22nd. Monday. Breakfast at a house near camp. Went over and saw Lt. Cole, a division Q. M. Went to the Ferry, drew forage for animals. 2nd Ohio was on picket last night, deployed as skirmishers, 2 miles west of Charlestown. At daylight attacked by the rebels. Capt. Denning, the brave man, and Henry Drake, the noble and true soldier, mortally wounded, poor men. All forces fell back. Went out with forage in P. M. I feel it almost a duty to return to some of the dangers of the officers of the line.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Monday, 22d.—Reported and confirmed that Wheeler burned bridge at Resacca; blew up Tunnel Hill, and tore up a great deal of railroad. (Oh, you Rebs, why do you tell so many lies!) Woods full of big tales. Forrest has taken Memphis, and Morgan, Knoxville.
August 22d.—Hope I may never know a raid except from hearsay. Mrs. Huger describes the one at Athens. The proudest and most timid of women were running madly in the streets, corsets in one hand, stockings in the other— déshabillé as far as it will go. Mobile is half taken. The railroad between us and Richmond has been tapped.
Notes from a letter written by a young lady who is riding a high horse. Her fiancé, a maimed hero, has been abused. “You say to me with a sneer, ‘So you love that man.’ Yes, I do, and I thank God that I love better than all the world the man who is to be my husband. ‘Proud of him, are you?’ Yes, I am, in exact proportion to my love. You say, ‘I am selfish.’ Yes, I am selfish. He is my second self, so utterly absorbed am I in him. There is not a moment, day or night, that I do not think of him. In point of fact, I do not think of anything else.” No reply was deemed necessary by the astounded recipient of this outburst of indignation, who showed me the letter and continued to observe: “Did you ever! She seems so shy, so timid, so cold.”
Sunday Isabella took us to a chapel, Methodist, of course; her father had a hand in building it. It was not clean, but it was crowded, hot, and stuffy. An eloquent man preached with a delightful voice and wonderful fluency; nearly eloquent, and at times nearly ridiculous. He described a scene during one of his sermons when ” beautiful young faces were turned up to me, radiant faces though bathed in tears, moral rainbows of emotion playing over them,” etc.
He then described his own conversion, and stripped himself naked morally. All that is very revolting to one’s innate sense of decency. He tackled the patriarchs. Adam, Noah, and so on down to Joseph, who was “a man whose modesty and purity were so transcendent they enabled him to resist the greatest temptation to which fallen man is exposed.” “Fiddlesticks! that is played out!” my neighbor whispered. “Everybody gives up now that old Mrs. Pharaoh was forty.” “Mrs. Potiphar, you goose, and she was fifty!” “That solves the riddle.” “Sh-sh!” from the devout Isabella.
At home met General Preston on the piazza. He was vastly entertaining. Gave us Darwin, Herodotus, and Livy. We understood him and were delighted, but we did not know enough to be sure when it was his own wisdom or when wise saws and cheering words came from the authors of whom he spoke.
22d.—Just been on a shopping expedition for my sister and niece, and spent $1,500 in about an hour. I gave $110 for ladies’ morocco boots; $22 per yard for linen; $5 apiece for spools of cotton; $5 for a paper of pins, etc. It would be utterly absurd, except that it is melancholy, to see our currency depreciating so rapidly.
Chesapeake Hospital, Fortress Monroe, Va.,
Monday, August 22, 1864.
Dear Sister L.:—
You will no doubt be somewhat surprised to receive a letter from me dated at a hospital. It is a novelty for me, but the proverb says, “every dog has his day,” and mine has come now.
I wrote you a line from Bermuda Hundred saying that we had arrived in the old Army of the Potomac and that I was ready for what might come. I thought I was. I have been trying this long time to deceive myself into the idea that I was well enough, but I had to give it up. I have a fancy that my night duty along the marshes of the St. Johns affected me more than I knew at the time. It first showed itself in that attack of sunstroke, and ever since that time any exertion of consequence has found me wanting. I am weak and enervated, unable to endure fatigue as I used to in the old campaigns. I was taken sick on a night march, Saturday night a week ago, and though I kept up a while I was forced at last to lie down under a tree. Sunday morning I went on from the bridge over the James, where I had slept, to the front where they were having a brisk little skirmish, but learning that our regiment was in reserve, I came back and found them near the river. On Tuesday they marched again, and I was left in camp too weak to go. Wednesday I stayed there, and on Thursday the adjutant came back and put me on his horse and took me to the Tenth Corps hospital. On Friday I was put on a boat and sent down here, landing on Saturday. The Chesapeake is a large hospital exclusively for officers. The building was formerly a large seaside hotel overlooking Hampton Roads and is admirably adapted to hospital purposes. There is plenty of pure sea breeze and good food. Officers are charged $1 a day for board and attendance. In the card at the head of my bed my diagnosis (or symptoms) is set down as “General Debility,” so I suppose that’s what’s the matter with me.
We had a lovely passage up from the Head. The Collins is not a passenger boat, but the weather was fair and the officers slept on deck in comfort. Her little table would seat just ten, so we had first, second and third tables, but plenty of good food, for which Mr. Steward charged us fifty cents a meal, or $1.50 a day. We were four days coming, and to while away the tedious hours we had whist parties and story clubs, and in the evening our band discoursed sweet music. We would have been selfish to have wished a better time.
Well, I’m too weak to write much and must close. We are much nearer together now than when I was in Florida, and I hope to hear from you often. I want to hear how you get along on the farm, and the thousand and one things you know will interest me. Give my love to C, and write as soon as you can after receiving this. Direct to Lieutenant O. W. N., Chesapeake Hospital, Ward 1, Fortress Monroe, Va., exactly. Don’t put on my regiment.
Monday, August 22. — Heard bad news from Petersburg with regard to General Hayes’s capture.
Etowah Bridge, Monday, Aug. 22. To-day has been a dull, quiet day. Health good. No news. Got a lot of peaches, very nice. Heavy mail came in to-night. I received two, very welcome.
Aug. 22nd. I returned to the regt.
August 22d. Early on the march. Passed through Charlestown. Pushing on, after a march of about six miles, came to a halt at Halltown. A line of battle was soon formed under a hot fire from the enemy. Go right at work building intrenchments made of logs and dirt. The strongest we were ever behind. Hot skirmishing going on. Rain and darkness put a stop to the firing. Trying to get sleep under arms, ready for an attack at night.
