May 30 — We remained in camp yesterday, but this morning we were ordered back to Winchester. We stopped to camp four miles below town, but we heard that the Yankees were advancing on Winchester from the direction of Front Royal, and we were ordered to that road immediately. We remained all night where the Front Royal road enters Winchester.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
MAY 30TH.—It is said some of the enemy’s mounted pickets rode through the city last night! Northern papers manifest much confidence in the near approach of the downfall of Richmond, and the end of the “rebellion.” The 15th of June is the utmost limit allowed us for existence. A terrific storm arose yesterday; and as our scouts report the left wing of the enemy on this side of the Chickahominy, Gen. Johnston has determined to to attack it to-morrow. Thank God, we are strong enough to make the attack!
May 30th, Greenwell.
After all our trials and tribulations, here we are at last, and no limbs lost! How many weeks ago was it since I wrote here? It seems very long after all these events; let me try to recall them.
Wednesday the 28th, — a day to be forever remembered, — as luck would have it, we rose very early, and had breakfast sooner than usual, it would seem for the express design of becoming famished before dinner. I picked up some of my letters and papers and set them where I could find them whenever we were ready to go to Greenwell, burning a pile of trash and leaving a quantity equally worthless, which were of no value even to myself except from association. I was packing up my traveling-desk with all Harry’s little articles that were left to me, and other things, and I was saying to myself that my affairs were in such confusion that if obliged to run unexpectedly I would not know what to save, when I heard Lilly’s voice downstairs, crying as she ran in — she had been out shopping — “Mr. Castle has killed a Federal officer on a ship, and they are going to shell —” Bang! went a cannon at the word, and that was all our warning.
Mother had just come in, and was lying down, but sprang to her feet and added her screams to the general confusion. Miriam, who had been searching the libraries, ran up to quiet her; Lilly gathered her children, crying hysterically all the time, and ran to the front door with them as they were; Lucy saved the baby, naked as she took her from her bath, only throwing a quilt over her. I bethought me of my “running-bag” which I had used on a former case, and in a moment my few precious articles were secured under my hoops, and with a sunbonnet on, I stood ready for anything.
The firing still continued; they must have fired half a dozen times before we could coax mother off. What awful screams! I had hoped never to hear them again, after Harry died. Charlie had gone to Greenwell before daybreak, to prepare the house, so we four women, with all those children and servants, were left to save ourselves. I did not forget my poor little Jimmy; I caught up his cage and ran down. Just at this moment mother recovered enough to insist on saving father’s papers — which was impossible, as she had not an idea of where the important ones were. I heard Miriam plead, argue, insist, command her to run; Lilly shriek, and cry she should go; the children screaming within; women running by without, crying and moaning; but I could not join in. I was going I knew not where; it was impossible to take my bird, for even if I could carry him, he would starve. So I took him out of his cage, kissed his little yellow head, and tossed him up. He gave one feeble little chirp as if to ascertain where to go, and then for the first and last time I cried, laying my head against the gate-post, and with my eyes too dim to see him. Oh, how it hurt me to lose my little bird, one Jimmy had given me, too!
But the next minute we were all off, in safety. A square from home, I discovered that boy shoes were not the most comfortable things to run in, so I ran back, in spite of cannonading, entreaties, etc., to get another pair. I got home, found an old pair that were by no means respectable, which I seized without hesitation; and being perfectly at ease, thought it would be so nice to save at least Miriam’s and my tooth-brushes, so slipped them in my corsets. These in, of course we must have a comb — that was added — then how could we stand the sun without starch to cool our faces? This included the powder-bag; then I must save that beautiful lace collar; and my hair was tumbling down, so in went the tucking-comb and hair-pins with the rest; until, if there had been any one to speculate, they would have wondered a long while at the singular appearance of a girl who is considered as very slight, usually. By this time, Miriam, alarmed for me, returned to find me, though urged by Dr. Castleton not to risk her life by attempting it, and we started off together.
We had hardly gone a square when we decided to return a second time, and get at least a few articles for the children and ourselves, who had nothing except what we happened to have on when the shelling commenced. She picked up any little things and threw them to me, while I filled a pillow-case jerked from the bed, and placed my powder and brushes in it with the rest. Before we could leave, mother, alarmed for us both, came to find us, with Tiche.[1] All this time they had been shelling, but there was quite a lull when she got there, and she commenced picking up father’s papers, vowing all the time she would not leave. Every argument we could use was of no avail, and we were desperate as to what course to pursue, when the shelling recommenced in a few minutes. Then mother recommenced her screaming and was ready to fly anywhere; and holding her box of papers, with a faint idea of saving something, she picked up two dirty underskirts and an old cloak.
By dint of Miriam’s vehement appeals, aided by a great deal of pulling, we got her down to the back door. We had given our pillow-case to Tiche, who added another bundle and all our silver to it, and had already departed.
As we stood in the door, four or five shells sailed over our heads at the same time, seeming to make a perfect corkscrew of the air, — for it sounded as though it went in circles. Miriam cried, “Never mind the door!” mother screamed anew, and I stayed behind to lock the door, with this new music in my ears. We reached the back gate, that was on the street, when another shell passed us, and Miriam jumped behind the fence for protection. We had only gone half a square when Dr. Castleton begged us to take another street, as they were firing up that one. We took his advice, but found our new street worse than the old, for the shells seemed to whistle their strange songs with redoubled vigor. The height of my ambition was now attained. I had heard Jimmy laugh about the singular sensation produced by the rifled balls spinning around one’s head; and here I heard the same peculiar sound, ran the same risk, and was equal to the rest of the boys, for was I not in the midst of flying shells, in the middle of a bombardment? I think I was rather proud of it.
We were alone on the road, — all had run away before, — so I thought it was for our especial entertainment, this little affair. I cannot remember how long it lasted; I am positive that the clock struck ten before I left home, but I had been up so long, I know not what time it began, though I am told it was between eight and nine. We passed the graveyard, we did not even stop, and about a mile and a half from home, when mother was perfectly exhausted with fatigue and unable to proceed farther, we met a gentleman in a buggy who kindly took charge of her and our bundles. We could have walked miles beyond, then, for as soon as she was safe we felt as though a load had been removed from our shoulders; and after exhorting her not to be uneasy about us, and reminding her we had a pistol and a dagger, — I had secured a “for true” one the day before, fortunately, — she drove off, and we trudged on alone, the only people in sight on foot, though occasionally carriages and buggies would pass, going towards town. One party of gentlemen put their heads out and one said, “There are Judge Morgan’s daughters sitting by the road!” — but I observed he did not offer them the slightest assistance. However, others were very kind. One I never heard of had volunteered to go for us, and bring us to mother, when she was uneasy about our staying so long, when we went home to get clothes. We heard him ring and knock, but, thinking it must be next door, paid no attention, so he went back and mother came herself.
We were two miles away when we sat down by the road to rest, and have a laugh. Here were two women married, and Able to take care of themselves, flying for their lives and leaving two lorn girls alone on the road, to protect each other! To be sure, neither could help us, and one was not able to walk, and the other had helpless children to save; but it was so funny when we talked about it, and thought how sorry both would be when they regained their reason! While we were yet resting, we saw a cart coming, and, giving up all idea of our walking to Greenwell, called the people to stop. To our great delight, it proved to be a cart loaded with Mrs. Brunot’s affairs, driven by two of her negroes, who kindly took us up with them, on the top of their luggage; and we drove off in state, as much pleased at riding in that novel place as though we were accustomed to ride in wheelbarrows. Miriam was in a hollow between a flour barrel and a mattress; and I at the end, astride, I am afraid, of a tremendous bundle, for my face was down the road and each foot resting very near the sides of the cart. I tried to make a better arrangement, though, after a while. These servants were good enough to lend us their umbrella, without which I am afraid we would have suffered severely, for the day was intensely warm.
Three miles from town we began to overtake the fugitives. Hundreds of women and children were walking along, some bareheaded, and in all costumes. Little girls of twelve and fourteen were wandering on alone. I called to one I knew, and asked where her mother was; she did n’t know; she would walk on until she found out. It seems her mother lost a nursing baby, too, which was not found until ten that night. White and black were all mixed together, and were as confidential as though related. All called to us and asked where we were going, and many we knew laughed at us for riding on a cart; but as they had walked only five miles, I imagined they would like even these poor accommodations if they were in their reach.
The negroes deserve the greatest praise for their conduct. Hundreds were walking with babies or bundles; ask them what they had saved, it was invariably, “My mistress’s clothes, or silver, or baby.” Ask what they had for themselves, it was, “Bless your heart, honey, I was glad to get away with mistress’s things; I did n’t think ’bout mine.”
It was a heart-rending scene. Women searching for their babies along the road, where they had been lost; others sitting in the dust crying and wringing their hands; for by this time we had not an idea but what Baton Rouge was either in ashes, or being plundered, and we had saved nothing. I had one dress, Miriam two, but Tiche had them, and we had lost her before we left home.
Presently we came on a guerrilla camp. Men and horses were resting on each side of the road, some sick, some moving about carrying water to the women and children, and all looking like a monster barbecue, for as far as the eye could see through the woods, was the same repetition of men and horses. They would ask for the news, and one, drunk with excitement or whiskey, informed us that it was our own fault if we had saved nothing, the people must have been — fools not to have known trouble would come before long, and that it was the fault of the men, who were aware of it, that the women were thus forced to fly. In vain we pleaded that there was no warning, no means of foreseeing this; he cried, “You are ruined; so am I; and my brothers, too! And by — there nothing left but to die now, and I’ll die!” “Good!” I said. “But die fighting for us!” He waved his hand, black with powder, and shouted, “That I will!” after us. That was the only swearing guerrilla we met; the others seemed to have too much respect for us to talk loud.
Lucy had met us before this; early in the action, Lilly had sent her back to get some baby-clothes, but a shell exploding within a few feet of her, she took alarm, and ran up another road, for three miles, when she cut across the plantations and regained the Greenwell route. It is fortunate that, without consultation, the thought of running here should have seized us all.
30th. Friday. I wrote a letter to Ella Clark, in answer to one received weeks before. I am ashamed of my negligence or inability to write more. Showed the letter to the Oberlin boys.
Camp near New Bridge, Hanover Co., Va..
Friday P. M., May 30, 1862.
Dear Friends at Home:—
We have had our first battle. The accounts will reach you in the papers and I know you will be very anxious till you hear from me, so I embrace the earliest opportunity I have had of writing to give you some of the particulars, though I am so very tired that I am afraid I shall not make out much of a letter.
Last Tuesday morning we were called out at 3:30 o’clock and ordered into line without our knapsacks, taking one blanket and tent, three days’ rations, and sixty rounds of cartridges. We had no time to make coffee, and had no breakfast but crackers and water. It was raining heavily and continued to do so till 10 o’clock and then cleared off very hot. The roads were horrible and the artillery was constantly getting stuck and causing delay. We took the road to Hanover Court House, twenty-four miles from camp, and traveled as fast as men could travel except when hindered by the artillery. The bridges were all destroyed but one, and the creeks had to be waded through. It was the severest march we ever had. Officers could not stand it any better than the men, for we had not very heavy loads, and officers and men gave out and lay by the roadside together, utterly unable to go any farther without rest. Captain Austin, Captain Carpenter, Captain Stowe and Captain Graham all gave out, and half the lieutenants in the regiment with scores of the men fell out and lay down to rest.
“Knickerbocker,” May 30.
Dear Mother, — Yesterday I took Mrs. Reading and two Zouaves to carry the supplies, and spent the day at the camp hospital. There are one hundred tents, each censé to hold twenty-seven persons; but they were not more than half full, many of the first set of men having recovered after a week’s rest and returned to the front, while nearly two hundred of the worst cases went North on the ” Spaulding.” I found the condition of things far better than I expected, and infinitely better than it was a week ago. We visited nearly all the tents, and gave supplies of beef-tea, milk-punch, arrowroot, and eggs for the worst cases, of which there were comparatively few, for such cases are put on the Commission boats. I found four or five men for whom nothing could be done but to help them to die in peace, and perhaps twenty other bad cases. The remainder needed little more than a week or two of rest. The tents were both floored and trenched, the day was cool and bright, everything smelt clean and wholesome. A tent had been pitched for me in the middle of the hollow square of the camp, where I cooked painfully by one small spirit-lamp. We used up everything we took with us, and saw the surgeons, who were very cordial, particularly Dr. Green, of Massachusetts, and a lesser light, Dr. A. A. Stocker, of Cambridge, Mass., who gave me his card, whereby I know his name.
Nearly all the camp needs is some responsible person who could prepare the sick food systematically under the surgeons’ orders. The ordinary diet seemed good and plentiful, and quite suited to the majority of the cases. We started for home at 4 P. M., and found four hundred prisoners just arriving by the railway from General Porter’s command. They were nearly all North Carolinians, —fine-looking men, well fed, and in good spirits. One man wanted to buy one of our tin cups; I laughed, and gave it to him. Another asked Dr. Ware to change a ten-dollar Confederate note, and expected ten of our dollars for it. Dr. Ware said: “If we beat you, what good will those notes be to you?” “Oh!” said he, “the United States Government will take them.” General Van Vliet told me that a great many of these men had asked to take the oath of allegiance.
This has been a busy day. We all — “all” this time means Mr. Olmsted, Mr. Knapp, we four ladies, and Mrs. Reading —started with breakfast for eighty men; a young surgeon having rowed down to us to report that they had arrived in the night and were lying in the cars without food. We found the birds flown, however, — I suppose to the camp hospital. But General Van Vliet and some telegrams from the front met us at the landing; and the result is that we are to clear off, as fast as “we can, all the sick and wounded now on our hands. The “Webster,” fills up to-morrow; the “Daniel Webster No. 2 ” left immediately for Yorktown with four hundred sick on board; the “Elm City” will fill to-night, and sail at daybreak. We ourselves came back at once to the ” Knickerbocker,” from which the sick men have been removed, and we have been all day unpacking and arranging stores, and getting pantries and closets in order. I am writing on the floor, interrupted constantly to join in a laugh. Georgy is sorting socks and pulling out the funny little balls of yarn and the big darning needles stuck in the toes, with which she is making a fringe across my back. Do spare us the darning-needles! Reflect upon us rushing in haste to the linen-closet and plunging our hands into the bale of stockings! I certainly shall make a collection of sanitary clothing. I solemnly aver that yesterday I found a pair of drawers made for a case of amputation at the thigh. And the slippers, —only fit for pontoon-bridges! We are at last in perfect order, and are told that the wounded will arrive about 4 A.M., — such a nice, comfortable hour! There are two hundred and fifty to come down,— mostly from Hanover Court-House, where General Porter had a brilliant success on Friday.
The Sanitary Commission is not treated in the handsomest manner; its benevolence is imposed upon. Squads of civilian doctors are here, waiting about for “surgical cases.” There must be dozens of them doing nothing, and their boats doing nothing, — waiting for a battle. They would not look at a sick man; bless you, he’s not their game! It is “cases” they want; and their whole influence goes to getting off the sick upon the Commission, instead of taking their proper share of the work, so that they may, when a battle occurs, get a harvest of wounded. Now the reason why we complain of this is that Mr. Olmsted is anxious to keep his ships (which are perfectly organized and well-managed) running in a regular manner, so that if a battle occurs, he may be prepared for it. If he is overwhelmed with the sick (who could be easily and regularly transported if all did their share), he is liable to be unprepared for an emergency; and if the Commission is unprepared, I am afraid it will go hard with the poor fellows when the evil day comes.
Since I began this page a furious gust or storm of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning has come up. We are plunging up and down at our anchor on the sweet river as if it were mid-ocean; and in the midst of it the dear “Wilson Small” tumbles up alongside, true to her colliding principles. Alas for the wounded who are on their way to us!
Our evenings are the pleasantest hours of the day. The Chief and Mr. Knapp and the staff collect on a broken chair, a bed-sack, and sundry carpet-bags, and have their modicum of fun and quinine. The person who possesses a dainty — chocolate or gingerbread, for instance— is the hero for the time being.
Good-by! The storm is just going over. Oh, how good it will be to sleep in a bed once more! I found to-day one of the bed-sacks we made in such a hurry last autumn; and in unpacking stores I have several times come across packages labelled in my handwriting. Tell this to the Women’s Aid Society. Tell them also that flannel shirts are never in sufficient quantity; the flannel can be heavier and coarser than what we have hitherto used. Socks are always wanted. Gray and red flannel shirts are precious; we keep them for special cases. If anybody proposes to send me anything, say: Good brandy; gray, white, or red shirts, army pattern; canton flannel drawers, not too large; pocket-handkerchiefs (boxes of spotted ones can be bought cheap in New York), towels, nutmegs, bay-water, coarse flannel in the piece, Muringer’s beef-extract,—this is precious as gold to us; Soyer’s and other soup preparations are comparatively worthless for our purpose. We have plenty of fresh beef for the “house diet,” and we make a good deal of our beef-tea out of it with muriatic acid; but even that takes time. What we want is something available-at a moment’s notice; therefore send Muringer’s beef-extract. It comes in small cakes looking like a dark glue. Send also condensed milk, lemons, and sherry.
If gentlemen ask what they shall send, say MONEY to the treasury of the Sanitary Commission.
Flat Top, May 30, 1862. Friday. — A hot summer day. A very singular thing happened this afternoon. While we were at supper, 5:30 P. M., a thunder-storm broke out. It was pretty violent. Avery and Dr. McCurdy got up a warm discussion on electricity. As the storm passed away we all stepped out of the tent and began to discuss the height of the clouds, the lapse of time between the flash and the thunder. While we were talking, Avery having his watch out and I counting, there came a flash and report. It seemed to me that I was struck on the top of the head by something the size of a buckshot. Avery and McCurdy experienced a severe pricking sensation in the forehead. The sentinel near us was staggered as by a blow. Captain Drake’s arm was nearly benumbed. My horse Webb (the sorrel) seemed hit. Over a hundred soldiers felt the stun or pricking. Five trees were hit about a hundred yards off and some of them badly splintered. In all the camps something similar was felt; but “no harm done.”
The news not decisive but favorable. Lost a bet of twenty-five cents with Christie, Company C, that either Richmond or Corinth would be taken today.
May 30, 1862.—We have our horses saddled all the time since 2:30 yesterday morning. Owing to Colonel Kellogg’s continued illness he was this morning retired from further command of brigade, and Mizner put in his place. We could hear the cars running at Corinth all last night, and now there is a heavy black smoke hanging over the place. Some think they have evacuated, but ’tis doubtful. Firing all the time since 3 this morning. Up to this time we (our regiment) have had but three men killed and nine wounded here. Have been remarkably fortunate. I gave up my cot to Major Rawalt and am sleeping on the ground now, and the confounded lizards are working me into a fever. They are as thick as you ever saw grasshoppers. One of them ran into Allan Heald’s shirt bosom yesterday and they say he moved rather sprightly for a few minutes. Lots of snakes here, cottonmouths, copperheads, rattlesnakes, and commoner varmint. There’s also a scorpion that looks like a lizard with a green head. They say it is poisonous.
Friday, 30th—Corinth was evacuated during the night. Upon leaving, the rebels burned the depot and several houses, besides a large amount of other property, and also blew up their powder magazine. They burned some cars loaded with their own supplies which they could not get away because they had no engineers. At daylight General Pope with his force entered Corinth and then went in hot pursuit of the rebels.
May 30th. The New York Herald came in camp to-day, containing full accounts of the disastrous overthrow of our army in the valley, and the panic it has created in Washington. It seems the militia have been called upon, just as they were in 1861, to go to the defense of the capital. In the evening, Doctor McKim, Captain McKay, and I rode along the corps front from one end to the other, to get an idea of the position. Everything seems to be in splendid condition, but what a dreadful thing it is to think of all this force lined up for the express purpose of destroying our fellow creatures! War is certainly a dreadful calamity. On our way back, stopped at brigade headquarters to get the news. On the 24th, Key’s corps, Nagle’s brigade, of Casey’s division in front, made a reconnoisance from the old camp near Bottom Bridge, and advanced beyond Savage’s Station. There they struck a heavy force of rebel cavalry, infantry, and artillery. After a short fight, the rebels retreated and Nagle’s brigade bivouacked on the battle field; on the 27th the whole force moved forward again, Nagle’s brigade still in advance, finally halting, and establishing a picket line within five miles of Richmond. Half a mile in rear of Nagle, Wessel’s and Palmer’s brigades are posted in reserve, while Couch’s division occupies a line running just in front of Seven Pines, on the Williamsburg road; and Fair Oaks, on the Richmond and York river railroad. All these troops, belong to the Fourth corps, and are commanded by Keys. Yesterday, the rebels, tired of our inactivity, began the initiative, by engaging our pickets with skirmishers; the fight lasted all day, involving the whole line. At daylight again this morning, they opened, and Casey had to send Peck’s brigade to enable Nagle to hold his position, although well intrenched. From what is known, we conclude the enemy are preparing for a formidable attack. It seems very curious, that notwithstanding the known proximity of the rebel army, and the fact that we came here for the express purpose of attacking and fighting it, we are held back, and all our movements are hesitating, slow, and timid. Only two corps have crossed the river thus far, which in case of a sudden attack, may find themselves in a very awkward position. Why these corps should be posted so far in advance, separated by a treacherous river from their support, does not seem clear to the average man, especially as there is no apparent reason why we should not close right up, and pitch in.
Before we got back to camp, the sky became overcast, dark masses of clouds rolled threateningly overhead, and presently the lightning flashed around us in a vivid and terrible manner. Heavy peals of thunder followed and then the rain came down in sheets; in less than five minutes the fields and camps were flooded, and the roads filled with water, rushing down to join the river.
After a good supper in a tight tent, some of us spent the evening with the colonel, talking over the events of the day in front, and the possible effect of the tremendous rain upon the river separating our forces. The Chickahominy drains the high country for many miles, and owing to its sinuosities and shallowness, easily overflows its banks, and becomes unfordable. Many of the negroes hereabouts tell us it spreads out, sometimes overflowing the bridges and cutting off all communication for days with either side. Knowing these facts, it seems extraordinary we were not all moved over together. The colonel thinks it poor generalship, and is getting anxious to be transferred to the western armies, which he thinks are better handled than ours. We all agreed we were on the eve of a great battle, and that in a few hours, probably, we shall be called upon to prove our mettle. About nine o’clock, we drank a punch and turned in, to go to sleep, the rain still falling and the camp most uncomfortable.
