27th.—General Jackson’s career going on gloriously. After defeating Millroy, and Fremont’s advance in the Valley, and driving them back in confusion, so that nothing was to be feared from his threatened union with Banks, he pursued the enemy as far as Franklin, Pendleton County. Then returning, he marched on rapidly, captured Front Royal on the 23d, chasing the enemy through it at more than double-quick. Still pressing hard upon Banks, he gave him no rest night nor day, piercing his main column while retreating from Strasburg to Winchester—the “rear part retreating towards Strasburg. On Sunday, 25th, the other part was routed at Winchester. At last accounts, Brigadier-General George H. Stuart was pursuing them with cavalry and artillery, and capturing many.” I quote from the General’s own telegram, dated Winchester, May 26th. And now, notwithstanding our condition in Richmond, our hearts and voices are attuned to praise, and our pagans are more loud and bright in contrast to our late distressing trials.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
May 27 — Returned to Winchester to-day. Camped in an orchard below town.
MAY 27TH.—More troops came in last night, and were marched to the camp at once, so that the Yankees will know nothing of it.
Tuesday, 27th—Things are quiet all along the lines today. Our supplies and ammunition are hauled by team from Pittsburg Landing. We still draw our full army rations every five days.
May 27th. Got under way, and taking a coal schooner alongside, proceeded on our way. Passed Natchez at eleven thirty, A. M., without stoppage, and ran all day without any occurrence of note, anchoring by a plantation, and sending ashore for fresh provisions at sunset.
May 27th.
The cry is “Ho! for Greenwell!” Very probably this day week will see us there. I don’t want to go. If we were at peace, and were to spend a few months of the warmest season out there, none would be more eager and delighted than I: but to leave our comfortable home, and all it contains, for a rough pine cottage seventeen miles away even from this scanty civilization, is sad. It must be! We are hourly expecting two regiments of Yankees to occupy the Garrison, and some fifteen hundred of our men are awaiting them a little way off, so the fight seems inevitable. And we must go, leaving what little has already been spared us to the tender mercies of Northern volunteers, who, from the specimen of plundering they gave us two weeks ago, will hardly leave us even the shelter of our roof. O my dear Home! How can I help but cry at leaving you forever? For if this fight occurs, never again shall I pass the threshold of this house, where we have been so happy and sad, the scene of joyous meetings and mournful partings, the place where we greeted each other with glad shouts after even so short a parting, the place where Harry and father kissed us good-bye and never came back again!
I know what Lavinia has suffered this long year, by what we have suffered these last six weeks. Poor Lavinia, so far away! How easier poverty, if it must come, would be if we could bear it together! I wonder if the real fate of the boys, if we ever hear, can be so dreadful as this suspense? Still no news of them. My poor little Jimmy! And think how desperate Gibbes and George will be when they read Butler’s proclamation, and they not able to defend us! Gibbes was in our late victory of Fredericksburg, I know.
In other days, going to Greenwell was the signal for general noise and confusion. All the boys gathered their guns and fishing-tackle, and thousand and one amusements; father sent out provisions; we helped mother pack; Hal and I tumbled over the libraries to lay in a supply of reading material; and all was bustle until the carriage drove to the door at daylight one morning, and swept us off. It is not so gay this time. I wandered around this morning selecting books alone. We can only take what is necessary, the rest being left to the care of the Northern militia in general. I never knew before how many articles were perfectly “indispensable” to me. This or that little token or keepsake, piles of letters I hate to burn, many dresses, etc., I cannot take conveniently, lie around me, and I hardly know which to choose among them, yet half must be sacrificed; I can only take one trunk.
27th. Woods and I issued five days’ rations. We boys carried ours to the woman where we board.
27th.—Resumed my labors in the hospital this morning making requisitions for provisions and cooking utensils. Some of the men have now been without food, and are in a state of starvation. I have not had to-day half the help I need, and in consequence of my over-work, am sick again to-night, and have been compelled, so to report. Surgeon Jayne, of one of the Vermont regiments, is detailed to take my place.
“Knickerbocker,” May 27
Dear A., — I wish I could have you by me this delightful afternoon to look at the lovely scene, where “every prospect pleases, and only man is vile” and wretched. The “Spaulding” got off yesterday with three hundred and fifty sick on board, and we then transferred ourselves to this vessel, where we are living a life which Mr. Olmsted feels to be one of such utter discomfort that we all try to make the best of it for his sake. Still, I will admit to you that it is wearing to have no proper place to eat, sit, or sleep. No matter! our dear “Wilson Small” will be back soon, and we shall go back to our happy home life on the top of the old stove.
This boat is in disorder. Her last voyage was made in incompetent hands, — not incompetent as to care of the patients, but as to general organization. These parties are about to be detailed elsewhere, which will leave us free to go to work and reorganize the vessel. Meantime we are busy arranging the “Elm City,” which lies alongside, and was not taken by the Government after all.
We were invited to dine to-day on board the “Webster,” which arrived this morning, prompt as usual, and in perfect order. The rest have gone; but I, like a fool, am hors de combat with an aggravating pain down my leg. We all “prophylac” with exemplary regularity; the last words of our delightful Dr. Draper, as we parted from him on the gang-plank of the “Spaulding,” were: “Don’t forget your quinine!” How intimate this life makes us with those we recognize as true grit; how heartfelt our greetings and our partings with them are! Dr. Grymes and Captain Bletham brought me all my precious cases filled with supplies from dear Newport friends. The Captain says his first thought on arriving is: “Now for the ladies’ cases;” and he always brings them off in the first boat. This vessel (“Knickerbocker”) is full of Zouaves, detailed to the Commission for nurses. I can’t endure them. It might be all very well, and in keeping, to get up a regiment of negroes en Turcos; but for an American citizen to rig himself as an Arab is demoralizing.
Flat Top, May 27, 1862. Tuesday. — A warm, fine day. My cold is still very bad. I call to see Mr. French, the wounded citizen of Lieutenant Bottsford’s fight, now our Twenty-third chaplain, daily. He is in good spirits, but [the] doctors talk discouragingly of his case.
News today that General Halleck has taken Corinth and twenty thousand prisoners! Is it true? I hope so.
