Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: November 19, 1864

Slept in my clothes last night, as I heard that the Yankees went to neighbor Montgomery's on Thursday night at one o'clock, searched his house, drank his wine, and took his money and valuables. As we were not disturbed, I walked after breakfast, with Sadai, up to Mr. Joe Perry's, my nearest neighbor, where the Yankees were yesterday. Saw Mrs. Laura [Perry] in the road surrounded by her children, seeming to be looking for some one. She said she was looking for her husband, that old Mrs. Perry had just sent her word that the Yankees went to James Perry's the night before, plundered his house, and drove off all his stock, and that she must drive hers into the old fields. Before we we [sic] were done talking, up came Joe and Jim Perry from their hiding-place. Jim was very much excited. Happening to turn and look behind, as we stood there, I saw some blue-coats coming down the hill. Jim immediately raised his gun, swearing he would kill them anyhow.

“No, don't!” said I, and ran home as fast as I could, with Sadai.

I could hear them cry, “Halt! Halt!” and their guns went off in quick succession. Oh God, the time of trial has come!

A man passed on his way to Covington. I halloed to him, asking him if he did not know the Yankees were coming.

“No — are they?”

“Yes,” said I; “they are not three hundred yards from here.”

“Sure enough,” said he. “Well, I'll not go. I don't want them to get my horse.” And although within hearing of their guns, he would stop and look for them. Blissful ignorance! Not knowing, not hearing, he has not suffered the suspense, the fear, that I have for the past forty-eight hours. I walked to the gate. There they came filing up.

I hastened back to my frightened servants and told them that they had better hide, and then went back to the gate to claim protection and a guard. But like demons they rush in! My yards are full. To my smoke-house, my dairy, pantry, kitchen, and cellar, like famished wolves they come, breaking locks and whatever is in their way. The thousand pounds of meat in my smoke-house is gone in a twinkling, my flour, my meat, my lard, butter, eggs, pickles of various kinds — both in vinegar and brine — wine, jars, and jugs are all gone. My eighteen fat turkeys, my hens, chickens, and fowls, my young pigs, are shot down in my yard and hunted as if they were rebels themselves. Utterly powerless I ran out and appealed to the guard.

“I cannot help you, Madam; it is orders.”

As I stood there, from my lot I saw driven, first, old Dutch, my dear old buggy horse, who has carried my beloved husband so many miles, and who would so quietly wait at the block for him to mount and dismount, and who at last drew him to his grave; then came old Mary, my brood mare, who for years had been too old and stiff for work, with her three-year-old colt, my two year-old mule, and her last little baby colt. There they go! There go my mules, my sheep, and, worse than all, my boys [slaves]!

Alas! little did I think while trying to save my house from plunder and fire that they were forcing my boys from home at the point of the bayonet. One, Newton, jumped into bed in his cabin, and declared himself sick. Another crawled under the floor, — a lame boy he was, — but they pulled him out, placed him on a horse, and drove him off. Mid, poor Mid! The last I saw of him, a man had him going around the garden, looking, as I thought, for my sheep, as he was my shepherd. Jack came crying to me, the big tears coursing down his cheeks, saying they were making him go. I said:

“Stay in my room.”

But a man followed in, cursing him and threatening to shoot him if he did not go; so poor Jack had to yield. James Arnold, in trying to escape from a back window, was captured and marched off. Henry, too, was taken; I know not how or when, but probably when he and Bob went after the mules. I had not believed they would force from their homes the poor, doomed negroes, but such has been the fact here, cursing them and saying that “Jeff Davis wanted to put them in his army, but that they should not fight for him, but for the Union.” No! Indeed no! They are not friends to the slave. We have never made the poor, cowardly negro fight, and it is strange, passing strange, that the all-powerful Yankee nation with the whole world to back them, their ports open, their armies filled with soldiers from all nations, should at last take the poor negro to help them out against this little Confederacy which was to have been brought back into the Union in sixty days' time!

My poor boys! My poor boys! What unknown trials are before you! How you have clung to your mistress and assisted her in every way you knew.

Never have I corrected them; a word was sufficient. Never have they known want of any kind. Their parents are with me, and how sadly they lament the loss of their boys. Their cabins are rifled of every valuable, the soldiers swearing that their Sunday clothes were the white people's, and that they never had money to get such things as they had. Poor Frank's chest was broken open, his money and tobacco taken. He has always been a moneymaking and saving boy; not infrequently has his crop brought him five hundred dollars and more. All of his clothes and Rachel's clothes, which dear Lou gave her before her death and which she had packed away, were stolen from her. Ovens, skillets, coffee-mills, of which we had three, coffee-pots — not one have I left. Sifters all gone!

Seeing that the soldiers could not be restrained, the guard ordered me to have their [of the negroes] remaining possessions brought into my house, which I did, and they all, poor things, huddled together in my room, fearing every movement that the house would be burned.

A Captain Webber from Illinois came into my house. Of him I claimed protection from the vandals who were forcing themselves into my room. He said that he knew my brother Orrington [the late Orrington Lunt, a well-known early settler of Chicago]. At that name I could not restrain my feelings, but, bursting into tears, implored him to see my brother and let him know my destitution. I saw nothing before me but starvation. He promised to do this, and comforted me with the assurance that my dwelling-house would not be burned, though my out-buildings might. Poor little Sadai went crying to him as to a friend and told him that they had taken her doll, Nancy. He begged her to come and see him, and he would give her a fine waxen one. [The doll was found later in the yard of a neighbor, where a soldier had thrown it, and was returned to the little girl. Her children later played with it, and it is now the plaything of her granddaughter.]

He felt for me, and I give him and several others the character of gentlemen. I don't believe they would have molested women and children had they had their own way. He seemed surprised that I had not laid away in my house, flour and other provisions. I did not suppose I could secure them there, more than where I usually kept them, for in last summer's raid houses were thoroughly searched. In parting with him, I parted as with a friend.

Sherman himself and a greater portion of his army passed my house that day. All day, as the sad moments rolled on, were they passing not only in front of my house, but from behind; they tore down my garden palings, made a road through my back-yard and lot field, driving their stock and riding through, tearing down my fences and desolating my home — wantonly doing it when there was no necessity for it.

Such a day, if I live to the age of Methuselah, may God spare me from ever seeing again!

As night drew its sable curtains around us, the heavens from every point were lit up with flames from burning buildings. Dinnerless and supperless as we were, it was nothing in comparison with the fear of being driven out homeless to the dreary woods. Nothing to eat! I could give my guard no supper, so he left us. I appealed to another, asking him if he had wife, mother, or sister, and how he should feel were they in my situation. A colonel from Vermont left me two men, but they were Dutch, and I could not understand one word they said.

My Heavenly Father alone saved me from the destructive fire. My carriage-house had in it eight bales of cotton, with my carriage, buggy, and harness. On top of the cotton were some carded cotton rolls, a hundred pounds or more. These were thrown out of the blanket in which they were, and a large twist of the rolls taken and set on fire, and thrown into the boat of my carriage, which was close up to the cotton bales. Thanks to my God, the cotton only burned over, and then went out. Shall I ever forget the deliverance?

To-night, when the greater part of the army had passed, it came up very windy and cold. My room was full, nearly, with the negroes and their bedding. They were afraid to go out, for my women could not step out of the door without an insult from the Yankee soldiers. They lay down on the floor; Sadai got down and under the same cover with Sally, while I sat up all night, watching every moment for the flames to burst out from some of my buildings. The two guards came into my room and laid themselves by my fire for the night. I could not close my eyes, but kept walking to and fro, watching the fires in the distance and dreading the approaching day, which, I feared, as they had not all passed, would be but a continuation of horrors.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 20-32

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Thursday, March 31, 1864

Weather quite agreeable to-day. The Lieutenant-Colonel of the One Hundred and Tenth Ohio Infantry is officer of the day, a very pleasant, agreeable man; think I should like him. The Third Division of our Corps has exchanged camp with our old First Division; have very poor quarters.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 31

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: October 1-12, 1864

Nothing special has taken place between these dates. Picket duty, and plenty of hard work, has been the order of each day as they come and go. Business is improving in the town. Many places are opening up, ready for business. Trains running quite regular. Lieutenant-Colonel Peale returned to the regiment, taking command, after being absent about two months in Washington, D. C.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 129-30

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Wednesday, July 16, 1862

Boys returned from Fort Gibson, no enemy there. Enemy four miles below on the south side of the Arkansas, at Fort Davis. Expecting artillery. Boys rested.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 21

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Saturday, March 7, 1863

Rained during the night. Passed quite a no. of good looking plantations, all haveing more or less cotton Run into Tallahalchee at 9.15 A. M. One very short bend where we landed and cooked. Rebel battery reported 6 mile below Run after night till 8.30 P. M.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 485

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: New Haven to Ship Island

Soon after recruiting for the 13th Connecticut Regiment Infantry Volunteers was begun, I entered the recruiting service, and during the winter of 1861—1862 labored for that regiment in that capacity until it was full. Recruiting officers were quite plenty at that time and somehow the war fever among the people had worn away considerably and consequently recruiting was what might be termed slow, and not until March 17th, 1862, was the regiment ready for the seat of war.

 

On that day at ten p. m. we left New Haven, on a steamboat, and the next morning at five o'clock found us on board a large sailing vessel in New York harbor, bound for Ship Island in the Gulf of Mexico. I enlisted as a sergeant in Company K and it so happened the first night I was detailed as sergeant of the guard. I don't think the 13th C. V. all belonged to the temperance society. If they did many of them sadly broke their pledges; but perhaps they thought the occasion justified them in doing so. The Colonel ordered one poor fellow “seized” up in the rigging for disorderly conduct. It was distasteful to me, but military orders must be obeyed. The job was new to me but I accomplished it without much trouble, otherwise the night passed off quite peacefully.

 

March 20th, the ship hoisted anchor, moved down and anchored off Sandy Hook, where she lay until the 23rd. On the way everything was new to me, Castle Garden, Governor's Island, Staten Island, etc. Besides the U. S. gunboat Roanoake lay there. During the time tugboats were busy bringing water and other supplies for the voyage.

 

On March 23d a propeller came down with two four-inch guns, put them aboard and towed us out to sea. A U. S. mail steamship outward bound passed us. It was a beautiful sight and one to make one feel proud of his country. Thirty-one vessels, great and small were in sight from the deck of our ship. At about one o'clock p. m. the tug boat left us, but the wind was calm as a summer evening, and remained so until about 3 p. m. when a stiff breeze sprang up and the good ship, City of New York, spread her white wings, and soon the Jersey Heights began to grow dim, and the shades of night coming on, they disappeared entirely from view. We never saw any more of this green earth until we reached an island on the southern coast of Florida. Next day got the guns in position, so that when Old Glory crept up to the masthead in the morning and unfolded to the breeze he was greeted with the cannon's roar, the emblem of freedom and power.

 

On the 25th we entered the Gulf Stream, water about milk warm, sea rough, about in the latitude of Charleston, S. C. In the morning, “Sail ho!” from the masthead. “Where away?” “Three points on the weather bow, sir.” “Steamship, looks like a privateer.” Captain Saulter cracks on more sail. At noon it disappeared to leeward. A gale sprang up in the afternoon and blew tremendously all night.

 

SOURCE: George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 1-3

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Thursday, May 28, 1863

I arrived at Chattanooga (Tennessee) at 4.30 Am., and fell in with Captain Brown again; his negro recognised me, and immediately rushed up to shake hands.

After breakfasting at Chattanooga, I started again at 7.30, by train, for Shelbyville, General Bragg's headquarters. This train was crammed to repletion with soldiers rejoining their regiments, so I was constrained to sit in the aisle on the floor of one of the cars. I thought myself lucky even then, for so great was the number of military, that all “citizens” were ordered out to make way for the soldiers; but my grey shooting-jacket and youthful appearance saved me from the imputation of being a “citizen.” Two hours later, the passport officer, seeing who I was, procured me a similar situation in the ladies’ car, where I was a little better off. After leaving Chattanooga the railroad winds alongside of the Tennessee river, the banks of which are high, and beautifully covered with trees — the river itself is wide, and very pretty; but from my position in the tobacco-juice I was unable to do justice to the scenery. I saw stockades at intervals all along the railroad, which were constructed by the Federals, who occupied all this country last year.

On arriving at Wartrace at 4 P.M., I determined to remain there, and ask for hospitality from General Hardee, as I saw no prospect of reaching Shelbyville in decent time. Leaving my baggage with the provost marshal at Wartrace, I walked on to General Hardee's headquarters, which were distant about two miles from the railroad . They were situated in a beautiful country, green, undulating, full of magnificent trees, principally beeches, and the scenery was by far the finest I had seen in America as yet.

When I arrived I found that General Hardee was in company with General Polk and Bishop Elliott of Georgia, and also with Mr Vallandigham. The latter (called the Apostle of Liberty) is a good-looking man, apparently not much over forty, and had been turned out of the North three days before. Rosecrans had wished to hand him over to Bragg by flag of truce; but as the latter declined to receive him in that manner, he was, as General Hardee expressed it, “dumped down” in the neutral ground between the lines, and left there. He then received hospitality from the Confederates in the capacity of a destitute stranger. They do not in any way receive him officially, and it does not suit the policy of either party to be identified with one another. He is now living at a private house in Shelbyville, and had come over for the day, with General Polk, on a visit to Hardee. He told the generals, that if Grant was severely beaten in Mississippi by Johnston, he did not think the war could be continued on its present great scale.

When I presented my letters of introduction, General Hardee received me with the unvarying kindness and hospitality which I had experienced from all other Confederate officers. He is a fine soldierlike man, broad-shouldered and tall. He looks rather like a French officer, and is a Georgian by birth. He bears the reputation of, being a thoroughly good soldier, and he is the author of the drill-book still in use by both armies. Until quite lately he was commanding officer of the military college at West Point. He distinguished himself at the battles of Corinth and Murfreesborough, and now commands the 2d corps d’armée of Bragg's army. He is a widower, and has the character of being a great admirer of the fair sex. During the Kentucky campaign last year he was in the habit of availing himself of the privilege of his rank and years, and insisted upon kissing the wives and daughters of all the Kentuckian farmers. And although he is supposed to have converted many of the ladies to the Southern cause, yet in many instances their male relatives remained either neutral or undecided. On one occasion General Hardee had conferred the “accolade” upon a very pretty Kentuckian, to their mutual satisfaction, when, to his intense disgust, the proprietor produced two very ugly old females, saying, “Now, then, general, if you kiss any you must kiss them all round,” which the discomfited general was forced to do, to the great amusement of his officers, who often allude to this contretemps.

Another rebuff which he received, and about which he is often chaffed by General Polk, was when an old lady told him he ought really to “leave off fighting at his age.” “Indeed, madam,” replied Hardee, “and how old do you take me for?” “Why, about the same age as myself — seventy-five.” The chagrin of the stalwart and gallant general, at having twenty years added to his age, may be imagined.

Lieutenant-General Leonidas Polk, Bishop of Louisiana, who commands the other corps d'armée, is a goodlooking, gentlemanlike man, with all the manners and affability of a “grand seigneur.” He is fifty-seven years of age — tall, upright, and looks much more the soldier than the clergyman. He is very rich; and I am told he owns seven hundred negroes. He is much beloved by the soldiers on account of his great personal courage and agreeable manners. I had already heard no end of anecdotes of him told me by my travelling companions, who always alluded to him with affection and admiration. In his clerical capacity I had always heard him spoken of with the greatest respect. When I was introduced to him he immediately invited me to come and stay at his headquarters at Shelbyville. He told me that he was educated at West Point, and was at that institution with the President, the two Johnstons, Lee, Magruder, &c, and that, after serving a short time in the artillery, he had entered the church.

Bishop Elliott, of Georgia, is a nice old man of venerable appearance and very courteous manners. He is here at the request of General Polk, for the purpose of confirming some officers and soldiers. He speaks English exactly like an English gentleman, and so, in fact, does General Polk, and all the well-bred Southerners, much more so than the ladies, whose American accent can always be detected. General Polk and Mr Vallandigham returned to Shelbyville in an ambulance at 6.30 P.”. General Hardee's headquarters were on the estate of Mrs –––, a very hospitable lady. The two daughters of the General were staying with her, and also a Mrs –––, who is a very pretty woman. These ladies are more violent against the Yankees than it is possible for a European to conceive; they beat their male relations hollow in their denunciations and hopes of vengeance. It was quite depressing to hear their innumerable stories of Yankee brutality, and I was much relieved when, at a later period of the evening, they subsided into music. After Bishop Elliott had read prayers, I slept in the same room with General Hardee.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 136-41

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Tuesday Morning, April 8, 1862

A. M. Still raining! Have borrowed “Jack Hinton” to read to pass time. Rained all day. At night heard a noise; found the sutler was selling whiskey; ordered two hundred bottles poured out.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 225

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: May 22, 1864

May 22, 1864.

I open my letter again as an opportunity now offers of sending it quite direct. To-day the term of service of the old men of the regiment expires, and they start for Chattanooga to be mustered out; the Colonel and several other officers go with them to sign the necessary papers. Colonel Coggswell has just received an order to go to Massachusetts to expedite the forwarding of recruits to the regiment; he will give you the latest intelligence about me. You see by this, that for the present, I shall have command of the veterans, — not many of them, but men who can fight their weight, and a little more, anywhere.

To-morrow, in the words of Sherman's general order, we start on another “grand forward movement,” with rations and forage for twenty days. Atlanta is evidently our destination; whether we shall reach it or not remains to be seen. One thing we are certain of — Johnston cannot stop us with his army; we can whip that wherever we can get at it. I wish the Army of the Potomac had no greater obstacle. We are now in a decidedly warm climate; the weather averages as warm as ours in July and August; what it will be when these months come, we can only imagine. I am, as usual, enjoying perfectly good health, and shall stand this campaign as I have all my others.

It is very painful to read the losses of friends in Virginia, — Stevenson, Abbott, and others. Here, outside of our own divisions, we know scarcely any one.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 167

Major Wilder Dwight: February 12, 1862

camp Hicks, Near Frederick, February 12, 1862.

Hadn't the little hills better begin to rejoice? Something ought to clap its hands. What of Burnside? The luck has changed. Louis Napoleon says he will give us only “wishes.” Good ones or bad, I care not, so they are wishes merely. This evening an order comes to us to furnish, from our regiment, part of a force to man some gunboats on the Mississippi River. That looks like life in the West. It is an outrage on our regiment, of course, but perhaps will help the cause. We send thirty or forty men, — no officers, that is the order. But to go back to Burnside and three thousand prisoners. There's progress for you! Yet, in the midst of it all (shall I confess it?), I have not felt so blue for a month as I do to-day. Exploit, achievement, victory, — but I not there. I may feel and express foolishness, and I think I do; but I had rather lose my life to-morrow in a victory than to save it for fifty years without one. This inaction and stagnation, in the midst of all the animating news from every quarter, is utterly maddening; and I must yell out my grief in the midst of this general joy.

There, I have relieved myself a little, and perhaps I can now write reasonably, and with a moderately Christian temper.

There is some authoritative statement as to the relative merit, I believe, of him who ruleth his spirit and of him who taketh a city. You see that I do neither. When I speak of myself as not there, I mean the Massachusetts Second, in whose fortunes and hopes I merge my own.

I ought, perhaps, to burn this letter, but I’ll send it, I believe. In an hour or two I shall be cheerful as ever, and continue the service of standing and waiting with good heart, I hope.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 196-7

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 11, 1862

There are rumors of Abolition gun-boats in the York and James Rivers. A battery of long range guns was sent down yesterday.

It is said that an army of raw Abolitionists, under Sigel, has marched from Alexandria toward Culpepper County. If this be so, we shall soon have more fighting, and more running, I hope. Lee keeps his own counsel — wisely.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 168

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: November 17, 1864

Have been uneasy all day. At night some of the neighbors who had been to town called. They said it was a large force moving very slowly. What shall I do? Where go?

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 17

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: November 18, 1864

Slept very little last night. Went out doors several times and could see large fires like burning buildings. Am I not in the hands of a merciful God who has promised to take care of the widow and orphan?

Sent off two of my mules in the night. Mr. Ward and Frank [a slave] took them away and hid them. In the morning took a barrel of salt, which had cost me two hundred dollars, into one of the black women's gardens, put a paper over it, and then on the top of that leached ashes. Fixed it on a board as a leach tub, daubing it with ashes [the old-fashioned way of making lye for soap]. Had some few pieces of meat taken from my smoke-house carried to the Old Place [a distant part of the plantation] and hidden under some fodder. Bid them hide the wagon and gear and then go on plowing. Went to packing up mine and Sadai's clothes.

I fear that we shall be homeless.

The boys came back and wished to hide their mules. They say that the Yankees camped at Mr. Gibson's last night and are taking all the stock in the county. Seeing them so eager, I told them to do as they pleased. They took them off, and Elbert [the black coachman] took his forty fattening hogs to the Old Place Swamp and turned them in.

We have done nothing all day — that is, my people have not. I made a pair of pants for Jack [a slave]. Sent Nute [a slave] up to Mrs. Perry's on an errand. On his way back, he said, two Yankees met him and begged him to go with them. They asked if we had livestock, and came up the road as far as Mrs. Laura Perry's. I sat for an hour expecting them, but they must have gone back. Oh, how I trust I am safe! Mr. Ward is very much alarmed.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 17-20

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Wednesday, March 30, 1864

It rained hard all night; didn't sleep a wink; got very wet; men in good spirits and everything working well in spite of the rain; have seen no officer of the day. Lieut. George P. Welch came down to see me this evening; very dark; camp quiet; looks like another storm before morning.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 31

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: September 30, 1864

At Harper's Ferry with the prisoners, having been on duty all night. Had a great time talking to the rebs over past experiences. Met one, formerly from our old home town, Norwich, Conn. Turned the prisoners over to the commander of the post, when we returned to Martinsburg. As soon as we arrived went right on duty, after being up all last night. Picket duty and working on the railroad. The guerillas are at work. Old Mosby keeps us busy. They managed to steal horses, and get the best. Our boys are kicking over the hard work on the railroad. Trains are running regular again over the road. This is an important line, through, on to the west. Business is improving, judging by the number of trains.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 129

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Tuesday, July 15, 1862

Stayed in camp and read “Guy Mannering,” good story. Pastured my horse and Brownell's.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 21

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Friday, March 6, 1863

Had a good run all forenoon. Passed many plantations; took on board about 100 bales cotton found one pile in cane brake of 1.30.bles run after night

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 485

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Wednesday, May 27, 1863

Arrived at Montgomery, the capital of Alabama, at daylight, and left it by another railroad at 5.30 A.M.

All State capitals appear to resemble one another, and look like bits cut off from great cities. One or two streets have a good deal of pretension about them; and the inevitable “Capitol,” with its dome, forms the principal feature. A sentry stands at the door of each railway car, who examines the papers of every passenger with great strictness, and even after that inspection the same ceremony is performed by an officer of the provost-marshal's department, who accompanies every train.¹ The officers and soldiers on this duty are very civil and courteous, and after getting over their astonishment at finding that I am a British officer, they do all they can to make me comfortable. They ask all sorts of curious questions about the British army, and often express a strong wish to see one of our regiments fight. They can hardly believe that the Coldstream is really dressed in scarlet. To-day they entered gravely into a discussion amongst themselves, as to whether British troops would have taken the position at Fredericksburg. The arguments on both sides were very amusing, and opinion was pretty evenly divided. We met three trains crammed full of soldiers for Johnston's army. They belonged to Breckenridge's division of Bragg's army, and all seemed in the highest spirits, cheering and yelling like demons. In the cars to-day I fell in with the Federal doctor who was refused leave to pass through General Johnston's lines; he was now en route for Richmond. He was in full Yankee uniform, but was treated with civility by all the Confederate soldiers. I had a long talk with him; he seemed a sensible man, and did not attempt to deny the universal enthusiasm and determination of the Southerners. He told me that General Grant had been very nearly killed at the taking of Jackson. He thought the war would probably terminate by a blow-up in the North.² I had to change cars at West Point and at Atlanta! At the latter place I was crammed into a desperately crowded train for Chattanooga. This country, Georgia, is much more inhabited and cultivated than Alabama. I travelled again all night.

_______________

¹ This rigid inspection is necessary to arrest spies, and prevent straggling and absence without leave.

² Notwithstanding the exasperation with which every Southerner speaks of a Yankee, and all the talk about black flag and no quarter, yet I never saw a Federal prisoner ill treated or insulted in any way, although I have travelled hundreds of miles in their company.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 134-6

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Monday, April 7, 1862

Rained violently all day. Visited all officers to see if they were provided with canteens, etc., etc All very nearly ready. Streams will rise and roads deepen so that no movement can now be made. A gloomy day to pass in camp, especially after getting ready to move. Set at liberty two citizens in guardhouse.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 224-5

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: May 20, 1864

Cassville, Ga., May 20, 1864.

I take this, my first opportunity since the fight of the 15th, to let you know that I am alive and well. I will tell you briefly what we have done since my last letter was written from near Ringgold.

May 7th, we marched about seven miles to Trickam P. O., taking up our position in line opposite Buzzard's Roost, which the enemy held in force. On the 8th and 9th we lay quietly in bivouac.

About seven A.M., on the 10th, we were moved off by a circuitous route to the southwest, passing through Snake Creek Gap in the afternoon, and camping at its outlet in the rear of McPhereon's force. During May 12th the whole army, with the exception of the Fourth Corps and Stoneman's cavalry, concentrated in our vicinity. On the 13th everything moved forward towards Resaca, going into position near the enemy, and endeavors were made to bring on a general engagement; nothing more than skirmishing resulted, however.

On the 14th, fighting began early and lasted throughout the day; late in the afternoon we moved to the extreme left, where Howard (who had come down from Dalton) had been heavily engaged and worsted. We double-quicked into line, and opened on the rebels as they were advancing with a yell to take a battery from which they had driven our men; our fire checked them, then drove them back, and we advanced with a cheer, regaining all the lost ground. By the time we had done this, it was eight o'clock and bright moonlight, so our line was halted and strengthened during the night by a strong line of works. Early next morning, our regiment was selected to make a reconnoisance in our front to discover the position of the enemy. This was a very delicate manoeuvre, but was capitally executed by Colonel Coggswell with the loss of only two men; the regiment behaved perfectly, not firing a shot, though under quite a disagreeable fire from skirmishers.

We developed the enemy's line and then returned, having done exactly what we were ordered to do. Soon after our return, our whole corps (now about twenty-two thousand strong), was massed for a tremendous attack on the enemy's right. At one P. M., we moved rapidly forward and became at once engaged; our regiment was in the front line, supported on the left by the Twenty-seventh Indiana and on the right by the Third Wisconsin. We advanced about a half mile and then were stopped by a line of breastworks. Our skirmishers crawled to within a hundred yards of them, and our line formed close in the rear. We were hardly settled in position when the enemy massed quite a body of troops in our immediate front and advanced to the attack, with the evident intention of turning our left, which had become somewhat exposed; our regiment and the Twenty-seventh Indiana marched forward and met them with a cheer half way, and poured a terrible fire into their ranks, following it up with the “Virginia” style of shooting. The enemy seemed perfectly astonished, and fired wild and high; in less than half an hour, we had fairly whipped, with our two regiments, a rebel brigade of five regiments, killing and capturing large numbers of them; our right and left did equally well. Night came on and the fighting ceased. The next morning, on advancing, we found no enemy. Since then, by a series of marches, we have reached this place. Yesterday, we came up with the enemy and had a very lively skirmish; they left during the night. To-day we have been resting. The news from Virginia is grand, but the details terrible. So far, our losses in the regiment have been about thirty killed and wounded, no officers hurt. This is written in haste and with very little idea when it can be mailed.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 164-6