Diary of Private William S. White, September 4, 1862

Reached Gainsville, Fauquier, about 1 o'clock and as it was a good place for our horses we halted for the night. This village being only some two and a half miles from the battlefield of Manassas, and as I had an abundance of time, I rode over to the battlefield. Oh, what a scene of horror it was! Hundreds and thousands of dead and dying Yankees strewn all over the field—the dead, putrefied and swollen even to bursting, made the air redolent with a smell so nauseous and disgusting that it seemed to thicken the very air. Although nearly a week had passed since the battle, the wounded were still lying on the field, and none were buried save our own men. This seems, at first glance, wholly unchristian, yet one must remember that we are contending against a powerful enemy and for our very existence; therefore, we cannot spare the time to bury the enemy's dead, nor care for his wounded, when all medical stores have been declared "contraband of war" and we are destitute of them. Ten thousand Yankees lie unburied upon the field, and every moment of time is worth millions of money to us. The wounded, we have cared for as well as circumstances would permit, though we are much in want of proper stores for our own men.

General Lee most humanely allowed the Federal Government permission to send an ambulance train from Washington City, attended by proper surgeons, to look after the Federal wounded and give them proper treatment.

I conversed for some time with a citizen of Washington and he seemed very sanguine of the ultimate success of the Federal arms—by this time, however, he has found out how terribly in earnest we are. In this Second Battle of Manassas the positions of both Federal and Confederate armies were almost exactly reversed from that of the First Battle of Manassas of last year, and yet we whipped them again. Our left wing under Stonewall Jackson, swung around upon the Federal right and struck the mighty Pope en reverse before he was aware of the Confederate movement. But, danger of dangers, Lee's army was separated and if Pope could succeed in keeping Longstreet south of Thoroughfare Gap, Jackson would be isolated and would fall an easy prey to the countless thousands of that boasting Army of the Potomac, "the finest army the world ever saw." The vainglorious boaster who had never seen anything but the "backs of his enemies," and whose "head-quarters were in the saddle," was not equal to the emergency and Longstreet quietly and easily drove away the Federal brigade guarding a gap that a corps ought to have held, whilst he, hurried on to join that Achilles of the South, the ever present Jackson, and all the while Fitz John Porter doubting whether or not he must fight or wait. He who doubts loses, the combined corps of Jackson and Longstreet make one grand dash and the dismayed Federals were swept from the field.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 128-9

Diary of Private William S. White, September 17, 1862

Camped near Shepherdstown last night. This morning we can faintly see, far over towards Sharpsburg that another great battle is commencing.

McClellan very well knew that the time to attack Lee was when Jackson was absent, and the bloody battle of Sharpsburg is the consequence.

This little village is filled with our sick and wounded, and the citizens are straining every nerve to render them comfortable. Jackson has gained a glorious victory at Harper's Ferry, and that, too, without loss. His troops have passed through Shepherdstown on the way to Sharpsburg.

This little village of Shepherdstown is the most intensely Southern place I ever saw, and what makes it more surprising is its proximity to Maryland.

Our battery has just received orders to move, not to Sharpsburg, as we supposed, but to Williamsport.

In order to relieve Lee at Sharpsburg, General J. E. B. Stuart is to recross the Potomac at Williamsport, and make a diversion. McClellan, not knowing Stuart's force and fearing a flank movement, will withdraw, possibly, a large force to watch or catch him.

Camped near Martinsburg.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 132-3

Diary of Private William S. White, September 20, 1862

All quiet last night save an occasional picket skirmish. About 8 o'clock this morning my gun, of which I am the "gunner," was ordered about one mile farther up the Hagerstown Turnpike to reënforce our pickets, who had been driven in by the enemy. On gaining our position we found the enemy had quite a large force of cavalry, many of whom they had dismounted, and were shooting at us with long-range guns. A squad of the enemy coming in range, I fired a "case-shot" at them, but the fuse being defective I did them no damage. I then gave them another, and it exploded just above them, scattering its deadly contents into their ranks. One of our pickets told us he was hid but a short distance from them, and that shot killed and wounded fifteen. We fired several more rounds at them and they wisely kept out of reach. My gun was then ordered back into Williamsport by Major Boggs. General Stuart, seeing this ordered us to retake our former position, and sent us another gun, belonging to Hupp's Salem Artillery. The Yankees would every now and then creep up upon us and send a Minie ball whiz zing past us. How they whistled! They then brought up a rifled cannon and fired a few rounds at us, but without effect. About this time a heavy skirmish occurred on our right, and we could plainly hear the Yankee officers vainly endeavoring to rally their men, but they would not stand, and our batteries opening upon them soon sent them scampering across the field. A little later the Yankees came up in heavy force upon our right and endeavored to break our line, but our men fought too gallantly for that. A young girl came out from Williamsport and fired one of our cannon (Second Company's) at the enemy. My gun was then ordered to the right, some three miles down the road, and we started off at a brisk trot, leaving Hupp's gun in charge of a Corporal and four men. Just as my gun was about to take position it was ordered across the river by General Stuart, and he sent me back to bring Hupp's gun off the field. The fighting on the right had been quite heavy, and although we had driven the enemy back, yet we well knew that it was impossible for us to hold out much longer, the enemy now outnumbering us ten to one. It was time for Stuart to be getting on the south side of the Potomac. He had succeeded in his purpose; had drawn a full corps of the enemy from Sharpsburg, and had relieved Lee that much. Stuart had ordered Hampton to cut his way through the enemy's line and cross back into Virginia at another ford, but the Yankee force was too strong for that, and Hampton had to cross at Williamsport. I dashed off after Hupp's gun and the cannoniers were full glad to hear the order "Limber to the rear." When we had reached the river we found that we were the only Southern troops on the north side of the Potomac, for all the others had crossed over.

General Stuart had not ordered me to “cross the river," but I had no notion of being captured, so I got over as speedily as possible. In the meantime, Dance's Powhatan artillery, which had been left on the south side of the Potomac, had opened a brisk fire upon the enemy, and a very pretty artillery duel was in progress as we were crossing over to the Virginia side.

Reported to General Stuart, and he seemed much pleased that I had brought off the gun.

Moved some four miles farther back, and camped for the night. 

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 133-5

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, January 7, 1862

We hear of the Colonel occasionally. He is still at Louisville, running his train on the broad gauge. His regiment, he says, has been maneuvering in the face of the enemy beyond Green river, threatened with an attack day and night. Constant vigilance and continued exposure in this most inclement season of the year, so undermined his health that he was compelled to retire a little while to recuperate. He affirms that he has the best regiment of soldiers in the service; but, unfortunately, has not a field officer worth a damn.

Robt. E. Lee was the great man of the rebel army in West Virginia. The boys all talked about Lee, and told how they would pink him if opportunity offered. But Simon Bolivar Buckner is the man here on whom they all threaten to fall violently. There are certainly a hundred soldiers in the Third, each one of whom swears every day that he would whip Simon Bolivar Buckner quicker than a wink if he dared present himself. Simon is in danger.

Had the third sergeants in my school to-night. Am getting to be a pretty good teacher.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 94-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 14, 1863

Our part in this expedition is done, and we are on our way back to Knoxville. Wilcox's "baby brigade," as our boys call them, and the Twenty-third Corps, together with cavalry and mounted infantry, are following up the retreating Rebels. I have not learned the result of the fight, and probably will not for some days to come. Over a hundred of their dead are buried at Blue Springs, where our forces first overtook them, and as far as I went which was fifteen miles—every house was filled with their wounded.

I saw some were from Lee's army. One Lieutenant said he remembered seeing our regiment at Fredericksburg. He had stood picket opposite our boys several times. There was a brigade from the Rappahannock. Their force, he said, was about eight thousand, all mounted. The facts in the case were about as follows: Burnside had cleared his department of armed Rebels and had advanced into Virginia as far as Salt Town, where the Rebels had extensive salt works, strongly fortified. Before he could concentrate sufficient force to destroy these works, word came that Rosa was in danger—that Burnside was to hold himself in readiness to reinforce him at a minute's notice. In order to do this he must withdraw all his forces from the northeast and concentrate them near Knoxville.

The Rebels followed up as he fell back, and occupied the positions he had driven them from.

Before Burnside reached Morristown, word came from Rosa that he was safe inside his fortifications and was being rapidly reinforced by Grant. This left Burnside free to do over again what had been undone, but through no fault of his.

It was a touching sight to witness the joy of these much-abused people at our return. Men who had fled to the bush as the Rebels advanced, and dare not, for their lives, appear, came flocking in and were welcomed with tears and shouts of joy by wives and children. Their gratitude was unbounded.

As I witnessed the delight of these people and listened to their tales of suffering, I felt more than ever that I was engaged in a just and holy cause, and my heart was strengthened to do and dare for human liberty.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 105-6

Diary of Private William S. White, August 26, 1862

Broke camp near Richmond and started for "Lee's Army of Northern Virginia." Camped for the night at Brook Church, about four miles from the city.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 127

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Tuesday, March 7, 1865

Day rather cool to be agreeable drilled the co. P. M. 1 hour, rained at 3 P. M. News is that a Rebel Ram French built has appeared in the Gulf, monitor moves up to Flag ship. Reb flag of truce report that news in Mobile is Beauregard has defeated Sherman, & that Lee was evacuating Richmond. The Rebel force at Mobile is augmenting. Deserters report one division of Hoods army 10000 strong to have arrived there.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 577

Diary of Private William S. White, July 1, 1862

We remained in position all night, and a more uncomfortable night I never spent; 'twas almost a matter of impossibility to sleep, but nature must at length claim its own, and so we slept at last as only broken down soldiers can.

This morning the enemy threw a few shell toward us, but we made no reply.

Longstreet's division has been relieved to-day by Magruder, and my company has been ordered back to the rear. As we moved back the terribly bloody and disastrous was commencing, but we did not participate in it. Here Lee's army received a check which enabled McClellan, who conducted his retreat in masterly style, to make good his escape.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 124

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, October 6, 1861

The Third and Sixth Ohio, with Loomis' battery, left camp at half-past three in the afternoon, and took the Huntersville turnpike for Big Springs, where Lee's army has been encamped for some months. At nine o'clock we reached Logan's Mill, where the column halted for the night. It had rained heavily for some hours, and was still raining. The boys went into camp thoroughly wet, and very hungry and tired; but they soon had a hundred fires kindled, and, gathering around these, prepared and ate supper.

I never looked upon a wilder or more interesting scene. The valley is blazing with camp-fires; the men flit around them like shadows. Now some indomitable spirit, determined that neither rain nor weather shall get him down, strikes up:

Oh! say, can you see by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

A hundred voices join in, and the very mountains, which loom up in the fire-light like great walls, whose tops are lost in the darkness, resound with a rude melody befiting so wild a night and so wild a scene. But the songs are not all patriotic. Love and fun make contribution also, and a voice, which may be that of the invincible Irishman, Corporal Casey, sings:

’T was a windy night, about two o'clock in the morning,

 An Irish lad, so tight, all the wind and weather scorning,

 At Judy Callaghan's door, sitting upon the paling,

 His love tale he did pour, and this is part of his wailing:

 Only say you'll be mistress Brallaghan;

 Don't say nay, charming Judy Callaghan.

A score of voices pick up the chorus, and the hills and mountains seem to join in the Corporal's appeal to the charming Judy:

Only say you'll be mistress Brallaghan;

Don't say nay, charming Judy Callaghan.

Lieutenant Root is in command of Loomis' battery. Just before reaching Logan's one of his provision wagons tumbled down a precipice, severely injuring three men and breaking the wagon in pieces.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 75-7

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 14, 1861

This morning our Brigade Surgeon ordered me to leave the hospital for a few days, on account of my fatigue and prostration. He said that a regard for my health demanded it, and I must go where I pleased. I rode to Arlington, the headquarters of General King. The Arlington house, I believe, is (unless confiscated) the property of Gen. Lee. It is a magnificent mansion, overlooking Georgetown, Washington, Alexandria, and miles of the beautiful Potomac. In a room of this house, said to have been a favorite room of General Washington, I found my old friend Surgeon ———,badly broken by the fatigue and excitement of the campaign. I called on him, in company with Doctor A——, and after talking of his illness for half an hour, Doctor A. proposed to him to have my advice, to which he replied "Yes! if he will not medicate me too much." I said, "Doctor, I will prescribe for you, and with a single dose will medicate every fibre of your body, and by a healthy shock, restore you to health at once." With a look as if he thought me a hyena, he asked: "What do you mean to do with me?" "To take you out of this place and put you for thirty days under the care of your wife and family." The poor suffering man grasped my hand, burst into tears and sobbed aloud, "My Colonel won't consent to it." For a moment, forgetting his religion, and not having the fear of military commanders before my eyes, "Your Colonel may go to the d-vil, and you shall have a furlough." I rode immediately to medical headquarters in Washington, procured him the promise of a furlough as soon as his papers could be sent in, returned, informed him of it, and had the pleasure on my long night ride back to camp, of feeling that I had contributed something to the happines, and, perhaps, had saved the life of a good and worthy man. How easy for any man, however humble his position, to find opportunities of doing good, if he will only wear the "spectacles of benevolence."

After the vandalism I have witnessed in the destruction of property, in and about the houses of rebels and elsewhere, it was a pleasurable relief to find here, that General King, in the goodness of his always good heart, had enforced respect for the property and furniture. The garden, with its fences, is preserved, and the walls of almost every room in this immense old building, are covered with the rich paintings and old family pictures, left hanging when this favorite of rebeldom left his home. The garden is fine, but I think does not compare with that of Kalorama. The antique bureaus and [s]ide-boards calling up impressions of generations long passed away, are still tenants of the building; and the halls recall Scott's fine description of the Halls of the Douglass, where the arms of the hunters, and the trophies of the hunt, mingled with the trappings of the warrior, constituted the attractive features of the chieftain's forest home. Over the halls, and at every angle in the stairs, were the antlers of the elk and the red-deer fastened to the walls and nearly interlocking their branches over my head as I walked through. They were hung, too, with the arms of the hunter and the warrior. So perfectly does this position command Washington, that had the rebels there secretly collected a dozen mortars, they might have fired the city before a gun could have been brought to bear on them. Everybody is talking of a prospect of a move within three days, but the origin of the reports I know not; perhaps in the impatience of the army to be led forward.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 53-5

Diary of Private William S. White, June 1, 1862

We cannot as yet procure the full particulars regarding the battle of "Seven Pines" fought yesterday and to-day. As well as I can learn the plan was this: the Yankees had crossed a large force on the south-side of the Chickahominy, and on the night of the 30th of May, we had a most terrific storm. Our Commander, General Jos. E. Johnston, concluding that the bridges were all washed away, and the river past fording, concluded to attack the Yankees on the south-side and crush them out before they could be reinforced. On account of the tardiness of General Huger the plan was not fully successful, though we surprised the enemy, capturing a large number of prisoners with several pieces of artillery. Our camp was on the main road leading to Seven Pines, but 'twas difficult to handle artillery and we received no orders to move. What a heart-rending scene it is to witness the wounded brought in from a terrible battle field. The people of Richmond turned out en masse to render aid to our wounded soldiers. Many a wounded soldier-boy from the sunny South will never cease to remember the fair form of the "city belle" as she soothed his aching brow or bound up his wounded limb. Too often do we hear our Southern allies cursing the people of Richmond as a set of speculators thriving on our misfortunes, but now many of them have been convinced that "in the hour of pain and anguish," Richmond can and will do all within her power to aid those who are seeking to uphold our cause.

'Tis undoubtedly true that Richmond has changed greatly since the war began, for it has, I am sorry to say, become the headquarters of all of the "fancy men" of the South—gentlemen of the Hebrew persuasion have made it their rendezvous to sell blockade goods, and countless numbers of Yankee spies, though outwardly swearing allegiance to our government, hold strong foothold in our city. Gambling hells, furnished with tinseled splendor are at every corner, to catch the unwary, and relieve them of their superabundant "Confederates."

Still there is enough of the old metal left, purified and refined, to make Richmond to me the sweetest, dearest spot on earth. General Johnston being wounded, General Robert E. Lee now commands our army.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 116-7

Diary of Private William S. White, June 30, 1862

BATTLE OF WILLIS'S CHURCH, OR FRAYSER'S FARM, MONDAY, JUNE 30TH, 1862.

I was in the saddle from a little after sunrise yesterday morning until daybreak this morning, and then, after taking a nap of an hour, had to move on to find my company. McClellan, having been so terribly punished on his right flank by the fierce onslaughts of Lee and Jackson, has now concentrated his forces on this (the south) side of the Chickahominy, and is making his way to his gun-boats on the James River. We are following him up as rapidly as possible. Our two divisions moved a few miles farther down the Darbytown Road, when our advanced guard captured a Yankee picket, who reported their men to be but a short distance in advance.

Longstreet quickly disposed his troops, and advanced to meet the enemy; my battery was posted in an open field, but we could see no enemy, as a heavy wood was between us.

The enemy soon rained a storm of shot and shell upon us, and we returned the fire with vigor, but as soon as our infantry charged beyond us, as at Gaines's Mill, we were compelled to cease firing," our guns being of such short range.

Nevertheless, we were compelled to receive their fire, and, being unable to return it, it made our situation anything but pleasant. Nothing is more demoralizing to troops than to be subjected to a heavy fire from an unseen foe and to remain perfectly inactive. The wood completely shut us out from sight, yet shielded us but little from the shot and shell.

Here a member of my company (Edward F. Cullen) was struck upon the forehead by a piece of shell; we thought at first he was seriously wounded, but we were mistaken. I also made a very narrow escape, for a two ounce ball from a Belgian rifle passed through my gunner's-bag, which was, as is customary during an engagement, thrown over my shoulder. I had in this bag about 500 friction primers, each and every one a little miniature cannon of itself, filled with rifle and a poisonous fulminating powder, the explosion of one of which would have caused the explosion of the whole. The ball passed through three thick pleats of leather, breaking the fourth and last pleat. Had it not have been for this leather bag, I would have received this ball just below my heart. The fighting was still going on in our front at a terrific rate. Again and again our men charged the enemies' works, but were as often driven back. At one time Featherstone's brigade had to reform a few yards to the right of our battery, and could only muster 250 men. One more grand effort—a dashing charge and our men have carried the entrenchments. Kemper's men are holding their position without ammunition; Featherstone's brigade has melted away from 1,200 to 200; still our brave troops hold their position, and have captured many a piece of artillery. Night comes on, but still the fight continues—volley after volley of musketry pours its stream of death into our ranks, but our men cannot be driven back, and McClellan has to keep moving on. Our field of observation is so extremely limited, we can learn but little of the general plan of the battle or of the specific results. The wounded stragglers all pass through our battery and tell the same old tale of being "cut up," "badly whipped," etc., so that for a long time we were really in doubt whether we or the Yankees had been successful. The enemy fought bravely and contested the ground inch by inch. Our General, Featherstone, has been badly wounded. We have captured many prisoners and a number of pieces of artillery; also, a Brigadier-General by the name of McCall.

We spent the night on the field, and, for the season, it was bitterly cold.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 122-4

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, July 5, 1864

We moved back to the old side, five of us, unbeknown to Rebs, it being improved by the removal of so many to the new part, and to get near the well we dug, for we were fifty rods from water. About 3 p. m. the mule teams came to the north gate; the boys cry "rations," the first issued for over sixty hours. I know no other reason for this than that the first night after the new part of the prison was occupied men carried off timbers of the old north wall for wood or for huts. On July 2nd Capt. Wirz directed that no rations be issued until every stick was replaced. He was heard to say on the 3rd, at the gate, that he would "learn the G-d d--n Yankees that he was in command and if the sons of b-----s died like hell, there would be enough left." I paid ten cents for a small rotting apple; it was good. The 6th, Sherman's men report Johnston whipped at all points; the 8th, behind the Chattahoochee, Sherman crossing on his flank; Grant's, Richmond in danger; Lee's cornbread line troubled. The Southern slave empire must come down. Billy Decker, prisoner since October, a Belle Islander, "Pinch's" old playmate, is stopping with us. He belongs to the 1st U. S. dragoons; is from Steuben county, New York.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, July 8, 1864

Prisoners arrive, 300, taken at James Island, S. C., the 3rd, belonging to the 52nd Pennsylvania, also a squad from Virginia. Fierce lightning and thunder in the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly, and scarce a cloud in the sky. A Rebel paper admits the country open to Grant, and Lee in a strait. "All we want is to be left alone," said Jeff Davis at his inaugural. His wants will grow, like "bull pen" lice.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, July 14, 1864

Report that Lee is moving forces northward; Ewell at Harper's Ferry; and a cavalry raid into Maryland. Whether this is to attract attention for political effect, or is a military movement is a question. While writing, sergeants of detachments have been called by Capt. Wirz and notified that he has if attempted he will kill every man in camp. Reports of two cannon startled the prisoners this afternoon, and we turned out to see Rebel soldiers pouring into line double quick. It was soon evident that it was practice. They formed on the hill, deployed skirmishers who indulged in a vigorous fire, interspersed with several volleys of musketry from a brigade, showing how they would do if Kilpatrick came, or if prisoners break out.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 91-2

In The Review Queue: Three Roads to Gettysburg

Three Roads to Gettysburg: Meade, Lee, Lincoln, and theBattle That Changed the War, the Speech That Changed the Nation

By Tim McGrath

Release Date: November 18, 2025

An epic, revelatory account of the Battle of Gettysburg, where George Meade, Lincoln's unexpected choice to lead the Union army, defeated Robert E. Lee and changed the course of the Civil War, from the award-winning author of James Monroe: A Life

By mid-1863, the Civil War, with Northern victories in the West and Southern triumphs in the East, seemed unwinnable for Abraham Lincoln. Robert E. Lee’s bold thrust into Pennsylvania, if successful, could mean Southern independence. In a desperate countermove, Lincoln ordered George Gordon Meade—a man hardly known and hardly known in his own army—to take command of the Army of the Potomac and defeat Lee’s seemingly invincible Army of Northern Virginia. Just three days later, the two great armies collided at a small town called Gettysburg. The epic three-day battle that followed proved to be the turning point in the war, and provided Lincoln the perfect opportunity to give the defining speech of the war—and a challenge to each generation of Americans to live by.

These men came from different parts of the country and very different upbringings: Robert E. Lee, son of the aristocratic and slaveholding South; George Gordon Meade, raised in the industrious, straitlaced North; and Abraham Lincoln, from the rowdy, untamed West. Lincoln’s election to the presidency in 1860 split the country in two and triggered the Civil War. Lee and Meade found themselves on opposite sides, while Lincoln had the Sisyphean task of reuniting the country.

With a colorful supporting cast second to none, Three Roads to Gettysburg tells the story of these consequential men, this monumental battle, and the immortal address that has come to define America.

About the Author

Tim McGrath is a winner of the Samuel Eliot Morison Award for Naval Literature and two-time winner of the Commodore John Barry Book Award, as well as the author of the critically acclaimed biographies James Monroe: A Life and John Barry: An American Hero in the Age of Sail.

ISBN 978-0593184394, Dutton, © 2025, Hardcover, 528 Pages, Maps, End Notes, Bibliography & Index. $38.00.  To Purchase the book click HERE.

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 23, 1863

Haines Bluff, Miss.  We arrived at our old camp yesterday—twenty days from the time we left it—the toughest twenty days of our experience. A dirtier, more ragged and drilled-out lot of men I hope never to see. The first thing I did, after eating a little hardtack and drinking a cup of coffee, was to bolt for the spring, build a fire, boil my shirt, pants and socks, scrub myself from head to heels, put on my clothing wet—though not much wetter than before and return to camp a cleaner, therefore a better man. There have been times when we could not get water to wash our hands and face, to say nothing of our clothing, for a week or more.

It was dark when I returned to camp, but fires were burning brightly in every direction, and around them were gathered groups of men silently reading letters. I hastened to the Orderly and asked him "Have you anything for me?" "Yes, I have four letters for you." My heart gave one great bound of gladness, and, grasping them tightly, I hastened to the nearest fire to learn what news from home. Rumors of a great battle, fought and won by Meade, had been in circulation several days, but no one knew whether true or false. These letters from my wife confirmed them. The threatened invasion took place, was crushed, and Lee was suffered to recross the Potomac at his leisure, as he was allowed to do after Antietam.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 70-1

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, June 20, 1864

Yesterday a sentry fired on a man who was attempting to kill a snake near the dead line, but missed him, the shot taking effect on four others; wounding one in the face, one in the thigh, both lying under their blankets, and grazed two others. Gen. Sturgis has blundered in a fight with Forrest in Tennessee; lost 900 men. Sigel has been relieved by Hunter for fighting Breckenridge with an inferior force, less than at his command. These seeming disasters fill Rebels with bombast and are not encouraging to us.

These little triumphs seem to raise their wind;

But great defeats they never seem to find;

They cut loops, but not the ropes that bind.

We look at them, then coolly turn aside,

Annoyed that Jonnies have such narrow pride,

That it should never enter in the mind,

'Tis but a wave blown up against the tide,

For surely Forrest breaks not the comet's tail,

And Joe E. Johnston goes down before it pale;

While flirting in Virginia are but attempts to rise

When U. S. Grant rolls Lee upon his thighs.

Robbers more desperate and bold. Two men have lately been murdered, and a number hurt and robbed. We watch nightly, fearing attack. Two guards are reported hung for attempting to escape with prisoners a few nights ago. The old guard leave this morning, probably for the front; we have a new set on.

Passing up from the creek this morning I saw a crowd standing around a dying negro boy about one-fourth white. A white man stood over him holding in his hand a stick, to one end of which was attached a stiff paper, with which he brushed the swarming flies from his face and fanned his dying breath. He was emaciated and bruised. Presently the feeble breath stopped the man bent and lay his bony hands on his breast. Again there was a faint heaving of the breast, the eyes brightened and glanced meaningly at him, then rolled back, and he breathed no more. I cannot tell why I forgot every thing for the time—

And intense interest took in him,

When hourly almost, each day, I see the dead

Of my own race, far loftier brows

And comelier forms, pass by.

Involuntarily, almost, my face turned towards the skies, my forehead and temples felt the soft, thrilling, intangible pressure of an electric band; my left arm and shoulder, for a moment, electrified. Then I looked at those about, and wondered what they thought. Turning to one, I remarked:

"I should have thought he had a soul, were he not a negro." He replied: "I know, if the human is immortal, he had a soul. I almost felt it when it departed."

This is what is going the rounds tonight: "They say Davis has sued for peace." Too sensible to be true!

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 76-7

General Robert E. Lee to Jefferson Davis, April 1, 1865

HEADQUARTERS,        

April 1, 1865.

His Excellency President DAVIS, Richmond, Va.:

General Beauregard has been ordered to make arrangements to defend the railroad in North Carolina against Stoneman. Generals Echols and Martin are directed to co-operate and obey his orders.

R. E. LEE.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 47, Part 3 (Serial No. 100), p. 736

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 1, 1865

Clear and pleasant. Walked to the department. We have vague and incoherent accounts from excited couriers of fighting, without result, in Dinwiddie County, near the South Side Railroad.

It is rumored that a battle will probably occur in that vicinity to-day.

I have leave of absence, to improve my health; and propose accompanying my daughter Anne, next week, to Mr. Hobson's mansion in Goochland County. The Hobsons are opulent, and she will have an excellent asylum there, if the vicissitudes of the war do not spoil her calculations. I shall look for angling streams: and if successful, hope for both sport and better health.

The books at the conscript office show a frightful list of deserters or absentees without leave-60,000—all Virginians. Speculation !

Jno. M. Daniel, editor of the Examiner, is dead.

The following dispatch from Gen. Lee is just (10 A.M.) received:

HEADQUARTERS, April 1st, 1865.

HIS EXCELLENCY PRESIDENT DAVIS.

 

Gen. Beauregard has been ordered to make arrangements to defend the railroad in North Carolina against Stoneman. Generals Echols and Martin are directed to co-operate, and obey his orders.

R. E. LEE.

A rumor (perhaps a 1st of April rumor) is current that a treaty has been signed between the Confederate States Government and Maximilian.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 464