Martha Liggan Tells the Mother of a Confederate Soldier of Her Son’s Last Moments and Denounces the “Vile” Yankees Who Let Him Die

“On to Richmond!” had been the rallying cry of the Federal army from its inception. But one by one each of its commanding generals was unsuccessful. None of them, in the opinion of President Lincoln, had the decisiveness, grit, and competence to be victorious—except Ulysses S. Grant. On March 9, 1864, Grant was given supreme control over all armies of the Union, and he was determined, no matter the cost, to hunt down and destroy the Army of Northern Virginia once and for all. Lee, outnumbered, was equally as resolved to inflict on Grant such enormous casualties that the North would lose its will to continue the war. Grant’s 118,000 soldiers set out for Richmond on May 4, and waiting for them, near Chancellorsville in an area known as “the Wilderness,” was Lee with only 60,000 men. Lee had faced an even larger number of troops against “Fighting Joe” Hooker a year earlier at the same place—and won. Indeed, history would repeat itself; after two days off fighting, Grant sustained 17,000 casualties, Lee only 8,000. But unlike his predecessors, Grant pressed on. He could spare the men. Lee could not. Grant headed for Spotsylvania, and, again, Lee was ahead of him. Attack followed counterattack, leading to savage hand-to-hand combat. Grant lost more troops, but Lee failed to repel the Union army, which marched deeper into Virginia. In late May, just days before the historic Battle of Cold Harbor, Rebel and Union cavalry skirmished at Matadequin Creek. Gravely wounded in the fight, Confederate soldier O. H. Middleton was cared for by a local woman named Martha Liggan. Liggan wrote to Middleton’s mother to describe her son’s fate. (Several letters and words, such as “t” and “the,” are missing in places.)

Long Meadow Hanover County Va Mrs Middleton

Dear Madam

I now seat myself to reply to your letter for the purpose of giving you the particulars concerning the death of your noble son, who was mortaly wounded here on 30th of May.

The ball sruck the left arm between the shoulder and the elbow, entering the body little below the arm pit passing through the lungs, came out under the left shoulder blade bone. Our Cavelry was repulsed here, about seven O’clock P. M. Your son was brought to the house about sun down, by my father and one of the Yankeys. They found him a very little distance from the house. It is supposed he had been lying there some time, for he was very near speechless, when they got him here. I bathed his wound, washed his face and hands. That revived him very much. He would raise his head from the pillow and speak very distinctly. I asked him his name. He told me O. H. Middleton. I asked him his father’s name and address. He told me the same name he was named after his father. The reason we asked him those questions, we could see that he would die, and we thought if he died we could let his relatives know where he died. I think he suspicioned why we asked him those questions, for he asked us please to write and let his father know that he was wounded.

He was conscious until two hours before he died. He died about three O’clock in the morning. Just a little while before he became delerious, he said, Oh! my dear mother if I only could see you once more before I die! While delerious, he would call some names I suppose of his companions, such as Tom, Charlie, and Jerry. The last I heard him say was Mr Blake please send for the surgeon. He suffered very much, But he bore it very patiently, like the rest of our noble Sons.

Sometimes he was resless, because we couldn’t move him on the bed to ease him, his wound was so painful. I do assure you your son resieved the very best attention we possible could give him, being in the enemy’s lines. We hardly knew ourselves having the enemy all around us, and enoying us with there numerous questions.

Although your son was a stranger to me, I have shed many a tear over his corpse and now over his grave. He is burried in our family burying ground, But not coffined as we wish him to be. He was wraped in a blanket. My father is now in the reserve class militia, he says if he can come home, him and another one of our neighbors are going to take him up before he decays and put him in a coffin, so that his remains can be removed more conveniently.

He didn’t receive any surgical attention at all. We tried to get him a surgeon and beged the yankeys to send him one, But it was impossible to get one. He would ask us please to try to get him a surgeon. He thought something could be done for him. Oh, he did crave a surgeon. We asked the Yankeys to let us send for our family physician, they told us no they could not do that. Oh, vile and unfeeling wretches, I hope they may receive thier reward.

M. E. L.

It had been almost a month since the Union army had begun its southward march, and despite tremendous gains, Grant had lost a staggering 50,000 soldiers. (Many generals were killed in the campaign as well, including John Sedgwick, who uttered perhaps the war’s most memorable last words. After being warned by his men he was too close to Rebel lines at Spotsylvania, Sedgwick retorted, “They couldn’t hit an elephant at this dist—” just as a sniper’s bullet struck him down.) The slaughter at Cold Harbor in early June, however, would severely jeopardize Grant’s support among Northerners and even his own troops. Lee, with less equipment and fewer men to move, had raced ahead of Grant to Cold Harbor, a mere six miles from Richmond. On June 3 Grant ordered a head-on assault. Thousands of Union soldiers who rushed the entrenchments were slain in the first ten minutes of the blitz. In all, Grant had 12,000 casualties. Lee had 1,500. Newspapers and even Mary Lincoln referred to Grant as a “butcher” unfit to lead. But there was only one man Grant had to appease, and his confidence was unwavering: “I begin to see it,” read a dispatch Grant kept in his pocket as he maneuvered south of Richmond to Petersburg, “You will succeed. A. Lincoln.”