Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Saturday, February 25, 1865

Slept well, rained all night. At 10. a. m. start through pass, aground at 11. Brown with 4 co of our Regt passes us here. Men runing short of rations & begin to complain at 2 P. M. Small steamer Mustang comes to our relief, transfer men and baggage. Ship floats fast an hour again right in the pass abreast of Ft Powell, when she gets off Mustang runs alongside and transfers back. 3 reb deserters from Mobile come to us on Mustang. about 5.30 Ship touches at Ft. Gaines. thence to 4 mile above Ft. Morgan, at 7. P. M. disembark, march through sand 3/4 of mile to camp. on the beach of Gulf, sleep within 200 yds of Gulf, breakers Ligh & night clear, a Grand sight. 30 000 men here now.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 575

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Thursday, August 11, 1864

Doctor not come to-day, little loss. I am little more comfortable, less discharges; very, very weak. If I go now I must go on stretchers. No sleep after 12.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 125

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Saturday, July 4, 1863

I was awoke at daylight by Moses complaining that his valuable trunk, containing much public money, had been stolen from our tent whilst we slept. After a search it was found in a wood hard by, broken open and minus the money. Dr Barksdale had been robbed in the same manner exactly. This is evidently the work of those rascally stragglers, who shirk going under fire, plunder the natives, and will hereafter swagger as the heroes of Gettysburg.

Lawley, the Austrian, and I, walked up to the front about eight o'clock, and on our way we met General Longstreet, who was in a high state of amusement and good-humour. A flag of truce had just come over from the enemy, and its bearer announced among other things that “General Longstreet was wounded, and a prisoner, but would be taken care of.” General Longstreet sent back word that he was extremely grateful, but that, being neither wounded nor a prisoner, he was quite able to take care of himself. The iron endurance of General Longstreet is most extraordinary: he seems to require neither food nor sleep. Most of his Staff now fall fast asleep directly they get off their horses, they are so exhausted from the last three days' work.

Whilst Lawley went to headquarters on business, I sat down and had a long talk with General Pendleton (the parson), chief of artillery. He told me the exact number of guns in action yesterday. He said that the universal opinion is in favour of the 12-pounder Napoleon guns as the best and simplest sort of ordnance for field purposes* Nearly all the artillery with this army has either been captured from the enemy or cast from old 6-pounders taken at the early part of the war.

At 10 A.M. Lawley returned from headquarters, bringing the news that the army is to commence moving in the direction of Virginia this evening. This step is imperative from want of ammunition. But it was hoped that the enemy might attack during the day, especially as this is the 4th July, and it was calculated that there was still ammunition for one day's fighting. The ordnance train had already commenced moving back towards Cashtown, and Ewell's immense train of plunder had been proceeding towards Hagerstown by the Fairfield road ever since an early hour this morning.

Johnson's division had evacuated during the night the position it had gained yesterday. It appears that for a time it was actually in possession of the cemetery, but had been forced to retire from thence from want of support by Pender's division, which had been retarded by that officer's wound. The whole of our left was therefore thrown back considerably.

At 1 P.M. the rain began to descend in torrents, and we took refuge in the hovel of an ignorant Pennsylvanian boor. The cottage was full of soldiers, none of whom had the slightest idea of the contemplated retreat, and all were talking of Washington and Baltimore with the greatest confidence.

At 2 P.M. we walked to General Longstreet's camp, which had been removed to a place three miles distant, on the Fairfield road. General Longstreet talked to me for a long time about the battle. He said the mistake they had made was in not concentrating the army more, and making the attack yesterday with 30,000 men instead of 15,000. The advance had been in three lines, and the troops of Hill's corps who gave way were young soldiers, who had never been under fire before. He thought the enemy would have attacked had the guns been withdrawn. Had they done so at that particular moment immediately after the repulse, it would have been awkward; but in that case he had given orders for the advance of Hood's division and M'Laws's on the right. I think, after all, that General Meade was right not to advance — his men would never have stood the tremendous fire of artillery they would have been exposed to. Rather over 7000 Yankees were captured during the three days; — 3500 took the parole; the remainder were now being marched to Richmond, escorted by the remains of Pickett's division. It is impossible to avoid seeing that the cause of this check to the Confederates lies in the utter contempt felt for the enemy by all ranks.

Waggons, horses, mules, and cattle captured in Pennsylvania, the solid advantages of this campaign, have been passing slowly along this road (Fairfield) all day: those taken by Ewell are particularly admired. So interminable was this train that it soon became evident that we should not be able to start till late at night. As soon as it became dark we all lay round a big fire, and I heard reports coming in from the different generals that the enemy was retiring, and had been doing so all day long. M'Laws reported nothing in his front but cavalry videttes. But this, of course, could make no difference to General Lee's plans: ammunition he must have — he had failed to capture it from the enemy (according to precedent); and as his communications with Virginia were intercepted, he was compelled to fall back towards Winchester, and draw his supplies from thence. General Milroy had kindly left an ample stock at that town when he made his precipitate exit some weeks ago. The army was also encumbered with an enormous waggon-train, the spoils of Pennsylvania, which it is highly desirable to get safely over the Potomac.

Shortly after 9 P.M. the rain began to descend in torrents. Lawley and I luckily got into the doctors' covered buggy, and began to get slowly under way a little after midnight.

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* The Napoleon 12-pounders are smooth-bore brass guns, with chambers, very light, and with long range. They were invented or recommended by Louis Napoleon years ago. A large number are being cast at Augusta and elsewhere.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 278-83

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Tuesday, September 2, 1862

Slept till rather late — up in time for Sandy's breakfast. During the day wrote to Fannie Andrews. Delos called in the morning and I read Ella's letter to him. Commented upon it. In the evening Charlie came up and I again reviewed Ella's letter with him. Read some in Shakespeare and the latest papers. Received letter from home. Last one from Minnie E. Tenney.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 30

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Friday, August 22, 1862

Slept rather late. F. Brooks back, looking very sleek. Went to the river and washed myself thoroughly. Changed my clothes and rested as well as possible. The command came in. Boys seem hardy, though the trip has been tough. All the boys are exasperated that they did not catch the enemy. News that Fremont is to have command here, good. We to go home. Wrote a middling long letter to Fannie Andrews. Wrote while Brownell read in “Woman in White.” Boys issued rations for five days. Naturally lazed a while myself.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 27-8

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Tuesday, August 19, 1862

Breakfasted at Johnstown. As usual boys went for chickens, corn and anything to eat. People have felt our march through their country. Report came that the enemy were at Osceola, 30 miles southeast. Continued our march Osceolaward. Stopped two or three miles from Johnstown and fed mules and ourselves — three hours. Moved on. Report came that Cloud's advance was fighting with rear guard of the enemy. One man killed on the prairie, just buried. Changed our course towards Stubbleville. Reached that place in the morning, sunrise. In the afternoon my horse troubled me so getting away that I got on bareback. Got a saddle and rode all night. Very sleepy. Slept on my horse. Major Miner fell from his horse. Pat Collopy fell twice. It was almost impossible for the rear guard to get the sleeping ones awake and along.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 27

Diary of Colonel William F. Bartlett: May 12, 1864

Pretty miserable this morning Left at twenty minutes past five for Baltimore Good night's sleep. Plenty of quinine has kept off fever so far.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 102

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Wednesday, March 30, 1864

It rained hard all night; didn't sleep a wink; got very wet; men in good spirits and everything working well in spite of the rain; have seen no officer of the day. Lieut. George P. Welch came down to see me this evening; very dark; camp quiet; looks like another storm before morning.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 31

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, December 22, 1862

Camp Near Fairfax Station,

December 22, 1862.

As my first announcement, I will tell you that Hogan is all right with the exception of being paroled. He arrived at camp last Friday, having been kept by the guerrillas three days. The terms of his parole are so strict that I asked him very few questions. He told me that one of the scamps appropriated my overcoat, and that another rode off on my mare the morning after her capture. He managed to save some of my letters which were in my coat pocket. I felt that it was dangerous for him to stay with us; so Saturday morning I sent him off to a parole camp, with all the good advice I could think of and five dollars in money. He will write to me of his whereabouts, and I shall endeavor to get him a furlough. We are still lying here, in a miserable state of uncertainty about our future movements; no officers' tents, nothing, in fact, to make us comfortable.

It has been very cold for the last two or three days and nights. You would be amused to see us, sitting around a fire trying to eat our breakfast or dinner before it freezes hard; dippers of water soon become iced, and yesterday we enjoyed the luxury of frozen buttered toast and frozen sardines. In washing, our hair becomes a solid mass before it can be brushed or combed. We have one comfort, that is, that we sleep warm at night.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 114-5

Diary of Sarah Morgan: August 25, 1862 – about 12 at night.

Sleep is impossible after all that I have heard, so, after vainly endeavoring to follow the example of the rest, and sleep like a Stoic, I have lighted my candle and take to this to induce drowsiness.

Just after supper, when Anna and I were sitting with Mrs. Carter in her room, I talking as usual of home, and saying I would be perfectly happy if mother would decide to remain in Baton Rouge and brave the occasional shellings, I heard a well-known voice take up some sentence of mine from a dark part of the room, and with a cry of surprise, I was hugging Miriam until she was breathless. Such a forlorn creature! — so dirty, tired, and fatigued, as to be hardly recognizable. We thrust her into a chair, and made her speak. She had just come with Charlie, who went after them yesterday; and had left mother and the servants at a kind friend's, on crying, “Where are those damned Secesh women? We know they are hid in here, and we'll make them dance for hiding from Federal officers!” And they could not be convinced that we were not there, until they had searched the very garret. Wonder what they would have done? Charles caught a Captain Clark in the streets, when the work was almost over, and begged him to put an end to it. The gentleman went readily, but though the devastation was quite evident, no one was to be seen, and he was about to leave, when, insisting that there was some one there, Charles drew him into my room, dived under the bed, and drew from thence a Yankee captain, by one leg, followed by a lieutenant, each with a bundle of the boys' clothes, which they instantly dropped, protesting they were only looking around the house. The gentleman captain carried them off to their superior.

Ours was the most shockingly treated house in the whole town. We have the misfortune to be equally feared by both sides, because we will blackguard neither. So the Yankees selected the only house in town that sheltered three forlorn women, to wreak their vengeance on. From far and near, strangers and friends flocked in to see the ravages committed. Crowds rushed in before, crowds came in after, Miriam and mother arrived, all apologizing for the intrusion, but saying they had heard it was a sight never before seen. So they let them examine to their hearts' content; and Miriam says the sympathy of all was extraordinary. A strange gentleman picked up a piece of mother's mirror, which was as thick as his finger, saying, “Madame, I should like to keep this as a memento. I am about to travel through Mississippi, and having seen what a splendid piece of furniture this was, and the state your house is left in, should like to show this as a specimen of Yankee vandalism.”

William Waller flew to our home to try to save it; but was too late. They say he burst into tears as he looked around. While on his kind errand, another band of Yankees burst into his house and left not one article of clothing to him, except the suit he had on. The whole talk is about our dreadful treatment at the Yankees' hands. Dr. Day, and Dr. Enders, in spite of the assertions of the former, lost nothing.

Well! I am beggared! Strange to say, I don't feel it. Perhaps it is the satisfaction of knowing my fate that makes me so cheerful that Mrs. Carter envied my stoicism, while Mrs. Badger felt like beating me because I did not agree that there was no such thing as a gentleman in the Yankee army. I know Major Drum for one, and that Captain Clark must be two, and Mr. Biddle is three, and General Williams — God bless him, wherever he is! for he certainly acted like a Christian. The Yankees boasted loudly that if it had not been for him, the work would have been done long ago.

And now, I am determined to see my home, before Yankee shells complete the work that Yankee axes spared. So by sunrise, I shall post over to Mr. Elder's, and insist on Charlie taking me to town with him. I hardly think it is many hours off. I feel so settled, so calm! Just as though I never meant to sleep again. If I only had a desk, — a luxury I have not enjoyed since I left home, — I could write for hours still, without being sleepy; but this curved attitude is hard on my stiff back, so good-night, while I lie down to gain strength for a sight they say will make me faint with distress. Nous verrons! If I say I Won't, I know I'll not cry. The Brunots lost nothing at all from their house, thank Heaven for the mercy! Only they lost all their money in their flight. On the door, on their return, they found written, “Ladies, I have done my best for you,” signed by a Yankee soldier, who they suppose to be the one who has made it a habit of continually passing their house.

Forgot to say Miriam recovered my guitar from the Asylum, our large trunk and father's papers (untouched) from Dr. Enders's, and with her piano, the two portraits, a few mattresses (all that is left of housekeeping affairs), and father's law books, carried them out of town. For which I say in all humility, Blessed be God who has spared us so much.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 190-6

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse, August 29, 1862

Resting Near Bull Run,

August 29, 1862.

I resume my narrative again like a shipwrecked mariner, hoping at some distant day I may be able to send it to you. Since the twenty-first, we have been marching and countermarching, manœuvering and skirmishing, almost constantly, in all that time not having quarter rations or more than one or two whole nights' sleep. We have really suffered hardships, now, for the first time; we have known what it is to be grateful for a drink of the muddiest of water and for a half of a hard cracker and an ear of corn or a green apple for dinner, and to be able to lie down and get two hours' quiet sleep. Last night, I took off my shoes, washed myself and got a whole night's sleep for the first time in ten days; this morning, I had a beefsteak, a cup of coffee and a piece of hard bread for breakfast; I feel now like starting again, and shall probably be gratified before long.

For six or seven days, we skirmished along the Rappahannock, moving constantly from one point to another of the river, generally marching in the early part of the night, stacking arms at eleven or twelve o'clock, and lying down on the ground until daylight to catch a little sleep, half the time not being able to take our blankets from our horses for fear of a sudden move. At daylight, cannonading generally began, either by our batteries or others along the river. One morning, we had a pretty lively time; our battery (Cathran's First New York), became engaged with two rebel batteries and, for an hour, we saw and heard the smartest artillery fighting we have heard yet. At the end of that time, the two rebel batteries were silenced and withdrawn; four of our Parrotts were burned out and rendered unserviceable, and a number of horses and mules, and one man, killed. The solid shot and shell came tearing through the woods where we were supporting the guns, in great style, making the branches fly; one tree was cut down close to where Colonel Andrews was. Fortunately, none of us were hit, though the noise of the shot and shell was terrific.

Day before yesterday, our army was withdrawn from the river on account of a movement of the enemy to our rear. We reached this place last night, after two days' toiling along after Sigel's wagon train, over the dustiest of roads, under the hottest of hot suns. Two days ago, a battle was fought near here, in which we were victorious; the graves of some thirty of each side are in the field; this is all we know of the fight.

Last night a fight* began which is still going on, four or five miles north of us, where the enemy seems to be in force. Everything seems to be upside down and wrong end to. I have not heard a man yet wild enough to suggest how it is all going to end. The enemy are certainly using the most desperate measures to capture Washington and invade Maryland; they may be successful, but I trust not. The whole of McClellan's and Pope's army is near by somewhere, and there are large reinforcements around Washington. We don't feel very anxious now, except about our next meal. Somehow or other, officers and men seem to keep up their spirits wonderfully through all these hard times, and I hope will continue to, as there is nothing I can see now to change the times. Hogan and the mare are safe and perfectly invaluable in this emergency. Rumors come to us now that Jackson is at Centreville with his whole army.

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* 2nd Battle of Bull Run.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 82-4