Exiled Marylander Writes His Mother Of His Brother’s Death

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Maryland Confederate soldier’s 6pp. pencil letter written by John William Ford Hatton who on 6/1/1861, mustered into Capt. Richard Snowden Andrew‘s Company of the 1st Maryland Flying Artillery. In his letter, some three weeks after the Battle of Fredericksburg, John wrote his widowed mother a letter conveying the news of the mortal wounding of his older brother Richard—“the Doctor“—while engaged in an artillery duel at the Battle of Cedar Run August 9th 1862. Datelined: Piney Camp, January 7, 1863 in part “I hope you do not think that because of my long muteness the last drop of love for those at home has fell from my heart—no, it never can be that I can cease to think of those I’ve left behind. ... It is sad to review the past. Whatever is in the future, let it come. And whatever is past, so let it be. But there are some incidents that need be and must be noted—they are so nearly related to the heart, so deeply impressed upon the mind. There is an incident I must relate. ... Dear Mother, refrain from tears; and I will endeavor to do the same. We were three; but now only two—it was God’s will. ... While here, I heard that Jackson intended to advance upon the enemy. Something—I know not what—urged me to join my company which was then at Gordonsville. Although the time granted me had not expired and my wound not perfectly well, I reported (I know not why I did) for duty. ... We advanced upon the enemy and followed them. The weather was warm and the march so speedy that several men dropped dead upon the roadside. We found and attacked the enemy at Cedar Run. The fight was carried on with great furry. The Yankees charged our battery more than once. Rifle and cannon balls and bursting shells fell like hail. To think of it, it seems wonderful that a single one of us could escape with life. ... While the Doctor was in the act of carrying a shell to his gun, a fragment of Yankee shell struck him on the wrist, tearing the flesh considerably, and passed through the upper part of his arm, completely shattering the bone. He remained on the battlefield until the battle ceased, then was carried to the field hospital where I remained with him. Our forces fell back and the enemy advanced. We became prisoners. The Yankees moved us to Culpeper Court House where we met with a friend from Alexandria by the name of Mr. Brown. He took us from the hospital to his own house and treated us as kindly as a Father. ... Up to this time the Doctor had borne his misfortune with great fortitude. Although his arm had been amputated at shoulder joint, he held hope of recovery. He read his fate. He resigned all Earthly hope and thanked his God for granting him time to prepare for the future. The Rev. Dr. Cole visited his death bed. Finally on the 18th of August, he called me his bedside and uttered his last words, “Give my love to all at home.” I could not realize the fact. It was all a dream—but a sad dream. I could tell you more if I could but see you. ... I returned to my company which was in the Valley and found [second brother] Joe in good health and safe. ... We were at the Battle of Fredericksburg but being on the reserve, were not in an engagement, yet under the enemy’s fire and had some horses killed. After standing picket on the river for two or three weeks, we are quietly in winter quarters of our own construction in a piney thicket about two miles from Bowling Green. ... t is impossible to describe the feelings of a soldier, particularly when exiled from home and cut off from communication of those he loves as dearly as life. ... But instead of that home, I have choosed rather to be a wanderer, frequently sleeping in water, shaking with cold, burning with thirst, pinched with hunger, and overcome with fatigue. But the enjoyment of peace and freedom will amply pay for all. ...”

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