John Thompson Chambers

John Thompson Chambers — known as “Uncle Jack” - born in 1842, was the youngest child of thirteen. He spent his life at Bloomfield, the family homestead, a place he would memorialize as the principal author of Bloomfiled Memories and Records.

He worked as a farmer, machinist's apprentice, and installing railroad signal systems for the Westinghouse Company.

He served about three years with Company A, 124th Pennsylvania Volunteers during the Civil War although he was a Quaker and a member of Kennett Square’s State Street Meeting. He fought at Antietam in 1862 as a private and later received a commission as a major. He was wounded in the left hip at Chancellorsville in 1863, an injury that ended his field service, but he remained active in veterans’ circles through the Grand Army of the Republic. (see letter to J. Howard Chambers below).

In 1870 he married Alice E. Jackson. Together they raised three children: John T. Chambers Jr., Cyrus Stanley Chambers, and Rosamond Chambers Trump.

Uncle Jack was remembered for teaching practical lessons, guiding outdoor activities, telling war stories on summer evenings, and shaping younger generations through both discipline and affection. He was described as a capable entertainer, a singer who accompanied himself on guitar. He was also the curator of family history.

Chambers remained at Bloomfield into his later years, maintaining ties to community, family tradition, and veterans’ memory. He died there in 1932 and was buried with his wife in Longwood Cemetery.

Letter from John T. Chambers to J. Howard Chambers

Kennett Square, Pa. Sept. 17, 1920
Dear Howard,

Under another heading, I answer as well as I can about heraldry. As I have a little time left before I start for the reunion of 124 Regiment at Chester on this the 58 Anniversary of the Battle of Antietam, Maryland. September 17, 1862, that day of slaughter, when every fifth man engaged was killed. 34,360 were left dead in a little less than eight hours, from dawn to 1:30 pm. 170,000 engaged (90,000 Union, 80,000 Confederates). I was a Private there and my position was in front line in Company “A.” My bunkie, Austin Collen was killed on my right, George McFarland on left. And Sargent John Windle in the rear were wounded.

About 10 o’clock our battle flag was captured by the Lone Star of Lexington. We would not stand for that and charged bayonets, got our flag and took theirs, which we retained and brought to Harrisburg with us. We made many charges before we got through. We took one prisoner in our line, a Georgian man. We gave him the best we had, yet seemed down-hearted, so I asked him what was the matter, was he not glad he was a prisoner? His answer was he wanted to write home before he was shot. In surprise, I asked him what he meant. He said, “ain’t I to be shot?” “No,” I told him he would be cared for and probably paroled or exchanged, after a time.
“My God, if weins knew this, we would all be over here. We were told we would be shot.” He was sent to Johnston’s Island, Lake Erie. We spent the night looking for our comrades and caring for the wounded and writing to their families at home by the light of pine torches. An awful night for us as we had little to give the poor fellows but water, which was the first thing wanted by the wounded. We had nothing to eat for 48 hours.

As I have gone this far in my story of Antietam, I am tempted to begin at the beginning of our experience. August 1, 1862 (after being in camp since April 21, 1861). We were put into the 124 and sworn into U.S. service and sent to Alexandria to build forts. On August 28 we heard heavy firing toward Manassas (Bull Run). We were ordered double quick for seven miles, and met our Army in full retreat. We joined in the retreat back to Alexandria. McClellan there was ordered from the peninsula and we were joined with his army, making 90,000. Then we started on 300 mile march in a horse shoe curve covering Washington, Baltimore, etc. along Pennsylvania line. Then we came to Chantilly, one of Robert E. Lee’s old homes. We were not called into firing line. Then we came to the Monocacy River which we forded neck deep into Frederick on Saturday September 12, 1862 and camped on Stonewall Jackson’s ground which he had vacated a day or two before. We rested Sunday. Monday morning we were again in motion, and in passing down the street of the little town, we were showered with fruit and flowers. We passed a small white house. In the doorway stood a woman about sixty years old, waving a Union flag. We were told this woman waved this flag in the face of Johnston’s army a few days before, and he was noble enough to forbid firing. This was the incident, the theme of Whittier’s “Barbara Frietchie.” It did not make much impression on us. We did not know we were making history. The house has been torn down and a bronze tablet marks the spot. Late in the afternoon, we struck Jackson at South Mountain, four miles from Frederick, too late for action before the Johnnies quit. The first dead man we saw here was General Reno, formerly of Chester County, Commander Union troops. We lost 6,679 there.

The next morning we started in hot pursuit of Jackson, toward Sharpsburg and came near Antietam Creek about 10 p.m. About midnight we crossed over, and formed line battle near Miller’s Spring. Just as day dawned on morning of the 17th the battle opened. Colonel Hawley was the first to fall. A sharpshooter got him in the neck. The ball was never removed, and he carried it to his grave 50 years after.

After Antietam, the Army was reorganized. McClellan was deposed and Burnside placed in command. Kane the old “Buck Tail” commander was made Brigadier General. The 124, 128, and 130 Pennsylvania made up his brigade. Our old captain Fred Taylor was made Colonel of the old Kane “Buck Tails.” General Kane soon decided to introduce bugle drill. The bugles would sound the order and neither officers nor men knew what they meant, and as there were sixty calls, it was confusing.

It will be necessary to go back a little here in personal matters. Just before Antietam our drum major died. Hawley sent for me to come to headquarters. I wondered when I had disobeyed duties.
He said, “Chambers, I want you to be drum major.” I told him a drum and I were strangers. “No matter, you know drills and musical besides.” I accepted. Later Kane appointed singers from each regiment to learn and sing bugle calls translated from French words. I was one of them. I was not obliged to carry a rifle but preferred to stay by the boys.

After burying and burning the dead on Antietam and looking on arms and legs piled like cord wood before Dunker Church, we moved to Maryland Heights overlooking Harper’s Ferry and went into camp. In a few days we were visited by the battle plague called black measles. Strong men would go to sleep and be carried out dead in the morning. Panic reigned and we shifted camp, crossed rivers, built huts, and were raided by Stuart’s cavalry. On January 14, 1863 we were started for Fredericksburg through mud axle deep. This became Burnside’s Mud March. We returned to Aquia Creek camp.

Later Hooker took command. Under fog and rain we crossed again and fought in the Wilderness. Kane asked if we would reenlist and the entire brigade stepped forward. I was promoted to Major and assigned courier duty. On May 4 while carrying orders, a shell burst between Kane’s horse and mine. Later I was struck through the left hip by a Minnie ball. Three comrades carried me back under fire. The army retreated across the Rappahannock in confusion after severe losses. The wilderness caught fire and burned wounded and dead.

I was moved among hospitals, refused amputation, and eventually transported toward Washington, later Camp Curtin. I remained four months until September 14 when allowed home to recover. In about eighteen months I could get about again. During Gettysburg we heard the roar of battle and waited anxiously for news. This was my war experience in the main. I would not care to go through it again. But take it all in all it was valuable. It taught self-reliance and comradeship to know there was no yellow streak in those who stood by Old Glory.

In speaking of Curtin and Andrews holding for the Union, I recall Lincoln’s vow that victory would free the slaves, fulfilled after Antietam. I don’t know why I should inflict all this story on you. This is the first time I have written so much from my diary kept while in service. One more incident. At a reunion a Confederate veteran missing three fingers spoke with us about Chancellorsville and Jackson’s mortal wounding by his own men. We knew his story was true. Jackson was an honorable fighter and seldom used bushwhacker tactics. I have read this wild ramble over and almost tempted to throw it in the waste basket.

Truly Yours,
John T. Chambers

[post script]
Fred Taylor was shot through the heart in the peach orchard at foot of Little Round Top in July 3, 1863 just as he called, “Come on Buck Tails.” He was a boyhood companion and we all loved him as a commander.