Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his mother.
Camp of 1st Mass. Cav’y
Near Warrenton, Va., November 4, 1863
Contrary to my expectations in my last we are daily expecting a movement of some kind, though what, we are at a loss to imagine. I look for it with mixed emotions. I know that we ought to move and by offensive operations keep a portion of the burden of the war from the shoulders of our armies in Tennessee, and I am in so far willing to be sacrificed; but every man in this army to whom bitter experience has taught the first principles of strategy, feels that it will be all sacrifice, that of ourselves we can effect nothing. We know now that every movement or raid to Richmond is foredoomed to disappointment; that Washington cannot be covered and Richmond taken at the same time. Our situation is that of a man fighting for his life, with one hand tied behind his back. Of course this condition of affairs bears more heavily on the Cavalry than on any other arm of the service. We are fairly used up, knocked off our legs. Marches, scouts, reconnoissances and battles have done their honest work and not much more can be gotten out of the Cavalry Corps this year. To show results let me state my own experience in a few words. In June I commanded two companies and had one hundred and ten men in the field. I now command three and have about forty effectives, not twenty of whom would be left at the end of four days hard service. The men are well enough, but the horses! Such a collection of crow’s bait the eye of man never saw. Solomon’s song of the war-horse was the most bitter satire ever conceived. He may have been wise in his day and generation, but he evidently never saw field-service, and they did n’t know everything down in Judee. . .
