May 9, 1863, The New York Herald
OUR DESPATCHES.
THE CORRESPONDENCE OF MR. L.A. HENDRICKS.
FIFTH ARMY CORPS HEADQUARTERS.
IN OLD CAMP, NEAR FALMOUTH, Va., May 6, 1863.
The recent movement and its result may be set down as a nine days wonder. Just nine days absence, and we are back to our old camps again. I essay no criticism upon the recent movement, but I will essay the allegation that no one anticipated the reoccupying so soon our old camping grounds. Any ratiocination only ends in the inexplicable if not philosophic conclusion that
There is a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough ——
Our army, to say the least, have had a rough time of it. They had a rough time on the march, a rough time in the fights, a rough time in the sleepless nights and coffeeless meals and a rough time in the march back again. Whether the result will tell roughly upon any of our commanding generals, or the military sagacity of the war powers at Washington, the future will develop. As the case stands the facts resolve themselves into three propositions and three conclusions.
First – We started to find the enemy, and we found him.
Second – We started to whip the enemy, and we did not whip him.
Third – We started to remain away and we have come back again.
How these propositions come to be followed by these conclusions future war investigating committees may determine. For the present I confess myself under a cloud, and I have the consciousness of knowing – although this consciousness, I confess, is not attended with any high degree of satisfaction – that officers of all grades with whom I have conversed confess themselves similarly beclouded. If there is any true philosophy in the principal that is “might is right” then the present seeming of wrongful blundering may resolve itself into rightful reality in the end.
RETURN ACROSS THE RAPPAHANNOCK
My last despatch from across the Rappahannock intimated the possibility of our vacating the position we then held and withdrawing to this side of the river. The order to this effect was made known late in the evening. The time of withdrawal was specified before daylight. To the Fifth corps was given the post of honor, acting as rear guard. The rain that had commenced in the afternoon by midnight had merged into a miniature deluge. The moon that should have shown was hidden behind the dense clouds. Everything was favorable for the quiet withdrawal of our troops. One by one the various corps left their intrenchments, till only the Fifth corps remained. Our assigned order of withdrawal was, Gen. Sykes’ division first, Gen. Humphreys’ next, and Gen. Griffin’s last, the second brigade, Col. Switzer commanding, being the extreme rearguard. With such noiseless caution was the retreat conducted, that the falling back of our skirmishers was unknown to the enemy, or at least, one of two inferences is to be drawn, that if they did know it, they did not deem it prudent to follow; or else that while we were getting out of their way, they were executing a similar retrograde movement. And, in fact, it is pretty generally credited, from the circumstance of their being no pursuit of annoyance of our retreating column, that the enemy at this time was also performing a general skedaddle in a diverse direction. Our men expected a warm and exciting time of it, and every defensive precaution was accordingly taken to make the exodus as secure as possible. Captain Waterman’s Rhode Island battery followed in the rear, while a continual line of battle was kept up by the retreating infantry, with establishment of rifle pits at convenient intervals, and laying abattis, and pioneers felling trees across the road, to obstruct the progress of the enemy should he attempt pursuit. All these precautions were military, and well taken of course; but nothing in the shape of the enemy was seen until arriving at near the United States Ford, when a deputation of rebel cavalry showed itself on the left of our line on an elevated plaza, overlooking the ford, about a mile distant. A few well directed shots from our battery sent the cavalry scattering. We reached the ford one by one, the regiments cross the pontoon bridges; the Sixty-second Pennsylvania is the last to cross; the Engineer corps take up the pontoons. Our army has recrossed the Rappahannock.
From this point the rest of the retrograde is easily accomplished. Our troops usually march with rapid and unwearied celerity when going back to their old camps. The present was not exception to the general rule. The pouring rain and deepening mud, instead of being obstacles, were seeming incentives to more rapid marching.
ARRIVAL IN OUR OLD CAMPS.
Forrage, baggage, and ammunition trains had preceded us, and were in camp again our arrival at our old quarters. Before dark the whole corps occupied the ground and tents it occupied just nine days ago. For the third time the old log foundations came into agreeable use again. In an hour’s time corps, division and brigade headquarters were re-established, the log huts had resumed their canvass and poncho coverings, tent fires were brightly burning and suppers were cooking.
Tonight there is no visible token of our nine days’ absence. A few familiar faces are missing. The events of the past nine days afford manifold topics to talk about, and the agitating query is, “What next?”
LOSSES OF THE FIFTH CORPS.
And now comes the serious question of all – the losses sustained by the army in the recent fights. It will be several days before the losses can be officially made known. At present they are estimated at from ten to fourteen thousand, while it is the general belief that of the enemy is much greater. The troops of this corps have the solacing reflection that while they faithfully obeyed every order, while they gallantly did their duty in facing the enemy, and shrank from no danger to which they were exposed, their losses are much less than that of any other corps.
THE LATE FIGHTS.
It is universally insisted that the experiences of the past five days have not been less trying and severe upon the men than the memorable seven days’ fighting on the peninsula. There has been more miles of marching, as many and hard fought battles, and, as slight rations to depend upon for subsistence, and the aggregate loss is but little less. Our position, moreover, both for making and resisting attack, has been greatly behind that of the peninsula, while the enemy has shown a desperation in fighting far exceeding that of any prior engagements. While I have written from day to day pretty full details of the action taken by this corps in the different skirmishes and fights, there are innumerable incidents of interest that might be written, that each day for weeks to come will continue to develope. I subjoin some incidents that have come to my knowledge today.
A CALL TO SURRENDER.
Captain Hall, Fourth Michigan regiment, had a narrow escape of going into rebeldom, or, what many would deem no worse, going to his final account. Being ordered to find the position of the enemy, he deployed his company as skirmishers, first, taking the precaution to doff his uniform coat and cap and put on a private’s coat and a felt hat of unprepossing antiquity. He took the lead of his company and soon came in view of a rebel officer with two or three men at his right, whose movements he watched with suspicious curiousness. Suddenly three rifles, pointed by three men from behind three trees, were aimed at him.
“Surrender! You damned Yankee!” called out the three men simultaneously.
“Surrender be d—-d,” responded Captain Hall, jumping behind a tree and presenting his piece at one of the trio. He called to his men to rally, which they did directly, and an exchange of shots ensued, when the three men fled. Two of Captain Hall’s men were killed. One of them, Henry Newton, had never been in a fight before, having been sick ever since the regiment left Fortress Monroe, being still in delicate health, Captain Hall asked him to stay behind and guard some knapsacks but he insisted on going with him. His bravery and entreaty cost him his life.
FOURTEENTH NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS.
The Fourteenth New York Volunteers, whose term of service expires in a few days – be the result of the present movement glorious or otherwise – have certainly covered themselves with glory. In last Sunday’s fight battery K, Fourth United States artillery, having lost all its gunners and a great portion of its men in front of the Chancellorsville House, took its position further back, at the left of the Second brigade, General Griffin’s division. The captain commanding the battery asked Colonel McQuade, in command of the brigade, for men to man his guns. Col. McQuade asked his own regiment, Fourteenth New York Volunteers, who would volunteer, and nearly every man in the regiment offered his services. Forty-five men were selected, half an hour’s drill put them in good shape to work the guns, and a braver and more effective complement of gunners never aided in throwing shot and shell at the enemy. Some of these men were so wrathful at the Twelfth and Thirteenth New York regiments being sent home, and they being refrained to go with the present expedition, that they mutinied and only went on compulsion, and then swore that they would not fire a gun. It is these facts that make their conduct on the occasion referred to especially noteworthy.
MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS.
I might go on ad infinitum with incidents of the recent fights. General Griffin came near losing command of his division through the meddlesome intervention of a rebel minie ball. The bullet intended to deprive him of his present star and chance of winning another, spent its wrath upon his sword, and scabbard and blade of which it indented with a highly disfiguring, but highly honorable mark. Another bullet sent after him to accomplish a like purpose hit his horse, killing it under him.
Captain Mervin, of the General’s staff, received the complimentary notice of a flesh wound on the arm.
Sergeant Cross, of the Sixty-second Pennsylvania had a conference with a rebel as to which should yield as prisoner to the other. The rebel drew a bead line on the sergeant: the sergeant drew a bead line on the rebel; the cap of the sergeant was pierced by the rebel ball; the rebel’s right lung was pierced by the sergeant’s ball. This settled the question in the sergeant’s favor.
During the fight on Sunday the One Hundred and Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania regiment, Colonel Frick, lost their colors. A desperate fight occurred to recover them, and our men succeeded in effecting their purpose. A soldier had a desperate hand to hand conflict with a tall Alabamian, each having hold of the flag staff and having fired their pieces. Sergeant Miller put an end to the controversy by putting a bullet through the head of the Alabamian. Major Anthony, of this regiment, was hit by a minie ball, which passed through his body. After he was borne from the field I asked him how he felt.
“My physician tells me I shall die tonight,” he replied, with not the slightest show of nervousness. He still lives, and there is a probability of his recovering.
Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong, also of the One Hundred and Twenty-ninth Pennsylvania regiment, was taken prisoner and had the good luck to make his escape. Our batteries frightened away his captors, who were too busy looking after their own safety to look after him. The result was he faced our music, returned to his regiment, and did some excellent fighting afterwards.
The Ninety-first Pennsylvania regiment went into the fight with three hundred and three men, and came out having lost nearly one-third of their number. Colonel Greggory had his horse shot, the same horse that survived some shots at Fredericksburg.