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

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Saturday, August 13th.

On awaking this morning I found that it was reported at the hospital that the Second Corps had gone up the James River towards Richmond, but I could get no definite information in regard to the movement. Taking my old hand-bag, which contained all my personal effects except the clothes I had on, my overcoat and sword, I went to the office of the hospital and told the surgeon-in-charge that I was going to find my company, which had gone up the river with the Second Corps. He seemed a little surprised, and turning to some record he had before him, informed me that on the application of Doctor Hoyt I had been received at the hospital as an officer invalided by sunstroke, and that under the regulations I could not leave until discharged by the proper medical authorities, and, upon my attempting to remonstrate, he ventured to suggest that Dr. Hoyt had probably saved my life by the trick he had played on me in leaving me at the hospital the night before, and advised me to accept the situation as I found it and go back to my ward and ask for a thorough physical examination. Rather reluctantly, but conscious that there might be some grounds for the advice, I followed it, and upon an examination by the medical staff was told that I was “unfit for duty,” one of the surgeons remarking “he may be good for something in six months, but the chances are that he never will be worth much.”

13th. Saturday. Awfully warm. Lay in camp till 4 P. M. Had charge of brigade train. Rained.

Saturday, 13th—This is general scrub-day, and we are cleaning up the wards of the hospital. We have good food for the sick served to them on their cots. The convalescents go out to the dining room for their meals. No news from General Grant’s army.

Bermuda Hundred, Va..
August 13, 1864.

Dear Father:—

I’ve just time to drop you a line in great haste.

We left Florida on the 5th. arrived at Hilton Head on the 7th. Left there on the 8th, arrived at Fortress Monroe, after a lovely passage, on the nth. Anchored off the mouth of the James that night. While there the One hundred and thirtieth Ohio National Guard passed on their way home. E. or somebody else called my name as they faded away in the distance.

Yesterday, the 12th, we landed at Bermuda Hundred and marched to the front on the right of Butler’s line. This morning the rebels opened a heavy fire on us and after a time we were withdrawn. Our sergeant major and some others were wounded—none killed in the Eighth, some in the Seventh. To-day our baggage came up and we sent ten wagon loads up to be stored at Norfolk or “else whair.” I sent my valise to New York by express.

We are under orders now to be ready to march at a moment’s notice and are ready. My foot is sore yet, but I march if there is any fighting to be done. I’ve cut my finger, which rather injures my penmanship, in my haste, but I guess you can read it. Grant has “several” reinforcements, and orders look like work. Good news from Mobile. The rebels got the worst of the shelling this morning.

August 13 — We renewed our march this morning and moved up the Brook turnpike to the Telegraph road, then on that road to Deep River, where we are camped to-night.

Saturday, August 13. — Four or five of us clubbed together and bought a pack of cards for sixteen dollars Confederate scrip. Weather warm. Nothing new. Our jail is the county one. On the first floor the navy officers are kept, and deserters and conscripts; on the next floor the army officers, and on the third floor the criminals and runaway negroes. Also on the same floor General Grant’s brother-in-law, named Dent, captured, I believe, on some cotton speculation in Louisiana or Mississippi. On the left of our jail is the lock-up and the town market, and the court house beyond. Every Sunday morning we are regaled by the cries from negroes being whipped in the lock-up, for various offences. The drunkards in the lock-up entertain us nightly by hideous yells and cries, and in the day-time by repentant and seedy countenances. In the lock-up yard are various pigeon-houses inhabited by every variety of doves. We spend much of our time watching them. Just beyond the yard of the lock-up is the court house and town hall, and under them the market. We get nearly all our food from there by purchases made through the sergeants. On this court house is a square tower with clock, etc., and around it a railing and walk where the watchman every quarter of an hour throughout the night calls the time and says, “All ‘s well.” He is there more particularly to give notice of any fires, etc. Back of our yard the rebel Treasury is located, and from windows we daily see the blue-back notes hung out to dry. On the right of the jail is a small house and shop kept by a Union man. The navy officers came near escaping through there last Christmas by digging a tunnel. They were unfortunately found out the night before they planned to escape.

Etowah Bridge, Saturday, Aug. 13. A very quiet, warm day. No news of interest. No mail. A feeble effort is being made upon the part of some of my comrades in the Battery ($400 men) to get out of the service of the old Battery, agreeable to promise at the time of enlistment. H. S. K. written to ex-Lieutenant Fancher for certificate to that effect. But I doubt not the effort will be fruitless. A large corps of employees from New York City at work on the railroad here, repairing track, etc. Etowah branch taken up. Ties and rails sent to the front. Battery passing on evening train.

Aug. 13th. Layed on a hill all day. At 5 P.M. embarked on steamer Octorora; ran down the river about 3 miles, when the whole expedition started up the river. In all, about 20 vessels.

August 13th. Early this morning our regiment took position in line, having been relieved from picket and skirmish duty. We can see the enemy over on the hills near Strasburg. Skirmish fighting is kept up between the lines during the day. We watch one another from the hills. Both sides open up once in a while with field guns. All is quiet this hot night, firing ceased.

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to Henry Adams

H.Q. Cav’y Escort, A. of P.
Before Petersburg, August 13, 1864

The life of Napier I finished some days ago. The English are getting to understand the art of biography for they let a man tell his own story and reflect his own character in his own words. Yet I don’t think that this biographer made the most of his subject. Sir William Napier’s life, like those of most literary men, had very little in it to make it interesting and could be made so only as reflecting the principles, manners and conversation of his times. Of these beyond his letters we get nothing in this work. Sir William Napier was a thinker and talker. He knew and conversed much with many noteworthy men, and yet his notes of conversations with Soult are all that these volumes supply from this source. The author is nothing of the Boswell and his work accordingly loses four-fifths of its value and interest.

Meanwhile here greater operations are going on than any which Napier undertook to describe, and it is really amusing to see how the developments of this war have antiquated all Napier’s military theories. I am very curious to get your later letters and to see what you have to say on these peace questions and intrigues. What a flutter and commotion among would-be negotiators, money-lenders and intriguers the publication of a leaf from your memoirs would create! As I watched the Sanders-Greeley fiasco in its developments I could n’t help thinking what a dust I might have kicked up on my arrival here last spring. How well that secret was kept; not a lisp of it apparently ever crept into any print; and yet, first and last, it must have come to the knowledge of many men. Now, I am so isolated here that I am curious to know how you look at these movements in the North and what degree of importance you attach to them. Of course it is, and will remain, a question of military success, but have these peace movements as yet developed any new strength? Except in point of numbers the McClellan meeting in New York was a great failure, as it could n’t muster even a fifth rate man to address an enormous audience. So far as I see the disciples of peace too are the old set and the old set only. They cannot get any new hands at the bellows. In spite of what you write I still do not see any symptoms of that powerful combination of fragmentary organisations which alone could defeat Lincoln. What with peace and War Democrats, Fremont men and McClellan men, it seems to me that more decisive disaster than any we have yet met will be necessary to drive the war party from power. How does this strike you? I really know nothing of the true posture of affairs, and anxiously wait for reliable news.

Meanwhile some gleams of real success seem actually to be shining upon our arms. Old Farragut seems to have called an emphatic halt on all re-enforcements to Hood, and the rebels seem to me to be playing our game by holding so fiercely on to Atlanta. Affairs in the southwest look undoubtedly prosperous. Mean while, since I wrote yesterday, symptoms of movements have developed themselves here — a sudden movement, the aim of which seems unknown to every one. After finishing my letter of yesterday I rode down to City Point and while there we suddenly heard that the 2d Corps was moving down, and almost immediately the head of its column came in sight. At once the question arose where were they going? The same question still remains unanswered. Hancock declared that he did n’t know; Colonel Walker, his Assistant Adjutant General, confessed utter ignorance; everyone was at fault. Half a dozen different destinations were at once suggested and canvassed. First came Washington. I think not; the enemy is retiring and Hancock ranks Sheridan. Grant would never have put Sheridan in command up there to immediately supersede him. Then came Acquia Creek. The same objection holds and Colonel Walker told me that they were to take no artillery with them. Besides, Barlow, who has been away on leave, suddenly returned last night, evidently having been sent for, which he would not have done had the Corps been going North. This morning we learn that three Brigades of cavalry will today cross the river with three days’ forage and rations. Can this be a combined movement north of the James? I think not. Such a movement by a single corps could scarcely be more than a diversion, and no operations requiring a diversion are contemplated here, where all is quiet. Besides, a large mass of transportation is accumulated at City Point. Finally, Mobile is suggested. I think wrongly, for the transports are not ocean vessels and are wholly unfit for so long a voyage. One other point of destination only is suggested and that is Wilmington. A sudden combined attack, that is possible. On this I have settled down my hopes. The wish may be father of the thought, but the very thought makes me happy. This place would carry out all that I have desired in all my late letters. To transport the troops by water would save time and all the expenditure of a terrible march in August. The enemy could have no clue as to where we were going and a coup de main, carried out with all Hancock’s dash, could hardly fail of success. By it we should once more carry the war into Africa; we should turn the line of the Roanoke and prevent Lee’s ever using it if driven from Virginia. We should effectually recall his troops from Maryland to attack this army or to defend North Carolina. We should decisively disable him from re-enforcing Hood, and finally, last not least, we would gladden all your hearts by inflicting the death blow on all blockade running. With Atlanta, Mobile and Wilmington in our hands I do not think the peace party could make much headway, or that we need fear to face the fall elections. Before this letter reaches you I suppose you will know in what direction this movement develops itself. I can’t help feeling sanguine. Grant is a man of such infinite resource and ceaseless activity — scarcely does one scheme fail before he has another on foot; baffled in one direction he immediately gropes round for a vulnerable point elsewhere — that I cannot but hope for great results the whole time. He has deserved success so often that he will surely have it at last. If I have divined his plan, it is certainly different from any which I had conceived in its details — different and much better. The movement by sea would be a great thing, both in deceiving the enemy and bringing our troops fresh to the scratch. The weak point in it would of course be in our position here. The enemy might move round and take our defences in reverse. Our works are very strong and we should have from 40 to 50,000 men to defend them; but our line is very long and, I should say, easily flanked. No attack in front would alarm us, but a bold flank movement by Lee’s whole army might give us a great deal of trouble. . . .