Monday, 15th—I and Jeff Burleson went out and got a good dinner and my clothes. Came back and found the Company in Camp. To-night I, Eslinger and Jessy Johnson went out cross the hills to preaching. Parson Bunting officiated. I went down with Eslinger and the girls to Mr. Page’s, got some good apples, set till bed time and came to Camp.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Brigade Moves To Fairfax Court House.
Camp Near Fairfax Court House, Va.,
December 15th, 1862.
Dear Free Press:
More moves on the big chess board of which States and counties are the squares and divisions and brigades the pieces. And as the older troops push to the front, the reserves, of which the Second Vermont brigade is a portion, move up and occupy the more advanced positions of the lines of defense around Washington, vacated by our predecessors.
General Sigel’s division marched to the support of Burnside last week, and our brigade has stepped into their deserted places. Our five regiments are now in camp round Fairfax Court House and along the line to Centreville, doing picket duty on the lines near the latter place.
The orders for us to march came on Thursday evening last, while the Twelfth was out on picket. The boys were ordered in and reached camp about 10 o’clock. They came in singing “John Brown” and camp was soon humming with the bustle and stir of breaking camp. Big fires made of the no longer needed packing boxes which came from Vermont, were soon blazing in the company streets, and the work of packing knapsacks began. With most of the boys the first thought was for the creature comforts still remaining from the Thanksgiving supply, and each man proceeded to make sure of some of them, by putting himself outside of such a portion as his capacity would admit of, be the same more or less. It was midnight before the camp was still. After two hours or so of slumber we were aroused; reveille was sounded at 3; the tents were struck at 4; the line of march was formed at 5; and by 6 the brigade was on its way. The morning was a magnificent one, clear, rosy and frosty, and the step of the men was light and springy as they filed away. I was on special duty and did not accompany the column. At 4 o’clock P. M. the Twelfth halted at their present camping ground about a mile west of Fairfax Court House, having with the brigade accomplished a march of twenty miles. Though the pace was moderate and the stops frequent, it was altogether the severest march as yet made by our regiment. It is to be remembered that in such a march the weight of the packed knapsack about doubles the amount of exertion. Most soldiers would prefer a march of twice the distance in light marching order. Our boys marched well, however. But twelve of the Twelfth fell to the rear—a proportion of stragglers less, as I am told, than that of any of the other regiments. Of Company C, one man, just convalescent from a three weeks’ run of fever, who should not have attempted to march at all, was taken up by one of the ambulances. Another man who had been off duty from ill health came in with the stragglers; the rest, to a man, marched into our present camp with the colors.
I returned to Camp Vermont the day after. The Third brigade of Casey’s division was already installed in the winter quarters built with so much labor by the Vermont regiments. The Fourth Delaware was in the camp of the Twelfth, and a new order of things was in force. The quiet and discipline of the Vermont camps had disappeared. Muskets were popping promiscuously all around the camps; much petty thieving appeared to be on foot; and Mr. Mason, the gray headed “neutral” who owns the manor, was praying for the return of the Vermont brigade. His fences were lowering with remarkable rapidity; the roofs of some of his out-houses had quite disappeared, and Colonel Grimshaw, commanding the brigade, had his headquarters in the front parlor of his mansion. I could not give him a great deal of sympathy, for I believe him to be a rebel; but I was glad the spoliation was not the work of our Vermont boys.
I followed the regiment on Sunday, taking the military railroad train to Fairfax Station. Here, and all along the road to the dirty little village of Fairfax Court House, four miles to the north, I struck the column of an army corps pushing on to the front. Here a drove of beef cattle; next a battery of Parrot guns; there a travel worn regiment, marching with tired lag and frequent hunching up of their heavy knapsacks; then one resting by the wayside; then a battery of brass twenty-pounders; then another regiment and another; and long white lines of army wagons filling every vacant rod of road for miles and miles as far as the eye could reach. It was the rear of the Twelfth Army Corps, from Harper’s Ferry and Frederick, en route for Dumfries to be in supporting distance of Burnside; and for over twenty hours the stream of men and material of war had flowed over the road in the same way. It is only after seeing such a movement that one begins to realize something of the size of the business which is now the occupation of the nation.
I turned from the road across the fields to a pine grove in which lay the camp of the Twelfth. The regiment was drawn up in square at the edge of the timber. As I drew near, the strains of “Shining Shore” broke the stillness, and as I joined the body, the men were standing with bared heads, as the chaplain invoked the blessing of God on our cause, on our fellow soldiers now perhaps in deadly fight,[1] on our own humble efforts, and on the homes we left to come to the war. It was a transition, in a step, from the strong rush of the tide of war to a quiet eddy of Christian worship, and the contrast was a striking one.
We are at present under shelter tents, pitched promiscuously among the pine trees. The weather is mild and fine, and the ground as dry as May. We can hardly realize that it is the middle of December. How long we shall remain here, of course we do not know.
A new brigade band of seventeen pieces has been organized under the leadership of Mr. Clark of St. Johnsbury, whose concerts in Burlington you doubtless remember. The music for dress parade to-night was furnished by the band and was a decidedly attractive feature.
Our new Brigadier General, Stoughton, came and took command a week ago yesterday, and Colonel Blunt has returned to the command of the Twelfth. During his absence Lieut. Colonel Farnham has shown every quality of an efficient and courteous regimental commander.
We are waiting with intense interest for news of the results of the movements on Richmond. Providence seems to be smiling on us, in this fine weather, and we cannot doubt the triumph of our arms. If between Burnside and Banks the rebel capital cannot be taken, who shall next attempt the job?
P. S. The rain has come before our tents have, and a juicy time is in progress.
Yours, B
[1] Gen. Burnside was now in command of the Army of the Potomac, and having fought the disastrous battle of Fredericksburg, Dec. 13, was now about to recross the Rappahannock.
December 15—Sure enough. Got orders to cook five days’ rations. We started at 2 A.M. and got to Petersburg at 8 o’clock that night. I ran the blockade, and went uptown and stayed all night and had a very good time.
[December 15th]
Early Monday evening the commanding general concluded to withdraw, and the troops were ordered to recross the river. During the day the ambulances were kept busy transfering the wounded from the town to Stafford and as soon as it became dark, the artillery parked in the streets, crossed over, followed immediately afterwards by the infantry. Long, dark lines filled every street, converging near the bridges, and with rapid strides the men stepped briskly out. Luckily for us, the night was pitch dark, the wind howling dismally through the streets, swinging the doors and shutters of the deserted houses upon their creaking hinges in a most depressing manner; but it prevented the enemy from observing our movements, and so was especially welcome. Out in front, just under the guns of Marye’s hill, lay our Fifty-second regiment Colonel Frank in command, keeping up a bold front, occasionally exchanging shots with the rebs. Under cover of this line, all the troops in rear had been withdrawn, and they were now alone upon the field. By midnight most of the troops had crossed over and Zook with a crowd of officers sat on horseback near the head of the bridge, keeping a watchful eye in rear as well as on the bridge. Our brigade brought up the rear, and was just about to cross when Mitchell came along and directed that an attempt be made to withdraw the Fifty-second from the front. It seemed altogether likely the enemy would discover our movements sooner or later and whenever they did so the regiment was doomed to capture. The colonel directed me to undertake the task of withdrawing the regiment; that meant to ride alone through a deserted town, to scramble over a field of battle covered with hundreds of dead men and strewn with muskets and encumbrances, in a night so dark that nothing could be seen, was surely an unpleasant duty, but saying good bye. Without even an orderly I turned and galloped through the street towards the railroad track. Most of the houses, although completely deserted, were still lighted by candles left by our men, and all the doors stood open, creaking and groaning in the midnight darkness. I soon reached the railroad, and following it, went into the depot, from near which we originally made our exit to the attack. Here I dismounted, groped about for several minutes for something to fasten my horse to, stumbling over a big pile of dead men, and at last found the fastening of a window shutter, the very thing I wanted. Billy did not like the idea of being left alone in so lonesome a spot, and whinnied and stamped provokingly; groping my way by the big doors, I passed out towards the battlefield; near a small house close to the brick kiln, where a dog rushed out barking furiously, I stopped for a moment till all was still, then hurried along again, groping my way over the prostrate forms of dead men, sometimes on a run, at others, creeping and picking my way as best I could, amongst the numberless muskets with fixed bayonets, etc., that covered the ground. Many times I was obliged to lie flat down and peer ahead, to get my bearings, at others to avoid the musket balls, as every little while the rebel lines opened fire, and in fact a scattering fusilade was kept up all the time. After many efforts, changing direction first to the right, then to the left, I stumbled on the line of living men lying flat down, hardly distinguishable from the dead without stooping, and was never so delighted in my life before. The men were equally glad to see me, or more accurately, hear my voice, for the darkness was so intense that no man’s face could be seen; the men were full of anxiety, fearing we might abandon them, and quickly passed the news of my arrival along the line. I moved cautiously towards the center, where no man spoke above a whisper, and soon ran into Colonel Frank, who hugged me, squeezed my hand, and was beside himself for joy. He presented his canteen, familiarly known to all his friends, and after taking a good drink, we arranged the plan of withdrawal, which was to muffle canteen cups and dishes with the blankets, face to the left, and march straight for the railway cut, which we knew was not far distant. Everything was to be done quietly, the men following their file leaders without word of command. These arrangements being concluded, the officers and men were notified, and in a few minutes all was ready for the movement. Two or three shots were fired in different parts of the line, to let the rebels know we were still there then quickly the line stood up faced to the left, and at a tremenduous speed, stepped out and reached the cut without attracting the enemy’s attention. Once on the railroad, we soon reached the depot, where I found my horse. I was quickly on his back, and at the head of the column moved through the silent streets to the bridge, where the engineers were eagerly awaiting our arrival. Without loss of time, the regiment moved across. As the last man stepped on board the bridge, I bade the engineer officer in charge good bye, and followed the regiment, the bridge itself disappearing like magic, and before I reached the Stafford side half of it was taken up and all access to the other side barred. I put spurs to my horse, and rode directly to headquarters, where all but Green, my man, were fast asleep. He took my horse, and in a few moments I too was “in the shadow of the earth,—sleep, nature’s soft nurse, the mantle that covers thought, the food that appeases hunger; the balance and weight that equal the shepherd with the King, and the simple with the wise.”
DECEMBER 15TH.—Yesterday evening several trains laden with wounded arrived in the city. The remains of Brig.-Gen. T. R. R. Cobb, of Georgia, were brought down. Brig.-Gen. Gregg, of South Carolina, is said to be mortally wounded. It is now believed that Major-Gen. Hood, of Texas, did not fall. The number of our killed and wounded is estimated, by a surgeon who came with the wounded, to be not over a thousand.
To-day, stragglers from the battle-field say that our loss in killed and wounded is 3000. It is all conjecture.
There was heavy skirmishing all day yesterday, and until today at noon, when the telegraph operator reports that the firing had ceased. We know not (yet) what this means. We are still sending artillery ammunition to Gen. Lee.Gen. Evans dispatches from Kinston, N. C., that on the 14th, yesterday, he repulsed the enemy, 15,000 strong, and drove them back to their boats in Neuse River. A portion of Gen. R. A. Pryor’s command, in Isle of Wight County, was engaged with the enemy’s advance the same day. They have also landed at Gloucester Point. This is pronounced a simultaneous attack on our harbors and cities in Virginia and North Carolina. Perhaps we shall have more before night. Our people seem prepared for any event.
Another long train of negroes have just passed through the city, singing, to work on the fortifications.
December 15th, 1862.—We have news of a great battle in Virginia, Fredericksburg, a terrible battle in which our side won the victory and the enemy suffered severe losses. How I wish the war would end; it throws a cloud over everything.
All the gentlemen visiting here have been wounded but all are getting well; they expect to report for duty very soon. Brother Amos is the only one who is permanently disabled. He says he is going to offer his services to the Commissary Department as soon as he is able. He says a cripple can do what is required there, just as well as anybody. Sister Mag says he shall never leave her again. Father and Mother are missing us but in another week we will be at home.
December 15.—The National War Committee of the citizens of New-York addressed an urgent memorial to Congress, asking for the passage of a law authorizing the granting of commissions to private armed vessels for the capture of the Alabama, and other cruisers, and the offer of a suitable reward for the capture.
—The General Assembly of the State of Louisiana, in accordance with a proclamation of the rebel Governor, Thomas O. Moore, met at Opelousas, “to consider and provide for the exigencies of public defence.”—The advance of General Banks’s expedition arrived at New-Orleans.— General Hovey’s expedition returned to Helena, Ark.
—General Butler having been superseded by General Banks, as commander of the Department of the Gulf, issued his farewell address to the “Soldiers of the Army of the Gulf,” and another “To the People of New-Orleans,” in which he reviewed his government since he had been appointed to the command of the department.— (Doc. 74.)
