Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Friday, October 21, 1864

Put my leg on this morning, not very comfortable yet Three years ago to-day, Ball's Bluff. Wrote Dr. J. Monroe, 560 Hudson St., New York, about his leg.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 147

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Harriet Plummer Bartlett, August 5, 1864

Prisoners' Hospital,

Danville, Va., August 5, 1864.

Dear Mother, — I will write a few lines in the hope that they may reach you at some time. You know, of course, that I was taken prisoner, that my leg (wooden) was crushed; the man next me was killed by the same shell. I was very much used up and have been very weak from diarrhoea since. I was brought from the prison to this place night before last. The other officers were all sent to Columbia, S. C, yesterday, Colonel Weld and Captain Amory included; so I am all alone I shall be sent there when I am well enough, I suppose. I am in a tent here, and have plenty of fresh air. I hope no blame is given me for the failure of Saturday. I certainly did all in my power. I held the pit with, hardly any force after the rest of the line had been retaken. The rebel flag was within six feet of mine, just the ridge of dirt between, for nearly an hour. It was impossible to withdraw without sacrificing all the men, so I held on as long as possible in hope of reinforcements. The negroes were crowded into the same pit with us when they retreated in such confusion, and we have been treated worse, an account of being taken with them.

I shall get better here, I think. I don't suppose you will be able to send me anything. Tufts, the Massachusetts Agent in Washington, will know. Write me. Not more than one page is allowed, I believe. Address Prisoner of War, Danville, Va. Has George got home yet? And my horses? Take good care of Ned. I made arrangements to have him sent home in case anything happened to me. The Chaplain and Dr. White promised to see to it. If you can send me a small box with something to eat and drink, some tea and coffee, I should like it. It might get to me. Send it through Tufts, Massachusetts Agent in Washington. Send this letter to A. P. I shall not be able to write any more at present. I have Uncle Edwin's “letter” with me, and may be able to use it. Don't be worried about me, I shall be well soon. I shall get a pair of crutches made so I can get about soon. My half-dollar pocket-piece did me good service; brought me eight dollars confederate money, with which I bought a tooth-brush. Milk two dollars qt., etc. My love to all. Let them write me often; some will get through.

Your affectionate son,

W. F. Bartlett.

Brigadier-general U. S. A., Prisoner of War.

(Envelopes, $8. a package.)

There has been some talk of exchanging sick and wounded prisoners. I hope it will be effected.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 121-3

Colonel William F. Bartlett to Colonel Francis W. Palfrey, June 14, 1864

Washington, June 14, 1864.

Your kind letter I found here on Sunday last when I returned from Baltimore, where I passed last week very quietly. I am much better than when I left you, and feel that I am improving every day. I had a slight relapse on Sunday for some reason or other. I had been to church in the morning, and as I got out of the carriage at the house I had a severe pain strike me. . . . .

I went to dinner in the afternoon, but this pain increased so, that I had to leave the table. I came very near tipping over; I never was so faint before, simply from pain. I was alarmed, as that was a new spot for me to have pain, and I could not account for it. I took off my leg, and in ten minutes the pain had almost entirely gone.

I came to Washington that night, expecting to go down to the front this morning, but the Medical Director here advised so strongly my waiting a few days longer that I have consented. He explained the attack of Sunday by saying that the socket must have pressed unduly upon, or strained, some particular nerve (I forget what it was, and you would not know if I should tell you), and the pain was from sympathy or connection with this nerve. I was relieved to know that it was nothing worse. I have had one or two very slight touches since. Surgeon says I must begin moderately in using my leg.

I have not been to the President with your father's letter. The fact is, I can't make up my mind to go to these men and ask for anything. It was very kind of your father to write such a letter for me. I only intended to ask for a simple note of introduction, to say that my name was B. and he knew it. General Augur has been to see Stanton, and I hear that the papers have been referred to General Halleck. I suppose they will be pigeon-holed somewhere, and that will be the last of it. I should have liked to have it come from Stanton, as he voluntarily promised, and if it does come at all, it must come of itself; for I should be a very poor hand pulling wires, or urging anything of the sort.

There are doubtless plenty of easy berths here that I could have for the asking; but I don't want them. I feel that I am not adapted for office business here, such as provost-marshal, etc. If I am of any value, it is in the field, in the actual handling and government of troops.

Still, it seems pretty hard for me to go down there and take command of my one hundred men, a captain's command, after the larger ones that I have had. I heard from the regiment to-day. It has a good reputation throughout the corps. All speak of Colonel Chandler's splendid bravery and coolness.

Believe me dear Frank,

As ever, yours,

F. B.

I think of poor Lit. so often, Frank; I can't realize that I am never to see him any more.

I went to the Hospital yesterday to see Crowell, of I (Twentieth); do you remember him? He has lost a leg. He seemed very glad to see me, and I was able to make him more comfortable. He asked about you.

F.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 103-6

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: February 26, 1864

We went to see Mrs. Breckinridge, who is here with her husband. Then we paid our respects to Mrs. Lee. Her room was like an industrial school: everybody so busy. Her daughters were all there plying their needles, with several other ladies. Mrs. Lee showed us a beautiful sword, recently sent to the General by some Marylanders, now in Paris. On the blade was engraved, “Aide tôt et Dieu t'aidera.” When we came out someone said, “Did you see how the Lees spend their time? What a rebuke to the taffy parties!”

Another maimed hero is engaged to be married. Sally Hampton has accepted John Haskell. There is a story that he reported for duty after his arm was shot off; suppose in the fury of the battle he did not feel the pain.

General Breckinridge once asked, “What's the name of the fellow who has gone to Europe for Hood's leg?” “Dr. Darby.” “Suppose it is shipwrecked?” “No matter; half a dozen are ordered.” Mrs. Preston raised her hands: “No wonder the General says they talk of him as if he were a centipede; his leg is in everybody's mouth.”

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 292-3

Lieutenant William Thompson Lusk to Lou Thompson, August 22, 1861

Camp Causten, Aug. 22d, 1861.

My dear Cousin Lou:

What a pleasant thing it is to live, and how I do enjoy it here on the banks of the Potomac. I do not believe God ever made a more beautiful land than this. How I would fight for it if I believed it threatened by an unscrupulous foe! Cousin Lou, I used to think the “booty and beauty” allusion a sort of poor joke, too sorry even for ridicule, but I now see it as the cunning work of the far-sighted master who knew his people.

By-the-way do you know we are now encamped on the Kosciusko farm, and near by the house still stands where the patriot lived? I was walking in a cornfield today, and spied the silk drooping from one of the ears, dyed a deep red. I plucked it, and send it now to you in memory of Kosciusko, or if you like it better, in memory of Cousin Will. Bother! I was getting sentimental, when a gust of wind tore up the tent pins and blew out the candle. One has great experiences in camp. The other night I was softly slumbering, dreaming of Dolly Ann or of cutting a Secessionist's throat, or something agreeable at any rate, when I heard a sound like that of mighty waters — I felt the waves washing over me — then followed a chilly sensation. I awoke. The stars were above me and by my side lay a sea of canvas — “in short,” as Mr. Micawber would say, my tent was blown down. Another night my tent was pitched on the side of a steep hill. I wrapped myself in my blanket, braced my feet against the tent-pole and fell asleep. In the night my knees relaxed, and no longer prevented by the prop, I slid quietly downward, awaking in the morning at a good night's march from the point at which I first lay down to rest.

Much obliged for the information you send me regarding that youngest son of the Earl of Montrose, who came to America and graduated at Yale College. I always knew I was of noble degree, and have felt my blood preeminently Scotch since the first time I heard Aunt Caroline singing “Where, and oh where is my Highland Laddie gone?” I look too, admiringly upon the queenly Julia, and I say, “Nay, nay, but there's no churl's blood there.” In beatific vision the sisters five file past me; then comes long lanky Sylvester Vegetable Graham, leanest of men, with a bag of oatmeal, and I say to myself, “verily my blood is very Scotch.”

Give my best love to that wee mite of a little lady, who is to have the delightful honor of taking charge of my wooden leg, when I return from the wars a garrulous one-legged old soldier. Imagine me, Cousin Lou, tripping it at my own wedding not on the light fantastic, but on timber toes. Now let us consider the matter, Cousin Lou. Shall the leg be a real timber one though, or shall a compromise be made with Nature, and one of the flexible Anglesea pattern be chosen?

Alas, alas! All day long we have heard guns firing in the distance. Some poor fellows must have fallen, though we get no intelligence of movements made. We are left out of the question. There is a great battle soon to take place, but I fear the 79th is too much crippled to make a great show. We numbered once a thousand gallant hearts — we number now 700 men capable for action; to such a pass we have been reduced by death and what is worse, by desertion. Officers have deserted, and the men have followed the base example. I have seen enough to convince me that this is no war for foreigners. It is our war, and let us cheerfully bear the burden ourselves. The South sends its best blood to fight for a phantom, but we, in the North, send our scum and filth to fight for a reality. It is not thus we are to gain the victory. I would have all our Northern youth not talk, but act — not deem their lives so precious as their honor. Have you read the names of those who resigned their commissions after the Battle of Manassas? The names of over 250 cowards. Life is sweet to all, but have they no trust in God that they fear the bitterness of death? Love to all friends in Enfield. I must say good-night.

Au-Revoir,

Will.

I did not serve as a private but in the capacity of Lieut, at Bull Run.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 77-80

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: June 9, 1862 - Night

General Jackson is performing prodigies of valor in the Valley; he has met the forces of Fremont and Shields, and whipped them in detail. They fought at Cross Keys and Port Republic yesterday and to-day. I must preserve his last dispatch, it is so characteristic:

Through God's blessing, the enemy, near Port Republic, was this day routed, with the loss of six pieces of artillery.

T. J. Jackson,

Major-General Commanding.

And now we are awaiting the casualties from the Valley. This feeling of personal anxiety keeps us humble amid the flush of victory. What news may not each mail bring us, of those as dear as our heart's blood? Each telegram that is brought into the hospital makes me blind with apprehension, until it passes me, and other countenances denote the same anxiety; but we dare not say a word which may unnerve the patients; they are rejoicing amid their pain and anguish over our victories. Poor fellows! dearly have they paid for them, with the loss of limb, and other wounds more painful still. They want to be cured that they may be on the field again. “Thank God,” said a man, with his leg amputated, “that it was not my right arm, for then I could never have fought again; as soon as this stump is well I shall join Stuart's cavalry; I can ride with a wooden leg as well as a real one.”

The “Young Napoleon” does not seem to be dispirited by his late reverses. The New York Herald acknowledges the defeat of the 31st, but says they recovered their loss next day; but the whole tone of that and other Northern papers proves that they know that their defeat was complete, though they will not acknowledge it. They are marshalling their forces for another “On to Richmond.” O God, to Thee, to Thee alone, do we look for deliverance. Thou, who canst do all things, have mercy upon us and help us!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 120-1

Returned

Lieut. Henne, accompanied by his wife and Mr. Holm, arrived yesterday afternoon, on the Sucker State from St. Louis.  Lt. H.’s wound is healed up, but he is unable to walk, being destitute of both left arm and left leg, and has not yet obtained an artificial substitute.  On his arrival, the cannon was got out, and a salute fired in honor of the return of the gallant officer to his home, for the first time since his departure with Capt. Wentz’s company last spring.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Tuesday Morning, May 20, 1862, p. 1

From Cairo

CAIRO, Man 28. – The river is still rising.  Six feet more will sweep over Fort Holt.

All kinds of reports are in circulation this evening in regard to a fight in Missouri.  The latest is that Gen. Payne is likely to cut off Jeff Thompson’s retreat at Sykestown, as it is believed that he cannot reach New Madrid by any other route, the late rains having filled the swamps with water, thus rendering them impassable.

Troops are still arriving.  A regiment from St. Louis arrived this evening.

Col. Doughtery made a contact with a Connecticut Yankee to-day for a new leg.  It is warranted superior to the original with the exception that should a ball strike it would bleed.

I learned from good authority to-day that the Chaplain in Col. Lawler’s regiment never makes his appearance except on pay day.

Quatermaster Baxter left for Washington on Saturday morning.  Capt. Turnley arrived to-day and will take possession as District Quartermaster.

Contractors are not so numerous as they were a few days ago.  Some of the railroad men are still smelling around after contracts.

CAIRO, Jan 29. – The 12th Iowa Regiment, Col. Wood, arrived yesterday.  It left for Smithland last evening.  It is armed with the Enfield rifle.

The 16th Illinois and the 18th Missouri Regiments are on the road hither.

The force composing the expedition which left Bird’s Point on Saturday are returning. – Nothing was accomplished except the capture of a number of Thompson’s men.

The country beyond Charleston was found to be infested with Guerilla bands who are plundering every one Union and rebel alike, but they would not make any stand for battle.

The Federal troops marched nearly to Sykestown.  Gen. Payne has determined to occupy Charleston.  For that purpose a regiment of infantry and a detachment of cavalry will remain at that place.

A large rebel mail containing several hundred letters, has been captured above this place on the Mississippi river.  It contained letters of importance from Bowling Green and other rebel camps.

It is now snowing hard here.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, February 1, 1862, p. 2