A cold drizzly rain has been falling all day. The sentry will have a dreary time to-night for the howling winds are piercing. It is now dark and the ground is all saturated with water (shivering winds, and chill whistlings.) Hollow coughs and long sighs are heard as the sentinels pace their lonely beats. Quiet tramping is now heard, and amid the dense darkness two comrades meet. We see where they stand by the falling of the sparks from their pipes. They are talking now about the news from Stone River, and the Rappahannock, and of the flow of blood that has made red their brewing waters. They stop—they are silent—but again the stillness is broken; says one, “John, I received by the last mail a letter from home, and they tell me that they trail the flag up there—that they shoot down the furloughed soldiers, and insult our wounded comrades, that our father's lives have been threatened because they have hearts that go out and take in the army and navy, because they have sons who wear the blue, fighting for the flag and union.” As these sentries turned on their way, we imagine that on that dreary path along where the winter winds kept sighing mournfully, tears fell, and their hearts were sad, because they knew that in the north, around their father's homes, where once they looked in the innocence of childhood, could be found so many who would smile to see the old flag go down and Liberty's cradle rock no more.
Tuesday, August 17, 2021
Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Wednesday, January 14, 1863
Monday, August 16, 2021
Major Charles Wright Wills: May 17, 1865
Aquia Creek, Va., May 17, 1865.
We passed over the whole line of Burnside's battle ground this morning. (It was no fight, only a Yankee slaughter.) Through Fredericksburg, the most shelled town I ever saw; crossed the Rappahannock on a miserable shaky pontoon, and have been traveling ever since in the camps of the Potomac Army. Desolation reigns equal to the Sodom and Gomorrah country.
Country much more broken than I supposed; very hot part of the day. One man of the 48th Illinois fell dead while marching, and eight or ten in our regiment badly affected by heat.
SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 382
Monday, June 21, 2021
Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 24, 1864
Cloudy and windy, but warm.
We have none of the details yet of the storming of Plymouth, except the brief dispatches in the newspapers; nor any reliable accounts of subsequent movements. But a letter from Gen. Whiting indicates that all his troops had been taken northward, and we may expect something further of interest.
It is still believed that Lee's and Grant's armies are in motion on the Rappahannock; but whether going North or coming South, no one seems to know. Our people unanimously look for a victory
I bought a black coat at auction yesterday (short swallow-tailed) for $12. It is fine cloth, not much worn-its owner going into the army, probably--but out of fashion. If it had been a frockcoat, it would have brought $100. It is no time for fashion now.
Gen. Johnston's Chief Commissary offers to send some bacon to Lee's army. A short time since, it was said, Johnston was prevented from advancing for want of rations.
SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 191-2
Monday, May 10, 2021
Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 11, 1864
Rained all night, but clear most of the day.
There are rumors of Burnside landing troops on the Peninsula; also of preparations for movements on the Rappahannock—by which side is uncertain. It is said troops are coming from Mississippi, Lieut.-Gen. (Bishop) Polk's command.
The FAMINE is still advancing, and his gaunt proportions loom up daily, as he approaches with gigantic strides. The rich speculators, however, and the officers of influence stationed here, who have secured the favor of the Express Company, get enough to eat. Potatoes sell at $1 per quart; chickens, $35 per pair; turnip greens, $4 per peck! An ounce of meat, daily, is the allowance to each member of my family, the cat and parrot included. The pigeons of my neighbor have disappeared. Every day we have accounts of robberies, the preceding night, of cows, pigs, bacon, flour—and even the setting hens are taken from their nests!
SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 185