Diary of Private William S. White, October 16, 1862

If I am not mistaken, this is the anniversary of John Brown's celebrated crazy raid into Virginia, which cost the poor crazy fool his life. The writer of this being a member of the Richmond Howitzers at the time, participated in the scenes that followed that raid, and stood guard over his gallows the night before he was hung. Bob Ward and Lawyer W. F. Watson, he that sung the "Cruiskeen Lawn" so heartily, were his guardmates on that memorable night; and I remember right well, as we saw the shooting stars darting athwart the mid-night heavens, we thought them beacon lights calling together the Abolition rescuers. In memory of that day, and to gratify public opinion, McClellan has made another advance; but he is a very cautious General, and has none of the Napoleonic dash of Jackson about him, though he certainly is a good officer, notwithstanding his government does not and never will give him a hearty support. We have received sad news to-day; our two rifled-guns (Parrots) have been stationed at Charlestown some two or three weeks, on picket duty, and a week ago the Federals made a slight demonstration in their neighborhood, but were easily driven back. Today they returned with a much stronger force, and although our boys fought gallantly, yet we were driven back with some loss. Our Captain, B. H. Smith, Jr, was severely wounded in the foot. Our first Lieutenant, Henry C. Carter, was slightly wounded in the shoulder; had his cravat untied and split in half by a cannon shot. Private James E. Cassiday was mortally wounded, and Private R. Burley Brown killed. Captain Smith and Cassiday were left in Charlestown, and Burley Brown was buried there. Private L. W. Redd was left with Captain Smith, to take charge of him. About sundown my section was ordered to "hitch up, strike tents, and prepare to move," as the enemy were reported to be advancing. Our horses remained harnessed all night; it rained very hard the first part of the night, but, after midnight, cleared off.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 135-6

Diary of Private William S. White, October 17, 1862

Our horses remain "hitched up," and we are awaiting orders to move, whether to advance or fall back I know not-presume we will give the enemy battle if he advances.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 136

Diary of Private William S. White, October 21, 1862

Poor Cassiday has since died of his wounds; 'twas his first fight, and he behaved nobly. Captain Smith's foot has been amputated, and he is doing very well.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 136

Diary of Private William S. White, October 28, 1862

Broke camp at Bunker Hill and started on a march to some unknown point with Jackson's corps, to which we are now attached. Presume we will cross the Shenandoah and move towards Leesburg, as the main body of the Yankee army will very likely cross the Potomac near that place. It is evident that we will have to move somewhere nearer railroad communication, and we may possibly winter on the Rappahannock, though if the Yankees should move on Richmond either from the south side of the James or via the Peninsula, we will be compelled to fall back nearer our metropolis. Heaven forbid that another spring may find old Richmond so closely encompassed by her enemies as she was before the terrible battles of last June and July!

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 136-7

Diary of Private William S. White, October 29, 1862

We halted last night within four miles of Berryville, the county-seat of Clarke county. Having to go ahead of my regiment on business and missing our camping-ground, it being very dark and impossible to find it, I made a small camp by myself, taking good care to get in a cornfield, so that my horse would not suffer. The owner of the field happening to come up with me just as I was pulling the fence down, vowed he would shoot me if I did not go out immediately. I didn't go. 'Twas bitterly cold, and as my saddle blankets were the only bedclothes I had, why the cold mountain wind pinched me pretty sharply.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 137

Diary of Private William S. White, October 30, 1862

All quiet to-day; the Yankees are in pretty heavy force in Loudoun county, and we may have sharp work soon.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 137

Diary of Private William S. White, October 31, 1862

We are camped on a Dr. Blackburn's farm, and, strange to say, ten years ago I saw this Dr. Blackburn's son, a student at the Virginia Military Institute, killed by a law student named Christian, at Lexington, Virginia. It created great excitement in Lexington at the time, for Blackburn was killed under the very shadow of the Presbyterian church whilst the services were being held.

'Twas my good fortune last night to be on guard at the house of a good old Southern rebel, and he amply repaid us with a splendid supper and breakfast.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 137

Diary of Private William S. White, November 1, 1862

Was on guard again last night at the same house. After supper we called up our singing crowd and amused the ladies an hour or so with our camp songs. We have a rara avis in our regiment—he has traveled nearly all over the world, speaks five or six different languages, is highly educated, of high family, a gentleman of culture and refinement, sings everything that has been written, and would be a valuable addition to our crowd—but he is the dirtiest biped this side of the river Styx, and he scratches so frequently and so vehemently that people give him a wide berth.

In the morning, when we returned to camp, we found everything in preparation for the continuation of our march, and soon we were on the road for the Shenandoah, where we expect to remain a day or so.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 137-8

Diary of Private William S. White, Sunday, November 2, 1862

Reached Berry's Ferry to-day (last night) and camped in a fine grove. This ferry is on the Shenandoah River and is ten miles from Winchester. Attended church to-day at Millwood, a small village about two miles from the ferry. This is the F. F. V. country, and one is pretty soon made acquainted with the fact. The church (Episcopal) is a neat, pretty edifice, built somewhat in a Gothic style, and the congregation reminded me more of a city assemblage than any I ever saw in a small country village. The ladies, with their neat dresses and pretty bonnets, presented an appearance truly refreshing to the soldier so long absent from the civilized world.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 138

Diary of Private William S. White, November 4, 1862

D. H. Hill's division is on the east side of the Shenandoah. We cannot find out exactly what has become of it, as it has moved some distance from the ferry. Every few moments the sullen boom of a cannon comes over the Blue Ridge, and we are impatient to know its meaning. The Yankees are pretty thick at Ashby's Gap, just across from the ferry. We fired at them once or twice, but they did not return it. A little after sundown we left Berry's Ferry, and marching through Millwood camped three miles beyond that village, seven miles from Winchester.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 138

Diary of Private William S. White, November 5, 1862

We passed last night the most magnificent estate I ever saw. It is called the "Tuilleries," and is owned by a Mr. Mitchell. Small-pox is getting a little too thick in this country, and I hope soon to leave it.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 138

Diary of Private William S. White, November 7, 1862

First snow of the season. Snow commenced falling this morning and continued with but little intermission during the day. Many of our men are without shoes and there is no way to procure them.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 138