Image: Lt. Lorenzo Lorain, Co. E, 3rd U. S. Artillery

Lorenzo Lorain, Co. E, 3rd US Artillery (Source)

Lorenzo Lorain at Ancestry

Lorenzo Lorain at Fold3

Lorenzo Lorain at FindAGrave

Lorenzo Lorain at Oregon History Project

Sherman’s Battery Corrective

Sherman’s Battery.

This celebrated company of Artillery seems destined to immortality. Every item of Southern news has a new claimant for the honor of its capture at Bull run. It is scarcely exaggeration to say that there was not a single company, engaged on the side of the Rebels at Bull Run, that does not swear by all the gods of sescessiondom that to it alone is the honor due to taking Sheman’s Battery. A number of Army officers fresh from the seat of war – and among them Major, now General Sherman – have passed through Elkton within the last week, and their united testimony is, that Sherman’s Battery is now in Washington, every one of the six pieces is safe and sound; having been brought from the field by the skill and bravery of Captain Ayres and the noble men under his command., every one of whom loves the guns as dearly as sweetheart or wife.

The company lost twelve men in the battle and Lt. Lorain[1] was severely wounded by a rifle ball in the foot.

When Major Sherman arrived in Washington this spring, he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, and since then to Brigadier-General. His name is Thomas W. Sherman, and is often confounded with Col. W. T. Sherman, of Ohio.

Another error, which we see frequently in the papers, is, that this is Bragg’s or Ringgold’s Battery. It is neither, both of them being unfit for use, and long ago laid up.

The peace establishment of an Artillery company is four guns, which number Major Sherman had here last spring, all smooth bore. Two rifled guns were afterwards added to make up the war establishment.

These are facts.

The (Elkton, MD) Cecil Whig, 8/17/1861

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[1] Lt. Lorenzo Lorain at Oregon History Project

Co. D, 5th U. S. Artillery, Co. E, 3rd U. S. Artillery, Co. G, 1st U. S. Artillery, After the Battle

Our Batteries.

The West Point Battery[1] is badly cut up, It loses all the caissons and equipments, five pieces, forty horses, and five men killed and seven wounded. All the guns were thoroughly disables before they were abandoned.

The Ayres Battery[2], formerly Sherman’s, was brought off without any loss of consequence.

The Seymour Battery[3] was all saved except one 30 pound rifled gun that was thrown off the bridge, and so lost.

Pittsburgh (PA) Gazette, 7/27/1861

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[1] Co. D, 5th U. S. Artillery

[2] Co. E, 3rd U. S. Artillery

[3] Co. G, 1st U. S. Artillery

Image: Pvt. Albert E. Sholes, Co. B, 1st Rhode Island Infantry

Albert E. Sholes, Co. B, 1st Rhode Island Infantry (FindAGrave)

Albert E. Sholes at Ancestry

Albert E. Sholes at Fold3

Albert E. Sholes at FindAGrave

Pvt. Albert E. Sholes, Co. B, 1st Rhode Island Infantry, On the Campaign

Personal Reminiscences of Bull Run.

Read at the Thirty-eight Annual Reunion of the First R. I. Regiment and First Battery Association at Lakewood, R. I, Thursday, July 21, 1910, by Albert E. Sholes, of Flushing, N. Y.

“And what so tedious as a twice-told tale,” says Pope, and yet your secretary, my comrades, wrote me a few weeks since, asking that I present on this forty-ninth anniversary of the day we celebrate, a paper of reminiscences.

To so give color and change to the story of that which is in the main familiar to you all, as to interest, is not an easy task. As on strives to look back through the mist of the years, he finds that details of incidents, faces and even names of those once closely allied with, and dear to him have been obliterated, wipes out as the child erases the picture from his slate, so that only the dimmest trace of it remains.

Yet the real story of the past can only be gathered and collated from individual remembrace, and i can respond to Comrade Slocomb’s request, tell of the time,

When we beheld a Nation betrayed,
When Lincoln called and we obeyed.

in no better way than by giving you personal memories.

[Skip to p. 5]

On July 16th. orders came for the regiment to move across the Potomac, but Commisary Cole was instructed to keep all the attaches of his department in camp. This did not meet my approval, and I arranged with one of the boys in my mess to bring my haversack with the rest for rations and leave it in my bunk. I served all the rations, saw the Regiment formed and march in, and watching my opportunity, slipped off to quarters, put on my equipments, caught my gun and ran as if for life.

Half a mile down New York avenue, I dropped into line, Captain Van Slyck[1] failing to note my presence till we had crossed the Long Bridge, when he commented with a smile, that I “would probably wish later that I had obeyed orders and staid in camp.”

Memory skips today many of the details of that march, though I recall that it was a hot and dusty experience. The night of the 17th if I remember rightly, we camped in the yard of Fairfax Court House, and I have a letter somewhere which I found in the scattered mail at the Post office, which written to a member of a South Carolina Regiment, from his home, informed him that a three gallon jug of old corn whiskey had been shipped, and requested in return that the soldier bring him “one of old Abe’s front teeth.”

I recall also a visit to the home of Major Ball, who, married into the Washington family, was in command of a Confederate battery, and how some of the troops – I think not of our regiment – had sought to get even with him by practicing on his piano with their boot heels.

Then came our advance on the 18th, when we heard the first shot of the enemy across Blackburn’s Ford, and our movement to Centerville, the morning of the 19th. That day and the next in camp there, and then, on the evening of the twentieth, came orders to prepare to move in the early morning.

Little of sleep was, I think, obtained by any of us that night. The excitement of realization that tomorrow would witness a battle between two great armies, both composed of American citizens, and that we were to participate, did not tend to slumber. Then, for myself, I was one of the details to go half a mile or more to a spring for water. On our return, rations which would shortly arrive must be waited for, and after arrival, which was near midnight, the meat must be cooked.

Finally tired and sleepy, I laid down only to be awakened before I had gotten even the traditional “forty winks,” with the cry of “Fall in.”

Out into the road, down to and over the bridge which was to achieve fame ere the close of the day, up a slight elevation, and forward over an unknown road, moving in quietness, every man simply following his file leader, dawn found us in the midst of a forest, such as few of any of us had ever before seen. Giant trees were on every hand, while all about us other giants had grown to maturity, lived their day, decayed and fallen to earth. We could almost imagine the genii of the forest peering out upon us and saying, “Who be these who this disturb us? Surely their like ne’er passed this way before.”

Clambering over the fallen trunks of trees, pushing through heavy growths of underbrush, we presently emerged into the open ground, crossed a little brook, and climbed a small hill toward what we later learned to be Sudley Church.

As the let of the regiment cleared the top of the hill, the order was given “By battalion left into line,” and we advanced in line of battle.

An hundred or more yards we moved when there came a shot which I am confident was the widest shot fired during the entire war. It struck the ground a short distance in our front, and ricochetting, passed directly over my head. I am prepared to swear to this even now, and I have no question that every man here today will testify that it passed directly over his head, never mind whether he was on the right or left of the line. The command came “Forward. Double quick!” and then, “Left oblique,” and in less time than I can tell it, pushing over the left of the 71st N. Y. as it lay on the hillside, we were on the brow of the hill with the Seventy-first New York on the right, the Second Rhode Island on our left, and the gray clad enemy in front.

Who can tell of the incidents of a battle, particularly one like Bull Run, where every man and officer was a novice in the art of war? The rattle of musketry, the roar of cannon, the cries of the wounded, the shouts of officers, the loading and firing at will, all come back as a blurred memory. I recall seeing the loved Prescott[2] dead, the falling with wounds of Irving and Haskins of my Company, the riding of Governor Sprague to the front of our line, the killing of his horse, and his appearance as he rose with his hat off, hair flying and sword waving and called on the First to follow him. Then as he was led rearward, some Regiment advanced to fill our places, and we were marched to right and rear to the shade of the woods, to have our supply of ammunition replenished.

Here, to us came the news of the wounding of Colonel Slocum, Major Ballou and Captain Tower, and that they had been borne to the little house at the rear of our line of battle.

Securing permission from Captain Van Slyck, I at once went to the cabin especially to know if i could render service to the man whom I had always loved and honored, Colonel Slocum.

As I recall, no physician or attendant was with them when I entered. Colonel Slocum, Major Ballou, and I think a third man lay on the floor at the side of the room, while I passed Captain Tower lying in the yard near the door of the cabin with the pallor of death on his face. I gave utterance to some expression of sorrow when the Colonel said, “I am glad you came, Albert; can’t you get us some water?” I removed the canteens, cutting the rapes and went to the old sweep well nearly up on the line of battle. As I drew up the bucket, a man waiting by the well at my side, fell dead, as he was struck by a fragment of shell. The canteens were filled, and returning, I gently raised the head, first of Captain Tower in the yard, then of Major Ballou, and finally of the Colonel, gave them a drink and moistened their faces with my handkerchief. when I had helped Colonel Slocum, I eased his position as best I could, and then sat or half lay beside him with his head upon one arm, while I wiped the blood away as it slowly oozed to his lips, till he suggested I return to my company. He bade me goodbye, and as the tears ran down my face, he said, “Never mind, Albert, it’s all right.” Captain Tower’s mind was wandering, and he was near death as I left, but the voices of both Colonel Slocum and Major Ballou were comparatively clear and their eyes not unsteady, so that I hoped to see them again. A few days later we learned that both had died in Sudley Church, to which place they had been removed by the rebels.

Returning to the Company I learned that the ammunition brought would not fit our rifles, and the wagons had been sent back. The troops passed us, moving hurriedly to the rear, and a report came that the enemy was reinforced and our men retreating. As Colonel Burnside rode up, several ran to him and asked if it were true. The cry arose for him to lead us back to the fight, with the responding cry. “What can we do without ammunition?” Shortly, we fell into line and covered the retreat, two hundred regular cavalry who were supposed to protect our rear, crowding their way through our ranks, ere we had gone a mile.

Needless to tell of the march back through the woods, of the opening of artillery on us as we came into the open above the bridge, of the blockade of the bridge by which we lost our guns, of the curses of McDowell, which rose loud and deep on every hand. Shortly after nightfall we were back in camp at Centerville, tired, weary, heartsick, with every Company counting their lost from those who had marched away in the morning.

A few hours of rest, and then, at midnight the sound of volleys, with stray shots dropping in camp, followed by the cry of “Fall in,” and we were off in irregular, disorganized mass for Washington.

What a night? Who, that was there can forget it? Men fell asleep leaning on a comrade, as they walked, and then, one after another dropped by the roadside indifferent to everything but sleep. I confess to being on of these, and at early dawn I was awakened to discover a six mule team stalled almost beside me, the animals twisted up as only army mules can twist themselves, and the driver using frantic exertions with whip and voice to straighten them out. Rising, I aided him to ultimate success, with the result that I was invited to crawl in on top of the barrels of beef, which I at once did. Placing my blanket roll on a barrel which lay on top of the upright ones, I dropped again into dreamless slumber. The jolting of the springless wagon tossed my head from the blanket to the barrel chimes and back again, until when I finally awoke as we entered Alexandria, I had that vulnerable left eye more badly swollen and discolored than ever before.

A boy of the Seventy-first had somewhere gotten into the wagon and when we dropped off we sought a place for breakfast, though it was well toward noon. As it chanced, we entered the Marshall House, where Ellsworth was shot a few weeks before. It was apparently uninhabited, and as we turned to go out a soldier came from the basement. “There is nobody about,” he said, “but I have found a barrel of mighty good wine down cellar.” Returning, he showed us the barrel and a sample of the contents testifying to his truthfulness, we filled our canteens and then proceeded to consider how to get to Washington. Stragglers from all regiments filled the streets, the Seventy-first being especially represented, and presently it was reported that a boat was to be sent from the Navy Yard for them.

My “Seventy-first” friend, Will Berrian[3], told me to stick by him and he would see me through, and I obeyed.

The boat came, and Lieut. Colonel Kimball standing at the gangway declared that he’d run through any not of the Seventy-first, who tried to embark; nevertheless, by the aid of a dozen of the Seventy-first I got on, but not by the gangway.

We landed at the Navy Yard about seven o’clock Monday evening, and I expended my last two dollars for a coach to Camp Sprague, where I arrived at about nine p. m., to receive a hearty welcome from the boys, who thought me captured.

On other incident, a pleasing memory, and my story ends. I slept until nearly noon the next day, then in the early afternoon started down town to assure my few Washington friends of my safety. Having made one call, I was about to cross New York avenue, at Four and One Half street, when I heard a familiar voice crying, “Here, my boy!” and looking up, Colonel Burnside had stopped his carriage in front of me. I saluted as he signalled me to approach, and as he asked where I was going, I answered, “Down on Pennsylvania avenue to visit friends,” when he said, “I wish you wouldn’t. Return to camp today, and I will give you a pass for all day tomorrow.” “Thank you, Colonel,” I replied, as I turned campwards; “I have a standing pass.” “Oh! yes,” said he. “You are with Captain Cole, aren’t you? Please then go back and oblige me. Some of the men on the avenue are not acting well today, and you know what Dog Tray[4] got for being in bad company.”

As I touched my cap in salute, and again turned, he threw open the door of his carriage and said, “Here, ride up with me,” and in a moment I was beside Colonel Burnside.

Long before we reached camp he had all my pedigree, knew several of my kindred and had permanently established himself a very warm place in my heart.

There could be no prouder boy or man in the camp than I, as we drove through it, and to his headquarters where I alighted, and he again thanked me, implying by his manner that in obeying his request I had conferred on him a special favor.

Two days later, on Thursday evening, July 25th, we bade farewell to Camp Sprague, and embarked near midnight for Providence, where after much delay we arrived on Sunday morning, July 28th.

We were boys, you and I in that long gone July
When our country called us to dare or to die!
But as the call came, in an hour then
The bous had assumed the full stature of men.

We’re proud to be counted as boys of “61,”
To have fought with Burnside at Bull Run.
We’re proud of the record the old Fist bore;
Each man did his duty; none could do more.

So here’s to the brave, the gallant Burnside,
We cherish his name in love and in pride;
And here’s to Sprague our War Governor, who,
In time of peril, was staunch and true!
Here’s to our comarades! God bless each one.
May He say, as He welcomes them, “Boys, well done!”

Transcript image

Contributed by Rob Grandchamp

[1] Capt. N. Van Slyk, Co. B

[2] Lt. Henry A. Prescott, Co. D

[3] Pvt. William L. Berrian, Co. H, 71st NYSM

[4] Old Dog Tray was a minstrel song written by Stepehen Foster in 1853, however the meaning of its use by Burnside is not clear.

Albert E. Sholes at Ancestry

Albert E. Sholes at Fold3

Albert E. Sholes at FindAGrave

Lt. John C. Robertson, Co. I, 11th Massachusetts Infantry, On the Battle

Camp Wilson
Shooters Hill, VA
July 27, 1861

My Dear Wife:

I commence this letter today but it is uncertain if I shall be able to finish it as the long delayed time has come, and our Regiment is being paid off today, and it involves some additional duties upon me as Capt Wright[1] is unwell and has been for several days, with dysentery and other derangement of the bowels, Gammell[2] and myself are quite well. Your two letters of last Sunday and Tuesday came duly to hand and gladdened my heart as usual. I shall not attempt to answer them in detail so if I omit speaking of things you have desired me to now I will do so in some other letter.

Well dear wife I have at last “been in battle” and you ask me to give you the full particulars, that is more easily asked than complied with for an active participator cannot discribe a scene of that kind like one who is a looker on, and has nothing to distract his attention from the great scene before him I wrote you from our Camp at Centreville last Saturday and I had not closed my letter a half hour before we were ordered to be ready to march at 2 1/2 P.M. but that order was countermanded and the time changed to 2 OClk Sunday morn’g at the same time “we” officers were told that there was to be an engagement on Sunday but where we did not know, and I suspect officers high in command were more ignorant than they should have been, well at 1 OClk Sunday morn’g Lt-Col Blaisdell came to our “bower” and told us to call our men without noise and have them fall in, in perfect silence and not even to brighten up our Camp Fires which had nearly died out, (this precaution was necessary as we know the rebels were all round us, and must be watching our movements), all this was done and about half past one we commenced our silent dark march without beat of drum or other noise save the tramping of thousands of feet and the rumbling noise of the Artillery wheels, we moved forward about two miles and were then halted for some reason or other and remained sitting and lying by the roadside untill sunrise when the orders were forward again, and we made no more halts except for a few moments at a time untill we reached the scene of action about 11 OClk Sunday forenoon. Our march was a most tiresome one up hill and down through dense woods and over barren tracts of open country the men suffered much from want of water and I can say for myself that one swallow of muddy water as thick as Molasses was most delicous, we were also tired out from being often ordered forward at “double quick” time which was continued until the men would stop from utter exhaustion and you must know the day was very hot and we had our two blankets a haversack with three days provisions in it (and the men their cartridge boxes with 40 rounds of ammunition in them) slung on our backs, so you can judge some yourself of how fit we were to go into battle when we arrived (the distance we had gone over since starting in the morn’g was not less than 15 miles) well without giving us any time to rest each Regiment was formed into column and advanced to the fight, and now I can speak little more than generally of the battle as all who attended to their duty were sufficiently occupied with their own companies, we first went into action through an opening in the woods and have as soon as we cleared the woods I realized that I was on a “field of battle” cannon ball & shells, were whistling over our heads mingled with the peculiar “singing” buzz of rifleball, all intended for us but mostly just clearing our heads, on we advanced with no one faltering up a rising ground till we nearly reached the brow of the elevation when the command was “down on your knees and wait for their fire” this we did and almost instantly a perfect storm of bullets swept over and amongst us. Oh! Sarah it was a fearful scene I cannot describe it one must experience it to feel it, our Reg’mt had two killed and several wounded in this first fire, we instantly arose advanced to the brow of the hill and delivered our fire, we then fell back a few rods reloaded and advanced again, this movement was gone through with several times in all this the 5th Mass and another Reg’mt were on our right, going through the same movements, after a while, a battery of Artillery came up and took position between “ours” and the 5th then the firing on both sides became hotter, finally the battery retired from its position and “ours” with the 5th and another were ordered to follow and support it, in the new position it was to take, which was upon another eminence farther to the right, to get there we had to pass through a narrow gully or ravine, and here came the time during the engagement when through a miraculous power I was saved from being lost to you dear Sarah in this world. (I say “the time”! there were probably thousands of moments when I escaped as narrowly for during the whole of the fight which lasted about 5 Hours our Regmt was constantly engaged and under the hottest fire a perfect “leaden rain and iron hail” the bullets were whistling about my ears so close it seems strange I was not hit) we were rushing down this ravine upon the keen run. I alongside of my platoon (and at this time we were passing directly between the fire of one of our own batteries on the right and one of the enemies on the left) when I heard a “firing” and simultaneously an explosion and over I went backwards to the ground for a second I was partially stunned and the thought passed through me that I was “hurt” but instantly I got on my hands and knees and found I could move I could see that the blood was running down my face but I jumped up and rushed after my company, and overtook them at the bottom of the gully before they had got fifty rods from where I fell in a few minutes we were halted and a Sargeant in Capt Butters[3] company gave me some water from his Canteen and upon washing the blood from my face, I found I had received only a slight wound on the side of my nose which bled freely but was not much of a cut and now to show you what a narrow escape I had (although I did not know it at the time) a piece of the shell which burst and knocked me down struck the man who was touching me in my platoon and tore away all the lower part of his abdomen making a most horrible wound he was carried to the rear to the temporary hospital but Doct Bell who dressed the wound says he could not possibly have lived more than three or four hours his name was John P Mead and he belonged in So Reading he had a wife and one child I am told, he with another man of our company named Geo D Torrey were left at the hospital when we retreated (as there were no means of taking our wounded with us) and we have heard nothing from them since, for I will state here what you have probably seen in the papers, that we have it from what seems good authority that after our retreat the rebels blew up the Hospital and inhumanly murdered every wounded man they found. for the sake of humanity I trust this may not be true, but this is certain, up to this moment we have had no tidings of any of our wounded or missing in addition to the two I have named above one of our men by the name of Newell is missing, this comprises the whole “loss” of our Comp’y although we have two or three in camp who were slightly “hurt” the Capt Gordon[4] you speak of was the large stout man you saw at Camp Cameron that we called the “child of the Regmt” he was not killed but only slightly wounded and his fate is as uncertain as that of the rest of the wounded, and while upon this subject let me state that the loss to our Reg’mt in Officers is two Captains and one Lieut missing and one Lieut killed, I have rather digressed and will now resume this somewhat indefinite account of my experience of the day. After having washed the blood from my face we remained in the gully ten or fifteen minutes, the Artillery had gone on and taken position upon the hill but they only retained it a few minutes they were obliged to give way, and came tearing down the gully at a fearful rate to get out of thier way we had to clamber up a steep bank 15 or 20 feet high and over a rail fence into a field while doing this I lost my sword my scabbord got caught in the fence and the sword dropped out and I could not regain it at the moment I went back in a few minutes alone over the fence although the balls were flying merrily around me but it was gone, soon after I got Capt Gordons sword (he had just been carried from the field) and I carried that until we arrived back here in Camp. After the Artillery had passed down the gully we formed in column and crossed over it charged up the hill and drove the rebels from thier position and this particular part of the battlefield we remained in till the retreat commenced sometimes charging and then falling back (it would take more time than I can now give to continue the account of the battle further and besides the more I write about it the more I seem to make it unintelligble so I will begin to draw to a conclusion) till finally from some unexplained cause all the columns engaged seemed to break at once and a retreat commenced and it finally became such that the men from the different Regiments became so mixed up that it was impossible to collect them together again. You will hear and see in the papers all sorts of accounts of the battle the retreat and the causes which produced this or that result, how this Regiment behaved gallantly and that one did not, how if this thing had been done the battle would not have been lost etc. all I have got to say is this that “our Eleventh” went into the fight as soon as it arrived and continued in it without any cessation, and the whole time under such a perfect storm of cannon balls shells and musket balls as might have appalled the stoutest heart yet there was no flinching and I venture to say veterans of a hundred fights could not have done better this may sound like egotism in one so directly interested, but I write this not for publicity but only for the eye of one dearer to me than the life so often in deadly peril on that day I did my duty faithfully and I know others did. And now I know the question that has arisen to your lips many a time while you have been reading this. How did you feel when you first went into action? and this question I cannot answer to my own satisfaction I am concious of no feeling of fear or a wish to be out of it there was a sort of feeling of indifference mingled with the thought of how light a hold I had upon life amid such a storm and then my thoughts were so concentrated upon the fight that I thought of little else most of the time it somehow seemed as if I was but taking part in an ordinary occurance of everyday life. Of our retreat from the field I must say but little now, it was harder to bear than the fight, worn out with fatigue hunger and thirst we reached our Camp at Centreville about 8OClk in the evening and it seemed utterly impossible to proceed further but we had hardly thrown ourselves down on the ground before orders came to break up the Camp instantly and fall back on Washington great Heavens we all said it cannot be done what march 23.5 miles more tonight it is utterly impossible.” yet by half past nine we had started (in all about 5000 troops) and can you believe it? most of us accomplished that journey that night. I walked every step of the way and with other Officers & men arrived at the end of the “Long Bridge” which crosses the Potomac into Washington at 8OClK Monday morn’g, then we were detained by orders from Head Quarters till Tuesday noon, when wagons came for us and we rejoined our Regmt here that afternoon. Now just see what we accomplished from Centreville to the battle ground 15 miles; back again 15 more making 30 and from Centreville to Washington 25 miles in all 55 miles added to this the ground travelled over during the fight of 5 Hours and I don’t think 70 miles too high a mark all this done between 1 OClk Sunday morn’g and 8 OClk Monday morn’g, 31 Hours without food or rest. I have told you how I lost my sword on the battlefield, well just before going into it we were ordered to unsling our blankets and Haversacks as they would encumber us, this we did leaving them in a pile intending to take them again after the day was finished but we retreated by another way so we lost all them, and on our march from Centreville to Washington my Revolver was stolen from me. (Gammell also had his stolen) so you see this was an unfortunate day every way. Since our arrival here we have been very quiet recruiting our strength by rest. My ankles are very much swollen yet but otherwise I am in excellent health, what or when our next movement may be we know not, there are all sorts of rumors but none reliable, troops are arriving in great numbers and another battle is not improbable, but we wo’nt anticipate. I have written so much that I fear you will hardly make sense of it, and I have probably omitted a great many things I should have spoken of, but I have not time to revise it, write me as soon as you get this without waiting for Sunday. Since I commenced we have been paid off up to the 1st of July and as soon as I can get to Washington I shall send you home money enough to make you very comfortable. I shall be obliged to buy another sword and a revolver which is unfortunate just now. Say to Tommy that I rec’d his letter with much pleasure and will send his things home as soon as possible. Those curiosities he asks for were both hard and easy to obtain a rebel bullet was easy enough got but they were rather hard to bring away from the field, and the piece of Bulls Run Bridge was on our retreat rather hard to get as a rebel battery walked that same bridge and we were obliged to give it a [illegible] and forded the stream some distance down up to our waists in water, and now I must leave off although I could say a great deal more, what would I not give to see you.

I kiss you in spirit love and kisses to the children and remembrances to all

Your loving Husband
John

See letter images and original transcription at Massachusetts Historical Society.

Contributed by John Hennessy

[1] Capt. B. F. Wright, Co. I

[2] Lt. Albert M. Gammell, Co. I

[3] Capt. J. W. Butters, Co. D

[4] Capt. L. Gordon, Co. F

John C. Robertson at Ancestry

John C. Robertson at Fold3

Image: Lt. Col. Francis Effingham Pinto, 32nd New York Infantry

Francis Effingham Pinto, 32nd New York Infantry (Source)

Francis E. Pinto at Ancestry

Francis E. Pinto at Fold3

Francis E. Pinto at FindAGrave

Lt. Col. Francis Effingham Pinto, 32nd New York Infantry, On the Campaign

We commenced drilling and instructing the regiment in all that was necessary to make them soldiers. Mr. Lincoln, the President, came out to our camp to witness a parade of the regiment. Soon after we had been settled in this camp, I went to New York to close up some of our Regimental business, and while at home in Amsterdam, I received a telegram that the regiment had been ordered to cross the Potomac to Alexandria, Va., and to join the regiment, as there was a movement to the front, and a battle in prospect. I left Amsterdam on the evening of July 16th. I got together some 20 recruits during the next day in New York, and took the train for Washington the same evening, arriving in Washington next morning (the 18th) crossed to Alexandria, paying the boat charges for the men, amounting to Six dollars, rather than wait to get transportation, which would have kept me half of the day in going through the red tape business that was necessary. I found the Camp of this regiment near Fort Runyon, but deserted excepting a few men left to look after the property in Camp. The regiment left Alexandria on the 16th of July and was Brigaded with the 16th, 18th, 31st and 32nd New York. Colonel Thomas A. Davies of the 16th N. Y., by virtue of his commission, being the oldest, had command. I soon made a bargain with a colored man to take me to the Regiment as far as he ventured to go. He took us to Fairfax Court House and I could not persuade him to go further, he was terribly frightened at going the distance he had, so we took to the road on foot. We overtook a train of ammunition, and got in the wagon, and had not gone fare when we heard artillery firing. Soon after a cavalry man came dashing down the road, swinging an envelope in his hand, to show he was on important business with despatches, who reported our army to be in retreat. The teamsters became panic and were about to turn back. I protested so rigorously that they continued on to our camp. We arrived at the Camp at Centreville late in the afternoon. Some men of the regiment recognized me coming up, and I received a round of cheers. Colonel Dixon S. Miles, who commanded the division that our Brigaded had been assigned to, came out of his tent, and wanted to know what all the noise was about. Colonel Matheson being very near, told him the cause, and he went back to his tent. The artillery firing we heard was at Blackburn’s ford, merely a few exchanges of shot with the enemy across the stream.

On the 20th, an order was issued by General McDowell, commanding the Army, to Colonel Dixon S. Miles to have a reconnoissance made on the left of his camp. I was called upon to take command. Engineer Lieutenant Fred. E. Primes, on the staff of Colonel Miles, was ordered to accompany us. I had about 500 men. Our camp was about one mile from Bull Run Creek, the stream making quite a bend towards our camp at this point. On leaving camp we soon struck a piece of woods, and, not seeing a sign of any picket or out-posts, I thought it prudent to send out some skirmishers in front of our flanks. Passing through the woods we came to a small clearing, quite near the banks of Bull Run Stream. Placing the main force in the edge of the woods, I sent about 50 men down the banks to the stream, which was hidden from our view by woods. Lieut. Prime went with the advance force. Here they discovered the rebels picketing the opposite side of the stream, which was fordable at almost any part. Lieutenant Prime and the small force returned, having gained the knowledge of the fact that the rebels could cross here at their pleasure, and that there were no troops of ours in that direction to interfere with them.

I thought it very strange that an officer intrusted with a command should have so little thought or care for the safety of his camp when in the presence of the enemy, but I had seen and heard enough about Colonel Miles, in the short time that I had been in camp, to condemn him as an unfit man to be trusted with the lives of men in warfare. Colonel Miles was a regular officer, trained at West Point, so should have been alive to the necessity of protecting his camp from a midnight or day attack, which could have been done, and been a complete surprise, if the enemy had so desired. They probably had no suspicion of the unprotected condition of our camp. The next morning, July 21st, all was bustle and activity, preparing to meet the enemy on the opposite side of Bull Run stream. Our division, under Colonel Miles, was what was called the resereve, but more properly, the left wing of the Army, composed of three brigades, commanded by Colonel Israel B. Richardson. Colonel Lewis Blenker and Colonel Thomas A. Davies. the whole force numbered twelve regiments and several Batteries. We took up our position on and near Centreville Hill and Blackburn’s Ford – no doubt we were judiciously located – as it prevented the enemy from crossing the Bull Run stream and attacking our army in the rear, and the Confederate forces at Blackburn’s Ford, in like manner protected their right wing. In a small clearing to the left of the main road leading to the Ford, about half way between Centreville and the Ford, a Battery was placed in position. The 31st New York Regiment, Colonel Calvin E. Pratt, was placed there to support the Battery. In the early part of the day some trees were felled near this Battery, forming a barricade. I did not think it amounted to much of a position. there was a narrow wood road leading from the main road to this clearing. Our regiment was posted on the main road near Centreville Ridge. During the day I visited all the points of interest and was well acquainted with the position of our troops. The main army crossed at the Fort at Sudley Springs, several miles to the right of us. it was something new to them to see a body of the enemy. They were within range of our muskets: Cadet John R. Weigs, whom nobody seemed to know, waving a white handkerchief, rode down to their front, asking the commanding officer if they were Federal or Confederate troops. The answer being the latter, he then asked permission to retire. Before he had got out of range of our fire the enemy had disappeared in the woods, as our force on the ridge presented quite a formidable appearance. Cadet Weigs was the son of Quartermaster General Weigs*. He had volunteered his services, and was acting on the staff of Colonel Richardson. He went forward to the front of the enemy without orders, apparently, and when he returned he was asked who he was. It was a gallant act, and showed the material that was in him.

It was now getting to be dark, and nobody seemed to know what to do. No person of authority to give orders, that I could see. I did not see Colonel Miles during the day, and the Colonels commanding Brigades were disputing with each other the question of rank, which seemed to concern them more than fighting the enemy. There was no determined attempt to cross the Bull Run by the enemy further than I have mentioned. The cavalry force that appeared in our front was only one Company as reported by the officer who commanded, I find reported in the Congressional reports. The road that our army returned on from Bull Run was just over the hill out of our sight, not more than an eighth of a mile distant. We saw nothing of the panic, and knew nothing of it at that time. When we realized what had taken place, we barricaded the road to Blackburn’s Ford with such material as we could collect, which was not much. Soon after dark a young officer rode up to me and announced himself as Adjutant of the DeKalb Regiment**, just from Fairfax Cour House, and asked for a position for his regiment. I directed him to take a position on our right. The regiment did as I directed. During the evening they left us, and all the other troops that were on the hill disappeared. We soon found out we were left quite alone, and without orders. Finally, about ten o’clock, or later, we came to the conclusion that we had better leave and find out what was up. We went over the hill in the direction of the camp we had left in the morning, expecting to find the rest of the army there, but what a melancholy disappointment. There was not a human being in sight, A dew smoking embers showing that there had been someone there and that they had cooked their coffee before leaving. I also impressed us with the fact that we had been neglected; but how could it be otherwise, as it was well known that our Division Commander was drunk, and the other would-be soldiers, excepting Colonel I. B. Richardson, commanding one of the Brigades, had no knowledge of the duties of a soldier. Colonel Richardson preferred charges of drunkenness against Colonel miles and he was found guilty by a Court Martial.

General Wm. B. Franklin, General John Sedgwick and Captain Thomas Seymour, 1st U. S. Artillery, composed the court. Colonel Miles was killed at Harper’s Ferry, Sept. 15th, 1862, while in command of that post.

I take exception to a part of Colonel Richardson’s report of the encounter with the enemy on the 21st of July. He states that he ordered Lieutenant Benjamin of the Artillery to open fire upon the Cavalry when they made their appearance just below us, and that after a few shots they disappeared. I say, there was not a shot fired either by the Artillery or Infantry. I also beg to differ with him in other important points in his report relating to the retreat. Finding the Camp at Centreville abandoned, we then struck the main road leading back to Alexandria, and we soon comprehended what had taken place. The stamped was made plain to us at this point. It is not in my power to properly describe the sight we saw here. Wagons upset on both sides of the road, tongues broken, traces cut, all kinds of army materials scattered along the sides of the road, and muskets without number. There was a four horse ambulance, the tongue broken. Procuring some rope from the abandoned wagons, we hitched on to the ambulance and commenced gathering up the muskets and placed them in the ambulance. there were so many of them we gave up the task. We put some of our disabled men in, and hauled the ambulance to Fairfax Court House. We halted there for the rest of the night. There was not a man of our army there, excepting our Regiment, the 32nd New York. The next morning, at broad daylight, we continued our march to Alexandria, hauling the ambulance into our Camp near Fort Runyon, arriving there about noon on the 22nd of July, with every man of the Regiment accounted for.

It is unpleasant to me to hear of troops claiming to have brought up the rear of our retreating army from Bull Run, some claiming through their reports to headquarters, which I find published in the Congressional Reports, of their bringing up the rear of the retreating army. Colonel I. B. Richardson, who commanded one of Miles’ Brigades, composed, as he states in his report, of the 12th New York, 1st Massachusetts, 2nd and 3rd Michigan regiments, claiming that he covered the retreat from Centreville, arriving at his camp at Arlington at 4 o’clock in the morning of the 22nd. He evidently did not know that the 32nd New York was still in rear of him, and not having received orders to retire from their position at Centreville Ridge, but late that night finding themselves apparently deserted, moved without orders to find the balance of the army, and did not find any portion of the army until they arrived at Alexandria. General Wm. B. Franklin, who was in command there, learning of our coming into Camp at noon of the 22nd, hauling the big ambulance from Centreville, said the ambulance should belong to the regiment. But it was soon required, and taken from us.

Francis E. Pinto, History of the 32nd Regiment, New York Volunteers, in the Civil War, 1861 to 1863, And Personal
Recollections During that Period. Brooklyn, New York: n.p., 1895, pp. 12-20 via New York Public Library

Contributed by Dan Weinfeld and John Hennessy

*Quartermaster General Montgomery Meigs and his son, USMA Cadet John Rodgers Meigs

**41st New York Infantry

Francis E. Pinto at Ancestry

Francis E. Pinto at Fold3

Francis E. Pinto at FindAGrave

Rev. Robert Lowry to Rev. George Webb Dodge, Chaplain, 11th New York Infantry, Before the Battle

Yankee Morals.

Maj. W. L. Hubbard, Adjutant of the Seventh Regiment of Georgia Volunteers, has favored us with the following. It speaks for itself:

W. L. Hubbard, Esq., Adjutant 7th Georgia Regiment:

Dear Sir: Below I hand you copy of letter from Rev. Robt. Lowry, of Brooklyn, New York, to Rev. G. W. Dodge, Chaplain of Ellsworth’s Fire Zouaves. I wonder if the boys are “spilin’ for a fight” now. if so, as dick Swiveller* said, “plenty more at the same shop; a large assortment always on hand; such customers promptly supplied:”

Yours truly,
CRAWFORD CUSHING.**

———-

No. 63, Portland Avenue,
Brooklyn, July 12, 1861.

Dear Bro. Dodge: Your welcome letter reached me two weeks ago. I have been away a week, so have seemed neglectful of your epistle. I was very glad to hear from you, and have thought of you frequently since we parted on Broadway, after the purchase of that knife and revolver. If a bullet from the latter had been honored with a lodgment in the traitor Jackson’s vile carcass, it would have been a pleasant piece of information. I am very much afraid your boys are not to have a serious brush with the rebels within the unfortunate three months of their enlistment. It will be a dry rain with them, if they make a return march up Broadway without having had a real grand tug with the foe. It will be like running the machine to a fire, and finding the fire out. I hope, for their own sakes, they may have a chance to do a big thing with those infernal traitors, before they get home. It would be delightful to see the boys in fierce array, spilin for a fight, and no fight on hand.

We have great confidence in Gen. Scott up here, and we have confidence in prompt measures, also. There are some rebel batteries too close to Federal lines to make it particularly honorable or creditable. I think the boys would like to take those posts by the contract, and give good security for the prompt performance of all engagements, and assume all risks. I do not know but that wars, generally, could be more rapidly and completely disposed of by the contract system, than in the old fashioned way. All the munitions of war, as well as the Commissary Department, are under the contract system, and you get gloriously cheated and sold out generally. Suppose you were permitted to look for your own subsistence, and do up the rebellion at so much for the job. I think in that case, the rebel Congress would never meet in Richmond, and would not the Fire Zouaves be there “to see” and have a big finger in the pie? Methinks so. Do you think it would be worth while to correspond with Gen. Scott on the subject? I am anxious to have those Palm-Leaf Nabobs gloriously whipped; so thoroughly, that, for a generation to come, they will be glad to hold a Northerners horse for a sixpence. I wish you and the boys could be in at the death. Can’t you all hold on to the end? No doubt you have longings for the good things of Broadway restaurants and the better comforts of home. But it is not often that freeborn Americans have an opportunity to fight and die for such a country as this. Had you not all better stay till you wipe the thing clean, and then you can tell your children a tale that the angels themselves would love to listen to. I suppose if you could only put a bullet through some contractors and commisarys, you would be more happy than you are. Some of them, at least, ought to be sent over the Potomac astride a log. It is unpardonable, that when thousands of men have laid themselves on the altar of their country, a few graceless, soulless scoundrels should disaffect a whole army by this diabolical contract robbery.

A member of Duryea’s Regiment told me, the other day, he had not had 30 cents worth of provisions in a week, in the face of the fact the Government provides 30 cents worth per day for each man. The unmitigated wretches that cause such a state of things, are a thousand times worse than open traitors, fighting in the rebel army. I wish you could give them all a fair hanging, and hold a court martial in their cases afterwards.

What has become of Congress down your way. It looks like Old Abe was sound on the goose. $400,000,000 and 400,000 men ought to lay this little trouble on the shelf for all time to come. Part of the money ought to be expended in the erection of a continuous gallows around the Capitol grounds, to be thickly strung with seed rebels, from Jeff, the arch traitor, down to microscopic Twiggs, the most contemptible of them all. Tell the boys do hold on – a few more pork rations and hard crackers, and you will have the pleasure of opening the avenues through the ranks of the fighting rebels, and hearing prayers under the scaffold of traitors of “upper ten.”***

Give my best regards to Hosford****. He is a good fellow, with a mother and sisters who love Christ. I think he wants to be a christian. I hope the solemn surroundings of a soldier’s life have not failed to impress him with a need of a preparation for eternity.

I am comfortably fixed in Brooklyn – an advance in every respect over the old spot. Secession is an infection, you see.

Glad to hear from you at any time. May your braves return with many scalps.

Yours Fraternally,
ROBT. LOWERY

———-

This hopeful epistle from one who professes to be a disciple of Him who preached “peace upon earth and good will to man,” was picked up with the port folio of the Rev. Dodge, who lost it near my house in trying to Dodge our cavalry.*****

(Atlanta, Ga) Southern Confederacy, 9/10/1861

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*A character from Charles Dickens’s The Old Curiosity Shop

** Unknown

***A 19th century term referring to the 10,000 wealthiest citizens of New York City.

****Pvt. Samuel E. Hosford of Co. E.

*****Rev. Dodge was captured at First Bull Run.

William L. Hubbard at Ancestry

William L. Hubbard at Fold3

George Webb Dodge at Ancestry

George Webb Dodge at Fold3

George Webb Dodge at FindAGrave

Robert Lowery at FindAGrave (possible)

Samuel Hosford at Ancestry

Samuel Hosford at Fold3

Samuel Hosford at FindAGrave

Outrage Over Alleged Atrocities Against the 69th New York State Militia

Among the reports got up to inflame the Irish population and encourage enlistment, was one that Col. Corcoran, of the 69th, had been found lying wounded in a house, to which the rebels at once set fire, and burned up the gallant colonel. Another was that the body of acting Lieut-Col. Haggerty, who was killed on the first charge, was found on the field badly mutilated. The throat was cut, the eyes gorged our, the nose and ears taken clean off, &c. The object of the inventors of this canard is apparent from the following, which was printed on an immense placard and posted round the streets of New York:

Erin Go Braugh. – Irishmen – Haggerty must be avenged. Our gallant countrymen of the immortal 69th have covered themselves with imperishable glory. They proved themselves not only heroes, but Christian men – as generous to wounded foes and prisoner as they were invincible in battle. But how were they treated by the barbarous enemy? Let the fate of the gallant Captain Haggerty, who, lying wounded on the field, rendered immortal by the heroic deeds of the 69th, had his throat cut from ear to ear by a dastard rebel hand, attest. Irishman! the heroic Corcoran is in the power of these cutthroats! Shall he meet with such a fate as that dealt out by the rebels on his brave comrade in arms? Forbid it, genius of Erin! The grass would wither on the tortured bosom of our green mother Isle, should we permit it. Sons of Erin! countrymen of Corcoran to arms! Let there be ten thousand Irishmen on the south bank of the Potomac in twenty days, there battle cry being “Corcoran, resettled if living, avenged if dead.”

Brooklyn (NY) Daily Eagle, 7/26/1861

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