1863: Chancellorsville, then Home

Source

Chère maman,

How I long for home and hearth now, I am heartily sick of the army. Our boys have once again been led to defeat and ruin by the generals.

Near the end of April we were encamped with Reynolds' I Corps to the south of Fredericksburg. Then on May the 1st, Joe Hooker got himself into a mess in a place the locals call "The Wilderness." And pretty wild it is, lots of underbrush, hilly and heavily forested. Rather like back home up in the mountains.

He ran into Stonewall himself in that tangled mess and rather than fight it out, he pulled back, leaving the place to Jackson, thinking to stand on the defensive rather than attack.

So on the 2nd, Reynolds' Corps (with us in it) was ordered north, around Fredericksburg and to a place where we could ford the Rappahannock and get stuck in to the secesh. Of course, we got flung across the river and then waited.

In the meantime Howard's Germans got themselves run out of the wilderness, leaving a big mess behind.

We guarded the ford whilst everyone else was fighting. Until it was time for everyone to re-cross the Rappahannock, we were the rear guard and lost ten men keeping the Johnnies at bay.

I swear, all this army does is stumble from one mess to another.

Votre fils, Joseph

"Frenchie!"

Joseph heard his name called and he turned to see his friend Thomas, he had found hot coffee and had somehow managed to come away with the whole pot.

"Where'd you get that, Thomas?"

"Officers were having a brew but they got called away for an orders group. I suspect we'll be moving one way or t'other and soon."

All day the men had listened to the thunder of cannon and the rattle of musketry in the near distance.

Thomas Dignan poured them both a cup, took a sip, then spoke.

"I heard tell that Sickles and his boys are damned near surrounded at a crossroads called Chancellorsville, while the rest of the army sits in The Wilderness waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Cap'n just came through while you were on picket duty, said that Sickles and Couch managed to pull back into The Wilderness but that the damned Germans ran away again. Also heard that old Thomas Jackson is dead.¹ Shot by his own pickets!"

Thomas just sat there for a moment, "Stonewall? Dead?"

"That's what they're saying."

"Well, I'll be damned." Thomas shook his head as he said that. Oddly enough, he felt bad for the man himself, though not the cause he served.

"Steady lads, steady."

The 22nd New York stood in line, waiting while the bulk of the army crossed back to the Union-held side of the Rappahannock. Marse Lee had managed to drive the Yankees again. Joseph wondered if the Rebs fought better on their own turf. Lord knows, they fought hard in Maryland, near Sharpsburg, last year, but to no avail.

In Virginia they fought like wildcats.

The regiment had received a number of replacements over the winter and was now at a strength of near three hundred. Many of the new recruits had proven unsuited for army life and had been sent home. What remained was solid.

"Hear they come boys! Hold until I give the command!" Colonel Phelps sat his horse and watched as the Confederate skirmishers broke out of the far tree line.

Joseph saw the puffs of smoke long before he heard the familiar "zip" of Minié balls whipping overhead. The first shots were always too high.

"Steady! Steady!"

A man beside him grunted, clutched his belly then fell to the ground. Joseph waited for the command. He could see the secesh forming up across the way, but not making any move to advance.

"Looks like they're content to see us back across the river, eh Frenchie?"

Joseph smiled as Thomas said that, he sure hoped there wasn't going to be a general fight here by the ford.

And there wasn't, the Johnnies were content to take long range shots at the departing columns of Union troops. The regiment suffered ten wounded, one or two serious, but no one was killed outright and they were able to take the injured men across when it was their turn.

As the last cavalry pickets forded back to the northern side of the Rappahannock, Joseph prayed that he'd seen his last action. In a month the regiment would return to Albany to be mustered out. He'd done his time, he had had enough.

More than enough.

Newspaper clipping from 1863 -

Sunday night, before starting for their homes, the Regiment was highly complimented in an address by Gen. WADSWORTH, for their bravery and discipline. In every action they have been in, they have indeed covered themselves with glory.

The sanitary condition of the Regiment has been remarkably good, having lost but twenty by natural causes. In officers, they have lost eleven killed and one died a natural death; men, fifty-seven killed and nineteen a natural death; missing and never heard from, eight; wounded, about one hundred and sixty-five.

They left this city about 825 strong, and have received in the neighborhood of 300 recruits, many of whom, however, were discharged as unfit for service. Their aggregate now is 505 men, 419 with the regiment, and the rest in the hospital and elsewhere.

 

After dinner at the Delavan, the Regiment proceeded to the Capitol, where they were welcomed by Gov. SEYMOUR, Col. PHELPS responding in a few brief and appropriate remarks. The Regiment then proceeded to the Barracks. Source

The 22nd New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment's war was over.

¹ In reality, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson was accidentally shot by one of his own men. He was evacuated and had his left arm amputated. However, he caught pneumonia and died after the battle, on the 10th of May, 1863.

1863: Along the Rappahannock, the Mud March

Winter Campaigning.
The Army of the Potomac on the move. Sketched near Falmouth--Jan. 21st
Alfred R. Waud (PD)

Chère maman,

The weather here has been consistently miserable, cold, rain, and nothing but a sea of mud around our bivouac outside Fredericksburg. Now, after the butchery of that late battle, old Burnside seems to have cooked up yet another scheme to outfox Bobby Lee.

We are heartily sick of Burnside and long for the days of our Little Mac. Can the President find no one else to lead this poor Army of the Potomac? Morale is terrible, most of us are at the point of letting the secesh go their own way, we just want to go home.

If the Army continues to throw our lives away, many will do just that!

I must close this now, the drummers are beating the assembly, what new fiasco awaits us?

Votre fils, Joseph

Sergeant Halpin went through the bivouac of Company K shouting for the men to fall in with full equipment. "We're marching off to war again lads! Grab your shite and fall in on the colors! Move, move, move!"

Joseph threw a glance at Thomas Dignan as he struggled into the straps of his pack. "Where is old Burn going to take us now? He find some new place to get us killed?"

Thomas chuckled and shook his head, "Surprised that you'd disparage a fellow New Englander like that, Frenchie."

"Ah merde, he is from Indiana and I am from Quebec, neither one of us is really from New England."

Halpin stuck his head into the tent, "You two quit jawing and get yer arses in formation! Move!"

The long column of Wadsworth's First Division of John Reynold's First Corps looked bedraggled and miserable. The rains had turned the road into a sea of mud. Cavalry and artillery had preceded the infantry and had torn an otherwise reasonable road into a primitive, sodden farm track.

Colonel Walter Phelps, Jr. rode his horse beside the column, his First Brigade had earned its nickname of the "Iron Brigade of the East" on a long march earlier in the war. He noted, with pride, that his boys were marching with their heads up, resolute looks upon their faces.

The 22nd New York was leading the brigade march and he called out to Lieutenant Colonel John McKie, Jr. "Your boys are setting a fine pace, John!"

McKie, marching on foot with his men, his horse nowhere to be seen, tossed a salute at the brigade commander, "Hell Sir, my boys will march through hell itself if the cause is right."

Under his breath McKie muttered, "Too bad Burnside doesn't know his arse from his elbow."

Phelps shook his head, "Keep that thought to yourself, John. No sense pissing off the lads any more than they already are."

"Understood, Sir. My boys don't mind dying, just want it to mean something."

"Don't mind dying? Who the hell is he talking about?" Thomas was angered at the colonel's comment.

"Like we've a say in the matter, Thomas. We go where we're told, we fight, we die, and the generals throw it all away at every turn. Merde, I say. Au diable tous ces généraux!¹"

"Fais attention à ce que tu dis, Gaudry!²" Sergeant Chartier looked sharply at his fellow francophone. Chartier was the only man in the company who called Joseph by the name he was born with.

"My apologies, mon Sergeant, it's just frustrating."

"It's the army, nothing more."

Joseph nodded, he wondered again how a man so young, rumor said he was only 14³ years of age, could be so wise.

"Damn it!" Colonel Phelps swore loudly when the courier from General Reynolds relayed the order to halt, word from Burnside's headquarters was that the march around Lee's left flank was cancelled. The roads were terrible and rebel cavalry had spotted the movement.

"Colonel, Old Marse Lee has his boys up in force at the crossing site. His sharpshooters are already knocking down engineers and artillerymen, if we push on, it'll be Marye's Heights all over again!" With that last word, the courier galloped down to the next brigade.

"Officer's call, Sergeant Major Towne! Regimental commanders to me!"

The brigade being very understrength, it didn't take long for Phelps' regimental commanders to gather. Lieutenant Colonel McKie of the 22nd, Colonel Beardsley of the 24th New York, Colonel Searing of the 30th New York, Major de Bevoise of the 14th Brooklyn (aka 14th New York State Militia), and Colonel Burnham of the 2nd U.S. Sharpshooters all looked at Phelps in anticipation of being told to reverse direction.

Colonel Burnham spoke up, "So is that it, Walter, back to our bivouacs across from Fredericksburg?"

Phelps nodded in annoyance, Burnham was a regular, and they seemed to take delight in talking down to "State" officers. Burnham wasn't a bad sort, just overly familiar at times.

"Yes, Hiram, time to wade home in the mud. Let's get the column turned around and be ready to move."

"Are we going to try and maneuver the column around in this mud?" Beardsley exclaimed.

"No, Sam, we'll about face, have the color parties move to what was the rear and will now be the front. No sense trying to maneuver off the road, we'll be here all damned day."

The morale of the Army of the Potomac had been improving at the thought of getting after the rebs, the turnaround sent morale once more into the pits of despair. It also sealed the fate of Ambrose Burnside's command of the Army. The President had lost all confidence in the man.

On the 26th of January, 1863, Major General Joseph Hooker took command of the Army of the Potomac. Major General Burnside was sent to the west, to the Department of the Ohio.

¹ To hell with all these generals!

² Be careful what you say, Gaudry!

³ According to Company K's roster: CHARTIER, HENRY J. - Age, 14 years. Enlisted, June 8, 1861, at Albany, to serve two years; mustered in as private, Co. K , July 2, 1861; promoted sergeant, March 1, 1863; mustered out with company, June 19, 1863, at Albany, N. Y. He was either a very big kid, or the roster is incorrect. I lean towards the latter. He is not listed on the 22nd's muster roll.

Author's Note: You can read more about the Mud March here and here.

1862: Fredericksburg

Men of Franklin's "Left Grand Division" charge across the railroad
Source

Chère maman,

Yet another bloodbath, praise the Lord our regiment was not part of it.

I'm sure you've seen the newspaper accounts of General Burnside slaughtering the army on the heights near Fredericksburg. Everyone bemoans the face that our Little Mac¹ was replaced by Burnside.

Our brigade was assigned to Gen'l Franklin's Grand Division for this fight and other than being pestered by Reb artillery, we didn't see much fighting. We did lose two officers and two men to that Reb cannon fire. Two other fellows went missing, I'm sure they skedaddled when no one was looking. We didn't get close enough to the Rebs for anyone to get captured.

I am sick of the Army and count the days until I can be home with you again.

Votre fils, Joseph

The fighting south of Fredericksburg
Source

The dense fog blanketing the fields near the river reminded Joseph of Antietam, but the bone chilling cold made it far worse. They had crossed the Rappahannock the day before, against little opposition other than a few rebel sharpshooters. Their own men from the 2nd U.S. Sharpshooters kept the rebel fire inaccurate. Still, a few men had perished during the crossing.

After they had crossed the river, a great unease swept through the ranks. They could see the heights before them and they knew the Johnnies were there in force. It was with some relief when their column, part of Doubleday's division, turned left and headed down the river bank. Word had it that they would be in reserve.

"Keep yer eyes peeled boys, there's Reb cavalry out there, Stuart's boys." Sergeant Halpin spoke with confidence, though how he could see through the thick fog was anyone's guess. Maybe he'd heard that from one of the officers.

The occasional cannon shot could be heard whizzing overhead, the men tried hard not to duck. The veterans knew that if your number was up, you could duck all you wanted, the shot would still find you somehow.

One enemy explosive shell detonated overhead of the rear file of Company E, the screams of the men wounded by that made Joseph shiver. You would think that he would be used to that by now. But he wasn't, no matter how many times he heard someone cry out in agony, he would never be used to that. Thomas Dignan said he was too sensitive. Maybe so, but there it was.

"Easy, Frenchie, the Reb's don't have the range, that was a lucky shot." Dignan told him.

"Lucky for who, Thomas? You know we've seen too many good lads struck down by random chance. Our turn could be next."

"Or ye might live to be a hundred. Can't change fate, mon ami."

Some men of the Left Grand Division had attacked the heights to their front, but the 22nd and the remainder of Abner Doubleday's division stayed in reserve. Stuart's cavalry was seen to the south, but they kept well away.

Orders came from Burnside to attack, but General Franklin demurred, saying that all of his forces had been committed already. Had he forgotten Doubleday or was he reluctant to send more of his men to the slaughter? Word had spread through the ranks about the bloody attempt on Marye's Heights to the west of Fredericksburg. Hundreds slaughtered, and for what?

When the 22nd went into bivouac after the battle, the men were happy to have not seen anything other than cannon fire. Joseph resolved that when his enlistment was up, he was going home, many in the ranks felt the same way.

With leaders like Burnside, it was only a matter of time before they were all dead or crippled.

¹ General George McClellan.

1862: Antietam, The Cornfield

Source

Chère maman,

I am back with my regiment, the old 22nd is rapidly eroding away, both from disease and from the horror of battle. We have seen two very sharp engagements in less than a week.

We fought at South Mountain, which has been in the papers but was overshadowed by the immense fight along Antietam Creek in western Maryland, near the town of Sharpsburg. While we lost 30 men at South Mountain, of whom 13 were killed, percentage-wise it was nothing compared to the Antietam fight.

We went into battle with scarce a hundred men, we left the field with only 70 men still capable of bearing arms.

I daresay, I shall never willingly enter a stand of corn ever again.

Votre fils, Joseph

The 22nd New York was now under the command of Lieutenant Colonel McKie as their colonel, Phelps, had been elevated to command the entire brigade. It wasn't much of a brigade in mid-September of 1862, four hundred and twenty five men remained of the five regiments composing the unit. The 22nd contributed but a hundred men.

They had been ordered up in support of the black hat boys of Gibbon's Brigade and were posted some 25 paces to the left rear of that brigade. As they took post it was scarcely 5:30 in the morning and a heavy fog covered the field.

Joseph had just been reunited with the 22nd, he had been a parolee of 2nd Bull Run for scarcely a week before being exchanged. He had mixed feelings about being back in the ranks, his sergeant, Foy, had been invalided out and only his friend Thomas Dignan was still with the company, which had but 23 men on the field.

Lieutenant Huntley looked down the ranks, at the moment he was in command of Company K, 22nd New York Volunteer Infantry. "Steady boys, I doubt the Johnnies can see us out here. Fog's so damned thick, can't see maybe twenty yards."

As if to belie the lieutenant's observation, a battery of Confederate cannon off somewhere to the right began firing.

Gibbon's boys were taking a hard pounding as they moved through the cornfield. Not only were rebel cannon firing on them, but reb skirmishers were in the corn as well. Men were dropping left and right.

A courier from General Gibbon found Colonel Phelps with orders to close up tight to Gibbon's flank. "Don't hang back, Colonel, this field is thick with graybacks!"

Joseph was nearby and he almost laughed at the courier calling the Confederates "graybacks," which was also army slang for the lice that plagued them all.

"What's so funny, Frenchie?" Corporal McGowan, the company's sole non-commissioned officer, sneered.

"That fellow called the Johnnies graybacks, the cornfield is infested with lice, Corp!" Joseph snickered.

"Eyes to your front, Frenchie, this isn't a joke!"

Joseph looked to Thomas, who shrugged and murmured, "McGowan's got the wind up this morning, hasn't he?"

"We all do, Thomas, we all do."

Joseph's shoulder felt bruised and battered, he was perishing with thirst, yet he stood his ground and mechanically went through the motions of loading and firing. Try as they might, they couldn't push the Rebs off this ground.

Just to his left a man screamed as a cannon shot seemed to spring from the ground in front of him and tore his right leg off. He collapsed to the ground, sobbing hysterically. Joseph could see that there was no hope for the fellow, his blood was flowing freely into the soil of the battered cornfield. After Joseph fired had again, as he reached for another cartridge, he looked down at the man. His eyes were blank and it was obvious that he felt no more pain.

"Fall back lads! Fall back!"

Joseph¹ and the 22nd fell back reluctantly, firing as they went, but it was fall back or die, there was no other choice. Phelp's Brigade could do no more.

The Cornfield, Battle of Antietam
17 September 1862
Source

From Marker 32 on the battlefield² -

U.S.A.

First Army Corps

Phelp’s Brigade, Doubleday’s Division

Colonel Walter Phelps, 22nd New York Infantry, Commanding.

Organization.

22nd, 24th, 30th and 84th New York Infantry,

and 2nd U. S. Sharpshooters

(September 17, 1862.)

Phelps’ Brigade formed line at 5:30 A. M. on September 17, and moved in support of Gibbon’s Brigade. When Gibbon deployed, 135 yards north of this in the Cornfield and on the plateau west of the Hagerstown Pike, Phelps’ Brigade (425 officers and men) halted 25 paces in his rear, in the Cornfield. After Gibbon advanced and became heavily engaged on both sides of the Pike, Phelps moved to the support of his left and fought on this ground. The subsequent movements of this Brigade conformed to those of Gibbon. After heavy loss it retired to the fields north of D. R. Miller’s and thence beyond the Poffenberger Lane. Source

¹ I have no evidence indicating where my great-grandfather was during this battle, he may have still been on parole, or he may have been back with his unit. I do know that his regiment was at Antietam, though in a very weak state. For the purposes of this tale, I'm assuming he was indeed at Antietam.

² I looked at Google street view to try and get a photo of this marker, the post is there, but the plaque itself is missing as of October 2024. See here.

1862: Bull Run & Parole

Source

Chère maman,

By the time you get this I shall no doubt be back with my regiment. On the last three days of August the regiment was involved in a furious battle at the end of which I, and a number of my comrades, unfortunately found ourselves guests of the rebel army.

The battle was fought near the first great battle of this awful war, near Manassas, Virginia, along Bull Run. The regiment suffered horribly from what I am told. Of 379 who marched into battle, 10 officers and 42 men were killed, 9 officers and 55 men were wounded, and 4 officers and 60 men went missing (of which I and a number of Company K are numbered amongst). Our Lieutenant Colonel, Gorton Thomas, was wounded as well.

I just heard that he died of his wounds along with the news that I and the others of the 22nd have been exchanged. We leave this place to rejoin our unit, rumor has it that we are marching to Maryland under yet another general, Joe Hooker.

Votre fils, Joseph

Joseph found that his hands were sweating profusely, his rifle seemed to be getting heavier and heavier as the 22nd stood in formation, listening to the outbreak of cannon and musketry to their front.

"Sounds like the black hat boys have stirred up a nest of rebs up ahead." Thomas Dignan spoke just loud enough so that only Joseph and John Corcoran heard him.

"Rebs?" Joseph said, swallowing hard, he felt a powerful thirst and a powerful desire to urinate. He knew what it was he was feeling, he was terrified.

"Shut yer yap, Frenchie. We'll get stuck in shortly, don't you worry none." Sergeant Wynas snapped at Joseph, he was still angered that he hadn't been made the company 1st Sergeant.

As the men waited nervously, a single horseman came galloping down the road shouting as he rode past, "Stonewall's up ahead, he's hitting Gibbon hard!"

A hiss went through the ranks at the mention of the reb general, Stonewall Jackson. He was respected and feared throughout the northern army.

Nothing more came of this action as the 22nd and its parent brigade were ordered into cover. Gibbon's brigade had indeed stirred up a hornet's nest, they had also been immortalized with a new nickname - the Iron Brigade.¹

On the 30th of August fighting was renewed, all Joseph could recall of the battle was the constant loading and firing of his rifle. By the end of the day everyone had a raging thirst from biting off cartridges and their stained faces were evidence of the number of rounds they had fired.

They had stood their ground for as long as they could until ordered to fall back. It seemed like the entire army was once again fleeing for their lives.

Joseph and many of his company had been cornered near a stone bridge, an artillery limber had been hit on the bridge and as the 22nd waited to get across, the rebels had attacked again. As the regiment started to retire over the newly cleared bridge, Company K had acted as the rear guard.

Their ammunition ran out just as rebel troops under Longstreet had launched yet another attack.

"That's it boys! We're done, put down your weapons!"

Joseph couldn't believe his ears, an officer he didn't recognize was ordering them to surrender. He couldn't see his own company's officers, perhaps they were all down, he couldn't be sure. Reluctantly he placed his rifle on the ground.

"Ain't no shame, Billy, y'all fought purty good today. Better'n I've seen 'til now."

The man in the threadbare gray uniform gently shoved Joseph towards another group of blue-clad soldiers.

"Fightin's over for you boys today, heckfire, y'all probably get exchanged soon, Bobby Lee don't have time to babysit a bunch of Yanks anyhow. We's gonna take Washington and chase old Abe back to Illinois!"

The rebels all seemed pretty pleased with themselves.

"I thought we were prisoners, Sarge." Joseph was confused. A reb had handed him a piece of paper, which he'd had to sign, in which he promised not to fight again until exchanged.

Sergeant Foy shook his head, "We are and we ain't, we've been paroled, that's what that paper we all signed means. We stay behind the lines until we get exchanged with some captured Johnnies."

Thomas Dignan spoke up, "What if we just rejoin the regiment, that piece of paper doesn't really mean anything, does it?"

Lieutenant Huntley stirred, "If we ignore that paper, and get caught again, the rebs can shoot us, legally. That's if they check to see who's been paroled."

"Shot?" Joseph said, with said alarm.

"Yep, the lieutenant's right. Bastards can shoot us if we cheat on our parole."

Dignan spoke up again, "Will our general abide by this?"

Huntley nodded, "He better, law says he has to."

"Well, damn boys, let's enjoy the break. At least no one's shootin' at us!"

Joseph didn't see who had said that, but he had to agree. He had been terrified all day during the battle, now he wasn't that worried as the rebs didn't seem so bad. Fellows just like back home, though they did talk funny.

¹ Most in the army still referred to them as the black hat boys. The Iron Brigade was something more for public consumption and the newspapermen.

1862: The President's Visit, Near Falmouth

22nd New York Infantry, A. A. Robinson
Source

Chère maman,

After sitting in camp all winter, we are on the march again. Some of the fellows think that we are to go into the land of the secessionists and take their capital of Richmond. The sergeants all say it is nonsense. We will just march back and forth until the summer then return to camp once more. If this continues I shall certainly regret joining Monsieur Lincoln's army.

Over the past days we have marched four or five miles a day all over Virginia, then we camp and march again. There seems little point to it. We did come very near the first battlefield of this war at Bull Run. Finally we set up camp at Falmouth on the Rappahannock River just north of the town of Fredericksburg. Rumor has it that the President is coming to review us at this place.

I do not mind standing for a parade, my legs are ready to fall off from all of this marching. But in truth, it gets easier the more we do it.

Votre fils, Joseph

"Frenchie, Dignan, Kilmer come with me." 1st Sergeant Kelly seemed to be in a hurry. The men grabbed their gear and followed.

"So, are we going to see the President?" Private Adam Kilmer was allegedly 18, he looked all of 15 to the older men.

"The regiment will see him, you boys will not, you have guard duty during the great man's visit."

"Merde." Joseph muttered under his breath.

"English, Frenchie, I speak a bit o' that tongue of yours, and what ye just uttered was no pleasantry. Now was it?"

"No, 1st Sergeant. I am just disappointed to not see Mister Lincoln."

Kelly stopped and spun on his heel.

"You fellows are gonna have it easy. While the rest of the regiment is sweltering under the hot sun while the politicians talk, ye'll be in the artillery park back in yon trees. Plenty o' shade back there. I'd rather be with ye, but Cap'n Cadwell, bless his soul, wants me with the company."

Joseph had noticed the 1st Sergeant was limping badly, some said he was soon to be sent back home. The man was in his forties and looked older. Some said that Sergeant Wynas would be the new 1st Sergeant. Joseph hoped not, the man had taken a dislike to Joseph.

His friend Thomas Dignan thought that unlikely, "They'll probably bring someone in from outside of the company. Besides, the Captain doesn't like Sergeant Wynas, which is probably why he's so damn mean."

"Think we'll see action this year, Thomas?"

"I do lad, I do. The Johnnies aren't going to quit on account of our marching around all over Virginia. Would we quit if they was marching around upstate New York?"

"No Thomas, I'd think we'd shoot them." As Joseph said that, a shudder passed through him.

His friend Dignan nodded and said, "I think the Johnnies are just looking for the opportunity to shoot us. We just won't hold still long enough, I suppose."

Joseph looked off into the distance as a fanfare of music sounded in the distance.

"Do you think it's the President?"

"I do lad, I do. Probably come down to kick McDowell to get him moving against the Johnnies instead of just wearing out their roads."

"And our legs!"

Dignan chuckled, "That too, lad."

1861: Garrison Duty

Men of the 22nd New York Infantry
Source

Chère maman,

We arrived in camp on the second of July, Washington is a filthy place, full of soldiers, people trying to take your money, and lots of folk who seem to have no other purpose than to try and separate a man from his belongings.

We went through Baltimore a couple of days ago and the regiment was attacked by a mob. A fellow in Company I was killed, I don't know his name, nor did I know him personally, but it was a dangerous episode. We fired on the crowd and I know a number of civilians were hit, probably killed I think.

The local police came in and settled things down. I swear, that city is a fetid hive of secessionists.

It's awfully hot and sticky down here, I miss home already, but I do believe what we're doing here is right and proper.

Votre fils, Joseph¹

"Goodrich!"

"Oui, Sergent Foy?"

"English, we speak English in this country, Frenchie. And the name is Foy, like 'boy,' but with an 'F,' not fwaa."

"Sorry, Sergeant, I am learning."

"Not fast enough, get your gear, you and Dignan² are on sentry duty tonight. Report to Corporal Murry over at the orderly room."

"Yes, Sergeant."

Goodrich, as he was called now, that being easier for les Anglais to pronounce he supposed, still thought of himself as "Gaudry." But he readily answered to his new name as he supposed that name, like his equipment, had been issued to him by the army. He picked up his pack and his rifle, shaking his head at the absurdity of it.

Making sure that his uniform was straight, he headed towards where the company had its orderly room. For now it was a small shack in this miserable collection of huts near the edge of the capital. Rumor had it they'd be moving out soon and be under canvas again. These miserable quarters were loaded with filth and fleas! He could hardly wait.

Some thirty miles from where the 22nd was encamped, two armies were moving into position. The Army of Northeastern Virginia under Brigadier General Irvin McDowell was probing cautiously, looking for the rebel army under Joseph Johnston or Pierre Beauregard, intelligence reports were unclear as to who was actually in command at that point.

The President wanted the rebellion crushed before things drifted further out of control. The fall of Fort Sumter some months earlier still stung. McDowell's orders were clear. Find the enemy and crush them. From there it was thought a march on Richmond would bring the chastened secessionists back in to the fold.

Events were to prove that to be a false hope.

The 22nd moved over the Potomac over the Long Bridge and set up camp in Arlington, Virginia, around a small eminence called Upton's Hill. The weather was starting to moderate from the extreme heat and humidity of summer to the cooler temperatures Joseph was used to back home. But compared to Vermont, it was still hot.

Joseph had made the acquaintance of an interesting fellow in the neighborhood, it seems that prior to secession, this area had been very pro-North in its sympathies. A number of residents had been overjoyed when the Union Army had taken up positions here.

The man, named Henderson, seemed overly friendly and liked to talk. Joseph tried to avoid him, others in Company K weren't so reticent.

"Come on, Frenchie, Henderson's a good fellow. Talks too much, but heck, he's friendly, unlike a lot of the folks around here."

"I don't know, Thomas. He's always asking about the army. I don't trust him."

Ever since the thrashing McDowell's army had taken at Bull Run in late July, rumors were rife of southern spies and informants. A lot of the men in the 22nd, as yet unblooded, were still naive about this conflict and thought it would all be over by Christmas.

"Well, you should loosen up, Frenchie. You Vermonters sure are a suspicious lot."

"Just don't tell him anything important, Thomas. You never know."

Thomas Dignan shook his head.

The winter passed slowly, garrison duty was boring, but safe, no one was shooting at them. Joseph's misgivings about Henderson had been proven correct when the man had been caught by a roving patrol with papers detailing the strength and locations of Union units in Arlington and Alexandria.

The man had been tried by a military tribunal across the Potomac in the capital.

"Hey Frenchie, you were right about Henderson. I heard from a fellow in A Company that he was caught passing secrets to the secesh."

"I never trusted the man. I told you he was suspicious."

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, seems the provosts hanged him last Friday."

"Really?"

"Yes indeed, by the neck until he was dead."

"Mon Dieu!"

"You betcha, Frenchie. My God indeed."

Orders came down for the regiment to join the rest of the army in a march on Manassas. The 22nd was now part of Augur’s 1st Brigade, in King’s 3rd Division, of McDowell’s 1st Corps, Army of the Potomac, which was now under George McClellan.

The men marched out, then back again and were back on Upton's Hill by mid-March. In April they were back under McDowell in the Department of the Rappahannock, still in the same brigade and division, but apparently no longer under McClellan.

In April of 1862, orders came down, the 22nd was advancing deeper into Virginia. Down to Fredericksburg with the goal of advancing on Richmond from there.

The men in the 22nd were excited and nervous at the same time, garrison duty was boring but like 1st Sergeant Kelly warned them, "a fellow could get killed chasing secesh on their native soil!"

Few concerned themselves with that.

Chère maman,

We march soon and will be taking the fight to the enemy. I am nervous but not particularly frightened, the 22nd is a good outfit.

I'm not sure when I will be able to write again but do not worry, I am in good company and if it is God's will, I will come home to you in His own time.

Votre fils, Joseph

¹ I have no doubt that Joseph would have written his mother in French, not just the opening and ending, but to put the entire thing in French could prove tedious to the reader.

² I have taken the liberty of using the actual names from the 22nd's muster roll as it was in 1861. No doubt as casualties occur, I will have to make up names from that point on. You can see that roll here.