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

Sunday, September 28, 2014

28th.—Mr. P. came home, and at once decided that we were entitled to the rooms. By this arrangement we are greatly relieved. The family who occupied them have moved off, and Mr. —— having convinced the third party of his mistake, has taken off his hands the coal and flour which he had stored away, and now all is straight. The “Colonel” and ourselves moved our goods and chattels to these rooms yesterday. The M’s will be here in a day or two. We have a long walk to our offices, but it is very near my hospital. Mr. ——‘s hospital is very far from every point, as it is on the outskirts of the city; but he thinks the walk is conducive to his health, so that we are, upon the whole, very comfortable.

September 28th. A provost guard of our regiment is on duty in town to preserve the peace and protect the business interest, which is improving. Service is now held in all the churches. All is quiet. Many seem to think that the war is about over. The rebel sympathizers do not, say they will never give in.

Wednesday, 28th—Cloudy with some rain today. I went on picket this morning for the first time since coming back from the hospital. I was on a lookout post on the right of the picket lines of the brigade with four other men out of our brigade. All is quiet in front of the lines. I miss the four boys killed in battle while I was absent from the company—they were all good men, three of them being veterans.

Etowah Bridge, Wednesday, Sept. 28. On guard, second relief. Everything so very quiet that it was very lonesome. Lieutenant Simpson is steadily but firmly tightening the reins, and instituting strict discipline. Guards instructed to walk their beats. If caught seated to be punished. Only ten minutes allowed to turn out at reveille. Heavy details at work all day cleaning out stables, etc. Camp policed. Griff left us to cook in hospital. Railroad again severed somewhere. Our Brigade ordered to erect winter quarters. Long train sent out for lumber ten miles down the river. Our teams went along.

September 28th, 1864.

About two miles from the hospital, two large mortars are planted—one thirteen-inch, the other fifteen-inch bore. From them to Petersburg is two and onehalf miles. One evening—it was very dark—I happened to be looking in that direction, when I saw a thread of fire leap from the woods where the mortars lay concealed, describe a half circle against the darkened sky, ending in a lurid light far away over the city. After this came the rushing, roaring, screaming sound flying through the air in swift pursuit. If any harm was done it was all over with before the report reached me. Even so it was with my daughter’s dangerous illness. Before I heard the report, the worst was over. Then imagination did its worst and filled my mind with dread foreboding. Days passed: long, endless days; and sleepless nights, ere another message reached me. Thank God, she lives! My child is better.

It is 10 p. m., and the order is, “Pack up and be ready to march immediately.”

Harrisonburg, Virginia, September 28, (5 A. M.), 1864.

Dearest: — We have marching orders this morning. Where to, etc., I don’t yet know. I think we shall have no more heavy fighting. You will know where we are before this reaches you through the papers. We shall probably be out of the reach of you for several days.

My thoughts are of you these days more than usual and I always think of my darling a good deal, as I ought to do of such a darling as mine. You know I am

Your ever affectionate

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

[Dr. J. T. Webb, in a letter from “Camp nigh Harrisonburg, Virginia, September 28, 1864,” describes the battle of Fisher’s Hill in a graphic way:

“[After the battle on the Opequon] the enemy fell back to Fisher’s Hill, some eighteen miles from Winchester. This was supposed to be impregnable, the key to the Valley. Here they fortified themselves and boasted, as you will see by the Richmond papers, that they could not be ousted. We followed on. At this point the Valley is quite narrow, North Mountain and Middle Mountain approaching each other, say within three miles of each other. The mountainsides are steep and rough. Now, just here, a creek runs directly across the valley, whose banks are steep and high on which the Rebels have erected strong earthworks. To attack these would be worse than death. The Rebels felt quite secure. We could see them evidently enjoying themselves. After looking about a day or so, Crook proposed to flank them on their left again, this time climbing up the side of the mountain. So after marching all day, at four P. M., we found ourselves entirely inside of their works, and they knew nothing of it. Again Crook orders a charge, and with yells off they go, sweeping down the line of works, doubling up the Rebels on each other. They were thunderstruck; swore we had crossed the mountain. The men rushed on, no line, no order, all yelling like madmen. [The] Rebs took to their heels, each striving to get himself out of the way. Cannon after cannon were abandoned (twenty-two captured). Thus we rushed on until we reached their right. Here again [as on the 19th] darkness saved them once more. Such a foot-race as this was is not often met with. The Rebs say Crook’s men are devils.

“It was after this charge, as we were encamped on the roadside, [that] the Sixth and Nineteenth [Corps] passing gave us three cheers. Crook had given Averell his orders to charge just so soon as the enemy broke, but as usual he was drunk or something else and failed to come to time. Thus .he wasted the grandest opportunity ever offered for capturing the enemy and gaining credit for himself. Sheridan ordered him to the rear, relieving him of his command. This same Averell was the sole cause of Crook’s disaster at Winchester. He failed constantly on the Lynchburg raid; now he lost everything almost, and is merely relieved. Had he followed up the enemy after they were dispersed, he could have captured all their train, cannon, etc., besides scattering and capturing all of the men. Sheridan’s Cavalry proper had been sent round to turn their flank through Luray Valley, but the Rebs had fortified the pass and they could not reach us. As it is, however, we have whipped the flower of the Rebel army; they are scattered in all directions. We have captured about four thousand prisoners (sound) and three thousand wounded, killing some five or seven hundred.

“Our cavalry are still pursuing. All this day we can hear artillery firing. It is reported that yesterday we captured or caused them to burn one hundred waggons. I presume the infantry will not move much farther in this direction.

“The men all feel fine. We have ‘wiped out’ Winchester. Notwithstanding the Rebs had choice of position, [the number of] our killed and wounded does not equal theirs. They have lost four or five generals; colonels and majors, any quantity. Many are coming in from the mountain. All say they are tired of this war. The people are getting tired, and many noted Rebels are willing and anxious to close this out.”]

Chesapeake Hospital,
September 28, 1864.

Dear Sister L.:—

I am getting some better, not much, but some, and I am going to the front soon now. I have stopped taking medicine and attribute my gain to that. The last prescription was soap pills. ( ?) Think of that! “Throw physic to the devil.” “Overhaul your catechism for that,” my dear, “and when found, make a note on.” I did, and my “promise to pay” relates to my hospital bill and my respects to our new colonel. I took only one of the “soap pills.” It started me.

Another motive to hasten my return is the prospect of a horse to ride. There have been several promotions lately among the “straps” “of ours,” including the quartermaster and adjutant to captains. Both the desks are vacant and my chance for one of them is good, better if I’m there to take it.

You will be glad to hear that I have a horse, when I do. So will I. I prefer the adjutant’s, but will not decline the quartermaster’s. The pay is $10 better, promotion from the line to the staff. Both are First Lieutenants.

I have just come back from a trip to Norfolk. I left at 9 o’clock yesterday on the Baltimore boat. Arrived at 10:30. I rambled round the town some till I got tired. The main street reminded me of Canal street, New York. Do you remember how that looks, crossing the others obliquely? It used to be quite a town. Intensely secesh, it shows the fruits of rebellion.

In the evening I attended the theater to see “Faust and Marguerite,” a German drama. Do you know the story? How the old philosopher, Faust, sold himself to the devil for a new lease of youth? Mephistopheles gave him youth, beauty and riches, and assisted him to win and ruin Marguerite, an orphan, and finally claimed him as his own. It was tolerably played. The devil was on hand in person pretty much of the time and played some queer tricks. At the finale, he seized Faust with a horrible leer and descended into the pit amidst lurid flames and smoke, while Marguerite was borne aloft on angels’ wings. I send you the picture— a black impression. The scenery was beautiful, but the angels traveled by jerks. The machinery was a little out of order, and instead of sailing grandly through the heavens, they went up like a barrel of flour into a storehouse.

Coming back I saw the captured rebel ram, Atlanta. She looks like a vast turtle on the water.

Wednesday, September 28. — Navy officers expected news in regard to their going to Charleston for exchange, but received none. Some more car-jumpers and men who escaped from Florence arrived here to-clay. Some of them got within 30 miles of Newbern. Several hundred escaped at Florence. Bought myself some stockings and a shirt. Clean clothes came in to-day.

September 28 — Renewed our march this morning and passed through Charlottesville. Camped this evening on the Scottsville road about two miles from Charlottesville.