From George Hector Tyndale   Novbr 23d 1862¹

Philadelphia Nov[em]b[e]r 23^d 1862

My dear John

Yours of the 2^d July last,² (before your last Swiss journey)³ came to me while marching “on to Richmond” under Gen[era]l. Pope,⁴ and just before the battle of Cedar Mountain,⁵ where I held the right undisturbed. Your last, of the 5^th. Oct., to Mrs Tyndale⁶ came while she was up with me day and night, together with my sisters, caring for a bad wound and sickness, with which I came home from the battle of Antietam⁷—last September. I am yet at home, the wound healed but still weakened by the long lingering fever from privation and exposure, which would have prostrated me soon, even without the wound. The latter was bad,—received while reforming my command after falling back to a new position. It was exactly in the centre of the back head—on the occipital bone—thankful that my head is so hard or for the slight turning of it which glanced the ball along the skull, passing it under the large muscles back and side of neck, passing it between the jugular vein and carotid artery—grazing both and lodging the ball in front of throat: from whence it was cut out, flattened to a broadened hemisphere, a concave-convex form! Curious freak.

I was brought home and wife⁸ and sisters⁹ became angels to me watching me through all of it to this point—recuperating and strengthening as I now am. My experiences, subjective & objective too have been very beautiful lately—at least since this last battle. I was carried off from the face of the near enemy, under a terrible fire, by a Lieutenant and Sergeant of my own regiment (in the brigade I commanded that day) who thought, brave men as they are, I was dead, as I had fallen lifelessly without motion or sound, as indeed the reception of the wound was entirely unknown to me and still so remains. But these men had the rare beauty of love and the gallant courage of high duty—perhaps higher than that, as a dead body may be left in such a fire of hell as swept that field around all our heads, ‘till the hour of my wound, for nearly nine hours from 6½ AM to 3¼ PM. And then the kindness I received, in coming home, from strangers! And afterwards at home, day and night, always wife & sisters with me, caring me back into life, and I earnestly hope usefulness. And then so many friends have come—have sent me fruits and kind things—the best they could emblematize of Heaven.

While dwelling on self I might as well say that on the 17^th Sept[em]b[e]r, at Antietam, I commanded the first brigade of second Division of Mansfield’s Corps, formerly Banks’.¹⁰ All my seniors having succumbed to the privations, exposure, hardships, and battle casualties of our march into and from Virginia. To be without food often for two days, to march every night, to stand under arms or engaged all day was the work for nearly forty days—to say nothing of cares and responsibilities—against which however I should say nothing, for these or, rather, the sense of these, kept me up, when otherwise I, too, would have yielded.

Thank God for these experiences, thank Him devoutly, for from Him alone they came as does the courage which makes these fields of blood a glory and a grandeur of recollection.

You should have seen these men of my brigade in action. Men whom I had commanded but three (3) weeks—except those of my own regiment of which I am now Lieut: Colonel & commander, (I was promoted last June) These men lit up like grand fires and went forward into the sharp teeth of Death like—like men. They were what we call old Soldiers, veterans, like myself in the Service for nearly eighteen (18) months, and that all Service & action. We Americans live long in a short time you know. But I acknowledge more than ever the Magnificence of Gods—Humanity—Godlike of Homer—as shown by these men who went quietly, firmly and constantly forward against the human enemies, the rebellious demons of Slavery, the unchained low passions, urged by Hell itself against the Right.

These men, so determinedly brave, so justified and glorified in their cause, did not hate the cruel, almost savages who fought them so terribly and hotly, for they gave the same attention to their wounded as to ours. But they advanced upon them in a fire I can’t describe, except by trite words, raining, hailing, storming, burning shot and bullets, and drove them from three (3) positions, until our advanced line had got so far forward as to need strong buttressing on the flanks to fill the long gaps between our right and left and the nearest of our friends. In truth John that first brigade did nobly, advanced beyond all the near by lines of ours, for ours was the right flank and was the turning point for the rebels, who contested stubbornly and fought most dashingly to turn us there, or to stop us in our attempt to turn them there. I can never forget how from the small, painful grumblings of privations and distress, how from the debris of suffering, Men, the real, great, strong men—sons of God—arose, consuming with ashes those petty things, how those men’s faces shone to me like flaming swords, gleaming with a higher sunlight, as we went on for God and our Faith.

I know how much of courage, bravery is included in this, but there is something else and I am glad to say that now more than ever I feel the sustaining hand which prayer opens, and it’s need.

You will be glad to know that the General commanding my Division sent and then came himself the next day after the battle when I had sufficiently recovered, to thank me for the brigade’s skill and courage; and I told him truly, that such men would make any man brave. But I am not at all unfeeling of the compliment and it gratifies me as I think it will you, and Hirst too and perhaps my long sight absent friend Debus—whom you name. In fact there has been praise enough for me. I had but four regiments in the battle, one I had detailed in the rear as guard. These four from numbering originally the full complement of about 4500 men (my own regiment having had 1500 men or 15 Companies an unusual size here) went into the battle only about 1050 strong in all, so cut up had they been in actions, movements, by disease &c. In this last battle that brigade lost of killed and wounded, 375, my own regiment which went in about 650 strong losing 264 men of those, or about forty per cent. And they were quite carefully handled too—I mean, were not exposed to any unnecessary fire. But we were advancing all the time, until two raw regiments, sent as supports & not my own, gave way before the rebel brigade when my whole command fell back for three hundred (300) yards, and this will account for the immense difference between my losses (I use the word to distinguish only that brigade) and the enemies. Nearly as I can judge (very carefully) I think we killed and wounded one thousand (1000) of the rebels—I mean my own brigade did—this is the lowest estimate, it running from that to an impossible number. Whole regiments went down. 69 (Sixty Nine) men were counted (I am told by an officer who counted) in one rebel regiment as dead on the field in the places they had stood, that is 69 fell from one regiment without one escape and all dead in line. Almost incredible. I saw this last line myself while charging and had to jump over it. That regiment (a North or South Carolina one; I do not know the particulars yet) I have been told, gathered only eight (8) men out of some hundreds after the battle. It was horrible, horrible.

On that same charge we drove several lines of the rebels at once. That brigade took Seven (7) regimental flags, took one battery and silenced another in front which I think we could have taken but for the untoward and untimely break of the two regiments spoken of which guarded my right. (There were other Union (Union means Right and Liberty, Education and Self Respect) other Union troops on our right and rear but at least half a mile away and they did not (perhaps could not) get forward, for the fire was awful there.

Nov[em]b[e]r 25^th 1862

I was worn out writing the foregoing and now resume to finish, which will be grateful to you for this is very long and, I fear, tiresome. Besides it is almost unreasonable to send such chirography—“a damned cramped piece of penmanship” as Tony Lumpkin said.¹¹ But then in my present health &c it is doubtful if tremulous nerves can do any better.

In a few words—I left Harper’s Ferry,¹² where I commanded four months, last February and entered, in Bailey’s¹³ Corps, into Virginia and remained ever since, at least until Pope was driven out & have been marching, countermarching and so on.

The life was hard—full of exposure privation and dangers. Had I been surrounded by altogether congenial friends the life would not have been wholly unpleasant, nor indeed was it so. Like Tennyson’s dispirited man the life of action was well for me—else would I “wither in despair.”¹⁴ I have found that for a large circulation, the mountain life of active duty is best. The spiritual blood needs your Alpine heights as much as the physical—yes more. Looked at so, what a grand, lovely typification, what a magnificent parable, “Nature” becomes. Looked at thus, all mere skepticism, all superficial causation—doubts are childs-questions of things—but never mind speculation. How are you getting on? How is Hirst, and what do he and you do now? Is Debus well? By the way do you remember my telling Hirst and yourself that before six months from that time English opinion, English sympathies and England’s yearnings would be on the rebel’s side—actually on the unhuman, slave master’s side? Well so it has proved. It is not nor will not be well for England. We expected that greatest of all aids, the moral force of natural friendships, but were disappointed.

England has chosen her side and the future is dark for, either America or England. Old family feuds were dying out and the two open-eyed Nations were drawing together nearer but that has changed and it may be that England’s name, as a standing bitter enemy, may close some American Orator’s speech, demanding for the world’s sake that England be destroyed. This is not a pleasant but it is a general feeling here now. We too are a commercial people, but ours is a commerce based upon the needs of the world, upon all it’s needs, and not solely, or nearly so, upon the acquisition of wealth for the sake of a social position. At any rate we feel that human rights have been ridiculed and weakened and that Wrong has been strengthened by a love of wealth, at least by the temporary need of food and raiment. The thing this Nation is now doing has called for all sacrifices of that kind, for the sake of the future World and it is content to have made these.

We expected more from England and have been disappointed. The piratical building of pirate ships and the sly shipment of necessaries to the rebels by Englishmen, done openly as the day, are not nearly the chief source of indignation and hatred, that lies in the unconcealed joy of the English in our straits and troubles, in their want of real understanding of the greatest and most caused war ever known; or, if they understand, as does seem almost certain, their base pleasure in the separation of a State for the reason that it was growing too powerful! In truth if we were not a manufacturing people and a commercial, If we took English wares freely had no protective tariffs or other mere national exigencies, England would side with us and lay great stress upon the holiness of the contest.

This rebellion will be crushed I believe; at any rate, the Northern States. Like the Grecian States too Asia will remember things for centuries, and await European embroilments to show their quiet and bitter hatreds awakened by this measured jealousy and by the mean wants of the present hour.

I very seriously ask excuse from you as a man, English or other, for this unpleasant allusion. But I speak from fullness—and the very air is full here.

The General Mitchell¹⁵ you name is no relation of my brother in law¹⁶ (he had a chair of astronomy in Ohio and was somewhat known as an Astronomer—a graduate of West Point.— that General is since dead.

Mrs Tyndale is the best woman and the worst correspondent I know. I owe my life and health and happiness to her, but I do not owe her many letters! She sends regards to you as to Mr Hirst and says referring to your allusion to our old discussions, that “both were earnest and honestly covered any unpleasantnesses, which, however, were not excessive.”

This is a miserably long letter and I can’t find any excuse for it, save in Dogberry’s full-hearted burst, who could find it in his heart “to bestow all his tedium upon his worships.”¹⁷

John please drink my health with Hirst and Debus and don’t forget to include Mrs Tyndale’s.

Mrs Mitchell¹⁸ sends her respects to you. My two brothers Sharon & Harold¹⁹ are in the West. Wishing you my dear John all happiness and the possession (firm in hand and soul) of the endless beginning of Nature’s truth and God’s, I am really affectionately your cousin

Hector Tyndale

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