Lynchburg, August 20.—Mr. _______ and myself arrived here last night, after a most fatiguing trip, by Clarksville, Buffalo Springs, then to Wolfs Trap Station on the Danville road, and on to the Southside Railroad. The cars were filled with soldiers on furlough. It was pleasant to see how cheerful they were. Poor fellows! it is wonderful when we consider what the next battle may bring forth. They were occupied discussing the late battle at Cedar Run, between General Jackson and a portion of Pope’s army, commanded by Banks. It was a very fierce fight, and many casualties on both sides; but we won the day—the Lord be praised! Lynchburg is full of hospitals, to which the ladies are very attentive; and they are said to be very well kept. I have been to a very large one to-day, in which our old home friends, Mrs. R. and Miss E. M., are matrons. Every thing looked beautifully neat and comfortable. As a stranger, and having so much to do for my patient at home, I find I can do nothing for the soldiers, but knit for them all the time, and give them a kind word in passing. I never see one without feeling disposed to extend my hand, arid say, “God bless you.”
Monday, August 20, 2012
August 20 — This morning at three o’clock we renewed our march, and from all appearances through a poor country. At about nine o’clock we crossed the Rapidan at Mitchell’s Ford, which landed us in Culpeper County and in a beautiful level plain and good land. We marched on in a northeastern course, crossed the Culpeper and Fredericksburg road, and still pressed toward the Rappahannock. When we halted we were only about a mile from the Yankee lines. While we halted some of our cavalrymen brought in a few Yankee prisoners that had just been captured, who reported that the enemy was strongly posted not far ahead and was preparing to charge us; but these same prisoners lied.
However, on the strength of the report, General Stuart formed a line of battle in a beautiful level grassy field and splendid fighting ground for cavalry. Captain Pelham’s battery was in position on the right of the line.
There were about three thousand horsemen drawn up in line, all with drawn sabers, ready to receive a charge or make one. A glance over the field and along the battle line was at once grand, magnificent, and inspiring. Three thousand burnished sabers glittered in the sunlight, ready to be wielded by determined men whose steady and silent gaze to the front, where the enemy was supposed to lurk, pre-signified that every man was spellbound, fascinated, and inspired by the splendor of the sheen and the grandeur of the warlike martial array that was as gorgeous as a dress parade. Yet every man was ready and expecting to receive the shock of battle. We remained in battle line about two hours, waiting for the Yankee charge they did not make; and now I am confident that the Yankee prisoners wilfully lied to-day when they said that their cavalry was preparing to charge General Stuart’s in that particular locality, because the Yankee cavalry is not so awfully chargy when they find something a little dangerous to charge. After General Stuart found that the Yankee charge was a myth we were ordered to move up toward the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. In moving up we passed through a little hamlet called Stevensburg. When we passed there I saw some of General Hill’s infantry marching toward the Rappahannock. We struck the railroad a few miles below Culpeper Court House, then moved down the railroad to Brandy Station, which is about six miles below the Court House.
Our cavalry had a fight with the Yanks this afternoon, and repulsed them, below Brandy Station.
We fell back about three miles toward Culpeper Court House and camped for the night. The country around Brandy is beautiful. Looking east and south the land is as level as a lake.
August 20th.
Last evening, after hard labor at pulling molasses candy, needing some relaxation after our severe exertions, we determined to have some fun, though the sun was just setting in clouds as watery as New Orleans milk, and promised an early twilight. All day it had been drizzling, but that was nothing; so Anna Badger, Miriam, and I set off, through the mud, to get up the little cart to ride in, followed by cries from the elder ladies of “Girls! Soap is a dollar and a half a bar! Starch a dollar a pound! Take up those skirts!” We had all started stiff and clean, and it did seem a pity to let them drag; so up they went —you can imagine how high when I tell you my answer to Anna’s question as to whether hers were in danger of touching the mud, was, “ Not unless you sit down.”
The only animal we could discover that was not employed was a poor old pony, most appropriately called “Tom Thumb,” and him we seized instantly, together with a man to harness him. We accompanied him from the stable to the quarter where the cart was, through mud and water, urging him on with shouts and cries, and laughing until we could laugh no longer, at the appearance of each. The cart had been hauling wood, but that was nothing to us. In we tumbled, and with a driver as diminutive as the horse, started off for Mr. Elder’s, where we picked up all the children to be found, and went on. All told, we were twelve, drawn by that poor horse, who seemed at each step about to undergo the ham process, and leave us his hind quarters, while he escaped with the fore ones and harness. I dare say we never enjoyed a carriage as much, though each was holding a muddy child. Riding was very fine; but soon came the question, “How shall we turn?” — which was not so easily solved, for neither horse nor boy understood it in the least. Every effort to describe a circle brought us the length of the cart farther up the road, and we promised fair to reach Bayou Sara before morning, at that rate. At last, after fruitless efforts to dodge under the harness and escape, pony came to a standstill, and could not be induced to move. The children took advantage of the pause to tumble out, but we sat still. Bogged, and it was very dark already! Would n’t we get it when we got home! Anna groaned, “Uncle Albert!” Miriam laughed, “the General!” I sighed, “Mrs. Carter!” We knew what we deserved; and darker and darker it grew, and pony still inflexible!
At last we beheld a buggy on a road near by and in answer to Morgan’s shouts of “Uncle! Uncle! come turn our cart!” a gentleman jumped out and in an instant performed the Herculean task. Pony found motion so agreeable that it was with the greatest difficulty we prevailed on him to stop while we fished seven children out of the mud, as they pursued his flying hoofs. Once more at Mr. Elder’s, we pitched them out without ceremony, and drove home as fast as possible, trying to fancy what punishment we would receive for being out so late.
Miriam suggested, as the most horrible one, being sent to bed supperless; Anna’s terror was the General’s displeasure; I suggested being deprived of rides in future; when all agreed that mine was the most severe yet. So as we drove around the circle, those two set up what was meant for a hearty laugh to show “they were not afraid,” which, however, sounded rather shaky to me. I don’t think any of us felt like facing the elders; Miriam suggested anticipating our fate by retiring voluntarily to bed; Anna thought we had best run up and change our shoes, anyway; but at last, with her dare-devil laugh, Miriam sauntered into the room, where they all were, followed by us, and thrusting her wet feet into the fire that was kindled to drive away the damp (followed also by us), commenced a laughable account of our fun — in which we, of course, followed, too. If I had fancied we were to escape scot free, we would most surely have got a scolding. It is almost an inducement to hope always for the — worst! The General did not mention the hour! did not prohibit future rides!
While we were yet toasting, a negro came in with what seemed a bank-note, and asked his master to see how much it was, as one of the women had sold some of her watermelons to the three soldiers of the morning, who had given that to her for a dollar. The General opened it. It was a pass! So vanish all faith in human nature! They looked so honest! I could never have believed it of them! But it looked so much like the “shinplasters” we are forced to use, that no wonder they made the mistake. To discover who had played so mean a trick on the poor old woman, the General asked me if I could decipher the name. I threw myself on my knees by the hearth, and by the flickering light read “S. Kimes. By order of C! H!! Luzenberg!!! Provost Marshal!!!! Onolona, Miss.,” with a gasp of astonishment that raised a burst of laughter against me. Thought he was taken prisoner long ago! At all events, I did n’t know he had turned banker, or that his valuable autograph was worth a dollar!
August 20, Wednesday. Memo. Soon after hostilities commenced, in the spring or summer of 1861, a letter from William D. Porter to his son was published. The son had joined the Rebels, and so informed his father, who wrote him he thought he had committed a mistake. But, having taken this step, he advised him to adhere and do his duty. At that time W. D. P. was on duty in the Pacific. I immediately detached and ordered him home. He reported to me in great distress; disavowed the letter; said it was a forgery, that his son and himself were on bad terms and the letter had been written and published to injure him. There was, he informed me, much disagreement in the family; his son had been alienated from him, and, like David, sympathized with the Secessionists, while he (W.) had taken the opposite course. David, he remarked, was the intimate friend of Jefferson Davis and the Rebel conspirators, and he had expected that he would act with them, and he had no doubt that David’s course had injured him; confounding him with D., he was made accountable for D.’s acts. David said he had no doubt that Bill wrote the letter, and I was of that opinion.[1] William had, not without reason, the reputation of being very untruthful, — a failing of the Porters, for David was not always reliable on unimportant matters, but amplified and colored transactions, where he was personally interested especially, but he had not the bad reputation of William. I did not always consider David to be depended upon if he had an end to attain, and he had no hesitation in trampling down a brother officer if it would benefit himself. He had less heart than William.
Had a conversation with the President in relation to W. D. Porter, who was the efficient officer that attacked and destroyed the Rebel armored ram Arkansas. Porter is a bold, brave man, but reckless in many respects, and unpopular, perhaps not without reason, in the service. He has been earnest and vigorous on the Mississippi, and made himself. The Advisory Board under the late law omitted to recommend him for promotion. It was one of the few omissions that I regretted, for whatever the infirmities of the man I recognize his merits as an officer.
His courage in destroying the Arkansas was manifest. Both the flag officers were delinquent in the matter of that vessel at Vicksburg, and I so wrote each of them. Admiral Farragut cannot conceal his joy that she is destroyed, but is not ready to do full justice to Porter.
I canvassed the whole question, — the law, the proceedings, the difficulties, the man, the officer, the responsibility of promoting him and of my advising it, — yet I felt it a duty, if service rendered in battle and under fire were to govern. The President conversed with me most fully, and said,” I am so satisfied that you are right generally, and in this case particularly, that I say to you, Go ahead, give Porter as you propose a Commodore’s appointment, and I will stand by you, come what may.”
Sent a letter of reproof to Colonel Harris and also one to Lieutenant-Colonel Reynolds of the Marine Corps, between whom there is a bitter feud. Almost all the elder officers are at loggerheads and ought to be retired. Reynolds had been tried by court martial on charges preferred by Harris, and acquitted, though by confessions made to me personally guilty. But a majority of the anti-Harris faction constituted the court, and partisanship, not merit, governed the decision. I refused to approve the finding. In his turn, Reynolds brought charges against Harris, and of such a character as to implicate others. To have gone forward would have been to plunge into a series of courts martial for a year to come.
McClellan’s forces have left the banks of James River several days since. Their exodus I think was not anticipated at Richmond, nor believed until after all had left and crossed the Chickahominy. We are beginning to hear of the arrival of the advance guard at Acquia Creek, Alexandria, and Fredericksburg. In the mean time Pope is being heavily pressed at Culpeper by Stonewall Jackson and the whole accumulated forces from Richmond, which has compelled him to fall back on the left bank of the Rapidan, his policy being to keep the enemy in check until McClellan’s forces can unite with him.
[1] I some years later, and after William’s death, learned from Admiral Farragut and Mrs. Farragut that they knew the letter to be a forgery and that it was got up for mischievous purposes. — G. W.
20th.—These men, who were yesterday worn out and abused, who needed all the rest they could get, were ordered up this morning at half-past 2, to march at 4, and then, after being formed into line, were kept waiting till 6. The Surgeons dare not say, “General, permit me to suggest that this is rapidly exhausting the nervous energies of the men, and that last night, we had to leave over sixty, overcome by the fatigue of the day.” It would have been deemed insolent and insubordinate in a Surgeon to have suggested that the two hours which the soldiers spent on their feet, waiting for their officers to get ready, might have been spent with great benefit to their health and energies, in bed, and the Surgeons must be dumb and the men sick.
We are to-day passing over some of the places of our former defeats—Big and Little Bethel, and the localities of some of our unsuccessful skirmishes.
Wednesday, 20th—Nothing of importance.
On the 14th of August—McClellan’s attempt to reach Richmond via the Chickahominy swamps having proved a disastrous failure—the transfer of the army to Washington began.
Lieutenant Robert Wilson of J. H.’s regiment wrote home at the time a letter which might easily have come from any regiment in the Army of the Potomac. “Six days’ march,” he says, “to Newport News, choking with dust, parched with thirst, melting by day and freezing by night, poorly fed and with nothing but the sky to cover us. You can judge of our exhausted condition when I tell you that six miles before we reached the camp at Newport News the 16th Regiment, N. Y. Vols., numbered only 184 men in the ranks, though men straggled in, so that there were 400 in the morning, and the 16th is no straggling regiment. Next day embarked on transports and arrived at Alexandria, sorrowful and humiliated when looking back over a year and finding ourselves on the same ground as then. The debris of the Grand Army had come back to its starting place with its ranks decimated, its men disspirited, its morale failing, while the thousands who sleep their last sleep on the Peninsula demand the cause of their sacrifice.”
August 20. — The 126th Regiment, just organized, was mustered into service at Camp Swift, Geneva. Those that I know who belong to it are Colonel E. S. Sherrill, Lieutenant Colonel James M. Bull, Captain Charles A. Richardson, Captain Charles M. Wheeler, Captain Ten Eyck Munson, Captain Orin G. Herendeen, Surgeon Dr Charles S. Hoyt, Hospital Steward Henry T. Antes, First Lieutenant Charles Gage, Second Lieutenant Spencer F. Lincoln, First Sergeant Morris Brown, Corporal Hollister N. Grimes, Privates Darius Sackett, Henry Willson, Oliver Castle, William Lamport.
Dr Hoyt wrote home, “God bless the dear ones we leave behind; and while you try to perform the duties you owe to each other, we will try to perform ours.”
We saw by the papers that the volunteers of the regiment before leaving camp at Geneva allotted over $15,000 of their monthly pay to their families and friends at home. One soldier sent this telegram to his wife, as the regiment started for the front: “God bless you. Hail Columbia. Kiss the baby. Write soon.” A volume in ten words.
I Get On The Retired List.
August 20. Until recently I have been quite a popular commander of Sunday church parties. The boys would get-up their parties and get me a pass to take them into town to church. I would take them in and, halting on some convenient corner, would deliver myself of a little speech. I would say, “Boys, I have always believed in the largest tolerance in matters of religion and politics, and as much as I should like to have you attend church with me, if you have any preferences you are at liberty to enjoy them; far be it from me to impose my authority on your feelings or conscience. I shall expect you on the corner at the appointed time that we may report back in camp in season for dress parade.” Now, if they couldn’t have had a tolerably good time under those conditions, it certainly was no fault of mine. But this, like every other good thing, could not always last. One Sunday afternoon, when we gathered on the corner, one of the party failed to put in an appearance. After waiting beyond a reasonable time, he was defaulted and we returned to camp. About night he came in, showing unmistakable signs of having been on the hardest kind of fatigue duty. Instead of going to his quarters as he was told to, he thought it was his duty to interview the captain. That interview resulted in a court martial, before which I was ordered to appear. I was asked numerous questions, all of which I answered to the lest of my knowledge and belief, and my evidence not only convicted the prisoner but reflected somewhat on myself, for in summing it up, they somehow fixed it up in such a way as to make it appear that 1 was in the practice of taking parties into town on Sundays, ostensibly to church and then letting them go wherever they pleased, and inquired of me if that was not about the true solution of the problem. Wishing to avoid controversy, I assented. I was then told that I could retire from that august presence, a privilege of which I availed myself immediately, but what I noticed as being rather singular, after that little interview I was in command of no more Sunday parties.
Wednesday, 20th.—Company F sent out as reserve pickets. Feds made as though they would charge our picket line with cavalry.
