3rd Sergeant Charles Wright Wills: December 29, 1861

Bird's Point, December 29, 1861.

Your letter giving us notice of your sending a box came to hand yesterday with express charges inclosed. I shall go over to Cairo to-morrow to get them if they are there. I haven't been to Cairo for a month. All of the 7th cavalry are on this side now and there are about a dozen of them here all the time. Colonel Kellogg will be here next week. One company in that regiment did the first scouting for the 7th this morning. They rode out southwest about 15 miles and brought in 22 prisoners. ’Tis said there are two or three officers among them, but I rather think they are only a lot of swamp farmers. The boys got only three or four guns it is said, and that is not more than the complement of one woodsman in this country. The boys think they have almost taken Columbus. It was not our Canton company. We are at last established in our quarters and thoroughly “fixed up” with all the modern improvements in the housekeeping line, coupled with the luxuries of the ancients and the gorgeous splendor and voluptuousness of the middle ages. We have a chimney whose base is rock, the age of which man cannot tell, whose towering top is constructed of costly pecan wood boughs embalmed in soft Missouri mud cement. We have a roof and floor, beds and door, of material carved or sawed from the lofty pines of Superior's rock-bound shores. Our door latch is artfully contrived from the classic cypress, and curiously works by aid of a string pendant on the outside, and when our string is drawn inside who can enter? We have tables and chairs and shelves without number and a mantle piece, and, crowning glories, we have good big straw sacks, a bootjack and a dutch oven. Government has also furnished a stove for each mess of 15 in our regiment, so we have nothing more to ask for; not a thing. This is just no soldiering at all. Its hard, but its true that we can't find a thing to pick trouble out of. We are to-day more comfortable than 45 out of 50 people in old Canton. Our building 1s warmer than our house at home, our food is brought to us every third day in such abundance that we can trade off enough surplus to keep us in potatoes, and often other comforts and luxuries. Within 500 yards of us there is wood enough for 10,000 for 20 years, and — I can't half do it justice, so I'll quit. I borrowed a horse of the cavalry, Christmas, slipped past our picket through to the brush and had a long ride all over the country around Charleston. No adventures though. General Paine took command here to-day. He is an old grannie. We are glad he is here though, for we will get our colonel back by it. You can't imagine what a change the last month of cool weather has produced in our troops. From a sick list six weeks ago of nearly 300 in our regiment, with 65 in the hospital, we have come down or up rather, to eight in hospital, and not over 25 or 30 on the “sick in quarters” list. It is astonishing! And here these “damphool” “Forward to Richmond” papers are talking about the fearful decimation that winter will make in our ranks. They “don't know nothing” about soldiering.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 49-50

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

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: March 25, 1864

Lieut. Piersons is no longer in command of the prison, but instead a Capt. Wirtz. Came inside to-day and looked us over. Is not a very prepossessing looking chap. Is about thirty-five or forty years old, rather tall, and a little stoop shouldered; skin has a pale, white livered look, with thin lips. Has a sneering sort of cast of countenance. Makes a fellow feel as if he would like to go up and boot him. Should judge he was a Swede, or some such countryman. Hendryx thinks he could make it warm for him in short order if he only had a chance. Wirtz wears considerable jewelry on his person — long watch chain, something that looks like a diamond for a pin in his shirt, and wears patent leather boots or shoes I asked him if he didn't think we would be exchanged soon. He said: Oh, yes, we would be exchanged soon. Somehow or other this assurance don't elate us much; perhaps it was his manner when saying it. Andersonville is getting to be a rather bad place as it grows warmer. Several sick with fevers and sores.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 43-4

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: May 23, 1861

Lots of men come through here with their backs blue and bloody from beatings; and nine in ten of them got their marks in Memphis. A man from St. Louis was in camp a few days since with one-half of his head shaved, one-half of a heavy beard taken off, two teeth knocked out and his lips all cut with blows from a club. This was done in Memphis the day before I saw him. My health continues excellent. Never felt so well, and think that care is all that is necessary to preserve my health as it is. I can't think that this Illinois climate is mean enough to give a fellow the chills, after it has raised him as well as it has me.

I never enjoyed anything in the world as I do this life, and as for its spoiling me, you'll see if I don't come out a better man than when I went in.

We have commenced fortifying this point. One company is detailed every day to work on this. It is said that it will cost three million. As for enlisting for three years, I can't, or rather won't say now. Tis a sure thing that as long as this war continues I will not be satisfied at home, and if I would there will certainly be no business. There is no use trying to coax me now for I can't tell until my three month's are up. Then, if I feel as now, I shall certainly go in for the war. Our company gets compliments from all the newspaper correspondents.

The whole camp is aching to be ordered to Memphis. Bird's Point is not occupied. We had a company there for one day but withdrew them.

I commenced this about 12 last night in the hospital, but I had so much to do and there were so infernal many bugs that I concluded to postpone it. We do have the richest assortment of bugs here imaginable, from the size of a pin-head up to big black fellows as large as bats. I was sitting up with an old schoolmate from Bloomington, whose company have gone up to Big Muddy and left him to the tender care of our surgeons. The poor devil would die in a week but for the care he gets from a dozen of us here that used to go to school with him. There are about 50 men in our regiment's hospital, and save the few that go up to care for their friends unasked, the poor fellows have no attendance nights. I gave medicine to four beside my friend last night, two of whom are crazy with fever. One of the latter insisted on getting up all the time, and twice he got down stairs while I was attending the others. Not one of our company is there, thank heaven.

Yesterday our company with the whole 7th Regiment were at work on the fortifications. Wheeling dirt and mounting guns was the exercise. The guns we mounted are 36 pounders and weigh three and one-half tons each. Our regiment, except this company, are at the same work to-day. To-morrow the 9th works. General Prentiss paid us a very handsome compliment in saying that our company did more work than any two companies have yet done in the same time. You should see our hands. Mine are covered with blisters. You might as well be making up your mind to the fact that I am not coming home soon. There is but one thing in the way to prevent my going in for the war. That is the talk of cutting off the heads of all lieutenants over 25 years of age, and of all captains over 35. Now under that arrangement all three of our officers will lose their heads, and we know we cannot replace them with as good. This thing, though not certain yet, has created a great deal of excitement in camp, and if it goes into effect will smash our company completely. Our company is the best officered of any in camp. There are no two sides to that proposition.

You'll see that your Canton company will not regret the selection of officers they have made. The companies here with inexperienced officers have worlds of trouble, and five captains and one lieutenant, though good men at home, have resigned at the wish of their companies. Four of these companies tried to get our first lieutenant for captain, but he won't leave us. The thousand men who occupied Bird's Point the other day are most all Germans; many of them “Turners,” and a very well drilled regiment. They will get their cannons from St. Louis next week. None of the men expect an attack here, but we know that General Prentiss thinks it at least possible, and from his actions we think he expects it. A family were in camp yesterday who were driven away from a place only 12 miles from here in Missouri, and left a son there with a bullet through his brains. It happened yesterday morning. We have had our uniforms about a week. Gray satinet pants and roundabout, with a very handsome blue cloth cap. Nine brass buttons up the jacket front and grey flannel shirts. We are obliged to wash dirty clothes the day we change and to black our shoes every evening, and polish our buttons for dress parade. Our company is the only one that does this though, and they call us dandies. We have done more work and better drilling though, than any of them, so we don't mind it.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 14-6

Diary of John Hay: February 2, 1864

The enemy's fire was getting pretty warm. They had the range perfectly; most of the shell burst in or over the works; but the men were so well protected that all the time we were there but three were hit, and they were said to be imprudent. The men dodged and broke to cover at the flashing of the enemy's battery, but the officers exposed themselves with perfect insouciance.

The shells had singular voices. Some screamed frightfully; some had a regular musical note like Chu-chu-weechu-weechu-brrr; and each of the fragments a wicked little whistle of its own. Many struck in the black, marshy mud behind us, burying themselves, and casting a malodorous shower into the air. Others burrowed in the sand. One struck the face of Chatfield, while I was standing on the parapet, with a heavy thud, and in a moment afterward threw a cloud of sand into the air. I often saw in the air a shell bursting, — fierce, jagged white lines darting out first, like javelins — then the flowering of the awful bud into full bloom, — all in the dead silence of the upper air; — the crack and the whistle of the fragments.

Col. Drayton took us to see the great 300 pounder Parrot. At a very little distance, an ugly-looking hole where a shell had just burst; — beside the gun traces in the sand of hasty trampling and wagon-wheels; — dark stains soaking into the sand; — a poor fellow had just had his leg taken off by a piece of a shell.

I saw them putting a crushed and mangled mass into an ambulance. He was still and pale. The driver started off at a merry trot. A captain said: — “D[amn] you, drive that thing slower!”

Two or three young fellows were playing with their horses in the parade. The horses joining in the fun threw riders over their heads and started off.

The ill-starred boat got badly pounded, her machinery and works battered in. She seemed sinking before we left. The navy were off nearly two miles, but still made passable shooting. Their ricochet shots, however, were generally failures.

With a good glass we could see a good many anxious spectators on the rebel side.

Chatfield to boat, 2,600 yards.

Wagner to boat 3,000 yards

Monitors, 2 miles.

We walked back on the beach to Wagner. A shell exploded close behind us. I made a bad dodge. Walked all over Wagner and got a sympathetic view of the whole affair.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 160-2

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, August 12, 1862

Camp Green Meadows, August 12, 1862.

Dear Mother: — I received your good letter of the 2d the day before yesterday. On same day received one from Lucy of same date.

We have had some fighting and a good deal of excitement and night riding and duty of various sorts during the last week. We have been exceedingly lucky, losing, so far as I know, but one man. We had two accidents — one man drowned and eight struck with lightning. All were senseless and most of them seemed dead for a short time, but all are living and probably all will recover entirely. It was the same day that we were attacked, after the enemy had retreated. The men all supposed that a shell of the enemy had burst. The enemy were in great force and had artillery superior to ours, but the security of our position was soon apparent, and after less than an hour's firing they retired, having lost a few killed and wounded.

I have agreed to accept [the] colonelcy of [the] Seventy-ninth regiment if it is filled without drafting. I suppose this will take me to Cincinnati and home in three or four weeks. I shall no doubt be in duty bound to devote all my time to the new regiment, but I shall of course manage to see you if it is but for a day or night.

The weather is seasonable — that is hot as Tophet. We have a few more sick than usual but nothing serious.

I am pleased with the war prospects. We may meet with disasters to give things a gloomy look before the new troops are ready for the field, but it certainly seems as if we could, with the new army, put a speedy end to the Rebellion. I trust you will live to see the country again at peace. But war isn't the worst thing that can happen to a country. It stirs up a great deal of good. I see more kindness, more unselfish generosity around me than would probably be found among these young men if they were plodding along in ordinary selfish pursuits.

Affectionately, your son,

R.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 327-8

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: March 2, 1864

The food we get here is poor, water very good, weather outside admirable, vermin still under control and the “Astor House Mess” flourishing. We are all in good health with the exception of Dr. Lewis, who is ailing, I was never tougher — seems as if your humble servant was proof against the hardest rebel treatment. No exchange news. Trade and dicker with the guards and work ourselves into many luxuries, or rather work the luxuries into ourselves. Have become quite interested in a young soldier boy from Ohio named Bill Havens. Is sick with some kind of fever and is thoroughly bad off. Was tenderly brought up and well educated I should judge says he ran away from home to become a drummer. Has been wounded twice, in numerous engagements, now a prisoner of war and sick. Will try and keep track of him. Every nationality is here represented and from every branch of the service, and from all parts of the world. There are smart men here and those that are not so smart, in fact a conglomeration of humanity — hash, as it were.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 37-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, August 10, 1862

Camp Green Meadows, August 10, 1862.

Dearest Lute: — All your names are sweet. “Lu” is good; I always think of the girls at Platt’s saying “Aunt Lu.” “Lute” and “Luty” is Joe; and “Lucy darling,” that's me. All pretty and lovable.

Your letter of the 2nd came last night. A great comfort it was. Several things last night were weighing on me, and I needed a dear word from you. I had got a reluctant permission to send a party to attempt to destroy the salts-works at the Mercer salt well twenty-five miles from here, over a rough mountain country full of enemies, and uncertain who might be at the well. I started the party at 6 P. M. to make a night march of it to get there and do the work and get fairly off before daylight. Captains Drake and Zimmerman were in command with twenty of Gilmore's gallant cavalry and one hundred and thirty of our best men. I had got all the facts I could before they left, but after they were gone three hours, a scout I had given up came in with information that the works were strongly guarded. I slept none during that night. Then too, the sad news that McCook was murdered was in the evening dispatches, casting a deep shadow over all. It needed your letter to carry me through the night.

I was out at early dawn, walking the camp, fearing to hear the gallop of a horse. Time went on slowly enough, but it was a case where no news was good news. If they had run into trouble the word would have returned as fast as horseflesh could bring it. By breakfast time I began to feel pretty safe; at eight I visited the hospital and talked cheerfully to the sick, feeling pretty cheerful really. About half past nine Captain Drake rode in. The fifty miles had been travelled, and the Secesh salt well for all this saltless region was burned out root and branch. Three horses were badly wounded; many [men] had their clothes cut, but not a man was hurt. They reached the well at 2 A. M., found it in full blast, steam on, etc., etc., received one feeble volley of rifle balls and the thing was done. So much good your letter did.

Yes, I get all your letters about one week after you mail them. I got a letter from Mother of same date at same time. This happens almost always.

As to the Seventy-ninth, I agree with you. The greatest inducements are to visit you and to get out of these mountains before another winter. I may, and probably will, find worse places, but I am getting tired of this. Another thing, a sense of duty. I do not know that it clearly inclines either way. In such case we usually manage to persuade ourselves that it points the way we wish. But it strikes me that the Twenty-third is as near right as I can make it. It can't get much more out of me, while possibly my experience might be more useful in a new regiment than anywhere else. Do you see where I am coming out?

As I am writing a messenger from headquarters comes with a significant order headed “secret.” I am ordered to place all things in readiness to move on thirty minutes' notice — to have baggage, etc., etc., in such condition that it can be done on that notice any time after tomorrow at 3 P. M. This means what? I suspect a move to the east by way of Lewisburg and White Sulphur Springs. It may be a move to eastern Virginia. It may be towards Giles and the railroad again.

Well, I have galloped to the ferry five miles and back. I am likely to be settled some way soon, but at any rate, in the Seventy-ninth or Twenty-third, I have got the best wife of any of them. This war has added to my confidence in you, my love for you, and my happiness that I have so dear a wife. The character you have shown in bearing what was so severe a trial, the unselfish and noble feeling you constantly exhibit, has endeared you to me more than ever before.

Joining the army when I did is now to be thought fortunate. Think of my waiting till forced by the fear of a draft to volunteer!

Good-bye, darling. Love and kisses to the dear boys, the little blue-eyed favorite, and all.

Affectionately ever, your

R.

I enclose a literary specimen.*

Mrs. Hayes.

_______________

* The “specimen” was a scrap of paper reading: “Mr. Kernel hase I Want a Pass to go to see Wilson Lilly he has Sent for me he is Just at the Point of death

“EMILY LILLY”

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 323-5

Diary of 1st Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Friday, June 2, 1865

Continental succeeded in getting free at 12, M. run down in Bay near Ft Morgan anchored Regt embarked at 2. P. M. Men so thick cant all lie down. No orders. Star light runs along side loaded with Commissaries for the Ship load part of them, G. C. Richardson & James Smith sent back to Mobile sick. No orders yet where to go to. Evening ship passes with Capt Lacy on board, weather very warm.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 604

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Friday, September 2, 1864

Cloudy and cool; think it will rain in a day or so; have completed my roll. Lieutenant George P. Welch returned from Vermont this afternoon; has been absent sick since we left City Point. We moved back to our old camp at 5 o'clock p. m.; arrived about dark; shall probably stay here several days; are laying out camp.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 143

Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney to Emeline Harris Tenney et al, December 2, 1862

Camp at Ray's Mills, Arkansas, Dec. 1, 1862.

My Dear Friends:

I guess you wonder a little why you don't hear from your soldier boy. Well, I presume you will wonder often if we stay in the field and keep up our scouts and marches. Since last Tuesday, my regular day for writing and the day I intended to write, I haven't had a minute's opportunity for writing until yesterday, and then I was busy till night, when I was too tired to write.

Tomorrow another train leaves for the Fort. Several sick boys return. I should have liked to go back for comfort, but after all as long as there is a man in the Regiment in the field, I want to be there, too, though there must be some suffering and sacrifices.

Today I had an opportunity to go into the Brigade Commissary as clerk and get $12 a month extra. Lt. Shattuck, brother of Nina, is acting Brigade Commissary and wanted me to help him. N. thought I hadn't better go. I don't care much. Should have liked the little spondulics though.

Sunday night when we arrived here I found six letters, three from home, two from Fannie, and one from Will. I guess I was happy that night and as usual dreamed of home. Thede, I thank you very much for your good long letter. You did me proud. Please do so more.

I see by the papers that Col. Ford has received his just deserts. I enjoy all the particulars of the home circle visits, calls and town gossip. It is always my Thanksgiving Day when my letters come. My letters both received and written have been quite irregular of late and I presume will be in future.

During the last week we have been on our horses most of the time. My ague left me just in time. Tuesday and Wednesday our detachment was out on a scout down below here a little. We had the pleasure of overtaking 400 of Quantrell's men Tuesday night and turned their course from the north southward on double quick. The Major had 115 men. I had the pleasure of being in the advance and had two or three little skirmishes with the rear guard. None of us, how I don't know, was hurt. Afterwards some of the 3rd Wis. were sent ahead of us and when a few rods in advance were fired into from the bushes and two of the men wounded.

I suppose you have heard by this time of the fight at Cane Hill and beyond.

Thursday our detachment went in advance of the whole division but Friday we were rear guard and the Brigade was left at Cane Hill as a reserve. It was aggravating to hear the roar of artillery and not partake. There will be some hard fighting if we go over the mountains.

I have no ambition to die immediately or anything of that sort. I guess life, real life, is precious to the most wicked, but I do long to have our armies hasten on to victory or defeat. If Schofield's forces join ours, I believe our success will be sure, though earned by a good deal of sacrifice.

Lt. Shattuck has been acting Adj. but has gone now. So I have enough to do his duties and those of Sergt. Major.

I have just been out doors and I could see the “fire on the mountains” along our line of march over the hills from the North.

Tonight the air is cold and the fire in our little stove is comfortable and cozy enough. We are getting well used to bivouacking in the open air with few blankets and no fires. When out scouting we go without fires so as not to let the enemy know our movements. Sometimes we can't get much sleep, though. Don't you believe I occasionally long to creep into that soft bed at home and to sit down at our little supper table? Oh no, never!

Please excuse another hasty letter. The Independents have come as usual. I presume we will remain here a few days and then go over the mountains. I hope so.

The boys are all talking as loudly as can be and I can't think overmuch straight.

With much love,

Luman.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 46-9

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 27, 1863

Stormy and disagreeable weather. From fifteen to twenty and twenty-five die every day and are buried just outside the prison with no coffins — nothing but canvas wrapped around them. Eight sticks of four foot wood given every squad of one hundred men to-day, and when split up and divided it amounted to nothing towards warming a person. Two or three can put their wood together and boil a little coffee made from bread crusts. The sick are taken out every morning and either sent over to the city or kept in the hospital just outside the prison and on the island. None admitted unless carried out in blankets and so far gone there is not much chance of recovery. Medical attendance is scarce.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 13-4

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Thursday, February 9, 1865

Cool & raw today. a. m. spent running about. Called to see Charlie who is mending rapidly. Cory pretty sick H. Bowman back to the Co. Genl. Car relieved from the command of the Detached Brigade & Genl Veach late comdg at Memphis assigned to comd the Brigade The 29th Iowa left at 6.30 A. M. on the cars. P. M. drew & issued clothing. Boxing up surplus clothing to ship to Keokuck Subject to the order of Co commanders. Evening cool

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 573

Lucy Webb Hayes to Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes, May 19, 1862

Our hospitals are all full of sick and wounded. A great difference can be seen between the sick and [the] wounded. The sick appear low-spirited — downcast, while the wounded are quite cheerful, hoping soon to be well. I felt right happy the other day, feeling that I had made some persons feel a little happier. Going down to Mrs. Herron's I passed four soldiers, two wounded and two sick. They were sitting on the pavement in front of the office where their papers are given to them. I passed them, and then thought, well, anyhow, I will go back and ask them where they are going. A gentleman who I saw then was with them, said he had just got in from Camp Dennison, and found they were too late to get their tickets for that evening. I asked, “Where will you take them?” He said he did not know, but must get them to the nearest place, as they were very weak. I said, “Doctor, (the wounded man had told me he was his family doctor and had come to take him home), if you will take them to my house I will gladly keep them and have them taken to the cars. There is the street-car which will take you near my house.” He was very thankful, and he put sick and wounded on, and I started them for Sixth Street, while I finished my errand, took the next car, and found my lame man hobbling slowly along. We fixed them in the back parlor. The doctor I asked to stay also, to attend to them. He said he could not thank me enough, that he was a stranger here and was almost bewildered as to what to do or where to take them. Mary was up early and we had a cup of coffee for them before five. I thought of you in a strange country, wounded and trying to get home. The cases were not exactly alike, but if anyone was kind to you, would I not feel thankful?

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 281

Diary of Luman Harris Tenney: Thursday, October 9, 1862

Orders came to be ready to march at 7 A. M., we to draw our pay before starting. Hastened breakfast and we were paid during the day. Awful wet and muddy, cold and chilly. Wore overcoats and shivered. Delayed the march. In the evening a Kansas officer of the day became frightened and alarmed the camp. Got saddled and sat two hours in the rain. Boys mad. Some of the boys started for the fort with the sick.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 36

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Harriet Plummer Bartlett, August 5, 1864

Prisoners' Hospital,

Danville, Va., August 5, 1864.

Dear Mother, — I will write a few lines in the hope that they may reach you at some time. You know, of course, that I was taken prisoner, that my leg (wooden) was crushed; the man next me was killed by the same shell. I was very much used up and have been very weak from diarrhoea since. I was brought from the prison to this place night before last. The other officers were all sent to Columbia, S. C, yesterday, Colonel Weld and Captain Amory included; so I am all alone I shall be sent there when I am well enough, I suppose. I am in a tent here, and have plenty of fresh air. I hope no blame is given me for the failure of Saturday. I certainly did all in my power. I held the pit with, hardly any force after the rest of the line had been retaken. The rebel flag was within six feet of mine, just the ridge of dirt between, for nearly an hour. It was impossible to withdraw without sacrificing all the men, so I held on as long as possible in hope of reinforcements. The negroes were crowded into the same pit with us when they retreated in such confusion, and we have been treated worse, an account of being taken with them.

I shall get better here, I think. I don't suppose you will be able to send me anything. Tufts, the Massachusetts Agent in Washington, will know. Write me. Not more than one page is allowed, I believe. Address Prisoner of War, Danville, Va. Has George got home yet? And my horses? Take good care of Ned. I made arrangements to have him sent home in case anything happened to me. The Chaplain and Dr. White promised to see to it. If you can send me a small box with something to eat and drink, some tea and coffee, I should like it. It might get to me. Send it through Tufts, Massachusetts Agent in Washington. Send this letter to A. P. I shall not be able to write any more at present. I have Uncle Edwin's “letter” with me, and may be able to use it. Don't be worried about me, I shall be well soon. I shall get a pair of crutches made so I can get about soon. My half-dollar pocket-piece did me good service; brought me eight dollars confederate money, with which I bought a tooth-brush. Milk two dollars qt., etc. My love to all. Let them write me often; some will get through.

Your affectionate son,

W. F. Bartlett.

Brigadier-general U. S. A., Prisoner of War.

(Envelopes, $8. a package.)

There has been some talk of exchanging sick and wounded prisoners. I hope it will be effected.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 121-3

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: August 1, 1864

Start this A. M. for Danville. Ride in dirty freight cars. Got to Burkesville Junction about nine. Wait there all day long in heat and dirt. Am getting weaker every hour. Train does not come for us till nearly nine P. M. So full that I had to ride on narrow platform of last car, which was a passenger-car, the conductor's, but he would not let us go in it. So three of us sat on this place all night, — Colonel Marshall, Captain Amory, and I, — the most horrible night I ever passed. Could not sleep, all cramped up. Humane treatment of a prisoner of my rank, sick and wounded. Southern chivalry! Reached Danville early.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 119-20

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 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Wednesday, September 16, 1863

Town full of deserters coming in all the while. Military College full of reb sick and wounded 400 wounded at Helena, there Citizens verry kind, a nice place, much scattered reached regt 3 P. M.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 497

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Sunday, June 21, 1863

We got the horse shod with some delay, and after refreshing the animals with corn and ourselves with bacon, we effected a'start at 8.15 A.M. We experienced considerable difficulty in carrying my small saddle-bags and knapsack, on account of the state of our horses' backs. Mine was not very bad, but that of Norris was in a horrid state. We had not travelled more than a few miles when the latter animal cast a shoe, which took us an hour to replace at a village called Sperryville. The country is really magnificent, but as it has supported two large armies for two years, it is now completely cleaned out. It is almost uncultivated, and no animals are grazing where there used to be hundreds. All fences have been destroyed, and numberless farms burnt, the chimneys alone left standing. It is difficult to depict and impossible to exaggerate the sufferings which this part of Virginia has undergone. But the ravages of war have not been able to destroy the beauties of nature — the verdure is charming, the trees magnificent, the country undulating, and the Blue Ridge mountains form the background.

Being Sunday, we met about thirty negroes going to church, wonderfully smartly dressed, some (both male and female) riding on horseback, and others in waggons; but Mr Norris informs me that two years ago we should have numbered them by hundreds. We soon began to catch up the sick and brokendown men of the army, but not in great numbers; most of them were well shod, though I saw two without shoes.

After crossing a gap in the Blue Bidge range, we reached Front Royal at 5 P.M., and we were now in the well-known Shenandoah Valley — the scene of Jackson's celebrated campaigns. Front Royal is a pretty little place, and was the theatre of one of the earliest fights in the war, which was commenced by a Maryland regiment of Confederates, who, as Mr Norris observed, “jumped on to” a Federal regiment from the same State, and “whipped it badly.” Since that time the village has changed hands continually, and was visited by the Federals only a few days previous to Ewell's rapid advance ten days ago.

After immense trouble we procured a feed of corn for the horses, and, to Mr Norris's astonishment, I was impudent enough to get food for ourselves by appealing to the kind feelings of two good-looking female citizens of Front Royal, who, during our supper, entertained us by stories of the manner they annoyed the Northern soldiers by disagreeable allusions to “Stonewall” Jackson.

We started again at 6.30, and crossed two branches of the Shenandoah River, a broad and rapid stream. Both the railway and carriage bridges having been destroyed, we had to ford it; and as the water was deep, we were only just able to accomplish the passage. The soldiers, of whom there were a number with us, took off their trousers, and held their rifles and ammunition above their heads. Soon afterwards our horses became very leg-weary; for although the weather had been cool, the roads were muddy and hard upon them. At 8.30 we came up with Pender's Division encamped on the sides of hills, illuminated with innumerable camp-fires, which looked very picturesque. After passing through about two miles of bivouacs, we begged for shelter in the hayloft of a Mr Mason: we turned our horses into a field, and found our hayloft most luxurious after forty-six miles’ ride at a foot's pace.

Stonewall Jackson is considered a regular demigod in this country.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 226-9