Eyewitness to Ball's Bluff

Richard C. Derby, 15th Massachusetts Infantry

On October 21, 1861, Union forces suffered a decisive and disheartening defeat at the Battle of Ball’s Bluff. What had begun as an intended raid against Confederates occupying the Virginia bank of the Potomac River soon turned into a rout, with Confederate troops surprising and then forcing Union troops back across the river in confusion.

Among the Union soldiers who took part in the failed operation was Richard C. Derby, a second lieutenant in the 15th Massachusetts Infantry, the regiment in which he had enlisted in the days following the fall of Fort Sumter after leaving his job as a clerk in Boston. Derby informed his family and friends about his experiences at Ball’s Bluff in a series of letters, several of which are reproduced below.

After the battle of Ball’s Bluff,
Poolesville, Md., October 22d, 1861.

My dear Mother —

I hasten to send you, by the first mail, a few lines to relieve you from anxiety about my fate. We have had a terrible fight, but I have come out of it “safe and sound,” except the effects of exhaustion and fatigue.

We crossed into Virginia, and were driven back to the river, and had to swim it or be captured; of course I took to the water, but had a hard time over. Ours, Company H, had a fight all by itself before the rest of the regiments were engaged. Everybody acknowledged that we fought nobly, but, after fighting all day, we were repulsed, and I am afraid there isn’t half the regiment left.

I suppose the fight will go on to-morrow, but we shall not take part in it. They are burying the dead to-day, it being cold and rainy.

I am ever your affectionate son,

Richard Derby

Poolesville, November 2d, 1861.

I have received your two letters after you heard of my safety…. You will see the folly of giving much credit to newspaper reports…. Captain P——, drove me out of the tent to-day (it stormed furiously), and said I must go in-doors to recruit, after my drenching in the river. I was quite ill for several days after. I lost my sword, pistol, and belt, as did all who swam the river. I put them on a board and tried to push them across, but could not get along with one hand, and had to let them go to the fishes. I came out of it better than some who threw away clothes, money, and all. Captain Philbrick swam across with his money in his mouth. Captain Bowman was a schoolmate of mine in Groton. We are now afraid he was drowned. He could not swim, and made one attempt to cross on a small raft, but returned. Some time after, Captain Watson thought he heard his voice out in the stream crying for help, and is afraid he made another attempt and was drowned…. Miss Dix has been up from Washington, and supplied the wounded with all sorts of comforts and luxuries. They are generally getting along finely.

We are looking for great deeds from the “naval expedition.” If that succeeds, it will lighten our tasks on the Potomac; if, on the other hand, it fail, we may have trouble with England and France. I hope it is out of reach of this tremendous storm. You must not look on the dark side in regard to the war: affairs are at this time looking better for us than ever before….

Your ever affectionate

Richard

Artist Alfred W Thompson's depiction of the fighting at Ball's Bluff

Ball’s Bluff
[to Rev. James Means; no date]

The fight was pronounced by all to have been a very severe one, and the ratio of loss was greater than that of “Bull Run.” It is a mystery to me how any man escaped the shower of bullets that was poured in upon us for two hours.

The pieces of artillery seemed to be the especial target of the sharp-shooters, and hardly a man was left standing by them after the second volley. I had always been afraid that the men would become unmanageable, but I was never more disappointed. Through the whole affair, from our embarkation in the miserable little skiffs to the retreat down the bluffs, they obeyed every order as promptly as though they were merely drilling, and fought as coolly as veterans. They showed the real English “pluck,” and I think if they had not seen that it was a hopeless and desperate fight, they would have added some of the French “dash,” and carried every thing before them.

Early in the forenoon, Company H had a skirmish on its own account, with a company of Mississippi riflemen. We got the better of them, even with our old smooth-bore muskets, but had to fall back to the shelter of the woods on the approach of cavalry. Our loss was seventeen killed and wounded in that affair, and the same in the general battle. I went through the whole of it without a scratch, not even a hole in my clothes. I was very much disappointed, as some officers had three or four bullets through their coats and caps; so I made up for it by nearly drowning myself in the Potomac.

I hadn’t a suspicion but what I could swim across with ease, so I pulled off my boots, and laid my sword, pistol, and belt on a small board to push across. I was anxious to save my sword, as it looked too much like surrendering to lose that.

I kept all my clothes on, and my pockets full. I pushed off quite deliberately, although the water was full of drowning soldiers and bullets from the rebels on the top of the bluff. I made slow progress with one hand, and had to abandon my raft and cargo. I got along very well a little more than halfway, when I found that every effort I made only pushed my head under water, and it suddenly flashed across me that I should drown.

I did not feel any pain or exhaustion—the sensation was exactly like being overcome with drowsiness. I swallowed water in spite of all I could do, till at last I sank unconscious. There was a small island near Harrison’s, against which the current drifted me, and aroused me enough to crawl a step or two, but not enough to know what I was doing, until I dropped just at the edge of the water with my head in the soft clay mud. My good fortune still continued, and Colonel Devens, swimming across on a log, landed right where I laid. He had me taken up and carried over to Harrison’s Island, to a good fire, where I soon began to feel quite comfortable, but was afterwards taken ill, and have been till this time recovering.

I feel as if it was in answer to the many prayers of my friends that I was saved at last through so many dangers…. Notwithstanding our mutilated condition, we are ready to “try again,” but hope they will show a little better generalship on our side.

Alfred R. Waud's sketch of the aftermath at Ball's Bluff titled "Discovering the Bodies of the Slain in the Potomac River."

Ball’s Bluff, Camp Foster,
Poolesville, Md., December 15th, 1861.

I still keep possession of my fork—it was in my haversack with my spoon and caseknife, and I put them into my pocket before I took to the water. I will enumerate the articles I had about me while swimming, just for your entertainment, and you will wonder I floated as long as I did. The three items just named, my large jackknife, pocket-comb, about a half pound of gold and silver coin, a package, a large memorandum-book, a package of envelopes, a handful of bullets, a metallic box of caps, a flask of powder, watch, and all my clothes, except my boots. I ought to have saved my canteen as a life-preserver, but I did not think of it, and threw it away

Professor Lowe has been up here with his reconnoitring balloon, and made an ascension. I don’t know that he made any important discoveries I will go up town some day, and see if the artist that keeps a daguerreotype shop on wheels can take a miniature on mailable material.

If he can, I will send you one…. Ellen is just a little too late for a lock of my hair. I had it cut only a few days ago. In company K they have an owl in a cage, and that is the latest pet.

You must not expect to see me home on furlough this winter. Officers are not allowed leave of absence except on most urgent occasions. I thought, from the tone of E.’s letter, she was hoping I should come home this winter.

Your affectionate son and brother,

Richard Derby

Derby continued to serve in the 15th Massachusetts. Two weeks before his 28th birthday, he fell mortally wounded at the Battle of Antietam. One of his comrades wrote of Derby afterward, “I had found him such a genial companion, with so much to love and respect, that I could not quite reconcile myself to the thought ‘that we were parted for this life;’ and yet I almost longed to be with him, that I might leave such a fair name and glorious record.”

Source: Soldiers’ Letters, from Camp, Battlefield and Prison (1865)