Our Army is Almost Invincible: The Maryland Campaign with the 2nd North Carolina
First Lieutenant
John Calvin Gorman of Co. B of the 2nd North Carolina Infantry had
seen much of the world in his 27 years when he sat down to write the three
letters making up this remarkable account of the Maryland Campaign.
As a
young man during the 1850s, he had traveled to Kansas territory where he plied
his trade as a journalist and printer, returning home to North Carolina when
the region became “Bleeding Kansas” as Northern and Southern pioneers fought
over the concept of popular sovereignty. In 1861, he joined Co. B of the 2nd
North Carolina State Troops under the command of Colonel Charles C. Tew and
would later see much hard service in Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia.
By the
time of the Maryland campaign, Lieutenant Gorman was commanding his company and
sent home several highly descriptive letters to his wife and mother back home
in North Carolina. Gorman’s journalistic sense shines through as he lays out
the story of “Lee’s Miserables” marching into Maryland. “No way can your eye
turn but the paraphernalia of war greets you,” he wrote. “Hundreds and
thousands of wagons, horses, mules and men. Our army is almost invincible but
an army it is! It puts to blush Don Quixote: such a motley, dirty, and ragged
crowd never was accumulated before. We are faring famously now in the eating
line and have been ever since we left Manassas. But we ought to fare well for
we ate green corn and beef without salt and traveled 25 miles per day on it for
four or five days on our memorable march from Richmond.”
These first two letters were published in the September 22, 1862, edition of the Spirit of the Age, a newspaper published in Raleigh, North Carolina. Part 2 of this series entitled “Losing a Quarter of the Division: The 2nd North Carolina at South Mountain” will feature Gorman’s description of the fight for South Mountain on September 14th and 15th, and the final part of the series will feature Gorman’s account of fighting along the Sunken Road during the Battle of Antietam.
To read part 2, click here.
To read part 3, click here.
North Carolina State Militia Button (Army of Tennessee Relics) |
Camp in the Potomac, opposite
Berlin, five miles from Harper’s Ferry, Virginia
September 5, 1862
Dear Wife and Mother,
By
the setting sun whose rays streak up from the high hills of Maryland, I have
found my first opportunity to write you for the past two weeks, week that
constitute an important epoch in my life’s history. When I last wrote you, I
was on the North Anna River 30-odd miles from Richmond. We took up our march
from there and every day since then has been a march, a long march. We marched
by way of Orange Courthouse and Culpeper Courthouse, across the Rapidan River,
thence to the battlefield of Bull Run, thence to Fairfax, then Leesburg, and
from that point today we have come.
In
all the long marches my health has been excellent and even now while I write,
although I have traveled 20 miles today, I am not more tired than if I had done
a day’s work in the office. I have never flagged and can boast that in all the
marches of my regiment, not one step have I rode. General [George B.] Anderson
told me, a few moments ago, that he had an opportunity to send a few letters
privately to Richmond, hence these lines. I cannot tell you all I have seen as
this is all the paper I can beg. In all our long marches, we have been as yet
unable to meet the Yankees. Jackson and Longstreet were 48 hours ahead of us
and though we made forced marches and could hear the booming of their guns, we
were unable to participate.
From the
Rappahannock to the plains of Manassas is one scene of desolation and has been
almost one continuous battle for 13 days. In every encounter, we have whipped
the enemy, but upon the twice-fight and twice-won field of Manassas occurred the
bloodiest battle yet fought on this continent. Over the same ground where the
blood shed last year had hardly been obliterated when I marched over it lay
heaps and piles of dead, thick, so thick, that I could step from one to another
for the distance of four miles while the woods in every direction were lined
with them. I never saw such heaps of dead, nine-tenths of whom were Yankees.
The
women in the towns and villages as we passed were uproarious in their joy,
especially in Warrenton and Leesburg. At Warrenton, banners long hid were flung
to the breeze, handkerchiefs were waved, while servants and even ladies bore
buckets of water and waiters of substantials and offered to our half-famished
and ragged soldiery as they marched hurriedly through the place after the
retreating Yankees who had not quitted it six hours. That is why such bravery
is displayed by our men and he that would not cry “victory or death” under such
inspiration deserves to be a bondsman and a slave.
At
Fairfax, we caught up with the jaded troops of Jackson and Longstreet while the
enemy had retired to their fastnesses on Arlington Heights. We then concluded
to change tactics and go into Maryland. Ours was the first division that
entered Leesburg and words cannot tell of the manner of our reception. We
entered at night, but every house was lit, and their tables spread and a not a
cent’s worth could beg. It was given, freely given. We rested there a few
moments and then marched beyond the town. Since then our movements have been in
the dark to me. Jackson, Longstreet, A.P. Hill, D.H. Hill, McLaws, and other
division commands were there but where they are now, I know not. They have gone.
Yesterday, Garland’s, Rodes, Colquitt’s, and Phillips’ brigades went over the
river and I know are now in Maryland. Today we were ordered here, and I think
tomorrow will be in Maryland.
The next week will be big with events. I am in excellent spirits and hopeful to come out unscathed in the storm of blood that is sure to reign. I trust in an omnipotent Providence, and in a mother’s and wife’s prayers and fell that whatever happens will be for the best. I am in command of my company. Keep in good heart, dear wife, and mother, and should I fall in this sacred cause, bear up under it well. If I survive, I will write soon. Kiss the babies for me and be of good cheer. Remember me to all. I cannot get your letters if you write them.
Camp of 2nd Regiment,
five miles north of Frederick City, Maryland
[September 11, 1862]
Dear Wife and Mother,
We
have no mails now and it is only by chance that I can get a letter to you. A
citizen of Wayne leaves here today, and this letter is intended to be sent by
him. We arrived here the day before yesterday without let or hindrance, the
Yankees fleeing before us precipitately, and we now have possession of the
middle portion of Maryland to the Pennsylvania line. Our whole army is now
encamped to the north and east of Frederick resting, and well they need it for we
have been on the march for 250-300 miles. No way can your eye turn but the paraphernalia
of war greets you. Hundreds and thousands of wagons, horses, mules, and men. In
a day or two we will again take up our line of march and then for days of blood
and carnage. I do not know whither we are going, but, of course, wherever the
enemy is.
Our
army is almost invincible but an army it is! It puts to blush Don Quixote: such
a motley, dirty, and ragged crowd never was accumulated before. We are faring
famously now in the eating line and have been ever since we left Manassas. But
we ought to fare well for we ate green corn and beef without salt and traveled
25 miles per day on it for four or five days on our memorable march from
Richmond. The Potomac Valley of Maryland and Virginia is the finest country I
ever laid eyes on. Such farms, such cattle, and horses I never saw. Provisions
are cheap; chickens for 15 cents, butter at 12-1/2 cents, eggs at 10 cents,
while every springhouse door is thrown open by its owner and milk freely given
away. At Frederick city yesterday, I bought shoes for $1.50, cashmere pants for
$3.50 and everything at old prices.
The
people, of course, are not as unanimously in our favor as in Virginia. The
poorer portion are nearly all Unionists with the exception of the majority of
the women. The better classes, the middle classes, are secesh, the women to the
backbone while the rich are mum, having too much at stake and times too squally
for them to avow themselves on either side. I don’t blame them much. Now and
then we meet up with a zealous Unionist who makes no greens of telling it. Our
orders to the whole army are to molest neither the ardent or the quiet, to
disturb no man’s property, and any violation is severely punished. Guards are
sent to all cornfields, gardens, and apple orchards and no one is allowed to
enter without permission of the owner. Corn brought into camp must be
accompanied by a receipt of the owner certifying that it is paid for.
I am in excellent health. Have not a pain or ache in my body and am fresh as a new blown rose. Be of good heart wife and mother. Through divine Providence and your prayers, I hope to live to see you all again. The war, I think, will end by next spring and we are bound to be victorious. The Rubicon (Potomac) is passed and such desperate fighting never was seen or read of as will be chronicled in the Maryland campaign. It is “Victory or Death.” I must close. Give my love to all and kiss the children for me.
J.C.G.
Source:
Letters from First Lieutenant
John Calvin Gorman, Co. B, 2nd North Carolina Infantry, Spirit of
the Age (North Carolina), September 22, 1862, pg. 3
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