Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee’s army chased George B. McClellan’s Army of the
Potomac across the Virginia Peninsula in late June of 1862. Union forces suffered thousands of casualties and departed altogether in August. A casualty of a
different sort mattered most. McClellan’s defeat canceled the expectation of a quick and decisive capture of Richmond, the
Confederate capital.
As discouraging as this was, McClellan’s defeat and retreat came
early enough in the war that northern cities and towns still had men to
send. Hundreds of New Hampshire men joined new regiments that summer.
The town of Sutton, with a population of 1,431 in the 1860 census, was a case in point. Men from Sutton had been volunteering since April 1861. A new call for troops came in mid-1862 accompanied by recruiting meetings all over the state. Walter Harriman, a well-known officer from neighboring
Warner, was appointed colonel of the 11th New Hampshire Volunteers, Sutton men
flocked to its ranks. Thirty-four men from the town entered the regiment’s
100-man Company F. A few joined other companies. Their ages ranged from 13 to
68.
These men arrived in Washington, D.C., and camped on East Capitol Hill just as the battles of South Mountain and Antietam were being fought. Among
the regiments on that campaign were the 6th and 9th New Hampshire, whom the 11th
would join much later in a New England brigade in Grant’s army.
Hiram G. Little |
Hiram K. Little of Sutton joined Company F as its second
lieutenant and was later promoted to first lieutenant. He fought in all the 11th’s battles until a bullet cut him down.
Little had been born in Newbury, N.H., (formerly
Fishersfield) in 1830. His father, William, was a farmer known to friends as “the
best man to hew timber in town.” After William died in around 1840, Hiram’s mother, Eveline, took
her four sons to Manchester. Educated there, Hiram moved to Sutton in around
1850 and joined his brother in manufacturing clothespins. Hiram married in
1856 and he and his wife, Susan, had a son in 1859.
During the war he led his men in Company F at Fredericksburg
and in the siege of Vicksburg, the capture of Jackson, Miss., and the siege of
Knoxville, Tenn.
On June 20, 1864, in the trenches before Petersburg, Little was shot in the neck. He never said another word.
With hundreds of other wounded, he was taken on the hospital ship New World to a hospital on Davids’ Island, off Connecticut in Long Island Sound. There he died on the Fourth of July. Six days later, he was buried in Sutton.
On June 20, 1864, in the trenches before Petersburg, Little was shot in the neck. He never said another word.
With hundreds of other wounded, he was taken on the hospital ship New World to a hospital on Davids’ Island, off Connecticut in Long Island Sound. There he died on the Fourth of July. Six days later, he was buried in Sutton.
Pvt. Morgan was 28 when he wrote the letter below to
his brother-in-law, Wyman A, Kimball, in Sutton. Morgan fell ill in 1864 and died of disease on July 23 at Alexandria,
Va.
Washington D. C.
September 16th 1862
Brother Kimball,
We got here to the City
of Washington on last Sunday morning about eight o’clock. Then we went into
camp on East Capitol Hill, about one mile and a half from the city. Our company
has been on guard two hours this morning. We have just been relieved and I
thought I would write you a letter now. We have just got orders to march. We
have got to go over across the Potomac River into Camp Chase.
Wednesday, September
17th.
We got to the
campground about dark last night and we laid right down on the ground — our
tents had not got along. About midnight it began to rain and rained till
morning. When I would stick my head out from under the old coat cape and
blanket, it would spat right on my face. I stood it as long as I could, then I
crawled out and got into one of the big wagons and had a good nap.
I am well and never
felt better. I can carry my load without any help. The most of our company
hired a man to carry their knapsack and paid him 50 cts. apiece. I told them
that I would carry mine as long as I could and then they would have to carry my
load and me too. I carried it all night.
Walter Harriman, colonel of the 11th New Hampshire |
Little Charley Hart had
a revolver to work on this morning and he fired it off and the ball went
through his hand and come out through the tent and went close by me and through
another tent and it went within inches of [Robert] McConnell’s head. Then they
called the company together and took the revolvers all away from them.
I wish you and Austin
were out here. There is enough to see but I can’t describe it to you so that
you will know anything atall about it. I could tell you more in one hour than I
could write in a whole day. It is all confusion.
I wish you could be on
what they call East Capitol Hill and see the army horses that they have got
there. I should think they had a thousand horses and mules. A good many of them
have been old in the service and are wore out. I wish you could see them. There
was two men found dead on the campground. They said they died by eating pies
that were poisoned and there was another that got kicked by a horse and they
say he must die. The rest are all pretty well.
I should like to know
what you are all about to home but I ain’t a going to bother my brains about
writing letters. It is news you won’t know any more after I write.
Newell J. Nye has just
come in and says that George Putney is a going right home and he is a going to
send his money home and I thought I would send you eight dollars. I have got
about six dollars now. If I am out in the rain and get as wet as we did driving
the cattle up, I should [send] the whole of it. If it should rain as hard as it
did when we was a going from New Jersey to Philadelphia, it would wet through
in a few minutes. I never see it rain so hard in my life. I have got as much as
I want to look of it.
When George Jewett was
a coming through Baltimore, someone cut his pocketbook open and took out
wallet. It had five dollars in it.
I don’t know as you can
read this nor I don’t care much. I hain’t no chance to write. I can’t tell
where I shall be when I write the next one. I want you to write me a letter but
I can’t tell you where to send it.
Austin, I will send
this to you. — George Morgan
A good read!
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