort. After that we put our camp in order and began in earnest to prepare for war.
Two days later, I think, on the 25th of July, Abraham Lincoln, in company with Secretary of State Seward, visited the army in Virginia, on which occasion I had the opportunity of seeing the president for the first time. Mr. Lincoln was then in the full strength and vigor of manhood, and although he was not what people would call a handsome man, there was stamped on his face a fresh, vigorous, healthy and courageous look that inspired confidence. We had just suffered a severe and humiliating defeat, and the discouraging fact was beginning to appear plainly that we had on our hands a Great War that would require every resource of the nation to prosecute to a successful issue, and we certainly needed some encouragement. It was good to be impressed with the fact that the president on whose shoulders rested this mighty burden of war, with its vast train of results, either for weak or for woe to the people of a hemisphere, was not discouraged with the outlook.
Mr. Seward stood up in the president's carriage and made quite a speech to the soldiers, and which he gave us plenty of taffy; but Mr. Lincoln did not make a speech; He only said in a mild, gentle way, that he had confidence in the ability of the patriotism of the American people and their volunteer army to meet and overcome every enemy of the Republic, and to reestablish the government and flag bequeath us by the fathers in every part and portion of our country. The soldiers gathered around the
president's carriage, all anxious to shake hands with him, and they kept him handshaking until he must have been extremely tired. I felt like shaking hands with Mr. Lincoln myself, although not given to demonstrations of that kind in a crowd, but on second thought it seemed best not to assist in wearing the poor man's life out, so i did not offer my hand, and never had the opportunity to shaking hands with him.
During the years of war that followed I saw Mr. Lincoln many times, and every time I noticed that the lines of care upon on his face grew deeper, as the burden of war became heavier from month to month and from year to year.
Shortly after this visit from the president, General Sherman went west, to assume some higher command than a brigade, and I did not see him again until years after the war. Sherman became a great commander and strategist before the war ended, as every man of his old brigade knew he would from the moment he gave us the order to dump our blankets and rations on the banks of the Bull Run.
Imet General Sherman once after the war, sometime during the early 90’s, at a national encampment of the GAR held in the city of Milwaukee WI. There was present at the time a great gathering of people, especially ex-soldiers of the civil war, from all over the country, who were holding reunions galore. There were unions of armies, of course, of divisions, or brigades, of regiments and of companies. There were reunions of the survivors of campaigns, of the survivors of battles, of the survivors of prisons and the survivors of hospitals. So, on meeting General Sherman at that encampment, I suggested to him that it was an opportune time to hold a reunion of his old brigade. That if he,
as its old commander, would issue a call, surely it would enthuse every member of that grand old organization present in the city. But really, the general seemed not at all interested nor pleased with its suggestion. He said that “notwithstanding the fact that he himself would greatly enjoy such a reunion, he thought it quite impossible after the lapse of so many years to get a sufficient number together to make such reunion interesting.” I suggested that the lapse of the years was not wider in relation to Sherman’s than any other brigade organized in 1861, but, if he feared such a reunion would be too small to be pleasant, he might make the call for a union of the survivors of the first Bull Run, which would not fail to draw a large attendance.
At this point the general begged that I would excuse him for an hour or two, as he had an important engagement, but he would see me later, and in the meantime, I might look around among the comrades and learn about how many Bull Run survivors I could find. Of course, I excused the general, and he left me - he also left me with a lingering suspicion that he was not very enthusiastic over the reunion idea; at least, so far as it related to Sherman’s brigade or the survivors of Bull Run; but, hoping that he honestly wanted my assistance in this matter, I inquired diligently, as he'd suggested, with the result that I was unable to find a man outside my own regiment who participated at all in that “First Campaign” - that is on the union side. I found 75 or 80 ex-Confederates there, every one of them laid great stress on the fact that he was a survivor of the first Bull Run
Among the boys of my old company and regiment I found a dozen or more, who were on the sick and convalescent list, and guarded and held our camp near Fort Corcoran during the Bull Run Campaign, and who remembered
distinctly the fagged and furloughed appearance presented by those who returned from the battle on the fore noon of July 22nd 1861; but when I suggested the propriety of holding a reunion of Sherman's brigade, as our old commander was then with us, they replied “aren't you a little off? Sherman commanded in the West. We were never in his brigade.” The upshot of it all was, we held no reunion of Sherman’s brigade nor the survivors of the first Bull Run. What is more, I did not again meet General Sherman, for he seemed to have other and more important business on hand. If he was ashamed of his old brigade and the part he took in our first campaign, so far as I was able to discover, the feeling was reciprocated.
Since the encampment I presume I have met thousands of exConfederates who were survivors of the first Bull Run and could tell me more of its glories than I dreamed it possessed. No wonder we were beaten. The Confederates were all there. But never in all these years have I met a Union soldier who was there and am therefore convinced that they have all passed over the dark river. Now General Sherman is dead also, and on the Union side I am, when I hope to remain for many years to come, the sole survivor of our first campaign.
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back had not suffered much loss. No one seemed to know anything for certain. Even the cavalry charge was a rumor. Several officers said they had carried guns and lines, but then they drifted into the nonsense which one reads and hears everywhere about "masked batteries." One or two talked more sensibly about the strong positions of the enemy, the fatigue of their men, the want of a reserve, severe losses, and the bad conduct of certain regiments. Not one spoke as if he thought of retiring beyond Centreville. The clouds of dust rising above the woods marked the retreat of the whole army, and the crowds of fugitives continued to steal away along the road. The sun was declining, and some thirty miles yet remained to be accomplished ere I could hope to gain the shelter of Washington. No one knew whither any corps or regiment was marching, but there were rumors of all kinds — "The 69th are cut to pieces," "The Fire Zouaves are destroyed," and so on. Presently a tremor ran through the men by whom I was riding, as the sharp reports of some fieldpieces rattled through the wood close at hand. A sort of subdued roar, like the voice of distant breakers, rose in front of us, and the soldiers, who were, I think, Germans, broke into a double, looking now and then over their shoulders. There was no choice for me but to resign any further researches. The mail from Washington for the Wednesday steamer at Boston leaves at 2:30 on Monday, and so I put my horse into a trot, keeping in the fields alongside the roads as much as I could, to avoid the fugitives, till I came once more on the rear of the baggage and store carts, and the pressure of the crowd, who, conscious of the aid which the vehicles would afford them against a
cavalry charge, and fearful, nevertheless, of their proximity, clamored and shouted like madmen as they ran. The road was now literally covered with baggage. It seemed to me as if the men inside were throwing the things out purposely.
"Stop," cried I to the driver of one of the carts, "everything is falling out."
"You," shouted a fellow inside, "if you stop him, I'll blow your brains out." My attempts to save Uncle Sam's property were then and there discontinued.
Onapproaching Centreville, a body of German infantry of the reserve came marching down and stemmed the current in some degree; they were followed by a brigade of guns and another battalion of fresh troops. I turned up on the hill half a mile beyond. The vehicles had all left but two — my buggy was gone. A battery of field-guns was in position where we had been standing. The men looked well. As yet there was nothing to indicate more than a retreat, and some ill-behavior among the waggoners and the riff raff of different regiments. Centreville was not a bad position properly occupied, and I saw no reason why it should not be held if it was meant to renew the attack, nor any reason why the attack should not be renewed, if there had been any why it should have been made. I swept the field once more. The clouds of dust were denser and nearer. That was all. There was no firing — no musketry. I turned my horse's head and rode away through the village, and after I got out upon the road the same confusion seemed to prevail. Suddenly the guns on the hill opened, and at the same time came the thuds of artillery from the wood on the right rear. The stampede then became general. What occurred at the hill I cannot say, but all the road from Centreville for miles presented such a sight as can only be witnessed in
the track of the runaways of an utterly demoralized army. Drivers flogged, lashed, spurred, and beat their horses, or leaped down and abandoned their teams, and ran by the side of the road; mounted men, servants, and men in uniform, vehicles of all sorts, commissariat wagons, thronged the narrow ways. At every shot a convulsion, as it were, seized upon the morbid mass of bones, sinew, wood, and iron, and thrilled through it, giving new energy and action to its desperate efforts to get free from itself. Again, the cry of "Cavalry" arose.
"What are you afraid of? " Said I to a man who was running beside me. "I'm not afraid of you!" Replied the ruffian, levelling his piece at me, and pulling the trigger. It was not loaded, or the cap was not on, for the gun did not go off. I was unarmed, and I did go off as fast I could resolved to keep my own counsel for the second time that day. And so, the flight went on. At one time a whole mass of infantry, with fixed bayonets, ran down the bank of the road, and some falling as they ran, must have killed and wounded those among whom they fell. As I knew the road would soon become impassable or blocked up, I put my horse to a gallop and passed on toward the front. But mounted men still rode faster, shouting out, "Cavalry are coming." Again, I ventured to speak to some officers whom I overtook, and said, "If these runaways are not stopped, the whole of the posts and pickets in Washington will fly also!" One of them, without saying a word, spurred his horse and dashed on in front. I do not know whether he ordered the movement or not, but the van of the fugitives was now suddenly checked, and, pressing on through the wood at the roadside, I saw a regiment of infantry blocking up the way, with their front towards Centreville. A musket was levelled at my head as I pushed to the front — "Stop, or I'll fire." At the same
time the officer were shouting out, "Don't let a soul pass." I addressed one of them, and said, " Sir, I am a British subject. I am not, I assure you, running away. I have done my Lest to stop this disgraceful rout, (as I had,) and have been telling them there are no cavalry within miles of them."
"I can't let you pass, sir."
I bethought me of Gen. Scott's pass. The adjutant read it, and the word was given along the line, "Let that man pass!" and so, I rode through, uncertain if I could now gain the Long Bridge in time to pass over without the countersign. It was about this time I met a cart by the roadside surrounded by a group of soldiers, some of whom had "69 " on their caps. The owner, as I took him to be, was in great distress, and cried out as I passed, "Can you tell me, sir, where the 69th are? These men say they are cut to pieces."
"I can't tell you."
"I'm in charge of the mails, sir, and I will deliver them if I die for it. You are a gentleman, and I can depend on your word. Is it safe for me to go on?"
Not knowing the extent of the debacle, I assured him it was, and asked the men of the regiment how they happened to be there.
"Shure, the Colonel himself told us to go off every man on his own hook, and to fly for our lives!" replied one of them.
The mail agent, who told me he was an Englishman, started the cart again. I sincerely hope no bad result to himself, or his charge followed my advice; I reached Fairfax Court House; the people, black and white, with anxious faces, were at the doors, and the infantry were under arms. I was besieged with questions, though hundreds of fugitives had passed through before me. At one house I stopped to ask for water for my horse; the owner sent his servant for it cheerfully, the very house where we had
in vain asked for something to eat in the forenoon.
"There's a fright among them," I observed, in reply to his question respecting the commissariat drivers.
"They're afraid of the enemy's cavalry."
"Are you an American?" said the man. "No, I am not."
"Well, then," he said, "there will be cavalry on them soon enough. There's 20,000 of the best horsemen in the world in Virginia! "
Washington was still 18 miles away. The road was rough and uncertain, and again my poor steed was under way, but it was of no use trying to outstrip the runaways. Once or twice, I imagined I heard guns in the rear, but I could not be sure of it in consequence of the roar of the flight behind me. It was most surprising to see how far the foot soldiers had contrived to get on in advance. After sunset the moon rose, and amid other acquaintances, I jogged alongside an officer who was in charge of Col. Hunter, the commander of a brigade, I believe, who was shot through the neck, and was inside a cart, escorted by a few troopers. This officer was, as I understood, the major or second in command of Col. Hunter's regiment, yet he had considered it right to take charge of his chief, and to leave his battalion. He said they had driven back the enemy with ease, but had not been supported, and blamed — as bad officers and good ones will do — the conduct of the General: "So mean a fight I never saw." I was reminded of a Crimean General, who made us all merry by saying, after the first bombardment, "In the whole course of my experience I never saw a siege conducted on such principles as these." Our friend had been without food, but not, I suspect; without drink — and that, we know, affects empty stomachs very much — since two o'clock that morning. Now, what is to be thought of an officer — gallant, he may
be, as steel — who says, as I heard this gentleman say to a picket who asked him how the day went in front, "Well, we've been licked into a cocked hat; knocked to." This was his cry to teamsters escorts, convoys, the officers and men on guard and detachment, while I, ignorant of the disaster behind, tried to mollify the effect of the news by adding, "Oh! It’s a drawn battle. The troops are reoccupying the position from which they started in the morning." Perhaps he knew his troops better than I did. It was a strange ride, through a country now still as death, the white road shining like a river in the moonlight, the trees black as ebony in the shade; now and then a figure flitting by into the forest or across the road— frightened friend or lurking foe, who could say? Then the anxious pickets and sentries all asking, "What's the news?" and evidently prepared for any amount of loss. Twice or thrice, we lost our way, or our certainty about it, and shouted at isolated houses, and received no reply, except from angry watchdogs. Then we were set right as we approached Washington, by teamsters. For an hour, however, we seemed to be travelling along a road which, in all its points, far and near, was "twelve miles from the Long Bridge." Up hills, down into valleys, with the silent grim woods forever by our sides. Now and then, in the profound gloom, broken only by a spark from the horse's hoof, came a dull but familiar sound like the shutting of a distant door. As I approached Washington, having left the Colonel and his escort at some seven miles on the south side of the Long Bridge, I found the grand guards, picket's posts, and individual sentries burning for news, and the word used to pass along, "What does that man say, Jack? " "Begorra, he tells me we're not bet at all — only retreating to the old lines for convenience of fighting tomorrow again. Oh, that's illigant! " On
getting to the tete de pout, however, the countersign was demanded; of course, I had not got it. But the officer passed me through on the production of Gen. Scott's safeguard. The lights of the city were in sight; and reflected by the waters of the Potomac, just glistened by the clouded moon, shone the gay lamps of the White House, where the President was probably entertaining some friends. In silence I passed over the Long Bridge. Some few hours later it quivered under the steps of a rabble of unarmed men. At the Washington end a regiment with piled arms were waiting to cross over into Virginia, singing and cheering. Before the morning, they received orders, I believe, to assist in keeping Maryland quiet. For the hundredth time I repeated the cautious account, which to the best of my knowledge was true. There were men, women, and soldiers to hear it. The clocks had just struck 11 p. m. as I passed Willard's. The pavement in front of the hall was crowded. The rumors of defeat had come in, but few of the many who had been fed upon lies and the reports of complete victory which prevailed could credit the intelligence. Seven hours had not elapsed before the streets told the story. The " Grand Army of the North," as it was called, had representatives in every thoroughfare, without arms, orders, or officers, standing out in the drenching rain. When all these most unaccountable phenomena were occurring, I was fast asleep, but I could scarce credit my informant in the morning, when he told me that the Federalists, utterly routed, had fallen back upon Arlington to defend the capital, leaving nearly 5 batteries of artillery, 8,000 muskets, immense quantities of stores and baggage, and their wounded prisoners in the hands of the enemy!
Let the American journals tell the story their own way. I have told mine
as I know it. It has rained incessantly and heavily since early morning, and the country is quite unfit for operations; otherwise, if Mr. Davis desired to press his advantage, he might be now very close to Arlington Heights. He has already proved that he has a fair right to be considered the head of a "belligerent power" But, though the North may reel under the shock, I cannot think it will make her desist from the struggle, unless it be speedily followed by blows more deadly even than the repulse from Manassas. There is much talk now (of " masked batteries," of course) of outflanking, and cavalry, and such matters. The truth seems to be that the men were overworked, kept out for 12 or 14 hours in the sun, exposed to a long-range fire, badly officered, and of deficient regimental organization. Then came a most difficult operation — to withdraw this army, so constituted, out of action, in face of an energetic enemy who had repulsed it. The retirement of the baggage, which was without adequate guards, and was in the hands of ignorant drivers, was misunderstood, and created alarm, and that alarm became a panic, which became frantic on the appearance of the enemy and on the opening of their guns on the runaways. But the North will be all the more eager to retrieve this disaster, although it may divert her from the scheme, which has been suggested to her, of punishing England a little while longer. The exultation of the South can only be understood by those who may see it; and if the Federal Government perseveres in its design to make the Union by force, it may prepare for a struggle the result of which will leave the Union very little to fight for. More of the "battle" in my next. I pity the public across the water, but they must be the victims of hallucinations and myths it is out of my power to dispel or rectify just now. Having told so long a story, I can scarcely
expect your readers to have patience, and go back upon the usual diary of events; but the records, such as they are, of this extraordinary repulse, must command attention. It is impossible to exaggerate their importance. No man can predict the results or pretend to guess at them.