MANASSAS AND SHARPSBURG (ANTIETAM)--BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG--IN CAMP
NEAR FREDERICKSBURG.
_Ox Hill, Va.,
September 3, 1862._
I was in the battle at Manassas and made several very narrow escapes.
I had to go on the field there, although it was Dr. Kilgore’s place
to go, and not mine, but he was afraid to go. On Monday (September 1)
at this place I came very near being killed; for a bombshell barely
did miss me and burst right at me. I stood the late terrible march
surprisingly well, but I have learned what hunger and hardships are.
I would often lie down at night on the bare ground without a blanket
or anything else to cover with and would wonder what my dear wife
would think if she could see me lying there. We have had some dreadful
sufferings, especially on these forced marches. The fatigue and the
pangs of hunger were fearful.
We marched fast all day Monday and all day Tuesday (August 25 and 26)
and until late Tuesday night, when we bivouacked in a field of tall
grass near Bristow Station. Bob Land spread his wet horse blanket on a
bare spot, and we lay on it and covered with his blanket and went to
sleep without supper. The country was a waste, and I heard no sound of
a chicken, cow or dog during the night.
The next morning (Wednesday) we got up before day and marched fast
to Manassas Junction, and almost kept up with the cavalry. We found
sutlers’ stores and trainloads of flour and meat, and we captured a few
prisoners. I went into a sutler’s tent and got three days’ rations of
ham, crackers and salt. Before noon we started towards Washington, and
after marching three or four miles we marched back to Manassas Junction
again late that afternoon and found many prisoners and negroes there,
who were all sent away towards Groveton. We staid there that night,
and all the cars and everything were set on fire about the same time.
We were very tired, and all day lay down on the ground, but I remained
awake for some time watching the fire, which burned fiercely. Thursday
morning (28th) we marched nearly to Centreville, and from there towards
Groveton, and Ewell’s command got into a fight late that afternoon on
our right. We remained there and bivouacked in the oak forest where our
brigade fought next day.
Next morning (Friday) we had breakfast, and I ate with Adjutant
Goggans. Our command then took position in the woods near the cut of
an unfinished railroad and sent out skirmishers, who soon retreated
and fell back on the main line. The Yankee line came up quite near and
fired into us from our right, and Goggans was shot through the body. I
remained some distance in rear of our line and saw Mike Bowers, Dave
Suber and two other men bringing someone back on a litter, and I said:
“Mike, who is that?” and he said: “Goggans,” just as they tumbled him
down. I looked at him as he was gasping his last, and he died at once.
Then the wounded who could walk began to come back, and those who could
not were brought to me on litters. I did all I could for them until the
ambulances could carry them to the field infirmary, and this continued
until late in the afternoon.
I saw an Irishman from South Carolina bringing a wounded Irishman from
Pennsylvania back and at the same time scolding him for fighting us.
Colonel McGowan came limping back, shot through the thigh, but he
refused to ride, and said: “Take men who are worse hurt than I am.”
Colonel Marshall and Lieutenant-Colonel Leadbetter were brought back
mortally wounded.
Shells came over to us occasionally as if thrown at our reserves, and
would burst among the men and overhead, but they paid no attention
to them and kept very quiet. I did not hear anyone say one word. An
occasional spent ball fell near by and one knocked up the dust close to
me, but the trees were thick and stopped most of the bullets short of
us. The Yankees charged us seven times during the day and were driven
back every time. Their lines were always preceded by skirmishers. One
ran into the railroad cut and sat down, and Jim Wood shot him dead.
Our brigade was not relieved until about four o’clock. They had been
fighting all day and their losses were very heavy. I saw General
Fields, commanding a Virginia brigade, ride in on our left to relieve
us, and I then went back to the field infirmary, where I saw large
numbers of wounded lying on the ground as thick as a drove of hogs in
a lot. They were groaning and crying out with pain, and those shot in
the bowels were crying for water. Jake Fellers had his arm amputated
without chloroform. I held the artery and Dr. Huot cut it off by candle
light. We continued to operate until late at night and attended to all
our wounded. I was very tired and slept on the ground.
We did nothing Saturday morning (30th). There were several thousand
prisoners near by, and I went where they were and talked with some of
them. Dr. Evans, the brigade surgeon, went to see General Lee, and
General Lee told him the battle would begin that morning at about ten
o’clock and would cease in about two hours, which occurred exactly as
he said. Our brigade was not engaged, and we spent the day sending the
wounded to Richmond.
Early Sunday morning (31st) we started away, and I passed by
where Goggans’ body lay. Near him lay the body of Captain Smith
of Spartanburg. Both were greatly swollen and had been robbed of
their trousers and shoes by our own soldiers, who were ragged and
bare-footed, and did it from necessity. We passed on over the
battlefield where the dead and wounded Yankees lay. They had fallen
between the lines and had remained there without attention since
Friday. We marched all day on the road northward and traveled about
twelve miles.
The next morning (September 1) we continued our march towards Fairfax
Court House, and had a battle late that afternoon at Ox Hill during a
violent thunderstorm. Shell were thrown at us and one struck in the
road and burst within three or four feet of me. Several burst near
Colonel Edwards as he rode along, but he did not pay the slightest
attention to them. There were flashes and keen cracks of lightning near
by and hard showers of rain fell. The Yankees had a strong position on
a hill on the right side of the road, but our men left the road and I
could see them hurrying up the hill with skirmishers in advance of the
line.
I went into a horse lot and established a field infirmary, and saw
an old lady and her daughter fleeing from a cottage and crossing the
lot in the rain. The old lady could not keep up and the daughter kept
stopping and urging her mother to hurry. The bullets were striking all
about the yard of their house.
Lieutenant Leopard from Lexington was brought back to me with both his
legs torn off below the knees by a shell, and another man with part of
his arm torn off, but neither Dr. Kenedy, Dr. Kilgore nor our medical
wagon was with us, and I had nothing with me to give them but morphine.
They both died during night. The battle continued till night came on
and stopped it. We filled the carriage house, barn and stable with
our wounded, but I could do but little for them. Colonel Edwards was
furious, and told me to tell the other doctors “for God’s sake to keep
with their command.”
After doing all I could for the wounded, my brother, my servant Wilson,
and myself went into the orchard and took pine poles from a fence and
spread them on the wet ground to sleep on. I discovered a small chicken
roosting in a peach tree and caught it, and Wilson skinned it and
broiled it, and it was all we three had to eat that day. Wilson got two
good blankets off the battlefield with “U. S.” on them, and we spread
one on the poles and covered with the other.
The next morning the Yankees were gone. Their General, Kearney, was
killed and some of their wounded fell into our hands. The two other
doctors with our medical supplies did not get there until morning, and
many of our wounded died during the night. I found one helpless man
lying under a blanket between two men who were dead.
We drew two days’ rations of crackers and bacon about ten o’clock, and
I ate them all and was still very hungry. I walked over on the hill and
saw a few dead Yankees. They had become stiff, and one was lying on his
back with an arm held up. I picked up a good musket and carried it back
with me to the house and gave it to the young lady I saw running away
the day before. She thanked me for it, and seemed very much pleased to
have it as a memento of the battle.
Late that afternoon we drew rations again, and I ate everything without
satisfying my hunger. A soldier came from another command and said he
heard I had some salt, and he offered me a shoulder of fresh pork for
some. Wilson cooked it and I ate it without crackers, but was still
hungry. During the night I became very sick from overeating, and next
morning when the regiment left I was too sick to march. Billie, Mose
Cappock, Billy Caldwell and myself all got sick from the same cause. We
are all sleeping in the carriage house, and I have sent Wilson out into
the country to get something for us to eat.
We hope to be able to go on and catch up with the regiment in a day or
two. It has gone in the direction of Harper’s Ferry.
_Charlestown, Jefferson County, W. Va.,
September 24, 1862._
I have not written to you in three or four weeks, because there has
been no mail between us and Richmond. I have seen sights since then,
I assure you. If I should tell you what our army has endured recently
you could hardly believe it. Thousands of the men now have almost no
clothes and no sign of a blanket nor any prospect of getting one,
either. Thousands have had no shoes at all, and their feet are now
entirely bare. Most of our marches were on graveled turnpike roads,
which were very severe on the barefooted men and cut up their feet
horribly. When the poor fellows could get rags they would tie them
around their feet for protection. I have seen the men rob the dead of
their shoes and clothing, but I cannot blame a man for doing a thing
which is almost necessary in order to preserve his own life. I passed
Goggans’ body two days after he was killed at Manassas, and there the
poor fellow lay, robbed like all the others. (Do not say anything
about this, for his family might hear of it.)
I was sick for one week at a private house, and did not catch up with
our regiment until the day after the battle at Sharpsburg, Maryland.
Doubtless you have learned how our regiment suffered in the battle,
and it is useless for me to tell you of the shocking scenes I have
witnessed. Billie was in the battle at Shepherds-town. Our men put it
right into the Yankees there when they had them in the river.
I do not know where our regiment is at present, but have heard that it
is near Martinsburg. My brother was well when I last saw him. He and I
have three flannel shirts between us, and I have some other very good
clothes. I have but one pair of socks, and they are nearly worn out. I
had a good pair, but some one stole them.
I am now here at a hospital with our wounded, and will remain until
they are well enough to be moved away. The Yankees came near enough
the other day to throw several shells into the town, but they did no
harm except to wound a little boy. They are certainly fanatical. As
much as we whip them, they are not disposed to give up. The people
here--especially the women--hate them bitterly.
I am boarding with the widow of the late Judge Douglass of Virginia,
and as I have plenty of everything which is good to eat I am beginning
to fatten, but will soon lose it when I start on the march again. The
people are overwhelming in their kindness to our wounded, and bring
them every dainty.
I could write you some interesting letters now, but I have very little
hope of this one getting through to you. I do wish so much I could
hear from you and George; that worries me more than everything else
put together, although I have seen so much recently which was shocking
and horrible that I am hard to worry about anything. If I am spared to
get home I shall be a wiser, if not a better, man. So good-by for the
present, my dear wife.
_Berkeley County, Va.,
October 8, 1862._
When I left Charlestown yesterday morning the weather was delightful
and I felt so buoyant and fresh that it caused me to walk too fast, and
to-day I am very sore and stiff. I found four letters from you, and
they were a treat, for I had had no intelligence from you since July.
I never get homesick in camp when I hear that you and George are well.
Our army has been here for three weeks. We are fourteen miles from
Charlestown and ten miles northeast of Winchester. There is smallpox in
Winchester, and General Lee has ordered the entire army vaccinated.
The weather is dry and pleasant and the men are in better health than
I have ever seen them. This rich valley is full of provisions and
the army is well fed. It is said that vast quantities of provisions
of every kind are being sent from this valley into the interior to
prevent the Yankees from getting them, and that when we have eaten
out everything in this region we shall retire toward the interior.
We have at present no prospect whatever of a fight. If our victory
at Sharpsburg had been complete, doubtless we should now be in
Pennsylvania.
Dr. Chapman got sick at Richmond, and we have heard nothing from him
since. He had become so disagreeable that we had enough of him.
I have tried to be very faithful to my duty since I have been in the
army, and I get along finely with the other doctors.