Taking a Bullet and Finding a Wife at Monocacy

     The hardest fighting performed by the Federal army at the Battle of Monocacy fell to the ten regiments comprising the Third Division of the 6th Army Corps under the command of General James B. Ricketts. These hardened Army of the Potomac veterans had been pulled from the lines around Petersburg, Virginia on July 6th and sent to western Maryland in response to pleas for reinforcements to stop General Jubal Early's invasion of the state. Ricketts' veterans arrived at Frederick, Maryland just in time to take anchor General Lew Wallace's left flank near the Monocacy River. The following day, General Early pushed his troops across the river and assailed the two brigades in a sharp and brutal battle; the Federals fought well, delaying Early for a day, but ultimately lost the battle. 

    Among Rickett's veterans was a young New Jersey boat builder named Roderick A. Clark. Born January 25, 1844 in Pennsylvania to Irish parents, Roderick enlisted in the 14th New Jersey Volunteers in August 1862; the regiment left the state to contest Lee's September 1862 invasion of Maryland and later joined up with the Army of the Potomac. The fight at Monocacy proved something of a homecoming for the 14th: they had spent their first 9 months of service in camp along the Monocacy River before joining the main army after Gettysburg. By July 1864, Roderick was serving as a corporal and left the following account of his experiences during Monocacy.

    Badly wounded during the fight, Clark was left on the field and was captured by the Confederates. "Although very weak, I managed to crawl about 20 feet to the fence," he wrote. "The Rebels were now badly demoralized and were skulking behind everything that afforded shelter. Their officers were compelling them to get up and move forward and they used their swords freely. I heard several of the men say they had no ammunition and with horrid oaths they ordered to that dead Yank’s, meaning me. I never heard Minies fly so fast or sound so spiteful as they did there, cutting the weeds and throwing the dirt all over me. Behind the rail fence were a good many Rebels firing at our men. Two of them were right behind me and as they fired the muzzles of their guns were within a few inches of me and to prevent burning my face, I put my hat over my eyes. I had just taken my hand away when a ball from our men struck the hat and came so close that it burned my forehead, passed on, and killed a Rebel stone dead." 

    The wound cost Roderick his left leg which was amputated that night. The following day, he was hauled via ambulance to an army hospital at Frederick where a young nurse from Harper's Ferry named Elizabeth Ott took charge of his care. Romance blossomed between this young soldier and his nurse and the following year, Roderick took Lizzie as his wife and returned home to New Jersey where he embarked on his trade as a boat builder. 

    Roderick Clark's account of Monocacy first saw publication in the April 15, 1886 edition of the National Tribune. After the war, Roderick returned to New Jersey where he opened one of the state's first amusement parks, Clark's Landing, which operated well into the 20th century. 


Corporal Roderick A. Clark, Co. F, 14th New Jersey Volunteers lost a leg but gained a wife due to his wound at Monocacy. He outlived his first wife Lizzie who died in 1894 and his second wife Ida who died in 1910 and despite the loss of his leg, Clark lived to the age of 85. He passed away November 8, 1929, one of the last survivors of his regiment and is buried at White Lawn Cemetery in Point Pleasant, New Jersey. 

    July 9, 1864 is a day that will long be remembered by the surviving members of the 14th New Jersey and particularly so by your humble correspondent. It was on that day that the Third Division, 6th Army Corps, under General Lew Wallace was attacked by the Rebels under General Early at Monocacy, Maryland. About 12 o’clock, the Rebel pickets drove in our cavalry outposts on our left and took a position with a strong skirmish line on a high ridge west of Mr. Thomas’ house and south of the Washington Pike. Our regiment was placed in position on Mr. Thomas’ lawn north of the house and behind a large hawthorn hedge from which position we charged the Rebel line and drove them toward the river, killing and capturing many of them, among the latter a colonel badly wounded in the groin.

14th New Jersey reunion button from 1906

          We remained quietly in this position until about 3 o’clock when we discovered the enemy advancing on us in two lines of battle, mostly on our left flank at least half a mile away without a tree or obstruction of any kind to hide them. It was certainly a grand sight as they advanced in good order with the numerous battle flags waving in the breeze. We began firing at once but it made no difference. On they came with quick step until they got to within 300 yards of us. Then our regiment and the 87th Pennsylvania was moved by the left flank and changed front to prevent them from flanking us. At the beginning of this movement, I was hit in the left ankle by a Minie ball, completely crushing the joint. I started to retreat but found I could not walk; so I stood there until two of my comrades placed me on their gun and with my arms around their necks, started to the rear with me. But ere they got 20 steps I was struck with another Minie ball under the shoulder blade just to the right of the backbone, penetrating the right ling, stopping just under the skin in my breast. It felt about the size of a cannon ball.

The survivors of the 14th New Jersey gather in front of their regimental monument erected at Monocacy Battlefield. The regiment lost ten men killed, 69 wounded, and 5 missing during the battle. 

          I don’t know how long I lay unconscious but when I came to the Rebels were all around me. Our men had retreated to the Washington Pike and were making it hot for me as well as the Rebels. Although very weak, I managed to crawl about 20 feet to the fence. The Rebels were now badly demoralized and were skulking behind everything that afforded shelter. Their officers were compelling them to get up and move forward and they used their swords freely. I heard several of the men say they had no ammunition and with horrid oaths they ordered to that dead Yank’s, meaning me. I never heard Minies fly so fast or sound so spiteful as they did there, cutting the weeds and throwing the dirt all over me. Behind the rail fence were a good many Rebels firing at our men. Two of them were right behind me and as they fired the muzzles of their guns were within a few inches of me and to prevent burning my face, I put my hat over my eyes. I had just taken my hand away when a ball from our men struck the hat and came so close that it burned my forehead, passed on, and killed a Rebel stone dead. I thought at the time that the ball had struck the rail, but after the fighting was over, I saw that it had hit one of the Rebs just over the eye. Now my worst trouble began, a big Rebel came along and pulled off my shoes; the pain caused was almost unbearable. When he discovered the bullet hole through the one, he threw it down in disgust and said that it was a damned shame to spoil so good a shoe.

Private Van Wickle Griggs
Co. H, 14th New Jersey
Captured at Monocacy
Died while POW

          The next one that came along took my watch, telling me that I wouldn’t be able to see what time is was very long; he also took my empty pocketbook, knife, and picture album, but when I beseechingly held out my hand and asked for the latter, he threw it back with an oath and I have the album and contents yet. My next visitor was a mere boy whom I asked for a drink of water. He placed his hand on his bayonet and said, “I would rather give you this.” But he gave me neither but passed on about 10 steps, turned, and walked briskly towards me with his hand still on his bayonet. I thought then that my time had come but I did not care much for I thought it was impossible for me to live long, anyway. But instead of hurting me, he handed me his canteen and said, “Drink, I will let you see that we are not as bad as you think us.” But he took good care to give me a severe lecture for coming down there to fight “we-uns.”

During the engagement the Rebs put a battery in position close to where I lay, so that I could hear every command given the gunners. This battery stayed there all night and to one of the gunners I owe what comfort I got that night but that was not much. This man found me when he was returning from the river with water for his horse, propped me up on knapsacks and blankets and left his bucket half-full of water so I could reach it with my hand. He also sat and talked with me a long time. When I told him what regiment I belonged to, he looked over toward our old campground of 1862 (about a half mile away) and said, “That was the regiment that guarded about 900 of us to Fort Delaware after the Battle of Antietam. You used us well and I will do the same for you.” He came to me several times through the night and changed my position. At sunrise he came and got his bucket and bade me goodbye.

I lay on the field until 10 o’clock on July 10th and all through the night the doctors of both sides and their assistants called on me frequently. The Rebel doctor gave me a drink of liquor, but the Union doctor had only a little for his own regiment. This same Rebel doctor with two stretcher bearers came after me and carried me down to the big buttonwood tree. They put me in an ambulance with two wounded Rebels and started us for Frederick City where we arrived about 11 o’clock, 17 hours after I was wounded.

Lieutenant Colonel Caldwell K. Hall led the 14th New Jersey at Monocacy until severely wounded. He was discharged for his wounds a few months later but received a brevet promotion to brigadier general in March 1865 for his "gallant services at the Battle of Monocacy."


At the beginning of the engagement, our pioneers burned the bridge which made it necessary for the ambulance to ford the river. As the front wheels ascended the steep bank, I was nearly thrown out in the water; both legs went in up to my knees. I only saved myself by grabbing the hoop at the side of the ambulance. On the hill where the blockhouse stood, the Rebs had two guns firing at the railroad bridge to destroy it. They burned all the depot buildings, water tank, etc. On our way to Frederick we passed a vast number of cavalry, each man with three or four stolen horses loaded with plunder.

When we reached the hospital, we found that all the nurses had been sent away to prevent their capture, but the citizens of Frederick came nobly to our assistance, especially the ladies. One young lady, Miss Lizzie Ott, was the first to come to my assistance with a basin of water and soap. After about 30 minutes of hard scrubbing, I began to look like a man and to feel very much better. For twelve long weeks, Miss Ott was untiring in her efforts, bringing me every delicacy that could be thought of and sitting by me hour after hour, fanning me and speaking words of cheer. And, comrades, can you blame me for falling in love with her and marrying her? I think I hear you say you did just right!

 

Source:

Corporal Roderick A. Clark, Co. F, 14th New Jersey Volunteer Infantry, National Tribune, April 15, 1886, pg. 4

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