Lt. Ai Thompson Writes to His Father After the U.S. Army’s “Disgraceful” Loss at Manassas (Bull Run)

The first major confrontation of the Civil War occurred just twenty-five miles from the White House. Hundreds of spectators, some carrying picnic baskets and champagne, rode out from Washington to watch over 35,000 Union soldiers as they marched into Virginia. Under the direction of Gen. Irvin McDowell, the Union army planned to capture the new Confederate capital at Richmond and strike a swift and fatal blow to the secessionists. Waiting to intercept them at Bull Run, a meandering creek near the Manassas railroad junction, was Gen. P. G. T. Beauregard, hero of the victory over Fort Sumter. When the two armies clashed on July 21, Beauregard’s outnumbered forces were driven into near retreat. “The day is ours,” exclaimed McDowell. But standing firm—like a “stone wall”—in the middle of the Confederate line was Gen. Thomas J. Jackson. Emboldened by Jackson’s resolve and the arrival of reinforcements, the Confederates launched a fierce counterattack, and the Union forces withdrew. In a letter to his father in New Hampshire, twenty-eight-year-old Union Lt. Ai Thompson related the confusion and, in his view, cowardice that led to the federal army’s first major defeat of the war. (The Zouaves, alluded to in the letter, were soldiers who wore bright scarlet and blue uniforms with trimmed jackets and either a turban or a fez, all styled after elite French troops. At Manassas, they suffered some of the heaviest casualties.)

Camp Sullivan Washington D.C.

July 24 1861

Dear Father,

A great battle, as you have heard, has been fought. The Federal forces were badly cut up and retreated in the most disgraceful disorder, and all on account of unskillful generalship. But, thank God, Gen. McDowell has been withdrawn and Gen. McClellan is coming to take his place on this department.

On Sunday morning last at 2 o’clock Col. Burnside’s Brigade left their place of temporary encampment, which is between Fairfax C.H. and Centerville and about 2 miles this side of the latter place, with their blankets on their shoulders, their haversacks full of hard bread, their canteens of water, with heavy muskets and cartridge boxes full of ammunition, but with hearts as light as were their falling footsteps, which latter were almost as noiseless as the shining of the full faced moon which lighted them on over turnpike, thro’ forest and thro’ field to disastrous defeat and to death. It seemed to me as I watched the movement of those four thousand men as we were marching onward in the solemn stillness of the early Sabbath morn, that a phantom army was issuing forth from the mists of the night; armed with brightly burnished weapons of silver and gold. But you don’t want poetry nor sentiment now.

We marched on, as I have said, over miserable turnpikes, thro’ magnificent forests of oaks from two till nine AM. It was about nine, or as near as I can tell, when their pickets first fired on ours and in a very few moments the battle began in earnest. We were in the woods when the firing began and the balls whistled thro’ the trees past our heads in double quick. We had marched at least 15 miles and with all our burdens we were somewhat jaded and ill prepared for immediate action. But, we were upon the enemy unexpectedly and must fight. The men threw away their blankets, rushed thro’ the woods into the open field in the direction of the enemies’ fire. We soon saw that they had every advantage of us. They were under cover of woods, we could not see them, only a few of their pickets. Their batteries were all around us, except in our rear and command almost every position we could possibly take to do them any injury. Sherman’s Battery and the R.I. Battery did us much service and them great injury but we had to fire uphill and they down and they could see us but we could not see them. The battle lasted from five to six hours and during the whole time the Federal forces were without a competent head to direct their movements. I don’t think with a more skillful General and the same number of men we could have dislodged the enemy from their stronghold, but we might have thrown them out perhaps and had a fair fight of it.

Regiment after regiment of our troops advanced up the hill in solid column towards the enemies batteries and discharged volley after volley into the rebel ranks but every one retreated in disorder and confusion leaving many dead and dying on the field. With painful anxiety I watched the successively retreating columns. Till I saw the bloody Zouaves advancing up the hill in the face of the enemy’s fire, the blood of the murdered Ellsworth crying to them from the ground to be avenged and then I thought of victory. But the Goddess of victory perched not on their banner; they too retreated in great disorder, leaving three hundred of their brave fellows dead or dying on the field. It was now evident that unless some other plan of attack should be adopted, it would be impossible to drive out the enemy. But how could our forces be rallied, scattered as they were in every direction and many of their officers dead or wounded, and the General commanding clearly deficient in military skill and nowhere to be seen. A great and fearful retribution awaits those incompetent men who take upon themselves the responsibility of a division of the Army, a brigade or a regiment, or a company even, and I hope that the people of New Hampshire will bear this important fact in mind when they organise other regiments.

But you want to know where the N.H. 2nd was and what they did during the battle. They were nowhere and did nothing. This latter is a sweeping statement and needs to be qualified a little. When we first entered the field from the woods we were ordered, by whom I don’t know, to take a position about ½ of a mile on a terrace from where we then stood in line. Our position before the order was in rear of Ricket’s Battery, as I supposed to support it in case it should be charged upon by the enemy. But we obeyed orders of course, went to the terrace, drew up in line awaiting orders, all the while cannon balls and shells flying and bursting about our ears. But no orders came and no enemy was in sight, excepting forty or fifty who were secreted under a fence within musket reach. No sooner did our men see them than they drew up and blazed away without orders from Col. or Capt. The rebels under the fence couldn’t stand the fire and ran for the woods. One poor fellow near by where I stood was shot thro’ the body and he fell almost lifeless to the ground. He belonged to Company H. I suppose he was hit by a ball from one of the fellows under the fence.

We could not have been placed in a more favorable position for the enemy to cut us in pieces and there was not a rebel to be seen after those few retreated to the woods. Our men began to grow unsteady under the enemy’s fire, our commanding officers didn’t seem to know what to do. Marsten is plucky and rash but he was not born to command. Lt. Col. Fiske attempted to rally the men but in spite of his tardy efforts they retreated beyond the reach of the rebels fire, and it was a most disorderly and disgraceful retreat.

We fell back perhaps fifty or a hundred rods out of reach of the rebel cannon and after great efforts on the part of some of the company officers the men were got in line and drawn off to their first position to the rear of the battery. Here we remained for some time without discharging a musket, but constantly exposed to the enemy’s fire and our men being wounded at almost every shot. Here Col. Marsten was wounded in the arm. A rifle ball struck him in the right arm near the shoulder, penetrated to the bone where it changed direction, followed the bone to the shoulder blade, turned again and went down and lodged in the right breast where it remained till he got to Washington.

From this position we were ordered to advance in front of the battery, out of range of course and nearer the enemy’s infantry which was under cover of woods. Here we remained a long time with orders to fire when we could see a mark, which was not often. It seemed to me that the sun was scalding hot and no tea to drink. Again we were ordered to move and take a position nearer the enemy which we did, but before doing so Col. M. had returned to the field with his arm in a sling, made us a brief speech which was full of pluck, said he was with us again and would be with us so long as he could.

But to speak the plain truth, he was useless as a commander when unwounded and we knew it, and what could we expect of him in his present condition, notwithstanding his plucky speech made while his face was distorted with intensest pain. But he went with us about halfway to the place we were ordered to occupy, where we halted for a while and the last I saw of him on the field he was squatted on his haunches in a ditch packed full of men who had jumped in there to escape the rebel fire, which was thick and hot upon us. But they exposed themselves to greater danger as I thot and told them at the time, by lying down, for in our then position, nothing could hit us but falling balls and shells, and in a reclining position they exposed more surface than when standing. My philosophy they couldn’t comprehend and urged me with tears in their eyes to abandon such dangerously false ideas and fall in with them. But I was incorrigible and stood upright and they lay still.

After having several men terribly wounded here by bursting shells we took our position halfway up the hill towards the enemy, where we were ordered to lie down on our faces, which most of the officers and men obeyed. They lay there in that disgraceful, because unnecessary, position without firing a musket or seeing an enemy, and the next order was to get up and retreat. And we did get up and we did retreat and we scarcely stopped till we got to Washington.

Thus did the Gallant New Hampshire 2nd Regiment acquit itself on Sundy the 21st day of July Anno Domini 1861. Every order was a blunder and every movement a failure. Had the men been left to themselves with their muskets and ammunition they could and would have done the enemy serious injury, but as it was I don’t believe they killed a single rebel except what the rifles may have picked off. I am sorry, yes, I cannot but weep to tell this sickening tale of the Gallant 2nd Regiment from N.H. of which so much was expected. There was no fault in the men thank God: they are brave fellows as ever heard the music of whistling bullets, and it was too bad to expose them to be cut down and mangled, when they could not return the enemy’s fire. But so it was and may it be a wholesome lesson to those men in New Hampshire who are anxious to put themselves at the head of the other regiments which are to be raised.

I think we shall have trouble in reorganizing our regiment. Col. M. will not be able to take command for some time yet, but if he should be, I don’t think the men would go to battle under him with any heart. As for the other field officers, they are not reliable and have not the confidence of the men. Our adjutant had business in Washington on the day of the battle and was not with us. How we shall be officered and by whom I cannot say. Many of the company officers have said they never would march under the same officers again. I cannot foretell the result. Perhaps we may conclude to try it once more.

Our loss is small, not over 10 men were killed on the field, but many, I don’t know the number, came off badly wounded. Most of the wounded are alive and accounted for but two or three it is supposed fell into the hands of the enemy and were murdered.

Eight or ten of our company were wounded, some badly, some slightly. All but one poor fellow who had his leg torn badly with a cannon ball are accounted for.

I cannot write any more now.

Your son,

Ai B. Thompson

By the end of the battle, more than 4,500 Union and Confederate soldiers were either dead, wounded, or taken prisoner. Shaken by the defeat and fearful that more states (such as Kentucky, Missouri, and Maryland) might join the Confederacy, President Lincoln called for the enlistment of 100,000 new troops and placed the Union army under the command of Gen. George B. McClellan, who had successfully driven Rebel forces out of West Virginia. Arrogant but admired, the thirty-four-year-old McClellan transformed the dispirited, untrained Army of the Potomac into a skilled, invigorated fighting force. There was, however, one small problem—he did nothing with it. The overly cautious McClellan blamed conflicting reports, inadequate supplies, incompetent staff, the weather—essentially, everyone and everything—for refusing to engage the Rebels. “If General McClellan does not want to use the army,” the president fumed after months of inaction, “I would like to borrow it for a time.” Animosity between Lincoln and McClellan—who referred to the president as “nothing more than a well meaning baboon”—would, as the war continued, only grow.