March 16 — At twelve o’clock last night an alarm reached us that the pickets were fighting near Middletown, two miles from our camp. We were ordered to get ready to march at a moment’s notice. The alarm was false, and we remained at an old house till day, but did not unroll our blankets nor sleep the remainder of the night. Early this morning crossed Cedar Creek, which is the boundary between Frederick and Shenandoah, and moved about two miles up the pike from the creek bridge and camped. The enemy did not advance farther than Newtown yesterday.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Sunday March 16th 1862
Has not rained today. A Regt passed this morning with Band playing &c just as people were going to church. Col Dutton had his horse sent down and he left for the Camp (as he said) cured. Col Durkee left early this morning. Col Dutton had an ambrotype of his family, self, wife & five children. I noticed that he was very attentive to it this morning. We think him a very fine warm hearted man. It is probable that he will be called into active service very soon. Maj McCamby of Oswego and Q Master Francis of Bridghampton LI called today, they belong to the 81 NY Regt.
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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.
MARCH 16TH.—I omitted to note in its place the gallant feat of Commodore Buchanan with the iron monster Merrimac in Hampton Roads. He destroyed two of the enemy’s best ships of war. My friends, Lieutenants Parker and Minor, partook of the glory, and were severely wounded.
Sunday, 16th—We are still lying on the boats waiting for orders. Two gunboats came down from Pittsburg Landing. The weather is very disagreeable, with rain every day and rather cold besides.
To Mrs. Lyon
Mound City, March 16, 1862.—We have not gone yet. The 8th is at or near New Madrid, and there has been some fighting down there. The situation there is about this: The rebels have fortified Island No. 10 in the Mississippi river, about fifteen miles above New Madrid, and occupy it now. They also had a fort at or near New Madrid. This fort was commanded by our artillery all day last Thursday, and on that night, during a severe thunderstorm we had here, they evacuated it and our troops occupied it. We expect every day to hear that our gunboats have cleaned out from the island, as it is not a strong position. The infantry have had but little to do, it being (as I always told you the battles along the river would be) an artillery fight. One captain in the 10th Illinois was killed by the rebel pickets on Wednesday night, through his own folly and imprudence, by going unnecessarily near the rebel lines. I never shall get killed that way. When I peril my life it will be where some good is to be accomplished by it. We had a report here on Friday that our regiment had been in and got cut up, but I do not believe it has been under fire at all.
16th. Sunday. Helped clean up in and about the quarters of Co. “H.” Heard the Chaplain preach from “Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he reap.” Used strong language against the drunkenness and profanity of officers especially, and of the men. Spoke of the increase of immorality—sad, but true.
We Attend Church.
March 16. Today, for the first time since we left home, Chaplain James held services in a meeting-house. We occupied the large house of the Presbyterian society, which was well filled with a miscellaneous congregation of soldiers, sailors, citizens and negroes, both men and women. Col. Upton had improvised a choir, and, with the aid of the organ, led the singing. The chaplain preached a very good discourse, and I hardly knew which felt the best, he or the colonel. There are several other meetinghouses here, which are or have been occupied by the Methodist, Baptist, Episcopalian, Catholic and negro societies. It would seem that this people have sometime been a God-fearing people, but since Jeff. Davis inaugurated a new regime, every man has done that which seemed good in his own sight. Hence we are here on this little excursion.
Camp Hayes, Raleigh, Virginia, March 16, 1862.
Dear Uncle: — I am in most respects pleasantly fixed here. I am here in command of nine companies of the Twenty-third, one section (two guns) of an artillery company (thirty men) and one company of cavalry. We are quartered in the courthouse, churches, and deserted dwellings. It is near the spurs of the Alleghany Mountains, which about twenty miles from here are filled with militia. A few regulars and bushwhackers are just in front of us. We are kept on the alert all the time by such events as the one referred to in the enclosed notes. As a general rule, we get the better of the bushwhackers in these affairs. There is no hesitation on our part in doing what seems to be required for self-protection. Since writing the note enclosed, have done a good deal towards punishing the cowardly bushwhackers.
We have April weather, for the most part — thunder-storms, rain, and shine. Today we are having a winter snow-storm. Since the rumored abandonment of Manassas, we have been notified to be in constant readness to move. My letters will probably be more irregular than usual after we get started, but all important events occurring with us will be sent you by telegraph. We take the wires with us. Love to all.
Sincerely,
R. B. Hayes.
S. Birchard.
Sunday, 16, A. M. — Another change — a snow-storm; March fuss and fury. Received a note from Lieutenant-Colonel Jones, directing vigilance and to be in readiness for an attack by the enemy or for a forward movement, — the abandonment by the Rebels of eastern Virginia on the Potomac rendering it likely that the enemy will come here or we go there!! . . .
An observation from 2012: The march back to Alexandria was likely on the 15th. Please see discussion in Ron Baumgarten’s comment below. – Mike Goad, 3-18-2012
Alexandria, 16th.—Received orders last night to march at 4 this A. M. Simultaneously with the receipt of the order came a northeast wind and heavy clouds. The clouding up kept pace with our preparations to march, and such a day of rain I have not witnessed in Virginia. To-night, after a march of twelve miles through mud and rain, the men lie out without shelter, except the little tents debris, which in time of rain are good for nothing. I shudder when I think of them, exposed, after a hard day’s march, to the driving storm. And whilst they are thus exposed, I feel almost guilty that I am in a fine hotel, by a fine coal fire, “comfortable and cozy.” But sickness brought me here. For three nights I have not slept, and last night I had an attack of cholera morbus. This morning, being sick and worn out, I asked permission to return to Vienna, (two and a half miles), and come in by rail. Permission was denied me. Sick or well, I must march, and look after the management of ambulances, and transportation of hospital stores. Arose at three o’clock, working part of time, and the rest cholera-morbus-ing till four. Started with the Brigade, but at Fairfax, for the first time since I entered the army, had to fall out. Went to bed, slept two hours, arose, took a cup of coffee, mounted my horse, and pressing my way through dense masses of the army for five or six miles, overtook the Brigade. When within a few miles of this city I was so sick that I insisted on being permitted to seek lodgings out of the weather, and having received permission, came on here. Have got dry and warm, and am now feeling better. I am gratified to learn to-night that my two poisoned boys are doing well, though it will be a long time before they entirely recover.
When I left Fairfax this morning the scene was grand beyond description. The soldiery, densely filling the road, leading from the town, had been pouring steadily forward for more than two hours. I looked back, and as far as the eye could reach down the two roads coming in, the dense body blocked them in both directions. The three roads presenting a long blue line rendered more striking by the glare of the bayonets, which at a short distance looked like a solid body of glittering steel over the blue bulk below. How far back the lines extended, I could not see, but I pressed forward for six miles, through the dense crowd. Verily, the army is now in motion.
16th.—’Tis Sunday morning. Returned to my regiment this morning; found all quiet. No one yet knows our destination. But from the fact that some forty river steamers await us, we infer that we are not going to sea. A singular fact, worthy of note: On our arrival here to embark, not a steamer had coaled, and there was no coal to take on!!— Why is this? ‘Tis terrible to even suspect that treason may be at work in the very heads of our departments.
