Diary of Corporal David L. Day: November 4, 1861

Sunday morning in Baltimore, and a stiller or more quiet place I never saw. No sounds are heard, no people or carriages are seen in the street. It looks and seems like a deserted city. We took a hurried glance at a portion of the city, visiting Pratt street, where the assault on the 6th Massachusetts took place. The bullet holes and scars on the walls of the buildings, gave proof that the boys got a good deal interested, while passing through that street.

OFF FOR ANNAPOLIS.

We embarked on the steamer Louisiana, about 9 a. m., for Annapolis. As we steamed past old Fort McHenry, I was reminded of an interesting scrap of history connected with this fort. When the British fleet bombarded this fort during the last war with England, there was aboard one of the ships, an American prisoner, a Mr. Key, I think his name was, who watched with the most intense anxiety, the result of the bombardment, and during its progress, wrote the song that has since become famous as one of our national anthems, The Star Spangled Banner.

"By the cannon's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night, that our flag was still there."

Arrived at Annapolis about noon, and marched up to the Naval academy, where we quartered and took dinner with the 21st Massachusetts, now doing garrison duty at this post.

Religious services this afternoon, by Chaplains Ball of the 21st and James of our own regiment. I cannot say that I was much interested in the meeting, as I was very tired, and preaching about the Pharisees and other antiquated sinners of a thousand years ago, did not seem to apply to my ease, or the present time.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 10-11

Diary of William Howard Russell: June 21, 1861

Verily I would be sooner in the Coptic Cairo, narrow streeted, dark bazaared, many flied, much vexed by donkeys and by overland route passengers, than the horrid tongue of land which licks the muddy margin of the Ohio and the Mississippi. The thermometer at 100° in the shade before noon indicates nowhere else such an amount of heat and suffering, and yet prostrate as I was, it was my fate to argue that England was justified in conceding belligerent, rights to the South, and that the attitude of neutrality we had assumed in this terrible quarrel is not in effect an aggression on the United States; and here is a difference to be perceived between the North and the South.

The people of the seceding States, aware in their consciences that they have been most active in their hostility to Great Britain, and whilst they were in power were mainly responsible for the defiant, irritating, and insulting tone commonly used to us by American statesmen, are anxious at the present moment when so much depends on the action of foreign countries, to remove all unfavorable impressions from our minds by declarations of good will, respect, and admiration, not quite compatible with the language of their leaders in times not long gone by. The North, as yet unconscious of the loss of power, and reared in a school of menace and violent assertion of their rights, regarding themselves as the whole of the United States, and animated by their own feeling of commercial and political opposition to Great Britain, maintain the high tone of a people who have never known let or hindrance in their passions, and consider it an outrage that

the whole world does not join in active sympathy for a government which in its brief career has contrived to affront every nation in Europe with which it had any dealings.

If the United States have astonished France by their ingratitude, they have certainly accustomed England to their petulance, and one can fancy the satisfaction with which the Austrian Statesmen who remember Mr. Webster's despatch to Mr. Hulsemann, contemplate the present condition of the United States in the face of an insurrection of these sovereign and independent States which the Cabinet at Washington stigmatizes as an outbreak of rebels and traitors to the royalty of the Union.

During my short sojourn in this country I have never yet met any person who could show me where the sovereignty of the Union resides. General Prentiss, however, and his Illinois volunteers, are quite ready to fight for it.

In the afternoon the General drove me round the camps in company with Mr. Washburne, Member of Congress, from Illinois, his staff and a party of officers, among whom was Mr. Oglesby, colonel of a regiment of State Volunteers, who struck me by his shrewdness, simple honesty, and zeal,* He told me that he had begun life in the utmost obscurity, but that somehow or other he got into a lawyer's office and there, by hard drudgery, by mother wit, and industry, notwithstanding a defective education, he had raised himself not only to independence, but to such a position that 1000 men had gathered at his call and selected one who had never led a company in his life to be their colonel; in fact, he is an excellent orator of the western school, and made good homely, telling speeches to his men.

“I'm not as good as your Frenchmen of the schools of Paris, nor am I equal to the Russian colonels I met at St. Petersburg, who sketched me out how they had beaten you Britishers at Sebastopol,” said he; “but I know I can do good straight fighting with my boys when I get a chance. There is a good deal in training, to be sure, but nature tells too. Why I believe I would make a good artillery officer if I was put to it. General, you heard how I laid one of them guns the other day and touched her off with my own hand and sent the ball right into a tree half-a-mile away.” The Colonel evidently thought he had by that feat proved his fitness for the command of a field battery. One of the German officers who was listening to the lively old man's talk, whispered to me, “Dere is a good many of tese colonels in dis camp.”

At each station the officers came out of their tents, shook hands all round, and gave an unfailing invitation to get down and take a drink, and the guns on the General's approach fired salutes, as though it was a time of profoundest peace. Powder was certainly more plentiful than in the Confederate camps, where salutes are not permitted unless by special order on great occasions.

The General remained for some time in the camp of the Chicago light artillery, which was commanded by a fine young Scotchman of the Saxon genus Smith, who told me that the privates of his company represented a million and a half of dollars in property. Their guns, horses, carriages, and accoutrements were all in the most creditable order, and there was an air about the men and about their camp which showed they did not belong to the same class as the better disciplined Hungarians of Milotzky close at hand.

Whilst we were seated in Captain Smith's tent, a number of the privates came forward, and sang the “Star-spangled banner,” and a patriotic song, to the air of “God save the Queen!” and the rest of the artillery-men, and a number of stragglers from the other camps, assembled and then formed line behind the singers. When the chorus was over there arose a great shout for Washburne, and the honorable congressman was fain to come forward and make a speech, in which he assured his hearers of a very speedy victory and the advent of liberty all over the land. Then “General Prentiss” was called for; and as citizen soldiers command their Generals on such occasions, he too was obliged to speak, and to tell his audience "the world had never seen any men more devoted, gallant, or patriotic than themselves.” “Oglesby” was next summoned, and the tall, portly, good-humored old man stepped to the front, and with excellent tact and good sense, dished up in the Buncombe style, told them the time for making speeches had passed, indeed it had lasted too long; and although it was said there was very little fighting when there was much talking, he believed too much talking was likely to lead to a great deal more fighting than any one desired to see between citizens of the United States of America, except their enemies, who, no doubt, were much better pleased to see Americans fighting each other than to find them engaged in any other employment. Great as the mischief of too much talking had been, too much writing had far more of the mischief to answer for. The pen was keener than the tongue, hit harder, and left a more incurable wound; but the pen was better than the tongue, because it was able to cure the mischief it had inflicted,” And so by a series of sentences the Colonel got round to me, and to my consternation, remembering how I had fared with my speech at the little private dinner on St. Patrick's Day in New York, I was called upon by stentorian lungs, and hustled to the stump by a friendly circle, till I escaped by uttering a few sentences as to “mighty struggle,” “Europe gazing,” “the world anxious,” “the virtues of discipline,” “the admirable lessons of a soldier's life,” and the “aspiration that in a quarrel wherein a British subject was ordered, by an authority he was bound to respect, to remain neutral, God might preserve the right.”

Colonel, General, and all addressed the soldiers as “gentlemen,” and their auditory did not on their part refrain from expressing their sentiments in the most unmistakable manner. “Bully for you, General!” “Bravo, Washburne!” “That's so, Colonel!” and the like, interrupted the harangues; and when the oratorical exercises were over the men crowded round the staff, cheered and hurrahed, and tossed up their caps in the greatest delight.

With the exception of the foreign officers, and some of the Staff, there are very few of the colonels, majors, captains, or lieutenants who know anything of their business. The men do not care for them, and never think of saluting them. A regiment of Germans was sent across from Bird's Point this evening for plundering and robbing the houses in the district in which they were quartered.

It may be readily imagined that the scoundrels who had to fly from every city in Europe before the face of the police will not stay their hands when they find themselves masters of the situation in the so-called country of an enemy. In such matters the officers have little or no control, and discipline is exceedingly lax, and punishments but sparingly inflicted, the use of the lash being forbidden altogether. Fine as the men are, incomparably better armed, clad — and doubtless better fed — than the Southern troops, they will scarcely meet them man to man in the field with any chance of success. Among the officers are bar-room keepers, persons little above the position of potmen in England, grocers' apprentices, and such like — often inferior socially, and in every other respect, to the men whom they are supposed to command. General Prentiss has seen service, I believe, in Mexico; but he appears to me to be rather an ardent politician, embittered against slaveholders and the South, than a judicious or skilful military leader.

The principles on which these isolated commanders carry on the war are eminently defective. They apply their whole minds to petty expeditions, which go out from the camps, attack some Secessionist gathering, and then return, plundering, as they go and come, exasperating enemies, converting neutrals into opponents, disgusting friends, and leaving it to the Secessionists to boast that they have repulsed them. Instead of encouraging the men and improving their discipline these ill-conducted expeditions have an opposite result.

_______________

* Since died of wounds received in action.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 337-41

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: February 9, 1863

This day will be remembered by the First Louisiana by the event of raising the flag on the new fort. It was now about completed. Six large 24 pound cannon had been mounted on the parapets, and our company(C) had been detailed to man the guns. It was what is termed a (star fort) having salient and re-enterant angles. Two sides were protected by the river and bayou Lafourche. The others by a deep moat or ditch nicely bricked up inside. The parapet was made of sand and nicely turfed: ambrasures being left for the guns; Altogether it presented a very pretty appearance. The raising of the flag and christning of the fort was in this wise, by 10 o'clock a. m., the regiment was formed in square around the flag pole in the center of the fort with officers, ladies and citizens in the center. An interesting young lady by the name of Miss Weber was selected to preside on the occasion. A table was placed in the center on which the flag rested with the halyards attached. The men were stationed at the guns- Everything being in readiness, an officer passed the bottle of champagne to Miss Weber. At the signal she smashed the bottle spilling the contents on the flag, at the same time exclaiming “I christen thee Fort Butler”. This done the flag ascended slowly to the peak of the mast, amid the booming of cannon, soul stiring strains of the “Star Spangled Banner”, by the band, and shouting of the spectators. This lasted about twenty minutes, when we were entertained with a speech by the chaplain and Col. Holcomb. The latter told the people of Donaldsonville, “That was the flag under which their fathers had fought for freedom. It was the flag, under the protection of whose ample folds, their little city had sprung up from the wilderness like the garden of Eden. But since they had forsaken its protection, and with inpious hands had torn it from its place, their city had “become as Sodom and like unto Gomorrah.” “He closed by saying that, “Whoever attempted to pull that flag down, he would shoot him on the spot.”

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 37-8

Major Wilder Dwight: January 13, 1862

cantonment Hicks, Near Frederick, January 13, 1861.

“Si le combat est prévu, la troupe se met en grande tenue; elle doit cette politesse a un ennemi qu’elle estime.”

Dufour gives this among the rules for combats of infantry against infantry.

What a charming courtesy! what French politeness! Full uniform is the proper compliment to be paid to an enemy that you esteem. After all, none but a Frenchman could have hit upon that rule, or its reason.

But I have news for you. Was it not Sunday when I wrote? And I forgot to mention that our band was to give a grand concert on Monday evening. Spiegel, our bandleader, had been ambitious, and the Colonel encouraged him in his scheme. The result was even better than our hope. The hall was crowded. All the beauty and fashion of Frederick were there. Our band showed finely. Altogether, there was éclat in the concert. The whole closed with Hail Columbia and the Star Spangled Banner. You would be surprised to see with what hungry ears they listen to Yankee Doodle in this country. Those short-sighted persons who advise disbanding the bands would disarm our army of a great strength.

I have found to-day that Frederick is echoing the praises of the Massachusetts Second. We even think of a Promenade Concert next week. So do not turn your thoughts in regarding us to the discords of war, but rather to the mellowest harmonies of peace.

Again, art is giving us repute in another direction. Private D'Avignon, of Company I (a reduced artist, and too good for a soldier), is to have the honor to draw a picture of General Banks. So you see that we are not occupied as your fancy would have us.

I have a very pleasant letter from you to-day. I think the question, whether I have found a profession, or only lost one, is premature. I want no unripe fruit, and I think I must possess my soul in patience and in hope.

I trust father is not much dispirited. Let him wait a little longer, and perhaps we shall see something done.

I enclose you Colonel Andrews's artistic plan of our house. He made it at my request. The dimensions are twenty-four feet by eighteen feet. It is a wonderful house, and a great comfort this cold and snowy night.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 187-8

Major Wilder Dwight: December 9, 1861

Camp Hicks, December 9, 1861, near Frederick, Maryland.

To sit in one's tent in the sunshine, and look out through the grove upon a lively and contented camp, is very little like war. Such is my afternoon's occupation, or want of occupation. I can hear, too, the music of the Star Spangled Banner, which is just now saluting the flag which has been raised at General Abercrombie's head-quarters near by.

I went into Frederick this morning, and, as I came over the hill which slopes down to the Monocacy Bridge and overlooks the city and valley of Frederick, I could not but enjoy the scene. There lay the city, with its spires and buildings clear in the sunlight; and the whole surrounding valley looked happy with its bright, white farm-houses, and thrifty with its generous barns.

Peace and plenty were in the landscape. Yet, six months ago, both were threatened by the terrorism of Secession, and the growing crops then feared a premature harvesting.

I called, this morning, on the Rev. Mr. –––, a pleasant man. He was cordial and friendly, and wished me to tell Dr. ––– that his present successor at Frederick was true to the flag, and loved his country. The experiences of the past summer have tested his patriotism severely. I also receive this evening by mail a note from Mrs. –––, who is in Baltimore. She writes to ask my intervention to protect her house, which has been occupied for military purposes. I shall do what I can for her, but the plea of necessity is one that knows no law and very little mercy. To-night also brings me what I rejoice in, two letters from you, one from D–––, and a most friendly and agreeable letter from Mr. –––. I could not resist an immediate answer to the latter, it gave me so much pleasure. . . . .

It has been as warm as summer here to-day, — indeed, most uncomfortably so. But, of course, the change must come soon, and winter will frown upon us again.

Tell ––– he is as right as a tract on the slavery question. Keep it back. Say nothing. Let the war continue to be for the grand purpose which first inspired it, and which has united and quickened a whole people. The inevitable consequence must be the death-wound of slavery; hut that is incidental, and must be natural, not forced.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 168-9

Diary of William Howard Russell: April 10, 1861

To-day I devoted to packing up such things as I did not require, and sending them to New York. I received a characteristic note from General Scott, asking me to dine with him to-morrow, and apologizing for the shortness of his invitation, which arose from his only having just heard that I was about to leave so soon for the South. The General is much admired by his countrymen, though they do not spare some “amiable weaknesses;” but, in my mind, he can only be accused of a little vanity, which is often found in characters of the highest standard. He likes to display his reading, and is troubled with a desire to indulge in fine writing. Some time ago he wrote a long letter to the “National Intelligencer,” in which he quoted Shakespeare and Paley to prove that President Buchanan ought to have garrisoned the forts at Charleston and Pensacola, as he advised him to do; and he has been the victim of poetic aspirations. The General’s dinner hour was early; and when I arrived at his modest lodgings, which, however, were in the house of a famous French cook, I found a troop of mounted volunteers of the district, parading up and down the street. They were not bad of their class, and the horses, though light, were active, hardy, and spirited; but the men put on their uniforms badly, wore long hair, their coats and buttons and boots were unbrushed, and the horses' coats and accoutrements bore evidence of neglect. The General, who wore an undress blue frock-coat, with eagle-covered brass buttons, and velvet collar and cuffs, was with Mr. Seward and Mr. Bates, the Attorney-General, and received me very courteously. He was interrupted by cheering from the soldiers in the street, and by clamors for “General Scott.” He moves with difficulty, owing to a fall from his horse, and from the pressure of increasing years; and he evidently would not have gone out if he could have avoided it. But there is no privacy for public men in America.

But the General went to them, and addressed a few words to his audience in the usual style about “rallying round,” and “dying gloriously,” and “old flag of our country,” and all that kind of thing; after which, the band struck up “Yankee Doodle.” Mr. Seward called, out, “General, make them play the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’ and ‘Hail Columbia.’” And so I was treated to the strains of the old bacchanalian chant, “When Bibo,” &c, which the Americans have impressed to do duty as a national air. Then came an attempt to play “God save the Queen,” which I duly appreciated as a compliment; and then followed dinner, which did credit to the cook, and wine, which was most excellent, from France, Spain, and Madeira. The only addition to our party was Major Cullum, aide-de-camp to General Scott, an United States' engineer, educated at West Point. The General underwent a little badinage about the phrase “a hasty plate of soup,” which he used in one of his despatches during the Mexican War, and he appealed to me to decide whether it was so erroneous or ridiculous as Mr. Seward insisted. I said I was not a judge, but certainly similar liberal usage of a well-known figure of prosody might be found to justify the phrase. The only attendants at table were the General's English valet and a colored servant; and the table apparatus which bore such good things was simple and unpretending. Of course the conversation was of a general character, and the General, evidently picking out his words with great precision, took the lead in it, telling anecdotes of great length, graced now and then with episodes, and fortified by such episodes as — “Bear with me, dear sir, for a while, that I may here diverge from the main current of my story, and proceed to mention a curious” &c, and so on.

To me his conversation was very interesting, particularly that portion which referred to his part in the last war, where he was wounded and taken prisoner. He gave an account of the Battle of Chippewa, which was, he said, fought on true scientific principles; and in the ignorance common to most Englishmen of reverses to their arms, I was injudicious enough, when the battle was at its height, and whole masses of men were moving in battalions and columns over the table, to ask how many were engaged. The General made the most of his side: “We had, sir, twenty-one hundred and seventy-five men in the field.” He told us how, when the British men-of-war provoked general indignation in Virginia by searching American vessels for deserters in the Chesapeake, the State of Virginia organized a volunteer force to guard the shores, and, above all things, to prevent the country people sending down supplies to the vessels, in pursuance of the orders of the Legislature and Governor. Young Scott, then reading for the bar, became corporal of a troop of these patrols. One night, as they were on duty by the banks of the Potomac, they heard a boat with muffled oars coming rapidly down the river, and soon saw her approaching quite close to the shore under cover of the trees. When she was abreast of the troopers, Scott challenged “What boat is that?””It's His Majesty's ship ‘Leopard,’ and what the d----- is that to you? Give way, my lads!” “I at once called on him to surrender,” said the General, “and giving the word to charge, we dashed into the water. Fortunately, it was not deep, and the midshipman in charge, taken by surprise by a superior force, did not attempt to resist us. We found the boat manned by four sailors, and filled with vegetables and other supplies, and took possession of it; and I believe it is the first instance of a man-of-war's boat being captured by cavalry. The Legislature of Virginia, however, did not approve of the capture, and the officer was given up accordingly.

“Many years afterwards, when I visited Europe, I happened to be dining at the hospitable mansion of Lord Holland, and observed during the banquet that a gentleman at table was scrutinizing my countenance in a manner indicative of some special curiosity. Several times, as my eye wandered in his direction, I perceived that he had been continuing his investigations, and at length I rebuked him by a continuous glance. After dinner, this gentleman came round to me and said, ‘General Scott, I hope you will pardon my rudeness in staring at you, but the fact is that you bear a most remarkable resemblance to a great overgrown, clumsy country fellow of the same name, who took me prisoner in my boat when I was a midshipman in the “Chesapeake,” at the head of a body of mounted men. He was, I remember quite well, Corporal Scott.’ ‘That Corporal Scott, sir, and the individual who addresses you, are identical one with the other.’ The officer whose acquaintance I thus so auspiciously renewed, was Captain Fox, a relation of Lord Holland, and a post-captain in the British navy.”

Whilst he was speaking, a telegraphic despatch was brought in, which the General perused with evident uneasiness. He apologized to me for reading it by saying the despatch was from the President on Cabinet business, and then handed it across the table to Mr. Seward. The Secretary read it, and became a little agitated, and raised his eyes inquiringly to the General's face, who only shook his head. Then the paper was given to Mr. Bates, who read it, and gave a grunt, as it were, of surprise. The General took back the paper, read it twice over, and then folded it up and put it in his pocket. “You had better not put it there, General,” interposed Mr. Seward; “it will be getting lost, or in some other hands.” And so the General seemed to think, for he immediately threw it into the fire, before which certain bottles of claret were gently mellowing.

The communication was evidently of a very unpleasant character. In order to give the Ministers opportunity for a conference, I asked Major Cullum to accompany me into the garden, and lighted a cigar. As I was walking about in the twilight, I observed two figures at the end of the little enclosure, standing as if in concealment close to the wall. Major Cullum said, “The men you see are sentries I have thought it expedient to place there for the protection of the General. The villains might assassinate him, and would do it in a moment if they could. He would not hear of a guard, nor anything of the sort, so, without his knowing it, I have sentries posted all round the house all night. This was a curious state of things for the commander of the American army, in the midst of a crowded city, the capital of the free and enlightened Republic, to be placed in! On our return to the sitting-room, the conversation was continued some hour or so longer. I retired with Mr. Seward in his carriage. As we were going up Pennsylvania Avenue — almost lifeless at that time — I asked Mr. Seward whether he felt quite secure against any irruption from Virginia, as it was reported that one Ben McCullough, the famous Texan desperado, had assembled 500 men at Richmond for some daring enterprise: some said to carry off the President, cabinet, and all. He replied that, although the capital was almost defenceless, it must be remembered that the bold bad men who were their enemies were equally unprepared for active measures of aggression.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 72-5

Wilder Dwight to Elizabeth White Dwight, Saturday, July 18, 1861

charlestown, Va., July 18, 1861.

From Bunker Hill to Charlestown may not seem a long way to a Massachusetts man, but in Virginia it is a hard day's work. Our regiment slept on its arms at Bunker Hill Tuesday night. We thought the forward movement was to be on Winchester. A feint was made that way. The enemy had obstructed the main road. We held Johnston's men, expecting attack. By our sudden flank movement we have got him. If McDowell has done rightly by Manassas, we will put Johnston in a tight place. Yesterday we were ready to start at three, A. M. Twenty thousand men move slowly. It took till nine in the evening to get the regiment into position at Charlestown, twelve miles off. We were in the reserve, fifteen hours in the saddle. When the men were drawn up, and had stacked their arms, they fell right down to sleep as they stood. The day was bitterly hot; the march terribly tedious, but glorious. Twenty-five thousand men occupy the town where John Brown was hung. We are the first Massachusetts regiment which has defiantly, and without interruption, stalked through Virginia. In the afternoon we entered a small village on our route. The band played first the Star Spangled Banner, then Hail Columbia, then Yankee Doodle. Our horses arched their necks and moved to the music. The men moved with fresh life and spirit. Our splendid banner, not a star dimmed, flaunted in the faces of the sulky Virginians.

The country is splendid; but, as the hymn-book says, “Only man is vile!” My cook came to me on the route, after vainly endeavoring to forage for our dinner, and said, “I tout Virginny was a perducing country, but I don't see nothin' growin' fit to eat nohow.” The negroes sat on the fences along the route, and wondered. Our march means freedom to them. It means, too, the restoration of the Union line wherever we move. The-American flag sprouts in the furrow of our ploughshare. It is hard work, slow work, new work; but it has its compensations, this military occupation of a country. “Southern blood has been boiling all day,” said a woman standing on the door of a farm-house on our line of march. Just at dusk, as we neared Charlestown, there was a cannonading in front. We threw out skirmishers and drew up the battalion, but have not yet learned the cause of the alarm. This is not a very coherent epistle. It exhibits only an echo of the tone of feeling which animates one on an expedition like ours. You would have wondered to see our jaded men prick up their ears, and stand alive again, when they thought a brush was at hand. The Indiana regiment in our rear yelled like wild Indians. I think Johnston will retire without much of a fight. But here we know nothing except the movements of our own brigade. Half of our force goes out of service tomorrow. This will hamper our movements.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 51-2

Diary of Charles H. Lynch: September 1, 1862

The fort was historic ground. The flag flying over it caused Mr. Key to write the song “The Star-spangled Banner,” in 1814. Many British shells and solid shot were piled up in the fort as relics. After the battle of Antietam many rebel prisoners were brought to the fort to remain as prisoners of war until exchanged. Sympathetic friends from Baltimore were allowed to visit them giving them supplies and encouragement.

A camp for sick and wounded Union soldiers was located in the enclosure. No notice was taken of them. That was more than the Connecticut boys could stand for. A raid was made on the Baltimoreans, they were run out of the fort, the supplies confiscated and given to the disabled Union soldiers who were in need of some comforts. Fort McHenry was like being in prison. We were not allowed outside of the walls. We had quite a number of callers from Connecticut. They were always welcome. Citizens were allowed passes to enter the grounds.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 9-10.  Editor’s Note: this diary entry seems to have been written after its heading date, as the Battle of Antietam would not happen for another two weeks.

The Battle at Corinth

The contemplated battle at Corinth received importance from the fact, that it is generally believed it will be the last general engagement of the war.  Upon its issue hinges the fate of the Southern Confederacy.  The rebels will fight desperately, and only yield when thoroughly whipped – provided they fight at all.

Although a battle is hourly expected it may be weeks before it occurs.  If Gen. Halleck concludes to lay siege to the place, and take the enemy by strategy, as Com. Foote did at Island No. 10 and Gen. McClellan tried to do at Yorktown, weeks may elapse before the final charge, a la Donelson, is made.  We doubt very much, however, if this ever come to pass.  Beauregard, if we mistake not the man, is differently constituted from Lee, Johnson or Magruder, and knowing that he will be defeated, would rather yield at the head of his army acting on the offensive, than ‘die in the last ditch’ in a retreat.  This rebellion has been so demoralizing in its who scope, that we should not be surprised, nevertheless, if the feeling spread from men to officers, and, impressed with the futility of further contending, all united in a grand foot-race.

Time will only determine these things.  In the meanwhile we can but speculate on the result, provided there is no battle, and prognosticate if there be; always believing that, in either case the Federal army will take no step backward, but march on to the tune of the “star-spangled banner,” until that ensign of our liberties waves over ever rood of land embraced within the national domain.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Saturday Morning, May 17, 1862, p. 2