29th. Up early but did not march. Considerable firing in direction of Smithfield. No reports. Good news in papers.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Monday, 29th.—Yanks have all left our front. The general opinion is that they are retreating, but if so, why are we not following them?
August 29th.—I take my hospital duty in the morning. Most persons prefer afternoon, but I dislike to give up my pleasant evenings. So I get up at five o’clock and go down in my carriage all laden with provisions. Mrs. Fisher and old Mr. Bryan generally go with me. Provisions are commonly sent by people to Mrs. Fisher’s. I am so glad to be a hospital nurse once more. I had excuses enough, but at heart I felt a coward and a skulker. I think I know how men feel who hire a substitute and shirk the fight. There must be no dodging of duty. It will not do now to send provisions and pay for nurses. Something inside of me kept calling out, “Go, you shabby creature; you can’t bear to see what those fine fellows have to bear.”
Mrs. Izard was staying with me last night, and as I slipped away I begged Molly to keep everything dead still and not let Mrs. Izard be disturbed until I got home. About ten I drove up and there was a row to wake the dead. Molly’s eldest daughter, who nurses her baby sister, let the baby fall, and, regardless of Mrs. Izard, as I was away, Molly was giving the nurse a switching in the yard, accompanied by howls and yells worthy of a Comanche! The small nurse welcomed my advent, no doubt, for in two seconds peace was restored. Mrs. Izard said she sympathized with the baby’s mother; so I forgave the uproar.
I have excellent servants; no matter for their shortcomings behind my back. They save me all thought as to household matters, and they are so kind, attentive, and quiet. They must know what is at hand if Sherman is not hindered from coming here—” Freedom! my masters!” But these sphinxes give no sign, unless it be increased diligence and absolute silence, as certain in their action and as noiseless as a law of nature, at any rate when we are in the house.
That fearful hospital haunts me all day long, and is worse at night. So much suffering, such loathsome wounds, such distortion, with stumps of limbs not half cured, exhibited to all. Then, when I was so tired yesterday, Molly was looking more like an enraged lioness than anything else, roaring that her baby’s neck was broken, and howling cries of vengeance. The poor little careless nurse’s dark face had an ashen tinge of gray terror. She was crouching near the ground like an animal trying to hide, and her mother striking at her as she rolled away. All this was my welcome as I entered the gate. It takes these half-Africans but a moment to go back to their naked savage animal nature. Mrs. Izard is a charming person. She tried so to make me forget it all and rest.
Monday, 29th—News came that General Grant had an engagement with the rebels on the Danville railroad near Petersburg, Virginia. The loss was heavy on both sides, but Grant succeeded in holding his place. The fight took place on the 21st of the month.
Etowah Bridge, Monday, Aug. 29. A very warm day. Health good. Old man Gordon, the oldest in camp, dangerously sick. Day spent very quietly. E. W. E. and I took a walk to town after sundown, saw the mail train run off the track, switch left open. Loaded with substitutes. Several jumped off and broke their legs, setting the guards in great commotion to keep them together.
Monday, August 29, 1864. — In camp, five miles to south of Charlestown, lazily listening to heavy firing on our right. McClellan probably nominated. I suspect he will be elected. Not so bad a thing if he is. Reading “Harry Lorrequer.”
August 29, 1864.
I would much like to know what the Chicago Convention is doing to-day. We hear there is a possibility they may nominate Sherman. How we wish they would. He would hardly accept the nomination from such a party, but I would cheerfully live under Copperhead rule if they would give us such as Sherman. Sherman believes with Logan, “that if we can’t subdue these Rebels and the rebellion, the next best thing we can do is to all go to hell together.”
We have already thrown our army so far to the right that our communications are not safe, but yet we can’t quite reach the Montgomery or Macon railroads. It is determined to leave the 20th Corps at Vinings to guard the railroad bridge, and I think to move all the rest to the right. The army has just moved its length by the right flank. Looks easy and simple enough, but it took three days and nights of the hardest work of the campaign. The whole line lay in sight, and musket range of the enemy, not only our skirmishers, but our main line, and half a dozen men could, at any point, by showing themselves above the works, have drawn the enemy’s fire. A gun, a caisson, or a wagon could hardly move without being shelled. On the night of the 25th, the 20th Corps moved back to the river to guard the railroad bridge seven miles from Atlanta; and the 4th moved toward the right.
Night of the 26th the 15th, 16th and 17th moved back on different roads toward the right. The wheels of the artillery were muffled and most of them moved off very quietly. One gun in our division was not muffled, and its rattling brought on a sharp fire, but I only heard of two men being hurt. Our regiment was deployed on the line our brigade occupied, and remained four hours after everything else had left. At 2:30 a.m. we were ordered to withdraw very quietly. We had fired very little for two hours, and moved out so quietly that, though our lines were only 25 yards apart in one place, the Rebels did not suspect our exit. We moved back three-quarters of a mile and waited an hour, I think, for some 17th Corps skirmishers. We could hear the Johnnies popping away at our old position, and occasionally they would open quite sharply as though angry at not receiving their regular replies. When we were fully two miles away they threw two shells into our deserted works. We did not lose a man, but I give you my word, this covering an evacuation is a delicate, dangerous, and far-from-pleasant duty. There was a Johnnie in the “pit” nearest us that got off a good thing the other day. A newsboy came along in the ditch, crying, “Heer’s your Cincinnati, Louisville and Nashville papers.” Crack! Crack!! went two Rebel guns, and a Johnnie holloed “There is your Atlanta “Appeal!” We caught up with the brigade just at daylight, it was raining, but our watch, the hard march, the wear and tear of such duty, made some sleep a necessity, so we tumbled down in the rank smelling weeds, and I was sleeping equal to Rip Van Winkle in half a minute. In half an hour we were awakened, took breakfast and marched a couple of miles to where the train was. Here somebody got Rebel on the brain, and we were run out a mile to investigate. We stopped in a nice, fine grove, and I didn’t want to hear any more about the Rebels, but went to sleep instanter. That sleep did me a world of good. I woke about 4 p.m., and found the whole regiment with scarce a half-dozen exceptions, sound asleep. Finally the rear of the train started and we followed. At just midnight we came up to the train corral and laid down for the remnant of the night. At 6 a.m., we left the train and rejoined the division. At dark we camped on the Montgomery and Atlanta railroad, where the mile post says 15 miles to Atlanta. The march has been through a miserable rough country.
We have now been more than half-way around Atlanta, and I have not yet seen a country house that would more than compare favorably with the Coleman Mansion, or a farm that would in any respect vie with the stumpiest of Squire Shipley’s stump quarter, or the most barren and scraggiest of Copperas creek barren or brakes. At 12 p.m. they aroused our regiment to tear up railroad track. In one and one-quarter hours we utterly destroyed rails and ties for twice the length of our regiment.
We, by main strength with our hands, turned the track upside down, pried the ties off, stacked them, piled the rails across and fired the piles. Used no tools whatever. On the 29th the 16th Corps moved down and destroyed the railroad to Fairburn. On the 30th the army started for Macon railroad, Kilpatrick’s cavalry in advance. He did splendidly. Had hard skirmishing all the day. Took at least a dozen barricades, and went about as fast as we wanted to. He saved the Flint river bridge, and our corps crossed it, and by 12 p.m., were in good position with works within one-half mile of Jonesboro and the railroad.
Darkness kept us from taking the road that night. The enemy had a strong line of pickets all around us and we built our works under their fire. At daylight the 31st, we found the Rebels in plain sight in front of our regiment. I never saw them so thick. Our regiment is on the extreme right of the division.
Aug. 29th. Nothing of importance here. Geo. B. McClellan nominated Candidate for the Chicago Convention. Platform, purely “Peace on any terms.”
August 29th. Called up very early this morning after a quiet night. We are about four miles south of Charlestown. Heavy cannonading in the direction of Winchester, which lies about ten miles southwest of Charlestown. All is quiet with us as we rest and sleep. Rations are good and plenty. Consist of hardtack, pork, coffee, sugar. Report reaches us that our boys are in possession of Winchester. Weather fine. Taking life easy in these woods.
Colonel Lyon’s Letters.
Claysville, Ala,, Sun., Aug. 29, 1864.—I have ridden fifteen miles today. I am now with Company C at our landing, waiting the return of a gunboat that passed down the river this morninig convoying a steamer loaded with supplies for the regiment.
There is undoubtedly quite a large rebel force on the other side of the river a few miles back in the country. I hear they intend to try to cross the river. I think the gunboats and the 13th together can prevent them from doing it, and if the gunboats are not here when they attempt it, the 13th will try to do it alone. The river is high now and they can only cross in boats, which I understand they are building for the purpose. It is quite possible that we shall have a brush with them, and if we do—there is so much solicitude felt about our ability to hold this line—you will hear all sorts of exaggerated reports from us through the papers before we can get any news to you. Pay no attention to these reports unless they are favorable; and if you hear direct from us, which will be as speedily as possible after anything of interest transpires, I will keep you posted as to our situation, as I always have done.
On Thursday last a party of rebels came opposite Law’s Landing and fired at Company G, stationed there. Lieut. Balis sent over a party of men soon after, who came up to the rear guard of the rebels and killed two of them. A woman wanted to cross there and our boys had promised to bring her over. She had gone down to call them across the river, when the rebels first made their appearance, secreting themselves so that our men could not see them, and insisted that she should call our boys over, in which case they could easily be captured or killed; but she absolutely refused to do so, and no entreaties or threats could shake her resolution. She sat down and told them that they might kill her as quick as they pleased, but she would not, even for the sake of her life, do so base an act. They then commenced firing. The party from Company G brought her back with them. I have not seen her. She is a Union woman and a heroine.
On Thursday night Captain Blake, who is located ten miles down the river, got information that a force was intending to cross that night near his post. I put the whole line in the best possible shape for defense and went to Deposit, where Company I is stationed. I was up nearly all night making arrangements to meet the attack, and in the morning went down to Captain Blake’s. No demonstration was made on us, however, and I returned to headquarters on Friday afternoon. While the enemy is in our immediate front I expect but little bodily or mental rest.
