Description:
“Zouave Regiment Captured Nearly 100… Greybacks Skedaddle”
Four-pages, 9 ¾” x 7 ½”, William F. Keys (1837-1902), survivor of Andersonville prison, autograph letter signed by WFK to his brother, April 30, 1863, “in the mud a mile and a half from the Rappahannock.” Outstanding content.
Keys enlisted as a Union Private into Co. K of the 143rd PA Infantry on Sept. 17, 1862. This regiment fought bravely in Gen. Reynolds’ 1st Corps at Gettysburg and suffered heavy casualties over the three-day battle. In February 1864, he was promoted to Sergeant and, on May 5, 1864, the 143rd fought hard and suffered greatly at the Wilderness in Virginia. On that day, Sgt. Keys was captured and imprisoned at Camp Sumpter, the infamous Andersonville Prison in Georgia. He was released on Feb. 27, 1865, having survived the horrors of Andersonville. Approximately 13,000 died in Andersonville.
He was mustered out on June 12, 1865, at Hart’s Island in New York Harbor. After the war, he served in 1881 as Lycoming County Treasurer and in other offices.
“The Army of the Potomac is at last moving and I propose to give you a brief account. The order to march came day before yesterday at 12 M the first Corps left the vicinity of Belle Plain and halted at night just where we are now. Yesterday morning, the pontoons were laid and the troops began to cross. The Rebs making no resistance except by a few sharpshooters in rifle pits on the bank. A NY Zouave (Chasseur) regiment known as the 14th Brooklyn were first to cross and made the greybacks skedaddle beautifully as soon as they got over. They captured nearly a hundred of them/I saw them and report says killed thirty more. The Zouaves had 2 or 3 killed and some wounded.
“The rebs were Louisianians and Georgians. They were rather ragged compared with our men but did not look as though they had been living on half rations. They had soft bread in their haversacks going to show that the corn cake story is not quite correct. They were all young men and would compare favorably in personal appearance with our best regiments taken as they came. A couple of Officers among them seemed rather downhearted but the men apparently considered themselves lucky fellows, alluding to the coming fight one of them remarked that they had got ut of one of the d…dest ‘mills’ that ever took place in Virginia.
“The belief is general that a very tall mess will be kicked up here soon on short notice. I travel with the supply train which did not leave camp until yesterday morning. We reached this place at noon. The Valley is from 2 to 4 miles wide and as smooth and fertile as a garden. The river is from one hundred to three hundred yards in width but very deep. From the point where the pontoons were laid Fredericksburg and Falmouth are in plain sight 4 or 5 miles above where the left wing crossed before. There are a few houses on the other side just above, two of which had shells put through them this morning by our batteries to ascertain if they had any inhabitants. The atmosphere was rather hazy. I could not see very well the indications of rebel force on the other side. I suppose they are where their batteries are principally stationed.
“Beyond the river not a living thing was in sight except our men that had crossed and they were only a few rods from the bank drawn up in line of battle and skirmishers silently deploying to the left while in the rear a larger body were lying in gullies and hollows on this side and close to the stream. On the knoll farther back were General Doubleday and staff and other Officers whom I don’t know, also a signal officer sighting his telescope and occasionally telegraphing with his flags. Farther still to the rear were the ammunition wagons and a long train of Pack mules with a box of cartridges slung on each side, farther away still were the hospitals and ambulances. Above and below directly along the bank were the batteries of field artillery, and men standing at the guns and horses dispersed in hollows behind them, and over all hung a stillness that seemed almost supernatural, a boding and oppressive silence broken only by the solemn bank of a gun every fifteen or twenty minutes from a battery away down the river and the murmur of those nearest around me.
“They were shelling a smoke down there that being the only indication of life that could be seen with the naked eye. But they are crafty devils and had taken down their tents and put out their fires. There may be a fight today for at this present moment there is quite a brisk cannonading going on and I have just heard one volley of musketry. We had orders to move last night and packed up every thing waiting for the final order but it never came so we lay on the ground. About midnight it commenced raining and continued till morning making it rather ‘beautiful’ for a bivouac. This morning the first division train started but stuck in the mud. It now turns out that we are too close already. An order has just come to move back half a mile behind a piece of woods. I must forebear further writing at present. Let me hear from you. I have not had a letter from any body this two weeks. Yours with Love: W.F.K. Direct Care of Captain Adair C.S., 3rd Division 1st Army Corps, Capt. Hoyt has resigned and the division CS runs the ‘machine.’”
Great war content letter. Also included with the letter is the family envelope where it was kept for many years and photocopies of research about his some of his military records and background on the notorious Andersonville prison. Some spotting else very good.
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