1862-07-09_Letter-B_Alvord-to-MyDearBrotherChilds-Duplicate

Harrisons Landing July 9. 62 Dear Bro Child I have had scarcely a moment before to write—a scrap or two to wife, & a scrawl, on some business matters to Brouglin was all I could do. You can never have any idea of the condition of this army for the last two weeks—Incessant battle during 8 or 10 days—Heat, storm,—swamps—mud—acres of wounded & dying men at Hospitals—short rations—Demoralization of, at least, an apparent retreat—an enemy flushed with apparent victory—and hounding at our heels with terrible ferocity—Thousands of our disabled left on the feild & in hospitals to fall into rebel hands to be subject to their tender mercies—a croud of many other thousands sick & wounded & yet struggling

to fly—mixed with baggage wagons ammunition trains—droves of cattle—Regts cut up and sent to the rear—all draggling in mud & soon to death—You should have seen us pell mell as we brought up here along those— What made it worse our friends were not here—no reinforcements, nor subsistence, nor Hospital comforts—all for the first hours worked as if we were forsaken & doomed. A line of battle however was formed from the strongest of the troops—& with a right about face they took position a mile or two back—For Two days the position was stoutly contested; but it has been held and now protected by gun boats is parked two or three miles further into the interior—Subsistance too has come & a small reinforcement—& so we are just now breathing more fully—The President is here to day. Generals are consulting, & now that

we are 27 miles from Richmond the great question is how to get nearer or else farther away—The fact is this noble Army has been used up in planning—delaying—dying by inches, [eliminated?] from sickness. More decimated than by its numerous battles most of which have been victories in the shape of defeat—I know not what political feuds or imbicile commanders may have kept us inactive—I only know that this army ought to have been in Richmond—instead of being "driven to the wall" as we now are—I think myself that it could go there now, if there was vigor & unity in its head—It is still a very strong army—Every time in our retreat when the enemy approached & the right about face was given, the struggling mass wheeled—the line formed beautiful—artillery, infantry, cavalry stood like a barricade of rock—& the

rebel line rushed up only to be rolled back upon itself & upon its heaps of dead—This was done repeatedly—We beat them every time we fought, though with great loss to ourselves as well as to them—never before has there been such fearful sacrifice of life—Many many hearts will bleed more even than ours have while looking upon the carnage It was not until last evening that we got things into any sort of shape in the hospitals—I have had temporary charge of two, in which there was an aggregate of 7000—The first we had to abandon to the enemy though most of the sick and wounded were removed. Here, water even, until yesterday was not to be had for one half the fevered thirsty unattainable—Well, now you ask me what particular things I did—Dragged sick men along with my horse & wagon—cheered

on the exhausted squads—assumed some authority in ordering ford where it could possibly be had called around me details of [unclear] laborers—Buried dead horses—Dug wells—put up rough cooking ranges—set every vessel to boiling I could find—Tried to manage the crowds when we fed them—(& what a struggle I never saw starving men before) Dressed wounds—administered to the sick (they all thought I was Doctor) & so up to the present time I am stirring about. To day go to Ft Monroe for the goodies you have sent which did not get beyond White House & so are sent back. They are needed & ten times more. Every moment you can minister to some wretched case before you around in these grounds & at the same moment have the appealing cry of a dozen voices begging you & minister—also to them—