Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 24, 1863

Nothing of interest doing here. The news is not encouraging. Grant has burned Jackson and evacuated the place, falling back toward Vicksburg. It is also reported that a portion of his army has gone to New Orleans, destined for Mobile. Bragg is at Chattanooga, and the Federal army all over Middle Tennessee and North Alabama. Lee is falling back slowly from Pennsylvania.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Sunday, October 12, 1862

Relay House Station, on the Northern Central R. R. Just where that is I haven't yet found out. We stood up or laid down in the street from noon yesterday until 3 a. M. this morning, when cars came and we went on board. They are box cars, no seats, but they have a roof, and that is what we most needed. We shivered and shook so our teeth chattered when we first got on board, and it was 5 A. M. before the train started. We were no longer curious to know where we were going. We were wet, cold, hungry and thirsty, and from lying on the pavements were so stiff we could hardly get on our feet. The major had to give it up—his leg was hurt worse than he thought. We are sorry not to have him along, for next to Colonel Smith, he is the most soldierly soldier in the regiment. Our two days' rations are gone and we are wondering when we will get another feed.

Noon. We are at Hanover Junction, Pa. We now feel sure we are after the rebel horse thieves, but unless we get a faster move on than this, they will get away with all the horses in the country before we get there. We are waiting for further orders from General Wool. The 144th N. Y. just stopped here, on their way to Baltimore. They are just out, and to hear them complain about being kept on the cars a whole day and night made us laugh.

5 p.m. We are full once more. Doesn't seem as if we could ever get hungry again after the feed we have just had. We are at Hanover, Pa. As the train stopped it seemed as if the whole population were standing beside the track, and nearly everyone had a basket of eatables or a pail of coffee. Men, women and children were there and they seemed to enjoy seeing us eat, even urging us to eat more, after we had stuffed ourselves, and then told us to put the rest in our haversacks. But they are terribly scared at the near approach of the rebel cavalry. We told them to fear no more. We were there, and the memory of the feast we had had would make us their special defenders. They distributed tracts among us, some of them printed sermons, and wound up by asking us to join them in singing the long-meter doxology. We not only sang it, we shouted it; each one took his own key and time, and some, I for one,—got through in time to hear the last line from the others. We left them with cheers and blessings that drowned the noise of the train, and I prayed that if I ever got stranded it might be in Hanover.

GETTYSBURG, PA. Night. The train has stopped outside the village, and a citizen says the Rebs are just out of the village on the opposite side. It is pitch dark and the orders are to show no lights and to keep very still. I have a candle and am squatted in the corner of the car trying to keep my diary going.

The officers are parading up and down along the train trying to enforce the order to be quiet. I am hovering over my candle so it won't be seen, for I must write, for fear I won't get a better chance.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 48-50

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Monday, October 13, 1862

Orders got too strict for my candle and I had to put it out. We made so much noise that the doors were shut on us finally and we were in pitch darkness in a closed car, with only room to lay down in. As the noise could be traced to no one in particular we kept it up until tired out and then slept as well as the circumstances would allow. Company B has a new name, "Bostwick's Tigers." It seems the colonel sent to find out who was making such a noise and was told it was Bostwick's tigers.* However, morning finally came, and the people of Gettysburg came down with a good breakfast, which in spite of our Hanover stuffing we began to need. They say the Rebs have gone on about five miles beyond the place. Lew Holmes and I got permission to go into the village, and I took the opportunity to write a letter home and to catch up with my diary.

Night. Just as I had written the above a horseman dashed into town and said the Rebels were on the way back to attack us. We ran for it and got back in time to fall in place, and had marched back into the village when another order stopped us and we remained all day long in the streets, not daring to leave for fear of an order to fall in. About 5 o'clock we were marched out of the village into open fields, to the north, I think, but as the sun has not shown himself all day, it may be in any other direction. Here we were broken into companies and guards posted. Not being on the detail for guard, Walt. Loucks, Len Loucks, Bill Snyder and myself have hauled up a lot of cornstalks beside a fence and I have written up my diary while they have made up the beds. Good-night.

_______________

*The name stuck to us ever after, and came from this silly circumstance.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 50-1

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Tuesday, October 14, 1862

Well, I have had a good sleep, if I did have a hard time getting it. Our cornstalk bed which promised so well, did not prove so. The stalks were like bean poles, and the ears big in proportion. After turning and twisting every way, Walt and I left the others and started on an exploring expedition. It was pitch dark, and we had to feel our way, but finally came to a building. We felt along until we came to a door and went in. It appeared to be an empty barn, but soon after we spread our blankets and got into bed we found we were in a henroost. We got outside much quicker than we got into the building and soon after came against another building. This we felt our way around, and on the opposite side found it to be a house, and the people not yet gone to bed. We urged them to let us sleep on the floor by the fire, but while the man seemed willing, the wife objected, and there was nothing to do but try elsewhere. Finally we decided to try and find the cornfield again, and by taking the back track we succeeded in getting back where we started from. We made a bed under the fence and at last got asleep, being too tired to be very particular. We were not going to say anything about our adventure, but the others woke up first and in some way found out about it. We had breakfast, the stragglers were called in, and were soon in line waiting for the order to march.*

2 p. m. In Hanover, Pa., again. About 8 o'clock we marched through Gettysburg and tumbled into the cars. We soon reached Hanover, where we have since been. Along towards noon, we began to wonder if we would get another such feed as they gave us on Sunday. Somehow the people didn't seem as glad to see us as they did then. In fact they seemed rather to avoid us. Not all, for some were handing out everything eatable they had. Rather than ride these free horses to death, Snyder and I decided on another plan and it worked beautifully. We saw a house where the people were ready to sit down to the table—a man and a woman were already at the table—when we set our guns by the door and walking in, took seats at the table without as much as saying "by your leave." I passed my plate to the man, who all at once seemed to see a funny side to our impudence and burst out laughing. We had a good dinner and a jolly good time, and felt as if we had gotten even with one of them at any rate.

Night. Have stopped, and the report is that a bridge is broken down somewhere ahead of us and that we must stay here all night; a lonesome dismal spot, not a house in sight and only the remains of our army rations for supper.

_______________

*I was in Gettysburg in 1909 and was told by people who remembered our visit in 1862, that there were no Rebels anywhere near Gettysburg except in the imagination of the people, who were scared out of their senses.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 51-2

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Tuesday, October 28, 1862

CAMP MILLINGTON, BALTIMORE. From the time of our home-coming and the royal welcome given us by the 150th, I have only made notes which I will try now to write out. Nothing out of the ordinary routine of a soldier's life in camp has transpired. I am getting more and more used to this, and the trifling occurrences that at first made such deep impressions are soon forgotten now. Still, as some one may read this who will never know of the details of a soldier's life in any other way, I shall try and keep to my promise to tell the whole story.

The box of good things that was mentioned in the letter I received while we lay in the street at Baltimore, waiting for a train to take us to Gettysburg, came a few days after our return to camp. In it was a great big package for me. I opened it and there lay the roasted body of our old Shanghai rooster. He was minus head, feet and feathers, but I knew him the minute I laid eyes on him.

I at once began to figure how many stomachs like ours he would fill, and then gave out that many invitations. All came, and brought their plates. With mouths watering, they stood about as I prepared to carve.

At the first cut I thought I smelled something, and at the next was sure I did. The old fellow, tough as he was, was not able to stand close confinement in such hot weather, and had taken on an odor that took away all appetite for roast chicken. Terribly disappointed, we wrapped him up again, and taking him out of camp, gave him as near a military funeral as we knew how. He was a brave old bird. I have seen him whip Cuff, mother's little guardian of the garden patch. "He sleeps his last sleep. He has fought his last battle. No sound shall awake him to glory again."

Requests for passes to visit the camp of the 150th are the pests of the commanding officers of our regiment, and the same can be said of the 150th. As soon as guard-mount is over, and the other details for camp duty made, the old guard (those who were on duty the day before, and who are excused from all duty except dress parade for the next twenty-four hours) try for a pass to visit the city or the 150th, the two attractions now. John Van Alstyne often visits me, as well as others with him with whom I am well acquainted. These visits I return as often as I can get away. Our camp ground has been laid out in regular order and the company streets graded and made to look very respectable. There is a broad street, along one side of which are the officers' tents, the colonel's in the center. Back of these are the quartermaster's and the commissary's stores, the sutler's tent and the mules and horses. In front of the colonel's tent is the flag-staff, and running out from the street are ten shorter streets, one for each company, with cook-houses or tents at the bottom. Men are detailed every day to clean up and keep in order all these and are called supernumeraries. When it rains we that are not on duty lie in our tents and amuse ourselves in any way we can, or visit from tent to tent as the fancy takes us. In fair weather we have either company-drill or battalion-drill, and every now and then the regiments are put together for brigade-drill. Any of it is hard work, but it is what we are here for, and we find little fault. The weather is chilly. I notice but little difference in the weather here and as we usually have it at home. There we expect it, while here we do not and that I suppose makes it seem harder to put up with.

One of our company, Elmer Anderson, deserted and enlisted in an artillery regiment a few days ago. He came into camp showing his papers and was arrested and put in the guard-house. What the outcome will be I don't know, but it seems as if there should be some way of preventing such things. Sunday mornings we have what we call knapsack-drill. Why they save this for Sunday I don't know, but I suppose there is some reason for it. We pack our knapsacks, brush up our guns, clothes, shoes, etc., and march to the drill ground and form in columns by companies. Company A on the right and B on the left. This brings Company A in front and the first company to be inspected, after which they march back to camp and are through for the day. Company B being the last, it is something like an hour we stand there with our knapsacks open before us on the ground, everything in them exposed to view of the passer-by, who is the inspection officer and the captain whose company he is inspecting. With his sword tip he pokes over our belongings, and if any dirty socks or handkerchief or any other article a soldier ought not to have is found, a lesson is read to him on the spot and repeated in plainer terms by the captain afterwards. As we must take everything we own or have it stolen while we are away, we take a great many chances. I shall never forget the first inspection. We knew nothing of what was coming, and such an outfit as that inspection officer saw I don't think any other one ever did. Little by little we learn the lesson, learn to put the best on top, for not all knapsacks have their contents stirred up. A great deal of allowance was made for us at first, but as we go along the screws of discipline are slowly but surely turned on, and finally I suppose it will be easy to obey. That one word, "obey," seems to be all that is required of us. No matter how unreasonable an order seems to us, we have only to obey it or get in trouble for not doing it.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 54-7

Congressman Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, [July 1, 1866]

WASHINGTON, D. C., [July 1, 1866].

MY DEAR ONE:— We missed you so much at Gettysburg [June 28-30]. It was cool, fine weather. The company good. "All things lovely." The battle-field must be one of the finest in the world. We had for guide and chaperon a gentleman who has made it a study for a long while, and I now feel that I know the battle as if I had seen it. There was nothing more in the generalship than I had supposed, but the stubbornness and good conduct of the army, of men and officers generally, was worthy of the cause. The Rebel attack was a very brilliant but rash thing.

Pick a cool day to go to Fremont. Every week or two, even in this weather, there is a little cool spell.

I shall not come home until the end of the session, now supposed to be on the 16th. - Love to all.

Affectionately, your

R.

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 3, p. 28

Diary of Private Louis Leon: July 6, 1863

Our company was ordered out as skirmishers to-day, as our regular skirmish corps was broken up during the fight. We were the rear of the army, and therefore had a very hard job before us. Fighting all day in falling back we certainly had fun. We were close enough to the enemy to hear their commands. We would hold them in check and give them a few rounds, then fall back again. They would then advance until we would make a stand, fight again, and so it was until we reached Fairfield, six miles from Gettysburg. I don't think there were many lost on either side in this skirmish. We crossed South Mountain at Monteray Gap. When we came to the above town I pressed into service a citizen's coat, in this way: We were ordered to rest, and, as usual, we would sit on fences and lay about the road. Some of the boys jumped on an old hog pen. It broke

through. They fell in, and, lo and behold, there were boxes of clothing, dresses, shawls, blankets, and, in fact, everything in the line of wearing apparel. I, being a little fellow, crawled through some of the boys' legs and captured the coat. If the fool citizen would have left his things in his house they would have been safe, but to put it in our way was too much for us to leave behind. We also passed through Waterboro, and Waynesboro, Pa., where the Maryland line commences. We then passed through Latisburg, and halted in Hagerstown, Md., on the evening of the 7th. We marched yesterday and all night up to 11 o'clock-twenty-four miles.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 38-9

Diary of Caroline Cowles Richards: August 1863

The U. S. Sanitary Commission has been organized. Canandaigua sent Dr. W. Fitch Cheney to Gettysburg with supplies for the sick and wounded and he took seven assistants with him. Home bounty was brought to the tents and put into the hands of the wounded soldiers. A blessed work.

SOURCE: Caroline Cowles Richards, Village Life in America, 1852-1872, p. 155

Major-General Darius N. Couch to Major-General Henry W. Halleck, June 30, 1863 – Received 5:50 p.m.

HARRISBURG, PA., June 30, 1863,                       

(Received 5.30 p.m.)

Maj. Gen. H W. HALLECK,

General-in-Chief:

As telegraphed previously, part of the rebel forces, if not all, have fallen back toward Chambersburg, passing Shippensburg last night in great haste. I expect every moment to hear that my cavalry, under General Smith, has reoccupied Carlisle. My latest information is that Early, with his 8,000 men, went toward Gettysburg or Hanover, saying they expected to fight a great battle there. At Carlisle they said they were not going to be outflanked by Hooker.

D. N. COUCH,          

Major-General.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 27, Part 3 (Serial No. 45), p. 434

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, July 10, 1863

I am assured that our army is steadily, but I fear too slowly, moving upon Lee and the Rebels. There are, I hope, substantial reasons for this tardiness. Why cannot our army move as rapidly as the Rebels? The high water in the river has stopped them, yet our troops do not catch up. It has been the misfortune of our generals to linger, never to avail themselves of success, — to waste, or omit to gather, the fruits of victory. Only success at Gettysburg and Vicksburg will quiet the country for the present hesitancy. No light or explanation is furnished by the General-in-Chief or the War Department.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 367

Diary of Gideon Welles: Tuesday, July 7, 1863

The President said this morning, with a countenance indicating sadness and despondency, that Meade still lingered at Gettysburg, when he should have been at Hagerstown or near the Potomac, to cut off the retreating army of Lee. While unwilling to complain and willing and anxious to give all praise to the general and army for the great battle and victory, he feared the old idea of driving the Rebels out of Pennsylvania and Maryland, instead of capturing them, was still prevalent among the officers. He hoped this was not so, said he had spoken to Halleck and urged that the right tone and spirit should be infused into officers and men, and that General Meade especially should be reminded of his (the President's) wishes and expectations. But General Halleck gave him a short and curt reply, showing that he did not participate and sympathize in this feeling, and, said the President, “I drop the subject.”

This is the President's error. His own convictions and conclusions are infinitely superior to Halleck's, — even in military operations more sensible and more correct always, — but yet he says, “It being strictly a military question, it is proper I should defer to Halleck, whom I have called here to counsel, advise, and direct in these matters, where he is an expert.” I question whether he should be considered an expert. I look upon Halleck as a pretty good scholarly critic of other men's deeds and acts, but as incapable of originating or directing military operations.

When I returned from the Cabinet council I found a delegation from Maine at the Department, consisting of Vice-President Hamlin, the two Senators from that State, and Senator Wilson of Massachusetts. These gentlemen had first waited on the President in regard to the coast defenses and protection of the fishermen, and were referred by him to me instead of the army, which claims to defend the harbors. At the moment of receiving this delegation I was handed a dispatch from Admiral Porter, communicating the fall of Vicksburg on the fourth of July. Excusing myself to the delegation, I immediately returned to the Executive Mansion. The President was detailing certain points relative to Grant's movements on the map to Chase and two or three others, when I gave him the tidings. Putting down the map, he rose at once, said we would drop these topics, and “I myself will telegraph this news to General Meade.” He seized his hat, but suddenly stopped, his countenance beaming with joy; he caught my hand, and, throwing his arm around me, exclaimed: “What can we do for the Secretary of the Navy for this glorious intelligence? He is always giving us good news. I cannot, in words, tell you my joy over this result. It is great, Mr. Welles, it is great!”

We walked across the lawn together. “This,” said he, “will relieve Banks. It will inspire me.” The opportunity I thought a good one to request him to insist upon his own views, to enforce them, not only on Meade but on Halleck.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 363-5

Diary of Gideon Welles: Friday, July 3, 1863

I met the President and Seward at the War Department this morning. A dispatch from General Meade, dated 3 P.M. yesterday, is in very good tone. The Sixth Army Corps, he says, was just arriving entire but exhausted, having been on the march from 9 P.M. of the preceding evening. In order that they may rest and recruit, he will not attack, but is momentarily expecting an onset from the Rebels.

They were concentrating for a fight, and, unless Meade is greatly deceived, there will be a battle in the neighborhood of Gettysburg. I hope our friends are not deceived so that the Rebel trains with their plunder can escape through the valley.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 356-7

Diary of John Hay: November 19, 1863

Nov. 18 we started from Washington to go to the consecration of the Soldiers’ Cemetery at Gettysburg. On our train were the President, Seward, Usher and Blair; Nicolay and myself; Mercier and Admiral Reynaud; Bertinatti and Cap^t Isola, and L^t Martinez and Cora; Mrs. Wise; Wayne MacVeagh; McDougal of Canada; and one or two others. We had a pleasant sort of a trip. At Baltimore Schenck’s staff joined us.

Just before we arrived at Gettysburg, the President got into a little talk with McVeagh about Missouri affairs. MacV. talked radicalism until he learned that he was talking recklessly. The President disavowed any knowledge of the Edwards case; said that Bates said to him, as indeed he said to me, that Edwards was inefficient and must be removed for that reason.

At Gettysburg the President went to Mr. Wills who expected him, and our party broke like a drop of quicksilver spilt. MacVeagh, young Stanton and I foraged around for a while — walked out to the College, got a chafing dish of oysters, then some supper, and, finally, loafing around to the Court House where Lamon was holding a  meeting of marshals, we found Forney, and went around to his place, Mr. Fahnestock’s, and drank a little whiskey with him. He had been drinking a good deal during the day, and was getting to feel a little ugly and dangerous. He was particularly bitter on Montgomery Blair. MacVeagh was telling him that he pitched into the Tycoon coming up, and told him some truths. He said the President got a good deal of that, from time to time, and needed it.

He says: — “Hay, you are a fortunate man. You have kept yourself aloof from your office. 

I know an old fellow now seventy, who was Private Secretary to Madison. He thought there was something solemn and memorable in it. Hay has laughed through his term.”

He talked very strangely, referring to the affectionate and loyal support which he and Curtin had given to the President in Pennsylvania, with references from himself and others to the favors that had been shown the Cameron party whom they regard as their natural enemies. Forney seems identified now fully with the Curtain interest, though, when Curtin was nominated, he called him a heavy weight to carry, and said that Cameron’s foolish attack nominated him.

We went out after a while following the music to hear the serenades. The President appeared at the door, said half a dozen words meaning nothing, and went in. Seward, who was staying around the corner at Harper’s was called out, and spoke so indistinctly that I did not hear a word of what he was saying. Forney and MacVeagh were still growling about Blair.

We went back to Forney's room, having picked up Nicolay, and drank more whiskey. Nicolay sang his little song of the “Three Thieves,” and we then sang John Brown. At last we proposed that Forney should make a speech, and two or three started out, Stanton and Behan and Nicolay, to get a band to serenade him. I staid with him; so did Stanton and MacVeagh. He still growled quietly, and I thought he was going to do some thing imprudent. He said, “if I speak, I will speak my mind.” The music sounded in the street, and the fuglers came rushing up, imploring him to come down. He smiled quietly, told them to keep cool, and asked, “are the recorders there?” “I suppose so, of course,” shouted up the fugler. “Ascertain!” said the imperturbable Forney: “Hay, we'll take a drink.” They shouted and begged him to come down. The thing would be a failure; it would be his fault, etc. “Are the recorders congenial?” he calmly insisted on knowing. Somebody commended prudence. He said sternly, “I am always prudent.” I walked down stairs with him.

The crowd was large and clamorous. The fuglers stood by the door in an agony. The reporters squatted at a little stand in the entry. Forney stood on the threshold, John Young and I by him. The crowd shouted as the door opened. Forney said; “My friends these are the first hearty cheers I have heard to-night. You gave no such cheers to your President down the street. Do you know what you owe to that great man? You owe your country — you owe your name as American Citizens.”

He went on blackguarding the crowd for their apathy, and then diverged to his own record, saying he had been for Lincoln in his heart in 1860, — that open advocacy was not as effectual as the course he took — dividing the most corrupt organisation that ever existed — the pro-slavery Democratic party. He dwelt at length on this question, and then went back to the Eulogy of the President, that great, wonderful, mysterious, inexplicable man, who holds in his single hands the reins of the republic; who keeps his own counsels; who does his own purpose in his own way, no matter what temporising minister in his Cabinet sets himself up in opposition to the progress of the age.

And very much of this.

After him Wayne MacVeagh made a most touching and beautiful spurt of five minutes, and Judge Shannon of Pittsburg spoke effectively and acceptably to the people.

“That speech must not be written out yet,” says Young. “He will see further about it when he gets sober,” as we went up stairs. We sang John Brown and went home.

In the morning I got a beast and rode out with the President and suite to the Cemetery in the procession. The procession formed itself in an orphanly sort of way, and moved out with very little help from anybody; and after a little delay Mr. Everett took his place on the stand, — and Mr. Stockton made a prayer which thought it was an oration — and Mr. Everett spoke as he always does, perfectly; and the President, in a firm, free way, with more grace than is his wont, said his half dozen lines of consecration, — and the music wailed, and we went home through crowded and cheering streets. And all the particulars are in the daily papers.

I met Gen^l Cameron after coming in and he, MacVeagh and I, went down to dinner on board the U. C. R. R. Car. I was more than usually struck by the intimate jovial relations that exist between men that hate and detest each other as cordially as do those Pennsylvania politicians.

We came home the night of the 19th.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 120-5; For the whole diary entry see Tyler Dennett, Editor, Lincoln and the Civil War in the Diaries and letters of John Hay, p. 119-22.

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Wednesday, July 1, 1863

We did not leave our camp till noon, as nearly all General Hill's corps had to pass our quarters on its march towards Gettysburg. One division of Ewell's also had to join in a little beyond Greenwood, and Longstreet's corps had to bring up the rear. During the morning I made the acquaintance of Colonel Walton, who used to command the well-known Washington Artillery, but he is now chief of artillery to Longstreet's corps d’armée; he is a big man, ci-devant auctioneer in New Orleans, and I understand he pines to return to his hammer.

Soon after starting we got into a pass in the South mountain, a continuation, I believe, of the Blue Ridge range, which is broken by the Potomac at Harper's Ferry. The scenery through the pass is very fine. The first troops, alongside of whom we rode, belonged to Johnson's division of Ewell's corps. Among them I saw, for the first time, the celebrated “Stonewall” Brigade, formerly commanded by Jackson. In appearance the men differ little from other Confederate soldiers, except, perhaps, that the brigade contains more elderly men and fewer boys. All (except, I think, one regiment) are Virginians. As they have nearly always been on detached duty, few of them knew General Longstreet, except by reputation. Numbers of them asked me whether the General in front was Longstreet; and when I answered in the affirmative, many would run on a hundred yards in order to take a good look at him. This I take to be an immense compliment from any soldier on a long march.

At 2 P.M. firing became distinctly audible in our front, but although it increased as we progressed, it did not seem to be very heavy. A spy who was with us insisted upon there being “a pretty tidy bunch of blue-bellies in or near Gettysburg,” and he declared that he was in their society three days ago.

After passing Johnson's division, we came up to a Florida Brigade, which is now in Hill's corps ; but as it had formerly served under Longstreet, the men knew him well. Some of them (after the General had passed) called out to their comrades, “Look out for work now, boys, for here's the old bull-dog again.”

At 3 P.M. we began to meet wounded men coming to the rear, and the number of these soon increased most rapidly, some hobbling alone, others on stretchers carried by the ambulance corps, and others in the ambulance waggons; many of the latter were stripped nearly naked, and displayed very bad wounds. This spectacle, so revolting to a person unaccustomed to such sights, produced no impression whatever upon the advancing troops, who certainly go under fire with the most perfect nonchalance: they show no enthusiasm or excitement, but the most complete indifference. This is the effect of two years' almost uninterrupted fighting.

We now began to meet Yankee prisoners coming to the rear in considerable numbers: many of them were wounded, but they seemed already to be on excellent terms with their captors, with whom they had commenced swapping canteens, tobacco, &c. Among them was a Pennsylvanian colonel, a miserable object from a wound in his face. In answer to a question, I heard one of them remark, with a laugh, “We're pretty nigh whipped already.” We next came to a Confederate soldier carrying a Yankee colour, belonging, I think, to a Pennsylvanian regiment, which he told us he had just captured.

At 4.30 P.m. we came in sight of Gettysburg and joined General Lee and General Hill, who were on the top of one of the ridges which form the peculiar feature of the country round Gettysburg. We could see the enemy retreating up one of the opposite ridges, pursued by the Confederates with loud yells. The position into which the enemy had been driven was evidently a strong one. His right appeared to rest on a cemetery, on the top of a high ridge to the right of Gettysburg, as we looked at it.

General Hill now came up and told me he had been very unwell all day, and in fact he looks very delicate. He said he had had two of his divisions engaged, and had driven the enemy four miles into his present position, capturing a great many prisoners, some cannon, and some colours; he said, however, that the Yankees had fought with a determination unusual to them. He pointed out a railway cutting, in which they had made a good stand; also, a field in the centre of which he had seen a man plant the regimental colour, round which the regiment had fought for some time with much obstinacy, and when at last it was obliged to retreat, the colour-bearer retired last of all, turning round every now and then to shake his fist at the advancing rebels. General Hill said he felt quite sorry when he saw this gallant Yankee meet his doom.

General Ewell had come up at 3.30, on the enemy's right (with part of his corps), and completed his discomfiture. General Reynolds, one of the best Yankee generals, was reported killed. Whilst we were talking, a message arrived from General Ewell, requesting Hill to press the enemy in the front, whilst he performed the same operation on his right. The pressure was accordingly applied in a mild degree, but the enemy were too strongly posted, and it was too late in the evening for a regular attack. The town of Gettysburg was now occupied by Ewell, and was full of Yankee dead and wounded. I climbed up a tree in the most commanding place I could find, and could form a pretty good general idea of the enemy's position, although, the tops of the ridges being covered with pinewoods, it was very difficult to see anything of the troops concealed in them. The firing ceased about dark, at which time I rode back with General Longstreet and his Staff to his headquarters at Cashtown, a little village eight miles from Gettysburg. At that time troops were pouring along the road, and were being marched towards the position they are to occupy to-morrow.

In the fight to-day nearly 6000 prisoners had been taken, and 10 guns. About 20,000 men must have been on the field on the Confederate side. The enemy had two corps d’armée engaged. All the prisoners belong, I think, to the 1st and 11th corps. This day's work is called a “brisk little scurry,” and all anticipate a “big battle” to-morrow.

I observed that the artillerymen in charge of the horses dig themselves little holes like graves, throwing up the earth at the upper end. They ensconce themselves in these holes when under fire.

At supper this evening, General Longstreet spoke of the enemy's position as being “very formidable.” He also said that they would doubtless intrench themselves strongly during the night* The Staff officers spoke of the battle as a certainty, and the universal feeling in the army was one of profound contempt for an enemy whom they have beaten so constantly, and under so many disadvantages.

_______________

* I have the best reason for supposing that the fight came off prematurely, and that neither Lee nor Longstreet intended that it should have begun that day. I also think that their plans were deranged by the events of the first.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 257-62

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: July 17, 1863

Pleasant Valley, July 17, 1863.

As usual it is raining to-day, for I think it has rained almost every day for three weeks, more or less, so I am going to write to you some account of our last campaign.

I believe my last letter describing our progress was from Leesburg. From there, by a succession of long marches, we went to Littleton; here we had a little excitement caused by a cavalry skirmish just in front of us, but we were not called on to do anything. The first of July, we moved towards Gettysburg to a small place called “Two Taverns;” there we began to hear cannonading in our front, and in the afternoon, we were ordered forward to support the force which was engaged. We were put into position but did nothing that afternoon and lay on our arms that night. We heard, that night, of the death of General Reynolds. Next morning, we changed position again. It was a fine place in a beautiful, open wood. About three o'clock in the afternoon, the battle began on the left; the musketry became fearful; it was a terribly anxious time with us, more so, I think, than if we were actually engaged. Every eye was turned in the direction of the firing, fearful lest at any moment we might see our troops coming back through the woods. Happily, we saw no such sight, but we did see, with pleasure, the old Fifth Corps going up to support the gallant troops who were fighting.

About half-past six our turn came; we, too, were ordered from the right to the left; only one brigade of our corps was left in the breastwork we had constructed. We arrived on the battle-ground, but before we got there the enemy had been repulsed severely, so back we started to our old position. It was now between eight and nine o'clock, clear and moonlight. While we had been away, Mr. Johnny Reb had come with a strong force and got our breastworks; the brigade left behind had had a severe fight and had partially driven the enemy out, but darkness came on, and the fight stopped. Our brigade was ordered to advance cautiously and get into the breastwork. We crept quietly along; not a word was spoken nor an unnecessary noise made. All the regiments had got into their former positions without trouble except the Second. We were just marching out of the woods into a little open meadow in the clear moonlight, when our skirmishers brought in a rebel prisoner; this showed our proximity to the enemy, so we changed our front and made preparation to fight for our position.

The skirmishers were reinforced and again advanced. In five minutes we had captured a captain and twenty-two other prisoners; still not a shot was fired. These men appeared to be stragglers who had lost their command. We began to think that, after all, perhaps there was no force in front of us; so the regiment was again ordered to advance. Colonel Mudge put me in charge of the line of skirmishers; the meadow was narrow, and we soon entered the woods again, where it was quite dark. We crawled along cautiously and quietly, till we began to hear a confused sound of talking in front of us; we now halted. Not daring to do anything more without being certain what troops they were (for we knew our Second Division was trying to work down towards us), I ordered two men to go forward and ask them. They walked up to within a few paces of the line; one of them said, “Boys, what regiment do you belong to?” The reply was, “Twenty-third.” “Twenty-third what?” “Twenty-third Virginia.” Then some one cried out, “Why, they are Yanks,” and seized one of my men; the other bolted back to me and escaped. I sent word back to Colonel Mudge what I had discovered, and he withdrew the regiment beyond the meadow.

The behavior of the rebels puzzled me; I couldn't make out what they were up to; they were certainly there within talking distance, but they seemed in confusion as if they didn't know their ground and showed no inclination to fire or advance upon us. I now resolved on a bold stroke. The men were ordered to advance with some noise; almost instantly the challenge rang out from the rebel lines, “Who comes there?” Captain Fox had received his instructions and called out in answer, “Surrender! Come into our lines.” The impudence of this request must have struck the rebel commander, for his answer was, in a loud voice, “Battalion, ready, aim, fire!” A heavy volley was fired, but luckily the ground where we were was low and the men scattered at intervals, so that not much damage was done, only three men being wounded.

They followed this up by a rush, and we ran for it; they followed only a short distance, but I made up my mind that we had had enough skylarking for one night, and returned therefore with all the men to the regiment, bringing three more rebel prisoners. It was now between twelve and one; we lay down with arms in our hands, to get a little rest. At the first streak of daylight, we were waked up by heavy musketry firing in the direction of our second division, the enemy being in force between our two divisions.

Captain Robeson with his company were out as skirmishers in front of our line; they became engaged as soon as it was light enough to see anything. At about half-past five, Colonel Colgrove gave the order to Colonel Mudge to advance his regiment and charge the woods opposite us. Colonel Mudge gave the order, “Forward;” the men jumped over the breastworks and rushed forward with a splendid cheer. We had to cross the little meadow I have spoken of; here was where we suffered so heavily; the enemy was in the woods and we in the open. We reached the opposite woods and commenced firing at the shortest range I have ever seen two lines engaged at. We fought the rebs before us for about ten minutes; then I learned that Colonel Mudge had been hit and that I was in command; I was on the left at the time. I went up to the right to see how things were getting along there; I found, to my surprise, that the regiment that had advanced with us was not on our right and the enemy were working round that way trying to get in our rear. I ordered a change of position to the rear, throwing our right back a little, which put the rebels in as bad a place as they thought to put us and we drove them back again. We stayed here till all our ammunition was expended, when we were ordered back by Colonel Colgrove.

It was a sad thing calling the rolls and looking at the vacant places of so many officers; our only consolation was that they had done their duty nobly in as brave an action as ever a regiment went into. Five color bearers were shot down, one after another, three were killed, two badly wounded, but the tattered flag never touched the ground. The third man who seized it jumped on to a rock in advance of the regiment and waved it triumphantly in the air, but the brave action cost him his life; he fell dead beside the others.

_______________

[During the interval between the next letter and the preceding one, the writer was on detached service engaged in bringing conscripts from Long Island, Boston Harbor, to the Army of the Potomac.]

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 143-7

Lieutenant Frances H. Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, July 18, 1863

camp Near Leetown,

Jefferson Co., Va., July 18,1863.

. . . I wrote a short note to Papa from near Funkstown on the other side of the river on the 9th inst., though I have very great doubts as to whether it ever reached you. The battery is in very bad condition as to horses and is out of ammunition. Two of the guns got some of the latter before we recrossed the river, leaving the other two without and I was left with them and have consequently been in the rear ever since the cavalry fight near Boonsboro', Md. on the 8th inst. All the guns are now in the same condition, but the Ordnance officer of the Division, Capt. John Esten Cooke, perhaps better known as Tristran Joyeuse, Gent., has sent to Staunton for ammunition and as Lt. Johnston has gone to Richmond I shall be done for the present with “Company Q.” I think that when we reached Westminster Md. on Genl. Stuart's expedition round the Yanks, I was a little the richest specimen of a Confederate officer that you, at all events, ever saw. My boots were utterly worn out. My pantaloons were all one big hole as the Irishman would say: my coat was like a beggar's — and my hat was actually falling to pieces, in addition to lacking its crown, which loss, allowed my hair, not cut, since sometime before leaving Culpeper, to protrude, and gave me a highly picturesque finish to my appearance. I fortunately there got a pair of boots, a pair of pantaloons and a hat which rendered my condition comparatively better. We left Union in Loudon Co., Va., on that expedition on the morning of the 24th of June — and reached the lines of our army at Gettysburg, Adams Co., Penn. late in the afternoon of the 2nd of July. During that time the harness was off the horses only twice. You should have seen the Dutch people in York Co. turning out with water and milk and bread and butter and “apple butter” for the “ragged rebels.”

I was quite surprised at the tone of feeling in that part of the State. In two or three instances I found people who seemed really glad to see us and at scores of houses they had refreshments at the door for the soldiers. The people generally seemed not to know exactly what to expect and I don't think would have been at all astonished if every building had been set on fire by us as we reached it, nor would a great many have been surprised if we had concluded the business by massacring the women and children!

I stopped at a house in Petersburg, Adams Co., Penn. and almost the first question addressed me by the daughter of the house, a girl of eighteen or twenty and a perfect Yankee, was whether our men would molest the women! I told her not, and she seemed to feel considerably reassured. It was this same girl who told me in all seriousness that she had heard and believed it, that the Southern women all wore revolvers. I suppose, of course, by this time you have seen from the papers who has been killed, wounded and captured and have very little doubt that you know more about these points than I do, myself, for beyond hearing the report that Genl. Lee's Headquarters are at Bunker Hill and that the Infantry are beyond Martinsburg and some little inkling of the position of portions of the Cavalry Division I am in the same condition as honest John Falstaff before he formed the acquaintance of Prince Hal, and “know nothing.”

I received yesterday a double letter of the 23rd of June from you and Mama, the first since I left Rector's X Roads on the 18th of that month. Gen. Lee has issued an order curtailing all transportation except that for the Corps and General Reserve Ordnance trains. This is evidently getting ready for another move, but whether it is in order to cross the Potomac again or to fall back behind the Rappahannock, or merely to be in readiness for any movement of the enemy, is more than your correspondent is aware of.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 144-7

Brigadier-General Wade Hampton to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, July 15, 1863

charlottesville, July 15th, 1863.

My dear Wigfall,

Hood and myself came to Staunton together and he remained there under charge of Darby. He is doing well and his arm will be saved. All he needs now is good nursing, together with cheerful company and generous living. He proposes to pay you a visit if he can get rooms at Hiden's, so do drop him a line. Halsey was well up to the time of my leaving Gettysburg, the 4th instant. I have been handled pretty roughly, having received two sabre cuts on the head — one of which cut through the table of my skull — and a shrapnel shot in my body, which is there yet. But I am doing well and hope in a few days to be able to go home. Suppose you meet me at Gordonsville as I pass? Our Army is in good condition after its terrible and useless battle.

The Yankees will be defeated if we can get at them on fair ground. We could better have stormed the heights of Stafford than those of Gettysburg. . . .

I had a large leather trunk, canvas covered, and with “W. H.” printed on each end. Will you do me the favor to enquire for it? It was put on the cars at Culpeper C. H. With kind regards to Mrs. Wigfall, I am,

Yours very truly,

wade Hampton.

hon. L. T. Wigfall.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 142-3

Lieutenant Francis H. Wigfall to Senator Louis T. Wigfall, July 7, 1863

Camp near Williamsport, Maryland,

July 7th, 1863

Dear Papa,

Since the 13th of June, inclusive, there has not been a day on which we have not marched. Our battery and two guns of McGregor's were with the cavalry, Fitz and W. H. F. Lee's brigades and Hampton's on the expedition round the enemy. We started on the march the 24th of June and reached our lines at Gettysburg the 2nd of July just before night. Genl. Hampton captured a train of 200 wagons and burnt some of them within seven miles of Georgetown, the Yankee army lying at Frederick. We brought into our lines at Gettysburg one hundred and sixty odd. We reached this place yesterday afternoon while a fight was going on for the possession of the ford, the enemy endeavoring to drive us from it. The battery was not engaged however. Orders have just come to move.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 139-40

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Mead, August 6, 1864

August 6, 1864.

Grant has not yet returned from Washington; no telegrams have been received from him since he left, so I presume the project of sending me to take command has fallen through. I feel quite easy and indifferent to what course they may think proper to take. My conscience is clear. I have done my duty to the best of my ability, and shall continue to do so, regardless of newspaper abuse, and without any effort at reply thereto.

A court of inquiry, at my request, has been appointed, with Hancock as President. The whole affair of the 30th will be ventilated.

I had to-day a visit from Mr. Sam. Wilkeson, one of the editors of the Tribune, and one of my most bitter villifiers last spring. This individual called to make the amende honorable — to say he had been deceived, and to express the most friendly feelings for me. As I had never seen him before, but once on the field of Gettysburg, and had never exchanged a word with him, or given him any cause of offense, I received his apologies as if nothing had ever taken place, and he left me quite pleased.

I hope the dear children will enjoy themselves at Cape May. I should be so happy if I could only be there with you, to indulge in those splendid sea baths and take our old walks on the beach. Well, let us keep up our spirits, have brave hearts, trust in God's mercy and goodness, and believe that so long as we try to do our duty all will be well in time.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 219

Major-General Oliver O. Howard to Major-General George G. Meade, July 1, 1863 – 2 p.m.

HEADQUARTERS ELEVENTH CORPS,

July 1, 1863 – 2 p.m.

 Major-General MEADE,

Commanding Army of the Potomac:

The First Corps came in position in front of the town; two divisions of the Eleventh Corps on the right of the town; one division of the Eleventh Corps in reserve.

Enemy reported to be advancing from York (Ewell's corps). The First and Eleventh Corps are engaged with Hill's forces. Have ordered General Sickles to push forward.

O. O. HOWARD,

Major-General.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 51; The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 27, Part 3 (Serial No. 45), p. 457-8