AFTER the battle of Chancellorsville the whole army retired to its old position about Stafford Court House and Falmouth, on the Rappahannock, opposite the City of Fredericksburg. The 32d Massachusetts was detailed to guard duty along the railroad from Acquia Creek; half of the command under Lieutenant-Colonel Stephenson being posted at or near the redoubts on Potomac Creek, guarding the bridge; the remainder, or right wing, under Colonel Prescott, posted south of Stoneman’s Switch.

On Thursday afternoon, May 29th, orders were received to break camp and move to Barnett’s Ford. The left wing moved promptly, but the right wing, owing to the temporary absence of Colonel Prescott, did not march until after nightfall. A bright full moon and cool breeze made marching delightful. The way was familiar, the roads fine, and the men, in the best of spirits, laughed and sung as they went. At about midnight this hilarity had subsided, and the little column was jogging sleepily along the way, which wound through a deep wood in the vicinity of Hartwood Church. Suddenly, at a sharp turn of the road, where the moonlight fell bright as day, came a stern call “Halt! who goes there?” and a dozen horsemen, springing from the shadow, stood barring the way, bringing forward their carbines with a threatening click as they appeared. The column, however, not halting, pressed forward into the light, showing the glittering muskets of the men and something of their number. The horsemen seemed to suddenly abandon their purpose, for, without a word of parley, they turned their horses into the woods and slipped past us under cover of the darkness. We recognized them, when too late, as a band of guerillas, and learned more concerning them at the first picket post we met.

During our stay at the fords of the Rappahannock, guerillas harassed us in various ways, hovering around us, indeed, until we neared the border of Maryland. Now a portion of our wagon train would be run off, and an officer would be spirited away when on outpost duty or riding from one camp to another. Again and again the mail was stopped and rifled, the carrier shot or captured. Indeed, these things became of so frequent occurrence that stringent orders came from headquarters forbidding officers or men straying beyond the limits of their camp guards. Many were the sensational rumors concerning the guerillas and their Chief Mosby. One of our cavalry officers used to say that he never could catch a guerilla, but after a long chase occasionally found a man wearing spurs, engaged in digging a well.

At Hartwood Church the two wings of the Regiment were again united, and moved on the following day past Barnett’s to Kemper’s Ford. Mrs. Kemper and her daughter were the only inmates of their mansion, Mr. Kemper being “away,” which meant in the rebel army, and of the swarms of servants which no doubt once made the quarters lively, there remained only two or three small girls and an idiot man.

Our stay here was one of the bright spots of army experience. The location was delightful and the duty light. We had a detail on guard at the ford and pickets along the river bank; opposite to us on the other shore, and within talking distance, were the rebel pickets, but no shots were exchanged, and all was peaceful and quiet.

We had extended to the family such protection as common courtesy demanded, and when we were about to leave, a few of the officers called to say good-bye, and found the ladies distressed and in tears on account of our departure, or the dread of what might come afterwards. They told us that ours was the first Massachusetts regiment that had been stationed there; that they had been taught to believe that Massachusetts men were vile and wicked; “but,” said one of them, “we have received from no other soldiers such unvarying courtesy and consideration; we have discovered our mistake, and shall know how to defend them from such aspersions in the future.” Promising in reply to their urgency that, if taken prisoners and if possible, we would communicate with them, we took our leave, with the impression that it was well to treat even our enemies with kindness.

On the 9th of June occurred the engagement at Brandy Station, said at that time to be the greatest cavalry fight of the war, and the Regiment crossed the river and covered the approaches to the ford while the battle was in progress. They moved out about three miles in the direction of Culpepper Court House, but encountered no enemy, except a few straggling cavalry men, who fled at their approach.

Now the Regiment was kept continually on the qui vive, under orders to move at a minute’s notice, and be prepared for long and rapid marches.

Suddenly the enemy withdrew all his pickets from the river, and on the 13th of June we moved in the middle of the night, which was very dark, in the direction of Morrisville, and on the following night we reached Catlett’s, our division bringing up the rear of the army and guarding the wagon train. The weather had now become very summerlike, and the days were hot and sultry, and the roads heavy with dust. Again we were moving through that detestable Manassas country, that debatable land, now almost a desert; the soil uncultivated, trodden to powder, the fields overgrown with weeds, an arid waste where no water was and no food could be obtained, the breeze stifling one with the pungent odor of penny-royal, which pervaded everything.

June 16th we encamped near Manassas, on the Thoroughfare Gap road, and on the following day made an ever-memorable march of eighteen or twenty miles, under a tropical sun, with a stifling air filled with dust, without a drop of water anywhere, and the men of all ranks and commands falling down by the roadside and dying of heat-stroke and exhaustion. The 32d made the best record of any regiment in the division on this day, encamping at Gum Spring at night with fuller ranks than any other. We set out with 230 men and came in with 107 in the ranks, and even this poor showing was far ahead of most regiments composing the division. Four soldiers of the division died from sunstroke on this dreadful march. Firing was heard all day from the direction of Aldie, and we were urged forward as rapidly as possible.

On the 19th we moved to Aldie Gap, with the whole of the 5th Corps, passing many fine places upon the broad Winchester turnpike. An artillery skirmish was going on as we neared the Gap at sunset, and we deployed across the broad fields under the beautiful Blue Ridge mountains in fine style, bands playing, bugles sounding, etc. At 2 A. M. on the morning of the 21st the men were awaked, three days rations issued, and we were soon in motion up the Gap. As morning broke we defiled past Aldie, and on the way down the mountain side were passed by thousands of cavalry, under command of Generals Pleasanton, Gregg, and Kilpatrick.

During that day and the next we had a glorious opportunity to witness one of the great cavalry skirmishes of the Army of the Potomac, the enemy’s cavalry consisting of Fitz Hugh Lee’s brigade led by Rousseau, and Stuart’s cavalry led by Stuart himself. We withdrew on the 22d and passed that night near Aldie on the side of the hills, looking down into the valley, and across to Ashby’s Gap. Many are the tales since told of what we saw and did during those two days of cavalry and infantry fighting. On the 21st the Regiment led the infantry advance, and on the return was at the rear of the column, and covered the cavalry retreat.

June 26th orders came to move at 3 A. M., and from that time we marched rapidly forward across the state of Maryland, and until we reached the Pennsylvania line.

Early on the afternoon of July 1st, 1863, after a march of about ten miles, the 32d reached Hanover, Pennsylvania, and as we filed into a cleared level piece of grass-land, we congratulated ourselves upon the prospect of a long rest and a refreshing sleep after the tedious marches and broken slumbers of the previous sixteen days. The men went cheerily to work preparing food, the great difficulty being lack of fuel, for we were in a friendly country, and the usual destruction of fences and trees was forbidden. But we were soon to find ourselves disappointed in our expectations; for, at 8 o’clock, orders came to move, and the men discontentedly packed their knapsacks, giving up all idea of rest so much needed and desired. As we marched toward Gettysburg, we heard in advance the sound of cheering, and soon word came down the line that General McClellan was again in command of the army. As the news passed along, regiment after regiment sent up cheers, and the soldiers moved with quickened step and joyful hearts. Where this report originated we never knew, yet many went into the battle the next day thinking they were under the command of the general, who, above all others, had won the love and confidence of the Army of the Potomac. Very soon, orders came for the musicians to give the time for the march, and we stepped off quickly to the beat of the drum. This was one of the very few occasions on which we used our music while on the march during the entire service of the Regiment. Our musicians were used, as a general rule, only in camp to sound the various calls that marked the routine of camp duty, and at guard-mountings and parades, and on this occasion we were allowed but a few minutes to enjoy the luxury of marching to the beat of the drum, for it was stopped by orders from an authority higher than our division general, on account of the danger of giving information of our whereabouts to the enemy.

We marched nearly ten miles more that night, and at midnight bivouacked two miles distant from the spot that was to be the field of the battle of Gettysburg. Very early in the morning, as soon as daylight appeared, we moved on to the vicinity of Round Top and formed in line of battle. Here the 32d was detailed to form a skirmish line, to protect the extreme flank of the army. Colonel Prescott, however, requested that the Regiment be excused from this duty, for the reason that it had had no experience, and but little instruction in skirmishing. The 9th Massachusetts was substituted, fortunately for them, and unfortunately for us, for as matters turned out, they were not engaged, and did not lose a single man during the fight of that day.

We remained inactive for a number of hours, the men providing themselves with food, and seeking the rest so much required. Officers and men laid down under the shelter of a ledge, and entirely oblivious to the roaring of the cannon and the bursting shell that passed over our heads, slept the sleep of the weary. It was the last sleep on earth to some of our number; to others a blessed boon, enabling them to endure the exhaustion and pain occasioned by wounds received at a later hour. It was nearly 3 o’clock in the afternoon before our repose was disturbed by orders to move forward.

Following the general design of these pages, to relate only the story of our own Regiment and what occurred in its presence, to paint only the pictures that we saw, there are yet necessary, concerning the battle of Gettysburg, a few words of more general description.

There had been several days of occasional contact between the hostile armies; each was concentrating its scattered corps, and meanwhile manoeuvring to secure a favorable position for the inevitable battle. On the 1st of July the fighting had been heavy, and when we joined, the forces on each side were arrayed for a decisive contest.

Seminary Ridge, which was occupied by the Confederates, and Cemetery Ridge, which was selected for the Federal position, may be called parallel ranges of highlands. Between the two the country is not a mere valley sloping from the ridges to a common centre, but it is broken by knolls and swells of land which, like the ridges, are lower to the northward (our right) and more rough and broken toward the south.

General Sickles, with the 3d Corps, had, upon his own responsibility, advanced his line so that it occupied, not Cemetery Ridge, as General Meade had intended, but the broken swells of land lying between the ridges; and this advance of the left corps of Meade’s lines, forming a salient angle, led to its being selected for the main attack by Lee.

The line of the Union army was irregularly curved, the right bending sharply back and resting on Rock Creek, and the left bowed slightly to the rear.

Between the positions here and at Antietam, there were many points of likeness, but the relative situation of the combatants was reversed. This time it was Lee’s army that attacked, while to us fell the advantage of the defensive attitude and of the interior lines, by which reinforcements could speedily be moved from left to right or right to left, as the pressure of emergencies required.

As has already been stated, the 5th Corps was held in reserve during the early part of the 2d of July, and its position was such that by reason of the irregularities of the ground and the frequent patches of woodlands, we could see but little of our own lines, and of the enemy’s nothing except the smoke of his batteries on Seminary Ridge.

The attack of Longstreet’s corps, although bravely resisted, was too much for Sickles, in his unfortunate position, to withstand, and the immediate cause of our orders to move forward was the break made by the enemy in the lines of his corps. Our line of battle was hastily formed on the westerly slope of a hill, at the foot of which was the bed of a small stream then almost dry.

The division line was, because of the broken character of the hillside, exceedingly irregular, and walls and ledges were made useful for defence.

We were hardly established in our position, such as it was, before the attack came, the enemy piling down in great numbers from the opposite slope and covering themselves partially under the hither bank of the little stream. They were received by a galling fire from the division and driven back from our immediate front with great loss into the wood from whence they came. The men loaded and fired with great rapidity, some using much judgment and coolness, making every shot tell in the enemy’s ranks; others, as is usually the case, excited and firing almost at random.

It was during this part of the fight that Lieutenant Barrows, an officer esteemed by all, was instantly killed. And here too, before the enemy was repulsed, many of our men were killed or wounded. Further to the right the Union soldiers were not so successful, and another break in our lines from the enemy’s charges compelled the command to fall back, which we did in splendid order, carrying with us our dead and wounded. Moving to the rear and left of its first position, the brigade formed in a piece of woods bordering upon the wheat-field, which is pointed out to visitors as the spot where were enacted some of the bloodiest scenes in the battle of Gettysburg. This field was surrounded by a stone wall, and when we first saw it, was covered with waving grain. Forming in line of battle our brigade advanced across this field, taking position in rear of the stone wall facing the enemy’s lines. On the right was the 4th Michigan, the 62d Pennsylvania holding the centre, with the 32d Massachusetts on the left. The right of the 4th Michigan rested near a wood or clumps of thick bushes where it should have connected with the left of the 1st Brigade, but by some mistake, either on the part of the general commanding the division, or the officer in command of the 1st Brigade, that body did not advance as far as the 2d, but halted, leaving a large gap in the line of the division. Between the two brigades was also a steep ravine leading up from the “Devil’s Den,” a deep hollow in our front.

We were hardly in position here before the attack came again, and the battle waxed hot and furious. We had been engaged but a short time when Colonel Prescott, supported by two men, went to the Lieutenant Colonel and turned over to him the command of the Regiment, declaring that he was wounded, and must leave the field. The men received the fire of the enemy with great coolness, and returned it with spirit and success. During all this time we had seen nothing of our brigade commander (Colonel Sweitzer), and Lieutenant Colonel Hull, of the 62d Pennsylvania, while in search of him, informed Colonel Stephenson of the want of connection with our troops on the right, urging that something should be done at once or we should be flanked there. Upon the suggestion that Colonel Jeffers, of the 4th Michigan, should change front and meet the threatened danger, he hastened to communicate with that officer, but before the movement could be made, the blow came. The enemy moving quietly up the ravine charged directly upon the flank of the 4th Michigan, curling it and the 62d Pennsylvania up like a worm at the touch of fire, and throwing them into the greatest confusion. Taking the order from an aide-de-camp of the brigade commander, who is always supposed to have authority to give such commands, the 32d was falling back in good order, when, for the first time, we saw our brigadier, who, rushing from the woods, rode before the lines, ordering the 32d to halt, demanding, with an oath, to know why the Regiment was retreating. Indignantly replying that the Regiment was falling back under orders from his staff officer, the Lieutenant Colonel ordered the men to face about and stand their ground. It was a fatal mistake, and one which caused the loss of many brave men. For a few minutes we stood; the enemy on our front, right flank, and nearly in our rear, pouring in a terrible fire, which the men returned almost with desperation, until we were again ordered to fall back, which we did, fighting our way inch by inch, rebels and Union men inextricably mingled, until we reached the shelter of the woods.

Just at this moment Colonel Stephenson fell, shot through the face, and Colonel Prescott who appears not to have been wounded at all, soon after again took the command.

The Pennsylvania reserves were forming for a charge. With a shout and a yell they fell upon the now disorganized ranks of the enemy and drove them like a flock of sheep for a long distance, almost without opposition. The 32d reformed and advanced again to the stonewall where they remained undisturbed, for their part in the battle of Gettysburg was ended.

The whole of this terrible fight was fraught with incidents, some grave and touching, and some even humorous. One gallant officer having discharged the contents of his pistol at the foe, at last threw the pistol itself at the head of a rebel. Another, wounded and faint sat down behind a large boulder. Two rebel soldiers tried to take him prisoner; then commenced a race around the rock; all ran the same way and he managed to elude them and escape. Probably not a soldier could be found who could not tell some curious incident which came to his knowledge during this fight. It was nearly sundown before the battle was ended for the day. We must have been engaged three hours, yet so great was the excitement and so little did we mark the passing minutes that it seemed to have occupied less time than has been taken to tell the story. The 32d carried two hundred and twenty seven men into the action and lost eighty one in killed, wounded, and missing, among whom was Lieutenant Barrows killed, and Colonel Stephenson, Captains Dana, Taft, Lieutenants Steele, Lauriat, and Bowers, wounded. The 4th Michigan and 62d Pennsylvania, besides their killed and wounded, lost nearly one hundred men prisoners, and also lost their colors. Colonel Jeffers of the 4th Michigan, probably the only man who was killed by the bayonet during the battle of Gettysburg, died in defence of his flag.

The frantic assault by General Lee on the 3d of July, fell entirely upon the right and center of the Union army, and the left was not attacked.

Colonel Stephenson gives this vivid description of his experience, one of those sad ones that attend a soldier’s life among the wounded in the rear.

“On the 3d of July the wounded of the 5th corps were taken from the barns and other buildings in the immediate vicinity of the battle field, where they had been placed during the progress of the fight, to a large grove about two miles distant.

The trains containing hospital supplies and tents had not arrived, and the wounded were placed under little shelter-tents, such as the soldiers carried with them upon the march. We lay on the bare ground without even straw for our beds, and he who obtained a knapsack for a pillow deemed himself fortunate.

Just at night the attendants brought to the place where I was lying, a young soldier of the 32d and laid him beside me. It was Charles Ward of Newton. I remembered him well as one of the youngest of the Regiment, one whose purity of character, and attention to duty had won the esteem and love of all who knew him. The attendants placed him in the tent, furnished us with canteens of water, and left us for the night, for alas, there were thousands of wounded men to be cared for, and but little time could be spared for any one. My young companion had been wounded by a ball passing through his lungs, and it was with difficulty he could breathe while lying down. To relieve him, I laid flat on my back, putting up my knees, against which he leaned in a sitting posture. All night long we remained in this position, and a painful weary night it was. At intervals we would catch a few moments of sleep; then waking, wet our wounds with water from the canteens, try to converse, and then again to sleep. So we wore away the night, longing for the light to come.

No one came near us; we heard far away the dropping fire of musketry on the picket lines, the occasional booming of the cannon, and the groans wrung from the lips of hundreds of wounded men around us. My young friend knew that he must die; never again to hear the familiar voices of home, never to feel a mother’s kiss, away from brothers, sisters, and friends; yet as we talked he told me that he did not for a moment regret the course he had taken in enlisting in the war of the Union, but that he was ready, willing to die, contented in the thought that his life was given in the performance of his duty to his country.”