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 Elvira J. Powers, Monday, April 25, 1864

The ambulance and driver were placed at my disposal this P.M., and I visited Hospital No. 1. I find changes here, but mostly for the better. Some have recovered sufficiently to be sent North. The "Alabamian," as he was called, who together with "William" was placed in my care, I am grieved to learn has "crossed the lines." He was getting better I was told, until one night he died suddenly of an ulcer on his lungs. William is dressed and walks around is surely getting well, and talking of going home. Has had a letter written to his father and received a reply. Seems very grateful. The German suffered no more pain from the amputation, and is hopeful. The Norwegian has no gangrene in his arm now, and it is fast healing.

I find two or three new cases of interest. One is a middle-aged man who is suffering greatly from ulcers caused by scurvy. It is thought that he cannot live long; and he tells me that he isn't ready to die that he has "been a bad man, that if the Lord will only spare him this time, he will live a different life." Another, a young man with fair skin, red cheeks and bright eyes, the victim of consumption, was moaning,

"Only to die at home with mother!"

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, p. 60

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, June 17, 1863

The siege is progressing slowly but surely. We are making gradual approaches and are now within one hundred feet of the enemy's works. The work is done by the men rolling in front of them a large gabion filled with earth so as to keep the rebel sharp-shooters from picking them off. They then dig a trench throwing the dirt up on both sides; at times men are killed; one of our men, a sergeant in Co. B, has just been brought in killed in the advance rifle pit. He was shot through the head and killed instantly. Such an occurrence makes the men careful but they soon grow careless again. The Rebs are throwing shells into our camp, pieces fall in close proximity to our quarters. Their sharp-shooters are constantly on the watch for a chance to pick us off. I was riding along the other day to see the works on our left and stopped for a moment, when a bullet struck at the feet of my horse's front legs and in a second more two or three others in close proximity. I changed my position. No one can form any idea of the extent of their works, reaching a distance of eighteen miles, completely encircling Vicksburg. Quite a number of our wounded men have died since they have left to go North. The severity of the wounds is proven by the fact that there were over fifty amputations of arms and legs in our brigade alone.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 18

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, July 23, 1864

Weather severely hot as it has been learned that a break by the prisoners is planned, and warns them for three weeks. A supply of sumach buds must have arrived and are given out freely to be steeped and drank for scurvy. A sergeant belonging to a work squad outside was shot by a guard, wounding him in the arm and hip and wounding another man, He took hold of the guard's gun. Some on parole get too intimate with Rebels; value principles less than extra rations. That such men have to be shot to remind them that they are dealing with traitors does not so much matter. While washing my shirt at the creek this afternoon the centry [sic] fired, the shot whizzing by my head as I stooped, striking in the bank and spattering mud in the faces of four of us. Lots of shooting has been done by guards for over a week and several men have been killed and wounded. Limbs are amputated at the hospital for slight injuries, The arm of one of our men hit by a sentry a few days ago was promptly sawed off. Another tunnel found; dogs are seeking a trail. New forts are plainly to be seen. Negroes work all night. Reported fighting at Atlanta and that some of our forces are expected at Macon.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 92-3

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, May 19, 1863

The different corps had only taken such positions yesterday as they could in the dark, but today troops were constantly being brought forward and assigned positions as best they could. Our regiment was still in the front. Skirmishing commenced early in the morning. Company E advancing. I had charge of the skirmishers. They drove the rebel pickets in and took an advanced position. They were not strong enough, and I went back to the regiment and brought forward Company K, Captain Reid. They were advancing over a hill, when Captain Reid was shot through the wrist. He was taken to the rear and had his arm amputated that day. He was a brave man and a surveyor by profession, and should he survive would miss his arm and hand terribly. Two companies from Logan's Division relieved us and we rejoined the regiment. General Ransom ordered me to reconnoiter and see if I could not find a way to join the brigade to Sherman's left without cutting through the cane brakes, which were as thick as they could grow. I never had such work in all my life, climbing up and down ravines, my horse at one time getting so tangled that I was afraid I would have to leave him—through cane, over and under fallen trees, guided by the sound of artillery, until I found the artillery, which to my agreeable surprise was Batteries A and B, Chicago Light Artillery. I stayed but a few moments and hastened to report to General Ransom. Bullets were flying thick, but I fortunately escaped being hit. I had found a good road and led the brigade to the position assigned us; got into position at once and ordered to charge at two p. m. Started forward up a steep hill and across an open field, when the Rebs opened on us, killing and wounding twenty of the regiment in five minutes—one shell took a file clean out of Company D, killing every man. We could not reply as they were behind entrenchments. We sought shelter in a ravine, leaving our dead on the field until night. At night we had a burial party, buried them, and a hundred men were detailed to throw up rifle pits along the brow of the hill we had crossed. All worked silently; the Rebs would oссаsionally open on us with artillery and musketry, but no harm was done.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 15

Diary of Elvira J. Powers: Saturday Evening, April 9, 1864

Last Wednesday Miss O. and myself visited Hospital No. 1, for the second time.

They were just robing one young boy in his soldier's suit of blue for the last time. He was then borne to the deadhouse. His name was Hickman Nutter, of the 31st Ohio. I secured the Post Office address of his people and that of several others who had died and had no message sent home. I passed the whole of the next day in writing soldiers' letters, and in my journal. My fortitude was sorely tried and really broke down after getting back, to find that in ward 1 alone from two to four boys are dying daily, while the Chaplain has not been in to speak to a single sick or dying boy for two weeks. Wards 2 and 3 have fared little if any better, as is the testimony of ward-masters and nurses. It is his duty also to write to the relatives of those who die, and common humanity would dictate that it be done, and every comforting message sent to them. I was told by the clerk, whose duty it was to collect the names for report in the public prints, that in no single instance had he known the Chaplain to attend to that duty. I was indignant and determined to report him, but was given to understand by more than one Christian minister, that the expression of indignation was considered a bad omen for my future success in hospitals.

"People here," said one, kindly in explanation, "must learn to see and hear of all manner of evil and wickedness going on around them, and be as though they saw and heard not."

Being by nature and birth an outspoken New Englander, and having inhaled freedom of speech from the breezes which blow from the hills of the "Old Bay State," I fancy it will not be very easy becoming initiated into this phase of military service.

We found several interesting cases on passing through wards 1, 2 and 3.

In the first, saw one man in a dying condition, who was brought the night before. He was lifted from the ambulance and brought in by two men, who immediately left without being questioned or saying anything about him. The attendants were busy and expected to find all needed information in the medical papers, which it is rulable and customary to send, but which were not to be found. No one had observed the ambulance or men sufficiently to identify either. The disease could not be determined. There were no wounds and the lungs were in a healthy condition, but he was dying and insensible. A letter was fortunately found in his pocket, from his wife, which gave his name, company and regiment, as being Henry Clymer, Co. K., 128th Indiana.

In passing through ward 2 we came to a handsome young man, who was looking so well compared with others that we were passing without speaking. But the nurse said to us:

"This man is blind!"

Could it be possible! His eyes to a casual observer were perfectly good, but upon a closer examination one saw that the pupil was greatly enlarged and the expression staring and vacant. Questions revealed the fact that he could see nothing except a faint light when looking towards the window. I asked the cause.

"Medicine, the Surgeon here says," was the reply. "I had chills and fever while at the front, and the physician gave me large quantities of quinine, which made me blind. I have the ague now, but the Doctor dare not give any more quinine. I have been blind two weeks."

"Doesn't the Surgeon think the medicine will leave your system, and that you may recover your sight?"

"Well, he doesn't speak very encouragingly says he doesn't know."

And we now see that although the eyes cannot do duty in one way they can in another, for they absolutely rain tears, as he tells us with quivering lips, that his wife does not know anything about it; that he is dreading to send her word by stranger hands, he cannot bear to think that may be he can never write again,—never see her or other friends in this world. He is yet young and life has looked so pleasant; he is a professing Christian, but finds it so hard to bear this affliction. And he sobs like a whipped child, as, kneeling by the head of his low bed, with hand upon his forehead, we listen to this recital and strive to comfort him. We tell him of others afflicted in the same way who have not passed a life of idleness in consequence, but of mental or physical activity. Of those who have risen superior even to this calamity, and in the battle of life have learned

"How sublime a thing it is

To suffer and grow strong."

He says our words have been a blessing, as we take his hand in a good-bye, and with a promise to break the news to his wife, as gently and hopefully as possible. [We do so subsequently and upon the last visit find that he has been gaining his sight so that he can distinguish forms, though not features. Again we stand by his vacant bed and learn that he with many others have been sent North to make room for more sufferers from the front. But he was still gaining his sight.]

In the same ward we find one slight young boy, who looks as if he ought to be at home with his mother, and we sincerely believe is crying because he isn't—though he'd be bayonetted sooner than own it. He draws his sleeve across his red eyes as we approach, and upon our questioning informs us that he is "almost seventeen," and furthermore that he is "nearly half a head taller and two pounds heavier than another boy in his regiment;" but confesses that he is "right tired a' laying this way day after day—fact is I'd a heap sight rather be at home if I could get to go there, for I enlisted to fight, not to be sick!" Now we ask him if he ever thought while lying there that he is suffering in the service of his country, and a quick flash of the eye, a smile and an emphatic "no," tell us that it is entirely a new thought. Then we beg him not to forget that he is, and assure him that it requires a much braver soldier to suffer day after day in a hospital than on the hardest battle-field, and we leave him with a look of heroic endurance on his childish brow.

Here is a good-faced German, who is moaning with pain from an amputation. It is twenty days since the operation, but he suffers terribly every few moments from a spasmodic contraction of the muscles. And we also find upon conversing, that the fact of the amputation hurts his feelings in more ways than one, and we must needs tell him to bear the pain like a good brave soldier, and that it will grow less and less each day, and really last but a few days more altogether, and that as to being without a limb he will not be the only one capable of exhibiting such a proof of the service rendered his country, that it is an honor rather than a disgrace to lose limbs while battling for the right; and now the hero's look of determination settles over his features also. But just as we turn to leave, he expresses his opinion that two or three more such "cookies" as we brought him the other day wouldn't hurt him, indeed,

"Dey was mosht as goot vot my moder used to make."

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 19-23

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, March 28, 1863

March 28, Evening.

Not yet off. Have worked enough for one day in getting our sick and wounded on the John Adams. Another steamer has arrived with additional instructions. It seems that each regiment is to return to its former camp. I suppose that this means that we are to protect the Islands while the advance is made on Charleston, if it means anything. The John Adams found the Gen. Meigs a long way up the river. They returned at noon with twelve rebel prisoners, who were caught while asleep at their station. The Lieutenant in command was permitted to say good-bye to his wife, and made his escape through the sobs and crinoline of his female friends. Colonel Montgomery admits a weak spot in his military nature. He could have shot the Lieut. while escaping, but would not do so in the presence of his wife.

Our men made a landing at Palatka and were fired into by the rebs. Lieut. Col. Billings received a ball through the fleshy margin of each hand while attempting to get off the steamer. Brave old John Quincy received one through the leg, a little above the ankle, fracturing the small bone and carrying away some of it. I shall not amputate. It seemed peculiarly trying for the old man. He had begged the privilege of going up for his wife and received a shot instead. I don't see quite how he will harmonize this double affliction with the theory he so often preaches to the men, that when one trusts in God and is not a coward, he will be protected against the bullets of his enemies. . . .

Tonight the Major and Capt. with twenty picked men, go up the river with muffled oars, to try to capture another lot of pickets. I fear they will not be successful. . . Thomas Long returned safely day before yesterday. He examined camp Finnegan, eight miles out, and went to the trestle four miles beyond, but finding it closely watched by pickets he did not attempt to burn it. I look at that man with a deep feeling of reverence.

My "Rebel" and I went, this afternoon, round the circuit of the pickets, forts, rifle pits and stockades for the last time. The pickets were playing euchre and fishing in the creek and enjoying themselves as only pickets can. I thought how much less the rebels troubled them than me. The truth is, the order to evacuate this town depresses me. I hate weak vacillation and this seems too much like the unsettled policy that all along has crippled the energy of our forces.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 382-3

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, March 31, 1863

March 31.

Our men are coming aboard again and we shall start for Fernandina this afternoon. Sending the men ashore was a great hit. Nearly all are in good condition. I was this morning obliged to amputate John Quincy's leg. His chances for life are only about one in three, owing to old age and impaired constitution. I am hard at work. Capt. B. treats me like a brother. I don't see how I could be better placed in this department.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 384

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, May 9, 1863

Camp near Moss Neck, Va.,        

May 9, 1863.

On Saturday morning (the 2d inst.) I received an order to ship the wounded to Richmond, store our medical supplies and follow the wagon train to Chancellorsville. I carried the chest of supplies to a large house, which Stonewall Jackson had for his headquarters, and was met at the door by a young lady who was whistling. She appeared to be quite aristocratic and was very courteous to us.

We started late in the afternoon, and I marched with the wagon train all night. It was carrying rations and did not stop once. Most of the road was through woods, but we could see well enough to march all night, and in some places there was mud, but no wagon stalled.

Just before daylight I saw a dead Yankee lying close to the right of the road. I did not know until then that there had been any fighting. I knew our command left that morning, but had heard no firing and knew nothing of what had taken place. Just as it was getting light the Yankees threw shells, which burst about the wagons, and the teamsters became excited and began whipping their horses and hurrying to get away; but a quartermaster at once commanded them to keep quiet and get away in good order, and the excitement ceased. The fighting then began just as soon as they could see.

I went on hunting for the field infirmary, and when I found it our wounded were coming back and a few had been brought back before I got there, and I at once went to work assisting in amputations, and continued at it all day and until late at night.

Jackson's men came in from the rear on Saturday night and drove the Yankees from their breastworks and occupied them that morning (Sunday, May 3). The Yankees came back early and tried to retake them, and I could hear them fighting furiously for several hours. We knew nothing of Stonewall Jackson's being shot the night before.

During the assault Colonel Edwards walked along on top of the works waving his sword to encourage his men, and was shot through the shoulder. When he was brought back I helped him out of the ambulance and expressed sympathy for him, which caused him to shed tears, but he said nothing. Colonel James Perrin was brought back shot through the body and in great agony, and General McGowan was struck below the knee while standing upon the works. I saw my brother once during the day bringing a wounded man back.

Captain McFall and Lieutenant Mike Bowers came back looking for stragglers, and found four young men who were known to be cowards, but who were always great braggarts after a battle was over. They all pretended to be sick, but I could see no indications of it, and they were marched off, but, before reaching the works, one of them slipped away, although the fighting had ended.

After all the wounded were attended to I was very tired and went to sleep late that night in a tent. I would wake up cold during the night and reach out for a jug of whiskey and take a swallow and go back to sleep again.

The next morning (Monday the 4th) we did nothing. Several handsome young Yankee surgeons in fine uniforms came over with a white flag, and I went to where they were attending to their wounded. While there I talked with a wounded man from Ohio, and saw one of our soldiers cut a forked limb from a tree and make a crutch for a Yankee who was wounded in the foot. The unfed horses of a Yankee cavalry regiment had been hitched to the trees near by and had gnawed off all the bark within their reach.

We stayed there for three days until the Yankees crossed back over the Rappahannock River, and then we marched back to Moss Neck in the daytime in peace and found our tents standing where we left them.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 50-3

Diary of Private Richard R. Hancock: Saturday, December 14, 1861

Captain Bledsoe's Company passed Mr. West's with thirty prisoners. They also took the three that we had been guarding since the 5th. Captain Bledsoe was instructed to take the prisoners to Gainesboro and send them by steamer to Nashville. Captain Wm. L. Horn, Company B, First Battalion, went to Nashville with these prisoners. His horse fell on him while in Nashville and broke his leg, which had to be amputated, and consequently he was not with us any more.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 97

Dr. Seth Rogers to his Daughter, Sunday Evening, January 18, 1863

January 18, Sunday evening.

Such a transparent day and cool north winds make even South Carolina endurable, while it lasts, I mean. When General Hunter gets here we expect to nullify the State. . . . In our camp most curious problems present themselves, as how to keep people from scurvy without vegetables and fresh meat; how to have a good fire in tents without a fireplace, stove or ventilation; how to make bread without yeast and without oven. How to treat the sick without medicines,—how to amputate limbs without knives, — all these and many other similarly knotty questions the surgeon of the First Regiment of S. C. Vol's. has to consider, — sometimes when he ought to be sleeping. This is not said complainingly. Our men rarely complain and those jeering white soldiers who saw their firm tread in the streets of Beaufort, yesterday, must have discovered a reason for their patience, this silent waiting.

There was a Destiny in the silent, dignified bearing of our men, yesterday. I never in my life, felt so proud, so strong, so large. . . . Hurrah! Hurrah! — the Quartermaster just in with despatch from signal officer announcing arrival of the Arago, and a gun boat at Hilton head, and General Hunter has come.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 345-6

Official Reports of the Campaign in North Alabama and Middle Tennessee, November 14, 1864 — January 23, 1865: No. 175. Report of Col. Jonathan B. Moore, Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry, commanding Third Division, of operations December 15-16 and December 20-31, 1864.

No. 175.

Report of Col. Jonathan B. Moore, Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry, commanding Third Division,

of operations December 15-16 and December 20-31, 1864.

HEADQUARTERS THIRD DIVISION,    

DETACHMENT ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE,

In the Field, December 22, 1864.

SIR: I have the honor to submit the following report of the part taken by the Third Division, Detachment Army of the Tennessee, in the battle of December 15 and 16, at Nashville, Tenn.:

At 8 a.m. of the 15th, by order of the major-general commanding, I placed the Forty-fourth Missouri Infantry in the trenches on the Charlotte pike, with the first section of the Fourteenth Indiana Battery, the Fortieth Missouri Infantry, with the second section of the Fourteenth Indiana Battery, in the works on the Hardin pike. I then moved out on the Hardin pike with three regiments of the First Brigade, Fourteenth and Thirty-third Wisconsin and Seventy-second Illinois, Col. L. M. Ward commanding; two regiments of the Second Brigade, Ninety-fifth and Eighty-first Illinois, Col. L. Blanden commanding, and Company A, Second Missouri Light Artillery, of six guns, First Lieut. J. Zepp commanding. I formed these brigades in column by regiments, and moved forward as reserve and to support the First and Second Divisions, which were both advancing in line upon the enemy's works. At 1 p.m., by order of the major-general commanding, I ordered Col. L. M. Ward, with his brigade, to the right to support General McArthur, who, with his division, was then charging one of the enemy's forts. At about 4 p.m. Colonel Ward reported back to me, and I immediately moved my entire command forward in line, and filled up a large gap in McArthur's lines between Hubbard's and Hill's brigades, caused by Hill's brigade moving to the left. In my front I found the enemy strongly posted behind a stone fence on the Hillsborough pike, but unable or unwilling to stand for a moment against our advancing lines. In this charge my command captured between 200 and 300 prisoners and 3 pieces of artillery. Night found my entire command on the front line, driving the enemy, and about one mile beyond the Hillsborough pike, my battery, six guns, playing upon their retreating and broken ranks. Darkness put a stop to the battle. My command lay upon their arms upon their line, which I judged to be in the center, and between the First and Second Divisions, until 4 a.m. of the 16th, when, by order of the major-general commanding, I moved back to the Hillsborough pike, and to the right upon it about one mile and a half upon our extreme right to support General Cox's division, of the Twenty-third Corps. Here I remained during the day guarding the right flank.

The First Brigade had wounded: Private Lyman Fairclo, Company C, Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry, gunshot wound in leg, slight; Private John R. Edwards, Company F, Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry, gunshot wound in head, slight; Private George Welch, Company F, Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry, gunshot wound in foot, slight. The Second Brigade had wounded: Sergeant Kennedy, Company A, Ninety-fifth Illinois Volunteers, cannon shot, compelling amputation of the thigh. Company A, Second Missouri Light Artillery, lost, killed by a shell, Private Simon Okley. None missing from my command. I can only account for the small loss in my command as one of the rebel prisoners did. Said he: “How could we fight? You got on our end” (i.e., flank). Company A, of the Thirty-third Wisconsin, broke through their line and charged them down their flank, perfectly enfilading their line at the stone fence.

All the regiments of my command behaved splendidly. In the charge on the Hillsborough pike all moved in line as on parade.

Col. L. M. Ward, of the Fourteenth Wisconsin, commanding First Brigade, and Col. L. Blanden, of the Ninety-fifth Illinois, commanding Second Brigade, both deserve especial notice; each handled his brigade with skill and judgment. I desire also to mention favorably the following members of my staff: Capt. J. H. Wetmore, Ninety-fifth Illinois Infantry, acting assistant adjutant-general; Capt. H. M. Bush, Ninety-fifth Illinois Infantry, aide-de-camp and picket officer; Capt. W. L. Scott, Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry, acting assistant inspector-general; First Lieut. William McNeil, Eighty-first Illinois, ordnance officer; and Maj. L. Dyer, Eighty-first Illinois Infantry, surgeon-in-chief. Each of these officers were at all times during the two days' battle at their proper places, doing their duty bravely, gallantly.

For further particulars I refer you to the reports of my brigade commanders, which are herewith respectfully forwarded.

J. B. MOORE,                       

Colonel Thirty-third Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry,

Comdg. Third Division, Detachment Army of the Tennessee.

 Maj. J. HOUGH,

Assistant Adjutant-General, Detach. Army of the Tennessee.

ADDENDA.

Movements and operations of Third Division, Detachment Army of the Tennessee, from the 20th to the 31st of December, 1864.

December 21, in camp near Spring Hill, Tenn., were ordered to move at dark; moved out of camp, but received orders to countermarch and return to camp. December 22, marched to Duck River, and camped near river-bank. December 23, in camp near Duck River; at night, in pursuance to orders from major-general commanding corps, the Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry Volunteers and the Seventy-second Illinois were ordered to proceed, under command of Lieut. Col. F. S. Lovell, to Columbia and take possession of the town and do provost duty and prevent marauding and pillaging. In compliance with said order Colonel Lovell moved to Columbia, took possession of the town and established an efficient provost guard, effectually preventing all irregularities. December 24, marched the infantry of the command across Duck River at 1.30 p.m.; the artillery and train were unable to cross on account of the Fourth Corps train occupying the bridge. The infantry marched four miles and a half from Columbia on the Pulaski pike, and went into camp. The regiments on duty at Columbia were relieved at 4 p.m. by a brigade of the Twenty-third Corps and immediately moved to rejoin the division. December 25, in camp all day awaiting the arrival of batteries and supply train. December 26, moved at 9 a.m.; after marching five miles, the Seventy-second Illinois Infantry, in compliance to orders received from the major-general commanding corps, were sent back to report to Captain Drew, assistant quartermaster, at Columbia. December 27, moved at 9 a.m., and camped at night near Pulaski. December 28, Seventy-second Illinois rejoined division to-day; battery and train came up; division did not move to-day. December 29, moved at 9 a.m.; marched about eight miles; camped six miles west of Pulaski. December 30, moved at 7 a.m.; passed through Lawrenceburg at 1.30 p.m.; camped at sundown five miles west of Lawrenceburg. December 31, marched at 8 a.m.; marched ten miles, and camped at 1.30 p.m.

The march for the whole ten days was very disagreeable and arduous, the weather being very inclement, and despite much suffering caused by shoes being worn out and the necessary exposure of a campaign at this season of the year, the sanitary condition of the division is very good.

Very respectfully submitted.

WM. L. SCOTT,        

Captain and Acting Assistant Inspector-General,

Third Division, Detachment Army of the Tenn.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 45, Part 1 (Serial No. 93), p. 499-501

Official Reports of the Campaign in North Alabama and Middle Tennessee, November 14, 1864 — January 23, 1865: No. 166. Report of Lieut. Col. Gustavus A. Eberhart, Thirty-second Iowa Infantry, of operations December 15-16, 1864.

No. 166.

Report of Lieut. Col. Gustavus A. Eberhart, Thirty-second Iowa Infantry,

of operations December 15-16, 1864.

HEADQUARTERS THIRTY-SECOND IOWA INFANTRY,                  

In the Field, December 21, 1864.

LIEUTENANT: Of the part taken by the Thirty-second Iowa Infantry in the battle of the 15th and 16th instant, I have the honor to report as follows:

At 6 a.m. on the 15th, in obedience to orders from brigade headquarters, I formed the regiment on the right of the brigade, with my left resting on the Fifty-eighth Illinois Infantry. The regiment advanced in line of battle for more than a mile, slowly wheeling to the left, conforming to the movement of the line on our right. From 11 a.m. until 4 p.m. we lay under artillery fire from a battery 1,000 yards in our front. When the works were carried by the forces in front we moved forward about one mile and a half, when we were ordered to go into camp for the night. The regiment was not brought into close action, and suffered no loss.

On the morning of the 16th we were again on the right of the brigade, our right resting on the left of the First Division. The advance was ordered about 7 a.m., the line wheeling to the right to confront the enemy's works. When within about 1,200 yards we came in full view of the enemy, drawing upon us a brisk fire from their battery, under which the men moved forward with commendable coolness. The First Division contracting in order to form two lines we were thrown by the flank to the right about half a mile. At this point we lay under fire of the enemy's artillery for about five hours. At 3.30 p.m. the right of the First Division carried the left of the enemy's works; we then moved forward at a double-quick over an open field, under a severe fire from artillery and musketry, and in a few minutes gained the intrenchments, capturing about 50 prisoners and 5 pieces of artillery. Some of the artillerists were killed as they were leaving the guns. Private William May, of Company H, dashed forward and captured the battery guidon. The regiment moved forward in pursuit, gathering a few prisoners, until we reached the base of the mountain, when we received orders to halt. At dark, the battle being over, we were ordered into camp near the mountain.

Too much cannot be said in praise of the conduct of the officers and men under the heavy fire during the charge; every one moved forward with a determination to carry the works.

Where all behaved so creditably it is a delicate matter to make particular mention of persons, but I presume no exceptions will be taken when I speak of Lieut. W. L. Carpenter, acting regimental adjutant, who was, as usual, conspicuous for his brave and gallant conduct in the action, and was among the first over the rebel works. Also, Capt. Theodore De Tar, commanding Company D, who, after pursuing the enemy to the mountain, was wounded in the right ankle, making an amputation necessary. This will cause the loss to the regiment of an officer who has always been esteemed for his excellent qualities as an officer and a gentleman. First Sergt. Daniel W. Albaugh, Company C, who was killed almost instantly by a minie-ball, was one of our best non-commissioned officers, and was much loved by his company as an officer and comrade. They mourn his loss deeply. My thanks are due Maj. Jonathan Hutchison for his assistance during the action.

I cannot refrain from mentioning Color-Sergt. A. J. Ellis, of Company G, who carried the standard. Although once thrown to the ground by a glancing shot he refused to give the standard to any one else, but made his way forward and was one of the first over the works. Corporal Bell, of Company G, who bore the regimental colors, was noticed for his bravery in action.

I send herewith a list of casualties* in the regiment, which is light, only because the artillery was aimed too high, and the infantry intimidated by our rapid firing as we advanced.

Very respectfully, sir, your obedient servant,

G. A. EBERHART,               

Lieutenant-Colonel, Commanding Regiment.

Lieut. W. G. DONNAN,

Acting Assistant Adjutant-General.

_______________

* Embodied in table, p. 101.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 45, Part 1 (Serial No. 93), p. 486-7

Official Reports of the Campaign in North Alabama and Middle Tennessee, November 14, 1864 — January 23, 1865: No. 150. Report of Maj. Modesta J. Green, Eleventh Missouri Infantry, of operations December 15-16, 1864.

No. 150.

Report of Maj. Modesta J. Green, Eleventh Missouri Infantry,

of operations December 15-16, 1864.

HDQRS. ELEVENTH MISSOURI VETERAN INFANTRY,      

In the Field, December 21, 1864.

SIR: I have the honor to make the following report of the part taken by the Eleventh Missouri Veteran Infantry in the late battles near Nashville, Tenn.:

On the morning of December 15 the regiment, with the brigade, left camp near Nashville, and made a reconnaissance to the right and front, skirmishing with the enemy on the Charlotte pike, then passed to the left, taking position in line of battle in front of our former position. From here we advanced in support of Captain Reed's (Second Iowa) battery until the order was received to charge the rebel fort. The charge was made in handsome style. Company E, commanded by Captain Notestine, being in the advance, in line of skirmishers, were the first to enter the fort. (Captain Notestine was afterward badly wounded and had a leg amputated.) The regiment continued to advance until the second fort was taken by the cavalry and other troops on the right. Here we were allowed to rest a few moments, when we again moved forward. After advancing a short distance we came upon the enemy in line of battle on a hill; here another charge was made, in which the rebels were completely routed, and driven in perfect confusion a distance of three-quarters of a mile, officers and men behaving most gallantly, capturing many prisoners. Night coming on we were ordered to halt and remained in line of battle during the night, throwing up temporary earth-works.

The order to advance was given at an early hour on the morning of the 16th, and the regiment, together with the brigade to which it belongs, advanced in line of battle across an open field, but soon discovered that the enemy were strongly posted on the opposite side of the field behind formidable breast-works. After advancing about a half a mile under a heavy fire from the rebel skirmishers and sharpshooters, we came within range of the enemy's fire from their line of works and were ordered to halt and remain in line of battle. After remaining here a short time the regiment was ordered to change its position and form in rear of the Fifth Minnesota. In making this move the regiment lost several men killed and wounded, being exposed to a severe fire from the entire rebel front. It was in making this move that our gallant leader, Lieutenant-Colonel Bowyer, received a severe wound in the arm while directing the movements of the regiment. We remained in this position until about 3 p.m., when the order was given to charge the rebel works. The order was no sooner given than the regiment started at a double-quick, charging through the open field for a distance of about 600 yards, under a most galling fire from the enemy. On reaching the works many prisoners were captured in the trenches, and many others either shot or captured while attempting to escape. A rebel battery of four guns was also captured here by the brigade, for which the Eleventh Missouri would respectfully claim, with the gallant brigade commander, its share of the honor. Two rebel flags were also captured by the regiment, one by Lieutenant Simmons* and the other by Corporal Parks,* color guard. In making the charge the colors of the regiment were three times shot down, having one color-bearer killed and two wounded. The flag-staff was shot into three pieces by a rebel shell. After the enemy were driven from their works we continued in pursuit for a distance of about one mile, driving them in the wildest confusion and capturing many prisoners, when we were ordered by the brigade commander to halt and join the brigade, which was forming a short distance in the rear. Here we remained until the morning of the 17th, when it was ascertained that the enemy were retreating, and we were ordered, with other troops, to follow in the pursuit.

The losses in the regiment in the two days' fighting are 4 men killed and 83 wounded, including 10 commissioned officers.

During the fight every officer and man behaved with commendable coolness and bravery. No especial mention can be made of individual acts of courage or bravery, as every officer and man behaved in the most praiseworthy manner.

M. J. GREEN,                       

Major, Commanding Regiment.

 Lieut. T. P. GERE,

Acting Assistant Adjutant General.

_______________

ADDENDA.

HDQRS. ELEVENTH MISSOURI VETERAN INFANTRY,      

 Eastport, Miss., January 20, 1865.

Maj. J. HOUGH,

Assistant Adjutant-General, Detach. Army of the Tennessee:

SIR: I have the honor to respectfully submit the following statement in regard to the rebel flag captured by Lieut. William T. Simmons,* Eleventh Missouri Infantry, at the battle near Nashville, Tenn., December 16, 1864:

The flag belonged to the Thirty-fourth Alabama Infantry, and was being borne off by the rebel color-bearer at the time our forces entered the rebel intrenchments. He was ordered by Lieutenant Simmons to halt and surrender; refusing to do so, he was told he would be shot if he did riot, when he surrendered the flag to the above-named officer.

I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

M. J. GREEN,                       

Major, Commanding Eleventh Missouri Infantry.

_______________

HDQRS. ELEVENTH MISSOURI VETERAN INFANTRY,      

Eastport, Miss., January 21, 1865.

 Maj. J. HOUGH,

Assistant Adjutant-General, Detach. Army of the Tennessee:

SIR: I have the honor to respectfully submit the following statement in regard to the rebel flag captured by Private G. W. Welch,* Company A, Eleventh Missouri Infantry, in the battle near Nashville, Tenn., December 16, 1864:

The flag was being borne off the field as the enemy were retreating from their works, when the rebel color-bearer was struck by a shot from our lines, and the colors captured by the above-named man. It is not known to what regiment they belonged.

I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

M. J. GREEN,                       

Major, Commanding Eleventh Missouri Infantry.

_______________

HDQRS. ELEVENTH MISSOURI VETERAN INFANTRY,      

Eastport, Miss., January 21, 1865.

 Maj. J. HOUGH,

Assistant Adjutant-General, Detach. Army of the Tennessee:

SIR: I have the honor to respectfully submit the following statement in regard to the rebel flag captured by Private James W. Parks,* Company F, Eleventh Missouri Infantry, at the battle near Nashville, Tenn., December 16, 1864:

The flag was captured in the enemy's line of intrenchments. The rebel color-bearer having been wounded by a shot from our lines, the colors were captured by the above-named soldier. It is not known to what regiment the flag belonged.

I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

M. J. GREEN,                       

Major, Commanding Eleventh Missouri Infantry.

_______________

* Awarded the Medal of Honor.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 45, Part 1 (Serial No. 93), p. 454-6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 3, 1862

We lament the fall of Ewell — not killed, but his leg has been amputated. The enemy themselves report the loss, in killed and wounded, of eight generals! And Lee says, up to the time of writing, he had paroled 7000 prisoners, taken 10,000 stand of small arms, 50 odd cannon, and immense stores!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 151

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 3, 1862

Our wounded are now coming in fast, under the direction of the Ambulance Committee. I give passports to no one not having legitimate business on the field to pass the pickets of the army. There is no pilfering on this field of battle; no “Plug Ugly” detectives stripping dead colonels, and, Falstaff like, claiming to be made “either Earl or Duke” for killing them.

So great is the demand for vehicles that the brother of a North Carolina major, reported mortally wounded, paid $100 for a hack to bring his brother into the city. He returned with him a few hours after, and, fortunately, found him to be not even dangerously wounded.

I suffer no physicians not belonging to the army to go upon the battle-field without taking amputating instruments with them, and no private vehicle without binding the drivers to bring in two or more of the wounded.

There are fifty hospitals in the city, fast filling with the sick and wounded. I have seen men in my office and walking in the streets, whose arms have been amputated within the last three days. The realization of a great victory seems to give them strength.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 140-1

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: October 28, 1864

Very much interested lately in the hospitals; not only in our own, “the Robertson hospital,” but in Mr. –––’s, the officers’ hospital.”

He has just told me of a case which has interested me deeply. An officer from the far South was brought in mortally wounded. He had lost both legs in a fight below Petersburg. The poor fellow suffered excessively; could not be still a moment; and was evidently near his end. His brother, who was with him, exhibited the bitterest grief, watching and waiting on him with silent tenderness and flowing tears. Mr. ––– was glad to find that he was not unprepared to die. He had been a professor of religion for some years, and told him that he was suffering too much to think on that or any other subject, but he constantly tried to look to God for mercy. Mr. ––– then recognized him, for the first time, as a patient who had been in the hospital last spring, and whose admirable character had then much impressed him. He was a gallant and brave officer, yet so kind and gentle to those under his control that his men were deeply attached to him, and the soldier who nursed him showed his love by his anxious care of his beloved captain. After saying to him a few words about Christ and his free salvation, offering up a fervent prayer in which he seemed to join, and watching the sad scene for a short time, Mr. ––– left him for the night. The surgeons apprehended that he would die before morning, and so it turned out; at the chaplain's early call there was nothing in his room but the chilling signal of the empty “hospital bunk.” He was buried that day, and we trust will be found among the redeemed in the day of the Lord. This, it was thought, would be the last of this good man; but in the dead of night came hurriedly a single carriage to the gate of the hospital. A lone woman, tall, straight, and dressed in deep mourning, got quickly out, and moved rapidly up the steps into the large hall, where, meeting the guard, she asked anxiously, “Where's Captain T.?” Taken by surprise, the man answered hesitatingly, “Captain T. is dead, madam, and was buried to-day.” This terrible announcement was as a thunderbolt at the very feet of the poor lady, who fell to the floor as one dead. Starting up, oh, how she made that immense building ring with her bitter lamentations! Worn down with apprehension and weary with travelling over a thousand miles by day and night, without stopping for a moment's rest, and wild with grief, she could hear no voice of sympathy — she regarded not the presence of one or many; she told the story of her married life, as if she were alone — how her husband was the best man that ever lived; how everybody loved him; how kind he was to all; how devoted to herself; how he loved his children, took care of, and did every thing for them; how, from her earliest years almost, she had loved him as herself; how tender he was of her, watching over her in sickness, never seeming to weary of it, never to be unwilling to make any sacrifice for her comfort and happiness; how that, when the telegraph brought the dreadful news that he was dangerously wounded, she never waited an instant nor stopped a moment by the way, day nor night, and now “I drove as fast as the horses could come from the depot to this place, and he is dead and buried! — I never shall see his face again!” “What shall I do?” — “But where is he buried?” They told her where. “I must go there; he must be taken up; I must see him!” “But, madam, you can't see him; he has been buried some hours.” “But I must see him; I can't live without seeing him; I must hire some one to go and take him up; can't you get some one to take him up? I'll pay him well ; just get some men to takt him up. I must take him home; he must go home with me. The last thing I said to his children was, that they must be good children, and I would bring their father home, and they are waiting for him now! He must go; I can't go without him; I can't meet his children without him!” and so, with her woman's heart, she could not be turned aside — nothing could alter her purpose. The next day she had his body taken up and embalmed. She watched by it until every thing was ready, and then carried him back to his own house and his children, only to seek a grave for the dead father close by those he loved, among kindred and friends in the fair sunny land he died to defend. Many painfully interesting scenes occur, which I would like so much to write in my diary, but time fails me at night, and my hours of daylight are very closely occupied.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 311-4

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: June 11, 1864

Just heard from W. and S. H. Both places in ruins, except the dwelling-houses. Large portions of the Federal army were on them for eight days. S. H. was used as a hospital for the wounded brought from the battle-fields; this protected the house. At W. several generals had their head-quarters in the grounds near the house, which, of course, protected it. General Warren had his tent in the “shrubbery'”, for two days, General Burnside for a day or two, and those of lesser rank were there from time to time. General Grant was encamped at S. H. for a time. Dr. B. was at home, with several Confederate wounded from the battle of “Haw's Shop” in the house. Being absent a mile or two from home when they arrived, they so quickly threw out pickets, spread their tents over the surrounding fields and hills, that he could not return to his house, where his wife and only child were alone, until he had obtained a pass from a Yankee officer. As he approached the house, thousands and tens of thousands of horses and cattle were roaming over the fine wheat fields on his and the adjoining estate, (that of his niece, Mrs. N.,) which were now ripe for the sickle. The clover fields and fields of young corn were sharing the same fate. He found his front porch filled with officers. They asked him of his sentiments with regard to the war. He told them frankly that he was an original Secessionist, and ardently hoped to see the North and South separate and distinct nations now and forever. One of them replied that he “honoured his candour,” and from that moment he was treated with great courtesy. After some difficulty he was allowed to keep his wounded Confederates, and in one or two instances the Federal surgeons assisted him in dressing their wounds. At S. H. the parlour was used for an amputating room, and Yankee blood streamed through that beautiful apartment and the adjoining passage. Poor M. had her stricken heart sorely lacerated in every way, particularly when her little son came running in and nestled up to her in alarm. A soldier had asked him, “Are you the son of Captain Newton, who was killed in Culpeper?” “Yes,” replied the child. “Well, I belong to the Eighth Illinois, and was one of the soldiers that fired at him when he fell,” was the barbarous reply.

On these highly cultivated plantations not a fence is left, except mutilated garden enclosures. The fields were as free from vegetation after a few days as the Arabian desert; the very roots seemed eradicated from the earth. A fortification stretched across W., in which were embedded the fence rails of that and the adjoining farms. Ten thousand cavalry were drawn up in line of battle for two days on the two plantations, expecting the approach of the Confederates; bands of music were constantly playing martial airs in all parts of the premises; and whiskey flowed freely. The poor servants could not resist these intoxicating influences, particularly as Abolition preachers were constantly collecting immense crowds, preaching to them the cruelty of the servitude which had been so long imposed upon them, and that Abraham Lincoln was the Moses sent by God to deliver them from the “land of Egypt and the house of bondage,” and to lead them to the promised land. After the eight days were accomplished, the army moved off, leaving not a quadruped, except two pigs, which had ensconced themselves under the ruins of a servant's house, and perhaps a dog to one plantation; to the other, by some miraculous oversight, two cows and a few pigs were left. Not a wheeled vehicle of any kind was to be found; all the grain, flour, meat, and other supplies were swept off, except the few things hid in those wonderful places which could not be fathomed even by the “Grand Army.” Scarcely a representative of the sons and daughters of Africa remained in that whole section of country; they had all gone to Canaan, by way of York River, Chesapeake Bay, and the Potomac — not dry-shod, for the waters were not rolled back at the presence of these modern Israelites, but in vessels crowded to suffocation in this excessively warm weather. They have gone to homeless poverty, an unfriendly climate, and hard work; many of them to die without sympathy, for the invalid, the decrepit, and the infant of days have left their houses, beds, and many comforts, the homes of their birth, the masters and mistresses who regarded them not so much as property as humble friends and members of their families. Poor, deluded creatures! I am grieved not so much on account of the loss of their services, though that it excessively inconvenient and annoying, but for their grievous disappointment. Those who have trades, or who are brought up as lady's maids or house servants, may do well, but woe to the masses who have gone with the blissful hope of idleness and free supplies! We have lost several who were great comforts to us, and others who were sources of care, responsibility, and great expense. These particulars from W. and S. H. I have from our nephew, J. P., who is now a scout for General W. H. F. Lee. He called by to rest a few hours at his uncle's house, and says he would scarcely have known the barren wilderness. – The Northern officers seemed disposed to be courteous to the ladies, in the little intercourse which they had with them. General Ferrara, who commanded the negro troops, was humane, in having a coffin made for a young Confederate officer who died in Dr B's house, and was kind in other respects. The surgeons, too, assisted in attending to the Confederate wounded. An officer one morning sent for Mrs. N. to ask her where he should place a box of French china for safety; he said that some soldiers had discovered it buried in her garden, dug it up and opened it, but he had come up at this crisis an l had placed a guard over it, and desired to know where she wished it put. A place of safety of course was not on the premises, but she had it taken to her chamber. She thanked him for his kindness. He seemed moved, and said, “Mrs. N., I will do what I can for you, for I cannot be too thankful that my wife is not in an invaded country.” She then asked him how he could, with his feelings, come to the South. He replied that he was in the regular army, and was obliged to come. Many little acts of kindness were done at both houses, which were received in the spirit in which they were extended. Per contra: On one occasion Miss D., a young relative of Mrs. N's, was in one of the tents set aside for the Confederate wounded, writing a letter from a dying soldier to his friends at home. She was interrupted by a young Yankee surgeon, to whom she was a perfect stranger, putting his head in and remarking pertly, “Ah, Miss Maria Dabney, are you writing? Have you friends in Richmond! I shall be there in a few days, and will with pleasure take your communications.” She looked up calmly into his face, and replied, “Thank you; I have no friends in the Libby!” It was heard by his comrades on the outside of the tent, and Shouts and peals of laughter resounded at the expense of the discomfited surgeon. The ladies frequently afterwards heard him bored with the question “Doctor, when do you go to the Libby?”

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 276-80

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Sunday, January 1, 1864

A melancholy pause in my diary. After returning from church on the night of the 13th, a telegram was handed me from Professor Minor, of the University of Virginia, saying, “Come at once, Colonel Colston is extremely ill.” After the first shock was over, I wrote an explanatory note to Major Brewer, why I could not be at the office next day, packed my trunk, and was in the cars by seven in the morning. That evening I reached the University, and found dear R. desperately ill with pneumonia, which so often follows, as in the case of General Jackson, the amputation of limbs. Surgeons Davis and Cabell were in attendance, and R's uncle, Dr. Brockenbrough, arrived the next day. After ten days of watching and nursing, amid alternate hopes and fears, we saw our friend Dr. Maupin close our darling's eyes, on the morning of the 23d; and on Christmas-day a military escort laid him among many brother soldiers in the Cemetery of the University of Virginia. He died in the faith of Christ, and with the glorious hope of immortality. His poor mother is heart-stricken, but she, together with his sisters, and one dearer still, had the blessed, and what is now the rare privilege, of soothing and nursing him in his last hours. To them, and to us all, his life seemed as a part of our own. His superior judgment and affectionate temper made him the guide of his whole family. To them his loss can never be supplied. His country has lost one of its earliest and best soldiers. Having been educated at the Virginia Military Institute, he raised and drilled a company in his native County of Berkeley, at the time of the John Brown raid. In 1861 he again led that company to Harper's Ferry. From that time he was never absent more than a week or ten days from his command, and even when wounded at Gaines's Mills, he absented himself but three days, and was again at his post during the several last days of those desperate fights. His fatal wound was received in his nineteenth general engagement, in none of which had he his superior in bravery and devotion to the cause. He was proud of belonging to the glorious Stonewall Brigade, and I have been told by those who knew the circumstances, that he was confided in and trusted by General Jackson to a remarkable degree.

Thus we bury, one by one, the dearest, the brightest, the best of our domestic circles. Now, in our excitement, while we are scattered, and many of us homeless, these separations are poignant, nay, overwhelming; but how can we estimate the sadness of heart which will pervade the South when the war is over, and we are again gathered together around our family hearths and altars, and find the circles broken? One and another gone. Sometimes the father and husband, the beloved head of the household, in whom was centred all that made life dear. Again the eldest son and brother of the widowed home, to whom all looked for guidance and direction; or, perhaps, that bright youth, on whom we had not ceased to look as still a child, whose fair, beardless cheek we had but now been in the habit of smoothing with our hands in fondness—one to whom mother and sisters would always give the good-night kiss, as his peculiar due, and repress the sigh that would arise at the thought that college or business days had almost come to take him from us. And then we will remember the mixed feeling of hope and pride when we first saw this household pet don his jacket of gray and shoulder his musket for the field; how we would be bright and cheerful before him, and turn to our chambers to weep oceans of tears when he is fairly gone. And does he, too, sleep his last sleep? Does our precious one fill a hero's grave? 0 God! help us, for the wail is in the whole land!" Rachel weeping for her children, and will not be comforted, because they are not." In all the broad South there will be scarcely a fold without its missing lamb, a fireside without its vacant chair. And yet we must go on. It is our duty to rid our land of invaders; we must destroy the snake which is endeavouring to entwine us in its coils, though it drain our heart's blood. We know that we are right in the sight of God, and that we must

“With patient mind our course of duty run.

God nothing does, or suffers to be done,

But we would do ourselves, if we could see

The end of all events as well as He."

The Lord reigneth, be the earth never so unquiet.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 248-50

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: December 4, 1863

On Friday last there was a severe fight on the Rapidan, at Germanna Ford. The enemy were splendidly repulsed; but my dear Raleigh T. Colston, Lieutenant-Colonel of the Second Regiment, was shot through his left leg, which was amputated on the field. I thank God that he is doing well, and feel so thankful that his life was spared! His mother was in Powhatan, on a visit to one of her daughters; but, becoming uneasy at seeing that General Edward Johnson's Division had been engaged, immediately came to Richmond. The cars arrived at night, and she came directly to our rooms. We were surprised to see her, and I, supposing that she had heard of her son's misfortune, was about to say what I could to relieve her mind, when she exclaimed, “I know that my sons are safe, from your countenance.” “Yes,” said I; “W. is safe, and R. is doing well; he was wounded in his leg.” “Severely?” she asked. “His left leg has been amputated below the knee; he is at the University, under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Minor and his sisters, and is doing remarkably well. Colonel Ruffin received a telegram to-day, and I a letter.” She passed her hand across her eyes for a minute, and said, “Thank God, his life is spared!” Next morning she left us for the University.

General Bragg has met with a repulse in the South-west, and was pursued; but, being reinforced, has again attacked the enemy and repulsed them. This occurred in the Northwestern part of Georgia. The papers say that the enemy under General Grant has retreated towards Chattanooga. Longstreet, when last heard from, was at Knoxville. Meade, on the Rapidan, after having been in line of battle for several days, has fallen back, finding that General Lee was ready to meet him.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 245-6