Writing to the Freeman on November 20, Fisk described a review of the Sixth Corps and presciently observed that “these reviews almost always precede an onward movement.” The Mine Run campaign cost the Union about 1,600 men killed, wounded, or missing, and the Confederates about 600.
Second Vermont Regiment
November 29, 1863
This quiet Sabbath morning while the good people of Vermont are attending their accustomed places of worship, we, here in the army, are engaged in a manner widely different. Our regiment is on picket today, close up to the enemy, and picket firing is going on nearly all the time. I have seated myself by our little fire on the support, and as it will be several hours before my turn will come to go on post, perhaps I shall have no better time to acquaint you with our proceedings for the last week or so, than the present.
We are in what I am told is called here, the Owl’s Wilderness, and certainly it would be hard to conceive of a name more appropriate. It appears to be one uninterrupted wilderness, extending fifteen or twenty miles either way, without any other inhabitants than owls, buzzards, and such like animals. There may be, once in a while, a small clearing with a log house in the center, and a high fence all around it, and with some signs of the land having been cultivated in modern times, but these places have strayed away so far from all civilization that it will be hardly worth while to take them into account. The land where we are now, is covered with small second-growth pine, and looks as if it had been under cultivation once, but probably worn out and abandoned for more fertile regions. Part of the woods that we have been through is grown up to oak and other solid timber of all sizes, and has probably been forest from time immemorial. The land is level, and has the appearance of being good soil, and if I am any judge I should call it just such land as would tempt the eyes of almost any practical farmer, if it was up in our Northern States, instead of being here in decayed Virginia.
As to the latitude and longitude of our present whereabouts, the man in the moon could tell as well as we. We have marched principally in the night, and in all directions, so it has destroyed all our calculations as to distance and directions, and all we can say about the matter is that we have crossed the Rapidan and are still on the rebels’ side of the river. It is cheering to be able, under such circumstances, to put confidence in others, for we should be in a woeful plight if we were obliged to act upon our geographical knowledge at the present time. The sun rises in the southwest, and I noticed that the needle of the compass points almost exactly the wrong way. If anybody was going to desert just now, I should be a poor guide to direct their flight.
One week ago today we had divine services in our regiment, held by Mr. Chandler, from Brattleboro. As we have no Chaplain of our own, and consequently very meagre religious privileges of any kind, it was quite a rarity to hear any one preach. He is connected with the Christian Commission, and in anticipation of a battle, had come out here to act the part of the Good Samaritan to the suffering,—as a great many belonging to that Commission have done, to the everlasting gratitude of those who have been wounded in action,—and to preach the gospel and distribute religious reading where such services are needed. He had a large bundle of papers with him that were eagerly received.
On the morning of the 24th, we had orders to be ready to march at an early hour. Accordingly, at precisely three o’clock in the morning, our quiet dreams were broken up by the rattling of drums all through camp, and forthwith we commenced to break up housekeeping—for the most of us had built us tip top houses—and to prepare for another campaign or for whatever was to be accomplished. The weather was grim and forbidding, and the rain drops as they came pattering on our tent that morning, driven by a regular nor’easter, had a very dismal sound in view of the prospect before us. A rainstorm is a very uninviting auxiliary with which to commence a long campaign at any season of the year, but more especially now when cold weather has come and when wet clothes can hardly be made to suggest anything but discomforts of the least desirable kind. Our tents had become wet and heavy, and to carry these in our knapsacks with all the rest of the clothing that we are obliged to carry at this time of the year, was going to make a pretty heavy draft upon the strength of a fellow’s back bone. It is the last straw that breaks the camel’s back, and the addition of a few extra pounds of water might have the same effect on us, for our packs have hitherto been as heavy as seemed possible for us to carry. You may judge of our satisfaction then, when we heard that the order to march had been postponed for two days. Some think that other reasons besides unpropitious weather, was the cause of the delay; if not it was rather of an anomaly in our war experience but none the less acceptable for all that. We shall certainly think we have one good reason for respecting Gen. Meade.
Although we had been expecting to move somewhere for a long time, we had but little idea where we were going. There have been all sorts of rumors in camp, and there always are at such times, and almost every man had a rumor of his own. No honest man could believe two of them at the same time. Sometimes it was reported that we were going to New York. Gen. Stannard had command there and wanted us to do service under him. I heard that some officers had offered to bet very extravagantly that such would be the case. It is curious how such rumors will thrive and strengthen themselves in a thousand different ways. It was coolly told in the third brigade, and believed there, that orders had been read to us on dress parade to draw clothing suitable for garrison duty, when no such orders had been read to us at all, and more than all that, our regiment had no dress parade while we stayed in our last camp. Another story was that the army was going to move down to the vicinity of Aquia Creek, and go into winter quarters there again. Going across the Rapidan to attack the enemy once more, seemed to be hardly feasible at this late season. Morever attacking Lee in his old chosen position, we have tried so many times and failed, that a great many think it is high time that that method of maneuvering was played out.
The day, before we did move, I was up in one of the New York regiments, and they were trying to enlist the men over again for another three years. They were managing this matter with a great deal of shrewdness. Every man that put his name down was to have a furlough and go home immediately. As it had become pretty certain that we were to have a long, tedious campaign, cold and stormy it might be in pursuit of the enemy, it was quite a tempting bait for a fellow to write down his name and get rid of it all, and go home and have a jolly time instead. In some of the New York regiments, the enlisting officers have been pretty successful; in others, the boys say they want to breathe free air once more before they enlist again.
Thursday morning, the 26th, we were drummed up again, bright and early, to prepare to march. The air was clear, and there were no signs of rain nor any probability that the movement would be postponed again. Our knapsacks were packed, tents struck, huge bonfires were burning all through the camp, consuming material that had cost us a great deal of pains to collect. The sun was just beginning to melt away the frost, when we fell into line and filed off towards Brandy Station. Camps without number were being deserted, some of which had been fixed up as comfortable as would be needed for winter quarters. The whole army was in motion. Infantry, artillery, and baggage wagons ad infinitum, had suddenly waked to life and were crowding along, or halting in a field for it to come their turn to start. It was nearly noon before we got hardly so far as Brandy Station. The marching all day was very slow. Sometimes we would hardly get a half mile from one halting place before we would halt again. As it grew towards night, and we believed that we had got to cross the river before we halted for the night, we began to grow impatient of these vexatious delays, and anxious to get to our journey’s end. Before we reached the river we had got a couple of miles of woods to go through, and there was only one little road hardly wide enough for a file of four men to walk in abreast, while on each side was a dense thicket of all sorts of timber that nature ever invented. If we could have marched right straight along in this road it would have been all well enough, but, instead of that, we could only march a few steps at a time, then wait for those ahead of us to clear the way. We would march about a rod, then wait five minutes, when we could march a rod more, and then wait another five minutes, and all this while the weight of our knapsacks was increasing, and our patience steadily diminishing, until the boys began to curse patriots and traitors without much discrimination. Finally, we halted and sat down. An hour passed, and still we didn’t move. Some of the boys ventured to make coffee, running the risk of being ordered to fall in just as they were divested of their load, and enjoying their warm drink. By and by orders came that we might make us coffee, and eat our supper, and we all pitched into the business with a will. We had ample time allowed us to finish our meal, and when we were at last ordered to fall in, the road was clear and we could march along as fast as we liked.
We crossed the Rapidan between Germanna and Raccoon Ford, at Jacob’s Ferry on a pontoon bridge. The opposite bluff was almost perpendicular and as soon as we had climbed to the top we halted and camped for the night, or for what there was left of it, for it was past midnight when we stopped. Before sunrise we were ordered up, and soon on the march again. There was skirmishing ahead of us and our advance was slow. We gained but three or four miles from the river all day. Towards night firing began to be more rapid and we were ordered forward into line. The third corps were ahead of us. Our line extended into the woods to the extreme right. About quarter before four the firing commenced with terrible earnestness. To us it looked as though there would be a chance for us to have a hand in it. We could not see the fight, for the wood was so dense that we could see but a few rods ahead of us, but from the sound of the firing, and from the number of frightened skedaddlers that were making swift tracks to the rear, we had reason to fear that the battle was going against us. The firing continued till long into the night. Evidently the rebels couldn’t break our lines or they would have been on to us. It was difficult to get any exact information of the result of the battle, but the “sum and substance” of what we could get was, that we had been flanked and forced to fall back; that the rebels had charged upon our line and been repulsed; that we in turn charged them, drove them back and gained some ground at the close of the struggle. The Tenth Vermont was in the fight, and there was a report that night that they broke and ran; other reports contradicted it. I have heard that they bore the test and held their ground like men, although a line ahead of them broke and skedaddled back right through their ranks; and for a Vermont regiment, this is decidedly the most rational story to believe.
After a while the firing ceased and everything was quiet as the grave. We commenced to build fires to warm ourselves and to make coffee by, but an order came to allow no fires on the line. Afterward they concluded to let us have a few small fires, and we eat our suppers and laid down. About midnight we were ordered to pack up and fall in. Our line of march was towards the left. By the number of troops that were in motion, I should judge that all hands left that place during the night. It would be impossible to guess how far we marched before daylight, when we maneuvered around and got into a position here. We didn’t march very rapidly, nor very straight, but if I was to make a rough guess at the matter, I should say that we came about a half a dozen miles from where the fight was Friday night, and that now we must be pretty well down towards Chancellorsville. Next time I write, I hope I shall be better informed and be able to write a more intelligent letter.
Second Vermont Regiment
Near Brandy Station
Dec. 8, 1863
Being detailed for fatigue, and out a couple of miles from camp, with but little prospect of returning for at least ten days from the commencement of the detail, I have pulled up my knapsack close to the fire, fully determined to write you another letter by firelight, this evening, unless I am driven from my purpose by the smoke, which persists in drifting directly into my face, let me get on to which side of the fire I will. To be bent down over an outdoor’s fire on a cold December night, might have a very inspiring effect for a poetical nature, but for me it is a most uncomfortable position, and sometimes places my patience in great jeopardy. But if I wish to narrate the events of the past few days, I shall probably have no better opportunity to do so than now, and to deprive the public of this important delinquency that I never should have the face to ask forgiveness for.
The last time I wrote, I believe we were on picket away out in the wilderness among the rebels, where we expected every hour to be let against the enemy. We were not let against them while we were there, for reasons known only to the higher authorities, though without doubt it was because we found the enemy much stronger in his position than we expected. Gen. Meade did not wish to inaugurate another Lee’s Mill’s affair. There was a deep creek between us and the enemy, and the rebels had been busy digging rifle-pits and strengthening their position ever since we came up to them. Both banks were abrupt and steep and difficult to get over, while on the rebel side they had added to these disadvantages by placing every conceivable obstacle in the way of our advance. Trees were felled, abattis made, breastworks were thrown up until they occupied a position that if we had occupied we should have considered impregnable against all the rebels in the universe.
Army correspondents, I notice, all have it that “the men” were in the best of spirits, and eager for a dash at the enemy. Now all such statements, though meant, I suppose, to be complimentary, need a slight qualification, and admit of some exceptions. We are in “the best of spirits” almost any time when we can get the best of spirits to put into us, and as for being eager for a dash at the enemy, perhaps it is all true; I can speak for but one, but there was certainly a fellow there about my size that felt no such eagerness at all. I couldn’t look over to those gray-coated devils and see their position and the means they were providing for our reception, with any desire to be ordered over there amongst them. If the order had been given to charge, of course I should have charged with the rest, and if I could hurt a rebel so that he would have had to go home and stay with his mother until the war was over, I should have done it; but after all, to tell the plain truth about the matter, and there is no use in lying, in the event of a charge, I know I should have had a strong preference for running the other way and placing as much distance as possible between those rebel minnies and my own precious self. Vermonters are the very best fighters in the world, so everybody says that knows anything about it; but you never see a Vermonter manifest any eagerness to get into a fight, nor any desire to back out after he does get in.
It was expected by some, that a charge would be ordered that Sunday afternoon when we were there on picket, but it was postponed until morning. Early in the morning we were relieved from post, and went back to the reserve. At precisely eight o’clock our artillery opened on the enemy. They commenced with energy, and from two points, pouring in a cross fire and throwing in shot and shell among the rebels with terrible rapidity. The rebels hardly knew what to make of it. From the picket outposts they could be seen hurrying in all directions, some scattering in confusion, and some being collected together for resistance. There seemed to be an endless number of them. We had stirred up their hive, and found a pretty lively swarm, and as large a one as we need wish to contend with. The cannonading was to continue for an hour, and then, hurrah boys for a charge. As we are on picket, we should take the lead, and act as skirmishers. In about half an hour the firing ceased. Pretty soon the order came to pack up and fall in. We did so, and were ordered about to the right of the line, a mile or so further. All the way we kept back from the edge of the woods far enough to prevent the rebels from discovering our movement. We picked our way through a dense and almost impenetrable thicket of small trees and underbrush. We passed by where a storming party of the 5th corps had piled up their knapsacks and haversacks, and were stripped for the charge. After a while we got into our position where we should remain until further orders. It was very cold, but no fires were allowed to be built there. The Johnnies were having their nice comfortable fires, and they appeared to be but a short distance from us. They didn’t appear to be at all bashful about showing their position by building fires or coming out in sight. But we must keep back in the woods out of sight and keep warm the best way we could. By scuffling, knocking off hats, and running around a ring that we made a path for in the woods, we managed to keep from freezing. We expected to be ordered into action every minute. The companies to be deployed were selected, but the order to advance did not come. The boys were tired of waiting. If they had got to charge on the enemy, they wanted to do it at once, and have it done with, and not stand there and dread it all day in the cold.
But the sun went down and our line had not moved. Soon the order came to “left face place.” It was clear and cold. We got into line after about our usual delay in marching and halting, and as soon as we could collect the material, we had a bright, rousing fire to collect around, and to eat supper by. We made our beds around this fire and slept till morning. Some idea of the weather may be understood from the fact that several of the canteens that I helped fill late in the evening, were frozen solid in the morning, and some had burst open and were spoiled. The next day we had nothing to do but to keep ourselves warm and speculate on the prospects before us. We were on a portion of the plank road that leads from Culpeper to Fredericksburg, and could at any time we chose, move down and take possession of the heights of that place. The enemy were only covering Gordonsville. They were south and west of us, and we were the nearest Fredericksburg. All this looked as if it might be so, but there was an air of mystery and doubt about it that made some of the knowing ones feel incredulous. Our hesitating to attack the day before looked a little as if everything was not so well for us as some pretended to believe. They had a strong position and doubtless were so disposed that they could move down and occupy their old position by Fredericksburg, or they could fight us there; in either case they held us to a disadvantage. It really looked as if Gen. Meade had failed in some brilliant maneuvre by which he had intended to bring Lee out on an open fight, and in this failure, inasmuch as we had declined to fight and give the rebels their advantage, it seemed pretty likely that we should fall back across the river once more. This was rendered certain when night came and we were ordered to pack up and fall in. After marching two or three miles, or such a matter, we halted and formed into line. Skirmishers were thrown out, and we were told that we should remain at least two hours.
It was a certain thing then that we were retreating, and that a part of our brigade was acting as rear-guard. We spread down our blankets, determined to steal a little sleep if we could. The next thing we have any recollection of was of being aroused from a good sweet dream, and ordered to form. We had been there three hours instead of two. We were completely chilled through, and it was quite fortunate that we were awakened when we were, for we were shivering with the cold, and trembling like a man of ninety. We fell into line, and before we had marched far we were warm enough.
It was about daylight when we reached and crossed Germanna Ford the next morning. We noticed as we passed down to the river some well constructed rifle-pits and breastworks, from which the enemy had no doubt intended to dispute our passage across the river, and which we were enabled to dodge through the foresight and generalship of Gen. Meade. We marched about a mile this side of the river before we halted for breakfast. The 5th corps had preceded us, and their men were lying in the bushes on each side of the road, as thickly as they could possibly get together. After breakfast we marched on a little further, and finally in a woods for all day, and the next night. Thursday morning we were ordered to pack up and fall in, which we did, and marched towards our old camp. We marched up to Stevensburg and crossed the Mountain Creek at that place, some distance above the place where we crossed the same stream on our way down a week before. As we came along by the camps of the 5th and 3rd corps we noticed that they were occupying the same houses, and, the same places exactly, that they occupied before we moved. At Brandy Station everything was alive with business. One sutler’s wagon was actually unloading from a platform car, just as we passed by. This was an important event, for sutler’s goods have heretofore been too scarce to be obtained even by officers, and those who feel that they have a special right to these things. We marched straight back into our old camp. Those that had not burned up their houses before they left had only to put their tent overhead for a roof, and they were as comfortably situated as ever; but some had completely destroyed their houses, and material, and consequently if they built again, had to commence anew. We were told that we had better not make any extensive preparations for comfortable quarters, as our regiment intended to move to a more pleasant locality, which has since been done. Friday night the order came into camp to pack up everything, and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. The rebel cavalry had crossed to this side of the Rapidan, and possibly we might be attacked. The officers and men had been given a ration of whiskey that night, and all hands were pretty noisy, though nobody supposed that that had anything to do with the rebel scare. Matters quieted down after a while, and so did the boys, and no enemy disturbed us that night. The next morning we were detailed for this “fatigue,” and here we have been ever since. We are building a corduroy road along by the side of the railroad from Rappahannock Station to camp. Our supplies they say have got to be carried over this road. The railroad only carries forage to Brandy Station.
But it is getting to be well on towards midnight, and my fire is nearly gone out. No one would disagree with me, if I should say, it is time this tedious letter was brought to a close, for I am beginning to feel almost as dull as what I have written.