I Don't Thirst for More Fight: An Iron Brigade Sergeant Remembers Gainesville and Second Bull Run
The fight at Gainesville,
Virginia on August 28, 1862, marked the first time Sergeant Willie Hutchins of
Co. B of the 6th Wisconsin of the Iron Brigade had seen action. The
former native of Vermont struggled with the words to describe to his brother
what the experience was like.
“I have been in battle and now
know what a man’s feelings are but I cannot describe it,” he wrote. “At first there
is a touch of anxiety as to the result, then an unnatural feeling, I don’t know
what, but like to a man who has a long time thirsted for something and sees it
within his reach. After that the sight of my comrades falling around me made me
a perfect devil. Two of them were my tent mates; one shot through the head and
probably mortally wounded while the other has a flesh wound in the leg. I had
one bullet go through my pants and one landed on the bayonet of my gun. One
passed between my legs and into another man’s leg; one near my head and cut the
whiskers for our captain and my righthand man had a ramrod knocked out of his
hand. I don’t thirst for more fight, although if there is to be one, I am in."
Willie Hutchins’ account of Gainesville and Second Bull Run was sent to his brother Charles Hutchins in Vermont; it first saw publication in the October 10, 1862, edition of the Brandon Monitor.
Retreating
before Jackson’s whole force we arrived on the 28th of August at
Gainesville where signs of Rebels were apparent. McDowell ordered the 2nd
Wisconsin and 19th Indiana forward to take a
battery while our regiment and the 7th Wisconsin were lying in the
road as a reserve. While here, the artillery on both sides opened and for the
first time we heard the real thunder of battle. Shells and solid shot fell all
around us or burst in the air over our heads. My own feelings were hard to
express. It was the grandest sight I ever saw.
Soon the
rattle of musketry was heard and the cheers of the men. Word soon came for us
to go to the support of the 2nd and 19th. Over the fence
we sprang and on a double quick we went in. It was now dark, but a perfect
sheet of fire could be seen from both our own lines and those of the Rebels. Riderless
horses dashed by. Wounded men passed us, but still on we went until only a few
yards intervened between us when the Rebels opened the ball with two pieces of
artillery, throwing grape and canister and our ranks commenced thinning.
Our rifles spoke
and gradually their fire slackened. Pretty soon we heard the order given by the
Rebel officers: “Charge bayonet- forward- double quick- march!” We withheld, as
if by instinct, our fire for a few seconds and then gave them one volley. They
had started yelling like demons, but our boys gave yell for yell and they
broke. After that we held our ground and gave them a perfect shower of bullets
for some time and retired, taking our killed and wounded with us to the timber
a short distance in our rear. We laid down for an hour or two then started for
Manassas which place we reached day daylight the next day.
General Irvin
McDowell complimented us highly for our conduct, saying that considering the
great disparity of forces engaged it was the hardest fought engagement of the
war. We fought one hour and ten minutes and our brigade lost nearly 800 men.
The 56th Pennsylvania and 76th New York regiments fought
with us and their loss was about 200 men making the whole loss about 1,000 men.
A Rebel captain who was taken prisoner asserted that they lost 1,500-2,000 men
and also said that we were opposed to the old Stonewall Brigade that never
before showed their backs to an enemy. The fight, unproductive of results as it
may seem, was really our salvation as had it not occurred, we would have been
ignorant of the presence of so large a force of the enemy and should inevitably
have been cut off. However, it taught us how to fight and in the battles of the
29th and 30th we were shining lights.
On the 29th,
we laid on our arms supporting a battery and dodging shell and solid shot. We
supported it until noon of the 20th when our division was ordered
into the timber of the center for the purpose of clearing it and forcing the
Rebels back and driving them from the railroad track behind which they had
taken refuge and poured into us a perfect hailstorm of bullets. Here the New
York regiments of our division, or some of them (they all deny the soft
impeachment, one New York regiment laying it on another from the same state),
broke and skedaddled, crying out “our regiment is cut to hell, we are cut to
pieces, etc.”
Colonel Lysander Cutler 6th Wisconsin |
Our General John Gibbon, who was
with us, ordered us to shoot the first one who attempted to break through our
ranks and even strode in among them with a drawn sword and cocked pistol, swearing
he would kill them if they did not face the music. A few, to their credit be it
spoken, fell into our ranks and stood up like men while others contented
themselves with lying down amongst us; when our attention was drawn off by
another squad of cowards, they left. We were then lying down while our
skirmishers were feeling the Rebels. The skirmishers drove in the Rebel
sharpshooters on their reserve and drove the reserve back on to the main body
and then fell back. They reported the Rebels in force behind the railroad and
in three lines waiting to receive us: one lying down, one on their knees, and
one standing. They also reported the entire rout of the New York troops and the
withdrawal of the balance of our brigade.
General Gibbon, who had stayed
with the 6th Wisconsin, then ordered us to fall back with our face
to the enemy until we got out of the timber and then about-faced us and we
started home on the double quick. Our general rode in front of us and when we
got clear of the timber he turned around saying, “Good for the 6th.
Boys, you never did any better on drill.” He proposed three cheers which were
given with a will, the shot and shell whistling about our ears funny. Our ranks
were never straighter and the men had step perfectly. All the orders we heard
was occasionally “guide colors” and “steady.”
We had got not more than a
quarter of a mile when two Rebel regiments filed around the timber and deployed
into the timber to nab the whole batch of us, but
“we wont thar.” When we reached our battery, Battery B of the 4th
U.S. Light Artillery, we were greeted with a perfect ovation in the shape of
cheers and congratulations. We then fell into position in rear of the battery
as a support and stayed amidst a perfect shower of lead till the battle dried
up. Our regimental loss was about 50 killed and wounded, the most of which we
left behind in the woods having no means to carry them away with us.
While we were supporting the
battery, we laid in a splendid place to see the whole operations of the left
wing of our arm and the disgraceful cowardice of the New York and Pennsylvania
troops. Men scared to death, fleeing in every direction, having thrown away
their arms and accoutrements and in some instances, officers threw away their
swords to expedite them getting away. One or two regiments lost their colors
and it got to be a common sight to see a set of colors coming out with not more
than one or two men around them. As a contrast, one brigade of General Jesse Reno’s
division went in and came out broken up. When they got to the edge of the
field, the color bearers waved their colors and almost by magic the brigade was
formed (and a good-sized one, too) and went in again, and the next time they
came out they came out in order.
Well Charlie, I have been in
battle and now know what a man’s feelings are but I cannot describe it. At
first there is a touch of anxiety as to the result, then an unnatural feeling,
I don’t know what, but like to a man who has a long time thirsted for something
and sees it within his reach. After that the sight of my comrades falling
around me made me a perfect devil. Two of them were my tent mates; one shot
through the head and probably mortally wounded while the other has a flesh
wound in the leg. One poor fellow had his face stove up with a bullet and two
more were shot through the left breast. Others were hit in the arms, more in
the legs. I had one bullet go through my pants and one landed on the bayonet of
my gun. One passed between my legs and into another man’s leg; one near my head
and cut the whiskers for our captain and my righthand man had a ramrod knocked
out of his hand. I don’t thirst for more fight, although if there is to be one,
I am in.
Your brother,
Willie
Willie Hutchins would survive Antietam, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg but would not survive the war. Promoted to regimental quartermaster sergeant in June 1864, he was killed in action August 19, 1864 at the Weldon Railroad near Petersburg, Virginia.
Source:
Letter from Sergeant William W. Hutchins, Co. B, 6th
Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, Brandon Monitor (Vermont), October 10,
1862, pg. 2
For further reading on the 6th Wisconsin, readers are encouraged to check out Lance Herdegen's superb studies of the Iron Brigade including The Men Stood Like Iron: How the Iron Brigade Won its Name or The Iron Brigade in the Civil War and Memory . Also check out Alan D. Gaff's Brave Men's Tears: The Iron Brigade at Brawner Farm and Alan T. Nolan's The Iron Brigade: A Military History.
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