Chaplain Joseph Cross, 2nd Tennessee Infantry, After the Battle

A Clergyman at the Battle of Manassas – He meets with “Hon.” Mr. Ely. – Rev. Joseph Cross, Chaplain of Col. Bate’s Tennessee Regiment, writes to the Christian Advocate some interesting letters from the “seat of war.” We extract the following from his last:

Merciful God, what a sight for Christian eyes! Wagons and ambulances loaded with mangled and groaning men; corpses carried on litters and legs and arms recently cut off by the surgeon; brains and blood scattered over the ground and trod into the mire; soldiers walking about with broken limbs, bandaged heads, covered with their own gore; others sitting or lying upon the wet earth, with wounds undressed and bleeding.

A lady, young and beautiful, but pale as death, hurried by me, exclaiming – “Where is poor Jim?” and as she disappeared in the throng a low voice said, “She is from Alabama; Jim was her brother.” Another came with delicate feet, fir only to tread on roses, regardless of the mud through which she waded, exclaiming, “Where is he? where?” and an officer answered, soothingly, “Yonder, in that house with the yellow flag; they have amputated the limb, and he is doing very well.”

The next sad spectacle was a middle aged woman, who met a dead body borne upon a plan; at the sight of which she burst in to tears, and sank upon the ground, when two soldiers raised her up and carried her after her dead husband.

I saw a dense crowd and walked toward it. Within were many prisoners, sitting, lying, walking about; some sad and others sullen; some evidently uneasy, others, apparently quite indifferent, and here and there one affecting mirth and jocularity. There several of Wilson’s cut-throat gang, and three of Ellsworth’s Zouaves. The latter said they did not know whether another of their number had escaped death, but believed themselves the only survivors. There was a little man with a wicked, wolfish look, as restless as a hyena in a cage. It was the Hon. Alfred Ely, member of Congress from Rochester, New York. Our Capt. Clusky, having been acquainted with him in Washington, stepped up and took his hand. Most piteously the prisoner implored the interposition, on his behalf, of a man whom, hours before he would gladly have slaughtered. Capt. C. introduced him to our gallant Colonel.

“Your servant, Colonel Bate,” said the prisoner, bowing obsequiously. “I am glad to meet you. You see I am in a bad fix.”

“Yes sir,” said the Colonel; “you are, for a member of Congress, in a VERY bad fix.” But you see,” rejoined the honorable gentleman, throwing open the breast of his coat, “I am not in uniform; merely spectator came out with Senator Foster to see the battle; but unfortunately ventured too far, and was taken.”

“Mr. Ely,” replied the Colonel, “a battle-field is no place for a civilian. You are a member of Congress, sire, and the representative of at least ninety thousand people. And do you think yourself a cipher in a scene like this? No, sir; the moral influence of our presence was worth a hundred soldiers to our enemies. Are you not a lawyer, Mr. Ely?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Ely. “I am a lawyer.”

“Then, sir,” Col. B. continued, “you know that by your presence you are aiding and abetting that by this cruel and bloody assault upon us. It is a principle of law which you are accustomed to recognize elsewhere, and which you are oblige to acknowledge here.”

He assented with a sheepish look, and continued his absurd apology, which the Colonel thus cut short:

“Mr. Ely, we are glad to see you here, we want you with us, and cannot consent to part with you soon. There are men at Washington for whom we may be willing to exchange you hereafter, if indeed, you should not be hanged, as you deserve.” * * * *

The battle-field, who shall describe? You could have walked over acres literally paved with the dead and dying, and in some places were piles of gashed and gory corpses, but everywhere there appeared to be five Yankees and one Southron. The miserable cowards as they fled left the slain and the wounded upon the field, and the former were buried by our own soldiers, and the latter treated by our surgeons; while in Washington the brutal rascals were beating to death the few Southern captives they had taken!

In a few weeks I hope to preach to the Walker Legion from the steps of the Capitol at Washington, on the words of General Joshua before the gates of Jericho; “Shout, for the Lord hath given us the city!”

(Prattville, AL) Autauga Citizen, 9/12/1861

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Capt. John Wilson Harrington, Co. G, 8th South Carolina Infantry, On the Capture of Congressman Alfred Ely

Capture of the Abolition Congressman, Ely.

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Camp Gregg, Headquarters
Eighth Reg’t S. C. V., July 31, 1861.

To the Editor of the Charleston Mercury:

I see by your issue of the 24th instant, that you give me the credit of the capture of Mr. Ely, the New York member of the Federal Congress. Will you please to me the kindness to say that the credit of the capture justly belongs to Sergeant-Major Mullins*, who handed him over to me for safe keeping, on that glorious field. Hence the error, I suppose, of your correspondent.

Sergeant-Major Mullins is better known, perhaps, throughout the State, as the eloquent member of the House of Representatives from “Liberty.”

Yours truly,
Jno. W. Harrington, Capt. 8th Reg’t S. C. V.

The Charleston (SC) Mercury, 8/7/1861

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* William Sidney Mullins, member of the South Carolina House of Representatives, 1852-1866

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Capt. John C. Tidball, Co. A, 2nd U. S. Artillery, On Battle and Retreat

As previously stated I was with Blenker’s brigade of Miles’s division, the duty of which was to guard Blackburn’s and other fords. Early on the forenoon of the 21st (July) I took post on a prominent knoll overlooking the valley of Bull Run. Here I remained in readiness to move my battery quickly to any point where its service might be required. Stretched out before me was a beautiful prospect. To the south, directly in front of me, distance about five miles, was Manassas Junction, where we could perceive trains arriving and departing. Those coming from the direction of Manassas were carrying Johnston’s troops from the Shenandoah. Around towards our right was the Sudley Springs country, nearing which the turning column now was. All the country in that direction appeared from our point of view, to be a dense forest, and a good of it was in woods, the foliage and buildings only were discernible. Among these were the Robinson and Henry houses, and the fields upon the plateau soon to become famous in history as the scene of deadly strife. Still further around to our right and rear, distant about a mile was Centreville, a mere village of the “Old Virginny” type. Through it ran the old dilapidated turnpike from Alexandria to Warrenton. By this road soon commenced to arrive a throng of sightseers from Washington. They came in all manner of ways, some in stylish carriages, others in city hacks, and still others in buggies, on horseback and even on foot. Apparently everything in the shape of vehicles in and around Washington had been pressed into service for the occasion. It was Sunday and everybody seemed to have taken a general holiday; that is all the male population, for I saw none of the other sex there, except a few huxter women who had driven out in carts loaded wit pies and other edibles. All manner of people were represented in this crowd, from most grave and noble senators to hotel waiters. As they approached the projecting knoll on which I was posted seemed to them an eligible point of view, and to it they came in throngs, leaving their carriages along side of the road with the horses hitched to the worm fence at either side, When all available space along the road was occupied they drove into the vacant fields behind me and hitched their horses to the bushes with which it was in a measure overgrown. As a rule, they made directly for my battery, eagerly scanning the country before them from which now came the roar of artillery and from which could occasionally be heard the faint rattle of musketry. White smoke rising here and there showing distinctly against the dark green foliage, indicated the spot where the battle was in progress. I was plied with questions innumerably. To those with whom I thought it worth while I explained, so far as I could, the plan of the operation then in progress. But invariably I was asked why I was posted where I was, and why I was not around where the fighting was going on. To all of which I could only reply that the plan of the battle required that we should guard the left until the proper time came for us to engage. To make my explanation more lucid I said if the enemy were allowed freedom to break through here where would you all be. Most of the sightseers were evidently disappointed at that they saw, or rather did not see. They no doubt expected to see a battle as represented in pictures; the opposing lines drawn up as on parade with horsemen galloping hither and thither, and probably expecting to see something of the sort by a nearer view of the field they hurried on in the direction of the sound of battle, leaving their carriages by the roadside or in the fields. These were the people that made such a panic at the Cub Run bridge.

Among those who thus halted a little while with me were several that I knew. One party in particular attracted my attention. This was Dr. Nichols, then in charge of the government Insane Asylum; Senator Wilson from Massachusetts, Chairman of the Senate Military Committee; “Old Ben” Wade, Senator from Ohio, and a wheel horse of the Republican part; and “Old Jim” Lane, senator from Kansas, and another political war horse. All of these were full of the “On to Richmond” fever, and were impatient to see more of the battle. I endeavored to dissuade them from proceeding further, that if they would only remain awhile they would probably see as much of it as they would care to see. But Old Jim was firey, he said he must have a hand in it himself. His friends not wishing to go so far as that tried to convince him that he could do no good in the fight without a gun. “O never mind that,” he said, “I can easily find a musket on the field. I have been there before and know that guns are easily found where fighting is going on. I have been there before and know what it is.” He had been colonel of an Indiana regimt during the Mexican ware, and this was the old war fire sparkling out again. Nothing could hold him back and off the parted started down the slope and over the fields in the direction of the firing. I saw nothing more of them until late in the afternoon.

About 4. P. M. an aid (Major Wadsworth) came hurredly to me with instructions from General McDowell, to hasten with my battery down the turnpike towards the Stone Bridge. I supposed this was simply in accordance with the developments of the battle, and that the turning movemt had now progressed so far that we could now cross over and take part in it. To get on the turnpike I had to go through Centreville, where I saw Colonel Miles, our division commander, airing himself on the porch of the village inn. By this time the road was pretty well crowded with ambulances carrying the wounded, and other vehicles, all hurredly pressing to the rear. Miles, evidently in ignorance of what was transpiring at the front, asked me what was up. I could only answer that I had been ordered to proceed down towards the Stone Bridge; and then I proceeded, but the farther I proceeded the thicker the throng because of wagons, ambulances and other vehicles. The road being cut on the side of a hill had a steep bank up on its left and a steep bank down on the left, so that I could not take to the fields on either side. My horses were scraped and jammed by the vehicles struggling to pass me in the opposite direction. As far as I could see ahead the road was crowded in like manner. Finally it became impossible for me to gain another inch, and while standing waiting for a thinning out of the struggling mass, a man came riding up towards me, inquiring excitedly, “whose battery is this.” I told him that I commanded it. “Reverse it immediately and get out of here, I have orders from General McDowell to clear this road” and added that the army had been ignominiously and was now retreating. He was curious, wild looking individual. Although the day was oppressively hot he had on an overcoat – evidently a soldier’s overcoat dyed a brownish black. On his head he wore a soft felt hat the broad brim of which flopped up and down at each of his energetic motions. But notwithstanding the broadness of the brim it did not protect his face from sunburn, and his nose was red and peeling from the effects of it. He had no signs of an officer about him and I would have taken him for an orderly had he not had with him a handsome young officer whom I subsequently came well acquainted with, as Lieutenant afterwards Colonel Audenried. Seeing this young officer was acquainted with my lieutenant, afterwards General Webb, of Gettysburg game, I sidled up to them and inquired of him who the stranger was giving me such peremptory orders. He told me that he was Colonel Sherman, to whom I now turned and begged him pardon for not recognizing him before. I told him what my orders were, but he said it made no difference, the road must be cleared, and added that I could do no good if I were up at the Stone Bridge. I then reversed my battery by unlimbering the carriages, and after proceeding a short distance to the rear, where the bank was less steep, turned out into the field, where I put my guns in position on a knoll overlooking the valley towards Cun Run. In the distance I could see a line of skirmishers from which proceeded occasional puffs of smoke. This was Sykes’ battalion of regulars covering the rear.

I had not been in this position long before I saw three of my friends of the forenoon, Wilson, Wade and Lane, hurrying through the field up the slope toward me. Dr. Nichols was not now part of the party. Being younger and more active than the others he had probably outstripped them in the race. Lane was the first to pass me; he was mounted horsebacked on an old flea-bitten gray horse with rusty harness on, taken probably from some of the huxter wagons that had crowded to the front. Across the harness lay his coat, and on it was a musket which, sure enough, he had found, and for ought I know may have done valorous deeds with it before starting back in the panic. He was long, slender and hay-seed looking. His long legs kept kicking far back to the rear to urge his old beast to greater speed. And so he sped on.

Next came Wilson, hot and red in the face from exertion. When young he had been of athletic shape but was now rather stout for up-hill running. He too was in his shirt sleeves, carrying his coat on his arm. When he reached my battery he halted for a moment, looked back and mopping the perspiration from his face exclaimed, “Cowards! Why don’t they turn and beat back the scoundrels?” I tried to get from him some points of what had taken place across the Run, but he was too short of breath to say much, Seeing Wade was toiling wearily up the hill he halloed to him, “Hurry up, Ben, hurry up”, and then without waiting for “Old Ben” he hurried on with a pace renewed by the few moments of breathing spell he had enjoyed.

Then came Wade who, considerably the senior of his comrades, had fallen some distance behind. The heat and fatigue he was undergoing brought palor to his countenance instead of color as in the case of Wilson. He was trailing his coat on the ground as though too much exhausted to carry it. As he approached me I thought I had never beheld so sorrowful a countenance. His face, naturally long, was still more lengthened by the weight of his heavy under-jaws, so heavy that it seemed to overtax his exhausted strength to keep his mouth shut, I advised him to rest himself for a few minutes, and gave him a drink of whiskey from a remnant I was saving for an emergency. Refreshed by this he pushed on. Of these three Senators two, Wade and Wilson, became Vice Presidents of the United States, while the third, Lane, committed suicide, ad did also, before him, his brother, an officer in the army, who in Florida, threw himself on the point of his sword in the Roman fashion. One of the statesmen who had come out to see the sights, a Mr [Ely], a Representative in Congress from [New York], was captured and held in [duress?] vile as a hostage to force the liberation of certain Confederates then held by the United States governmt.

Among the notables who passed through my battery was W. H. Russell, L.L.D. the war correspondent of the London Times. He was considered an expert on war matters through his reports to the Times during the Crimean war and subsequently from India during the Sepoy mutiny. Of average stature he was in build the exact image of the caricatures which we see of John Bull – short of legs and stout of body, with a round chubby face flanked on either side with the muttin chop whiskers. His, like all others, was dusty and sweaty but, notwithstanding, was making good time, yet no so fast that his quick eye failed to note my battery, which he described in his report as looking cool and unexcited. He bounded on like a young steer – as John Bull he was, but while clambering over an old worm fence in his path the top rail broke, pitching him among the brambles and bushes on the farther side. His report of the battle was graphic and full, but so uncomplimentary to the volunteers that they dubbed him Bull Run Russell.

Each of the picknickers as they got back to where the carriages had been left took the first one at hand, or the last if he had his wits about him enough to make a choice. This jumping into the carriages, off they drove so fast as lash and oaths could make their horses go. Carriages collided tearing away wheels or stuck fast upon saplings by the road-side. Then the horses were cut loose and used for saddle purposes, but without the saddles. A rumor was rife that the enemy had a body of savage horsemen, known as the Black Horse Cavalry, which every man now thought was at their heels; and with this terrible vision before them of these men in buckram behind them they made the best possible speed to put the broad Potomac between themselves and their supposed pursuers.

Learning that McDowell had arrived from the field and was endeavoring to form a line of troops left at Centreville (and which were in good condition) upon which the disorganized troops could be rallied, I moved my battery over to the left where I found Richardson had formed his brigade into a large hollow square. A few months later on I don’t think he would have done so silly a thing. McDowell was present and so was Miles, who was giving some orders to Richardson. For some reason these orders were displeasing to Richardson, and hot words ensued between him and Miles, ending, finally, in Richardson saying “I will not obey your orders sir. You are drunk sir.” The scene, to say the least of it, was an unpleasant one, occurring as it when we expected to be attacked at any moment by the exultant enemy. Miles turned pitifully to McDowell as though he expected him to rebuke Richardson, but as McDOwell said nothing he rode away crestfallen and silent.

Miles did look a little curious and probably did have a we dropie in the eye, but his chief queerness arose from the fact that he wore two hats – straw hats, on over the other. This custom, not an uncommon one in very hot climates he had probably acquired when serving in Arizona, and certainly the weather of this campaign was hot enough to justify the adoption of any custom. The moral of all this is that people going to the war should not indulge in the luxury of two hats.

What Richardson expected to accomplish with his hollow square was beyond my military knowledge. He affected to be something of a tactician and this was probably only and effervescence of this affectation. Looking alternately at the hollow square and the two hats it would have been difficult for any unprejudiced person to decide which was the strongest evidence of tipsiness. A court of inquiry subsequently held upon the matter was unable to decide the question.

Richardson, formerly an officer of the 3d. infantry of the “Old” army, was a gallant fighter. He was mortally wounded at Antietam. Miles was killed at Harper’s Ferry the day before Antietam, and his name had gone into history loaded with opprobrium because of few minutes before his death he caused the white flag of surrender to be hung out. He was neither a coward nor a traitor, but too strict a constructionist of one of General Halleck’s silly orders.

Miles’s division together with Richardson’s brigade, and Sykes battalion of regulars, and four regular batteries and sever fragments of batteries made a strong nucleus for a new line on the heights of Centreville, but the demoralized troops drifted by as though they had no more interest in the campaign. And as there were again no rations it became necessary for even the troops not yet demoralized to withdraw.

A rear guard was formed of Richardson’s and Blenker’s brigade with Hunt’s and my batteries, which, after seeing the field clear of stragglers, took up the line of march at about two o’clock of the morning of July 22d, (1861) The march back was without incident so far as being pursued was concerned. For some distance the road was blocked with wrecked carriages, and wagons from which the horses had been taken. These obstructions had to be cleared away, and it was not until sometime after daylight that we reached Fairfax Court House. This village the hungry soldiers had ransacked for provisions, and as we came up some cavalrymen were making merry over the contents of a store. Seizing the loose end of a bolt of calico or other stuff they rode off at full speed allowing it to unroll and flow behind as a long stream.

The Fire Zouaves were into all the deviltry going on; they had been educated to it in New York. The showiness of their uniforms made them conspicuous as they swarmed over the county, and although less than a thousand strong they seemed three times that number, so ubiquitous were they. Although they had not been very terrifying to the enemy on the battlefield they proved themselves a terror to th citizens of Washington when they arrived there.

The first of the fugitives reached Long Bridge about daybreak on the 22d. Including the turning march around by Sudley Spring and back again this made a march of 45 miles in 36 hours, besides heavy fighting from about 10 A.M. until 4 P.M. on that hot July day – certainly a very good showing for unseasoned men, proving that they had endurance and only lacked the magic of discipline to make of them excellent soldiers. Many of them upon starting out on the campaign had left their camps standing, and thither they repaired as to a temporary home where they could refresh themselves with rations, rest and a change of clothing. This was a temptation that even more seasoned soldiers could scarcely have withstood. It was a misfortune that the battle had to take place so near Washington. More than anything else this was the reason why the demoralized troops could not be rallied at Centreville.

John C. Tidball Papers, U. S. Military Academy

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Pvt. Duncan L. Brown, Co. E, 27th New York Infantry, On the Battle and Retreat

War Correspondence
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Letter from Duncan Brown, of Captain Wanzer’s Company – Description of the Battle – Col. Slocum Wounded – Corporal W. H. Merrill Twice Wounded and Removed to the Hospital – Death of John Clague and Wm. Hanlon – The Retreat and Arrival in Washington – Return of Missing Privates, &c.

Camp Anderson, Washington
July 23d, 1861

You have heard ere this of the battle at Manassas Junction. I have seen a battle field before, but I hope never to see another like that of last Sunday. The entire division was ordered to march at two o’clock on Sunday morning. They were encamped about eight miles from Manassas, and had nothing to eat except pilot bread and some fresh beef, but neither coffee not tea to nourish them. But, notwithstanding, they started in the finest spirits, and marched to the scene of the action. About eleven in the morning they came in sight of the rebels. But instead of three divisions, ours was the only one which was there to engage the enemy. But there was no thought of backing out on our part. Under a broiling sun the 27th were put to the double quick up a hill, and held their own until five o’clock, when McDowell, gave the order to retreat. Col. Slocum, (a braver man never lived) was seriously wounded and carried off the field by Capt. Wanzer and Lieut. Baker. He was conveyed to Washington, where he is now doing as well as can be expected. The doctors think he will be able to be with us in about six weeks.

But my hand trembles as I write you the disasters in our company. Poor Merrell, the regular correspondent of the Express, who was one of the color guard, stood by the flag until twice wounded – once in the arm and in the groin – when he was carried off the field and taken to a house used as a hospital for the wounded. But how can I tell you the remainder?

[The writer proceeds in the narration of incidents, which, for humanity’s sake, and especially in consideration of the feelings of those who are nearly related to the sufferer named, we feel it is our duty to suppress. He continues as follows:]

But there is a day of retribution at hand, and we will be revenged.

My pen again fails me to tell you of another who fell – one whom I loved more than a brother – John Clague, formerly a clerk in Rochester’s banking office, who was shot in the back, the ball passing out at the right breast. He lived about an hour, in the most horrible agony. He was only in his 19th year, but he fell, doing his duty under the flag he had sworn to protect. – The greatest regret is felt in the company, for he was beloved by all. The night before the battle, I was getting provisions for the regiment, (being in the Quartermaster’s department,) and being very busy, I could not go to supper; and he being fearful that I would have to go without, came to me and told me where I could find it, when I could get a chance to eat. Before parting, he told me that the regiment had orders to move before morning, and in a playful manner said: “Good bye, Brown, I may not have a chance to speak to you again.” These were the last word I ever heard him utter. But, although dead, he never will be forgotten by me.

Another boy, named William Hanlon, had his leg shot off, while trying to get around the brow of a hill. The poor fellow asked to be run through the heart with a bayonet, to put him out of his misery. He was taken to the same building as Merrell. * * * There are about 20 missing out of our company, but I hope they will mostly all turn up.

Hon. Alfred Ely was on the field as a spectator, and although urged not to expose himself, determined on crossing to the 13th. He was accompanied by Dist. Attorney Huson, and their rashness has probably cost them their lives.

There was a report in the city yesterday that Mr. Ely has been killed, and his body brought to Arlington. This is untrue. I saw three of Capt. Brown’s company this morning, and they say that the report at Arlington is that he is a prisoner. C. D. Tract, of the Express, was also present. I have endeavored to learn something of him, but without success. I can only hope he is safe.

I was not engaged in the field, being guard over the provision train, which halted [illegible…] whistled around like hail. I arrived at Long Bridge on Monday morning, with the train safe but tired and hungry. Col. Rogers, of Buffalo, with his usual kindness, had hot coffee and cooked meat in readiness for us, which, I tell you, came just in time, for hundreds could not have marched a mile farther, having had nothing to eat for nearly 72 hours, and having marched over 70 miles during 21 hours. We will probably march again in a few weeks, when our battle-cry will be “revenge.”

Although the scene was horrible, there were many laughable incidents, one of which I will mention. Horace Hibbard, and a chap we call “Black Tom,” members of our company, while on the retreat, came across a wagon drawn by four horses. The teamster was in the act of cutting the traces, when Hibbard seized him by the neck and started him for the woods. He then mounted the saddle horse, and Black Tom one of the leaders, and started, as they thought, for Washington, but instead brought up at Alexandria. Hibbard had made up his mind to sell the leaders to get something to eat, but you can imagine his disappointment, when he found they were branded with the U. S. mark.

The men who are missing in our company, beside the dear, are Jenks, Ambrose, Burbank, and Hosmer. The dead are Merrell, Clague, and Hanlon. It was Bull’s Run instead of Manassas where the battle took place.

I saw Smith and Bronson, two printers from your city, who belong to the cavalry.

Sergeant Webster, on the retreat up the hill, never turned his back upon the enemy, but kept a bold face and loaded and fired until darkness set in. The enemy’s artillery was loaded by niggers, and fired by white rebels.

Later. – Burbank, Jenks, and Hosmer have come in, leaving only two missing, exclusive of the dear. Hon. A. Ely is a prisoner at Bull’s Run.

Rochester (NY) Evening Express, 7/29/1861

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Fifer Sherman Greig, Co. A 13th New York Infantry, On the Campaign

War Correspondence.
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Letter from Sherman Greig – Graphic Description of the Fight at Bull’s Run – How the “Milk-Sops” Behaved – The Pet Regiments of New York – The Rout and Arrival – The 13th “Turned Over” and the Federal Government – What is Thought of the “Impressment.”

Fort Bennett, Va., July 26.

Eds. Express: – I suppose the Rochesterians are awaiting news from the “milk [?] –. And though much worn by the labors of the past week, I will essay to enlighten them as much as possible concerning things past and present. If I remember rightly, my last letter was dated at Camp Union – just above here – (Fort Bennett lies to the right of Fort Corcoran, on the bank of the Potomac. It was mainly built by the 13th – our Regiment.) In it I made no mention of our expected march, but the next day we received our rifles, and shortly after, orders to march. We left the Camp about noon on the 15th, and reported at Vienna at 7 P. M. having marched a distance of perhaps fifteen miles. The next morning we moved forward – passing “Germantown” (containing three houses) and halted at Centreville. Here we found an earthwork, thrown up by the rebels, which they had deserted. It was a strong position, and offered, as a Southerner would say – a “right smart chance for a fight.” We spread our blankets on the east side of the hill, in hopes of getting a night’s rest, but we were doomed to disappointment.

Late in the day the skirmish commenced at Bull’s Run, and about five o’clock, our Brigade, consisting of the 13th, 69th and 79th New York and 2d Wisconsin, was ordered to the scene of action. When we arrived on the ground, we found the New York 2d badly cut up and dispirited. We were deployed to the right and left of the main road in the woods, and were under a hot fire for half an hour. We had nothing to do but “grin and bear it,” as no order was issued either “forward” or back. The 13th came off without a scratch, being so near the enemy’s guns that the shot passed over; but the 69th, being behind us, received some injury, several being wounded and two killed outright.

The order soon came to retreat, and we moved back to Centreville, “pensive and dripping.” – Here we lay two days to “recruit,” when the forward movement began. The men being supplied with “two days rations” and everything in readiness, we arose at 5 o’clock Sunday morning, and after a march of two hours duration, halted in sight of the enemy. A shell from Sherman’s battery announced our visit, and the enemy appeared in force on the right, seemingly to offer us a welcome.

THE FIGHT.

On the right, too, Hunter’s Division was coming in from Harper’s Ferry, and it appeared to us probable that an engagement might take place with them before we “got a hand in,” which haplessly was the case. Having already deployed to the right through the woods, our division, or brigade, emerged into the open fields just in time to hear the first roar of musketry and to charge on the enemy’s flank, which was done with a shout and a shot – shot first. Before we had time to draw up in line of battle the rebels were in full retreat across the fields.

Here we found ourselves in an open space of country – perhaps a mile square – completely surrounded by woods. The road from Centreville enters this square on the east side, and turns near the center in a southerly direction. Up this road the rebels run, and disappeared in the long line of woods to the south. Our officers were sanguine that “the day was ours,” and we were accordingly ordered to charge across the open square. This, I think, was exactly what Beauregard wanted. He had thrown out a few regiments as a feint, for us to attack, which drew us around in front of his position. And now, as we follow up his regimental “stool-pigeon,” (which lost some of its feathers by the way,) he opens his stationary batteries upon us, and crosses the fire with flying artillery.

Our batteries now responded, in our rear, and we were thus placed between two fires. The enemy’s shot cutting us down at every discharge, and out own shell frequently bursting overhead and sinking its missiles among us. Still the shout, was that very sentimental one, “Go in boys!” and though the whir of the bullet was incessant, and the roar of the musketry deafening, though they frequently stumbled over a corpse or passed a riderless steed, still they went in! Far up the southern slope, and within fifty rods of the masked batteries stood a log house surrounded by fruit trees. The house was filled with rebels, whose rifles brought down many officers in our division. To the right, and a little below this house by the southern road, the West Point Battery, of six rifled cannon had been stationed in the hope of silencing the masked batteries in the woods, but their horses were piled dead on the limbers, and the men cut down at the guns! They could not withstand the withering fire that devoured them as a flame.

The 13th Regiment of “milksops” were ordered forward to sustain that battery – and they went. Over dead horses, and over dead men, up the road – plowed by the cannon shot – nor did they pause until they were at the foot of the log house, and their balls had emptied the trees of the assassin “tigers” of the south. Here we lay flat upon the ground, under a fire two murderous to describe. Whenever a rebel showed his head in the house, or among the trees a Remington rifle spoke, and he gave no answer!

We saw on chasing a wounded man, with his bayonet poised to strike, when Charlie Buckley, one of our best men, arose full length, and taking deliberate aim, fired. The would-be murderer sprang into the air and fell. As a German remarked, close by – “I didn’t see him get up any more.” Edward Searl, of Co. F, ran up to the house, thinking it occupied by our men, and was taken prisoner. They “mashed” his gun, called him an abolitionist, and rifled his pockets. Searl, not liking the style, resolved on a “leap for life,” and went through a window, with a full volley of rifles after him. He came off without a scratch!

We now discovered that we were fired upon from the rear! and turning, beheld a scattered body of the much puffed-up 69th banging away at us, perfectly wild! All the troops behind us were now in full retreat, and we found that we had got to “git” or be taken. So away we went – double quick – down the hill, the bullets coming after us with the roar of a hail storm. We formed around our colors (which have been ventilated by the enemy’s bullets) and prepared for a general retreat, which was ordered.

Now, a word or two about the Fire Zouaves, 69th and other New York City regiments, which have been lauded to the skies, while the 13th “milksops” were not seen by the New York reporters. The story about the Zouaves “fooling the Black Horse Cavalry,” is an exaggeration, to say the least. The Black Horse Cavalry did charge upon the Zouaves, but were fired upon by two or three other regiments. The Zouaves seemed to be the special favorites of the rebel gunners, who dropped their shot among them in a most loving manner. The Zouaves were fearfully cut up. The New York 69th charged into the field with the perfect “Irish cry,” and, as I am informed, shot one of their own men through the back of the head the first fire. The next thing we heard from them they were firing into us near the log house I have mentioned! – The 79th Scotch regiment charged nobly, and their Colonel fell from his horse which shouting to his men and waving them on like a Colonel. – We had a beautiful lot of cavalry along with us. They sat on their horses during the fight, and made a fine retreat when the retreat was ordered.

THE ROUT.

Ambulances containing the wounded and dying, baggage wagons, men and horses, were mingled together in one dense mass – stretching along the road for miles – all in full flight, and apparently every one seeking his own safety. We had been beaten, cut to pieces, and outnumbered – three to one. The men were disheartened, and a panic overspread the whole dense throng! The accidental overturning of a wagon was sufficient to scatter the men in the wildest confusion. I saw full grown men throw down their arms – their only defence and hope of salvation – and run into the woods, screaming like affrighted women. Horrible and humiliating! It almost made me believe the Southern saying that “Northerners will not stand.” The rout continued on a circuitous road through the woods until it reached the bridge at Pugg’s Run,” just beyond Centreville, where the enemy had anticipated us an planted a cannon; and, I think, weakened the bridge. When the train had partially crossed the bridge, and was winding over the hill, their guns opened upon us at the same time their cavalry charged upon our baggage wagons, and a scene here ensued that beggars description.

The rush on the bridge broke it down, and cannon horses and men were buried in one wrangling mass. An ambulance containing wounded persons, fell into the creek, and it is said that the driver cut his horse loose, mounted his back and rode away, leaving the maimed and dying in the creek. The large iron gun was lost at this point but I have since heard that it was retaken by the Jersey Brigade, which we met at Centreville. Here we encamped for the night, after having placed our wounded in the hospital under the efficient care of the surgeons. We had scarcely lain down, before an order came for another retreat, and we immediately started, en-masse for the Potomac. We arrived at our old quarters in the forenoon of the next day, completely worn out. We had marched all night and had fought the whole day before! The first shot was fired at seven in the morning, and the last at sunset near Centreville bridge.

We ae back again after having participated in one of the hardest fights recorded in American history. We report ten killed, twenty-three wounded and twenty-nine missing. None of Company A have been killed; one is missing and two are wounded. The loss in our regiment is astonishingly small, considering the heavy fire we sustained. There were many “hair-breadth ‘scapes,” and the men are now engaged in relating them. I am happy to report myself “without a scratch.”

“TURNED OVER.”

There is a subject which deeply agitates our camp at the present moment, and one that will not be lightly passed over. We were informed last night that the State of New York had turned us over to the United States to serve for the term of two years! Now this is the sense of the men: They volunteered to serve the United States to serve for the term of three months, to meet the emergency of the times. Many of them left wives whom they could not possible leave for a longer period, and support. Many of them left old fathers and mothers who depend upon their children’s labor for bread, but who could spare them three months for their country’s sake. – These husbands and children have come – they have served faithfully their three months – they have fought, and many of them have fallen. And now, as their contract with the government is fulfilled, they wish to return home, with honor – as they deserve. Now they are told that the Government proposes to hold them for two years! – an act which they consider impressment, and a great wrong. They have thus far brought honor upon themselves but should the government impress them, they will be a disgrace to the service, and a great grief to Rochester! I say this, because I hear the men talk, and I know their feelings upon the subject.

If Rochesterians desire that the 13th Regiment sustain its present good name, they had better sue for its honorable discharge on the 14th of August next, at the War Department in Washington. Rochester papers should discuss the subject, and bring it before the people. Soldiers forced into battle will not fight, and their gloomy spirits dent to dampen those of other troops. I consider it very impolitic on the part of the Government to force men into this campaign who cannot well go, and who have already done as much as their circumstances will allow. Remember what I say: If the Rochester Regiment is forced into the service for two years, Rochester may cease to be proud of it.

Our men at present are completely worn out, and many of them sick. I had the pleasure of meeting C. D. Tracy, of the Express, Collins of the Democrat, and Hon. Alfred Ely, at Centreville, just before the fight – have not seen them since. Wonder what they thing of the Old Dominion and the “F. F. V.’s?”

I will write again as soon as I get recuperated. At present I am played out.

S.G.

Rochester (NY) Evening Express, 7/30/1861

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Contributed by John Hennessy

13th New York Infantry Roster 

Sherman Greig at Ancestry.com 

Sherman Greig at Fold3 

Unknown, On Why Congressman Ely Went to the Battlefield

Before the Battle – Reasons why Mr. Ely went to the Battle Field.
[Extract from a Private Letter.]

Washington, July 21st, 1861.

A member of the 13th came to the city yesterday and said that he had been in a battle, in which the whole regiment was employed, and had taken a masked battery, with the loss of thirteen, and a large number wounded. The man was somewhat intoxicated, but told a very plausible story, which was generally believed. It created a great deal of excitement, especially among the large delegation from Rochester. Mr. Ely had concluded to telegraph to Rochester such facts as he could glean from critical examination of the man, and had prepared a dispatch, when a Judge somebody came from the field, and contradicted the story in toto.

Mr. Ely knowing what an excitement his dispatch would create, and not wishing to frighten those who have friends in the 13th, did not send it, but made arrangements for personally ascertaining what truth there was in the report. He left this A. M. at 4 o’clock for the encampment at Bull’s Run. Mr. Ely’s friends tried to persuade him not to go, as it was a very dangerous undertaking, the road being infested with rebel scouts, but he replied it was a duty he owed to those of his friends in the 13th, and to those surviving in the ranks, and he would go.

Rochester (NY) Evening Express, 7/25/1861

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Contributed by John Hennessy

“4th”, 4th Maine Infantry, On the Battle and Retreat, With Regimental Casualties

Military Correspondence.
———-

Camp Knox, Clermont, Fairfax Co.
Va., July 26, 1861.

Some one has denominated this “Happy Valley.” This was before we went to Bull’s Run – before we had sore feet – before we lost our baggage – before we were beaten – before we returned – before we had seen service. It was when we were “on our way to Richmond” – big with fight – hadn’t seen a rebel.

We are about twenty-six miles farther from “Dixie” than when at Bull Run,” i.e. nearer the undiscovered northwest passage. But we are here on the old spot again. Here we have collected the fragments of our regiment – have had the roll; and as the silent echo of some oft repeated name dies away in the deep shadows of the overhanging, forest, there often comes a long pause, which is followed by no response – “present.” Then the soldiers stand closer together – utter nothing – only look away vacantly, at the creeping shadows of the coming evening, seemingly straining the vision after some object which the imagination is pointing at. Others, with blistered feet – bruised, ragged – with no blanket or coat, too weary and worn to be curious about the living or lament the dead, are stretched upon the open field, in sweet repose, dreaming a happy hour away. In his dream the weary soldier continues the march till he arrives at home – till his lips move to give utterance to his thankfulness, or receive and give back the welcome salutation, — when he is aroused to answer his name, and finds, alas, that he is living and only dreaming.

This is not fancy. There are few instances of severer efforts than that of Sunday. For five days previous we had been almost constantly on the move — with little or nothing to eat save what we took from the enemy; sleeping in the open air, without tents, in sunshine and storm. From some cause our baggage train was always too far in the rear to bring up our rations, till the day of battle, when with the same excellent management and skill which had hitherto marked its movements, it did not stop till it found itself in the hands of the enemy.

You have had so many accounts of the battle that you will not expect it from me. Those eye witnesses who tan away at the commencement, have given a glowing account, picked up from straggling soldiers, all of whom were the heroes of the fight.

Up to Sunday morning (July 21,) our whole force was encamped in and about Centreville. Bull’s Run is a range of hills about ten miles in length, (some miles this side of Manassas Gap,) running southeast and northwest. The southeast point, or the right of the enemy’s lines is about three miles from Centreville. The northwest, or left wing of the enemy’s line, is about nine miles from the place above named. We were ordered forward at two o’clock Sunday morning. Gen. Tyler, (he who blundered into an attack without orders, on Friday,) went to the right to make a feint, while the main column under Gen. McDowell, went around to their left in order to turn them. This we reached by a newly cut road through a forest, and commenced the attack about 8 o’clock in the forenoon. Our brigade was held in reserve. After the enemy had been driven from one position to take up another on the brow of a hill, in a word, after the New York Zouaves had made an assault and were scattered in disorder, we were called upon. We went forward, under a perfect shower of shot and shell for more than a mile, over the dead and wounded, in double quick, till we reached a valley beyond. The enemy stood concealed by a thick wood. Here we formed our line. The 4th (our own 4th, we are proud of her,) together with the 2nd Vermont, were ordered forward to make the assault and support a battery on the hill above. When we arrived there our battery had been silenced, and we were received by the enemy from a concealed thicket with volley after volley of rifle, while on our right and left were batteries in position to rake our lines both ways. Nothing but their rapid, and consequently inaccurate firing saved us from being cut all up. We maintained out position in this situation, unsupported by a single battery, for more than three quarters of an hour, when we were ordered to retreat. The 4th was the last to leave the field, and acquitted itself, as I predicted it would, most nobly.

Many regiments…[significant missing text]…of our boys did nobly, whose names in due time, will come before the public.

I regret that Capt. Bean was wounded before we made our charge, by a spent cannon ball, which bruised his leg considerably. He is doing well. Lt. Burd was also slightly wounded in the head, and is taken prisoner. Lt. Clark of company G, was killed while retreating, and just before reaching Centreville. Sergeant Major S. H. Chapman was instantly killed by a rifle ball through the heart. He fell by my side, and I watched the death shadow as it passed over his face, driving the blush of life from his cheek, and mantling it with the hue of death. It was the work of a moment. He never spoke. He was a noble fellow, and popular with the regiment. E. O. Maddocks, of company I, was wounded in the leg and left on the field. We hope he was cared for. He was a brave fellow. R. H. Gray, also of company I, was wounded in the arm and side, and left within their lines. We hope he is safe. It was impossible to bring them off. These were all good men and true.

The following is a list of the killed, wounded and missing in the 4th regiment M. V. M., as correctly as I can obtain them:

KILLED.

Lieut. Clark, Co G.
Lt. Major S. H. Chapman, (Staff)

Co. A.

Privates Sanford Sylvester, Geo S Sylvester and Elisha W Ellis.

Co. B.

Privates Ashael Towne, W B Fletcher and C C Fernald.

Co. C.

Privates Chas Smart and Dennis Canning

Co. D.

Privates J E Sparkhawk, W B Foss, Joseph E Starbird and Thos Horne.

Co. E.

Privates E E Hall, F J Stetson and Enos Clark

Co. G.

Privates Jos Wright and Freeman Shaw

Co. H.

Privates G F Cunningham, Jos Trim, —- West, W Cooper, G W Anderson, Miles Jackson and H B Washburn.

Co. I.

Privates E O Maddox severely wounded and missing, R H Gray, do., [since escaped.]

WOUNDED.

Co. A.

Privates Wm Kenduck and —- Bullen.

Co. B.

Privates —- Titus, Chas Sawyer and —- Marshall.

Co. C.

Privates S P Vose, S Heath and S P Pease.

Co. D.

Privates J A Simmons and Jos Norton, Jr.

Co. E.

Privates E J Hilton and H A Calligan.

Co. F.

Capt. Bean, Lieut. Burd, H A Calligan and E J Barlow.

Co. G.

Privates Freeman Shaw, J. Clark, Lorenzo Brigdon, Edward Jones, Sewall Seavy and E. B. Carr.

Co. H.

Privates William Fointai, J L Young and D Clough.

Co. I.

Privates Frank Forbes, Roscoe Trivet, L Temple, Joan Malano, C C Grey, James Trimbell, F W Porter and J M Wiswell, (all slightly.)

Co. K.

Privates E Redman and —- Bisbee.

MISSING.

Patrick Black, —- Lamb, M G Gowen, W D Woodcock, Thos S Grey, C F Merrill, D J Melay, G W Chatton, C P Perry, L Richards, H B Story, H Haskell, A Robinson, F Hull, Geo Osgood, Wm Packard, Joseph Mahoney, R G Bickford, E H Rowell, H A Delano, S Marston, C R Brookings, S P Dickerson, J E Boynton, Freeman Shaw, Thomas Knights, Miles Jackson and H Washburn.

The above is a complete list of the killed, wounded and missing in our regiment. I have no need to write more. The result of the day you have read and had from a thousand sources. It was bad enough. Our loss would have been small in material, had not the panic seized our men. It was mainly got up by members of congress and senators, assisted by reporters for the press. We have suffered quite enough already from these gentlemen, and if we cannot put a stop to their further interference, we shall force them to stop at home. As soon as the battle grew thick, they began a retreat. This frightened the teamsters, and they cut loose from wagons, and soon the panic became general. On M. C. (Ely) was taken. If we could exchange the balance at Washington for the poor soldiers captured, I think it might be for the advantage of the country. Why do they not go home? I hope another expedition will not be started till they do, and leave Gen, Scott free to manage the campaign to his liking. If congress would adjourn and the N. Y. Tribune could be suppressed, we might go forward with some hope of success. Till then I will make no further prediction. A great feeling is arising against the present cabinet among the republicans, which may tend to a revolution in it.

It is unnecessary for me to say that McDowell blundered. This is the old story. If these blunders are to be often repeated we had better go home. Gen. McClellan is coming, and great confidence is reposed in him. We trust that matters will now take a turn.

4th.

Republican Journal (Belfast, ME), 8/9/1861

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Contributed by John Hennessy

Congressman Alfred Ely

For more on Ely, his capture, and his captor, go here.

P. W. A., Co. B, 8th Georgia Infantry, On the Battle

The 7th and 8th Georgia Regiments at Manassas.

From the correspondence of the Savannah Republican, we take the following interesting narrative of the part borne by the 7th and 8th Georgia Regiments in the great battle at Manassas:

Manassas, Va., July 23d.

Dear Republican — I had only time yesterday to give you a list of the killed and wounded in our company, without detailing the incidents of the portion of the fight in which we were engaged.

Last Thursday we were in Winchester. At 2 o’clock we left that place. We marched over the mountains, forded the Shenandoah, and arrived at Piedmont, a station on the Manassas Gap Railroad, about ten o’clock, Friday, having footed it twenty seven miles. All the baggage was left at Winchester. We took the cars after a few hours’ delay, and came slowly here, where we arrived late Saturday morning after a tedious ride. Then marching three miles and a half we encamped in a wooded ravine beyond Manassas, and slept that night on the open ground. After a meagre breakfast Sunday morning we received orders to march for the place of fight, which we reached by a long, weary, woody, hilly, circuitous tramp of between 10 and 15 miles, often going at double quick. We halted, breathless, foot sore and exhausted, but eager for the fray.

With a few moments rest the regiments were posted behind Pendleton’s Virginia Battery, exchanging shots with the famous Sherman’s Battery of the Federalists. Ball and shell fell around us like hail. The Col. ordered the men to lay down until they were needed to charge, which they did. For some time we lay in this perilous position, losing, however, but one man – a member of the Macon Guards – when we received the order to charge the enemy’s battery. To do this it was necessary to charge across an intervening hollow and establish ourselves in a small pine thicket, flanking the enemy’s position. This cold and fearful movement was made through a perfect storm of grape and in a manner that General Johnson specially praised.

Gaining the grove with the loss of Thos. Purse killed, and James Car??? wounded, we opened fire on a large detachment of the Federal Infantry, stationed on the edge of the hill above the thicket some fifty or a hundred yards off who had been put there for the assistance of the battery. At the same time a large force of the enemy moved up until we were surrounded on three sides. Our grove was one hundred or more yards long and a quarter as wide, and as dense as nature…to near ten thousand, who poured a murderous fire upon us, concentrated, well aimed, and continuous. It was a whirlwind of bullets. Our men fell constantly. The deadly missives rattled like hail among the boughs of trees. Never veterans fought more coolly than the whole regiment. Not a man flinched. Carefully loading, each one took special aim, fired, and composedly repeated the same again.

Adjutant Branch was shot almost immediately, and Col. Gardner wounded, and Col. Bartow’s horse shot under him soon after. The ground was in a few minutes covered – paved with the dead and wounded. After seven or eight volleys were fired by us it became necessary to retire. No support was given; half of the regiment were down, and the enemy increasing in numbers. Even when the order to cease firing and retire had been given, so unyielding were the men, that several additional volleys were poured upon the foe.

In retiring a large portion of the regiment became separated from the colors by the density of the growth and were unable to recover them, but another portion, consisting among others of all the officers of the Ogelthorpes, clustered around it, and slowly retired at a walk, from point to point, towards the reserve. At every step the storm of balls mowed us down, and with their decreasing force we returned it. The ground over which we passed consisted of a series of woods and small fields, and at each open space the officers would reform the men, and the fight would be renewed with the pursuing enemy advancing in strength. A horrible mistake at this point occurred. Our own friends, taking us for the enemy, directed a galling fire upon our mutilated ranks. The Carolinians, Louisianians, and 7th Georgians turn…terrible effect.

The regiment finally withdrew out of reach of the shot, which the 7th Georgia took our place. The remnants formed, consisting of about 60 men, with Major Cooper, Capts. Magruder, Lamar, West, Dawson and Ryan, and Lieuts. Wilcox, Hall, Lumpkin, Dwinnel, Harper, Cooper, and Butler, and Sergt. Major Menard, and marched back

As this small remnant of the gallant six hundred marched, they passed Gen. Beauregard, who stopped, fronted, and raising his hat said, “I salute the gallant 8th Georgia Regiment!” – Every bosom thrilled with the proud compliment.

When the 7th Georgia Regiment reinforced us, Colonel Bartow took the lead of that. He has been for some weeks Brevet Brigadier General, commanding the 2d brigade of Johnston’s division, the brigade consisting of the 7th, 8th, 9th and 11th Georgia Regiment and a battalion of Kentuckians.

Deeply cut by the destruction of his own heroic but ill fated Regiment, Col. Bartow sprang forward to lead the 7th Georgia Regiment, whose Colonel met him, asking where they should go. Seizing the regimental standard, Col. Bartow turned to the enemy, saying “Follow me, and I will show you where,” and led on into the midst of the terrible fire of the Federalists. The men began to fall; the bullets whistled by in countless numbers. On kept the brave fellows with unquailing sternness, the Colonel leading impetuously to the enemy, encouraging and cheering the men until they arrived at their appointed position, when he turned and exclaimed, “Gen. Beauregard expects us to hold this position, and, Georgians, I appeal to you to hold it.” The leaden storm poured with increasing strength. Hot and heavy it came. Bartow turned to give of the standard to the proper officer, when a bullet passed through his heart and he fell from his horse. Several men sprang forward and lifted him up with both hands clasped over his wound. The only words he spoke – which were his last, and which deserve to be remembered as the last words of…that fame has ever commemorated – were “They have killed me: but, boys, never give up.” He was taken from the field and died in a few moments.

Thus perished, in the prime of his noble manhood, a lofty gentleman, a pure patriot, an able statesman, and a chivalric soldier. His bitterest enemies could charge him with no worse shortcomings than those which result from a high-strung spirit, impatient of meanness, sensitive to injustice, and noble to a chimera. The manner of his death would eternalize a thousand less lofty souls than his, and…less holy cause than the one in which he so fervently engaged – for which he so eagerly gave up everything, and in which he so willingly and resplendently died.

His body was…yesterday. He was not the only one of our finest officers that perished. General Bee was killed; Gen. Smith was severely wounded; Col. Fisher of a North Carolina regiment, was shot dead; also, Col. Jones, from the same state.

It has been estimated that the loss of our army is 2,000 killed and wounded; for the enemy it must be over 5,000. the numbers engaged were probably 15,000 on ours, with an unused reserved of 15,000; while the enemy numbered, at least, 60,000. They were under General Tyler. They have fled beyond Alexandria. A gentleman from there this morning said that the fugitives in miserable plight were streaming through, and that all military discipline in the place…over.

I am convinced of one thing – that all this talk about the Federalists being starved, unclothed, and unenthusiastic is absolute fudge. We cannot compare with them in the perfection of equipments and general preparations. Their haversacks were full; their blankets are magnificent; their canteens and other conveniences are ingenious, their medical accommodations are superb.

It is all fudge, too, about their enlisting from coercion, and not knowing they are to fight us. They tell us such…to mitigate their imprisonment. They are…shrewdness is a Yankee characteristic.

I have many particulars to tell you, but I must close this for …your regular correspondent here,…will give you a general view of the battle.

The remaining Ogelthorpes send love to their friends. They mourn for their gallant comrades who have so nobly died.

Oglethorpe Light Infantry

—————-

July 25 – There was another error in my letter of yesterday, in relation to the…which the lamented Bartow and the 7th and 8th Georgia regiments took in the fight. Gallant as I represented…conduct to be it now appears that only the half was told. Gen. Evans’s brigade occupied the extreme left along the line of Bulls Run. Next came Gen. Bee’s brigade, and next to his Gen. Bartow’s, and after his Gen. Jackson’s. The enemy opened a battery upon Gen. Evans by way of feint, but continued to push on his flank movement. Gen. Bee was dispatched to hold him in check, but so great were the numbers opposed to him the he was gradually forced back, while the enemy slowly but surely advanced along our flank. It was at this point that Col. Bartow’s brigade was ordered up. Meanwhile a battery of six guns had been planted to our left to protect the steady march of the Federal column, and to drive back our forces as they endeavored to head it off. As Col. Bartow was proceeding to take his position he met Gen. Beauregard, who told him that everything depended on his taking the position to which he had been ordered and checking the advance of the enemy…if possible. Upon this bloody duty he immediately started at the head of the heroic 8th. He was exposed to a galling fire for nearly an hour, from which the enemy suffered terribly. His horse was killed under him by one ball, while his sword…pierced by another. His horse came near falling upon Capt. Dawson of the Stephens Light Guards, who behaved with great gallantry, as did the whole company. At length it became necessary to retire the 8th, so much had it suffered, in order to give it time to reform in line.

At this point Col. Bartow brought up the Seventh, which had been ordered to lie flat upon the ground until called for. During this time the enemy’s line continued to stretch away to the left and gradually to force ours back, when Gen. Jackson was ordered to bring his brigade into position. Placing himself at the head of the Seventh and taking the colors in his own hands, (the color bearer having been wounded, not killed as represented,) Col. Bartow proceeded again to occupy the position to which he had been ordered. He had procured another horse, and was not on foot when he fell, as I stated yesterday. The Seventh was exposed to the same raking fire from which the Eighth had suffered so much, though not for so long a time. Indeed the fighting along the entire line in this part of the field was terrific. It was here that the fortunes of the day vibrated first to one side and then to the other, and nothing but the almost superhuman exertion of the Confederate troops gave us the victory. You will be glad to learn that even the prisoners taken from the enemy pay the highest tribute to the Georgia brigade. They say they never saw men fight as they did, and when told that there were only two regiments of them, they were utterly astonished, for, judging by the terrible execution of our muskets, they had supposed them to number four times as many. I…part of the field the night of the battle was fought, in search of Bartow’s body, and the heaps of the dead on the enemy’s side, as seen by the pitiful moonlight, and the groans and cries that everywhere saluted my ears, told but too plainly that good old Georgia had that day dealt a giant’s blow at the head of the…

The Seventh, aided by the Eighth, which had been partially restored to order, continued to hold their position with varying fortunes, and never did quit the field until the battle was won. Bartow had promised Gen. Beauregard to maintain his position, and he did it as long as he lived, and the brigade did it after he had fallen. And the result was the capture of the battery (Sherman’s) that had decimated our forces by its fire, and the final route of the adversary. To no two regiments on the field is the country more indebted than to the glorious Seventh and Eighth from Georgia. Every man was a lion-hearted hero, and every company a wall of fire.

I have not attempted to furnish you an account of the individual acts of heroism, or the gallant conduct of other regiments; for the reason that the military rules adopted here render it difficult to get access to the proper sources of information. Besides, you will find in the papers of the other…more satisfactory account of what their particular regiments did, than I could possibly give you.

Thus far I have not been able to obtain a list of the killed and wounded in the Eighth Georgia Regiment, but should be able to do so to-morrow. It suffered considerably more than the Seventh. – Appended hereto is a statement of the casualties in the Seventh, which Col. Gartrell has kindly furnished me, and which may therefore be considered reliable. Let our people never forget their brave brothers who have fallen in the defense of the liberties of the country.

President Davis returned this morning. No man in the Confederacy regrets the death of Col. Bartow more than the President, who cherished a strong friendship for him. Immediately on his return to Manassas, Sunday night, he sent a telegram to Mrs. Davis, to break the sad news to Mrs. Bartow, who had come on to Richmond, to be as near her husband as possible.

One of the prisoners says that Gen. McDowell was the active officer upon the field but that Gen. Scott who took his position at Centreville, was the director of the whole battle. If such were their positions, the latter must have come near to be captured; for notwithstanding the failure to execute…to strike at the rear of the enemy, a bold dash was made from our centre at Centreville but it was late in the day and after the retreat had commenced. Had old “fuss and feathers” been there then he would have had the pleasure of being…to Richmond sooner than his army will ever take him. …prisoner says that Senator Wilson of Massachusetts and Bob Lincoln had driven out in a carriage to see…Federalists could whip us, and that they, as well as Senator Foster barely saved themselves. I have already mentioned that Mr. Ely, M. C., from New York, was taken prisoner. Another prisoner whom I did not mention in my last letter was Col. Wilcox, of the Michigan Regiment.

P. W. A.

Augusta Chronicle, 7/30/1861

Clipping Image

Contributed by John Hennessy

Bull Run Images for Sale

Here’s a link to a nice CDV of a veteran of the First Massachusetts wounded at First Bull Run, John Baxter.  Per www.henrydeeks.com, Baxter was wounded in the left thigh on July 21, 1861.  It can be yours for $150.

Also available here on the same site is this image of New York Congressman Alfred Ely, taken prisoner at Bull Run (I wrote a little bit about it here).  Price is $85.