Throughout the land the glorious deeds of the Sixth corps became household words; but its glory had been dearly purchased. Five thousand of the heroes who crossed the Rappahannock on the 2d of May, were either dead or wounded. Colonel Van Houghton, one of New Jersey's bravest sons, had received a mortal wound, from which he died in the hands of the enemy. Captain Luther M. Wheeler, of the Seventy-seventh, was shot while we halted at the foot of Marye's Hill. It was a sad loss to his regiment, and the corps. Few more gifted young men could be found in the army. He was one of our bravest and most efficient officers. Gentle in his relations with his fellows, cool and daring in battle; his youthful face beaming with fortitude, was a continual joy to his men in time of danger. He died as he had lived, a hero.
The Forty-third had lost Captain Knickerbocker and Lieutenant Koonz. Two young men of brilliant promise, greatly loved and respected in their regiment and in their native city, Albany.
The wounded men in the hospitals exhibited the same heroic fortitude in their sufferings that they had manifested in the charge and in the retreat. A few instances are given as illustrations of many: Erskine Branch of Company D, Seventy-seventh New York, when his leg was torn to shreds by a shell, hobbled off on the sound one and his gun, singing "The Star Spangled Banner." Corporal Henry West was shot through the thigh, and he was brought to the rear. "I guess," said he "that old Joe West's son has lost a leg." The corporal died soon after. While in the hospital, suffering from extreme anguish, a wounded man at his side lamented that he had come to the war. "I am not sorry that I came," instantly responded the brave corporal.