Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, March 26, 1864

Camp White, March 26, 1864.

Dear Mother: — We are now having a cold rain-storm, but are all well. There is considerable sickness among our new recruits of the usual sort — measles, mumps, and a little smallpox and fever. Nothing very serious so far, and as the weather gets warmer we hope to get clear of it altogether.

Mrs. Ellen, a nice lady, wife of our quartermaster, is teaching the two smaller boys regularly and speaks very encouragingly of her scholars. Lucy schools the larger boy with a young soldier who is a good deal older than Birch, but not so far advanced. . . .

I hope you will get through the raw weather of spring without serious illness. — Love to all.

Affectionately, your son,

R.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 452

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, May 7, 1863

Camp White, May 7, 1863.

Dearest:— The boxes came safely. The flag will not be cut. The coat fits well. Straps exactly according to regulations or none. The eagles are pretty and simple and I shall keep them until straps can be got of the size and description prescribed, viz., “Light or sky-blue cloth, one and three-eighths inches wide by four inches long; bordered with an embroidery of gold one-fourth of an inch wide; a silver embroidered spread eagle on the center of the strap.” I am content with the eagles as they are but if straps are got, let them be “according to red-tape.” The pants fit Avery to a charm and he keeps them. What is the price? I'll not try again until I can be measured. I do not need pants just now.

We have a little smallpox in Charleston. Lieutenant Smith has it, or measles. Also raids of the enemy threatened. I wouldn't come up just now; before the end of the month it may be all quiet again. Bottsford's sister and other ladies are going away today.

We are building a fort on the hill above our camp — a good position. We are in suspense about Hooker. He moves rapidly and boldly. If he escapes defeat for the next ten days he is the coming man. — Pictures O. K., etc., etc. — Love to all.

Affectionately,

R. B. Hayes.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 408-9

Captain Charles Wright Wills: February 15, 1863

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Jackson, Tenn.,

February 15, 1863.

It's 11 o'clock now, so I haven't much time to write. We've been having some trouble in the regiment this week. The colonel appointed Lieutenant Mattison, captain of Company "I," vice Medley, resigned, and Lieutenant Dorrance, captain of Company K, to fill the vacancy occasioned by King's death. The men in both companies swore they wouldn't do duty under the new officers, and the devil's to pay. The colonel finally relieved them both from their new commands, doubting his right to enforce obedience until the new officers had received their commissions, which will probably be some two or three weeks hence, when the men will undoubtedly have to submit, even if harsh measures have to be resorted to to make them. The colonel has appointed Geo. Wilkinson, of Farmington, and Mr. Wagstaff, who formerly worked in the Ledger office, for my first and second lieutenants. My company have received them well, and I am well pleased with both of them so far. I like quiet people. I enclose you some resolutions which have been submitted to all the troops here for their adoption. We voted by companies. Company A, I, and F opposed them strongly, more on account of the spirit of dissatisfaction and discontent, which is rampant among them, than because of opposition to the principles they embody. Colonel D seems to allow the trouble in his regiment to wear upon him. He has not the decision I once gave him credit for. Wears gloves at the wrong time in handling men. One more case where my judgment has fooled me during my army experience. Can't now remember where it was correct. You certainly have to measure men by different standard in the army from that used at home. Everybody thinks we are going to evacuate here within a month. It looks like it, but can't see why we should. Nearly all the troops are gone. Our regiment and the 50th Indiana have to do all the picket duty. We are on every other day as regularly as clock work. I like it better than lying in camp. Union citizens say that we will be attacked here the last of this week or first of next, by forces which are now crossing the Tennessee. That's too old, played out, etc. There's never any danger of a fight where I am. One of my boys died the other day, the first I have lost. Typhus fever, following measles, killed him. Was a real good soldier. Geo. Trader by name; lived near Ellisville. I have two more quite dangerously sick, but the general health of the regiment is improving. You don't know how much I love these men I have under me. Not as individuals many of them, but as soldiers, of my company, for whose actions, and in a measure, health, I am responsible. Something, I suppose, like the love of a parent for his children. I never thought I could feel half the interest in the welfare of my brother man as I do now for these men.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 155-6

Major Wilder Dwight: November 26, 1861

camp Near Seneca, November 26, 1861.

If you are to have another letter from a major commanding, I suppose it had better be written to-night. Tomorrow, I feel sure, will bring back Colonel Gordon, and I shall very gladly shift that burden to his shoulders. There are some objections to holding the reins, very long, of power that you are not to continue in the exercise of; and, though I must say the Colonel has got a very easily managed regiment, and I have had no difficulty in my path, yet the temptation to mould things to your own will is a strong one, not to be indulged in temporary command. On the whole, this is probably better for the regiment, — it is certainly safer for me. The month of November, though we have spent it quietly in camp, has been the most trying one to the regiment in its whole history. I am glad to be able to persuade myself that we stand firmer than we did three weeks since. I hope we shall steadily improve. There is a hopeless desperation chilling one when engaged in a contest with disease. The unseen malaria has such an advantage in the fight. I had rather meet anything for the regiment than the enemy who surprised us in our former camping-ground, and who seems hardly yet to have given up beat. Two weeks ago I had something as much like depression as I ever allow myself the indulgence of. Now I feel quite glad again. This afternoon, for example, a blue, overcast November sky, but a keen, bracing air, we bad a lively battalion drill, which went quite well. The regiment turned out full companies, and, altogether, looked its old self — There, I was just in the midst of this last exultant sentence, when what should happen but a knock at my tent. Enter Captain . “Major, two men of my company are very sick in quarters, and ought to be in hospital, but there is not room.” “Well, sir, I can't make room.” Then the same complaint from another captain. I send for the Doctor. He is abed, having been sick for the past three days. I send for the Assistant Surgeon. He says, “Yes, it is so; but the Brigade Surgeon promises a tent soon. The measles cases have increased within two days.”

I require from him a report of every case in quarters, and a statement of how many sick men ought to be in hospital. This is the nature of the work to be done. To make bricks without straw. Our sick officers have not yet returned to duty. The Adjutant is still away. I have to look after everything myself. Still, I do insist that we are getting better. A week on a high piece of ground three miles from the river would put us all on our feet again. But as long as the morning sun rises only to quicken the fatal exhalations from this pestilent Potomac, and the evening dews fall only to rise again with fever in their breath, the contest is unequal and the victory uncertain. Well, we can only hope for better things, and be thankful for what we have. You will see, however, that the constant maintenance of military efficiency under all these circumstances exacts constant effort. I rejoice in continued health and increasing strength, and am thankful and happy. I think, too, that our experience will be a sort of seasoning. One thing is certain, — we cannot have the measles again!

I have just come in from my nightly round through the camp; and, as taps have sounded, all is quiet. I sit alone in my tent a-thinkin' o' nothin' at all, — and writing about it, too. Yes, I can tell you about our domestic arrangements, — I mean our mess.

We have intruded upon an elderly lady who lives near our lines. She has given us her parlor and the use of her cooking-stove. Tony is in great feather. He rejoices in all kinds of culinary eccentricities.

The old lady, meantime, is repaid by our protection. She confides to me her griefs for the losses of fence-rails and cabbages, of pigs and poultry. This happened when a former regiment was here. Now she is safe. Tony and she observe an armed neutrality over the common cooking-stove. This evening she told us the history of Jack Cross, the husband of the lady who owns the house where Colonel Andrews is sick. Jack is in prison — at Fort Warren perhaps — as a traitor. The good lady described his capture. Said she: “The officers came to me, and says they, ‘Do you know of Jack Cross's hanging or shooting any one?’ “As for shooting,” says I, “I've known him from a boy, and a more peaceable man I never knew; and as for hanging,” says I, “I never knew him to hang anything except a big black dog.” Which was true, indeed, and I recollect how the dog looked, and he most frightened me to death. But they took him. He was an unfortunate man, but he was a good neighbor; and a good neighbor can't be a bad man. But this business has got him into trouble; but I can't seem to understand it no how. I'm for the Union and peace before I die.” I think she would have talked till now, had we not left the table, her ideas running in a beaten track of puzzlement and dread. She evidently does not either understand or enjoy civil war.

I said our camp was still. I ought to admit that the night is full of echoes with the barking cough that prevails, — an unwholesome sound. Good night, and God bless you all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 157-9

Major Wilder Dwight: November 6, 1861

Camp Near Seneca, November 6, 1861.

“The war cannot be long. It may be desperate.” This is not prophecy from the closet. It is inspiration from the master of the position. I claim for our General the rare virtue of sincerity, — the fibre of all genuine character. I repose on his statements. Recollect that he wields the causes. Shall he not predict the consequence? “I ask in the future forbearance, patience, and confidence.” But not for long. If he can compel our people to yield him those, he has already gained a victory like the conquest of a city. “I trust and feel that the day is not far distant when I shall return to the place dearest of all others to me.”

Now that's cheerful. Of course he won't go home and leave us on the wrong bank of the Potomac, — of course he won't go home and leave his lambs to come back wagging their tales, or tails, behind them and him. No! let us accept, let us hail the omen. “Youth is at the prow.” “Pleasure,” God's own pleasure, “has the helm.” For one, I am ready for the voyage. I take McClellan's speech to the Philadelphia deputation for my chart.

I am afraid this is in the nature of rhapsody; but then it is November, and one must live in the imagination, and look over into the land of promise, or he may wither and fall like the leaves about him.

I wrote thus far yesterday, but the gloomy sky and chilling blasts were so unpropitious, that I thought I would not attempt to resist their influence. It was a regular heavy, clouded, wet day. We had as yet no news of the fleet, and nothing to lift ourselves above the influence of the weather. Last evening we got a rumor of the safe arrival of the fleet off Bull's Bay, near Charleston, after the blow.

Upon this vague elation we went to sleep I am very glad to receive your copy of Howard's letter, and rejoice that he is in the midst of serious work. I recognize in his account the inevitable hardships and vicissitudes of his new life. As part of the Western army, he will undoubtedly see active service this winter, and will perhaps hardly get breathing time, unless he pauses awhile in Memphis to take a look at his old cotton-press. I am very glad that he is there, and prefer his position in the line to one on the staff, if he is equally well pleased with it. You say you like to receive my letters, and so, of course, I am most happy to write, but there is really just nothing to say. Yesterday, for example, all our fires smoked. My little stove was very vigorous in that direction. Proverbs are said to be the condensed wisdom of ages. I recalled that, “Where there is so much smoke there must be some fire,” and cheerfully hung on to the maxim through the day; but I felt very little fire. Then the question of moving the hospital was raised, considered, and settled; then the increase of measles was croaked and investigated; then the news came that the patient sick with typhus would die, and at evening he was dead; and now, this morning, we are preparing his funeral

To-day we have no news but the prevailing and increasing rumor that we shall move, in a day or two, into winter-quarters, or, at least, out of these quarters. I have a sort of hope that the fates may select our regiment for some Southern service, if we succeed in getting a good foothold on the coast.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 138-9

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday Evening, November 4, 1861

Monday Evening.

I did not finish my letter last night, as there was no mail out. This will go to-morrow. It takes no news, except that Colonel Andrews seems quite to have settled into a fever. The fever is by no means severe, but it may drag slowly along. There is nothing dangerous in his condition, only to be abed is not pleasant, and to be weak is miserable. I have got him very pleasantly fixed, and he has the best care that we can give him.  . . . . We have had drills today, and the usual incidents of camp life. Our family is having a little measles, but is otherwise well. We have fine, clear weather again, and a bright, hopeful new moon.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 137-8

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Monday, April 18, 1864

I stayed at home all day. Father finished sowing his wheat today. John D. Moore with Henry Clark left this morning for Davenport to go into Camp McClellan—Clark is a veteran of my company, while John is a recruit for the company. Jason Sparks could not go with them on account of having the measles. Dr. Clark went to see him and certified that he was not fit for duty.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 180

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, April 14, 1864

Another cloudy, disagreeable day! I drilled in wheat all day and Kelley did the harrowing. The boys with the measles are getting along fine and will be well in a few days if they don't take cold.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 179

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, April 7, 1864

It rained all day, and I remained at home. As the boys are all down with the measles, I am helping father with the farm work between showers.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 178

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, March 30, 1864

I remained at home all day. Times appear to be very dull and lonesome. My brothers are having a siege of the measles. I am thankful that I have had them, for measles in the army causes more soldiers to be discharged for disability than anything else. I long to see this cruel war come to a close.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 176

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: July 29, 1861

MOUNTAIN VIEW, Mr. ––– and myself came over here on Friday, to spend a few days with the Bishop and his family. He delivered a delightful address yesterday in the church, on the thankfulness and praise due to Almighty God, for (considering the circumstances) our unprecedented victory at Manassas. Our President and Congress requested that thanks should be returned in all of our churches. All rejoice for the country, though there are many bleeding hearts in our land. Among our acquaintances, Mr. Charles Powell, of Winchester, Col. Edmund Fontaine, of Hanover, and Mr. W. N. Page, of Lexington, each lost a son; and our friend, Mr. Clay Ward, of Alexandria, also fell. The gallant Generals Bee and Bartow were not of our State, but of our cause, and we all mourn their loss. Each mail adds to the list of casualties. The enemy admit their terrible disaster, and are busy inquiring into causes.

This house has been a kind of hospital for the last month. Several sick soldiers are here now, men of whom they know nothing except that they are soldiers of the Confederacy. They have had measles, and are now recruiting for service. One who left here two weeks ago, after having been carefully nursed, was killed at Manassas. The family seem to lament him as an old friend, though they never saw him until he came here from the Winchester hospital. Two sons of this house were in the fight; and the Bishop had several other grandchildren engaged, one of whom, R. M., lost his right arm. His grandfather has been to Winchester to see him, and is much gratified by the fortitude with which he bears his suffering. He says, “R. is a brave boy, and has done his duty to his country, and I will try to do my duty to him, and make up the loss of his arm to him, as far as possible.” It is delightful to be with Bishop Meade. There is so much genuine hospitality and kindness in his manner of entertaining, which we perhaps appreciate more highly now than we ever did before. His simple, self-denying habits are more conspicuous at home than anywhere else. We sit a great deal in his study, where he loves to entertain his friends. Nothing can be more simple than its furniture and arrangements, but he gives you so cordial a welcome to it, and is so agreeable, that you forget that the chair on which you sit is not cushioned. He delights in walking over the grounds with his friends, and as you stop to admire a beautiful tree or shrub, he will give you the history of it. Many of them he brought with him from Europe; but whether native or foreign, each has its association. This he brought in his trunk when a mere scion, from the tide-water section of Virginia; that from the "Eastern Shore;" another from the Alleghany mountains; another still, from the Cattskill mountains. Here is the oak of old England; there the cedar of Lebanon; there the willow from St. Helena, raised from a slip which had absolutely waved over the grave of Napoleon. Here is another, and prettier willow, native of our own Virginia soil. Then he points out his eight varieties of Arbor Vitse, and the splendid yews, hemlocks, spruces, and firs of every kind, which have attained an immense size. Our own forest trees are by no means forgotten, and we find oaks, poplars, elms, etc., without number. He tells me that he has more than a hundred varieties of trees in his yard. His flowers, too, are objects of great interest to him, particularly the old-fashioned damask rose. But his grape-vines are now his pets. He understands the cultivation of them perfectly, and I never saw them so luxuriant. It has been somewhat the fashion to call him stern, but I wish that those who call him so could see him among his children, grandchildren, and servants. Here he is indeed a patriarch. All are affectionately respectful, but none of them seem at all afraid of him. The grandchildren are never so happy as when in “grandpapa's room;” and the little coloured children frequently come to the porch, where he spends a great deal of his time, to inquire after “old master's health,” and to receive bread and butter or fruit from his hands.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 44-6

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: July 18, 1861

During the last ten days we have been visiting among our friends, near Berryville, and in Winchester. The wheat harvest is giving the most abundant yield, and the fields are thick with corn. Berryville is a little village surrounded by the most beautiful country and delightful society. Patriotism burns brightly there, and every one is busy for the country in his or her own way. It is cheering to be among such people; the ladies work, and the gentlemen — the old ones — no young man is at home — give them every facility. But Winchester, what shall I say for Winchester that will do it justice? It is now a hospital. The soldiers from the far South have never had measles, and most unfortunately it has broken out among them, and many of them have died of it, notwithstanding the attention of surgeons and nurses. No one can imagine the degree of self-sacrificing attention the ladies pay them; they attend to their comfort in every respect; their nourishment is prepared at private houses; every lady seems to remember that her son, brother, or husband may be placed in the same situation among strangers, and to be determined to do unto others as she would have others to do unto her.

War still rages. Winchester is fortified, and General Johnston has been reinforced. He now awaits General Patterson, who seems slowly approaching.

While in Winchester, I heard of the death of one who has been for many years as a sister to me — Mrs. L. A. P., of S. H., Hanover County. My heart is sorely stricken by it, particularly when I think of her only child, and the many who seemed dependent on her for happiness. She died on Saturday last. With perfect resignation to the will of God, she yielded up her redeemed spirit, without a doubt of its acceptance. In cœlo quies. There is none for us here.

We have been dreadfully shocked by the defeat at Rich Mountain and the death of General Garnett! It is the first repulse we have had, and we should not complain, as we were overpowered by superior numbers; but we have so much to dread from superior numbers — they are like the sand upon the sea-shore for multitude. Our men say that one Southern man is equal to three Yankees. Poor fellows! I wish that their strength may be equal to their valour. It is hard to give up such a man as General Garnett. He was son of the late Hon. Robert S. Garnett, of Essex County; educated at West Point; accomplished and gallant. His military knowledge and energy will be sadly missed. It was an unfortunate stroke, the whole affair; but we must hope on, and allow nothing to depress us.

I have just returned from a small hospital which has recently been established in a meeting-house near us. The convalescent are sent down to recruit for service, and to recover their strength in the country, and also to relieve the Winchester hospitals. The ladies of the neighbourhood are doing all they can to make them comfortable. They are full of enthusiasm, and seem to be very cheerful, except when they speak of home. They are hundreds of miles from wife, children, and friends. Will they ever see them again? I have been particularly interested in one who is just recovering from typhoid fever. I said to him as I sat fanning him: “Are you married?” His eyes filled with tears as he replied, “Not now; I have been, and my little children, away in Alabama, are always in my mind. At first I thought I could not leave the little motherless things, but then our boys were all coming, and mother said, ‘Go, Jack, the country must have men, and you must bear your part, and I will take care of the children;’ and then I went and ‘listed, and when I went back home for my things, and saw my children, I 'most died like. ‘Mother,’ says I, ‘I am going, and father must take my corn, my hogs, and every thing else he likes, and keep my children; but if I never get back, I know it will be a mighty burden in your old age; but I know you will do your best.’ ‘Jack,’ says she, ‘I will do a mother's part by them; but you must not talk that way. Why should you get killed more than another? You will get back, and then we shall be so happy. God will take care of you, I know He will.’” He then took a wallet from under his pillow, and took two locks of hair: “This is Peter's, he is three years old; and this is Mary's, she is a little more than one, and named after her mother, and was just stepping about when I left home.” At that recollection, tears poured down his bronzed cheeks, and I could not restrain my own. I looked at the warm-hearted soldier, and felt that he was not the less brave for shedding tears at the recollection of his dead wife, his motherless children, and his brave old mother. I find that the best way to nurse them, when they are not too sick to bear it, is to talk to them of home. They then cease to feel to you as a stranger, and finding that you take interest in their “short and simple annals,” their natural reserve gives way, and they at once feel themselves among friends.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 37-40

Diary of Judith W. McGuire: June 24, 1861

We have been in Winchester for the last two days, at Dr. S's. General Johnston's army encamped at “The Lick.” Some Southern regiments encamped near Winchester. The army at Manassas said to be strongly reinforced. Measles prevailing there, and near Winchester, among the troops. There has been a slight skirmish in Hampshire, on New Creek, and another at Vienna, in Fairfax County. We repulsed the enemy at both places. Captain Kemper, of Alexandria, led our men in the latter fight, and is much extolled for his dexterity and bravery.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 33

Major Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, Thursday, August 15, 1861

Weston, Virginia, August 15, 1861.

Thursday Morning.

Dearest L—: — We had four days of rain ending yesterday morning — such rain as this country of hills and mountains can afford. It was gloomy and uncomfortable but no harm was done. It cleared off beautifully yesterday morning and the weather has been most delicious since. This is a healthful region. Nobody seriously sick and almost everybody outrageously healthy. I never was better. It is a luxury to breathe. Dr. Joe — but don't he go into the corn? He has it three times a day, reminding me of Northampton a year ago and your order for supper on our return from Mount Holyoke.

Our regiment has had divers duties which keep up excitement enough to prevent us from stagnating. Colonel Matthews and right wing is fifty miles south. Captain Drake and Captain Woodward, with their companies, spent the four rainy days scouring the steepest hills and deepest gullies for the rascals who waylay our couriers and wagon trains. They captured three or four of the underlings, but the leaders and main party dodged them. Captain Zimmerman and his company have gone west forty miles to escort provisions to Colonel Moor (Second German Regiment of Cincinnati in which Markbreit is Lieutenant) and to clean out an infected neighborhood between here and there. A sergeant and six men are at Clarksburg escorting a prisoner destined for Columbus. Lieutenant Rice and twenty men are escorting cattle for Colonel Tyler's command south of here. A part of our cavalry are gone west to escort a captain and the surgeon of the Tenth to Glenville, thirty-seven miles west. On Saturday I go with Captain Drake's company to meet Captain Zimmerman's company returning from the west, and with the two companies, to go into the hills to the south to hunt for a guerrilla band who are annoying Union men in that vicinity. I shall be gone almost a week so you will not hear from me for some time. The telegraph is now extended south to a station near where I am going to operate, so that we are in reach of humanity by telegraph but not by mail.

Dr. Joe has got the hospital in good condition. A church (Methodist South) in place of the court-house for the merely comfortable, and a private house for the very sick. None of our regiment are seriously ill. The sick are devolved upon us from other regiments — chiefly lung complaints developed by marching, measles, or exposure. Very few, if any, taken here. Divers humane old ladies furnish knickknacks to the hospital and make glad the poor fellows with such comforts as women can best provide.

We find plenty of good Union men, and most of our expeditions are aided by them. They show a good spirit in our behalf. A large part of our friends in the mountains are the well-to-do people of their neighborhoods and usually are Methodists or other orderly citizens.

Good-bye, dearest. I love you very much. Kiss the boys and love to all. Tell Webby that during the rain the other night, dark as pitch, my horse, Webb, fell down the hill back of the camp into the river. Swam over to the opposite shore, and at daylight we saw him frisking about in great excitement trying to get back to his companion Birch. When we got him he was not hurt or scratched even. He stumbles a little, which doesn't do for a riding horse, so I have taken a government horse which looks very much like him; same color and size but not quite so pretty, and given Webb to Uncle Joe for an ambulance horse. I shall call my new horse Webb, so there are to be two Webbys in the regiment. My next horse I shall call Ruddy. Love to Grandma.

Affectionately,

R

Mrs. Hayes

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 65-7

Diary of Major Rutherford B. Hayes: Sunday August 4, 1861

Visited the hospital. It is airy and comfortable — the court-house of the county, a large good building. The judge's bench was full of invalids, convalescent, busily writing letters to friends at home. Within the bar and on the benches provided for the public were laid straw bedticks in some confusion, but comfortable. A side room contained the very sick, seven or eight in number. The total inmates about seventy-five. Most of them are able to walk about and are improving; very few are likely to die there. One poor fellow, uncomplaining and serene, with a good American face, is a German tailor, Fifth Street, Cincinnati; speaks little English, was reading a history of the Reformation in German. I inquired his difficulty. He had been shot by the accidental discharge of a musket falling from a stack; a ball and several buckshot pierced his body. He will recover probably. My sympathies were touched for a handsome young Canadian, Scotch or English. He had measles and caught cold. A hacking cough was perhaps taking his life. Nobody from the village calls to see them!

A hot day but some breeze. We hear that Colonel Matthews with the right wing was, on the morning of the third day from here, near Bulltown, twenty-seven miles distant. Governor Wise is somewhere near Lewisburg in Greenbrier County. Cox¹ is in no condition to engage him and I hope will not do it. I rather hope we shall raise a large force and push on towards Lynchburg and east Tennessee. Jewettt is doing well.

_______________

¹ General Jacob D. Cox.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 54-5

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Eliza Walter Smith, February 4, 1863

Headquarters Second Brigade, Second Division,

Fifteenth Army Corps,

“young's Point,” Before Vicksburg, Feb. 4, 1863.

My Dear Mother:

I could write much on these army matters and the course of events here if it were proper for me to do so; but, of course, my lips are sealed and my pen tabooed. You must rest assured that all the newspaper accounts you have seen of the late battles, and the movements of the Army of the Mississippi, are basely, utterly false. So much has been admitted by the correspondent of the New York . . .  in my presence to General Sherman. Courts martial will develop strange facts. All that you read in the newspapers will only serve to mislead you and confuse your mind. Great plans cannot be revealed. Few of the generals themselves know them. The newspaper men, dangerous to the army as spies giving information to the enemy, closely restricted and carefully watched, nevertheless manage to mingle undetected with the residue of the horde of base camp followers who are always at the heels of the army. Provoked at the restrictions placed upon them, by common agreement they hound down with infamous slander the generals from whom the orders against them emanate. Thus the scoundrel . . . the correspondent of the New York . . . has admitted by letter to General Sherman, as well as verbally in my presence, not only that his article was false, and malicious, and based upon false information received from parties interested in defaming General Sherman and his command, but that he renewed the old story of his insanity for the purpose of gratifying private revenge. . . .  Our country is in an awful condition ; we are verging rapidly upon anarchy. Government has almost ceased to exist save in name. An immense army will be demoralized and crumble by its internal opposing forces. A united people have only to fold their arms and calmly bide the event. God help us, and forgive that political party which sowed the wind, the fruits of which we now reap. This much and this alone I have to say. A soldier has naught to do with politics; the nearer he approaches a machine, an animal without volition, the more valuable he becomes to the service, and perhaps the greater part of our present difficulties grow out of the fact that our soldiers are too intelligent, for they will talk and they will write, and read the papers. Our Army of the Mississippi, and particularly our gallant “Old Division,” have the firmest faith and the most implicit reliance upon Sherman and Grant. Sherman is a splendid soldier, a most honorable gentleman, a pure patriot. Would to God we had more like him to battle for the right. I earnestly pray God he may not be sacrificed. This new infusion I know nothing about. McClernand has been sent off; he is out of place here. Brigadiers have come and are coming. I shall soon be superseded by some one of them, or General Stuart will be compelled to give way and I to him. No change of this kind will be cheerfully submitted to by my command. I have the most substantial evidence that I possess their affection and confidence. You speak about my resigning; it would be utterly impossible for me to resign, if I desired to do so, and an effort on my part to have my resignation accepted would ensure my lasting disgrace. An officer cannot resign in the face of the enemy. But I do not want to resign. With all its terrible hardships and privations, greater than tongue can tell, or pen describe, the life of a soldier is dear to me. I love its dangers and excitements. I am proud of, and delighted with the applause which even a temporary success meets. I am relieved of the miserable, wretched chicanery that surrounds the civilian. I rejoice in the free air. I take kindly to the nomadic life that a field service compels. The romance of chivalry is realized, the ideality of my youth and early manhood brought into actual being. The war horse and the sabre, the glitter of the soldier's trappings, the stirring strains of martial music, the flashing eye, the proud, high bearing, the bivouac fire, the canteen, the song and jest, the perilous scout, the wary picket, the night march, all familiar — this is my life. What I read of, till my cheeks tingled and my eyes suffused, I now do and my comrades do, and like Harry Percy, feel able to “pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon.”

How long we shall stay here, God knows; it is a horrid place now, what it will be in the spring, none can tell; a long fiat swamp a foot above or below — I can't tell which —  the level of the Mississippi, which we are fighting to keep out. That portion not covered with a growth of brake and timber is completely so by cockle burr, that grows to an enormous height and presents an almost impenetrable mass of those little prickly burrs that get into the manes and horsetails, the same kind we have at home, but fearfully exaggerated in size and numbers. It is not quite the season, but after a very little while we shall be enlivened by the pleasant society of alligators and mocassin snakes, mud turtles and their coadjutors. Meanwhile we have every conceivable variety of lice and small-pox, measles and mumps, and other diseases incident to women and children. There is a species of moss you have often heard of and which abounds in this climate — a long hanging and beautiful moss when seen close at hand, but which waving in the forests presents a dreary funereal aspect. It is an article of commerce, and when properly prepared is a material for the stuffing of mattresses. Of course the men, when we camped near where it grew, eagerly sought it to make their beds, and were much disgusted to find it filled with lice. It has to be boiled and bottled to clean it from vermin. So, with the moss, and the transport boats filthy in the extreme, many of which had been hospital boats, the troops were pretty thoroughly infected with the plagues of Egypt, all but the frogs; and the first sun, I reckon, will make them tune their pipes.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 268-71

Major General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, May 15, 1863

CAMP NEAR FALMOUTH, VA., May 15, 1863.

I received to-day your letter of the 12th instant, advising me of George's¹ arrival at home, which relieved me greatly, although I only yesterday learned of his being sick and having gone to Washington. In utter ignorance of his being sick, and supposing him with his regiment, I saw Hooker and got the order issued assigning him to duty on my staff. It was only my accidentally meeting Lieutenant Furness,² of George's regiment, on Stoneman's staff, who first told me George had been very sick on the expedition, but that he was better, and that he (Furness) had seen George and Benoni Lockwood both in the cars on their way to Washington.

I have been very much worried to-day by very extraordinary conduct on the part of Governor Curtin. He came to see me, and in the familiarity of private conversation, after expressing himself very much depressed, drew out of me opinions such as I have written to you about General Hooker, in which I stated my disappointment at the caution and prudence exhibited by General Hooker at the critical moment of the battle; at his assuming the defensive, when I thought the offensive ought to have been assumed; and at the withdrawal of the army, to which I was opposed. This opinion was expressed privately, as one gentleman would speak to another; was never intended for the injury of General Hooker, or for any other purpose than simply to make known my views. Imagine, then, my surprise when General Hooker, who has just returned from Washington, sent for me, and said that General Cadwalader had told him that Governor Curtin had reported in Washington that he (General Hooker) had entirely lost the confidence of the army, and that both Generals Reynolds and Meade had lost all confidence in him. Of course, I told Hooker that Governor Curtin had no warrant for using my name in this manner. I then repeated to Hooker what I had said to Governor Curtin, and told him that he knew that I had differed with him in judgment on the points above stated, and that he had no right to complain of my expressing my views to others, which he was aware I had expressed to him at the time the events were occurring. To this Hooker assented and expressed himself satisfied with my statement.

____________

¹ Son of General Meade, taken sick with the measles while on Stoneman's cavalry raid, and having to ford a deep river, the rash was driven in, making him ill, necessitating his being sent home.

² Frank Furness, of Philadelphia.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 375-6

Jefferson Davis to Varina Howell Davis, June 11, 1862

June 11. 1862

MY DEAR WIFE

Col. Wheeler who you may recollect to have seen in Washington, after his return from Nicaragua, has offered to bear a letter to you, and I have but a few minutes in which to write it.

I am in usual health, though the weather has been very inclement.  The roads to the different positions of the army could not be worse and remain passable. The long boots presented by Capt. Keary protect me from mud but the poor horse suffers on every ride. The Green Brier horse which was to be so gentle as to serve your purposes is a fretful rearing animal which it is troublesome for me to ride in the presence of troops. Kentucky is quite gentle compared to Green Brier. The Enemy is entrenching and bringing up heavy guns on the York river Rail Road, which not being useful to our army nor paid for by our Treasury was of course not destroyed.

His policy is to advance by regular approaches covered by successive lines of earthworks, that reviled policy of West Pointism and spades, which is sure to succeed against those who do not employ like means to counteract it. Politicians, Newspapers, and uneducated officers have created such a prejudice in our army against labor that it will be difficult until taught by sad experience to induce our troops to work efficiently. The greatest Generals of ancient and modern times have won their renown by labor. Victories were the results. Cezar who revolutionized the military system of his age, never slept in a camp without entrenching it. France Spain and Great Britain retain to this day memorials of Roman invasion in the Massive works constructed by the Roman armies. But my dear Winnie I did not intend to give you a military lecture or to trouble you with my embarassments. From the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh.

I will endeavor by movements which are not without great hazard to countervail the Enemys policy. If we succeed in rendering his works useless to him and compel him to meet us on the field I have much confidence in our ability to give him a complete defeat, and then it may be possible to teach him the pains of invasion and to feed our army on his territory. The issues of campaigns can never be safely foretold  it is for us to do all which can be done and trustingly to leave our fate to Him who rules the Universe.

We are reinforcing Genl. Jackson and hope to crown his successes with a complete victory over all the Enemy in the Valley of Va.

Kiss my dear Children, tell them how much their Father loves, how constantly he longs to see them and prays that they may be good and happy.

Brother Joe has been to the Hurricane & Brierfield, he took Joe Mitchell with him I was much distressed when I heard he was going, the exposure at this season in an open boat was very hazardous. It was from that cause my Father died, when though of many years, his constitution was sound as that of many men at the age of forty. This morning I received the following despatch — date Jackson June 10

“I have just returned from Hurricane brought twelve negroes, from Brierfield & fifteen from Hurricane, the measles at Brierfield prevented my bringing more.  All came without compulsion.”

(signed)  J. E. DAVIS

Give my love to Cousin Helen.  I have no intelligence of her Husband since that sent by telegram.  I have drawn heavily on the time allowed but hope yet to get this off as proposed.

God bless you my dear Winnie and in restore you soon to the arms of your Husband.

SOURCE: Lynda Lasswell Crist, Editor, The Papers of Jefferson Davis, Volume 8: 1862, p. 235-7

General Robert E. Lee to Captain G. W. Custis Lee, September 3, 1861

VALLEY MT., 3d September, 1861.

MY DEAR SON:

I was very glad to receive your letter of the 27th ulto., and to learn something of your whereabouts. I did not know what had become of you, and was very anxious to learn. You say nothing of your health, and I will hope you are well and able to do good service to the cause so dear to us all. I trust you may be able to get a position and field agreeable to you; and know that wherever you may be placed you will do your duty. That is all the pleasure, all the comfort, all the glory we can enjoy in this world. I have been able to do but little here. Still I hope I have been of some service. Things are better organized. I feel stronger, we are stronger. The three routes leading east are guarded. The men have more confidence, our people a feeling of security. The enemy has been driven back, and made to haul in his horns, and to find he cannot have everything his own way. This has been done without a battle, but by a steady advance of positions. Now to drive him farther a battle must come off, and I am anxious to begin it. Circumstances beyond human control delay it, I know for good, but I hope the Great Ruler of the Universe will continue to aid and prosper us, and crown at last our feeble efforts with success. Rain, rain, rain, there has been nothing but rain. So it has appeared to my anxious mind since I approached these mountains. It commenced before, but since has come down with a will. The cold too has been greater than I could have conceived. In my winter clothing and buttoned up in my overcoat, I have still been cold. This state of weather has aggravated the sickness that has attacked the whole army, measles and typhoid fever. Some regiments have not over 250 for duty, some 300, 500, or about half, according to its strength. This makes a terrible hole in our effectives. Do not mention this, I pray you. It will be in the papers next. The rains and constant travel have cut these dirt turnpikes so deep, the soil being rich mould in most parts, that wagons can only travel with double teams. But there is a change in the weather. The glorious sun has been shining these four days. The drowned earth is warming. The sick are improving, and the spirits of all are rising. F. is anxious to get his buffalo robe. Did you ever get my letter concerning it? It was directed to be sent to the Spotswood to me. I asked you to put it up securely, and get Colonel Myers to send it to me at Huntersville. I have heard nothing of it. F. feels the want of it every night. He is very well, hearty, and sanguine. I am glad to hear of Gen. A. S. Johnston's approach and Captain Garnett's arrival. The disaster at Cape Hatteras was a hard blow to us, but we must expect them, struggle against them, prepare for them. We cannot be always successful and reverses must come. May God give us courage, endurance, and faith to strive to the end. Good-by, my dear son. F. has just come in. He sends his love and Colonel W. and Captain T. their regards. Give my kind remembrances to everybody.

Your fond father,

R. E. LEE.

CAPT. G. W. CUSTIS LEE.

SOURCE: John William Jones, Life and Letters of Robert Edward Lee: Soldier and Man, p. 146-7

General Robert E. Lee to Mary Custis Lee, September 1, 1861

VALLEY MOUNTAIN, September 1, 1861.

We have had a great deal of sickness among the soldiers, and those now on the sick list would form an army. The measles is still among them, but I hope is dying out. The constant cold rains, mud, etc., with no shelter or tents, have aggravated it. All these drawbacks, with impassable roads, have paralyzed our efforts.

SOURCE: John William Jones, Life and Letters of Robert Edward Lee: Soldier and Man, p. 146