CAME up to this place yesterday, and may stay here two or three days, as it is quite an important position just at the present time. On the one hand is the little village of Upperville, now devastated and dilapidated; on the other hand is Ashby’s Gap, a pass through the Blue Ridge. We are camped in fields on the slope of a mountain, from which point there is a broad view of the country far to the east. The bleached skeletons of horses tell of fierce cavalry fights, at various times, for the possession of the gap; and close to our camp are four fresh graves of men killed in Stahl’s fight with Stuart. It is a country of wornout land nourishing a big crop of blackberry bushes. No sooner are arms stacked than the men make a break for blackberries, and even an army can hardly make any impression on the supply.
You will probably see Steve Smiley at home before long. Three commissioned officers and six enlisted men from each regiment are going home to drill the drafted men, and Steve expects to be one of the detail from this regiment. Perhaps I will send this letter out by him. Our mail is a very uncertain factor, both coming and going, judging from the fact that you had not heard from me a week after the battle. But as my name was not in the killed and wounded list you were probably not much worried. We are drawing nice ham for a meat ration now. I found a lot of little onions in a deserted garden yesterday.
Four of our wounded officers have died in the hospitals. Charlie Vickery was shot through the back, injuring his spine. The rebels robbed him of everything he had. A rebel major came along, asked him some questions, then ordered some rebel soldiers to carry him to a barn near by and leave a canteen of water with him. The next day this barn was in the line of fire, and he was wounded again, slightly, in the shoulder by a grapeshot. When our men got possession of that part of the field he was carried to one of our hospitals, where he died on the 11th. He would not believe he had got to die, and did not send a word to his wife; but after he became speechless he tried to whisper something to one of the boys, but could not make himself understood.
We crossed the Potomac at Harper’s Ferry on the 11th. I have seen some wild places, but never any to beat this. Two rivers here unite, rushing down between towering perpendicular cliffs, with only room for a road between cliff and river. This is the second anniversary of the battle of Bull Run. Two years ago this very minute I was making good time toward Centreville. And here I am, only one day’s march away, and still on the job. But we will win.
CI
Washington, D. C., July 28, 1863.
SUDDENLY and unexpectedly, after all our troubles and tribulations, the Second Regiment finds itself in clover. Day before yesterday we were marching through Warrenton, sweating and puffing, when we saw General Marston standing in front of one of the houses and looking mighty pleasant and smiling. Pretty soon it was passed along that he was up there to get the Second, Fifth and Twelfth regiments for the formation of a New Hampshire brigade to serve under him in his new department on the lower Potomac. It seemed too good to be true; but when, after our next rest, the corps marched on and left us, it began to look as if there was something in the story, after all. Then we marched back to Warrenton and camped by General Meade’s headquarters until yesterday morning, when, about ten o’clock, we loaded onto a train of flat-cars, and at nine o’clock last evening we arrived in Alexandria. After waiting over two hours for cars to bring us up to Washington, we “huffed it” about half way to Long Bridge and bivouacked until morning, then continued on, took possession of the “Soldiers’ Rest,” and are waiting for orders.
General Marston’s department, I understand, is to be called the “Department of St. Mary’s,” and will take in St. Mary’s county, in Maryland. It is on the lower Potomac, and probably a depot for prisoners of war will be established, the guarding of which, with the prevention of smuggling, will comprise our duties. This will be an agreeable change from the past few weeks—to be in a settled camp, no more long marches, mail and rations regular, a chance to bathe, fish, and have a good time on the water. We expect to stay in Washington a few days, though, until we can get new clothing, and perhaps be paid off. I shall lay in fish lines and hooks among my prime necessities.