Went to Moulton's
Ford, met Stonewall Brigade on our way, and had some lively talk with them, all
in fun, of course. Stayed on picket until 30th, then we were relieved at 11 in
the morning, and reached camp at 2.
SOURCE: Louis
Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 59
We have spent three days in front of the enemy, and, notwithstanding the fact that we have been under the fire of one of their batteries and of their sharp-shooters all of the time, the Forty-first has not lost a single man. Yesterday we were out on picket, and were compelled to lie behind logs to prevent the enemy's sharp-shooters from picking us off. We lay in this position for twenty-four hours. Half of the time the rain was pouring down in torrents, but at day-light the rain closed, and the weather changed to freezing cold. We certainly passed a very disagreeable time during this day, for if we attempted to straighten our frozen and cramped limbs by rising to the erect position, the instant bang and whiz of a minnie-bullet about our ears proved the experiment was dangerous. [Donelson repeated.] I noticed that some of our fighting men at home were the first to get behind some convenient log and the last to leave its friendly shelter. As for myself, I make no pretensions to bravery at home or abroad, and I freely acknowledge that I laid very close to my log. The fact is, a bullet, which whistles like it had a shuck tied to it, does not give out a very musical sound to my ears.
SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 16-7
Went on picket on the Rappahannock at Norman's Ford, six miles from camp.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 51
Were relieved to-day.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 51
Marched back to our camp at Moulton's Ford, and our regiment was sent on picket at Mitchell's Ford, seven miles from camp. This has been a very severe seven-days' campaign, as we fought mostly all the time. Cold, sleety, disagreeable weather, and we dare not make large fires, as that would be a sure target for the Yankees. Mine Run is a small stream on the Orange and Fredericksburg turnpike. Nothing more worth recording up to the 8th, my birthday, and spent it as dull as could be. Have been on picket, and relieved on Dole's Georgia Brigade. Up to the 27th nothing doing.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 54
Bright and
beautiful. Indian summer apparently.
All quiet below—but
it is anticipated by some that a battle will occur to-day, or in a day or so.
The enemy's negro
troops have been brought to this side of the river, and are in full view on
picket duty.
The Signal Bureau
reports a large number of transports descending the Potomac a few days ago;
probably Sheridan's army, to reinforce Grant.
And yet our
conscription superintendents, under orders, are busily engaged furloughing and
detailing the rich slaveowners! It is developing a rapidly growing Emancipation
party, for it is the establishment of a privileged class, and may speedily
prove fatal to our cause. Our leaders are mad, and will be destroyed, if they
persist in this policy.
SOURCE: John
Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate
States Capital, Volume 2, p. 348-9
Went on picket at 4 this afternoon, and was roused up in the night to intercept a spy who is in our lines, and is expecting to cross, but we did not see him, for it was so dark we could see nothing.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 49
Relieved to-day. Very wet and disagreeable weather. Nothing new up to the 9th.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 49
We were sent to Kelly's Ford on picket.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 51
Relieved to-day. It was bitter cold.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 51
Raining hard all day, and no tents. Left camp at 2 in the afternoon, marched six miles, halted at the river, and our regiment went on picket. It is still raining very hard, and we are as wet as drowned cats, and cold, too, for we cannot make a fire in front of the enemy. If we did they would have a good mark to shoot at.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 48
We have built ourselves cabins in our camps. This evening we went on picket.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 48
Our regiment is on picket; will be relieved to-morrow.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 48
April 4.
Tomorrow I hear we
are to pull up stakes and go on picket duty. This is not easy work, but work of
any kind is preferable to inactivity. Dr. Minor is down with intermittent
fever. I scarcely know how to spare him. I was obliged to send John Quincy to
the Beaufort Hospital.
. . . Mrs. General
Lander1 drew up her splendid steed before my tent door this
afternoon and assured me she would do all in her power for our General Hospital
for colored soldiers, now being established in Beaufort.
It is yet undecided
who the surgeon will be and I am somewhat solicitous about it. Very few
surgeons will do precisely the same for blacks as they would for whites, and I
know of no people more susceptible to the benign influence of kind words than
these long-suffering blacks.
Mrs. Lander told me
that the sixth Connecticut boys were full of praises of the bravery of our
regiment.
1 Jean Margaret Davenport, widow of Major-Gen.
Frederick William Lander.
ADVANCE PICKET
STATION, PORT ROYAL ISLAND, April 6.
We are seven miles
N. W. of Beaufort. Six companies are encamped here, one at Port Royal Ferry,
one at the Seabrook plantation three miles from here, one at Rose's two miles
off in another direction, one at the brick-yard, three miles off in still
another. Picket duty is always honorable, and being assigned to it for a time
seems like a sort of compensation for taking us away from Jacksonville, but a
pill is a pill, sugared or no, and we have been dosed with a very bad one which
will forever stick in my crop. . . . This old plantation house is not large
enough to decently hold the colonel and his staff, but if we are very quiet I
guess we shall get on amiably. Tonight I sleep on the dirty floor of an attic
with two dormer windows and two room mates. The Col. wanted me to share his room
below, but in this damp climate I shall always seek an upper room when it is
possible.
The scattering of
our men will give us pleasant rides and plenty of excitement. The country
hereabouts is just as charming as pine barrens, slight elevations, running
streams, acres of large white single roses climbing to the tops of respectable
trees, and milk-white clusters of locust blossoms with their delicate
fragrance, wild crimson honeysuckle and trees of Cornus Florida in full bloom
can make it. Don't you think I might be happy? Well, I am.
Went on picket
to-day, stayed there one hour, and was ordered back. Got to camp, and found our
brigade gone. We marched to Martinsburg, halted at 10 at night, two miles from
town-ten miles to-day.
This morning the transports and gun-boats all move down the river, leaving us isolated and alone, and in consequence we are soon on our way back towards Pulaski. Thinking it policy, we move on a different road. We travel briskly; capture three guerrillas during the morning; run one about three miles and capture him in a brush pile. When about thirty miles from Eastport, inland from the river, and while moving on a quick pace, we suddenly come upon a battallion of rebels numbering about two hundred. “Lieutenant, no time to be lost now! back we must get or be captured!” says Lowery, the scout. So from the road over the hills and through the woods we plunge, and getting on the Waynesboro road, we make good our escape.
We travel until about eleven o'clock and go into camp on a plantation seven miles from Waynesboro, making a distance since morning of eighty miles. It is now raining; the winds howl fiercely; the boys seek shelter in stables and sheds. We now think of those who are on picket to-night, after riding so hard all day. Stern necessity demands it, and no one complains. What noble types of untiring fortitude!
Our brigade is now camped in the suburbs of Berryville and is doing picket duty; however, in three days more another brigade will relieve us. The rest of the division is within five miles of Winchester. There seems to be no prospect of a fight at this time, although our men continue to take prisoners occasionally. The largest number brought in at one time was 104.
The weather is still quite cold, but the health of the brigade remains good. But few men reported sick this morning. We still hear of a case of smallpox occasionally, but the army is well vaccinated and I am satisfied that we are all immune. We have plenty to eat. For breakfast this morning we had biscuit (and they were shortened too), fried bacon and fried cabbage. For dinner we had boiled beef and dumplings, with biscuit and boiled eggs. Dr. Kilgore and I dined in Berryville yesterday with a Dr. Counsellor. The dinner was fine and the table was graced by his charming wife.
I still have about thirty dollars, but our quartermaster has gone to Richmond to get several months' pay for us. Please send my suit to me, for I wish to give the one I am now wearing to my servant, Wilson. He also needs a pair of shoes. In your last letter you ask if I have the night-cap which your aunt made for me. I lost it one morning before day, when preparing for battle. Take good care of George.
SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 35-6
The weather during Christmas has been as warm and pleasant as I ever saw it at the same season in South Carolina, but this morning it was quite clear and cold. I like the cold weather here, for we have such fine health. It is seldom that we have a man to die now. Our army was in better fighting trim at the battle of Fredericksburg than at any time since the war began, and it is still in the same condition. It does not seem possible to defeat this army now with General Lee at its head.
The Yankees are certainly very tired of this war. All the prisoners I have talked with express themselves as completely worn out and disgusted with it. Our regiment was on picket at the river a few days ago and the Yankee pickets were on the opposite bank. There is no firing between pickets now. It is forbidden in both armies. The men do not even have their guns loaded. The two sides talk familiarly with each other, and the Yankees say they are very anxious to have peace and get home.
Edwin and James Allen dined with me yesterday and said it was the best meal they had partaken of since they left home. We had fried tripe, chicken and dumplings, shortened biscuits, tea which was sweetened, and peach pie. Ed slept with me and took breakfast with me this morning. He thought my quarters very good for camp.
I have a pocketful of money now, and while there is a dollar of it left you can have all you wish. I would certainly like so very much to be with you, but it will never do for our country to be sacrificed in order that our selfish desires for comfort and ease may be gratified. It is everyone's duty to lend a helping hand to his country and never abandon his post of duty because a few who have no patriotism do so.
While I write I hear Chaplain Beauschelle preaching at a tremendous rate. He seems to think everyone is very deaf. I should prefer to hear some ludicrous old negro preacher, for that would afford me some amusement.
To save my life I cannot think of anything more to write, so good-by, my dear wife. Take good care of George.
Left here this
morning, got to Chambersburg at 12 M. Went three miles on the north side of
town on picket—14 miles to-day. We passed through Marion, a small village.
Chambersburg is a very fine place, 10,000 inhabitants, but nary a smile greeted
us as we marched through town. There are a plenty of men here—a pity they are
not rebels, and in our ranks. This city is in Franklin County, Cumberland
Valley. We were woke up in the middle of the night and marched off; waded a
river which was so cold that it woke us up. Passed through Greenville to-day at
dawn. This town has, I should judge, about 5,000 inhabitants. Nine miles
to-day.
