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

Saturday, December 27, 2014

December 27th.—Oh, why did we go to Camden? The very dismalest Christmas overtook us there. Miss Rhett went with us—a brilliant woman and very agreeable. “The world, you know, is composed,” said she, “of men, women, and Rhetts” (see Lady Montagu). Now, we feel that if we are to lose our negroes, we would as soon see Sherman free them as the Confederate Government; freeing negroes is the last Confederate Government craze. We are a little too slow about it; that is all.

Sold fifteen bales of cotton and took a sad farewell look at Mulberry. It is a magnificent old country-seat, with old oaks, green lawns and all. So I took that last farewell of Mulberry, once so hated, now so beloved.

December 27th.—A night of rain—morning of fog and gloom. At last we have an account of the evacuation of Savannah. Also of the beginning of the assault on Fort Fisher and Caswell below Wilmington, with painful apprehensions of the result; for the enemy have landed troops above the former fort, and found no adequate force to meet them, thanks to the policy of the government in allowing the property holders to escape the toils and dangers of the field, while the poor, who have nothing tangible to fight for, are thrust to the front, where many desert. Our condition is also largely attributable to the management of the Bureau of Conscription—really the Bureau of Exemption.

I saw to-day a letter from Gen. Beauregard to Gen. Cooper, wherein it was indicated that Gen. Hood’s plan of penetrating Tennessee was adopted before he (Gen. B.) was ordered to that section.

The enemy did occupy Saltville last week, and damaged the works. No doubt salt will “go up” now. The enemy, however, have retired from the place, and the works can be repaired. Luckily I drew 70 pounds last week, and have six months’ supply. I have two months’ supply of coal and wood—long enough, perhaps, for our residence in Richmond, unless the property owners be required to defend their property. I almost despair of a change of policy.

It is reported that Sherman is marching south of Savannah, on some new enterprise; probably a detachment merely to destroy the railroad.

An expedition is attacking, or about to attack, Mobile.

All our possessions on the coast seem to be the special objects of attack this winter. If Wilmington falls, “Richmond next,” is the prevalent supposition.

The brokers are offering $50 Confederate States notes for $1 of gold.

Men are silent, and some dejected. It is unquestionably the darkest period we have yet experienced. Intervention on the part of European powers is the only hope of many. Failing that, no doubt a negro army will be organized—and it might be too late!

And yet, with such a preponderance of numbers and material against us, the wonder is that we have not lost all the sea-board before this. I long since supposed the country would be penetrated and overrun in most of its ports, during the second or third year of the war. If the government would foster a spirit of patriotism, the country would always rise again, after these invasions, like the water of the sea plowed by ships of war. But the government must not crush the spirit of the people relied upon for defense, and the rich must fight side by side with the poor, or the poor will abandon the rich, and that will be an abandonment of the cause.

It is said Gen. Lee is to be invested with dictatorial powers, so far as our armies are concerned. This will inspire new confidence. He is represented as being in favor of employing negro troops.

A dispatch from Lieut.-Gen. Hardee (to the President), December 24th, 1864, at Charleston, S. C, says he may have to take the field any moment (against Sherman), and asks a chief quartermaster and chief commissary. The President invokes the special scrupulosity of the Secretary in the names of these staff officers.

Tuesday, 27. — A bright, warm day; snow turns to water and mud; mud everywhere! Rode into Winchester with Captain Abbott and Dr. Joe. Hastings in good plight and heart, but improving so slowly. General Crook says he has written for my missing appointment as brigadier-general. No increase of pay till it comes. No news today.

Fort Gillem, Tuesday, Dec. 27. A pleasant day. On guard, second relief. Detail off ditching new camp ground. Parker and John Rogers gone to the hospital, both quite sick.

Glorious news from Sherman. He presents Savannah as a Christmas gift to Old Abe, which reminds me of our Christmas dinner, none the less appreciated because a day behind hand. The hard-tack on which we have lived since the first of the month laid to-day untouched, also the “sow belly”, as chicken, cake and butter were the dishes. It is the theme of much “music” in camp. Spring Green gets the praise. Sanitary [Commission], the next best thing to a box from home, gave us several onions apiece. May their labors be rewarded. Bridge burned between here and Louisville. No mail.

27th. Relieved from picket and ordered to appear as witness in case of U. S. versus Seth Combs for desertion. Did what I could for him.

Tuesday, 27th.—Gunboat came up above Florence to try to break pontoon bridge, but batteries soon made it withdraw without doing any damage.

Tuesday, 27th—All is quiet. There is no news of any importance.[1] The Fourteenth Army Corps was reviewed at 9 a. m. by General Sherman. The troops looked fine. The Fourteenth is a good corps. I sent in my subscriptions today for three papers: the Missouri Democrat at $2.00 per year, the Theological Journal, $2.00, and Harper’s Weekly, $4.00. I think I shall have enough reading matter now for 1865, if I succeed in getting all my papers.


[1] The foragers or bummers, as they came to be called, presented at times some odd and amusing situations. Starting out early in advance of the command, they would do their pillaging, return to the main road to await the arrival of the command, and along in the afternoon we would find them, often loaded down with good things for their comrades to eat. They sometimes came upon rich plantations where the owners had about everything they wanted, including a well-filled larder. When there was no wagon at hand, they would look the premises over and, finding the family carriage and horse, they would load it down and start for the main line of march. I have often seen them with a fine family carriage filled with smoked meat, and on the outside were tied chickens, turkeys and geese, or ducks. Then, to cap the climax, one fellow would be seated in the carriage dressed in the planter’s swallowtail coat, white vest and plug hat, while another one would be astride a mule and dressed in similar fashion.—A. G. D.