Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Camp Flat Top, May 26, 1862.

Dearest: — Your excellent letters of [the] 17th and 19th came this morning — only a week in getting to me. I wrote you yesterday by the soldiers, Corporal West and Harper, but I must give you another by the sutler who goes in the morning, just to show how much I think of you and your letters.

We are now at rest on a mountain top with no immediate prospect of anything stirring. We stand for the moment on the defensive, and are not likely to be disturbed. We have been having exchanges of wounded and prisoners with the enemy. They have behaved very well to our men, and were exceedingly civil and hospitable in our negotiations with them. They feel a good deal discouraged with the general prospect, but are crowding our small armies under Banks and Fremont pretty severely. All will be well if we carry the pivots at Richmond and Corinth. Enough of this.

I still feel just as I told you, that I shall come safely out of this war. I felt so the other day when danger was near. I certainly enjoyed the excitement of fighting our way out of Giles to the Narrows as much as any excitement I ever experienced. I had a good deal of anxiety the first hour or two on account of my command, but not a particle on my own account. After that, and after I saw we were getting on well, it was really jolly. We all joked and laughed and cheered constantly. Old Captain Drake said it was the best Fourth of July he ever had. I had in mind Theo. Wright singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” “The bombs bursting in air” began before it was quite light, and it seemed to me a sort of acting of the song, and in a pleasant way, the prayer would float through my thoughts, “In the dread hour of battle, O God, be thou nigh!”

A happy thing you did for the sick soldiers, good wife![1] “I love you so much.” Well, that is all I wrote to tell you. I must repeat again, send the Commercial “for the war.” Tell Webb Lieutenant Kennedy was delighted with the picture, and will try to send his to Webb some day. Send me one of all the boys if you get them — Webb’s of course. I am much pleased that you are to stay in Cincinnati. Love to all the boys and Grandma. Send me by sutler Harper and Atlantic for June. Good-bye, dearest.

Affectionately ever,

R.

P. S. — I enclose you a letter which I wish Dr. Murphy [to read] or somebody to read to him. He behaves badly, I suspect. In short, darling, all men who manage to keep away from their regiments are to be suspected. They are generally rascals.

Mrs. Hayes.


[1] Mrs. Hayes, in her letter of May 19, had written: “Our hospitals are all full of sick and wounded. A great difference can be seen between the sick and [the] wounded. The sick appear low-spirited — downcast, while the wounded are quite cheerful, hoping soon to be well. I felt right happy the other day, feeling that I had made some persons feel a little happier. Going down to Mrs. Herron’s I passed four soldiers, two wounded and two sick. They were sitting on the pavement in front of the office where their papers are given to them. I passed them, and then thought, well, anyhow, I will go back and ask them where they are going. A gentleman who I saw then was with them, said he had just got in from Camp Dennison, and found they were too late to get their tickets for that evening. I asked, ‘Where will you take them?’ He said he did not know, but must get them to the nearest place, as they were very weak. I said, ‘Doctor, (the wounded man had told me he was his family doctor and had come to take him home), if you will take them to my house I will gladly keep them and have them taken to the cars. There is the street-car which will take you near my house.’ He was very thankful, and he put sick and wounded on, and I started them for Sixth Street, while I finished my errand, took the next car, and found my lame man hobbling slowly along. We fixed them in the back parlor. The doctor I asked to stay also, to attend to them. He said he could not thank me enough, that he was a stranger here and was almost bewildered as to what to do or where to take them. Mary was up early and we had a cup of coffee for them before five. I thought of you in a strange country, wounded and trying to get home. The cases were not exactly alike, but if anyone was kind to you, would I not feel thankful?”

Camp Flat Top Mountain, May 26, 1862. Monday. — Clear and cool. A private dispatch informs General Cox that General Banks has been driven back by the Rebel Jackson, probably to Harpers Ferry. This is a long move to the rear. If true, it indicates a pretty heavy disaster; places in jeopardy the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, etc. So we go.

May 26—Marched to Martinsburg this morning without meeting with any obstacle in the shape of a blue enemy. The Yankees are all gone to the safe side of the Potomac. They left a goodly portion of provisions in the railroad depot here, such as bread, cheese, canvased beef, beef tongues, and cakes.

Camped at Martinsburg on east side of town.

MAY 26TH.—Gen. Lee is still strengthening the army. Every day additional regiments are coming. We are now so strong that no one fears the result when the great battle takes place. McClellan has delayed too long, and he is doomed to defeat. The tobacco savers know it well, and their faces exhibit chagrin and disappointment. Their fortunes will not be made this year, and so their reputations may be saved.

Monday, 26th—It is very warm. Had company drill twice again today. There was very heavy cannonading off on the left flank.

May 26th. Another reconnoissance took place yesterday, but although the gunboats went very near the rebel batteries no firing took place. This morning all hands were surprised with the intelligence that no attack was to be made on the city at present, and that our large ships would again drop down the river. This is said to be caused by the fact that the position of the rebel guns renders the attack dangerous to our large ships, and that we could not at present occupy the place, if taken. The Richmond started early down the river, followed by the Brooklyn and at ten o’clock we got under way with the gunboat Kennebec, leaving eight vessels behind in charge of Capt. Palmer of the Iroquois. We also had in company, or rather ahead of us, two steamers loaded with troops. Nothing transpired to check our rapid passage until the steamers, in passing Grand Gulf, were fired upon by rebel light artillery; we accordingly wheeled round, and in company with the Brooklyn went back for satisfaction. The troops were landed, and they drove the enemy out of the town with slight loss, while we proceeded down and passed the night a few miles above Natchez, where were four of our coal transports.

26th. Helped unload seven loads of provisions. Played ball a little while. Reminded me of old times.

26th.—To-day, was so far recovered that I reported myself for duty at the Liberty Hall Hospital.[1] I found there about four hundred sick, about one hundred of whom were crowded into the house. The rest were lying about in stables, alive with vermin—chicken houses, the stench of which would sicken a well man, on the ground, exposed alternately to beating rain and the rays of the scorching sun. There were no beds, no blankets, no straw, no cooking utensils and nothing to cook. The sick were lying on the bare floor, or on the bare ground, without covering, and this was the third day they had been in this situation without food, or without any one to look after them, except as they could mutually aid each other. All kinds of diseases prevail, from simple intermittent to the lowest camp typhus, complicated with scurvey; from simple diarrhœa to the severest of dysentery. My first effort has been to separate the simple from the infectious diseases. To pitch what few tents I have, and to get as many as I can under shelter, I have before me, in the organization of this hospital, a Herculean task for a man not quite recovered from a spell of sickness. But what I can, I will do.


[1] Liberty Hall is a large dwelling, the birth place and home, during his life, of Patrick Henry. It is about eight miles from Richmond.

New Bridge, Chickahominy River, Va.,

Monday, May 26, 1862.

Dear Friends at Home:—

It seems a long time since I received your last and a long time since I have written. In that time we have traveled over the country from Yorktown to within six or eight miles of the rebel capital. Half a day’s march now without special delay would bring us to Richmond. And yet we’ve seen no rebels except prisoners and deserters, and they are but very poorly calculated to inspire a high opinion of their associates in arms. When we entered the rebel works at Yorktown and looked back at our own, we were surprised at their apparent nearness and at the little loss of life with which they were constructed. I begin to suspect it was the smell of fresh dirt which sickened them and made them leave their forts, for the last night of their stay our boys dug rifle pits under their very noses. At Yorktown, we took a steamer at dusk and the next morning found us in sight of West Point. We landed and camped on the field where the battle was fought the day before. The papers have given you much better accounts of it than I can, for I was a day too late to see anything, but some of the wounded and dead. In Captain Woodward’s street considerable blood was still seen on the ground and the boys gathered around it with a curious interest and expressed all sorts of feelings at the novel sight. We stayed three or four days at West Point and then were on the road to Richmond. The time from that day to this has been passed in various camps and marches in the heat and dust and in the rain and mud. Slow and toilsome progress was made but it was sure. No going back. “On to Richmond” is the watchword in earnest now. Yorktown has taught me a lesson, however, and I would not dare to prophesy how soon we shall be there. I am well satisfied that, if fighting is necessary to get there, we are good for that. I think the battles of Lee’s Mill, Williamsburg and West Point have amply demonstrated the fact that McClellan’s army is not one drilled for grand reviews alone, but that the spirit of the men is just as impetuously brave as any found in the western troops.

Follar House at Cumberland Landing, Virginia. Army of the Potomac Secret Service Men.

Cumberland Landing, Va. Secret Service men at Foller’s House.

Seated behind the men at the table is the head of McClellan’s secret service of detectives and spies, “Major Allen,” smoking a pipe.  Known as “E. J. Allen,” it is several years before his identity is revealed as Allen Pinkerton, a Scotchman who had emigrated to the United States about 20 years earlier and created a successful detective agency in Chicago.  He had become the chief detective for McClellan when McClellan was in charge of the Department of the Ohio.  Shortly after the first battle at Bull Run, Pinkerton brought his entire agency, men and women, into “information” work for the government. (info source: Signal Corps Association.)

Title is from “Civil War photographs, 1861-1865” compiled by Hirst D. Milhollen and Donald H. Mugridge, Washington, D.C. : Library of Congress, 1977

Photograph from the main eastern theater of war, the Peninsular Campaign

Photographed by James F. Gibson

Part of Civil War glass negative collection.  Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA

Record pages for this image: http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/cwp2003000054/PP/