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WAR PAPERS 
 
 OF 
 
 FRANK B. FAY 
 
 WITH REMINISCENCES OF SERVICE 
 
 CAMPS AND HOSPITALS 
 
 ARMY OF THE POTOMAC 
 
 1861-1865 
 
 EDITED BY WILLIAM HOWELL REED 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED 
 101 1 
 

 ^\ 
 
 g 
 
 Gift 
 JA* »Q 1913 
 
 Press 0/ Geo. //. £7/»« Co., Boston 
 
- 
 
 . 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface v 
 
 I. The Beginning of the War 1 
 
 II. The Monitor and the Merrimac and Other 
 
 Experiences 9 
 
 III. The Peninsula Campaign and the Second 
 
 Bull Run 25 
 
 IV. The Antietam Campaign 36 
 
 V. The First Fredericksburg and Chancel- 
 
 lorsville 51 
 
 VI. Gettysburg 72 
 
 VII. The Wilderness and Spottsylvania ... 93 
 
 VIII. Cold Harbor and Petersburg and the 
 
 Winter of 18G4-65 117 
 
 IX. The Last Campaign. Petersburg to Ap- 
 pomattox Court House 141 
 
 The White and the Red Cross 157 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Frank B. Fay was born in Southborough, Massachu- 
 setts, on the twenty -fourth of January, 1821, the eldest 
 son of Francis B. and Nancy Brigham Fay, and died 
 March twenty, 1904. 
 
 He had the ordinary school education, and entered 
 active business in Boston at the beginning of his twenty- 
 first year, as a member of the firm of Fay & Farwells, one 
 of the largest commission houses in Boston at that time. 
 He continued in this business successfully many years, 
 commanding the respect and confidence of all who knew 
 him. He retired with a moderate competency, entered 
 into several special partnerships which were also success- 
 fully maintained, and which gave him leisure for the public 
 service which he enjoyed and in which he won distinction. 
 
 There was another finer trait which became a passion 
 within him as the years went on, namely, a desire to serve 
 those about him who were in trouble, and his mind and 
 his heart were alway open to them. He entered 
 public life early, and won public confidence by the breadth 
 of his views, his courage, good sense, and high character, 
 and this confidence ripened into the love of multitudes 
 of people through all the years of his service for them. 
 Whether in the crises of public affairs or in the private 
 perplexities and griefs of those who gave him their con- 
 fidence, he always managed to get under the load to 
 lighten it for them. In these unobtrusive ministries his 
 
Vl PREFACE 
 
 nature grew rich in tenderness and sympathy, and he was 
 the burden-bearer of many souls. This spirit became 
 dominant in him as the years rolled on, and was the key- 
 note of his career. It was inborn within him, coming by 
 rightful inheritance from his father, the Honorable Francis 
 B. Fay, whose whole life was rich and fruitful in good 
 deeds, and from his mother also, who is still remembered 
 for her inspiring helpfulness in all the ways of charity. 
 When Fort Sumter was fired upon and the nation was 
 in a blaze of war, Mr. Fay consecrated himself to the 
 service of his country. 
 
 He was already endowed by years of experience and 
 discipline for the work to which he then set his hand, and 
 all his powers were readily at command for the emergen- 
 cies of the conflict which soon came thick upon him. He 
 began this service when the call for troops was made, and 
 it did not end until the Confederate banners were furled 
 in 1865 and the war ended. 
 
 He was Mayor of Chelsea, Massachusetts, at the time, 
 and the men who went to the front were his especial care. 
 This work soon took on large proportions, and included 
 all who were in the service of their country, and it was 
 continued with an unfaltering devotion and tenderness 
 that made his presence a blessing on many a stricken field. 
 He became widely known throughout the Army of the 
 Potomac, and was welcomed everywhere. His sober 
 gray dress, his tall spare form, his rather long hair, his 
 kindly face, his generous plans for service, made him so 
 marked a personality that the way was opened for him 
 where civilians were not generally allowed to go. He 
 was a privileged person, and it was a strong type of char- 
 acter that could win that distinction in the rough-and- 
 
PREFACE Vll 
 
 tumble of army life, where, without rank, individuals 
 were submerged in the mass, and were passed by and 
 forgotten. But, although privileged, he never intruded 
 and was never in the way, yet was always at hand in 
 emergencies with his abundant stores and his wise and 
 kindly ministry. He seemed to have an intuitive per- 
 ception of the objective of a campaign and also of his 
 own objective in that movement. With almost unfailing 
 precision his ambulances were pushed to the point of 
 greatest need, and his stores were often available before 
 the medical wagons were brought up. He was a great 
 administrator in these affairs, and had the rare gift of 
 seeing the right thing to do at the right moment, and a 
 swift power of execution which was always efficient and 
 sure. It is this type of man whose career in the army 
 we are now to follow. 
 
 The narrative is partly his own. It is wholly so, so far 
 as its outline is concerned, but it had to be filled in and 
 enriched from a mass of disconnected notes and memo- 
 randa that he left behind him, which illuminate the story, 
 and also by a record of experiences that he shared with 
 others, scenes in which he was a central figure, but which 
 he had no disposition or time to describe. 
 
 It is our task to use such material as we have, to tell 
 the story of his army life which has never been told even 
 to those who were nearest to him, to make real his self- 
 devotion, his constancy, his chivalrous joy in work, and 
 the treasures he himself gathered in his heroic ministra- 
 tions. We shall then justly measure the service he ren- 
 dered to his country. 
 
WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Beginning of the War. 
 
 I have been asked to note some of my experiences 
 with the army during the Civil War. I begin this nar- 
 rative with some hesitation, but yield to the wishes of 
 my family and my friends, who have made me feel that 
 it is a duty to make at least an outline of a service which 
 filled so large a place in my life in those years. 
 
 My experience was an unusual one. Probably no one 
 not officially connected with the army was with it so 
 much, especially for the purposes I had in view, which 
 were to minister to the needs of soldiers, whatever their 
 condition, sick or wounded or well. I ought to say in 
 advance that for many reasons I felt that I was unfitted 
 for such service. In the first place I was a man of peace. 
 I never believed in war, and had refused to be even a 
 fine member of a military company from conscientious 
 motives. I had never seen a person die, had never 
 seen a serious wound, and was sensitive to every form 
 of suffering in others. Even the sight of a man with his 
 arm in a sling gave me sympathetic pain, and I always 
 felt that, if my fellow-citizens had known there was to 
 be a war, they surely would not have chosen me as mayor 
 of the city in December, 18G0. But, being in office in 
 time of war, I accepted the trust, laying aside all per- 
 sonal considerations for my country's sake, and did 
 what could be done on many fields to lighten the burdens 
 of the people whom I had taken the oath to serve. 
 
 I remained in office after three elections, during 1801, 
 1802, and 1803, doing some work that I did not seem to 
 
2 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK li. FAY 
 
 be especially culled upon to do as an official of the City 
 Government, and then declined a fourth nomination, 
 desiring uninterrupted service with the army in the 
 held. 
 
 When in Aprii, 1861, it became evident that we were 
 on the verge of war, it was known that the Chelsea Light 
 Infantry was liable to be called into service, and the 
 City Government was anxious that it should promptly 
 respond; but Captain D. W. Bailey, then in command, 
 had shown some hesitation about going. On the even- 
 ing of the eighteenth of April I called him to the mayor's 
 office, and said, "We must know at once if you will go." 
 He frankly replied that he had a blank resignation in his 
 pocket which lie proposed to fill out and send in the next 
 day. But unfortunately, as it seemed, the call came on 
 the morning of the nineteenth for the company to be 
 ready to march at once. Without consulting any one, 
 Captain Bailey went to the State House, and said his 
 company could not be made ready to go. Governor 
 Andrew disbanded it at once, and sent General Bullock 
 with an express wagon to take their guns. The company 
 had already gathered in the armory, and at the moment 
 of the delivery of the guns Sumner Carruth, a lieutenant, 
 offered to take command if a company could be enlisted, 
 — stepped to the front and said, "Boys, will you follow 
 me?" — and at nine o'clock that evening the recruited 
 company marched to the State House. It became my 
 duty and pleasure to tender the company to Governor 
 Andrew, and I was authorized by the adjutant-general, 
 as a justice of the peace, to swear them in, which was 
 done in the Doric Hall Rotunda. In tendering them to 
 the Governor, I alluded to the unfortunate events of the 
 morning, hoping that the events of the afternoon would 
 make amends. The Governor said he must forget that, 
 as this was a new company, and this was probably the 
 only one that was sworn into the service in the State 
 House during the war.* It was too late for the com- 
 pany to join the marching force, and it was not until 
 May twenty-three that it was sworn into the service of 
 
 * Captain Bailey volunteered later, and went into service with the 
 nine months' troops. 
 
THE BEGINNING OE THE WAR 
 
 the United States, becoming Company H of the : 1st 
 Massachusetts regiment, the Erst company m the state 
 sworn into the three years' service. Much in the mean 
 thne h >een done by the City Government us well as 
 Stii people, both men and women, to get the company 
 ready and my heart and hands were necessarily full. 
 
 This Company H went to the front, and on Ihnrsday, 
 JuW eigMeXat Blackburn's Ford at Bull Run was en- 
 July uMi "" several were killed or wounded. On 
 g l g ^tin 2 the t" by Tl If despatch in the BostonH,r- 
 alfFleft for the fonl that evening Senator Sumner 
 had letters for me to General Mansfield, then m com- 
 mTnd of the fortifications of Washington, to whom I 
 applied or a pass to the battlefield, to recover the bod.es 
 i the dead ancl to aid the wounded. His adjntant- 
 oeneral received me, and, after telling him the object of 
 „w vtit^ ^exclaimed, "Angels and ministers of grace 
 eiend us! and so you are going to ^vev'he bod.es oi 
 dead soldiers!" But, as I was a suppliant, J said, vven, 
 t you will remember that our citizens are not as 
 amihar With death as you are, and cannot be expected to 
 " plwte your feelings." At. the same time I presume 
 he had never smelled powder in Ins hie, except at YVest 
 Point The flattery pleased him, and he referred ine to 
 General Mansfield in the next room. It appeared that 
 Genera Mansfield's authority did not extend beyo^he 
 fortifications, and 1 was referred to General Scottwho 
 said "1 can give no passes to the front to-day -and he 
 had good reasons for his refusal It was fortunate that 
 IT application was denied, as I should have .raet the 
 thing fragments of our army defeated at Bull LUiii, now 
 in "mid retreat in utter demoralization from the battle- 
 field^ I remained in Washington some days, helping the 
 wounded, hunting up scattered men, and notifying Chelsea 
 
 ° f Tnt w^!y°nrst experience among wounded soldiers. 
 It S before me 'a rare opportunity or service 
 though 1 did not then dream of the demands it wou d 
 soonmake upon me or the scenes through which it would 
 
 ^CHy^^s mayor I came into. somewhat 
 
 intimate relations with the soldiers and their families, 
 
4 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and tried to make them feel that my interest was much 
 more than an official one. I induced the men to pledge 
 a portion of their pay to their families or for deposit in 
 the savings bank against their return. Doubtless this 
 action of mine led to my appointment in 18G2 as one of 
 the Allotment Commissioners for Massachusetts and 
 afterwards as United States Allotment Commissioner for 
 colored troops. Through this Massachusetts commission 
 more than three million dollars were sent to the state 
 treasurer for the purposes named. But for this allot- 
 ment, much of this money would have been wasted or 
 lost in the service. Both these offices were without com- 
 pensation. 
 
 My salary as mayor was four hundred dollars a year, 
 and it is fair to say that in all my service during the war 
 I paid my own expenses, keeping no account of them. 
 They were all incident to my position and of great va- 
 riety, and doubtless amounted to as many thousands as 
 I received hundreds. It proved the best investment of 
 my life, yielding an increasing income of satisfaction and 
 comfort through the years and blessed memories to the 
 end of my days. And what more could one ask than 
 that? 
 
 It is to be noted here that Mr. Fay dismisses in a few 
 words the service he rendered as one of the Allotment 
 Commissioners of Massachusetts, but it is too important 
 to be thus dismissed. 
 
 In looking over the mass of his war papers, dating back 
 to 1861 at the time he was Mayor of Chelsea, we see his 
 figure emerge and rise above those of his fellows in the 
 great service to which at that time he devoted his life. 
 It began with the enlisted men of his own city, and became 
 widely extended to the soldiers of his own si ite and of 
 other states, and was spread over four ye;.rs of war. 
 It led him through all the campaigns of the Army of the 
 Potomac, and never ceased, so long as there was a wounded 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR 5 
 
 soldier anywhere who could be reached by his ministry. 
 Hundreds of these papers have passed under examination. 
 They touch a multitude of interests that cannot be cata- 
 logued, and were all collateral to the great stream of 
 beneficence which flowed onward and outward from his 
 office through the war. There seemed to be no move- 
 ment or activity within the multifarious lines of service 
 for the men of the city of Chelsea in which he did not 
 have a part. Here are rosters of soldiers, recruiting 
 papers, orders for money, pay-roll receipts, shipments 
 of stores, requisitions for hospitals, calls for more troops, 
 lists of inquiries about missing men, the unravelling of 
 complications about soldiers' pay, correspondence with 
 families about allotments of pay, appeals from fathers 
 and mothers about wounded sons or sons killed in battle, 
 appeals for efforts to effect exchanges of prisoners from 
 heart-broken parents, lists of effects found upon soldiers 
 killed in battle, the return of these effects to those at 
 home, with endless memoranda relating to men who had 
 disappeared from the ranks or from hospitals, lost forever 
 to the dear ones at home. There is simply no end to the 
 variety or to the detail of these tragic stories that filtered 
 through his mind and heart in those heroic years. Mr. 
 Fay was not simply a public servant who took upon 
 himself the duties of a chief magistrate, but he was the 
 friend and brother of all who came to him in trouble. 
 His official responsibilities with the Commonwealth and 
 the city were, as a matter of course, administered with 
 business-like fidelity, but they did not end there. There 
 were hundreds of families involved in these responsibilities, 
 and he stood as their personal friend, ready to serve, 
 all his resources being at command to lighten the burdens 
 
G WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 of those who had cheerfully given of their best for the 
 service of their country. 
 
 In regard to the allotments of soldiers' pay, at the sug- 
 gestion of President Lincoln the Congress passed an act on 
 the twentieth of July, 1861, providing for an Allotment 
 System for the benefit of all volunteers in the service of 
 the United States, the same to be carried out by three 
 commissioners from each state having volunteers. Frank 
 B. Fay, Henry Edwards, and David Wilder, Jr., were 
 appointed commissioners for Massachusetts in the month 
 of February, 1862, and immediately began their work, 
 visiting all the regiments of that state then in the field, 
 and continuing the same service with the other regiments 
 subsequently formed. The most direct and systematic 
 plans were made. The commissioners arranged that the 
 amounts allotted from the government pay-rolls should 
 be sent to the treasurer of the Commonwealth, and by 
 him to the treasurer of the city or town where the person 
 resided to whom the allotment was made, who was to 
 be notified, and then was to receive the amount. It was 
 also arranged that, should the soldier so desire, the sum 
 allotted or saved from the pay could remain to his credit 
 in the hands of the state treasurer, to draw interest at 
 five per cent. The system avoided the possibility of 
 loss to the soldier, and relieved him of the expense of 
 sending the money home, and made the state treasury 
 a savings bank for those who desired it, the whole plan 
 being executed solely for the advantage of the soldier. 
 
 The story of this service is briefly told here to show the 
 absorbing character of his civic duties in connection with 
 the war that Mr. Fay assumed in those strenuous years. 
 There were sixty -one Massachusetts regiments of infantry, 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR 7 
 
 five of cavalry, four regiments of heavy artillery, and 
 sixteen batteries of light artillery,* and, scattered as they 
 were over the vast field of operations, some idea may be 
 formed of the prodigious amount of work that fell on these 
 commissioners, who served without pay. 
 
 Governor Andrew, with his tender and large-hearted 
 interest in this great scheme of relief for the families of 
 enlisted men, gave every facility for the prompt and effi- 
 cient work of this commission, of which Mayor Fay was 
 the chairman. In fact, the Governor had much to do 
 with the passage of the act providing for it, realizing the 
 necessity of some provision for the dependent families 
 of the men who had suddenly been called to leave their 
 homes in defence of their country. 
 
 Circulars explaining the allotment act were pre- 
 pared and mailed to the Massachusetts troops, as pre- 
 liminary to personal visits to the regiments, each man 
 being made acquainted with the plan and its advantages. 
 The soldier was then left to make his own allotment of 
 such part of his pay, if any, as he wished to have re- 
 served. It will be seen that the task of carrying out this 
 system was by no means a light one. Long journeys 
 had to be made to distant armies and scattered camps, 
 often on foot to almost inaccessible outposts. Whole 
 companies were sometimes found to have been detached 
 on active service, and at other times both officers and men 
 were found to be indifferent to the plan and turned it 
 down. There were also occasions when the entire army 
 appeared to be on the eve of some great movement, or 
 whole divisions had been advanced beyond reach or had 
 
 * Massachusetts contributed during the Civil War, for the army and 
 navy, 159,105 men, and expended $27,705,109 in this service. 
 
8 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 been sent to other departments of the service. Under 
 these conditions the men could not be expected to give 
 attention to such matters, and the work had to be aban- 
 doned. Then it often proved that the paymasters them- 
 selves were delayed in their disbursements, or errors 
 were discovered in the pay-rolls, which involved delays 
 in the payments and consequent privation to the men 
 and their families, and also for months afterwards a mass 
 of correspondence in straightening out these complica- 
 tions. All these and a multitude of other difficulties 
 arose, which were met and overcome by these devoted 
 commissioners, until forty-one regiments had been reached, 
 and induced to take advantage of the system, which 
 continued in operation until the end of the war. So 
 well was this work done that three million dollars, as 
 has been stated, were sent home by the Massachusetts 
 soldiers, besides the amounts sent directly by the men 
 themselves. It was a great public service, and was 
 worked out by Mr. Fay and his associates with the en- 
 thusiasm and devotion which characterized all their 
 army work. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Monitor and the Merrimac and Other 
 Experiences. 
 
 In briefly considering the first campaign in Virginia, 
 
 we must go back to the first call for troops after the firing 
 
 upon Fort Sumter in 1861. The Confederate forces 
 
 from South Carolina and the Gulf states were rapidly 
 
 thrown into Virginia, while on the part of the North 
 
 forty or fifty regiments of three months' men were quickly 
 
 concentrated at Washington in defence of the capital. 
 
 General McDowell, a highly trained officer of the regular 
 
 army, was placed in command, and did what he could to 
 
 organize his forces and make them ready for the serious 
 
 work before them. They were raw troops, suddenly 
 
 brought together from civil pursuits, with no knowledge 
 
 of war, without discipline or organization, without a 
 
 staff or a commissariat, and without organized artillery. 
 
 It was simply an army in the making, but not yet made. 
 
 The hostile forces confronted each other on the line of 
 
 the Alexandria and Manassas railroad, and it was hardly 
 
 to be expected that they could long be in this position 
 
 without conflict. There was, moreover, great pressure 
 
 upon the government by an impatient Congress and 
 
 people for an immediate advance upon the enemy; and, 
 
 largely in obedience to this great public demand, the 
 
 battle of Bull Run followed on the twenty-first of July, 
 
 1861. 
 
 1) 
 
10 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 After a day of obstinate fighting with varying success, 
 a part of tie Federal line was thrown back in disorder 
 in the afternoon, when, apparently without reason, 
 panic swept the field. The troops fled, one division 
 after another gave way, organization was lost, army 
 trains and artillery joined in the rout and blocked the 
 roads, and almost the entire force in hideous disorder 
 surged back into the streets of the capital. The Con- 
 federates, unaware of the extent of the disaster, having 
 been on the edge of defeat repeatedly through the day, 
 did not follow up their advantage, and were in fact in 
 retreat themselves at the moment of the Federal rout. 
 It was a hungry, disorganized mob that swept back into 
 Washington, and there was no power anywhere to stem 
 the tide. It was three months before confidence was 
 restored. 
 
 About a week before this disaster General McClellan 
 came into notice in a short but brilliant campaign in 
 Western Virginia, where he was able to telegraph to 
 Washington, as its result, the capture of a thousand pris- 
 oners with all the enemies' stores, baggage, and artillery, 
 and the complete disruption of the hostile force. He 
 sent his captured flags to Washington, and was then 
 called there and placed in command, and given the task 
 of the reorganization of the scattered fragments of 
 McDowell's defeated army. It was a giant's task, and 
 it went forward with tremendous vigor. The nation had 
 sprung to arms, and all its resources were placed at the 
 command of the government for the prosecution of the 
 war. 
 
 General McClellan had not only to reorganize the army 
 then existing, he had to create a new one from the raw 
 
THE MONITOR AND THE MERR1MAC 11 
 
 material he had at hand; and, from the disspirited regi- 
 ments and organizations unfitted to march or fight, he 
 had at the end of three months a hundred thousand men 
 trained and disciplined and deserving the name of the 
 "Army of the Potomac." It was a great achievement, 
 and, as Swinton says, "whatever may be written of 
 McClellan's later career as a military commander, he yet 
 challenges from all impartial minds the credit due to this 
 mighty performance." He became the popular idol, and, 
 as he went on with the reorganization of the army, con- 
 fidence increased, and there seemed for a time to be no 
 limit to the trust reposed in him as he made ready for the 
 great contests that were to test his really untried abilities 
 as a leader in great campaigns in the field. 
 
 By the middle of November the army was considered 
 ready for an active campaign. General McClellan had 
 already declared on assuming command that the war 
 should be "short, sharp, and decisive," and this was the 
 key-note on which public sentiment turned. But the 
 late fall and early winter dragged along with the army 
 inactive about Washington, when it was learned that the 
 plans had been changed, and that there would be no 
 movement until spring. He had at that time about 
 a hundred and fifty thousand men under his command, 
 two-thirds of whom might have been used to operate 
 against his enemy, who still menaced the capital, flaunt- 
 ing their flags about Fairfax Court House within sight 
 of Washington, and who were even erecting their bat- 
 teries on the Virginia side of the Potomac, obstructing 
 the navigation of that river. The patience of the nation 
 was sorely tried. Its anxiety broke out at last in loud 
 clamor for action, and this was the beginning of those 
 
12 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK D. FAY 
 
 embarrassments which marred the harmonious relations 
 between the government and the commander of the 
 army. 
 
 We do not need to go into General McClellan's reasons 
 for this inaction. They have been elaborately stated in 
 his memoirs, and were sufficient for him. But, as the 
 campaign went on, it was seen by competent military 
 critics that he was deficient in certain qualities of mind 
 that were essential in dealing with large problems of war. 
 This was well illustrated at the time by the remark of the 
 president of a Western railroad where he had been em- 
 ployed as chief engineer, who said, before he assumed 
 command of the army, that he would show the same qual- 
 ities in that position that he did as an engineer. "No 
 man can build a better bridge than McClellan, but the 
 trouble with him is that he does not dare cross it when 
 it is done, and this quality of his mind will be shown in 
 any army he may command." 
 
 General McClellan's plans contemplated a campaign 
 against Richmond with his base at Chesapeake Bay, and 
 a portion of his army was transferred to the lower Penin- 
 sula during the month of March, 1862. Whether the 
 movement would have been farther delayed but for the 
 direct order of the President that it should begin is a 
 question. A great fleet of transport boats was assembled, 
 and 114,500 men, 14,000 animals, forty-four batteries of 
 artillery, wagons, ambulances, pontoon trains, and the 
 enormous equipage of the army were safely landed within 
 the month. A European critic calls it the stride of a 
 giant, and it was so. 
 
 General McClellan reached Fortress Monroe on the 
 second of April, and a part of his army was put in motion 
 
THE MONITOR AND THE MERRIMAC 13 
 
 for Yorktown on the York River, about sixty miles from 
 Richmond, and siege operations were begun there. This 
 siege was made necessary, as McClellan looked at it, 
 by the withdrawal, by orders from Washington, of Mc- 
 Dowell's corps of twenty-five thousand men, which was 
 needed for the defence of the capital, but which was to 
 have been used for a flanking movement against York- 
 town. But Ropes, the military critic of this campaign, 
 insists that McClellan could have forced the enemy to 
 abandon Yorktown with the forces he had, and have 
 saved the delays of the siege by pouring the thousands of 
 men he had through the weak Confederate lines; and he 
 adds that "one cannot help believing that greater enter- 
 prise and daring on the part of the commanding gen- 
 eral would have been rewarded by a striking success." 
 Moreover, the Confederates gained the advantage they 
 desired by McClellan 's siege operations, namely, time to 
 concentrate their forces for the active campaign that 
 followed. We shall see how they used this advantage 
 later. 
 
 Having now stated the situation of the Army of the 
 Potomac up to April, 1862, let us leave our forces in front 
 of Yorktown, and turn to Mr. Fay's personal story. He 
 had remained at home for several months after the battle 
 of Bull Run, absorbed in his civic duties, which were 
 mainly those connected with the war, and it was not until 
 March, 1862, that he returned to the army to continue his 
 work as Allotment Commissioner. 
 
 While at Fortress Monroe on this visit, he witnessed 
 that remarkable naval engagement between the Merrimac 
 and the Monitor which made a new era in naval warfare. 
 This conflict was also witnessed by Arthur B. Fuller, 
 
14 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 chaplain of the ICth Massachusetts regiment, who vividly 
 describes it. We add also some account of the conflict 
 from the Confederate side,* taken from reports and narra- 
 tives of those who were on board the Merrimac when 
 she moved down the James River on her career of de- 
 struction. These two accounts, condensed now into one 
 narrative, give a vivid picture of this historic conflict. 
 
 On the fifteenth of March, 1862, a small fleet appeared 
 in the James River, steaming down into Hampton Roads 
 from Norfolk. It proved to be a convoy of a mysterious 
 monster, half ship, half house, which had been rebuilt 
 at the Norfolk Navy Yard, and was known as the Mer- 
 rimac. She came down the river for battle, her objective 
 being the wooden frigates Cumberland, Congress, Min- 
 nesota, and Roanoke, together with a fleet of gunboats, 
 store-ships, and transports anchored in Hampton Roads. 
 They were all at her mercy, and she was determined to 
 work havoc among them and make her name remembered 
 in naval history. 
 
 She came down with her stars and bars flying, and made 
 for Newport News. As she approached with resistless 
 force, with the black smoke streaming from her funnel 
 and leaving a trail behind, the wooden ships in con- 
 sternation cleared for action, the smaller craft getting 
 closer in shore under the batteries or putting out to sea. 
 The Merrimac was a formidable vessel, their first and 
 only Confederate ironclad, and, so far as they knew, was 
 the mistress of the seas. 
 
 "As we drew near the Cumberland," the Confederate 
 report says, "we fired our pivot gun. Our crew was 
 half naked, powder-blackened, and streaming with sweat 
 
 * The Long Roll, Mary Johnston. 
 
THE MONITOR AND THE MERRIMAC 15 
 
 on the gun-deck and at the boilers. The shell she sent 
 burst above the Cumberland's stern pivot, Killing and 
 wounding many of her crew. When we were all but on 
 her, her starboard blazed. This broadside tore up the 
 carriage of our pivot gun, cut another off at the trunnions 
 and the muzzle of the third, riddled the smoke-stack, and 
 killed and wounded nineteen men. AVe answered with 
 three guns, and as the smoke lifted we were on her under 
 the fore-rigging, ramming her with an immense iron 
 beak, which in the awful impact was torn off and re- 
 mained in her side. Our ship hung for a moment and then 
 backed clear, leaving a ragged gaping hole. She was 
 listed to port and was sinking. The water reached her 
 main deck, but all her men were on her spar-deck, serving 
 her guns, fighting to the last. One by one they stopped 
 as she was submerged, but she flew her colors till she 
 sank." 
 
 "We then bore down on the Congress. She had 
 slipped her cables, and ran aground, where she was safe 
 from our ram. We could get no nearer than two hun- 
 dred feet, but there we began to rake lier with our 
 fire." 
 
 "A hundred guns from the shore batteries and from 
 the Congress and Minnesota were trained upon us, and the 
 shot penetrated at every point not iron-clad that showed 
 above our shell. There were now more dead and wounded 
 to be cared for, and among the latter were Commodore 
 Buchanan and Flag Lieutenant Minor; but we brought 
 down her main-mast, disabled her guns, strewed her decks 
 with blood, smashed in her sides, and set her afire. She 
 hauled down her colors in her helplessness and ran up a 
 white flag, when we ceased firing. Her hull was lifted 
 high by the sand bank which held her. One by one her 
 guns exploded and at night her ports were windows lit 
 from within by fire, and at two o'clock in the morning 
 her powder magazines were reached, with a burst of 
 flame and an earthquake sound which rent her apart, 
 and when all was cleared away there were only the huge 
 fragments upborne by the sand and burning, and that 
 was the end of the Congress." 
 
16 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 The Minnesota and the Roanoke, which were the next 
 objective, lay aground and helpless. The Merrimac 
 turned her guns upon them and upon the batteries and 
 camps of Newport News, and withdrew the victor in the 
 contest. She anchored off Sewells Point up the river 
 to care for her wounded, to repair damages, and the next 
 day to make ready for the final victory that then lay 
 within her grasp. 
 
 "How anxiously," says Chaplain Fuller in his narrative, 
 "we waited for the morrow! At sundown there was 
 nothing to dispute the empire of the seas with this marine 
 monster which had wrought such ruin, and, so far as we 
 knew, nothing to prevent her placing Washington, New 
 York, and all our seaboard cities under tribute to her guns. 
 But this was not to be. As night drew on, a speck of 
 light gleamed on the distant wave; it moved, it came 
 nearer, and at ten o'clock the Monitor appeared. She 
 was but a speck on the dark sea, a laughable object by 
 day, "a cheese-box on a raft' the enemy called her. 
 She took her place concealed in the shadow of the Min- 
 nesota, awaiting the conflict. The next morning the 
 Merrimac returned to her work of destruction, moving 
 slowly down to her easy prey, and opened her broadsides 
 upon the remaining vessels, when, lo! the little Moni- 
 tor steams quietly out and offered her battle. How puny 
 she seemed! Nothing but that little round tub appear- 
 ing above the water, yet flinging the gage of battle to the 
 gigantic Merrimac. It was David going out to meet 
 Goliath! There were but two guns within that turret, 
 but there were determined men behind them. The 
 Merrimac after a few minutes of astounded silence opened 
 the contest. She tried to sink her puny foe by a broad- 
 side, but, after the smoke rolled away, she had not been 
 sunk, but stood there with the white wreaths of smoke 
 crowning her tower, as a coronet of glory. She returned 
 the fire, and for five hours stood to her task. The Mer- 
 rimac tried to ram her, but in thus exposing herself to the 
 
TUE MONITOR AND TUE MERRIMAC 17 
 
 raking fire of the little craft she gained nothing by that 
 manoeuvre." 
 
 "Sometimes," continued the Confederate narrative, 
 "there was not ten feet of water between those sunken 
 decks. We fired every seven minutes, now the bow gun, 
 now the after pivot, now a full broadside. The Minne- 
 sota as we passed gave us all her broadside guns, a 
 tremendous blow at point-blank range, but our turtle 
 back shook oft' the shot and shell and answered with her 
 bow gun. This shell burst amidships on the frigate, 
 exploded a store of powder, and set the ship afire. The 
 Monitor backed away, gathered herself together to ram 
 us in her turn, and laid her bow upon us and fired her 11- 
 inch guns twice in succession, which drove in the Mer- 
 rimac's sides three inches or more, and every man above 
 the ports of the after guns was knocked down by the 
 impact and bled at nose and ears. Her lighter draft put 
 us at disadvantage. She was lighter and quicker and 
 countered upon us, and manoeuvred about us with ease, 
 withdrawing out of danger from our ram to protect the 
 other ships, sending shot and shell from her two gigantic 
 guns, which we returned with our powder getting low. 
 It was late afternoon. The tide was falling, and, being 
 damaged, our pilots felt their way back to Sewells Point." 
 
 Her signals of distress were flying as she moved up the 
 river, and she was towed back by her consorts to the 
 dry dock at Norfolk, from which she never emerged. 
 The Monitor was victorious and saved the day for the 
 nation. 
 
 This great battle on the sea was the most important 
 event of the war up to that time, and its results were felt 
 in all the navies of the world. After the conflict Mr. Fay 
 went on board the Monitor, and, when he saw the slight 
 effect the monster guns of the Merrimac had upon her, 
 wrote: "I should have no fear to be on board of her 
 in action. She has proved her invincibility. In one way 
 
18 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 it was an amusing sight to see what a splendid harbor- 
 master the Merrimac was, and how quiekly the harbor 
 was cleared after she appeared. Peace to her pieces!" 
 
 The siege operations in front of Yorktown continued 
 until the place was no longer tenable, and it was aban- 
 doned by the Confederates, but not without an obstinate 
 battle at Williamsburg, which opened the way for our 
 troops to White House on the Pamunky River. The 
 army then gradually extended its lines, in the invest- 
 ment of Richmond, from White House Swamp, across the 
 Chickahominy, round to Cold Harbor and Mechanics- 
 villc. Meanwhile the Confederates had met with a serious 
 loss in the capture of Norfolk and the Navy Yard and 
 the destruction of their famous ironclad. The defeated 
 Merrimac, which had taken shelter there for repairs, 
 drew too much water to go up the James, and as she 
 could not keep the sea, now that her only port was closed 
 to her, she was blown up by her commander, Commodore 
 Tatnall, and her short career ended. This opened up the 
 James River to a point within seven or eight miles from 
 Richmond. These latter events took place in May, 186 l 2. 
 
 As there were no active operations of the army imme- 
 diately impending and his allotment business was over, 
 Mr. Fay returned home for a few weeks, and wrote a 
 series of "War Notes" covering his experiences in the 
 region of Fortress Monroe and Yorktown. 
 
 Some extracts from these notes are here given : — 
 
 May 16, 1862. 
 "It is in my philosophy to speak cheerfully of the dir- 
 est calamities and the sorest griefs." 
 
 When I left home in March as a commissioner for 
 Massachusetts on soldiers' allotment, I had no expecta- 
 
FRANK B. FAY 
 
THE MONITOR AND THE MERRIMAC 19 
 
 tion of so long an absence, and, but for the intervening 
 event of the disaster to the Chelsea company in front of 
 Yorktown, I should have returned sooner. It has served 
 to show that the municipal machinery can run quite well 
 without a mayor; and this makes me content to be ab- 
 sent when other duties call me away. 
 
 I first visited the 1st and 11th regiments, which fa- 
 vored the allotment system, and excelled all others in the 
 state in the amount allotted, say nearly $7,500 per month 
 each. I trust I shall be excused for being a little proud 
 that the Chelsea company has outdone any other in the 
 state in the amount allotted, say $975 per month. 
 
 The allotment system I believe to be a good one for 
 the soldiers, their families, and the state. Many, how- 
 ever, looked upon it with suspicion, and seemed to think 
 that, as the commissioners received no pay and the state, 
 city, and town treasurers no additional compensation, 
 "there must be a catch somewhere." In reply we re- 
 ferred to the general policy and practice of the state 
 towards its soldiers as more liberal than that of any 
 other state. They admitted this, and the soldiers of 
 other states frequently referred to it. Still the idea that 
 so much should be done solely for the benefit of the sol- 
 dier could not be readily believed, so that, while many 
 embraced the system, many refused it. 
 
 From Camp Hooper I went to Fortress Monroe. The 
 army was lying a few miles from the fortress, and I had 
 an opportunity of meeting the Chelsea boys in many 
 regiments, and since then have seen all in the 1st, 9th, 
 11th, 15th, 16th, 18th, 19th, 20th, and 22d regiments, 
 and Nims and Rhode Island battery C, sappers and 
 miners, and the 12th regular infantry. 
 
 On my arrival at Fortress Monroe our fellow-citizen 
 C. B. Wilder, agent of the contrabands, kindly furnished 
 me with a horse to enable me to reach the troops before 
 the advance, which took place next morning. I had 
 never had much experience in the saddle, and to make 
 almost my first experience there in presence of so many 
 experienced horsemen did not elevate my pride, though 
 it did the legs of my trousers, and I fancy I exhibited 
 more hose than horsemanship. I think my horse knew 
 my unskilfulness, and the more I hurried him the harder 
 
20 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 he made it, as an intimation to be quiet. I was reminded 
 of that saddle for some days afterwards. 
 
 After the battle between the Monitor and the Merri- 
 mac we went to Warwick Court House to hunt for Mas- 
 sachusetts regiments, and slept that night upon some 
 hay kindly provided by one of the officers, with a tent-fly 
 for a coverlid. Started early for a walk across the Penin- 
 sula toward Yorktown, meeting Massachusetts regiments 
 on the way and attending to our allotment duties. The 
 army being in motion, we found it difficult to get their 
 attention. 
 
 The next three nights slept once in a tent, once under 
 a tarpaulin, and once in a rebel cabin then occupied as 
 a hospital, under the temporary charge of Drs. Gay, 
 Hodges, and Homans of Boston. The road by which we 
 travelled ran as near the front as civilians were allowed 
 to go; and bear in mind that civilians were very scarce 
 there. Every hour I was taken for a Confederate, and 
 could hear the boys say to each other, "That fellow looks 
 secesh." But I answered them good-naturedly, remem- 
 bering that it was not the first time since the war began 
 that my motives had been misinterpreted. I had only 
 to hail from Massachusetts and I was well received every- 
 where. 
 
 The next day I reached the 1st regiment and found 
 a home with the Chelsea company, although working 
 among neighboring regiments and batteries. I found 
 them looking well notwithstanding they had a hard time 
 during the trip from their winter quarters, by close 
 stowage and stormy weather on the steamers and by 
 bad roads, frequent changes of camps, and short supplies. 
 However, cheerfulness is the prevailing state of mind in 
 all the regiments. Most certainly the affections of the 
 boys cling around their homes, their wives and children, 
 parents and sweethearts, if they have them, and they 
 would be glad to come home when the war is over. It 
 seems remarkable to us, when men come on furloughs or 
 detailed for special duty, how uneasy they get after a 
 few weeks and are not content till they have returned to 
 camp. 
 
 I had prolonged my stay upon the Peninsula a few 
 days, thinking, if a battle took place, I might be useful 
 
THE MONITOR AND THE MERRIMAC 21 
 
 among the wounded. But after a short time at the 
 front I was satisfied that some weeks must elapse before 
 the advance would be made, and therefore returned to 
 Washington, promising, if possible, to make my next call 
 upon them in Richmond. 
 
 I should be ungrateful if I did not here acknowledge 
 the uniform kindness and attention I received every- 
 where. From colonels to privates, all have treated me 
 as a brother. A hearty, cordial grasp of the hand, with 
 a thoughtful, constant kindness toward me, is a richer 
 compensation for the labor and discomfort of these 
 journeys than can be expressed in figures. I ask no 
 other. 
 
 Then came the sad story of the disaster at Cheesman's 
 Creek to Company H of the 1st Massachusetts regi- 
 ment, the news of which reached me as I had completed 
 my business in Washington and was about returning 
 home, and that 26th of April was a memorable day for 
 me. I had left that company of Chelsea men so recently, 
 with full ranks, and now there were "fourteen in killed 
 and wounded." I took the first train and boat for 
 Fortress Monroe and Cheesman's Creek, arrived next 
 day, sent to camp for the bodies of the dead, and found 
 the wounded most comfortably situated on board the 
 steamer Commodore. 
 
 The embalming of the bodies, the sending them for- 
 ward, the ceremonies here, are all on record, and I need 
 not repeat them. Although accomplished with some 
 difficulty, it has all been amply repaid by the comfort it 
 has carried to sorrowing hearts, and I think I may say 
 also to our whole community, for our soldiers have be- 
 come so linked into our affections that private griefs 
 become public ones. 
 
 I shall not stop here to argue the point of expense, 
 raised by one of your correspondents, nor the question 
 of robbing the volunteer of the glory of a soldier's grave, 
 raised by another journal. Different men place different 
 estimates upon "dollars" and upon "glory." For myself, 
 I must say, I place at the present time a greater value 
 upon comfort to the heart of the widow and the orphan 
 and the bereaved parent. Before we enter upon another 
 war, we will argue these and many other questions, that 
 
22 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 those who enlist in it may know what is to be done to 
 those who die on the field and to those "beloved, who 
 are left to mourn." 
 
 MUSIC OF THE SHELLS. 
 
 During this week our troops were busy in building 
 their fortifications and placing guns upon them, while 
 the rebels were busy in using their guns already placed. 
 They kept up almost a constant fire, doing little execu- 
 tion, seldom returned by our forces. The song of the 
 shells was the only music we had, for the bands and the 
 drums had been silent for some weeks. One gets used 
 to this music in a short time and it becomes a pleasure, 
 provided you do not find it approaching in a direct line, 
 and then it becomes exciting. I had an opportunity to 
 be a bit of a soldier on the day before evacuation. Gen- 
 eral McClellan was in the camp of the 1st regiment with 
 Professor Lowe, who made an ascension in his balloon, 
 upon which the rebels tried their rifled cannon. I was 
 in an adjoining camp, and, as I was hurrying to the spot 
 where McClellan stood, I heard a shot coming which 
 seemed to my unpractised ear to be "quite convenient." 
 I had heard about "dropping," and I tried it. About 
 the time I struck the ground a solid shot did the same 
 about twenty -five feet from "Little Mac" and about 
 fifty feet from my resting-place. 
 
 The boys laughed at the mayor for going down, but 
 I found it to be quite the fashion all around me, and I 
 "allowed" they would excuse me for adopting the pre- 
 vailing style. General McClellan smoked his cigar a little 
 more rapidly than usual, mounted, and rode off. They 
 were fortunate shots for the rebels, for it prevented the 
 discovery of the evacuation of their position then going on. 
 
 That night was the noisiest I have ever known. The 
 enemy concealed their retreat by an incessant firing by 
 their rear- guard. Our camps were all darkened, as the 
 guns had a good range on us, and I was obliged to sus- 
 pend writing. The 1st regiment was on picket duty, 
 and, as I was alone in the tent, had an excellent opportu- 
 nity to reflect upon the probabilities of a shot coming 
 
THE MONITOR AND THE MERRIMAC 23 
 
 into that particular tent, but these reflections soon ended 
 in sleep and no shells entered the camp. 
 
 Early the next morning the regiment returned, bring- 
 ing the news of the evacuation of Yorktown. Then 
 came shouts of joy and music of the bands from all the 
 surrounding camps. This was followed by the order to 
 "prepare to march, not to return." As I was unwilling 
 to lose the opportunity to enter Yorktown with the 
 troops, I marched on with the regiment, avoiding the 
 torpedoes concealed beneath the surface of the road. 
 We reached the town in safety, found it abandoned, and 
 pressed on a few miles beyond, dropping in upon many 
 rebel tents and barracks, where we found the fires still 
 burning. We spent the night in Yorktown, occupying 
 two of those tents, and had for supper three hardtacks, 
 which we divided between us. In getting some water 
 for this slender meal, I had an interesting adventure. 
 I had picked up a pail and a tin cup and had found a well, 
 drawn a supply, and fully satisfied my thirst, and was 
 coming away, when some soldiers who were on guard in 
 the town said in passing, "You had better get your water 
 from some other well." "Why?" I inquired. They re- 
 plied that they had found a paper on the curb of the well, 
 "Beware of the water!" I had heard of arsenic in wells, 
 and felt that the men who were capable of concealing 
 torpedoes in the road might poison the water also. 
 However, if this well was poisoned, my case was settled; 
 but I would not poison my friend, so I emptied my pail 
 and went to the other well, drank enough from that to 
 weaken the dose I had already taken, and returned to 
 my tent. I still live, and we may presume that the 
 rebels need all their arsenic for medicinal purposes among 
 their own soldiers. 
 
 Next morning our breakfast consisted of three-quarters 
 of a biscuit each, which I had fished out of another pocket, 
 and more cold water. 
 
 There were no white inhabitants left in Yorktown ex- 
 cept an old white mule, whose usefulness had gone, "sad 
 relic of departed worth," and who had been left to wander 
 unfed, unhaltered, and undone. 
 
 It had begun to rain, and, as I was without great-coat 
 or shawl, by the aid of my companion I made a water- 
 
24 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 proof garment of a piece of canvas from our bedquilt, 
 cutting a hole for my head in the centre and two for 
 my arms at the sides. It was not ornamental, but was 
 very useful. We pressed on to our destination through 
 mud and rain, reaching it some eight miles from York- 
 town, to find everything gone, "Headquarters of trans- 
 portation removed to Yorktown," so we had to return 
 there. It was sundown when we arrived, and, after 
 sundry efforts to find shelter, my companion found a 
 deserted hut (with a fireplace, but no door), and we took 
 possession. We made firewood of the bedstead, shelves, 
 and empty barrels, and with a few boards made a door, 
 and with hard bread and water for supper made a night 
 of it. In an unsuccessful search for a sutler the next 
 morning to supply a breakfast, I met a wagoner of the 20th 
 Massachusetts, who, seeing our half -starved condition, 
 handed me some boiled eggs from his scanty fare. "Help • 
 yourself," he said, but I declined his luxuries. When he 
 insisted, I took his name, and two months afterwards had 
 an opportunity to return the favor, when I found him 
 sick at Harrison's Landing, needing the very supplies I 
 had. 
 
 As our service was over for a time in the army, we left 
 Fortress Monroe for Baltimore, and these interesting 
 experiences ended. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Peninsula Campaign and the Second Bull Run. 
 
 When the war began, Miss Helen L. Gilson, who had 
 been in my family as a friend and teacher of my children, 
 expressed her strong desire to serve in the army as a nurse. 
 She had noble qualities of mind and heart. She was a 
 winning personality, and was strong and brave, and 
 we knew she would do good work there. A properly 
 indorsed petition was accordingly sent to Miss Dorothea 
 Dix in Washington, asking for an appointment for her. 
 She replied, if she was over thirty years old, she could come, 
 but, as Miss Gilson was only twenty-three, this service 
 was denied her. In April, 1862, however, an urgent letter 
 was received from Miss Dix, asking her to report in Wash- 
 ington, which she did. Miss Dix was surprised to find 
 her so young and attractive, and to her eyes so unfitted for 
 service, and she was sent to the Columbian College Hos- 
 pital, where she remained for a time with Mrs. Pomroy, 
 but without important duties. The real call, however, 
 came later in the season, and it found her ready and eager 
 to respond. This call came in the following way. I 
 was returning from the army to Washington, and while 
 awaiting the boat at Fortress Monroe met Rev. Frederick 
 N. Knapp, who was in charge of the Special Relief of the 
 Sanitary Commission. He was at that point with a 
 steamer of supplies and some ladies on board as nurses. 
 I asked him if he needed any new recruits, and he said 
 yes, and asked me to send Miss Gilson down at once 
 to him. He had met her in Washington and knew she 
 could be useful. She went immediately to the army, 
 reported to Mr. Knapp at Yorktown, and her work began, 
 and it was continued, as we shall see later, until the end 
 of the war. 
 
 General McClellan's forces at that time were in front 
 of Richmond, occupying long semicircular lines in the 
 
 25 
 
26 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 investment of that capital. The sudden transfer of this 
 army from the high banks of the Potomac to the low and 
 swampy region of the Peninsula, intersected with a net- 
 work of creeks and rivers, caused a serious amount of 
 sickness from malarial and typhoid fevers, and our forces 
 were wasting away in those weeks of the early summer. 
 
 These conditions were alarming in view of the ap- 
 proach of an active campaign, whose character could be 
 well foreseen in the inevitable crash of battle between 
 two hundred thousand men well equipped with all the 
 modern enginery of war. 
 
 The government and the Sanitary Commission made 
 such preparations as they could for these emergencies, 
 and the resources of both were sadly overtaxed. Many 
 hundreds were prostrated by these wasting fevers, and 
 the field hospitals were crowded. Their removal was 
 a necessity before the fighting began, and it was already 
 going oh- when Generat Lee struck our lines with the 
 shock of battle. I was at home some weeks previous to 
 this time, having left Miss Gilson at work in the field 
 hospitals at White House, where she remained until the 
 place was evacuated. I reached the army again at the 
 beginning of this campaign, and went through that track 
 of war, being later located at the camp of the 1st Mas- 
 sachusetts regiment not far from Harrison's Landing, 
 which was the new base of the army. 
 
 Let us introduce here a few words as to this great 
 Peninsula campaign, to make the situation clear. Gen- 
 eral Joseph E. Johnston, one of the ablest of the Con- 
 federate leaders who had been in command of that army 
 in Virginia, had been wounded at Williamsburg, and was 
 in temporary retirement. General Robert E. Lee, who 
 was the military adviser of Jefferson Davis, was chosen in 
 his place, and promptly determined that the Union army 
 should no longer menace the Confederate capital. Being 
 ready for battle, he suddenly assumed the offensive, and 
 forced General McClellan into a campaign which proved 
 
THE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN 27 
 
 a disastrous one. The onslaught was so sudden and so 
 terrific that he forced the Union army back, after a 
 series of engagements, to Harrison's Landing on the 
 James, and these successive conflicts are known in his- 
 tory as the "Seven Days' Battles." Lee's army of about 
 a hundred thousand men was protecting Richmond with 
 a long front on both sides of the Chickahominy River, 
 while McClellan confronted him with about a hundred 
 and ten thousand men whose outposts were in sight of 
 the Confederate capital. Fair Oaks, Gaines's Mills, Sav- 
 age Station, Glendale, and Malvern Hill were all within 
 the Federal lines, each of them the scene of tremendous 
 conflicts during the short campaign which began on the 
 twenty-seventh of June, 1862. Gradually our army was 
 forced backward, not always beaten, but slowly seeking a 
 new base of supplies on the James River. In spite of the 
 fact that the Confederates met with final defeat at Mal- 
 vern Hill, the total advantage was with General Lee, 
 who had driven the Union army back from the very 
 gates of Richmond to a point twenty or thirty miles 
 from that city. This was accomplished only by terrible 
 losses on both sides. In this series of engagements the 
 Federal army lost 1,734 killed, 8,000 wounded, and 6,000 
 missing (half of whom were probably wounded), a total 
 of 15,849 men. The Confederate losses, according to 
 their own reports, were about twenty thousand men, the 
 latter army being the attacking force. 
 
 These were the first great battles of the war. The blood 
 of both armies was up, their respective leaders were being 
 tested, and the frightful losses on both sides were ominous 
 of coming conflicts. From the figures given, it can be 
 seen what a trail of blood was left behind, and how many 
 
28 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 thousands of men had to be cared for, scattered over 
 these disastrous fields. It was into such a holocaust of 
 suffering and death as this that Mr. Fay and Miss Gilson 
 began their hospital work. 
 
 Our temporary field hospitals first received and cared 
 for all these men, but the malarial climate and the 
 intense heat of this summer made it imperative that 
 they should be sent North as rapidly as they could be 
 moved, and they were transferred to the permanent 
 hospitals in Washington. 
 
 To accomplish this, the Sanitary Commission applied 
 to the Quartermaster -General for some of the large 
 steamers that had been used as transports to the Penin- 
 sula, and were then lying idle, at a cost to the government 
 of $800 to $1,000 a day each. The Secretary of War at 
 once ordered as many of them as would carry a thousand 
 men to be detailed to the Commission, which on its part 
 agreed to take charge of the sick and wounded, and land 
 them in Washington. These vessels were bare of every- 
 thing for hospital purposes, but they were promptly fitted 
 up and supplied from the storehouses of the Commis- 
 sion. 
 
 To retrace our steps a moment, we will go back to Miss 
 Gilson's work at White House, which was suddenly inter- 
 rupted by General Lee's attack, which broke through 
 McClellan's lines and compelled his change of base. 
 From the moment the Confederate advance began, White 
 House was no longer tenable; but, as we have seen, this 
 fleet of steamers was at hand. The sick and wounded 
 were quickly transferred, and moved down the river 
 to Fortress Monroe on their way to Washington. Miss 
 Gilson secured passage on a tugboat for Harrison's 
 
7 // E I' I. N I V II. A C A MP AH) .V 29 
 
 Landing, which was protected by our gunboats, and 
 under date of July ten, 1862, she tells the story of this 
 • ience: — 
 
 It was a sad, anxious night after what seemed to us 
 to be an ignominious retreat of our army from it- posi- 
 tion in front of Richmond. Our -rnall tugboat on which 
 i 'J came alongside the Monitor, which was 
 anchored at Harrison'-, Landing. We were almost sur- 
 rounded by gunboats, and the firing was kept up all 
 about us. We could see the bursting shells and hear the 
 explosions, and for a few hours the fleet did efficient 
 service against the rebel batteries, which were finally 
 silenced. The next day was the Fourth of July. The 
 shore was alive with troops, and steamers were con- 
 stantly arriving for the transport of the sick and 
 wounded who were lying on the ground, to be counted by 
 acres. Learning that the large Sanitary Commission 
 er Knickerbocker was to earry a load of the 
 wounded to Washington, a few of us volunteered our ser- 
 vices *o care for them, and before night five hundred men 
 were placed on board. The ship was absolutely bare of 
 supplies, as it was suddenly turned over to the Com- 
 mission by the government, but the deficiency was soon 
 made- good from the Sanitary storehouses. Our party 
 will never forget that Fourth of July. We dined on a 
 few crackers which were found among the remnant of 
 our -tor'-. We al-o had a demijohn of wine, which we 
 diluted and gave to our exhausted men. ft was a touch- 
 ing sight to -cc t!,<-r. [,;. }, of our country, re- 
 duced by disease, come tottering towards us, entreating 
 with imploring tones for a piece of bread or a cup of cold 
 water. Everybody was in a whirl of activity, and the 
 rush, heat, and confusion on shore one can never forget, 
 as th< rloaded train- arrived with their suffering 
 freights of the wounded, who were fairly thrust upon 
 waiting boats. Lines of stretchers with their 
 helpless burd carried from the railroad 
 to the transport boats, and the entire force of the 
 tar/ Commissi o employed. 
 
30 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 One of this corps continues the description as follows : — 
 
 Many of these men had died upon the cars. They had 
 been almost entirely unattended, and were literally 
 packed together in the common freight cars with only a 
 wisp of hay for a pillow. Many of the severely wounded 
 came upon the roofs of the cars. It was midsummer in 
 Virginia, and the close, fetid air was almost insupport- 
 able even to those who had become accustomed to such 
 scenes. As the men passed from the cars to the boat, 
 they paused at the Sanitary Commission tent which was 
 pitched on the wharf, to be stimulated and refreshed 
 before starting on their way. From this tent, meals were 
 sent to every man on these boats, and more than three 
 thousand were fed in this way. No one who lived and 
 worked through these days and nights can tell the story 
 exactly as it occurred. They remember scenes and 
 sounds, but nothing in detail, and to this day there comes 
 back the sight of wounded men borne by contrabands 
 on board these steamers, dumping them anywhere and 
 walking over them without compassion. Imagine an 
 immense river-boat, every berth, every mattress, every 
 square inch of room on every deck filled with wounded 
 men, — even the stairs and gangways filled with them, — 
 and then imagine fifty well men, laborers and others on 
 every sort of errand, rushing here and there, every touch 
 bringing agony to the poor fellows, while stretcher after 
 stretcher comes along trying to find an empty space, — 
 and then imagine what it was for these men of the Sani- 
 tary Commission to keep calm and firm in such surround- 
 ings and bringing order out of the chaos, and making 
 sure that each man was cared for, refreshed, and fed.* 
 
 Follow us now on this steamer Knickerbocker, which 
 was the boat on which Mr. Fay worked, as she moved 
 down the James and up the Potomac to Washington. As 
 night drew on, nobody who was on board can ever forget 
 the ominous stillness of those crowded decks or the 
 solemn hush of those suffering men. It was as dark as a 
 
 * Miss Wormely's Sanitary Commission, p. 82. 
 
TEE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN 31 
 
 sepulchre and as silent as the grave, save an occasional 
 moan from some wounded man. They were packed to- 
 gether so closely on the open decks that one could hardly 
 move among them. With flickering candles to light the 
 way, what a vision it was, the pallor of the suffering faces, 
 the torn and clotted garments covering throbbing wounds ! 
 But the night passed, and, as the steamer drew up to the 
 Seventh Street landing at Washington, the ambulances 
 were waiting to transfer them to comfortable beds in the 
 permanent hospitals. All these scenes and events oc- 
 curred in June and July, 1862, and continued until the 
 sick and wounded were finally withdrawn, and the cam- 
 paign ended on the Peninsula. 
 
 Then followed a period of inaction, while new military 
 dispositions were made in Washington under the direction 
 of General Halleck, who had been made general-in-chief 
 of the armies. The government needed an experienced 
 soldier for counsel with headquarters at the capital, and 
 he was placed in command. It proved a costly appoint- 
 ment for both government and people. General Pope 
 had also been called from the West. He had won some 
 distinction at Island No. 10 on the Mississippi River, 
 and was given the command of a new army in Virginia, 
 which was formed from the troops in the Mountain De- 
 partment of that state and the Department of the Shen- 
 andoah, then under Fremont, Banks, and McDowell. 
 This new force was called the "Army of Virginia," and 
 was designed to cover the city of Washington from any 
 attack that might be made by General Lee from the direc- 
 tion of Richmond, and also to insure the safety of the 
 Valley of the Shenandoah. 
 
 Meanwhile General McClellan's army was on the Pen- 
 
32 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 insula, resting after the disastrous campaign had ended 
 at Malvern Hill. Pope had gathered about forty-five 
 thousand men, but the three great divisions were wide 
 apart, and were not brought together until it was dis- 
 covered that General Lee was moving northward from 
 Richmond with several divisions of his victorious army, 
 which had been re-enforced from the Gulf states under 
 Generals Jackson, Hill, and Longstreet. 
 
 General Pope's force could be hardly called an army, as 
 it consisted of corps and divisions that had never been 
 previously united, had had no experience in common, and 
 knew as little of their commander as he knew of them. 
 This heterogeneous body was now to be attacked by a 
 real army, composed of bodies of veteran troops who 
 knew their leader, who was the most accomplished soldier 
 of the day, General Robert E. Lee.* 
 
 Pope's army, scattered as it was, was in a most danger- 
 ous position as Lee's forces advanced, but, when his move- 
 ment was discovered, Pope drew his divisions somewhat 
 closer together, both sides manoeuvring for position over 
 a wide stretch of country, from Gordonsville to the Rap- 
 pahannock, and back towards Centreville and Manassas. 
 It ended in a partial concentration about Bull Run, the 
 scene of the first disastrous battle of the war. 
 
 Meanwhile a part of McClellan's army had joined Gen- 
 eral Pope; and Lee, realizing this, and having his forces 
 well in hand, determined to force a battle before any fur- 
 ther additions from the Army of the Potomac could reach 
 the field. 
 
 There was really no commanding mind present in that 
 campaign. Pope was at a disadvantage from the start. 
 
 * Ropes's Story of the Civil War. 
 
THE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN 33 
 
 Halleck attempted to direct movements from Wash- 
 ington, but the scene shifted every hour, and such di- 
 rection was futile. Halleck was no tactician on the 
 field of battle, whatever else he may have been, while 
 Lee and his commanders were working out with great 
 precision a campaign over a country they knew by heart. 
 Pope personally knew but little of his commanders, who 
 were widely separated, and there was no unity of pur- 
 pose anywhere. He was trying to feel his enemy, who 
 were elusive, now appearing in force in his front, now on 
 his flanks, or with their cavalry working in his rear, and 
 he was consequently ill prepared for the onset when it 
 came. 
 
 The action began in the late afternoon on the twenty- 
 eighth of July, with severe and continuous fighting, which 
 continued with great obstinacy on both sides. The at- 
 tack of Lee was a surprise to the Federals, and, owing 
 to the late hour of the day or to other causes, the whole 
 Union strength was not brought out. No advantage was 
 gained on either side, and the losses were heavy. The 
 next day found the Union army badly dislocated, its parts 
 widely separated from each other, one corps at Groveton, 
 others at Bristow Station, another at Manassas, and still 
 another at Centreville, and it seemed hardly possible to 
 concentrate them for a continuation of the battle that 
 day. The artillery was employed during the morning, 
 but there was no serious engagement until the after- 
 noon, when the Federal attacks had been everywhere re- 
 pulsed, and no success had so far been gained. On the 
 thirtieth the battle was resumed. Pope massed his forces 
 north of the Warrington turnpike, the whole plan being 
 based on the belief that the Confederates were retiring. 
 
34 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 But this was a mistake. They were far from retiring. 
 They were strongly posted and ready for battle, and 
 Ropes in his story, after a careful analysis of the situ- 
 ation, said "it was unnecessary to comment on the reck- 
 less tactics employed by General Pope on that day." 
 Trying to force the enemy's position, our troops main- 
 tained themselves for half an hour close to the Confed- 
 erate lines, but were swept by the enfilading fire of the 
 guns, and retired in disorder. Position after position was 
 attacked by the Federal army, but they were repulsed. 
 At every point the enemy were too strong, both in posi- 
 tion and in numbers, and the day ended in defeat. One 
 grave mistake after another was made in Pope's tactics. 
 He weakened one part of his line to strengthen another, 
 and the Federal troops became confounded and bewildered 
 by the spectacle of their supports and reserves marching 
 to other parts of the field, weakened not only in num- 
 bers, but by the withdrawal of the troops they had de- 
 pended upon for their re-enforcement in the combat, and 
 were in no condition to make effectual resistance. There 
 had been severe fighting over a long line and severe 
 losses at intervals for three days, and the battle of the 
 Second Bull Run ended. Lee captured seven thousand 
 prisoners, numerous colors, thirty guns, and twenty 
 thousand small arms, and our killed and wounded num- 
 bered some five thousand men. 
 
 Fortunately, several brigades had not been engaged, 
 and the discipline of the army was not impaired. Had 
 Pope held on and waited another day, he would have had 
 the re-enforcement of Sumner and Franklin, who were 
 at hand with twenty thousand men from the Army of 
 the Potomac, and a different story might have been told. 
 
THE PENINSULA CAMPAIGN 35 
 
 But his retreat on the night of the battle changed the 
 conditions, and gave the whole campaign a character of 
 hopeless failure. 
 
 General Pope, on assuming command a short time be- 
 fore, announced that his headquarters were in the sad- 
 dle, and that he had never shown his back to the enemy. 
 It proved an inglorious campaign. The army was then 
 drawn back to the defences of Washington, and Pope 
 resigned his command. It was then united with the 
 Army of the Potomac, which went almost immediately 
 into the Antietam campaign. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 The Antietam Campaign. 
 
 General McClellan reached Washington soon after the 
 defeat of Pope's army, and was placed in command of 
 the defences of the capital. Both of the Union armies 
 had been consolidated, and McClellan, being the only 
 officer in charge, assumed control of all movements out- 
 side the lines of Washington as well as of those within 
 them. 
 
 The success of the Confederate campaign had been re- 
 markable. The theatre of operations had been trans- 
 ferred from the front of Richmond to the front of Wash- 
 ington. "The Union armies were now on the defensive, 
 and the rich harvests of the Shenandoah Valley and of 
 Northern Virginia were now the prize of the victors. To 
 crown and consolidate these conquests, Lee now deter- 
 mined to cross into Maryland." * His army lacked much 
 of the material of war, its transportation was much re- 
 duced, and the men were poorly shod and clothed, but 
 they were in high spirits and ready to follow their leader. 
 
 It has been stated by those who have made a study of 
 the motives which induced General Lee to take the enor- 
 mous risks of this invasion of Maryland that he had rea- 
 son to believe that the people of that state were ripe for 
 revolt, that they wished to "regain their liberties," and 
 would be eager to join the Confederacy if an opportunity 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, p. 194. 
 36 
 
THE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 37 
 
 was given them. There was a strong though not large 
 secession element in Baltimore, and there is no doubt they 
 had promised recruits to his army, and were ready for any 
 desperate deed to forward the success of such a movement. 
 General Lee's proclamation to the people of Maryland 
 that he was not their enemy, but their friend, certainly 
 expressed this hope and offered this opportunity, and he 
 probably felt that, if continued success followed his cam- 
 paign, it might be made so decisive as to end the war. 
 But in all this he was mistaken. 
 
 Moving his army north, he crossed the Potomac in the 
 vicinity of Leesburg, Virginia, swinging round into Mary- 
 land. It was not known at first where he had gone; but, 
 finding that his forces were making this aggressive move- 
 ment, General McClellan pushed forward from Washing- 
 ton rapidly, and on the thirteenth of September the right 
 wing of his army reached Frederick. It numbered eighty 
 thousand men, with large forces left in the defences of 
 the capital. 
 
 Lee's forces numbered about fifty-five thousand effec- 
 tive men, and, after severe fighting in the passes of South 
 Mountain, they were finally brought into desperate con- 
 flict at Antietam, where McClellan took up his position 
 for the expected battle. The whole Confederate line was 
 about three miles in length, and on every suitable emi- 
 nence General Lee had placed his batteries for the most 
 effective use of his guns. 
 
 We do not need to give more than a brief summary of 
 the movements of the two armies, and may omit most of 
 the detail of the story of the conflict on this historic field, 
 where with badly conceived and ill-combined movements 
 McClellan began the great battle. 
 
88 ii i/; PAPERS OF FRANK B. FA ) 
 
 In the tirst shock oi the conflict on one part of the field, 
 the losses within hardly more than an hour were tnosl 
 severe. More than a third to more than a half of three 
 of the Federal brigades were either hilled or wounded 
 within thi- time, and all of the regimental commanders 
 in those brigades were either killed or wounded. Hooker 
 had lost upward of twenty-five hundred men of the ten 
 thousand he had brought into action, At another point 
 on the Hagerstown pike, where the fighting was most 
 severe, the l&th corps lost some seventeen hundred 
 men out of the seven thousand brought upon the field. 
 In both of these actions the Union troops suffered from 
 the fire of the Confederate batteries stationed on the 
 rising ground already referred to. Our batteries at the 
 same time poured a destructive fire upon the Confeder- 
 ates, the shot ami shell passim; over the heads of the 
 Union troops, and their losses must have boon greater 
 
 than ours 
 
 rhere was then a short lull in the battle, hut it was 
 soon resumed in the fields and woods near Dunker Church 
 by Sunmer, Sedgwick, ami French, where they were con- 
 fronted by the Confederates who had taken positions 
 behind the rocky ledges with which that region abounds, 
 ami the losses here were terrible, over twenty-two 
 hundred officers ami mem ami it was all sustained in 
 a very few minutes. General Sedgwick was three times 
 wounded, ami left the field, ami the troops fell back ami 
 reformed under the protection of the batteries. But the 
 Confederates were in no condition to make farther at- 
 tacks; they had no reserves, every man had been engaged, 
 and at terrible sacrifice o( life had repelled the three as- 
 saults on the left Bank of their army. 
 
 Then the left centre of the Confederates was involved, 
 and the conflict which followed here was without question 
 one of the most sanguinary and desperate of the whole 
 war. Shortly after it began, the Confederates fell back 
 country road, or lane. For a considerable part of 
 its course the level of this road is below that of the ad- 
 joining fields, so that it constituted a sort o( natural rifle- 
 pit. This sunken road was held for a time by the Con- 
 
 * Rojh - " . vol, ii. p. 859. 
 
TUE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 39 
 
 federates, but at last they broke, and the road became 
 for them a pit from which there was no escape from the 
 deadly fire of their antagonists on the upper bank. The 
 road was speedily filled with the dead and wounded. To 
 this day it is called "the Bloody Lane." The Confed- 
 erate left centre was thoroughly broken up. Its losses 
 in killed, wounded, and prisoners greatly exceeded ours, 
 and the casualties in the two divisions of Barlow and Rich- 
 ardson exceeded twenty-seven hundred men. Severe and 
 almost even fighting on the right of the Union line ended 
 the battle.* 
 
 During the night Lee tried to reform his forces and 
 renew the engagement the next day, but it was found im- 
 possible, and on the night of the eighteenth of September 
 his army crossed the Potomac, defeated. The battle of 
 Antietam was one of the bloodiest of the war, and it is 
 probable that more men were killed and wounded on 
 that seventeenth of September than on any other day 
 in the whole war. The Confederates lost 13 guns, 39 
 colors, 15,000 stand of arms, 8,000 killed and wounded, 
 and 6,000 prisoners. The Federals lost 12,000 killed 
 and wounded, but not a gun or a color. The dead and 
 wounded of both armies were left on the field to be 
 cared for by the government and the Sanitary Com- 
 mission. 
 
 We have given this brief summary of the movements 
 of the two armies in these three great campaigns of the 
 Peninsula, the Second Bull Run, and x\ntietam, that we 
 may be carried forward clearly and consecutively in 
 our narrative. We have followed the varying fortunes 
 of the gigantic struggle, we have seen the trampled fields 
 torn with shot and shell, and have watched the hundred 
 
 * Ropes's Story of the Civil War. 
 
40 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and fifty thousand men in the deadly embrace of battle 
 over blood-stained fields, stretching from lower Virginia 
 to the upper Potomac and into Maryland, that we might 
 make clear to ourselves the scale upon which this conflict 
 was waged, its incredible sacrifice of life, its dreadful suffer- 
 ings, and also the brighter picture of the agencies of 
 alleviation that were employed to gather in the wounded 
 and by all healing ministries bring them back to life again. 
 It was this stupendous shock of war through which Mr. 
 Fay passed in this summer of 1862, and it was this trail 
 of blood that he followed in his persistent ministry. We 
 must now resume his narrative : — 
 
 I left the Peninsula with the last of the wounded while 
 Pope's struggle with the Confederate army at Bull Run 
 was going on. Reaching the capital, we found enough 
 to do in the reception and care of the men who had fallen 
 on that field; and, as soon as it was made clear that Gen- 
 eral Lee was moving into Maryland, I made ready for 
 what we might find to do in that emergency. While I 
 was in Washington [he writes], the 35th Massachusetts 
 regiment, which had just been mustered into service, 
 reached the capital in time to join the movement into 
 Maryland. It was commanded by Colonel Wild and 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Carruth, and we saluted our Chelsea 
 company as it moved forward and went into that fearful 
 conflict at Antietam, although some days passed before 
 the two armies came together in the shock of battle. On 
 taking up a paper on the morning of the fifteenth of Sep- 
 tember, I saw the announcement of the death of the 
 brave and capable General Reno in Turner's Gap of the 
 South Mountain range, and knew that the 35th regiment 
 was in his division, and had already received its baptism of 
 blood. This was within less than a month of the date 
 of its leaving home. I started at once for the scene of 
 that engagement, taking train for Frederick, Maryland. 
 I met Dr. Steiner of the Sanitary Commission there, who 
 persuaded me to remain until the next day, as he pro- 
 
THE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 41 
 
 posed to send a wagon-load of supplies to the battlefield. 
 I did so; and the next morning, the team not being ready, 
 started on foot for Middleton, and during that day, Sep- 
 tember seventeen, 1862, heard the guns of the battle 
 of Antietam not far away. At Middleton I saw Colonel 
 Wild of the 35th Massachusetts, whom I had saluted 
 three or four days before, with his arm shot away at the 
 shoulder, and began to work at once among the wounded 
 at that place. As the burial parties were already be- 
 ginning their work, I went with them, placing marks of 
 identification on the bodies of the dead soldiers, with their 
 names when ascertained, so that head-boards could be 
 placed at their graves. These head-boards were pieces 
 of cracker-boxes or other planed boards, marked with 
 a pencil, a much more durable mark than when made by 
 a pen. During the evening the Sanitary Commission 
 wagon came up, and I went on with it, walking and riding 
 by turns toward the battlefield. We were on the road 
 all night, and by gray dawn we reached the field. The 
 bridge had given way, and we were stalled till morning. 
 I lay down in a corn-field, and had my first experience of 
 sleeping on the ground, but it was good, refreshing sleep. 
 We found a sad state of things on our arrival. The 
 whole town of Keedysville was one great hospital: houses, 
 stores, churches, mills, and barns were all filled with the 
 wounded, and hundreds, even thousands, were not shel- 
 tered at all. I filled my haversack and started out to no- 
 tify surgeons to come to our wagon for supplies, and tele- 
 graphed Chelsea to send men and women and additional 
 stores. As a result of the despatch, nine of our best people 
 joined me, bringing abundant supplies, and they did 
 most effective work on that field. I made my head- 
 quarters at Mr. Iveedy's house in this town which was 
 named for him, and found him generous and hospitable.* 
 
 * Forty years later Mr. Fay wrote as follows of these friends: "Of 
 these nine friends all but two have gone forward to their heavenly life, 
 leaving dear and cherished memories. We may believe that in that 
 better land where there is no war, but all is peace, they may find in 
 mutual service as much joy in helping others to progress in the spiritual 
 life as they had here in the ministry to the suffering." Mrs. Sibyl 
 Hunt at this date (1911) is now the only survivor of that party. 
 
42 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 One day a bale of blankets arrived, which Mr. Keedy 
 said was for me. It had no address upon it, and I dis- 
 tributed them promptly among those who were in the 
 greatest need. The next day a gentleman from Pennsyl- 
 vania appeared, inquiring for his blankets. They had been 
 sent to him to distribute among Pennsylvania men. I 
 told him they were all in use by the men who were around 
 him, and he could take them if he so desired. But he 
 smiled and said they were evidently doing good to some- 
 body's soldiers, and he would leave them where they 
 were. 
 
 I found enough to do at Keedysville. The Sanitary 
 Commission was doing most systematic beneficent work, 
 and we joined them in that splendid service. I hunted 
 the field over for our Chelsea men, and found on the bare 
 floors of an entry of a little house in town several of them, 
 and with them Captain W. S. Cheever and (from Rox- 
 bury) Captain W. S. King of the 35th Massachusetts 
 regiment, all badly wounded. I telegraphed to King's 
 wife, and in response Captain Wyman and Mayor (after- 
 wards Governor) Gaston started for the field. They 
 both did good service there among the wounded of Captain 
 King's company, which was recruited in Roxbury, and 
 which suffered severely in that battle. On their return 
 home they met Governor Andrew in New York, and 
 through him two thousand blankets were sent promptly 
 forward by the government. They also reported con- 
 ditions to the New York branch of the Sanitary Com- 
 mission, and they promptly responded by a large ship- 
 ment of supplies. Our Chelsea delegates reported, when 
 they returned, that they found me without an extra shirt, 
 having torn up those I had to use for bandages. It was 
 here that I met Oliver Wendell Holmes, who left hurriedly 
 for the front in search of his son, Captain Holmes of the 
 20th Massachusetts regiment (now Justice Holmes of 
 the United States Supreme Court), who was wounded 
 in this battle. We were strangers, but I ventured to ask 
 if I could help him, and he replied, "Yes, I am anxious 
 to go through the hospitals, if you can point them out to 
 me." I replied that every house, barn, mill, and church 
 within a radius of miles was a hospital, but that we could 
 undoubtedly find his son. I then remembered that I had 
 
THE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 43 
 
 seen some of the wounded men of the 20th regiment in a 
 house near by, and we went in search of him. 
 
 Dr. Holmes afterwards wrote an interesting account 
 of this search in an article in the Atlantic Monthly for 
 December, 1862, and we copy here some passages of 
 this story: — 
 
 In the dead of night which closed upon the bloody field 
 of Antietam, my household was startled from its slumbers 
 by the loud summons of a telegraph messenger. The air 
 had been heavy all day with the rumors of battle, and 
 tens of thousands had walked the streets with throbbing 
 hearts in dread anticipation of the tidings any hour might 
 bring. The telegram was opened and read, "Captain 
 Holmes wounded through the neck, thought not to be 
 dangerous, at Keedysville." Through the neck — no bul- 
 let left in wound. Windpipe, foodpipe, carotid, jugular, 
 half a dozen smaller but still formidable vessels, a great 
 braid of nerves, each as big as a lampwick, spinal cord, 
 ought to kill at once, if at all. 
 
 Dr. Holmes started the next day, and after many in- 
 teresting experiences reached Keedysville as quickly as 
 the trains could carry him. 
 
 On entering the small settlement of Keedysville, a 
 familiar face and figure blocked the way, like one of 
 Bunyan's giants. The tall form and benevolent counte- 
 nance, set off by long flowing hair, belonging to the excel- 
 lent Mayor Frank B. Fay of Chelsea, who had come 
 promptly to succor the wounded of that great battle. It 
 was wonderful to see how his single personality pervaded 
 this torpid little village; he seemed to be the centre of all 
 its activities. All my questions he answered clearly and 
 decisively, as one who knew everything going on in the 
 place. But the one question I had come to ask, Where is 
 Captain Holmes ? he could not answer. There were thou- 
 sands of wounded in the place, he told me, and it might be 
 
44 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B: FAY 
 
 a long job to find him; the only way would be to go to 
 every group of wounded and find him. A medical officer 
 was presently met, who answered my question by point- 
 ing to a house, saying he is staying there. A chorus of 
 hallelujahs arose in my soul, but I kept them to myself. 
 Now, then, for our twice-wounded volunteer, our young 
 centurion whose double-barred shoulder-straps we have 
 never yet looked upon. Let us observe the proprieties, 
 however; no swelling upward of the mother, — no hysterica 
 passio, we do not like scenes. A calm salutation — then 
 swallow hard. That is about the programme. I pushed 
 open the door, and inquired. "Oh, no, sir; he left yester- 
 day morning for Hagerstown in a milk-cart." And still 
 I had to follow him. 
 
 It was a long hunt with many experiences, but the 
 captain was finally found some days afterwards on a 
 train that had left Hagerstown for Harrisburg. He had 
 been traced to that point, and Dr. Holmes was in the 
 station, awaiting the arrival of that train, and, when it 
 came swiftly and silently in, he was almost startled to see 
 it there on the track in front of him. 
 
 Let us walk calmly through the cars now and look 
 around us. In the first car, on the first seat to the right, 
 I saw my Captain; there saw I him, even my first-born, 
 whom I had sought through many cities. 
 
 "How are you, Boy?" 
 
 "How are you, Dad?" 
 
 Such are the proprieties of life. The hidden cisterns 
 of the soul may be filling fast with sweet tears, while the 
 windows through which it looks are undimmed by a drop 
 or a film of moisture. 
 
 In the interval between the arrival and departure of 
 Dr. Holmes from Keedysville he visited the battlefield, 
 of which he gives the following description : — 
 
THE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 45 
 
 On coming near the brow of the hill, we met a party 
 carrying picks and spades. "How many?" "Only 
 one." The dead were nearly all buried then in this re- 
 gion of the field of strife. We stopped the wagon, and, get- 
 ting out, began to look around us. Hard by was a large 
 pile of muskets, scores, if not hundreds, which had 
 been picked up and were guarded by the government. A 
 long ridge of fresh gravel rose before us. A board stuck 
 up in front of us bore this inscription: "The Rebel Gen- 
 eral Anderson and 80 rebels are buried in this hole." 
 Other smaller ridges were marked with the number of 
 the dead lying under them. The whole ground was 
 strewed with fragments of clothing, haversacks, canteens, 
 cap-boxes, bullets, cartridge-boxes, cartridges, scraps of 
 paper, portions of bread and meat. I saw two soldiers' 
 caps that looked as if their owners had been shot through 
 the head. In several places I noticed dark red patches 
 where a pool of blood had curdled and caked, as some poor 
 fellow poured out his life on the sod. I then wandered 
 about the corn-field. It surprised me to notice that, al- 
 though there was every mark of hard fighting, the Indian 
 corn was not trodden down. At the edge of this field 
 lay a gray horse, whose owner, a rebel colonel, was killed 
 near this place. Not far off were two artillery horses in 
 their harnesses. Another had been attended to by a 
 burying party who had thrown some earth over him, 
 but his legs were stark and stiff beneath his partial cov- 
 ering. There was a shallow trench before we came to 
 the corn-field, too narrow for a road, too elevated for a 
 watercourse, and which seemed to have been used as a 
 rifle-pit; at any rate, there had been hard fighting about 
 it. The opposing tides of battle must have blended their 
 waves at this point, for portions of gray uniforms were 
 mingled with the "garments rolled in blood," torn from 
 our own dead and wounded soldiers. I picked up a rebel 
 canteen and one of our own, but there was something 
 repulsive about the trodden and stained relics of that 
 battlefield. It was like the table of some hideous orgy 
 left uncleared, and one turned away from its broken frag- 
 ments and muddy heel-taps. A bullet or two, a button, 
 a brass plate from a soldier's belt, served well enough for 
 a memento of my visit. 
 
46 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 And so ended this incident which fell, by the way, in 
 the midst of the overwhelming cares and duties of Mr. 
 Fay's work on that Antietam battlefield. 
 
 As to the general conditions on the field of Antietam 
 and the mass of suffering there, the surgeon of the 2d 
 Massachusetts regiment reported that there were nearly 
 ten thousand of the wounded of both armies lying in 
 the fields from half a mile to three miles in rear of the 
 battlefield, needing supplies of all kinds. The mortality 
 among the Confederates had been fearful. Upon one 
 spot Hooker's corps had advanced over a swell of land 
 where their foes were sheltered; yet the havoc among 
 our men did not equal the continuous rank of dead 
 lying behind the fences which were riddled with musket- 
 balls. 
 
 Dr. Agnew of the Sanitary Commission, passing over 
 the radii previously ascertained to be within the circle 
 of the battle, went with the wagon-loads of supplies carry- 
 ing relief to the thousands of wounded men lying there. 
 In some places they were clustered about barn-yards 
 and floors and stables. He said he saw fifteen hundred 
 wounded men lying upon straw near two barns within 
 sight of each other. Indeed there was not a barn or farm- 
 house, or store, or church or school, between Boons- 
 borough and Keedysville and Sharpsburg that was not 
 entirely filled with the wounded, both rebel and Union. 
 Thousands were in the open air, and all received the kind 
 service of the farmers' families and the surgeons. 
 
 "As to the measures taken for relief, everything in the 
 way of medical supplies, as might have been expected, 
 was deficient for two or three days after the battle. Men 
 suffering agony from their wounds were without opiates. 
 
THE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 47 
 
 Dressings, stimulants, concentrated food, were difficult, 
 if not impossible, to obtain. The medical trains were 
 stalled in the great movement of the army, which had 
 passed rapidly through two disastrous campaigns, and 
 was now in the midst of a third, which had left its thou- 
 sands of wounded on our hands. The Sanitary Commis- 
 sion was first in the field, owing to the vigor and foresight 
 of its leaders in Washington. It was at work at least two 
 days before the medical wagons arrived. Thirty pounds 
 of chloroform were given out within three days after the 
 battle, saving fifty lives and several hundreds from the 
 agony of severe operations. Nearly every barn and hos- 
 pital and cluster of wounded over the wide extent of the 
 field, embracing an extent of thirty miles, were receiving 
 essential relief, while the regular medical stores lay at 
 Monocacy Bridge, unable to cross it." * 
 
 The Sanitary Commission stores sent to Antietam 
 within ten days of the date of the battle consisted of 
 28,763 pieces of dry goods, shirts, towels, bedticks, and 
 pillows; 30 barrels of old linen, bandages, and lint; 3,188 
 pounds of farina; 2,620 pounds of condensed milk; 5,000 
 pounds of beef stock and canned meats; 3,000 bottles of 
 wine and cordials; and many tons of lemons and other 
 fruit; crackers, tea, sugar, rubber cloth, tin cups, and 
 hospital conveniences. These stores afforded incalcu- 
 lable relief over these wide-spread fields. Within eight 
 days from the occupancy of the field of Antietam by our 
 force, nearly all the wounded received ample supplies of 
 hospital clothing from the depots of the Sanitary Com- 
 mission and the medical purveyor, f 
 
 * Sanitary Commission Document, No. 48. 
 f Dr. Steiner's Report Sanitary Commission. 
 
48 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 Dr. Dimon of the 2d Maryland regiment, who was at 
 Antietam, wrote as follows of the provision the state of 
 Massachusetts made for her wounded men in this battle, 
 and also of Mr. Fay's work on that field : — 
 
 The second day of the battle of Antietam, I did not 
 know where I should get a hundred things I needed for 
 my wounded men, when there suddenly appeared at the 
 fence a wagon, in the charge of two gentlemen and a 
 lady from Chelsea, Massachusetts, who had, as if by 
 inspiration, filled it with everything necessary, — tin 
 cups, basins, lanterns, bandages, lint, shirts, drawers, 
 bed-sacks, towels, tea, candles, soap, concentrated food. 
 They were supplying all troops along the road, not only 
 their own, but those from every loyal state and every 
 corps of the army. We had not previously a lantern 
 to enable us at night to keep the wounds wet, turn over 
 the wounded to ease their positions, or give them drink. 
 If we used candles, which were scarce, they would blow 
 out or endanger the barn in which we were. Tin cups 
 to eat and drink from, and to keep water for bandage 
 wetting, were in proportion of one to four men, including 
 their canteens. We had but one basin for dressing the 
 wounds of one hundred and forty-seven men, and that 
 had a hole in the bottom stuffed with rags. So you see 
 what a godsend this supply was from Massachusetts, 
 and it seemed as though that state was the only one 
 ready to relieve, instantly, the poor fellows who are 
 doing so much for the country. 
 
 I am ashamed to say I have seen no one from New 
 York, except a sutler asking fifty per cent, advance on 
 his goods; and the Marylanders only appeared with 
 their stores ten days after the battle. Those articles I 
 have particularly mentioned constituted only a speci- 
 men of the judicious and plentiful supply that these 
 generous and thoughtful people brought to us. I begged 
 their names for my own grateful memory, of Mayor 
 Fay of Chelsea, Massachusetts, of Alderman Low of the 
 same town, and Miss Gilson, who were the first of those 
 to relieve our wounded soldiers. 
 
TEE ANTIETAM CAMPAIGN 49 
 
 Dr. Louis H. Steiner, the head of the Sanitary Coin- 
 mission's operations in Maryland during the Antietam 
 campaign, also wrote as follows of Mr. Fay in that 
 emergency : — 
 
 "Mr. Frank B. Fay and Miss Gilson have been working 
 with untiring zeal and devotion at or near Keedysville 
 since the battle. These philanthropic patriots are ex- 
 amples worthy of all imitation on the part of those who 
 aim to keep the good deeds which their right hands do 
 from the knowledge of the world. I am pleased to record 
 their names as among those whose labors have been more 
 or less aided by the supplies of the Commission." 
 
 It can be well understood that there was little time for 
 reports or letter-writing in such emergencies as Mr. Fay 
 faced during the weeks after this battle. We can see him 
 moving over the field with his supplies, or bending ten- 
 derly over these suffering men, cheering them with hope- 
 ful words, sending messages to their families, binding up 
 their wounds, listening with helpful, sympathetic interest 
 to their stories, and performing the last offices of comfort 
 to those who were passing into the other world. 
 
 This work, so continuous, so persistent, pressed severely 
 upon him. He was worn and overtaxed in body and 
 mind, and the drain upon his sympathy was constant and 
 severe. He wrote: "I am troubled almost beyond en- 
 durance by the mass of suffering I have no power to re- 
 lieve. I have but little sleep, and that often in the open, 
 on the ground, or in the shelter of a stone wall, wrapped 
 in my blanket, or, if more fortunate, on the bare floor 
 with a haversack for a pillow. And, as for meals, there 
 are none provided, and we eat as opportunity offers. 
 The dreadful scenes we have witnessed take the life 
 
50 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and courage out of a man. I have seen three thousand 
 wounded within three miles of this place, besides other 
 thousands between here and Frederick, and I doubt if 
 I have seen half of them. And the dead! I had little 
 conception of the horrors of a battlefield. Hundreds upon 
 hundreds lying stark and unburied, waiting the last min- 
 istry of 'earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. ' " 
 
 Of Miss Gilson he wrote: "She had left Washington 
 before I did, in an ambulance, in company with a lady 
 from Philadelphia, to visit a hospital a few miles from 
 the capital; but, hearing of the battle, they pressed for- 
 ward to the field, and quickly established themselves 
 there and began their work. We afterwards moved to 
 Pleasant Valley, a few miles in the rear, and here our 
 main work was done after the wounded were brought in 
 from the fields and the emergencies of the campaign 
 were over." 
 
 Mr. Fay then returned to Chelsea, leaving Miss Gilson 
 with the army until the wounded were removed to the 
 hospitals in Washington. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The First Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. 
 
 As we have seen, after the battle of Antietam General 
 Lee withdrew his army safely across the Potomac on the 
 twentieth of September, 1862. McClellan did not follow, 
 though urged, even ordered, to do so from Washington. 
 Both armies were doubtless glad to be free from the 
 presence of each other, both of them needing rest and 
 recuperation after the three terrible campaigns through 
 which they had passed. They rested on their arms, the 
 Confederates in the Shenandoah Valley, the Army of 
 the Potomac near the scene of its recent battle, amid the 
 hills and valleys of South-western Maryland. 
 
 A month passed before McClellan began his movement 
 back into Virginia, and by the first of November his 
 entire army had crossed the Potomac below Harper's 
 Ferry, and moved towards Warrington. The govern- 
 ment had become profoundly distrustful of him and re- 
 moved him from the command, and he never went into 
 active service again. Burnside was chosen to succeed 
 him. This was on the seventh day of November. He 
 reformed the army into three grand divisions of two 
 corps each for his impending campaign, with his base at 
 Fredericksburg on the Rappahannock. As it proved, this 
 was his first great mistake, as Lee had no difficulty in 
 concentrating his army in what proved to be an impreg- 
 nable position on Marye's Heights to meet him. But 
 
 51 
 
52 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 we have to do with the movement of his army rather 
 than with criticism of the campaign, which is left to the 
 military historians. 
 
 The city of Fredericksburg lies on the southerly bank 
 of the Rappahannock, with the heights of Falmouth 
 rising from the northerly side of the river. The town lies 
 in the hollow of the great plain between these two com- 
 manding positions. Lee's army was rapidly concen- 
 trated on a series of ridges a mile beyond the town, the 
 centre of the position being on Marye's Heights, and was 
 intrenched there along the crest of these hills. At the 
 end of a few weeks a most formidable array of works had 
 sprung into existence for his artillery, which would pre- 
 sent an inferno of fire into which no man or army would 
 willingly venture. Plans were made by Burnside to 
 turn this stronghold either above or below the city, but, 
 as they were discovered by his antagonist, they had to 
 be abandoned, and on the tenth of December it was 
 determined to force the Rappahannock. Before dawn 
 on the eleventh the pontoons were moved forward, and 
 the engineers, under the cover of a heavy fog, began 
 swiftly and silently their work of construction of the 
 bridges for the passage of the army.* 
 
 They were met by the volleys from the sharp-shooters 
 on the opposite bank, who were behind rifle-pits, stone 
 walls, and buildings on the river street of Fredericks- 
 burg. By noon two bridges were available two miles 
 below the city, but the one opposite the city met a differ- 
 ent fate. It was here that a murderous fire was main- 
 tained, driving the men from their work, until General 
 Burnside concentrated the fire of all his artillery upon 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, p. 236. 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 53 
 
 the city to dislodge the sharp-shooters and batter down 
 their defences. Nearly every man on these pontoons 
 had been either killed or wounded. 
 
 The chief of artillery, General Hunt, then sent strong 
 parties in open boats to land and dislodge or capture the 
 opposing force. This coup-de-main was successful, and 
 the bridge was completed within a few minutes. Up to 
 this time it was literally going into the valley of the 
 shadow of death to continue the effort on these pon- 
 toons. Volunteers were now called for to man them 
 again in the effort to carry a force into the city. 
 Swinton says, "The movement was gallantly executed, 
 and the army, assembled on the northern bank of the 
 river, spectators of this heroism, paid the brave fellows 
 the rich tribute of soldiers' cheers." 
 
 Among these volunteers was Chaplain Arthur B. Fuller, 
 a Unitarian minister, of the 16th Massachusetts regi- 
 ment, who on account of broken health in the service 
 had the day before resigned and had received his dis- 
 charge. He had been watching with great concern the 
 events of the day at the pontoons, and heard the call for 
 volunteers. He seized a musket and joined in the hazard 
 of the enterprise. The sudden emergency in which he 
 decided to act was wholly unexpected by him. He was 
 dressed in the uniform of a staff officer, and had been 
 cautioned early in the day against exposing himself, as 
 he would be a special mark for the sharp-shooters; but, 
 in spite of all, he joined the ranks, and fell pierced by two 
 bullets soon after entering Fredericksburg. One of his 
 comrades thus wrote of his last moments: — 
 
 "We were in advance of the others who had crossed, 
 and marched up the street from the landing. He ac- 
 
54 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 costed me, saying, ' I must do something for my country,' 
 and took his place on my left. He was perfectly cool 
 and collected. I have seldom seen a man on the field 
 so calm and mild in demeanor, evidently not acting from 
 impulse or martial rage. His position was in front of a 
 grocery store, and in five minutes after he took it, having 
 fired once or twice, was killed instantly, and did not 
 move after he fell, and was left on the field after we re- 
 tired." 
 
 Mr. Fay's narrative is now resumed, as it relates to 
 what occurred after the chaplain's death and his per- 
 sonal connection with it: — 
 
 I had returned to the army as- soon as it was massed 
 in front of Fredericksburg, and, not long after Mr. 
 Fuller crossed, I crossed the bridge with Miss Gilson, 
 and made my way into the city to be on the field of battle. 
 At the end of the pontoon I met Lieutenant Myrick of 
 the 35th Massachusetts regiment, who was in charge of 
 some prisoners. He asked me if I knew Chaplain Fuller, 
 and said they thought they had found his body, and I 
 was directed to the point where he fell. I identified it 
 at once, as I knew him well, and asked the lieutenant 
 to make a box and place the body in it and send it across 
 the river to Lacy House, and I would arrange to send it 
 to Boston. He said there were no boards. I told him 
 to tear off some from one of the houses opposite, and he 
 had no difficulty in providing himself with the material. 
 The body was tenderly removed and sent to Washington 
 in charge of a wounded officer, and thence by Adams 
 Express to its destination. 
 
 Colonel Higginson, in writing of the death of Chaplain 
 Fuller in his Harvard Memorial Biographies, said: "I 
 know of no other case in this war or in any other in which 
 a chaplain, the day after his discharge, still wearing his 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 55 
 
 uniform and, therefore, more exposed, bearing his dis- 
 charge on his person, volunteered without a soldier's 
 training for the most perilous duty of a common soldier, 
 and was killed in doing it." 
 
 Miss Gilson, who was with Mr. Fay and joined in the 
 identification of the body, thus wrote of Mr. Fuller: — 
 
 "I met him a few days before his death, and drew 
 from my pocket a well-worn copy of Army Melodies of 
 which he was one of the editors, and told him I had 
 carried it through the Peninsula campaign, often ad- 
 ministering the medicine of music to the sick and 
 wounded. The next Sunday I was one of a party 
 who joined in a religious service conducted by him, and 
 attended by some five hundred convalescent soldiers. 
 Every eye was fastened upon him during his address, 
 and each upturned face caught the glow of his enthu- 
 siasm. We parted, and I saw no more of him until 
 we identified his body in Fredericksburg, surrounded by 
 the rebel sharp-shooters who had fallen with him there. 
 'Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, 
 it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much 
 fruit.'" 
 
 Mr. Fay then writes: — 
 
 The day before the battle I saw the 35th Massachusetts 
 regiment marching towards the river. I knew they had 
 been paid off the day before, and had collectively a 
 large sum of money that they might be glad to send 
 home before going into battle. I overtook them just 
 as they came to a halt, and arranged with Major Willard, 
 then commanding, to receive and forward the money. 
 He called his captains, who then began receiving it from 
 the men, recording their names and the amounts from 
 each, together with the address to which it was to be 
 sent, and I gathered it in. We had just completed our 
 
56 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 work when the regiment resumed its march and went 
 forward into battle. I shall make some farther reference 
 to this later in the story. The money received was sent 
 to Washington and was afterwards distributed according 
 to the addresses given. 
 
 When Miss Gilson and I crossed the pontoon bridge 
 into Fredericksburg, we went over in an ambulance. At 
 the pontoon the guard would not let her pass. I insisted 
 that she went everywhere within the lines of the army, 
 and he called the sergeant of the guard, an Irishman, 
 who, on seeing the beaded chain and cross she wore, mis- 
 took her for a Sister of Charity, and she was allowed to 
 pass. It was just beyond this point that we identified 
 the body of Chaplain Fuller. 
 
 We found work to do directly where we stood, and re- 
 mained in the city through the day, undisturbed by the 
 battle which was raging about us, both within and beyond 
 the town. As night came on and the wounded were 
 brought in and were carried across the river to our camps, 
 we made ready for our crossing also. 
 
 General Ferrero, who was standing with General Couch 
 near by, came to us, and said: "You must not cross the 
 pontoons now. Don't you see the rebels have a direct 
 range on the bridge with their battery? You can see 
 the shells dropping at the end of the pontoon on the other 
 side." I had noticed the firing and had heard the shells, 
 but had not noticed where they fell. I moved Miss 
 Gilson to one side behind a house, when an officer came 
 up, and said, "I beg pardon, but there is a stone chimney 
 behind you, and, if a shell should strike it, you will both 
 be hurt," and I moved her again to a safer spot. Our 
 batteries then opened on the rebel battery, and silenced 
 it. General Ferrero then said, "Now is your chance, go 
 immediately," which we did, and were soon on the other 
 side out of range. 
 
 I mention an incident here, which for the moment 
 caused me much amusement. That morning Miss Gil- 
 son, who had been more under fire than I had, and had 
 shown great courage, asked me, "How do you think we 
 are going to behave when we get under fire?" I replied 
 that we could never tell till the time came. Just before 
 we crossed the river I bought a newspaper, and, while 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 57 
 
 standing with the shells flying over us, began to read it, 
 just pretending to show my indifference. She looked at 
 me, and said, "Don't expose yourself, for at any moment 
 you may be in eternity." When we crossed the pontoon, 
 there were no other travellers that way. We were glad to 
 be safely back again; but we did not hurry, for I knew 
 there were thousands of men lying in their rifle-pits 
 watching us, and we would not run. That convinced me 
 that pride often forces a man to be brave. 
 
 In 1869 I was visiting a friend in Illinois, and, as I was 
 relating some of my army experiences, one of his other 
 guests said, "I can vouch for that last story you told, 
 as I was on the staff of a Confederate officer at the time, 
 on Marye's Heights, and with my field-glass noticed a 
 lady and gentleman crossing that pontoon, and thought 
 they did not seem to be in much of a hurry." It was 
 curious to have such a confirmation of the story twenty- 
 seven years afterwards, from one who was called our 
 enemy at that time. 
 
 We were established at Howard's Hospital in the rear 
 of Falmouth Heights, overlooking the field of battle, and 
 here we found enough to do. 
 
 I have often thought of an incident at this hospital 
 which shows how quickly a soldier becomes familiar 
 with death. One of the men in the hospital had just 
 died. After he passed away, I placed a handkerchief 
 over his face. The man next him was wounded in the 
 arm, and, as I handed him a cup of broth, he raised him- 
 self to a sitting posture, and, as he could not hold his 
 cup at the same time, placed it on his dead comrade's 
 breast until he could help himself with the other hand. 
 Death was in fact stalking everywhere about us and was 
 hardly noticed. 
 
 The next morning the artillery opened the battle of 
 Fredericksburg. We were in a good position on the 
 heights of Falmouth to witness it. The Confederates 
 had opened their fire, and the shells were bursting over 
 us, and we moved to a more sheltered place on a hill 
 near the station, and here I watched the progress of the 
 battle, including the fearful struggle that went on beyond 
 the city, the repeated and terrific assaults on Marye's 
 Heights, the repulse at the stone wall and the sunken 
 
58 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 road at its base, where so many of our brave men were 
 killed and wounded. This, together with our ministry 
 to many of these men, was an experience never to be 
 forgotten. I later became familiar with every foot of 
 this ground when, in 1864, I occupied this region with 
 my Auxiliary Corps of the Sanitary Commission after 
 the battle of the Wilderness. 
 
 That night, while in my tent in a belt of woods near 
 Lacy House, I heard the tramp of soldiers, moving in 
 masses, marching by, and hailed them, and asked where 
 they were going. " Going back," they replied. "Who is 
 going back?" "The whole army is going back," they 
 answered; and it was then that I realized that we had 
 been defeated. 
 
 But we must give here a brief account of the battle. 
 The pontoon bridge was laid on the morning of the 
 eleventh of December. Forty-eight hours had passed in 
 preparation for the attack upon Lee's defences. 
 
 The nature of the ground indicated that the main 
 attack should be made on the left, below Fredericks- 
 burg, where there was room to deploy out of hostile range, 
 whereas the plain behind Fredericksburg and below the 
 terraced heights held by Lee's army was restricted, and 
 badly cut up by ditches, fences, and a canal, and was 
 directly in front of those formidable works which looked 
 down in grim irony on all attempts at direct assault. 
 General Burnside's plan conformed to these conditions, 
 and he so instructed both Franklin and Sumner, his two 
 commanders, but, after these officers had made their 
 dispositions, Burnside changed his plan and determined 
 to fight on another. We do not need to follow in detail 
 the confusions which came upon this chess-board.* 
 
 The morning of the thirteenth of December found the 
 sun struggling with a thick haze that covered everything, 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, p. 246. 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 59 
 
 and delayed for some hours the impending battle; but 
 towards ten o'clock the lifting fog revealed Franklin 
 spread out on the plain, showing the gleaming bayonets 
 of a column advancing to the attack. It was not long 
 before the heavy fighting began, the Confederate guns 
 concealed in the woods being silent until the Union forces 
 were in point-blank range, when they opened and poured 
 shell and canister upon them. The Confederates shat- 
 tered Meade's line with a loss of forty per cent, of his 
 force, while Reynolds lost four thousand of his support- 
 ing force. 
 
 Meanwhile Longstreet held his position along the stone 
 wall and rifle trenches of the telegraph road at the foot of 
 Marye's Heights. The whole plain in front of him was 
 swept by a direct and converging fire from the batteries 
 on the semicircle crest above; but under Burnside's 
 orders there was nothing left to do but to assail this 
 position. Division after division was thrown forward, 
 and cross-fires of shot and shell opened great gaps in the 
 advancing ranks; but, "closing up," the ever-thinning 
 lines pressed on, but fell back amid the shouts and yells 
 of the enemy, with losses of near half their number. 
 Hancock then advanced under the same terrific fire, got 
 nearer his goal, but his men were forced back after fifteen 
 immortal minutes, losing two thousand of the five thou- 
 sand he led into that charge, and it was found that the 
 bravest of these had thrown up their hands and lay dead 
 within five-and-twenty paces of the stone wall.* 
 
 It was in this charge that the noble Major Sidney 
 Willard of Boston, in command of the 35th regiment, 
 already spoken of, led his men into this valley of the 
 shadow of death. Waving his sword and leading the 
 charge, he fell, and, when his companions went to his 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, pp. 250-252. 
 
60 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 side, he murmured, "Tell them I tried to do my duty to 
 my country." 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Burnside realized the 
 bloody sequence to which he was committing himself 
 when he ordered a division to assail the heights of Fred- 
 ericksburg; but, having failed in the first attempt, there 
 grew up in his mind something akin to desperation. 
 Walking restlessly up and down the heights above the 
 banks of the Rappahannock and gazing at the rebel 
 position beyond the town, he exclaimed vehemently, 
 "That crest must be carried to-night." After failing in 
 three assaults, he ordered Hooker in desperation to make 
 a fourth. Hooker went forward to reconnoitre, but, seeing 
 its hopelessness, begged him to desist; but Burnside in- 
 sisted. Batteries were brought up to breach the works, 
 and four thousand men went forward to a fourth attack, 
 but were thrown swiftly back, leaving seventeen hundred 
 of their number on the field, and the winter's day closed 
 with thousands left dead or wounded before Longstreet 
 on the left and Stonewall Jackson on the right of that 
 position.* 
 
 In the night the aurora which flamed brilliantly over 
 the northern sky looked down on the scene which has 
 been thus described : f — 
 
 Elsewhere the sky was dark, intensely clear, the winter 
 stars like diamonds. There was no wind. The wide un- 
 sheltered plain was sown thick with men who had dropped 
 from the ranks, their marchings and tentings and their 
 battles over. They lay here now stark and pale, but on 
 the plain of Fredericksburg many and many were not 
 dead and resting. Hundreds lay there, and could not 
 rest for mortal anguish. They waved a hat or sword or 
 empty hand for help and all in vain; and those who could 
 not lift their voices moaned and sent up their prayers to 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, pp. 250-252. 
 f The Long Roll, Mary Johnston, p. 650. 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 61 
 
 the silent heavens. Some had grown delirious, and upon 
 that plain there was even laughter. All the various 
 notes, taken together, blended into one long, dreary, 
 weird, and awful sound, steady as a wind in miles of 
 frozen weeds. . . . All through the night there streamed 
 the boreal lights. The living and the dying, the ruined 
 town, the plain, the hills, the river, lay beneath. The 
 blue army slept and waked, the gray army slept and 
 waked, and for two days lay there resting; the third 
 night, in storm, in howling wind and driving rain and 
 sleet, the Army of the Potomac, grand division by grand 
 division, recrossed the Rappahannock. 
 
 General Lee was unaware of the extent of the disaster 
 to the Union army, and, expecting an hourly renewal of 
 the contest, refrained from assuming the offensive until 
 it was too late. His enemy had been withdrawn. The 
 loss on the Union side was twelve thousand in killed, 
 wounded, and missing, — a tragic ending of the campaign. 
 
 In anticipation of the battle the Medical Department 
 had made ample preparation for the wounded. Eighteen 
 field hospitals had been established, with a perfect sys- 
 tem for their removal from the field. This was accom- 
 plished without confusion, and such was the energy with 
 which it was carried out that, when Burnside withdrew 
 his army from the city on the third day after the battle, 
 every man that could be found was either on his way to 
 Washington or was well cared for in the temporary hos- 
 pitals in the rear of our lines. 
 
 With the thousands of men to be removed either on 
 foot or in ambulances from so extended a line of battle, 
 it seems incredible that it should have been accomplished 
 so speedily, when one considers the long distances to be 
 covered in the search for these men in scattered cabins 
 and farm buildings, and in all the nooks and corners of 
 
62 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 the city of Fredericksburg, and in the face of an alert 
 and watchful enemy. 
 
 While the field hospitals remained in operation, Mr. 
 Fay kept at work through the freezing weather, living 
 in a tent without a fire, and subject to all the ex- 
 posures of an inclement season. It was winter and 
 extremely cold, and, as there were no stoves, there 
 was great suffering in the hospitals. Bricks, however, 
 were heated in open fires, and proved a good sub- 
 stitute in the wards. Mr. Fay wrote: "At this time 
 I seemed to be everything to everybody. I was called 
 chaplain, surgeon, nurse, and major, but no title was 
 needed to characterize the range of my duties." He 
 might also have been called the "Hospital Directory," 
 for it was his custom to make a record of the names and 
 home addresses of all wounded soldiers with whom he 
 came in contact, and was the source of knowledge con- 
 cerning them. Far into the night, when his work was 
 done in the hospital, he was sending forward to their 
 families the last messages of these men. In hundreds 
 of cases these careful records, maintained through the 
 war, proved of inestimable value, as they told the last 
 story of one and another poor fellow whose fate would 
 never have been kjiown and who would otherwise have 
 gone down into a nameless grave. 
 
 During the campaign Mr. Fay had been re-elected 
 Mayor of Chelsea, and returned home in December to 
 prepare his address and make ready for his inaugura- 
 tion. 
 
 After so disastrous a campaign it can be readily under- 
 stood that great despondency in the army followed. De- 
 sertions increased, and for the first time in its history it 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 63 
 
 could be said to be demoralized. Confidence in Burn- 
 side's ability to lead such an army was destroyed, and 
 this feeling existed not only among his general officers, 
 but all through the rank and file. After a few weeks 
 this sentiment became so strong that it was carried up 
 to Washington. Burnside resigned, and General Hooker 
 was placed in command. 
 
 THE CAMPAIGN OF CHANCELLORSVILLE. 
 
 Under General Hooker, who in many conflicts had 
 gained great popularity through the country and was 
 known familiarly as "Fighting Joe," the army recovered 
 from its depression, regained its old spirit and courage, 
 and by the close of April, 1863, had reached a high degree 
 of efficiency. His army had been increased to one hun- 
 dred and twenty thousand men, including a cavalry force 
 of twelve thousand horses, and was ready for another 
 contest. The rolls of Lee's army showed on the first 
 of April a total of sixty thousand effective men, and it 
 remains to be seen what these two generals did with 
 their respective forces. 
 
 Hooker planned to place his main army on the south 
 side of the Rappahannock, twenty-five miles above 
 Fredericksburg, towards Chancellorsville, and to mask 
 this movement by throwing a very considerable force 
 across the river below that city, to menace Lee's position 
 there, compelling him to abandon it, while at the same 
 time he prepared a powerful cavalry column to operate 
 on his lines of communication with Richmond. This 
 was a great plan, and promised success. But General 
 Lee had not been idle through the winter, and had practi- 
 
64 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 cally covered all the fords of the river for a length of 
 twenty-five miles, occupied every advantageous position 
 and hillside with formidable works for his artillery, and 
 felt secure, knowing his ability to mass his forces quickly 
 at any given point. 
 
 Hooker's movement, Swinton says, "in throwing his 
 main army across the river above the points where 
 it was guarded, and the remarkable success attending 
 it, of which Lee did not become aware until the Rappa- 
 hannock had been crossed, were the result of a secrecy 
 and celerity of march new to the Army of the Potomac." 
 He adds: "To have marched a column of fifty thousand 
 men, laden [each] with sixty pounds of baggage, and en- 
 cumbered with artillery and transportation, thirty-seven 
 miles in two days; to have bridged two streams guarded 
 by a vigilant enemy, with the loss of half a dozen men, 
 one wagon, and two mules, is an achievement which has 
 few parallels, and which deserves to rank with Prince 
 Eugene's famous passage of the Adige. The success of 
 this movement inspired the army, and greatly elated its 
 commander, and there was much to justify jubilant 
 expectation, for, of the two lines of retreat open to Lee, 
 Hooker had laid hold of that by Gordonsville and 
 threatened that by Richmond. The bright promise 
 of these operations was clouded by but one fact, — the 
 cavalry column which was to cut Lee's communications 
 with Richmond had been delayed by the rise of the 
 Rappahannock, and could not at the proper moment 
 co-operate with Hooker as he had planned." * 
 
 All went well with Hooker's column so far. But, 
 starting on an offensive campaign, he suddenly changed 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, pp. 278-280. 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 65 
 
 it to a defensive one, and this was his grave error. He 
 had reached his objective point, he had surprised his 
 enemy, who had but a mere handful of a division in his 
 front, and then, if ever, he should have moved forward. 
 But at that point he failed, began to intrench, and his 
 delay of forty-eight hours gave Lee his opportunity, 
 and he used it well. 
 
 The real character of the movement which had been 
 so well concealed became apparent to Lee, who, with 
 instant perception of the situation, now seized the masses 
 of his force, and with the grasp of a Titan swung them 
 into position, as a giant might fling a mighty stone from 
 a sling. Holding the Heights of Fredericksburg firmly, 
 the rest of his army was put in motion towards Chancel- 
 lorsville to meet Hooker. Hooker held, although not 
 in great force, a ridge commanding Chancellorsville, 
 which was vital to him, but lost it, the very position Lee 
 was contending for. It might have been regained, but 
 at this juncture his three columns had orders to with- 
 draw. His commanders, with amazement at this order, 
 sent to beg Hooker to push his army forward and hold 
 the position they had gained, but it was of no avail, and 
 he threw away the initiative with all its mighty gains 
 and far-reaching hopes. Up to the moment of meeting 
 his enemy, he showed a master grasp of the elements of 
 war, but then there seemed to be a collapse of his powers 
 and he was unequal to the emergencies that rapidly fol- 
 lowed. His line of battle was some five miles in length 
 at Chancellorsville, with the thickets of the Wilderness 
 all around him, and he determined to fight a defensive 
 battle. His position was a menacing one to Lee, and it 
 was unassailable by direct attack, but Lee and Jackson 
 together were equal to their emergency. Jackson pro- 
 posed in council to execute a movement on a grander 
 scale than he had ever attempted before, and deal one 
 of those sudden and mortal blows on his enemies' rear 
 that he had successfully carried out in former cam- 
 paigns, and this was ordered. The plan was skilfully 
 
66 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 masked and carried out, and Jackson's three divisions of 
 twenty-two thousand men burst with resistless force upon 
 the rear of the Union army. Brigade after brigade, sur- 
 prised, broke and fled. The confused mass overran the 
 next division, which compelled it to give way, and the 
 whole 11th corps was soon in rout. Lee at the same 
 moment was delivering mortal blows at Hooker's left 
 and centre, and the open plain around Chancellorsville 
 was like a simoon sweeping over a desert. A rushing 
 whirlwind of men and artillery and wagons swept down 
 the road, past headquarters and on toward the fords of 
 the Rappahannock. Hooker, flaming out with his old 
 fire, called for his old division, and the torrent was stayed. 
 Jackson, quick to perceive the necessity of a final blow, 
 went forward to reconnoitre. He went with his staff 
 too far, and into the enemy's lines, and on returning 
 through the darkness was mortally wounded by a volley 
 from his own men, who mistook his escort for a body of 
 Federal cavalry. He died at the end of a week. He 
 was one of the greatest leaders on the field of battle, and 
 his loss was a serious disaster to the Confederate army 
 and the Confederate cause. 
 
 But the battle was not yet lost, as there were two more 
 days of fighting. Sedgwick with his corps three miles 
 below Fredericksburg had been ordered to rejoin the main 
 army, and met the Confederates strongly intrenched on 
 Marye's Heights. He captured this position after a 
 severe conflict which cost him five thousand men. Ad- 
 vancing then towards Chancellorsville, and in Lee's 
 rear, he was checked by that commander, who faced 
 about to meet him, and then turned back again to con- 
 front Hooker, delivering heavy blows at his position at 
 Chancellor House, around which the battle raged. At this 
 point in the battle, General Hooker was thrown down by 
 the concussion of a shell that struck one of the pillars 
 of that house, on the balcony of which he was stand- 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 67 
 
 ing. This prostrated him for a time. "The corps com- 
 manders had already seen that it was only a question 
 now of saving the honor of the army, as it was in effect 
 without a head. Hooker had resolved to retire, and 
 seemed incapable of other resolve." * 
 
 On the fourth of May both armies were in deadlock. 
 Hooker had a strong defensive position, and Lee felt 
 unable to attack with less than his whole force, which 
 could not be brought into action while Sedgwick was in 
 his rear. While Sedgwick was able to hold his own, he 
 was not able to advance. Lee tried to cut the knot, but 
 was not able. On the following night Sedgwick withdrew 
 across the Rappahannock River, and the same night 
 Hooker, in spite of the protests of his corps commanders, 
 determined to retire also, and in the midst of a night as 
 gloomy as the mood of the army the troops filed across 
 to the north bank, and the campaign ended by the return 
 of the army to the old position it occupied previous to the 
 ill-fated movement. 
 
 Swinton remarks "that it was not the Army of the 
 Potomac that was defeated, but its commander, and the 
 rank and file were puzzled at the result of a battle in which 
 they had been made to retreat without the consciousness 
 of having been defeated." The Confederate loss was 
 13,000 men, including prisoners. On the Union side the 
 losses were 17,000 killed, wounded, and missing. The 
 army left behind its wounded, 14 pieces of artillery, and 
 20,000 stand of arms. 
 
 In the emergencies of this short and disastrous campaign 
 neither the Sanitary Commission nor Mr. Fay could do 
 much to relieve the suffering on the field of Chancellors- 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, p. 293. 
 
68 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 ville. It was practically out of their hands. Permission 
 had been given, but afterwards withdrawn, for the move- 
 ment of supplies across the river, because of the already 
 overloaded transportation of the army, and consequently 
 the situation of our wounded over many square miles of 
 the battlefield was most deplorable. There were field 
 hospitals in rear of the lines of battle, but the sudden and 
 disastrous issue of the conflict forced the abandonment 
 of large numbers of our men, who were left to suffer and 
 die in the enemy's hands, whose means of alleviation 
 were already overtaxed by the care of their own wounded. 
 Our crowded field hospitals in charge of medical officers, 
 besides thousands of men outside of them, were left 
 behind, to be removed a few days later under flag of 
 truce; and they were so removed after a correspondence 
 between the two commanding generals. 
 
 Reference has been made to the severe conflicts near 
 Fredericksburg and at Marye's Heights by Sedgwick's 
 corps, where the losses were some five thousand men. 
 Our forces held the city at this time, and Mr. Fay moved 
 with his ambulance of stores into the town, and continued 
 his work there till its abandonment by our forces. His 
 record of this experience is meagre, but we quote it 
 here : — 
 
 Rev. William H. Channing was with us there, receiving 
 and working among the wounded who were brought into 
 the city from the conflicts on the Heights. Late one 
 night we all went out some distance from the town to 
 aid large numbers who were being brought in from the 
 field, who would otherwise have been unattended. 
 
 Their wounds were dressed, and they were supplied with 
 milk punch and nourishing food, and, as we returned long 
 after midnight, an old negro woman, who had seen us 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 69 
 
 at work there, begged us to come to her house and rest. 
 She was most hospitable and kind. The next morning 
 we took possession of the mayor's house, and prepared 
 the stimulants and food for the wounded in a church 
 near by. While engaged in our work here, it was reported 
 that the enemy were swarming into the town, as our forces 
 had abandoned it, and we were practically alone, and 
 liable at any moment to be captured. We soon saw 
 batteries of artillery and other vehicles moving rapidly 
 down hill from the direction of Marye's Heights, and 
 knew that it was time to leave. We placed all our stores 
 in the church where we had been working, and went 
 rapidly to the river and crossed the pontoons safely to 
 the other side. We met our old friend Dr. Welling at 
 this point, who was in charge of the hospitals at Potomac 
 Creek, which were filled with the wounded from this en- 
 gagement, and established ourselves there, continuing 
 our absorbing work until the wounded were transferred 
 to Washington. 
 
 At this time I made efforts to get a good supply of 
 vegetables for the soldiers, of which they were in great 
 need. General Hooker had introduced soft bread into 
 the army ration, but there was nothing else in this form 
 but desiccated vegetables, and there was more or less 
 scurvy among the troops. I offered to supply the Medi- 
 cal Director with all the fresh vegetables he might need, 
 if he would secure the transportation, knowing that I 
 could induce the people of New England to send cargoes 
 down to the base of the army. But he preferred corn- 
 meal, and my effort failed. Later the suggestion was 
 acted upon by the Sanitary Commission, which supplied 
 the army with great stores of anti-scorbutics as they 
 were needed. 
 
 At this Potomac Creek hospital we had a German by 
 the name of "Silers," who was a comical genius, and 
 Veazie also, a droll countryman of ours, and they kept 
 our quarters in good humor in spite of its many distress- 
 ing scenes. Our cook in the special diet kitchen was a 
 negro, and very religious, and was much concerned about 
 the future state of the poor fellows who were dying all 
 around us. One day, as Miss Gilson came into the 
 kitchen from the wards, she said that Captain Smith had 
 
70 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 died, an officer well known to us all. He was a good 
 officer and a good man. The cook was much troubled 
 about his spiritual state, and asked if he was a Christian. 
 She replied that she never asked that question. "I do 
 what I can for them. I care for them, I pray with them, 
 I sing to them, I work for them and feed them, and think 
 I need do no more." Veazie, standing near by, said: 
 "Do you know what I think when a soldier dies? I 
 think the Lord snatches him up so quick that the devil 
 can't get hold of him." 
 
 At that time we had several barrels of porter sent 
 down to us from Philadelphia. We buried all but one 
 to keep them cool. One was on tap, and, while Veazie 
 was in the tent, the bung came out, and, as the most con- 
 venient way to stop the overflow, he sat upon the bung- 
 hole, but the beer still escaped around him in foam, 
 which was a comical sight. 
 
 While here, General Hooker and some of his staff dined 
 with us, and it is but justice to him, considering the 
 charges that were rife about his habits at that time, to 
 say that he drank nothing at our table that day. 
 
 After the battle of Chancellorsville it became evident 
 that General Lee would not long remain inactive, as he 
 never failed to seize an opportunity for an offensive 
 movement against his enemy. There was, therefore, 
 great activity in every department of the army in prep- 
 aration for another campaign which would be sure to 
 follow. The army was recovering its old spirit and was 
 gradually placed in position to cover the approaches to 
 Washington, while the cavalry was thrown out to feel 
 towards the passes of the Blue Ridge. 
 
 The wounded were removed to Washington, the hos- 
 pitals about Aquia Creek were closed, and Mr. Fay re- 
 turned home to look after the city administration. He 
 found municipal affairs in good condition, and well 
 
FREDERICKSBURG AND CHANCELLORSVILLE 71 
 
 managed under the usual committees, and, more than all, 
 the people were satisfied. To avoid cause for criticism 
 at his long absences, he declined a re-election at the end of 
 1862, but there was a unanimous expression of the wish 
 that he should remain in office, as he was their war mayor 
 and was meeting all the requirements of his position. 
 
 He had not been long at home before the clouds of 
 another great campaign burst upon Washington, in 
 General Lee's second invasion of the North, and Mr. 
 Fay made ready for the Gettysburg campaign of June and 
 July, 1863. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Gettysburg. 
 
 I had been at home but a short time when the papers 
 announced that the sick and wounded from Chancellors- 
 ville had been removed to Washington. I knew that 
 meant a movement of the army, and that I ought to be 
 there. I was getting ready, when a despatch came from 
 Miss Gilson, saying: "Changes. When are you coming?" 
 It had been discovered that General Lee was on his way 
 north with his army, and that the Army of the Potomac 
 must pursue. Our hospital supplies had been hurriedly 
 packed and sent on barges up the Potomac to Alexandria. 
 The surgeons and Miss Gilson had started June sixteen 
 on horseback, and, passing through Washington, had gone 
 on to meet the army at Manassas Junction. On my 
 arrival at Washington I went to Alexandria to see if I 
 could trace the supplies, but found they had been sent 
 forward. By the kindness of a surgeon I obtained a 
 pass in an ambulance to the field. The next morning I 
 found that the larger part of our stores had been used 
 on the way by the men in charge, and it was inexpedient 
 for us to go on with the army empty-handed. I there- 
 fore decided to return to Washington to obtain a new 
 supply. This was a great disappointment to Miss Gil- 
 son, who was anxious to be present at the time of the 
 battle, which was daily expected. She knew she could 
 be useful among the wounded, as she had become skilful 
 in surgical dressing and in the preparation of special 
 diet. She shed some tears at my decision, but yielded 
 to the apparent necessity. We took our ambulance and 
 personal baggage and started for Washington. The 
 guerillas were scouring the country, and we could not 
 reach our destination that night, but stayed at a little 
 wayside hotel where the rebels had rested, and spent 
 part of that day. I locked Miss Gilson into a room, and 
 
 72 
 
GETTYSBURG 73 
 
 slept myself over the bar-room where there was carous- 
 ing all night. We reached Washington the next morn- 
 ing, remained several days, hearing rumors of battles 
 which did not take place. Manoeuvring on a grand 
 scale was going forward by both armies, while both were 
 rushing onward toward some unknown point of con- 
 flict. We waited developments, and in the mean time 
 secured supplies and obtained transportation for them 
 on a freight train to Baltimore. The Sanitary Com- 
 mission then filled my car with additional stores, and sent 
 Mr. William A. Hovey, of the office staff, with them to 
 see to their disposition. I finally became satisfied that 
 the conflict would be in Pennsylvania, and made my 
 plans accordingly. 
 
 This forecast was correct, as we shall see in the follow- 
 ing brief review of Lee's movement in that great cam- 
 paign. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac had twice been driven back 
 defeated in its attempt to cross the Rappahannock at 
 Fredericksburg, and these defeats had raised the spirits 
 of the Confederates to the highest pitch. After the defeat 
 at Chancellors ville, as we have seen, the Federal troops 
 were despondent, and besides were meeting with serious 
 losses by the retirement of the short-term men whose time 
 of service had expired. Lee's army, on the contrary, was 
 being strengthened by conscription in the South, and had 
 been largely re-enforced by two divisions of Longstreet's 
 corps, which had been operating elsewhere. The con- 
 ditions in the Army of the Potomac were perfectly well 
 understood by General Lee: they opened the way to 
 him for another invasion of Maryland and Pennsylvania, 
 and he promptly took advantage of them. This move- 
 ment was well under way before the meaning of it became 
 clear, and, when it did become known, Lee's advance was 
 
74 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 far north in the vicinity of Winchester, having marched 
 seventy miles in three days. His line extended upwards 
 of a hundred miles at that time. Hooker, held back by 
 General Ilallcck in Washington, finally started in pursuit, 
 moving his army to cover the capital. But finding him- 
 self deprived of his freedom in action, and embarrassed 
 by the delaying tactics of his superior officer, he resigned, 
 and General George G. Meade was appointed in his place, 
 and was given absolutely a free hand. The forward move- 
 ment of the army went on, as if no change of com- 
 manders had occurred. Lee's advance had already moved 
 into Pennsylvania, and swept everything before it. Sub- 
 sistence was levied on the rich farms of the country, and 
 herds of horses and cattle were sent southward, and for a 
 time Lee appeared to be master of the situation. 
 
 The concentration of both armies was gradually made 
 on Gettysburg, a great natural battlefield, and here the 
 decisive battle was fought. Meade proved to be a great 
 tactician. Having an interior line, he was able to menace 
 Lee, while at the same time he was so disposing his army 
 as to be ready to confront his enemy wherever he might 
 concentrate. Both armies were finally brought into 
 line at the then obscure hamlet of Gettysburg, which 
 proved to be the scene of one of the mightiest encounters 
 of modern times. 
 
 It was the turning-point of the war, and this series of 
 notes from Mr. Fay's papers would not be complete 
 without some account of it. The most vivid, complete, 
 and comprehensive narrative of the battle in our literature 
 is one that was recently made public. It was written a 
 few days after the battle by Colonel Frank Aretas Haskell 
 of General Gibbon's stall', whose position as adjutant- 
 
GETTYSBURG 75 
 
 general in the 2d corps gave him unequalled opportunity 
 for observation of many parts of that field, and we shall 
 draw briefly from this privately printed narrative. 
 
 The battle began on the first day of July, 1863, before 
 the Army of the Potomac had reached the field, and was 
 sustained on that day by the 1st corps and two divi- 
 sions of the 11th corps and Buford's cavalry, and these 
 fragments of the army faced the overwhelming numbers 
 of the enemy which had first arrived on the field and had 
 taken their positions on a series of ridges beyond and 
 north of the town, and commanding it. The Federals 
 had withstood the Confederates through the day of heavy 
 fighting most gallantly, but were forced back in some 
 disorder in the afternoon. Hut General Hancock's arri- 
 val at this moment on the field, with his staff, had given 
 a great re-enforcement of strength and courage, and the 
 shattered brigades were reformed and took new positions 
 on Cemetery Ridge, south of the town, which they held, 
 and which proved later to be the centre of the great 
 defensive line. This ended the first day's battle. Our 
 losses were about ten thousand men, and this was not 
 reassuring, but the rest of 1 he army was at hand. Genera] 
 Meade reached the field in the late afternoon, and saw 
 at once that a strong defensive position had been secured, 
 and concentrated his army about it. Our line was in the 
 form of a semicircle bending outward, of a length of four 
 or five miles from Round Top on our left, along a series 
 of ridges to Gulp's Hill on our right. General Lee's 
 position was on a great semicircular line facing inward, 
 its two wings embracing ours. 
 
 It appears thai General Lee had promised his corps 
 commanders that he would not assume the offensive, 
 
76 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 but let his enemies come out and attack him. But, as 
 Swinton says in his Campaigns of the Army of the Potomac, 
 "after the first day's conflict, with his entire army well 
 in hand, he determined to give battle, and such was the 
 contempt of its opponents engendered by Fredericksburg 
 and Chancellorsville that there was not in his ranks a 
 barefoot soldier in tattered gray but believed that Lee 
 would lead his army into Baltimore and Washington, if 
 not into Philadelphia and New York." 
 
 " General Meade's final dispositions for battle were made 
 before eight o'clock the next morning. The artillery was 
 placed in its positions, the ammunition brought up, and 
 the line made ready for the conflict. The morning was 
 thick and sultry, the sky overcast with low vapory 
 clouds. The men looked like giants there in the mist, 
 and the guns of the frowning batteries seemed so big that 
 it was a relief to know that they were our friends." 
 
 The two armies were well matched in numbers, about 
 one hundred thousand men in each, and in artillery also, 
 a hundred and twenty-five guns in each. The Federal 
 lines were about a mile and a half from those of the enemy, 
 with a great plain lying between them, broken somewhat 
 by two low ridges, with farms of wheat, with grass and 
 pastures and peach orchards and fields of waving corn; 
 and this was the battlefield of Gettysburg. 
 
 The second day's battle did not begin till afternoon, 
 when General Sickles of the 3d corps, without orders, 
 on his own initiative, moved his forces forward a thousand 
 yards to command a ridge that he thought he should 
 occupy. This movement was unexpected and unau- 
 thorized, and was a mistake, but, having been made, it 
 had to be sustained by heavy columns of re-enforcements, 
 
GETTYSBURG 77 
 
 as our whole left was threatened. To lose that com- 
 manding position of Round Top would put the entire 
 army in peril, and it had to be saved. The great battle 
 of Gettysburg on the second day was fought over this 
 extended line, and involved most of the corps of both 
 armies. 
 
 Colonel Haskell's narrative is as follows: — 
 
 The infantry of Longstreet and Hill came sweeping 
 down on Sickles's front and enveloped his flank, sweeping 
 it back after heavy fighting, which involved in succession 
 our 3d, 5th, 2d, 6th, and 12th corps. The battle raged 
 fiercely and continuously for hours all along our left 
 and up the rock-ribbed slopes of Round Top with various 
 fortunes, until the blunder of Sickles was repaired and 
 the old lines were re-established. 
 
 Brigade after brigade of the enemy was thrown forward. 
 The whole slope of Round Top is full of them in masses 
 rushing toward our crest, which is aflame with the fire of 
 our infantry and artillery. It is terrific, and it is a 
 wonder how anything human can stand before it, and yet 
 the madness of the enemy drove them on clear up to 
 the muzzles of the guns, close up to the lines of our in- 
 fantry; but our line stood firm. Such fighting cannot 
 last long. It has gone on wonderfully long already. 
 But, if we stop to notice it, the rebel cry has ceased. The 
 Union lines advance. The rebels are breaking! They 
 are in confusion in all our front. The wave has rolled 
 upon the rock, and the rock has smashed it. They broke 
 when they had almost pierced our lines, and the whole 
 front, in spite of waving flags, and yells and the entreaties 
 of officers, and the pride of chivalry, fled like chaff before 
 the whirlwind, back down the slope, over the valley, 
 shattered, without organization, fugitive into the woods, 
 and victory was with the Republic. Our left on the 
 line of battle was secure. And how look those fields, 
 the ripening grain, the corn, the orchards, the grassy 
 meadows, and in their midst the rural cottage of brick or 
 wood? They were beautiful this morning. They are 
 desolate now, trampled by the countless feet of the 
 
78 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 combatants, ploughed and scarred by shot and shell, 
 the orchards splintered, the fences prostrate, the harvests 
 trodden in the mud. And more dreadful than the sight 
 of all this, thickly strewn over all their length and breadth, 
 are the habiliments of the soldier, — the knapsacks and 
 the haversacks yawning with the rations the owner will 
 never call for; canteens of cedar and of cloth-covered tin; 
 blankets and trousers, overcoats and caps, and some are 
 blue and some are gray; muskets and ramrods, and bay- 
 onets and swords, and scabbards and belts, some bent and 
 cut by shot and shell; broken wheels, exploded caissons, 
 and limber boxes and dismantled guns; and all these 
 were sprinkled with blood, horses, a mangled heap of 
 carnage, and last, but not least numerous, many thou- 
 sands of men. And there was no rebellion here now, — 
 the men of South Carolina were quiet by the side of those 
 from Massachusetts, with upturned faces, sleeping the 
 last sleep, with many wounded lying by their side, still 
 survivors of the rage of Gettysburg. Yet, with all this 
 before them as darkness came on, and new dispositions 
 were made, the Army of the Potomac was quite mad 
 with joy. No more light-hearted guests at a banquet 
 than were these men as they boil their coffee or munch 
 their soldier's supper to-night. And such sights as these 
 will be so long as war lasts upon the earth. 
 
 But this did not end the battle on the second day. 
 Our right had been weakened to re-enforce our left, and, 
 before the 12th corps could be brought back to defend 
 its old position on Culp's Hill, the enemy determined to 
 crush that line and double up that wing of our army. 
 General Ewell had sworn an oath to do this, and in the 
 late afternoon, before the conflict at Round Top was over, 
 he suddenly burst upon this weakened line, and thrust 
 his forces within our breastworks and held his position 
 there during the night, awaiting General Lee's re-enforce- 
 ments in the morning. The 11th and part of the 1st 
 corps were thrown into the battle to check the Confed- 
 
GETTYSBURG 79 
 
 erates, and the fighting was most severe. Culp's Hill 
 is densely wooded, a precipitous, rocky defile, a natural 
 fortress, and was strengthened along its entire crest by 
 heavily timbered breastworks thrown up the night 
 before. The old 12th corps now reached the field and 
 prevented farther breach of our lines, which were held 
 safely through the night. 
 
 General Lee had thus directed his attack upon both 
 flanks of our army. He expected to carry one of them 
 the next day, and made his dispositions to drive Ewell's 
 wedge in farther, and so dislodge and double up his 
 enemy. But General Meade checkmated him by assum- 
 ing the offensive before Ewell could be re-enforced, hav- 
 ing brought powerful batteries to bear during the night, 
 which opened a frightful fire at four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. The Confederates lost their hold, still fighting for 
 hours behind rocks and trees, until they were finally 
 repulsed and driven from our lines, which were then re- 
 established. Their dead and wounded were thick all 
 over the slopes of this long ridge. The forest trees were 
 almost literally stripped some fifteen or twenty feet up 
 from the ground, so thick upon them were the scars the 
 bullets had made. Upon single trees not eighteen inches 
 in diameter one could count two hundred and fifty bul- 
 let-holes. These perforations told the story of the hail- 
 storm of lead that swept through these dark recesses. 
 After the battle, all through these bullet-stormed woods 
 were interspersed little patches of earth raised a foot or so 
 above the ground, and near by upon a tree whose bark 
 had been smoothed by an axe, written in red chalk, would 
 be the words "75 Rebils beried hear" and "54 rebs there," 
 etc. Such were the marks of conflict in these woods when 
 
80 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 the writer passed through them some weeks afterwards. 
 
 The Federal losses during the two days' fighting had 
 already reaehed the frightful aggregate of more than 
 twenty thousand in killed, wounded, and missing, and the 
 battle was as yet undecided. Both the efforts of General 
 Lee to turn the flanks of the army had failed, and there 
 remained nothing for him to do but to assault the centre of 
 our lines. He had gained nothing up to this time, his 
 losses were even heavier than ours, and he was less san- 
 guine of success. His hope now lay in his artillery. 
 Colonel Haskell resumes his narrative: — 
 
 During the night the lines of the Union army were re- 
 formed and made ready for the renewal of the conflict 
 on the next day, the third of July. The disabled batteries 
 were replaced and well braced up with guns, wherever 
 there were eligible places, from the artillery reserve. It 
 was half-past one before a sound of musket or gun was 
 heard upon the field. For hours an ominous stillness 
 had rested upon it. Immediately after the sharp sound 
 of one of the enemy's guns struck our ears. It was the 
 signal-gun for the opening of the battle. In a moment 
 the whole rebel line was pouring out its thunder and its 
 iron on our devoted crest all over the centre of our posi- 
 tion. The mighty din that now rises to heaven and shakes 
 the earth is not all the voice of rebellion, for our guns, the 
 guardian lions of the crest, have opened their fiery jaws 
 in reply. The men of the infantry have seized their arms, 
 and behind every rock and in every ditch they hug the 
 ground, silent, unterrified, little harmed. One hundred 
 and twenty-five guns are now pouring their solid shot 
 and shell on our position, and our batteries of Parrots, 
 Napoleons, and rifled ordnance of an equal number 
 are sending their messages of death onward to the enemy. 
 These guns are great infuriate demons whose mouths 
 blaze with snaky tongues of living fire, and the smoke 
 of Hades. The thunder and lightning of these two 
 hundred and fifty guns are incessant, all-pervading, in 
 
GETTYSBURG 81 
 
 the air above our heads, on the ground at our feet, remote, 
 near, astounding, and these hailstones are massy iron 
 charged with exploding fin-. Our artillery men on the 
 crest budged not an inch, but though caisson and limber 
 mashed, and gun- dismantled, and men and horses 
 killed, they kept on with their tremendous reply. An 
 hour and a half passed, and the firing did not abate. 
 Soon after some signs of weariness appeared, and the 
 fire slackened and by three o'clock ceased. The dead 
 and wounded were lying about; some batteries losl 
 to twenty-five men each, and half their horses, but our 
 infantry in their rifle-pits were unbroken. The em 
 fire was too high, — its purpose had failed. General Lee 
 planned to break or destroy the centre of our line with 
 his artillery, and then pour his masses of infantry upon 
 it, pierce it, and roll it back upon its two win| 
 complete bis victory. But man proposes, and God dis- 
 poses. Silence again fell upon the field, and then i 
 eye could see the- legions of th< . an overwhelming 
 
 tide of armed men, sweeping upon us. We sprang to our 
 saddles, and a dozen bounds brought us to the crest. 
 To jay that none grew pale and held their breath would 
 not be true. There are eighteen thousand in this col- 
 umn, with more than half a mile of front. .More than a 
 thousand yards the dark gray masses deploy, man touch- 
 ing man, rank pressing rank, line supporting line, a 
 forest of flashing steel, and not five minutes' march away! 
 '\ (;<■;.' move as one soul in perfect order, over ridge or wall 
 or stream, through orchard or meadow or corn-field, 
 grim, irresistible. As they approached and drew nearer, 
 our whole- artillery opened upon them with shrapnel and 
 canister bellowing in their faces, until only a hundred 
 yard-, divide our ready left from their advancing right. 
 All was orderly and still upon the- crest as they drew near 
 and we mi de ready for them. Should they pierce our 
 line and become an entering wedge and drive it home, 
 that would sever our arm;.- asunder, and the well-earned 
 fruit- of yesterday would be lost. It was a vital moment 
 for us,- and thm the storm began. Our volleys blaze 
 and roll like an inferno of fire along a thousand yards of 
 front, and the countless level barrels of the enemy blaze 
 ba.ek upon US. Wondering how long the rebel rani:-, 
 
82 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 deep as they were, could stand this fire of infantry and 
 artillery, Webb's brigade suddenly broke at the angle 
 of our crest, and it was lost to us. Our line was melting 
 away. They were already driving their wedge to split 
 it, and were massing their forces there. But Colonel 
 Haskell, acting as a general at that point, brought up 
 Hall's brigade, reformed Webb's broken line, and after 
 long contest the rebel division staggered back, and the 
 crest was safe. But the conflict raged farther down our 
 front, where the enemy were massed, near the apex of 
 the crest, as if a new battle, more deadly than the first, 
 had sprung up from the ground. In the shock and con- 
 fusion of this contest all formations were lost; com- 
 panies, regiments, brigades, are blended and intermixed. 
 The jostling, swaying lines on either side boil and roar 
 and dash their foamy spray, two hostile billows of a 
 fiery ocean. Thick flashes stream from the wall; thick 
 volleys answer from the crest. Individuality is drowned 
 in a sea clamor. The dead and wounded lie where they 
 stagger and fall, and there is no humanity for them now. 
 Now the loyal wave rolls up as if it would overleap its 
 barrier, the crest; and the wave surges back. Again 
 it surges, and again it sinks. The color sergeant of the 
 72d Pennsylvania grasps the stump of the severed lance 
 in both hands, waves the flag, and rushes toward the 
 wall. "Will you see your colors storm the wall alone?" 
 One man only started to follow. Down go color-bearer 
 and color to the ground, the gallant sergeant is dead. 
 But the whole line springs; the crest of the solid ground 
 heaves forward its maddened load, men, arms, smoke, 
 fire, a fighting mass; it rolls to the wall; flash meets 
 flash; the wall is crossed; a moment ensues of thrusts, 
 blows, yells, shots, followed by a shout, universal, that 
 makes the welkin ring again, and the last, bloodiest fight 
 of the great battle of Gettysburg is ended and won. 
 
 Swinton, in his Campaigns of the Army of the Potomac, 
 says : — 
 
 "Whatsoever valor could do to wrest victory from the 
 jaws of hell, that the troops of Pickett's division did, 
 
GETTYSBURG 83 
 
 but at last, almost within the works, they flung them- 
 selves on the ground to escape the withering fire that 
 was pouring into them, and threw up their hands in 
 token of surrender, while the remnant staggered back 
 broken and defeated." 
 
 "Saddest sight of such a field," says Haskell, "were 
 the thick dead of Maine, Minnesota, and Michigan and 
 Massachusetts and the Empire and Keystone States, 
 who, not yet cold, had given their lives' to the country 
 on that stormy field. Sixteen hundred of the enemy lay 
 dead among the trampled grass, and eight thousand 
 wounded are with them in our hands." Their total losses 
 in the three days' battle were estimated at thirty-five 
 thousand men, though the actual figures were never 
 given. Five thousand were buried by our detail after 
 the battle, and there were ten thousand prisoners. Their 
 wounded probably numbered twenty thousand, as they 
 were the attacking force and were frightfully exposed. 
 Our own losses were close to thirty thousand killed, 
 wounded, and missing. 
 
 Oh, sorrowful [writes Colonel Haskell] to see so many 
 wounded. The whole neighborhood in the rear became 
 one vast hospital, miles in extent. Some could walk, 
 others were moved on stretchers, and thence the am- 
 bulances bore them to their destination. At every 
 house, barn, and shed the wounded were laid, by many a 
 cooling brook, by many a grassy hillside the red flags 
 beckoned them to their tented asylums, a great army, 
 a bruised, mutilated mass of humanity. Every con- 
 ceivable wound that iron and lead can make were there. 
 Some have undergone the surgeon's work, some, like men 
 at a ticket-office, awaiting their turn. Some walk about 
 with an arm in a sling, some prone upon the ground. 
 From a small round hole upon many a breast the red 
 blood trickles, but the pallid cheek and the hard-drawn 
 
84 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 breath and dim-closed eyes tell how near the source of 
 life the bullet had gone. The surgeons with coats off 
 and sleeves rolled up, and their attendants with green 
 bands upon their coats, are all at work, and their story 
 need not be told. Near by appears a row of small fresh 
 mounds placed side by side. They were not there day 
 before yesterday, they will become more numerous every 
 day. Such things I saw as I rode along. 
 
 General Lee retired into Virginia with his defeated 
 army. It was several days before Meade could follow 
 in force. The Union army was worn down with four 
 weeks of marching and fighting. It was diminished by 
 heavy losses, by sickness and prostration. The enemy 
 was somewhere in its front strongly placed in defensive 
 positions, their main body concealed, protected by rifle- 
 pits, and could confidently await attack until they could 
 safely cross the Potomac into Virginia. When General 
 Meade was ready, he moved, and struck their rear-guard 
 as the main body were crossing the river and were mov- 
 ing southward. A long campaign of manoeuvres followed, 
 extending through the rest of the summer of 1863 and 
 the winter of 1864, when both armies again faced each 
 other on the banks of the Rapidan. 
 
 We have followed, perhaps, in too great detail this 
 series of conflicts on the field of Gettysburg. But let it 
 not be forgotten that these first three days of July, 1863, 
 were the most momentous of the war. During this time 
 the life of the nation hung upon a thread. The capture 
 of Washington and an unchecked invasion of the North 
 would have followed Confederate success on that field. 
 In those dark days of the war, who could have foretold 
 the results of such a catastrophe? It may not be in 
 vain, therefore, that these pictures are given here of 
 
GETTYSBURG 85 
 
 heroic struggle at the cannon's mouth, in fire and flame 
 and smoke, with the uncounted dead scattered over six 
 miles of the field of battle, that those of another genera- 
 tion who may read the story may catch the spirit of the 
 men who stood fast on the rocky summits of Gettysburg, 
 and offered their lives to their country, "that govern- 
 ment of the people, by the people, for the people, shall 
 not perish from the earth." 
 
 Returning now to the battlefield, let us see how it was 
 there after the conflict ended. 
 
 "Thousands of stricken horses still lay scattered as 
 they died. Bent, splintered muskets, rent knapsacks, 
 bruised canteens, shreds of clothing of blue and gray, 
 belts and cartridge-boxes, broken wheels, torn blankets, 
 ammunition boxes, smashed timbers, shattered gun-car- 
 riages, parts of harnesses, — of all that men or horses wear 
 or use in battle were scattered broadcast over miles of 
 the field." It was strewn with the dead from the fast- 
 nesses of Round Top to Culp's Hill, and all along the 
 front of Cemetery Ridge, through Sherfey's peach orchard, 
 the dead angle, and even in the lines of the Confederates 
 about the Seminary, and the ridges and fields and shambles 
 of the first day's conflict. They were temporarily buried 
 where they fell, in trenches or in single graves, and, when 
 the writer passed over the ground some weeks after the 
 battle, the mounds were everywhere, telling the dreadful 
 story of the uncounted dead, friend and foe lying side 
 by side. 
 
 Extraordinary efforts were made by the Sanitary Com- 
 mission to reach the field by the time the battle began. 
 Their wagons accompanied the army, and relief was dis- 
 pensed to wounded men within an hour after their wounds 
 
86 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 were received. Two wagon-loads of supplies were with 
 the headquarters' train, and, as soon as the assault began, 
 these wagons were despatched, under escort and under 
 fire, to the point where the surgeons had established their 
 temporary hospitals, and to which the wounded were 
 brought in in large numbers. As these wagons bearing 
 the familiar inscription, "U. S. San. Com." (always dear 
 to the eyes of sufferers in the army), came in sight, a sur- 
 geon who was standing not five hundred yards in rear of 
 the line of battle, surrounded by sufferers, for whose suc- 
 cor he had exhausted all the means at hand, exclaimed 
 joyfully: "Thank God! here comes the Sanitary Commis- 
 sion. Now we shall be able to do something ." Brandy, 
 beef soup, chloroform, lint, bandages, were all at hand, 
 and saved many lives. The wagons, being emptied, 
 were at once sent back for more supplies, and this was 
 repeated time and time again. These Sanitary Commis- 
 sion wagons always appeared to be ahead of the medical 
 stores, which were often delayed in the overburdened 
 transportation of the army.* 
 
 All over the field, during the battle, the wounded, as 
 they fell, were gathered into the field hospitals that were 
 nearest them, and as soon as possible were sent forward 
 to the trains. They made their painful way alone, 
 trying as best they could to stanch their wounds; some 
 more seriously hurt, haggard and pale, were resting their 
 arms on the shoulders of their fellows; many were on 
 stretchers, with appealing eyes; and not a few breathing 
 their last. Reaching the railroad, they were cared for 
 according to their need. 
 
 Opposite the station were the store tents of the Com- 
 
 * Sanitary Commission Reports. 
 
GETTYSBURG 87 
 
 mission, with clothing, crutches, canes, pads, pillows, 
 splints, bandages, and with every kind of stimulant, 
 all of which were dealt out with unsparing hand. Large 
 kitchens with cooks and attendants were at work day and 
 night providing for the demand. Surgeons and dressers 
 were also at hand, applying fresh dressings and preparing 
 these thousands of men for their journey to Harrisburg, 
 Baltimore, and Washington. 
 
 Dr. Steiner of the Commission, who was in charge of 
 the work in the field, says regarding the numbers of those 
 who received this particular care: "I do not think that 
 a man of the sixteen thousand who were transported 
 during our stay went from Gettysburg without a good 
 meal. Confederates and Unionists together, they all had 
 it, and were comforted and satisfied." 
 
 It was into such bewildering scenes as these, enacted 
 over this wide field where twenty-two thousand men of 
 both armies were left to be succored and cared for, 
 that Mr. Fay and Miss Gilson came with their sup- 
 plies, and with their finely trained skill and sympathy 
 went to work in the 3d corps hospitals on that battle- 
 field. 
 
 Let us now take up Mr. Fay's brief narrative, which 
 left him with his stores starting from Baltimore for South- 
 western Maryland, where the expected battle was to take 
 place : — 
 
 Reaching Winchester on the third of July, we found 
 our stores had been stalled on the way. An ambulance 
 train had, however, come down from the front with the 
 wounded, and I secured transportation for our party on 
 its return, while I waited for the supplies. When they 
 arrived, I engaged three four-horse wagons, loaded them, 
 
88 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and started for the front, Mr. Hovey and I securing two 
 horses from wounded officers who desired them returned 
 to the army. We were near exhaustion, having had no 
 sleep, and had tramped all day in the rain, but started 
 at night for the field, twenty miles away, and rode till 
 morning. 
 
 We waded through streams of uncertain depth, swollen 
 by rains, and after many difficulties reached the field by 
 sunrise. Here it was all confusion, and the battle was 
 still in progress, though near its end, and there was much 
 difficulty in locating the 3d corps hospital, which was our 
 destination. There were sad sights here for us, and work 
 enough for a hundred men, if we had had them. The 
 wounded were brought in, and were crying out every- 
 where for attention. They were in barns and outhouses, 
 scattered on the ground over a vast field, Confederates 
 and Union men lying side by side, helpless and suffering 
 together. I need not describe the scene. It is beyond 
 description. We could do much, but not a fraction of 
 what was needed. Miss Gilson slept in her ambulance, 
 and I found my bed on a pile of sawdust in a store tent. 
 It was a time of great stress and strain, and can never be 
 forgotten. To attempt to give any account of our work 
 in detail would be impossible. We simply worked where 
 we stood, and did what our hands found to do. I never 
 visited the field to see where the battle raged, which now 
 I should have been glad to have done. But our one spot 
 of earth with its sad burdens was all we could attend to 
 then. 
 
 Night and day the work was never done. Two inci- 
 dents occurring here have often been recalled. I found a 
 rebel soldier, badly wounded through the lungs, lying in 
 a corn-field. He could only whisper at first, but by the 
 aid of stimulants was able to speak distinctly. He was 
 lying between the rows in a muddy flow of water, which 
 was trickling down under him. He asked me to move 
 him upon a dry spot, which I did. He said to me, "I 
 know I shall not live through the night," which seemed 
 evident to us all. I offered to write to his family, and 
 was surprised to hear him say that his wife lived in Ohio. 
 On expressing this surprise, he said: "I do not wonder at 
 it. I have treated my family shamefully. I abandoned 
 
GETTYSBURG 89 
 
 them, went South, and here I am." I took his address 
 and wrote to them, and the next day he could not be 
 found. He had doubtless died as he expected, and the 
 burial parties had buried him where he fell. My letter 
 reached his old home, and his family received in this 
 way their last word from him. Another occurrence im- 
 pressed me deeply. A young man by the name of Ev- 
 erett (a brother of one of the Boston firm of Williams & 
 Everett) was wounded in the ankle, but lockjaw inter- 
 vened, and he suffered severely. He was lying upon 
 damp ground, but under a shelter-tent. As I was called 
 to the town for supplies, I asked Miss Gilson to have 
 one of our bed-sacks filled with hay, and make a bed for 
 him. 
 
 That night, about midnight, I was caring for him, 
 when, in sudden agony, he sprang up and seized the tent- 
 pole, with the look of death in his face. A comrade 
 put out his wounded arm to sustain him, and he died 
 standing there. I prepared his body for burial and 
 gathered together his belongings to be sent to his family. 
 As I did so, the man lying next him asked me to stoop 
 down beside him, when he said, "I have lockjaw also, 
 and shall soon follow him." I saw the symptoms, but, 
 as was my habit, tried to encourage him, and said, "You 
 have many chances for recovery, and are even now quite 
 comfortable." He replied that, if he could have a dry 
 bed to lie upon, he might get well. Removing him thence, 
 I turned Everett's bed over, placed comfortable blankets 
 upon it, and left him for the night. He was our special 
 care. Two days later he rode off on an ambulance, to 
 be transferred to Baltimore. Some years afterwards, 
 standing one evening in Scollay Square waiting for a 
 car, a man spoke to me, and said, "Do you remember 
 the death of Everett at Gettysburg?" "Surely I do," 
 I replied. He then said, "I was the wounded comrade 
 who put out my arm to hold him as he died." It was re- 
 markable that we should have come together again after 
 so many years. 
 
 We remained at Gettysburg until the wounded were 
 gathered into permanent hospitals and the battlefield 
 emergency was over, when we started for home. This 
 was in August, 1863. 
 
90 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 It was at this time that I made the first suggestion 
 which led to the organization of the Auxiliary Relief 
 Corps of the Sanitary Commission, which did such 
 efficient work on all the later battlefields of Virginia. 
 As I returned home, I met Mr. Frederick N. Knapp, who 
 was in charge of the Special Relief work of that organiza- 
 tion, and said to him that the Commission might do as a 
 body ivhat I was doing as an individual, working at the 
 bedside of the soldier. They had never done this, their 
 battlefield relief being confined to the distribution of 
 hospital supplies in the emergencies of battle. I opened 
 before Mr. Knapp the immense opportunities of service 
 in the line of personal ministry to the wounded, and I 
 knew I had in him a wise and sympathetic listener. The 
 suggestion did not bear fruit at once, but after one or two 
 letters passed between us, in which I stated in detail 
 my many experiences and laid before him a plan for or- 
 ganization, it was found that the seed had fallen into 
 good ground, as we shall see later in the story. 
 
 While at home after the battle of Gettysburg, during 
 the month of September, 1863, I received an urgent ap- 
 peal to go to Folly Island, South Carolina, where Com- 
 pany G of the 40th Massachusetts regiment was sta- 
 tioned. This company was recruited in Chelsea, and was 
 comprised of many of our best young men. We were 
 particularly interested in this company, and, when it 
 was organized, desired that it should be officered by 
 Chelsea men, and I went to Governor Andrew about it. 
 He listened to my request, and said: "Mr. Fay, this is no 
 picnic. We want men for officers who have been bap- 
 tized in blood." I replied that we had selected such 
 men, and mentioned the names of George E. Marshall, 
 who had been a sergeant in the 13th Massachusetts and 
 was then in hospital, wounded, and William A. Smith 
 of the 1st Massachusetts, and Horatio Jenkins, who had 
 also seen service. These men received their commis- 
 sions from the Governor. 
 
 The climate of South Carolina that summer, together 
 with other conditions, had caused a good deal of sickness 
 in the company stationed there, and it was their con- 
 dition that induced me to waive my preference to remain 
 at home, and go to them. 
 
GETTYSBURG 91 
 
 We had a cool reception from General Gilmore and 
 from the medical director in charge. They did not want 
 volunteer assistance. It had proved meddlesome in the 
 past, and all such applications for service were at that 
 time denied. Our passes from the War Department car- 
 ried us through, however; and, when the colonel and 
 surgeon of the regiment were found to be eager for our 
 service, we were allowed to remain. 
 
 The men themselves welcomed us warmly. We found 
 many of them depressed and ill and their strength much 
 reduced by improper diet in that enervating climate. 
 A special diet kitchen was at once established. This 
 diet was greatly needed in every ward of the hospital 
 which was filled with patients. In the 40th regiment 
 alone there were one hundred and twenty cases there. 
 The water used was sea water, filtered through the sandy 
 shore, and the men were generally in low spirits. We 
 were here about three months, during which time the 
 health of the regiment improved, and its whole morale 
 seemed changed. 
 
 The 24th Massachusetts regiment was at Morris 
 Island, and some colored regiments in the same locality; 
 and, wherever we went, we were treated with the utmost 
 cordiality by officers and surgeons. It was here that 
 I first saw the horse "Johnny Reb," loaned to me by 
 Lieutenant Jenkins. I afterwards bought him, but 
 General Gilmore would not allow any horse to leave the 
 island. The horse was afterwards sold to the surgeon 
 of the regiment, and my next view of him was at Ber- 
 muda Hundreds in Virginia in the fall of 1864. I met 
 the surgeon there, and said jocosely, "I see you have my 
 horse." "Your horse?" "Well," I said, "I bought 
 him and never sold him." He then said quite seriously, 
 "If this is your horse, I cannot hold him, although I 
 thought I bought him fairly." I explained, but said 
 to him that, if he ever left the army for any reason, I 
 wished him to give me the first choice to buy him. He 
 later resigned, and I bought him over again. The horse 
 was one of Ashley's rebel cavalry, wounded in the head 
 at Gettysburg, captured and cured, and wounded twice 
 afterwards before he came into my possession. He was 
 a wonderful animal, in perfect health, fast, intelligent, a 
 
92 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 good jumper, and afraid of nothing, and I used him for 
 years afterwards. 
 
 We returned home from South Carolina in December, 
 in time to prepare my farewell address as mayor of the 
 city, having positively declined another re-election. 
 
 At this time the Army of the Potomac was in winter 
 quarters near Culpeper, and Mrs. Fay desired to visit 
 Dr. Welling, whose headquarters were with the 11th 
 New Jersey regiment at Brandy Station. We made 
 that visit, which was full of pleasant incidents to Mrs. 
 Fay, returning home in February; and on the seventh of 
 March, 1864, I returned to the army, Miss Gilson having 
 spent the winter there. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Wilderness and Spottsylvania. 
 
 We were now approaching the last year of the war. 
 General Grant had been summoned to Washington from 
 his triumphs in the West, and had been invested with his 
 new rank of Lieutenant-General, commanding the armies 
 of the United States. He entered upon his great task 
 with headquarters in the field with the Army of the 
 Potomac. Nobody who lived through that winter of 
 1863 and 1864 will ever forget those solemn days during 
 which the nation girded itself for that portentous struggle 
 which was impending in Virginia. 
 
 The Sanitary Commission during that winter, in an- 
 ticipation of the coming campaign, made ample prepara- 
 tions to meet its emergencies, and its plans were matured 
 on the broadest possible scale. Among other changes 
 in its service was the establishment of the Auxiliary 
 Relief Corps, as suggested by Mr. Fay, in an effort to 
 get closer to the soldier in the field, and to provide a more 
 intimate and tender ministry than had ever before been 
 undertaken on a large scale on the battlefield. This 
 was the fruit that matured from the suggestions made 
 to Mr. Knapp after the battle of Gettysburg. 
 
 About a month before the campaign began [Mr. 
 Fay writes], I was commissioned to organize this new 
 form of relief and take charge of it. I asked to be ex- 
 cused, as such administrative work would deprive me 
 of the opportunities for personal service at the bedside 
 
 93 
 
94 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 of the soldier, which I preferred; but I was told that, if 
 I declined, the work would not be done at all. I was 
 offered all the men and all the money needed to perfect 
 it and to carry it through, and, as a result, the Auxiliary 
 Relief Corps was then and there formed, and began its 
 work. It was understood that I should select fifty men 
 for this service, and the Commission would provide the 
 remainder from lists of students from Harvard, Prince- 
 ton, and other colleges. I sent for Edward Everett Hale, 
 Rev. William H. Channing, George L. Chaney, General 
 James F. B. Marshall, Professor Leonard, and others of 
 like character, and among them Mr. A. M. Sperry, who 
 afterwards became my good friend and took my place 
 when I resigned. Dr. Hale could not join us at that 
 time, and he sent in his place William Howell Reed, 
 who promptly reported with the others at Fredericks- 
 burg. 
 
 My first duty was to provide a series of emergency 
 store chests, in which ample supplies could be closely 
 packed and easily transported to any point where they 
 might be needed, to be used whenever other stores were 
 not at hand or could not otherwise be obtained. 
 
 The careful consideration of possible needs in the plan 
 for these chests will be seen in the following list of the 
 contents of one of them, which was opened by the writer 
 at Fredericksburg, while the battles of the Wilderness 
 were going on. The whole invoice was packed in a space 
 of fourteen cubic feet, about the size of a large carpenter's 
 chest, and, as we read the list, it seems incredible that it 
 could have been done. 
 
 6 cans of tomatoes. 
 
 3^ can of crackers. 
 
 6 of chicken. 
 
 2 lbs. coffee. 
 
 6 " of mutton. 
 
 1 lb. tea. 
 
 .2 " of milk. 
 
 3 lbs. sugar. 
 
 G lbs. of farina. 
 
 4 bottles whiskey, 
 
 3 lbs. of meal. 
 
 2 brandy. 
 
 6 papers of broma. 
 
 2 cider. 
 
 1 pail of butter (6 lbs.). 2 " sherry. 
 
TEE WILDERNESS AND SPOT TSY LVAN I A 95 
 
 1 bottle cider vinegar, 
 1 " raspberry vinegar. 
 1 cologne water. 
 
 1 bay rum. 
 
 2 bottles Jamaica ginger. 
 
 1 bottle brown ginger. 
 
 C bottles extract of almonds. 
 4 of vanilla. 
 
 2 of lemon. 
 2 " of ink. 
 
 4 papers hops. 
 
 2 dozen lemons. 
 1 bottle mustard. 
 25 nutmegs. 
 
 1 bottle Cayenne pepper. 
 
 2 bottles pepper. 
 
 1 box salt. 
 6 shirts. 
 
 13 pairs of drawers. 
 8 pairs socks. 
 
 2 dozen handkerchiefs. 
 
 5 arm slings. 
 
 4 pairs slippers. 
 
 6 boxes troches. 
 
 6 boxes Russia salve. 
 6 empty vials. 
 12 boxes matches. 
 1 paper tacks. 
 6 lbs. nails. 
 1 ball twine. 
 A lot of bandages. 
 A lot of comfort-bags. 
 A lot of night-caps. 
 
 1 roll of oil silk. 
 
 2 pillow-sacks. 
 2 padded rings. 
 
 1 piece of netting. 
 
 2 bedticks. 
 
 }/o ream of paper. 
 
 1 dozen penholders. 
 
 1 dozen pencils. 
 
 1 box pens. 
 250 envelopes. 
 12 cakes of soap. 
 
 6 sponges. 
 12 dozen pipes. 
 
 1 box candles. 
 
 1 roll of wire. 
 
 1 box of combs. 
 
 6 sheets of wrapping-paper. 
 
 1 blacking-brush. 
 12 papers tobacco. 
 
 1 dozen towels. 
 
 1 dish-pan (3 gallons). 
 
 1 baking-pan. 
 
 1 dozen deep tin plates. 
 
 1 dozen tin plates. 
 
 1 tin cup. 
 
 6 teacups and saucers. 
 
 2 tin tumblers. 
 2 tunnels. 
 
 2 toasting-irons. 
 
 2 basting-spoons. 
 12 large spoons. 
 12 teaspoons. 
 
 1 butcher's knife. 
 
 6 knives and forks. 
 
 1 basin. 
 
 1 hand-saw. 
 
 1 hatchet. 
 
 1 hammer. 
 
 2 pocket looking-glasses. 
 1 nutmeg-grater. 
 
 1 brush broom. 
 
 1 corkscrew. 
 
 2 candlesticks. 
 
 I called the corps together in Washington for con- 
 ference and for general instructions. There were no 
 hard-and-fast rules. The men understood that the corps 
 was organized for personal ministry, and that this was to 
 be provided with all the sympathy and devotion they 
 would give a patient at home. They were selected men, 
 
96 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 well equipped by previous training for service, and could 
 be trusted to act with courage and good sense in all emer- 
 gencies, and we were soon called into service. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac had been massed north of 
 the Rapidan, confronted by General Lee with his army 
 highly tempered and ready for the conflict. General 
 Grant suddenly moved his army of a hundred thou- 
 sand men across that river, and began a campaign 
 "unsurpassed by any on record in the elements that 
 make war grand, terrible, and destructive." This can 
 only be made real to the present generation by reading 
 Morris Schaff's story of the battles of the Wilderness 
 in the successive numbers of the Atlantic Monthly which 
 appeared during the fall and winter months of the years 
 1909-10. These battles were fought on the fifth, sixth, 
 and seventh of May, 1864, with results that will appear 
 later in this record. 
 
 The Wilderness was not a forest in its ordinary features. 
 The region rests on a belt of mineral rocks, and for a 
 hundred years mining has been done there. The timber 
 had been cut down for many miles, and in its place there 
 had arisen a dense undergrowth of low-limbed, scraggy 
 pines, stiff, bristling with chinkapins, scrub oak, and 
 hazel. It is a region of gloom and the shadow of death. 
 The troops could only receive direction by the compass. 
 Lines of battle were impossible, and no officer could see 
 ten files on each side of him. Artillery was almost wholly 
 out of use, and cavalry also. But in the horrid thicket, 
 obscured by the smoke of the infantry firing, lurked two 
 hundred thousand men, and through its lurid flames 
 there came out of its depths the crackle and roll of mus- 
 ketry, like the noisy boiling of some hell-cauldron, that 
 told the story of death. Tens of thousands of the dead 
 and wounded in blue and gray lay in the thick woods,* 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac, pp. 428, 429. 
 
THE WILDERNESS AND SPOT T SY LVANI A 97 
 
 while the nation, holding its breath, awaited the news of 
 the conflict that flashed over the wires. 
 
 If it was a drawn battle, leaving both of the combatants 
 bleeding and exhausted after three days of conflict, it 
 soon became certain that there would be no retreat for 
 the Army of the Potomac. If Grant had to wade through 
 a sea of blood, he would go forward to his goal, and, when 
 night came, the army began its great flanking movement 
 out of the Wilderness to Spottsylvania Court House. 
 To confirm this, General Grant's sententious message 
 was sent out to the country, that he would fight it out on 
 that line if it took all summer. 
 
 We must leave the details of the conflict to the his- 
 torians, as we are more concerned here with the poor 
 human wreckage left on the field, as the army swept on 
 its way. 
 
 Simultaneously with the advance movement of the 
 army the Sanitary Commission threw its forces into the 
 field, and the men of Mr. Fay's corps began their work. 
 Belle Plain on the Potomac was the temporary base of 
 the army, and this corps landed there and were sent 
 forward, some on foot and some by ambulance, to Fred- 
 ericksburg. This base of the army was an ordinary 
 beach on that river, sloping up to higher ground, and 
 for the moment the whole transportation of the army 
 was concentrated here. River boats and barges, pon- 
 toon trains, commissary stores, ammunition, batteries 
 of artillery, men and horses, regiments of soldiers, wagons 
 and ambulances, quartermaster trains and hospital 
 equipment, went floundering on through the mud and 
 rain. Meeting all this entourage of the army outward 
 
98 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 bound, were the great incoming trains of the wounded 
 returning over the boggy roads from the battlefields, and 
 room had to be found for them as they swept into this 
 great scene of confusion, and landed their living freights 
 of suffering men upon the hillsides bordering the river. 
 Three thousand men were lying cold and shelterless on 
 these soggy fields when we reached there, awaiting trans- 
 portation to Washington, and the numbers were increas- 
 ing every hour. 
 
 The kitchens of the Sanitary Commission were in full 
 operation, and there was ceaseless work in the dressing 
 of wounds, in the distribution of stimulants, hot broths 
 and other food to these half-famished men who had been 
 jolted over the long reach of these sodden roads, stretch- 
 ing for twenty miles from the Rapidan. 
 
 The rain poured down on these shelterless thousands, 
 and the ground was like a sponge. Blankets were pro- 
 vided, and fires were started over the hills, and in the 
 evening they were gleaming with cheerful warmth. 
 Groups of men were huddled over them, and were ac- 
 cepting their lot with a cheerful courage that was won- 
 derful to see. 
 
 Our destination was Fredericksburg, and we moved 
 forward to that city, crossed the pontoons over the 
 Rappahannock, and reported to Mr. Fay at his head- 
 quarters, which was marked by the red flag of the Sani- 
 tary Commission. 
 
 He had divided his Auxiliary Corps into companies of 
 six, with a captain over each of them, and they were 
 assigned to different sections of the city. The ambu- 
 lance trains were now all halted at Fredericksburg and 
 unloaded there. Every house in the city was turned 
 
THE WILDERNESS AND SPOT TSY LVAN I A 99 
 
 into a hospital. Every public building and church was 
 also used. The pews were torn out to make floor space, 
 and the wood was used for fires in the kitchens. But 
 the long trains kept arriving in an endless procession, 
 until their living freights had to be discharged upon the 
 sidewalks until shelter could be provided. The battles 
 were going on, the booming of the guns and the crash 
 of musketry filled the air, and twenty thousand wounded 
 men were in the city. 
 
 We found Mr. Fay in a whirlwind of activities, quiet, 
 calm, efficient, and apparently unmoved by the clamor 
 and agony of appeal for help from a hundred different 
 sections of the city which he had to meet. He quieted 
 the fever around him by his presence and self-control, 
 and kept himself and those about him sane. Delegates 
 from many states poured in upon him, each on his own 
 errands of mercy. He received their passes and set them 
 all at work. They could not leave without his per- 
 mission, and this added large numbers to his working 
 force. The Auxiliary Corps was known as the A. X. C. 
 All requisitions for supplies were examined and vised, 
 and, as the storehouses became emptied, new supplies 
 were daily received from Washington, so that at all 
 times there was an abundance for all emergencies. 
 
 Mr. Fay welcomed our party of four, General and Mrs. 
 James F. B. Marshall, Rev. William H. Channing, and 
 the writer, and we were assigned to Marye's Heights, 
 a mile from the centre of the city, and the emergency 
 chest already described was sent forward. We found 
 that every possible place of shelter in the outskirts of 
 the town was occupied as a hospital. In mansions, in 
 barns and sheds and farm buildings, in rooms, entries, 
 
100 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 attics, and upon porticos we laid our wounded men, and 
 were thankful for any shelter for them. Among these 
 houses was the Rowe mansion, occupied by the owner. 
 He was a good Confederate, and held to his cause by 
 opening his cellar at night as a rendezvous for a band of 
 Mosby's guerillas (his son being one of them), who held 
 their secret meetings there, planning the capture of the 
 town with all our wounded. This house was our head- 
 quarters, and we were living over a powder mine which, 
 we knew, might at any moment explode. 
 
 Our principal hospital building was on the summit of 
 these heights, the home of John L. Marye, from whom 
 they were named. It was a typical Southern mansion, 
 with fine grounds, — a great hospitable house in its best 
 days, but then ruined by the plunging shot and shell 
 during the two great battles of Fredericksburg which 
 raged about its doors. Gaping holes were rent in its 
 walls, partitions were torn away, rich mouldings and 
 ornaments were shattered by the concussion of artillery. 
 General Lee had made this his great defensive position, 
 and occupied these heights with his batteries of a hundred 
 guns. 
 
 No space was unoccupied under that roof. As close 
 as they could be laid, these suffering men were placed 
 upon the floors, with barely sufficient room between them 
 for the dressing of their wounds. Even to this day the 
 writer can see the long rows of men lying there, and can 
 locate in order, man by man, those whose wounds received 
 our care and whose heroism won our undying admira- 
 tion. This man with a ragged channel through his cheek 
 and jaw across which a fragment of shell had ploughed 
 its way; there one with his shoulder torn away, with the 
 
TEE WILDERNESS AND SPO T TSYLVANI A 101 
 
 ashen hue of death on his face; this Indian sharp-shooter 
 with a shell wound in his thigh, — they are all burned into 
 the memories of those who saw them, and come back to 
 us now, each with his own tragedy; some of them plead- 
 ing for a sleeping powder for one night at least to ease 
 the pain. Here side by side they lay through long days 
 and nights, with no sound save the stifled moan, yet all 
 of them having the grateful consciousness that they were 
 tenderly cared for from great reserves of sympathy, as 
 well as from the unfailing supplies which were always 
 at hand in these emergencies. • 
 
 Let the writer give here the following notes to show 
 the character of the work and the tenderness and sym- 
 pathy which were back of the entire service of these men 
 of Mr. Fay's corps who carried out, each in his own way, 
 the spirit of the service that it was designed to secure for 
 the wounded men. 
 
 In one corner, upon a stretcher, lay a soldier whose 
 character was indicated by his strong face, his bright 
 intelligence, and his manly self-control. He was wounded 
 through the lungs, and every breath was pain. His cheer- 
 ful courage, his companionship, bis gratitude for all our 
 sympathy and care, his bright smile even in the face of 
 death, lighted up that room of suffering. In the hurried 
 evacuation of the place, at the last moment, he passed 
 away, was saved the agonies of transportation, and was 
 laid under the shade of the old oak-trees on that hill- 
 side where so many of his comrades found their last 
 resting-place. 
 
 Near him was a pitiful case, a lad, Adoniram Cookson, 
 wounded in the back by a fragment of a shell. He was 
 hardly more than sixteen years of age, and how he drifted 
 
102 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 into the army we never knew. He was so pinched and 
 delicate one could easily have carried him in his arms. 
 The only position in which he could rest was on his 
 elbows and his knees, and he was constantly turning from 
 side to side and moaning in his delirium. We watched 
 over him and comforted him as his mother would have 
 done, and in intervals of consciousness got his home 
 address and sent the sad story to those who had lost 
 their boy. He fell asleep at last, and joined the ranks 
 of the other brave fellows who had given their lives for 
 their country. 
 
 Another lad in the corner of the same room was 
 propped up by a bed-rest, and was slowly wasting 
 away. He never complained, and could never express 
 his gratitude for our care. His life slipped away from 
 us, and we had another story to tell to another stricken 
 home. 
 
 Even the storerooms and entries of the old mansion 
 were crowded, the places made vacant by removal or 
 death being quickly occupied again by new arrivals. 
 And so from room to room, from entry to entry, we 
 moved about through the day and night, carrying our 
 comforts and our stimulants, speaking cheering words 
 here, giving a little companionship there, to brighten, so 
 far as was possible, the heavy hours. "It is so hard to 
 hear the hours strike," said one who could not sleep; yet 
 here they were bearing their pain or facing inevitable 
 death with a courage that was wonderful to see. 
 
 In a group of four Indian sharp-shooters in one corner 
 of this hallway, each of them with the loss of a limb, 
 an arm at the shoulder, or a leg at the knee, never was 
 patience more finely shown. It was the old Indian en- 
 
TEE WILDERNESS AND SPOT TSY LVANI A 103 
 
 durance, silent, speechless in their suffering, and dying 
 there, making a mute appeal to our sympathy, and 
 expressing both in look and manner their gratitude for 
 our care. 
 
 William H. Chambers, who was paralyzed by a spinal 
 wound, preferring a stretcher in the open air to the close 
 and crowded rooms, was lying helpless on the lawn. There 
 was a touching contrast between the poor, wrecked body 
 and his bright, clear mind, which in these last hours was 
 burning like a flame. He was fast sinking away. He 
 knew he could not live, and did not wish to live to be 
 a burden to his friends. As we were about to move 
 him to the steamer for Washington, he died, leaving mes- 
 sages for those at home and welcoming the change that 
 was coming to him as a happy release. We were strangely 
 drawn to him, and could not resist the inspiration of his 
 gentle, kindly spirit, which could look so bravely upon 
 death and speak so calmly and without fears of those 
 far away who would mourn for him. Yet his death was 
 a relief to all, — to him and to us, who felt that life pro- 
 longed would be to him a lingering misery. 
 
 One soldier (I can never forget his simple, earnest faith) 
 asked me to stop and talk with him. A discharge of grape 
 and shrapnel through his leg had shattered it from thigh 
 to foot; and, as the wound was fatal, an amputation was 
 deemed unnecessary. The poor man knew his end was 
 near, and he had much to say of his wife and his crippled 
 boy, and asked me to write to them. He told me his 
 motive for entering the army, of his home in the Green 
 Mountains of Vermont, and of his great sacrifice. He 
 had been a minister of the Methodist faith in his earlier 
 days, and later the editor of a local paper. He dropped 
 
104 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 his pen and shouldered his musket when the call for 
 troops came, and his life and service in the army were all 
 he had to give, and he gave them freely for his country. 
 As I sat on the floor with his hand in mine, and saw the 
 film gathering over his eyes, and knew from his whispered 
 words that he felt the end was near, he looked up and sent 
 his last messages, asking that a lock of his hair or some 
 token be sent to his wife and children, and very soon the 
 new morning dawned for him. 
 
 The last words of one of these men may be worth a 
 record here. He was wounded in the groin, and had been 
 lying for several days with no possible hope of recovery. 
 He talked freely of this, and said, "When the end comes, 
 dress me in a clean white shirt and put two white roses 
 in my hands," then adding, to those who were lying near 
 him, "Keep on, boys, fighting for the flag; bear all things 
 and suffer all things, but never give it up." His request 
 was remembered even to the roses, and his grave was 
 strewed with flowers. 
 
 Monday, the twenty-third of May, 1864, was a perfect 
 day. The breeze came fresh and cool from the north, 
 the air was pure, the sky cloudless, and the whole firma- 
 ment a heavenly blue. It was a day for the convalescents, 
 and it seemed as if our men must be revived by the brac- 
 ing air. We moved them out of the stifling rooms to the 
 lawn. Under a grand old oak, whose spreading branches 
 gave shelter to nearly fifty men, was a Massachusetts 
 lad, Joseph White, whose case we had been watching for 
 many days with the strongest interest. His wound 
 was in the arm under the shoulder, and did not seem to 
 be severe. He had been weakened by hemorrhage, but 
 was hopeful that within ten days he would be at home 
 
TEE WILDERNESS AND SPOTTSY LVANI A 105 
 
 under his mother's care, and asked me to write her. Tak- 
 ing pen and paper, I wrote at his dictation, and the letter 
 was full of his hopes and plans. He felt as sure of life as 
 any one of us who ministered to him. I left him for an 
 hour, hardly out of sight, working among his companions 
 who seemed to need care even more than he, when, turn- 
 ing, I noticed an extreme pallor in his face. I found that 
 an artery had been opened in process of healing, and that 
 he was beyond all human aid. He realized this, and knew 
 there was no help for him, and it was wonderful to see 
 his courage as he looked at those oozing drops which 
 every moment brought him closer to the other world. 
 The letter was still unsealed, and he asked me to add the 
 postscript with his last messages, and in a few hours he 
 passed into his larger home. 
 
 In the mean time fierce conflicts were going on, all 
 through the Wilderness and up to the very edge of Spott- 
 sylvania and beyond, and the wounded were daily swell- 
 ing the numbers under our care. One ambulance train 
 which reached the Heights discharged its living freight 
 of five hundred wounded men upon the ground, there 
 being no nook nor corner of shelter in any building in the 
 town. These men had had no nourishment for three days, 
 and many of them were dying. The kitchens were started 
 again, and soon rich broths of chicken, mutton, and 
 tomato were being generously provided, with milk punch, 
 soft bread, and stimulants, every man being refreshed and 
 fed, and made as comfortable as possible until he could 
 be sent forward on his way. 
 
 The fearful losses in these great battles made a call for 
 re-enforcements imperative, and a column of sixteen thou- 
 sand men from the defences of Washington were sent 
 
106 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 forward, and moved down through Fredericksburg to join 
 the army. We had received the news of the capture, by 
 Hancock, of nine thousand prisoners a few days before, 
 and this column was actually passing to the rear, while 
 the new army of fresh troops were marching to the front. 
 They were full of fire, and their enthusiasm was enkindled 
 afresh at the sight of the captured guns and other trophies 
 of that field. The roses were blooming in the gardens 
 everywhere, and, as the column passed the Heights, clus- 
 ters of them were thrown into the ranks, as if to strew 
 their way to victory. The strains of their music, their 
 colors, their glistening steel, had passed but a few miles 
 beyond sight and hearing, when they were struck by the 
 shock of battle. E well's corps of Lee's army in an at- 
 tempt to turn our left fell upon these re-enforcements. 
 The fighting was obstinate, and continued some hours 
 until the Confederates were driven back, defeated. Gen- 
 eral Porter in his narrative in The Century Magazine 
 relates that, in passing over this battlefield after dark, 
 a staff officer saw in the vicinity of the Fredericksburg 
 road a row of men stretched on the ground, looking as 
 if they had just lain down to sleep. He started to shake 
 several of them to arouse them, and was shocked to find 
 that this row consisted entirely of the dead, lying as they 
 fell, shot down in ranks, their alignment perfectly pre- 
 served. The scene told with mute eloquence the story of 
 their valor. 
 
 Five hundred of these brave men, who had passed 
 through their first shock of war, were brought back 
 wounded, and some of them dying, with the roses hardly 
 faded that we had thrown to them, the ambulances 
 moving over the same roads over which they had 
 
THE WILDERNESS AND SPOTTSY LVAN I A 107 
 
 marched with steps so firm and hearts so light a few 
 hours before. It was after sunset, and the long train of 
 ambulances and army wagons was parked in an open field 
 directly in front of Marye's Heights, which we then 
 occupied as our hospital, and where we made ready for 
 the service demanded of us. 
 
 The camp for the night was settled at dark, the horses 
 were champing their food after their long day's fatigue, 
 and the weary drivers were stretched asleep around the 
 expiring embers of their fires, while the moon, half ob- 
 scured in the smoke of these tremendous battles which 
 had not yet ceased, shone out red and lurid, lighting up 
 that field for ministry to those who had come under our 
 care. 
 
 In the first ambulance the writer reached was Captain 
 Kellier of the 20th Massachusetts regiment, severely 
 wounded. His arm was off at the shoulder, which was 
 also injured, and his jaw was fractured by a fragment 
 of the same shell that had injured his arm. He appeared 
 to be near his end, but was restored by stimulants, and 
 later told his story. How he ever got into that ambu- 
 lance train we never knew, as his regiment swept onward 
 with Grant's flank movement and he was left among the 
 dead on the field where he fell. His regimental surgeon, 
 Dr. Hayward, — a hero himself, if there ever was one, — 
 had passed him by as mortally hurt and dying, but Kel- 
 lier appealed to him to try to save him. He was placed 
 on the rough operating table, his arm was removed, the 
 shoulder attended to, the jaw wired back into its place, 
 and a new cheek was built up by transplanting from the 
 severed arm; and all this skilful treatment was given 
 with only the rough appliances of the battlefield. He had 
 
108 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 been taken to the rear on a stretcher, and in this condi- 
 tion had fallen into our hands. With a feeding-cup he 
 was served through the night at intervals with as much 
 strong milk punch as he could drink, and with other 
 nourishment, but we supposed he could not survive the 
 transportation to Washington. He did survive it, how- 
 ever, and got well. Four months later, coming out of the 
 Parker House in Boston, the writer ran across him, his 
 empty sleeve and his scarred face being the only reminder 
 of that experience. He said he was in extremis when 
 we met him, but, when he drank that milk punch, 
 he felt life coming back to him, and he knew he should 
 live. 
 
 Under one of the ambulances we found a lad of the 
 1st Massachusetts heavy artillery, Charles H. Cutler 
 of Lawrence, wounded through the breast. He had 
 crawled out for a breath of air, covered with his tent- 
 cloth which served as a blanket. He was praying that 
 he might die. Rev. William H. Channing, who was of 
 our party, with that quick sympathy and readiness for 
 service which was characteristic of all he did, drew from 
 the lad his story, got his father's address, and spoke 
 to him of his critical condition. He replied that death 
 would be welcome to him in his agony. He wanted to be 
 baptized. So, kneeling under the ambulance with our 
 rubber basin of cold spring water, the poor boy received 
 his first and last communion with tender words of prayer 
 and blessing. Giving him a sleeping powder, we left him 
 with hearts touched and uplifted by the gentle resignation 
 of the poor sufferer, who was so soon to pass into his 
 eternal rest, and then sent to his home the story of these 
 hours. 
 
TEE WILDERNESS AND SPOT TSY LVANI A 109 
 
 Moving through the long streets of this ambulance 
 train, we kept at work through the night. The embers of 
 the fires were dying out; and in perfect stillness, with 
 the moon low in the west, with flickering candles we 
 visited the dead to gather together and mark for identi- 
 fication every article we could find that gave the name of 
 the man and of his home address. There were many 
 such names and addresses, and many such articles, 
 photographs, testaments, watches, and other belongings 
 that were sent forward later, with the full story of the 
 tragedy. 
 
 At daylight we were still on the field with fresh spring 
 water for the wounds and a breakfast of bread, hot soup, 
 milk punch, and coffee, before starting the ambulance 
 train over the terrible roads to Belle Plain on its way to 
 the hospitals in Washington. But the dead were yet 
 to be buried. With a small detail of men the long trench 
 was dug, each of us taking a turn at the spades, and here 
 we placed the eight comrades who had died for their 
 country. Standing on the mound of earth his own hands 
 had helped to make, surrounded by soldiers and teamsters 
 who were serving on that field, Mr. Channing began his 
 short funeral service over those brothers bound together 
 in a common cause, commending their souls to the lov- 
 ing care of the Almighty Father. 
 
 As the hours passed through that night and the succeed- 
 ing days, we lived over again in our memories the frightful 
 conflicts of the first battle of Fredericksburg a year and a 
 half before, which had raged over the very fields upon 
 which we were then standing, and in front of the very 
 stone wall against which Burnside had repeatedly and 
 unavailingly thrown his forces. The converging cross- 
 
110 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 fires of Lee's batteries on the crest above had opened 
 great gaps in the advancing ranks, and night dropped its 
 curtain on the scene where ten thousand dead and wounded 
 were stretched on that ground or piled up along that 
 sunken road which not one of them could cross and live. 
 These blood-soaked fields with which we had now become 
 familiar became sacred soil for us, not only by the sacri- 
 fice of these men who had given their all for their country, 
 but also by our own ministry to the five hundred men 
 then under our care. 
 
 The following picture is given here of Miss Helen 
 Gilson on one of those days of trial when she and Mr. 
 Fay visited our group of hospitals on the heights of 
 Fredericksburg : — 
 
 One afternoon, just before the evacuation, when the 
 atmosphere of our rooms was close and foul, and all 
 were longing for a breath of our cooler northern air, 
 while the men were moaning in pain or were restless 
 with fever, and our hearts were sick with pity for the 
 sufferers, I heard a light step upon the stairs, and, look- 
 ing up, saw a young lady enter, who brought with her 
 such an atmosphere of calm and cheerful courage, so much 
 freshness, such an expression of gentle womanly sympathy, 
 that her mere presence seemed to revive the drooping 
 spirits of the men, and to give a new power of endurance 
 through the long and painful hours. First with one, then 
 at the side of another, a friendly word here, a pressure 
 of the hand there, a smile of good cheer and of tender 
 sympathy with every one of them in their extremity, her 
 presence was an angel's ministry to these suffering men. 
 Before she left the building, she sang a few familiar hymns 
 and national melodies, and I remember how her voice, 
 
TEE WILDERNESS AND SPOT TSY LVANI A 111 
 
 which was one of unusual sweetness and power, penetrated 
 to every part of the building. Soldiers with less severe 
 wounds from the rooms above began to crawl out into 
 the entries, and men from below began to creep up on 
 their hands and knees to catch those notes of her song 
 which were thrilling indeed at that time and which 
 even now linger in my memory. This is my first remi- 
 niscence of Helen Gilson, whose ministry was always 
 so tenderly welcomed wherever she went in the Army 
 of the Potomac. 
 
 The flanking movement of General Grant from Spott- 
 sylvania to Hanover Court House in the direction of 
 Richmond left Fredericksburg exposed, and made the 
 evacuation of that place an immediate necessity. Those 
 who could walk were sent forward on foot to Belle 
 Plain, and thousands of others were loaded on the 
 steamers which were brought up the Rappahannock to 
 Fredericksburg, and sent on to Fortress Monroe and 
 Washington. Great suffering ensued in this hurried re- 
 moval, and many died in the transit, but there was 
 no alternative. It was either that or the capture of 
 everybody in the town, which would have been the 
 greater calamity. 
 
 There is always in such movements a poor remnant 
 liable to be sacrificed, and such is the fortune of war. 
 In this case, after the steamers were loaded and under 
 way, some forty men were discovered to be in the farm- 
 houses of the region, all of them with thigh amputations. 
 They were helpless, and would have died if we had aban- 
 doned them. A detail was sent out to scour the country 
 for miles to bring them in, and one by one, borne on 
 stretchers, they were laid on the deck of our small Sani- 
 
112 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 tary Commission steamer, Kent, which was the last to 
 leave, and which was held for them. The certain capture 
 of the entire party seemed at one time to be its fate. 
 The Medical Director, Dr. Edward B. Dal ton, would not 
 allow the steamer to leave until all could leave. Mosby's 
 guerillas were already in the outskirts of the town, and 
 we could hear the tramp of their cavalry and the clank- 
 ing of their sabres and carbines as they came charging 
 and cheering down the heights toward the river. But 
 Dr. Dalton stood unmoved, with his guard with levelled 
 muskets ready to enforce his orders to both the steamer 
 captain and his crew, and no man touched that hawser 
 that held us to the shore; and, as the last stretchers 
 were brought on board and the lines were cast off, 
 these rough riders came swarming down to the landing 
 with yells and curses, firing their last volleys as we 
 swept round the bend of the river, out of sight and 
 range. 
 
 Mr. Fay had gathered his entire corps together on 
 this boat, and all got to work on the decks to care for 
 the forty amputated cases that had thus been saved. 
 This was the last achievement of Mr. Fay's splendid corps 
 at Fredericksburg, and was characteristic of all the heroic 
 work they did on that field. 
 
 The steamer touched at Port Royal on the Rappahan- 
 nock, and soon had orders to move up the York and 
 Pamunky Rivers to White House, which was the new 
 temporary base of the army. 
 
 The entire negro population of the region had been 
 literally swept away from their homes and their anchor- 
 age by the movement of the two armies through this 
 part of Virginia. It was an impulse unrestrained for 
 
THE WILDERNESS AND SPOTTSY LVAN I A 113 
 
 freedom. They swarmed to the river-banks by the hun- 
 dred, even by the thousand, in companies, in smaller 
 groups, in farm wagons, even singly and alone. There 
 were whole families, even to the children, some of them 
 babies in arms. They had their small belongings and 
 were dressed in the gay attire of their former owners, all 
 moving like the children of Israel through their desert 
 into what they thought was to be their promised land. 
 As we swept by them down the river to our destination, 
 they held up appealing hands to be taken on board and 
 carried they knew not where. At Port Royal they 
 swarmed in such numbers that a government barge was 
 appropriated for their use. A thousand or more were 
 stowed upon her decks, all seeking to be free, knowing 
 not what freedom meant. It was simply a dream to 
 them. There were gleaming signals all about us, and a 
 thousand colored lights were reflected in the water. In 
 the distance we could hear the low soft music of the 
 negroes' songs. Impassioned and plaintive, it increased in 
 volume, until the whole chorus broke out in wild melodies 
 which came to us over the water, gradually melting away 
 into the croonings of the few who were charged with the 
 refrain. Visiting the barge and listening again to their 
 singing, we seemed to hear a thousand voices blended 
 into one. When the music ceased, Miss Gilson, who was 
 with us, spoke to them. She tried to tell them what 
 freedom meant. There would be no longer the old 
 master and mistress to deal out the peck of corn or to 
 care for the old people and the children. They would 
 now have to work for themselves, provide for their own 
 sick, and support their own families; but all this would 
 have to be done under new conditions. No overseer 
 
114 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 would threaten them with the lash, for their new master 
 would be the necessity of earning their daily bread. 
 The old order of things had passed away, and the new 
 order had come. Then, enforcing industry, truthfulness, 
 and fidelity, she said: "You know the Lord Jesus died 
 and rose again for you. You love to sing his praise and 
 to draw near to him in prayer. But this is not the whole 
 of religion. You must do right as well as pray right. 
 Your lives must be full of kind deeds, of unselfishness and 
 forbearance and truth. This is true piety. You must 
 make Monday and Tuesday just as good as Sunday, 
 remembering that God looks not only at your prayers, 
 but at the way you live and speak and act every day 
 of your lives." She then sang Whittier's well-known 
 hymn, "Song of the Negro Boatmen": — 
 
 Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come 
 
 To set de people free; 
 An' massa tink it day ob doom, 
 
 An' we ob jubilee. 
 De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves 
 
 He jus' as 'trong as den; 
 He say de word: we las' night slaves; 
 
 To-day, de Lord's free men. 
 
 We pray de Lord : he gib us signs 
 
 Dat some day we be free; 
 De norf-wind tell it to de pines, 
 
 De wild-duck to de sea; 
 We tink it when de chureh-bell ring, 
 
 We dream it in de dream; 
 De rice-bird mean it when he sing, 
 
 De eagle when he scream. 
 
THE WILDERNESS AND SPOT TS Y LVANI A 115 
 
 We know de promise nebber fail, 
 
 An' nebber lie de word; 
 So, like de 'postles in de jail, 
 
 We waited for de Lord: 
 An' now he open ebery door, 
 
 An' trow away de key; 
 He tink we lub him so before, 
 
 We lub him better free. 
 
 De yam will grow, de cotton blow, 
 
 He'll gib de rice and corn; 
 Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear 
 
 De driver blow his horn! 
 
 It was a pathetic, a terrible sight to see these people, 
 whole populations, throwing themselves away in masses 
 from their homes, casting themselves upon the world, 
 with no thought of their future, moved by one impulse, — 
 to be free. It was the beginning in this part of Virginia 
 of the grave problem of the negro which the government 
 had to face, and which afterwards found its partial solu- 
 tion in the Freedman's Bureau, in the colored schools 
 and camps, where he was trained and made to work 
 out, as best he could, his own salvation. And this care 
 continued for years during the entire reconstruction 
 period. 
 
 Mr. Fay's administrative work at Fredericksburg has 
 been described here in one part only of the great field of 
 his operations, but it illustrates the whole of it. In this 
 story he does not appear prominently in it, but his pres- 
 ence and his direction dominated it all. Everybody was 
 inspired by his personality and looked to him as the 
 leader. There was no nook or corner of the town that 
 
116 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 was not under his constant care, and never in the rear 
 of any battlefield, since war began on the earth, was 
 sympathy so wisely directed or so generously expended 
 in ministry, with resources so large, as over this great 
 area of suffering men. 
 
 His corps was landed at White House on the Pamunky 
 River, a few miles in rear of Cold Harbor where the two 
 armies came immediately into conflict. The story of 
 what was done there will be told in the next chapter. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Cold Harbor and Petersburg and the Winter of 
 1864-65. 
 
 Mr. Fay reached White House with his corps on the 
 eve of the battle of Cold Harbor. He found there the 
 18th corps and part of the 10th, which had just arrived 
 as re-enforcements of the Army of the Potomac. The 
 army at the time was in a great movement from Hanover 
 Court House to Cold Harbor, which was an important 
 strategical point in the campaign. The concentration 
 of General Grant's forces here will be referred to later on. 
 
 The Medical Director of the army, Dr. Dalton, had 
 been ordered to establish a temporary hospital at White 
 House to receive the wounded in the expected battle, 
 and toward night Mr. Fay and the writer went over the 
 great plateau to select a site. Good water was the first 
 necessity. Several springs were found, and an open 
 field, dry and accessible, was staked out for the tents 
 then unloading from the barges by the riverside. The 
 plan of the hospital was drawn, its streets laid out, and 
 the work went on. Through the long hours of the night 
 Mr. Fay superintended the landing of the tents, gave a 
 hand in the unloading of supplies from his own steamer, 
 in establishing kitchens, and working in the swamps 
 in the midst of the thick fog rising from them. The 
 writer shared with him these labors, to be ready for the 
 impending battle. 
 
 117 
 
118 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 The next morning a desultory firing began, full of fore- 
 boding of the coming conflict. While waiting there, our 
 party, consisting of Mr. Fay, Mr. and Mrs. J. F. B. 
 Marshall, Mrs. General Barlow, and Miss Gilson, went 
 to the 40th Massachusetts regiment in command of 
 Colonel Marshall, of which the Chelsea company was 
 a part, nearly all of the men being personally known to 
 Mr. Fay. The headquarters were under a thick bower 
 of the branches of magnolia-trees, as shelter from the 
 blazing sun, and we had a soldier's welcome. General 
 Barlow was also there. He came down from his com- 
 mand to see his wife, who had followed him so far in 
 the campaign, keeping in the rear, but still in com- 
 munication with him. We reclined under the shade, 
 quietly talking of many things, while Colonel Marshall 
 awaited orders. The men were resting on their arms, 
 their knapsacks within reach, ready to move. By the 
 appearance of the men no one could have told that they 
 were on the eve of battle. They were old soldiers who 
 knew what campaigning was. They boiled their coffee, 
 and munched their hard bread as usual. They were 
 chatting in low tones and were running about among 
 their comrades, making ready for their march and talking 
 of everything but their future. How few of them realized 
 that for many of them the setting sun of that day would 
 be their last on earth! As we sat in this cool, shady 
 spot, a staff officer rode up with orders for the regiment 
 to join in the brigade. The colonel parted with us, 
 speaking the last words he was ever to speak to these 
 friends, mounted his horse, and the column moved forward. 
 The skirmishing had begun, the regiment formed with 
 the other forces, and plunged into the battle of Cold 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 119 
 
 Harbor. Within a few hours the colonel and a hundred 
 of his men were dead on that field. The brown, haggard 
 soldiers with powder-stained hands placed him reverently 
 under the sod with their comrades who had fallen at his 
 side. This is the brief story of Mr. Fay's experience 
 within the sound of the guns of Cold Harbor, which 
 were sending out their messages of death to many thou- 
 sands of men on that fateful day. 
 
 Turning now to General Grant's flanking movements 
 before the battle. After he had reached and passed 
 Hanover Court House, he concentrated his army about 
 Cold Harbor during the last days of May. Lee had 
 already brought his forces up, and was building impreg- 
 nable works along the Chickahominy. There is a perfect 
 network of roads and small streams and rivers all through 
 this region. The country is flat, with low swampy bot- 
 tom-lands, and quickly becomes impassable in the heavy 
 summer rains. 
 
 It is a bad region for army movements. Lee was 
 covering Richmond and the Virginia Central railroad, 
 his line of supply, while Grant was trying to secure the 
 Pamunky roads to Richmond. Both were aiming at 
 the same point, but General Lee had got there first, and 
 was on an interior line. By the twenty-ninth to the 
 thirtieth of May the two armies were getting close to- 
 gether, Lee's forces being heavily intrenched. On the 
 thirty-first our army was pressed up to the enemy, as 
 close as practicable without assaulting; but the position 
 they held was so strong naturally, and so well defended, 
 that an assault was not attempted on that day. The 
 main line of the enemy was about fourteen hundred yards 
 distant from ours, the interval being mostly open ground, 
 
120 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 but broken more or less by swamps, and it had artillery 
 in position with direct and flanking fire. Lee's position 
 was about six miles from the exterior line of the intrench- 
 ments of Richmond, his right only about half of that 
 distance from the most advanced intrenchments. This 
 proximity to the defences of the Confederate capital, 
 together with the condition of the Chickahominy River, 
 appeared to bring Grant's turning movements to an end. 
 Lee's right was secure. His left, being among the wooded 
 swamps of two rivers, was difficult to attack. His front 
 was the assailable part, though it had not been reported 
 that it was practicable to carry it by assault. But Gen- 
 eral Grant decided to make the attack. He had in fact 
 to do this or withdraw, his alternative being a safe pas- 
 sage across the James, for which preparations had already 
 been made, for the transfer of his entire army and its 
 trains to the front of Petersburg. But he would not 
 accept this alternative until he was convinced that his 
 enemy's line could not be carried. Promptly, therefore, 
 at the hour designated on the third of June, the whole 
 line was in motion, and for an hour the dark hollows 
 between the two armies were lighted up with the fires 
 of death. The 2d, 6th, and 18th corps advanced under 
 heavy artillery and musketry fire, and carried the rifle- 
 pits. But there the fire became still hotter, and cross- 
 fires of artillery swept through the ranks of the 18th to 
 the 2d corps of Hancock. Notwithstanding this destruc- 
 tive fire, the troops went up close to the main line of the 
 intrenchments, but, not being able to carry them, put 
 themselves under cover and maintained the positions 
 they had gained, which were in some places but thirty, 
 forty, or fifty yards from the enemy's works. The greater 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 121 
 
 part of the fighting was over in an hour, though attacks 
 were renewed after that time, but without result, and 
 the battle ended disastrously. General Grant took the 
 entire responsibility of failure, and in his Autobiography 
 regretted that he ordered the assault. The offensive 
 movement stopped as soon as he became convinced that 
 it could not succeed. For several days the army con- 
 fronted General Lee, threatening his position to detain 
 him where he was until new dispositions could be made. 
 The losses during the three days in front of Cold Harbor 
 were about ten thousand men, and in all the operations 
 from the first to the twelfth of June, when the army 
 crossed the James, the grand total was fourteen thou- 
 sand men. It seemed then as it does now that it was 
 a frightful waste of life without compensating results, 
 and this appears to be the verdict of history. 
 
 The great plateau at White House was a temporary 
 hospital. It was soon covered with tents, kitchens, and 
 feeding-stations, and more than eight thousand men 
 passed through our hands. Mr. Fay's quarters were on 
 the deck of a barge, without other shelter than an ordi- 
 nary fly-tent through the heavy and continuous rains. 
 How Miss Gilson or Mrs. General Marshall survived the 
 exposure of these dreadful days this story cannot tell. 
 Mrs. General Barlow was prostrated, and was removed to 
 Washington, where she shortly after died, a martyr to the 
 cause. As one looks back upon that hospital encamp- 
 ment and all the suffering witnessed there, its distinctive 
 features are lost in the confused recollection of agonizing 
 sights and sounds, of sleepless nights, of days crowded 
 full of effort to relieve the victims of that fearful conflict. 
 By the fourteenth of June, two weeks after the battle, 
 
122 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 the army crossed the James and the wounded were trans- 
 ferred to Washington. 
 
 During the interval between the battle of Cold Harbor 
 and the withdrawal of the army to its new position in front 
 of Petersburg, while General Grant was making these 
 new dispositions and was engaged in the gigantic task of 
 the safe transfer of his forces, Mr. Fay had been chosen, 
 without his knowledge, a delegate to the National Re- 
 publican Convention held in Baltimore, and we will let 
 him tell his own story: — 
 
 I obeyed this call reluctantly, although as I think 
 fortunately, for by this time I was in the early stages 
 of malarial fever, and needed the change. The work was 
 put into the competent hands of Dr. Parish, and I took 
 the boat for Baltimore. Nature struggled for a day or 
 two with the disease, and successfully in the end, as it 
 proved to be nothing more than a temporary prostration, 
 and I was able to do my part in nominating Lincoln and 
 Johnson for the next four years. How little we realized 
 the tragedy that was so soon to follow the inauguration! 
 After the convention adjourned, I went to Washington, 
 and from there to Fortress Monroe to await events. But 
 immediately after our steamer arrived there with our 
 stores, and our corps of twenty-five men and women 
 were ready again for service. Receiving permission to 
 go up the James, and feeling sure that the next move- 
 ment would be in front of Petersburg, we pushed up to 
 City Point, which would be, in that case, the natural 
 base of the army. This forecast was correct. We found 
 that the 2d and the 18th corps had already landed there, 
 having crossed the river in pontoon boats, and had gone 
 up towards Petersburg, and had had an engagement 
 there. Our supplies were landed and our kitchen started, 
 and we provided for those most in need whom we found 
 there. This was before the main army had crossed the 
 river. We found at City Point Colonel Arnold A. Rand, 
 of the 4th Massachusetts cavalry, in command of the 
 post. He was well known to me, and furnished us with a 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 123 
 
 four-horse wagon and a cavalry guard, and we despatched 
 a load of stores for the front, under the charge of General 
 J. F. B. Marshall, who, with a corps of eight men, with 
 Mrs. Marshall and Miss Gilson, went to the front to be 
 ready for the coming battle. 
 
 Soon after we reached City Point, the great pontoon 
 bridge, a mile long, was laid across the James for the 
 transfer of the army. To accomplish this change of base 
 secretly in the face of an alert and watchful enemy, with a 
 wide river in our rear, was a most hazardous undertaking. 
 Such a movement, when successful, is regarded as the 
 ablest manoeuvre taught by military art. While Grant 
 was supposed to be in front of Lee, heavily intrenched, 
 the latter suddenly learned that the entire Union army — 
 its vast supplies, its infantry, cavalry, artillery, and all its 
 trains — had been silently moved across the river, and were 
 on the march to Petersburg. This was one of the greatest 
 achievements of Grant during the war. It was a cam- 
 paign of giants. Lee at once retired toward Richmond, 
 and by the time our forces had begun to draw a cordon 
 about Petersburg Lee had already thrown some of his 
 forces into the city, and was intrenching there. General 
 Grant failed to secure this position, as he had planned, 
 because of the failure of his advance forces to seize it, as 
 they were ordered to do and might have done, and the 
 opportunity was lost. Heavy fighting followed for three 
 days before he would abandon this objective, which was 
 vital to the success of his campaign. This series of con- 
 flicts resulted in a complete repulse of our forces at every 
 point, and they were attended by a mournful loss of life. 
 Siege operations were then begun before both Peters- 
 burg and Richmond, and continued until spring. 
 
124 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 Mr. Fay's journal does not tell the story of what hap- 
 pened to General Marshall's party, who made their way 
 to the front with the stores in that four-horse wagon, but 
 the writer, who was one of his corps, can relate it. 
 
 They reached the lines of the army at dusk, and found 
 themselves suddenly involved in the lines of the battle of 
 Petersburg, but were turned back out of the danger zone. 
 They had lost their way through the woods, being guided 
 by the musketry firing, and, finding themselves involved 
 in the regimental movements, and almost between the 
 lines of fire, got back to the rear as best they could. The 
 field hospitals, if such they could be called, were simply 
 points to which the wounded were brought and laid upon 
 the ground, the operating tables being built up on the 
 spot from such rough boards as could be gathered from the 
 farm-houses near. The medical trains had been stalled 
 for hours in the fields in the forward movement of the 
 army, and could not be reached, but the surgeons estab- 
 lished these hospital stations and began their work without 
 their anaesthetics, hoping hour by hour that they would 
 be at hand. The story of what happened in the rear of 
 these blazing lines of musketry, its victims with the 
 grime and smoke of battle upon them brought thus to the 
 knife of the surgeon at the amputation tables, simply 
 cannot be told. It does not need to be told. 
 
 It was in the midst of such physical horror as this that 
 Mr. Fay's Sanitary Commission team worked its way 
 through these congested lines of the army, and came upon 
 the scene with the supplies of ether, chloroform, dressings, 
 stimulants, and food, with its efficient men and women 
 ready for service ; and there was not a surgeon on the field 
 who used the supplies who did not thank God for them, 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 125 
 
 and feel that the relief given through those three days of 
 battle alone justified the entire expenditure of the Sani- 
 tary Commission during the war. The forecast which 
 provided for this emergency, and the pushing of this 
 wagon-load of supplies through all the difficulties en- 
 countered, were simply characteristic of all Mr. Fay's 
 service in the field. 
 
 As the siege of Petersburg went on, City Point became 
 the gateway of the army. It was the base of supplies, 
 and a town of considerable proportions grew up about the 
 banks of the river. The headquarters of the army were 
 established there, and a mile back from the landing, on a 
 wide plateau, were the great corps hospitals. A branch 
 railroad ran through the centre of the hospital grounds, 
 so that the sick or wounded might avoid ambulance 
 transportation, and be taken directly from the cars and 
 laid upon their hospital beds. A dispensary, commis- 
 sary storehouses, general and special diet kitchens, were 
 provided for each of the hospitals, with provision for the 
 Sanitary Commission stations in each corps. It was a 
 vast establishment, with accommodation for many thou- 
 sand men, all under the care of Dr. Edward B. Dal ton, 
 Medical Director. It was at this point that Mr. Fay 
 established his headquarters during the summer and 
 winter of 1864, until the final campaign in 1865, which 
 ended in the capture of Richmond and the surrender of 
 General Lee. 
 
 Dr. Dalton gave the Sanitary Commission all the 
 facilities needed for its work. His personal relations with 
 Mr. Fay were most friendly, and the two departments 
 worked together effectively. Dr. Dalton was a highly 
 gifted administrative officer, and left his mark upon the 
 
126 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 entire field-hospital system. Seventy-five thousand sick 
 and wounded men passed through these hospitals during 
 the year. 
 
 It was during the summer of 1864 that Mr. Fay nar- 
 rowly escaped with his life from the explosion of the 
 ammunition barge at City Point which cost so many 
 lives. He tells the story of this experience, as follows: — 
 
 On the eleventh of August, 1864, I went down to the 
 mail-boat, as was my custom, to mail my letters. I also 
 had a team to get a tent which had been made for me and 
 which had just arrived. The mail-boat had a large 
 number of passengers, — friends who had visited the hos- 
 pitals and the army, and officers going home on furlough 
 or sent as messengers to Washington. At the stern of 
 the boat lay a barge loaded with ammunition. The 
 steamer had just started, and, as I was throwing a box 
 into the wagon, the ammunition exploded, killing every 
 one on the barge or near it. If it had happened a few 
 moments before, the mail-boat would have been blown 
 to pieces with the loss of the passengers and crew. How 
 many were killed will never be known, but the fragments 
 of human bodies were lying all about. The buildings on 
 the wharf nearest the barge were crushed. Missiles of 
 all kinds, shells, Minie balls, pieces of lumber, guns, 
 bayonets, filled the air, and dropped all around me. I was 
 knocked down by the concussion, somewhat injured in 
 the face, my arm was disabled, and my side severely 
 bruised, though the ribs were not broken. Curling up 
 in the smallest space, I put my arms over my head to pro- 
 tect it. At that moment a frightened horse, with swinging 
 trace chains, came on the run down the railroad track where 
 I was lying. I got under my wagon, for the missiles were 
 still falling. One of the horses of my team had fallen. 
 The runaway horse struck him as he was struggling to 
 free himself, and his heels were more dangerous than 
 the flying fragments in the air. I fortunately escaped 
 further damage, and the horse died before he could be 
 rescued. At that moment some one called out, " Another 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 127 
 
 explosion," and I saw piled up against the building, 
 which was on fire, large boxes of ammunition which had 
 just been unloaded. Starting to run, it occurred to me 
 that there might be men under the crushed building who 
 ought to be rescued, and I turned to them. At that 
 instant a tugboat ran up to the wharf, threw out some 
 hose, with one man only to handle it. My right arm 
 was helpless, but with the other hand and arm we man- 
 aged to drag it to the fire, and it was soon extinguished. 
 My horse was hitched at a distance and was uninjured, 
 and, reaching the hospital, I was duly cared for, and re- 
 mained a short time only out of commission. To show 
 the force of the explosion, I learned afterwards that the 
 keel of the barge was thrown over the building, which was 
 thirty feet high, and landed on the track near where I 
 was lying. It was a fortunate escape for me. 
 
 There are some additional facts relating to the fright- 
 ful effects of this explosion given by Morris Schaff, the 
 ordnance officer in charge of that barge, that will be of 
 interest as showing the wonderful escape of Mr. Fay from 
 instant death, which was the fate of nearly all of those 
 who were near the barge at the moment of the explosion. 
 This officer states that there were some twenty or thirty 
 thousand rounds of artillery ammunition and seventy- 
 five to one hundred thousand rounds of small-arms 
 ammunition on that barge. "We were at a game of 
 chess in my house on the bluff, a hundred and fifty yards 
 back from the wharf. A solid twelve-pound shot crashed 
 across the bed into the mess-chest. Shells burst over us, 
 and a fragment just grazed my shoulder. There was, of 
 course, a sudden stampede into the garden. Shells were 
 falling or bursting every instant. The sky was full of 
 falling missiles. One of my clerks was killed there, and 
 we carried his body back into the office from which he had 
 
128 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 fled when the projectiles that were hurled in every direc- 
 tion began to enter it. From the top of the bluff there 
 lay a staggering scene of a mass of overthrown buildings 
 in tangled and impenetrable heaps, and in the water 
 were wrecked and sunken barges. Next the ammunition 
 barge was a canal-boat filled with saddles and cavalry 
 equipments. The explosion sent them flying in every 
 direction, like so many big-winged bats. One of them 
 killed the lemonade man who at the moment was doing 
 a thriving business under a tent-fly, surrounded by mule 
 drivers white and black, soldiers and civilians, many of 
 whom suffered the same fate. In a barber's shop near, 
 all were killed, and, when their bodies were gathered 
 where the tent had stood, they numbered thirty in all. A 
 musket was found standing upright in the road, buried to 
 the second band, almost half a mile back from the wharf. 
 I have always thought it must have been that of the 
 sentinel on the barge, for it does not seem possible that 
 any of the rifles in the storehouse could have reached a 
 height such as this one must have attained, to give the 
 necessary velocity to penetrate so deeply. It was esti- 
 mated that the explosion cost the lives of at least two 
 hundred men, besides the maiming of a multitude of 
 others, though the exact number of casualties was never 
 known." 
 
 Dr. R. B. Prescott, who was also near the spot, wrote as 
 follows of his experience: "It has always seemed almost 
 miraculous that I was not one of the victims. I was 
 knocked down by the concussion, and an officer with 
 whom I had been talking only a moment before was 
 instantly killed, — torn all to pieces in fact. In my mind's 
 eye I have often seen that dreadful spectacle, that im- 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 129 
 
 mense cone-shaped mass of flame and smoke rising seem- 
 ingly hundreds of feet into the air, and filled with timbers, 
 saddles, military stores, and bodies of men and horses. 
 It was a sight never to be forgotten." 
 
 The appalling fact regarding this explosion is now a 
 matter of history. It was caused by a Confederate tor- 
 pedo, manufactured and placed there by a rebel officer, 
 Captain Maxwell, who with great daring penetrated our 
 lines with it. His report to the Richmond authorities 
 was captured by Dr. Prescott, referred to above, in 
 which the whole story is given in great detail, with the 
 description of the torpedo, which was fired by clock-work. 
 This officer (Captain Maxwell) relates with some gusto 
 that "the scene, though terrific, was in some aspects 
 ludicrous! The air was filled with all sorts of the mu- 
 nitions of war. Army saddles careened through the air as 
 though playing leap-frog, while headless bodies, arms, 
 legs, and heads of the unfortunate crew flew about in the 
 smoke." One does not need to comment on this de- 
 scription. It was not war. It was simple butchery. 
 
 There was another incident that occurred at City Point 
 some months later which will be of interest. It was 
 related to the writer by Mr. Fay, and concerns the visit 
 of President Lincoln to the army during the winter of 
 1864-65. 
 
 He had come down to the James River to confer 
 with the two Confederate Commissioners, Alexander H. 
 Stephens and Judge Campbell, in relation to terms of 
 peace that would be acceptable to them. As he expected, 
 nothing came of it; but public sentiment at the moment 
 seemed to demand the interview. During that visit he 
 was at General Grant's headquarters near the hospitals, 
 
130 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and visited all of them. Standing by the diet kitchen 
 of the 6th corps hospital, the headquarters of Mr. Fay, 
 after the President had visited every bedside and had 
 shaken hands with all the convalescent soldiers who stood 
 in line before him, Senator Sumner who was with him 
 remarked, "Mr. President, you have taken the hand of 
 some thousands of men to-day: you must be very tired." 
 "Tired?" said Mr. Lincoln. Then, with a quizzical look 
 in his face, he glanced about as if in search of something, 
 picked up an axe that was near him, and, swinging it 
 several times over his head, began with powerful strokes 
 upon a chopping-log in front of the kitchen. Every stroke, 
 clean and strong, went to its mark like that of an ex- 
 perienced woodsman, and the chips went flying all about 
 him and about the wondering company standing near. 
 Then, dropping the axe, he turned to Mr. Sumner, and 
 said, smiling, "No, Mr. Senator, you will see I am not 
 tired, and can still hew to the line." A few weeks later 
 he lay dead at the hand of the assassin, and there was 
 not one among these thousands of men who did not 
 recall with tender emotion or who could ever forget the 
 pressure of that friendly hand as he came into the pres- 
 ence of his great leader and friend. 
 
 Up to the date of the attack on Petersburg the colored 
 troops had taken but a passive part in the campaign. 
 They were now first brought into action where the fighting 
 was desperately contested, as was shown by the numbers 
 of the dead and wounded left on the field. The wounded 
 were brought down to City Point, where a temporary 
 hospital was established to receive them. It was ill 
 provided, its organization, if it had any, was imperfect, 
 and the mortality was frightfully large. The severity 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 131 
 
 of the campaign in a malarious country had prostrated 
 many with fevers, and typhoid in its most malignant 
 forms was raging with increasing fatality. The stories 
 of suffering reached Miss Gilson at a moment when the 
 campaign through which she had passed had greatly 
 impaired her strength; but her duty seemed plain, and, 
 as there were no volunteers in the emergency, she pre- 
 pared to go. Her friends did not expect she would sur- 
 vive this task, but, saying she could not die in a better 
 cause, she started out alone. A hospital had to be created. 
 Official pride and prejudice had to be met and overcome, 
 and it had to be done without seeming to interfere. She 
 gave, as was her rule, instant and unquestioning obedience 
 to medical and disciplinary orders, and this opened a 
 pathway for a service that was welcome everywhere. 
 A hospital kitchen was organized on her method of special 
 diet, the nurses were made to learn her way and to accept 
 discipline, and harmony soon prevailed. The rate of 
 mortality decreased, and the hospital became known as 
 one of the best in the department and had the most 
 cheerfully picturesque series of buildings at City Point. 
 Her personal presence in the wards was a benediction, 
 as was her ministry at the bedside of the soldier. Nobody 
 could see her moving about her work, or sitting in her 
 sober gray flannel gown by the dim candle-light, with 
 her eyes open and watchful through the night, with hands 
 ready for all those endless wants of sickness, without being 
 moved by the devotion and tenderness which were given 
 to the humblest man whom she was there to serve. And 
 every hour as it passed added strength to her influence 
 and to her command of a position which won and received 
 the warm appreciation of the entire Medical Corps. 
 
132 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 In Mr. Fay's narrative there are many references 
 to a book, Hospital Life in the Army of the Potomac, from 
 which he quotes as a sufficient record of his own experi- 
 ences. It was written by one of his corps who was closely 
 associated with him, and the story there told is often as 
 complete a narrative as if Mr. Fay himself had written 
 it. Some of the pages of this volume are quoted here as 
 showing the work that was done at City Point during 
 the long siege before Richmond and Petersburg. 
 
 The editor gives this additional picture of Miss Gilson 
 at this time: — 
 
 The grace and dignity with which she went about her 
 work won all hearts. As she passed through the wards, 
 speaking here and there cheering words to these suffering 
 men, calling them by name, and knowing the story of many 
 of them, they would follow her with their eyes and hold 
 out a supplicating hand for just the word of sympathy 
 and good cheer that was always at command for all of 
 them, and she was always rewarded by grateful words 
 for her tenderness and care. She seemed to be mother and 
 sister to them all. 
 
 Absorbed in her work, unconscious of the influence of 
 her gentle personality, whether in the kitchen, in the heat 
 and overcrowding incident to the issue of a large diet 
 list, or in her quiet hours at the bedside of these men, she 
 always seemed to impart courage and good cheer; and 
 when asked for some simple religious service, the reading 
 of a psalm, the singing of a hymn, or the offering of a 
 prayer, her voice was always at command in these devo- 
 tions. But it was not in these ministries alone that her 
 influence was felt. Was there jealousy in the kitchen, 
 its cause was soon discovered and harmony was restored; 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 133 
 
 was there profanity among the convalescents, her daily 
 presence and kindly admonition or reproof were enough 
 to check the evil; or was there hardship or discontent, 
 the knowledge that she was sharing the discomfort also 
 was enough to compel patient endurance until a remedy 
 could be provided. And so through the whole war, 
 from the seven days' conflicts upon the Peninsula in those 
 July days of 1862 through the campaigns of Fredericks- 
 burg, Chancellorsville, Antietam, Gettysburg, and the 
 conflicts of the Wilderness, for the possession of Rich- 
 mond and Petersburg, in 1865, she worked steadfastly 
 on until the end. Through scorching heat and pinch- 
 ing cold, in the tent or upon the open field, in the am- 
 bulance or in the saddle, through rain and snow, amid 
 unseen perils of the enemy, under fire upon the field, or 
 in the more insidious dangers of contagion, she did her 
 part with womanly devotion, and to hundreds whose 
 sufferings she relieved or whose lives she saved she was 
 
 "A noble type of good 
 Heroic womanhood." 
 
 Mr. Fay became greatly interested at this time in an 
 Italian soldier who had strayed into our camp, and we 
 find references to his story in his memoranda. The poor 
 fellow was ill and helpless, and had wandered away from 
 his regiment with a deadly homesickness, entirely broken 
 down and needing rest and care. In some way unknown 
 to us, he had found his way to this colored hospital. 
 He could not speak a word of English, and, as it proved, 
 was far gone in consumption. We had been ministering 
 to his wants with the sympathy his case had awakened, 
 and by French and such few Italian words as we had 
 
134 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 at command tried to talk with him. As we spoke of our 
 cold climate and contrasted it with that of Italy, his 
 eyes brightened, and, with his arms extended upward, 
 he gasped out, "L'ltalie est paradis!" He seemed to 
 see his own smiling Pavia and Vigevano, to feel the soft 
 breath of the Mediterranean, and to bring up all the sunny 
 memories of his far-off home that he was never to see 
 again. 
 
 After much effort we found in a neighboring hospital 
 an Italian who could act as interpreter. We were eager 
 to learn his story, which proved to be the old tale of de- 
 ception and fraud, of the cruelties of the bounty agents, 
 and of sufferings the sequel of which would soon be death. 
 He had been in the country but a few days when, he 
 knew not how, he found himself clothed in a blue uniform 
 and regularly enlisted in the military service of the gov- 
 ernment. A man of delicate frame, he had simply broken 
 down from the severities and exposures of the campaign, 
 and here he was to die. His mind reverted to his distant 
 home, and he spoke with deep feeling of his poor old 
 father and mother and his brothers and of what a tragedy 
 their separation had proved, of his dear old cathedral 
 of Vigevano, and of his employments which he should 
 never enter upon again. He knew he was going to die, 
 yet did not shrink from death. He welcomed it rather; 
 for what was life to him? It was only privation, hard- 
 ship, loneliness, and suffering. He had no influence to 
 procure his discharge; he could make no appeal for jus- 
 tice; his comrades were strangers, and spoke a strange 
 tongue, of which he knew not a word; he had no com- 
 panion to whom he could look for sympathy or to whom 
 he could tell his story of wrong; indeed, he could hardly 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 135 
 
 make himself understood by these new friends who were 
 trying to comfort and cheer his last hours. But one 
 boon was granted him, — that of hearing his native lan- 
 guage from the lips of a countryman. At first he seemed 
 bewildered, then overjoyed that such a blessing should 
 have been his before he died. His eyes opened, express- 
 ing content and peace, though there was still a restless- 
 ness and anxiety, of which we could not guess the cause. 
 He was sinking rapidly with some weight upon him that 
 he had not the words or the wish to reveal. At length, 
 asking if he had money to dispose of, he gave a sigh of 
 relief, and unstrapped his belt, which contained, as it 
 proved, eight hundred and fifty dollars. His pulse was 
 growing faint, but he tried to write the name of his family 
 and their home address. The words were slowly spelled 
 out one by one in a trembling hand, — his own name, 
 Giovanni Qualia, and that of his brother, Giuseppe 
 Qualia, St. Andrews Street, Vigevano, Department of 
 Pavia, Province of Vigevano, Italy. The money was 
 to be sent to him, to be divided according to his discre- 
 tion. The dying man seemed now at ease, and we left 
 him to rest. As we withdrew, he held my hand firmly 
 in both of his to express his gratitude. He never spoke 
 again, and before morning passed away. His body was 
 removed to the tent for the reception of the dead; and 
 at four o'clock of the following afternoon on two 
 stretchers the body of a colored soldier who had died 
 in the cars on the way to the hospital and this poor, 
 friendless Italian were carried out to their graves. 
 There were two mourners walking on either side, — a sad 
 funeral procession. We performed a short service for 
 the poor unknown negro, whom nobody would mourn, 
 
136 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and for this stranger from another land. Soldiers 
 gathered about the mound of earth, standing with un- 
 covered heads, and, while the earth trembled with the 
 tremendous firing all about us, we committed these two 
 men to their soldiers' graves. This was our Sunday 
 service. Letters were sent to Italy, containing a remit- 
 tance of twenty-nine hundred and fifty-two francs, the 
 proceeds of the money given into our care, and it was 
 gratefully acknowledged later by the family. 
 
 Half a mile from the hospital grounds at City Point 
 was a wretched group of tents called the hospital of the 
 wagon-train. It was not a hospital, but a place where 
 some thirty men were lying sick and neglected, who had 
 been discovered by Mr. Fay, and whose condition was 
 deplorable. They were wagoners, rough, hardy pioneers 
 from Maine, but, being civilians and employed only as 
 laborers, were not entitled to medical care except such 
 as they could secure by payment. They were destitute 
 and suffering from inflammatory rheumatism. Mr. Fay 
 arranged for such care as we could give them, and their 
 condition gradually improved. One old man was lying 
 on a rough bunk, quiet and patient, with sunken eyes 
 and a face worn by pain. Mr. Fay provided him with 
 many comforts, and, as he received them, he said: "We 
 have these societies in our town for the soldiers, but I 
 never began to realize the value of them till now. Mind, 
 I'm none of your flatterers. I'm an old man, have had a 
 hard lot in life. I've got five sons in the army, — my all; 
 and, if I never see them again, I give them to the cause. 
 You don't know how your coming here kind o' cheers me 
 up." We knew it did, for we saw the tears gathering in 
 his eyes; and, when I thought of those five sons, I could 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 137 
 
 but recall the letter of consolation then just written by- 
 Abraham Lincoln to the poor widow who had buried her 
 five boys, when he spoke of the feeling of "solemn pride" 
 which was her precious privilege, now that she had laid 
 such a sacrifice upon the altar of her country. I could 
 not but feel that the same was applicable to him also, — 
 that "solemn pride." 
 
 But these instances of tender care need not be multi- 
 plied. They are brought together here to show how per- 
 fectly Mr. Fay was able to realize his own conception of 
 a personal ministry among suffering soldiers which, with- 
 out treating them in masses, could reach down to the in- 
 dividual man in his need, to soothe his pain, to cool his 
 brow, to touch with gentle hand his shattered frame, 
 and by all the resources of wise and tender ministry 
 bring him back to life again. 
 
 There is, however, another side to life in an army hos- 
 pital, and any true picture of it must represent that other 
 side. It is not full of romance or of heroism, though there 
 is an abundance of both to be found there. You are deal- 
 ing with all sorts and conditions of men, some of them 
 strong, thoughtful, heroic, claiming nothing for them- 
 selves, eager to share, ready to bear others' burdens 
 as well as their own. Then there are also just the aver- 
 age men, who have negative characters or none at all, 
 stolid, indifferent, who don't care much either way. Then 
 come the "bummers," who joined the army for the large 
 bounties they received, deserted, and then "jumped 
 them " to enlist again for more money. They were always 
 ready to play upon one's sympathies and to practise the 
 well-known tricks of such soldiers, who disgraced the 
 uniforms they wore. These were the outcasts of society, 
 
138 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 of whom the world would say they were fit only for the 
 front of battle and it would be a good riddance if they 
 died. It was our fate to meet many of them. 
 
 There was one institution at City Point during this 
 year that was filled with such men. It was known as 
 the "Bull Ring." It was the prison of the army, and con- 
 sisted of barracks, with a wide enclosure open to the sky, 
 surrounded by a high stockade", and guarded night and 
 day. There were four hundred men imprisoned here, and 
 their condition was a disgrace to the army. They were 
 held under a great variety of charges, ranging from the 
 highest crimes known to military law down to the common 
 delinquencies of the soldier. The court martial dealt with 
 these men as rapidly as it could, but its work never ap- 
 peared to be done. When rumors of unwholesome brutal 
 conditions in this prison reached Mr. Fay, his indigna- 
 tion was quickly aroused, and he at once asked permission 
 on behalf of the Sanitary Commission to make an inves- 
 tigation. The writer joined him in this inspection. We 
 stood on a raised platform built on the stockade for the 
 guard, and looked down upon the yard. Presently the 
 men came shuffling out of the building, with that listless 
 air which showed how indifferent they were to their fate, — 
 couples chained together, men half naked and alone, 
 clad in every variety of garments, Federal uniforms and 
 Confederate, the blue and the yellowish-gray, all in rags; 
 some with a meal-sack over their shoulders, some with 
 a gunny -bag for a jacket, others with their cotton drawers, 
 and with feet tied up in bagging to serve as shoes and 
 stockings; without hats, with uncombed hair, ragged, all 
 alive with vermin. Here were hardened criminals, — the 
 outlaws of society, — reckless and defiant, many of them 
 
COLD HARBOR AND PETERSBURG 139 
 
 under sentence of death, yet unconcerned about their 
 fate, and careless whether the execution were ordered for 
 to-morrow or were indefinitely postponed. There were 
 sixty or seventy others who knew that after trial their 
 crimes would be expiated on the scaffold or that they 
 would be shot, who yet accepted their lot with a profane 
 bravado which made one shudder. 
 
 The line was formed, and our distribution of clothing 
 began. One by one they came forward. To the first, 
 "Unbutton that blouse and let us see what you require." 
 It was stripped open, and the man was naked to the waist, 
 "A woollen shirt for you." The next man, with gunny- 
 cloth tied over his feet, sore and bleeding with the cold, 
 "A pair of shoes and stockings." The next, compara- 
 tively comfortable, "Only a towel." The next one, with 
 only a thin pair of drawers, "Warm drawers and a pair 
 of trousers." And so, one by one, the men pressed for- 
 ward, some with meal-sacks for a blanket, others without 
 even this covering, breaking the line in their eagerness 
 to receive something to keep them warm, — a shivering, 
 suffering crowd, pinched by the frosty morning air. They 
 moved about the yard to keep up a brisk circulation, — 
 men of all ages, from the gray -haired to the youngest lads, 
 and some so broken in spirit that they had resigned them- 
 selves to whatever fate might be in store for them. There 
 was one lad not over sixteen years old in this pen, a bright 
 little fellow, quick in his movements, the only cheerful 
 one in all that crowd of men. As I asked the officer in 
 charge why a boy was placed with such desperadoes, the 
 lad looked up and said with perfect nonchalance, "I 
 relieved my captain of some of his greenbacks ; he had too 
 many, and I had none; he didn't know how to use them, 
 
140 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 and I thought I would spend them for him." The boy 
 was demoralized; but, when I remonstrated with the 
 officer against confining such a lad with such associates, 
 he said, what I had already been convinced was true, that 
 he was as bad as any of the men, and could not be worse. 
 I replied that he might be made better, and ought to be 
 removed. He pointed to headquarters, and told me to 
 go there, if there was wrong to be redressed. 
 
 After the distribution of the clothing, we went through 
 the barracks. They were about fifty feet in width by 
 one hundred and fifty feet long, and through the entire 
 length, on each side, were bunks in tiers, which held three 
 or four men each. In the middle of the building there 
 was another similar construction, and every bunk was 
 occupied. It was a dark, noisome place. The only re- 
 deeming feature of the prison was the food and the ar- 
 rangement for cooking and serving it. Here everything 
 was clean and in order, with an abundant supply. A 
 report of the general conditions found in this Bull Ring 
 was made to General Grant, and within a short time they 
 were greatly improved, and all cause of complaint on 
 the ground of inhumanity was removed. 
 
 And so the winter of 1864-65 passed with all these 
 varied experiences, while Grant was gradually extending 
 his lines and preparing for his great coup-de-main in front 
 of Petersburg and Richmond in the coming spring. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Last Campaign. Petersburg to Appomattox 
 Court House. 
 
 The long winter of 1864-65 had passed, the buds 
 and leaves of another springtime were opening, and we 
 were entering upon the last campaign of the war. 
 
 Before we go on to the conclusion of the story, we must 
 briefly review the military situation, and note the co- 
 lossal scale with which, on every side, General Grant was 
 bearing down upon the Confederacy, now tottering to 
 its fall. The vast combinations on the chess-board of 
 the war had been going on for months under his direction, 
 and were now culminating to the point of co-operation 
 between the armies of the West and the East, with the 
 single purpose of the destruction of the insurgent armies 
 and the collapse of the Confederacy. Sherman's daring 
 and splendid march to the sea had cut the Southern 
 states in twain. He had captured Atlanta in the summer 
 of 1864, and had made possible that great swinging 
 movement through Georgia to the Atlantic coast, the 
 pivot of which was the Army of the Potomac in front of 
 Petersburg and Richmond. 
 
 "Sherman had advanced from Atlanta, destroying 
 Southern railroads, founderies, mills, workshops, and 
 warehouses, moving over half a continent, and working- 
 ruin to all material resources as he marched. He reached 
 the coast before the end of December, crossed into South 
 
 141 
 
142 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 Carolina in February, 1865, and then moved slowly up 
 through North Carolina to be ready to act in concert 
 with Grant when the time was ripe to strike his enemy." 
 
 During the winter months of 1864-65, when so little 
 appeared to the outside world to be doing in Virginia, 
 Grant's efforts, says Swinton, "were mainly directed to 
 restraining the Confederates from voluntarily giving up 
 to him Petersburg and Richmond, which were no longer 
 his objective. Lee's communications were now his 
 objective, those interior lines of supply of food and 
 ammunition which ran through the Carolinas and the 
 Seaboard States, and radiated over the great productive 
 territory of the Central zone." 
 
 Sherman was destroying those lines of communication, 
 and was drawing his coils tighter over that entire region. 
 
 "He had reached Goldsborough, North Carolina, late in 
 March, 1865, with a clear course to Petersburg, a hundred 
 and fifty miles away, but remained there refitting his 
 forces, as General Grant feared that, if he should move 
 any farther on his way, Lee would abandon Petersburg 
 and Richmond, and this he did not desire until he was 
 ready for a pursuit that would end in the destruction of 
 his adversary." * 
 
 Sheridan, with his ten thousand cavalry, started up 
 the Shenandoah Valley early in March, as a part of the 
 great forward movement, broke up and shattered Early's 
 forces, completed the destruction of the James River 
 Canal, destroyed the railroad toward Richmond and 
 Lynchburg, and then, going entirely round General Lee's 
 army, breaking up en route all the railroad tracks and 
 bridges, he joined Grant again in front of Petersburg. 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac. 
 
THE LAST CAMPAIGN 143 
 
 With these great combinations culminating to a point, 
 and with forces adequate to his need, it seemed that the 
 campaign now to be opened could have but one result. 
 Swinton says that "it was not alone the overwhelming 
 weight of physical power that threatened the insurgent 
 armies, or that the Union forces had torn asunder the 
 fabric of the Confederacy; but secret causes of disturbance 
 in the moral order in the South had corrupted the life- 
 blood of the revolt. The people had separated themselves 
 from their leaders, and their cause was ready to fall to 
 the ground. There were men enough in the South to 
 continue the war, but those men were beyond the reach 
 of the authorities at Richmond. The conscription had 
 broken down, and the collapse of the commissariat was 
 equally complete." * The desertions from the army were 
 constant and large, and at the opening of the campaign, 
 although Lee had on paper a hundred and sixty thousand 
 men, he had in reality less than fifty thousand to defend 
 forty miles of intrenchments. "It only remains to show 
 how, in the last wrestle, these men comported themselves, 
 when they at last broke down under a burden too heavy 
 to bear, and the revolt which they had for four years 
 upheld with their bayonets fell with a crash that re- 
 sounded through the world." f 
 
 Lee's only hope was to unite with Johnston on the 
 Danville line, and this was what Grant determined to 
 prevent. We do not need to follow the campaign in 
 much detail, although there are incidents in it that are 
 of great interest. It really began with an offensive move- 
 ment by General Lee on the twenty-fifth of March, 1865, 
 in front of Petersburg, in the hope of diverting Grant's 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac. t Ibid. 
 
144 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 attention from his proposed lines of pursuit, and to open 
 for himself a line of retreat on the south side of the 
 Appomattox, which was a much shorter line to Amelia 
 Court House, his point of concentration on the Danville 
 railroad. But, bold as this plan was, it failed. General 
 Grant was not to be diverted by such an attack. It cost 
 the Confederates two thousand prisoners and as many 
 more in killed and wounded, and Lee could ill afford such 
 a loss. "This offensive movement neither retarded nor 
 precipitated the catastrophe, for Grant, having fixed the 
 twenty-ninth of March for the opening of his campaign, 
 held firmly to that plan." * 
 
 Both armies were unleashed on the twenty-ninth and 
 thirtieth of March, 1865, and the fighting began on the 
 thirty-first. On the first of April Sheridan was engaged 
 victoriously at Five Forks, and had a part of Lee's line 
 completely entrapped; and on Sunday morning, the 
 second of April, Jefferson Davis was notified of Lee's 
 purpose to abandon Richmond, and the Confederate 
 President fled. Heavy fighting was going on all along 
 the line, General Lee using all his resources to foil and 
 hold off his enemy. The Confederate army, as we have 
 seen, had been greatly depleted during the winter by 
 desertion, and its wonderful courage and morale was 
 greatly impaired. Moreover, General Lee was fighting 
 forces overwhelming in numbers. 
 
 Abandoning Petersburg and Richmond, General Ewell, 
 under orders from Breckenridge, Secretary of War, set 
 fire to the cotton and tobacco warehouses and left the 
 Confederate capital in flames, and it fell, after slight 
 resistance, into the hands of the Union forces. 
 
 * Swinton's Army of the Potomac. 
 
TEE LAST CAMPAIGN 145 
 
 General Lee retreated by the north bank of the Appo- 
 mattox instead of the south bank as he preferred, and 
 Grant pursued on parallel lines to strike the Danville 
 road by Burkesville Junction, to interpose his forces 
 there. Lee was moving his army to Amelia Court House. 
 Reaching there, he learned that the loaded cars containing 
 the large supplies he had gathered for the subsistence of 
 his army, and which he had ordered to meet him at that 
 point, had been met by another order from Richmond, 
 which was misinterpreted, and the entire stores had been 
 sent to that city and burned in the conflagration. This 
 was a deadly blow to General Lee. The chase for the 
 hunted prey went on with all the vigor of a Grant and 
 a Sheridan. One disposition was made after another, the 
 entire army so far victorious in hot pursuit, pressing the 
 rear, striking one flank and then another, cutting off 
 trains, capturing artillery and prisoners. Swinton says 
 that "the Confederates began their retreat with but one 
 ration. They were living on the exhausted region through 
 which they passed, and their foragers were so restricted 
 by the clouds of Union cavalry that they could collect 
 practically nothing. Those men were fortunate who had 
 in their pockets a few handfuls of corn which they might 
 parch by the wayside. The misery of the famished troops 
 during these first days of April passes all experience of 
 military anguish since Napoleon's retreat from the banks 
 of the Beresina." 
 
 The doom of the Confederacy was written in unmis- 
 takable lines. But, in spite of this, General Lee, with 
 courage and skill unabated, fought on, throwing his divi- 
 sions upon every weak point of his adversary. It was 
 all in vain, however, and he was forced back with con- 
 
146 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 stant losses in these attempts to save his army. Pressed 
 upon all sides, in hunger and fatigue, the Confederate 
 column reached Farmville, with the armies of Grant so 
 massed in front and rear as to give immediate promise 
 of a sure and final ending of the campaign. This was 
 the seventh day of April, and on the evening of that day 
 General Lee received a note from General Grant asking 
 of him the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, 
 and on the ninth of April, after a personal conference at 
 a farm-house near Appomattox Court House, the generous 
 terms of capitulation offered were accepted, and the great 
 Civil War was at an end. 
 
 During the first part of the campaign Mr. Fay re- 
 mained at City Point. The wounded of both armies 
 were scattered over sixty miles of territory, being left on 
 the fields where they fell or moved to such shelter by 
 the wayside as could be found for them. All along that 
 bloody track of war every farm-house, barn, or wayside 
 church, became a shelter for the wounded. The Medical 
 Director of the army, Dr. Dalton, was ordered to estab- 
 lish a hospital at Burkesville Junction, a railroad centre, 
 and to gather in the wounded there preparatory to their 
 transfer to City Point. Surgeons from the base hospitals 
 were ordered forward with tents and supplies, and the 
 writer was detailed by Mr. Fay to join them. The rail- 
 road connection was broken at Wilson's Station, and a 
 camp was made at that point until transportation to 
 Burkesville could be had. A few hours after our arrival 
 there a large body of Confederate prisoners appeared in 
 the distance, creeping slowly forward in a long, sinuous 
 line over the hills, filling the roads and going into bivouac 
 in the fields adjoining our camp. This column proved 
 
TEE LAST CAMPAIGN 147 
 
 to be the corps of General Ewell, eighty -five hundred 
 officers and men, captured by General Sheridan, and now 
 moving to tide water where they could be held or paroled, 
 awaiting the farther issues of the campaign. They had 
 marched twenty-five miles over the boggy roads and 
 through persistent rains, and the sight of this heroic but 
 impoverished column (it was Stonewall Jackson's old 
 corps) was enough to move any heart to pity. Chilled 
 and suffering from the cold winds of the season, drenched 
 to the skin, they simply dropped into the soppy grass 
 in the last stages of exhaustion. The writer went down 
 into this bivouac and moved among them to see what 
 might be done to relieve the hapless misery of their 
 condition. Footsore and weary, those who wished to go 
 into hospital came forward. There were hundreds of 
 them on fire with fever or racked by malarial chills or 
 rheumatic pains, emaciated by hunger and want, and 
 far too many for any hospital accommodations there. 
 The commissary of the prisoners was then furnishing 
 ample rations, and the fires were blazing on every hum- 
 mock of dry ground, and groups were huddled over them 
 on these closely guarded fields. In a group apart were 
 the general officers, and the writer was detailed to con- 
 sult with them as to what might be done on the spot 
 for those who could not go forward. But the numbers 
 were far too great for our resources of alleviation, and it 
 was decided that they must all be rested and fed, and 
 then all go on together, let who might drop by the way. 
 There was no alternative. There was General Ewell, the 
 commander, and Kershaw and Custis Lee and Tucker 
 and Admiral Semmes of Alabama fame, with Du Bois 
 and other division and brigade commanders of this famous 
 
148 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 corps who had long followed their great leader and had 
 won immortality with him. We sat together by the 
 camp-fire, talking of the campaign and the crisis of the 
 war, which, all admitted, was now at hand. General 
 Ewell seemed prematurely old, with deep lines in his 
 sunken cheeks, moving on crutches, a worn, sad-faced, 
 broken man. He was no longer fighting Dick Ewell, 
 with his dare-devil, picturesque profanity, his energy in 
 battle, the chosen leader of Jackson's corps, who through 
 a hundred battles had won the love and confidence of 
 those who followed him. In the great catastrophe which 
 had now befallen the Confederate forces he accepted 
 the situation, and took the best, in fact the only view of 
 the capture of his corps. He said the men would no 
 longer fight, and the war was over. I told him of the 
 Richmond conflagration, the fires of which he had him- 
 self lighted as his forces were withdrawn from the city, 
 and the result of which he had not heard. His eyes 
 blazed with their old fire as I told him of the feeling in 
 Richmond for those who had ordered that conflagration, 
 and he replied with passion, "As commanding officer, I 
 was compelled to execute that barbarous order, and my 
 main regret now is that I did not throw the man who 
 issued it, General Breckenridge, the Secretary of War, 
 into the midst of the flames." Kershaw, a model soldier 
 in look and bearing, said to me as we talked apart, "For 
 two years I have seen the inevitable, and did my duty 
 for the cause I espoused, but I am glad the end has 
 come," and that was the general voice of all of them. 
 
 One of the rank and file came forward, mistaking me for 
 a surgeon, and holding out his hand, which was covered 
 with a stained and ragged handkerchief, asked if his 
 
TEE LAST CAMPAIGN 149 
 
 fingers could be amputated. He was encased in mud, 
 having fallen on the march from exhaustion and been 
 trampled upon. His trousers were in ribbons about his 
 feet, his hat without a brim, his hair bleached and tangled, 
 and his Confederate butternut uniform just holding 
 together. He was a pitiable-looking object, but the 
 moment I heard his gentle Southern speech I saw there 
 was a good kernel inside the rough shell. His wound 
 had not been dressed since his musket was shot from his 
 hand some days before, nor had the steel splinters been 
 removed, and it was in a shocking condition. The hand 
 was quickly cleansed and dressed, the steel splinters cut 
 away, and there was certainly hope that it could be saved. 
 As we were about to part, he begged for a "hardtack." 
 One of the guard at his camp-fire cheerfully took from his 
 haversack his ration of uncooked pork, cut off a generous 
 slice, and with two pieces of hard bread made him a 
 sandwich. My rebel soldier fairly devoured it. He 
 said he was about starved, as his only rations for nine 
 days had been a pint of unground corn. He then gave 
 his history. He said he was from Savannah, and about 
 the last of the old battalion of his friends who joined in 
 1861, and he had fought through the entire war. His 
 father, who was well known in Washington as a Union 
 man, had recently been appointed by President Lincoln 
 collector of the port of Savannah, and he thought, if a 
 letter could be sent to him, he could secure a parole. 
 The letter was written, and it was a satisfaction a few 
 weeks later to meet both the father and the son in Wash- 
 ington, and to know that the parole had been quickly 
 arranged. The war was over, and the young man, 
 clothed and in his right mind, recalled joyfully that raw 
 
150 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 pork sandwich, which to him was a never-to-be-forgotten 
 meal. 
 
 After this incident of the Confederate soldier was 
 closed, the great column of prisoners moved forward to a 
 point where they could be paroled as soon as the news of 
 General Lee's surrender reached them. 
 
 All these incidents happened at Wilson's Station on 
 the way to Burkesville Junction, which was our destina- 
 tion. Reaching Dr. Dalton's headquarters at that point, 
 we found the almost impassable roads of the region 
 congested with the ambulance and wagon trains. They 
 were often stalled in bog holes, and were floundering 
 through the mud, filled with the wounded who had fallen 
 by the way over the sixty miles of battlefields and had 
 been gathered in and brought to this point on the South- 
 side railroad. Reaching there, these trains were turned 
 into the open fields surrounding the station, and were 
 unloaded upon the sodden ground and by the roadsides 
 everywhere, and, after every house, barn, shed, and 
 freight building were filled, there were still thousands 
 lying shelterless there. As soon as the railroad was 
 opened, the supply of hospital beds was ample, but for 
 many days the conditions were most deplorable. 
 
 In two or three open sheds and in one railroad build- 
 ing were six hundred men without even straw for bedding, 
 and there were no blankets to protect them from the 
 rain which soaked through these long wards of misery. 
 Dr. Richardson, who was in charge, ordered milk punch 
 for the amputated cases, and they were soon supplied. 
 Several were dying; and my brandy flask was soon in 
 use, restoring two or three sufficiently to get from them 
 their names and to write some last message to their 
 
THE LAST CAMPAIGN 151 
 
 friends. In one row were five men lying on the hard 
 floor, all with thigh amputations, and all were dying. 
 In a small room partitioned off from the main shed 
 were three hopeless cases, placed there that they might 
 breathe their last in peace, apart from the noise and 
 excitement of the overcrowded place. Men were sitting 
 up, bathing their wounds when they could get water, or 
 were helping each other, and up to that time nobody 
 had entered the room since they had been placed there. 
 As we entered one of these buildings, from one end to the 
 other there were cries: "Doctor! O doctor! come and 
 dress my wound." — "Mine, doctor, mine!" — "Don't 
 pass me by!" each one making his own particular 
 appeal. In another shed were two hundred Confederate 
 wounded. One poor fellow with a thigh amputation 
 lying in a building with some of our own men, in answer 
 to the question whether he wished to be removed to the 
 shed where his own companions were, said, "We are all of 
 one family now; these are my brothers as much as yours; 
 let me stay where I am," while I could see under his head 
 a little Testament which he had been reading, having 
 the new revelation of that wider fellowship which, I felt, 
 he was so soon to realize in another world. 
 
 As soon as the railroad connection was restored with 
 City Point, the trains were taxed to their capacity in 
 the transfer of the wounded, and in three or four weeks 
 the emergencies of this last campaign of the war were over. 
 
 While all this was going on and we were in the midst 
 of these absorbing cares, the campaign was drawing to 
 a close. Rumors of the surrender of General Lee had 
 reached us, but the first visible evidence of the great vic- 
 tory was the wonderful sight of the forty captured battle 
 
152 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 flags which came swinging into line in the advance of 
 Sheridan's cavalry, in front of Dr. Dalton's headquarters. 
 The great leader himself was mounted on the powerful 
 horse that carried him to victory at Winchester. As he 
 appeared, every cap was thrown into the air. Resound- 
 ing cheers, a great roar of welcome, greeted him as he 
 threw himself from his saddle and was surrounded by 
 his troopers. The veterans stacked their captured ban- 
 ners, which, torn and in rags, were the emblems of our 
 victory. The headquarters tent which the writer shared 
 with the Medical Director was Sheridan's headquarters 
 also, and it was a never-to-be-forgotten moment for all 
 of us, — the Confederate standards lowered and drooping, 
 and never again to feel the breeze! 
 
 Then later in the day came Grant himself, the uncon- 
 querable, with his staff and the corps commanders of 
 the army, Humphreys, Wright, Parke, and Ord, dis- 
 mounting at our poor Burkesville station, where there 
 was hardly standing room among the wounded lying 
 there. They had ridden hard and far that day from Ap- 
 pomattox Court House, thirty-five miles distant, encased 
 in mud, but protected by their rubber garments from 
 the persistent rains. Grant stood impassive and silent, 
 taking little notice of the soldiers and others about him, 
 who were regarding him with wondering interest, as they 
 saw their great leader at the height of his achievements. 
 The dignity and quietness of this remarkable group of 
 men was in strange contrast to the tumultuous enthu- 
 siasm and gratitude of the nation then finding expression 
 both within and without the army. It was one of the 
 epochs of history, and these men who were its heroes 
 were absolutely without sign of personal triumph. They 
 
TEE LAST CAMPAIGN 153 
 
 appeared to be simply a group of tired men, eager to 
 get back, as if returning from an ordinary inspection of 
 the army, yet the whole world was ringing with their 
 achievement. 
 
 The broken railroad connection with City Point having 
 been restored, the horses of the officers were loaded on 
 the train, and within an hour these great leaders were 
 on their way back to the base of the army on the banks 
 of the James. Robert Lincoln, the son of the President, 
 then on Grant's staff, with whom we talked, in speaking 
 of the campaign said: "This is the tenth day since we 
 left City Point. It exactly fulfils General Grant's plans, 
 for, on giving to the staff commissary the orders for the 
 headquarters rations, he simply said, 'Ten days' rations. 
 We shall be back here in ten days.'" It was a wonder- 
 ful fulfilment of the prophecy of that great campaign. 
 
 Then followed too quickly the overwhelming tragedy 
 of the death of Lincoln, struck down all unconscious of 
 his fate, in the moment of his triumph, by the bullet of 
 the assassin, who stood lurking behind him. An un- 
 known voice at my tent in the dead of night announced 
 the assassination. Stumbling up from profound sleep, I 
 groped my way to the station, where the news announcing 
 the catastrophe was then passing over the wires to Gen- 
 eral Meade's headquarters. If the nation was stunned, 
 how must it have fared with the army which had faced 
 death in a hundred battles, through four years of war, 
 fighting on to the end for their country? Every man 
 grasped his musket, ready for any duty. Should it be 
 a war of extermination? That was the first great pas- 
 sionate cry. But no, there were to be no reprisals. That 
 was Lincoln's way. Flags drooped from half - staff, 
 
154 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 drums muffled, dirges in the air in the place of martial 
 music, and the measured booming of the guns were all 
 emblems of the common grief. Men spoke low and 
 trod softly, for fears were in the way. The golden bowl 
 was broken, and the good President lay dead, — a sacrifice 
 for his country. 
 
 It was through such experiences as these that Mr. Fay 
 and those who were with him moved about their sad 
 work over these desolate fields, through these long, win- 
 dowless freight houses and the station platforms, dress- 
 ing wounds, stimulating those whose strength was gone, 
 and giving good cheer to men who had borne the burden 
 of the battle and had shed their blood for their country. 
 We could not do too much for those who had done so 
 much for us, and so we worked on over this great track of 
 war till every man was gathered in and all had been 
 transferred to the wards in hospitals where every healing 
 ministry was provided for them. 
 
 The last weeks of Mr. Fay's hospital experience were 
 spent at Petersburg in the quiet, comfortable tents and 
 barracks of the Fair Grounds. Peace had come, and here 
 were the remnants of those who were to need his care. 
 In the gardens of the city, flowers were blooming in tropi- 
 cal luxuriance, and the wards of the hospital were fra- 
 grant with them. The quiet of these days was like an 
 oasis in the desert of suffering through which he had 
 passed, and there are many cases of interest of which we 
 have the notes. With one of these stories the record will 
 close. 
 
 A boy of seventeen, a conscript in the Confederate 
 army, was dying. He was the only son of a poor min- 
 ister in one of the small settlements on the Southside 
 
THE LAST CAMPAIGN 155 
 
 railroad, not far from Petersburg, and was seized during 
 one of the last months of the war, while working on his 
 father's farm, hurried to Richmond, and placed in the 
 ranks of the army. He had grown up on the farm, an 
 average country lad, doing his work, knowing nothing 
 of the world or its base ways. His home was the parson- 
 age of a poor parish with its narrow outlook and its stern 
 theology. He had been brought up to feel that there was 
 no hope for any human soul save through conversion 
 and the blood of Christ; and here he was now, under- 
 standing nothing of these things, on this poor hospital 
 bed, facing the end. The shell had grazed the spinal 
 column, and had paralyzed the lower part of his body. 
 Lockjaw had set in, and we saw that he was doomed. 
 He opened his eyes, and said: " I am afraid to die. I have 
 put off my repentance till it is too late, and I know God 
 will not receive me." This was his one thought, his one 
 agony. What could he do, how be converted? How was 
 he to get the blood of Christ? What did it all mean, and 
 why was he thus doomed? The long hours of the day 
 were given up to him. All the resources of encourage- 
 ment and consolation which these friends could offer him 
 from Scripture or from their own hearts were freely given. 
 God was not an angry God, but his Father. He was not 
 doomed. Every promise and every hope gave assurance 
 that this was so. After a long time spent in an effort to 
 quiet his mind and to brighten his last hours, spiritual 
 things became more real, the meaning of life and the life 
 beyond became more clear, and, when these realities 
 took possession of him, he became peaceful and trustful 
 to the end. A letter was sent to his father, and it was a 
 sad sight to see this poor, bent, gray-haired man sitting 
 
156 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 by the hour by the bedside of his boy. We left them to- 
 gether, the son so happy now, the father so thankful 
 that even this boon had been vouchsafed him, and both 
 knit together in this last communion and companionship 
 of their lives. So the night passed, and in the morning 
 he bore the body of his son back to his stricken and child- 
 less home. 
 
 And so the story of Mr. Fay's army life is brought to 
 a close. With the return of peace came the home wel- 
 come to the sick and wounded men. Ward after ward was 
 vacated, hospital after hospital was given up, until the 
 dismantled barracks were all that were left of the scene 
 of these exhausting labors; and even these visible rem- 
 nants of the war soon passed from sight. But the mem- 
 ories of these years lived on and yielded their rich rewards. 
 Mr. Fay had learned in the army the joy of service, the 
 greatest lesson of all, and this was his best possession. 
 His whole nature was enriched. The more he gave, the 
 more he had to give: he had won by service that which 
 the world cannot give and cannot take away, — the gentle 
 heart, the quiet mind, and a soul at one with the Eternal. 
 
 "There is a jewel that no Indian mine 
 Can buy, no chemic art can counterfeit. 
 It makes men rich in greatest poverty; 
 Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, 
 The homely whistle to sweet music's strain, — 
 This much-in-little, all-in-naught, content." 
 
THE WHITE AND THE RED CROSS. 
 
 Almost simultaneously with the preparation of these 
 war papers there arose the interesting question of the 
 connection of the Red Cross of international fame with 
 the United States Sanitary Commission, and a brief 
 chapter will be devoted to a statement of that connection. 
 
 The first suggestion of it was made by Mr. Anson M. 
 Sperry, who succeeded Mr. Fay when he retired from the 
 Auxiliary Relief Corps, and, the facts being presented 
 to the Red Cross office in Washington, Major-General 
 George W. Davis, chairman of the Central Committee, 
 in two valuable monographs* has traced the origin and 
 development of both these organizations, and has shown 
 in graphic narration the connection between them. 
 
 He has established historically the priority of the great 
 American prototype of the Red Cross, and has made it 
 clear that the evidence of the achievements of the United 
 States Sanitary Commission and the adjustment of its 
 operations on a colossal scale to the exigencies of war 
 that were presented to the Congress of Geneva in 1864 
 made that congress a success, and that without that 
 evidence it would have probably been a failure, and all 
 the efforts of M. Henri Dunant to establish the Red Cross 
 might have been unavailing. 
 
 This connection having been established, it is proper 
 
 * In the American Red Cross Bulletin for April, 1910, and in the 
 American Journal of International Law and Supplement of July, 1910. 
 
 157 
 
158 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 to recall from the preceding narrative (see pages 93-96) 
 Mr. Fay's relation to it. 
 
 The Auxiliary Relief Corps which he organized in 1863- 
 1864 and led into Grant's campaign in Virginia in the 
 spring of 1864 was the consummation of his own inde- 
 pendent work in the army and of his personal ministry to 
 the wounded during the first three years of the war. As 
 these years went on, with closer observation of the need 
 of adequate organization for such a service, with deepened 
 sympathy for individual suffering, with the consciousness 
 of the inadequacy of his own personal means to so great 
 an end and of individual helplessness in the presence of 
 the tragedies of the battlefield, there was no alternative 
 for him but to see that organization was provided to meet 
 them. He turned to the Sanitary Commission. It re- 
 sponded with large resources, with an extraordinary 
 grant of power to him in perfecting the organization, and 
 sent him into the Wilderness campaign with a body of 
 highly trained men equal to the emergency. 
 
 It was on these battlefields in Virginia in 1864-65 that 
 organized personal ministry was brought to bear for the first 
 time in war in the alleviations of the sufferings of tens of 
 thousands of wounded and dying men. And it was then 
 demonstrated for the first time that this provision could 
 be adequately made and the service adequately performed 
 outside the resources of government and entirely by volunteers. 
 
 This latter was the theoretical contention of M. Dunant 
 at Geneva, as against the doubting judgment of his 
 associates, at the moment it was being proved on a colossal 
 scale in Virginia, and the credit of the demonstration is 
 due to the United States Sanitary Commission, under the 
 powerful personal force of Frank B. Fay. 
 

THE WHITE AND THE RED CROSS 159 
 
 The American delegates at the Geneva Congress had to 
 combat the adverse opinion of the other plenipotentiaries 
 that such a service was possible, and this was done suc- 
 cessfully when the proof in their possession was presented. 
 They laid before the congress "the latest reports and most 
 valuable publications, medical, statistical, and others, 
 with photographs of the principal depots and stations of 
 the Sanitary Commission, with hospital plans, photographs 
 from life of the field relief corps with its men, wagons, 
 horses, tents, and their arrangements in action. These 
 life pictures, books, and practical proofs produced an effect 
 as great as it was valuable. To many of these earnest 
 men seeking for light, with their whole hearts, in the 
 interest of a long-suffering humanity, it was like the sight 
 of the promised land. They had been working in the 
 dark, and this was the opening of a window, letting in a 
 flood of light, and putting an end to all the doubt that had 
 arisen in their minds," and from this moment the Geneva 
 Congress which established the Red Cross was a success. 
 
 This covers the ground of the priority of the United 
 States Sanitary Commission in the work of battlefield 
 relief. But there is also an interesting connection between 
 the silver Greek cross of that organization and the 
 Red Cross insignia, which should be stated, as it also is 
 a matter of history. 
 
 There was in use by the Auxiliary Relief Corps of the 
 Sanitary Commission in the Army of the Potomac a 
 badge, consisting of a small silver Greek cross, surrounded 
 by an oval band of silver, with the words "U. S. Sanitary 
 Commission" deeply and legibly engraved upon it, which 
 was attached to the coat or cap of its members when in 
 service. This badge carried its bearers everywhere in 
 
160 
 
 WAR PAPERS OF FRANK B. FAY 
 
 the army, when on duty. It came into general use, and 
 was as distinguishing a mark of their position in the army 
 as were the army corps badges worn on the cap of the 
 soldier. It was worn by the writer through Grant's 
 campaigns of the Wilderness, Spottsylvania Court House, 
 Cold Harbor, and Petersburg, and up to the surrender of 
 General Lee at Appomattox Court House in 1865; and it 
 is an interesting fact that while the International Congress 
 was in session in Geneva in 1864, legislating for the neu- 
 trality of hospitals and ambulances in future wars, these 
 white cross badges were in actual use in the great conflicts 
 in Virginia, while their bearers were relieving the horrors 
 of war in their ministry of comfort and healing on the 
 field of battle. The Sanitary Commission blazed the way 
 for the Red Cross, and made its later triumphs possible. 
 
 When Mr. Fay retired from the Sanitary Commission at 
 the close of 1864, and its affairs were turned over to Mr. 
 Anson M. Sperry, the Auxiliary 
 /0? '■•Ca -SrffSK Relief Corps presented Mr. Fay 
 
 with a silver Greek cross, perfectly 
 designed and richly mounted and 
 inscribed, in token of the loyal 
 affection of its members and in 
 memory of their united service 
 for the soldier on many fields of 
 battle. On another page will be 
 found a full-sized reproduction of 
 this cross, which is now in the 
 possession of the American National Red Cross in Wash- 
 ington, having been presented to that association by Mr. 
 Harry F. Fay of Boston, son of Mr. Frank B. Fay, as the 
 proper custodian of this valuable insignia of a kindred ser- 
 
THE WHITE AND THE RED CROSS 161 
 
 vice. The banners of the United States Sanitary Com- 
 mission have long since been furled, and its achievements 
 of nearly half a century ago are well-nigh forgotten. The 
 years 1861-65 are about as far away from the youth of 
 1910 as the battle of Waterloo was distant from the men 
 of that time. The memories of martial valor, the sacrifice 
 and devotion of those years when the life of the nation 
 trembled in the balance, are now receding like muffled 
 drum-beats into a dim and distant past, and will soon pass 
 away. But the literature will survive, and in that lit- 
 erature the stories of the United States Sanitary Com- 
 mission and its achievements will have many pages of 
 surpassing interest, which will live as long as this nation 
 shall endure. 
 
 "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, 
 it abideth alone. But if it die, it bringeth forth much 
 fruit." The spirit that moved the men of the Sanitary 
 Commission is still alive and will continue to live. The 
 basis of it was Love, and Love is eternal and never dies. 
 Its inheritor in this majestic service is the Red Cross of 
 the twentieth century, and in its enlarged domain it 
 will continue to work its miracles. It does not wait for 
 war to move it to great achievements. It listens to every 
 cry of suffering everywhere. In war, in earthquake, 
 in famine, in plague, in fire and flood, in all calamities 
 that afflict, mankind, it is present in service in the spirit 
 of the Divine Master, whose immortal words should be 
 inscribed on all its banners: "Inasmuch as ye have 
 done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye 
 have done it unto me." 
 
W 56 
 

 
 
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