Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 10, 1864

Have bought of a new prisoner quite a large (thick I mean,) blank book so as to continue my diary. Although it's a tedious and tiresome task, am determined to keep it up. Don't know of another man in prison who is doing likewise. Wish I had the gift of description that I might describe this place. Know that I am not good at such things, and have more particularly kept track of the mess which was the “Astor House Mess” on Belle Isle, and is still called so here. Thought that Belle Isle was a very bad place, and used about the worst language I knew how to use in describing it, and so find myself at fault in depicting matters here as they are. At Belle Isle we had good water and plenty of it, and I believe it depends more upon water than food as regards health. We also had good pure air from up the James River. Here we have the very worst kind of water. Nothing can be worse or nastier than the stream drizzling its way through this camp. And for air to breathe, it is what arises from this foul place. On all four sides of us are high walls and tall trees, and there is apparently no wind or breeze to blow away the stench, and we are obliged to breathe and live in it. Dead bodies lay around all day in the broiling sun, by the dozen and even hundreds, and we must suffer and live in this atmosphere. It's too horrible for me to describe in fitting language. There was once a very profane man driving a team of horses attached to a wagon in which there were forty or fifty bushels of potatoes It was a big load and there was a long hill to go up. The very profane man got off the load of potatoes to lighten the weight, and started the team up the hill. It was hard work, but they finally reached the top and stopped to rest. The profane man looked behind him and saw that the end board of the wagon had slipped out just as he had started, and there the potatoes were, scattered all the way along up the hill. Did the man make the very air blue with profanity? No, he sat down on a log feeling that he couldn't do the subject justice and so he remarked: “No! it's no use, I can't do it justice” While I have no reason or desire to swear, I certainly cannot do this prison justice. It's too stupendous an undertaking. Only those who are here will ever know what Andersonville is.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 81

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 29, 1863

A dispatch from Gen. Johnston, dated 27th inst, says fighting at Vicksburg had been in progress ever since the 19th instant, and that our troops have been invariably successful in repulsing the assults. Other dispatches say the uuburied dead of the enemy, lying in heaps near our fortifications, have produced such an intolerable stench that our men are burning barrels of tar without their works.

But still all is indefinite. Yet, from the persistent assaults of the enemy it may be inferred that Grant is inspired with the conviction that it is necessary for him to capture Vicksburg immediately, and before Johnston collects an army in his rear. A few days may produce a decisive result.

Hon. E. S. Dargan, Mobile, Ala., writes that it is indispensable for our government to stipulate for aid from Europe at the earliest moment practicable, even if we must agree to the gradual emancipation of the slaves. He says the enemy will soon overrun the Southwestern States and prevent communication with the East, and then these States (Eastern) cannot long resist the superior numbers of the invaders. Better (he thinks, I suppose) yield slavery, and even be under the protection of a foreign government, than succumb to the United States.

The enemy, wherever they have possession in the South, have adopted the policy of sending away (into the Confederate States) all the inhabitants who refuse to take the oath of allegiance. This enables them to appropriate their property, and, being destitute, the wanderers will aid in the consumption of the stores of the Confederates. A Mr. W. E. Benthuisen, merchant, sent from New Orleans, telegraphs the President for passports for himself and family to proceed to Richmond. The President intimates to the Secretary of War that many similar cases may be looked for, and he thinks it would be better for the families to be dispersed in the country than congregated in the city.

The following are the wholesale prices to-day:

“produce, provisions, etc. – The quotations given are wholesale. Wheat-nothing doing – we quote it nominal at $6.50 to $7; corn, very scarce, may be quoted at $9 to $10; oats, $6 to $6.50 per bushel; flour-superfine, $32, extra, $34, family, $37 per barrel; corn-meal, $11 per bushel; bacon, hoground, $1.45 to $1.50 – a strictly prime article a shade higher; butter, $2.50 to $3 per pound; lard, $1.50 to $1.60; candles, $2.75 to $3 for tallow, $5 for adamantine; dried fruit-apples, $10 to $12, peaches, $15 to $18 per bushel; eggs, $1.40 to $1.50 per dozen; beans, $18 to $20; peas, $15 to $18 per bushel; potatoes, $8 to $10 per bushel; hay and sheaf-oats, $10 to $12 per cwt.; rice, 18 to 20 cents per pound; salt, 45 to 50 cents per pound; soap, 50 to 60 cents per pound for hard country.

leather. — Market unsettled. We quote as follows: Sole, $3.50 to $4 per pound; harness, $1 to $1.25; russett and wax upper, $5 to $5.50; wax kip skins, $6 per pound; calf skins, $300 to $325 per dozen.

liquors. — We continue to quote apple brandy at $23 to $25; whisky, $28 to $32; French brandy — common, $45, genuine, $30 per gallon.

groceries. — Brown sugar, $1.40 to $1.55 per pound — no clarified or crushed offering; molasses, $10.50 to $11 per gallon; coffee, $3.75 to $4 per pound; tea, $8.50 to $10 per pound.”

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 335-6

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: May 19, 1864

Nearly twenty thousand men confined here now. New ones coming every day. Rations very small and very poor. The meal that the bread is made out of is ground, seemingly, cob and all, and it scourges the men fearfully. Things getting continually worse. Hundreds of cases of dropsy. Men puff out of human shape and are perfectly horrible to look at. Philo Lewis died today. Could not have weighed at the time of his death more than ninety pounds, and was originally a large man, weighing not less than one hundred and seventy. Jack Walker, of the 9th Mich. Cavalry, has received the appointment to assist in carrying out the dead, for which service he receives an extra ration of corn bread.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 59

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: April 3, 1864

We have stopped wondering at suffering or being surprised at anything. Can't do the subject justice and so don't try. Walk around camp every morning looking for acquaintances, the sick, &c. can see a dozen most any morning laying around dead A great many are terribly afflicted with diarrhea and scurvy begins to take hold of some. Scurvy is a bad disease, and taken in connection with the former is sure death. Some have dropsy as well as scurvy, and the swollen limbs and body are sad to see. To think that these victims have people at home, mothers, wives and sisters, who are thinking of them and would do much for them if they had the chance, little dreaming of their condition.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 46

Private Charles Wright Wills: September 30, 1861

Norfolk, September 30, 1861.

You think I'm doing pretty well in the number of my letters, don't you? I can afford to for you are the only correspondent I have. You musn't be surprised if you don't get letters from me so regularly after this, for if we start back in the country, as I expect we will, to intercept Price's retreat if Fremont whips him, we may be away from mails and such like for some time. If anything happens to me you will hear it just as quick as the news can be taken to you.

Since my last we have had some more fun here. Our company was out a few miles the other day to capture an old cuss we thought was peddling news from our camp down to Columbus. He had skedaddled though before we got to his house. We gobbled up all the loose plunder we could find lying around, it wasn't much, and marched back. We had a mighty good time on picket a few nights ago. It was confounded cold, bushwhackers or no bushwackers we concluded to have a fire. A couple of the boys volunteered to go back to camp for kettles and coffee, and we found lots of nice roasting ears in the field we were camped in, and a kind of pumpkin that ate very well after a little roast before the fire. Then there were splendid pawpaws, lots of nuts of all kinds which a little fire made ripe, and we sat and cooked and ate all night. I can eat, if necessary, 36 hours without intermission except for an occasional drink, and I drink nearly a half gallon of coffee per day.

Last night the Pekin company in our regiment were on picket and at 3 this morning they were attacked. Ten of them held their ground against 150 half-mounted and half-foot and finally made them scoot. It was a devilish brave thing. The Rebels left one dead and one so badly wounded that he’ll die to-night, and carried off two others dead and four badly wounded. A lot more were scratched. But one of our men was wounded, and that a flesh wound in the arm, that will hardly take him off duty. The firing roused us here in the camp and we thought from the noise that the longed fight had come at last for certain. I tell you it was funny when the long roll (we would not get out of bed without the long roll for a thousand cannons these cold nights) to see the boys scramble for shoes and accoutrements. There was some profanity. I have just been to see a poor devil that has blown half of his head off this afternoon to get rid of his troubles. A soldier. Don't know what he suicided for. We are messed off now, 15 in a tent, each tent's inmates cooking and eating by themselves.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 33-4

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, September 19, 1864 – Part 10

So far as this first assault is concerned it can be summed up quite briefly. The only considerable amount of the enemy's infantry in the immediate front of the Union infantry line of battle was in the ravine in front of our division, and it was about two hundred and fifty yards away from where we formed line behind the woods; it was a very strong force. If the troops to our right and left instead of instinctively obliquing away from us veteran like to an easier place in their right and left fronts respectively, had guided on our division as it is claimed they were directed to do, they would have had an enfilading fire on the enemy on our front, the same as General Russell's division would have had when it filled the gap to my right which the enemy knew would make their position untenable and so instantaneously retreated in a rout when it saw him coming dangerously near, his right flank overlapping their left. When Russell's movement was executed the Nineteenth Corps' lines of battle hadn't even broken. There was no considerable number of the enemy before it within striking distance so far as I could see, and therefore nothing to break its lines so far as the enemy was concerned until it reached the breaks in its front.

The Vermont Brigade could have easily advanced at any time of the assault or any other part of the Second Division, as there was nothing to speak of — as virtually acknowledged by Colonel Aldace F. Walker of that brigade in his “History of the Vermont Brigade in the Shenandoah Valley, 1864”— in its immediate front except about a regiment of the enemy which crossed the pike from his right and the left of our Brigade to my front.* (See No. 7 illustration). Had the Vermont Brigade borne to its right instead of its left it would have done much more effective service, as it would have been on high ground overlooking the enemy in my front when out of the ravine. In this instance the credit given this excellent brigade in at least one Civil War history is erroneous, without the Third Division was expected to whip at once and alone a considerable part of the infantry and artillery of Early's army in its immediate front, no small part of which was in our regimental front and its immediate right. In proof that there was no considerable rebel force in front of the Second Division to the left of the pike until Early's second stand, the reader is invited to examine the official War Department map of this battle and note the fact; but aside from this I know there was none. What, therefore, was to prevent the Second Division or Vermont Brigade from advancing? Unlike our front, where the strip of timber was narrow, with the enemy strongly posted just beyond, the scrub or second growth oak, etc., in front of a part of the Second Division next to us, extended from the top of the ridge or divide which ran several hundred yards southerly, down to the bottom of the ravine a hundred yards more or less, which covered here the Second Division's advance and the cleared ground beyond, after emerging from the wooded side hill and ravine towards Winchester, contained no force of the enemy, as there was no immediate protection for it, sufficient to prevent its or even the Vermont Brigade's advancing, or the enemy would have done so. (See Nos. 3, 7 and 8 illustrations.) I mention this here because I know the facts in the premises, and because this Division is complimented —unfortunately, but probably unwittingly so — in one or more histories for advancing, in unpleasant contrast to our Division, which was up against the real thing, and its advancing depended largely on the help or enfilading fire along our front, we had a right to expect from the troops which should have guided on us from both flanks, but which we never got, as they pulled away from us. It was useless to try to take such a place as confronted the right of our regiment and Division by assaulting from its immediate front (see Nos. 5 and 6 illustrations), as the enemy had to be flanked out of its position, which is what Russell's men would have done on the rebel left in case the enemy hadn't seen them in season to get away and thereby saved many casualties on both sides, and probably largely there the enemy's capture.

There were none of the Second Brigade of our Division on my right after advancing through the woods, nor had there been up to the time General Russell's command filled the gap occasioned by the Second Brigade's absence, together with the space caused by the Nineteenth Corps obliquing to its right. It being level, shell and bullet swept, it was untenable until a force came large enough to drive the enemy's infantry from cover, as Russell did. (See No. 5 illustration). I was the only officer except Adjutant Wyllys Lyman, who is deceased, so far ahead at that time on my part of the battlefield, and I can make affidavit to this statement. We and a goodly number of scattering men who generally led in most assaults were within a rod of the enemy's strongest manned works, which no map in existence shows that I have seen, where I was twice almost instantaneously wounded when the enemy ran as it saw General Russell's Division coming, as though their lives depended upon it, and I know whereof I am writing.

General Sheridan made no mistake when he selected the First Brigade for the centre and most important point of his line of battle, nor was it a mistake to place our regiment and the Fourteenth New Jersey — with direction for the rest of the army to guide on our Division in the first assault, for the road was practically straight — squarely across the pike, with their colors on it, with such men as Corporals Alexander Scott, F. H. Hoadley, Tenth Vermont, and other of the color guard like them, to keep them there, for such men would go wherever told to, if into the very jaws of death. The leaving off from the official map of this battle of the enemy's infantry in the ravine in front of the Third Division (see Nos. 6 and 8 illustrations), is a great injustice to our regiment, which never wholly fell back, but the usual per cent. of men under such circumstances stubbornly pressed forward under the most trying circumstances at any rate where I was. The leaving off of the enemy's infantry in my front, where it was strongest, is misleading and is doubtless what has caused so many wrong descriptions of this fight. No one can give a correct description of it where I was except at that point during the fight. The enemy contested this point more stubbornly than any other during the day and it was here the most intrepid of our men assaulted; it was the doorway to the great battlefield, and if the enemy couldn't hold this point it couldn't hope to any other, and didn't. Although our division was smaller than either of the other divisions of our Corps, its loss was much heavier. General Grant had one hundred shotted guns fired on his lines in front of Petersburg in honor of this day's victory by Sheridan. A citizen of Winchester told me that one of the saddest things he saw during the day was a horse going through the streets of the city with two badly wounded and one dead Confederate soldiers on it — probably chums — the latter thrown over the horse's back with his head and arms hanging on one side and his feet on the other; but war is a cruel teacher and produces the most shocking sights imaginable. It is not pleasant to record and much less dwell on them.

No. 9 – Straight view of about a half mile of the pike looking westerly towards Winchester, Va., from the divide on Sheridan's battle-field, Sept. 10. 1864. Observe the cut through the divide for the road. 

_______________

* Haynes’ “History of the Tenth Vermont Infantry,” p. 253.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 175-80

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: January 9, 1864

A signal light suspended over the island all last night for some reason unknown to the men confined here. We are cautioned against approaching within eight or ten feet from the bank. One of the raiders went through a man who lay near the bank and started to run after robbing him. A guard who saw the whole affair shot the villain dead and was applauded by all who knew of the affair. Fifteen or twenty carried out this morning dead and thirty or forty nearly so in blankets.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 25

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Sunday, April 9, 1865

Revelie this morning on the drums which is the first time while we have been before Spanish fort. Soon as breakfast is over many of the men go out to see the forts. The report on their return the roads & all arond the forts in the very grond we walked over was planted with hundreds of torpedos & it was a wonder that hundreds of men had not been killed, the reason is the caps over the tops put there to protect them had not been removed the Pioneer Corps are taking up dead loads of them, the cannon 30 in no were spiked with wraught iron which is taken out of most of them all ready, directly after breakfast the general blows, it begins to rain, is 12 before we move up on the hill by Div Hd Qtrs when 4 days rations is issued to the men, is 1. P. M. when we start out for Blakely when, we had gone about a mile Lt Rice rides up & tells us the news at the landing is that Petersburg & Richmond is evacuated & Lee fallen back to Lynchburgh, 2 mile out & just outside of Smiths rear the 13th Ind cav is out on review Latter part of the roads very bad & were until 9. P. M. getting to camp, in the evening we are on a forced march for some purpose, as we near Blakely meet some soldiers who say. you need not run yourselves to death for Blakely is ours. on inquiry learned that it had surrendered about ½ hour before having been carried by assault. Our men losst heavily many of them torn to pieces by the explosion of torpedos captured about 2400 prisoners & 25 pieces of artillery, some 100 Ibers we meet 9. ambulance loads of wounded, hear that 2 rams run in & surrendered after the fort had surrendered. The negros in the charge are said to have taken few prisoners on account of one of their men having been shot who was captured, (this is all rumor) a slight sprinkle of rain this evening.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 587-8

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: Sunday, June 14, 1863

We have now arrived through the vicissitudes and chances of this siege, to another day that will ever be memorable, not for the amount of good or for important victories gained on that day, but for reasons quite the contrary. It will be remembered by the actors in that drama for the desperate encounters of a “forlorn hope,” and for the terrible and useless slaughter of human lives. At 12 o'clock midnight, we were ordered in line of battle. The night was dark, but the soldiers groped their way through the forest, two miles and a half, towards the left. Here we found eight or ten regiments ready to move. But before we did so it had begun to be daylight. We passed over a bridge, across Thompson's creek, up the bluff, and halted. A line of skirmishers had been sent out to drive in the enemy's pickets, so that the infantry could pass through the trenches without annoyance or discovery. But while we were waiting for this the enemy opened on us from the fortress with heavy guns, firing every conceivable thing they could get into them — pieces of railroad iron, old horseshoes, nails, spikes, etc.—but they flew harmlessly over our heads. A bullet flew uncomfortably near me and wounded a man directly in my rear. It hit his leg, and I heard the bones crash.

But the order soon came to march. A road had been cut through the fallen timber for about half a mile. It wound among the hills in such a manner that no part of it was exposed to the fire from the fort. This was continued up to within two or three hundred yards of the works. The terminus was protected by a pile of cotton bales. To the left and running parallel to the enemy's breastworks, was a line of hills. We filed to the left and formed in line of battle behind these. During the whole of this time I was ignorant and so was everyone else around me, of what we were about to do. There was a vague notion, however, that there was to be a charge somewhere on the enemy's works. Whoever planned these defences seemed to have understood his business. The timber was cut back three-fourths of a mile from the embankments, tree tops interlacing with each other formed almost an impregnable barrier. Between us and the fortification was the hill or ridge of land, behind which the line of battle was formed, and a hollow between this and the fort. This last was full of deep gullies and fallen timber, rendering it almost impassable. Colonel Holcomb was acting Brigadier General that day. He was a brave man and a good officer. Our bayonets were fixed, and the Colonel gave the command, “Forward! double quick, march.” The first Louisiana gave a yell, and up the hill they went. But no sooner had they come in range of the guns on the breastworks than they were met by one of the most withering fires ever seen by mortal man. In crossing a level piece of ground on the top of the hill I cast my eye around and saw that almost every man had fallen. I halted, and thought, “Well, what does this mean? I do not believe I can take Port Hudson alone and guess I'll fall down too.” There was a white oak tree about a foot through lying on the ground in front of me, so I pitched down, and laid on my face as close to the log as I could get. And I did not get down any too soon, for the bullets began to come, cutting the bark on the top of the log, and striking the ground two or three feet beyond me, but they could not hit me; so I lay there until they got through firing. I then ventured to lift my head to see what was going on, as I supposed Colonel Holcomb would give the command to go forward again. The ground was covered with men as far as I could see, and it seemed as though it was a half a mile. Soon after falling down behind the log, I heard Col. Holcomb say, “13th Connecticut, why don't you move forward?” The 13th gave a faint yell, and came up the hill sharing the same fate as the First Louisiana did. They were on our left. Those were the last words I heard the Colonel speak. After looking as long as I dared, I laid my head down again behind the log: but the rebels had seen me, and began firing again, so I laid still till they got through, and then I gave another look. The men lay there just as they were when I looked before. I thought, “why don't they crawl down the hill and get out of the range of the rebel's guns?” I looked once more and the truth flashed on my mind, that they were all dead or wounded, and they could not get away.

The sun was awful hot, and I had played “hide and go seek” long enough with “my friends the enemy;” besides, I did not see any further prospect of taking Port Hudson that day, so I thought I might as well get out. In coming up the hill I noticed a deep gully on the right, with two logs across it. A young soldier, in a sargeant's uniform, stepped up on the logs, and was crossing, but all at once he stopped, turned round, and fell on his face. He lay there until we got by. Now I thought that would be a good place to get into out of the way of the sun and rebel bullets. So I crawled down the hill, keeping the log between me and my friends until out of the reach of the guns of the fort and got into the gully. The boy still lay there sleeping his last sleep, and I presume his mother never found out where he was. I found Lieut. Gardner in the gully with three or four more of Co. E, First Louisiana. It was quite cool and comfortable there, but the canteens were all empty and no water to be had. The wounded must have suffered terrible agonies lying there in the hot sun. If they stirred a hand or foot the rebels would shoot at them. The groans were something awful. “And there shall be the weeping,” came forcibly to me. It was sure death to undertake to bring one away.

We laid in the gully until 3 o'clock when Lieut. Gardner requested me to go to the rear and gather up the stragglers and bring them back to the gully, as we supposed we were to remain there over night. I thought it prudent to move as fast as convenient, for no sooner had I emerged from the cover than the bullets commenced to fly as thick as bees about a hive on a hot summer's day. I made some pretty long strides down the hill, and was soon out of harm's way. On the way to the bridge I found several of my company and took them along with me. I found the company's cook at the bridge with hot coffee, hard bread, and boiled salt junk. This was a source of rejoicing to the physical man; for the contents of my haversack and canteen of water, brought out at midnight, had been shared at early dawn with my less considerate comrades, and I had not seen food and but little water since that time. I dispatched some men with food to the men on the battle ground. While discussing my coffee I learned that Col. Halcomb, Lieut. Hill, of Co. H, and several other officers and men with whom I had been on terms of intimacy for months past, had been killed. Colonel Halcomb and Lieut. Hill fell nearly at the same time, — the former killed outright and the latter mortally wounded. The Colonel met his death at the moment he ordered the 13th forward, and the words I heard, as related above, were about the last he ever spoke He was struck twice, once in the breast and in the second the ball passed through the brain. This last, of course, was fatal; and I was told by those near him when he was killed, that as soon as the ball struck him he threw up his hand exclaiming, “Oh, G—” (the power of utterance ceasing before the words were articulated) and fell. His body was taken from the field and sent to his family in Connecticut. Lieut. Hill was wounded in the breast and died several weeks later in the hospital at New Orleans. On the way through the woods in the morning his manner was singular. He conversed with me much, and it was about his people at home, and it was of a melancholy nature. He was a brave officer and everybody loved him.

The news I learned that night was sad indeed. We dispatched our supper as soon as possible and started on the return. We had not gone far, however, when we met some men of our regiment who reported that the troops were all coming out. On hearing this we halted by the roadside, and soon Major Grosvenor appeared at the head of all that remained of the First Louisiana. We fell in and marched back to the bridge. Here we compared notes, and while some were lamenting the noble slain others were rejoicing that some were left alive. The night was dark, and Lieut. Jenner and I sat on the ground talking over the events of the day. We did not observe that our companies had gone, but they had, so we started in pursuit, but so many paths led through the woods that we soon discovered that we were lost — lost in the woods in face of a mortal foe, in the night. “All right, let it be so. But I'll tell you what I am going to do. I am going to camp right here. If we wander around here in the dark we will run on to the rebel pickets, and fetch up in Andersonville prison.” Lieut. Jenner agreed I was right. So, happening to be under a large Magnolia tree, I selected a big root for a pillow, and we went to bed. I believe I exchanged the root for my canteen during the night, otherwise the night passed without any molestation.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 69-77

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Wednesday, July 1, 1863

We did not leave our camp till noon, as nearly all General Hill's corps had to pass our quarters on its march towards Gettysburg. One division of Ewell's also had to join in a little beyond Greenwood, and Longstreet's corps had to bring up the rear. During the morning I made the acquaintance of Colonel Walton, who used to command the well-known Washington Artillery, but he is now chief of artillery to Longstreet's corps d’armée; he is a big man, ci-devant auctioneer in New Orleans, and I understand he pines to return to his hammer.

Soon after starting we got into a pass in the South mountain, a continuation, I believe, of the Blue Ridge range, which is broken by the Potomac at Harper's Ferry. The scenery through the pass is very fine. The first troops, alongside of whom we rode, belonged to Johnson's division of Ewell's corps. Among them I saw, for the first time, the celebrated “Stonewall” Brigade, formerly commanded by Jackson. In appearance the men differ little from other Confederate soldiers, except, perhaps, that the brigade contains more elderly men and fewer boys. All (except, I think, one regiment) are Virginians. As they have nearly always been on detached duty, few of them knew General Longstreet, except by reputation. Numbers of them asked me whether the General in front was Longstreet; and when I answered in the affirmative, many would run on a hundred yards in order to take a good look at him. This I take to be an immense compliment from any soldier on a long march.

At 2 P.M. firing became distinctly audible in our front, but although it increased as we progressed, it did not seem to be very heavy. A spy who was with us insisted upon there being “a pretty tidy bunch of blue-bellies in or near Gettysburg,” and he declared that he was in their society three days ago.

After passing Johnson's division, we came up to a Florida Brigade, which is now in Hill's corps ; but as it had formerly served under Longstreet, the men knew him well. Some of them (after the General had passed) called out to their comrades, “Look out for work now, boys, for here's the old bull-dog again.”

At 3 P.M. we began to meet wounded men coming to the rear, and the number of these soon increased most rapidly, some hobbling alone, others on stretchers carried by the ambulance corps, and others in the ambulance waggons; many of the latter were stripped nearly naked, and displayed very bad wounds. This spectacle, so revolting to a person unaccustomed to such sights, produced no impression whatever upon the advancing troops, who certainly go under fire with the most perfect nonchalance: they show no enthusiasm or excitement, but the most complete indifference. This is the effect of two years' almost uninterrupted fighting.

We now began to meet Yankee prisoners coming to the rear in considerable numbers: many of them were wounded, but they seemed already to be on excellent terms with their captors, with whom they had commenced swapping canteens, tobacco, &c. Among them was a Pennsylvanian colonel, a miserable object from a wound in his face. In answer to a question, I heard one of them remark, with a laugh, “We're pretty nigh whipped already.” We next came to a Confederate soldier carrying a Yankee colour, belonging, I think, to a Pennsylvanian regiment, which he told us he had just captured.

At 4.30 P.m. we came in sight of Gettysburg and joined General Lee and General Hill, who were on the top of one of the ridges which form the peculiar feature of the country round Gettysburg. We could see the enemy retreating up one of the opposite ridges, pursued by the Confederates with loud yells. The position into which the enemy had been driven was evidently a strong one. His right appeared to rest on a cemetery, on the top of a high ridge to the right of Gettysburg, as we looked at it.

General Hill now came up and told me he had been very unwell all day, and in fact he looks very delicate. He said he had had two of his divisions engaged, and had driven the enemy four miles into his present position, capturing a great many prisoners, some cannon, and some colours; he said, however, that the Yankees had fought with a determination unusual to them. He pointed out a railway cutting, in which they had made a good stand; also, a field in the centre of which he had seen a man plant the regimental colour, round which the regiment had fought for some time with much obstinacy, and when at last it was obliged to retreat, the colour-bearer retired last of all, turning round every now and then to shake his fist at the advancing rebels. General Hill said he felt quite sorry when he saw this gallant Yankee meet his doom.

General Ewell had come up at 3.30, on the enemy's right (with part of his corps), and completed his discomfiture. General Reynolds, one of the best Yankee generals, was reported killed. Whilst we were talking, a message arrived from General Ewell, requesting Hill to press the enemy in the front, whilst he performed the same operation on his right. The pressure was accordingly applied in a mild degree, but the enemy were too strongly posted, and it was too late in the evening for a regular attack. The town of Gettysburg was now occupied by Ewell, and was full of Yankee dead and wounded. I climbed up a tree in the most commanding place I could find, and could form a pretty good general idea of the enemy's position, although, the tops of the ridges being covered with pinewoods, it was very difficult to see anything of the troops concealed in them. The firing ceased about dark, at which time I rode back with General Longstreet and his Staff to his headquarters at Cashtown, a little village eight miles from Gettysburg. At that time troops were pouring along the road, and were being marched towards the position they are to occupy to-morrow.

In the fight to-day nearly 6000 prisoners had been taken, and 10 guns. About 20,000 men must have been on the field on the Confederate side. The enemy had two corps d’armée engaged. All the prisoners belong, I think, to the 1st and 11th corps. This day's work is called a “brisk little scurry,” and all anticipate a “big battle” to-morrow.

I observed that the artillerymen in charge of the horses dig themselves little holes like graves, throwing up the earth at the upper end. They ensconce themselves in these holes when under fire.

At supper this evening, General Longstreet spoke of the enemy's position as being “very formidable.” He also said that they would doubtless intrench themselves strongly during the night* The Staff officers spoke of the battle as a certainty, and the universal feeling in the army was one of profound contempt for an enemy whom they have beaten so constantly, and under so many disadvantages.

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* I have the best reason for supposing that the fight came off prematurely, and that neither Lee nor Longstreet intended that it should have begun that day. I also think that their plans were deranged by the events of the first.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 257-62

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Friday, May 13, 1864

My prayer for Lee's withdrawal last night was granted. Our Division moved to the “Bloody Angle” this morning; it virtually joined our regiment's left last night. The enemy abandoned the angle during the night after three days' desperate fighting. No pen can fully describe the appearance of the battlefield — and yet our wounded and dead have been cared for, and some of the enemy's, by us and such are mostly out of view. The sight of the enemy's dead is something dreadful. There are three dead lines of battle a half mile more or less in length — men killed in every conceivable manner. The wounded are fairly bound in by the dead. Lee abandoned his works leaving most of his wounded, and all his dead in our hands unburied. Several pieces of artillery were taken. Prisoners say that General Lee fought in person as it meant the loss of his army if his line was broken here, as well as Richmond.

No wonder from its present appearance this place has been christened the “Bloody Angle” and the “Slaughter Pen.” For several hundred yards — fully a half mile or more — in the edge of the heavy oak forest of immense trees skirting an open field, the enemy's works are faultlessly strong of large oak logs and dirt shoulder high with traverses fifty feet back every sixty feet or so. This breastwork is filled with dead and wounded where they fell, several deep nearly to the top in front, extending for forty feet more or less back gradually sloping from front to rear, to one deep before the ground can be seen. The dead as a whole as they lie in their works are like an immense wedge with its head towards the works. Think of such a mass of dead! hundreds and hundreds piled top of each other! At the usual distance in rear of these breastworks — about ninety feet — are two more complete dead lines of battle about one hundred feet apart the dead bodies lying where the men fell in line of battle shot dead in their tracks. The lines are perfectly defined by dead men so close they touch each other. Many of the bodies have turned black, the stench is terrible, and the sight shocking beyond description. I saw several wounded men in the breastworks buried under their dead, just move a hand a little as it stuck up through the interstices above the dead bodies that buried the live ones otherwise completely from sight. Imagine such a sight if one can! It is indescribable! It was sickening, distressing and shocking to look upon! But, above all, think if one can of the feelings of the brave men who, regiment after regiment, were marched up in line of battle time and again for several days to fight with such a sight confronting them! Could anything in Hades be any worse? Only the misery I imagine, of an uneasy conscience at some great wrong done an innocent person could exceed it. It seems like a horrible nightmare! Such intrepidity is worthy of a better cause. Was there ever before such a shocking battlefield? Will the historian ever correctly record it? No pen can do it. The sight of such a horror only can fully portray it.

The First and Second Divisions of the Sixth Corps and Hancock's men have done most of the fighting today at the “Bloody Angle.” The Sixth Corps has lost eight hundred and forty wounded and two hundred and fifty killed. The loss of our army at Spottsylvania Court House has been five thousand two hundred and thirty-three of which number nine hundred have been killed. Our Division has lost in this fight to-day twenty-three killed and one hundred and twenty-three wounded. I examined this forenoon an oak tree fully eighteen inches in diameter felled by being cut off by minie bullets at the apex of the “Bloody Angle” occupied by the enemy. I could hardly believe my eyes, but there stood the stump and the felled tree with the wood for two feet or more all eaten away by bullets.*

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*The stump of this tree is on exhibition at the War Department in Washington, D. C, or was a few years since — L. A. A.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 57

EDITOR'S NOTE: The "Spotsylvania Stump" is in the collection of the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American History, Behring Center, in Washington, D.C.: Catalog #: 4435    Accession #: 20209

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Thursday, May 12, 1864

Rained all night and incessantly till 10 o'clock a. m. There has been desperate fighting by the Sixth and Second Corps on our left all day at the “Bloody Angle” where they have held the enemy back as well as tried to take its works, but with great loss of life. This will evidently go down as one of the most bloody and desperate battles of the war. The Tenth Vermont was relieved by some of the Fifth Corps about 3 o'clock p. m., our Division having been ordered further to the left adjoining the “Bloody Angle” or “Slaughter Pen.” Just after we had stacked arms under the brow of a slight ridge next the bloody angle, Captain H. R. Steele wandered a little distance in front and almost immediately returned hopping along holding up his foot saying he was shot. I ordered some of the men to take him to the hospital.

I am now in command of Company K. The men seem pleased, and I'm sure I am for I like the Company. The men seem sensible, and I know them to be reliable good fighters. I am not sure but what they will win my esteem from Company B, but I never have been fickle; there's room in my heart for all the men of the gallant old Tenth Vermont. They have faith in me and it's mutual. They will never be turned down by me. We are to bivouac on our arms in a dense growth of pine forest with the enemy immediately a short distance in front. Surely this fierce struggle of giant armies can't last more than a day more. Either one or the other will have to yield, and as we have had the best of it here thus far, it will be Lee.

It is wet and depressing for the “Slaughter Pen” will be our portion next without Lee withdraws tonight which God grant he may do if it is His will. The thought that we may have to assault into the jaws of death at the bloody angle in the gray of the morning is appalling for I am told there are thousands of dead and uncared for wounded on the field between the lines, and in the rebel works the dead and wounded lay in piles, the wounded bound in by the dead several deep. The rattle and roar of musketry and artillery is dreadful as I write and may continue all night. I am about to lie down perhaps for my last sleep, but I'm too exhausted to have the thought keep me awake for seldom has sleep, sweet sleep, been more welcome. But I have never thought I should be killed in battle. It's delightful to have perfect faith — the faith of a child in such a way. It helps one to go into battle, although I dread being wounded, it shocks the system so. I never go into a fight or take a railroad journey, though, without feeling reconciled to yield up my spirit to Him who gave it if it is His will. This gives one calmness and reconciliation unspeakable. God be praised for giving me such peace. This is my prayer.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 55-7

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Wednesday, May 11, 1864

Very sultry until about 5 o'clock p. m. when the heavens became shrouded with dark and threatening clouds and a terrific thunder-storm followed, which continued till about dark, when our whippoorwill again dolefully sang out “Whip-em-well! Whip-emwell!” as our men are pleased to interpret it. A whippoorwill has appeared midway between the lines every evening since we left winter camp, with its solemn song, until the men regard it as a good omen. It don't seem to occur to them that the enemy may regard it the same way, as meant for them to whip us.

There has been a furious cannonading kept up by our side all day. The enemy has made three or four fruitless attempts to plant batteries, and return the fire in our front, but without success; has been hard fighting on our left all day by the rest of the Sixth Corps and General Hancock's men; was relieved from my pit by Lieut. G. E. Davis. I ache all over from having been in the hole twenty-four hours in the same position. It wasn't safe to stand up nor did I try it, as it would draw the sharpshooter's fire up the trees, etc. One could only occasionally raise his head high enough to peek under the bushes, during lulls in firing, which masked our position as the place was almost continually under fire. It is close by on the ground occupied by our regiment and in its front that General Sedgwick, our Corps Commander, was killed by a sharpshooter when locating a battery, and where General W. H. Morris, our Brigade Commander was wounded when changing the position of two regiments which makes us doubly cautious. It's a dangerous point being high and furthest advanced of any part of the line. The stench from the dead is sickening and terrible.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 54-5

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Tuesday, May 10, 1864

Warm and sultry. The stench from the dead between the lines is terrible. There has been hard fighting on our right all day. As for the Tenth Vermont it has been supporting a battery most of the time. According to rumor we have captured a large number of prisoners and several pieces of artillery. About 6 o'clock p. m. our batteries opened a tremendous fire on the enemy's works, and kept it up for two hours, but with what result I do not know, except that the guns in our front were silenced. It was a fine artillery duel and the roar appalling even to a practiced ear. We are getting the best of Lee in this battle but it's stubborn fighting on both sides.

The accuracy with which our gunners fire is wonderful. I have seen one piece of the enemy's artillery opposite me turned completely over backwards carriage and all, by a solid shot from one of our guns in front of our regiment; it evidently hit the enemy's cannon square in the muzzle. It is awe-inspiring to see the regularity, the determined set look and precision with which our begrimed artillerymen stick to their work; shot and shell screeching close by don't seem to disturb them. I was spellbound and speechless with awe and admiration for their splendid pluck and nerve for some time, at first. No words can picture such a scene. I'd rather be a “doughboy”* though — anything but an artilleryman, for I hate shells and solid shot. I think I can face anything in a charge without flinching after this splendid exhibition of nerve.

Our regiment relieved the One Hundred and Fifty-first Ohio Volunteer Infantry on the skirmish line to-night. I am on lookout in a grave-like hole about the length of a man some two feet deep on top of a hillock with cut bushes stuck all about as a mask in the soft dirt thrown from the hole. The cheerfully suggestive grave-like hole is wide enough for two, and I have Corporal Shedd with me. Even such a place is fine under the circumstances for there is a constant whizzing of bullets and shrieking shells over my abode. We are not more than fifty yards from our main line so close are the two armies at this point. We have to relieve each other at night stealthily under the cover of darkness.

_______________

* An infantryman.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 52-3

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Monday, May 9, 1864

Our army's line is about five miles long this morning and runs northwest by southeast. General Hancock occupies the right followed by General Warren, Generals Sedgwick and Burnside in the order mentioned. Our batteries have been shelling the enemy fiercely all day and this evening, but the heaviest fighting seems to be on our left. Our regiment was terribly shelled when supporting batteries which has been all day. We were ordered to lie flat on the ground in one instant and there's no doubt but what we did for the ground was a dead level and the shells whistled and shrieked very thickly and closely over us. It was terribly nerve-trying. The Johnnies didn't want to see us bad enough though, to come over and call. We could see many dead between the lines in our front a little to the left of where we supported a battery this morning, of both armies, as a result of the assault last night. It is a shocking sight, but such is war.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 51-2

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Colonel Eliakim P Scammon, May 2, 1862

Camp Number 5, Princeton, May 2, 7:30 A. M., 1862.

Sir: — Your strictures on the expedition under Lieutenant Bottsford are very severe. I wrote you my account of it hastily during a momentary delay of the column and am perhaps blamable for sending to you anything so imperfect as to lead to such misapprehension. I was, however, compelled to write such an account or none at all. I trusted to your favorable judgment of what was done rather than to the fulness and accuracy of what I was writing. I thought that a most meritorious thing in all respects had been done and did not imagine that it could be so stated as to give you such a view of it as you have taken.

You seem to think that the expedition was an improper one and that Lieutenant Bottsford or his men must have been guilty of great negligence. I think the expedition was strictly according to the spirit and letter of instruction given by both you and General Fremont and that no blame ought to attach to any one for the manner of it in any particular. I knew by reliable information, which turned out to be perfectly correct, that Captain Foley and his notorious gang of bushwhackers were camped within sixteen or eighteen miles of the camp at Shady Spring where I was stationed; that Foley's force was from thirty to sixty men, and that the only way of catching him was by surprising his camp at night or early daylight. I sent Lieutenant Bottsford with about seventy-five men of Company C, aided by Sergeant Abbott and his scouts, six in number, to do this service. I was satisfied that the enemy had no force worth naming nearer than Princeton, and at Princeton their force was small, probably not over two hundred or three hundred. All this information has turned out to be correct. Lieutenant Bottsford left camp at 9 P. M., April 29, and reached Foley's about daylight. He found the nest warm but the bird was gone. I can find no blame in this. He was compelled to move slowly in a strange country at night. A scout could easily give the required warning without fault on our part.

On the 30th, Lieutenant Bottsford scouted the country for the bushwhackers; camped in a house very defensible within four to six miles of where he knew I was to camp with the regiment. In the meantime Lieutenant-Colonel Fitz Hugh, or Fitzhugh, had marched with the whole force at Princeton, four companies of Jenifer's Cavalry, dismounted, numbering over two hundred, to aid Foley. This was done on the morning of the 30th, and on that evening Foley with bushwhackers and militia, to the number of seventy-five or one hundred, joined Fitzhugh. During the night they got as near Lieutenant Bottsford as they could without alarming his pickets, not near enough to do any mischief. In the morning Lieutenant Bottsford prepared to return to camp. He drew in his pickets, formed his line, and then for the first time, the enemy came within gunshot. Bottsford's men, in line of battle in front of a log house, saw the enemy approaching. A volley was fired on each side, when Lieutenant Bottsford, finding the strength of the attack, took shelter in the house and fired with such spirit and accuracy as to drive the enemy out of gunshot, leaving his dead and four of his wounded on the field, all of whom were taken possession of by Lieutenant Bottsford's men immediately, besides four wounded prisoners who didn't run far enough before hiding.

This attack was in no blamable sense “a surprise.” It found Lieutenant Bottsford perfectly prepared for it.

You seem to think there was nothing gained by this affair; that it is a “disaster” and that “we lost twenty men.” Surely I could have said nothing to warrant this. Of the twenty wounded over two-thirds were able and desired to march to Princeton with us. Our loss was one killed, two dangerously, perhaps mortally, wounded, and two, possibly three, others disabled, — perhaps not more than one. The enemy's loss was thirteen dead and disabled that “we got.” Captain Foley was disabled and we know of four others in like condition and I know not how many slightly wounded. This is not a disaster, but a fight of the sort which crushes the Rebellion.

You speak of Company C as advanced beyond “supporting distance.” We heard the firing and if the enemy had been stubborn should have been in good time to help drive him off. He reported here that our advance did in fact drive him off. If this is not supporting distance, parties cannot leave camp without violating an important rule. Lieutenant Bottsford had retreated to within four miles of us.

Upon the whole, I think that the affair deserves commendation rather than censure, and I take blame to myself for writing you a note under circumstances which precluded a full statement; such a statement as would prevent such misapprehension as I think you are under.

Respectfully,

R. B. Hayes,

Lieutenant-colonel 23RD Regiment, O. V. I.,

Commanding.

[colonel Scammon.]

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 240-2

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Wednesday, August 27, 1862

In the morning did very little. Read some. In the afternoon Delos and I went down to see Charlie. He was about going to water his horses. Stayed a short time and read a Lorain News. Nothing particular. Saw a corpse, a Co. A. man. Went in and saw several sick men. Two from Co. H. are doomed to die. Boys sat about as carelessly as ever, playing cards and swearing. Washed the dishes when I got home. Played ball a little.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 28-9

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Thursday, May 1, 1862

Camp 5, Princeton. — Marched at 6 A. M. Heard firing in advance. Turned out to be Company C on Camp Creek, attacked by Lieutenant-Colonel Fitzhugh with four companies, dismounted, Jenkins' Cavalry and Foley's bushwhackers. The company was in line ready to move off to return to camp when they saw a party of bushwhackers coming down the road who called out (Captain Foley called): “Don't fire; we are Richmond's men.” Immediately after, a volley was fired into our men from all sides. They were surrounded by three hundred Secesh. Finding the attack so heavy, Company C was ordered by Lieutenant Bottsford to take shelter in the log house where they had quartered. They kept up such a spirited fire that the enemy retreated, leaving four dead, four mortally [wounded], four more dangerously. All these we got. Captain Foley had his shoulder broken. The enemy fled in confusion leaving their dead and wounded on the field. This was a splendid victory for Lieutenant Bottsford and Sergeant Ritter, of Company C, and Sergeant Abbott, Company I. They were the prominent officers. Our loss was a German, Pfeffer, killed; Lenox and another mortally wounded, three severely wounded, and fifteen others slightly. Sergeant Ritter had a bullet shot into his head lodging between the scalp and skull. He fell, but instantly jumped up saying, “You must shoot lower if you want to kill me.” It was a gallant fight. Company C wears the honors.

I came up to the scene of the conflict soon after the enemy fled. They say our coming drove them away. I couldn't speak when I came up to the gallant little company and they presented arms to me. I went around shaking hands with the wounded. They all spoke cheerfully. We immediately pushed on in mud and rain after the retreating foe. Captain McIlrath's company (A) [led]. At a house where three cavalrymen were leaving two of the enemy's wounded, they killed one and captured his horse and shotgun, etc. I then sent the cavalry under Lieutenant-Colonel Paxton in advance. They soon were fired on by a gang of bushwhackers from a hill and their horses badly stampeded. One horse threw his forelegs over Colonel Paxton's horse's neck. The cavalry dismounted, charged up the hill, and caught one dragoon.

Finding the cavalry would dismount and skirmish all the bad hillsides (and they were abundant — being twelve miles of defiles), I again put the Twenty-third in advance. At Ferguson's we saw Captain Ward, quartermaster Rebel army, badly wounded and another young soldier.

We pushed on rapidly, crossing Wolf Creek, Camp Creek, and wading Bluestone waist-deep — rain falling, mud deep and slippery. We came in sight of the wagons of the retreating foe, but for want of cavalry familiarized to the business, we were unable to overtake them. We were told of great reinforcements at Princeton or soon to be at Princeton. The Forty-fifth [Virginia] there or coming. Captain Ward, a pleasant gentleman, said we would probably “get thunder at Princeton.” We kept ahead. On approaching town we saw great clouds. Some thought it smoke, some supposed it was clouds. Within two miles we knew the Rebels were burning the town. We hurried forward; soon reached an elevated ground overlooking the place. All the brick buildings, court-house, churches, etc., were burning. I ordered up the howitzers to scatter out the few Rebel cavalry who were doing it; deployed the regiment by a file right into a field and marched forward by battalion front. The town was soon overrun. Some fires were put out; four or five tolerably fine dwellings were saved; a number of small buildings and some good stables were also saved.

And so ended the first of May — twenty-two miles in mud and rain. An exciting day. Five enemy killed, nine badly wounded that we got; three unwounded prisoners, and about a dozen Rebels wounded. Total five killed, three prisoners, twenty-one wounded. A good day's work.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 238-40

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 25, 1862

winchester, Virginia, March 25, 1862.

A blue March morning, and I have just returned from the battle-field. A sight to forget. I question much if description of it is well. You may fancy the scattered dead through woods and over hillsides.

The oddest coincidence of blunders brought about a battle.

Banks's division had left Winchester on Saturday noon. Shields drew back from Strasburg, and had gone on the back of the town (Winchester). No forces or pickets were on the Strasburg road on that side of the town.

On Saturday evening there was some skirmishing by Ashby's cavalry, in which Shields was wounded. It seems that Jackson had been informed that every one had left the town. His skirmish on Saturday failed to develop any large force.

On Sunday, therefore, the fight commenced by our and their artillery. It continued through the day till half past three without any development of infantry on their side. At three o'clock General Banks, supposing it to be only Ashby's cavalry, with a few pieces of artillery, continuing his system of annoyance, went to Harper's Ferry. But, at about four o'clock, Jackson, with his infantry, attempted to turn our right by sending round over a ridge through the woods. No one was in command of our forces. Colonel Kimball, the ranking colonel of Shields's forces, was, so to speak, in charge of the battle. Shields was abed in town. The staff were galloping about, and the soldiers fought like heroes. General Banks had gone to Harper's Ferry. Jackson had put his artillery on the commanding ridge on his left. He had two regiments of infantry behind a stone-wall in rear of the batteries. Here was the sharp fighting. We sent round our force to turn their position and take their artillery. It was done. Then they tried to retake it. Their force came over a hill, and fired over our men. Our men shot up at them and took them in the head and breast. The woods are torn and shivered by musketry and cannon. Thirty men in Confederate homespun, shot in the head, lie in this wood. Their upturned faces seemed to me looking reproach at Jeff Davis. The fight lasted till dark, when Jackson withdrew, leaving us the field and two pieces of artillery and five caissons; leaving also his dead and wounded and two hundred and fifty prisoners in our hands.

Both parties had blundered, — they, by acting on our retreat; we, by acting on his retreat. The upshot is a glorious victory for us. I have just come back from a sad visit to the hospitals; seeing wounded, dying, and dead, Rebels and Loyalists lying side by side, and receiving equal care. The loss on our side is one hundred or more killed, and two to three hundred wounded. Theirs is nearly three hundred killed and probably five hundred wounded. Everything shows how easy it is to kill a great many men by shooting very often! Jackson's men, as some of their wounded state, came down expecting to find Winchester empty. They consider our actual movement a feint. Some of their troops marched two days, and came into action late in the afternoon. I give you my impressions.

We go to Strasburg to-morrow. We shall meet no opposition. We left a door open, and in came Jackson. We must not leave another door open. That's the moral of this story. The sheer fighting of our men saved us. Good by. Love to all at home.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 216-8

Major Wilder Dwight: Monday, March 24, 1862

winchester, Virginia (again), March 24, Monday.

I've only a minute in which to send you greeting. Again are we hurried by a forced march, over rough roads, to see the dregs and debris of a battle, — heaps of wounded, dying, and dead. Well, again fortune is against us. We left here on Saturday morning for Centreville. The bridge across the Shenandoah broke, and luckily delayed us. Back we were ordered at midnight of last night. An angry, bitter, well-fought fight followed, yesterday afternoon, upon an artillery duel which had occupied nearly all day. So little did any one know it was coming, that General Banks went up to Harper's Ferry at three, P. M., and the sharp fight commenced at four! The battle-ground was that on which my pickets had been posted until we left town. It seems to have been an exhibition of dogged courage by unruled and undisciplined soldiers.

So we go The lees and flatness of the sparkling goblet of victory are all that we taste. Jackson and Ashby are clever men. We are slow-w-w!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 215-6