James Conner’s Hampton’s Legion Letters

27 10 2011

The transcription of this letter, sent to me by Eric Wittenberg, included the following note:

This letter, very lightly edited, was published in the Atlanta Constitution, 21 Apr [18]95, p. 22, c. 1, 2, under the title “Who is the Author?”  For some reason, the published copy has the salutation “Dear Sir,” and does not include a signature.  According to the article, it was found in a tru[n]k purchased at an estate sale in Lincolnton, N.C., and the editor solicited comments as to the authorship.  Two persons quickly responded, contending that the author was James Conner.  Id., 28 Apr 95, p. 12, c. 1-7; Id., 2 May 95, p. 7, c. 4.  The authorship was confirmed by Louis Von Standenmayer, the nephew of Conner, who stated that he sold the contents of the house in Lincolnton, but did not know that private family papers were being inadvertently sold.  Id., 14 May 95, p. 4, c. 5.  The bulk of the Conner papers are in the South Carolina Historical Society; this letter is the only item of wartime correspondence of Conner in the separate collection at South Caroliniana.

Interestingly, this 7/22/1861 letter appears to be an earlier version of this one written two days later. In many ways they are similar (in fact, one similar in its misspelling of “ate” as “eat” to other letters I’ve posted from unidentified members of the Legion), but note what Conner says in the first letter:

I have written in a great hurry, on my lap, and only for yourself and the family.

I think it likely that the second Conner letter was a cleaned up version of his first, fit for publication, or at least for distribution to other than family.

James Conner Portrait, South Carolina Statehouse

Here’s a brief sketch of James Conner, who at the time of the battle was acting major of the Legion, but was technically captain of Company A, the Washington Light Infantry:

James Conner: born 9/1/1829, Charleston SC; graduated South Carolina College 1849; pre-war lawyer, U. S. District Attorney 1856-1860; Captain, Hampton’s Legion, 5/61; Major, 7/21/61; Colonel 22nd NC 3/26/62; wounded at Gaines’s Mill, VA 6/26/62 – fractured left leg; JAG 2nd Corps AoNV 10/8/63; Brig. Gen. (special) 6/1/64; commanded McGowan’s Brigade/Wilcox’s Division/3rd Corps AoNV 6/64 to 8/64; Lane’s Brig/Wilcox’s Div/3rd Corps AoNV 8/64; Conner’s Brigade/Kershaw’s Div/1st Corps AoNV 8/64 to 10/64; wounded at Fisher’s Hill, Va. 10/13/64, left leg amputated; no record of parole; resumed law practice in Charleston, SC; Attorney General, SC 1876; commanded “rifle clubs” during Wad Hampton’s 1876 gubernatorial campaign; died Richmond, VA 6/26/1883; buried Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, SC.





Capt. James Conner, Hamtpon’s Legion, On the Battle (2)

27 10 2011

Manassas Virginia
Monday Night
July 22nd, 1861

My dear Mother,

Yesterday was a glorious and a sad day.  We have gained a great victory but lost many noble men.  Fortunately I came out of the battle unhurt.  On Friday morning we received orders to march the next day at 9.  At 12 the orders were given to leave by that nights train.  We packed up and started – marched into Richmond at 6 – but the cars were not ready, piled our arms and lay down in the streets until 12 – traveled all that night, all Saturday, all Saturday night and reached Manassas at 6 Sunday morning, starving all that time we had but one meal.  The cars should have made the trip in 12 hours – 7 is the usual time and we were ordered to take one meal cooked with us.  That of course gave out and we reached Manassas worn out from travel, and being cooped up in box cars, and hungry.  Fortunately I had started with 300 loaves of bread, (I fed the men with them on the road, that is my Company), and I also had four shoulders of raw bacon.  Sunday morning as soon as we landed I started fires, had the bacon cooked, gave the men a little, and a very little it was, breakfast.  We then had orders to move as the battle had begun, and while we eat our mouthful of food, the cannon were roaring in the distance.  We marched about 5 miles and were halted by the Colonel just under the brow of a hill.  I was sent forward to view the position or rather the Colonel permitted me to go.  Standing on the hill, I could see the battle going on in the valley below.  A battery of Artillery moved up at a gallop on our left and commenced firing on the U. S. troops.  This drew their fire in our direction and as we lay down behind the hill the grape shot and round shot came singing over our heads – sometimes so close you could feel the air as they passed.  The fight at this point was altogether an artillery one, and finding that we were exposed without doing any good, the Colonel ordered us back to the shelter of some woods.  We then moved forward some distance, when we received orders to advance to the support of some Georgia regiments.  They had been forced back, and we met them, and formed in front of them, we laying down behind a fence and commencing to fire at the Yankees.  At this moment a body of Yankees were seen moving around, and endeavoring to turn the flank of the army and get in our rear.  The order was given to us to outflank them and we moved down a lane running at right angles to that in which we were.  It was a yard lane or country road, with deep gullies on either side.  The troops opposed to us were Infantry, supported by Artillery.  I could see their numbers but could not estimate them.  Gen’l Beauregard told Hampton today that they were at least 4000.  As we commenced the movement, they opened a terrible fire of grape, canister and musketry.  The balls flew like hail, knocked the flint rocks whistling all around us.  I was in advance – my Company heading the Legion.  We faced to the right and ordered the men into the gully and under the cover of that and the fence on top of the bank, returned the fire.  It was here that we had the hardest fighting and met the heaviest loss.  At the very commencement of it, poor Col Johnson was killed, shot through the head.  He was in line with the 1st platoon of my company.  He threw his sword up, and fell back lifeless.  Hot and heavy the fire fell all around us.  By this time, I had gotten the rest of the men – the companies – down into the gully and at work, but for the first four or five minutes, maybe on half of that time, the Light Infantry were alone in the lane, and receiving the whole fire.  Hampton was in the centre, and I on the right, the men in the gully and he and I on the top of the bank, looking out at the enemy and cautioning the men to keep cool, and aim deliberately, and take resting shots, and above all to deploy out and not crowd.  Hampton’s horse had been shot under him and he was on foot.  Barker alone was on horseback, and he kept dashing between Hampton and me, carrying orders.  Theodore behaved splendidly; his conduct was above praise.  It was glorious, and how he escaped being shot was a miracle.  Once he reeled in the saddle as he went down the lane and I thought the poor fellow was gone, and I ran after him, taking one of my men with me, but found that it was his horse slipping on the rocks that had made him reel – neither he or his horse were hurt and yet his grey charger was always in the thickest of the fight.  All the Legion are loud in his praise.  How long we held the position I cannot tell, but we checked the flank movement of the enemy.  They then advanced from another point and we were in danger of being surrounded and fell back 100 or 150 yards under cover of a farm house.  Here again we made a stand and had an awful fight – the old body and the new body of the enemy opening fire upon us.  It was terrible and the men were falling all around us and fearing that they would be surrounded.

It was the only time in the day that the men looked dashed.  Hampton ordered the colors to the front, and I moved my Company up, met them [the colors] and all my boys came right up to them, moved up to the head of the lane, and exchanged fires.  Some artillery came up when we were nearly wiped out and relieved us – breaking and dispersing the new body which had advanced.  We then reformed – gathered the companies up, moved on, and halted in a deep hollow, thickly wooded, here another regiment, I forgot what, was attached to us or rather moved up to it.  It was a Virginia Regt, so my boys said.  Satisfied that we would not be moved, our men were there at least twenty minutes, and hearing that there was some water in the neighborhood, I had given my men leave to break when one of their officers came up and begged me for God’s sake not to break, else he could not hold his men together.  All the while the rattle of musketry and artillery were going on.  So instead of breaking, I detailed ten men to take all canteens.  You can’t imagine how we suffered for water.  I was hoarse with calling and parched with thirst and as I walked along picked blackberries to moisten my throat and tongue.  The men did the same, and when we could not find blackberries, we chewed grass.  We then advanced about half a mile and again engaged the enemy, driving him out of a farm yard, and taking possession of it myself.  They returned to retake it and the Light Infantry fight was hot and heavy.  Here it was that Hampton was shot. We were fighting from the house and behind the thick hedge and paling fence of the garden.  They brought up Artillery and we in time were driven out.  I was at this time in command of the Legion, and we fell back, closing well on the colors at the bottom of the hill and reforming.  We had got all mixed up in the scrimmage around the house and garden, and here it was that the flag was nearly shot away, the ball cutting nearly half way through the staff.  I reformed the Legion and we were supported by Withers’ Alabama Regiment, and then charged up the hill, drove the Yankees out of the house and garden, and drove back their artillery.  Advancing and leaving the house behind us, we kept forcing them back.  They broke and scattered as Kershaw’s Regiment came up, and I united with Kershaw, and sent Barker back for orders to Beauregard.  He told us to reunite with Kershaw.  It was now about 4 o’clock, the enemy in full retreat and Kershaw determined to pursue.  We were almost dead beat out, and only 160 strong.  We had gone into action in the morning 600 and more.  I could no longer form companies.  I massed the six companies and formed 3 divisions of them.  We pursued the enemy about four miles, he halted as we pursued him hard.  Kemper’s battery galloped up the road, and took position on the crest of the hill.  Wheat fields on each side of the road.  Kershaw’s and ours on the right of the roads, Coal’s S.C. regiment on the left, the Palmetto Guard thrown out as skirmishers.  The artillery opened and played havoc with them, and the cavalry came upon their flank and were preparing to charge them.  When they fled and the Cavalry captured 21 pieces of artillery and a lot of baggage.  We were then ordered by Beauregard to cease pursuit and fall back.  We fell back about 5 miles and bivouacked all night in a wheat field without anything to eat or drink, not even water in plenty.  Luckily we had captured some blankets which the Yankees threw away all about the road in their retreat, so we wrapped up in them and slept.  At daylight it commenced raining and we marched back in the rain, wet, weary, and dead beat out with a 7 mile march before us.  We reached camp and had breakfast.  I was so stiff and foot sore I could hardly walk, but a cup of coffee and clean socks helped me much, as I related to Hampton who was very complimentary to me individually and to the Company.  Spoke in the highest way of the manner in which the company had behaved.  Told me that Beauregard and Davis had both been to his tent to express their great delight at the way in which the Legion had acted in holding their position against a force so far superior, and supported by Artillery.  I ten got a horse and rode back to the battle field to look after my dead and wounded.  Raining all day and I came in about 5 o’clock, wet through after a days work as painful and infinitely more trying than yesterday.  A battle, the day after a battle, is a horrid sight.  Then you realize what war is.  I went of course through all the hospitals.  The most of our wounded are at Culpepper C. H.  The general Hospital is there.  I could not get there today.  Charlie Hutson is wounded, not mortally though – poor fellow.  I was within three feet of him when I saw him roll over, his face covered with blood.  I thought he was killed, but the ball went too high.  I had him moved to the rear.  Thompson was shot through the leg, but he refused to leave the ground and fought the battle out limping on one leg.  Poor Middleton was shot in the garden in the second fight.  I caught him as he fell – he is in a house near the battle ground, and I fear will die tonight.  I have been sad all day, doubly sad when I think of poor Col Johnson.  What a noble soul he had and how we all loved him and he was such a splendid officer.  All the men loved him and nick-named him the old Colonel and he pretended to dislike it but he knew it was the sweet indication that the men loved him.  We have lost a generous, gallant officer, and the State one of her wisest and best men.  Hampton rode up to me, his whole frame shook and his eyes filled with tears as he shook hands with men and said, “Have you seen Johnson?  Great God, how can I write home to his family.”  We sent his body down to Richmond today.  It is well.  I cautioned JM against rumors, for when I returned to camp this morning I found it generally reported that I was killed and Barker too and Spratt had telegraphed this fact to the papers.  Some of my own men it was said had seen me fall.  I at once telegraphed you, and made Spratt telegraph contradicting his report.  I hope the contradiction got there in time.  The whole thing arose from a disposition to magnify everything.  I was struck by a spent ball, which merely bruised me without even breaking the skin, and which I forgot five minutes after it occurred.  The blow was rather sharp, and knocked me back a little and the men reported I had been struck, then somebody added that I was shot, and then somebody said I was shot and killed and Spratt, eager for an item, had me down.  He also had it that the Legion was cut to pieces.   We did lose heavily but are good yet.  If we had had our cavalry and artillery we would have done better.  I do not know when I will have chance to write again.  I am in command and have a great deal to do, but will try and drop you a line if only to say all well.  I have written in a great hurry, on my lap, and only for yourself and the family.  As I was moving from the battle field with the Legion this morning, I got your letter sent by private hand from Richmond.  Love to all.

Yours affectionately,
James Conner

Source:  James Conner to Mother, 22 Jul 61, MSS letter (copy), James Conner Collection, South Caroliniana.

Notes (1)

Notes (2)





More Hampton’s Legion

26 10 2011

Today I happened to look at some older computer files and emails, and turned up a few (well, quite a few) letters and such that I’ve collected and have yet to post. The transcription of this letter written by Captain James Conner of Hampton’s Legion (he started the day filling in for Major J. B. Griffin who was back in South Carolina with the Legion’s cavalry, and ended it in command of the unit) was sent to me by fellow blogger Eric Wittenberg. Eric also sent along another of Conner’s letters written two days earlier, and I’ll post that next. Thanks to Eric and to all you readers who have passed such great stuff along. That’s what Bull Runnings is all about – assembling this material for the use of enthusiasts and researchers.





Capt. James Conner, Hampton’s Legion, On the Battle (1)

26 10 2011

July 24th, 1861, 10 thirty P.M.

My dear Mother:

At twelve o’clock the orders came to leave by that night’s train.  We packed up and started, marching into Richmond at six o’clock, but the cars were not ready.  We piled our arms and lay down in the street until twelve o’clock, traveled all night, all Saturday and all Saturday night, and reached Manassas at six o’clock Sunday morning.  The cars ought to have made the trip in twelve hours, seven hours is the usual time, and we were ordered to take one meal cooked with us.

We then had orders to move, as the battle had begun, and while we were eating our mouthful of food, the cannon were roaring in the distance.  We marched about five miles and were halted by the Colonel just under the brow of a hill.  I could see the fight going on in the valley below.  A battery of artillery moved up at a gallop on our left end, and commenced firing on the United States troops.  This drew their fire in our direction, and as we lay down behind the hill, the grape and round shot came singing over our heads, sometimes so close that you could feel the air as they passed.

We then moved forward some distance, when we received order to advance to the support of some Georgia regiment.  They had been forced back, and we met them and formed in front of them, we were lying behind a fence.  At that moment, a large body of Yankees were seen moving round, endeavoring to turn the flank of the army and get to our rear.  The order was given to us to outflank them, and we moved down a lane running at right angles to that in which we were.  It was a broad lane, or country road, with deep gullies on either side.  The troops opposed to us were infantry, supported by artillery.  I could see them, but could not estimate them.  General Beauregard told Hampton today that there were at least four thousand.

As we commenced the movement, they opened a terrible fire on us of grape and canister and musketry.  The balls flew like hail and knocked the flint rocks, whistling all around us.  I was in advance, my company heading the Legion.  We faced to the right, and I ordered my men into the gully, hid under cover of that, and the fence on top of the bank, and returned the fire.  It was here we had the hardest fighting and met the heaviest loss.

At the very commencement of it poor Colonel Johnson was killed shot through the head.  He was in line with the first platoon of my company; he threw his sword up, and fell back lifeless.

Hot and heavy the fire fell all around us.  By this time I had got the men of the other Companies down into the gully and to work, but for the first four or five minutes, maybe only one-half that time, the Washington Light Infantry were alone in that lane and receiving the whole fire.  Hampton was in the center and I was on the right, the men in the gully, and he and I on top of the bank, looking out at the enemy and cautioning the men to keep cool, aim deliberately and take resting shots, and above all, to deploy out and not crowd.

Hampton’s horse was shot under him and he was on foot.  Barker alone was on horseback, and he kept dashing between Hampton and myself carrying orders.  Theodore Barker behaved splendidly.  His conduct was above praise.  It was glorious, and how he escaped being shot was a miracle.  Once he reeled in the saddle as he went down the lane, and I thought the poor fellow was gone, and I ran after him, taking one of my men with me, but we found that it was his horse slipping on the rocks that had made him reel.  Neither he nor his horse was hurt, though his gray charger was always in the thickest of the fight.  All the Legion are loud in his praise.

How long we held the position I cannot tell, but we checked the flank movement of the enemy.  Then they advanced from another point, and we were in danger of being surrounded, and fell back about one hundred and fifty yards under cover of a farm house.  Here, again, we made a stand, and had an awful fight the new and old body of the enemy crossing fire upon us.  It was terrible, and the men were falling around, and fearing that they would be surrounded.  It was the only time of the day the men looked dashed.

Hampton ordered the colors to the front, and I moved my Company up with them, and all my boys came right up and moved up to the head of the lane and exchanged fire.  Some artillery then came up when we were nearly whipped out, and relieved us, breaking and dispersing the new body that had advanced.  We then returned and gather the companies up, moved on, and halting in a bottom thickly wooded, had another regiment, I forget which, attached to us.  It was some Virginia regiment, so my boys said.  We then advanced about half a mile, and again engaged the enemy, driving them out of a farm yard, and ourselves taking possession of it.  They returned to take it, and the firing was hot and heavy.  Here it was that Hampton was shot.  We were fighting from the house and behind the thick hedge and paling fence of the garden.  They brought artillery up, and we in turn were driven out.  I was at this time in command of the Legion, and we fell back, closing well on the colors, to the bottom of the hill, and reformed.

I reformed the Legion, and we were supported by Wither’s Alabama regiment, and we then charged up the hill, and drove the Yankees out of the house and garden, and drove back the artillery.  Advancing, and leaving the house behind us, we kept forcing them back.  They broke and scattered as Kershaw’s regiment came up, and I united with Kershaw and sent Barker off to Beauregard for orders.  He told us to unite with Kershaw.

It was now about four o’clock, the enemy in full retreat and Kershaw determined to pursue.  We were now only one hundred and sixty strong.  We had gone into action in the morning six hundred and odd.  We pursued the enemy about four miles.  They halted as we pressed them hard.  Kemper’s battery galloped up the road and took possession of the crest of the hill, wheat fields on each side of the road.  Cash’s South Carolina regiment on the left, Kerhsaw’s and ours on the right, and the Palmetto Guards thrown out as skirmishers.  The artillery opened and played havoc with them, and the cavalry came upon their flank, and were preparing to charge, when they fled, and the cavalry captured twenty-one pieces of artillery and lots of baggage.  We were then ordered by Beauregard to cease pursuit.

I am in command of the Legion, and have a great deal to do, but will try to drop you a line.

Yours, J.C.

Moffett, ed.,  Letters of General James Conner, CSA. pp. 40-43

Notes 1

Notes 2





Unknown, Hampton’s Legion [?], On the Battle (3)

11 09 2011

Further Particulars of the Manassas Battle – The Capture of Sherman’s Battery

We have some very interesting and authentic accounts of the battle at Manassas, from an officer who was in the thickest of the action, and who testifies to the extremely courageous and devoted action of the Hampton Legion, that held one of the most important positions in the fight, in front of the deadly fire of Sherman’s Battery.

The infantry companies of the Legion joined the line of battle about 9 o’clock in the morning, having marched seven miles, after a hastily-snatched breakfast, to take their part in the general action. In a few moments after the line was formed, Col. Johnson fell by a shot from the battery. He was instantly killed, the ball striking and tearing away the upper portion of his head. Colonel Hampton himself, assisted by Surgeon Darby and Adjutant Barker, bore the body from the fire.

At this instant, the men missing for a moment the presence of their commander, cried out “We have no commander.” Capt. Garey, who was commanding the left wing, suddenly called out, “Follow me, Hampton Guards, follow to victory.” The effect of the tones of the command was instant. The noble and gallant Edgefield company made a rushing charge towards the enemy, in advance of the rest of the Legion nearly three hundred yards, and so far on the left flank that for a moment they were under the fire of the Washington Artillery. The Guards advanced to within 1– or 120 paces of the enemy. Unable to maintain their position, they retired, falling back upon the column of the Legion. It was then that Col. Hampton, after a few thrilling words at the head of the Legion, ordered its fire to be opened upon the deadly battery that was mowing down his ranks.

Nobly and gallantly did his men respond. Firing by file and maintaining their position, they stood steadily until three o’clock in the evening, under the deadly fire of one of the most destructive batteries in the Federal army.

At this time of the day, the Legion fell back about 200 yards, when Gen. Evans, of South Carolina, rode up to the line, and making himself known to the men, added his noble and patriotic encouragements to those of their gallant commander.  A shout rises as Beauregard himself rides to the line, and in stirring words appeals to the Legion to hold its devoted position but a few moments longer, and the victory would be won.
The men were suffering horribly from the most aging thirst, when a number of officers and privates volunteered on the desperate mission of bringing water from a ravine near by through the fire of the enemy. But three returned from the gallant errand. Lieuts. Bates and Tompkins, of the Watson Guards, and private N. N. Cartlidge, and they just in time to join Col. Hampton’s last and desperate charge upon the battery.

The Legion had advanced about thirty paces, when the charge was joined by the 49th Virginia Regiment, under command of Col. Smith, who led the charge on foot – his horse having been shot from under him. Col. Hampton offered his own horse. At that time, when within about 150 yards of the battery, Colonel Hampton received his wound. He was struck by a ball in the temple. As he was raised, the cool and self-possessed gallantry of the brave man was exhibited. In calm and affecting words he exhorted Co. Smith to stand by the Legion and to help to support its flag. The words added a new spirit to the combined charge. The Legion advance to it with its right wing under the command of Col. Conner, and the left under that of Capt. Garey – the command of the intrepid Watson Guards, who had so distinguished themselves in the opening of the action, being devolved upon Lieut. W. D. Jennings, until joined by Lieuts. Bates and Tompkins, who had undertaken the brave mission of bringing water to the suffering men through the thickest of the fire.

The slaughter of the enemy at the battery, as the combined charge of the Virginia Regiment and the Hampton Legion swept over it, is said to have been terrific. The fugitives were pursued by the companies of the Legion to near Centreville. For four or five miles, the pursuit is described to have been over dead bodies, which strewed the retreat of the enemy.

The Legion reports about thirty killed and mortally hurt, with the immense number of nearly three hundred wounded – truly a gallant record. Neither its cavalry companies nor artillery arrived in time for the action; had they done so, quicker work would have been made by the Legion. As it is, with the gallant record it has made, and the compliments of Beauregard given it the day after the victory, it may boast, indeed, to have had a distinguished part in the glorious day.

The names of Captains Conner, Garey, Adjutant Barker and Surgeons Darby and Taylor are mentioned among those who distinguished themselves heroically in the fight.

The escapes of many of the men through the storm of fire are described as almost miraculous. The South Carolinians are better shots than the enemy. At three fires from one of the Corporals, J. W. Tompkins, two Yankees were seen to bite the dust; and at one time in the action, Lieutenant Jenkins, with a revolver, fired into the enemy a number of shots, nearly each one of which struck its man. Many of the Legion had their clothes torn through with bullets.

Richmond Examiner, 7/25/1861

Clipping Image





Unknown, Co. A, Hampton’s Legion, On the Battle (3)

3 09 2011

Extracts from a Private Letter

{From a Member of Hampton’s Legion}

Camp Johnston
Six Miles from Manassas, July 30.

I will endeavor to give you some particulars of the fight, although you will by this time have heard thousands of reports, as every man sees different on such occasions. We received orders on Friday, the 19th inst., to appear at the Central Depot in Richmond, at 5 o’clock, p. m. We found it impossible to be there so early, and, consequently, did not get there until 8 o’clock. We then stacked arms, and lay down on the ground and slept until two that night. We left Richmond at the last named hour, and arrived at Manassas on Sunday morning around four o’clock. Shortly after, we heard the roar of artillery. Col. Hampton then drew us up in line and addressed us, the substance of which was, that we were about to go into battle, and hoped we would prove ourselves South Carolinians worthy of our State and [?]. We then took up the line of march for the field, at which place we arrived about nine o’clock. Col. H. ordered us to take the extreme left, and stand until we were cut to pieces, or drive the enemy back.

We advanced steadily forward, shells bursting all around us. We were then dressed into line, and I never expect again to see cannon balls and shells fly as they did that morning. It is a mystery to me how one man escaped in the Legion. We stood our ground for one hour, alone, under one of the hottest fires Gen. B— says he ever saw. I gave myself up for gone, but still kept loading and firing. Poor Phelps was shot dead at my side; also a man by the name of Blankensee. Bomar was wounded just to my left. Finding it impossible to hold our position, we retreated to a small clump of woods, and then the cry was, “We are surrounded; we are outflanked.” At this critical moment, the Georgia and Mississippi regiments came to our assistance. We then not only maintained our position, but kept the enemy in check until about 2 o’clock. At this time, Gen. B. came up with Kershaw’s and Cash’s regiments, and Kemper’s Battery and Johnston’s column. His appearance was worth to us 10,000 men. It rallied the wounded as well as the others. Those that were unable to rise from the ground raised their hands and cheered him as he passed along the line. We were then at close quarters with the scattered remnants of the Legion, and I assure you it was hot work. The order was given to charge the enemy’s battery, which, upon the second charge, fell into the hands of our troops. It proved to be the famous Sherman Battery. After this charge, the enemy, completely routed, took to flight. Our men pursued them as far as Centreville. They left everything, in the shape of eatables and drinkables, that you can think of – champagne, lemons, sugar, etc. We took, among other things, some trunks, We captured 70 ambulances, fitted up in the most fancy style; also, a carriage and six horses, with a sword and trappings, supposed to have belonged to some general officer. The woods around were strewn with the dead and dying. A man who has never been upon a battle field can form no ideas of the horrors of one. The roar of musketry, combined with the shrieks of the wounded and dying, and the sight of mangled bodies, is truly horrible. I saw a ball from one of the enemy’s rifle cannon cut a man in two. I witnessed Bartow’s horse shot from under him. He (Bartow) was a noble fellow. When he fell, two of our men helped his men to carry him from the field. A regiment of our Zouaves was pitted against the Fire Zouaves of Ellsworth; they killed all but about 200 of them; the bloody bowie knife did ample work. The Washington Artillery, of New Orleans, is one of the noblest band of men I ever saw. I give them the credit of gaining the victory; they fought like lions, actually mowing down the ranks of the enemy. In our advance, one of our men saw a wounded Yankee lying down; he went up to him and gave him some water; when he turned to join the company the fellow coolly drew his pistol and fired at him, but missed; our men immediately turned round and bayoneted him. I escaped with a Minnie ball through my hat. It just grazed my head. I send you, by Mr. R., a piece of a bomb shell picked up on the battle field. The Yankees are a mean, contemptible people. They sent, under the white flag, to know if Gen. B. would allow them to bury their dead after the fight on Thursday at Bull Run. Gen. B. assented, and the scoundrels, instead of burying their dead, commenced to throw up entrenchments. We found it out and very soon run them off. I took a walk over the battle field a few days ago, and the dead Yankees are not all buried yet. The bodies are in a dreadful condition, and the whole atmosphere is filled with the most disgusting smell. The idea, to me the most lamentable, is that the best blood of the South is being spilled whilst fighting against the lowest, most despicable and degraded men, not only of the North, but I believe of the world. The prisoners are, nearly all of them, the most miserable looking creatures I ever saw. Ely, the member of Congress taken prisoner, is an exceedingly low looking man. The enemy resorted to all kinds of deception and chicanery to take advantage of us; they used both the Palmetto flag and the Confederate flag while advancing upon us, and for some time completely deceived our men. they also got and used our signs of recognition. It is very hard to distinguish our men from the enemy when at close quarters, their uniforms are so much like ours. I am now compelled to close my letter, as the mail is about to start for Manassas, but before doing so let me say that no women of any country could be more kind to the sick and wounded men than the women of Virginia. Our wounded are receiving every attention; they are sought after and carried to private residences, and all that can be done to make them comfortable is being done. The farmers around the country where we are now stationed carry, daily, as many as forty and fifty of our men at a time to dine with them. Give my love to all the boys, and tell them I never expect again to see them.

Charleston Mercury 8/7/1861

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Unknown, Hampton’s Legion, On the Battle (2)

2 09 2011

The Manassas Battle

A young member of the Hampton Legion sends the following interesting letter in reference to the Manassas battle:

Camp neat Manassas, July 30, 1861

Dear Mother, – I have not as yet given you a sketch of the battle, and really I feel unequal to the task. At any rate I will give you my personal experience. About 10 o’clock, Friday, a dispatch came that the Legion must leave for Manassas that evening. We struck tents at 3 o’clock and by 10 were on our way for the Junction. After a tedious journey in box cars we arrived at daylight Sunday morning. We found orders awaiting us to eat breakfast and proceed to the battle ground. I, assisted by one who has since died of his wounds (Middleton), ground the coffee. We eat a hasty meal. loaded our pieces, and started for the battle field. After a march of seven miles we reached the place where the bloody scene was to be enacted. It was then about the time of morning service, and it occurred to me that while we were about to  engage in the conflict prayers were ascending in our behalf. Soon we were addressed by our Colonel as follows: “Men of the Legion, I am happy to inform you that the enemy are in sight.” He then exhorted us to strike boldly, to remember the cause in which we were fighting, to stand up for South Carolina. We were then marched to the top of a hill and ordered to lie on our faces, so as not to attract the notice of the enemy, as they were too far off for our muskets to reach them. By the imprudence of some, who stood up, we attracted their attention and soon a shower of balls fell among us, and the shells burst within a few feet of some of us – the balls from the rifled cannon hissing like serpents. We left this position, and now comes the part we took in this fight. The Legion was formed in a narrow lane. In front of us could be seen, in large columns, the enemy advancing. Dropping on our knees in a gully we awaited their attack. Soon we were met by a tremendous volley of musketry and artillery, whose effect was terrible. It was by this volley our brave Lieutenant Colonel was killed – Col. Johnson was brave to a fault. Immediately to my left was poor Phelps; a ball passed clean through him, striking me in the leg, but it had performed its mission and only gave me slight pain. I turned to Phelps, thinking he might have a parting word to deliver, but he was dead, without a groan he had passed away. A bullet passed very near, grazing my temple and causing the blood to flow. In every direction could be heard the groans of the wounded. We in our turn poured a volley into the enemy. At this time I made up my mind for the worst; the sickening feeling which at first came over me when beholding the wounded wore away; I saw we had a terrible struggle and could have met death calmly. We struggled with a greatly superior force all day, sometimes sorely pressed. We were opposed to ten thousand men. After a hard fight all day seven thousand troops came to our rescue under Beauregard, and we routed the enemy. It is almost impossible for you to conceive what a terrible sight it was. The battle field next day was covered with the dead of the enemy who lay in hundreds. I do not know how I escaped. A feel very thankful.

I mentioned in my last that we were going to move camp. We started on Saturday and marched eight miles from the Junction to a pleasant camp. We are about four miles from Manassas. I felt very tired, but was obliged to go on guard.

Charleston Courier  8/8/1861

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