Camp Cross at Point Lookout, MD (1863-1864): This image appears in William Child’s History of the Fifth Regiment New Hampshire Volunteers in the American Civil War, 1861-1865 (p. 238). Surgeon John W. Bucknam of the 5th New Hampshire sketched the image on which this wood-cut was based. The legend is as follows: (1) Colonel Charles Hapgood’s quarters (behind the flag pole) ; (2) quarters of Quartermaster Edmund Webber and Major Richard Cross (to the right of Hapgood’s quarters); (3) quarters of Lieutenant-Colonel James Larkin and Adjutant Elias Marston (the two tents to the left of Hapgood’s quarters); (4) quarters of Surgeon John W. Bucknam, Assistant Surgeons Child, and 2nd Assistant Surgeon Charles Trask (the structure to the left of Larkin and Marston’s tents); (5) a building that doubled as the church and Masonic hall (to the left of Bucknam, Child, and Trasks’s quarters); (6) regimental hospital.

I thought I’d write this post partly as a correction and partly as a meditation on a new line of inquiry.

After I published my last post entitled Colonel Cross and Three Condolence Letters, Rob Grandchamp contacted me with a correction. Those of you who are interested in the story of the 5^th New Hampshire Volunteer Infantry are probably familiar with Grandchamp’s biography of Colonel Edward Cross. If you haven’t read it, you should. In any event, Grandchamp wrote to me that while Captain James Perry had served as master of the Freemason lodge in Lebanon and headed the Hughes Lodge that was attached to the 5^th New Hampshire, Cross had attained the same degree as he had; both Master Masons. Grandchamp surmised that since Cross had earned all three of his degrees in one night at the Lancaster lodge, he had forgotten much of what he had learned. And so, when called upon to read the masonic symbols that the wounded Confederate officer had written at Antietam, Cross could not decipher them. That’s why he had to call for Perry.

This story got me wondering about Freemasonry (of which I know little) and the story of the regiment. In his “official” history of the 5^th New Hampshire, William Child (himself a Freemason who eventually became the regiment’s surgeon) included a chapter on the unit’s lodge.[i] According to Child, upon the 5^th New Hampshire’s organization, 31 masons in the unit petitioned the Grand Master of New Hampshire for a dispensation to meet as a lodge. The Grand Master assented to the petition, and the Hughes Army Lodge of the 5^th New Hampshire held its first meeting at Bladensburg, MD, on November 22, 1861. Captain James Perry (first master), Captain Ira Barton (first senior warden), and 1^st Lieutenant George Balloch (first junior warden) served as the lodge’s officers. At some point before the end of the year, Balloch, 2^nd Lieutenant Rinaldo Somes, and 1^st Lieutenant Richard E. Cross (the colonel’s brother) became master masons. Subsequent meetings took place at Camp California, not far from Alexandria, VA, until March 1862. Child’s account is somewhat unclear on the following point, but it appears the lodge held no further meetings until the fall of 1863, when one took place in Concord, NH. Regular meetings resumed in November 1863 after a “reorganization” while the regiment guarded Confederate POWs at Point Lookout, MD. They continued until late May 1864, at which point the 5^th New Hampshire rejoined the Army of the Potomac during the Overland Campaign. According to Child, three men attained the degree of Master Mason in 1861. Another 29 became Master Masons during the regiment’s stay at Point Lookout.

Child’s account lists the masons who signed the petition to the Grand Master. They included:

• Colonel Edward Cross, 31, Lancaster (editor, $7500 in total property)
• Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Langley, 26, Manchester (coachman, no property listed)
• Major William Cook, 32, Derry (farmer, $11500 in property)
• Adjutant Charles Dodd, 25, Boston, MA (father a bank cashier, $1000 in total property)
• Assistant Surgeon John Bucknam, 27, Lancaster (physician, $200 in total property)
• Chaplain Elijah Wilkins, 39, Lancaster (pastor, $1000 in total property)
• Quartermaster Edmund M. Webber, 40, Somersworth, (book keeper, $200 in total property)
• Commissary Sergeant Issac Hammond, 30, Concord (no occupation or property indicated)
• Captain James Perry, 27, Hanover (farmer, $5000 in total property)
• Captain Richard Davi, 39, Wolfeborough (shoe leather cutter, $1800 in total property)
• Captain Ira Barton, 22, Newport (father a lawyer, $3300 in total property)
• Captain Richard Welch, 46, Plaistow (farmer, no property listed)
• 1^st Lieutenant George W. Balloch, 35, Somersowrth (grocer and druggist, $2000 in total property)
• 1^st Lieutenant Charles Ballou, 28, Claremont (no occupation or property listed)
• 1^st Lieutenant Jacob Keller, 34, Claremont (not located)
• 1^st Lieutenant James Larkin, 29, Concord (ornamental painter, $700 in total property)
• 1^st Lieutenant Nathan Randlett, 23, Lebanon (father a farmer, $1250 in total property)
• 2^nd Lieutenant Dexter Reed, 22, Newport (father a Laborer, $200 in total property)
• 1^st Sergeant Samuel Little, 33, Stewartstown (laborer, no property listed)
• Sergeant Everett Fitch, 21, Hanover (not located)
• Corporal George Frye, 24, Croydon, (farmer, no property listed)
• Corporal Edward Pike, 29, Claremont (house carpenter, no property listed)
• Wagoner Charles Edgerly, 36, Dover (shoemaker, no property listed)
• Private Elisha Sholes, 45, Claremont (machinist, $1075 in total property)
• Private Jacob Mooar, 30, Hollis (jeweler, no property listed)
• Private James Gates, 21, Claremont (not located)
• Private John Hebard, 28, Lebanon (Father a farmer, $9820 in total property)
• Band Leader Addison Adams, 39, Concord (music teacher, no property)
• 1^st Class Musician Thomas Hoitt, 33, Rollinsford (no occupation or property listed)
• 2^nd Class Musician Lewis Litchfield, 30, Rollinsford (laborer, no property listed)
• 2^nd Class Musician James Edgerly, 27, Farmington, (shoecutter, no property listed)

(Ranks are those at the time of enlistment. Ages are also upon enlistment and are based on Augustus Ayling’s Revised Register of the Soldiers and Sailors of New Hampshire in the War of the Rebellion 1861-1866 [1895]. Residences also comes from Ayling’s Revised Register. Occupation and property are from the 1860 Census.)

Child stresses that this list did not include all the masons in the regiment. It seems likely that signatures would have skewed toward the most prominent or highly ranked masons. Still, several facts are clear from this list. Masons were extremely well represented in leadership positions. All three of the field officers (colonel, lieutenant colonel, and major) were masons, and masons held a number of positions on the regimental staff. Four of the regiment’s ten captains and half of its 1^st Lieutenants were also masons. It is not surprising that civic-minded men prominent in their local communities—that is, just the type of people who recruited and led companies—would belong to a fraternal order. It should also come as no surprise that such men were older than the average soldier. Only seven of the 31 petitioners were 25 years old or younger. Over half were 30 or over. Since age correlated with wealth and they were generally prominent members of their localities, the masons who were field officers and company commanders owned substantial amounts of property.

The 5^th New Hampshire’s first 18 months took a heavy toll on these masons. The band with its four masons were mustered out in August 1862. Except for Larkin, all the lieutenants among the signatories were gone by March 1863, either killed, discharged for disability, or, in Balloch’s case, detached to the Commissary Department. Of the four captains who signed the petition, Perry was the last one to remain with the regiment, and he was killed at Fredericksburg in December 1862. In the spring of 1863 when Cross left the 5^th New Hampshire to assume command of the brigade to which the regiment belonged, there were no more petitioners among the field officers.

This heavy attrition among masons in leadership positions might account for the reorganization of the Hughes Army Lodge that took place in late 1863. In the summer of 1863, when the regiment returned to Concord, NH, to rest and recruit, Child reported to his wife that he attended a number of masonic meetings, but he did not explain who reorganized the regiment’s lodge or how it was done.

Child did mention in a December 1863 letter, however, that masonic meetings at Point Lookout were frequent and the younger masons “well engaged.”[ii] Clearly, once the regiment stopped actively campaigning, there must have been an influx of new masons in the lodge that was reflected in the large number of men who became master masons during the winter of 1863-1864. By this point, two of the men who had been promoted to field-grade rank were masons: Lieutenant Colonel Richard Cross and Major James Larkin (both had been promoted to their respective ranks in July 1863). What role they may have played in resurrecting the lodge remains unclear. Larkin’s letters from this period are silent on that point.

Point Lookout, MD, View of Hammond Gen’l Hospital & U.S. Gen’l Depot for Prisoners of War (1864) (detail): This portion of the image shows the Confederate camp (bottom) and Camp Cross (top). The building numbered 58 (the large structure in the 5th New Hampshire’s camp that’s right on the water) is mistakenly labeled “Qurs. of Col. Cross, 5th, N. H. V.” Charles Hapgood was colonel of the regiment throughout its stay at Point Lookout; Richard Cross was his Lieutenant Colonel. In any event, the third structure above Hapgood’s quarters on the coast was the 5th New Hampshire’s Masonic hall.

The men who attained the rank of Master Mason during the regiment’s stay at Point Lookout between November 1863 and May 1864 were as follows:

• 2^nd Assistant Surgeon Charles M. Trask, 24, Canaan, VT (medical student, no property listed)
• Hospital Steward Edwin A. Knight, 19, Franklin (college student, father was Luther M. Knight, the regiment’s first surgeon, who was worth $4500)
• Quartermaster Sergeant Owen T. Cummings, 23, Enfield (not located)
• Captain Janvrin W. Graves, 29, Tuftonborough (carpenter, no property located)
• Captain Francis W. Butler, 20, Bennington (father a real estate broker, $35,000 in total property)
• Captain Albert G. Cummings, 18, Enfield (father an iron machinist, $3700 in total property)
• Captain John W. Bean, 28, Danbury (baggage master RR, $750 in total property)
• 1^st Lieutenant John A. Duren, 20, Keene (farm laborer, no property listed)
• 1^st Lieutenant William McGee; (age unknown) Philadelphia, (not an original volunteer; not located)
• 1^st Lieutenant, Nathaniel F. Lowe, 19, Randolph (father a farmer, $1957 in total property)
• 2^nd Lieutenant George L. Gove, 20, Raymond (father a farmer, $5000 in total property)
• 2^nd Lieutenant George Vose, 19, Amherst (engineer, no property listed)
• 2^nd Lieutenant Mason W. Humphrey, 20, Waterbury, VT (father a farmer, $3000 in total property)
• 2^nd Lieutenant Henry S. Hilliard, 25, Colebrook (not an original volunteer; father a farmer, $9000 in total property)
• 2^nd Lieutenant Sampson W. Townsend, 20 Wakefield (sash and blind works, no property listed )
• 2^nd Lieutenant John W. Spaulding,26, Milford (not an original volunteer; merchant, property not located)
• Sergeant Ira T. Bronson, 21, Bath (farm laborer, no property listed)
• Sergeant Samuel A. Andrews, 24, Milan (not located)
• Corporal Frederick Barrett, 19, Winchester (mother with $3100 in total property)
• Corporal Alvin B. Murphy, 22, Portsmouth (draftee; painter, no property listed)
• Private Milton S. Jackson, 19, Hanover (mechanic, no property listed)

Eight other men appear on the list whose names could not be located in the section on the 5^th New Hampshire in Ayling’s Revised Register.

(Ranks are those held during fall of 1863. Ages are upon enlistment in 1861 and are based on Augustus Ayling’s Revised Register of the Soldiers and Sailors of New Hampshire in the War of the Rebellion 1861-1866 [1895]. Residence also comes from Ayling’s Revised Register. Occupation and property are from the 1860 Census.)

It is hard to resist juxtaposing the list of petitioners in 1861 to the men who attained the rank of Master Mason at Point Lookout, but we must realize that we are not compering like with like. The soldiers who signed the petition had become masons before the war, and there is no reason to believe that all of them were Master Masons. The second list consists of nothing but Master Masons, many of whom, I surmise, became masons while serving in the army. Still a comparison of the two lists reveals some interesting changes and consistencies.

Ira T. Bronson (1840-1915) was one of the few non-commissioned officers in the 5th New Hampshire to became a Master Mason at Point Lookout. When the regiment was first formed in October 1861, Bronson joined as a bugler, but he was promoted to Sergeant after re-enlisting in January 1864. This likeness was captured in Concord, NH. Since Bronson appears as a 1st Lieutenant here, the image must have been taken after his promotion to that rank in October 1864. A 20-year-old farm laborer when he he volunteered, Bronson took courses in medicine at the University of Vermont and Dartmouth College after the war. He became a doctor and eventually moved to Missouri, where he belonged to several fraternal orders and played a prominent role in that department’s GAR. (Image courtesy of David Morin.)

Those who became Master Masons in 1863 and 1864 represented a new generation of men who had been promoted to make up for the losses among company officers in the previous two years. Upon enlistment, these volunteers were younger than the petitioners and the company officers who had originally led the regiment. Almost all had joined the 5^th New Hampshire in their late teens or their twenties. In many cases, they had started the war as non-commissioned officers. One wonders if they associated promotion to commissioned rank with the attainment of high rank in Freemasonry.

Of course, not every officer became a mason, and some names are conspicuous by their absence from both lists. One thinks here of Charles Hapgood, who commanded the regiment from the spring of 1863 until he was wounded near Petersburg a year later, or Welcome Crafts who led the unit from October 1864 to the end of the war. Other officers who became prominent in the second half of the war, like Thomas Livermore, John Ricker, and Charles Hale, do not appear on either list. It’s possible that these men could have been masons, but until I find the Hughes Army Lodge records, I can’t say for sure. Livermore, though, never mentions Freemasonry in his account of his time with the regiment.

Along with Bronson, Frederick Barrett (1842-1929) was one of the few non-commissioned officers who became a Master Mason at Point Lookout. Barrett’s father died several years before the war. According to the 1860 Census, Barrett’s mother, Olive, was the head of household and oversaw the family farm. In October 1861, when the regiment mustered in, Barrett was appointed a corporal. Wounded at Fredericksburg, he recovered and survived to muster out in October 1864. After the war, he returned to his hometown of Winchester, NH. He eventually married and moved to Framingham, MA, where he bought a new farm. Barrett died at the ripe old age of 87. (Image courtesy of David Morin.)

Livermore does mention, though, that for several reasons (i.e. “dissimilarity of tastes” and “differences of opinion” about returning to the front), the officers in the regiment “withdrew socially into several knots” during the stay at Point Lookout. It sounds plausible that these groupings determined who entered Freemasonry during this period and who didn’t.[iii] For instance, the earnest and fastidious William Child, the regiment’s surgeon at Point Lookout and a devout mason, would probably have found Livermore’s drunken, carefree revelry unbecoming. Or, to use another example, Hapgood, whom Livermore portrays as something of an evangelical, might have shown that movement’s distaste for Freemasonry.

Of course, we should remember that common membership in the Freemasons did not necessarily make for harmony. After all, Colonel Edward Cross had Captains James Perry and James Larkin court-martialed over a dispute involving a route march in November 1862 (all three were masons). By the same token, some of the men whose services Cross valued the most—Major Edward Sturtevant, Captain Charles Long, and Captain James Murray—do not appear on either list.

Interested as I am in the various ties that bound men together (or drove them apart) in the regiment, I think that Freemasonry could provide an interesting line of inquiry. Much of what I’ve written in this post is based on conjecture because all I really have are two lists that appear in Child’s account. If the records of the Hughes Army Lodge still exist, I could move from conjectures to facts.

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[i] For this chapter, see William Child, A History of the Fifth Regiment New Hampshire Volunteers in the American Civil War, 1861-1865 (Bristol, NH: R.W. Musgrove, Printer, 1893), pp. 332-334.

[ii] William Child, Letters from a Civil War Surgeon (Solon, ME: Polar Bear & Co., 2001), 195. This letter is dated December 14, 1863.

[iii] Thomas Livermore, Days and Events 1860-1866 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1920), 322.

Colonel Edward E. Cross

On December 20, 1862, Colonel Edward Cross found himself in Washington, DC, recovering from wounds sustained at the Battle of Fredericksburg which had been fought the week before. A disaster for the federal army, the engagement had proved catastrophic for the 5^th New Hampshire. Accounts vary, but it appears that around two-thirds of the men in the regiment who answered roll call before the battle were killed or wounded.[i] Major Edward Sturtevant, the 5^th New Hampshire’s only other field officer beside Cross at the time, was killed and his body never recovered.[ii] In addition, three company commanders lost their lives: Captains James Perry, John Murray, and William Moore. Having reflected for a week on the calamity that had befallen his regiment, Cross now decided to write condolence letters to the captains’ next of kin. These missives are interesting because they reflect the different relationships that Cross had with each man.

Perry: The Complicated Letter

Cross’s relationship with many of his original captains was tempestuous. He arranged to have Edmund Brown (Company B) and Richard Welch (Company K) dismissed by a brigade board of review for incompetence in February 1862. He obtained Richard Davis’ (Company H) resignation in July 1862. He hounded Ira Barton (Company E) out of the regiment in September 1862. He maneuvered Horace Pierce (Company F) into resigning in January 1863. And as we shall see, he had James Perry (Company C) court martialed shortly before the Battle of Fredericksburg.

Born in Cabot, VT, in 1834, Perry was a prosperous farmer in Lebanon, NH, with a new wife and a young daughter, when the secession crisis struck.[iii] How and why he became the captain of Company C is unclear because he appeared to have no military experience to speak of. However, he recruited about a quarter of the company (more than anybody else did) which probably explains why a larger number of the soldiers he led hailed from Lebanon than from any other town. Moreover, Perry was quite a bit wealthier than most of the other company commanders.[iv] Perhaps he owed his commission to his status in the community which made other men inclined to follow him.

Captain James Perry

Nonetheless, Perry does not figure prominently in most accounts of the regiment. Such was probably the case because he left behind no correspondence. And until shortly before his death, he appears to have elicited neither Cross’s praise (except for a mention in the colonel’s report on Antietam) nor his ire. Until he clashed with Cross in November 1862, Perry’s main contribution to 5^th New Hampshire lore was his role in the rescue of two wounded Confederate officers—fellow Freemasons—the day after the Battle of Antietam. Apparently, one of the two rebels hailed a picket from the 5^th New Hampshire in the cornfield beyond the sunken lane. The wounded Southerner gave the soldier a note on which was scribbled some symbols in blood and told him to take it to a Freemason. The soldier passed the note to Cross, but the colonel could not read the symbols because they belonged to a higher degree of masonry. He called for Perry who was the master of the masonic lodge associated with the regiment and a 32^nd Degree Mason. Perry interpreted the symbols as those of a brother Freemason in distress. He and Cross organized a party to crawl through the cornfield (Confederate sharpshooters had taken potshots at Union pickets there all day) and rescue their masonic brother. Once they reached the wounded rebel, he indicated that another rebel mason lay badly hurt nearby. Both were evacuated to the 5^th New Hampshire’s field hospital.[v] A part of the story that interests me is that while Cross obviously outranked Perry in the army, Perry outranked Cross among Freemasons, a matter of some importance since there was a strong masonic presence in the regiment.

In November 1862, however, Cross’s impulsiveness and hot temper eventually led to an important rift between him and several of his captains—especially Perry. While guarding a wagon train on the way to Warrenton, VA, the regiment became strung out as it struggled forward on an extremely muddy road. When Cross rode back to the rear of the regiment to see why the companies there had fallen behind, he lost his temper and, according to Perry, started “cursing and God-damning us.” Cross shouted, “Close up, you God-damned hounds! Your company officers are not worth a damn.” He then ordered the men of Company K (commanded by his brother, Captain Richard Cross) to file to the rear of the regiment and bayonet any man who “fell out of the ranks or did not keep up with his company.” Angered by this turn of events, Perry and Captain James Larkin (Company A) were sorely tempted to protest Cross’s behavior by pulling their companies out of line, surrendering their swords, and placing themselves under arrest. Remembering, though, that discretion was the better part of valor, they eventually concluded that they ought to wait for an opportune moment to file charges against the colonel for conduct unbecoming of a gentleman. Meanwhile, Cross decided that when the time was right, he would charge Perry and Larkin with mutiny. To make a long story short, Cross presented charges against the captains first, and they retaliated with countercharges. Poor Sturtevant had to preside over the trial of the captains. For various reasons, neither side sought to intensify the dispute. The captains did not wish to anger the colonel still further while the colonel wished to avoid alienating his junior officers and risk exposure of his own misbehavior. Only a week before the Battle of Fredericksburg, Larkin and Perry were acquitted.[vi] But on the eve of this engagement, their relationship with Cross was at its nadir, and the colonel’s court martial was still in the offing.

By the time Cross wrote his condolence letter to Perry’s widow, two things had happened. First, Perry had died a hero’s death at Fredericksburg. According to 1^st Lieutenant Janvrin Graves of Company H, as the regiment approached the Confederate position behind the stone wall, Perry picked up the regiment’s national colors from a wounded soldier on the east side of the Stratton House. He took only a couple of steps before being hit by a bullet in the shoulder that left a death wound in his chest.

The rest of Graves’ story seems a bit embellished. According to Graves’ account, Perry lost consciousness repeatedly, was just as often revived with “stimulants,” and then, for what seemed like an interminable period, said all the right things a dying man was supposed to say: he wanted to live long enough to witness victory, he regretted not seeing his family one last time, he wanted to kiss the flag, and so on. In short, Graves’ report of Perry’s demise sounds a little too much like the “good death.” One thing is for sure. As the life ebbed out of him, Perry declared that he wanted to die “a true soldier with my face to the enemy, fighting for my country.”[vii] He got his wish.

Second, only a couple of days after the battle, Cross made up with Larkin. Cross sent a written apology to the captain and invited him to his tent. Moved by Cross’s bravery, his injuries, his humble demeanor, and his praise in the official report of the battle, Larkin could not help dropping his beef with the colonel.[viii] Although Larkin remained wary of Cross, the dispute had been officially defused. Unfortunately, Cross had never made up with Perry who had now become, as Mike Pride and Mark Travis put it, “Lebanon’s most esteemed citizen soldier.”[ix] To Cross’s mind, however, Perry emblematized the many difficulties he’d experienced with his original batch of company commanders. And so Cross found himself penning a difficult letter to Perry’s widow.

Washington, D.C.

Dec. 20, 1862

Mrs. James B. Perry

Dear Madam:

I take the first opportunity afforded me by the state of my wounds, since the disastrous Battle of Fredericksburg, to address you a few words in relation to your lamented husband, the brave, faithful and accomplished soldier, so long a Captain in my regiment.

He fell in front of the enemy with the colors of the regiment in his hand. He was not instantly killed, but to those around spoke of his family—of his regret that he could not see them—that he was not afraid to die, and hoped to meet all his friends and comrades in the spirit world. His last act was to press the colors to his lips, and the brave soul passed calmly to his Maker.

Captain Perry was greatly esteemed for his soldierly and manly qualities, by the whole regiment, and his country has lost a faithful and fearless defender.

I believe that he has only “gone before”—a little sooner than the rest he is permitted to view the glories of a better world, which are secure to the true patriot, the good citizen and one who falls in his country’s cause.

Accept, Madam, my cordial sympathy for yourself and little one, and if I can ever be of any service to the family of a brave comrade, do not fail to write me.

Very truly, &c

Edward E. Cross

Col. 5^th Reg’t N.H.V.[x]

This letter is characterized by a number of commonplaces and generalities. Moreover, it does not refer to any personal relationship between the two men. It’s hard to know what to make of the references to the “spirit world” and the talk of how Perry had “gone before.” Cross was not terribly religious although he did flirt with the séance scene for a period of time before the war. Perhaps all that talk was filler because he did not know what to say about Perry.

Murray: The Letter for a Friend

Cross had unresolved feelings about Perry, who symbolized the colonel’s difficult relations with a number of his subordinates. John Murray was an altogether different story.  

Born in New York City around 1823, Murray was one of the very few men in the regiment who possessed regular army experience. Between 1846 and 1853, he served in the 3^rd US Artillery and fought in the Mexican War where he earned a citation for bravery during the assault on Chapultepec. By the time he left the army, he had made sergeant. Married in 1850 while he was stationed at Fort Constitution, he had three daughters. The secession crisis found him living in New Castle, NH, working as a teamster.[xi] He did very little recruiting, and he probably became the commander of Company D solely on the strength of his military background.

Interestingly enough, Cross was not immediately impressed with the leader of Company D; when the regiment was mustered in, Murray only managed to attain the position of fifth captain. It was for this reasons that Edward Sturtevant, who was appointed senior captain, won the race to the rank of major. I have no idea what accounts for Murray’s slow start, but I have one guess. Cross’s journal mentions that while the regiment was organized at Camp Jackson in Concord, NH, he had to face down a “slight mutiny” among “some men from Portsmouth.”[xii] There were hardly any men in the regiment from Portsmouth, but a fair number of volunteers came from nearby Dover, Somersworth, and Rochester—all of whom were in Murray’s Company D. Did Cross hold this “slight mutiny” against Murray? I can’t say for sure.

Captain John Murray

Whatever the case, Murray and Cross cemented their close friendship at “soirées” (otherwise described as “drinking bouts” in Thomas Livermore’s account) that occurred with some frequency among the officers in the regiment.[xiii] Murray’s leadership of Company D also impressed Cross. And so once Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Langley (who had been more or less AWOL for almost three months) was officially booted from the regiment, Cross planned to push Sturtevant into Langley’s spot and promote Murray to major. Indeed, only a week before Perry and Larkin’s court martial, Cross had started politicking to muster support for Murray’s elevation. In a letter to William Hackett, Cross revealed that he wanted the post of major to go to what was then his second captain (Murray) because the senior captain (Larkin) was “unfit for a field officer.”[xiv]

Unfortunately, the Battle of Fredericksburg put all of Cross’s plans to naught. At roughly the same time that Cross was wounded—that is, when the regiment was about halfway through the assault—Sturtevant was killed by a shell. Once the regiment reached the Stratton House, its formation began to disintegrate under the weight of Confederate artillery and small arms fire. It was here that a bullet struck Murray in the forehead and killed him instantly.

And thus Cross wrote a letter to Murray’s widow.

Washington

Dec. 21

Mrs. John Murray

Dear Madame:

I avail myself of the first opportunity since the Battle of Fredericksburg–allowed by my wounds,–to address you a few lines in relation to your lamented husband, Capt. John Murray, who was one of the bravest and most faithful officers in the army.—Certainly he had no superior in my regiment. Captain Murray was one of my best friends. I loved him for his sterling honesty, his frankness, and the dependence which could always be placed in him; for his brave and soldierly character.

He fell in the front rank of battle—killed instantly—probably suffering no pain.—Accept, Madame, for yourself and children, my kindest sympathy, and if ever I can be of service to the family of my beloved comrade, do not fail to call on me.

I am, Madame, with much respect, your ob’t serv’t,

Edward E. Cross

Col. 5^th N.H. Regt.[xv]

This letter forms an interesting contrast with the one Cross sent to Perry’s widow. Here, Cross was much more specific about Murray’s qualities (“his sterling honesty, his frankness, and the dependence which could always be placed in him”). Moreover, he actually referred to his relationship with Murray (who “was one of my best friends”). Obviously, Cross preferred Murray to Perry.

Moore: The Paternal Letter

Of all the original captains, Murray was one of the few who got along with Cross. But there was another type of officer for which Cross felt much solicitude: young men who had originally been appointed lieutenants or non-commissioned officers but who eventually obtained company command. Cross liked courageous young men for commissioned rank, but he liked courageous young literate men even more. In this category fell figures like Thomas Livermore, Frank Butler, and William Moore. This predilection should not surprise us; Cross, after all, had spent his entire working life in journalism.

Moore was born in 1842 in Littleton, NH, the son of a wealthy doctor. He attended the New Ipswich Appleton Academy before proceeding to Dartmouth College in 1860. For whatever reason, he left Dartmouth and entered the Cooper Institute (now referred to as Cooper Union) in New York City. Moore was a student there when the war broke out, and in May 1861, he joined the 5^th New York, also known as Duryée’s Zouaves. Moore fought with regiment at Big Bethel, but decided he wanted to serve with a New Hampshire unit.[xvi] In October 1861, when the 5^th New Hampshire was mustered in, he obtained a commission as 2^nd Lieutenant in Company C.

Captain William A. Moore

Moore wasted little time in impressing Cross. In February 1862, he was promoted to 1^st Lieutenant in Company E to fill the vacancy left by Thomas Rice who had become Captain of Company B after Edmund Brown was dismissed by a brigade board of review. Moore received another promotion in November 1862, becoming the Captain of Company H after Richard Davis resigned his commission. We also have one other sign that Moore felt assured of Cross’s support. During Perry and Larkin’s court martial, Moore provided the “fullest and most persuasive account of the dispute.”[xvii] And that account did not entirely portray Cross in the most flattering light. Moore must have felt confident that his relationship with the colonel was strong enough to survive this testimony. Finally, like a number of young junior officers, Moore attended or planned the soirées that helped bind the leadership of the regiment together. In fact, a couple of nights before the Battle of Fredericksburg, Captain Richard Cross held a soirée in his cabin (which consisted of some drinking and much singing) to celebrate several recent promotions, including Moore’s. Moore himself acted as the master of ceremonies.

On the fateful day of December 13, as the 5^th New Hampshire neared the Stratton House, the Confederate infantry behind the stone wall opened fire on the advancing federals. Moore was shot in the left forearm and told 1^st Lieutenant Janvrin Graves that he was headed to the rear. On his way back toward Fredericksburg, Moore was shot again, pitched face forward, and died before he hit the ground.

Cross’s letter to Moore’s father was as follows:

Washington Dec. 20, 1862

Dear Sir

No act of my life ever pained me more than to inform you as I did a few days since by telegraph of the death of your brave son. Aside from the fact that he was one of the most promising young officers in the service, he was my intimate friend, in whose advancement & welfare I had always felt the greatest interest. I loved him for his brave and faithful spirit—his honorable ambition—his kindness and gentlemanly deportment. Deeply have I regretted the disastrous day which stripped my gallant Regiment of its honest hearts.

Accept sir for yourself and family my kindest sympathy. I ordered Williams effects taken care of, so as they could be sent home. William was first shot through the arm. He received permission to leave the field, and in doing so received his death wound.

Every attempt was made to find his body but up to this time to no avail.

Very truly

Edward E. Cross

Col. 5^th N.H.[xviii]

Out of the three captains who were killed at Fredericksburg, Cross clearly missed Moore most of all.

Coda

I like to imagine the soirée that Captain Richard Cross held in his log hut just a couple of evenings before the Battle of Fredericksburg. About twenty-five officers fit themselves into Cross’s snug accommodations. Five of the six colonels in Caldwell’s brigade came, but I suspect that field and company officers from the 5^th New Hampshire constituted the majority of those attending. Colonel Cross was there, and we have already mentioned that Moore was the master of ceremonies. Both Perry and Murray also attended the soirée. In fact, Murat Halstead, a journalist with the Cincinnati Commercial who was Colonel Cross’s friend and guest, highlighted the singing of these two men in an article published shortly after the battle.[xix]

I find it interesting to contemplate the currents that ran below this surface bonhomie. Imagine the feelings of betrayal and rage with which Cross contemplated Perry. Think of how Perry was reminded of his wounded amour propre every time he glanced at the colonel. Consider young Moore’s ambivalence as he saw Cross and his brother officers eye one another warily. Conceive of how the crusty old hard-drinking veteran Murray (for such is how he looked in his carte de visite) may have laughed as he considered the scene. And envision how all of these feelings were compounded by despair; many of the men in the cabin knew that they would not survive the impending assault on the Confederate position.[xx]

In battle, the officers gathered in Richard Cross’s cabin were a band of brothers. They relied on each other in combat, and it was under their leadership that the regiment performed prodigies of valor. But in camp and on the march, officers chafed at the impetuous, dramatic, and violent regime of Cross—which only begat more impetuosity, drama, and violence. This cycle did not end until most of the original company commanders left the regiment for a variety of reasons and Cross was mortally wounded at Gettysburg. And even then, echoes of this conflict persisted within the regiment to the end of the war.

---

[i] Fox’s Regimental Losses in the American Civil War 1861-1865 has the 5^th New Hampshire suffering 20 killed, 154 wounded, and 19 missing out of 303 effectives. However, in his journal, Cross wrote that he only had 249 men and 19 officers present at the battle. Later, in his official report, he claimed that he had 247 men and 19 officers. Of these, he presented the following accounting: 15 killed, 142 wounded, and 12 missing, for a total of 186. Mike Pride and Mark Travis claim that 57 men were killed or mortally wounded while another 100 suffered non-fatal injuries, but where they obtained this information is unclear. See William F. Fox, Regimental Losses in the American Civil War 1861-1865 (Albany, NY: Albany Publishing Company, 1889), 35; Stand Firm and Fire Low: The Civil War Writings of Colonel Edward E. Cross, ed. Walter Holder, William E. Ross, & Elizabeth Slomba (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2003), 57, 80; Mike Pride and Mark Travis, My Brave Boys To War with Colonel Cross & the Fighting Fifth (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2001), 176.

[ii] A memorial headstone for Sturtevant stands at the New Hampshire State Veterans Cemetery in Boscawen, NH. See https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/82039651/edward-e-sturtevant

[iii] In sources, he is frequently described as hailing from Lebanon, but in 1860, he lived in Hanover, NH. See “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WT-HJ1 : 18 February 2021), James B Perry, 1860.

[iv] According to the 1860 Census, Perry possessed $5000 in property. The only captain who possessed more was Charles H. Long of Company G with $6800. The next wealthiest company commander after Perry was Charles E. Hapgood, a merchant with $2000 in property. See “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WT-HJ1 : 18 February 2021), James B Perry, 1860; “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WG-2PJ : 19 March 2020), Charles H Long, 1860.; “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch(https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WJ-YSN : 14 December 2017), Charles E Hapgood, 1860.

[v] The two wounded Confederates are identified in various sources as John Edon of the 10^th Alabama and a Lieutenant Colonel Nesbit of the 13^th Georgia (sometimes mistaken as the 30^th Georgia which was not at Antietam).

[vi] Pride and Travis, My Brave Boys, 154-162.

[vii] Child 160-161. Larkin later reported that the dying Perry had sent a message asking him to make peace with Cross. See the letter to his wife in the Larkin Papers, December 16, 1862, New Hampshire Historical Society, 102274.

[viii] See the letter to his wife in the Larkin Papers, December 16, 1862, New Hampshire Historical Society, 102274.

[ix] Pride and Travis, My Brave Boys, 181. That Lebanon’s GAR post was named after Perry gives some idea of his stature after his death. See https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/100102428/james-b-perry

[x] Stand Firm and Fire Low, 131.

[xi] “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7W2-VD7 : 18 February 2021), John Murray, 1860. See also “New Hampshire Marriage Records, 1637-1947,” database, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:FLX5-46T : 22 February 2021), John Murry and Phila Yeaton, 01 Apr 1850; citing , Bureau of Vital Records and Health Statistics, Concord; FHL microfilm 1,001,285.

[xii] Stand Firm and Fire Low, 8.

[xiii] Thomas Livermore, Days and Events 1860-1866 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1920), 103, 159, 166, 181. See also Pride and Travis, My Brave Boys, 66.

[xiv] Stand Firm and Fire Low, 131.

[xv] Ibid., 132.

[xvi] See Dr. Adams Moore’s biography of William A. Moore in the William A. Moore Papers, New Hampshire Historical Society, 1954.003 (m).

[xvii] Pride and Travis, My Brave Boys, 160.

[xviii] Cross to Moore, December 20, 1862, William A. Moore Papers, New Hampshire Historical Society, 1954.003 (m).

[xix] He wrote: “Two of the young officers . . . whose rich voices swelled the song of ‘the glorious banner’ that night, fell in the battle of the Saturday following, one shot through the head, and the other through the heart, while upholding the regimental flag.” The Rebellion Record; a Diary of American Events, with Documents, Narratives, Illustrative Incidents, Poetry, etc., ed. Frank Moore (New York: G. P. Putnam, 1863), 6: 96.

[xx] Livermore, who attended the soirée, asserted that it functioned as “a last reunion among men, a sadly large number of whom . . . were never to see another [again].” Livermore, Days and Events, 166.

While doing research at the New Hampshire Historical Society in Concord, NH, I ran across the following letter in the Mike Pride Collection.

Epsom, NH Oct. 3^d 1862

Maj E. E. Sturtevant

I notice in the paper among the casualties in your Reg^t the name Dowse. James Dowst enlisted from this place at Concord as a recruit to fill up the 5^th [New Hampshire] Reg, some four or six weeks ago or perhaps longer ago. His parents reside here, and are anxious to hear from him.

Please to ascertain whether the above named “Dowse” Co. I reported killed is the man who enlisted from here, and if so state the particulars of his death and other facts which will be interesting to his friends.

Yours truly, L. W. Peabody

Please write soon.[i] 

I have the sense that letters such as this one—which inquired into the fate of a loved one after a major battle—were fairly common. I’ve seen such missives in a variety of collections. In this case, the battle was Antietam which had been fought just over two weeks before.

The pathos of this particular letter touched me. I could see in my mind’s eye an elderly couple waiting at home in agonized suspense to hear from their son. I wondered if Dowst had been killed. And if so, what would his month of military service have looked like to him?

James Dowst, who was born in Epsom, NH, around 1833, was the son of Isaac and Sally Dowst who had also also been born in the same town.[ii] Issac was a moderately prosperous farmer; in 1860, he possessed real estate worth $1500 and a personal estate amounting to $300. At the time, both James and his brother, Calvin, worked the farm alongside their father.[iii] At this point, it is impossible to determine James’s motives for volunteering. Was it patriotism, the promise of a bounty, or a desire to escape Epsom where he had lived all his life? There are only a couple of considerations that we know of that may have influenced his decision. On the one hand, he was unmarried, which meant he was less bound to Epsom than he otherwise might have been. On the other, like the other volunteers who enlisted in 1862, he could have been under no illusion about how dangerous and violent the war would be. By the time Dowst had joined the Union army, the conflict had already witnessed several major bloodbaths: Shiloh, Fair Oaks, and the Seven Days. One interesting feature of the letter is that James’s parents did not seem terribly clear about when he had enlisted. Had he absconded?

Part of James Dowst’s enlistment papers. According to this form, Dowst was 5′ 9″ with blue eyes, light hair, and a light complexion.

Whatever the case, James Dowst enlisted in Concord, NH, on August 11, 1862 and was mustered in as a private in the 5th New Hampshire.[iv] It so happened that on that very day, Colonel Edward Cross, commander of the regiment, was in the state capital assisting a recruiting drive to raise men for various New Hampshire units (including his own). Cross had been in the state for over two months recovering from a gunshot wound to the thigh suffered at Fair Oaks. He planned to leave Concord for the regiment the next day. Had the two met when Dowst enlisted and awkwardly affixed his signature to various papers? Was the tall, lean, bearded colonel limping about pressing the flesh, giving speeches, and trying to “close the deal” with reluctant recruits? It’s impossible to tell. Whatever the case, Cross did not sign these papers as the recruiting officer. That honor belonged to a “B. E. Badger” whom I suspect was Benjamin E. Badger, then a well-off attorney with an office on Main Street.[v] Badger, who was roughly Dowst’s age, did not serve during the conflict.[vi] One wonders how he felt about sending other men in his place to satiate the juggernaut of war.[vii]

From what we can see of these forms, Dowst was not as handy with a pen as, say, Benjamin E. Badger.

The next day, Cross wrote to Henry O. Kent, his best friend, “I am off on the 10 o’clock train with 44 recruits & 17 convalescents for the 5^th [New Hampshire] and about the same number for the 2d [New Hampshire].”[viii] Presumably, Dowst was one of those recruits. By a combination of streamer and railroad, Dowst and the others reached the regiment at Newport News, VA, on August 23. Having retreated all the way from Harrison’s Landing, where it had been encamped after the defeat of the Army of the Potomac during the Seven Days’ Battles, the 5^th New Hampshire was much reduced in number by combat and disease. Of the 900 or so men who had begun the Peninsula campaign in April, only about 250 now remained present for duty to greet the colonel with his gaggle of convalescents and greenhorns. The regiment was sick, exhausted, and demoralized. The soldiers’ clothing was worn out, and a number of the men were barefoot. They must have presented a sorry sight to new recruits like Dowst who probably wondered what they had signed up for. Another newcomer, Assistant Surgeon William Child, recorded his first impressions; they were not positive:

We were at once introduced to active campaign life. The romance departed in just two minutes. The frying pan, and the bean hole; the greasy haversack, and the flattened knapsack; the barefooted boys, the sallow men, the threadbare officers and seedy generals; the diarrhoea and dysentery, the yellow eyes and malarious faces; the beds upon the bare earth in the mud; the mist and rain, with a cold wind chilling the weakened bodies; the braying mules, the swearing drivers and the howling wagon masters.[ix]

This is what the Federal camp at Newport News might have looked like when the 5th New Hampshire camped there.

At this point, Dowst was placed in Company I of the 5^th New Hampshire. Recruited primarily from Grafton, Hillsborough, and Merrimack counties, the men in this company would have been strangers to him—there was not a single soldier from Epsom in the regiment, let alone this particular company. Captain Charles Hapgood of Amherst, NH, who later become the regiment’s colonel, became Dowst’s new company commander.

Only a couple of days later, the new recruits, along with the rest of the regiment, re-embarked on a steamer bound for Aquia Creek, remaining there briefly before boarding another steamer for Alexandria. The 5^th New Hampshire formed part of the reinforcements belatedly sent to aid General John Pope’s Army of Virginia which found itself confronted by Confederate forces near the old Manassas battlefield. After an exhausting march, the regiment arrived too late to help Pope, whose force was crushed at the Second Battle of Bull Run. Dowst and his new comrades reached Centreville just in time to witness the rout of Pope’s army. It must have been a depressing sight to see disordered Union units scurry pell-mell back to Washington, DC. Cross, who never minced words, described the scene in the following manner:

Thousands of stragglers on foot and horseback, were scattered about, many were stretched on the ground fast asleep. Tents, boxes, broken wagons, and piles of ammunition were scattered around in every direction. My Regt never passed a worse night on picket, nor did we ever see a greater waste of material, or worse straggling. . . . We reached Fairfax Court House and found a scene of inextricable confusion. The streets were blocked by wagons & artillery—the fields so full of infantry that it was almost impossible to force a passage—swearing, shouting & jamming in every direction.[x]

After spending several cold and uncomfortable nights covering the federal withdrawal, Dowst and his fellow soldiers marched back to Washington, DC. In Tenallytown, much of the regiment received new clothes, although not all the men obtained shoes. The regiment did not rest long; the 5^th New Hampshire shadowed Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia as it marched into Maryland. It was probably then that Dowst discovered that his fellow soldiers were inveterate foragers. They stole corn, potatoes, pigs, sheep, chickens, and honey. They even found the occasional still that they plundered for alcohol. At night, they kept warm by burning farmers’ fence rails. Although the countryside was not always friendly, the regiment received a hearty welcome in Frederick, MD, where the townspeople put out American flags and cheered the Union troops. Slowly but surely, the spirits of the regiment picked up.

On September 15, not far from Boonsboro, MD, as the Army of the Potomac closed in on the rebels, General Israel Richardson ordered the 5^th New Hampshire to advance at the double-quick and place itself at the head of his division. As Cross proudly noted:

With a cheer the boys started off—all the other troops breaking to the right so as to let us pass. “There goes the fighting fifth” “Give ‘em hell, boys” “Hurrah for Richardson’s Cavalry” was shouted to us on all sides by the German & Irish troops of the Division. As I rode up to Gen Richardson to report he said, “Col we have no cavalry nor artillery your Rg’t must act as both. Deploy & sweep the sides of the road.”[xi]

If he had not already, Dowst would have begun to understand the high regard in which the Army of the Potomac held the 5^th New Hampshire. Drawn up in a skirmish line that screened the division, the regiment pushed forward quickly and engaged in a running battle with the Confederate rearguard, capturing a number of stragglers along the way. Although soldiers generally found skirmishing unpleasant and frightening, this case proved different—the men in the regiment treated this advance as a kind of chase, and the rebels offered little resistance. One cannot say what Dowst would have made of this strange hunt. Did he find it frightening? Exhilarating? Tiresome? Entertaining? Bewildering?

Having pursued the Confederate rearguard for some miles, the 5th New Hampshire pulled up suddenly before crossing the so-called Middle Bridge across Antietam Creek; a good portion of the Army of Northern Virginia was arrayed on the ridge in the background of this image. This photograph was taken by Alexander Gardner only a couple of days after the battle.

Jogging through Boonsboro, the regiment pressed on to Keedysville and thence to Antietam Creek. Here the 5^th New Hampshire stopped; the whole Confederate army stood arrayed on the other side of the water. At this point, it must have been clear to even the rawest recruit—and Dowst was as raw as they came—that a great fight was in the offing. And since the 5^th New Hampshire reached the battlefield at Antietam before any other Union unit, Dowst, like many of his comrades, had plenty of time to contemplate the ensuing struggle. Unlike the men around him, though, he had no idea what to expect, and his instruction in drill must have been rudimentary. But the desultory exchanges of artillery fire between the two armies and the occasional flare ups between skirmishers gave him a small taste of what was to come. More than anything else, the buzzing of Confederate sharpshooters’ bullets that pestered the 5^th New Hampshire the day before the battle must have driven home the point to Dowst that he was in a dangerous place. Without much experience or training to fortify himself, Dowst probably passed an anxious several days. Thomas Livermore, 1^st Lieutenant in Company K, who had already “seen the elephant,” was still uneasy:

A strange feeling of wonder and restlessness came over me and likely enough over many who stood beside me. . . . Whether we were to attack or to repel, whether the fight was to be in the woods on our right in the ravines, or in the hills in our front, or on the crest amid the hostile batteries, I knew not, and then, When was the fight to begin? How long would it last? Who would win? Was I to be killed, to be torn with a shell, or pierced with a bullet? What was death.? How quickly should I be in the other world if I were killed?[xii]

On September 17, 1862, at the Battle of Antietam, Dowst undoubtedly witnessed many wondrous and awful things, the likes of which he had never seen before. . . . The view from the Pry House, which presented the distant prospect of Confederates as tiny specks running across Miller’s Cornfield as they gave way to the Union advance. . . . The boom of artillery batteries and rolling crash of rifle volleys in the distance as he and the 5th New Hampshire splashed across Antietam Creek. . . . The officers taking roll behind the shelter of a ridge shortly before the regiment went into action. . . . Cross’s pre-battle speech in which he told his men, “We must conquer this day or we are disgraced and ruined”. . . . The sight of desperate men crawling, limping, and creeping to the rear, cradling their wounds with blood seeping between their fingers as the regiment advanced into the fray. . . . The complex evolution performed by the 5^th New Hampshire to let retreating elements of the Irish Brigade through: “By the right of companies to the front! By the right flank! March! By companies into line!” . . . . The final sprint toward the Sunken Lane through a smoky and cacophonous hailstorm of whirring shrapnel, bouncing roundshot, fizzing bits of canister, and droning Minie balls. . . . The Confederate shell that smashed into the 5^th New Hampshire’s color guard, killing or wounding eight men and practically tearing the regiment’s standard in half. . . . The shredded cornfield beyond the Sunken Lane, lousy with Confederate wounded who pathetically dragged themselves any which they could to avoid the storm of gunfire. . . . The regiment changing its front by 90 degrees in just over a minute to meet a Confederate counterattack on the flank. . . . Cross with a red handkerchief around his head, smearing his face with black powder and his own blood, urging his men to “Give ‘em the war whoop!”. . . . The volleys that stopped a Confederate attack in its tracks at a range of 30 paces. . . . Sergeant George Nettleton of Company G holding the state colors of the 4^th North Carolina over his head in triumph. . . . 

And then there was the terrible aftermath of battle. Sergeant George Gove of Company K claimed that in the Sunken Lane, “the dead & wounded rebs lay so thick it was difficult for us to find room to stand.”[xiii] The next day, Livermore walked the battlefield and noted the gruesome detritus of war:

I never have seen the dead lying closer nor the evidences of a terrible conflict more numerous. . . . Our men lay scattered clear up to the sunken road and beyond it, even in the cornfield where the 2d Division had advanced, more thickly than elsewhere. The sunken road . . . was filled with the rebel dead, the most of them killed just as they had lain in line of battle, and by the artillery in many instances, for they were torn by shell and shot; some of them had died instantly while at their meal, with their plates before them, and their crackers in their mouths or being carried to them, but others were tearing their cartridges or loading. Where the road terminated . . . the enemy’s line of battle was plainly marked for a half a mile or more by his dead clear across the Williamsport turnpike, and then, both in rear and far down in front of this line, his dead were scattered where his lines had stood for a short time or on the ground they had fled over. In the cornfield the enemy’s dead were very thick, too, and the horses of the officers lay there too.[xiv]

The Bloody Lane at Antietam. Alexander Gardner took this photo two days after the battle, when Union troops had already started clearing the lane of dead Confederate soldiers. In Antietam: The Photographic Legacy of America’s Bloodiest Day, William A. Frassanito argues that this image of the lane was taken northwest of the portion that the 5th New Hampshire attacked. Note the ruined cornfield in the distance which belonged to the Piper Farm. After crossing the lane, the 5th New Hampshire fought in this field, repelling a number of Confederate counterattacks before retreating to the lane for cover.

Cross wrote simply, “the rebel dead lay in two ranks, & in files, the most awful spectacle ever presented while the wounded strewing the earth at every step were fast dying for want of attention. O it was a dreadful dreadful battle field.”[xv]

Out of the 319 officers and men who had answered roll only minutes before going into action, the 5^th New Hampshire suffered 113 casualties: eight men were killed outright and another 105 were wounded (11 mortally). Amidst the human wreckage lay James Dowst who had died on the field. His comrades in Company I probably did not know him well enough to spell his unusual last name properly. So when Luther Knight, the regiment’s surgeon, wrote his report of the unit’s dead and wounded on September 20, he spelled Dowst’s name as “James Dowse.” And thus was it reported in the newspapers.[xvi]

Having read the surgeon’s report in the papers, Isaac and Sally Dowst feared the worst for their son. Simple and elderly farming folk (both were in their sixties), they wondered how they could find out about their son’s fate. The Dowsts probably contacted the most educated man they knew: Leonard W. Peabody, a country doctor in his early forties with a small practice in Epsom.[xvii] Why Peabody wrote to Major Edward Sturtevant instead of Cross, the regiment’s commander, is unclear. Perhaps it was because Sturtevant was a well known figure in Concord which was only ten miles distant. Knowing him as I do through his correspondence, I’d like to think he wrote back to Peabody, informed him that James Dowst was dead, and brought some peace to the old couple. It could not have been an easy task. How could one reconcile the Dowsts to what Cross referred to as the “fortune of war” when it had snuffed out their son’s life so quickly?[xviii]

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[i] Peabody to Sturtevant, October 3, 1862, Mike Pride Collection, Box 1, Folder 15, New Hampshire Historical Society.

[ii] “New Hampshire Death Records, 1654-1947,” database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:FSKB-QMJ : 23 February 2021), James Dowst, Oct 1862; citing Antietam, Bureau Vital Records and Health Statistics, Concord; FHL microfilm 1,001,074.

[iii] “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WK-YFH : 18 February 2021), James Doust in entry for Isaac Doust, 1860.

[iv] “New Hampshire, Civil War Service and Pension Records, 1861-1866,” database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:Q2Q1-YNP2 : 16 March 2018), James Doust Or Dowett, 11 Aug 1862; citing Concord, Concord, Merrimack, New Hampshire, United States, New Hampshire Secretary of State, Division of Records Management & Archive; FHL microfilm 2,217,642.

[v] https://archive.org/details/concordcitydirec00wats/page/12/mode/2up

[vi] “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WG-BBL : 18 February 2021), Benjanin E Badger, 1860.

[vii] Interestingly enough, Badger, who eventually became the judge of a police court in Concord, died in 1904 of suicide by poisoning in the New Hampshire State Hospital where he had been staying for ten months. “New Hampshire Death Records, 1654-1947,” database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:FSJY-64W : 22 February 2021), Benjamin E. Badger, 26 Apr 1904; citing Concord, Merrimack, New Hampshire, Bureau Vital Records and Health Statistics, Concord; FHL microfilm 2,070,936.

[viii] Stand Firm and Fire Low: The Civil War Writings of Colonel Edward E. Cross, ed. Walter Holden, William E. Ross, and Elizabeth Slomba (Hanover: University Press of New England, 2003), 116-117.

[ix] William Child, A History of the Fifth Regiment of New Hampshire Volunteers in the American Civil War, 1861-1865 (Bristol, NH: R. W. Musgrove Printer, 1893), 98-99.

[x] Stand Firm and Fire Low, 40.

[xi] Ibid., 43.

[xii] Thomas Livermore, Days and Events (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1920), 129.

[xiii] George Gove to Julia Parsons, October 2, 1862, Parsons Family Papers, MC 239, University of New Hampshire Library, Archives and Special Collections.

[xiv] Livermore, Days and Events, 148.

[xv] Stand Firm and Fire Low, 120-121.

[xvi] I’ve located a copy of the report in the October 4, 1862 edition of the New-Hampshire Statesman, but since Peabody’s letter was dated October 3, Dowst’s parents must have seen the report in a different newspaper.

[xvii] “United States Census, 1860”, database with images, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:M7WK-1D5 : 18 February 2021), Leonard W Peabody, 1860.

[xviii] Livermore, Days and Events, 137.