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

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Headquarters 56th Mass. Vols.,
Near Petersburg, Va., July 24, ’64.

Dear Father, — . . . A shell from one of the enemy’s mortars exploded in front of the headquarters of the 57th Massachusetts to-day, and wounded three officers. One of them was a Captain Galucia of my regiment, who was on his tour of inspection as brigade officer of the day. He is wounded in both feet, though not very seriously.

General Bartlett is in command of our brigade now. He is going to have Charlie Amory as his adjutant-general. I saw Charlie to-day, looking very well indeed.

We move to the rear line to-night. I have had my men at work constructing bomb-proofs, since they have been on the front line.

Next Tuesday we are to have a review. General Ledlie is to review our brigade. . . .

We hear very good news from Atlanta to-day. I should not wonder if it made the rebels desperate, and forced them to attack us here. They will get thoroughly whipped if they try it here. The mornings, however, are favorable for a sortie, as they are extremely foggy. . . .

Please ask Hannah to send me Miss ——’s photo graph.

Sunday, July 24. — Men worked on bomb-proofs, and completed them as far as the logs would go. Captain Galucia and two officers of the 57th wounded by a shell. Saw Charlie Amory to-day. Went to see Jones with Raish. Moved to the rear at dark, in old position. Began to rain just after we got there. Sky came down in the middle of the night. On the whole did not enjoy the night much.

[Captain Galucia used to come to me almost every morning with a long face and a piece of a shell in his hand, saying, “Colonel, that fell near me last night.” It got to be quite a joke, and I said, “Galucia is sure to be hit by a shelf some time, they seem to trouble him so much.” In telling this story I do not mean to reflect on his courage at all, as he was a brave man and always did his duty. Sure enough, when he was officer of the day, he was standing with two other officers in front of a bomb-proof underneath an arbor made of green boughs, when a bombshell came over and dropped right into the middle of the arbor. They all tumbled down just as the shell exploded. One of the officers was cut right up the back as if with a knife. The other one was killed, and Galucia had the toes of both his feet pushed back. He suffered from the effect of the wound the rest of his life.]

Sunday, July 24th.

Ever since the 14th we have maintained our camp, and been occupied in building brush houses and log huts; in digging great holes in the ground and sinking cracker boxes at the bottoms to catch what little water soaks out of the sand, and in drilling and assisting in the construction of field works. On the 19th rain, so long prayed for, came, and for a few hours at least everybody was happy. My own brush house at the head of my company street is really quite comfortable. It contains three bunks made of small saplings for the use of Lieutenants Edmonston and Parkhurst and myself, and a cracker box for a table, and we have actually been able to indulge in the luxury of having our shoes polished every morning, and of occasionally reading the New York papers. In addition to woodticks and “graybacks,” there is a large blue fly indigenous in these parts, the feet of which are so constructed that when it alights it cannot be brushed off without the most persistent scraping, and Lynch, the hero of the Major’s tent, has been instructed to lay a newspaper over the face of each of us when he comes for our shoes at daylight, for it is then that these flies are most troublesome. I had noticed that for several mornings when we were ready for our modest breakfast, Lynch’s breath indicated that he had indulged in a morning nip, and occasionally he would be quite unsteady on his pins, as well as original in his ideas, for once when I gave him a knife to clean he deliberately stropped it on the greasy leg of his trousers and handed it back for my use, and as we had each been careful to give him no orders on the Commissary, I could not imagine where his supplies came from. One morning when he spread the papers as usual I happened to be awake, though he did not know it, and there being a hole through the paper just in front of one of my eyes, I saw him stretch up over the sleeping Edmonston, whose bunk was across the house at the foot of my bunk, take down his canteen and regale himself with a generous swig. Taking up my shoes he went out and polished them, and on returning for Edmonston’s shoes he again reached for the canteen, but just as his arm was fully extended I sat up and shouted ’bout face,” and he obeyed the order instantly, his arm still in the air and an expression on his face utterly impossible to describe. The two lieutenants, startled out of their slumbers, sat up and enjoyed the poor fellow’s discomfiture when caught in the act, quite as much as I did, and I doubt if Edmonston ever again leaves his canteen so exposed.

Private Blair, the man who, as already described, disappointed the “Johnny Reb” who wanted to make a prisoner of him, is one of the best men in the company, and when there is any fighting or other duty to be done he is always on hand, but he has a decided weakness for foraging, and he and his immediate friends always seem to have something in their haversacks. On one occasion when I was some distance from the front, I saw Blair prowling about in a little grove near which I observed two or three sheep running about. Of course I knew what he was after for he had his rifle with him, and the moment he saw me he dodged behind a tree and remained until I was out of sight. That night our cook gave us some very tender lamb for our supper, saying that it had been presented by some one who did not care to have his name mentioned, and when I was making my usual rounds through the company street after “taps,” I was amused to hear from behind Blair’s quarters the recital to his tent-mates of the incidents of the day, the most satisfactory of which to him seemed to be, that owing to his strategy the Captain hadn’t caught him, though he asserted that if the Captain had actually seen him shoot the sheep, he didn’t think anything would have been said about it, as that officer had himself had some of the mutton. And I incline to think that Blair was right, for a few days before I had done some foraging on my own hook, and no officer should criticise an enlisted man for doing what he does himself. Taking Joe Solomon with me one day, I went to a house situated some distance from our camp where I was credibly informed that there was a barn full of chickens, and attempted to negotiate with the lady of the house for a pair of them at any price in greenbacks which she might be pleased to name, but she was very decided in her refusal to oblige me, and moreover declared that “Yankee money was no good.” General Patrick, the Provost Marshal of the army, had posted a squad of infantry under command of a Captain as a guard at this house, and realizing that so long as the guard should remain the woman would have the better of the argument, I quietly waited until the guard was relieved, when I renewed my application and, meeting with no success, sent Joe with a darky who had confidentially informed me that there were “fifty of ’em dar,” to select two of the finest specimens, and in the meantime vainly endeavored to persuade the woman to accept my proffered two dollars. When the men returned from the barn with the chickens I gave the money to the grinning “contraband,” but before Joe and I were out of sight on the way to camp, the woman was fighting him for its possession. That night the birds were served for supper, and proved to be two of the very toughest old tooth-defying cacklers that could have been found in all Virginia, and it seemed to me that retributive justice had rubbed it in with unnecessary emphasis.

One morning Lieut. Parkhurst did not turn out of his blankets with his customary promptness, and on inquiry Lieut. Edmonston informed me that he had had a “presentiment,” an experience not uncommon in the army. Thereupon I went and sat on the side of his bunk, and tried to encourage him to throw off the depressing apprehension which possessed him that he was to be killed in our next engagement. I met with little success at first, for, while as brave an officer as there is in the army, his anxiety for the welfare of his wife, and of others near and dear to him, had overmastered him for the time being, and when I remembered that Artificer Benedict had told me of a similar “presentiment” which he had had the day before he was killed at the battle of Harris Farm, near Spottsylvania, I confess that I was not without some misgivings as to the credence to be accorded to premonitions. Parkhurst was the first man whom I promoted when I took command of Company H, making him a corporal much against his preferences after he had served as a private in the company for nearly two years, and he had won his commission as a Lieutenant after an examination and solely on his merits, though it did not actually reach him until he had served as a non-commissioned officer during a large part of the campaign, and when I succeeded in having him assigned to my company as Second Lieutenant, I felt that in Edmonston and Parkhurst I had the best two all-around officers in the regiment. Hence I was more than usually concerned about Parkhurst being thus apparently stampeded, but after having argued with him for some time, citing cases where “presentiments” had proved false, and assured him that if anything should happen to him Edmonston or I would see that all his expressed wishes with reference to his family were carried out, he gradually recovered control of himself, and I am happy to say that until this time at least he is as good as new, though he has since been under fire.

And while throwing some sidelights on our camp life for the past ten days, I must not omit to mention an incident which furnishes all the elements of a nice little Sunday school story, and has the advantage of most of such stories in actually being true. Dropping into one of the larger brush houses one day, I found several of my brother officers sitting on cracker boxes around a table formed by two larger boxes covered with canvas, engaged in a game of draw-poker. Among them was the Captain whose men had sought cover in the ditch during the charge of the 18th of June, as hereinbefore described, and he was anathematizing his luck at cards in language characteristically lurid and vigorous. After watching the game for a little while, I told him that his remarks reminded me that I had a question which I wanted to ask him, and without interrupting his “straddling of blinds” and “going five better,” he bade me “fire away.” “Well,” I said, “you remember how your men dropped into that ditch on the 18th—” and I got no farther before he let off a volley of verbal pyrotechnics at his men for disgracing themselves and him, which fairly charged the atmosphere with linguistic sulphur and attracted the attention of every player at the table. Before he could catch his breath I broke in with—”Yes, I know, but I noticed at the time that although you were greatly humiliated and distressed at the conduct of your men, and were begging them most abjectly to get into line, you never indulged in a single cuss word, and the fact was so remarkable that right there in the midst of the fight, I made up my mind that if you and I should survive, I would ask you why it was that you maintained such complete control of your variegated and iridescent vocabulary, when I expected a perfect aurora borealis of vituperation.” Slapping his cards face down upon the table he turned to me and said, very seriously, “Yes, you are right. I remember it perfectly. I did not swear. I noticed it myself, and, to tell you the truth, the reason was that I was too d—d scared to swear.” Not a man who heard him, however, accepted that explanation, for all knew that he was one of the bravest of the brave, and knew, for they had been there and knew how it was themselves, that the simple fact was that at that particular time he realized the possibilities of the situation, and did not court the combination of a bullet in his heart and an oath on his lips.

After the hand was played out the Captain turned again to me and said: “It was that whiskey on an empty stomach that did the business for my boys, but tell me, Chaplain (I was sometimes addressed as Chaplain because I wore, a long blue overcoat and did not indulge in stimulants while in the field), for I, too, have a question to ask, Is it true that when you refused an order to your Commissary Sergeant for a ration of whiskey for Company H, you told him that we were just going into a fight, and that if you or any of your company should go to heaven or hell that day, you proposed that the detail should go cold sober?” Of course, he did not quote me correctly, but it was the fact that I refused the order when sought, though I had a ration issued immediately after the fight was over and when we got back to the sunken road.

To-day two of our battalions were engaged from five o’clock in the morning until eight o’clock in the evening in building earthworks for mortar batteries.

24th. Sunday. A. M. went to the Point for John. He came out and preached for us at 4 P. M. Goodly number out. Excellent remarks. A. B. and I rode back with him and remained over night on account of rain. Horse fell upon my leg going down. No serious harm. Came near breaking it. Good visit with John. Saw Dorsey.

24th.—Amid all the turbulent scenes which surround us, our only grandchild has first seen the light, and the dear little fellow looks as quiet as though all were peace. We thank God for this precious gift, this little object of all-absorbing interest, which so pleasantly diverts our troubled minds. His father has left his far-off military post to welcome him, and before he returns we must by baptism receive him into the Church on earth, praying that he may be a “member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.” This rite thus early administered, bringing him into the Episcopal Church, seems to belong to him by inheritance, as he is the grandson of a Presbyter on one side, and of a Bishop on the other.

The city looks warlike, though the inhabitants are quiet. Troops are constantly passing to and fro; army wagons, ambulances, etc., rattle by, morning, noon, and night. Grant remains passive on the Appomattox, occasionally throwing a shell into Petersburg, which may probably explode among women and children—but what matters it? They are rebels—what difference does it make about their lives or limbs?

Etowah Bridge, Sunday, July 24. All very still and dull in camp after morning inspection. Anxiously listening for intelligence from the front. From the last reliable information we received last night, Atlanta was not ours, terrible efforts being made by General Hood, commanding rebel forces to retake his lost position. Heavy cannonading could be heard for an hour this morning, supposed to be in front.

2 P. M. While writing home, the long roll was sounded, and the infantry fell in with arms, and we were ordered to be ready for fight. The cavalry seen galloping over the hills. Waited half an hour, when the men returned to their quarters, the scare being over. Proved to be a squad of guerrillas, estimated at 150, which rushed upon one of our picket posts west of town, capturing it and then skedaddled. No mail came in. Track reported torn up. If they come and fool around here much, they may get hurt. General Kilpatrick’s headquarters in town. Two of his cavalry brigades here, and one of ours. In the evening Griff and I took a walk to town, the first time I have been in it since arrived. Old fashioned and dilapidated.

July 24th. Sunday morning, Kearnstown, hot. Ordered out into line early for inspection. Instead orders came to advance. Hot skirmishing began right off. Our regiment placed at the right of the line, west side of the pike. Colonel Mulligan with his division form the left of the line. Our position is on high ground where we can overlook the field. Orders came to charge into the woods. There we found the enemy en masse. They poured their fire on Mulligan’s division. Mulligan was killed, his division losing very heavy. They were ordered to fall back. Orders came for our regiment to fall back to Winchester. We marched back and later the enemy came out of the wood, when we saw plainly the large force they had. Owing to my naked feet I could hardly keep up, but kept pushing. There are many hills around Winchester. Before we could reach the earthworks the enemy had field guns posted on hills commanding our position. As I could not keep up with the boys I came near being captured. I made a running jump over into the rifle pits near the old Star Fort. As I landed in the pits a solid shot also struck there. As I looked at it was thankful it was not a shell. Running around in the pits I was able to get out on the opposite side from the enemy and take my place in our company, line being just in the rear of the fort, where we formed. Shells began to drop all around us. Finally one came in our midst, doing much damage, some being killed and wounded. It caused great excitement as the dust and dirt flew over us. A peculiar numbness came to me, making me think I was wounded. Picking up my gun that had fallen to the ground, I discovered that it had been hit by a piece of the exploded shell, the barrel being flat and bent. I threw it down and picked up another on the field. That was no doubt the cause of my numbness. Orders came for a change in our position and to fall back to Bunker Hill. Up to this time we had been fighting and falling back for about sixteen miles. Had the 6th Corps remained in the valley it would have given us more show against Early’s large force, as they are in plain sight and we can see them from the hills. We will hold Bunker Hill and remain here for the night. I am in agony with my feet. We are in a ragged, dirty condition. The life of a soldier is a hard one. Our suffering at times is intense. It’s all for our country that we all love.

by John Beauchamp Jones

            JULY 24TH.—Cloudy and cool, but dry.

            Yesterday and last night both Grant and Lee, or Beauregard, were moving pretty heavy forces from the south side to the north side of the river. I am not advised which initiated this manœuvre, but it indicates renewed activity of the armies in this vicinity.

I hope the roads will not be cut again, or we shall starve!

Sunday, 24th—The weather is sultry. All is quiet, and no news from the front. I am gaining every day and can be up and around in the ward, but have not yet been out of doors.

Sunday, July 24, 1864.

No church. Our preacher’s horse stolen by the Yankees. This raid is headed by Guerrard and is for the purpose of destroying our railroads. They cruelly shot a George Daniel and a Mr. Jones of Covington, destroyed a great deal of private property, and took many citizens prisoners.