Wednesday, May 4, 1864
Chancellorsville Crossing, Virginia,
On the march with the Army of the Potomac.

Mr. M.G. Campbell, esq., Ass’t. Editor, Harper’s Weekly: A Journal of Civilization, Harper Bros. Building, Franklin Square, New-York City.

Dear Campbell,

The Army’s crossing of the Rapidan was accomplished today, all 122,000 men present for duty, the great majority moving to the south bank at Germanna Ford, unmolested by the enemy. It was quite a sight to behold, with the great serpent of blue snaking its way through the shallow waters amidst the whistles and cursing of the teamsters, the creak of the wagons and whinnies of the horses, and the endless clickety-clack of carbine against saddle and tin cup against cartridge belt. There were some reports of enemy cavalry patrols keeping their distance, and there is no doubt that Gen. Lee has some form of observation post established on the rocky summit of Clark’s Mountain. We were met by no resistance, however, as Gen. Grant’s purpose was to swing so far around Lee’s right as to avoid a general engagement, and force him out of his lines and inexorably toward Richmond. This is, of course, a carefully contrived feint, as General Grant has every intention of destroying the Rebel army before occupying their capital. We fully anticipate a rendezvous with our friends in gray as soon as we emerge from this intolerable entanglement of scrub pine and mottled underbrush the local farmers called “The Wilderness.”

I managed to locate Waud, Rosbrugh, and Sims at last, as well as some of the legion of Herald men, although Cadwallader was not among them. Col. Rawlins secured me a proper pass from Gen. Grant, bearing the great commander’s personal signature, as Provost Marshal Gen. Patrick and his minions are sure to attempt to expel those of us representing the press at the earliest opportunity. General Grant’s pass instructed me to fall in with Hancock’s II Corps, per my friendship with Capt. Neal of his staff, so I parted with Burnside’s IX and soon located the fine lads of the Irish Brigade, singing a merry ditty as they splashed across the ford with their muskets held above their heads, some of them with sprigs of green in their caps.

They have been issued new emerald banners (borne, of course, in protective canvas cases with tremendous care) with which to honor their noble race, made by none other than Tiffany’s of New-York, which include their many lauded battle honors inscribed in the green silk folds, along with words of affection from the ladies of the city. Many new recruits fill the ranks of the Irish regiments, eager to leave their names in story, as did their gallant predecessors on the Peninsula, and at Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Gettysburg. Gen. Thomas Smyth now leads the Brigade, and a braver heart never beat in a true son of Erin since the days of Sarsfield and Wolfe Tone. Would that the hooligans of last summer’s fires in Manhattan could witness such bold Celtic manhood - they would hang their heads in shame.

The Irish are no doubt drifting into patriotic nostalgia in our present locale, which is none other than the old Chancellorsville battlefield, where their comrades protected the Federal retreat on this very spot exactly one year ago. Col. Mulholland of the 116th Pennsylvania was recommended for the Medal of Honor for his bravery, and many of his noble men met a heroic end so that others may escape to fight today. There are some grisly reminders of last year’s campaign to be seen here, as the effects of weather and foraging hogs and dogs have uncovered some of the hastily interred remains, and some burial details have set to completing the task which was begun last year. Several of the veterans were seeking to show the new men the very spot where Jackson met his end at the hands of his own men, but the number of “true and authenticated accounts of Stonewall Jackson’s death” compares to the number of relics of the True Cross offered to the faithful by the medieval Roman Church. At any rate, it was all in good fun listening to the choruses of braggadocio, and may God pity the Rebels if Irish boasting alone could vanquish them.

Nothing else of note can be reported at present, as spirits are high, rations plenty, supplies adequate, powder dry, and pencils sharp. I will report any new developments as soon as they unfold, but expect little news until the slow march through this impossible country is fully accomplished.

Dispatch Index