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From Overlook to Cedar Mountain: An Account by Alexander Hunt of the Day He Battled Confederates, the Heat, Stonewall Jackson, and Himself By: Richard Heppner, Woodstock Town Historian It isn't often in the Town Historian "business" that the past comes hurtling forward in digital form. Which is why, when I first read an e-mail addressed to me at the beginning of October, I was a little puzzled as to the promise of the stated question. "Would I be interested in a copy of a Civil War letter written by Alexander Hunt?" queried the sender. Certainly, was the response. But who was Alexander Hunt? A check of Woodstock's Civil War records confirmed that, indeed, Alexander Hunt had enlisted for three years in November, 1861. He had served as a Lieutenant assigned to New York's 102nd Regiment, Company F. Born in 1843, Hunt was the son of John Romeyn Hunt and Nancy Ann Fay. He had been baptized, according to the record, at Woodstock's Dutch Reformed Church. While the record is unclear as to his actual residence in Woodstock, he was, at the time of his enlistment, single and working as a cooper. But that was all that was noted. Unlike others whose brief profiles had been meticulously prepared by Town Clerk Edgar Snyder in 1865, there was no indication as to how Hunt had spent his time during the war. A review of other Woodstockers listed by Snyder, for example, echoed with the names of battles and places familiar to even the most casual student of history: Samuel Goodrich Wilber fought at Gettysburg and was imprisoned at Andersonville; John Whiteback Davis fought at the battles of Fredricksberg, Chancellorville, Gettysburg, Mine Run, Wilderness, and Spotsylvania, where he was taken prisoner and also sent to Andersonville; John William Plimely was wounded at Gettysburg; James Mosher was killed in the battle of Cedar Creek. And the list goes on. But what of Hunt? A week later, this time in the form of a letter from his great niece in Elmira, New York, came the answer. Hunt and the 102nd had indeed seen a great deal of action during the course of the Civil War. In fact, the record of the 102nd reads like a road map that cuts through the heart of the Civil War's great battles - from Cedar Mountain to Antietam, Chancellorville, Gettysburg, Kenesaw Mountain, culminating with Sherman's march to the sea by way of Atlanta. The full extent of Hunt's involvement in these momentous campaigns is difficult to know. That said, we do know through his own words and maybe it's all we need to know that his experience at the Battle of Cedar Mountain would shape his life forever Hunt's letter to his father on August 12, 1862, just a few days after the Battle of Cedar Mountain, offers a unique and personal glimpse into one soldier's encounter with hell on earth. Perhaps, in a broader sense, his thoughts might also carry across the years and attach themselves to any soldier who would come face to face with the insanity of war. While few letters written by Woodstockers during the War of Rebellion survive, Hunt's letter is unique in its description and in the detail he provides. From his expressed fear at the start of battle, to his surprising courage as madness charges in from all directions, Hunt's letter takes the reader across the span of 143 years - to a place far removed from the Catskill Mountain tranquility of his childhood. At the time of Hunt's letter, Woodstock was as remote from the center of the national storm as any town could be. While Woodstock had not been immune to the practice of slavery in its early history, the last slaves to work the farms or serve in domestic capacities were now but a part of stories told about village life fifty years earlier. At war's start, the primary concern of isolated Woodstockers centered not on emancipation or the economy of the South, but on their own economy and on what living could be forged with their hands or from the Catskill Mountain landscape. Still, as we see in this letter from Hunt, and is evidenced in another letter from Aaron Longyear, also written in 1862, patriotism and support for the war was not absent from the Woodstock character. As Longyear wrote, " we will do all we can to protect the stars and stripes and if we fall we have the consolation of doing our duty, and all we ask for those at Home is their prayers for our success, and I think God will crown us with success as our enemies fly before us in confusion." The Battle of Cedar Mountain, as described in Hunt's letter, took place on August 9, 1862. It is a battle that encompasses the best of Stephen Crane and Hollywood in its telling, including: a badly out numbered Union army, temperatures near 100 degrees exacting a heavy toll on both sides, and even Stonewall Jackson himself taking to the battlefield, sword slicing through the air, as he urged his soldiers forward just when it looked as if Union forces were about sweep to victory. In the end, however, on the strength of Jackson's ability to rally his men, and a timely counterattack by A.P. Hill, the day and the battle would go to the South. The Union losses at Cedar Mountain totaled approximately 1,400 soldiers. 115 of the dead, missing or wounded would be counted against the 102nd regiment; losses greater than they would absorb in any other battle during the war, including Gettysburg. Alexander Hunt, however, would not only survive, but would, after reenlisting in 1864, live to see far more than just the end of the war. Upon his discharge from the army, Hunt would leave the Woodstock area and follow his father to Kansas where he worked in a wholesale dry goods store owned by his uncle. On November 25, 1868 he married Laura Ester Case of Iola, Kansas. In 1870 he moved on to Fredonia, Kansas where he spent the remaining years of his life and is remembered as "one of the pioneers of that community." Upon his death in 1913, the local paper in Fredonia noted the death of this Woodstock son in words that gave evidence and connection to his Woodstock foundation and to the centering experience of his days as a soldier: "Mr. Hunt was a man of very rare spirit, quiet and unobtrusive. The rich quality of his spirit was only best known to those who knew him intimately and found the open way to his heart and confidence. The sterling integrity of the man and the depth of his convictions, in matters of grave moment, is attested to in the record of his life. From the days of his boyhood, when as a lad he entered the army in the dark days of the 60's to give four terrible years to the preservation of the Union. Like the brave soldier that he was, he faced the last foe in a spirit of calm confidence and trust in the great Captain of his salvation." (July, 22, 1913) Letters home are a part of all wars. When read with detachment and through the filter of time, they offer yet another record of a unique event in history. But for soldiers like Alexander Hunt, who faced more than just the enemy on that hot Virginia day, they become part confessional, part expression of relief, and, more importantly, an affirmation of life at its most fundamental level. For in combat, only the lucky ones get to write letters home. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Culpeper Court House, Sunday, Aug.12, 1862 My dear Father, I sent you a few lines the other day to inform you that I was well and had escaped injury in the last battle at Cedar Mountain and now I shall endeavor to give you an account, in my poor way, of the engagement. On Saturday morning Aug. 9th we left Culpeper and marched south in the direction of Orange Court House. The day was very hot and we went along slowly, for the men were very tired, having been on the march for several days without any rest. We went about 8 miles and about three o'clock in the afternoon we turned off from the main road and went half a mile through the field, when suddenly we heard one of our batteries begin to play, we had no idea of a fight at that time, though we new the Rebels were near us. Our regiment halted under the shelter of a hill on the brow of which was planted our batteries. Soon the Rebels, who were stationed on the side of a mountain, half a mile distant began to fire on us and in a few moments the shells were falling thick and fast on all sides of us. Although it was a dangerous place, yet I could not help laughing to see the fellows dodge and duck their heads when a shell came along. But it soon grew too serious to laugh at for the rascals took good aim and we were ordered to lie down flat on our faces and then it was for the first time that I felt any fear. As long as I could stand up and see the danger I was alright, but the moment I lay down and heard the Cannon Balls and pieces of rugged shell whistling and buzzing through the air, it seemed to fill my very soul with terror. I do not imagine I am a greater coward than the rest of mankind, but God knows I do not want to experience again the same feeling that I did during that first hour under fire. When I heard a shell coming with its unearthly noise I felt as if I could shrink into the very ground to avoid it. I was so filled with fear while lying there that the sweat poured off of me in streams. You may think me a coward for confessing such feelings as these, but I defy any man to put himself in the same position for the first time without trembling. We lay there for about one hour when the order came Forward Oh! What a relief that was to me. All fear seem to have left me, I was myself again, I jumped up threw off my coat and everything but my shirt, pants and gun and we advanced in line of Battle. We marched over the hill, past our batteries and then down into the valley, where the Rebels Infantry was now up in great force. Our whole force engaged was not more that 7,000 men, while theirs was treble that number. As our line advanced the musket balls began to pour into our ranks and the poor fellows began to fall thick and fast. We took our position in a big cornfield and began to load and fire in earnest. All the while I was as collected and cool as I am now writing to you, I could not see any danger, I could not realize it. There is no accounting for taste. Half an hour before when the danger was but small I had been almost dead with fright, now I feared nothing though there was death with the crack of every musket. I was standing by the side of the Color Sergeant when he was stuck by a ball and fell. I threw down my gun, caught the flag as it was falling and carried it through the fight. How I escaped I don't know. There was a perfect shower of bullets for nearly an hour. There were eight of us in the color-guard, seven of them were shot, I was the only one who escaped uninjured. One man was shot while standing by my side and {I was} no more than a foot from one when a ball struck him in the head and killed him instantly. More than half our regiment was killed or wounded and we are now totally unfit for service so there is a chance for me to get some rest. Our Brig-General Boice was wounded and is now a prisoner in Richmond. At the time of the battle I tasted no food for three days and no place to sleep except on the bare ground. But I am afraid I will weary you with these details you can probably learn more from the papers than I can tell you. You say my young friends are enquiring about me, I wish they would write for it is not easy for me to do so. Tell Mary that she must not learn to sing Dixie. The very name is hateful to a soldier. You speak of having plenty of fruit, I wish you could manage to send me a box for it will reach me without trouble. The {unreadable} through, you could direct the same as you do my letters. Send by Adams express. If you do send a box I wish Mother would send me a shirt, if convenient, for I cannot get a good one here and the one I have has several bullet holes through it. I must close I am getting tired. My health is getting better and I long to be at home and attend church once more as I use to do. Do not be uneasy about me, there will be no more fighting at present. From you affectionate son, Alexander Hunt |
