Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, May 4, 1864

Morning at Stevensburg, Va.—Taking a southwest direction we passed northeast of Stony Mountain and came in conjunction with other marching columns and moving trains. Our ears were filled with confusion, noisy jests, rough questionings and "blowing" of different regiments. Marched fast. Inspired by excitement, our boys were not to be beaten; it was a grand show that nobody saw but the performers. Our course was principally southeast until we reached this deserted village, Stevensburgh, at daylight. Here are fields of artillery and cavalry awaiting us. We rest awhile; I lay on the mossy plank steps of what was a tavern. Grass is in the streets. Buildings old style; paint has seceded. It is a pleasant site, overlooking grand country; had been a desirable place in better days. This movement is to throw our forces together to the right of Lee's position south of the Rapidan, cutting the latters' connection with Fredericksburg and to go on to Richmond, if he does not come out to fight us. This will bring our base of supplies south to points accessible to the coast.

On Field, South of Rapidan, Noon—We took a southerly course to the river, halting but little. Beautiful morning, splendid view of the glorious landscape; rich country. Occasionally stately dwellings of the comfortable Virginia style are left on terra firma and inhabited.

Sun came out hot. Those who had scruples about throwing clothing away on the start, felt the necessity. For an hour and a half the road was strewn with coats, blouses, shirts, blankets and other things, so thickly that we could not march in files without treading upon it, which made marching tiresome. Miles of ground was literally covered.

Men were sun-struck and fell as if shot dead; one who fell as we moved along a narrow dugway, rolled down the hill and lodged against a tree. It is a frightful moan they give as they fall, slamming their guns on the ground. The aid they get from comrades in the ranks is slight; we can only cast a pitying look and pass on. I came near falling. Friends applied water from canteens to the back of my head, neck and breast, which proved a relief. Capt. Swan told me to fall out but I felt determined not to leave the ranks; threw away my woolen blanket and got better.

About 11 a. m. our (Fifth) corps reached the Rapidan River at Germania ford and crossed on pontoons. Several cannon were in position commanding the heights beyond. It was a proud sight to see the columns winding up the rocky slope on the south side, as we descended from the north. They crossed a drove of cattle by driving them through; some were drowned. There was once a bridge here; the stone abutments remain.

The Second (Hancock's) corps crossed at Ely's ford several miles east. His advance surprised and captured a Confederate force this morning that had been watching our army. The Sixth (Sedgwick's) corp crossed five miles west of Germania. The positions of these grand divisions of the Army of the Potomac, in these movements, indicate their respective positions in coming battles, namely: Hancock's corp on the left, Warren's in the center, Sedgwick's on the right. The Ninth (Burnside's) corp is a few miles behind, moving in three columns to be used in emergencies. Cavalry divisions are generally in advance and on our flanks contending with the enemy's detached forces, or harassing his rear, miles away.

Hard fighting is expected by officers and men. We feel the final movement on Richmond is on. It is the beginning of the end-a big butt-end! We are to meet the enemy in regions where fighting has been mostly favorable to the Southern army, in its chosen, often fortified positions. Officers assume that our corps will make the first attack, or will be first attacked. The enemy is familiar with the country where battles are likely to occur. During winter suspension of hostilities, he has moved forces about this country to acquaint them with it. Leading officers know points of natural strategy, hence have many advantages. Naturally he will make a desperate attempt to crush us at a time most opportune to him. His position we shall find when revealed by the attack, or by our skirmishers and scouts. Our men understand this; are nerved for the crisis. Our fate rests with officers.

They were strongly fortified here and a half mile back, but forces in charge retired after a few shots. We lay down behind these fortifications two hours, taking refreshments, rest and sleep. A heavy body of troops are assembled in this vicinity.

Near Wilderness, Sunset.—Bugles sounded again; columns of infantry and trains of artillery move out by brigades, the corps having divided into several columns for convenience in forming for battle and to make closer connections with the left and right wings. It appears, by the way we move, the enemy are not disposed to check us today; all is quiet as if there were no such thing as battle. We move cautiously, through heavy wildernesses on old roads-about 4 o'clock p. m. struck the plank road and were soon near portions of the old battle grounds about Chancellorsville.

The column soon broke off by regiments on either side. То our delight, we were told that we would probably stay the night. There is a broad field covered with troops of all arms; heavy supply trains and artillery, no doubt 40,000 armed men. Generals Grant, Meade, Warren and staffs arrived soon after we camped, also several other generals and staffs. General Wadsworth has been riding among the troops of his division and passing a word with us. The old gentleman is as good natured as ever. He wears the regulation cap, rides a light gray horse, his gray hair cut short and side whiskers closely trimmed. The boys all like the old "Abolish." A have been to a creek and bathed, feel pretty well. Headquarters bands are playing beautifully. The scene is sublime; the red sun hangs just over the woods, the trees are brilliantly green and filled with happy birds. Men by thousands are boiling coffee and frying pork and hard tack.

There is an old mill near, long silent for Secessia's sake, now receiving attention from the boys; they are not likely to slight it until they run it-into the ground. Some are running through it seeing what can be picked up; others are knocking and pulling pine boards from its sides. It is not a stranger to soldiers, they have been here before, both Union and Rebs; Stonewall himself, perhaps; like enough "Fighting Joe." It was about here the former made his last dash. Two of us lug off a wide door for a bed. Of course the boys talk about where we are going; some think they know exactly; it is to Mine Run again, or it is straight to Richmond. We have marched thirty miles. Fog appears as the sun sinks. We lie down early; had no sleep last night; pitch no tents. Probabilities are for an early stir in the morning. We have plumb six days' rations, expect to need them.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 22-5

Diary of William Howard Russell: July 19, 1861

I rose early this morning in order to prepare for contingencies and to see off Captain Johnson, who was about to start with despatches for New York, containing, no doubt, the intelligence that the Federal troops had advanced against the enemy. Yesterday was so hot that officers and men on the field suffered from something like sun-stroke. To unaccustomed frames to-day the heat felt unsupportable. A troop of regular cavalry, riding through the street at an early hour, were so exhausted, horse and man, that a runaway cab could have bowled them over like ninepins.

I hastened to General Scott's quarters, which were besieged by civilians outside and full of orderlies and officers within. Mr. Cobden would be delighted withthe republican simplicity of the Commander-in-Chief's establishment, though it did not strike me as being very cheap at the money on such an occasion. It consists, in fact, of a small three-storied brick house, the parlors on the ground floor being occupied by subordinates, the small front room on the first floor being appropriated to General Scott himself, the smaller back-room being devoted to his staff, and two rooms up-stairs most probably being in possession of waste papers and the guardians of the mansion. The walls are covered with maps of the coarsest description, and with rough plans and drawings, which afford information and amusement to the orderlies and the stray aide-de-camps. "Did you ever hear anything so disgraceful in your life as the stories which are going about of the affair, yesterday?" said Colonel Cullum. “I assure you it was the smallest affair possible, although the story goes that we have lost thousands of men. Our total loss is under ninety — killed, wounded, and missing; and I regret to say nearly one third of the whole are under the latter head.” “However that may be, Colonel,” said I, “it will be difficult to believe your statement after the columns of type which appear in the papers here.” “Oh! Who minds what they say?” “You will admit, at any rate, that the retreat of these undisciplined troops from an encounter with the enemy will have a bad effect.” “Well, I suppose that's likely enough, but it will soon be swept away in the excitement of a general advance. General Scott, having determined to attack the enemy, will not halt now, and I am going over to Brigadier McDowell to examine the ground and see what is best to be done,” On leaving the room two officers came out of General Scott's apartment; one of them said, “Why, Colonel, he's not half the man I thought him. Well, any way he'll be better there than McDowell. If old Scott had legs he's good for a big thing yet.”

For hours I went horse-hunting; but Rothschild himself, even the hunting Baron, could not have got a steed. In Pennsylvania Avenue the people were standing in the shade under the ӕlanthus trees, speculating on the news brought by dusty orderlies, or on the ideas of passing congressmen. A party of captured Confederates, on their march to General Mansfield's quarters, created intense interest, and I followed them to the house, and went up to see the General, whilst the prisoners sat down on the pavement and steps outside. Notwithstanding his affectation of calm, and self-possession, General Mansfield, who was charged with the defence of the town, was visibly perturbed. “These things, sir,” said he, “happen in Europe, too. If the capital should fall into the hands of the rebels, the United States will be no more destroyed than they were when you burned it.” From an expression he let fall, I inferred he did not very well know what to do with his prisoners. “Rebels taken in arms in Europe are generally hung or blown away from guns, I believe; but we are more merciful.” General Mansfield evidently wished to be spared the embarrassment of dealing with prisoners.

I dined at a restaurant kept by one Boulanger, a Frenchman, who utilized the swarms of flies infesting his premises by combining masses of them with his soup and made dishes. At an adjoining table were a lanky boy in a lieutenant's uniform, a private soldier, and a man in plain clothes; and for the edification of the two latter the warrior youth was detailing the most remarkable stories in the Munchausen style, ear ever heard. “Well, sir, I tell you, when his head fell off on the ground, his eyes shut and opened twice, and his tongue came out with an expression as if he wanted to say something.” “There were seven balls through my coat, and it was all so spiled with blood and powder, I took it off and threw it in the road. When the boys were burying the dead, I saw this coat on a chap who had been just smothered by the weight of the killed and wounded on the top of him, and I says, ‘Boys, give me that coat; it will just do for me with the same rank; and there is no use in putting good cloth on a dead body.’” “And how many do you suppose was killed, Lieutenant?” “Well, sir, it's my honest belief, I tell you, that there was not less than 5000 of our boys, and it may be twice as many of the enemy, or more; they were all shot down just like pigeons; you might walk for five rods by the side of the Run, and not be able to put your foot on the ground.” “The dead was that thick?” “No, but the dead and the wounded together.” No incredulity in the hearers — all swallowed: possibly disgorged into the note-book of a Washington contributor.

After dinner I walked over with Lieutenant H. Wise, inspected a model of Stevens's ram, which appears to me an utter impossibility in face of the iron-clad embrasured fleet now coming up to view, though it is spoken of highly by some naval officers and by many politicians. For years their papers have been indulging in mysterious volcanic puffs from the great centre of nothingness as to this secret and tremendous war-engine, which was surrounded by walls of all kinds, and only to be let out on the world when the Great Republic in its might had resolved to sweep everything off the seas. And lo! it is an abortive ram! Los Gringos went home, and I paid a visit to a family whose daughters — bright-eyed, pretty, and clever — were seated out on the door-steps amid the lightning flashes, one of them, at least, dreaming with open eyes of a young artillery-officer then sleeping among his guns, probably, in front of Fairfax Court House.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 431-3

Captain Charles Wright Wills: July 13, 1864

July 13, 1864.

We passed through Marietta this morning at 9; rested in a cool, nice, woody place from 11 to 2, and made this place in the cool of the evening. We marched about 14 miles today. I would rather be in a fight than endure such a day's march, and I think fighting lacks very much as deserving to rank as amusement.

I saw a number of cases of congestion of the brain, and a few had real sun stroke. Saw one poor fellow in a graveyard between two little picketed graves, who I made sure was gasping his last. Some heartless fellow made a remark as we passed about his luck in getting sun struck so near good burying facilities. After one heat of only three miles the regiment had all fallen out but about 50 men, and we had more than any other in the brigade. If we had been given one hour more in rests, we would not have lost a man.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 278-9