Senator Charles Sumner to John Bigelow, October 24, 1851

I heard of your illness, while I was in New York, with great regret. Time and distance did not allow me to see you at your suburban retreat, although I wished very much to confer with you, particularly on the subject of your letter. Let me say frankly, however, that I despair of any arrangement by which any candidate can be brought out on the Democratic side so as to receive active support from antislavery men. Nor do I see much greater chance on the Whig side. The tendency of both the old parties at present is to national conventions; and in both of these our cause will perish. The material for a separate organization, by which to sustain our principles, seems to exist nowhere except in Massachusetts. Had the Barnburners kept aloof from the Hunkers in 1849, the Democratic split would have been complete throughout the free States, and it would have affected sympathetically the Whig party. A new order of things would have appeared, and the beginning of the end would have been at hand. But the work in some way is to be done over. There will be no peace until the slave-power is subdued. Its tyranny must be overthrown, and freedom, instead of slavery, must become the animating idea of the national government. But I see little chance of any arrangement or combination by which this truly Democratic idea can be promoted in the next Presidential contest.

The politicians are making all their plans to crush us, and they seem to be succeeding so well that all our best energies and most unflinching devotion to principles can alone save us. For myself I see no appreciable difference between Hunker Democracy and Hunker Whiggery: in both, all other questions are lost in the 'single idea' of opposition to the Free Soil sentiment. Nor can I imagine any political success, any party favor or popular reward, which would tempt me to compromise in any respect the independent position which I now hold.

It is vain to try to get rid of this question of the slave-power except by victory over it; and our best course, it seems to me, is to be always ready for the contest. But I am a practical man, and desire to act in such way as best to promote the ideas which we have at heart. If you can show me the road, I am ready to follow. . . The two years before us will be crucial years, years of the Cross. But I know that better times will soon come. For God's sake, stand firm! I hope John Van Buren will not allow himself to be enmeshed in any of the tempting arrangements for mere political success. He is so completely committed to our cause that he can hope for nothing except by its triumph. I know no one who has spoken a stronger or more timely word for us than he has. I am much attached to him personally. I admire his abilities, and am grateful for what he has done; but I feel that if he would surrender himself more unreservedly to the cause he would be more effective still. Few have such powers.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 255-6

Diary of Private William S. White, July 1, 1861

Changed our position to Young's Mill, a strong position nine miles from Newport News.

Throwing up breastworks, reënforced by four pieces of artillery and Fifth Louisiana regiment.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 104

Diary of Private William S. White, July 2, 1861

We have now at this point eight pieces of artillery and three thousand men. Sent to Yorktown for eight days' rations and our tents.

This is one of the most beautiful camps I ever saw, but the great scarcity of good water makes it undesirable.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 104

Diary of Private William S. White, July 3, 1861

Quiet along the lines; some little "cursing" of Magruder in camp, for marching us so much in such rainy weather.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 104

Diary of Private William S. White, July 4, 1861

A portion of our infantry, with the First and Third detachments of my company, left to-day for Harwood's Mill.

An expedition is spoken of to-morrow, but the way liquor is circulating through camp to-day makes me somewhat afraid of a fiasco.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 104

Diary of Private William S. White, July 5, 1861

THE "DREUX SKIRMISH."

It pains me no litle to write the following account of this sad affair, but it was my intention when I first commenced this journal to give, as far as I was able, a just and truthful account of the scenes through which we passed during the war and if there seems to the general reader a small amount of egotism he must excuse it. Other and more elaborate histories of the war will be written by professed journalists but few of them will be real actors on the bloody stage.

Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Dreux, commanding the First Battalion of Louisiana Volunteers, and also commanding this expedition was as brave and gallant an officer as ever drew sword for Freedom.

Our attempt to capture a small marauding body of the enemy ended in miserable failure, and cost poor Dreux his life—cut down in the prime of life. Twenty picked men were selected from each of the five companies of the Louisiana Battalion, but instead of those being commanded by one ranking company officer, each squad of twenty took its full compliment of company officers, thus having at least four times as many commissioned officers as was necessary; there were also twenty cavalrymen belonging to the "Halifax (Va.) Catawba Troops," and eight picked men from my Company (Fourth Detachment, Third Company) with a Sergeant, Corporal and two Commissioned officers, Captain Stanard and Lieutenant Moseley; in all about one hundred and fifty men.

Unfortunately the driver to our howitzer was totally inexperienced and his horses were then being driven for the first time and were quite wild.

The plan was this:

We left Young's Mill about midnight, and taking the road to Newport News reached our destination a short time before dawn of day, and Dreux's plan was to form his infantry on the left of the main road, his howitzer on the left of the infantry and in a small country road running into the main road, whilst the cavalry were in rear of the howitzer and acting as its especial guard. We were expressly ordered not to open fire until orders were given by Dreux in person, and it was understood that we were to allow the Yankees to pass the country road, our gun being concealed, and ready for action, when we were to run our gun into the main road "by hand to the front" and open upon them, whilst the infantry would uncover, and the cavalry charge" at the same time. The Yankees coming up rather slowly Colonel Dreux sent out a small scouting party to see what had become of them, and this party ran plump into the Yankees before they were aware of it. Several shots passed and there was no chance of an ambuscade then, and the first thing I knew we were all mixed up together, the Yankees having come through the woods right upon us, not confining themselves to the main road. A very deliberate looking “blue coat" took a cool aim at my head, fired, the ball grazing my cheek, and I think killed Dreux, who was standing a few paces behind me, though none of us saw him fall. This was the first shot fired and the Yankee was not more than fifteen paces from me. Here was a predicament—our gun charged with "canister," within. twenty yards of the enemy, and we ordered not to fire unless Dreux gave the order—and he dead, unknown to us, and the Yankees popping away at us at a fearful rate, their fire feebly returned by a portion of our infantry, they, like ourselves, being ordered not to fire unless Dreux gave the order. Stanard and Moseley, who were both absent, I never have known where, at the commencement of the fight, now rushed up to us, and Stanard, in a very excited manner ordered the gun to be "limbered up" and taken out of the road, as the Yankees were all around us (so he said). We begged him to let us give the enemy a shot, but no! "limber to the front, and get out of that road!" The cavalry, not knowing what "limber to the front" meant, I presume, concluded it was too hot for them and, after shooting one of our own scouts, dashed down the road in a complete panic—running against our horses, attached to our gun, who likewise took affright, and, by just a "leetle" help from the driver, scampered off and up the road in confusion—worse confounded. One of our detachment, W. Gordon McCabe, seeing this yelled out to the Louisiana troops: "Our gun is gone, but our men are all here!”

The Yankees hearing this extraordinary rumpus, concluded they had gotten into a "hornet's nest" and betook themselves down the road as fast as our cavalry and gun horses scampered up.

One of our scouts being mortally wounded, three of us went after him, put him in a "pressed" cart and brought him where our infantry was, but he, poor fellow, died whilst we were putting him in the cart. We then put Dreux's body in the same cart and mournfully wended our way back to Young's Mill, where the remainder of Dreux's Battalion met us, perfectly overwhelmed with grief, for he was Charley Dreux with the humblest private in the ranks and the idol of his command. In the afternoon it was reported the Yankees were advancing upon Young's Mill, but it turned out to be a false alarm.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 104-7

Daniel Fletcher Webster to Senator Daniel S. Dickinson, January 21, 1855

BOSTON, January 21, 1855.

MY DEAR SIR—I this day received, on my return from Washington, an envelope post-marked Binghamton, and containing an autograph letter from my late father to you. I suppose I am indebted for this favor to no one but yourself. I have seen the letter in print, but am very much your debtor for the original. It contains sentiments to which I have often heard my father give expression, in the privacy of social and domestic life, and with which he impressed his family and friends.

I will have it copied and return you the original. With your leave, I propose to make use of it in the publication of my father's correspondence.

I am, with great respect,

Your friend and servant,

FLETCHER WEBSTER.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, p. 485

Senator Daniel S. Dickinson to Mr. Rogers, March 25, 1855

BINGHAMPTON, March 25, 1855.

MY DEAR ROGERS—

*                    *                    *                    *                    *

I am aware that many papers have suggested my name in connection with the Presidency, and some have actually placed it at mast-head. Upon the subject you are already aware of my views. Really and truly, I desire never to be again called from the quiet of my home to discharge a public trust. The times have become degenerate—the spirit of office-seeking, base and execrable in the extreme, and the tone of public morals more than questionable. The public treasury and public domain are regarded the lawful booty of political cormorants. Whoever administers the government for the next term, if he does no more than his reasonable duty, will dearly earn both his emoluments and honors, for he will have much to do, above and beyond subserving the grovelling purposes of mere party.

He will have to arrest the demoralizing system of public plunder which has become a part of the fashion of the times; and he will have to fight over, remember that, the great battle of the Constitution which has been recently surrendered. He will have to displace political Peter Funks, professional office-seekers and holders, and fill their places with honest men. It will require the iron will, the stern integrity, and the moral courage of a Jackson. If it is not done, the country will be ruined. If it is done, he who does it will be persecuted "to strange cities." It is a labor of love I by no means covet, nor shall I envy him who is selected to discharge it.

*                    *                    *                    *                    *

Mrs. Dickinson and daughter unite in kind regards to your self and Mrs. Rogers.

Sincerely yours,

D. S. DICKINSON.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, p. 485-6

Senator Daniel S. Dickinson to Charles E. Dyke, June 1855

ALBANY, June, 1855.

MY DEAR SIR—On my return to my residence a few days since, from a professional engagement abroad, I found your favor of a late date inquiring my views touching the principles of the "American" or "Know-Nothing" organization. Before I found time to answer I was hurried to this place to attend the Court of Appeals now in session, where the business in which I am engaged affords little time or opportunity for correspondence. I will, however, as I have no concealments upon public questions, borrow a moment from my passing duties to say quite hastily, that I have no knowledge concerning the order to which you allude, except such as is acquired from publications purporting to give information upon the subject, and must therefore confine myself to such points as are embraced within this range. It is generally understood and conceded to be a secret society or organization, designed to act politically in the contests of the day. Of this secret feature I entirely disapprove, and am unable to understand by what necessity, real or supposed, it was dictated, or upon what principle it can be justified. Free public discussion and open action on all public affairs, are essential to the health, nay, to the very existence of popular liberty; and the day which finds the public mind reconciled to the secret movements of political parties, will find us far on our way to the slavery of despotism. If good men may meet in secret for good purposes, we can have no assurance that bad men, under the same plausible exterior, will not secretly sap the foundations of public virtue.

Whether I am in favor of their platform upon the question of domestic slavery, must depend upon what it is; or rather, whether they are in favor of mine. If their platform is to be regarded as including, upholding, or justifying such monstrosities as the "personal liberty bill," recently passed into a law by the Massachusetts Legislature over the veto of Governor Gardner, then I pronounce it treason—rank, unblushing, and brazen-deserving of public reprehension and condign punishment. If upon this subject their platform conforms to resolutions recently published, purporting to be the voice of the majority of the Convention assembled at Philadelphia, it is in substance the same upon which I have stood for years—upon which I did not enter without counting the consequences, and which I intend to relinquish only with life. I have not now these resolutions before me, but as I recollect them, I approve them in substance as sound national doctrine. I ignore no part of the federal Constitution, either in theory or in practice, to court the popular caprices of the moment, to gain public station, or to minister to the necessities or infirmities of those in power. Nor can I distrust the soundness of principles approved upon full consideration under a high sense of duty, because others may choose to adopt and embrace them.

I cannot believe that any good can be accomplished by making the birthplace a test of fidelity or merit. It does not accord, but is at war, with the genius of cur institutions. That abuses have been practised by the appointment of foreigners to places of trust, before sufficiently familiar with our Constitution, laws, and social system, or to which, from circumstances, they were unsuited, is probable. This, however, is in some respects common to native as well as naturalized citizens, and arises not from a defective system, but from its erroneous administration. It is in both respects the natural result of placing in the hands of the incompetent the distribution of public patronage.

Upon the subject of naturalized citizens I have been governed by considerations of justice and duty, and have designed to observe the spirit of my country's Constitution. When members engaged in a steeple-chase, to see who should propose earliest, give most, and vote loudest, to feed suffering Ireland from the federal treasury a few years since, not finding any warrant for such proceedings, I voted against it, and let public clamor exhaust itself upon my head in denunciations. When I learned that the foreigner who had in good faith declared his intentions of citizenship, by setting his foot upon a foreign shore in case of shipwreck, without any intention of remaining abroad, lost the benefit of his proceedings, I introduced and procured the passage of a bill to redress the grievance. These principles have governed my public conduct and now guide my opinions. The Constitution, administered in its true spirit, is, in my judgment, sufficient for the protection of all, whether native or naturalized, and for the redress of all political evils which can be reached by human government.

I have the honor to be,

Your friend and servant,

D. S. DICKINSON.

CHARLES E. DYKE, Esq., editor Floridian and Journal, Tallahassee.

SOURCE: John R. Dickinson, Editor, Speeches, Correspondence, Etc., of the Late Daniel S. Dickinson of New York, Vol. 2, p. 486-8

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 20, 1862

We have enjoyed three days of furlough, with no drill or duty to speak of, and most of the company are in good trim again. It has rained much lately, which shuts us in-doors, most of our time being occupied in writing and sleeping. We have just received our blankets, which we left at Washington, never expecting to see them again. They are very acceptable, as the nights are not of the mildest.

Our camp is very pleasantly located, a few rods nearer the Neuse than our first one. The barracks are formed in two wings, with cook-house in rear of each company, and quartermaster's department to be built in the square behind; the line officers in barracks by themselves on each flank, and staff in front of the right wing; the guard line being just outside of all, giving us a convenient parade ground. About six men are drawn from the company each day for camp guard and two for police, making that duty comparatively light; but other work comes in regular order, so we don't have much leisure time. Our routine is about as follows: Reveille at half-past six A.M. and roll-call; then basins to the front, and we go to the water, although we often find some running back to the barracks to get a little more sleep; breakfast, seven; surgeon's call, half-past seven; about this time the first sergeant makes his morning report; guard mounting at eight; then squad drilling from half-past eight till ten, unless the officers get tired of it; company drill, eleven to twelve; then one hour for dinner; company drill from one to two; battalion drill, three to four; company parade and roll-call at half-past four; dress parade, five; supper, six; tattoo and roll-call, half-past seven; taps, half-past eight. No rest for the weary, for between whiles Sergt. Thayer wants three men to get rations, or Sergt. Parsons wants one to sweep barracks, or perhaps the captain wants one to carry a loaded knapsack in front of his quarters for an hour or so for discipline. We wish the paymaster would come; we have been borrowing and lending to each other just to be able to remember the looks of a dollar. There is about three months' pay due us, which would alleviate our misery much just now, especially as Thanksgiving is near at hand.

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. 21

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 27, 1862

Thanksgiving was a great day in the barracks and a fine day outside, except for those who are on guard. We will recollect them all day, having great pity, but unable to relieve them.

To-day has been talked about and worked up for a week. Turkeys and the fixings have been at a premium, but they say our dinner is safe. The day opened splendidly; just cold enough to induce the boys to play at foot and base ball; some of the officers taking hold and seemingly enjoying the sport.

We had dinner at one P.M. The table, extended nearly the length of the barracks, was covered with our rubber blankets, white side uppermost, looking quite home-like. Our plates and dippers were scoured till we could see our faces in them, and how we hated to rub them up! for, according to tradition, the blacker the dipper and the more dents it had, the longer and harder the service. But it had to be, and was done, and we had to acknowledge "How well it looks!" When we were seated, about a man to every ten was detailed as carver; and a few of us who had engineered to get near the platters were caught and had to cut up and serve. We tried in vain to save a nice little piece or two for ourselves; each time we did it some one would reach for it. At last we cut the birds into quarters and passed them indiscriminately. After the meats we had genuine plum-pudding, also nuts, raisins, &c. After the nuts and raisins were on a few made remarks, but the climax was capped by our Lieut. Cumston, who, after telling us not to eat and drink too much, said, "There is a man in camp from Boston, getting statistics; among others, wishes to find out how many of 'E' smoke." The lieutenant said it would be easier counting to ask the question, "How many did not smoke." Several jumped up proud to be counted; among them a few who did occasionally take a whiff. The joke was soon sprung on them, for when they were well on their feet, Lieut. Cumston remarked that he had a few cigars, not quite a box, and hoped they would go round, but those who did not smoke were not to take any. We had the cigars and the laugh on those who wished to figure in the statistics. It was a big dinner, and we did it justice, and gave the cooks credit for it.

In the evening Company D and ourselves gave a musical and literary entertainment. Our barrack was full, and the audience often applauded the amateurs. The programme was as follows:—

PART I.
Song	“Happy are we to-night boys”
Declamation	“England’s interference”	F. S. Wheeler (Co. D)
Song	“Oft in the Stilly Night”
Declamation	“The Dying Alchemist”	S. G. Rawson (Co. E)
Readings	“Selections”	J. W. Cartwright (Co. E)
Song	“Viva L’America”
Declamation	“Spartacus to the Gladiators”	J. Waterman (Co. D)
Declamation	“The Beauties of the Law”	H. T. Reed (Co. E)
“Contrabands Visit”		Myers and Bryant (Co. E)
Song	“Gideon’s Band”
INTERMISSION
	PART II.
Song	“Rock me to sleep, mother”
Declamation	“Garabaldi’s Entree to Naples”	G. H. Vanvorhis (Co. E)
Song	“There’s music in the air”
Imitation of Celebrated Actors		H. T. Reed (Co. E)
Declamation	“Rienza’s Address to the Romans”	N. R. Twitchell (Co. E)
Old Folks Concert		Father Kemp
Ending with “Home Sweet Home,” by the audience

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. 21-2

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 28, 1862

We went to bed late last night, but had to get up at the regular time this morning. It was hard work after having had a holiday to strike into the old routine at once. There is nothing ahead now but Christmas, pay-day, Washington's Birthday, or another march to enliven us. We have had a few boxes from home, but hope for more, as yesterday a vessel arrived. Our letters say they are coming. We hope to get them about Christmas time, but will use them if they arrive sooner.

At dress-parade to-night Col. Lee complimented us on our behavior yesterday, and upon the way we celebrated.

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. 22-3

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 29, 1862

We had a fine time for a change last night. There was one solitary pudding left over from our Thanksgiving dinner. The boys found out that the sergeants had appropriated it, and after taps went for them. We had hardly turned in, when a tall man (name commencing with R) in the left wing of the barracks, but right wing of the company, tuned up with "Pudding, pudding, who's got the pudding?" A sergeant immediately popped his head out of his room, with "Stop that noise" The man would not stop, and, to make matters worse, others picked it up, and soon the entire lot were yelling for pudding. While we were at it strong, in came Col. Lee; but we did not subside worth a cent. So Capt. Richardson came in, and the men, excepting those who had crawled out the ventilators and through the cook-room, were drawn up in line, and the question put to each and all, “Did you say pudding?" Not being able to find out who started the game, the company was ordered out and drilled a while, while the few who shirked their duty by running, crawled back and went to bed. It was short-lived, but fun while it lasted; but we never found that pudding!

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. 23

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 9, 1862

Since Thanksgiving we have been drill, drill, drilling, the same as at Readville, only, we hope, better. There is very little to write about; there is a sameness about camp-life which renders it oft-times monotonous. Today has been a sample of brisker times. We would hardly be recognized as the same boys who have occupied the barracks since Thanksgiving night. Then peace and quietness was in camp, now all is bustle and confusion. A few who fell out on the previous march to Tarboro have been examined and talked to, but most of us were allowed to go again if we would behave. A few who are sick have been detailed to stay behind and care for the barracks and the things we have in them. The rest have been as busy as bees making boxes to pack our extra things in. When that was done to our satisfaction we occupied ourselves in writing home.

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. 23

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 10, 1862

Night came without any move being made, and the usual detail for guard was made to-day. We, unlucky guard, already packed this time, had something to do till we were on the road, while the rest only stayed around waiting for the word.

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. 23

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 11, 1862

The guard was relieved early, and at seven A.M. we fell into line with the regiment, marching across the town to Fort Totten, where we joined our brigade. We made little progress till nearly noon, when, as we thought, we started, but there were continued hitches somewhere, and we had many chances to stretch ourselves on the ground. We were loaded down this time, carrying blankets and knapsacks, and most of us a change of clothes. About four o'clock we passed the pickets on the Trent road, apparently about a regiment, having a prettily situated entrenched camp, on a small elevation; their posts being about an eighth of a mile farther up the road. Soon after leaving them we encountered the first “obstacle" of the expedition. We kept halting, and then starting a little, and soon found we would probably have to sleep in wet clothes. We had to cross quite a long and deep run of water, but, for a change, were allowed to struggle with the plank at the side of the road; but those who succeeded in keeping their feet on the narrow, slippery timber, were few, but dry, and consequently happy. We saw lights ahead, and supposed we were close to camp, but had to march three miles or so before we turned into a cornfield on the left of the road, having marched about fourteen miles. A self-imposed detail of two went back to get water for the mess, and what wood we could find; then made our fire, had supper, and turned in. No good bunks now, but plenty of soft dirt to be tucked up in. 

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. 23-4

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 12, 1862

Called up at six this morning; rather stiff in our joints, but still able to have our beds made. We hear this morning that some one took a couple of prisoners last night.

To-day we marched about eighteen miles, camping at nine P.M. No excitement of any kind all day, except hearing of a number of prisoners being taken. Our camp to-night is in a cotton-field, for a change, on the right of the road. And for novelty we try individual fires. Our mess, of about eight, found plenty of rails, but had to get three lots of water, for as fast as one lot would get hot enough for the coffee some one would hit the rail, and over all would go; spoiling our fire and water too. Finally, by ten o'clock, we managed to get supper; then agreed to take turns watching the fire and our spare rails, which we were afraid we should lose. One of the guards falling asleep, our fire went out, also the balance of our rails; but some one foraged around, finding three good ones, and sat on them till morning, that we might have a warm breakfast.

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. 24

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 13, 1862

Last night the company forager, Russell, nearly lost his life. Having stolen or appropriated a mule, he spent most of his time, while on the march, scouring the neighboring chicken-roosts, and, as usual, came in last evening loaded down, a hoop-skirt pannier on each side of his animal, being distended to its uttermost capacity with good things, from eggs to a side of bacon. The picket where he came on the line happened to be a Dutchman, who understood very little English, and nothing of his duty (not of our regiment), and the mule, caparisoned as he was with the white skirts, stealing upon him with little noise, frightened the poor fellow so that he fired at the forager, and then challenged him, but after a deal of talk, our man got by and rendered a good account of himself.

We started about seven this morning, and after marching about nine miles heard firing ahead, and were ordered to halt, and "right and left" was the word. Lying down, we rested while our artillery went through the line. We waited a long time. Then we moved forward, and, entering a large field on the left, were drawn up in line of battle. We were on an elevation, where we could see all that was going on, or thought we could, which served the purpose, as we all found out sooner or later. The men knew little or nothing, and anyone asking an officer, he always replied, "I'm sure I cannot tell you”—a most unsatisfactory way of explaining matters.

About four o'clock we stacked our arms, with orders not to leave the ranks; and supposing the enemy to be in our immediate vicinity, we kept quiet for an hour;then, as there did not appear to be any special movement, we were allowed to get something to eat; and soon found we were to stay here all night, but were not allowed to remove our accoutrements.

From our position we have a beautiful view of our camp-ground. We are situated on a knoll, with General Stevenson's head-quarters in our immediate vicinity, with the different regiments scattered in all directions; while down in the woods, directly in front of our line, we can just see the cavalry picket. We are wondering if all our fighting is to be done on Sundays. Our first fight was on Sunday, and it is now Saturday night; and we are so close to the enemy that we have orders to sleep with our rifles in our hands. Probably no baked beans or brown bread for us to-morrow.

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. 24-5

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 14, 1862

Sunday morning opened finely; and after a quiet night we were up bright and early, starting at half-past seven for another day's tramp, which we are in good condition to do, having rested well yesterday. This is our fourth day from New Berne, and by the road we marched it is a considerably longer distance than by the Neuse Road, which, it is rumored, is heavily barricaded, and would have delayed us much.

We marched pretty steadily till about nine o'clock, when we heard firing ahead; and the artillery of our brigade went through the lines at double quick. Then we were drawn up in line in a field at the right of the road, piling up our knapsacks and leaving a man or two to guard them. We had an idea there was fighting ahead of us, but thought it quite a way off, until a few shells whistled unpleasantly near. Soon we had orders, "Forward!" We entered a swamp where we saw a number of the 45th M. V. wounded and many dead. Guns, knapsacks, and accoutrements scattered in all directions. It almost beggared description. Col. Lee was leading the way: our duty was to follow. We would have preferred going round that swamp. And such a place to drop in! Anyone shot there, took a chance of being drowned also. Up to our hips in water; strangled or tripped up by the grape-vines. Sometimes two would jump for the same hummock, and, striking midway, both would drop into the water. It was our “Slough of Despond;” and we were expecting each minute to receive a volley, and be served as the other regiments had been, but we were agreeably disappointed. There was plenty of shot and shell which went over our heads. When we were clear of the swamp we could see a building on top of the hill. It turned out to be a church. We arrived there just in time to see two or three hundred rebels being led to the rear, and another lot just coming in with a flag of truce. Our forces also captured a battery which the rebels could not carry off. We went back on the road to get our knapsacks, and then took our position in line. While waiting to move on, we saw a lot of muskets and rifles piled up beside the road. A splendid double-barrel gun took the eye of many, but it looked heavy, so it was left.

The enemy did not succeed in burning the bridge, although it was loaded with tar and cotton. The man detailed for this work started the fire, but probably his clothes, becoming saturated with spirits, took fire, as when we crossed we saw him lying in the mud under the bridge, badly burned and dead. The cotton was thrown overboard and the bridge saved.

We crossed about two o'clock P.M. After passing a formidable looking water-battery, just at the right of the bridge, we marched about two miles to Kinston, which was deserted, except by the darkies and occasionally a poor white. At the junction of the streets cotton was piled up and on fire,—a great waste of batting, but they probably thought it would impede our progress. If it had been the cause of the destruction of the place, Gen. Foster probably would have been blamed. We marched across the town, and while we saw most of the regiments bivouacking and getting their supper, we kept on about a mile, to drive the rebels from a hill from which they could shell the place. After losing two hours, we countermarched, camping close to the railroad station and a large corn elevator, where we had a good supper; after which, instead of turning in, some of us started on a "lark." We went through the post-office and other buildings, but were finally driven back by the cavalry. After visiting the corn elevator, which was on fire, and filling our canteens with water for morning, we tore down a fence back of the station, making some very nice beds, and turned in.

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. 25-6

 

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 15, 1862

After turning in last night it was impossible to sleep, the cause being the music of a band farther down the railroad track. It was a serenade to the general, probably, but we took it all in. Our batteries had been practising all the evening on the hill occupied by the rebels, altogether making it lively, but conducive to sleep.

At half-past four this morning we were aroused by the usual drum-beat, ate breakfast, and started once more; and as we had more resting than fighting yesterday, we were in a comparatively good condition, marching out of Kinston in good spirits. We crossed the river by the same bridge where the fight occurred, and, after burning it, took the road towards Goldsboro. Nothing worthy of note turned up to-day but our toes and heels alternately, which did not interest us much. After a steady march of sixteen miles, we encamped in a cornfield on the right of the road. (About all the fields we ever did camp in were cornfields.) We would have liked a potatoe-patch or dry cranberry meadow for a change, but probably Col. Lee or the exigencies of the case demanded a cornfield. If the colonel had been obliged to have slept once across the rows of these or between them, filled as they oftentimes were with water, he would have picked out other quarters without doubt. This camp is about five miles from a place called Whitehall, where they say we are to "catch it."

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. 26