Linn misdated this - in 1862 Saturday was the 19th of April.We lay after getting off until near three o’clock, when the picket came down after us, and they found the mouth of the Pasquotank and proceeded. The lighthouse had been burned down, so that our pilot — not a good one at best — could not find it. About five o’clock we reached the landing place, a sort of bend or pocket just below Elizabeth City. The three regiments had reached here about two o’clock and had gone on. Our gunboats were lying here in force.The light boats took us off and ran as near shore as they could; then the small boats took us as near as they could, and we waded the rest of it. Very few but got in over the knees. After pulling off our boots and wringing our stockings, we formed. We had been divided into two brigades — the first of three regiments, 9th N.Y., 89th N.Y., and 6th N.H.; and the second brigade, 51st Penna. and 21st Mass. About seven o’clock we got under way. Two four-horse wagons, with our combustibles, and two pieces of cannon under Col. Howard, were ahead; the 21st Mass. in the rear. We marched on some two miles and reached Currituck Court House. It was built of brick; there was a low jail and several houses around. We then marched on through a beautiful country, well cultivated, with nice houses, and over a fine clay road, which it was a pleasure to go over. After going about five miles, we came to a handboard which said “8 miles to the river bridge.” We turned into another road and halted. Suddenly the major of the 21st came along, and the cry was “to arms.” We formed, but it was discovered that the first brigade had lost their way and gone about ten miles around. We then proceeded, our brigade in advance. From twelve o’clock until towards one, we were marching very steadily. Our men were dropping with fatigue. Morris rode along. I stopped and told him our men were dropping out by scores. I was most miserably exhausted. I could scarcely move my legs. I had eaten nothing for two days and had a raging fever last night. We had observed a dense, heavy smoke ahead, across the road, extending over a considerable area of ground. We supposed it was a bridge burning. Morris had scarcely passed when a cannon opened, and a six-pound ball struck in a ploughed field about two hundred yards to our left, and rolled and bounded on past. Immediately a discharge of canister followed. We halted, got over into the field to our right, and formed in line of battle.The cannonade was kept up, the canister striking in front and the round balls in front, and some went over our heads. We could see them quite plainly, but we could not see where they came from on account of the smoke. In crossing into the field there was some confusion, and I ran after stragglers to get them into ranks. I had no assistance, as Shorkley was adjutant and Beaver was aide to Lt. Col. Bell. We moved on into the woods and turned to the left. Here I was so completely exhausted that I begged Col. Bell to give me Lt. Beaver, as I could not proceed. He told Beaver to take command, and that I should stay as his aide until I recovered.We moved on through the woods. More than half of our men lay down, completely exhausted and worn out. The rebels kept our range, and the round shot and canister were crashing all around us.
We stacked arms and then got a drink of water. Several houses standing here had been burned, and the fences made a dense smoke clear across the rebels’ position, so that we never saw the smoke of their cannon or musketry until we got up very close. Our regiment was then moved to the right, towards where we had been in the fight, and stacked arms in the open field. It began to rain very fiercely, and I went around to see the rebel positions. There were deep ditches along the road, used as drains all through this country, which they used as rifle pits, having in front a worn fence partly thrown down, yet high enough to give them cover. The road along which we advanced was very thickly strewn with rails, so that we could not make a charge over it. After making coffee, we were marched to the cover of the woods along the fence where we had fought them, stacked arms, and prepared to bivouac for the night. I went down to see our wounded. I came first to the hospital of the Zouaves, where I saw three of their dead lying outside. I was afraid to uncover their faces, for fear that I would see Lanig.I went a half-mile further to our hospital. The rebels had played fiercely on our hospital, after the red flag was up — round shot and shell. The ground was all ploughed up. They must have seen the fight, for glasses were found by a man in Co. E at the place where their cannon were stationed.Lanig was shot in the jaw — the jawbone broken and the tongue cut off, and the ball lodged somewhere inside, but could not be found. Buskirk had a flesh wound through the upper part of his arm. McCormick was wounded in the leg, via buckshot apparently, but no hole could be found in pants or drawers.Buskirk asked me to write to his father; Lt. Lanig to his wife. He could not talk and could only make some signs. Here Sergt. Shuck, Co. E, came down to carry up Hoffman. Hoffman’s brother was along — poor fellow — he took it very hard.I returned to our bivouac ground about nightfall. Beaver had got a gate, and we had a fire, made some coffee, and after discussing the day, and especially the incompetency of Major Shawl and the cowardice of Capt. Shawl, we turned over to sleep, expecting to be called early, and that tomorrow we would have sharp work.I had not slept but about a half hour. At nine o’clock, Lt. Col. Bell called us all up — the officers — and told us we should get our men ready to march in an hour back to Elizabeth City; that our safety depended on our doing it that night. Gen. Reno had reliable information that large reinforcements had been sent for and would be there before morning. The Massachusetts pickets could hear them coming already. Each company butted arms, stacked, and dismissed. Arrangements had been made to take all the wounded that could be carried with safety, and the rest would have to be left to fall into the hands of the rebels. The surgeons had cast lots, and the lot fell on Dr. Warren, 21st Mass., to stay.Unless the march was made in perfect silence, we would be attacked by their cavalry, which we had seen in the distance and supposed to be fifteen hundred. So we went and wakened all our men, explained to them all we deemed necessary to prevent them from imagining more. We had them load such of their pieces as were not, and the
Caps taken off. Then Beaver came in and told me the 21st had formed, and that we were to form immediately. So we got out into the field. It was very dark. The regiment formed in perfect silence. I cautioned my men that there was no occasion to be alarmed, and that if anything took place they should stay quietly in ranks until they got orders. That any man who allowed his piece to be discharged Gen. Reno would shoot, and that if I found that anyone had lost his piece in the morning I would have him punished by the severest punishment.The first brigade moved first, then our regiment, the 21st Mass. in rear, then two pieces of artillery, then our axemen, who had orders to destroy the bridges after they had passed; and if cavalry came on, they were to open out on each side, Col. Howard giving them time, and the artillery would play on them. We moved out onto the road. The first mile was very slow, taking an hour or more; then we went faster. And such a march I can give but the faintest description. The roads, which were good in the morning, owing to the rain had become exceedingly bad. It was so dark that you could scarcely see the dark forms of the men in front of you. We were all excessively fatigued by what we had gone through previously. I was particularly unfit for it. But we stuck to it — to the colors all the way through. It rained a great part of the time.In the morning, deep chalk holes cut in the road had been filled with wood in corduroy style, and these were scattered and ricked around, so that the passage over them was rather precarious. Men fell down and sank in the mud. Stragglers dropped out exhausted; some threw away their rifles, though not many. When we reached the courthouse, the glands of my legs swelled, and it was agony to stand still. It was near four o’clock. Stragglers came up and joined us. Then I learned, to my sorrow, that three of our wounded were left behind. It was agony to me for a while, though I know it could not be helped. In fact, all the wounded of our regiment had been left, and of the other regiments except the dirty scoundrels, the Hawkins Zouaves. The surgeon of that regiment was the medical director of the expedition, and he had loaded up only his own men. The 21st Mass. had discovered the trick and got five of theirs along by getting a cart and horse. We were very much chagrined.We left there and got to the river bank about five o’clock. Here we were very agreeably surprised to see Irvin, of Hassenplug’s company, who had been wounded in the arm, join us. When he found the army had decamped, he knew where Col. Hawkins’s horse, which had been wounded, was tied, went for it, and rode through — swimming creeks — all the bridges had been broken down. We were glad of it. He said poor Buskirk urged him not to go.We had to wade out to a plank arrangement taken on the Pilot Boy and put on board the Guide. Fortunately, I had dry socks in my haversack. Dick got me warm water, and some officers kindly gave me liniment, which I rubbed on my leg. But I could not walk — only hop around.We got some breakfast and went to bed. Yesterday is like a bad dream. I can’t remember much about it — I was so used up. Slept most of the time, sat around the stove, and we fought everything over and traveled it again and again, so that I feel perplexed about it. I know it was Sunday the 19th — just one year since I left home to enter the army.