Item No. 7887950

This important archive contains five letters written by the remarkable Corporal Asa D. Smith of the 16th Massachusetts Volunteers. Written between April and July 1862, they cover fascinating events including the capture of Norfolk, scuttling of the rebel ironclad Virginia, the June 18 skirmish on the Nine Mile Road, the June 25 fighting at Oak Grove, and the horrible wound he received at the Battle of Glendale.

Smith was a twenty-five-year-old shoemaker at the time of his enlistment in July 1861. The following month the regiment would embark for Fortress Monroe on the Virginia Peninsula. Smith would fight with the 16th during the Peninsula Campaign. During the Battle of Glendale on June 30 he would receive a devastating wound to the jaw. This young man’s remarkable struggle for survival was detailed in a 1971 article by historian Bruce Catton that appeared in the magazine American Heritage. It provides valuable context to the letters offered here and in itself is an incredible and fascinating story.

Smith’s first letter was written April 27 from Camp Hamilton near Fortress Monroe on the Virginia Peninsula, where Union forces under General George B. McClellan were gathering for an advance toward the Confederate capital at Richmond. Corresponding with his sister, he first suggests that their mother “frets too much about Wallace”—Smith’s younger brother William Wallace Smith, who had joined the 22nd Massachusetts. He then comments on the arrival of the Union Navy’s ironclad Galena, which joined the armored Monitor and Naugatuck in defense against the rebel ironclad Virginia (formerly Merrimac):

The Galena has arrived, and yesterday struck her masts leaving nothing but her smoke stack above the deck, which is shot proof. She is a wicked looking craft. And as the Virginia is daily expected, they may soon have a chance to try her. It seems to me that the three vessels can whip anything the Rebs can bring along.

Later in the letter, Smith anticipates a quick end to the war. “The fall of Yorktown must soon take place,” he writes, “and soon after you will see me at home.” He notes that “we hear firing every day, but no great move has been made as yet,” strategizing that McClellan was waiting for reinforcements under Nathaniel Banks and Irvin McDowell “to come nearer before they strike.” He concludes, “Never fear but ‘Little Mac’ will come out all right.”

In the detail-rich second letter—written about two weeks later on May 12—Smith gives an account of the capture of Norfolk and the scuttling of the ironclad Virginia. Writing this time to his mother, he first describes how he was detailed to “escort the body of our late comrade” to the wharf, but returned to camp when “orders came to pack immediately…and in less than 15 minutes we were on our way to the fort, where we embarked on the Nelly Baker.” The next morning Smith was not surprised to disembark across the James River at Willoughby Point, after observing that “the Monitor and 4 war vessels had been shelling Sewell’s Point during the afternoon and the Rip Raps”—the US-held fort in the river’s mouth—“had kept up a steady fire all the evening.”

He then gives an account of the difficult march that followed:

We immediately took up the line of march for Norfolk (Gen Wool, with Gens Mansfield and Weber being with us) and pushed on at an awful rate. It was very hot and dusty so you could hardly see 20 feet at times, and soon the boys began to throw away overcoats, blankets, and oftentimes knapsack and all its contents, and for two or three miles the sides of the road were lined with cast-away property. But I had left everything I wanted to spare in the old camp and hung to mine, though it seemed as if I should drop sometimes. I believe nothing but pride kept me in the ranks. But anyway, I stuffed my hat with leaves and pressed on.

Keeping up a heavy pace, Smith writes that the men “expected a fight, which did a great deal toward keeping up our pluck.” Once within three miles of Norfolk:

The word passed down the lines, “a Battery ahead to be carried,” and the order was given to “unsling knapsacks” and pile them up on the side of the road. The lightening of our load and news of a battery started us at nearly a double quick, but soon a clearing showed us volumes of smoke, a sign that they were leaving. And when we came in sight not a “Secesh” was to be seen. The 20th N.Y. entered first and planted their colors on the ramparts. The 16th was the 3d regt to enter. We found the works strong, but there was no regular ditch in front, so they could have been easily stormed. They are said to be between 5 & 6 miles long & to mount 92 guns. Part of the barracks were burned, but they did not wait to finish the job, nor even to spike a gun.

Smith then describes the reception received upon entering the city:

Col Wyman claiming the honor by right of seniority, we entered it a little before dark and showed them the first yankee flag that they had seen for some time, and I assure you I never felt prouder in my life than when marching through the streets of Norfolk. The greater part of the people looked on in sullen silence, but our welcome was a great deal more cordial than I expected. One old man approached the color bearer, and taking off his hat exclaimed, “I thank God; I’m all right now.” Another one took off his hat at the sight and said, “I bless God that I have lived to see the star spangled banner once more.” One woman waved her handkerchief saying, “Oh! How I have longed to see this day,” and many similar scenes I witnessed.

The evacuating rebels had left much destruction in their wake:

As we drew near the city we saw the light of a tremendous fire, and rightly guessed that it proceeded from the Navy Yard. They had set fire to all the shops but 2 (one machine shop and the foundry) and all the vessels at the yard, 8 in number. They also burned the cotton warehouse in Portsmouth and threw some 500 boxes of tobacco overboard, some of which we fished up for our own use. On halting in the city we found out the cause of our crossing the roads so often, and saw its effects, as it was reported in the city that Wool was advancing with over 40,000 men, while we probably numbered less than 6,000. But we took care not to undeceive them, giving them to understand that the main body had camped a few miles back, as the Merrimac was within 5 miles with 500 men on board.

Posted for guard duty that night in Portsmouth, Smith writes that he and his comrades:

heard a crash, and soon found a gang with some boxes in the street. We charged on them when they scattered, leaving us 4 boxes of flintlock guns, 1 of sabres, and 1 of cartridge & cap boxes. We also found two buildings occupied by the rebels as commissary stores, which we took possession of, and yesterday we fed on secesh ham and hard tack. And during the night we found several soldiers. They are the worst dressed men you ever saw.

Another disturbance occurred the following morning when the fleeing rebels scuttled the Virginia:

About 5 yesterday morning we heard a loud report, which proved to be the blowing up of the Merrimac. Three of her crew were brought here, two of them Lowell men. The rest landed on Craney Island and were taken by the garrison to Richmond. They say they could not get out, nor touch us without shelling their own cities, so they blew her up. They say that the Monitor used her up badly.

As if his letter hadn’t already included so much interesting news, near the end Smith describes seeing President Abraham Lincoln, writing that before their departure “Old Abe came round every boat at the fort and bid us God speed.” He concludes, “Can’t tell half the news. We make it too fast.”

The archive’s third letter was written five weeks later on June 20 from the regiment’s camp near Fair Oaks. The 16th had arrived in the area a few days earlier, having been attached to General Joseph Hooker’s division in the 3rd Corps. Writing again to his mother, Smith mentions first that during a thunderstorm on June 15, “the Rebs made a dash at our pickets and took a capt and forty men.” The surprise attack resulted in two or three dead, “including Gen Sickles’s aide.” Then on June 18 Smith “smelt powder” for the first time in a skirmish on the Nine Mile Road near Fair Oaks:

At the appointed time we formed and marched to the line where the 69th New York were picketing, where we found Gens Hooker & Grover, and were ordered to deploy in the woods between the Williamsburg road & the Rail-Road, and drive in the enemy’s pickets as far as it would be safe, in order to find out the chances for taking artillery through.

We started in with good relish, well pleased at the chance of meeting some rebels. And as for myself, I had a curiosity to know how I should feel under fire. After going a short distance through a very thick wood, we came to a swamp where we waded above our knees in water. We soon pushed through and very soon after the firing began on the left, and in a few moments became general along the whole line. We advanced so rapidly that they could not keep their cover, but left as quick as possible. And here they met their greatest loss, our boys raking them terribly. We were so eager that we paid little attention to cover, and before long we receive a whole volley, probably from their reserve, which took off some of our boys. But we pushed them through the woods clear to their rifle pits, although we suffered badly.

The scene Smith describes next is a difficult one, as he and his comrades are pinned down by enemy fire and unable to assist Private Robert C. Sherman, who lay feet away with a wound to the head:

It was at the time of the volley that I first thought of cover, a son of Dr Sherman of Waltham and a number of our Co falling dead within five feet of me. There were four of us standing in a small open space when a dozen or more bullets whistled by us, and he fell shot in the mouth. I got behind a stump and the others behind trees, and watched for a chance to return compliments, the rebels all being hid, and for the first time I felt mad. We kept our position and when one showed himself we fired, but soon the order came to fall back and we slowly retreated. We were obliged to leave our comrade where he fell, as it would have been death to have approached him. But it seemed hard, although he was beyond surgical aid.

Smith then tallies the dead and wounded, including Sherman and the company’s first sergeant Charles F. Coburn. He continues:

Both of our dead were left where they fell, it being impossible to bring them off. The death of Serg’t Coburn is a great loss to us, as he was a general favorite. The wounded were sent to White House yesterday. We don’t know the loss of the Rebs, but it was certainly greater than our own. I know of 5 killed by Co K alone. I believe we performed our duty to the satisfaction of the Gen, and the other regts called it a spunky affair. I heard an officer of the 26th Pa say that it was the most dashing affair that has happened on the peninsula.

In the letter’s concluding lines Smith states:

I am certain of one thing, that the boys are not so anxious to get into another fight as they were the first one, but will fight as hard, for they feel rather sore to think we got cut up so. As for me, I have seen enough of it, though I thought but little of it at the time, and we were actually laughing and joking when we entered the woods, we were so pleased to get a chance.

Letter number four was written from Fair Oaks on June 27. In it Smith briefly gives the results of the July 25 Battle of Oak Grove:

There was a fight here day before yesterday. The attack was made by our division, and Kearny’s was also engaged. We got possession of the belt of woods in front of us. My Co was not engaged, but was under fire a good share of the day. Seven Co’s were in the fight, and the loss of the regt was 26 in killed, wounded, and missing. Lieut Flagg was wounded in the arm. Keyes was hit in the head by a 3 in shell, but it did not explode, and only stunned him. The 1st lost 86 in killed, wounded, & missing. The 11th [Massachusetts] had 20 wounded.

Smith also mentions the results of the fighting June 26 at the Battle of Beaver Dam Creek and the celebration that followed:

The enemy attacked Gen. Porter yesterday, and dispatches were read to us last night stating that he had turned their left and whipped them at every point. The bands played, on receipt of the news, for the first time since they have been here. The cannonading has been going on all the morning and we are under arms, expecting they will try to break through near us. I am all right so far. Expect Wallace has been into it. Meagher’s [Irish] Brigade captured 18 pieces of artillery yesterday. We have lost all our rubber blankets. We left them outside the woods when we went in to support the 2d N.H. and have not seen them since.

The 16th’s next fight would be on June 30 at Glendale. In Bruce Catton’s “Asa Smith Leaves the War” we learn that during the fighting Smith received a devastating wound to has lower jaw. Considered beyond saving by surgeons, Smith wandered on foot in search of help, receiving aid from several soldiers and surgeons as he made his way to the James River. He would ultimately board a transport and travel to Annapolis, where he was admitted and treated at an army hospital.

The fifth and final letter in the archive was written from the hospital on July 13—only two weeks after his injury. Smith writes how glad he is that upon receiving the news his mother “took it so well.” He writes:

I don’t know where the story could start from that I was dead, for I am sure I don’t intend to die at present, though I didn’t know yesterday but I should. It seems there is a vein on the inside of my lip which is inclined to trouble me. It had bled a little once before, but yesterday morning when I woke I found it had bled freely during my sleep. I called the nurse, and while cleaning my mouth it commenced to bleed again, and continued until the nurse got frightened and went for the Dr, who came. But before it stopped I was so weak that they had to hold me up. I never came so near to fainting in my life. If that will not bleed any more, I shall do first rate. But I am a little afraid of it. The Drs told me yesterday that they thought I should not be badly disfigured, but would never be able to chew anything. And I guess that’s so, for most all of my jawbone is missing. But I can stow away spoon victuals beautifully.

He concludes, “I am in hopes to get along well and come home in the course of a month or two. And tell Mary there’s little danger of my joining my regt, as I have no cartridge teeth. I shall be discharged as soon as I get well.”

The war was over for Asa Smith. In his American Heritage article, a photocopy of which is included with the archive, Catton adds the following postscript:

Smith shortly returned to work in his home town. The following winter he was made commanding officer (foreman) of Victor Engine No. 1 of the Natick Fire Department. In 1865 he was appointed deputy state constable, and in the winter of 1870-71 was appointed a messenger in the House of Representatives, and then night inspector at the Boston Customs House. During his service there he entered the Boston University School of Medicine, from which he received an M. D. degree in June, 1877; the following May he opened an office for the practice of medicine in South Boston, retaining his Customs House position until he should get established. In June, 1901, he removed to the Dorchester district, and there he happily raised his three sons and two daughters.

Included with the archive are three of the original stamped postal covers addressed to Smith’s family. The letters are of typical sizes between 5” x 8” and 8” x 10”. Excellent condition with expected foxing, toning, occasional stains, creases, etc. The June 27, written hastily on scratch paper, has very faint ink, but remains legible. The other four are perfectly readable. The full transcripts of the letters appear below.

Note: Fifteen additional Asa Smith letters are held in the collection of the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History.

Letter No. 1:

Camp Hamilton, April 27th 1862

Dear Sister
I am sorry to hear that mother is no better, but hope she soon will be. Am afraid she frets too much about Wallace.

Nothing of importance in this dept. The Galena has arrived, and yesterday struck her masts leaving nothing but her smoke stack above the deck, which is shot proof. She is a wicked looking craft. And as the Virginia is daily expected, they may soon have a chance to try her. It seems to me that the three vessels can whip anything the Rebs can bring along.

The Michigan 1st has gone to Newport News to be brigaded, but I don’t know whether they will go farther or not.

The darkeys are at work building a railroad from the fort to our camp, where the new storehouses are, and I shouldn’t wonder if it was extended farther.

We are all in an uproar as we have got new tents. We had just got fixed up around our old tents when they were condemned, and the Sibleys given to us. We have got them floored, but have not built the porch yet, and are all littered up with boards and tools. I think it is wasting labor to make the improvements, as we are soon coming home. The fall of Yorktown must soon take place, and soon after you will see me at home.

There are men here who are willing to bet that the 16th will be discharged in less than six weeks, but I am not quite so sanguine as that.

I have written to Wallace once since he left here, but have not heard from him, excepting what you have written. We hear firing every day, but no great move has been made as yet. It would not be strange if they were waiting for Banks and McDowell to come nearer before they strike. Wounded men are brought here to the Chesapeake Hospital nearly every day, and a few prisoners have been brought to the fort.

Never fear but “Little Mac” will come out all right.

Give love to mother and all the rest of the folks, and excuse the looks of this.
Asa D. Smith

I reckon there is enough on the card.

Letter No. 2:

Gosport Navy Yard, May 12th 1862

Dear Mother,
Here I am in Dixie, safe and secure. We left camp last Thursday and went on board a steamer, where we stayed until the next morning, when we went back and pitched tents again, feeling blue you may believe. I was detailed on guard, and if I ever wanted to be out of the army it was then. In the afternoon our boys started for the boat to escort the body of our late comrade, but before they had got half way there orders came to pack immediately, and they were sent back. I went to the officer of the guard, Lieut Flagg, and got released from that duty and got ready for a tramp, and in less than 15 minutes we were on the way to the fort, where we embarked on board the Nelly Baker, the old Nahant boat. We lay on board all night and kept crossing and recrossing the roads till we landed at 7 in the morning near Willoughby’s Point, where we expected to, as the Monitor and 4 war vessels had been shelling Sewell’s Point during the afternoon and the Rip Raps had kept up a steady fire all the evening.

We immediately took up the line of march for Norfolk (Gen Wool, with Gens Mansfield and Weber being with us) and pushed on at an awful rate. It was very hot and dusty so you could hardly see 20 feet at times, and soon the boys began to throw away overcoats, blankets, and oftentimes knapsack and all its contents, and for two or three miles the sides of the road were lined with cast-away property. But I had left everything I wanted to spare in the old camp and hung to mine, though it seemed as if I should drop sometimes. I believe nothing but pride kept me in the ranks. But anyway, I stuffed my hat with leaves and pressed on. A great many fell out, and one sergeant of Co A was sun struck, but will probably recover.

We passed a deserted cavalry camp early in the morning, and were told that they left it about three hours before. We expected a fight, which did a great deal toward keeping up our pluck, and some tall walking was done. After marching several miles the cavalry reported the bridge burned, and we had to countermarch a considerable distance to take another road. But we pushed on, at no time stopping to rest over 10 minutes until within 3 miles of the city, when the word passed down the lines, “a Battery ahead to be carried,” and the order was given to “unsling knapsacks” and pile them up on the side of the road.

The lightening of our load and news of a battery started us at nearly a double quick, but soon a clearing showed us volumes of smoke, a sign that they were leaving. And when we came in sight not a “Secesh” was to be seen. The 20th N.Y. entered first and planted their colors on the ramparts. The 16th was the 3d regt to enter. We found the works strong, but there was no regular ditch in front, so they could have been easily stormed. They are said to be between 5 & 6 miles long & to mount 92 guns. Part of the barracks were burned, but they did not wait to finish the job, nor even to spike a gun.

We stopped here and rested, and each man made a dipper full of coffee, as we had had nothing but hard tack and cold water fro about 36 hours, and at length the 16th started for the city. Col Wyman claiming the honor by right of seniority, we entered it a little before dark and showed them the first yankee flag that they had seen for some time, and I assure you I never felt prouder in my life than when marching through the streets of Norfolk. The greater part of the people looked on in sullen silence, but our welcome was a great deal more cordial than I expected. One old man approached the color bearer, and taking off his hat exclaimed, “I thank God; I’m all right now.” Another one took off his hat at the sight and said, “I bless God that I have lived to see the star spangled banner once more.” One woman waved her handkerchief saying, “Oh! How I have longed to see this day,” and many similar scenes I witnessed.

As we drew near the city we saw the light of a tremendous fire, and rightly guessed that it proceeded from the Navy Yard. They had set fire to all the shops but 2 (one machine shop and the foundry) and all the vessels at the yard, 8 in number. They also burned the cotton warehouse in Portsmouth and threw some 500 boxes of tobacco overboard, some of which we fished up for our own use. On halting in the city we found out the cause of our crossing the roads so often, and saw its effects, as it was reported in the city that Wool was advancing with over 40,000 men, while we probably numbered less than 6,000. But we took care not to undeceive them, giving them to understand that the main body had camped a few miles back, as the Merrimac was within 5 miles with 500 men on board.

About 9 o’clock, the right wing crossed the ferry and took possession of the yard, the rest remaining in Norfolk till last night. Co K was put on guard in the city of Portsmouth, and we had a hard night without overcoats or blankets, and nothing but the pavements for a bed. After sweating so through the day, it seemed as if we should freeze, and we are no better off now as our knapsacks have not arrived and our tents are at Old Point. We had not got the first relief posted before we heard a crash, and soon found a gang with some boxes in the street. We charged on them when they scattered, leaving us 4 boxes of flintlock guns, 1 of sabres, and 1 of cartridge & cap boxes. We also found two buildings occupied by the rebels as commissary stores, which we took possession of, and yesterday we fed on secesh ham and hard tack. And during the night we found several soldiers. They are the worst dressed men you ever saw.

About 5 yesterday morning we heard a loud report, which proved to be the blowing up of the Merrimac. Three of her crew were brought here, two of them Lowell men. The rest landed on Craney Island and were taken by the garrison to Richmond. They say they could not get out, nor touch us without shelling their own cities, so they blew her up. They say that the Monitor used her up badly.

Yesterday 4 men of war came up and anchored between the cities, broadside on. They were greeted with cheer on cheer from the citizens, and during the day the American flag was hoisted on a great many private houses.

Last night Co K was on patrol and ordered all citizens indoors at 8 1/2 o’clock. The watchmen objected to going, but were told their term of service had expired. The streets were travelled all night. What little sleep we got was on the sidewalk in front of the Oceanhouse. A flag of truce from Gen Huger came down last night to the Col who commands this side of the river. I hear that Gen Viele is to command here. I forgot to state that Old Abe came round every boat at the fort and bid us God speed. Co H is at Craney Island.

We have no certain news since Thursday. How is Wallace? I hope this may find your health improved. Can’t tell half the news. We make it too fast. Direct as usual to the fort. Send me 1 dollar if handy. Suppose we have taken at least 200 cannon and any quantity of other stuff. Am first rate. Love to all.
Asa

If you want to get an idea of how it looked when we came here, look out for Harper’s Weekly.

Letter No. 3:

Camp near Fair Oaks, June 20th / 62

Dear Mother,
I intended to have written before but was unable, and am taking my chance now out on picket reserve. I have received but one letter from you since we left Suffolk, but got a paper yesterday. Did you receive that note?

I got a line from Wallace yesterday. He has joined his regt. He was at White House when the 29th landed, only two or three days before our arrival. I suppose before this reaches you, the papers will have notified you that we have smelt powder, but I will tell you our movements as well as I can.

Sunday afternoon we had a smart thunder shower, and in the midst of it the Rebs made a dash at our pickets and took a capt and forty men. Some two or three were killed, including Gen Sickles’s aide. We were under arms and stood through the shower formed in line of battle. Again at three the next morning we were turned out by skirmishing on the pickets toward our left, and several times since Sunday they have thrown a few shells amongst us, but without doing much hurt. On Wednesday the 18th at about 10 o’clock the bugle sounded (the signal for a general alarm) and the whole Army of the Potomac was under arms. After standing in line about an hour, we were dismissed with orders to fall in at half past three, ready for action. At the appointed time we formed and marched to the line where the 69th New York were picketing, where we found Gens Hooker & Grover, and were ordered to deploy in the woods between the Williamsburg road & the Rail-Road, and drive in the enemy’s pickets as far as it would be safe, in order to find out the chances for taking artillery through.

We started in with good relish, well pleased at the chance of meeting some rebels. And as for myself, I had a curiosity to know how I should feel under fire. After going a short distance through a very thick wood, we came to a swamp where we waded above our knees in water. We soon pushed through and very soon after the firing began on the left, and in a few moments became general along the whole line.

We advanced so rapidly that they could not keep their cover, but left as quick as possible. And here they met their greatest loss, our boys raking them terribly. We were so eager that we paid little attention to cover, and before long we receive a whole volley, probably from their reserve, which took off some of our boys. But we pushed them through the woods clear to their rifle pits, although we suffered badly. It was at the time of the volley that I first thought of cover, a son of Dr Sherman of Waltham and a number of our Co falling dead within five feet of me. There were four of us standing in a small open space when a dozen or more bullets whistled by us, and he fell shot in the mouth. I got behind a stump and the others behind trees, and watched for a chance to return compliments, the rebels all being hid, and for the first time I felt mad. We kept our position and when one showed himself we fired, but soon the order came to fall back and we slowly retreated. We were obliged to leave our comrade where he fell, as it would have been death to have approached him. But it seemed hard, although he was beyond surgical aid. Our loss in this skirmish of 3/4 of an hour was 18 killed, 25 wounded, and 11 missing—more than the 1st regt lost at Williamsburg in ten hours skirmishing.

Lieut Rogers of Co F was instantly killed, and Capt Donovan of Co D is missing. The loss in my own Co is killed, Orderly Sergeant Charles F. Coburn & Private Robert Sherman; wounded, Gregg Smith, James Leverton, & Henry J. Miller (neither of them dangerously), & missing, Joseph Corrigan.

Both of our dead were left where they fell, it being impossible to bring them off. The death of Serg’t Coburn is a great loss to us, as he was a general favorite. The wounded were sent to White House yesterday. We don’t know the loss of the Rebs, but it was certainly greater than our own. I know of 5 killed by Co K alone. I believe we performed our duty to the satisfaction of the Gen, and the other regts called it a spunky affair. I heard an officer of the 26th Pa say that it was the most dashing affair that has happened on the peninsula.

I am certain of one thing, that the boys are not so anxious to get into another fight as they were the first one, but will fight as hard, for they feel rather sore to think we got cut up so. As for me, I have seen enough of it, though I thought but little of it at the time, and we were actually laughing and joking when we entered the woods, we were so pleased to get a chance.

I was detailed to work on the redoubt yesterday, and so am on the reserve, although the regt is on the advance. I hear that two men were wounded out there last night. There is a brisk cannonading going on to the right of us. I forgot to say that we brought in 7 prisoners with us. While we were in the woods, one of our guns threw a few shells which it is said did good execution.

I am in good health and feeling first rate, but have a good deal of duty to do.
With love
Asa

Letter No. 4:

Fair Oaks, June 27th 1862

Dear Mother
There was a fight here day before yesterday. The attack was made by our division, and Kearny’s was also engaged. We got possession of the belt of woods in front of us. My Co was not engaged, but was under fire a good share of the day. Seven Co’s were in the fight, and the loss of the regt was 26 in killed, wounded, and missing. Lieut Flagg was wounded in the arm. Keyes was hit in the head by a 3 in shell, but it did not explode, and only stunned him. The 1st lost 86 in killed, wounded, & missing. The 11th had 20 wounded.

The enemy attacked Gen. Porter yesterday, and dispatches were read to us last night stating that he had turned their left and whipped them at every point. The bands played, on receipt of the news, for the first time since they have been here. The cannonading has been going on all the morning and we are under arms, expecting they will try to break through near us. I am all right so far. Expect Wallace has been into it. Meagher’s Brigade captured 18 pieces of artillery yesterday. We have lost all our rubber blankets. We left them outside the woods when we went in to support the 2d N.H. and have not seen them since.

This life is a hard one, but we hope to get through soon. Give love to all the folks.
Asa

Letter No. 5:

In Hospital, July 13th 62

Dear Mother,
I just received your letter and was glad to hear that you took it so well. I don’t know where the story could start from that I was dead, for I am sure I don’t intend to die at present, though I didn’t know yesterday but I should. It seems there is a vein on the inside of my lip which is inclined to trouble me. It had bled a little once before, but yesterday morning when I woke I found it had bled freely during my sleep. I called the nurse, and while cleaning my mouth it commenced to bleed again, and continued until the nurse got frightened and went for the Dr, who came. But before it stopped I was so weak that they had to hold me up. I never came so near to fainting in my life. If that will not bleed any more, I shall do first rate. But I am a little afraid of it. The Drs told me yesterday that they thought I should not be badly disfigured, but would never be able to chew anything. And I guess that’s so, for most all of my jawbone is missing. But I can stow away spoon victuals beautifully.

Just before your letter came I received a dispatch from Ben Hall, saying if I wanted any assistance to telegraph him. I suppose it to have been on behalf of the Engine Co, so you see the boys don’t forget us.

I am in hopes to get along well and come home in the course of a month or two. And tell Mary there’s little danger of my joining my regt, as I have no cartridge teeth. I shall be discharged as soon as I get well.

I am obliged to the neighbors for their kindness. Should like to see some Boston papers. Will try and write oftener.
Love to all
Asa

Monday Morning. Asa first rate.