Monday, April 3. — Reached Fortress Monroe about 7.30. A.M. Several officers came on board. Among others Colonel Cutting of General Burnside’s staff. Heard that an attack had been ordered on Petersburg by the Sixth and Ninth Corps. Colonel Jarves was left here. Reached City Point at 3 P.M., when we heard the glorious news of the capture of Petersburg, and the evacuation of Richmond. Saw thousands of prisoners who had been captured by our army, many of them guarded by marines and sailors, who seemed to enjoy their duty hugely. Took the train for the front, and by General Warren’s advice got out at Meade Station. Sent my things into Petersburg by a mail wagon. Crossed our lines through Fort Stedman and went to General Willcox’s headquarters in Petersburg. Could find out nothing about our division. Saw the quartermaster sergeant, and took his horse. Left Captain Shurtleff with baggage. Rode about 8 or 9 miles and met our train. Stayed over night with Lieutenant French.
Friday, April 3, 2015
April 3.—Have a very nice lady, Mrs. Fyffe, assisting mo. She is a refugee from Chattanooga. She came out of Chattanooga on a visit to some friends a few miles in the country; while she was there our army took possession of Lookout Mountain, and she found herself within our lines and cut off from her family. She tried very hard to get back, as she had left her house and in it an only child, a married daughter, very sick, but her entreaties were of no avail, Rosecrans had given orders on no account to permit any woman to cross the lines, as they were worse rebels than the men. Mrs. F. remained on the mountain, living in a house about half-way up, for some weeks, within sight of her daughter’s home, and between the firing of both armies. Finding she could not get into Chattanooga, she came South. She is now in great distress, having heard but once from her daughter since she left.
The citizens of Chattanooga have suffered all kinds of indignities from the Federals. I have been told that Mrs. Whitesides has been sent North, and that herself and family are now in prison. I knew Mrs. W. well; she was a perfect lady. I had heard her say before I left Chattanooga, that if the enemy should come there she intended remaining, as she had a family of seven children, and could not leave her home with them. She felt certain that the Federals would not molest her if she kept quiet; but it appears she has given them more credit for philanthropy than they deserved. I can not understand this, as I believed as she did about remaining quiet.
I have thought, if I should ever be so unfortunate as to be in the “enemy’s lines,” that by taking little or no notice of them I should be unmolested; as I think many of our ladies have been in fault, by giving a warm and open expression to their feelings, when silence would have much better become them, and spoken more eloquently their wrongs. “Discretion is the better part of valor,” in this as well as in other cases. When we are in the lion’s gripe, it is no sign of cowardice to use every means that wisdom can suggest to extricate ourselves. I feel confident that neither we nor our cause have ever gained any thing by walking around the flag instead of under it, or using insulting language when silence would have much better become us. A flag is nothing but a symbol, and walking around it can not take away the reality of being under it. And we much oftener lower ourselves by insulting language than the person whom we abuse.
I have been told that it was on account of Mrs. W.’s wealth that she and her children have been imprisoned, but the enemy could have taken that without such harsh measures.
April 3d.—Another clear and bright morning. It was a quiet night, with its million of stars. And yet how few could sleep, in anticipation of the entrance of the enemy! But no enemy came until 9 A.M., when some 500 were posted at the Capitol Square. They had been waited upon previously by the City Council, and the surrender of the city stipulated—to occur this morning. They were asked to post guards for the protection of property from pillage, etc., and promised to do so.
At dawn there were two tremendous explosions, seeming to startle the very earth, and crashing the glass throughout the western end of the city. One of these was the blowing up of the magazine, near the new almshouse—the other probably the destruction of an iron-clad ram. But subsequently there were others. I was sleeping soundly when awakened by them.
All night long they were burning the papers of the Second Auditor’s office in the street—claims of the survivors of deceased soldiers, accounts of contractors, etc.
At 7 A.M. Committees appointed by the city government visited the liquor shops and had the spirits (such as they could find) destroyed. The streets ran with liquor; and women and boys, black and white, were seen filling pitchers and buckets from the gutters.
A lady sold me a bushel of potatoes in Broad Street for $75, Confederate States money—$5 less than the price a few days ago. I bought them at her request. And some of the shops gave clothing to our last retiring guards.
Goods, etc. at the government depots were distributed to the poor, to a limited extent, there being a limited amount.
A dark volume of smoke rises from the southeastern section of the city, and spreads like a pall over the zenith. It proceeds from the tobacco warehouse, ignited, I suppose, hours ago, and now just bursting forth.
At 8½ A.M. The armory, arsenal, and laboratory (Seventh and Canal Streets), which had been previously fired, gave forth terrific sounds from thousands of bursting shells. This continued for more than an hour. Some fragments of shell fell within a few hundred yards of my house.
The pavements are filled with pulverized glass. Some of the great flour mills have taken fire from the burning government warehouses, and the flames are spreading through the lower part of the city. A great conflagration is apprehended.
The doors of the government bakery (Clay Street) were thrown open this morning, and flour and crackers were freely distributed, until the little stock was exhausted. I got a barrel of the latter, paying a negro man $5 to wheel it home—a short distance.
Ten A.M. A battery (United States) passed my house, Clay Street, and proceeded toward Camp Lee. Soon after the officers returned, when I asked the one in command if guards would be placed in this part of the city to prevent disturbance, etc. He paused, with his suite, and answered that such was the intention, and that every precaution would be used to preserve order. He said the only disturbances were caused by our people. I asked if there was any disturbance. He pointed to the black columns of smoke rising from the eastern part of the city, and referred to the incessant bursting of shell. I remarked that the storehouses had doubtless been ignited hours previously. To this he assented, and assuring me that they did not intend to disturb us, rode on. But immediately meeting two negro women laden with plunder, they wheeled them to the right about, and marched them off, to the manifest chagrin of the newly emancipated citizens.
Eleven A.M. I walked down Brad Street to the Capitol Square. The street was filled with negro troops, cavalry and infantry, and were cheered by hundreds of negroes at the corners.
I met Mr. T. Cropper (lawyer from the E. Shore) driving a one-horse wagon containing his bedding and other property of his quarters. He said he had just been burnt out—at Belom’s Block —and that St. Paul’s Church (Episcopal) was, he thought, on fire. This I found incorrect; but Dr. Reed’s (Presbyterian) was in ruins. The leaping and lapping flames were roaring in Main Street up to Ninth; and Goddin’s Building (late General Post-Office) was on fire, as well as all the houses in Governor Street up to Franklin.
The grass of Capitol Square is covered with parcels of goods snatched from the raging conflagration, and each parcel guarded by a Federal soldier.
A general officer rode up and asked me what building that was —pointing to the old stone United States Custom House—late Treasury and State Departments, also the President’s office. He said, “Then it is fire-proof, and the fire will be arrested in this direction.” He said he was sorry to behold such destruction; and regretted that there was not an adequate supply of engines and other apparatus.
Shells are still bursting in the ashes of the armory, etc.
All the stores are closed; most of the largest (in Main Street) have been burned. There are supposed to be 10,000 negro troops at Camp Lee, west of my dwelling.
An officer told me, 3 P.M., that a white brigade will picket the city to-night; and he assured the ladies standing near that there would not be a particle of danger of molestation. After 9 P.M., all will be required to remain in their houses. Soldiers or citizens, after that hour, will be arrested. He said we had done ourselves great injury by the fire, the lower part of the city being in ashes, and declared that the United States troops had no hand in it. I acquitted them of the deed, and told him that the fire had spread from the tobacco warehouses and military depots, fired by our troops as a military necessity.
Four P.M. Thirty-four guns announced the arrival of President Lincoln. He flitted through the mass of human beings in Capitol Square, his carriage drawn by four horses, preceded by out-riders, motioning the people, etc. out of the way, and followed by a mounted guard of thirty. The cortege passed rapidly, precisely as I had seen royal parties ride in Europe.
Monday, 3d—Fine weather continues, and camp routine the same. We are enjoying our fine camp ground, and to prevent our becoming stale, we have to keep up regular drill for our next campaign.
Monday, 3rd. Yesterday I wrote to mother and sisters.[1] The fighting of Saturday was most severe. The 2nd Ohio lost 35 killed and wounded in the two days. 5 officers. Trees completely riddled where we were. How so few fell I can not see. Brilliant affair—but oh the cost. Petersburg ours, too. It seems hard to lose dear friends when peace seems so near. Picket’s Div. captured nearly entire. Wrote the sad news home, also wrote Richard Bail’s people. Moved out at 9 A. M. Crossed the south side R. R. between Fords and Sutherlands. 5th Corps across. Very little firing heard today. 1st Div. struck the rebs near the river road. Firing after dark.
[1] Letter from L. H. Tenney to his Mother and Sisters
Oak Grove, Alabama, Sunday P. M., April 1, 1866.
My Dear Mother and Friends:
I wonder if nearly the same thoughts are not in your mind this P. M. which are in mine.
The sun is just about as low now at 6 o’clock as it was a year ago, when our noble boy, Theodore, fell in the thickest of the fight, face towards the enemy, there in the pine woods at Five Forks. How vividly everything of that sad and yet memorable day comes up to me.
March 31st was a hard day for us. The enemy had driven our cavalry (save one division) from Five Forks nearly back to Dinwiddie Court House. Our Division was sent for (it was behind, hard at work, getting the train through the mud) and went forward at a trot. As we neared the Court House and heard the volleys of musketry, the cheers of the rebels, and saw our men falling back—many straggling—we knew that there was work ahead. How quiet our boys were during the few minutes while we were regaining our organizations. Soon we went forward at a gallop. A half mile at this pace and we came to Custer’s and Sheridan’s colors near an unsupported battery and in sight of the rebel line.
Advancing across a small valley before us, our regiment in advance, we dismounted, formed line by battalions and on double quick started forward in less time, I believe, than I have been in telling it.
The brave Custer, with staff and orderlies, colors flying, went forward with us.
We gave one Second Ohio yell, perhaps a little more faintly than at other times, for the prospect looked dark, and other regiments took it up. The rebel line faced about, but though stragglers left hurriedly, marched slowly. I was afraid. We were within range. It seemed the only thing to do, for we were too few to form a line and hold our position. Another charge was ordered. The Div. colors were not behind. We had hardly started again with a yell, than that rebel line, Pickett’s Div. of Infantry in our front, faced about, fired a volley and came forward on the double quick.
My horse had been shot and I had taken position behind a tree. Thede was a short distance behind me. How well I remember how he exclaimed: “Oh what makes them run,” and then: “Lume, Luman, come, our men are falling back, we’ll get captured!”—and how closely he kept by me, always following me, as I went back slowly through the edge of the woods, my lungs troubling me. The sun had gone down and darkness came when we regained the ground where we had dismounted. We threw up rail breastworks and waited for the rebels. They were cautious, advanced skirmishers found our position and fell back to camp in sight of us. Volunteers were called for or rather “the best men” to a certain number were sent out as scouts to learn the whereabouts and whatabouts of the enemy. Thede was among the number. Without supper or sleep, we awaited the dawn of the day. Quite a number of our boys had fallen, among then Capt. Newton. We talked about our casualties, and the narrow escape of many, and wondered what the morrow would bring. We felt that the fighting was to be decisive, but knew not whether one day would bring victory.
Occasional shots were fired by skirmishers. Morning came. The scouts reported that the enemy had commenced falling back just before day. Sheridan came out with his colors. Our horses were brought up and we marched forward. After going a mile firing commenced on our flank. We countermarched, dismounted, formed line and advanced again, driving cavalry before us. We had missed breakfast, and the boys were weighed down with ammunition, so they left their haversacks upon their horses.
Theodore looked pale and tired—said his bowels were troubling him. It was afternoon before we reached the enemy’s position at Five Forks. We attacked and were repulsed. A gap between the Cavalry and Infantry was discovered, so that two hours were spent moving to the right and then to the left, in front of and in range of the enemy’s works. Here, weak, faint and hungry, we threw up sufficient works of logs, etc., to cover our bodies when lying down. Thede and I were together. He got some crumbs of crackers from my saddle.
It was now four o’clock when the bugles sounded the charge, and the boys, forgetting their weariness, jumped up and vied with each other in advancing to within a few rods of the works, dark with clouds of smoke and belching guns. How grim, savage and hateful everything looked in our front!
You remember well the rest—the next charge—the bravery of the boy, his fall, his devotion to duty, certainty of death, remembrance of his sins, and faith for their forgiveness through Christ—the kind messages to Ma—and then his falling so peacefully to sleep. I never can forget the firm but pleasant look upon his countenance, as he lay among the groaning, dying and dead at the hospital. Then his burial. I thanked God that his brother could be with him in his last moments and lay his remains away to rest till the final trumpet call.
My thoughts were sad as I groped my way through the dark woods to our camp. I thought particularly of the mourning at home. I knew that you would be sad to feel that the boy should be taken in his youth, the hope of his mother and joy of his friends, and yet I felt that you would inwardly thank God that his death had brought glory to Him and freedom to men. The dearer he was to his friends, the brighter his hopes, the greater the sacrifice was in the eyes of God. We ought to feel—I do—that we have a living interest in this great good accomplished and sealed by the blood of our dearest friends. And we certainly have reason to trust that Theodore’s inheritance is in Heaven, drawing us thither.
Luman H. Tenney.
_
Note—One year after the above letter, on April 16, 1867, Luman Harris Tenney and Frances Delia Andrews were married at Oberlin, Ohio.
And about a year and a half later when the brother and mother went to Virginia to look up the burial place of “Brother Theodore” the following letters were written to me in our home in Sandusky, Ohio.
F. D. T., Feb. 5, 1914.
_
Petersburg, Va., Nov. 12, 1868.
Thursday morning.
My Sweet Child:
We arrived here safely a few minutes ago. One of Ma’s first remarks after getting here was, “I wish Fannie, Minnie and Melissa could be here with us today.” I have made the same wish in regard to my darling wife every day since I left her and the dear baby. (Bernard.)
We reached Washington Tuesday evening rather late. Yesterday spent the morning in looking up records. Found that Theodore was buried here in National Cemetery, “Poplar Grove,” about two miles out.
Shall undoubtedly leave him.
Yesterday afternoon we drove over to Arlington Heights and the National Cemetery there, where some 13,000 soldiers rest—
“Sleep the sleep that knows not waking,
Dream of battlefields no more.”
We shall go early to the cemetery and probably to Richmond for the night. Much love, dear child, from
Your devoted husband,
Luman.
_
Washington, D. C., Nov. 14, 1868.
My Own Dear Fannie:
We reached here last evening after a very satisfactory visit at Petersburg and Richmond and pleasant trip back. * * * We found Theodore’s grave very pleasantly situated in the National Cemetery near Petersburg. Everything seemed very satisfactory to Ma. We got flowers and put on the grave. * * *
Shall probably reach home Thursday.
Kiss our sweet “da-da” treasure many times for me. Accept much love, dear Fannie, from
Your Luman.
April 3d. Detailed for picket. Located out on outpost on the Tuscaror road, leading to the North Mountain, about one mile out of town. Have done picket duty on this road many times. At the edge of town all roads are barricaded and closed for the nights, to prevent a sudden dash from the guerillas and Confederate scouts. Report comes tonight that General Grant has taken Richmond and that General Lee has retreated. Good news.
Chattanooga, Monday, April 3. Richmond is taken. Victory! Victory!! Victory!!! After three years of long, anxious and prayerful waiting for this crowning news, it at last comes with the verifying signatures of A. Lincoln, U. S. Grant and E. M. Stanton. It reached camp in the shape of an extra about 2 P. M. in but a few hours after it was known in Washington. And when it came I was hardly able to receive it, and I still could but fear of a contradiction that hithertofore has been so painful. Its effect on the camp was curious, each one moving briskly aglow with animation. Organized cheers is played out amongst old soldiers, but the broken, wild Indian-like whoops that pierced the air nearly all the afternoon would almost be considered terrific by “tame people”. At 6 P. M. one hundred guns were fired from the surrounding hills. Each boom, called forth a hearty response from the many tented hills and hollows of Chattanooga, and seemed to crush the last lingering doubt in every bosom. Who will dare doubt that the end is to be glorious?
Camp Hastings, April 3, 1865.
Dear Colonel: — That sounds better, don’t it? Your commission was sent three weeks ago, as I was told by Harry Thompson. There has been some oversight or negligence. I know Colonel Comly would not purposely withhold it.
The Twenty-third is in a nice camp near town, doing provost duty. You could enjoy yourself with them as soon as you can hobble about a little. . . .
General Crook has command of the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac. Just for the name of the thing, he took command of this Department for a day or two. He came out to our camp. We gave him a regular jolly mass-meeting sort of reception, which he and all of us enjoyed. I think it better for him as it is.
We are all ready to move. The talk is that we shall go soon. Hancock has at Halltown about ten thousand to fifteen thousand men, six or eight new Ohio regiments of the number. … .
Sincerely,
R. B. Hayes.
Lieutenant-colonel Russell Hastings,
Willoughby, Ohio.
Camp Hastings, April 3, 1865.
Dear Mother: — . . . I am to have a new command in Hancock’s Corps. Either veterans or a brigade of new Ohio troops. I shall probably prefer the latter, as it is not likely to continue a great while. I leave Cumberland tomorrow. The new command is near Harpers Ferry. Letters addressed to me via Harpers Ferry will reach me.
Affectionately,
R.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
April 3d.—Saw General Preston ride off. He came to tell me good-by. I told him he looked like a Crusader on his great white horse, with William, his squire, at his heels. Our men are all consummate riders, and have their servants well mounted behind them, carrying cloaks and traps—how different from the same men packed like sardines in dirty railroad cars, usually floating inch deep in liquid tobacco juice.
For the kitchen and Ellen’s comfort I wanted a pine table and a kitchen chair. A woman sold me one to-day for three thousand Confederate dollars.
Mrs. Hamilton has been disappointed again. Prioleau Hamilton says the person into whose house they expected to move to-day came to say she could not take boarders for three reasons: First, “that they had smallpox in the house.” “And the two others?” “Oh, I did not ask for the two others!”
