6th. Passed the day quietly in camp. Spencer here today. Very warm. In a shady place. Nice bower and shade trees in afternoon.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Columbia, S C, July 6, 1864.—At the Prestons’ Mary was laughing at Mrs. Lyons’s complaint—the person from whom we rented rooms in Richmond. She spoke of Molly and Lawrence’s deceitfulness. They went about the house quiet as mice, while we were at home; or Lawrence sat at the door and sprang to his feet whenever we passed. But when we were out, they sang, laughed, shouted, and danced. If any of the Lyons family passed him, Lawrence kept his seat, with his hat on, too. Mrs. Chesnut had said: “Oh!” so meekly to the whole tirade, and added, “I will see about it.”
Colonel Urquhart and Edmund Rhett dined here; charming men both—no brag, no detraction. Talk is never pleasant where there is either. Our noble Georgian dined here. He says Hampton was the hero of the Yankee rout at Stony Creek.[1] He claims that citizens, militia, and lame soldiers kept the bridge at Staunton and gallantly repulsed Wilson’s raiders.
At Mrs. S.’s last night. She came up, saying, “In New Orleans four people never met together without dancing.” Edmund Rhett turned to me: “You shall be pressed into service.” “No, I belong to the reserve corps—too old to volunteer or to be drafted as a conscript.” But I had to go.
My partner in the dance showed his English descent; he took his pleasure sadly. “Oh, Mr. Rhett, at his pleasure, can be a most agreeable companion! ” said someone. “I never happened to meet him,” said I, “when he pleased to be otherwise.” With a hot, draggled, old alpaca dress, and those clod-hopping shoes, to tumble slowly and gracefully through the mazes of a July dance was too much for me. “What depresses you so?” he anxiously inquired. “Our carnival of death.” What a blunder to bring us all together here!—a reunion of consumptives to dance and sing until one can almost hear the death-rattle!
[1] The battle of Stony Creek in Virginia was fought on June 28-29, 1864.
Wednesday, July 6. — McAndrews of D Company was killed this morning by a sharpshooter. The rebels have a rifle-pit on our right, from which they enfilade our line completely during the night. I had ways dug for the men.
Headquarters 56th Mass. Vols.,
Near Petersburg, Va., July 5, 1864.
Dear Hannah, — .. . Sergeant Ford is a very good soldier. He had a piece of a bayonet shot into his leg in the battle of the 24th on the North Anna. . . .
July 6.
We moved out to the front line last night, and now occupy a position where we can see all the enemy’s works.
It is rather dangerous work to show one’s head here, for the enemy are very sharp, their sharpshooters popping at us all the time. I had a man killed this morning by one of them, and any number of bullets are floating around loosely all the time. We hear that Ewell is up near Harper’s Ferry, and that some of the Sixth Corps have gone up from here to help oppose him. . . .
I am busy now every day, or rather every morning, on court-martial. I believe I told you that I was President of a C. M. We hold our meetings at division headquarters. By the way, Charlie Mills wished to be remembered to both you and Alice.
My house, or place where I hang out at present, is a hole about ten feet long and six wide, dug into the side of the hill. On top there is a layer of logs, and on the sides logs. All the officers have to live in such places, if they care about living five minutes. The men are all in holes or pits dug down into the ground, where they are safe unless a bomb-shell happens to come along. A man in the 3d Maryland had a piece of shell from a 10-inch bomb knock his canteen to pieces, out of which he was drinking at the time. Pleasant place to live in, is n’t it?
I have nominated Zab Adams for major, and shall send the letter on to-night. I do not suppose that he will be able to join me for some time. I wish I could get some definite news from him.
I suppose you know that Duncan Lamb is commissioned as a captain in the regiment. He has not yet reported for duty. . . .
July 6th. A very pleasant morning. A good night’s rest. The boat pushed along all night. Must be getting near our journey’s end, or destination, Parkersburg. Soon after noon the boat grounded and held fast. We were again obliged to wade ashore, on the Ohio side. Later it was decided, we give up the boat and march on to Parkersburg, distance, from five to six miles. The march was over a good road through a fine country. The field officers, not having their horses, set the pace, which was very slow. We had them that time, for we could march right away from them. The horses and wagons were coming overland from Camp Piatt. During the march we were among friends. Some of the old settlers were from Connecticut. The old and young people were pleased to see Connecticut soldiers. We came to a halt quite often to talk to the people. One very old gentleman brought out an old powder horn which he claimed was once the property of General Putnam, of Revolutionary fame. He also made claim to be a descendant of General Putnam.
The march through Ohio was very pleasant, the people were so kind. Parkersburg was in West Virginia, we were in Ohio. Were carried over the river on boats. At this point, while waiting for a train, we received a large mail. I received two letters. A long time since we heard from home. Hunter’s army took train at this place. A train of box cars was made ready for us, into which we were packed like a lot of animals. At times we were made to feel that we were cattle. Hope I can live to see the finish up of the war. This is a strenuous life. It’s all for our country.
Wednesday, 6th—There is still skirmishing on the lines and some cannonading going on, but there is no general advance along the lines, except on the extreme left.
July 6th. Were relieved at ten A.m.; marched half a mile to the rear, pitched camp, and went in earnest to get the men off. [Time had expired.]
July 6, 1864.
I went down to our front this evening. Our advanced artillery is yet some 1,200 yards from the Rebels, but there is nothing but an open field between, and it looks quite close. The Johnnies have thrown up a nice fort, embrasured for nine guns. They have not fired a shot to-day. The captain of our advanced artillery told me the Rebels have 20 Parrott guns in the fort, and excellent gunners.
We moved this evening one mile to the left and relieved a portion of the 20th Corps, which went on further to the left.
We started on this campaign with 10 field officers in our brigade and now have but two left. Three killed, three wounded and two left back sick. I hear the Rebel works here are the last this side of the river, and but few hundred yards from it.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JULY 6TH—Hot and dry.
We have no news to-day, but there are rumors that Grant is preparing to abandon his position. He cannot remain where he is, inactive. There is a scarcity of water, and the location is unhealthy.
We had corn bread and gravy for dinner, with a tremendous dessert, the suggestion of Custis, consisting of whortleberry fitters, with butter and sugar sauce, costing about $16.
Kingston, Wednesday, July 6. Up early, groomed my team before roll call. Drew forage for them this morning, first time for two days. 8 A. M. went to graze in an oat field. Heavy crop all headed. It seems almost wicked to allow animals to destroy it, but it was sowed for Confederate purposes and the owner is with the fleeing “Johnnies”. Every shady nook, stump and stone occupied by somebody. Writing to-day, answering the heap received yesterday. The guns put in position on the works. Harness racks erected, brush shade put over caisson and racks. Everything indicates that we are to stay for awhile.
