George H. Gordon, From Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain

[61] our sympathizing and pitying friends at home of the four chickens happily roasted, of the tenderly boiled leg of mutton and its rich surroundings of butter sauce, of the sweet and Irish potatoes, of the tomatoes, Indian pudding, and whiskey and water that made up the fare of the suffering soldier in the field, I fear the New York Tribune would have howled “Onward to Richmond!” with more relentless energy than ever before.

At this date, too, a rumor reached us that there had been a fight at Harper's Ferry, with a report that a Colonel Ashby, as prisoner, had just passed through our camp to headquarters. Nine days before, our Captain Tompkins, commanding the Rhode Island Battery at Sandy Hook, had written me that there were fourteen hundred Rebels at Halltown witl two twelve-pounders, and that a Major Gould wished him to take his guns over to-day. “As the river is very high,” writes the captain, “should we, under such circumstances, be obliged to retreat, we shall have a rough time of it.” This was about all there was to the whole rumor. The captain had more wisdom than the major. Had it been otherwise, the lesson to be learned from crossing an unfordable stream to attack a superior force, relying upon artillery, with no bridge or preparation to return in case of defeat, might have saved us that experience which in a similar attempt at Ball's Bluff eleven days later filled the country with horror.

If they served no other purpose, these rumors made our officers groan with impatience. They grumbled because they were to have no chances; and finally, impatience bursting the bonds of reason, they initiated the movement which afterwards resulted in a petition to the General Government to be permitted to fight something, somewhere, or somehow. This ardent zeal, born of inexperience, was simply the outburst of high-toned men, who, having