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

Monday, August 13, 2012

33324u

Library of Congress image:

Unidentified soldier in Confederate uniform with rifleman buttons.

Medium: sixth-plate ambrotype, hand-colored ; 9.5 x 8.3 cm (case)

Donated to the Library of Congress 2012 by Tom Liljenquist; Liljenquist Family Collection of Civil War Photographs.

The Last Full Measure: The Liljenquist Family Collection.

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Image edited for fade correction and clarity.  MpG

August 13 — This morning we went on picket. First we went east of Orange Court House, on a high hill where the Seventh Regiment of Virginia Cavalry was. We remained there about two hours, when Colonel Jones ordered us west of town just in rear of the town lots. We got a splendid position on a hill commanding the Culpeper road. We remained there till nearly night, but no Yanks appearing we returned to camp. I saw General Longstreet to-day for the first time.

August 13th.

I am in despair. Miss Jones, who has just made her escape from town, brings a most dreadful account. She, with seventy-five others, took refuge at Dr. Enders’s, more than a mile and a half below town, at Hall’s. It was there we sent the two trunks containing father’s papers and our clothing and silver. Hearing that guerrillas had been there, the Yankees went down, shelled the house in the night, turning all those women and children out, who barely escaped with their clothing, and let the soldiers loose on it. They destroyed everything they could lay their hands on, if it could not be carried off; broke open armoirs, trunks, sacked the house, and left it one scene of devastation and ruin. They even stole Miss Jones’s braid! She got here with nothing but the clothes she wore.

This is a dreadful blow to me. Yesterday, I -thought myself beggared when I heard that our house was probably burnt, remembering all the clothing, books, furniture, etc., that it contained; but I consoled myself with the recollection of a large trunk packed in the most scientific style, containing quantities of nightgowns, skirts, chemises, dresses, cloaks, — in short, our very best, — which was in safety. Winter had no terrors when I thought of the nice warm clothes; I only wished I had a few of the organdie dresses I had packed up before wearing. And now? It is all gone, silver, father’s law papers, without which we are beggars, and clothing! Nothing left!

I could stand that. But as each little article of Harry’s came up before me (I had put many in the trunk), I lost heart. . . . They may clothe their negro women with my clothes, since they only steal for them; but to take things so sacred to me! O my God, teach me to forgive them!

Poor Miss Jones! They went into her clothes-bag and took out articles which were certainly of no service to them, for mere deviltry. There are so many sufferers in this case that it makes it still worse. The plantation just below was served in the same way; whole families fired into before they knew of the intention of the Yankees; was it not fine sport? I have always been an advocate of peace — if we could name the conditions ourselves — but I say, War to the death! I would give my life to be able to I take arms against the vandals who are laying waste our fair land! I suppose it is because I have no longer anything to lose that I am desperate. Before, I always opposed the burning of Baton Rouge, as a useless piece of barbarism in turning out five thousand women and children on the charity of the world. But I noticed that those who had no interest there warmly advocated it. Lilly Nolan cried loudly for it; thought it only just; but the first shell that whistled over her father’s house made her crazy with rage. The brutes! the beasts! how cruel! wicked! etc. It was too near home for her, then. There is the greatest difference between my property and yours. I notice that the further I get from town, the more ardent are the people to have it burned. It recalls very forcibly Thackeray’s cut in “The Virginians,” when speaking of the determination of the Rebels to burn the cities: he says he observed that all those who were most eager to burn New York were inhabitants of Boston; while those who were most zealous to burn Boston had all their property in New York. It is true all the world over. And I am afraid I am becoming indifferent about the fate of our town. Anything, so it is speedily settled! Tell me it would be of service to the Confederacy, and I would set fire to my home—if still standing —willingly! But would it?

13th. We are now all packed ready for a move, awaiting only the final order to march. Where or how we go, we do not yet know. We learn, however, beyond a doubt, that the regiments which disappeared so mysteriously a few nights since, embarked on transports under cover of the darkness, and have gone down the river. Their destination is not certainly known to us. From present appearances the plan seems to be, that the army, with the exception of Smith’s Division, or perhaps Franklin’s Corps, are to embark on transports, leaving us to escort and protect our immense transportation train overland to Fortress Monroe. Should this conjecture be true, we shall have a hazardous time, unless General Pope shall succeed in keeping the enemy so busily engaged as to relieve us. I have full confidence that he will exert himself to the utmost to relieve us in this manner.

Our leaders here are rapidly losing the confidence of the army and becoming objects of ridicule to the enemy. At White Oak Bridge, when we retreated, we left our pickets at their posts, without notifying them of our movements. They were of course taken prisoners. They have been paroled and are returning to camp. They say that immediately on being captured, they were being examined by a rebel Colonel, when Stonewall Jackson came up and upbraided the Colonel for spending time with the prisoners. “Let the prisoners go,” said he, and “press on after the enemy. So accustomed have they become to digging that if you give them twelve hours’ rest, they will dig themselves clear under ground.” Flattering, truly! I hope General McClellan will note it. But these things must not be talked about. Oh, no! We must see army after army sacrificed, the bones of hundreds of thousands of our bravest men bleaching on the plains, the nation draped in mourning, and not speak of it lest we shake confidence in our Generals, who through selfishness or incompetency, I will not yet say treason, are so frequently subjecting us to such contumely and sacrifices. History will make sad revelations of this war. I verily believe that, could its abuses be fully told, it would arouse the people to an enthusiasm which no acts of the enemy can excite. Under our present leaders, God knows what is to become of us. I have lost all confidence in them. In only four months from the time we landed on the Peninsula we had lost nearly two-thirds of the vast army brought with us, without one decisive battle! Since the 20th March we have landed here about 160,000 men. I doubt whether we could to-day bring 45,000 into action! At any time between October and June last, it has been in the power of this army to crush out this rebellion in a month; and yet the rebellion is more formidable to-day than at any previous time. Even now we are receiving reports of the discomfiture of Pope’s army, and, notwithstanding that its struggles are for our relief, it is unmistakeably evident that the report gives pleasure to the staffs of McClellan and Hancock. It may be so with other staffs; these are the only ones I have seen. Jealousy, jealousy—what will be the end of this? God preserve us.

Whilst I am noting down these abuses, a strange feeling possesses me; I lose all sense of my determination to abandon this rotten thing, and I resolve here to fight to the bitter end. Oh, if we had a Wellington, a Napoleon, a Scott, or even a Jackson, to do—something—anything, but dig and watch and —! falsely report!

Just as I close this journal of the day, a man rides up and tells me that General Pope has had a fight, and “holds his own.” I hope this is true, but I cannot forget that on the 26th of June, General McClellan made the army boisterously joyful by his assertion that McCall had thoroughly whipped Stonewall Jackson. On the next morning at daylight, it was claimed that McCall had only “held his own.” Two hours later we find that instead of even holding his own, he had retreated four miles, but it was only a “strategic movement,” and next day it became necessary for the whole army to—not retreat—but—”change its base.” All this it required to tell the simple truth that we were overpowered, whipped, and on the retreat. I hope it may not now be the beginning of a like history of General Pope’s movements.

Wednesday, 13th—The weather is very hot. I was on camp guard today when one of the guards suddenly became sick. I was number 24 in the first relief, and the man next to me, number 25, got sick. He called out to me, “Corporal the guard number 25.” It then became my duty to repeat the same call, “Corporal the guard number 25,” to the guard next to me, number 23, who made the same call to the guard next to him, and in this way the call went down the line to guard No. 1. Guard number 1 then sent the same call to the corporal of the guardhouse, who went out to guard number 25 to see what he wanted. When he was found to be sick another guard was brought out to relieve guard number 25.

13th. Wednesday. Did very little in the morning. In the afternoon Lt. Carter was buried. Capt. Nettleton rode up to our tent and told me he would like to see me a minute. I went aside and he said he was going home. I asked him if he were going home for good. He said that was about the only way men could get out of the department at this time. Finally after deceiving me he told me he was going on regiment business. Wrote lines to Fannie and home.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

[Diary] August 13, Wednesday.

Dr. Wakefield and Mr. Breed went to General Hunter complaining that the negro regiment was quartered in their garden. General Hunter, who has always suspected the superintendents of preventing enlistment and frowning upon negro soldiers, became so exasperated by their complaints that he threatened to send them home in irons if they oppose the negro regiment any more. General Saxton is very angry at their taking it upon themselves to go to General Hunter. They are under General Saxton’s authority and it was extreme disrespect to go to General Hunter to obtain his interference in General Saxton’s department.

I run up the flag every evening for our men to assemble and drill.

Wednesday, 13th.—Company F, on picket one mile west of Tazewell. Deer came running by our picket post. Went back to camp.


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

AUGUST 13TH—McClellan is gone, bag and baggage, abandoning his “base;” to attain which, he said he had instituted his magnificent strategic movements, resulting in an unmolested retreat from the Peninsula and flight to Washington, for the defense of his own capital. So the truth they crushed to earth on the Chickahominy has risen again, and the Yankees, like the Cretans, are to be known henceforth as a nation of liars.

1862 August Virginia. Locomotive on the Orange & Alexandria Railroad

Photo taken by Timothy H. O’Sullivan, August, 1862.

Library of Congress image.