Showing posts with label Frederick Winthrop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frederick Winthrop. Show all posts

Saturday, February 3, 2018

Charles A. Dana to Edwin M. Stanton, April 7, 1865 – 6 p.m.

AIKEN'S LANDING, April 5, 1865 11.30 a.m.  
(Received 2 p.m.)
Hon. EDWIN M. STANTON,
Secretary of War:

Little is known at City Point. Few officers left, and those overwhelmed with work. Lee telegraphed Jeff. Davis 3 p.m. Sunday that he was driven back and must evacuate. This was announced in church. Jeff. Davis had sold his furniture previously at auction and was ready to leave. All leading men got away that evening. Rebel iron-clads were exploded. Virginia lies sunk in James River above obstructions. Ewell set city on fire. All business portion of Main street to the river destroyed. Bridges across river also destroyed. Many families remain. Mrs. Lee remains. At Petersburg public stores were burned and a few houses caught fire, but not much damage was done to the city. Bridges there also destroyed. Will report fully from Richmond. Cannot get clear idea of our loss. The only general killed is Winthrop. Potter dangerously wounded in groin. General Grant has commanded armies in person since beginning of operations, having got disgusted with General Meade's stickling about his own dignity. General Grant relieved Warren from Fifth Corps Sunday for disaster of Friday. Griffin commands that corps. Warren commands defenses of Petersburg. Headquarters will be moved to Richmond* to-morrow. Weitzel has appointed Shepley governor of Richmond. Have not seen the President. He went to Richmond yesterday morning.

Weather fine.

C. A. DANA,
Assistant Secretary of War.
_______________

* Another copy says Petersburg.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I Volume 46, Part 3 (Serial No. 97), p. 574

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, December 14, 1864

December 14, 1864

General Winthrop [in speaking of Warren's operations] said his brigade bivouacked in a cornfield; it blew, snowed and sleeted all night, and when reveille beat in the morning, you could only see what seemed a field full of dead bodies, each covered with a rubber blanket and encased with ice. Some of the men had to kick and struggle, they were so hard frozen down. Yet, despite this, I have not learned that it has caused much sickness. How would you like to carry forty or fifty pounds all day, be wet through, have your feet soaked with mud and snow-water, and then go to sleep in a cornfield, with a drifting sleet coming down on you all night? This is what twenty-five thousand men did, for more than one night, on that expedition. This is what our poor slovenly ragamuffins can do; and this it is to be a good soldier. The Rebels are still tougher, if anything. Being still in love with the new picket line, which has been established in our rear, I again went down what is called the Church road, until I struck the infantry pickets, near a Colonel Wyatt's house. This once was a well-to-do establishment. The house is large and a huge cornfield testifies that he (or our cavalry) had gathered a good harvest that very year. There were the usual outbuildings of a well-to-do southern farmer: little log barns, negro huts, and odd things that might be large hencoops or small pigstyes. The Virginians have a great passion for putting up a great lot of diminutive structures as a kind of foil to the main building, which, on the contrary, they like to have as extensive as possible; just as the old painters added importance to a big saint by making a number of very small devotees, kneeling below him. A stout old gent, in a shocking bad beaver, who was walking about in the back yard was, I presume, the distinguished Colonel. Having stared at the house and been in turn stared at by a pretty little girl who threw up a window, to have a more clear view of the Yank, I went, still along the Church road, till I got to the Weldon road.

A picket line is always one of the most picturesque sights in an army, when it runs through woods and fields. You know it consists of a string of “posts,” each of half a dozen men, or so, and, in front of these, a chain of sentries who are constantly on the alert. The squads of men make to themselves a gipsy bough-house in front of which they make a fire in cool weather. They must always have their belts on and be ready to fight at a moment's notice. In the woods, you follow along from one rustic shelter to another, and see the sentries, out in front, each standing behind a good tree and keeping a sharp lookout for Rebel scouts, bushwhackers and cavalry. A short distance in the rear you from time to time come on a “reserve,” which is a large body, perhaps of fifty or a hundred, who are concealed and who are ready to come to the assistance of the posts, if they are attacked. Picket duty is, of all others, that which requires most individual intelligence in the soldiers. A picket line, judiciously posted, in woods or swamps, will oppose a formidable resistance, even to a line of battle. There was careful Mr. Corps, officer of the day, with his crimson scarf across his shoulder, inspecting his outposts and reserves; each one falling in as he came along and standing at a shoulder.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 300-2