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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, 1854. (search)
his rear; and for two weeks from this date Lowell's brigade was fighting every day. On the 21st, the army was again encamped near the Ferry. Colonel Lowell's business was now to watch the movements of the enemy. It was in the discharge of this duty that his soldiership made its first deep impression on the commanding general; and day by day from this moment, as he was tried in new service, his reputation rose to a higher and higher point at Headquarters and throughout the army. On the 26th of August, he led an attack on the advance of the enemy. To succeed, it must be made with great rapidity. Charging up to a rail-fence behind which were the enemy, and which he could not leap, he actually whacked their muskets with his sabre. In tearing down the fence, men were clubbed with muskets, and two killed in this way; but over they went,— nothing could resist them. The Second Massachusetts captured seventy-four men, a lieutenant-colonel, three captains, and several lieutenants. This
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, 1857. (search)
. . . . Our men are all sick again. We are down nearly as low as we were in the worst times. It is discouraging to be losing ground so, just as we seemed to be gaining so fast. The trouble is mostly chills. There, I have written a very melancholy letter; but it could not be helped. The next time I write, no doubt everything will be much more cheerful. It was the last letter the brave man ever wrote. Four days afterwards he fell at the post of duty. On the afternoon of the 26th of August, writes a friend and brother officer, three hundred men of his regiment were ordered to be in line in the foremost trenches, to charge and capture the advanced rifle-pits of the enemy. At this time Lieutenant Perkins, almost conquered by fever, had been prevailed upon to abstain from work for a few days; but now nothing could induce him not to rejoin his regiment. To use the words in which Brigadier-General Stevenson wrote, My friend had been quite ill for two or three weeks and was of
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, 1859. (search)
s, can hardly carry a bucket of water. August 20.—For breakfast, beans, crust-coffee, corn-bread, fresh beef, and bacon. August 22.—Played chess. Some prisoners brought in, but not enough to equal the number of those that die. August 23.—Very hot. Some prisoners escaped last night. Drew some molasses yesterday. August 24.—Had a long talk on the chance for exchange; still hope for one this fall. August 25. —Hot day. Feel a little down-hearted once in a while. August 26.—Draw raw rations now; do not like it; have not wood enough, and nothing to cook the rations in. August 27.—Great excitement about exchange. All to be exchanged in two or three weeks. Wish it were true. August 28.—Draw beef in the morning, the rest of the rations in the afternoon. August 29.—A little down-hearted. The sights seen in this place are enough to sicken any one. August 30.—Reports in regard to exchange contradictory. Rations good, but rather s
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Harvard Memorial Biographies, 1860. (search)
unripe apples. August 24.—Last night one of the officers said he wished he was dead, or a prisoner, or with the wagon train, he did not much care which; and I think we all felt pretty much the same way then. Now that we have feasted on mutton, we feel better! August 25.—We then, after an ear of corn apiece, sought our couch on the grass. This marching without knapsacks, sleeping on the ground without blankets, and starving, is beginning to tell very severely on men and officers. August 26.—Joy of joys! Two wagons arrived, one with rations and one with officers' bedding. I suppose you know that letters are cut off. The Waterloo of this war will, I think, be fought in a few days in this neighborhood. You have no idea how heartsick one feels at a mail's arriving with nothing for one in it. I am very much struck with the difference of the feeling about the Rebels here and at home. I hear no bitterness of feeling expressed towards them by officers or men. They want to thrash<