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

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

August 8 — To-day we moved to Orange Court House. We passed through Summerset, a little hamlet eight miles west of the Court House. Orange Court House is a small town situated on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, about nine miles from Gordonsville. We are camped in a field east of town. There are a great many infantry camped around here, and from all appearances the butcher business will be flourishing in a few days, and war that is budding for bloom will soon break out in a fresh place.

This is a beautiful night. The moon hangs like a great refulgent shield in a clear sky and bathes the dewy hills with a flood of silvery light. Not a speck of cloud stains the cerulean dome through which the brilliant night queen marches among the silent stars that glow along her pathway like tiny islands of gold floating in a pale blue sky. As she leads her shining train toward the crimson couch of dying day, the soft still air that breathes over the pasture fields and creeps through the shadowy woodlands and along the grassy hillsides, then plays over the cheeks of a thousand sleeping soldiers couched on nature’s carpet, is as soothing and delightful as the zephyrs that play when the ocean storms cease.

At midnight a brass band which I think came on an incoming train played some five or six pieces, the last of which was “Home, Sweet Home.” As the familiar strains of the grand old piece stole through the midnight air they seemed to me like sweet echoes from the bending skies which wake a thousand thoughts of other days, of home and friends far away, that perhaps I will never see again; of happy scenes in the peaceful days of childhood that now return no more; all rushed in solemn troops through my memory as sadly as a weird night wind that sighs and moans through the strings of a broken harp. I know that there are hundreds of men lying on the silent hills around me who will never see home again nor hear the friendly voices of loved ones that are dreaming far away.

I tried to banish the reverie, but it sticks to me even after the music has died away, and I wish for the power and might to rise and shell off my blanket and smash to atoms every implement of war in all creation, so that we could all go home satisfied and gratified and dwell in peace forevermore with all mankind.

August 8th, Friday.

Again last night, about nine, we heard cannon in Baton Rouge, and watched the flashes which preceded the reports by a minute, at least, for a long time. We must have seen our own firing; perhaps we wanted to find out the batteries of the enemy. It was not the most delightful thing imaginable to watch what might be the downfall of our only home! And then to think each ball might bring death to some one we love! Ah, no! it was not pleasant!

Miriam and I have many friends in Breckinridge’s division, I expect, if we could only hear the names of the regiments. The Fourth is certainly there. And poor Will! I wonder if he has had his supper yet? I have been thinking of him ever since Mr. Scales told me he was there, and praying myself sick for his safety and that of the rest. I shut my eyes at every report and say, “Oh, please! poor Will! —and the others, too!” And when I don’t hear the cannon, I pray, to be in advance of the next.

It is now midday, and again we hear firing; but have yet to learn the true story of the first day’s fight. Preserve me from the country in such stirring days! We might as well be in Europe as to have the Mississippi between us and town.

By unanimous consent, the little lane in front of the house has been christened “Guerrilla Lane,” and the long one leading to the river, “Arkansas.” What an episode that was, in our lives! The officers go by the name of Miriam’s, Ginnie’s, Sarah’s, as though they belonged to each!

Those girls did me the meanest thing imaginable. Mr. Talbot and I were planning a grand combined attack on Baton Rouge, in which he was to command a fleet and attack the town by the river, while I promised to get up a battalion of girls and attack them in the rear. We had settled it all, except the time, when just then all the others stopped talking. I went on: “And now, it is only necessary for you to name the day —” Here the girls commenced to giggle, and the young men tried to suppress a smile; I felt annoyed, but it did not strike me until after they had left, that I had said anything absurd. What evil imaginations they must have, if they could have fancied I meant anything except the battle!

Note: This letter—a document written in 1862—includes terms and topics that may be offensive to many today.  No attempt will be made to censor or edit 19th century material to today’s standards.

Tuscumbia, Ala., August 8, 1862.

My pet negro got so lazy and worthless I was compelled to ship him. I’ll take back, if you please, everything good that I ever said of free negroes. That Beauregard nigger was such a thief that we had to also set him adrift. He stole our canned fruit, jellies and oysters and sold some of them and gave parties at the cabins in the vicinity. This was barely endurable but he was a splendid, smart fellow and the colonel would have kept him, but he got to stealing the colonel’s liquor. That of course, was unpardonable, when the scarcity of the article was considered. In my last I spoke of a ride on the railroad and having to turn back on account of bridges being burned There were, maybe, 150 sick soldiers on board, and they concluded to march to Decatur, only 10 miles. They were attacked just after we started back, five of them killed and about 100 taken prisoners. There was a woman along and she was wounded. There were three little fights yesterday between here and 25 miles east. In all, four killed and 13 wounded. The fight first spoken of was day before yesterday. Orders have been given us to put every woman and child (imprison the men) across the line that speaks or acts secesh, and to burn their property, and to destroy all their crops, cut down corn growing, and burn all the cribs. That is something like war. ‘Tis devilish hard for one like me to assist in such work, but believe it is necessary to our course. Having been very busy preparing reports and writing letters all day, feel deuced little like writing you. People here treat us the very best kind, although they are as strong Rebels as live. Bring us peaches and vegetables every day. I can’t hardly think the generals will carry out the orders as above, for it will have a very demoralizing effect upon the men. I’d hate like the deuce to burn the houses of some secesh I know here, but at the same time don’t doubt the justice of the thing. One of them has lent us his own cook, or rather his wife did; and they don’t talk their secessionism to you unless you ask them to. We are getting a good many recruits from this country. All poor people, in fact that is the only kind that pretend to any Unionism here. There are now three full companies of Alabamians (Union) at Huntsville, and many more coming in. It is the opinion of the court that this new law, a copy of which you sent me, will boost me out of the service. I will make no objection, although would rather stay in if I thought the war would last 30 or 40 years. Don’t see how the boys can stay at home under the pressure. A young man here, and a splendid fellow, if he is a Rebel, showed me four letters from different young ladies urging him, by ridicule and appeals to his pride to go into the army. He was in for a short time, and was stationed at Fort Morgan. Business keeps him out now—crops, etc. I think will arrange things so that he can leave, if we carry out orders. ‘Twould be quite a change for me to be out of the army now. I don’ know how I would relish it while the war continues, although am sure could stand it if peace times would come again.

Friday, 8th—No news of importance. The officers are having considerable trouble in keeping the boys from getting through the lines. We have regular brigade guard to keep the men in camp, yet every day a few slip through when the guards are walking in opposite directions. But now, every morning at guard mount, the officer of the day gives strict orders that guard number 1 shall walk his beat so that he will be looking at guard number 2, and continuing thus around the entire camp, so that all getting to the end of their beats at the same time face about and proceed as before, each looking toward the guard ahead of him.

Camp Green Meadows, Friday, August 8, 1862. — Captains Drake and Skiles of [the] Twenty-third and Captain Gilmore of the cavalry returned today. They brought fourteen head [of] good cattle got from Secesh. Captain Drake is very much irritated because he and Captain Sperry were not detailed on my recommendation to go on recruiting service, the reason given being that captains in the opinion of [the] general commanding, General Cox, ought not to be sent. Since that, a number of captains have been sent from this division. This looks badly. Captain Drake tenders his resignation “immediate and unconditional.” I requested the captain not to be too fast. He is impulsive and hasty, but gallant and brave to a fault, honorable and trustworthy. I prefer to send him on any dangerous service to any man I ever knew. I hope he will remain in the regiment if I do.

I ordered camp changed today to get rid of old leaves, soured ground, dirty tents, and the like. Have succeeded in getting more room for tents and more room for drill.

8th. August. Commenced “Woman in White” again. Fairly begun when I was ordered off with Capt. Smith to find a camp. Selected one up on the hill west of town. Somewhat fortified. Moved camp in the forenoon. All tired after moving. Had one meal. Continued the story. Our new site for camp overlooks a large tract of country. The horses are picketed away from the immediate vicinity of the camp so that we will be free from the dust, and be nearer water for horses.

Wednesday, 8th.—All quiet to-day; two of our wounded died.


(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

AUGUST 8TH.—We hear of skirmishing in Orange County, and the enemy seem as familiar with the paths and fords as our own people; hence some surprises, attempted by our cavalry, have failed.

August 8th. A lovely quiet morning. No news from the Irish brigade, and not a shot fired in any direction. At 9 A. M. the wagons came up with soft bread, fresh beef, potatoes, etc. We were mighty glad to see the soft bread, which is the greatest of all luxuries when you have been without it for a couple of months. We could hardly wait to have it issued, so eager were we to taste it. Just after the company’s cooks had gotten things ready for a swell feast, orders were received to return to camp immediately. The heat was intense, and nearly one-half the regiment fell out; reached camp at 2 P. M., much exhausted by heat and dust.

Headquarters Fifth Army Corps, Harrison's Landing, James River, Va.

Headquarters Fifth Army Corps, Harrison’s Landing, James River, Va.

Subjects identified on mount include: Major Kirkland, Col. Locke, Major Montieth, Dr. McMillan, Gen. Porter, Capt. McQuade, Col. Norton, Col. Mason, Mrs. Fairfax, Chief Cook & bottle washer.

Handwritten on back of print: To Gen. Grindley with the compliments of Fitz John Porter.

Library of Congress image.

Original negative held by the National Archives.