Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: December 18, 1863

Went on the street to hear some news; found that a dispatch had been received, ordering a body of men to go on to Pattonsburg to burn down the fine bridge over the James river, to prevent Averill's escape ; Averill is at Salem with 4000 men.

At 11 o'clock, Imboden's cavalry and artillery passed through. It is the first time I have seen an army. Poor fellows ! with their broken down horses, muddy up to the eyes, and their muddy wallets and blankets, they looked like an army of tatterdemalions; the horses looked starved. Then came the Home Guard, drenched and muddy, as if they had seen hard service, though they had only been out four days; but such weather! It rained terribly, the rain part of the time freezing as it fell; and they were out in it all: stood round their fires all night, or lay down in the puddles of water. At 3 P. M. Gen. Fitzhugh Lee's cavalry (2700) passed through. Their horses were in better condition. All the men in both divisions looked in fine spirits, and cheered vociferously as the ladies waved scarves and handkerchiefs on their passing. People brought out waiters of eatables for the poor tired men. I put our dinner, which was just ready, on a waiter, and sent it down to them. Found Bro. E. and brought him home to dinner, and filled his haversack. All went on to Collierstown last night . Bro. W. is Lt. Col. of the Home Guards. They were all sent on for the protection of Lexington last night, it being supposed that Averill would advance upon us from Salem. An exciting day indeed.

At night my husband came; the Cadets were water bound; some of them waded to their waists in water, building bridges for artillery. Mr. P. says he saw one marching along in his naked feet. This is "glorious war "!

Received a note from A. enclosing a Flag of Truce letter from J. Thankful that my dear father is better.  J. says, “It doesn't matter how soon all of us go.” She would feel so indeed, if she were in the midst of such war scenes as now surround us.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 173-4

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Tuesday, November 10, 1863

Hear that there was fighting yesterday all day at Callihans, six miles west of Covington; that the Home Guard and cadets were being pushed on as fast as they could move, in order to assist, and expected to arrive at 4 o'clock, P. M. So my husband and Bro. W. may have been in a battle — may be wounded — may be prisoners — may be killed — all is uncertainty. These torturing rumors are very hard to bear.

Exceedingly cold today. A Flag of Truce note from Julia to W. — Father is sick, to add to my anxieties. Had a letter in reply to mine to Judge Ould about William Cocke. Mine was sent on to Washington City, and is returned endorsed, “No record of W. F. Cocke.” So that settles the question; he perished in the assault upon Gettysburg. I have to communicate this to his mother. What awful times we live in!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 170-1

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: April 6, 1863

Have been sick for two days with severe cold; in bed all day Saturday, and not able to be at church yesterday. Brother Willy here to dinner today. Has just been on a little visit to General Jackson's army; preached there; says Jackson is longing to be out of the field, and at home once more.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 161

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 3, 1862

Yesterday, Bro. Wm., Anna, and the children came in; W. was only here a short time. It was very sweet, however, to have even this little visit from some of my own kin. I feel so lonely and isolated. How I long often to fly to dear Father and Julia for a little while, have a good cry on their bosoms, and then fly back! It is very sorrowful to be so utterly cut off from them. They are in my thoughts every day, and almost every hour. So are my brothers and their families. When I am compelled to hear scorn and loathing predicated of everything Northern (as must continually be the case), my heart boils up, and sobs to itself. But I must be silent.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 143