Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Wednesday, April 22, 1863

Too wet for drill during day. sent $40.00 home by Robinson. Parade at 5. P. M. drill at 6 P. M. Cooks had to go out

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 488

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Thursday, April 23, 1863

Company drill at 10 A. M. 7 privates out, Battallion drill afternoon Parade 5. P. M. compay drill at 6 to 8. P. M.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 488

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Friday, April 24, 1863

Rained from daylight to 11 A. M. Serjeant of guard at Gen Rosses head quarters

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 488

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Saturday, April 25, 1863

Capt. Whipple treated Jake Miller to a glass of ale. Battalion drill from 6. P. M. to sundown. Dress parade at sundown

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 488

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Sunday, April 26, 1863

Rained hard during the night, very muddy. 9.30 comp. Insp. Jake and I took a walk through town, very warm.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 488

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Monday, April 27, 1863

Rained in the night and at spells through the day. In town to 1 P. M. comp. street sanded. Rained hard in evening

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 488

Diary of William Howard Russell: May 20, 1861

I left Mobile in the steamer Florida for New Orleans this morning at eight o'clock. She was crowded with passengers, in uniform. In my cabin was a notice of the rules and regulations of the steamer. No. 6 was as follows: “All slave servants must be cleared at the Custom House. Passengers having slaves will please report as soon as they come on board.”

A few miles from Mobile the steamer, turning to the right, entered one of the narrow channels which perforate the whole of the coast, called “Grant's Pass.” An ingenious person has rendered it navigable by an artificial cut; but as he was not an universal philanthropist, and possibly may have come from north of the Tweed, he further erected a series of barriers, which can only be cleared by means of a little pepper-castor iron lighthouse; and he charges toll on all passing vessels. A small island at the pass, just above water-level, about twenty yards broad and one hundred and fifty yards long, was being fortified. Some of our military friends landed here ; and it required a good deal of patriotism to look cheerfully at the prospect of remaining cooped up among the mosquitoes in a box, on this miserable sand-bank, which a shell would suffice to blow into atoms.

Having passed this channel, our steamer proceeded up a kind of internal sea, formed by the shore, on the right hand and on the left, by a chain almost uninterrupted of reefs covered with sand, and exceedingly narrow, so that the surf of the ocean rollers at the other side could be seen through the foliage of the pine-trees which line them. On our right the endless pines closed up the land view of the horizon; the beach was pierced by creeks without number, called bayous; and it was curious to watch the white sails of the little schooners gliding in and out among the trees along the green meadows that seemed to stretch as an impassable barrier to their exit. Immense troops of pelicans flapped over the sea, dropping incessantly on the fish which abounded in the inner water; and long rows of the same birds stood digesting their plentiful meals on the white beach by the ocean foam.

There was some anxiety in the passengers' minds, as it was reported that the United States cruisers had been seen inside, and that they had even burned the batteries on Ship Island. We saw nothing of a character more formidable than coasting craft and a return steamer from New Orleans till we approached the entrance to Pontchartrain, when a large schooner, which sailed like a witch and was crammed with men, attracted our attention. Through the glass I could make out two guns on her deck, and quite reason enough for any well-filled merchantman sailing under the Stars and Stripes to avoid her close companionship.

The approach to New Orleans is indicated by large hamlets and scattered towns along the seashore, hid in the piney woods, which offer a retreat to the merchants and their families from the fervid heat of the unwholesome city in summer time. As seen from the sea, these sanitary settlements have a picturesque effect, and an air of charming freshness and lightness. There are detached villas of every variety of architecture in which timber can be constructed, painted in the brightest hues — greens, and blues, and rose tints — each embowered in magnolias and rhododendrons. From every garden a very long and slender pier, terminated by a bathing-box, stretches into the shallow sea; and the general aspect of these houses, with the light domes and spires of churches rising above the lines of white railings set in the dark green of the pines, is light and novel. To each of these cities there is a jetty, at two of which we touched, and landed newspapers, received or discharged a few bales of goods, and were off again.

Of the little crowd assembled on each, the majority were blacks — the whites, almost without exception, in uniform, and armed. A near approach did not induce me to think that any agencies less powerful than epidemics and summer-heats could render Pascagoula, Passchristian, Mississippi City, and the rest of these settlements very eligible residences for people of an active turn of mind.

The livelong day my fellow-passengers never ceased talking politics, except when they were eating and drinking, because the horrible chewing and spitting are not at all incompatible with the maintenance of active discussion. The fiercest of them all was a thin, fiery-eyed little woman, who at dinner expressed a fervid desire for bits of “Old Abe” — his ear, his hair; but whether for the purpose of eating or as curious relics, she did not enlighten the company.

After dinner there was some slight difficulty among the military gentlemen, though whether of a political or personal character, I could not determine; but it was much aggravated by the appearance of a six-shooter on the scene, which, to my no small perturbation, was presented in a right line with my berth, out of the window of which I was looking at the combatants. I am happy to say the immediate delivery of the fire was averted by an amicable arrangement that the disputants should meet at the St. Charles Hotel at twelve o'clock on the second day after their arrival, in order to fix time, place, and conditions of a more orthodox and regular encounter.

At night the steamer entered a dismal canal, through a swamp which is infamous as the most mosquito haunted place along the infested shore; the mouths of the Mississippi themselves being quite innocent, compared to the entrance of Lake Pontchartrain. When I woke up at daylight, I found the vessel lying alongside a wharf with a railway train alongside, which is to take us to the city of New Orleans, six miles distant.

A village of restaurants or “restaurants,” as they are called here, and of bathing boxes has grown up around the terminus; all the names of the owners, the notices and sign-boards being French. Outside the settlement the railroad passes through a swamp, like an Indian jungle, through which the over-flowings of the Mississippi creep in black currents. The spires of New Orleans rise above the underwood and semi-tropical vegetation of this swamp. Nearer to the city lies a marshy plain, in which flocks of cattle, up to the belly in the soft earth are floundering among the clumps of vegetation. The nearer approach to New Orleans by rail lies through a suburb of exceedingly broad lanes, lined on each side by rows of miserable mean one-storied houses, inhabited, if I am to judge from the specimens I saw, by a miserable and sickly population.

A great number of the men and women had evident traces of negro blood in their veins, and of the purer blooded whites many had the peculiar look of the fishy-fleshy population of the Levantine towns, and all were pale and lean. The railway terminus is marked by a dirty, barrack-like shed in the city. Selecting one of the numerous tumble-down hackney carriages which crowded the street outside the station, I directed the man to drive me to the house of Mr. Mure, the British consul, who had been kind enough to invite me as his guest for the period of my stay in New Orleans.

The streets are badly paved, as those of most of the American cities, if not all that I have ever been in, but in other respects they are more worthy of a great city than are those of New York There is an air thoroughly French about the people — cafes, restaurants, billiard-rooms abound, with oyster and lager-bier saloons interspersed. The shops are all magazines; the people in the streets are speaking French, particularly the negroes, who are going out shopping with their masters and mistresses, exceedingly well dressed, noisy, and not unhappy looking. The extent of the drive gave an imposing idea of the size of New Orleans — the richness of some of the shops, the vehicles in the streets, and the multitude of well-dressed people on the pavements, an impression of its wealth and the comfort of the inhabitants, The Confederate flag was flying from the public buildings and from many private houses. Military companies paraded through the streets, and a large proportion of men were in uniform.

In the day I drove through the city, delivered letters of introduction, paid visits, and examined the shops and the public places; but there is such a whirl of secession and politics surrounding one it is impossible to discern much of the outer world.

Whatever may be the number of the Unionists or of the non-secessionists, a pressure too potent to be resisted has been directed by the popular party against the friends of the federal government. The agent of Brown Brothers, of Liverpool and New York, has closed their office and is going away in consequence of the intimidation of the mob, or as the phrase is here, the “excitement of the citizens,” on hearing of the subscription made by the firm to the New York fund, after Sumter had been fired upon. Their agent in Mobile has been compelled to adopt the same course. Other houses follow their example, but as most business transactions are over for the season, the mercantile community hope the contest will be ended before the next season, by the recognition of Southern Independence.

The streets are full of Turcos, Zouaves, Chasseurs; walls are covered with placards of volunteer companies; there are Pickwick rifles, La Fayette/Beauregard, MacMahon guards, Irish, German, Italian and Spanish and native volunteers, among whom the Meagher rifles, indignant with the gentleman from whom they took their name, because of his adhesion to the North, are going to rebaptize themselves and to seek glory under one more auspicious. In fact, New Orleans looks like a suburb of the camp at Chalons. Tailors are busy night and day making uniforms. I went into a shop with the consul for some shirts — the mistress and all her seamstresses were busy preparing flags as hard as the sewing-machine could stitch them, and could attend to no business for the present. The Irish population, finding themselves unable to migrate northwards, and being without work, have rushed to arms with enthusiasm to support Southern institutions, and Mr. John Mitchell and Mr. Meagher stand opposed to each other in hostile camps.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, p. 227-31

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Friday, June 5, 1863

I left Shelbyville at 6 A.M., after having been shaken hands with affectionately by “Aaron,” and arrived at Chattanooga at 4 P.M. As I was thus far under the protection of Lieutenant Donnelson, of General Polk's staff, I made this journey under more agreeable auspices than the last time. The scenery was really quite beautiful.

East Tennessee is said to contain many people who are more favourable to the North than to the South, and its inhabitants are now being conscripted by the Confederates; but they sometimes object to this operation, and, taking to the hills and woods, commence bushwhacking there.

I left Chattanooga for Atlanta at 4.30 P.M. The train was much crowded with wounded and sick soldiers returning on leave to their homes. A goodish-looking woman was pointed out to me in the cars as having served as a private soldier in the battles of Perryville and Murfreesborough. Several men in my car had served with her in a Louisianian regiment, and they said she had been turned out a short time since for her bad and immoral conduct. They told me that her sex was notorious to all the regiment, but no notice had been taken of it so long as she conducted herself properly. They also said that she was not the only representative of the female sex in the ranks. When I saw her she wore a soldier's hat and coat, but had resumed her petticoats.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 173-4

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes: Wednesday, April 16, 1862

A. M. Sun shining brightly. I have hopes of weather now that will allow us to move forward. A fine day at last! Major Comly drilled the non-commissioned officers as a company, A. M. and P. M. I drilled the regiment after parade. In the evening the new sutler, Mr. Forbes, brought me [a] letter from Lucy and portrait. Dear wife, the “counterfeit presentment” is something. Also papers of 12th. The victory at Pittsburg [Landing] was not so decisive as I hoped. The enemy still holds Corinth, and will perhaps fight another battle before giving it up.

Captain Bragg came in tonight, reporting a gang of bushwhackers in his neighborhood. Would send out a company if I were not afraid that orders to move would catch me unprepared.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 229

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: July 31, 1864

Near Atlanta, July 31, 1864.

The evening of the 29th, I went on duty as Field Officer of the day of this brigade. After posting my picket and seeing that all was right, I lay down to take a little sleep.

I must now explain our position. The right of our brigade rests on the Chattanooga Railroad and connects with the left of the Fourteenth Corps; the picket line was about one hundred and fifty yards in advance of the line of works. The rebel rifle pits extended along a crest about two hundred and fifty yards in front of their works, which consist of strong redoubts connected by a heavy line of breastworks ; at a point about in front of the centre of my picket, the ridge rose into a prominent mound. It was swept by the guns of two forts and several batteries, and appeared to be untenable even if taken.

About half-past two A. M., on the 30th, I received an order to advance and take the rifle pits in my front, if possible, and then hold the position. I was told that the pickets on my right and left would advance with me and protect my flanks. My picket consisted of one hundred and sixty-one men and five officers. At a given signal, just at dawn, the whole line rose up and moved out of their little works; for fifty yards not a shot was fired, then the enemy discovered us and opened their fire. I gave the order, “Double-quick,” and in a moment we were upon them; in less than two minutes we had captured seventy-two prisoners, including four captains and three lieutenants. I caught one fellow by the collar as he was making off; he seemed almost frightened to death. Says he, “Don't kill me, — I surrender, I surrender.” I told him that I wouldn't kill him, but he must tell me truly if there was anything between the pits and the works. He said no, but that there were lots of men and guns in the works. On my left, the picket had come up well, refusing its left so as to connect with our old line. On my right, as I soon learned, the Fourteenth Corps picket, seeing that we were being peppered a good deal, thought they would stay where they were, so I had to bend my right away round to cover my flank. The mound was now ours; the question was, could we hold it? The instant that we were fully in possession, I set to work fortifying. The men were in high spirits, knowing that they had done a big thing, and I felt confident that they would fight well. In a very few minutes we had rails piled along our whole front, and bayonets and various other articles were in requisition for entrenching tools.

As soon as the rebels were fully aware of our proximity, and just as it was becoming fairly daylight, they opened on us along our front with musketry and artillery, throwing enough bullets, cannister and shell for a whole corps instead of an insignificant picket detail.

Work, of course, was now suspended. Our greatest annoyance was the fort, which mounted heavy guns, and these were so near that they seemed almost to blaze in our faces and were doing a great deal of damage. I ordered part of the men to fire into the embrasures. In less than five minutes, heavy doors were swung across the openings, and the fort closed up business for the day; the other batteries were out of sight, and kept up their fire. After about an hour of this kind of work, I found that I had lost a good many men, and the others were much exhausted. I sent off an orderly with the report that I must have reinforcements, if I was expected to hold my position. Word came back that I should have more men, and that General Thomas said that the position must be held. Shortly after, three companies reported to me, and about six A. M., the old “Second” came up.

All the men who could be spared from their muskets were kept at work digging, so that every minute we were becoming stronger, and the danger was growing less; still the artillery fire was terrible. At ten o'clock, Colonel Coggswell sent in word that his men could stand it no longer; they had fired over a hundred rounds of cartridges apiece; they were perfectly exhausted and must be relieved. The Thirteenth New Jersey came out and the Second went in; this regiment was under command of a captain, so that it came under my control. At eleven the fire began to decrease, and from then till two P. M., as the rebels found we were to hold on, it continued to subside. A little after two, an officer was sent out to relieve me. My loss was forty-nine killed and wounded, at least half having been hit by solid shot and shell.

I had a whole chapter of wonderful escapes. One shell burst within ten feet of me, throwing me flat by its concussion and covering me with dirt. As I was trying to eat a little breakfast, a rifle bullet struck the board on which was my plate, and sent things flying; but it seemed that my time to be hit had not come.

Our regiment lost three killed and seven wounded. George Thompson was slightly wounded by a piece of shell, nothing serious. The recruits behaved well, without exception.

The best news we have is that General Slocum is coming back to this corps.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 182-5

Major Wilder Dwight: March 15, 1862

camp Near Winchester, March 15, 1862.

Of all the platitudes and jingles that ever amused and deluded a chivalrous people, the assertion, “You can't subjugate a State,” is the wildest. These people were first subjugated to secession, and now they are rapidly being subjugated back to loyalty. Subjection is what vast numbers of them sigh for. If only they were sure that the Union authority would last. Therein lies McClellan's wisdom. No step backward, is his motto. With such tactics, and with a bold and confident advance, I care not whether we fight battles or follow retreats, though the former is far better, we restore the Union.

I fear the people will regard the retreat from Manassas as a disappointment to our arms, and almost a Rebel success. I fear that they will think McClellan's preparation and generalship wasted. A little patience, however, may show that they are wrong. We have gained an immense moral victory over the Rebellion, and a short time hence we shall begin to see palpable material results. Only let us not, by a sudden and rash revulsion, begin at once to undervalue our foe. Nothing but the presence everywhere, in the seceded States, of Union bayonets will accomplish the Union's restoration. That is a work of some time and struggle, yet it must be done. The most dangerous heresy seems to me to be the suggestion that the States, having gone out, are to be governed as Territories. This involves the admission of the theory we went to war against. Martial law may be necessary within the States for a time; but the State, as well as the national government, is to be restored, or our contest is fruitless. Changes, rapid and unexpected, are the order of the day. Heintzelman's promotion to a corps d’armée leaves open his division. Yesterday, when I went to town, I found that General Hamilton was promoted to the command of that division. He went off yesterday afternoon, regret following him from every one. He is a great loss to us. His departure leaves a brigade vacant; accordingly our regiment is to-day transferred to Hamilton's old brigade, and Colonel Gordon, as senior Colonel, assigned to its command, as Acting Brigadier. This is a pleasing change, and it gives the Colonel room to show himself. It probably, for the present, may find me in command of the regiment, as Colonel Andrews is still on detached duty; but I shall make every exertion to have him returned to the regiment, in justice to him. He has fairly earned the right to the command, and I should not feel content to have him or the regiment deprived of it, though my own personal ambition might be gratified by so desirable a command. I hope I can sink myself in seeking always the welfare of the regiment, and the interest of so faithful an officer and friend as Colonel Andrews. I think more and more, though I am unwilling to write about it, that we missed the cleverest chance at cutting off and bagging Jackson and his force that ever fell in one's way. Caution is the sin of our generals, I am afraid; but military criticism is not graceful, and I will waive it for the present. Yet if you knew how we ache for a chance at fighting, how we feel that our little army corps out in this valley has no hope of it, you would not wonder that a leaden depression rests heavily upon us, as we think of our hesitating and peaceful advent to Winchester. And now why we do not push on upon Jackson at Strasburg passes my limited conjectural capacity to guess. I presume the reason to be that his evanescent tactics would be sure to result in his evaporation before we got there.

This morning a few companies of cavalry, four pieces of artillery, and five companies of infantry, Massachusetts Thirteenth, went out on an armed reconnoissance, and chased Colonel Ashby's cavalry several miles. The cavalry were too quick for them, and our own cavalry has no more chance of catching them than the wagon train has. They are admirably mounted and thoroughly trained. Where our men have to dismount and take down the bars, they fly over fences and across country like birds.

General Banks has just gone off to Washington. Conjecture is busy, again, with “why”? My guess is, that we have outlived our usefulness in the Shenandoah Valley, and that we shall make a cut through the gap into the path of the Grand Army. At any rate, nothing more can happen this side the mountains, and I certainly hope we shall not be absorbed into any force that is to be handled by General Fremont.

Our little town of Berryville is also called, as you may see on some of the maps, Battletown, probably with prescient sarcasm on –––'s anticipated cannonade of that peaceful agricultural implement, the threshing-machine. Who shall say that we are not engaged in the noble task of fulfilling prophecy and making history!

It is now Sunday morning. After two days' cloud and rain, we have bright sunshine. Colonel Andrews comes back to the regiment, and Colonel Gordon assumes his slippery honors as provisional brigadier.

I should like to go to church with you this morning, even in an east wind. Instead of it, however, I must content myself with thinking of you in my wind-swept camp near Winchester. I see that Governor Letcher appoints Winchester as a place of rendezvous for his new levy of militia. I only wish they would obey his order.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 211-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 25, 1862

Many severe things are alleged against the President for depriving Beauregard of the command of the Western army. It is alleged that Bragg reported that the enemy would have been annihilated at Shiloh, if Beauregard had fought an hour longer. Now, it appears, that Bragg would have annihilated the enemy at Perryville, if he had fought an hour longer! And just at the moment of his flying out of Kentucky, news comes of Beauregard's victory over the enemy in the South. Nor is this all. The enemy some time since intercepted a letter from Beauregard to Bragg (a copy of which was safely sent to the government here), detailing his plan of the campaign in the West, if he had not been unjustly deprived of the command. But Bragg chose to make a plan of his own, or was directed to disregard Beauregard's advice. No one doubts that Beauregard's plan would have been successful, and would have given us Cincinnati and Louisville; but that of Bragg, as the one sent him by the government, has resulted in the loss of Kentucky, and, perhaps, Tennessee!

Brig.-Gen. Edward Johnson is recommended by Gen. Lee for promotion to major-general, and to be placed in command of the army in Western Virginia.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 175

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: May 14, 1865

Mr. Knowles, our circuit preacher, came. I like him. We agree upon a good many contested topics. He loves the old flag as well as myself and would be glad to see it floating where it ever has.

I had a long conversation with my man Elbert to-day about freedom, and told him I was perfectly willing, but wanted direction. He says the Yankees told Major Lee's servants they were all free, but they had better remain where they were until it was all settled, as it would be in a month's time. We heard so many conflicting rumors we know not what to do, but are willing to carry out the orders when we know them.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 50-1

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: May 29, 1865

Dr. Williams, from Social Circle, came this morning to trade me a horse. He tells me the people below are freeing their servants and allowing those to stay with them that will go on with their work and obey as usual. What I shall do with mine is a question that troubles me day and night. It is my last thought at night and the first in the morning. I told them several days ago they were free to do as they liked. But it is my duty to make some provisions for them. I thank God that they are freed, and yet what can I do with them? They are old and young, not profitable to hire. What provision can I make?

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 51-2

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: December 24, 1865

It has been many months since I wrote in this journal, and many things of interest have occurred. But above all I give thanks to God for His goodness in preserving my life and so much of my property for me. My freedmen have been with me and have worked for one-sixth of my crop.

This is a very rainy, unpleasant day. How many poor freedmen are suffering! Thousands of them must be exposed to the pitiless rain! Oh, that everybody would do right, and there would not be so much suffering in the world! Sadai and I are all alone in the house. We have been reading, talking, and thus spending the hours until she went to bed, that I might play Santa Claus. Her stocking hangs invitingly in the corner. Happy child and childhood, that can be so easily made content!

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 52-3

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: December 25, 1865

Sadai woke very early and crept out of bed to her stocking. Seeing it well filled she soon had a light and eight little negroes around her, gazing upon the treasures. Everything opened that could be divided was shared with them. 'Tis the last Christmas, probably, that we shall be together, freedmen! Now you will, I trust, have your own homes, and be joyful under your own vine and fig tree, with none to molest or make afraid.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 53-4

Speech of Colonel William F. Bartlett, March 17, 1864

Mr. Chairman And Fellow Citizens, — I could wish that it had been your fortune to present this testimonial to one who would have done more justice to it in words more befitting the occasion and the gift. Had I your own command of language I could hardly do justice to it. If in the performance of my duties as a soldier I have met your approbation, I am truly grateful for it. The consciousness of duty performed is in itself a sufficient reward, but to this to-day is added the knowledge of the approval and applause of others, and the assurance that those at home appreciate our sacrifices, and that it is to keep a desolating war from their hearthstones that we take the field. You in this quiet Northern town know little of the misery of war, and the desolation that follows in the track of an army. If some fine day you should see an army file into your fields, and destroy your growing harvests, and dig a rifle pit in your garden, or cut down your choicest trees because they obstructed the view, you would see that the misery that the South is now suffering is but the just reward of her treachery and rebellion. His Excellency has just assured me of his confidence by placing under my command another Massachusetts regiment. The last one I had the honor to command was enlisted for only nine months, but served nearly twelve, and I believe during that term had its full share of danger, and I never knew of its disgracing the service or the State. Massachusetts soldiers never do. The regiment I now command will serve three years, and it is proposed to end the war in a much shorter time; but if we should be needed for three times three years, we have enlisted for the war. I see around me here the names of places which I cannot soon forget — places where I have known the saddest and the proudest moments of my life. I see the tattered flags of the brave old Twentieth, under which my earliest duties as a soldier were done on the field of battle. If the names of all the gallant men who have fought and fallen around you in your defense could be inscribed in characters of gold within your folds, it would be a fitting tribute of their devotion to the cause of which you are to us the hallowed symbol. You at home hope that this war will soon be over, and we hope so too, but we will have no peace but an honorable one. If we would have a lasting peace, we must realize that our honor, our safety, our very existence as a nation, depend upon our self-sacrifice and our valor. You must put forth every exertion, you must give every dollar, and if need be send every man, until we can win a victorious peace. I go to the field in a few weeks and shall carry this beautiful gift. I shall bring it back, if I come, bruised and disfigured perhaps, but with no stain of dishonor. For it, and for this flattering ovation, for the presence here of so many friends, and among them one whom the State and country loves and honors — for this day never to be forgotten by me, I thank you.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 94-6

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 29, 1862

Re-enlisted in the 1st Louisiana Regiment as Orderly Sergeant of Company E. The regimental officers were Colonel Richard E. Holcomb, formerly Major of the 13th C. V., Lieutenant Colonel Henry H. Elliot, Major William O. Fisk, and Adjutant Charles H. Grosvenor, formerly sergeant of Company H, 13th C. V. The line officers of Company E were, Captain Louis A. Solomon, 1st Lieutenant Rudolph Krause, Second Lieutenant James M. Gardner, formerly 2d Sergeant Co. K, 13th C. V.

SOURCE: George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 25

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Tuesday, April 12, 1864

Weather comfortable and warm, but few clouds and very little wind. If the weather still continues fine a few days longer the army will make an advance without doubt; have been talking with our sutler's clerk, Huntington, who was a lieutenant in the rebel army thirteen months, but being a Vermonter, on the death of his wife and child who were living in the south, he deserted to our army.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 35-6

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: November 7, 1864

Nothing special has occurred up to this date. On duty most of the time as corporal of the guard.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 134