7th. Paymaster telegraphed to, and preparations for leaving Camp Denison.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Tuesday, January 7, 1862.
Dearest L—: — The enclosed letter to Dr. Joe did not get off yesterday and thinking it likely he may be off, I enclose it with this to you.
Since writing yesterday a deep snow has fallen postponing indefinitely all extensive movements southward. We shall have a thaw after the snow, then floods, bad roads for nobody knows how long, and so forth, which will keep us in our comfortable quarters here for the present at least. Write me one more letter if you can before I come home. I shall not leave for home in less than three weeks. I trust my absence will not continue much longer than that time. Take care of yourself and you will be able to be up with me and about long before I leave. I must visit Columbus, Delaware, and Fremont (unless Uncle happens to be at Cincinnati) while at home, besides doing a great many chores of all sorts. I don’t expect you to be able to go with me, but I hope you will be well enough to be with me a good deal while we are in Cincinnati.
I just ran out in the snow to detail four men to run down a suspicious character who is reported as hanging around the hospital and lower part of the village. A queer business this is.
I sent Laura some letters written by lovers, wives, and sisters to Rebels in Floyd’s army. The captured mails on either side afford curious reading. They are much like other folks — those Rebel sweethearts, wives, and sisters.
I trust we shall crush out the Rebellion rapidly. The masses South have been greatly imposed on by people who were well informed. I often wish I could see the people of this village when they return to their homes. On the left of me is a pleasant cottage. The soldiers, to increase their quarters, have built on three sides of it the awkardest possible shanty extensions — one side having a prodigious stone and mud chimney, big enough for great logs ten feet in length. On three of the prominent hills of the village considerable earthworks have been built. There are no fences in sight except around the three buildings occupied by leading officers. Such is war. One young lady writing to her lover speaks of a Federal officer she had met, and laments that so nice a gentleman should be in the Union army.
. . . . You must be ever so careful for a good while yet. Good night, dearest. Much love to all and, as about forty affectionate Rebels say, a large portion for yourself.
Affectionately,
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
7th.—This has been a cold, blustry day, and the Regiment has been out skirmishing. They found no enemy ; bought a little corn, and came home.
All is conjecture here as to the intention of our leaders. My conjecture is that outside pressure will compel us to do something within the next fifteen days, or lose still more confidence. But what can we do? Nothing, here. The roads are impracticable for artillery—the weather too bad to fight. If we do anything we must go south. I am getting very tired of this, and wish I could feel that it would be proper for me to resign.
January 7 — A cold north wind that felt like winter’s best swept furiously over our camp last night. This morning Jackson’s troops commenced their march back toward Bath. A Tennessee band played “The Mocking Bird” as the infantry began to move away. Our battery was rear guard, and we did not move out of camp until noon. The road was very slippery on account of the packed, frozen snow, consequently we made poor progress, marching only about a mile an hour. It was dark when we passed Bath. We marched until ten o’clock to-night, and are camped four miles south of Bath. Very cold, and our beds are made on fence rails, to keep out of the snow.
Camp Porter, Hall’s Hill, Va.,
Tuesday, Jan. 7, 1862.
Dear Sister L.:—
I had almost settled down to the conviction that we would see no fighting, that we would winter here, but at last we have a change. Orders have come that show we are to march in fighting order. We have two knapsacks. In one we pack the things we do not need, and in the other we put two blankets, a change of clothes, etc. We have orders to hold ourselves in readiness to march at ten minutes’ notice. We are ready. We have our new rifles and they are splendid guns. Our regiment is drilled so that we will throw down the glove to any regiment in the service. General McClellan says we are equal in proficiency to any regulars in the army, and now he is ready. We are ready and we only wait the word go. Give McLane a chance and I feel confident the Eighty-third will be heard from. I know nothing of the plans. I am only a machine and am not expected to know anything. The papers say we are going down the river to take the batteries on the shore and outflank the rebels at the Junction. It may be so and it is just as likely to be nothing like the plan. It may be like all the alarms we have had before. But every one seems to think we are sure to go this time. H. is not well enough to do full duty, but will go as a wagon guard and have his knapsack carried.
Tuesday, January 7, 1862. — Snowing scattered flakes. Not more than three inches of snow has fallen. The weather is not cold for the season. Seven companies here now.
Joseph Bean resides nine miles from Boyer’s Ferry on the old road between pike and river, five miles from Sewell (Mount) Camp; a Union man. . . . Mr. Bean is on the common errand, justice (possibly, vengeance or plunder) against his Rebel neighbors. Very unreliable stories, these.
The day before Christmas private Harrison Brown, Company B, stole a turkey from a countryman who came in to sell it. I made Brown pay for it fifty cents and sent him to the guardhouse over Christmas. I hated to do it. He is an active, bright soldier, full of sport and lawless, but trusty, brave and strong. He just came in to offer me a quarter of venison, thus “heaping coals of fire on my head.” He probably appreciated my disagreeable duty as well as any one and took no offense.
Lieutenant Avery (Martin P.) and Lieutenant Kennedy are my messmates. Avery is a capital soldier. He joined the regular army as a private, five or six years ago, before he was of age, served a year and a half; joined the Walker expedition to Nicaragua, was in several fights and saw much severe service. He joined a company in Cleveland as a private — was made a second lieutenant and has since been promoted to first and was by me appointed adjutant. He is intelligent, educated, brave, thoroughly trained as a soldier and fit to command a regiment.
Kennedy is of Bellefontaine, an agreeable, gentlemanly youngster, dead in love, reads novels, makes a good aide, in which capacity he is now acting. Took a long walk with Avery in the snow.
Fayetteville, January 6, 1862.
Dear Mother : — I yesterday received your letter dated Christmas. It was very welcome. I also got a letter from home of one day’s later date. Glad to know you are all well. It is impossible yet to fix the time of my visit home. It may be a month yet. If the weather allows, we are going tomorrow to Raleigh — twenty-five miles further from the steamboat landing, and rendering our communications with home somewhat more precarious. We are now in a region where the resident population is friendly, and we are urged to come to Raleigh by Union citizens for protection. We have established a camp there, and may, perhaps, push our movements further toward the interior. . . . I am busily engaged getting ready to move.
January 7. — It has been snowing steadily for several hours, and all thought of going further is indefinitely postponed. We shall stay in our comfortable quarters until the snow melts, and the floods abate, and the weather again allows the roads to settle. This, very likely, will not be until after my visit home, so I shall not see “Camp Hayes,” as my friend Major Comly has called the post at Raleigh, until after I see some other Hayeses who are in another direction. I suspect I shall get home in between three and four weeks. I know no reason which will prevent my visiting you at Delaware and uncle at Fremont for a day or two each.
Affectionately,
Your Son.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
Tuesday, 7th—Nothing of importance. It rained all day. Our company is divided into messes, seven in all, and each has a cook. Each mess draws its rations every five days, according to number, and the rations are placed in the care of the cooks. Some of the cooks are not well posted on cooking. Cook number 7 wanted to cook some rice for dinner and put his kettle on filled with rice. Presently he began dipping out rice, as it was running over, and he soon had his third kettle filled with rice. In finishing it up he let it scorch and to overcome that he put in some molasses, which the boys foraged out in the country, and so mess number 7 will have sweet scorched rice for some days to come.[1]
[1] Cook number 7 did not hear the last of it for some time. We all recommended him as being a good hand to cook rice.—A. G. D.
Tuesday Jan’y 7th/62
Not so cold today. The snow mostly off, it was only about 2 inches deep. Took my best black coat to the Tailors to get it renovated. Levee at the Prests tonight, “Bud” & Holly went. The[y] were with the Lincoln boys all the evening and had a rare time. Ed Dickerson was here and spent an hour or two. He stays in the City most of the time. I was down to Willards, great crowd (mostly strangers). Called at Charless Room on my return. Bed at 11.
______
The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of Congress.
Aboard the New York.
Jan. 7. Here we are, packed like sardines in a box; three companies of us, K, C and B, in the after cabin. The officers and band occupy the saloon and state rooms on the upper deck, the other companies fill the cabin on the forward deck, the ladies’ saloon and gangway amidships. The horses are forward, and the baggage is piled up forward and on the guards. Altogether, we are settled in here pretty thick, but by keeping ourselves in good humor and by a little forbearance and accommodation, one to the other, we shall manage to get along and live together in peace, like Barnum’s happy family. This boat is a large, first-class steamer, built in the strongest manner and designed for a sea-going boat. She is commanded by Capt. Clark; the first mate is a Mr. Mulligan. Both have the appearance of gentlemen. The troops are embarking as rapidly as possible, and in a day or two more the expedition will be ready to sail.
