Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 16, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

Dec. 16th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

Back again once more in the old camp, sound as a dollar. Would that 10,000 lying on the field across the river, or stretched on rude soldiers' beds in pain and some in mortal agony, could say as much! Gone are the proud hopes, the high aspirations that swelled our bosoms a few days ago. Once more unsuccessful, and only a bloody record to show our men were brave. This cannot heal the broken hearts this pitiful record is to cause. That God must do! Alas, my poor country! It has strong limbs to march, and meet the foe, stout arms to strike heavy blows, brave hearts to dare — but the brains, the brains — have we no brains to use the arms and limbs and eager hearts with cunning? Perhaps Old Abe has some funny story to tell appropriate to the occasion. Alas, let us await the wise words of Father Abraham! I say I am back, having recrossed the river about two o'clock this morning. Yesterday evening I was sent out with a couple of hundred sharpshooters to cover the front until the troops were all withdrawn. There I lay supporting the pickets within two or three hundred yards of the enemy while our troops crossed the river. Then word was sent us, and in silence we fell back, crossed ourselves, and then the pontoons were removed. Now we are in the old camp, and I am happy to write myself down in the number of those who have narrowly escaped. In the battle of Saturday, troops were thrown into the fight without any seeming regularity. Many were not under fire at all. Among the latter were the First, and a part of the Second Division of Wilcox's Corps. You know I belong to the First Division. Our position gave me a fine opportunity to witness the battle. It was a bonnie sight though, and thrillingly exciting. From the crests of the hills frowned the enemy's batteries. The city was gay with our troops. Beyond the city and below the batteries was open country giving no cover to advancing troops. Over this expanse our men were marched. The pennons fluttered gaily in the sunshine. Then suddenly the hills seemed to vomit forth smoke wreathing them in obscurity. Then followed the thunder of the cannon, intermingled with the screaming of the bursting shells. The ordeal was a terrible one. Some Regiments marched on without flinching; others fell back. To the left, running diagonally, was a stone-wall. A portion of our troops drew near it. This suddenly is likewise jetting with curls of smoke, followed by the sharp crack of the rifle and the angry humming of the conical balls. Now the troops are shaken. Stragglers run rapidly to the rear, then whole Regiments fall back with torn colors and broken ranks. It is of no use. That terrible stonewall is alive with death. Many Regiments try to reach it. Their efforts avail nothing though. Nearly in the center of the hill, west, there stands a fine old Virginia mansion of red brick with a stately colonnade running along its front. It was here that Col. Farnsworth had his headquarters last summer. This point was often attacked by our troops, but the house was like a hornet's nest. The enemy was strongly posted about it, in its alcoves, outbuildings and windows. There was death only, for those who tried to reach it. Our troops found some partial cover at a point below the house at the foot of the hill, where a small white house stood. Here two American banners were planted, the dear old thirteen stripes! How breathlessly we watched them! Though often attacked, when the smoke wreathed upward, our hearts were happy to see the colors still floating defiantly near the small white house. At length night closed on the scene. We believed the bloody day was done. There was one scene yet bloodier to be enacted. A final night attack was decided upon. We could not see our troops advancing in the darkness, but we heard a yell along the rebel line. Then a rapid musketry fire ran along the heights — a more terrible fire I never have seen. Forked tongues of flame such as old artists paint issuing from the mouths of the serpents to whom is given the tormenting of the damned, flashed in the night with a brilliant effect as the fire was delivered from man to man. Then darkness followed. Then silence. And we knew that more blood had been shed and nothing won. The next morning we were told that the 9th Army Corps was expected to storm the heights. It was Sunday morning. The Regiment was drawn up in line. The Chaplain read a chapter from the Bible, then said a short prayer. The men followed the prayer with their hearts, as men do who may never pray again. Then the word was given, “Forward,” and we started on the march, few hoping to survive. Then we were ordered to halt. We lay long in a state of expectancy. Meanwhile a new council of Generals was being held. There had been enough blood fruitlessly shed, said the most. No more of the madness and folly which will only result in the certain destruction of our army. Ten thousand men lost and the enemy sits unharmed in his trenches. Burnside says he will lead his own corps in person. But finally reason prevails in the council. The attack is postponed and finally abandoned. Last night the troops crossed the river, and to-day we are counting on our fingers the thousands of men the events of the past few days have cost us.

There are impossibilities in warfare — things that no troops can accomplish, however brave they may be. They cannot for one thing cross long stretches of open country without any cover in the face of an artillery fire of any magnitude, and then clamber up a hill-side exposed to the musketry of a concealed foe, and then cross the ditches and scale the earthworks of the enemy, driving the latter from their position with the bayonet. Men fight in masses. To be brave they must be inspired by the feeling of fellowship. Shoulder must touch shoulder. As gaps are opened the men close together, and remain formidable. But when the ranks are torn by artillery, the cohesion begins to fail. Then expose the men for several hundred yards to a murderous fire of musketry, and front rank man is gone, rear rank man is gone, comrades in battle are gone too. A few men struggle along together, but the whole mass has become diluent. Little streams of men pour in various directions. They no longer are amenable to command. The colors must be drawn to a place of safety, and in time the men will gather around it again. Numbers can effect little under such circumstances, provided they have no means of touching the enemy. The latter, lying under cover, firing from a place of safety, may murder your men. You may try again and again the experiment, but each repetition only lengthens the butcher's bill. Now I have written all this to show that success, as the attack was made, was impossible. In the same way we butchered the Confederates at Malvern Hill.

Well, I have seen McDonald, and felt quite happy to meet one who had been so lately among my friends at home. He told me of Uncle Phelps' offer of a horse, of his efforts for me and their probable success, and brought me some liquor and cigars from him and Cousin Henry. Give them my thanks, and say I delay acknowledging their kindness in a special manner, until I can learn all particulars from the Doctor. Arriving here the day of the battle, he has been so busy in the hospitals since, that I have barely learned the above facts as they were hurriedly repeated by him. I will write Uncle Phelps as soon as McDonald has time to tell me anything more than the general result of his visit.

I am so cold, that though I have much more that I would like to write, I must close and go to the fire. I may write again to-morrow. Love to all.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 244-8

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Web Hayes, April 9, 1863

Camp White, April 10, i863.

Dearest: — Your most welcome letter reached me this morning. Tell Webby the little rooster is in fine feather. He has had a good many fights with a big rooster belonging to the family near our camp, but holds his own very bravely.

Yes, a coat of course. I am afraid about pants — they should be long and wide in the legs for riding if you get them. No vest is wanted. — Did the cash come to hand?

Our large flag at home would look well flying over this camp if you will send it by Mr. Forbes. As for the new regimental flag, you shall get it some day if you wish to do it.

The fine weather of a few days past has brought us out. We are very happy here again.

Colonel Matthews is perfectly right. He no doubt leaves the army on account of the impossibility of serving in the field. He was barely able to get through his first campaign. . . .

I am as glad as anybody that the Union ticket [in Cincinnati] was carried. The soldiers all feel happy over the recent indications at home. A few victories over the Rebels now would lift us on amazingly. — Yes, “cut off” sounds badly, but it was a very jolly time.

I have Captain Gilmore and Lieutenant Austin and two rifled guns camped here, besides four howitzers with gun squads on the steamboats. General Jenkins and about eight hundred men left the railroad at Marion, Smith County, southwestern Virginia, and crossed the mountains to the head waters of Sandy River and so across towards the mouth of Kanawha. They reached our outpost twenty-four miles from here and demanded a surrender. Captain Johnson with four companies of [the] Thirteenth Virginia declined to surrender and, after a good fight, repulsed General Jenkins. He then crossed Kanawha twenty miles from the mouth or less and attacked Point Pleasant at the mouth. Captain Carter and one company of [the] Thirteenth Virginia occupied the court-house. They could not keep the whole town clear of Rebels but defended themselves gallantly until relieved from Gallipolis. General Jenkins then retreated. Colonel Paxton and Captain Gilmore followed by different routes, worrying him badly and getting about forty prisoners.

Does Birch remember Captain Waller, a cavalry captain who took care of Colonel Paxton and sat opposite us at table often? Perhaps he recollects his little boy. Well he, the boy, rode with his father in the pursuit and captured two armed men himself!

Captain Stevens and all the others are commissioned. Naughton is wroth at Dr. Webb and me! . . . More photographs. Preserve with the war archives, and be sure of one thing, I love you so much.

As ever,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 403-5

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, March 21, 1863

Camp White, March 21, 1863.

Dearest: — You left this morning. Don't think I am going daft after you. I am in my tent facing the parade between the captains and companies. McKinley is in his. The doctor, Avery, and [the] major will come over tomorrow. I shall sleep in a tent tonight for the first time since the night before South Mountain — over six months ago. . . .

Did you see us crossing in our boats before your steamer passed? I saw you and swung my hat, but whether you saw me I could not tell.

Our house flag must come out to go on a high pole near headquarters if it is militarily proper, and I think it is. . . . Goodbye, darling.

As ever,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 394-5

1st Lieutenant Charles Wright Wills: April 4, 1862

Camp, near Point Pleasant, Mo., April 4, 1862.

I received your last letter within three days after it was mailed, and praised Uncle Sam duly therefor. Our regiment has had a run of bad luck since we've been here. Two men killed on the plank road, two wounded at same place, two killed by falling trees in a storm of night of April 1st, and a dozen wounded, and yesterday one drowned while watering his horse in the swamp, and our horses dying off very fast of horse cholera. The latter is a serious thing in a regiment were the men own the horses themselves. For they (or nearly all of them) cannot buy others. Most of them are still owing for the horses they have. The positions of troops and state of the war generally remains the same here as it has been ever since we took Madrid. Main body of our forces at that place. Five regiments here under Plummer and five seven miles further down the river with Palmer. That is as far down as we can go on this side for the swamps. Between here and Madrid we have batteries every three miles and the Rebels have rather more on the opposite side. Both are right on their respective banks and have their flags fluttering their mutual hatred in each others faces. We can see them very plainly without the aid of a glass. The Rebel gunboats lie just below our lower battery and 'tis rumored to-night that several new ones have arrived from Memphis or New Orleans.

This fuss about “Island 10” I think is all humbug. Don't believe they have attacked it yet. It don't sound like Foote's fighting. Look on the map and see what a nice pen there is between the rivers Tennessee and Mississippi. Don't it look that if Grant and company can whip them out at Corinth, that we'll have all the forces at Memphis and intermediate points to “Island 10” in a bag that they'll have trouble in getting through? If they run it will be into Arkansas, and they can take nothing with them but what their backs will stand under. Seems to me that the plans of the campaign are grand from the glimpses we can get of them and have been planned by at least a Napoleon. Certain it is we are checkmating them at every point that's visible. I firmly believe the summer will see the war ended. But it will also see a host of us upended if we have to fight over such ground as this. It is unpleasantly warm already in the sun. It's 10 p. m. now and plenty warm In my shirt sleeves, with a high wind blowing, too. We had an awfu1 storm here to commence April with. We are camped just in the wood's edge and the wind struck us after crossing a wide open field and knocked trees down all through our camp; killed First lieutenant Moore, one private, seriously wounded Captain Webster and a dozen men. During the storm I though[t] of our fleet at “Island 10” and it made me almost sick. Don't see how they escaped being blown high and dry out of water.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 76-8

Diary of John Hay: February 22, 1864

. . . There was a ball to-night at Beaufort, gotten up by young officers there in honor of the 22d. Gen'l Gillmore went up for a few moments to lend his influence to counteract the gloom which was overspreading the camp. We got there early and loafed about till the dancing began. The room was exquisitely decorated; several very clever pictures, eagles, etc., were done on the walls with magnolia leaves; flags of all nations, from the Navy, etc.

I left with Gen'l Gillmore and went on board the Hospital Ship, filled with wounded; went through hold and up-stairs where the artillery boys were. Saw many desperately wounded; Col. R—— mortally, clutching at his bed-clothes and passing garments; picked up, bed and all, and carried away, picking out his clothes from a pile by shoulder-straps — “Major?” “No! Lieutenant-Colonel.” H——, M——, D—— and E——, all very chipper and jolly; M—— shot in toes and hat (like a parenthesis) and sabre; H—— between seat and saddle, and in fore-arm. M proposed to H—— "to go to party; I'll do dancing, and you hugging.”

Suddenly Gen'l S——, who had been much moved by R——’s appearance, started off up to the ball. He arrived during a moment's pause in the Lanciers. He stamped his foot: “Let the music stop!” and it did. “The ball cannot go on. Lights to be out in half an hour.” A friend of the General asked: — “Can we eat supper?” “Anyone who has the heart to eat at such a time.” All had a heart of that peculiar construction, for all ate. He came back glowing with the triumph of a generous action performed, and asked us up to his room, where we drank champagne and whiskey, and ate cake. Coming out found the grumbling feasters and went to Hilton Head after two o'clock.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 168-9.

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, September 19, 1864 – Part 5

The formation in front of the Nineteenth Corps which was our infantry right in the noon or first assault of the day was entirely different. (See Nos. 4 and 5 illustrations). Its whole front after about three hundred yards down a gentle slope was broad and comparatively level with slight breaks several hundred yards across, but not probably impassable for infantry at any point, where three or more small rivulets apparently headed with banks so undefined and flat as to give no defensive protection in a military sense so the enemy had no men or infantry there so far as I could see, but did have at least a small showing of artillery which I could see far across the breaks. These rivulets run northerly probably into the rivulet we came up from the Opequan or the Red Bud, but I do not know this. They help to form a morass it is said, probably about a mile more or less from where I was about fifty feet wide in front of where Crook's Corps was later in the day and it was probably here that Colonel R. B. Hayes (Nineteenth President, U. S. A.) later in the day, at the head of his brigade plunged in on his horse which at once mired when he dismounted and waded across alone under fire followed as soon as he waved his hat to them to join him, by about forty of his men to try and capture a battery which, led by him, they did after a hand-to-hand fight with the gunners, the enemy having deemed the battery so secure that no infantry support had been placed near it,* which indicates that in this assault the bulk of the enemy's infantry force confronting our infantry was at first largely in front of our division on the pike. The trees in number 4 illustration along the breaks in 1864 were not there then. The open foreground is the divide running east and west in this illustration so it can be easily seen why the Nineteenth Corps had no considerable fighting to do here.

The left of the enemy's line of infantry in the ravine in my front, so far as I could see, ended about nine hundred yards to my right at the head of the ravine as there was no cover further north except beyond the divide running east and west a good distance away to the north in front of the Nineteenth Corps, and its line was bent to conform to the ravine's direction in my right front; (See No. 8 illustration) the head of the rivulet had quite flat banks the convex side of the creek and its near and most abrupt bank being toward us in my front, but the reverse at the head of the ravine. This was the point in the enemy's line where the gap in our lines occurred mentioned further on which owing to the flat artillery and musketry-swept ground was untenable for the Second Brigade or any force except large enough to drive the enemy's infantry from its cover as was Russell's.

(See Nos. 4 and 5 illustrations). If the historian hereafter accuses the Third Division of breaking in this assault, it will be but fair to state extenuating circumstances, for a portion of the First Brigade was similarly situated and we got no direct effective flank help from our critics on either flank during the fight. The pike from our line of battle ran in an air line about nine hundred yards directly towards Winchester (See Nos. 2 and 9 illustrations) and was practically level except where it crossed the divide and little rivulet near my front where in the ravine the enemy had such a strong force in front of us about a regiment of which moved there across the pike from in front of the left of our First Brigade, (See No. 6 illustration) the Second Division having nothing in its immediate front in the ravine and the Vermont Brigade only a weak force in its distant left front beyond, but what a regiment could probably have easily handled and probably less than that did; but, nevertheless, that part of the Second Division next to us obliqued to the left to attack it which was what caused that Division to pull away from the Third Division's left at the same time the Nineteenth Corps pulled away from our right causing wide gaps —as the position which should have been occupied by the Second Brigade was vacant, too — thus leaving our brigade and especially our regiment, alone at a critical time when the gallant General Russell with his magnificent Division so grandly marched in and filled the gap on my right and lost his life in the act. (See No. 5 illustration). Our colors were on the pike thus bringing the right half of our regiment to the north or right side of it on open ground (See Nos. 3 and 5 illustrations) and leaving only about three regiments of our Division to the left of it on the wooded side hill (as shown in Nos. 3 and 7 illustrations) soon sloping abruptly towards the ravine in front which gave all our troops to the left of our colors on the pike some welcome cover but the right of our regiment and the Second Brigade, none. (See Nos. 3, 4, 5 and 6 illustrations).

No. 5 – Sheridan's Sept. 19, 1864, Winchester, Va. battle-field looking westerly showing the source of the ravine in which was the enemy's infantry In front of the right of the Tenth Vermont and the Second Brigade, Third Division. Sixth Corps. The enemy's artillery was on the further side of the smooth mid-ground to the left beyond the corn-field and ravine;also on the left mid-ground not shown in the illustration. It was opposite the barn, pool and trees on the right where the Second Brigade collapsed but 200 yards before reaching where they now are. Who wonders! Still the Tenth Vermont didn't collapse, nor did it when it advanced over the ground where the cornfield now is in the illustration. We preferred death instead, many of whom accepted it, including Gen. Russell. Majors Dillingham, Vredenburg, and Lieut. Hill. Russell's command assaulted over the ground where the barn, pool and trees now are.

_______________

* See "Descendants of George Abbott of Rowley, Mass.,"

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 157-60

Diary of John Hay: Saturday, January 23, 1864

Saturday night I went on board the Ben Deford with the General to visit Folly and Morris Islands. Col. J——, Major B——, Capt. R—— and F—— were in the party. In the morning we were at Pawnee Landing, Folly River. We mounted and rode to Gen’l Terry’s headquarters; saw model of Fort Wagner. Terry joined Gilmore and we went up the beach to Light House Inlet; saw the scene of the crossing by Shaw; crossed and went in ambulances to Wagner; spent some time there. From Wagner walked up to Gregg, leaving our ambulance. Saw the mortar batteries before getting there. From Gregg had a good view of Fort Sumter — silent as the grave—flag flying over it — a great flag flying over the battery on Sullivan's Island. The city, too, was spread out before us like a map; everything very silent; a ship lying silent at the wharf. No sign of life in Ripley, Johnson or Pinckney.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 157-8; William Roscoe Thayer, John Hay: In Two Volumes, Volume 1, p. 158-9.

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Thursday, April 13, 1865

Rained last night & thought myself quite fortunate in having procured enough pieces of Reb tents to make a tent large enough to hold Temp & I, we having no tents they being with the teams none of which were brought over I went out after breakfast although the rain was still falling to see fort Sdney Jonston. just finished, a work that 100 men could have held against 1,000 with ease the more I see of the works the more I am glad we did not have to charge them for it would have been attended with great slaughtr. I wished to visit the city but no one was permitted to go. I visited the cemetery where I saw the graves of about 60 men killed in Spanish fort. Some splendid marble mouments, the grond is all laid out in small lots these fenced & the whole enclosure a beautiful flower garden, the graves ornamented with some of the most beautiful shells I ever saw, I returned to camp at 11. at which time unexpectedly to all the Genl was blown the whole Div moved out. The men had without leave gone to the city so that I had but 14 men when we fell in, did not know where we were to go marched through town in platoons, colors flying music playing many remarks made by the by standers about our no's Streets full of negros & Creoles, saw thousands of bales of cotton marched through Royal St. the whits did not show themselves much, two Brigs of the Div take the wagon (road, an Brig take the R. R. track march out to the 6 mile staton, 2 ½ mile Citizen rides up says off to the left is a squad of Reb. cav. Col Krez goes to rear, to see about, thinks there are bout 25 same cit says we will find more at the station at Whistler where the R. R. shops are. When we approach, the other Brigs are arriving. See them unslingin knap sacks & double quicken to .the front. Our Brig ordered to do the same. Some sharp skirmishes in front. & can see the bridge at 8 mile creek burning, they were destroying the work shops when our men come up. The Reb run & co G. & B. of 33d & a co of 28th Wis were sent back immediately to a bridge across Black Creek just 2 mile from town to guard it. we marched back reaching it about 5 P. M. on the march back met most of my runaway boys. coming up. Several negros come in from the Rebs & report their force at 700 cav & 1 pieces of Artilery. All quiet in the front Rumors. — That Lee has surrendered his army to Grant & with it the Southern confederacy.—A salute of 100 guns was fired in Mobile Bay at 9. A. M. in honor of the fall of the city.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 590-1

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, May 2, 1862

Beaufort, S. C. May 2d, 1862.

My dear Mother:

May has opened charmingly in Beaufort. The air is warm but not oppressive. We are luxuriating in green peas, strawberries, blackberries, all the early vegetables, and the fig trees, loaded with fruit, will soon supply us with an abundance of green figs. Fish are supplied by the rivers in great plenty. Indeed we are well supplied with all sorts of good things, so we have little of which we can complain, except inaction. It is now fifteen days since a mail has reached us from the North. Telegraphic news in the columns of the Charleston Mercury dated the 26th, speaks of the city being in great alarm from the advancing army and fleet of Genl. Butler. A sailing vessel occasionally brings us a newspaper from the North. Otherwise we would be quite separated from the rest of mankind, and would be compelled to consider the North as having regularly seceded from us.

I have received the beautiful flag you sent me. I gave it to the boys of the Company, who were delighted. The other companies are quite envious. Thanks, dear Mother, a thousand times, for the expression of your love.

I think after all I must have that new suit of clothes I wrote for before. Notwithstanding all efforts to the contrary, my old suit will persist in growing daily rustier, and more unseemly in the seams. So if you will please have the suit ordered, I shall find good use for it full as soon as it shall be ready for me.

Tell Mr. Johnson I had a right pleasant time with his friend Bronson, and add too that Sloat’s men produced such an effect on the 79th Regiment, that it is impossible to persuade them that the whole affair of allotment is anything more than a Jew swindle. I am looking forward with great delight to the next steamer arrival, anticipating a heavy mail after so long neglect. There is so little of interest to write. I believe I wrote you there was quite a charming lady, a Mrs. Caverly, stopping at the General's. Her husband is dying with consumption and has come here to try the effect of the climate. You can imagine that a pretty and lively lady makes quite a difference in the house.

You do not know how inexpressibly indignant I feel at the attacks made on McClellan. They are certainly most scandalous, and calculated to ensure his defeat were he in any wise what his enemies represent him. It is the height of folly to suppose that men are going to sacrifice their lives, unless they have good reason to suppose that they are to be brought at the right moment to the right spot to play their part in gaining a victory. You have only to convince them that incompetent men are putting them in positions to occasion a defeat, and they will run before a shot is fired. It would seem that the enemies of McClellan are doing their utmost to produce that sort of spirit of distrust in our troops, so as to lead to new disasters. I am sick and tired of these howling politicians who would be willing to see everything we consider holy destroyed, provided they could only under the new regime get the Governmental patronage of the devil.

Affec'y. your son,

Will.

Flourishes supposed to indicate genius.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 143-5

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Friday, July 15, 1864

Remained in camp until 8 o'clock a. m. and then marched up Pennsylvania Avenue by the Treasury, White House and War Department, amidst a continuous ovation for fully three miles. Great respect was shown our Division, as it was known that it was its stubborn fighting at Monocacy that had saved Washington, and the sidewalks, windows, balconies, housetops, etc., were thronged with enthusiastic people. The business-like appearance of our regiment, its proud bearing, fine cadence and marching, its weather-beaten, tattered old battle flags all in strings from shot and shell, as well as the men's clothes, its splendid band, together with the evergreen sprig proudly worn by some of us, which always gains us recognition, captured the crowd, and the heartiness of our deserved ovation over all other regiments in line was very noticeable. It was a proud day for the plucky Tenth Vermont, never to be forgotten — even prouder than when showered with flowers on our return home at Burlington a year later — for we were the feature of the parade — real live heroic Green Mountain Boys, as true and valiant as was ever Ethan Allen. We had a right to be proud, for hadn't we proved to the world many times what Meade said to us at Spottsylvania and Sedgwick at the Wilderness, when some wag said to Meade at Spottsylvania when in rear of our regiment, as the lines were being hastily formed for assault on the enemy a stone's throw away, that he was in a dangerous place, and he replied, “I'm safe enough behind a Vermont regiment, anywhere?” We marched via Georgetown and Tennallytown to within a few miles of Offutt's crossroads and bivouacked. It is rumored that we are to join our corps at Poolesville. Probably we shall have to chase the enemy down the Shenandoah Valley again. As the Sixth Corps is the best marching, fighting and most reliable one in the army, I reckon Grant and Meade knew what they were about when they concluded to send it after Early. Now, if they will only send us Sheridan, we will lick the whole rebel army if they will set it on to us in detail, and finish up the war.*

_______________

*As General Sheridan was soon sent us, this prediction was as good as proven, but many a poor fellow bit the dust first.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 122-3

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Wednesday, February 22, 1865

The 28th Wis embark on the Belle ve Dere. Raining still. Our wagons loaded on Bell ve & detail sent arond with them, the Regt to go by car to lake Ponchertrain Genl A. J. Smiths Corps landing 4 miles below on the east side continues to rain & blow. Washingtons Birthday hundreds of flags & a national salute.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 575

Diary of John Hay: April 29, 1861

Going into Nicolay’s room this morning, Carl Schurz and Jim Lane were sitting. Jim was at the window, filling his soul with gall by steady telescopic contemplation of a secession flag impudently flaunting over a roof in Alexandria. “Let me tell you,” said he to the elegant Teuton, “we have got to whip these scoundrels like hell, Cairl Schurz.  They did a good thing stoning our men at Baltimore and shooting away the flag at Sumter. It has set the great North a howling for blood, and they'll have it.”

“I heard," said Schurz, "you preached a sermon to your men yesterday."

“No, sir! this is no time for preaching. When I went to Mexico there were four preachers in my regiment. In less than a week I issued orders for them all to stop preaching and go to playing cards. In a month or so, they were the biggest devils and best fighters I had.”

An hour afterward Carl Schurz told me he was going home to arm his clansmen for the wars. He has obtained three months’ leave of absence from his diplomatic duties, and permission to raise a cavalry regiment. I doubt the propriety of the movement. He will make a wonderful land pirate; bold, quick, brilliant and reckless. He will be hard to control and difficult to direct. Still, we shall see. He is a wonderful man.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 26-7; Tyler Dennett, Editor, Lincoln and the Civil War in the Diaries and Letters of John Hay, p. 13-4; Michael Burlingame & John R. Turner Ettlinger, Editors; Inside Lincoln's White House: The Complete Civil War Diary of John Hay, p. 13-4

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, April 15, 1862

Beaufort, S. C. April 15th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

Not wishing you to be exposed to disappointment, I must write a few brief lines by the mail that I have just learned will leave here in a short time. I have hardly anything to write beside the delight at the news received by latest advices. The fall of No. 10, the battle at Corinth, and the surrender of Pulaski are a rare combination of good things to come at one time. I can give you no particulars regarding the bombardment at Pulaski, as it was expected to continue several days, and the General consequently postponed visiting the scene of action until it was too late. The newspapers, however, will be full of the matter, I suppose, and will be loud in their praises of General Hunter, though he had really nothing whatever to do with it. The whole affair was prepared under the Sherman regime, and to it belongs the credit. The one immediately deserving of credit is General Gilmore who has had the direct superintendence of the matter.

We are hoping for reinforcements soon from the North, feeling, as we do, unwilling to enter into summer without having contributed something to the glory and success of our cause. But we are half relinquishing the hope that the Government considers our little post in other light than a good field for emancipation experiments. I am sorry to say I do not feel great sympathy in the efforts made at present in that line — not that I do not feel the necessity of the question's being settled, or do not feel the same interest that others do in the question itself. I am delighted to think that the time has come when slavery has lost its power, and something is to be done for the regeneration of the negro, but believe the question to be one of such delicacy, and requiring in its solution such rare wisdom, that I can not but be filled with extreme disgust at the character of the agents employed. I do believe that there is hardly one of them who would have the slightest chance of success in anything but professional philanthropy. A more narrow-minded pack of fools I rarely ever met. Instead of showing the necessary qualities for the position, they seem to care for nothing but their miserable selves. There is undoubtedly some good leaven in the mass, but, could you see them, the men especially, I do not think they would command your sympathies much. I suppose such preliminary experiments have to be made though, before any systematic plan can be adopted for the general amelioration of the mass. I do wish though there were more unselfish ones among them, and a few more acquainted with worldly matters. The ladies are by far the best part, for they mostly came down under excitement, or determined to do good. Here's a pretty dish of scandal, truly, but I get exasperated sometimes.

I am much obliged to Hattie for her kind offer to make the flag for me. Any such evidence of kindly feeling is appreciated, I assure you, down here.

A steamer lies embedded in the sand a short distance from the shore. I think it has some mail matter aboard, so I watch it impatiently.

Good-bye, dear Mother, love to all and believe me,

Affectionately,

Your son,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 140-2

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, March 24, 1862

Headquarters 2d Brigade, S. C.

Beaufort, S. C., March 24th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

The steamer arrived last night, bringing a long letter from you, one from Horace and one from Walter, affording of course much pleasure, but the tone of all occasioning much surprise. Indeed, in the midst of all our victories and astonishing successes, it is to me inexplicable why McClellan should be attacked with such a savage spirit! I had no idea that the spirit of malevolence could carry men so far, but I am confident that McClellan will stand justified on the pages of history for preferring to ensure victory where reverses would have been well nigh fatal. The plan of the present grand campaign may not entirely have originated with McClellan, but undoubtedly he had the total arrangement of it. It seems to me to be as wise and perfect a one as was possible, considering the magnificence of its proportions. Of course, people will cry: “Why was not all that has been done, done long ago?” But I honor him the more that he had the moral courage to wait. It is well enough to talk about the immense army at his disposal, but if the army is a mere mob without cohesive power, a Napoleon might lead them, and see them fly from earthworks that would excite a soldier's derision. I believe now we have an army of soldiers, and believe we will win victories at every turn. I do not forget though the lesson of Bull Run, and more than that, it is not many months ago I can remember that our army, despite every effort of its commanders, was a poor, cowed, spiritless thing — a good army to get killed in, but a poor one to look for the crown of laurel. I say McClellan has done a glorious thing, and shame on his detractors! A few short weeks ago when Elliott was off recruiting, he met with few recruits, but many a coward tongue eloquently detailing our reverses. And now I suppose they would rob those who have borne the burden and heat of day, of the poor praise which they had hoped for when the fruit of their labors had ripened, and the reapers were ready to gather a harvest of glory. I have heard many say that they do not pretend to have any military knowledge, but they do pretend to be governed by a little common sense, and common sense teaches them so-and-so. Now, dear mother, be sure, when you hear men talk thus, that common sense means simply pure ignorance. It was this common sense, alias ignorance, that forced the battle of Bull Run. It was a little military knowledge that has made the opening of the year 1862 a glorious one for our Union Army. Enough! I have had my say — have expressed my disgust — and may now change the subject.

My dearest Mother, it will be a sweet thing for us all to see peace once more restored, and I do not doubt that no one prays more earnestly for it than yourself. I cannot but feel that a Higher Power has guided us of late to victory and do not fear for the result, yet bloody battles must be fought in which we must all partake, before the olive-branch is possible. I hardly think that the impatient ones at home, who are clamorous as to the inactivity and want of efficiency of our army, will have in the end any reason to complain that blood enough has not been shed to compensate them for the millions they have expended on it.

Many think that before July the war will be ended. How pleasant a time it will be when I can honorably return home. There is no sweeter anticipation than the joy I know my return would bring to your heart. I have been called away to attend to some business. Very much love to my dear sisters and the little ones.

Affec'y.,

Will.

I wrote the above shortly after reading my letters. Since then I have been diligently reading the papers, and perhaps must modify my opinions somewhat, but as the mail leaves in a few moments, you must take the first outburst, or none. You offer me a flag; send it, dear mother, by all means. It shall be carried when we advance.

Lovingly,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 129-31

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 28, 1861

On dropping in at the Consulate to-day, I found the skippers of several English vessels who are anxious to clear out, lest they be detained by the Federal cruisers. The United States steam frigates Brooklyn and Niagara have been for some days past blockading Pass á l’outre. One citizen made a remarkable proposition to Mr. Mure. He came in to borrow an ensign of the Royal Yacht Squadron for the purpose, he said, of hoisting it on board his yacht, and running down to have a look at the Yankee ships. Mr. Mure had no flag to lend; whereupon he asked for a description by which he could get one made. On being applied to, I asked “whether the gentleman was a member of the Squadron?” “Oh, no,” said he, “but my yacht was built in England, and I wrote over some time ago to say I would join the squadron.” I ventured to tell him that it by no means followed he was a member, and that if he went out with the flag and could not show by his papers he had a right to carry it, the yacht would be seized. However, he was quite satisfied that he had an English yacht, and a right to hoist an English flag, and went off to an outfitter's to order a facsimile of the squadron ensign, and subsequently cruised among the blockading vessels.

We hear Mr. Ewell was attacked by an Union mob in Tennessee, his luggage was broken open and plundered, and he narrowly escaped personal injury. Per contra, “charges of abolitionism,” continue to multiply here, and are almost as numerous as the coroner's inquests, not to speak of the difficulties which sometimes attain the magnitude of murder.

I dined with a large party at the Lake, who had invited me as their guest, among whom were Mr. Slidell, Governor Hebert, Mr. Hunt, Mr. Norton, Mr. Fellows, and others. I observed in New York that every man had his own solution of the cause of the present difficulty, and contradicted plumply his neighbor the moment he attempted to propound his own theory. Here I found every one agreed as to the righteousness of the quarrel, but all differed as to the best mode of action for the South to pursue. Nor was there any approach to unanimity as the evening waxed older. Incidentally we had wild tales of Southern life, some good songs curiously intermingled with political discussions, and what the Northerners call hyphileutin talk.

When I was in the Consulate to-day, a tall and well-dressed, but not very prepossessing-looking man, entered to speak to Mr. Mure on business, and was introduced to me at his own request. His name was mentioned incidentally to-night, and I heard a passage in his life not of an agreeable character, to say the least of it. A good many years ago there was a ball at New Orleans, at which this gentleman was present; he paid particular attention to a lady, who, however, preferred the society of one of the company, and in the course of the evening an altercation occurred respecting an engagement to dance, in which violent language was exchanged, and a push or blow given by the favored partner to his rival, who left the room, and, as it is stated, proceeded to a cutler's shop, where he procured a powerful dagger-knife. Armed with this, he returned, and sent in a message to the gentleman with whom he had quarrelled. Suspecting nothing, the latter came into the antechamber, the assassin rushed upon him, stabbed him to the heart, and left him weltering in his blood. Another version of the story was, that he waited for his victim till he came into the cloak-room, and struck him as he was in the act of putting on his overcoat. After a long delay, the criminal was tried. The defence put forward on his behalf was that he had seized a knife in the heat of the moment when the quarrel took place, and had slain his adversary in a moment of passion; but evidence, as I understand, went strongly to prove that a considerable interval elapsed between the time of the dispute and the commission of the murder. The prisoner had the assistance of able and ingenious counsel; he was acquitted. His acquittal was mainly due to the judicious disposition of a large sum of money; each juror; when he retired to dinner previous to consulting over the verdict, was enabled to find the sum of 1000 dollars under his plate; nor was it clear that the judge and sheriff had not participated in the bounty; in fact, I heard a dispute as to the exact amount which it is supposed the murderer had to pay. He now occupies, under the Confederate Government, the post at New Orleans which he lately held as representative of the Government of the United States.

After dinner I went in company of some of my hosts to the Boston Club, which has, I need not say, no connection with the city of that name. More fires, the tocsin sounding, and so to bed.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 240-2

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 20, 1861

I left Mobile in the steamer Florida for New Orleans this morning at eight o'clock. She was crowded with passengers, in uniform. In my cabin was a notice of the rules and regulations of the steamer. No. 6 was as follows: “All slave servants must be cleared at the Custom House. Passengers having slaves will please report as soon as they come on board.”

A few miles from Mobile the steamer, turning to the right, entered one of the narrow channels which perforate the whole of the coast, called “Grant's Pass.” An ingenious person has rendered it navigable by an artificial cut; but as he was not an universal philanthropist, and possibly may have come from north of the Tweed, he further erected a series of barriers, which can only be cleared by means of a little pepper-castor iron lighthouse; and he charges toll on all passing vessels. A small island at the pass, just above water-level, about twenty yards broad and one hundred and fifty yards long, was being fortified. Some of our military friends landed here ; and it required a good deal of patriotism to look cheerfully at the prospect of remaining cooped up among the mosquitoes in a box, on this miserable sand-bank, which a shell would suffice to blow into atoms.

Having passed this channel, our steamer proceeded up a kind of internal sea, formed by the shore, on the right hand and on the left, by a chain almost uninterrupted of reefs covered with sand, and exceedingly narrow, so that the surf of the ocean rollers at the other side could be seen through the foliage of the pine-trees which line them. On our right the endless pines closed up the land view of the horizon; the beach was pierced by creeks without number, called bayous; and it was curious to watch the white sails of the little schooners gliding in and out among the trees along the green meadows that seemed to stretch as an impassable barrier to their exit. Immense troops of pelicans flapped over the sea, dropping incessantly on the fish which abounded in the inner water; and long rows of the same birds stood digesting their plentiful meals on the white beach by the ocean foam.

There was some anxiety in the passengers' minds, as it was reported that the United States cruisers had been seen inside, and that they had even burned the batteries on Ship Island. We saw nothing of a character more formidable than coasting craft and a return steamer from New Orleans till we approached the entrance to Pontchartrain, when a large schooner, which sailed like a witch and was crammed with men, attracted our attention. Through the glass I could make out two guns on her deck, and quite reason enough for any well-filled merchantman sailing under the Stars and Stripes to avoid her close companionship.

The approach to New Orleans is indicated by large hamlets and scattered towns along the seashore, hid in the piney woods, which offer a retreat to the merchants and their families from the fervid heat of the unwholesome city in summer time. As seen from the sea, these sanitary settlements have a picturesque effect, and an air of charming freshness and lightness. There are detached villas of every variety of architecture in which timber can be constructed, painted in the brightest hues — greens, and blues, and rose tints — each embowered in magnolias and rhododendrons. From every garden a very long and slender pier, terminated by a bathing-box, stretches into the shallow sea; and the general aspect of these houses, with the light domes and spires of churches rising above the lines of white railings set in the dark green of the pines, is light and novel. To each of these cities there is a jetty, at two of which we touched, and landed newspapers, received or discharged a few bales of goods, and were off again.

Of the little crowd assembled on each, the majority were blacks — the whites, almost without exception, in uniform, and armed. A near approach did not induce me to think that any agencies less powerful than epidemics and summer-heats could render Pascagoula, Passchristian, Mississippi City, and the rest of these settlements very eligible residences for people of an active turn of mind.

The livelong day my fellow-passengers never ceased talking politics, except when they were eating and drinking, because the horrible chewing and spitting are not at all incompatible with the maintenance of active discussion. The fiercest of them all was a thin, fiery-eyed little woman, who at dinner expressed a fervid desire for bits of “Old Abe” — his ear, his hair; but whether for the purpose of eating or as curious relics, she did not enlighten the company.

After dinner there was some slight difficulty among the military gentlemen, though whether of a political or personal character, I could not determine; but it was much aggravated by the appearance of a six-shooter on the scene, which, to my no small perturbation, was presented in a right line with my berth, out of the window of which I was looking at the combatants. I am happy to say the immediate delivery of the fire was averted by an amicable arrangement that the disputants should meet at the St. Charles Hotel at twelve o'clock on the second day after their arrival, in order to fix time, place, and conditions of a more orthodox and regular encounter.

At night the steamer entered a dismal canal, through a swamp which is infamous as the most mosquito haunted place along the infested shore; the mouths of the Mississippi themselves being quite innocent, compared to the entrance of Lake Pontchartrain. When I woke up at daylight, I found the vessel lying alongside a wharf with a railway train alongside, which is to take us to the city of New Orleans, six miles distant.

A village of restaurants or “restaurants,” as they are called here, and of bathing boxes has grown up around the terminus; all the names of the owners, the notices and sign-boards being French. Outside the settlement the railroad passes through a swamp, like an Indian jungle, through which the over-flowings of the Mississippi creep in black currents. The spires of New Orleans rise above the underwood and semi-tropical vegetation of this swamp. Nearer to the city lies a marshy plain, in which flocks of cattle, up to the belly in the soft earth are floundering among the clumps of vegetation. The nearer approach to New Orleans by rail lies through a suburb of exceedingly broad lanes, lined on each side by rows of miserable mean one-storied houses, inhabited, if I am to judge from the specimens I saw, by a miserable and sickly population.

A great number of the men and women had evident traces of negro blood in their veins, and of the purer blooded whites many had the peculiar look of the fishy-fleshy population of the Levantine towns, and all were pale and lean. The railway terminus is marked by a dirty, barrack-like shed in the city. Selecting one of the numerous tumble-down hackney carriages which crowded the street outside the station, I directed the man to drive me to the house of Mr. Mure, the British consul, who had been kind enough to invite me as his guest for the period of my stay in New Orleans.

The streets are badly paved, as those of most of the American cities, if not all that I have ever been in, but in other respects they are more worthy of a great city than are those of New York There is an air thoroughly French about the people — cafes, restaurants, billiard-rooms abound, with oyster and lager-bier saloons interspersed. The shops are all magazines; the people in the streets are speaking French, particularly the negroes, who are going out shopping with their masters and mistresses, exceedingly well dressed, noisy, and not unhappy looking. The extent of the drive gave an imposing idea of the size of New Orleans — the richness of some of the shops, the vehicles in the streets, and the multitude of well-dressed people on the pavements, an impression of its wealth and the comfort of the inhabitants, The Confederate flag was flying from the public buildings and from many private houses. Military companies paraded through the streets, and a large proportion of men were in uniform.

In the day I drove through the city, delivered letters of introduction, paid visits, and examined the shops and the public places; but there is such a whirl of secession and politics surrounding one it is impossible to discern much of the outer world.

Whatever may be the number of the Unionists or of the non-secessionists, a pressure too potent to be resisted has been directed by the popular party against the friends of the federal government. The agent of Brown Brothers, of Liverpool and New York, has closed their office and is going away in consequence of the intimidation of the mob, or as the phrase is here, the “excitement of the citizens,” on hearing of the subscription made by the firm to the New York fund, after Sumter had been fired upon. Their agent in Mobile has been compelled to adopt the same course. Other houses follow their example, but as most business transactions are over for the season, the mercantile community hope the contest will be ended before the next season, by the recognition of Southern Independence.

The streets are full of Turcos, Zouaves, Chasseurs; walls are covered with placards of volunteer companies; there are Pickwick rifles, La Fayette/Beauregard, MacMahon guards, Irish, German, Italian and Spanish and native volunteers, among whom the Meagher rifles, indignant with the gentleman from whom they took their name, because of his adhesion to the North, are going to rebaptize themselves and to seek glory under one more auspicious. In fact, New Orleans looks like a suburb of the camp at Chalons. Tailors are busy night and day making uniforms. I went into a shop with the consul for some shirts — the mistress and all her seamstresses were busy preparing flags as hard as the sewing-machine could stitch them, and could attend to no business for the present. The Irish population, finding themselves unable to migrate northwards, and being without work, have rushed to arms with enthusiasm to support Southern institutions, and Mr. John Mitchell and Mr. Meagher stand opposed to each other in hostile camps.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 227-31

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Monday, June 1, 1863

We all went to a review of General Liddell's brigade at Bellbuckle, a distance of six miles. There were three carriages full of ladies, and I rode an excellent horse, the gift of General John Morgan to General Hardee. The weather and the scenery were delightful. General Hardee asked me particularly whether Mr Mason had been kindly received in England. I replied that I thought he had, by private individuals. I have often found the Southerners rather touchy on this point.

General Liddell's brigade was composed of Arkansas troops — five very weak regiments which had suffered severely in the different battles, and they cannot be easily recruited on account of the blockade of the Mississippi The men were good-sized, healthy, and well clothed, but without any attempt at uniformity in colour or cut; but nearly all were dressed either in grey or brown coats and felt hats. I was told that even if a regiment was clothed in proper uniform by the Government, it would become parti-coloured again in a week, as the soldiers preferred wearing the coarse homespun jackets and trousers made by their mothers and sisters at home. The Generals very wisely allow them to please themselves in this respect, and insist only upon their arms and accoutrements being kept in proper order. Most of the officers were dressed in uniform which is neat and serviceable — viz., a bluish-grey frock-coat of a colour similar to Austrian yagers. The infantry wear blue facings, the artillery red, the doctors black, the staff white, and the cavalry yellow; so it is impossible to mistake the branch of the service to which an officer belongs — nor is it possible to mistake his rank. A second lieutenant, first lieutenant, and captain, wear respectively one, two, and three bars on the collar. A major, lieutenant-colonel, and colonel, wear one, two, and three stars on the collar.

Before the marching past of the brigade, many of the soldiers had taken off their coats and marched past the General in their shirt-sleeves, on account of the warmth. Most of them were armed with Enfield rifles captured from the enemy. Many, however, had lost or thrown away their bayonets, which they don't appear to value properly, as they assert that they have never met any Yankees who would wait for that weapon. I expressed a desire to see them form square, but it appeared they were “not drilled to such a manoeuvre” (except square two deep). They said the country did not admit of cavalry charges, even if the Yankee cavalry had stomach to attempt it.

Each regiment carried a “battle-flag,” blue, with a white border, on which were inscribed the names “Belmont,” “Shiloh,” “Perryville,” “Richmond, Ky,” and “Murfreesborough.” They drilled tolerably well, and an advance in line was remarkably good; but General Liddell had invented several dodges of his own, for which he was reproved by General Hardee.

The review being over, the troops were harangued by Bishop Elliott in an excellent address, partly religious, partly patriotic. He was followed by a congress man of vulgar appearance, named Hanley, from Arkansas, who delivered himself of a long and uninteresting political oration, and ended by announcing himself as a candidate for re-election. This speech seemed to me (and to others) particularly ill-timed, out of place, and ridiculous, addressed as it was to soldiers in front of the enemy. But this was one of the results of universal suffrage. The soldiers afterwards wanted General Hardee to say something, but he declined. I imagine that the discipline in this army is the strictest in the Confederacy, and that the men are much better marchers than those I saw in Mississippi.

A soldier was shot in Wartrace this afternoon. We heard the volley just as we left in the cars for Shelbyville. His crime was desertion to the enemy; and as the prisoner's brigade was at Tullahoma (twenty miles off), he was executed without ceremony by the Provost guard. Spies are hung every now and then; but General Bragg told me it was almost impossible for either side to stop the practice.

Bishop Elliott, Dr Quintard, and myself got back to General Polk's quarters at 5 P.M., where I was introduced to a Colonel Styles, who was formerly United States minister at Vienna. In the evening I made the acquaintance of General Wheeler, Van Dorn's successor in the command of the cavalry of this army, which is over 24,000 strong. He is a very little man, only twenty-six years of age, and was dressed in a coat much too big for him. He made his reputation by protecting the retreat of the army through Kentucky last year. He was a graduate of West Point, and seems a remarkably zealous officer, besides being very modest and unassuming in his manners.

General Polk told me that, notwithstanding the departure of Breckenridge, this army is now much stronger than it was at the time of the battle of Murfreesborough. I think that probably 45,000 infantry and artillery could be brought together immediately for a battle.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 155-9

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Friday, February 17, 1865

The Seventeenth Army Corps remained all day on the south bank of the Congaree river, near the Saluda cotton mills, while the Fifteenth Corps early this morning crossed the north fork, the Broad river, on pontoons, having laid them during the night, and moved down upon Columbia. But when they entered the place they found that the rebels had already left it. In the meantime the Thirteenth Iowa Regiment, being on our skirmish line in front of the city, crossed the river in skiffs and after a little skirmishing succeeded in placing their flag on the State House before any of the Fifteenth Corps even got into town.¹ So a part of the Seventeenth Corps was the first to enter Columbia.² Our corps crossed the forks late this afternoon and went into camp a short distance from town.

_______________

¹ This is precisely the substance of the original entry of Mr. Downing's diary. In the following footnote, after almost fifty years, he explains the flag episode more fully and also speaks Incidentally of the burning of Columbia, though he makes no mention of it in his original; that he did not is, however, not to be wondered at, since such burnings were common. In his revision fifty years later he does not enter into the discussion of “Who Burned Columbia,” but makes a single statement, which seems to hold the Confederates responsible. — Ed.

² It was a bright sunshiny day with a high wind blowing from the south. From where we were, on the south bank of the river just opposite the city, we could see men on foot and on horseback in the main street of Columbia, lighting the cotton bales which they before had piled up in the streets for defenses. In the forenoon, a detachment of men from the Thirteenth Iowa Regiment crossed the river, and driving the enemy's skirmishers into the city, they placed their regimental flag on the State House, thus having the honor of being the first to place the Stars and Stripes on the capitol of the first state to secede from the Union.

The Thirteenth Iowa was in Crocker's Brigade, or the Third Brigade of the Fourth Division of the Seventeenth Army Corps. The boys of the Thirteenth Iowa made the mistake of not placing a guard about their flag, for about an hour after they had raised their flag, the Iowa Brigade in the Fifteenth Army Corps entered the city from the west, and the Thirtieth Iowa Regiment of that brigade, being on the skirmish line, naturally made for the State House. Upon approaching the capitol and seeing no Union soldiers around, they proceeded to investigate a little, and upon entering the building and finding no guard, they took down the flag of the Thirteenth Iowa, and put up their own instead. They then left a guard to defend it. The Thirteenth Iowa was without a flag for two or three days, when the Thirtieth Iowa finally returned to them their flag.

Our corps, the Seventeenth, moved up the river, and by dark had crossed the forks, the Saluda and Broad rivers, on the pontoons. As soon as we had stacked arms, I left for the city to replenish my haversack, which had become rather flat, and I did not get back to our bivouac until 2 o'clock in the morning, and then without anything to eat in my haversack. On entering town I passed by the abandoned Confederate commissary department, and seeing a great abundance of food stuffs, I thought that I would go down into town for a while, and then on my way back would fill up my haversack. But when I returned, I found the building in flames and food and all was In ashes before daylight.—A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 253-4

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: November 25, 1864

Sherman is thundering at Augusta's very doors. My General was on the wing, somber, and full of care. The girls are merry enough; the staff, who fairly live here, no better. Cassandra, with a black shawl over her head, is chased by the gay crew from sofa to sofa, for she avoids them, being full of miserable anxiety. There is nothing but distraction and confusion. All things tend to the preparation for the departure of the troops. It rains all the time, such rains as I never saw before; incessant torrents. These men come in and out in the red mud and slush of Columbia streets. Things seem dismal and wretched to me to the last degree, but the staff, the girls, and the youngsters do not see it.

Mrs. S. (born in Connecticut) came, and she was radiant. She did not come to see me, but my nieces. She says exultingly that “Sherman will open a way out at last, and I will go at once to Europe or go North to my relatives there.” How she derided our misery and “mocked when our fear cometh.” I dare say she takes me for a fool. I sat there dumb, although she was in my own house, I have heard of a woman so enraged that she struck some one over the head with a shovel. To-day, for the first time in my life, I know how that mad woman felt. I could have given Mrs. S. the benefit of shovel and tongs both.

That splendid fellow, Preston Hampton; “home they brought their warrior, dead,” and wrapped in that very Legion flag he had borne so often in battle with his own hands.

A letter from Mrs. Davis to-day, under date of Richmond, Va., November 20, 1864. She says: “Affairs West are looking so critical now that, before you receive this, you and I will be in the depths or else triumphant. I confess I do not sniff success in every passing breeze, but I am so tired, hoping, fearing, and being disappointed, that I have made up my mind not to be disconsolate, even though thieves break through and steal. Some people expect another attack upon Richmond shortly, but I think the avalanche will not slide until the spring breaks up its winter quarters. I have a blind kind of prognostics of victory for us, but somehow I am not cheered. The temper of Congress is less vicious, but more concerted in its hostile action." Mrs. Davis is a woman that my heart aches for in the troubles ahead.

My journal, a quire of Confederate paper, lies wide open on my desk in the corner of my drawing-room. Everybody reads it who chooses. Buck comes regularly to see what I have written last, and makes faces when it does not suit her. Isabella still calls me Cassandra, and puts her hands to her ears when I begin to wail. Well, Cassandra only records what she hears; she does not vouch for it. For really, one nowadays never feels certain of anything.

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 334-5

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, August 13, 1862

On Picket Near Culpepper,

August 13, 1862.

At last I believe I have a chance to write you an account of our doings during the last few days, and to relieve all your anxiety about myself. Last week Wednesday, our army corps marched from Washington, making about fourteen miles under a terribly hot sun; the next day, we went on five miles further to Hazel River. Friday night we made a moonlight march to Culpepper. Saturday morning, we started away again at ten o'clock towards the Rapidan River, leaving everything behind us, knapsacks and all, taking only two days' rations and plenty of ammunition.

We were ordered to the front to support General Crawford's brigade; following our brigade was General Augur's division, consisting of two small brigades, the whole making up Banks' army corps; we formed line of battle about six miles from Culpepper in a very strong position, our brigade on the right and Augur's division on the left. Nothing occurred until about half-past three in the afternoon, when a cannonading gradually began, increasing every minute until our entire left became engaged. From our position, we could see all that was taking place, and it was a sight that I shall never forget, to see two lines of infantry gradually approach each other across an almost level plain, both under a heavy artillery fire. As they drew near enough, we could see them exchange volley after volley of musketry; then everything became enveloped in smoke and we could see only whether our line advanced or retreated by watching the colors. It was easy to see that the men were falling fast by the constant lines of ambulances that we saw going and returning from the field.

About five o'clock, Crawford's brigade moved up in front of us and became engaged. The firing of musketry now became tremendous. We could see nothing of it in front on account of an intervening bill. At about six o'clock, our brigade (Second Massachusetts, Third Wisconsin, and Twenty-seventh Indiana), was ordered up on the double quick to relieve Crawford, his brigade having been literally cut to pieces by the terrible fire of the rebels. After going about a mile over the hardest kind of swampy and wooded ground, we reached the edge of the woods and came under fire. We marched steadily along, our whole flank being exposed, and took a position behind a low rail fence, the men being ordered to lie down. I will give you an idea of how things stood at the time. General Augur's division had been obliged to fall back to their original position and was now disengaged. Of General Crawford's brigade which went into the fight two thousand strong, twelve hundred had been killed, wounded or taken prisoners; the small remainder was rallying at some distance from the field, so there was nothing left to fight the rebels with but our three small regiments. Crawford met with his great loss in charging across the open field lying between the woods. General Gordon was ordered by Banks to do the same thing with our brigade; Gordon protested against it as an impossibility without supports, and finally gained his point.

At first, we sustained a fire from the rebels only in the woods, which was not very severe, but soon the enemy made their appearance in an oblique line and commenced a cross fire which was perfectly fearful. The Twenty-seventh Indiana gave way almost at once; the Third Wisconsin stood it nobly and did not fall back until the enemy was almost in their rear. In our regiment, not a shot was fired until Colonel Andrews gave the order “Commence firing!” which was not until the rebels were within two or three hundred yards of us. The effect was tremendous; we actually tore great gaps through their ranks, and their whole right was wavering; if we could have had any support at that time, we might have charged and driven their line like sheep, but that wasn't in Banks' programme. Meanwhile, the roar of musketry was perfectly deafening; the noise of the bullets through the air was like a gale of wind; our poor men were dropping on every side, yet not one of them flinched but kept steadily at his work.

Sergeant Willis of my company (I forgot to say I was in command of Company I), who was acting first sergeant, stood directly in front of me; he received a ball in his head and fell back into my arms saying, “Lieutenant, I'm killed!” and almost instantly died; he was a very handsome young fellow, and as he expired his face had a beautifully calm expression. I laid him down gently on the ground beside me and had hardly done so, when one of my corporals named Pierson, who was touching me on the left, was shot almost in the same place, but not killed. It is impossible to relate all the incidents that took place; it seemed as if only a miracle could save any one. I received two bullets through my trousers, but wasn't scratched. Colonel Andrews was splendid! He kept riding from one end of the line to the other, giving his orders coolly, as if on drill; his horse was wounded twice.

I never was more surprised in my life than when I heard the order to retreat. I did not know what had taken place on our right, and could not understand what it was for. With Lieutenant Abbott's assistance, I managed to help Lieutenant Oakey off the field to the hospital; he was quite severely wounded. Our regiment formed behind the hospital, about a quarter of a mile from the field, the rest of the brigade joining us. It was not until I saw the regiment in line that I began to appreciate our loss. Major Savage had been left severely wounded on the field; Captain Abbott, dead; Captains Carey, Goodwin, Williams and Quincy, Lieutenants Perkins and Miller, wounded and left behind; Lieutenants Robeson, Grafton, Oakey, Browning and Surgeon Leland, wounded and brought off, and Captain Russell missing, and our regimental line was not more than half its usual length. The only officers left were Andrews, Adjutant Shelton, Captain Bangs, Lieutenants Pattison, Choate, Fox, Abbott and myself. Our colors, those which the Boston ladies gave us, had five bullet holes through them; the eagle was shot off and the staff was shot through by a minié ball, splintering it into two pieces; our color-bearer, Sergeant George, brought off the whole of it. This is the second flag we have had honorably used up in battle.

Soon after forming our second line, I was detailed by the Colonel to go to the hospital to take charge of sending off the wounded. A house with quite a large yard had been taken for hospital use; the scene in and about it was very painful. Soldiers lying in all directions, with every variety of wounds. I took hold and worked hard, loading the ambulances, for about an hour, when our regiment moved and I was ordered to join it.

Our brigade now took up a position on the left of the line of battle, to do picket duty, Ricketts' division being on the right. Our sentinels were close to the rebels and we had continual skirmishes throughout the night. We had one man killed, and took several of the rebel cavalry prisoners. Once the enemy crept down on us, as they did that night at Newtown, and poured a volley over us, which, luckily, was too high and did no harm. Morning came at last, after, to tell the truth, a pretty nervous, disagreeable night. Daylight showed us that large reinforcements had arrived and that we were now in a condition to fight, but the day wore on, still no attack was made by the enemy. Banks' division was in reserve.

The battle I do not consider a victory to either side; we held our original position and they theirs, the ground between being neutral. Our brigade was withdrawn from the field about noon and bivouacked in a wood near by. I was sent into Culpepper on official business for Colonel Andrews. The town seemed to be one great hospital, every hotel and private house, almost, being used for that purpose. I saw Robeson, Grafton, Oakey and Browning; they were all suffering considerably from want of attention; the first is wounded in the wrist, the second in the forehead, the third in the hip, and last in the thigh, a very severe, dangerous wound. I got back to camp early in the evening. Soon after, Lieutenant Abbott, Mr. Quint and a burial party, left for the battle field to perform the last duties for our poor men. Abbott returned early in the morning and brought the shocking and sad intelligence that Captains Abbott, Carey, Goodwin and Williams and Lieutenant Perkins, were lying dead on the field, and that a number of our wounded were still there. I was sent right off with all our ambulances to the field. The scene there was too awful to attempt to describe; very few of the dead had been buried, and they were lying thick in every direction. Captain Carey had lived nearly twenty-four hours and looked as natural as if alive.

I had the bodies of all the officers put into the ambulances and sent them back to the regiment; the wounded also were all cared for. I then went over to the rebel lines with Bob Shaw, under a flag of truce, to see what could be heard of Harry Russell, the Major, Captain Quincy and Lieutenant Miller. We met some very pleasant rebel officers who were very gentlemanly and kind, and found out from them and some other sources, that Russell was unhurt and a prisoner, Quincy and Miller wounded and prisoners; we managed to get some money to Savage and Russell.

Our loss, as it stood yesterday morning, was as follows:—

5 Commissioned officers killed,	8 wounded,	1 prisoner.
25 Enlisted men killed,	97 wounded,	33 missing.
30 killed,	106 Wounded,	34 missing,	Total 169.*

We carried into action twenty-two commissioned officers and four hundred and seventy-four enlisted men, a little more than one out of three meeting with some casualty. In Company I, there are, one sergeant killed, one sergeant wounded, one corporal wounded, nine privates wounded and one missing. Yesterday afternoon, Banks' army corps moved back to Colpepper to reorganize. I was sent out on picket immediately after arriving last night, and am taking the opportunity to write this long letter. I have not had my clothes off since last Thursday night, so you can imagine I am not very pretty to look at. I am a full-fledged Captain now, and have got my commission. I shall be assigned to Company B, if possible.

Poor Captain Williams! I saw him standing perfectly erect only a few minutes before he was shot, and ran over and spoke to him. His was the next company to mine. He will be a great loss to us all.

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* The actual loss was 58 killed and mortally wounded, 101 wounded, 15 prisoners not wounded. Total loss 174.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 75-81