Corinth. We were again disappointed, the train leaving us behind and nothing to do but wait another twenty-four hours. In the afternoon E. W. Evans and I went to the hospital where we learned that our comrade E. R. Hungerford had died at about 2 P. M. Sunday, and was to be buried in the evening.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12
Warm and cloudy. At work in office in forenoon. At 5½ P M started to Decatur to attend Republican State Convention in company with quite a number of other delegates—Cars crowded—Very windy day, threatning rain, but giving none—turned quite cool towards night—Reached Decatur at 2 Oclock at night, and stopped at Macon House where Gilpin and I got a small, hard, bed together, and slept a little
SOURCE: The Diary of Orville Hickman Browning, Vol. 1, pp. 404-5
our Regt left thar and
marched up toward Gordensvill And I was not able to go with them so they
excused me and started me back to the Hospital clost to Richmond And we had to
walk to Hanover Junction which was about 4 miles And we had to stay thar all
next day for we could not get eny cars to tak us eney futher
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 24
we got on the cars
about 8 oclock and got to the Hospital about 11 And then I staid at the
Hospital untell the 2 day of September
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 24
I taken the cars at
Richmond and got as far as Gordensvill the first day
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 24
we rode on the cars
as far as Rapadan River and Bridg was burnt thar and then we had to walk from
thar to our Regiment And it was 115 miles to Winchester And 35 from thar to the
Reg. but we left Rapadan
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 24
We left Harper's
Ferry in the morning. During the afternoon, the battery was loaded on railroad
cars at Sandy Hook. The train started by seven o'clock in the evening, for Washington.
SOURCE: Theodore
Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light
Artillery, p. 36
Revelie at 3 A. M.
Raining Regt moves out of camp at 6:30 a. m. & are on the cars at 8, a. m.
cars were crowded, 1/3 of men on top, at Duvalls Bluff at 1. P. M. on board
steamer Paragon at 4 P. M. 50th Ind on board Rowena we tie up 30 mile below.
Duvalls Bluffs a perfect mudhole. Left mail at the Rock, which was not
destributed. Rained almost incessantly all day.
SOURCE: “Diary of
John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa,
Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 574
On the cars between Meridian
and Selma tried to get transportation at Jackson to Augusta, but the
quartermaster declined to give it to me; took it to Atlanta and will try to get
it to Augusta from there. Left Jackson at 6 o'clock yesterday evening; Greggs'
Brigade had just come in from Port Hudson; met several regiments at Meridian
going to Vicksburg and to the fortifications between Vicksburg and Jackson;
reached Meridian at 3:30 a. m. and floundered about the depot until 5 o'clock
and got a pretty good breakfast for a dollar and a half, and started at 6
o'clock for Selma; reached the landing at 11 o'clock; had a tedious time
changing baggage and then only went four miles up the river to Demopolis and
went through another tedious lugging of baggage from one point to another, and
finally sat in the cars for an hour and a half bored and hungry; got off at
last and went rattling through beautiful fields of corn nearly all the way to
Selma; took the steamer Cherokee from Montgomery and am now on my way up the
river, and, Oh! what would I not give to have Mary and the children with
me now, for the route is comparatively easy from here to Columbia.
SOURCE: John Camden
West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a
Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 36-7
Reached Montgomery
this afternoon about 5:30, just too late for the cars, hence must be detained
another night on the road. I walked up town a little while ago and met Mr. John
A. Elmore; inquired about Culp, my old college chum, and found he was a lieutenant
in the army at Vicksburg; his family is with his father-in-law. Heard here of
"Stonewall" Jackson's death; it is a sad calamity for the south, but
I doubt not God will raise up other great spirits to aid us with their counsels
and to fight our battles for us. I wrote a letter on the steamboat, which I
intended to hand to some one to mail across the Mississippi, or else mail it in
Augusta.
SOURCE: John Camden
West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a
Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 37
Left Montgomery in a
crowded train of cars; when we reached the coal station found a suspicious
personage, of whom the guard took charge; he had no papers and said he was a
substitute for a nephew of Dr. Green, of Fort Valley, and that his papers were
in possession of a squad who had left him at Montgomery, he having some other
friends there, and becoming too convivial to leave. He said he had paid a
policeman one hundred dollars to let him out and then walked to the coal
station. I wrote a letter for him to Dr. Green, explaining the circumstance
and asking his assistance. This little affair gave the curious some excitement.
About the time I
reached West Point a gentleman named J. J. Thrasher, of Atlanta, introduced
himself and made inquiries about Mrs. Nelson, wife of Col. Allison Nelson, or
"Mary," as he affectionately termed her. He seemed to know all about
the family and gave me their history and said their father, Mr. Green, was one
of his best friends. He also asked after Mr. Knight; spoke very highly of him
and said that his father, his uncles and aunts, Mr. and Mrs. Mangum and Avery,
had all died within the last three months. I gradually became sociable enough
with Mr. Thrasher and his daughter to enjoy their lunch very much, the first
delicacies of the kind that I have seen since I left Texas.
Soon afterwards a
very kind old gentleman named John A. Broughton asked me to take a seat by him,
and informed me that he had once been to Texas and farmed in Fayette county,
but concluded to return. He is about the third man I have met who was ever able
to get away from Texas after being once fixed there. He is, however, worth a million
of dollars and has only two children. He offered me money and divided his lunch
with me. I parted with him at Madison about 12 o'clock at night.
The cars being very
much crowded, I offered a neat looking person a seat by me. He seemed to be
very communicative, and gave me a full history of his experiments in distilling,
and of his daughter's progress at Northern schools, which he greatly preferred
to Southern. He told me his name was ———, and that he was a first cousin of
Judge ———, of —— in Texas, whom I knew very well. He gave me a very minute
account of the circumstances under which the Judge left Georgia. It amounted in
substance to this: The Judge took part and assisted an editor in writing a very
scurrilous article, commenting on the conduct of a state senator, Mr. ———.
The senator was
offended and was about to call the editor to account for the article, when the
editor shot and killed him, and Judge ——— left because he feared that his
testimony would convict his friend. My informant added further that it was
thought by some that the trial would develop facts which might show Judge to be
accessory to the killing, etc. This entire circumstance, of which I had heard
vague and indefinite rumors in Texas, was related to me voluntarily, without a
hint on my part that I had ever heard of it before, and without a question to
draw him out particularly on the subject. He seemed to be very candid and
loquacious on all subjects, and gave me a very minute history of his own
domestic affairs.
SOURCE: John Camden
West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a
Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, p. 37-9
Gen. Grant passed
through here this morning on the train. The division of Denver's, (ex-governor
of Kansas, for whom Denver City was named) passed through here today also. The
troops are all coming up further north. The cars are going north loaded with
cotton. I think this is a cotton expedition.
SOURCE: Seth James
Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells,
Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 21
we left Chickahominy
And went to Richmond and taken the cars and went to the Junction that night And
the next morning we left thar And about a hour befour the sun set we arived at
Linchburg
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 21
we got on the cars
about dark and the next morning we found our relief at Sharlottsvill
(Charlottesville) which was about 75 miles from Linchburg And we chainged cars
at that plase
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 21
[On the morning of
the 21th] we taken the cars at Mitchiners River and road up to Sharlottsvill
And then taken a railroad thar that went to Gordnesvill And we got to
Gordnesvill about 2 oclock in the eavning and we taken the Richmond Railroad
thar And road about 25 miles toward Richmond at a station cauld Frederickshall
And thar we got off
SOURCE: Bartlett
Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 21
Our camp yesterday was enlivened by the joyful news that we had orders to take the cars for some unknown destination, and it is generally believed that Gregg's Brigade is to join Bragg's army, a petition having been sent up some time since with this request, if any are allowed to go; in it it was urged that most of this brigade were Tennesseeans, who had not seen their families since the day of their enlistment, in 1861. With a day's ration cooked, and another of crackers and bacon in haversacks, we were on the cars ready to start at 5 The entire night was consumed in going to Meridian, a distance of sixty-one miles. While waiting this morning, a train load of paroled Vicksburg prisoners, under the influence of whisky, made a charge upon a lot of sugar lying near the depot, and guarded by a detail of the Fourteenth Mississippi. In the melee a guard fired a blank cartridge at the crowd, when a lieutenant shot him in the head with a pistol, making a severe, but not dangerous, wound. The guards then left their posts, and the sugar was given up to pillage. Our brigade is now at Enterprise, from which place it can reach any needed point very quickly.
SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281-2
GOLDSBORO.
There was no time
this morning to cook coffee, so we started on a cold-water breakfast, after
another cold night, with little good sleep, and marched without incident until
four P.M., when we heard the usual cannonade at the front. As soon as the noise
of the cannon was heard, then commenced the usual straggling. All have some of
course. The attention of our boys was called to a scene upon which we looked
with surprise, and which many of our company will never forget. As we passed
from the main road to take position on the hill, we saw a man, or what was
dressed as a man, in Uncle Sam's clothes, importuned by another to join his
command. He would not budge; and the concluding words we heard as we passed by,
were: "Damn it, man! just look here: look at this regiment going in; there
is not a man there; they are all boys with no hair on their faces, and you
afraid!" We pitied the fellow, and often wondered if he joined his
company. His pride had evidently gone on a furlough. We halted on a high hill,
from which we could see all that was going on, and soon found we were in
reserve, which pleased us all. After getting turnips and sweet potatoes,—of
which we found a plenty (all planted for us),—we straggled to the edge of the
bluff and watched the fight. In a tree close to where we stood was a signal
station, and by that we supposed Gen. Foster was near. On the left we could see
the railroad which leads into Goldsboro, and the fighting over it; to the
right, the bridge; while in front, close to the river, there seemed to be a
continuous sheet of flame from our advance and the rebels. Some of our men
worked their way to the mill; and a story was told by one of the 17th Mass.
Vols., who reached the bridge on his own account, that he saw a train of cars
stop there, and, just as it halted, a shot from one of our batteries struck the
engine in the head-plate, smashing the engine badly. He could see men jump from
the cars in all haste. (This story was told several years after the action; and
the fact of those men coming as they did, and perhaps others behind, may have
been the reason we left so suddenly, and went to New Berne.)
About seven o'clock
Gen. Foster rode past our line, saying: "The object of the expedition [the
burning of the bridge and partially destroying the connection between the Gulf
States and Richmond] is accomplished. We are going to New Berne."
We were immediately
formed, and started on the back track with cheers for the general; but we had
not gone three miles before we found we were not "out of the woods."
Orders came to countermarch, so we turned about, wondering what all the
artillery firing meant. We tramped back about two miles or so through the
woods, on fire on both sides of the road, turned to the left down hill, and
formed line in silence, waiting. We were not allowed to speak or light our
pipes, but waited, it seemed, for two hours. The regiment was formed in
division column closed in mass; the company behind us being only a few feet
away, and in front nothing but the pickets and supposable rebels. After staying
here a while we heard the artillery go along the road, and soon followed. We
reached camp about ten o'clock, tired and hungry, but no chance to get anything
to eat, and a man missing. He turned up afterwards, having settled himself for
a nap when we were in the woods. Not finding any one near when he awakened, he
concluded to strike out for himself—happily remembering that old broken caisson
beside the road, and recollecting on which side he left it on going in, he soon
came Russelling" into camp with the rest of us.
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. 27-8
Awakened by the guard
at 4 a. m.; at daylight go on the street receiving a small day's ration, the
fourth issue since our capture. Rain is over; we are delighted to get out-door.
I shall not soon forget the morning. We are starting on a long, tedious journey
southward dependent on the mercies of enemies whom we had justly counted
barbarous in respect to the motives of the war they precipitated and are
needlessly waring. The fates of many seem desperate. How many of this long line
of Unionists will return to their Northern homes! How many and who of us will
sleep the last sleep in the far South!
We pass two large
buildings used as hospitals which appear filled. It was an hour and a half
before we reach the cars, a long train of flat and box. I take a seat on the
bottom of a flat. At 10 a. m. we start on a new road from Danville, Va., to
Greenboro, N. C., 48 miles. A guard near me, a man about 55 years old, ventured
to say that he believed the South missed it in going to war; it was not true
that they were forced to it. He believed President Lincoln just such a man as
Henry Clay in his principles, and he was a Clay man all his life.
"That is so,
the South can settle with Abraham Lincoln as easily as with any living
man," I replied. He said:
"I believe
it."
"Then why do we
find you with your gun in the Rebel service?"
"Because I had
to be somewhere; I enlisted in the militia, rather be here than fighting. Had I
not gone in they'd 'scripted me and sent me to the front; but being pretty old
and willing, they have me to do such duty as this."
"How do you
expect to come out with this war and how long will it last?"
"There's no
telling, not right away; there will be some right smart fights before you get
Richmond."
"Will they give
up then?"
"Well, no; I
reckon— it's the hardest place we've got; I reckon it can't be taken."
"Clinging to
Richmond will only continue the war until we completely besiege it; the
shortest way to end it, unless the whole South lay down their arms."
"You are
divided in the North; we think you will get sick of fighting. Heaps o' people
believe you to be a hard race; they want to get rid of you. This is what we
people are told."
"If the South
wants to settle as it is claimed they do, why don't they lay down their arms
and ask for terms?"
"That's it;
they no more want peace than they did when they commenced."
Looking about him,
he said: "Plenty of men have been put in prison and hung for saying what
they believed, they'd send me to the front sure for what I have said."
"We must have
Union and liberty as the ultimate result of this war, or there is no salvation
for North or South. The triumph of the South would be the greatest calamity
that could befall; our triumph the blessing of both."
"You're
right."
"Then as a
Union man whose election do you prefer this fall?” "I think Lincoln is a
good man."
This was an
interesting conversation; I am really in the Confederacy in conversation with a
Union man but a Rebel soldier. After going 25 miles we were ordered off the
train, there being a piece of road six miles not completed. We moved off across
the plantation till we came to a road. Long trains loaded with army supplies
driven by the raggedest negroes I ever saw, began to meet us as we went on the
road. It was amusing to hear their answers as to the distance to the railroad, which
the men were frequently asking. It was very hot several men died on this short
march. We reached the road about 4 p. m. and waited for the train. I was here
introduced to James B. Hawks of the 7th Michigan, by Thompson, which was the
beginning of a new friendship. Hawks had the advantage of a collegiate
education, and pleased us with several declamations still fresh in his memory
although he had endured the hardships of the peninsular campaign. A pile of
supplies lay beside the road. A group of ladies and men came to look at us
though there was few houses in sight. Just dark the train backed up with
several hundred soldiers for Lee's army. Here as at Charlotteville a few
contemplated escape if possible, should we remain after dark. But by dark we
were all driven on board. The order was "Shoot every man that tries to get
out," so Boodger and I were again flanked. It was midnight before we
started. As to the mode of our lodging we were like the Dutchman's hen that
stood up and set.
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 49-50
Arrive at Columbia,
S. C., at dawn. The night passed disagreeably. Although our destiny is prison,
men are impatient at delays, growl at "such engineering" though the
best we have had, a negro at that. I ate my last bread yesterday morning; hoped
for rations here; none came. We picked up corn scattered in the cars which
served some purpose. We are mingling freely with our officers, sitting beside
the track some ways from the city. This is the capitol of South Carolina;
population 8,000. A paper I saw today says of the armies in Georgia that
Johnston had retreated from Dalton towards Rome, Hooker and Thomas pressing
him. Details are given of skirmishes and glaring headlines of great disasters
to Yankees; but in important movements they concede failure, then attempt to distort
facts. Lincoln has issued a proclamation for thanksgiving. It looks as well for
us as we ought to expect; we have had to contend against disadvantages; a hard
struggle is before. Some gentlemen engaged in conversation with us. They
evinced a spirit narrowed to mere State pride all for slavery. The bane of
State right had been so profusely imbibed, that they had forgotten what Edmund
Randolph termed the "rock of our salvation" which gave "safety, respectability
and happiness to the American people," namely, "The Union of the
States," and plunged into that which brings destruction. Particularly was
this addressed to the South; nevertheless we are cursed for loving the Union.
They ask us to give it up, to give up principles for which we would preserve the
Union.
Gen. Seymour had his
buttons cut off by Rebels while asleep. He has no hat, it having been lost in
battle; he seems very disconsolate. General Shaler sits beside him with one arm
about his waist trying to console him.
Rebel officers have
been here and offer $5 to $15 Confederate for $1 in greenbacks. They have a
curious faith in success. At noon we left the junction for the South.
Kingsville is a junction of two roads, one for Charleston, the other north to
Wilmington. Four or five miles below we cross the Santee River, or one of its
branches, and an extensive swamp on a tressie, seemingly two miles long. Here I
saw several live alligators. We reached Branchville at dark and switched to the
west. Country is level, woody and in poor cultivation. On much of the cotton
lands trees are standing dead. Fields look like vast swamps. Land is worked in
this way wholly by slaves with little knowledge how to improve land, with
neither facilities or encouragement to do so, and when exhausted, it is left.
We could see the [slaves] toiling in "the cotton and the cane."
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 53-4
Arrived at Augusta,
Ga., at daylight, one of the nicest towns of its size in the South; the home of
Alexander H. Stephens, long celebrated as one of the ablest Southern men, now
the Vice President of this so-colled Confederacy. Business appeared dull.
Trains from Savannah had troops to reinforce Johnston beyond Atlanta. After an
hour we run out of town and changed trains. We have had no rations since the
20th, resort to various means to obtain bread. Brass buttons, pocket books,
knives, any Yankee trinket are in good demand; bread is scarce, prices enormous
when we find it. They like Yankee notions emblazoned in brass and gutta percha,
but they are too supercilious to adopt Northern principles. I succeeded in
trading a silk necktie and an ink stand for a loaf of bread. These fellows are
the queerest traffickers I ever saw. The Esquimaux and native Indians have no
greater hankering for a ten-penny nail than these people have for brass
ornaments. A good jack knife counted in their cash, is worth about $25; a
wooden inkstand $3 to $15; brass buttons from $3 to $10 per dozen. The country
around Augusta looks nice; it is on the Savannah River; population about 8,300.
In the afternoon we drew rations for a day; moved on at 3 o'clock.
On, on, on we go down to the Rebel jail;
I reckon this is rather rough a riding on a rail.
Oh, here are boys from many a hearth,
Dear to many a breast,
Many a mothers heart is dearth,
Many a wife with woe is press'd;
And many a kin and many a friend
Will long to know their fate;
[But] many a precious life will end
Within that prison gate;
And many a day ere we can see
That dear old home again,
And rest beneath that banner free
That traitors now disdain.
Many a long, long weary day,
Many a dismal night,
Our hope and strength may waste away
By hunger, pain and blight;
And many a vow may be forgot,
But we shall not forget
The glorious truths for which we fought.
The cause that triumphs yet.
But we hear their vauntings everywhere;
They never can prove true;
And yet what devils ever dare
These Rebels dare to do;
And matters look a little rough,
Things look a little blue,
You bet it is a little tough,
Going down to Rebel jail;
'Tis not so very pleasant, though,
This riding on a rail!
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 54-5
