Camp Tompkins. —
A bright, cold October morning, before breakfast. This month has been upon the
whole a month of fine weather. The awful storm on Mount Sewell, and a mitigated
repetition of it at Camp Lookout ten days afterward, October 7, are the only
storms worth noting. The first was unprecedented in this country and extended
to most of the States. On the whole, the weather has been good for campaigning
with this exception. Camp fever, typhus or typhoid, prevails most extensively.
It is not fatal. Not more than four or five deaths, and I suppose we have had
four or five hundred cases. Our regiment suffers more than the average. The
Tenth, composed largely of Irish laborers, and the Second Kentucky, composed
largely of river men, suffer least of any. I conjecture that persons accustomed
to outdoor life and exposure bear up best. Against many afflictions incident to
campaigning, men from comfortable homes seem to bear up best. Not so with this.
I have tried twenty cases before a court-martial held in
Colonel Tompkins' house the past week. One conviction for desertion and other
aggravated offenses punished with sentence of death. I trust the general will
mitigate this.
We hear that Lieutenant-Colonel Matthews, who left for a
stay of two weeks at home about the 18th, has been appointed colonel of a
regiment. This is deserved. It will, I fear, separate us. I shall regret that
much, very much. He is a good man, of solid talent and a most excellent
companion, witty, cheerful, and intelligent. Well, if so, it can't be helped.
The compensation is the probable promotion I shall get to his place. I care
little about this. As much to get rid of the title “Major” as anything else
makes it desirable. I am prejudiced against “Major.” Doctors are majors and
(tell it not in Gath) Dick Corwine is major! So if we lose friend Matthews,
there may be this crumb, besides the larger one of getting rid of being the
army's lawyer or judge, which I don't fancy.
Colonel Baker, gallant, romantic, eloquent soldier, senator,
patriot, killed at Edwards Ferry on the upper Potomac! When will this thing
cease? Death in battle does not pain me much. But caught surprised in ambush
again! After so many warnings. When will our leaders learn? I do not lose
heart. I calmly contemplate these things. The side of right, with strength,
resources, endurance, must ultimately triumph. These disasters and
discouragements will make the ultimate victory more precious. But how long? I
can wait patiently if we only do not get tricked out of victories. I thought
McClellan was to mend all this. “We have had our last defeat, we have had our
last retreat,” he boasted. Well, well, patience! West Pointers are no better
leaders than others.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 126-7
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