Dedham, November 7, 1885.
On arranging and looking over my books and papers for my “den,” I found this diary. Enclosed in it were the following notes, written on a sheet of letter-paper. I had been paroled the December before this, and had just been exchanged.
April 1 – I at once started for the front to join my regiment, but too late to join in any more fighting. It seems to me appropriate that the beginning and ending of my military life should be written in the same book. When I am dead, it may interest my grandchildren to read these notes of a young boy, for I was only nineteen and three-fourths years old when I started on the Hilton Head Expedition.
Four miles from Raleigh, April 13, 1865, 4 p.m.
The fourth anniversary of the fall of Fort Sumter. How are you, chivalry? Made a nice little march of 16 miles and could go on to town as well as not before dark if it was necessary. Our left wing occupied Raleigh this morning with Kilpatrick and the 14th A. C. No fighting worth mentioning. We crossed the Neuse six miles from Raleigh on the paper mill bridge. This is the prettiest campaign we ever made. No night marching, 60 miles in four days, and just what rations we started with from Goldsboro in haversacks. Beautiful country to-day, high and rolling. The bummers found whisky to-day and I saw a number dead drunk by the roadside. They found an ice house and to-night we have ice water. Picked up a number of Rebel deserters to-day. The woods are full of them.
April 13th.—Raining. Long trains of “supply” and “ammunition” wagons have been rolling past our dwelling all the morning, indicating a movement of troops southward. I suppose the purpose is to occupy the conquered territory. Alas! we know too well what military occupation is. No intelligent person supposes, after Lee’s surrender, that there will be found an army anywhere this side of the Mississippi of sufficient numbers to make a stand. No doubt, however, many of the dispersed Confederates will join the trans-Mississippi army under Gen. E. Kirby Smith, if indeed, he too does not yield to the prevalent surrendering epidemic.
Confederate money is valueless, and we have no Federal money. To such extremity are some of the best and wealthiest families reduced, that the ladies are daily engaged making pies and cakes for the Yankee soldiers of all colors, that they may obtain enough “greenbacks” to purchase such articles as are daily required in their housekeeping.
It is said we will be supplied with rations from the Federal commissariat.
Thursday, 13th—It rained nearly all day and I never saw it rain harder than it did this forenoon. We left our bivouac at 5 a. m. and marched eighteen miles. The roads are good now. The left wing of our army marched into Raleigh, the capital of North Carolina, the rebels having evacuated the place last night.
13th. Contrary to the general expectation, marched. A little rain. Went into camp near Nottoway Station. Put up picket poles and laid out camp in order. Letter of the 6th from home. Folks are all resigned and cheerful. I am so glad.
Chattanooga, Thursday, April 13. A sunny day, but Chattanooga is sick with its nature element, viz mud, thick and thin, wherever we go. On duty all day. Did not work hard. Took our horses out grazing, outside the picket this afternoon. Rather small picking. Gathered a beautiful bouquet of delicate spring flowers, violets, forget-me-nots, sweet williams, etc. I wish I could carry them to mother’s sick room. Track out of order somewhere. No mail. Six men from the works reported to Captain Hood, formerly 3rd Battery men.
April 13th. Our happiness continues. Ten minutes walk from camp, towards town, is a pump where we are obliged to go for water. Good water. A great meeting place for the people and the soldiers. News of the day is talked over. It is known as the news pump. Newspapers are not very plenty. They come from Baltimore and Ohio. Those who are first at the pump in the morning bring the news and stories that can be picked up, and are soon circulated through camp. So we look for the morning news from the pump.
April—I suppose the end is near, for there is no more hope for the South to gain her independence. On the 10th of this month we were told by an officer that all those who wished to get out of prison by taking the oath of allegiance to the United States could do so in a very few days. There was quite a consultation among the prisoners. On the morning of the 12th we heard that Lee had surrendered on the 9th, and about 400, myself with them, took the cursed oath and were given transportation to wherever we wanted to go. I took mine to New York City to my parents, whom I have not seen since 1858. Our cause is lost; our comrades who have given their lives for the independence of the South have died in vain; that is, the cause for which they gave their lives is lost, but they positively did not give their lives in vain. They gave it for a most righteous cause, even if the Cause was lost. Those that remain to see the end for which they fought—what have we left? Our sufferings and privations would be nothing had the end been otherwise, for we have suffered hunger, been without sufficient clothing, barefooted, lousy, and have suffered more than any one can believe, except soldiers of the Southern Confederacy. And the end of all is a desolated home to go to. When I commenced this diary of my life as a Confederate soldier I was full of hope for the speedy termination of the war, and our independence. I was not quite nineteen years old. I am now twenty-three. The four years that I have given to my country I do not regret, nor am I sorry for one day that I have given—my only regret is that we have lost that for which we fought. Nor do I for one moment think that we lost it by any other way than by being outnumbered at least five if not ten to one. The world was open to the enemy, but shut out to us. I shall now close this diary in sorrow, but to the last I will say that, although but a private, I still say our Cause was just, nor do I regret one thing that I have done to cripple the North.
Wednesday Night.—We have heard nothing new to-day confirming the report of the surrender, which is perhaps the reason my spirit feels a little more light. We must hope, though our prospects should be as dark as the sky of this stormy night. Our wounded are doing well— those who remain in our hospital and the convalescents have been ordered to “Camp Jackson.” Indeed, all the patients were included in the same order; but Miss T. having represented that several of them were not in a condition to be removed, they have been allowed to remain where they are.
Colonel R. is improving, for which we are most thankful.
