When I go somewhere in New Hampshire to speak about Our War, I try to include a bit of local Civil War history. While writing the book, I purposely named the hometowns of most of the characters. Especially early in the war, soldiers from one city, town or area tended to volunteer together and to serve in the same company or regiment. This created both cohesion in the ranks and a link between the companies and the people back home.
On Saturday at 11 a.m., I’ll be at Water Street Bookstore in
Exeter for a signing. This is a great independent bookseller in a bookish town.
The last time I was there, in 2009, it was to sign Abraham Lincoln in New Hampshire, my update of Elwin Page’s classic
1929 history. My most important addition to the story was a recently discovered newspaper
story about Lincoln’s speech in Exeter. Page had found no contemporary account of
this speech.
As I sat in the store on a lovely autumn day, I watched how
the light of the afternoon sun played on the red brick of the building across
the street. About halfway through the session, I realized this was the Exeter
town hall – the building where Lincoln had spoken.
In Our War, the
most prominent soldier from Exeter is Gilman Marston. He had been a lawyer in
town for 20 years and was a sitting congressman when the war began. He and
another congressman, Mason Tappan of Bradford, commanded the first two
regiments from the state, Tappan the First, Marston the Second. The First
fought no battles, came home and disbanded after three months. The Second
became one of the hardest-fighting regiments in the Union army.
Marston figured prominently in the regiment’s first battle,
at Bull Run. For my chapter on this, I drew mainly on what the men wrote about
it at the time. There was a lot to choose from. A day or two before the battle,
Marston told a visitor to the Second’s camp that he had only one complaint
about his men: “They are too intelligent. They are constantly writing home.”
The Second changed positions often during the battle before
joining the ignominious stampede back to Washington. Mainly the men found
themselves targets of an enemy they could not see to fire on. It was
frustrating, not to mention dangerous. Marston was shot just below the right
shoulder during the battle and fell on his face. Despite the pain of this wound
he surprised his men by returning to battle after it was bandaged.
Nevertheless, many
officers blamed Marston for the Second’s miserable experience that day. “Our
commanding officers didn’t seem to know what to do,” wrote Ai B. Thompson, a
lieutenant from Concord. “Marston is plucky and rash but he was not born to
command.” Doubting that Marston knew a single thing about military tactics, Capt. Simon G. Griffin, a native of Nelson, joined the other company commanders in
signing a petition calling for Marston’s ouster.
Griffin later regretted
the petition, calling it “an outrageous act of insubordination.” And Marston
proved himself to be a capable leader, rising to brigadier general and leading
men in many major battles before the war’s end.
After the war he
returned to the U.S. House, served as a state representative and filled out a U.S.
Senate term for 3½ months. He died in 1890 at the age of 78 and is buried in
Exeter.
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