Official Reports of the Engagement at Belmont, Missouri, and Demonstration from Paducah upon Columbus, Kentucky. November 7, 1861. No. 5. — Report of Col. Napoleon B. Buford, Twenty-seventh Illinois Infantry.

No. 5.

Report of Col. Napoleon B. Buford, Twenty-seventh Illinois Infantry.

HDQRS. TWENTY-SEVENTH REG'T ILL. VOLS.,        

Cairo, November 9, 1861.

SIR: I have the honor to report the part which my regiment took in the battle of Belmont on the 7th instant. The regiment, numbering 720 rank and file, were on board the steamer Montgomery at 4 o'clock p.m. of the 6th instant, which landed on the Kentucky shore at foot of Island No. 1 to await the following daybreak, at which time we steamed down the river to a point on the Missouri shore, in full view of the batteries at Columbus, Ky., and at 7 o'clock a.m. I landed the regiment, and took up the position assigned me by yourself on the right of the First Brigade, which was parallel to a bayou, which was in some places dry and in others impassable, and directly opposite one of the roads to Belmont, at the distance of 1¼ miles from the enemy's camp. I immediately advanced the first platoon of Company A, under the command of Captain Schmitt and Lieutenant Shipley, across the bayou into the woods, to ascertain the nature of the ground and discover the position of the enemy, whose drums were distinctly heard. The detachment had advanced only 100 yards before they were fired upon by a body of cavalry, which they repulsed. As soon as the firing was heard I advanced the remainder of Schmitt's company, and supported them with the whole regiment, which I caused to cross the bayou. Schmitt's company, having advanced about 200 yards farther, were again fired upon by a larger body of cavalry, wounding one of his men, which he gallantly repulsed a second time. At this time, by your orders, Colonel Fouke brought up his regiment to my support, which he quickly formed on my left, and sent out two of his companies as skirmishers. It was here that you found me in advance of the place assigned me, and as the artillery and the other regiments, not of your brigade, had not yet come up, by your orders I moved back to the right of my first position, with Fouke's and Logan's regiments all formed in line of battle.

While waiting for the arrival of Taylor's battery, my regiment was advanced half a mile to the right, and companies A and B sent forward under the command of Captain Schmitt, with orders to feel the enemy and engage him if found in that direction. Taylor's battery having arrived, the whole attacking force, with the exception of my regiment, moved forward on the direct road to Belmont, and the engagement  became warm, you leading your brigade. From the information I received I became assured that the road I was on led to the rear of Belmont, and that by following it rapidly I would get into action at the right time and in the right place.

Guided by the sound of the fierce battle in which you were all the time engaged, I moved forward. At my request you had detached Captain Bielaski, one of your aides, to attend me, who rode with me at the head of the regiment. As we pressed forward in the woods, Captain Dollins, with his cavalry, appeared on my left, and obeyed my orders with alacrity to go forward and discover the enemy.

Our road soon led to a full view of the river and Wolf's Island, below Belmont, where we met straggling soldiers retreating, of whom we captured several, Captain Parke securing the first one. The troops became animated and quickened their step, and came in sight of the camp, which was defended with an almost impassable abatis of huge sycamore trees.

I here formed our line of battle, the right opposite the abatis, the left in the open space in full view of Columbus, and under the fire of the field artillery in Belmont and the enemy's guns on the opposite side of the river. As we approached by the right flank, before the line could be formed at right angles we received a heavy fire of muskery, which killed and wounded some of my men. While forming under fire the gallant Captain Bielaski, on his charger, was seen animating the men and assisting in forming the line. His heroic bearing was observed by us all. After having his horse shot under him he seized a flag, and, advancing with shouts, he fell mortally wounded. Lieutenant-Colonel Harrington and Adjutant Rust were near me on the right, leading bravely forward, while Major Wilson was doing the same on the left. The nature of the ground, the obstacles, and the heavy cannonading which was reaching us caused each company to take up the best position it could, and all kept up a constant fire, which soon drove the enemy from his camp. Here we lost about 9 killed and 30 wounded.

My next order was to advance over the abatis on the right and across the plain on the left, and occupy the camp over which the enemy's flag still waved. The order was obeyed on the double-quick, and the camp entered simultaneously by companies A, Captain Schmitt, and G, Captain Southward and others in such quick succession that I could not distinguish which went forward with most alacrity. Captain Schmitt, with part of his company, and Lieutenant Lytle, with part of Southward's company, were the first to reach the flag, which was torn down by their joint efforts, and it remained in the hands of Lieutenant Lytle, who brought it away, a trophy well earned by the intrepidity he displayed during the whole day. As we advanced to make this attack the "Star-Spangled Banner," borne by Fouke's, Logan's, and other of the regiments engaged, was seen steadily advancing on our left; Taylor's battery was brought forward and opened fire, the enemy's artillery was captured, and we had possession of Belmont.

While these deeds were being enacted you rode into our midst, and it was by your order that my regiment fired the camp. We had taken about 70 prisoners and many muskets, pistols, horses, and trophies. I placed the prisoners under charge of Captain Schmitt, who was wounded in the enemy's camp, and he and Captain Miles, with other prisoners he had captured, began to return to the boats. Shot and shell from Columbus made it necessary that my regiment should now fall back behind the abatis and into the woods. The victory appeared won. We commenced retiring to our boats, but soon a new attack, made by fresh troops, who had been landed from Columbus in the woods, intercepted our march. We returned their fire by a part of our regiment, and sought to find a new route to return. Covered by the woods, and guided by the descending sun, I led the regiment northward until I reached the bayou we had marched around in the morning to outflank the enemy, and recognizing the position, went confidently around it and got within 1 mile of the starting-point of the morning, but was admonished to take a northerly direction by the continued sound of musketry between us and where our boats were left in the morning and by the heavy cannonading from our own gunboats. We marched northward in rear of the farms on Lucas Bend, a distance of about 3 miles, before returning to the river near sunset, exposed during the whole march to the shot and shell of our own gunboats, which happily did us no injury.

On reaching the river the fleet of gunboats and steamboats were all far in advance, steaming towards Cairo. We marched forward, greatly fatigued, with the prospect of a long night's march. Our wounded men were limping along, and all our horses were surrendered to them. The sun was setting. I met a settler, who had a frank, honest face, from whom I borrowed his horse, and mounted Adjutant Rust upon him to gallop forward, and if possible reach the steamer which was nearest us. The steamer was seen to be halting, floating back to Beckwith's Landing. The adjutant reached the steamer Chancellor, hailed, and was answered by General McClernand that he was halting with the steamer and the two gunboats to take all on board. We soon met you on the shore, happy in knowing you had bravely led the brigade and continued unwearied in securing its safety.

And now how shall I distinguish those of my own command who did nobly? It was our first action. We encountered great odds; the enemy in his fortified position, the thunder of the heavy artillery from Columbus, the whizzing of rifled cannon; we had no guides. How could soldiers who had only volunteered a few days ago be expected to brave such odds! But they did brave them. My thanks are due to Lieutenant-Colonel Harrington, to Major Wilson, and to Adjutant Rust, who nobly assisted in forming the line under the fire and rallying the troops and in covering the retreat; also to Captains Schmitt, Parke, Moore, Miles, Southward, Brooks, Merrill, and Bozarth, and all the officers under their command; also to Sergeant Jansen, of Company A, and Fourth Sergeant McCormick, of Company B, whom I observed nobly doing their duty. Surg. E. H. Bowman was at his post, dressed the first wounded man, and was the last to leave his post. Happy am I that he is safe. Assistant Surgeon Barrell remained at home by my order to take care of the sick, but obeyed reluctantly. Quartermaster Sears solicited me to accompany the expedition, but as we took no train, I left him in command of the camp at home. Chaplain Rev. Dr. S. Y. McMasters accompanied the expedition, and was unwearied in consoling and dressing the wounded.

We lost 11 killed, 42 wounded, 28 missing, and 14 known to be prisoners. Among the mortally wounded was Lieut. William Shipley, of Company A, from Quincy, a young man of rare merits. He had for some time been unwell, and was by me directed to remain in camp; but when the column marched he was at his post, radiant with smiles, and was in the battle from first to last, receiving his wound on the retreat within a mile of the boats.

All of which is respectfully submitted.

N. B. BUFORD,        

Colonel Twenty-seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteers.

Brig. Gen. JOHN A. McCLERNAND,
        Commanding First Brigade Illinois Volunteers.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 3 (Serial No. 3), pp. 283-5

Diary of Elvira J. Powers: Saturday Evening, April 9, 1864

Last Wednesday Miss O. and myself visited Hospital No. 1, for the second time.

They were just robing one young boy in his soldier's suit of blue for the last time. He was then borne to the deadhouse. His name was Hickman Nutter, of the 31st Ohio. I secured the Post Office address of his people and that of several others who had died and had no message sent home. I passed the whole of the next day in writing soldiers' letters, and in my journal. My fortitude was sorely tried and really broke down after getting back, to find that in ward 1 alone from two to four boys are dying daily, while the Chaplain has not been in to speak to a single sick or dying boy for two weeks. Wards 2 and 3 have fared little if any better, as is the testimony of ward-masters and nurses. It is his duty also to write to the relatives of those who die, and common humanity would dictate that it be done, and every comforting message sent to them. I was told by the clerk, whose duty it was to collect the names for report in the public prints, that in no single instance had he known the Chaplain to attend to that duty. I was indignant and determined to report him, but was given to understand by more than one Christian minister, that the expression of indignation was considered a bad omen for my future success in hospitals.

"People here," said one, kindly in explanation, "must learn to see and hear of all manner of evil and wickedness going on around them, and be as though they saw and heard not."

Being by nature and birth an outspoken New Englander, and having inhaled freedom of speech from the breezes which blow from the hills of the "Old Bay State," I fancy it will not be very easy becoming initiated into this phase of military service.

We found several interesting cases on passing through wards 1, 2 and 3.

In the first, saw one man in a dying condition, who was brought the night before. He was lifted from the ambulance and brought in by two men, who immediately left without being questioned or saying anything about him. The attendants were busy and expected to find all needed information in the medical papers, which it is rulable and customary to send, but which were not to be found. No one had observed the ambulance or men sufficiently to identify either. The disease could not be determined. There were no wounds and the lungs were in a healthy condition, but he was dying and insensible. A letter was fortunately found in his pocket, from his wife, which gave his name, company and regiment, as being Henry Clymer, Co. K., 128th Indiana.

In passing through ward 2 we came to a handsome young man, who was looking so well compared with others that we were passing without speaking. But the nurse said to us:

"This man is blind!"

Could it be possible! His eyes to a casual observer were perfectly good, but upon a closer examination one saw that the pupil was greatly enlarged and the expression staring and vacant. Questions revealed the fact that he could see nothing except a faint light when looking towards the window. I asked the cause.

"Medicine, the Surgeon here says," was the reply. "I had chills and fever while at the front, and the physician gave me large quantities of quinine, which made me blind. I have the ague now, but the Doctor dare not give any more quinine. I have been blind two weeks."

"Doesn't the Surgeon think the medicine will leave your system, and that you may recover your sight?"

"Well, he doesn't speak very encouragingly says he doesn't know."

And we now see that although the eyes cannot do duty in one way they can in another, for they absolutely rain tears, as he tells us with quivering lips, that his wife does not know anything about it; that he is dreading to send her word by stranger hands, he cannot bear to think that may be he can never write again,—never see her or other friends in this world. He is yet young and life has looked so pleasant; he is a professing Christian, but finds it so hard to bear this affliction. And he sobs like a whipped child, as, kneeling by the head of his low bed, with hand upon his forehead, we listen to this recital and strive to comfort him. We tell him of others afflicted in the same way who have not passed a life of idleness in consequence, but of mental or physical activity. Of those who have risen superior even to this calamity, and in the battle of life have learned

"How sublime a thing it is

To suffer and grow strong."

He says our words have been a blessing, as we take his hand in a good-bye, and with a promise to break the news to his wife, as gently and hopefully as possible. [We do so subsequently and upon the last visit find that he has been gaining his sight so that he can distinguish forms, though not features. Again we stand by his vacant bed and learn that he with many others have been sent North to make room for more sufferers from the front. But he was still gaining his sight.]

In the same ward we find one slight young boy, who looks as if he ought to be at home with his mother, and we sincerely believe is crying because he isn't—though he'd be bayonetted sooner than own it. He draws his sleeve across his red eyes as we approach, and upon our questioning informs us that he is "almost seventeen," and furthermore that he is "nearly half a head taller and two pounds heavier than another boy in his regiment;" but confesses that he is "right tired a' laying this way day after day—fact is I'd a heap sight rather be at home if I could get to go there, for I enlisted to fight, not to be sick!" Now we ask him if he ever thought while lying there that he is suffering in the service of his country, and a quick flash of the eye, a smile and an emphatic "no," tell us that it is entirely a new thought. Then we beg him not to forget that he is, and assure him that it requires a much braver soldier to suffer day after day in a hospital than on the hardest battle-field, and we leave him with a look of heroic endurance on his childish brow.

Here is a good-faced German, who is moaning with pain from an amputation. It is twenty days since the operation, but he suffers terribly every few moments from a spasmodic contraction of the muscles. And we also find upon conversing, that the fact of the amputation hurts his feelings in more ways than one, and we must needs tell him to bear the pain like a good brave soldier, and that it will grow less and less each day, and really last but a few days more altogether, and that as to being without a limb he will not be the only one capable of exhibiting such a proof of the service rendered his country, that it is an honor rather than a disgrace to lose limbs while battling for the right; and now the hero's look of determination settles over his features also. But just as we turn to leave, he expresses his opinion that two or three more such "cookies" as we brought him the other day wouldn't hurt him, indeed,

"Dey was mosht as goot vot my moder used to make."

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 19-23

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, October 5, 1862

Corinth, Miss. As it is seen from the last date, I have not written any for some time and I must write of the past from memory. Not getting any better, I went to the Company hospital on September 24 and there was treated for fever of which I had but a very slight touch. On the morning of October 1 every man that could not join his platoon was to be sent to Corinth as the Battery was going to move, so I and four others were put in the ambulance and driven to the depot, but the cars did not come till 2 P. M. When they came, they loaded all the commissary stores in the rooms. E. R. Hungerford and myself were lucky enough to get into the box car. We got to Corinth in about two hours, and after waiting an hour we were taken in a mule wagon to the Seminary Hospital situated on a hill about one mile and a half from Corinth.

We were put in a comfortable tent and lay there unmolested until the 3rd, when early in the morning heavy firing was heard and continued all day. We learned that the cannon had been attacked by the rebels consisting of Price, Breckinridge, Van Dorn and one other commander. In the afternoon we had to move down under the hill, we being right in the range of the guns should they open fire in that direction at night. We were ordered to have everything packed so as to leave at a moment's notice. At about 12 o'clock at night we were ordered out on the road, while the tents were struck and cots piled. Presently the teams began driving in and loading men and cots. At last our turn came, but not until the rebs had opened fire on the town with three guns throwing shells. We had to pass under the fire. The shells whistled over our heads in every direction, while off went the mules as fast as they could trot. It certainly was a rough ride. They drove us through town and left us on the east of it about ½ mile. By this time it was nearly day-light and the guns used by the rebs throwing shells were taken. About 9 o'clock the engagement became general. The noise of the musketry, occasionally broken in upon by the loud peal of artillery, made it truly terrific. The fight lasted about three hours, when the rebs were obliged to skedaddle.

All of this time we had heard nothing from the Battery. We supposed that it had been engaged, when at 12 o'clock Dr. Miller came around and told us that the Battery had been engaged that morning, and had been taken and retaken, but he could not give us a list of the casualties. We heard nothing more from the Battery until to-day, G. M. Spencer came with a list of casualties. He informed us that the sick and wounded were gathered in a company hospital about a quarter of a mile to the south. We remained in the general hospital until [Tuesday, Oct. 7.]

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 8-8

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, October 21, 1861

Our camp here was made without consulting the Surgeons. It was laid out without order, and the tents are so close together that teams cannot pass through to remove its rubbish, its offal, and its filth. My Colonel, too, has interfered much with my sanitary orders, particularly those in reference to ventilation. The result is the largest sick list we have had, I have succeeded, however, in getting consent to move the camp to other ground, high and dry, where I am now engaged in ditching the streets, and staking out the ground preparatory to a move, where I hope we shall be able to reduce the list of sick. I believe I omitted in the proper place the record of the first death in our regiment. It occurred on the 3d of this month. The poor fellow died of Nostalgia (home-sickness), raving to the last breath about wife and children. It seems strange that such an affection of the mind should kill strong, healthy men; but deaths from this cause are very frequent in the army; the sufferer, towards the last showing evidences of broken down nervous system, accompanied by most of the symptoms of typhoid fever.

A little incident to-day. A reconnoitering party went out this morning towards Vienna and Flint Hill. At noon, a courier came in with a report that they were fighting. I was ordered to take an ambulance and join my regiment "in the direction of Vienna" immediately. On starting, I met with Surgeon Thompson, of the 43d N. York Vols., told him I was going in search of an adventure, and invited him to go with me. He accepted. We reached our outer lines "in the direction of Vienna," but had not found my regiment. To Surgeon T.'s question, "What now!" I replied that my orders were to "go till I found my regiment." "But are you going to cross the lines into the enemy's country?" My orders are unconditional; will you go with me further?" "Certainly," said the Doctor. Shortly after leaving head-quarters, we met the 1st Regt. Regular Cavalry, who told us they had left one man badly wounded between Flint Hill and Vienna. This man we determined to rescue, if possible. We found him in a house in Vienna. I had now obeyed my order, though I had not found my regiment, and I determined to take this man back with me, though the enemy were all around us. One ball had passed between his ear and skull, a second had passed through the leg, a third had entered the back, just below the shoulder blade, but had made no exit. He was suffering severely from pain and difficult respiration. He could not ride in an ambulance, so Doctor T. volunteered to return to our lines for litter-bearers and an escort, whilst I should remain with our newly made friend. I confess that as I caught the last glimpse of the Doctor's fine black horse dashing over the hill, there was at the ends of my fingers and toes a sensation very much akin to the "oozing out of courage." I was alone in the enemy's country. But there was no other way now, so I dressed the wounds, and waited his return, with what patience I could. He soon returned. We started the man in the direction of our lines, under an escort of eight men.

We mounted our horses, and paying but little attention, got some mile ahead of our escort, when suddenly, eight horsemen, well mounted and armed, came bearing down on us, evidently intending to surround us. They were about a quarter of a mile off when first discovered. "We are in for a trip to Richmond," said Doctor T. "Is it not safer," replied I, "to fight than to be taken prisoners by these fellows?" "I'm in," said the Doctor. We drew our revolvers and waited, one of us, I am certain, in considerable trepidation. By this time they were in hailing distance. We called them to halt, when, to our mutual disgust, we found that we were friends—they were cheated of the capture of two very fine looking rebel officers," and we of a short road to "that borne whence no traveller returns.” A little after dark we reached camp with our man. In civil life, it will hardly be credited that the commanding officer of this regiment, when he found his man so badly wounded, ordered him to be taken from his horse and left, whilst the horse was to be taken away; yet the man states that such is the fact, and that he saved himself from such a fate by drawing his revolver and threatening to shoot the first man who should approach him for that purpose. After the regiment left him, he managed to sit on his horse till he reached Vienna, about three miles from where he was shot.

Since last date, we have had an opportunity of learning something of the military qualities of our brigade officers. We have not been before on ground where we could have our brigade drills; but here we have them.

General Smith, who commands the Division, is a stout, short man, rather under size, from Vermont, I think. He is taciturn, but exceedingly courteous and gentlemanly, and firm and decided. Of his mental calibre, we have not yet had an opportunity to judge. It is a strange paradox of human nature, that whilst we acknowledge that a vast majority of our mentally big men are quiet and reserved, yet when we meet a stranger, if he says little, we fall at once into the opinion that he knows little. How this is with General Smith, I do not know. I am much disposed to construe his quiet and courteous manner favorably; but I confess that whispers from the grove have rather prejudiced me against him.

Brigadier General Winfield Scott Hancock is the very antipode of General Smith. He is fully as long as his name, with title perfixed, and as for quiet and courtesy—Oh, fie! I saw him come on to the field one morning this week, to brigade drill. He was perfectly sober. He is one of those paradoxes who believe that one man, at least, is to be known by his much talking. He became excited, or wished to appear so, at some little mistake in the maneuvering of his Brigade, and the volleys of oaths that rolled and thundered down the line, startled the men with suspicion that they were under command of some Quarter Master lately made General, who mistook the men for mules, and their officers for drivers. He must be a facetious chap, that General, to wish to excite such suspicions. I think he hails from Pennsylvania, but nobody seems to know much about him, except from his statement that he has been seventeen years in the service, and knows all about it." Wherever he has been, he has certainly acquired a perfect intimacy with the whole gamut of profanity.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 44-7

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: August 20, 1861

These mountain streams are unreliable. We had come to regard the one on which we are encamped as a quiet, orderly little river, that would be good enough to notify us when it proposed to swell out and overflow the adjacent country. In fact we had bragged about it, made all sorts of complimentary mention of it, put our tents on its margin, and allowed it to encircle our sick and wounded; but we have now lost all confidence in it. Yesterday, about noon, it began to rise. It had been raining, and we thought it natural enough that the waters should increase a little. At four o'clock it had swelled very considerably, but still kept within its bed of rock and gravel, and we admired it all the more for the energy displayed in hurrying along branches, logs, and sometimes whole trees. At six o'clock we found it was rising at the rate of one foot per hour, and that the water had now crept to within a few feet of the hospital tent, in which lay two wounded and a dozen or more of sick. Dr. McMeens became alarmed and called for help. Thirty or more boys stripped, swam to the island, and removed the hospital to higher ground-to the highest ground, in fact, which the island afforded. The boys returned, and we felt safe. At seven o'clock, however, we found the river still rising rapidly. It covered nearly the whole island. Logs, brush, green trees, and all manner of drift went sweeping by at tremendous speed, and the water rushed over land which had been dry half an hour before, with apparently as strong a current as that in the channel. We knew then that the sick and wounded were in danger. How to rescue them was now the question. A raft was suggested; but a raft could not be controlled in such a current, and if it went to pieces or was hurried away, the sick and wounded must drown. Fortunately a better way was suggested; getting into a wagon, I ordered the driver to go above some distance, so that we could move with the current, and then ford the stream. After many difficulties, occasioned mainly by floating logs and driftwood, and swimming the horses part of the way, we succeeded in getting over. I saw it was impossible to carry the sick back, and that there was but one way to render them secure. I had the horses unhitched, and told the driver to swim them back and bring over two or three more wagons. Two more finally reached me, and one team, in attempting to cross, was carried down stream and drowned. I had the three wagons placed on the highest point I could find, then chained together and staked securely to the ground. Over the boxes of two of these we rolled the hospital tent, and on this placed the sick and wounded, just as the water was creeping upon us. On the third wagon we put the hospital stores. It was now quite dark. Not more than four feet square of dry land remained of all our beautiful island; and the river was still rising. We watched the water with much anxiety. At ten o'clock it reached the wagon hubs, and covered every foot of the ground; but soon after we were pleased to see that it began to go down a little. Those of us who could not get into the wagons had climbed the trees. At one o'clock it commenced to rain again, when we managed to hoist a tent over the sick. At two o'clock the long-roll, the signal for battle, was beaten in camp, and we could just hear, above the roar of the water, the noise made by the men as they hurriedly turned out and fell into line.

It will not do, however, to conclude that this was altogether a night of terrors. It was, in fact, not so very disagreeable after all. There was a by-play going on much of the time, which served to illuminate the thick darkness, and divert our minds from the gloomier aspects of the scene. Smith, the teamster who brought me across, had returned to the mainland with the horses, and then swam back to the island. By midnight he had become very drunk. One of the hospital attendants was very far gone in his cups, also. These two gentlemen did not seem to get along amicably; in fact, they kept up a fusillade of words all night, and so kept us awake. The teamster insisted that the hospital attendant should address him as Mr. Smith. The Smith family, he argued, was of the highest respectability, and being an honored member of that family, he would permit no man under the rank of a Major-General to call him Jake. George McClellan sometimes addressed him by his christian name; but then George and he were Cincinnatians, old neighbors, and intimate personal friends, and, of course, took liberties with each other. This could not justify one who carried out pukes and slop-buckets from a field hospital in calling him Jake, or even Jacob.

Mr. Smith's allusions to the hospital attendant were not received by that gentleman in the most amiable spirit. He grew profane, and insisted that he was not only as good a man as Smith, but a much better one, and he dared the bloviating mule scrubber to get down off his perch and stand up before him like a man. But Jake's temper remained unruffled, and along toward morning, in a voice more remarkable for strength than melody, he favored us with a song:

Ho! gif ghlass uf goodt lauger du me;

  Du mine fadter, mine modter, mine vife:

Der day's vork vos done, undt we'll see

  Vot bleasures der vos un dis life,

 

Undt ve sit us aroundt mit der table,

  Undt ve speak uf der oldt, oldt time,

Ven we lif un dot house mit der gable,

  Un der vine-cladt banks uf der Rhine;

 

Undt mine fadter, his voice vos a quiver,

  Undt mine modter; her eyes vos un tears,

Ash da dthot uf dot home un der river,

  Undt kindt friendst uf earlier years;

 

Undt I saidt du mine fadter be cheerie,

  Du mine modter not longer lookt sadt,

Here's a blace undt a rest for der weary,

  Und ledt us eat, drink, undt be gladt.

 

So idt ever vos cheerful mitin;

  Vot dtho' idt be stormy mitoudt,

Vot care I vor der vorld undt idts din,

  Ven dose I luf best vos about;

 

So libft up your ghlass, mine modter,

  Undt libft up yours, Gretchen, my dear,

Undt libft up your lauger, mine fadter,

  Undt drink du long life und good cheer.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 58-62

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 19, 1862

10 Oc I & Emma Amandus & our Cozens Maria & Mary Kelley attended Catholic Church after which we went to the Hospital Boat & from that we went to the hospitals & amongst the sick & wounded 5 Oc I was on dress perade evening I preached in the tent 30th Reg text Gal 6th 1st & 2nd v

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 92

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, May 17, 1864

Wounded men are taken out from among us to be sent back. All windows are ordered closed. Owing to this order two of our fellows rigged up a skeleton dummy and dressed in blue and a cap which they stood at the window. Soon after it was fired upon, and an hour later it was poked up at another window and two guns banged at it. Soon after they swung it up at another window. Two more Rebel guns burned powder. Every time the glass was scattered over the room to the annoyance of men, but when they growled the fellows yelled out we have got to have air. This time a sergeant and several guards with bayonetted guns came up to look after the dead and wounded, but found none. The boys dissected their artificial Yankee and the event was a mystery to Rebels until in the afternoon at a later performance, the trick was discovered by a man posted on the stairway and an officer of the prison came up and vented his wrath very savagely, but did not find the fellows who had fooled them.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 47

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 18, 1861

This afternoon, when riding down to Huttonville, I met three or four hundred sorry-looking soldiers. They were without arms. On inquiry, I found they were a part of the secession army, who, finding no way of escape, had come into our lines and surrendered. They were badly dressed, and a hard, dissolute-looking lot of men. To use the language of one of the soldiers, they were "a milk-sickly set of fellows," and would have died off probably without any help from us if they had been kept in the mountains a little longer. They were on their way to Staunton. General McClellan had very generously provided them with provisions for three days, and wagons to carry the sick and wounded; and so, footsore, weary, and chopfallen, they go over the hills.

An unpleasant rumor is in camp to-night, to the effect that General Patterson has been defeated at Williamsport. This, if true, will counterbalance our successes in Western Virginia, and make the game an even one.

The Southern soldiers mentioned above are encamped for the night a little over a mile from here. About dusk I walked over to their camp. They were gathered around their fires preparing supper.

Many of them say they were deceived, and entered the service because they were led to believe that the Northern army would confiscate their property, liberate their slaves, and play the devil generally. As they thought this was true, there was nothing left for them to do but to take up arms and defend themselves. While we were at Buckhannon, an old farmer-looking man visited us daily, bringing tobacco, cornbread, and cucumber pickles. This innocent old gen[tle]man proves to have been a spy, and obtained his reward in the loss of a leg at Rich mountain.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 30-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 14, 1863

We are still in the harbor at Memphis awaiting orders. Eight hundred and fifty wounded men were brought to this place yesterday from Vicksburg. Grant is still hammering away at that seemingly impregnable fortress. The weather is extremely hot, which renders our situation, huddled together as we are, very uncomfortable. Yesterday we steamed up the river about a mile to a fine grove, and all went on shore while the crew gave the old boat a thorough cleaning. This morning our surgeon ordered us all on shore as a "sanitary measure." We marched off by companies, each company going where it chose, but to different points. We went to Court House Square and disbanded. It was like being transferred from a gloomy prison to "smiling fields and shady groves.” The square contains about five acres; is enclosed by an iron fence; is thickly set with trees of different varieties the brave old oak, with its spreading branches and delicious shade; the gorgeous magnolia, the tree of paradise; the orange and lemon, with an almost endless variety of evergreens. Near the center of the square is a bust of General Jackson, cut in marble.

On one side of the pedestal is inscribed those memorable words of that grand old patriot: "The Federal Union; it Must Be Preserved." I noticed the word "Federal" was partly obliterated, and inquired the cause. A citizen told me it was done by a Rebel Colonel at the beginning of the war; that his men, still cherishing some regard for the hero of New Orleans, took him outside the city and shot him. At four o'clock we were marched on board our prison ship.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 48-9

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, May 16, 1864

Appearances and talk on the streets last night indicated that they had news that worried them. This morning I learned from a sergeant, that General Stuart is killed. Our cavalry are troubling the railroads, the long bridge mentioned near Burkville, they destroyed. Several hundred start from other prisons to Georgia. There are some wounded here, thus far no medical attendance. Considerable excitement in the street occasioned by several bodies of troops leaving for the front to join Lee's army.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 47

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 7, 1861

On the 5th instant a scouting party, under Captain Lawson, started for Middle Fork bridge, a point eighteen miles from camp. At eight o'clock last night, when I brought the battalion from the drill-ground, I found that a messenger had arrived with intelligence that Lawson had been surrounded by a force of probably four hundred, and that, in the engagement, one of his men had been killed and three wounded. The camp was alive with excitement. Each company of the Third had contributed five men to Captain Lawson's detachment, and each company, therefore, felt a special interest in it. The messenger stated that Captain Lawson was in great need of help, and General McClellan at once ordered four companies of infantry and twenty mounted men to move to his assistance. I had command of the detachment, and left camp about nine o'clock P. M., accompanied by a guide. The night was dark. My command moved on silently and rapidly. After proceeding about three miles, we left the turnpike and turned onto a narrow, broken, bad road, leading through the woods, which we followed about eight miles, when we met Captain Lawson's detachment on its way back. Here we removed the wounded from the farm wagon in which they had been conveyed thus far, to an ambulance brought with us for the purpose, countermarched, and reached our quarters about three o'clock this morning.

I will not undertake to give the details of Captain Lawson's skirmish. I may say, however, that the number of the enemy killed and wounded, lacerated and torn, by Corporal Casey, was beyond all computation. Had the rebels not succeeded in getting a covered bridge between themselves and the invincible Irishman, he would, if we may believe his own statement, have annihilated the whole force, and brought back the head of their commanding officer on the point of his bayonet.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 14-5

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 12, 1861

We were rejoiced this morning to hear of Rosecrans' success, and, at the same time, not well pleased at the escape of the enemy under cover of night. We were ordered to move, and got under way at eight o'clock. On the road we met General Rosecrans and staff. He was jubilant, as well he might be, and as he rode by received the congratulations of the officers and cheers of the men.

Arriving on yesterday's battlefield, the regiment was allowed a half hour for rest. The dead had been gathered and placed in a long trench, which was still open. The wounded of both armies were in hospital, receiving the attention of the surgeons. There were a few prisoners, most of them too unwell to accompany their friends in retreat.

Soon after reaching the summit of Rich mountain, we caught glimpses of Tygart's valley, and of Cheat mountain beyond, and before nightfall reached Beverly and went into camp.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 26-7

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, November 6, 1862

Started at half-past six A.M., passing Millville and Philmont, to Millburg, where we saw a lot of wounded rebels, and went into camp at five o'clock. Eighteen miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 269

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 3, 1862

At four o'clock this morning "all was wrong." We were aroused from the most miserable attempt at sleep our boys ever dreamed of trying. It was a mercy to awaken us; only we were so stiff, sore, cold, and hungry, that it was most impossible to get up at all. We were covered with dirt and frost. Our guns were in fearful condition, and we were ordered to clean them and be ready for the road in half an hour. That was good; no chance to eat anything or clean up ourselves; but such is the luck of war. At six A.M. we started on our second day's tramp. Had you asked any of the company, they would have said, "We have been tramping a week." Our colonel gave us a good word this morning, in passing, saying we had done well. We are satisfied; for although "Rawle's Mill" was not an extensive affair, but very few men being engaged, it was an ugly encounter for raw material, fired upon, as we were, while up to our waists in water; the unknown force of the enemy, apparently on top of the hill, under cover, and having a perfect knowledge of the "lay of the land.”

After a steady march of about twelve miles, we entered Williamston, where we halted, broke ranks, and had a picked-up dinner, and made ourselves comfortable for two hours or so. Williamston is a pretty little town on the Roanoke. We foraged considerably; most every man having something. The gunboats here effected a junction with us, bringing extra rations, &c.

We visited the wounded, calling on Charley Roberts, who was hit last night. He looks pretty white, but is doing well, and will probably be sent to New Berne on one of the boats. A few of us found a piano in one of the houses, and after moving it to the piazza, Ned Ramsay played, and we sang home tunes for a while, having a large audience on the lawn. Soon after the officers broke up our fun, by Fall in E," and as that was what we came for, we "fell in," and recommenced our walk at three P.M., marching about five miles, when we pitched camp for the night. Parsons has been made sergeant for his coolness and bravery in taking prisoners.

SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 19

Diary of Major Frank S. Bond, September 27, 1863

At 7 A.M. started for Rebel lines with flag of truce. Colonel McKibbin and Captain Swain. Spent day there. Subject: endeavor to get our wounded. Did not get inside Rebel lines. Met Major Dorn, Colonel Hutchins, Captain Wooley, and Lieutenant Haskett, of General Wofford's staff.

SOURCE: Archibald Gracie, The Truth about Chickamauga, p. 386

Diary of Major Frank S. Bond, September 28, 1863

Ambulances went into Rebel lines to get our wounded.

SOURCE: Archibald Gracie, The Truth about Chickamauga, p. 386

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: [Sunday], May 8, 1864

VIRGINIA GIRLS OF SWEET SIXTEEN DID NOT LOVE US.

Weather hot; two more trains of Rebel wounded pass. Report that General Wadsworth and others of our valuable generals are killed. At 2 p. m. our train moves for Lynchburg. It is composed of horse and cattle cars all crowded. Charlotteville is beautifully located in a fertile valley. About one mile west is the University of Virginia, founded by Thomas Jefferson. In the vicinity of this edifice were about twenty-five girls. Observing us, they waved their hands in greeting; we waved. We were going slowly; they ran across the green toward Discovering their mistake they bounded up and down and cried "You damned Yankees!" Screaming contemptuously they went back as fast as they came. Procuring a Rebel flag they flirted it at us.

Sweet Virginia maids,
    You love the soil where born;
But you bear a flag that fades;
    Yet I forgive your scorn.

You know not what you do,
    Nor do I court debate;
I'll fling a kiss to you,
    As you bestow your hate.

I wish I had a flower;
    I'd toss it on the lea.
It might perfume this hour
    You sour so on me!

Indeed, I love you, quite
    You so much remind
Of Northern girls as bright,
    Sweet girls I left behind.

Your scorn is hot and keen
    As Yankee girls, I trow;
Though you are sweet sixteen,
    Still sweeter girls I know!

But when this war is o'er
    And purged your blood, that's bad
The Union we'll restore
    And you'll not be so mad.

Yes, when this war is over
    And the Union is restored,
You may want a Yankee lover,
    And not try to feel so bored.

Coquette with old Secech!
    Indeed,, it seems quite sad
That such could make a mash
    On girls and be their fad!

Some brutal nigger-driver,
    Who glories in his lash,
Some slavery conniver
    Might favor such a mash.

But your dear Alma Mater
    Is Jefferson's own school;
He was a slavery hater;
    T. J. - he was no fool!

Haughty maids, good-day-
    When shall we meet again?
You don't seem to like my way,
    Mad maids of Old Virgin.

Observing a large crowd to see us in town, the boys sang national songs, as the train drew in, which the officers stopped. The normal population of Charlotteville is 5,500. The greater portion of the crowd were women who looked at us with apparent interest. There are several hospitals here which are being filled with wounded. Four miles further the engine lost power and half our train is left, I being on the rear car. Before dark guards were stationed and we were ordered out of the cars and camped by the side of the railroad to remain all night. To the left of the road was a high steep bank; on the right a steep declivity, on the west the South Mountains. We had a pleasant talk with some guards who expressed Union sentiments, one, a North Carolinian. When home in April, he said, corn was worth $14 per bushel Confederate scrip; only 50c in silver.

A woman passing, said: "It is hard times; the people had not reckoned on the possibility of failure; for myself I did not deem it possible that all their lofty expectations would be realized."

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 41-2

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, August 26, 1861

I was visited by my Colonel to-day. He introduced the subject of reducing my hospital force. I was extra-polite, and replied that I had not the slightest objection, provided it was done with the understanding that it would shift the responsibility of the care of the sick from my shoulders to those of others. The subject was dropped, and will hardly be renewed. The jealousy existing in the military towards the medical department of the army astounds me. The military commanders claiming that the medical have no authority except through them, has driven the medical officers to assume the other extreme, and claim that they are the only officers in the army who are really independent of command. This quarrel is often bitter, and makes not only themselves uncomfortably captious, but subjects the sick and wounded to suffering whilst these settle their unnecessary quarrels.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 19

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Friday, May 6, 1864

BEHIND THE ENEMY'S GUNS; LEE AND LONGSTREET.

Up at earliest dawn. Feeling quite well. The sound of battle was in our ears. The ground is very foul here; a winter camp and a fresh battle ground. Dead cavalrymen, killed yesterday are in our midst, our men bury them. At daylight Longstreet's corps came up on a forced march, moving close to us; it was two hours passing. General Longstreet and staff call at General Lee's headquarters, a hundred yards distant. The fore part of last night several batteries were hurried past, sent, I think, to Lee's right. I think this early fighting is to facilitate a movement by our left wing around Lee's right. Hard to get water. They let a few men out with canteens under guard. When Longstreet returned to his column he was accompanied by General Lee. A short time they stood together dismounted, with bared heads, opposite us on the other side of Longstreet's cheering columns hastening to battle. Grave  concern was on their faces. Magnificent men; but I felt oppressed with the fact of their attitude toward their country, fighting to disrupt it, to maintain a claim of right to perpetuate slavery by unlimited extension; to curse the whole country as it curses the South. Educated to serve the Nation, sworn to do it, they break their oaths by acts most treasonable, justifying their course by the flimsy pretext of the acts of their states in seceding because a president, not their choice is elected. It is apalling how men of large ability and boasted dignity, stultify themselves! the greater the men the greater their responsibility for wrongful acts. The roar of deadly battle this good morning witnesseth their and their associates sin. What wretched perversion of the sentiment of patriotism! Their cause fails, God rules! General Lee and staff passed close to me at 7 o'clock, galloping to the front. He has a pleasant face, peculiarly impressive but stern; an imperative temperament that inspires confidence, admiration and fear, the austere features lighted by geniality and persistent characteristics signifying strength of nature, but liable to act from illogical and dangerous influence that appeals to prejudice, narrow pride, warped by false traditions; a bent of character when once it espouses illegitimate conclusions, devotes his best ability to accomplish ends his better judgment had condemned.

The battle had opened at 5 o'clock, our sixth corp[s] attacking. Firing terrific, nearer this point than last night but farther west, came nearer steadily, our forces driving till Longstreet's corp[s] reached the field, overlapping our line and regained the position from which our forces had driven them. Had our attack occurred an hour earlier, decisive defeat of the Rebel forces engaged must have resulted before Longstreet could have arrived. Our lines are reported in confusion and falling back.

The rest of our party who avoided capture last night, are brought in after trying all night to escape. Officers are as humble as privates, look full as serious over prospects. Talk of exchange as soon as the campaign is over, July at the farthest. But the duration of this campaign is uncertain. A great disaster on either side would need it. If there are no decisive results, and a prospect of transferring the struggle to the vicinity of Richmond—Butler is already near there—it will be longer than any other Virginia campaign. Lee will get no peace as long as Grant maintains a position between Fredericksburg and Richmond, until he is in his stronghold; then Lee's fate will be settled. Fortunate we shall be if we see our lines by September. By 8 a. m. fighting ceased; wounded coming in fast. Confederates taken to field hospitals, our wounded put with us. Some have lain all night, are chilled badly. It is hard to see so many bleeding men shot through faces, arms, legs, bodies, broken limbs, distorted mouths, one with eye-ball dangling on his cheek, blood clotted on his face, neck and breast. They let us help them from ambulances. They cry for water, some stupid, some shaking with chills and crying for blankets. Rebels claim they whipped us yesterday; but they have no advantage except in position; in that they are losing. They admit two generals killed and Longstreet wounded. Fog clears away; gets pleasant.

LEAVE BATTLE LINE FOR PRISON—INTERVIEW REBEL OFFICER.

At 10 a. m. about 700 prisoners started for Orange Court House. Day hot, road dusty. We meet supply trains, ambulances, troops and a few conveyances with civilians pushing to the front, and for twenty miles groups of stragglers limping on, some lying down, the hardest looking lot of men ever seen trying to get to their commands. As we met the troops they cried, "What brigade's that?" "Are you on to Richmond?" "Where's Grant?" We were told that already a large portion of his army was north of the Rappahannock. Sneers, jeers and words of contempt we did not notice; but when they told us we were whipped we replied bitterly, "You fool yourselves." Till noon we march fast, the guard keeping ranks closed up, threatening if one lagged. We suffered with thirst, wallowed in a constant cloud of dust, panted with heat and chafed over our terrible luck.

Our guard claims to be General Lee's bodyguard; better men than the general run of Rebel soldiers. They grew sociable and easy with us. We halted at noon near a creek in woods by the roadside, until lately an army camp, and rested an hour. Bathing my head and neck freely in the stream, I felt better. A man about forty years old, a Captain, was eager to talk politics. I saw him talking to one of our soldiers who was irritated by his secesh notions, which he put forward in a good natured but overbearing way. The boy could not stand it and "blew on him" and took another seat. Anxious for a little Copperhead philosophy from a Southerner, I took a position nearly in front of him, my friend Thompson on my right, and called him out. The group that listened were convinced that Northern sympathizers are of the Virginia stripe, the same bird that can see only in the night of slavery and Southern rights and the art of secession; and while he believed in secession he was not of the "fire-eater" temperament but would have preferred the further way round to the same point. That is, he preferred that the slavery question be settled in favor of slaveholders in the Union. But "Black Republicans" and "Nigger Stealers" had seized the bridge, and the South had gone all one way by the Secession route." "We conservatives fell in at last feeling elated and sure," said he, "that when we get secession, friends at the North will help us to pin to the wall the radicals, hang abolishionists, suppress every newspaper like old Greeley's and stop the incendiary preaching against slavery, and reestablish the Union on Southern ideas proclaimed by Alexander H. Stephens in his inauguration speech, making slavery the chief cornerstone of a new government."

We accepted his declaration as very frank and representative of so-called Virginia conservatives. Consequently they rejoiced to see a party crying down the administration, praying that that party shall rise to power, in Northern States, hurl every man from positions of trust that does not believe in the policy of the extreme Southern leaders on the slavery doctrine, with the fiercenes of vigilance committees. I had read much of this many times in stanch newspapers, ratification speeches and in platforms. While in his mind lurked a love for Union, he said: "First and always the independence of the South must be the end of this war." If Northern "doe-faces" would still whine for a Union on "time-honored principles" namely, on any terms dictated by Calhoun disciples, their manhood and patriotism is a nullity. A thousand times have I wept and raved that Northerners should palaver over this deliberate treason of the South, failing to see the issue so plain that he who runs may read. There never was a more direct conflict of principles than this in which America is engaged.

To detail all was said is impossible. I give some points to show his logic. I open by saying it was foolish to "flare up," that we ought to be able to talk even if we were prisoners, but if we could not express our views we had nothing to say; that if free discussion had been allowed by the South for the last thirty years instead of hanging Northerners for expressing opinions we would thought better of each other, the problem would have been solved without war.

Tis home is at Leesburg, Va., in Union lines. His wife resides there. He had known General Lee many years and from the first was ready to follow him either way in this contest; so was all northern Virginia. He confirmed my assertion that if Lee had stood for the Union and offered his services, that the majority of Virginians would have been on the side of the Union, and there would have been no State of West Virginia; also that Lee deprecated secession, regarded it revolutionary and contrary to the intention of the founders of the government, and if successfully it would multiply the very evils slaveholders complain of. But he justified his ultimate course by the fact that his State had seceded, that it had a right to secede, and that his duty to Virginia was paramount to his allegiance to the national government.

 "A majority of Southern men are States rights," said he, "and when it appeared that the South would secede, State after State, it was plain to Southerners that the Union had gone to pieces,—nothing left to hang to, even if every Northern State should legalize nigger slavery and embellish all Northern political platforms with Southern notions about that 'peculiar institution.' Southern rights, secession, and slavery is the prevailing trend, out and out slave confederacy the aim. No man of character can live in the South and attain success without slaves, or an heirdom, pecuniarily or socially. A slave holder has standing; it is a certificate of character, a credential that takes him everywhere, to be master and owner of labor. He holds the church in his hand, and in his grip the politicians and the state. The press must be his tool. He is master of society as well as his slaves; commands respect from centers of fashion and trade, even in England and France regardless of professed aversion to slavery. You had not a merchant in New York, of wealth and influence, who did not cater to the hated slave-power; always will out of the Union the same as in."

He owned slaves when the war began; he had thirty-three. He said: "You nigger stealers got all but one, and he is a cook in Lee's army." Then to my surprise he said:

"I never did believe slavery right; it began by stealing and piracy, and you fellows mean it shall end the same way. It is practically the curse, of the South, degrading to the master morally; degrading to the mass who never did and never can hold slaves; yet the mass are the bone and sinew of its strength. Slavery is to be the cornerstone of the Confederacy; but that stone rests upon the bare backs of the non-slave holding rank and file. They must be our military strength. They are not and cannot be our industrial strength; that belongs to the slaves under the whip. The wealth, social and political power, lie with slave owners; they are the land owners; they rule the white mass as effectually and at less cost than they control the blacks. The future of the South is a military empire and necessarily a wealthy power."

I endorsed his prophesy, if the South should succeed, and asked: "If slavery is not right, why are you fighting to maintain it? Why will it not be abolished? He said:

"The South has made it a permanent system not only of domestic importance, but a state policy, a source of social, economical and political strength. The abolishionists are not strong enough

to abolish it; secession has placed it beyond their reach. It is an accomplished fact. If the Confederacy is not recognized this summer it will be be [sic] after the fall election. The wealth power of the North, then, through commercial and financial interests, will be weighed against you."

"You are deluded, Sir, in assuming that secession, if successful, will put slavery beyond the growing power of abolishionism. Freedom is progressive; your boast arrays civilization and progress against you. Again you are wrong in assuming that the Confederacy will be recognized this year or next. The rabid spirit of the slave power has called into greater force the love of liberty, the principle written in the Declaration of Independence, than has been known for ages. The very fact that your great men of Virginia today repudiate Washington, Jefferson, Henry and Madison, convicts you of treason to the spirit of '76. Your apparent chance of success as it seemed to exist has gone. You stole States, forts, arms, men trained at government cost, until we had nothing left in the South and but little in the North. We then proposed to coax you to old fashioned loyalty patched with a new slavery grant. But you thought you had it all. We now propose to restore the Union and purge it of slavery. Instead of recognition you will see that secession will go to pieces and your Confederacy will collapse. We were unprepared for this fight, you boasted you were ready. We are now ready and your power must wane. It will cost less to save the Union without slavery than with it. Should you now offer to accept our first purpose, to save the Union, with slavery, the North would scorn it. The trend is against your scheme of a black Utopia, a slave owning, slave breeding, slave selling, slave working empire.

"Had the Democrats of the North done as they might have done you would not have been here, boys. Abe Lincoln could not have carried on the war. The abolishionists will have a sweet time up North this fall if they run McClellan for president." "What did you expect they would do?"

"Do what they said they would, oppose the draft and war by force, not let the abolishionists rule."

"Is it possible you expected what you call the Democrats would assist you?"

"We cal'lated their opposition to Lincoln would prevent war, but they kept still and let him control the people and gave him power in Congress and had not nerve to oppose him."

"But it was your party that gave him power in Congress by seceding; they boasted North that Lincoln could not choose his Cabinet except by sanction of a Democratic Senate."

"Yes, but we had seceded, and there would have been less bloodshed had they shed some."

"You deceived yourselves."

"Should not have been deceived had Seymour led the New York riot. When he was elected Governor the South rejoiced; New York would send no more men and when that riot came up we expected great things; but instead of running it he let it run itself; he might have helped us there."

"What, you don't suppose Horatio Seymour is in sympathy with secession! He will stand for the Union till the last." My aim was to make them believe that the North is a unit. So I added: "The people of the South have, and will rely in vain upon this element; the mere difference of opinion never will injure our strength. The North is as one man on the question of Union and never will give it up; they can whip you and will do it."

"See what they will do if they elect McClellan, he is your best man; you never ought to have removed him."

"Will you come back into the Union if he should be elected?"

"Never; we'd be d----d fools to come into the Union then. Never; until all States shall have adopted policies favorable to slavery!"

He said the administration would have interfered with slavery if they had not gone to war. I quoted from the Chicago resolutions, speeches and the resolutions of Congress after they had seceded and left the power in the hands of the Republicans, showing they were anxious to give them every guarantee not to interfere with the local establishment of slavery by legislation; that they persisted in revolt and measures were adopted accordingly. "You invited war," I said, "and that invites the use of the war power against slavery. After it is over you may resume rightful relations in other matters but slavery will be ended."

"Well, niggers run into Pennsylvania and they would not let them come back."

"Recognize your Confederacy; will not the nigger go over? Will it not be an inducement to run away? Will your fugitive slave law apply?"

"Yes, they may run away."

"Will we as a nation give them up?"

"I don't know; reckon not."

"What will you do if we don't?"

"We'll fight for them."

"What have you gained there?"

"It's a state right to secede; you deny it, we establish it."

"Could you maintain a Confederacy three years?"

"I presume not; South Carolina'd kick up a muss in six months and raise h--l."

"Then the other States would have to assume the obligations of the Confederacy; this would produce discontent; what would you do?"

"Well, I s'pose we'd whip her back."

Taking him by the buttonhole, I said: "Where are your state rights, man?"

Amid the shouts of the boys he laughed, frowned, colored, and was much agitated, and said:

"Damn her; she and Massachusetts ought to've been shoved into the ocean years ago."

"That can't be done; you'd whip her back and that is precisely what we are doing only on a larger scale. Can you blame us for whipping you back?"

"Never can do it. We will have our independence; without that there will not be a slave in the South; a man is a fool that thinks we are fighting for compromise, or will give up till we are whipped, or force you to concede our rights."

"So we might as well have it out and end the matter, slavery question and all."

"Yes, sir; we agree on that."

"We are going to do it," shouted the boys.

Giving him a Union hardtack and receiving one of his, feeling heartily thankful that we had over an hour's talk with an officer of Lee's bodyguard, we pursued our dreary journey, considerably rested.

TALKS AND INCIDENTS AT GORDONSVILLE.

Passing Mine Run we got a view of that formidable position which we invested in December last and realized the wisdom of General Meade's caution in retiring. The most important place on the route is Old Verdersville where we raided her public wells. Many of our men were overcome with thirst, heat and cramps. Griffith and I had some dried currants and Jamaica ginger which we distributed much to their relief. It was eight in the evening, and very dark when we arrived at Orange Court House. They put us in the court house yard which is paved with cobble stones and surrounded by an iron fence, so crowded that there was not room for all to lie down. We had come 25 miles, was faint, tired, dejected; had eaten but little all day, piecing out the remnant of rations drawn May 3 and 4, not knowing when the Rebels would issue any.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 30-8

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: October 8, 1864

This morning we learn that Rome is in danger of an attack from Hood's northward bound column. We are early ordered into line, and soon we move out from our camp near the Etawah river. We do not march far until our advance is checked, when a brisk skirmish commences. All day we keep up a running fire with a considerable force of rebels with artillery, supposed to be a brigade sent out by Hood to reconnoiter. In the evening we return to camp with the loss of one man from Company F—private Hugh H. Porter, mortally wounded. And so another good soldier has fallen; another name to be added to the Union's roll of honor; a name with the prefix of private, but none the less worthy. As we look over the Seventh's mortality list, we see the name of none who was truer and more valiant than Hugh H. Porter, of gallant old Company F.

Since our return from the Allatoona Pass, one of the Seventh's drummer boys has died; little Willie White, of Company H. His brother John fell a victim at Allatoona. Willie was left at Rome; he did not accompany the regiment, but when he heard of his brother's death, it weighed so heavily upon him as to prostrate him upon a bed of sickness, and soon he passed away—dies from grief, uttering as his last words: "Oh! what will mother do now?" We buried him in the soldiers' cemetery near the Etawah River, and a little white board marks the lonely spot where the Seventh's drummer boy sleeps. General Hood, with his half starved army, has crossed the Coosa River, moving northward, making but a slight feint on Rome. Sherman's army is now swarming in and around Rome. Hood is far to the northward, and all is quiet on the Etawah and Coosa Rivers. It is evident that Sherman is contemplating a movement that will shake the Confederacy and startle the world. The military are all active. Last night we chanced to be in Rome at the midnight hour. Who is that stately personage pacing to and fro in front of yonder tent? The guard tells us that it is Major General Sherman. He is in his night dress. Hood was then crossing the Tennessee. We know that some gigantic scheme is revolving in that master mind; a scheme the grandest and the boldest that ever flashed upon the world's greatest military minds, as the sequel will show when the future's sealed scroll shall have been unfolded a little way.

The wounded have all been sent northward. Noble company! May they soon recover and return to us again, for the regiment seems crippled without them. Ere we leave Rome we learn of the death of First Lieutenant and Adjutant J. S. Robinson and Sergeant Edward C. Nichols, of Company H—died from wounds received in the battle at Allatoona. Thus two more gallant soldiers have passed away. Long and patiently they endured their suffering, but at last the brittle thread of life broke, and these soldiers are now at rest. The indications as present are that we will soon leave Rome; how soon, we know not. The soldiers are conjecturing, but all is wrapped in mystery since Sherman has left Hood free to operate against Nashville. But for the present we are compelled to let the curtain hang; by and by it will be swung back; until that time we will wait.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 270-2