We have a rumor to-day that Meade is sending heavy masses of
troops to the West to extricate Rosecrans, and that Gen. Hooker is to menace
Richmond from the Peninsula, with 25,000 men, to keep Lee from crossing the
Potomac.
We have absolutely nothing from Bragg; but a dispatch from
Gen. S. Jones, East Tennessee, of this date, says he has sent Gen. Ranseur [sic] after the rear guard of the enemy,
near Knoxville.
A letter from W. G. M. Davis, describes St. Andrew's Bay,
Florida, as practicable for exporting and importing purposes. It may be
required, if Charleston and Wilmington fall — which is not improbable.
Nevertheless, Bragg's victory has given us a respite in the
East, and soon the bad roads will put an end to the marching of armies until
next year. I doubt whether the Yankees will desire another winter campaign in
Virginia.
The papers contain the following account of sufferings at
Gettysburg, and in the Federal prisons:
“A lady from the vicinity of Gettysburg writes: ‘July 18th—
We have been visiting the battle-field, and have done all we can for the
wounded there. Since then we have sent another party, who came upon a camp of
wounded Confederates in a wood between the hills. Through this wood quite a
large creek runs. This camp contained between 200 and 300 wounded men, in every
stage of suffering; two well men among them as nurses. Most of them had
frightful wounds. A few evenings ago the rain, sudden and violent, swelled the
creek, and 35 of the unfortunates were swept away; 35 died of starvation. No
one had been to visit them since they were carried off the battle-field; they
had no food of any kind; they were crying all the time “bread, bread! water,
water!” One boy without beard was stretched out dead, quite naked, a piece of
blanket thrown over his emaciated form, a rag over his face, and his small,
thin hands laid over his breast. Of the dead none knew their names, and it
breaks my heart to think of the mothers waiting and watching for the sons laid
in the lonely grave on that fearful battle-field. All of those men in the woods
were nearly naked, and when ladies approached they tried to cover themselves
with the filthy rags they had cast aside. The wounds themselves, unwashed and
untouched, were full of worms. God only knows what they suffered.
“‘Not one word of complaint passed their lips, not a murmur;
their only words were “Bread, bread! water, water!” Except when they saw some
of our ladies much affected, they said, “Oh, ladies, don't cry; we are used to
this.” We are doing all we can; we served all day yesterday, though it was
Sunday.’ This lady adds: ‘There were two brothers — one a colonel, the other a
captain — lying side by side, and both wounded. They had a Bible between them.’
Another letter from Philadelphia says: ‘There are over 8000 on the island (Fort
Delaware), the hospitals crowded, and between 300 and 400 men on the bare floor
of the barracks; not even a straw mattress under them. The surgeon says the
hundred pillows and other things sent from here were a God-send. Everything
except gray clothing will be thankfully received, and can be fully disposed of.
It is very difficult to get money here. I write to you in the hope that you may
be able to send some comforts for these suffering men. Some two or three
thousand have been sent to an island in the East River, most of them South
Carolinians, and all in great destitution. Your hearts would ache as mine does
if you knew all I hear and know is true of the sufferings of our poor people.’
“Another writes: Philadelphia, July 20th, 1863. ‘I mentioned
in my last the large number of Southern prisoners now in the hands of the
Federal Government in Fort Delaware, near this city. There are 8000, a large
portion of whom are sick and wounded; all are suffering most seriously for the
want of a thousand things. Those in the city who are by birth or association
connected with Southern people, and who feel a sympathy for the sufferings of
these prisoners, are but few in number, and upon these have been increasing
calls for aid. Their powers of contribution are now exhausted. I thought it my
duty to acquaint you and others in Europe of this state of things, that you
might raise something to relieve the sufferings of these prisoners. I believe
the government has decided that any contributions for them may be delivered to
them. There is scarcely a man among them, officers or privates, who has any
money or any clothes beyond those in which they stood when they were captured
on the battlefield. You can, therefore, imagine their situation. In the
hospitals the government gives them nothing beyond medicines and soldier's
rations. Sick men require much more, or they perish; and these people are dying
by scores. I think it a matter in which their friends on the other side should
take prompt and ample action.’”
SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's
Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p.
57-9
