Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, September 3, 1862

Ox Hill, Va.,        

September 3, 1862.

I was in the battle at Manassas and made several very narrow escapes. I had to go on the field there, although it was Dr. Kilgore's place to go, and not mine, but he was afraid to go. On Monday (September 1) at this place I came very near being killed; for a bombshell barely did miss me and burst right at me. I stood the late terrible march surprisingly well, but I have learned what hunger and hardships are. I would often lie down at night on the bare ground without a blanket or anything else to cover with and would wonder what my dear wife would think if she could see me lying there. We have had some dreadful sufferings, especially on these forced marches. The fatigue and the pangs of hunger were fearful.

We marched fast all day Monday and all day Tuesday (August 25 and 26) and until late Tuesday night, when we bivouacked in a field of tall grass near Bristow Station. Bob Land spread his wet horse blanket on a bare spot, and we lay on it and covered with his blanket and went to sleep without supper. The country was a waste, and I heard no sound of a chicken, cow or dog during the night.

The next morning (Wednesday) we got up before day and marched fast to Manassas Junction, and almost kept up with the cavalry. We found sutlers' stores and trainloads of flour and meat, and we captured a few prisoners. I went into a sutler's tent and got three days' rations of ham, crackers and salt. Before noon we started towards Washington, and after marching three or four miles we marched back to Manassas Junction again late that afternoon and found many prisoners and negroes there, who were all sent away towards Groveton. We staid there that night, and all the cars and everything were set on fire about the same time. We were very tired, and all day lay down on the ground, but I remained awake for some time watching the fire, which burned fiercely. Thursday morning (28th) we marched nearly to Centreville, and from there towards Groveton, and Ewell's command got into a fight late that afternoon on our right. We remained there and bivouacked in the oak forest where our brigade fought next day.

Next morning (Friday) we had breakfast, and I ate with Adjutant Goggans. Our command then took position in the woods near the cut of an unfinished railroad and sent out skirmishers, who soon retreated and fell back on the main line. The Yankee line came up quite near and fired into us from our right, and Goggans was shot through the body. I remained some distance in rear of our line and saw Mike Bowers, Dave Suber and two other men bringing someone back on a litter, and I said: “Mike, who is that?" and he said: "Goggans," just as they tumbled him down. I looked at him as he was gasping his last, and he died at once. Then the wounded who could walk began to come back, and those who could not were brought to me on litters. I did all I could for them until the ambulances could carry them to the field infirmary, and this continued until late in the afternoon.

I saw an Irishman from South Carolina bringing a wounded Irishman from Pennsylvania back and at the same time scolding him for fighting us. Colonel McGowan came limping back, shot through the thigh, but he refused to ride, and said: “Take men who are worse hurt than I am." Colonel Marshall and Lieutenant-Colonel Leadbetter were brought back mortally wounded.

Shells came over to us occasionally as if thrown at our reserves, and would burst among the men and overhead, but they paid no attention to them and kept very quiet. I did not hear anyone say one word. An occasional spent ball fell near by and one knocked up the dust close to me, but the trees were thick and stopped most of the bullets short of us. The Yankees charged us seven times during the day and were driven back every time. Their lines were always preceded by skirmishers. One ran into the railroad cut and sat down, and Jim Wood shot him dead.

Our brigade was not relieved until about four o'clock. They had been fighting all day and their losses were very heavy. I saw General Fields, commanding a Virginia brigade, ride in on our left to relieve us, and I then went back to the field infirmary, where I saw large numbers of wounded lying on the ground as thick as a drove of hogs in a lot. They were groaning and crying out with pain, and those shot in the bowels were crying for water. Jake Fellers had his arm amputated without chloroform. I held the artery and Dr. Huot cut it off by candle light. We continued to operate until late at night and attended to all our wounded. I was very tired and slept on the ground.

We did nothing Saturday morning (30th). There were several thousand prisoners near by, and I went where they were and talked with some of them. Dr. Evans, the brigade surgeon, went to see General Lee, and General Lee told him the battle would begin that morning at about ten o'clock and would cease in about two hours, which occurred exactly as he said. Our brigade was not engaged, and we spent the day sending the wounded to Richmond.

Early Sunday morning (31st) we started away, and I passed by where Goggans' body lay. Near him lay the body of Captain Smith of Spartanburg. Both were greatly swollen and had been robbed of their trousers and shoes by our own soldiers, who were ragged and barefooted, and did it from necessity. We passed on over the battlefield where the dead and wounded Yankees lay. They had fallen between the lines and had remained there without attention since Friday. We marched all day on the road northward and traveled about twelve miles.

The next morning (September 1) we continued our march towards Fairfax Court House, and had a battle late that afternoon at Ox Hill during a violent thunderstorm.

Shell were thrown at us and one struck in the road and burst within three or four feet of me. Several burst near Colonel Edwards as he rode along, but he did not pay the slightest attention to them. There were flashes and keen cracks of lightning near by and hard showers of rain fell. The Yankees had a strong position on a hill on the right side of the road, but our men left the road and I could see them hurrying up the hill with skirmishers in advance of the line.

I went into a horse lot and established a field infirmary, and saw an old lady and her daughter fleeing from a cottage and crossing the lot in the rain. The old lady could not keep up and the daughter kept stopping and urging her mother to hurry. The bullets were striking all about the yard of their house.

Lieutenant Leopard from Lexington was brought back to me with both his legs torn off below the knees by a shell, and another man with part of his arm torn off, but neither Dr. Kenedy, Dr. Kilgore nor our medical wagon was with us, and I had nothing with me to give them but morphine. They both died during night. The battle continued till night came on and stopped it. We filled the carriage house, barn and stable with our wounded, but I could do but little for them. Colonel Edwards was furious, and told me to tell the other doctors "for God's sake to keep with their command."

After doing all I could for the wounded, my brother, my servant Wilson, and myself went into the orchard and took pine poles from a fence and spread them on the wet ground to sleep on. I discovered a small chicken roosting in a peach tree and caught it, and Wilson skinned it and broiled it, and it was all we three had to eat that day. Wilson got two good blankets off the battlefield with “U. S." on them, and we spread one on the poles and covered with the other.

The next morning the Yankees were gone. Their General, Kearney, was killed and some of their wounded fell into our hands. The two other doctors with our medical supplies did not get there until morning, and many of our wounded died during the night. I found one helpless man lying under a blanket between two men who were dead.

We drew two days' rations of crackers and bacon about ten o'clock, and I ate them all and was still very hungry. I walked over on the hill and saw a few dead Yankees. They had become stiff, and one was lying on his back with an arm held up. I picked up a good musket and carried it back with me to the house and gave it to the young lady I saw running away the day before. She thanked me for it, and seemed very much pleased to have it as a memento of the battle.

Late that afternoon we drew rations again, and I ate everything without satisfying my hunger. A soldier came from another command and said he heard I had some salt, and he offered me a shoulder of fresh pork for some. Wilson cooked it and I ate it without crackers, but was still hungry. During the night I became very sick from overeating, and next morning when the regiment left I was too sick to march. Billie, Mose Cappock, Billy Caldwell and myself all got sick from the same cause. We are all sleeping in the carriage house, and I have sent Wilson out into the country to get something for us to eat.

We hope to be able to go on and catch up with the regiment in a day or two. It has gone in the direction of Harper's Ferry.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 23-31

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Captain William Thompson Lusk, September 12, 1862

Norwich, Conn.

September 12th, 1862.

My own dear Son:

You see I am following out my resolution to write you every day, although I have many doubts about your receiving one half the letters I write. There is a great dearth of news. Pope's report with its censures is exciting remark, and I trust the country will demand a full investigation as soon as the public necessity will permit. Jeff Davis' Proclamation is highly entertaining in view of past acts; however, that we care little about, his words are nothing. I wish I knew where you are, and where the last turn in the wheel has placed you. I suppose Gen. Stevens' part in the last battles, together with that of his Division, can never be known. It is specially hard, because his gallantry and the splendid fighting done by his troops, were in the first accounts acknowledged.

The death of young Matteson I feel sorely on your account. It seems as though the storm had swept over you; your General killed, friends wounded or ill. I stop and think: "What am I that God should so preserve the precious life of my son? Should guard his health, should guide his steps? May I be grateful as I ought, may I be more trustful."

We have so hoped we might see you, that Hunt and Mary have had a room furnished in the wing, hoping you would be the first to occupy it.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 195-6

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Horace Barnard, September 10, 1862

Norwich, Sept. 10th, 1862.

Dear Horace:

I received your letter on Sunday morning. I am satisfied that you will manage the business intrusted to you as well as may be during these horrible times, and hope for a better future. I am sad, sick, despairing. Fifteen months ago I gave my son, my only one, to serve his country as he best might. How faithful he has been his General has testified. He has fought in five large battles and in ten or twelve small ones, not a day's respite, always at the wheel, full of hope, full of energy, sacrificing home, University honors in Berlin, all that made life lovely, to serve his country in her hour of need. Look at the result. Gen. Stevens, his good friend, the best, the bravest, the truest patriot, the courageous soldier, the great man, is sacrificed, while blundering little men who can never fill his place are for political reasons reaping honors. My son is still performing the duties of an Assistant Adjutant-General, trying, as he says, to keep the concern in motion, but with gloomy prospects when the command passes into new hands. His regiment, the 79th, is reduced from its proud array of 1000 men to a regiment of cripples — only 230 men are left, wholly, I fear hopelessly, demoralized. Oh, my God, has he not one friend who can lift a hand to help? Are his services of no value? Loyal as I have ever been, loyal as I am still, now that his kind appreciative General is gone, I would, if I could, withdraw him from the army, where the faithful servant is unnoticed, and the scheming politician receives the honors.

I have received two letters since the battles on the Rappahannock, in all of which he was engaged, through which, my God, “The God of the widow,” preserved him alive. He was “Acting A. A. General,” full of love and admiration for his General, and honored in return by his loving confidence. I now quote from his letter regarding his last battle: “Whenever anything desperate was to be performed, Kearny and Stevens were always selected, with this difference though, that Stevens was rarely credited with what he did, while Kearny's praises were very properly published. On Monday's fight, the General's son and I were walking together in the rear of the 79th Regiment, when Capt. Stevens was wounded. Finding that he was able to move off without assistance, I continued to follow the Regiment. Soon the General came up on foot. 'Have you seen your son?' I asked him. 'Yes,' said he, I know that he is wounded,' and then added, 'Capt. Lusk I wish you would pass to the left of the line, and push the men forward in that direction.' I did as I was ordered and on my return found the Gen. had been killed, and the troops badly slaughtered. The General you have read was shot while holding the flag of the 79th Regiment in his hand. There were five shot holding the same flag in about 20 minutes time. I found the sixth man standing almost alone at the edge of some woods, still clinging hopelessly to the colors. I drew him back to the crest of a hill a couple of hundred yards, and gathered a few of the 79th about it. Kearny then came riding up, and asked the name of the little band. On being told, he said, 'Scotchmen you must follow me.' They told him they had not a round of ammunition left. 'Well,' said he then, 'stand where you are, and it may be you will be able to assist my men with the bayonet.' The soldierly form moved on and it too, soon was dust. Stevens was a great man, and Kearny a courageous soldier.”

If these incidents would interest the public, and Mr. Godwin is inclined to publish them I have no objection; you may do as you like. I wish the country knew all that occurred on those battlefields. The truth is beginning to dawn. I have written a long letter. Will is still at the Headquarters of the 1st Division, Reno's Command. He shudders at the thought of returning to his Regiment. The General and all the best friends of the 79th felt that it had suffered so much from constant active service, was so terribly decimated, and so demoralized from the loss of officers, it should be recalled from the service. If my son has friends who can help, beg them to think of him now — his General killed, his intimate friends wounded, Major Matteson, his tried friend, dead of typhoid fever — his cup is more than full, and my heart is ready to burst with its grief for him.

Well, good-bye; give much love to all who care for us, and believe me,

Truly yours,

E. F. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 193-5

Elizabeth Adams Lusk to Captain William Thompson Lusk, September 9, 1862

Norwich, Conn.

September 9th, 1862.

My own dear Son:

I am half sick, very sad, grieved, and troubled on your account, yet very thankful for the wonderful preservation of your life through so many dangers. I cannot but feel that a life so cared for, has been saved for the accomplishment of good and wise purposes, which will be wrought out in God's own time. Take courage, and strengthen your heart, my own precious son, in the remembrance of what He has done for you, through the whole course of your life, and especially for his goodness amid the dangers of the past year. Well may we all lament the loss of your General. I feel, and mourn as for a personal friend, and the nation too late acknowledges the want of appreciation of one of its greatest men and ablest military commanders. Gen. Kearny's staff, I noticed, returned with his body, and so we have hoped that, sad as the journey might be, you would be permitted to accompany your General's remains to their last home.

I have just received two letters from you, one of the 4th, the other of the 6th. May God be with you, my dear son, to comfort and guide. A dark cloud seems to have gathered around you; may it soon pass and the brightness shine again. The Herald and Times have contained little regarding Gen. Stevens, but the Tribune correspondent sounds his praises, and dwells upon his memory. There was a statement in yesterday's Tribune, that while he was engaged in his last battle, prominent men, though political opponents, had decided to request that he might command the Army of Virginia, his splendid fighting on Friday and Saturday, having at last awakened the remembrance of his superior abilities, and his distinction at West Point, as well as in Mexico, and whereever he had opportunities to show himself. The Express says he was sacrificed to political opinion.

Do write as often as possible, my son. My nerves are greatly shaken, although my health is far better in most respects than it used to be, yet I feel sensibly this strain upon my spirits. I cannot write as long a letter as I wish to-day, but I intend in future to write a little every day, to always have something ready for you.

The Lt.-Col. of the Eighteenth is not all that could be desired, and Ely I am told regrets that you are not with him. Political interests are paramount everywhere. Alfred Goddard called on us last night. He said he had followed your course, and everywhere heard your noble conduct spoken of. I will write again to-morrow. I am very sorry you have lost your back letters which have gone from my pen, as well as one from Lillie. All are well at home. Poor Matteson, how you must lament for him! Major Elliott I see is wounded.

God bless you my own dear son. In Him is our only trust. Would that we could meet if only for one short hour.

Your sisters send love and warmest sympathy. We all feel for you, and I pray earnestly to God for His help and blessings.

Lovingly and anxiously,

Mother.

Hunt's suggestions are dictated by his kind heart, but I think you deserve and must receive a higher appointment than that of Aide.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 191-2

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 4, 1862

Headquarters 1st Div. Reno's Command,

Near Alexandria, Sept. 4th, 1862.

Dear Mother:

Once more, after a lapse of nearly five weeks, am I able to write you again. During this time we have been cut off from all communication with our friends, we have been busily employed, and have suffered much. I have lost my good friend, Genl. Stevens, who has been sacrificed by little men who can poorly fill his place. Whenever anything desperate was to be performed, Stevens and Kearny were always selected, with this difference though, that Stevens rarely was credited with what he did, while Kearny's praises were properly published. On Monday's fight, the General's son and I were walking together in the rear of the 79th Regiment, when Capt. Stevens was wounded. Finding that young Stevens was able to move off without assistance, I continued to follow the Regiment. Soon the General came up on foot. “Have you seen your son?” I asked him. “Yes,” said he, “I know he is wounded,” and then added, “Capt. Lusk, I wish you would pass to the left of the line, and push the men forward in that direction.” I did as I was ordered, and on my return, found the General had been killed, and the troops badly slaughtered. The General you have read was shot while holding the flag of the 79th Regiment in his hand.

There were five shot holding the same flag in about twenty minutes time. I found the sixth man standing almost alone at the edge of some woods still clinging hopelessly to the colors. I drew him back to the crest of a hill a couple of hundred yards back and gathered a few of the 79th about it. Kearny then came riding up, and asked the name of the little band. On being told, he said, “Scotchmen, you must follow me.” They told him they had not a round of ammunition left. “Well,” said he then, “stand where you are and it may be you will be able to assist my men with the bayonet.” The soldierly form moved on, and it too soon was dust. Stevens was a great man and Kearny a courageous soldier. It is not every man of whom this last can be said, though the country may have placed him high in power. I suppose I must not tell all I have seen in the last few days fighting, but I have seen enough to make it no matter of wonder at the extent of our disaster. I have read little truth as yet in the papers, though I see the people are beginning to feel the truth. So long as the interests of our country are entrusted to a lying braggart like Pope, or a foolish little Dutchman like Sigel, we have little reason to hope successfully to compete with an army led by Lee, Johnston and old "Stonewall" Jackson. Carl Schurz, our lately returned minister to Spain, I found blundering horribly. Schenck was a laughable instance of incompetence, and so with others. You must be careful to whom you repeat these things, and yet there is much which it were better were known, for our soldiers are not deceived by lying reports. They feel whom they can trust, and are not willing to fight for men like McDowell and that ilk. McClellan's reappointment gives great satisfaction to the soldiers. Whether right or wrong they believe in him.

I expect to get my back letters to-day, and then what a treat. I am still very much fatigued by the last month, and like to rest all I can.

Good-bye. Kisses and love to all.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 180-1

Major Wilder Dwight: September 5, 1862

camp Near TennallytowN, Maryland, September 5, 1862.

I wrote you a hasty scrawl in my hurried visit to Washington, just to assure you of our safety at last. That was Wednesday. We went into camp near Fort Albany, and within a mile of the Long Bridge. Yesterday we got marching orders again; crossed the Potomac at Georgetown, and came out here on the Edwards's Ferry and Darnestown road, about eight miles, and are now in camp. . . . .

We suppose that we are to go up the river towards Edwards's Ferry. You would, perhaps, like to have a record of our life since we occupied the line of the Rappahannock till to-day. It has been so tense and corrosive that I am not yet in tone to write an account of it. Our week on the Rappahannock was a series of marches, countermarches, vigils, pickets, wet bivouacs, always within sound, often within reach, of the enemy's cannon, moving under the hissing importunity of flying shells and round shot. One morning at Beverly Ford we took a position from which our forces had been driven two previous days. Colonel Andrews and I breakfasted under a tree with shell and round shot moving merrily about us. We held the position. On Monday night we lay under arms within half a mile of the battle in which Kearney and Stevens fell, near Fairfax Court-House. The fight was a fierce one. During most of it a violent thunderstorm raged fearfully. I can only leave you to imagine the scene. We were all night under arms, wet through, and without fires. The worst night I ever spent. Tuesday night we came in last over the Warrenton Pike, — the very tail of the Grand Army, as we had been before.

Our risks and chances have been great, but we were not in either of the fights about Manassas or Bull Run. I am glad of it. Unsuccessful battles we have had enough of. I have been too busy to get news of Charley. We have been on the march for eighteen days. Colonel Taylor's account of the matter was encouraging. I met him by chance on Tuesday. Inquired at once for Charley. His answer was, “He is on his way to Richmond.” I was taken aback. Under all the circumstances, you may regard him as lucky.

I hope he will be paroled without being taken to Richmond.

Our recruits have had a hard time. It is an illustration of the folly of our whole system of organization and recruiting, that we should have dragged one hundred and fourteen unarmed recruits through all this business. But I will not begin about follies. The events of the past three weeks are incredible. Disaster, pitiable, humiliating, contemptible! Love to all at home. Now that we are in Maryland, I suppose the absurd order stopping the mails will be rescinded. I shall write again as soon as I can.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 285-7

Diary of Gideon Welles: Wednesday, October 15, 1862

General Dix came to see me in relation to the blockade of Norfolk. Says Admiral Lee is extremely rigid, allows no traffic; that the people of Norfolk are suffering, though in his opinion one half the people are loyal. The place, he says, is in the military occupation of the Government and therefore is not liable to, and cannot, be blockaded. Tells me he has been reading on the question, and consulting General Halleck, who agrees with him. I told him if Norfolk was not, and could not be, a blockaded port, I should be glad to be informed of the fact; that the President had declared the whole coast and all ports blockaded from the eastern line of Virginia to the Rio Grande, with the exception of Key West. Congress, though preferring the closing of the ports, had recognized and approved the fact, and authorized the President from time to time, as we recovered possession, to open ports at his discretion by proclamation. That he had so opened the ports of Beaufort, Port Royal, and New Orleans, but not Norfolk. If he was disposed to raise the blockade of that port, I should not oppose it but be glad of it. That I had so informed the President and others, but there was unqualified and emphatic opposition in the War Department to such a step. If he would persuade the Secretary of War to favor the measure, there would be little resistance in any other quarter. Perhaps he and General Halleck could overrule the objections of the Secretary of War. That I intended to occupy no equivocal attitude. This was not to be a sham blockade, so far as I was concerned. I thought, with him, that as Norfolk was in the military occupancy of our armies and to continue so, there was no substantial reason for continuing the blockade; that not only humanity towards the people but good policy on the part of the Administration required we should extend and promote commercial intercourse. Commerce promotes friendship. It would induce the people in other localities to seek the same privileges by sustaining the Union cause. That, as things were, Admiral Lee was doing his duty and obeying instructions in rigidly enforcing the blockade. That I was opposed to favoritism. There should be either intercourse or non-intercourse; if the port was open to trade, all our citizens, and foreigners also, should be treated alike.

“But,” said General Dix, “I don't want the blockade of Norfolk raised; that won't answer.”

“Yet you tell me there is no blockade; that it has ended, and cannot exist because we are in military possession.”

“Well,” said he, “that is so; we are in military occupancy and must have our supplies.”

“That,” I replied, “is provided for. Admiral Lee allows all vessels with army supplies, duly permitted, to pass.”

“But,” continued he, “we must have more than that. The people will suffer.”

“Then,” said I, “they must return to duty and not persist in rebellion. The object of the blockade is to make them suffer. I want no double-dealing or false pretenses. There is, or there is not, a blockade. If there is, I shall, until the President otherwise directs, enforce it. If there is not, the world should know it. Should the blockade be modified, we shall conform to the modifications.”

The General thought it unnecessary to tell the world the blockade was modified or removed. I thought we should make the changes public as the declaration of blockade itself, if we would maintain good faith. He seemed to have no clear conception of things; thought there ought to have never been a blockade. In that I concurred. Told him I had taken that view at the commencement, but had been overruled; we had placed ourselves in a wrong position at the beginning, made the Rebels belligerents, given them nationality, — an error and an anomaly. It was one of Mr. Seward's mistakes.

A letter has been shown about, and is to-day published, purporting to be from General Kearny, who fell at Chantilly. The letter is addressed to O. S. Halstead of New Jersey. It expresses his views and shows his feelings towards McClellan, who, he says, “positively has no talents.” How many officers have written similar private letters is unknown. “We have no generals,” says this letter of Kearny.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 172-4

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday, September 14, 1862

I have been so busy making Lieutenant Bourge's shirt that I have not had time to write, besides having very little to write about. So my industry saved my paper and spared these pages a vast amount of trash. I would not let any one touch Lieutenant Bourge's shirt except myself; and last evening, when I held it up completed, the loud praises it received satisfied me it would answer. Miriam and Miss Ripley declared it the prettiest ever made. It is dark purple merino. The bosom I tucked with pleats a quarter of an inch deep, all the way up to the collar, and stitched a narrow crimson silk braid up the centre to hold it in its place. Around the collar, cuffs, pockets, and band down the front, the red cord runs, forming a charming contrast to the dark foundation. Indeed, I devoted the sole article the Yankees let fall from my two workboxes — a bunch of soutache — to the work. Large white pearl buttons completed the description, and my shirt is really as quiet, subdued, and pretty a one as I ever saw. I should first hear the opinion of the owner, though. If he does not agree with all the others, I shall say he has no taste.

I got a long sweet letter from Sophie on Friday that made me happy for the whole day. They were about leaving for Alexandria. I was glad to hear they would be out of danger, but still I was sorry they were going so far away. I have been laying a hundred wild schemes to reach Baton Rouge and spend a day or two with them, which is impossible now. Sophie writes just as she talks — and that means remarkably well, so I can at least have the pleasure of corresponding. At Dr. Carnal's they will be out of the reach of all harm and danger; so I ought to rejoice. There is one thing in which Sophie and I agree, and that is in making Stonewall Jackson our hero. Talk of Beauregard! he never had my adoration; but Stonewall is the greatest man of the age, decidedly.

Still no authentic reports of the late battles in Virginia. I say late, referring to those fought two weeks ago. From the Federal accounts, glowing as they usually are, I should gather the idea that their rout was complete. I cannot imagine why we can hear nothing more from our own side. . . .

I think my first act on my return home will be to take a cup of coffee and a piece of bread, two luxuries of which I have been deprived for a long while. Miriam vows to devour an unheard-of number of biscuits, too. How many articles we considered as absolutely necessary, before, have we now been obliged to dispense with! Nine months of the year I reveled in ice, thought it impossible to drink water without it. Since last November, I have tasted it but once, and that once by accident. And oh, yes! I caught some hail-stones one day at Linwood! Icecream, lemonade, and sponge cake was my chief diet; it was a year last July since I tasted the two first, and one since I have seen the last. Bread I believed necessary to life; vegetables, senseless. The former I never see, and I have been forced into cultivating at least a toleration of the latter. Snap beans I can actually swallow, sweet potatoes I really like, and one day at Dr. Nolan's I “bolted” a mouthful of tomatoes, and afterwards kept my seat with the heroism of a martyr. These are the minor trials of war. If that were all — if coarse, distasteful food were the only inconvenience!

When I think of what Lavinia must suffer so far from us, and in such ignorance of our condition, our trials seem nothing in comparison to hers. And think how uneasy Brother must be, hearing of the battle, and not knowing where we fled to! For he has not heard of us for almost two months. In return we are uneasy about him and Sister. If New Orleans is attacked, what will become of them with all those children?

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 222-5

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: September 4, 1862

Our victory at Manassas complete; the fight lasted four days. General Kearney was killed in a cavalry fight at Chantilly. Beautiful Chantilly has become a glorious battle-field. The splendid trees and other lovely surroundings all gone; but it is classic ground from this time. In those fights I had eight nephews! Are they all safe? I have heard from two, who fought gallantly, and are unscathed. It is said that our army is to go to Maryland.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 151

Brigadier General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, September 3, 1862

ARLINGTON HOUSE, VA., September 3, 1862.

We arrived here this morning. Everything now is changed; McClellan's star is again in the ascendant, and Pope's has faded away. The whole army has been withdrawn in the face of the enemy, around Washington, getting back to where we left last March, and now we have to defend our capital, and perhaps resist an invasion of our soil through Maryland, and all from the willful blindness of our rulers. However, this is to no purpose.

I am writing in the house occupied as the headquarters of Whipple's division. I have not time to give you a full account of all I have gone through since leaving Fredericksburg, but will briefly relate. We were ordered up to support Pope, and arrived at the railroad crossing of the Rappahannock just as Pope had found it necessary to fall back on Warrenton. From Warrenton, he, having learned they were still turning his right flank, we started to fall back on Centreville. On the 28th my brigade, the advance of McDowell's corps, was opened upon by a battery, and from that time till the night of the 30th we were pretty much manoeuvring and fighting all the time. The principal scene of the conflict was the old battle-ground of Bull Run, with this difference, that we were in the reverse position from what we occupied before, we holding the position occupied by the enemy in the old battle. The fighting continued till the night of the 30th, at which time Pope became satisfied they were in too large numbers for him and would get behind him; whereupon he withdrew to Centreville, and subsequently to Fairfax Court House; Kearney and Hooker having a fight on September 1st, when Kearney and Stevens both were killed; but we succeeded in driving the enemy for miles. The Pennsylvania Reserves were engaged throughout the whole time, and particularly distinguished themselves on the afternoon of the 30th, when our attack on the enemy's right flank having failed, they attacked us very vigorously on our left flank; when the Reserves came into action, and held them in check and drove them back, so that when other troops came up, we were enabled to save our left flank, which if we had not done, the enemy would have destroyed the whole army. That night we retreated to Centreville. In a few words, we have been, as usual, out-manoeuvred and out-numbered, and though not actually defeated, yet compelled to fall back on Washington for its defense and our own safety. On these recent battle-fields I claim, as before, to have done my duty. My services, then, should, I think, add to those previously performed, and that I may now fairly claim the command of a division. I suppose, now that McClellan is up again, all his old friends will be as affectionate as ever. I expect the enemy will follow us up, and though I hardly think they will adventure to attack Washington, yet I believe they will try to get into Maryland, and that will necessitate our moving to meet them.

I am quite well, notwithstanding we have been for the last ten days without regular food or sleep. All of my staff and most of the command are completely knocked up, but I am just as well as ever. General Reynolds has been very kind and civil to me.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 307-8