Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, May 28, 1864

In consequence of the damp nights I cough badly. Nights are cool, compared with the heat of the day, the sun being terrible, in consequence of which I have suffered with headache. Going about camp I find several wells 20 and 25 feet deep. In company with twenty others our mess have commenced digging today. Pinchen is whittling staves out of sticks of pine rations for a bucket with a small jack-knife, to use in pulling up the dirt. Prison managers are against this enterprise; but the jealousy is being overcome happily, through the influence of surgeons and military officers who occasionally come inside and we have shown them the condition of the stream. As yet no spades are allowed for this work, although these officers have kindly suggested that they could be trusted to us under restriction. So they have been dug with case knives, pieces of canteens, or any piece of iron or stick convertible for such use. As digging proceeds men go down on poles, where one can be obtained, bracing against the bank and ascending the same way. The earth is a red sand, packs hard, needs no stoning. After several feet a fine layer of clay is struck, smooth and soft which is a curiosity to some, who smooth it and whittle it into fancy articles, among which are pipes. Tin pails are attached to whatever we can create for ropes for drawing up dirt and water.

Yesterday I noticed a dead-line board laying on the ground inside, one end about three feet from the post, blown, I suppose, by the wind. We have been troubled about getting in and out of the well we are digging, and cannot find anything to put down to climb on: 'I conceived the idea of capturing it to obviate the trouble. It got pretty dark near midnight. I approached the place cautiously, and lay flat and crawled to the board and tied a string to the end farthest in and sitting on the ground 25 feet away, drew it cautiously until out of danger from being shot by sentinels, when I picked it up and brought it to our place. We covered it with sand when Rebel sergeants came in the morning, and after the well was finished, broke it up for wood to cook our rations of meal. The Rebels missed the board, but never found it. Thompson watched the guard while I pulled it away, to warn me if they were likely to shoot, but the other boys didn't know when I stole the "dead line."

Seven hundred men taken at Spottslvania come in; report Grant at Mechanicsville, Johnston falling back on Atlanta. Those who have razors shave for 5c., cut hair for 10c. Sweat boards or dice appear in camp where men can stake 5c. a throw, if he wishes to try his luck at gaming. I have known some to win quite often, but hear of more who lose. A few things have been worked into camp by men who get out on duty or by Rebel sergeants. A fair sized onion goes for $1, apples 10c to 40c, dry hog peas 40c. per pint, plug tobacco $1.50. There is one commodity never had in any market. It is ahead of any Dutch brewery extant; it is meal beer made by letting corn meal sour in water. Molasses can be had for 5c. a teaspoonful; a little is added to give it a twang and sassafras roots can be had by digging, the tea of which is often added to give it flavor. Those who have money, pay ten and fifteen cents for half a pint and drink it with a relish. Men crave something sour, and poor fellows with feverish lips and scabious tendency, without money, beg and whine for it childishly. The vender cries, "Here is your nice meal beer, right sour, well seasoned with sassafras."

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 65-6

Charlotte Cross Wigfall to Louise Wigfall, Friday Night, June 27, 1862

Friday night, 27th.

Yesterday afternoon I took a drive with Halsey and as soon as we got on Church Hill we heard the cannon and it seems the fight had begun at 3 o'clock in the afternoon instead of at daylight as it had been arranged. Your father got back after twelve last night. The news was all good, as you have seen, I suppose. We had driven them from Mechanicsville and taken several batteries, etc. The battle was to be renewed this morning at daybreak, and accordingly, off went Papa, and I don't expect to see him again until midnight or maybe to-morrow. Robert Nicholas, however, told me about sundown that he had left him well an hour or two before and that the Yankees had been driven back six miles. All the accounts we have yet received, altho' meagre, yet agree that we are in hot pursuit and the enemy trying to get away. God grant that our victory may be complete! I will write more to-morrow when I can tell you what your father says. Good night.

SOURCE: Louise Wigfall Wright, A Southern Girl in ’61, p. 81-2

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Mead, June 1, 1864 – 6 p.m.

Headquarters Army Of The Potomac, 6 P. M., June 1, 1864.

We are pegging away here, and gradually getting nearer and nearer to Richmond, although its capture is yet far off. Our advance is within two miles of Mechanicsville, which, if you remember, is the place where the fighting commenced in the Seven Days. The rebs keep taking up strong positions and entrenching themselves. This compels us to move around their flank, after trying to find some weak point to attack. This operation has now occurred four times, namely, crossing the Rapidan, at Old Wilderness, at Spottsylvania Court House, and recently at North Anna. We shall have to do it once more before we get them into their defenses at Richmond, and then will begin the tedious process of a quasi-siege, like that at Sebastopol; which will last as long, unless we can get hold of their railroads and cut off their supplies, when they must come out and fight.

Whilst I am writing the cannon and musketry are rattling all along our lines, over five miles in extent, but we have become so accustomed to these sounds that we hardly notice them.

The weather is beginning to be hot, but I keep in the saddle during the day, and sleep soundly at night.

The papers are giving Grant all the credit of what they call successes; I hope they will remember this if anything goes wrong.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 200

Brigadier General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Meade, June 18, 1862

CAMP NEAR “NEW BRIDGE,” June 18, 1862.

Late last night orders came for our division to march at early daylight this morning, which we did, arriving here about 11 A. M., and relieving Slocum's (formerly Franklin's) division, being thus posted on the extreme right flank of our army and in the front. The enemy are in plain view of our picket line, we holding here the left bank of the Chickahominy, and they the opposite one. There is quite a wide bottom and swamp between the two banks, but our respective pickets are within musket range of each other. But shots are not exchanged unless there is a collection on either side, looking like an advance or a working party. The “New Bridge,” as it is called, you have doubtless seen mentioned and referred to in the newspapers. It is the bridge by which one of the main roads into Richmond crosses the Chickahominy. We hold the approaches on this side, the enemy on the other. They are throwing up earthworks to prevent our crossing, and all the afternoon our batteries have been shelling their working parties, and they have been shelling our batteries, with I fancy no damage on either side. The "New Bridge" is only five miles from Richmond, and from the high grounds near our camp we can plainly discern the spires of the Sacred City. To-morrow Reynolds and Seymour go to Mechanicsville, which is a little higher up the river and about four and a half miles from the city. Immediately adjoining our camp we have Fitz-John Porter's corps, in which General Morell now commands a division. Stoneman's division of cavalry is also in our vicinity, as well as Sykes's brigade of regulars. Willie¹ has been with me all the afternoon. He looks very well — better than he did at Alexandria.

Did you see in the papers of the 12th the instructions of Joe Johnston to Stonewall Jackson? I hope you have, for they most singularly confirm my expressed views of the object of Jackson's raid. Johnston tells him that anything he can do, either to prevent reinforcements reaching McClellan or to withdraw any portion of his force, will be of inestimable service; suggests his attacking either McDowell or Banks — whichever he thinks most practicable — and says it is reported McDowell is about advancing on Richmond, which he, Johnston, thinks extremely probable. You see how completely Jackson succeeded in carrying out these, by paralyzing McDowell's force of forty thousand men, through the stupidity of the authorities at Washington becoming alarmed and sending McDowell on a wild-goose chase after a wily foe, who never intended to be caught in a trap, and was prepared to back out so soon as his plans proved successful. I must do McDowell the justice to say that he saw this himself, but no protest on his part could shake the strategy of the War Department.

We are so near the enemy that we hear their bands distinctly at tattoo and parade. On our side no drums, bugles or bands are allowed, except to announce the approach of the enemy. I can hardly tell you how I felt this afternoon, when the old familiar sound of the heavy firing commenced. I thought of you and the dear children — of how much more I have to make me cling to life than during the Mexican War; I thought, too, of how I was preserved then and since in many perilous times through God's mercy and will, and prayed He would continue His gracious protection to me, and in His own good time restore me to you, or if this was not His will, and it was decreed that I was to be summoned, that He would forgive me, for His Son's sake, the infinite number of sins I have all my life been committing. You see, I do not shut my eyes to the contingencies of the future, but I look upon them with a hopeful eye and a firm reliance on the mercy of my heavenly Father. It is now 10 o'clock at night, dark and rainy. All is quiet in both camps, and the immense hosts arrayed against each other are, doubtless, quietly and peacefully sleeping, unless some one with thoughts like those I have expressed has a disturbing conscience.

__________

¹ William Sergeant, brother of Mrs. Meade.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 1, p. 275-7