Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, April 15, 1865

We started at 7 a. m., marched only four miles and went into camp again. News came from the front that Johnston had stopped fighting for the purpose of surrendering his army to General Sherman. It rained hard all day, but we don't mind that when hearing such glorious news as the surrender of Johnston. The Third and First Divisions remained in camp.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 268

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, April 16, 1865

The weather is warm and pleasant. We remained in bivouac all day. All is quiet in the front and both armies are resting under a flag of truce. Neither army is allowed to change its position while the agreement is in force.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 268

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Monday, April 17, 1865

News came that Abe Lincoln¹ had been assassinated at Washington, in a theater, also Secretary Seward and his son.² When the news came of the death of the president, the safety guards, placed at private houses to protect the families from violence, were relieved. General Sherman at once demanded an answer from Johnston by tomorrow, in regard to the surrender. Charles Correll of our company was put under arrest for saying that the president should have been shot three years ago. Correll has only been with the company since the 28th of last September, and then had been hired to enlist for a big sum of money. I went out on picket this morning.

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¹ That a soldier should speak of Lincoln in such familiar terms was but natural. It was in no sense disrespectful. All through the war the President was spoken of as "Abe" Lincoln. — Ed.

² This shows again the unreliable character of the first reports. — Ed.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 268

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 27, 1864

General Early has returned from Maryland, bringing horses, cattle, etc. While near Washington, the army burned Mr. Montgomery Blair's house, which I cannot persuade myself to regret, and spared the residence of his father, by order, it is said, of General Breckinridge. I know that General B. was right, but I think it required great forbearance, particularly in the soldiers, who have felt in their own persons and families the horrors of this cruel war of invasion. It seems to our human view that unless the war is severely felt by those in high authority, it will never cease. Hunter has just passed through the upper part of the Valley of Virginia, his pathway marked by fire and sword; and Sheridan has followed Early into Virginia, with no very gentle intent, I fear. I am glad that Maryland was spared as a general thing, particularly as our friends might have suffered with our foes, for it would have been difficult to discriminate; but I cannot avoid thinking that if other places, besides Governor Bradford's house and the town of Chambersburg, had been burnt, it would shorten the war. Yet God has said, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay;" and I hope that Christian principles will ever be observed by our commanders. There seems to be no touch of pity in the hearts of many of the Federal generals. Women and children are made homeless at midnight, and not allowed to save any thing, even their clothes. When houses are not burned, they are robbed of every thing which a rapacious soldiery may desire. The last barrel of flour, the last ham, is taken from store-rooms; and this is done, not in Virginia only; nor are Hunter, Sheridan, Kilpatrick, or Stoneman the only men who do it; but every State in the Confederacy has felt the heel of the despot. North and South Carolina have suffered on their eastern borders most severely; the same of Georgia and Florida. Alabama has had much to bear. The Mississippi country in Louisiana, Arkansas, and the State of Mississippi, has been ravaged and desolated; Tennessee has perhaps had more to bear than any of them. But poor old Virginia has been furrowed and scarred until her original likeness is gone. From the Potomac to the Roanoke, from the seaboard to the Kentucky boundary, including the downtrodden Eastern Shore, she could scarcely be recognized by her sons. Marked by a hundred battle-fields, and checkered by fortifications, almost every spot is classic ground. From the beginning she has acted her part nobly, and has already covered herself with glory; but when the war is over, where shall we find her old churches, where her noble homesteads, scenes of domestic comfort and generous hospitality? Either laid low by the firebrand, or desecrated and desolated. In the march of the army, or in the rapid evolutions of raiding parties, woe betide the houses which are found deserted! In many cases the men of the family having gone to the war, the women and children dare not stay; then the lawless are allowed to plunder. They seem to take the greatest delight in breaking up the most elegant or the most humble furniture, as the case may be; cut the portraits from the frames, split pianos in pieces, ruin libraries, in any way that suits their fancy; break doors from their hinges, and locks from the doors; cut the windows from the frames, and leave no pane of glass unbroken; carry off house-linen and carpets; the contents of the store-rooms and pantries, sugar, flour, vinegar, molasses, pickles, preserves, which cannot be eaten or carried off, are poured together in one general mass; the horses are of course taken from the stables; cattle and stock of all kinds driven off or shot in the woods and fields. Generally, indeed I believe always when the whole army is moving, inhabited houses are protected. To raiders such as Hunter and Co. is reserved the credit of committing such outrages in the presence of ladies — of taking their watches from their belts, their rings from their fingers, and their ear-rings from their ears; of searching their bureaux and wardrobes, and filling pockets and haversacks in their presence. Is it not then wonderful that soldiers whose families have suffered such things could be restrained when in a hostile country? It seems to me to show a marvellous degree of forbearance in the officers themselves, and of discipline in the troops.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 282-4

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Monday, February 23, 1863

Here goes! News has been received that the Yankees are already packed, ready to march against us at any hour. If I was up and well, how my heart would swell with exultation. As it is, it throbs so with excitement that I can scarcely lie still. Hope amounts almost to presumption at Port Hudson. They are confident that our fifteen thousand can repulse twice the number. Great God! — I say it with all reverence — if we could defeat them! If we could scatter, capture, annihilate them! My heart beats but one prayer — Victory! I shall grow wild repeating it. In the mean time, though, Linwood is in danger. This dear place, my second home; its loved inhabitants; think of their being in such peril! Oh, I shall cry heartily if harm comes to them! But I must leave before. No use of leaving my bones for the Yankees to pick; better sing “Dixie” in Georgia. To-morrow, consequently, I go to that earthly paradise, Clinton, thence to be re-shipped (so goes the present programme) to Augusta in three days. And no time for adieux! Wonder who will be surprised, who vexed, and who will cry over the unforeseen separation? Not a single “good-bye”! Nothing — except an old brass button that Mr. Halsey gave me as a souvenir in case he should be killed in the coming assault. It is too bad. Ah! Destiny! Destiny! Where do you take us? During these two trying years, I have learned to feel myself a mere puppet in the hands of a Something that takes me here to-day, to-morrow there, always unexpectedly, and generally very unwillingly, but at last leads me somewhere or other, right side up with care, after a thousand troubles and distresses. The hand of Destiny is on me now; where will it lead me?

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 328-9

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Monday, April 10, 1865

Had an all-day rain. The entire army moved forward today, some starting at 8 a. m. We packed our knapsacks early this morning, but did not start until 10 o'clock. While we were waiting, some of the Twenty-fourth Iowa Regiment which had arrived at Goldsboro came over to our “ranches” for a visit. We boys had a visit from Homer Curtis of Company C, Twenty-fourth Iowa. We marched ten miles today. The Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps form the right wing, the Twenty-third Corps, in command of General Schofield, the center, and the Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps form the left wing. Some heavy cannonading off on the left.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 267

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Tuesday, April 11, 1865

Weather quite pleasant. We started at 6 a. m. and marched twelve miles. Our march was very slow, the road being through one continuous swamp. We had to lay corduroy the whole way. Our division, the First, was in front of the corps, and there was some skirmishing in our front.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 267

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, April 12, 1865

We started at 8 a. m. and marched five miles, all the way through one continuous swamp. News came to us this forenoon that General Lee had surrendered his entire army to General Grant. It was glorious news. We forgot all about our hard marching, and the whole brigade commenced singing songs — “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, As we go marching on!”

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 267-8

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, April 13, 1865

It rained nearly all day and I never saw it rain harder than it did this forenoon. We left our bivouac at 5 a. m. and marched eighteen miles. The roads are good now. The left wing of our army marched into Raleigh, the capital of North Carolina, the rebels having evacuated the place last night.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 268

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 31, 1862

Everybody is upon the tip-toe of expectation. It has been announced (in the streets!) that a battle would take place this day, and hundreds of men, women, and children repaired to the hills to listen, and possibly to see, the firing. The great storm day before yesterday, it is supposed, has so swollen the Chickahominy as to prevent McClellan's left wing from retreating, and reinforcements from being sent to its relief. The time is well chosen by Gen. Johnston for the attack, but it was bad policy to let it be known where and when it would be made; for, no doubt, McClellan was advised of our plans an hour or so after they were promulged in the streets. Whose fault is this? Johnston could hardly be responsible for it, because he is very reticent, and appreciates the importance of keeping his purposes concealed from the enemy. Surely none of his subordinates divulged the secret, for none but generals of division knew it. It must have been found out and proclaimed by some one in the tobacco interest. It is true, Mr. Randolph told Mr. Jacques a great battle would begin at 8 A.M., to-day; but he would not propagate such news as that!

But the battle did not occur at the time specified. Gen. Huger's division was not at the allotted place of attack at the time fixed upon. His excuse is that there was a stream to cross, and understanding Gen. Longstreet was his senior in command (which is not the fact, however), he permitted his division to have precedence. All the divisions were on the ground in time but Huger's, but still no battle. Thousands of impatient spectators are venting their criticisms and anathemas, like an audience at a theater when some accident or disarrangement behind the scenes prevents the curtain from rising.

At last, toward noon, a few guns are heard; but it was not till 4 P.M. that Huger's division came upon the field. Nevertheless, the battle began in earnest before that hour; and we could hear distinctly not only the cannon but the musketry.

The hearts of our soldiers have been inspired with heroic resolution, and their arms nerved with invincible power to overcome the difficulties known to be in the way. Every one is aware that the camp of the enemy, on this side of the Chickahominy, is almost impregnably intrenched; and in front of the works trees have been cut down and the limbs sharpened, so as to interpose every obstacle to our advance.

Ever and anon after rapid firing of cannon, and a tremendous rattle of musketry, a pause would ensue; and we knew what this meant! A battery had been taken at the point of the bayonet, and we cheered accordingly. One after another, we could in this manner perceive the strongholds of the enemy fall into our hands.

Toward sundown it was apparent that the intrenched camp had been taken; and as the deep booming of cannon became more distant, and the rattle of musketry less distinct, we felt certain that the foe was flying, and that our men were pursuing them. But we knew that our men would take everything they were ordered to take. They care not for wounds and death. This is their only country. But the enemy have a country to run to, and they hope to live, even if defeated here. If they kill all our young men, the old men and women, and even our children, will seize their arms and continue the conflict.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 129-30

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 31, 1862, Night

The ambulances are coming in with our wounded. They report that all the enemy's strong defenses were stormed, just as we could perceive from the sounds. They say that our brave men suffered much in advancing against the intrenchments, exposed to the fire of cannon and small arms, without being able to see the foe under their shelter; but when they leaped over the breastworks and turned the enemy's guns on them, our loss was more than compensated. Our men were shot in front; the enemy in the back — and terrible was the slaughter. We got their tents, all standing, and a sumptuous repast that had just been served up when the battle began. Gen. Casey's headquarters were taken, and his plate and smoking viands were found on his table. His papers fell into our hands. We got a large amount of stores and refreshments, so much needed by our poor braves! There were boxes of lemons, oranges, brandies and wines, and all the luxuries of distant lauds which enter the unrestricted ports of the United States. These things were narrated by the pale and bleeding soldiers, who smiled in triumph at their achievement. Not one in the long procession of ambulances uttered a complaint. Did they really suffer pain from their wounds? This question was asked by thousands, and the reply was, “not much.” Women and children and slaves are wending to the hospitals, with baskets of refreshments, lint, and bandages. Every house is offered for a hospital, and every matron and gentle daughter, a tender nurse.

But how fares it with the invader? Unable to recross the swollen Chickahominy, the Yankees were driven into an almost impenetrable swamp, where they must pass the night in water up to their knees. The wounded borne off by them will have no ministrations from their sisters and mothers, and their dead are abandoned on the field. If Huger had come up at the time appointed, the enemy would have been ruined.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 130-1

A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg: May 9, 1863

This morning the door-bell rang a startling peal. Martha being busy, I answered it. An orderly in gray stood with an official envelope in his hand.

“Who lives here?”

“Mr. L––.”

Very imperiously — “Which Mr. L––?”

“Mr. H–– L––."

“Is he here?”  “No.”

“Where can he be found?”

“At the office of Deputy ––.”

“I'm not going there. This is an order from General Pemberton for you to move out of this house in two hours. He has selected it for headquarters. He will furnish you with wagons.”

“Will he furnish another house also?”

“Of course not.”

“Has the owner been consulted?”

“He has not; that is of no consequence; it has been taken. Take this order.”

“I shall not take it, and I shall not move, as there is no place to move to but the street.”

“Then I'll take it to Mr. L––.”

“Very well, do so.”

As soon as Mr Impertine walked off I locked, bolted, and barred every door and window. In ten minutes H–– came home.

“Hold the fort till I've seen the owner and the general,” he said, as I locked him out.

Then Dr. B–– 's remark in New Orleans about the effect of Dr. C––'s fine presence on the Confederate officials there came to mind. They are just the people to be influenced in that way, I thought. I look rather shabby now; I will dress I made an elaborate toilet, put on the best and most becoming dress I had, the richest lace, the handsomest ornaments, taking care that all should be appropriate to a morning visit; dressed my hair in the stateliest braids, and took a seat in the parlor ready for the fray. H–– came to the window and said:

“Landlord says, ‘Keep them out. Wouldn't let them have his house at any price.’ He is just riding off to the country and can't help us now. Now I'm going to see Major C––, who sent the order.”

Next came an officer, banged at the door till tired, and walked away. Then the orderly came again and beat the door — same result. Next, four officers with bundles and lunch-baskets, followed by a wagon-load of furniture. They went round the house, tried every door, peeped in the windows, pounded and rapped, while I watched them through the blind-slats. Presently the fattest one, a real Falstaffian man, came back to the front door and rung a thundering peal. I saw the chance for fun and for putting on their own grandiloquent style. Stealing on tiptoe to the door, I turned the key and bolt noiselessly, and suddenly threw wide back the door and appeared behind it. He had been leaning on it, and nearly pitched forward with an “Oh ! what's this!” Then seeing me as he straightened up, “Ah, madam!” almost stuttering from surprise and anger, “are you aware I had the right to break down this door if you hadn't opened it?”

“That would make no difference to me. I'm not the owner. You or the landlord would pay the bill for the repairs.”

“Why didn't you open the door?”

“Have I not done so as soon as you rung? A lady does not open the door to men who beat on it. Gentlemen usually ring; I thought it might be stragglers pounding.”

“Well,” growing much blander, “we are going to send you some wagons to move; yon must get ready.”

“With pleasure, if you have selected a house for me. This is too large; it does not suit me.”

“No, I didn't find a house for you.”

“You surely don't expect me to run about in the dust and shelling to look for it, and Mr. L–– is too busy.”

“Well, madam, then we must share the house. We will take the lower floor.”

“I prefer to keep the lower floor myself; you surely don't expect me to go up and down stairs when you are so light and more able to do it.”

He walked through the hall, trying the doors. “What room is that?” — “The parlor.” “And this?” — “Mv bedroom.” “And this?” — “The dining-room.”

“Well, madam, we'll find you a house and then come and take this.”

“Thank you, colonel; I shall be ready when you find the house Good-moming, sir.”

I heard him say as he ran down the steps. “We must go back, captain ; you see I didn't know they were this kind of people.”

Of course the orderly had lied in the beginning to scare me, for General P–– is too far away from Vicksburg to send an order. He is looking about for General Grant. We are told he has gone out to meet Johnston: and together they expect to annihilate Grant's army and free Vicksburg forever. There is now a general hospital opposite this house and a small-pox hospital next door. War. famine, pestilence, and fire surround us. Every day the band plays in front of the small-pox hospital. I wonder if it is to keep up their spirits? One would suppose quiet would be more cheering.

SOURCE: George W. Cable, “A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of Vicksburg”, The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, September 1885, p. 770

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 18, 1864

Since the last note in my diary we have been pursuing our usual course. The tenor of our way is singularly rough and uneven, marked by the sound of cannon, the marching of troops, and all the paraphernalia of grim-visaged war; but we still visit our friends and relatives, and have our pleasant social and family meetings, as though we were at peace with all the world. The theme of every tongue is our army in Maryland. What is it doing? What will be the result of the venture? The last accounts are from the Washington papers. Early, they say, is before Washington, throwing in shells, having cut the railroads and burnt the bridges. We are of course all anxiety, and rumour is busier than ever. The army, it is said, has driven innnmerable horses, beeves, etc., into Virginia. I trust so; it is surmised that to supply the commissariat is the chief object of the trip. Grant still before Petersburg, sending transports, etc., with troops to defend Washington.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 281

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: July 24, 1864

Amid all the turbulent scenes which surround us, our only grandchild has first seen the light, and the dear little fellow looks as quiet as though all were peace. We thank God for this precious gift, this little object of all-absorbing interest, which so pleasantly diverts our troubled minds. His father has left his far-off military post to welcome him, and before he returns we must by baptism receive him into the Church on earth, praying that he may be a “member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.” This rite thus early administered, bringing him into the Episcopal Church, seems to belong to him by inheritance, as he is the grandson of a Presbyter on one side, and of a Bishop on the other.

The city looks warlike, though the inhabitants are quiet. Troops are constantly passing to and fro; army wagons, ambulances, etc., rattle by, morning, noon, and night. Grant remains passive on the Appomattox, occasionally throwing a shell into Petersburg, which may probably explode among women and children — but what matters it? They are rebels — what difference does it make about their lives or limbs?

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 281-2

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday, February 22, 1863

Mother has come to me! O how glad I was to see her this morning! And the Georgia project, which I dared not speak of for fear it should be mere talk and nothing more, is a reality. — Yes! we are actually going! I can hardly believe that such good fortune as getting out of that wretched Clinton really awaits us. Perhaps I shall not like Augusta either; a stranger in a strange city is not usually enchanted with everything one beholds; but still — a change of scene — a new country — new people — it is worth while! Shall we really go? Will some page in this book actually record “Augusta, Georgia”? No! I dare not believe it! Yet the mere thought has given me strength within the last two weeks to attempt to walk. Learning to walk at my age! Is it not amusing? But the smallest baby knows more about it than I did at first. Of course, I knew one foot was to be put before the other; but the question was how it was to be done when they would not go? I have conquered that difficulty, however, and can now walk almost two yards, if some one holds me fast.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 327

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday, February 22, 1863, Sunset

Will [Pinckney] has this instant left. Ever since dinner he has been vehemently opposing the Georgia move, insisting that it will cost me my life, by rendering me a confirmed cripple. He says he could take care of me, but no one else can, so I must not be moved. I am afraid his arguments have about shaken mother's resolution. Pshaw! it will do me good! I must go. It will not do to remain here. Twenty-seven thousand Yankees are preparing to march on Port Hudson, and this place will certainly be either occupied by them, or burned. To go to Clinton is to throw myself in their hands, so why not one grand move to Augusta?

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 327-8

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Thursday, April 6, 1865

News comes that General Grant has taken Richmond with five thousand prisoners and five hundred pieces of artillery. We also hear that Mobile has been taken with twenty thousand prisoners and a large number of guns. Glorious news!

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 266

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Friday, April 7, 1865

Weather still pleasant. Company drill two hours a day. Our brigade came out in review and was inspected by General Smith. A statement was read to us by the assistant adjutant general of our brigade, stating our loss at Richmond, and also that of the enemy. Our loss was seven thousand killed and two thousand taken prisoners, while that of the enemy was forty thousand in killed, wounded and prisoners.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 266

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Saturday, April 8, 1865

All is quiet. Sherman's army received orders to march on the 10th. Our wagon trains are loaded with thirty-five days' rations, and we are to carry five days' rations in our haversacks. The news is so good that all are anxious to move at once. The boys are all happy, thinking that this will be our last campaign. Our brigade received orders to clean clothing and accouterments for regimental inspection.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 266

Diary of 5th Sergeant Alexander G. Downing: Sunday, April 9, 1865

Very pleasant weather. Our division was inspected this forenoon by General Smith. Two regiments in the division did not pass inspection and were sent back to their “ranches” with the order to get themselves up in better style and come back at 4 o'clock for inspection. The Eleventh Iowa was complimented for its neat appearance. We were ordered to come over to General Smith's headquarters at 5 o'clock in the evening to hold our dress parade. The officers of the two disgraced regiments were ordered to appear at his headquarters to see our regiment go through the manual of arms on our dress parade. We returned to our “ranches” much elated over the high compliments we had received from our division commander. We set to work at once preparing for our dress parade, not even taking time to cook our noon-day mess. A number of the boys were sent down town to buy all the white gloves and white collars they could find, besides shoe blacking and shoe brushes, and then we spent all the time till the parade in fixing ourselves up. We went over to the general's headquarters looking our best, and every move ordered by our colonel was nicely executed in the presence of the line officers of the other two regiments.¹

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¹ The next day when we started for Raleigh, one of those two regiments having marched out on the road ahead of our regiment, was ordered to halt while ours passed to the front. While we were marching by they could not find words strong enough to express their contempt for us. — A. G. D.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 266-7