The Third Massachusetts Regiment Volunteer Militia in the War of the Rebellion, 1861-1863 — A Reader’s Guide

A Compiler’s Reluctant Voice

The preface reveals a compiler acutely aware of his limitations. Gammons writes that he was forced to pick up the thread after it had been dropped and to supply the missing link after forty years. He characterizes the original choice, Chaplain Snow, as the man of all the officers to compile the history, acquainted with all the facts. By contrast, Gammons presents himself as an unwilling substitute. This self-effacing stance is not mere modesty; it shapes the book’s structure. The compiler frequently steps aside to let others speak, incorporating letters, official orders, and company rosters verbatim. The result is a history that feels collaborative, even fragmented, as if the reader is overhearing a conversation among veterans rather than reading a single authoritative account.

Official Orders and the Texture of Duty

The excerpts include a lengthy order from Brigadier General Burnside to a captain, detailing instructions for a reconnaissance mission. The language is precise and bureaucratic: you will land half of your command and endeavor to ascertain whether any unusual number of people, either soldiers or civilians, have visited or made surveys of the point. The order ends with the general’s remark that this duty may be a pleasant excursion, or it may prove to be a very serious matter. The narrative then reports that the detail found no signs of the enemy and returned much pleased with this pleasant tour of duty. This juxtaposition of formal orders with mundane outcomes is typical of the book. The compiler does not dramatize; he lets the documents and the soldiers’ own words convey the anticlimax and routine that characterized much of their service.

The Mechanics of Departure

The description of the regiment’s departure from Newbern in June 1863 is remarkably detailed about logistics. The compiler notes that camp and garrison equipage was collected and turned over to an officer, and that articles not needed were distributed to comrades of other regiments. The regiment marched through town and gave a marching salute to the brigade commander. The left wing, to which Company D was attached, proceeded to the wharf and went on board the steamer Tillie, sailing down the river to Hatteras Inlet, remaining inside the bar until the following morning. Such granular attention to movement—the splitting of wings, the names of steamers, the overnight wait inside a bar—reflects a historian who values the concrete steps of military procedure. The passage ends with the regiment furloughed for one week, then mustered out at Camp Joe Hooker. The final sentence, it is to be believed none regretted the duty which he had been able to perform, is a quiet, understated close.

Company Roster as Memorial

The corrected roster of Company D, written by Comrade Vernon Wade, exemplifies the book’s documentary impulse. Each entry includes age at enlistment, place of enlistment, and a brief biography: Andrew R. Wright, Captain; 30; Fall River. Attended Fall River schools. Learned the trade of a machinist. In 1853 went t... The roster breaks off mid-sentence in the excerpt, but its format is clear. These mini-biographies transform the roster from a dry list into a collection of individual histories. The compiler’s decision to include such material, written by a comrade rather than himself, underscores the collaborative nature of the project. The book becomes a repository for voices that might otherwise be lost, preserving not just the regiment’s movements but the men who composed it.

Readers should approach this history as a layered document: the compiler’s reluctant preface, the official orders, the company narratives, and the rosters all speak in different registers. The book does not offer a sweeping narrative of the Civil War but a close, sometimes fragmented view of one regiment’s experience. Pay attention to who is speaking in each section—the compiler, a general, a comrade—and how their voices differ. The gaps and repetitions are not flaws but evidence of the messy, human process of remembering and recording.