Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 14, 1862

ARRIVAL HOME AGAIN.

By the loud cheering and blowing off of steam in the direction of New Berne, we knew the boys had arrived. The regiment reached camp about noon, and a dirtier, more used-up set of men we never saw. Our friends at home would hardly recognize us as the same party who three short weeks before were parading at Readville. But we are now "vets," of one fight "Rawle's Mill," which we are bound to carry, and as we cannot get it on our flag, the smokers have engraved it on their pipes.

We occupied our barracks to-day. They are new and roomy, but built of green lumber, consequently will soon be well ventilated. The bunks are better and more commodious than those at Readville. Three double ones in each tier; the cook-room in the centre, with fireplace on one side and room for the sergeants opposite.

SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 20

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, December 5, 1862

Left camp at 6 o'clock. Roads in a terrible condition, mud knee deep, marching almost impossible; artillery stuck in the road, wagons in every conceivable condition. Crossed the Tallahatchie on a pontoon bridge of a very primitive build, being composed of trees cut down fastened together with ropes and tied to the shore with the ropes, small trees were laid crosswise and on this we crossed. The rebels had quite a strong fort here which would have given us a great deal of trouble, but Sherman's march on our flank forced Price to abandon it. The roads on the south side were much better and after a wearisome march of sixteen miles reached Oxford, Mississippi, at 8 o'clock p. m. I never was so tired and never saw the men so worn out and fatigued as they were on this day's march. We were kept over an hour before our camp was located and it seemed as if all dropped to sleep at once. I could not but think of those at home who are all the time condemning our generals and armies for not moving with greater rapidity, for not making forced marches and following up the enemy, when they know nothing about it. We made quite a parade going through Oxford as it is a place of considerable importance. Flags were unfurled, bands struck up, bugles sounded, and men for the time being forgot their fatigue and marched in good order. Nothing like music to cheer up the men.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 5-6

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday Night, September 28, 1862

Meeting to-day. Chaplain Parker preached. He asked those who would stop swearing to hold up their hands, and so far as I could see every hand went up. After inspection in the morning we had nothing to do except to go to meeting and dress parade, which I believe we are to have regularly. We march to the parade ground, which is just back of our camp quarters, and form in line. The colonel, with the major and adjutant on his right and left, station [themselves] in front, the colonel opposite the colors, which are in the center, between Companies C and H. The fifer and drummer pass along in front and back again when the colonel puts us through the manual of arms. A great many civilians come out and it must be a pretty sight, provided the orders are well executed. If we do well, nothing is said, but if not, we are cautioned to do better next time.

How I wish I could peep in on the old folks at home to-night! I imagine just how they are sitting around, talking, perhaps of me, or better yet, writing me a letter.

There is no use denying that I am homesick. I have been such a home-body, and my home life has been so pleasant.

The comforts of my home, though humble, have been many, and I have never missed them as I do to-night. I have only been away a short time, but it seems longer to me than all my life before. It has been crowded so full of strange and stirring events that it seems as if I would go crazy unless I can see and talk with our folks about it. Mr. Parker says confession is good for the soul, and I believe it, for after confessing to my diary as I have I feel better already. I will crawl in now and perhaps dream of home, which I often do, and which while it lasts, is just as good as being there.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 40

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: October 6, 1864

The morning of the sixth dawns beautifully, but upon a field of death-a field of blood; but thanks be to God, it dawns with the old flag triumphant. We will again walk among the dead and wounded. The loss of the Seventh has been fearful. At Fort Donelson, Shiloh and Corinth our loss was heavy, but our loss in this battle exceeds our whole loss in those three great battles. The following list of the Seventh's casualties in this battle will speak for itself; will alone tell how fierce was the storm of battle that raged on these hills.

STAFF. Wounded: Colonel R. Rowett, in the head, severely; Adjutant J. S. Robinson, severely.

COMPANY A.—Killed: Corporal Henry C. Hasson. Wounded: Sergeant James O'Donnell.

COMPANY B.—Killed: Privates Philip Saules, Jonathan Bishop; Wounded: private John Hunter.

COMPANY C—Killed: Privates Andrew Hellgoth, John McAlpine; Corporal John B. Hubreht.

COMPANY D.—Company D was left at Rome on guard duty, therefore was not with the regiment at the Allatoona Pass.

COMPANY E.—Killed: Privates James F. Burk, George W. Eversole, Michael F. Galbraith, Marion R. Kampf, Francis Love, David Roberts, Lewis C. Stroud, Calvin A. Summers, John W. Watt, W. H. Burwell, Lewis J. Allman, Levi Allen, Ezra M. Miller, Elias Hainline, Leonidas Burkholder, Corporal William Smith. Wounded: Sergeant and Color Bearer Joseph Bordwell; Privates L. D. Barnes, George G. Brooks, Lewis A. Burk, Abner W. Burwell, Samuel H. Ewing, Angelo V. Faucett, Albert Gardner, Phillip J. Gossard, John F. Hainline, James A. Hedges, George Sullivan, Edwin R. Jones, Thomas Gardner, A. N. Roelofson, James M. Allman, John L. Forbes, Joseph Lancaster, Eli Mushrush, Samuel M. Watt. Corporal Henry C. Montjoy; Taken Prisoner: N. A. Bovee, Samuel H. Jones, William E. Verry, William H. Miller.

COMPANY F. —Killed: Privates Philip Hale, John Phillips, Henry M. Robbins, Eldridge Walton, Nathan D. Atchison. Wounded: Privates James Kelley, Robert B. Kelley, George Brenton; Sergeant John McTurk.

COMPANY G.—No separate record given—consolidated with Company I.

COMPAMY H.—Killed: Corporal Samuel Walker; Privates Henry Bigler, John Etterlain, William T. Taylor, John White, Timothy Hoblitt, James L. Parish. Wounded: Sergeant William P. Hackney, severely; Edward C. Nicholas, severely; Privates Oscar J. Hackney, slightly; John E. J. Wood, severely; Richard P. Graham, severely; James M. Halbert, slightly; Aaron Watkins, slightly; Ferdinand Capps, severely. Taken Prisoner: Thomas Caylor, William R. Skiver, George W. Ballard.

COMPANY I.—Killed: First Lieutenant John E. Sullivan, Sergeant Charles Myres, Corporal William Ecker, Privates John W. Johnson, Ira Carey. Wounded: Privates Daniel O'Keefe, Alfred Scott, James Andrews, George Harris, William Massey.

COMPANY K.—Killed: Privates E. Thompson, Martin V. Kelton, Jesse C. Botkins. Wounded: Corporals John W. Bowman, Walter Smith; Privates Grundy McClure, Thesbold Steinberg, Lewis P. Moore, Albert H. Duff, John P. Van Dyke, Julius Wolf. Total killed, 42, total wounded, 53.

Though the Union loss is heavy, though Illinois, Iowa and Minnesota, offered a fearful sacrifice; we behold in looking around us a great many more of the traitors weltering in their gore. Six hundred rebels poured out their life blood—poured it out upon these hills for naught-six hundred lie still in death, and as many more are wounded. Ah! what an ill-fated field Allatoona has been to them. "They came for bread; Corse gave them war and lead." Their wounded tell us they never fought such men. Says a rebel officer, "I believe those Illinois and Iowa boys who were in yonder fort (pointing to the fort General Corse, Colonel Rowett and his Third Brigade occupied,) would have all died before they would have surrendered." All day the 6th we are engaged caring for the wounded and burying the dead. On the hill the Seventh bury their fellow-heroes. The regiment is now small, the survivors look sorrowful; now and then we see tears steal down the bronzed cheeks to fall and perish upon the lonely graves. Praises for Colonel Rowett are on every tongue. Allatoona tells us that no braver warrior ever drew a sword in battle. In the thickest of the conflict he was ever found, cheering his men when disaster threatened, leading amid dire confusion. In Allatoona's great battle he stood by the flag, and around him and it his men rallied; rallied to fall and die; rallied to see it victorious. But how sad were his men when they saw him fall; when they saw him bleeding; when they saw him fainting from loss of blood. But remembering his words of cheer; remembering his command to die rather than let the flag be lowered; his men struggled on and proved themselves true to their Colonel and their flag, and the sun went down with the fifteen-hundred triumphant, and that evening the Union's proud banner looked more beautiful than it had ever before looked—more beautiful because it stood upon another victorious field.

Lieutenant John E. Sullivan, of Company I, fell fighting like a Spartan. Heroically he braved the frightful tempest and went down crowned all over with laurels of glory. He fell mortally wounded in the early part of the day, and died .about ten o'clock the next morning. We were called to his side as his last moments of life were drawing nigh. Says he, "Give my sword to the gallant William Hackney of Company H," (which company he commanded until he fell.) "Brave men, I will soon leave you,—will soon pass the river of death." We stood by his side again, but his spirit had departed, and the noble warrior was free from the angry strife of men.

Lieutenant John S. Robinson, A. A. A. G. on Colonel Rowett's staff, was severely wounded during the last charge of the rebels, and no one performed his part more gallantly in this great battle than did this officer. Where the battle raged fiercest there he was ever found. He was standing by the side of Colonel Rowett, struggling against the wild tide of battle as but few men have ever struggled in this terrible war, until the scales began to show signs favorable to the fifteen-hundred, when he was stricken down, (which was but a short time before the battle closed.) He is dangerously wounded and we fear his days will soon be numbered. Courageous soldier! we can only say of him he was true; that he did his duty, and did it well.

Colonel Hanna, the dashing commander of the Fifteenth Illinois, was among the most conspicuous in this battle. With his impetuous and irresistible regiment he stood as firm as a gigantic rock, and against his front of bristling steel French's hungry rebels hurled themselves, but in vain did they attempt to crush the gallant "half-hundred," for when the fearless Hanna threw himself into the most dangerous ordeal, making his clarion voice heard above the loud din of battle, the eyes of his brave men grew brighter and each heart was kindled with the fire that ever warms the patriot's heart. We remember when the very air was red with flame, when the earth was strewn with the mangled dead, when the sun seemed to be hid behind an awful sheet of fire; how anxiously we watched Colonel Hanna moving with his regiment from beyond the railroad to the support of Colonel Rowett. Oh! that was a trying hour; the leaden hail flew thick and fast; it was a march of death, for ere they reached Colonel Rowett's fort many of their number had fallen. But how glad were the men of the Seventh Illinois when that grand old regiment rushed into the fort and waved over the ramparts their shattered battle flag. It was a glorious hour, glorious because we felt encouraged and strengthened. We will never forget that period in the battle; will never forget Colonel Hanna and his noble men who made that memorable charge across the railroad and cut their way through to Colonel Rowett's fort, a work which for fierceness has, we believe, never been surpassed in this war.

Captain Rattrey of the Fifty-seventh, aid to Col. Rowett, excited the admiration of every one for his bravery, accompanied with so much coolness and judgment. He was found constantly by Colonel Rowett's side, executing his orders with a promptness that was indeed remarkable. When the crushing tide of battle bore down Colonel Rowett, Captain Rattrey could not find a field officer in the brigade to report to; every one down to his rank having fallen as victims—either dead or wounded. The gallant defenders of the Pass who had been struggling through long weary hours, were now making their last desperate struggle, and signs were appearing that seemed to tell of a turning point in the battle, seemed to tell that the boys in blue were about to gain the mastery, were about to hurl back from the pass Hood's insane legions. There was no time to lose, and Captain Rattrey fearing that the men who had fought so long, and so well, who had seen so many of their comrades fall and die, would soon become exhausted, leaped like a giant from where lay the bleeding and seemingly lifeless Rowett, and with the robust courage of an angel in his soul assumed command of the gallant old Third Brigade and conducted the battle to its glorious consummation. There seemed to be no post of danger that Captain Rattrey did not wish to occupy.

In looking around us we miss many noble men who are now sleeping in death's cold embrace, Liberty in its great trial claimed them as sacrifices on its altar; but not for naught, as history will declare when this generation shall have long passed away. Private soldiers though they were, they performed their part, and hence are as worthy the country's gratitude as those in higher positions, who offered up their lives in this battle.

We cannot pass without alluding to the gallantry of Corporal Samuel Walker of Company H. He was standing with Colonel Rowett, and while fighting bravely in one of the desperate rebel charges the flag comes falling down over his head, and ere it reaches the blood stained earth, Corporal Walker is seen to grasp its shot-riven staff, and with its silken shreds falling around him, he mounted the works and there in one of the wildest battle storms that ever left blood in its wake, he waved it defiantly in the face of arch-treason,—waved it until a minie went crashing through his brain,—waved it until he fell, and there in blood under that grand old flag, the pride of his heart, the glory of his manhood, he died—died for the flag, died for his country, died for liberty. Glorious spirit! may his name ever shine bright in the book of perpetual remembrance as one of the boldest who helped to defend this second Thermopylae!

But all were brave, and like the legions of Bruce and the lovers of Sparta, they struggled against an adverse tide; for four fearful hours they held it in check; at last they turned it, and above streams of blood, the groans of the dying and the shouts of victors, light from the Union's proud banner seemed to flash against the sky. How proud were the Illinois and Iowa boys when the noble Corse, wounded and bleeding, said there was not a coward in the great battle of the Allatoona Pass; and prouder still were the men of the Seventh, when he said, "Colonel, your regiment sustained the heaviest loss; I will give it the post of honor." Before leaving the battle-field, Sergeant Major S. F. Flint writes:

Winds that sweep the southern mountain,

And the leafy river shore,

Bear ye not a prouder burden

Than ye ever learned before?

And the hot blood fills

The heart till it thrills,

At the story of the terror and the glory of the battle

Of the Allatoona hills.

Echo from the purple mountains,

To the dull surrounding shore;

'Tis as sad and proud a burden,

As ye ever learned before.

How they fell like grass

When the mowers pass,

And the dying, when the foe was flying, swelled the cheering

Of the heroes of the pass.

Sweep it o'er the hills of Georgia

To the mountains of the north;

Teach the coward and the doubter,

What the blood of man is worth.

Toss the flag as you pass,

Let their stained and tattered mass

Tell the story of the terror and the glory of the battle

Of the Allatoona Pass.

After burying the dead and caring for the wounded, which are placed on the cars to be sent to Rome, we return to our old camp on the Etawah. At no time during the war have we seen so much of sadness depicted upon the faces of the men as we have seen since our return to Rome. The men stand around in the camp lonely and silent, without a word to say to each other. There is indeed sorrow in the Seventh; sorrow for their brave comrades whom they left wrapped in death's pale sheet on the Allatoona hills. The Seventh felt sad when they stood on Shiloh's field and gazed upon their dead and wounded companions; their hearts were moved when they saw so many of their number who had perished on Corinth's plain, but the blood that flowed from the heroes of the Allatoona Pass has completely unnerved these strong men; and will our readers call it weakness when we tell them that after that work of blood at the Pass, while standing around the camp fires near the banks of the Etawah, we saw stalwart soldiers weep; saw tears sparkle in their eyes for those brave boys who had surrendered their lives in the great war for human liberty?

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 261-70

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: January 15, 1864

The train carrying the Seventh is now near Springfield; soon we expect to meet a grateful people, who have already been informed of the hour of our arrival. The train moves slowly across Sangamon river, and as it emerges from the timber and approaches the city we hear the cannon's roar. The echoes roll across the prairie, telling to us that the great loyal heart of Illinois still beats true for liberty and its defenders. The train moves into the Great Western depot, and a vast crowd is now moving towards us. The patriot fathers are here; mothers, sisters and lovers, with anxious throbbing hearts whose pulses have ever beaten true for Union and liberty, come like a beautiful sun-tinted wave against the Seventh. Tears fall like dew drops for the loved and lost, who come not back, but when the returning comrade says to that sister or that maiden, "your Willie fought bravely on Shiloh's field, until liberty in her trying hours claimed him upon her hallowed altar," their faces sparkle with holy light and they reply: “How proud I am to know that they were thus brave soldiers in the war for republican nationality.” Oh! how noble these loyal hearts that open so wide for the boys in blue. The regiment sways back the crowd and forms in line. Wheeling into company column, Colonel Rowett commences to move through the city; a grateful people continues to follow the regiment wherever they march; the men move firmly-their steps are even.

Some one says "they are proud," and another replies, “and well may they be; for the record they have made in this crusade for freedom is enough to create within them a feeling of pride.” After marching through some of the principal streets of the city, the colonel leads the regiment into the State House yard, where he forms the regiment in divisions and closes in mass. Our old Colonel, now Brigadier General, John Cook, commanding the military at Springfield, appears at one of the windows, and with his loud and familiar voice says: "Colonel Rowett, by the direction of Governor Yates, you will proceed with your regiment into the Representatives Chamber.” The hall is now densely crowded with the Illinois Seventh and her loyal men and women. Governor Yates now comes forward and in behalf of the loyal people of Illinois he says: "Welcome! Welcome, Seventh! to your homes and friends. The heart of this great commonwealth goes out in love for you, starting tears to the memory of those of your number whom you have left in the sunny south. Again I say in behalf of the loyal people, welcome, welcome Seventh.” His big heart being so full he could say no more, and was compelled to sit down. Brigadier General Cook now comes forward, carrying on his arm the Seventh's old Donelson and Shiloh banner, and as he unfurled it in that chamber, those men who stood around it amid tempest and smoke, like a pillar of steel and fire, seemed to move towards it with all their hearts, for men never appeared to love a flag more; they loved it because of its associations, for when they gazed upon its shot-torn folds they remembered the eventful past, remembered the terrible battle flames through which it had been carried, remembered the loyal soldiers whose hearts ceased their pulsations beneath its shadow. General Cook commences to speak, and for one hour holds the vast audience spell-bound by his eloquence. He pays a touching tribute to the regiment's fallen, and we dare say a more beautiful tribute was never uttered in this chamber than this tribute delivered by General Cook. He spoke to the loyal heart, and it seemed that every word as fast as uttered entered there, for when he closed few eyes were dry in that vast audience. After a few apt and appropriate remarks by Colonel Rowett and Major Estabrook the audience disperses. The hotels are thrown open and the loyal people invite the regiment to throw themselves upon their hospitality during their stay in the city. Having free access, a portion of the regiment remains during the night in Representatives Hall.

Remaining in Springfield until the furloughs are issued the different companies on the 19th day of January, leave for their homes. We will now for a while leave the Seventh Illinois Veteran Volunteer Infantry with their friends, trusting that the loyal people will lavish upon them their hospitality and love in consideration of the noble part they have played thus far in the war for human freedom.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 221-4

Official Reports of the Campaign in North Alabama and Middle Tennessee, November 14, 1864-January 23, 1865: No. 240. — Report of Maj. Gen. Henry D. Clayton, C. S. Army, commanding division, of operations November 20-December 27, 1864.

No. 240.

Report of Maj. Gen. Henry D. Clayton, C. S. Army,

commanding division, of operations November 20-December 27, 1864.

MAJOR: I have the honor to submit the following, being a report of the operations of this division in the campaign north of the Tennessee River, embracing a period from the 20th of November to the 27th of December:

On the 20th of November the line of march was taken up from Florence, Ala., in the direction of Nashville. The division reached Columbia on the 27th without incident worthy of mention, except the usual bad roads and bad weather incident to the season of the year. Here the enemy, having massed his forces from Pulaski and other neighboring points, was found strongly intrenched.

On the 29th, the enemy having withdrawn across Duck River, the balance of the army was moved to the right, leaving Stevenson's division and my own to confront him at this point. Preparations were made for crossing the river, which was accomplished on the evening of the 29th and the morning of the 30th of November. Moving rapidly up the road to Franklin we came up with the balance of the army at Spring Hill, and all soon moved on to Franklin, which was reached late in the afternoon of that day. We found that bloody and disastrous engagement begun, and were put in position to attack, but night mercifully interposed to save us from the terrible scourge which our brave companions had suffered.

On the following morning this division, being in front, resumed the march to Nashville, where it arrived in front of the enemy's works on the 1st of December, and, driving in his vedettes, took position, which was established as line of battle of the whole army. From this time until the morning of the 15th was spent in almost incessant work upon lines of intrenchments, of which four were constructed by this division.

Upon the morning of the 15th the engagement was begun by the enemy, who attacked the extreme right and left of the army and demonstrated along my front. It becoming necessary to send re-enforcements to the left, my line was extended in that direction until Stovall's and Holtzclaw's brigades were deployed to cover the whole front occupied by the corps in the morning, and Gibson's brigade, which was upon the left, was taken out of the trenches and thrown back perpendicularly to check the advance of the enemy, who was sweeping down the lines from the left. This maneuver and night stopped the farther progress of the enemy. About midnight this division was moved back and took position on what is known as the Overton Hill, four miles from the city, upon the extreme right of the army, conforming to the position already taken by the left. Here breast-works were constructed.

The enemy made their appearance early on the morning of the 16th, and soon developed along our whole line. Having placed several batteries in position along my front with concentrated fire upon the Overton Hill, which was mainly occupied by Stovall's brigade, the enemy opened a terrible fire, which did considerable damage to that brigade and very materially injured Stanford's battery, which was in position on the left of Stovall's and right of Holtzclaw's brigades. At 1 p.m. the enemy, having driven in the skirmish line, made a vigorous assault upon portions of Gibson's and Holtzclaw's brigades, which was subsequently renewed twice along my whole front, except the extreme right of Stovall's brigade. One of these charges was made by negro troops. In these assaults the enemy suffered great slaughter, their loss being estimated at 1,500 or 2,000 killed and wounded. It was with difficulty that the enthusiasm of the troops could be repressed so as to keep them from going over the works in pursuit of the enemy. Five color-bearers with their colors were shot down in a few steps of the works, one of which, having inscribed on its folds "Eighteenth Regiment U.S. Colored Infantry; presented by the colored ladies of Murfreesborough," was brought in. About 4 p.m., while the division was thus in the highest state of enthusiasm, I received a message from the lieutenant-general commanding corps, through Lieutenant Hunter, aide-de-camp, that he would expect me to bring off my division in order. I inquired when, what was going on upon the left, and whether I should do so at once, but could get no information. I turned to a staff officer and directed the batteries to be ready to limber up, and ordered Brigadier-General Stovall, who was standing by, to be in readiness to move out in order, but to wait until I could make an effort to bring off Stanford's battery. I then saw the troops on my left flying in disorder, and it having been reported to me that Stanford's battery was so disabled as to make it impossible to bring it off, I ordered the Eufaula Light Artillery to withdraw, and so soon as it had begun to move directed the same orders to be given to the several brigade commanders. The whole army--except this division, Pettus' brigade, of Stevenson's division, and the Thirty-ninth Georgia Regiment, of Cumming's brigade, also of Stevenson's division, which had a short time before been sent to me as a support and held in reserve—was then in complete rout. Some confusion existed even in these commands, though scarcely perceptible in Stovall's brigade and the Thirty-ninth Georgia Regiment, above referred to, which latter deserves great credit for the manner in which it responded to my appeal to halt and check the advance of the enemy's skirmish line, which had then reached the top of the hill. Having gone about half a mile I found' the Eufaula Light Artillery about to move off from a position in which it had been halted. Halting the Thirty-ninth Georgia Regiment as a support to the battery, I ordered it to continue the firing. Sending my staff to halt the division, and Lieutenant Jones, aide-de-camp, especially to Brigadier-General Stovall to halt his brigade and put it in position, I soon after ordered the battery and regiment supporting it to withdraw, and rode off to take command of the division. Too much praise cannot be awarded the officers and men of this battery for the coolness and deliberation with which they managed their guns under these trying circumstances. Upon coming up with the division, being unable to find Brigadier-General Stovall, I ordered Col. A. Johnson, the senior colonel, to take the command and halt it in a position which I indicated. In a few moments the whole division and Pettus' brigade were in line. This occurred in about one mile of the breast-works. Night soon coming on, Holtzclaw's brigade was placed across the road, with skirmishers in front, and the balance of the command moved off toward Franklin. About 2 o'clock at night it was halted seven miles from Franklin and bivouacked until 5 o'clock. Daylight on the morning of the 17th found us in position at Hollow Tree Gap, five miles from Franklin, Stovall's brigade and a section of Bledsoe's battery being upon the right and Pettus' brigade upon the left of the road, and the other two brigades in rear. About 8 a.m. the enemy's cavalry made their appearance, driving in our own cavalry in a most shameful manner, a few pursuing them even through the line of infantry and cutting with their sabers right and left. A few shots from the infantry, however, drove them back, with the loss of a stand of colors. About 9 a.m. they again advanced upon this position, when we succeeded in capturing about 100 men, with their horses, and another stand of colors. At about 10 a.m. we were withdrawn from this position and crossed Harpeth River a few miles from this place. After some slight skirmishing we were relieved by Major-General Stevenson's division. For the particulars of the capture of seventy-five officers and men of Holtzclaw's brigade, and a like number from Gibson's brigade, I refer to the reports of their respective brigade commanders. For this occurrence I think no one to blame but our cavalry, who, all the day long, behaved in a most cowardly manner. It is proper, however, that I should make one bright exception to this general remark: I refer to the case of Colonel Falconnet, commanding a brigade, who, when about to cross the Harpeth River, seeing the enemy charging upon Gibson's brigade, drew his revolver, and gathering less than 100 brave followers, dashed upon the enemy, more than twenty times his number. After having been relieved, as above stated, by General Stevenson, the division was moved on slowly, halting occasionally so as to keep within a short distance of his command. Six miles south of Franklin, the division being at a halt in the road, I learned that the enemy were moving around General Stevenson. I immediately placed my command across the road, Stovall's brigade, Col. R. J. Henderson commanding, on the right, Gibson's in the center, and Holtzclaw's, Col. Bushrod Jones commanding, upon the left. Hearing considerable firing in the rear I ordered Colonel Jones to move Holtzclaw's brigade forward in line of battle, keeping his right resting on the pike, so as to render any assistance that might be necessary to General Stevenson. Having given some general instructions to General Gibson as to keeping out skirmishers and scouts, I directed him to take command of the two brigades, and with my staff rode up the pike to communicate with General Stevenson. Upon coming up with Colonel Jones I learned that the enemy in large force was forming upon his left as if for the purpose of charging. I then rode forward and informed General Pettus, whose brigade was near by, of the disposition I had made for his support, and started back to where I had left General Gibson with the two brigades; when in about 100 yards of the left of General Gibson's command, which rested upon the pike, I saw a column of cavalry moving obliquely and just entering the road a few paces in my front. An infantry soldier of my command, recognizing me (it being then quite dark), ran up to me and whispered, "They are Yankees." Turning my horse to the left, so as to avoid them, I moved rapidly to the right of General Gibson's line, and after narrowly escaping being killed by several shots fired at me through mistake, I communicated the information to General Gibson, who promptly wheeled his brigade to the left and delivered a volley which scattered the enemy, killing many of them. I then, at the suggestion of General Gibson, moved back these two brigades behind a fence, in order to better resist a charge and also for greater security against firing into our own men. This position was scarcely taken when the enemy again began to move from the left upon the pike in our immediate front. Demanding to know who they were, I was promptly answered, "Federal troops," which was replied to by a volley, killing several and again driving them off, leaving a stand of colors, which was secured. The enemy having finally retired and the firing having ceased, I communicated my intentions to General Stevenson and moved off my command.

In this affair, so trying to both officers and men, all behaved in the best possible manner. While I cheerfully concede all that is due to General Stevenson's division in checking the advance of the enemy and thus helping to save the army, without entering into anything further than the above brief recital of facts, I believe it is not claiming too much to say that this division, by preventing the enemy from massing in his rear, saved that division.

I tender to Brigadier-General Gibson especially my cordial thanks for the part performed by him on this occasion, and also to Colonels Henderson and Jones, of whose brigade commanders I may say, without reflecting upon them, that their commands lost nothing by their absence on this trying occasion.

After moving back a few miles the division bivouacked for the night and resumed the march on the following day for the Tennessee River, which it reached at Bainbridge on the 25th of December, after a most painful march, characterized by more suffering than it had ever before been my misfortune to witness.

H. D. CLAYTON,        

Major-General.

Maj. J. W. RATCHFORD,
        Assistant Adjutant-General.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 45, Part 1 (Serial No. 93), p. 697-700

Diary of Private Louis Leon: April 3, 1863

Little Washington is on Tar River, and as one of the Yankee gunboats was trying to get in, one of our cannon gave them a ball, which caused heavy firing all day, and, in fact, the shells came very close to our flag, which made us dodge pretty smart. We have Washington besieged. At 8 o'clock to-night Colonel Owens called for volunteers to go as near the Yankees as they could, to see what they were doing. Tom Tiotter and myself went. We got to within two hundred yards of Washington, when we were compelled to halt, as we were near the bridge, where we could hear the Yankee sentinels walking their beats very plainly—so we returned to camp and reported.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 21

Diary of Private Louis Leon: April 4, 1863

Firing at intervals all day. The reserve was sent to the river to support our artillery. The colors went with them. It is raining hard. We laid in line two and a half hours in an old field. It is very cold. The Yankees are firing all the time. Then the 43d Regiment came and relieved us.

Katz came in to-day and reported Henry Wortheim dead-he died Monday, March 30.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 21-2

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: July 4, 1862

[O]ur regiment receives a new stand of colors. The colors we carried through the battles of Fort Donelson and Shiloh are now so mutilated that we are unable to carry them any longer. They will be sent to Springfield to be laid away in their glory, and while they thus rest from battle and storm, back with Illinois' great loyal people, may they ever remember as they gaze upon its hallowed ribbons, the noble ones who went down while its rents and scars were being made; whose lamps of life flickered out while wrathful storms were sweeping along the shores of the Cumberland and the Tennessee, and over the fields of Mississippi; remember that while it was swung in its glory the noble hearts of Captains Mendell and Ward, Lieutenants Myres and Estabrook, Sergeants Wheeler and Mitchell, Corporals William Boring, Seth Hamilton and Nixon, Privates Charles Newton, John Fifer, Andrew McKennon, John Teft, Richard Lamherdt, Isaac Britton, John H. Duff, John Gibland, Ole Porter, Peter Miller, John H. Hopper and others ceased their loyal throbbings for ever. They loved that old banner, made so hallowed on fields of blood. It was the pride of their hearts; for it they lived, for it they died. Those shot-riven folds will speak to the loyal people in a silent language, telling them a thrilling story—a story, the letters of which have been written in blood. We send them back to the good people from whence they came, hoping that the story they tell will find an entrance into their loyal hearts and cause it to start a tear to the memory of those who went down beneath its folds.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 82-3

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, September 21, 1862

It is reported to-day that Price has been beaten, and is now making a flank movement towards Corinth. Soon we are ordered to Corinth, and there we lay in line of battle all day; but no Price comes, and we return to camp in the evening. Dispatches from Rosecrans inform us this evening that he has routed Price. Praises for Rosecrans and the noble Fifth Iowa come from every one. The Illinois soldiers can ever find it in their hearts to speak words of praise about their brothers from Iowa, especially when like the Fifth who maintained such a desperate bayonet charge to save their colors from falling into the hands of the rebels. Right here we would say that the Seventh Illinois Veteran Volunteer Infantry will not soon forget the Seventh and Second Iowa, starting in the service together, fighting side by side in the assault on Fort Donelson, together carrying their flag in the thickest of the battle, camping side by side on the weary march. They seemed to each other as brothers, for brothers they were, fighting in one common cause to keep the old flag on its staff, and to-day there are men in the Seventh that would fling their coats for a fight, should they hear any one speak disparagingly of the Seventh and Second Iowa infantry. They are camped now some where around Corinth, but we do not know exactly where; however, we remember them, and we imagine when the war is over, and when peace comes back to her people, should a soldier from the Seventh Illinois Infantry meet one from the Seventh or Second Iowa Infantry, who fought with him at Donelson, it will be a congenial meeting, and if he does not treat him as a gentleman it may be marked down as a fact that he does not understand the business.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 86-7

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, September 23, 1864

WOODSTOCK, VIRGINIA, September 23, 1864.

DEAREST:- We fought the enemy again (yesterday] at Fisher's Hill near Strasburg. They had fortified a naturally strong position with great industry. It seemed impregnable, but General Crook contrived an attack, by going up a mountainside, which turned their position. My division led the attack. The victory was [as] complete as possible and, strangest of all, our loss is almost nothing.

Captain Douglass sits near me in excellent health. We are following the enemy. Shall be out of hearing for some time.

In the rush after the Rebels no flag was so conspicuous as yours. It seems a trifle larger than others, is bright and new, and as it went double-quick at the head of a yelling host for five miles, I thought how you would enjoy the sight. The color-bearer told me he should go to see you when the war was over. He is an American German, with a dark Indian face, full of spirit.

Captain Hastings' wound is severe but not dangerous. Captain Stewart, the best captain in [the] Thirteenth, ditto. Captain Slack killed. In the fight yesterday none were killed of your friends or acquaintances and very few hurt.

A train goes in a minute and I must send a line to Mother. Dr. Joe perfectly triumphant. He was at the head of the host yesterday. — Love to all.

Affectionately ever,

R.

P. S. – Since the wounding of Colonel Duval, I command the splendid old Kanawha Division — two brigades, now not over three thousand strong, but no better fighters live.

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 511-2

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Tuesday, April 8, 1862

Oh! what a terrible scene does Shiloh's field present this morning. It is a scene of death; its victims lay everywhere. The blood of about thirteen thousand warriors has been shed here in the last two days. My God! what a sacrifice, what a flow of blood. But liberty has claimed it for an emancipated mind, and may it water well the great tree of universal freedom, and cause it to extend its branches fosteringly over a struggling people. In these two days of battle the Seventh sustained a heavy loss. The following are the casualties: 

Major R. Rowett, wounded. 

Company A. — Captain Samuel G. Ward, killed; private Alden Bates, killed. 

Company B. — Captain Hector Perrin, wounded; private Charles Newton, killed; Michael O'Keep, killed. 

Company C. — Sergeant George Mitchell, killed; Samuel Wilson, wounded. 

Company D. — Private Andrew McKinnon, killed. 

Company E. — Private Edmund Keve, wounded. 

Company F. — Killed; private Isaac Britton. Mortally Wounded ; privates John Jackson, Chas. P. Laing, John P. Hale. Wounded ; Wallace Partridge, John Dell, James Harrington, Hugh H. Porter, John Larkin, James Close. 

Company G. — Private John Gibland, killed; Captain Henry W. Allen, wounded ; private George Harris, wounded. 

Company H. — Lieutenant Leo Wash. Myres, killed ; private John H. Duff, killed ; private Ernst H. Myres, wounded; private Charles Ward, wounded; Sergeant Laban Wheeler, wounded; private James Walker, wounded; private Geo. W. Fletcher, wounded; private Carol Hurt, wounded; private Thomas Taylor, wounded; private Charlie Halbert; wounded; private Elam Mills, wounded. 

Company I. — Corporal Seth Hamilton, killed ; private John Bollyjack, killed ; private James Craven, killed; private James Lacy, killed; Sergeant Charles M. Fellows, wounded; private James Crowley, wounded; private John Johnson, wounded; private George Marsh, wounded; private Wm. S. Rogers ; wounded; private Michael Toner, wounded; private George Vesey, wounded; private George W. Byron, wounded; private Marcus McKinnis, wounded; private Daniel J. Baker, wounded. 

Company K. — Private John Nixon, killed; private Charles P. Huffman, wounded; private Jacob Howe, wounded ; Sergeant J. B. Sanders, wounded ; Sergeant Wm. C. Gillson, wounded; private John M. Anderson, wounded; private Thos. J. R. Grant, wounded; private Green B. Johnson, wounded; private George Reiner, wounded; private Joseph White, wounded. Total killed, 14; total wonnded, 43; sum total of casualities, 57. 

Glorious record! Proud names! Yes, proud as any that will ever embellish our national escutcheon. Departed souls, as courageous as history can boast of. From Shiloh's dark wilderness, no nobler, no braver spirit took its flight into the skies than the spirit of Captain Ward, of Company A. He fell mortally wounded in the fiercest of the battle Sunday evening, while at the head of his company, cheering his men on to deeds of valor. Some of his company stop to carry him from the field; but while glory is beaming in the dying warrior's eye, he says to his gallant men: “There goes the flag; it will need all its noble defenders to hold it up in the terrible battle that is raging so fiercely. Boys, it is trembling now! Lay me down to die; leave me and follow the old Seventh's silken folds, and tell the boys of Company A, that ere the sun's light is hid from this field, their Captain will be no more; that I will be silently sleeping in death. Tell them to remember Captain Ward, and keep the old flag in the wind.” 

Fainting he falls; his features lose their glow; his eyes are closed forever to the light. Alone, he died—died in his glory. Noble sacrifices may be offered in this war for the Union, but no nobler sacrifice, no grander type of a man, of a soldier, will ever be offered than has been offered in Captain Samuel G. Ward, of Company A. Captain Ward was among the first to hearken to the first call of the President in April, 1861. From a private in Company A, he was promoted by Colonel Cook to Sergeant Major of the regiment. At the end of the three months' service, Sergeant Major Ward was unanimously chosen Captain of Company A, in which position he served faithfully until liberty claimed him as a sacrifice on Shiloh's field, April 6th, 1862. Every one saw in him the elements of a rising officer; a star that was already shining, the light of which would have been seen afar had not the wild tempest blown it out so early. Though he passed away in youth's hopeful morning, ere his aspirations were reached, immortality's royal messenger will take up his name, and while soft winds chant a requiem around his grave, will say of him: “Here sleeps Captain Ward, whom liberty claimed in its great struggle on Shiloh's plain. He lived, he died, for country, home, and flag.” 

Lieutenant Leo Washington Myres, of Company H, died as the warriors die-nobly. He stood manfully while the bolts of war around him rattled, but he is a silent sleeper now. Amid shooting flames and curling smoke, he bravely sacrificed his life—sacrificed it as one of the martyrs of freedom. Being among the first to rush to the standard when arch treason first lifted its mad head, he was elected Second Lieutenant of Company H, and at the end of the three months' service, he was unanimously chosen First Lieutenant, in which capacity he valiantly served until his life was sealed at Shiloh, April 6th, 1862. 

In the wild storm that swept over that field, no truer patriot soldier was borne down than Lieutenant Myres. As a lover of liberty he followed the flag southward and stood beneath its folds where the gulf winds blew across the plains of Mexico. With Taylor and Scott, he fought for it there. With Wallace he died for it down by the Tennesssee. Oh ! how can it be that stars that gave such brilliant light should go out so soon. The providences of God are indeed mysterious. 

But all died in their glory. Sergeant Mitchell, company C, Corporal Seth Hamilton, company I, privates Alden Bates, company A, John H. Duff, company H, Charles Newton, Company B, Andrew McKennon, company D, Isaac Britton, company F, John Gibland, company G, Corporal J. Nixon, company K, and many others, died crowned with laurels as bright as the midnight stars. Though they carried the musket, we will ascribe no less praise to them, for heroes they proved themselves to be. From Thermopylæ to Shiloh, the world has never produced grander types of gallantry than has been produced in these private soldiers, who fell on this battle-field. Of all the fallen of the Seventh who went down in Shiloh's two days of battle, I can only say of them as Mark Anthony said of Julias Cæsar, “Their lives were grand; the elements so mixed in them that all the world might stand up and say, they were men; they were heroes; they were soldiers.” 

While on the battle-field, Sergeant S. F. Flint, Company I, writes: 

Soft fall the dews of midnight and morning, 

O’er the green hills where slumber the brave, 

Fall on each nameless and desolate grave; 

And soft be the song of the slow flowing river, 

As it pours by the shores they have hallowed forever. 

In peace and off duty the soldier is sleeping, 

No more will he wake at the shrill reveille, 

As it rings through the vales of the old Tennessee; 

But the wail of the wind, and the roll of the river, 

As it thrills o'er the hills his requiem forever, 

Oh! the homes in their own northern prairies and valleys, 

More lonely and dark than those desolate graves, 

O! the wailings that answer the winds and the waves ; 

O! the tears that will flow like the fall of the river, 

As it swells through the dells where they slumber forever. 

But lift up the old flag they died in defending, 

And swear by each nameless but glorious grave, 

That hallowed with triumph its free folds shall wave 

O'er the hills and the vales and the bright flowing river, 

O'er the whole lovely land of our fathers forever. 

We will now pass to yonder hospital steamer. The Seventh's wounded lay here; among the noble company lies the gallant Captain Hector Perrin, wounded badly in the thigh. Though a son of France, he loved freedom, and being one from the school of La Fayette, he fought bravely on Shiloh's field. Among this company we find heroes, all of whom have shown and yet show that they have in them the element of steel. Patiently and silently they endure their suffering. Who ever witnessed such fortitude ? The world will fail in its annals of blood to exhibit grander types. Some have lost a leg, others have frightful wounds in the face; but these are their patents of nobility. Dr. Hamilton, our popular Assistant Surgeon, as ever, has a care for the unfortunate ones. He is now, with his usual promptness, preparing to send them north. Some of them will never return again; but may a grateful people open wide to them their generous hearts, and leave them not to drift through the world in storm. Returning we mingle with the living. Of the noble survivors we can only say of them, they did well; they played their part as nobly as the most gallant warriors have ever done on any battle-field. In these two days of battle Major Rowett, who is now in his tent slightly wounded, but prostrated upon his cot, worn out by excessive toil, proved himself worthy the leadership of brave men. Where danger most threatened, there he was always found. None moved amid the carnage with a more dashing force. Full of fire and life, with a reckless contempt for danger, he stemmed the wild storm. He was wounded twice and had his horse shot but nothing could check him. At the head of his regiment he was always found, and it is conceded by those who knew, that no regimental commander handled his command on Shiloh's field better than Major Rowett handled the Seventh, At no time was the regiment driven into confusion, though many times its line was broken, but each time was reformed promptly, and be it said to the credit of the regiment, not a prisoner was taken in consequence of straggling. Captain Monroe, acting Major, has won the encomiums of all. Fight and battle seem to be his element. He carries with him triumph and glory. Enthusiastic as are all the brave, his voice was ever heard cheering the men and telling them never to let the flag go down. Captains Lawyer, Hunter, Estabrook, Church, Lieutenants Ring, Smith, Roberts, Ellis, Sullivan, Sweeny and Ahern were ever foremost in the battle and ever found encouraging their men, bidding them to stand firm for the flag and freedom. The color bearer, Sergeant Coles Barney, of company H, won for himself the admiration of his officers and comrades, for the gallant manner in which he bore his banner through the wild tempest. 

But all were brave, and all fought valiantly. They marched in blood, and threw themselves against arch treason until the Union's proud banner waved upon a triumphant field. At times it was fearfully dark, and the flag seemed to droop, but our noble men stood around it, and while blood was ebbing, they formed a defense of steel backed by hearts that never faltered. And thus defended, their flag, the pride of the mighty millions, shed glorious light around the noble men of the Seventh. 

Large parties are now at work burying the dead of both armies. Shiloh will be one vast grave-yard, but it will be destitute of marble slabs. Hundreds of Union soldiers will sleep here, and in the years to come, the patriot pilgrims will tread the earth above them, and know not that beneath sleeps Shiloh's martyrs. But should they chance to see some graves that are arched, so that they can be recognized as the graves of the lone soldiers, they will not know whether the sleepers fought for or against the old flag, and the friends of the loved and lost will not know upon which graves to throw their flowers or drop their tears, 

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 57-65

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, Sunday, July 17, 1864

Martinsburg, July 17 (Sunday), 1864.

Dearest: — A week ago, about this time, we were enjoying our pleasant ride like young lovers on the Kingston Pike. Now we are widely separated.

I am semi-sick — that is the boil I told you I was threatened with on my hip is actively at work. The worst is over with it. I am lying on my blankets in the barroom of a German drinking saloon that was gutted by the Rebels. The man is a refugee but his excellent frau is here ready to do anything in the world for a bluecoat. She wants me to go [to] a chamber and a clean bed, but I like the more public room better.

Half my brigade went this morning to General Crook, thirty miles east. We go in a day or two. The combinations to catch the Rebels seem to me good, but I expect them to escape. Raiding parties always do escape. Morgan was foolhardy and Streight lacked enterprise. They are the only exceptions.

You will probably see some correspondence about your flag gift in the papers. Don't blush, it's all right. — “S’much.” Love to all.

Ever, darling, your

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 482-3

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Monday, April 7, 1862

Last night was a doleful night as the soldiers laid in this wilderness by the Tennessee. All night long there was a chilling rain, and the April wind sighed mournfully around the suffering, wounded warriors. Many a wounded soldier died last night. During the weary hours the insatiate archer was making silent steps.

"One quivering motion, one convulsive throe,

And the freed spirits took their upward flight.”

Would that God would roll back the storms of war and temper the hearts of men ere any more human blood flows down like rivulets to crimson the beautiful waters of the Cumberland and Tennessee. But oh! it seems that more blood must flow; that away up yonder, in those cottage homes, where the prairie winds blow, more tears must sparkle, fall and perish; that more hearts must be broken-more hopes dashed down—more doomed

"In their nightly dreams to hear

The bolts of war around them rattle."

Hark! we hear a rumble and a roar. It is a rattle of musketry and the terrible knell from the cannon's mouth. We are marched to the front, where we find Nelson engaged. His hounds of war are let loose. Inroads are being made. The Seventh is filed into position and ordered to lie down. Though the enemy has given ground, they still show stubbornness. We are now in a sharp place; there is some uneasiness here. A cold chill creeps over the soldiers. How uncomfortable it is to be compelled to remain inactive when these whizzing minies come screaming through the air on their mission of death. From such places, under such circumstances, the Seventh would ever wish to be excused, for it grates harshly with the soldier, and is exceedingly distressing when he is prevented from returning compliment for compliment, as the Seventh will testify to-day. But we do not remain here long, for from this place of inactivity, we are moved to a place of action. The battle is raging furiously. The army of the Ohio and the army of the Tennessee are striking hand to hand. The tables are turning; step by step the rebels are being driven. Position after position the Seventh is now taking. The sharp, positive crack of their musketry makes a terrible din along their line. It is apparent that the rebels are retreating. Another day is waning; a day of sacrifice; a day in which has been held a high carnival of blood on Shiloh's plain. Many patriot, loyal soldiers died to-day, and as they died, many of them were seen to smile as they saw the old flag, the pride of their hearts, riding so proudly over the bloody field. Many shed a tear of joy as they beheld the beautiful streams of light falling on the crimson wings of conquest.

The rebels are now flying. Nelson is making a terrible wreck in the rear of the retreating army. Kind reader, stand with me now where the Seventh stands; look away yonder! Your eye never beheld a grander sight. It is the northwest's positive tread. They move firmly; there is harmony in their steps. Ten thousand bayonets flash in the blazing sunlight. They are moving in columns on the bloody plain. Their tramp sounds like a death knell. The band is playing “Hail to the chief.” Its martial anthems seem to float as it were on golden chords through air, and as they fall around the weary soldier their hopes of glory beat high. They are retreating now; the rear of the rebel army is fast fading from Shiloh's. field. Before the north west's mighty power how they dwindle into littleness, as turrets and spires beneath the stars. They are far away now, and the great battle of Shiloh is over; the fierce wild drama is ended; the curtain falls; the sun is hid, and night has come. The Seventh goes into camp on the battle-field; their camp fires are soon burning, and those noble ones, who have fought so well, lie down, worn and weary, to rest themselves. They have passed through two days of fearful battle; amid thunder, smoke and perils they bore their tattered flag, and when the storm-king was making his most wrathful strides, it still waved in the wind and never went down, for strong arms were there and they held it up. But how painful it is to know that some comrades who were with us in the morning, are not with us now. They have fallen and died-died in the early morning of life. And why did they die? A royal herald will answer, for a country, for a home, for a name. Come walk with me now while the tired soldiers are sleeping. Who is this who lays here beneath this oak, in such agony, such convulsive throes? It is a soldier in gray; a wounded rebel who fought against the old flag to-day. But he is dying; his life is almost gone; he is dead now. Oh! how sad it makes one feel to see a soldier die, and how we pity him who has just died; pity him because he has fallen in such a desperate cause; pity him because no royal herald will ever write his name on the sacred scroll of fame.

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 54-7

Dr. Seth Rogers to his Daughter, January 2, 1863

January 2, 1863.

. . . I did not observe any reporters at our barbecue yesterday, but I presume some of the journals will contain enough to make it unnecessary for me to write more than my letter of yesterday. I will, however, reiterate the statement that it was the most eventful day of my life. To know what I mean you must stand in the midst of the disenthralled and feel the inspiration of their birth into freedom. . . . There is nothing in history more touching and beautiful than the spontaneous outburst of these freed men and women just at the moment when our gallant colonel was receiving the flag of the regiment. None of us had ever heard them sing America, and the most infinite depth and tenderness of

My Country 'tis of thee

Sweet land of liberty

was inspiring to the last degree. I doubt if our Col. ever spoke so well and he justly attributed inspiration to the unexpected singing of the hymn.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June,1910: February 1910. p. 341

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, April 6, 1862

It is now move ing [sic]—a beautiful Sabbath morning. The dews have gone to heaven and the stars have gone to God; the sky is all inlaid with crimson, far away to the east. From behind the eastern hills the sun is peering; it is moving on its path. But ere it has long illumed the sky, war's dread tocsin is heard; the sullen roar of artillery breaks upon our ears, telling to us that the storm-king of battle would ride upon the banks of the Tennessee to-day. The army of the Tennessee springs to arms to meet the advancing columns of Albert Sidney Johnson. The pennons are now flying. Major Rowett and the Seventh are quickly buckled for the conflict. Her old, tattered and shot-riven flag goes flying through the woods, and the regiment is soon in the conflict. Their position is now behind a rail fence. Oh! the angry tempest that rolls around here! Belching cannons, shotted to the muzzle, are now plowing deep lanes in the Union ranks. How can we describe the sound of a storm of grape and canister, cutting their hellish paths through serried ranks of human beings. It is impossible. Many are the storms flying around the Seventh now. Thicker and faster they come, but those noble men who bore that riddled flag over Fort Donelson's walls, struggle on. Many have breathed quickly, and, trampled under their comrades' feet, have rolled in bloody agonies and now lie in quiet eternal slumber. The mighty armies are now struggling—struggling desperately for the life or death of a nation.

Fiercer and fiercer rages the battle. The great Grant is moving on the field with a mighty power. But fearful odds are against us, and the army of the Tennessee is compelled to yield position after position. The Seventh has been forced to yield many points to-day; at one time being so far in the advance, we were left without support, and had it not been for the quick perception of our gallant Major, we would have been cut off and captured. Forming columns by divisions, we retreated from our critical position, and were compelled to fall back across an open field. It was a trying time. The harsh, fierce barking of the dogs of war made the earth tremble, as if in the midst of a convulsion. But there was no confusion in the Seventh-no panic there. Led by the brave Rowett, they moved firmly, as if to say, that shot-pierced flag, tattered and torn, shall not go down to-day. Major Rowett, with the aid of Captain Monroe, acting Major now form a new line with the Seventh. War's ruthless machine is moving with a relentless force.

It is now past noon. Confusion reigns; brave men are falling like rain drops. All seems dark—seems that the Union army will be crushed by this wild sweep of treason. But on the crippled army of the Tennessee struggles; they still keep the flag up. It is now four o'clock. Step by step the army is being driven back towards the river. The old Union banner seems to be drooping in the wrathful storm, but by an almost superhuman effort the tide is checked. For a while there is a lull in the battle, but only to make preparations for the last desperate assault-an assault in which the enemy expect to see the old flag come down to their feet.

Buell is said to be approaching; he is hourly expected. Grant is now seen moving with a care-worn countenance, He moves amid the carnage to form his last grand line one-fourth mile from the Tennessee, where the advance is now driven. Grant's last line is formed. It is a line of iron, a line of steel, a wall of stout hearts, as firm, as powerful as Napoleon under like reverses ever formed in the days of his imperial power. It seems almost impossible for such a line to be formed at this hour 50 compact. On every available spot of earth an iron-lipped monster frowns. It is a trying moment, for Grant knows and his army knows that should this line be broken, the battle would be lost and the proud flag would be compelled to fall. At half-past four o'clock Grant dashes through the woods. His voice rings out: “They come! they come! Army of the Tennessee stand firm!” A breathless silence pervades these serried ranks, until broken by the deafening crash of artillery. The last desperate struggle on Sunday evening now commences. One hundred brazen guns are carrying terror and death across Shiloh's plain. The Seventh is at its place; every officer and soldier is at his post; Rowett and Monroe are at their stations, now on foot; (Rowett's horse killed in former charge; Monroe's disabled.) All the company officers are in their places, cheering and encouraging their gallant men, and as we gaze upon the bristling bayonets that are gleaming along the Seventh's line, we know that every brawny arm that is beneath them will be bared to shield the old flag. The infantry are clashing now, but this line of stout hearts stands firm. The traitor hosts grow desperate; the earth trembles; the sun is hid behind the wrathful smoke, but amid all the deafening battle elements of the darkened field, the flag and its defenders stand. Down beneath its shadow brave men are falling to close their eyes in glory. The storm still increases in its sweeping power. About five o'clock the issue becomes doubtful; each seems to hold the balance, and like Napoleon at Waterloo, who prayed that night or Blucher would come, so we prayed that night or the army of Ohio would come. About this time, Albert Sidney Johnson poured out his life-blood upon the altar of a vain ambition. At that fatal hour the enemy's lines waver, and the sun goes down with the army of the Tennessee standing victorious on their last great line.

Night comes, and with it Buell comes, but only in time to witness the closing scene on Sunday evening. We thanked God for the arrival of the army of the Ohio, but we never thanked God for Don Carlos Buell when he rode across the Tennessee and spoke lightly of the great Grant, who had successfully stemmed the wildest storm of battle that ever rolled upon the American continent.

The sable curtains have now fallen, closing to our eyes the terrible scene. Soon it commences to rain. Dark, dark night for the army of the Tennessee. Many brave men are sleeping silently. They have fought their last battle. Fearful, desolating war has done a desperate work. Noble men have thrown themselves into the dread ordeal, and passed away. The human pen will fail to picture the battle-field of Shiloh as it presented itself on Sunday night. The Seventh, tired and almost exhausted, drops down on the ground, unmindful of the falling rain, to rest themselves. Ere it was noon some of the Seventh had already lain down to rest, and ere it was night others laid down, but it was an eternal rest-the soldier's last slumber. Disastrous war has wrapped its winding sheet around the cold form of many a fond mother's boy, and before many days there will be weeping in the lonely cottage homes; weeping for the loved and lost who are now sleeping beneath the tall oaks on the banks of the Tennessee. About the noble men of the Seventh who fell to-day, we will speak hereafter; we shall not forget them. How could we forget them, when they have played their part so well in the great tragedy?

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 49-54

Dr. Seth Rogers to his Daughter, January 1, 1863

January 1, 1863

This is the evening of the most eventful day of my life. Our barbecue was a most wonderful success. Two steamboats came loaded with people from Beaufort, St. Helena Island and Hilton Head. Among the visitors were some of my new acquaintances. My friend, Mr. Hall of the voyage on the Delaware. But the dearest friend I found among them was Miss Forten, whom you remember. She is a teacher of the freed children on St. Helena Island. Gen. Saxton and his father and others came from Beaufort, and several cavalry officers hovered around the outskirts of our multitude of black soldiers and civilians, and in the centre of all was the speakers’ stand, where the General and our Colonel and some others, with the band, performed the ceremonies of the day. Several good speeches were made, but the most impressive scene was that which occurred at the presentation of the Dr. Cheever flag to our regiment. After the presentation speech had been made, and just as Col. Higginson advanced to take the flag and respond, a negro woman standing near began to sing “America,” and soon many voices of freedmen and women joined in the beautiful hymn, and sang it so touchingly that every one was thrilled beyond measure. Nothing could have been more unexpected or more inspiring. The President's proclamation and General Saxton's New Year's greeting had been read, and this spontaneous outburst of love and loyalty to a country that has heretofore so terribly wronged these blacks, was the birth of a new hope in the honesty of her intention. I most earnestly trust they may not hope in vain.

Col. Higginson was so much inspired by the remarkable thought of, and singing of, the hymn, that he made one of his most effective speeches. Then came Gen. Saxton with a most earnest and brotherly speech to the blacks and then Mrs. Frances D. Gage, and finally all joined in the John Brown hymn, and then to dinner. A hundred things of interest occurred which I have not time to relate. Everybody was happy in the bright sunshine, and in the great hope. The ten oxen were eaten with hearty relish and barrels of molasses and water and vinegar and ginger were drunk to wash them down. Mr. Hall, Miss Forten and some others took dinner with us.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June,1910: February 1910. p. 340-1

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, July 5, 1864

Camp Crook, Charleston, July 5, 1864.

Dearest: — Your last from Elmwood, June 16, reached me last night. Very glad to get so good and cheerful talk.

It is not yet quite certain whether I shall be able to come and see you for a day or two or not. I think it is hardly best for you to attempt coming here now, but if I can't come to you, we will see about it.

Sunday morning the veterans of the Twelfth under Major Carey were united to the Twenty-third and that evening your flag was formally presented to the regiment at dress parade. The hearty cheers given for Mrs. H— (that's you) showed that you were held in grateful remembrance. I do not know whether you will get any letters from Colonel Comly or not. You certainly will if he does not think it will be a bore to you.

You have no doubt seen the proceedings of the non-veterans on giving the old flag to the governor at Columbus. I send a slip containing them to be kept with our archives. Secretary [of State, William Henry] Smith's allusion to me was awkward and nonsensical; but as it was well meant I, of course, must submit to be made ridiculous with good grace.

The fracture of Abbott's arm turned out like mine, a simple fracture without splintering and he saves his arm in good, condition. He is doing well.

Our prisoners wounded at Cloyd's Mountain were well treated by the citizens of Dublin and Newbern, etc., and by the Rebel soldiers of that region. Morgan and his men, however, behaved badly towards them — very badly — but as they were with them only a few hours, they were soon in better hands again. At Lynchburg the people behaved well also.

Don't let Uncle Scott be pestered with the little sorrel. He may give him away if he can't dispose of him otherwise.

We are gradually getting over our sore feet and weak stomachs and shall be in good condition shortly. Captain Hood is here again in command of his company. Major Mcllrath, Captain Warren, Lieutenants Deshong and Nessle and perhaps one or two others leave us here. The Twenty-third is now a large and splendid regiment again, better than ever, I suppose. — Love.

Affectionately, ever,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 481-2

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, June 9, 1864

Staunton, Vieginia, June 9, 1864.

Dearest: — I wrote you yesterday a letter which if it reaches you at all, will be some days in advance of this. I send this by the men whose term of service has expired and who go to "America" in charge of prisoners captured a few days ago by General Hunter at the battle of Piedmont or "New Hope."

All operations in this quarter have been very successful. We reached here yesterday morning after an exciting and delightful march of nine days from Meadow Bluff. . . .

The men not enlisting (one hundred and sixty) with nine officers left our camp this morning to start tomorrow in charge of Colonel Moore. The hand played “Home, Sweet Home.” The officers who leave are Captains Canby, Rice, Stevens, Sperry, and Hood; First Lieutenants Stephens, Chamberlain, Smith, Jackson, and Hicks. We have left seven full companies and twelve good officers. The old flags go to Columbus to the governor by the color-bearer. We shall quite certainly get more men from the Twelfth in a couple of weeks than we now lose.

I send Carrington with the little sorrel to sell or leave with Uncle Moses if he fails to sell him, and Uncle Moses can do what he pleases with him.

I send a pistol captured at Blacksburg from Lieutenant-Colonel Linkus, Thirty-sixth Virginia, Rebel. Also pencil memorandum of no account. Preserve the handbill showing Lee's appeal to the people of this (Augusta) county.

I have just visited the very extensive hospitals here. They are filled with patients, two-thirds Secesh, one-third our men. Nothing could be finer. In a fine building (Deaf and Dumb Asylum), in a beautiful grove — gas and hydrants — shade, air, etc. The Secesh were friendly and polite; not the slightest bitterness or unkindness between the two sorts. If I am to be left in hospital this is the spot.

Direct to “Second Infantry Division (or General Crook's Division), Department West Virginia, via Martinsburg.”

Love to all. — Affectionately ever,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 472-3

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes: Wednesday, May 25, 1864

Meadow BLUFF, May 25, 1864.

DEAREST:—We are preparing for another move. It will require a week's time, I conjecture, to get shoes, etc., etc. It looks as if the route would be through Lewisburg, White Sulphur, Covington, Jackson River, etc., to Staunton. The major came up this morning with a few recruits and numbers of the sick, now recovered. They bring a bright new flag which I can see floating in front of [the] Twenty-third headquarters. I suspect it to be your gift. Three hundred more of the Thirty-sixth also came up. The Fifth and Thirteenth are coming, so I shall have my own proper brigade all together soon.....

Brigdon carried the brigade flag. It was knocked out of his hands by a ball striking the staff only a few inches from where he held it. It was torn twice also by balls.

I see the papers call this “Averell's raid.” Very funny! The cavalry part of it was a total failure. General Averell only got to the railroad at points where we had first got in. He was driven back at Saltville and Wytheville. Captain Gilmore is pleased. He says the Second Virginia was the best of any of them! . . .

I am now on most intimate and cordial terms with General Crook. He is a most capital commander. His one fault is a too reckless exposure of himself in action and on the march — not a bad fault in some circumstances.

I shall probably send my valise back to Gallipolis from here to Mr. James Taylor. It will contain a leather case with Roman candles for the boys, a sabre will go with it for one of them, a wooden-soled shoe, such as we destroyed great numbers of at Dublin, and very little else. If it is lost, no matter. . . .

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 465-6