In November 1862 President Lincoln had chosen Major General Ambrose Burnside to replace George B. McClellan as the commander of the Army of the Potomac. Burnside’s failed attack at Fredericksburg in December cost the Union more than 12,600 men killed, wounded, or missing, and caused much of the army to lose confidence in his leadership. Determined to take the offensive again, Burnside decided to cross the Rappahannock four miles upriver from Fredericksburg and outflank Robert E. Lee’s defensive positions from the west. One of the regiments participating in the maneuver was the 119th New York Infantry, part of the Third Division of the Eleventh Corps. Its adjutant, Theodore A. Dodge, had been commissioned as a lieutenant in the 101st New York in 1862 and had fought in the Seven Days’ Battles and the Second Bull Run campaign before being wounded at Chantilly on September 1. In November 1862 he joined the 119th New York, where he served alongside his father, Nathaniel S. Dodge, the regimental quartermaster (“Q.M.”).
Camp near Berea, 4 miles N.W. of Falmouth
January 21st 1863
At last, after our numerous scares of being under orders to march at a moment’s notice, we received day before yesterday orders to move “at 7 A.M. tomorrow. Further particulars will be sent,” said the order, and we accordingly went to bed at 9 P.M., ready to start at any moment to carry out the provisions of any further orders that might arrive. About an hour after I had gone to sleep, an order did arrive, giving the order of march and directing our Brigade to fall in behind the 1st Brigade, which would pass our camp about 8 A.M.
This gave us a clue as to the direction in which we were to march, viz. towards Falmouth. We thought we should go to Brooke’s Station, and that the Corps would be stationed along the line of communications between Aquia Creek Landing and Burnside’s Army. We were partly right. Just as we were breakfasting at 6¼ o’clock A.M. yesterday (20th), Lt. Stoldt, the Acting Assistant Adjutant General of our Brigade, came over with orders not to wait for the 1st Brigade but to fall into line and march at once. So, we hurried our things together and got off at 7 o’clock.
We took the road towards Falmouth, and came over the road which Stahel’s Division had taken for Aquia Creek Landing and Brooke’s Station; and further we found that we were destined for Hartwood Church. This point we reached about 3 P.M. and our present position about 5. The roads were good and we had a very prosperous march. Berea is on the direct road from Warrenton to Falmouth, 4 miles from the latter and consists of a fine farm house and accompanying buildings. Near this house we met Burnside’s Army passing on to Banks’s Ford, 4 miles from here, where a pontoon bridge is to be thrown across and the Army to pass the river. They expected to have done this last night but the wind was so high and the rain in such torrents that it was not possible. We got a little supper and then retired for the night about 8 o’clock.
The Q. M. had brought his trains along the good road at a fast pace, getting here almost as soon as we did, so that we were able to put up two tents—one for the Colonel and Lieutenant Col., and one for the Q. M. and myself. We tried to make a fire in the tent, but the stove would not draw on account of the wind, and the smoke nearly drove us wild; so we at length gave it up as a bad job, and took refuge in our cots. Towards morning, I woke up and found the wind had loosened the pins of the tent, and that it was on the point of falling. So I determined to get up and fix it. I groped about for my specs, which having found, I was trying in the dark to distinguish between the Q. M.’s boots and mine, when a sudden gust of wind raised the unfortunate tent from over our heads, and carried it several yards to leeward of its original position, when it suddenly collapsed, leaving us at the mercy of the elements. “Quarter Master!” shouted I to the cot opposite. No answer. “Quarter Master!” “What’s the matter?” said he, coolly uncovering his head which had to that moment been buried in blankets. When he saw the desolation around him and the wild waving branches of the tree above him, he was filled with astonishment. It was a mercy the tent pole did not fall upon him. We roused teamsters & servants and finally got the tent pitched again. It was now nearly 6 o’clock, so we concluded to stay up and make a fire, which we accordingly did. Now (towards noon) the wind has gradually abated and there is a chance for getting fixed.
Batteries and troops are pouring on towards the river incessantly. We have just got notice that we shall stop here some time, so before night we hope to be all right again.
January 22nd 1863
Much to our surprise & gratification, a mail came this morning bringing us three letters from you. One which had been delayed since the 6th, one of the 16th and one of the 17th inst. We did not expect a mail so soon after our arrival here, and were in high glee to find our postal communications again established. We were very sorry to hear that your chilly, damp weather and east wind was afoot again and commencing his annoying attacks on your throat. What an inveterate throttler he is to be sure! He never seizes you anywhere else, but always straight at your throat. I hope, dear Mother, that his grip may be less powerful this time than his last attack.
We seem to be here to guard the communications between Aquia Landing and Burnside’s Army. Stahel’s Division is posted at the former place and along the R. R. to Brooke’s Station, from whence to Falmouth I believe Von Steinwehr guards the R. R.; from Falmouth to Burnside his own Division along the Warrenton Turnpike. At all events, we have the post nearest the main Army, tho’ if the weather should now prove so bad as to oblige us to go into winter quarters I should much prefer Aquia Landing; for a more desolate place you never saw than the one we are now occupying, rendered doubly so by rain and wind. Troops are continually passing on to the river below, and really when I see the poor wretched fellows tramping through the ankle deep mud, and remember from many sad experiences how hard such marching is, I feel as if our position were to be envied.
You have no idea of how soon the roads turn from good to bad here in Virginia. A clayey soil is hard and the very best for marching on in favorable weather, but let it rain but an hour and troops and wagons march over the road, and the mud is worse than anyone who has not been in Virginia can conceive of. The wagon train passing down to the river got stuck last night and could not move for many hours. If Burnside gets far away from the R. R. there will be the devil to pay, for the wagon trains can scarce move over the roads. You watch a train a little while and you will see horses dropping dead from sheer exhaustion every now and then. A four-horse team cannot possibly drag more than 1,000 lbs. over these roads and scarcely that.
Trains are a very different thing to manage here from what they are in Europe, where the roads are good. A turnpike here is what would be a shocking bad country lane in England. The rain ceased about 10 this evening, but the wind has not yet entirely subsided. These N. E. storms generally last 36 hours at least.
January 23, 1863
As expected, so it has come to pass. The batteries, which moved down to Banks’s Ford 3 days ago, are now moving back again. It seems that Mud is really King. He sets down his foot and says, “Ye shall not pass,” and lo and behold we cannot. But Mud wields more despotic sway these last two days than ever I saw him wield before. The horses sank into mud up to their bellies, and it is said down near the river you sometimes have to put sticks under the mules’ necks to prevent their being engulfed in the very slough of despond. How inspirited and confident the men feel in their leaders you can well imagine. The Genl. Commanding announces to the Army of the Potomac “that they are about to meet the enemy face to face once more,” says General Order No. 7, January 20th. “Go back from where you came,” says order of today.
This Corps will probably wait till the Grand Divisions of Hooker and Franklin have once more waded their weary way through the mud to their old positions near Falmouth; then we shall do the same. At all events we shall have drier roads by that time, I hope. How it happens that Burnside did not make calculations upon the possibility of its raining whilst he made his move, I cannot imagine. It would seem that plans ought not to be made which rest on the favor of the elements.
The Q. M. and I pitched a new tent yesterday, and gave the one which blew from over us on the 21st to the Commissary Sergt. Owing to a scarcity of tents, the Q. M. and I have our Departments together. It is rather crowded on account of his having one clerk and I having the Sergt. Major and another clerk in the tent most of the time, but we get along tolerably well. The weather is still very damp, and as we have no flooring to our tent, cold feet are prevalent. This is however one of the minor evils. We have got out of wood today, on account of most of the rails round the farms here have been taken to corduroy the roads, and we cut down an immense oak tree close by our tents. It was a tree several hundred years old probably, & very large. We got a corporal of Co. K, who is a woodman by trade, to cut it down, and we watched with great interest to see whether he would fell it clear of the Colonel’s tent and ours, which he succeeded in doing. The old tree fell with a terrible crash and thousands of branches flew up into the air like spray from a waterfall.
The other night, when the tent blew over, it broke my camp cot, and I have to set it up every night now with the greatest care, and lie still on my back all night for fear of its giving way and my coming down on to the ground. It is one of those complicated cots that pack up very small and is exceedingly difficult to mend. We have been wishing to ride down to the river these past two days, but the mud is so deep it is much too serious an undertaking.
Berea Church, January 24th 1863
A singular circumstance occurred today. The pontoons, the horses to which had been used in bringing the artillery up from the river along these excruciating roads, were being dragged up by Regiments, about 50 to each pontoon, fire engine style. This, though hard work, rather pleases the boys, & they were cheering as they came to good bits of road and running races with each other. We sat in our tents watching them on the road, about 150 yards off, when the Lieut. Col. proposed to go nearer and see what Regiments were there. As we reached the road the Lieut. Col. spoke to a young Lieutenant, who was trudging along through the mud. He turned out to be Willie Hyslop, whose family we know so well and whom we had thus singularly met. He got leave of his Colonel to come over to our tent & stay for dinner. We found him a very intelligent fellow and had a pleasant talk with him.
We asked him what the troops in his Division thought of this move. He said they quoted the proclamation, “If the Almighty is willing,” and had come to the conclusion that the Almighty was not willing; that they all thoroughly laughed at Burnside, & were of the opinion that if McClellan was known to have been reinstated, not only would such cheers go up from the Army of the Potomac as were never heard, but that they would march with such a will and confidence upon Fredericksburg, either to storm the heights or to outflank the town, as would inevitably insure success. Col. P. is an inveterate opponent of McClellan, and was pumping Hyslop for his opinion, when he got the above, which rather took him down.
Poor Hyslop has been in active service since June ’61, and is now only Lieutenant, never having been home at all. It is curious how different the chances of promotion are in different Regiments. Here is Hyslop, for example, who has been 2 years in the service, has been in almost every battle, and has served well and faithfully, and has only risen one step in all that time. Then take George Pomeroy, who has, in much less time, risen from Lieut. to Lieut. Col., and is now paymaster in the Regular Army. Some of the very best of the old Regiments are slowest in promotions.