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

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Two miles north of Shady Grove, N. C.,

May 2, 1865.

Twenty-six miles to-day, and everything in camp at sunset. That is No. 1 work with 300 sets of wheels to the division. We have reveille at 3 a.m. and start at 4 now.

We seem to have got pretty well out of the pine country. Hardly saw one the last three miles this p.m. Have also about left cotton behind us. Tobacco and wheat are the staples here. I saw as many as five large tobacco houses on one farm, built 25 logs high. Notice also some very fine wheat growing, now 12 inches high. Very large peach and apple orchards on almost every farm. The trees look thrifty, but show neglect. All kinds of fruit promises to be abundant this year.

The last five miles to-day was through beautiful country, fine houses, too. The people were all out to see us, but I am glad that I have no demonstration a la white handkerchief to chronicle. The men are full of the de’il to-day. Scaring negroes almost out of their wits. Our division is the right of the army. We have been side tracking so far, but to-morrow we get the main road and Corse takes the cow paths. I think that not more than one-fifth of the cleared land so far in this State is under cultivation this year, and that fully one-fourth of all has been turned over to nature for refertilization from four to forty years. On some of this turned out land the new growth is more than a foot in diameter. I saw a sassafras tree to-day that was 15 inches in diameter.

Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 2. The sun arose in all its majesty, promising a splendid day. After breakfast Landen and George Spencer were going on top of Lookout. They had a pass for three, and invited me to go along. Having a great desire to visit, I was soon before the officer of the day, thence to Captain Hood, and the request granted. With a loaf of bread and tin cup in my haversack, we started.

Delayed till 8 A. M. waiting for pass to go through picket lines. Two miles brisk walking brought us to the base of the mountain which looked much more formidable there than from camp. We made the ascent on the military road which has been blasted and macadamized by Uncle Sam. It ran zigzag along the east slope of the hill, and not too steep to drive a team quite readily. Patiently we trudged along around massive piles of eternal rocks and past beautiful rustic springs of pure cold water, gushing from solid rocks, partly fixed by the hand of man for the accommodation of man and beast. The road was lined on both sides with heavy foliage of living green, with an occasional opening, through which we could look back on the map-like plat of Chattanooga, with its well-laid camps, and cool our heated brows with the cool refreshing breezes.

Up and up we go, ever and anon we pass a notice by the engineer, giving the elevation above the Tennessee and the distance up to the top. For over two hours we tugged upwards, our enthusiasm somewhat abated by the fatigue, but finally we reached the summit. A sentinel with white gloves and glistening brass, a “true regular” demanded to see our pass. We were now two miles or more from the point which overlooks the town. Here was quite a town called Summer Town with a large tavern, stables, etc. Evidently this was once a great pleasure resort in the summer season for the aristocracy. Here also were extensive hospital buildings erected by the U.S., accommodating I should judge, over 5,000 sick. Also the camp of the Regular Brigade quartered here for over a year.

But time was precious and we pushed on toward the west side of the mountain which is about a mile and a half across, through a heavy growth of timber with a beautiful variety of wild flowers. Before noon we stood on the grounds where Hooker and his men won immortal fame in November, 1863. Directly beneath us we could see the remains of the camp in Lookout Valley. On the further side of the valley was a train of cars leaving Sequatchie Station, looking very diminutive like a child’s plaything. On the parapet we walked around the craggy points towards the Point, passing several heavy lines of rebel earthworks. ‘Tis astounding how men could ever fight on such precipitous rocks. By a most lovely spring gushing over the very brink we seated ourselves in the refreshing shade of a sycamore, and ate our dinner with keen relish.

Now we stood on the veritable point, 1600 feet above high water mark of the Tennessee, 200 feet straight down the rocks. The scene from this place was the grandest I have ever seen, and may be the most extensive I may ever see again. Chattanooga looked very regular and flat, Mission Ridge dwindled down to an apparent flat, and miles beyond it was but one flat ocean of green timber. Off to the east the eye could distinguish four distinct ranges of mountains beyond the Mission Ridge, the last being the obscure Smoky Mountains of North Carolina, undoubtedly sixty miles distant. To the northeast the view was much further, nothing to intercept the vision as far as the naked eye could reach. We could look over into Western Virginia and East Tennessee, and imagine all kinds of things of the human beings scattered along. To the west and north the eye had not as wide a range, the Cumberland Mountains being as high, if not higher, but could easily see Alabama in that way. Five different states of our now almost happy Union from one place. Watered by the creek-like Tennessee River, which made a double slant, to the foot of the mountain, leaving the point of land on the opposite side in the exact shape of a huge foot, hence the name “Moccasin Point”, where Thomas’s batteries were so hotly engaged with Lookout during Bragg’s siege.

Here we found a photograph gallery erected on the jut of a rock—takes pictures of objects on an adjoining point, $6.00 per dozen. He has many very beautiful plates of the mountain scenery, prominent among them is the Lula Falls and Lake about six miles south of the summit; but one day’s furlough would not grant us the pleasure of visiting it, so we commenced the descent in the nearest direction, which appeared but a short distance. For a while we went directly downward through the seam in the rock, then by aid of trees and shrubs we kept up with ourselves. Down, down we went, but yet no bottom, often obliged to rest. An hour’s walk brought us to the bottom, and thankful for it. We wended our way to camp, tired but well satisfied with our excursion.

We reached camp by 5 P. M. Found everything quiet. Nobody mustered out as yet but much talk of it. 18th Ohio Battery and brigade of infantry taken to Dalton to-day by Steedman. I understand he has made several attempts at negotiations with rebel General Wofford, but failed. He is now to resort to strenuous measures.

Tuesday, 2d—Weather pleasant. We started at 6:30 a. m. and marched seventeen miles today. We crossed the Tar river at 10 this morning, and passed through some very fine country this afternoon. There is nothing new.

2nd. Cloudy in the morning. Went to depot for Minnie Newhall. Spent a part of the day at Minnie’s with the girls. The rest of the time at home. Little time to read. Cleveland pictures came.

Charles Francis Adams, Jr., to his brother, John Quincy

H.Q. 5th Mass. Cav’y
May 2, 1865

Now about my arrest and release, as I presume the whole family will desire the story I will send the facts to you and you can send my letter to the Governor. The subject is too disagreeable and too much of a bore to write many letters about it. Here is the whole story. At three o’clock in the morning of the 16th I received an order from General Ord, dated 13th, placing me “in arrest for neglect of duty in allowing my command to straggle and maraud,” and ordering me to Fort Monroe for trial. I reported at the Fort at five o’clock that afternoon and remained there, apparently utterly forgotten and unnoticed until the 27th. I was well enough satisfied that nothing could come of it, for I knew what my orders were and what had been done by me; but it was both vexatious and annoying. I was, in fact, buried alive and could get no replies to any of my letters or communications. At last tired of waiting, on the 22d I resolved to force the fighting somehow and sent in an application to be allowed to go to Richmond. Not waiting for an answer to that on the 24th I sent in another to be released, and, before I heard from either, on the 26th, General Ord came down to see his family at the Fort and I then requested a personal interview. This I obtained. At last, then, in the thirteenth day of my arrest, I had got my hand in. Whether I played it out or not, you will now judge.

As the result of my interview I was released from arrest and, the same evening, joined the General and his family on his boat to Richmond. General Ord treated me with marked attention and civility, though, of course, I did not refer to any matters of business, and, on getting to Richmond, he at once gave me an order exonerating me from all blame and directing me to resume command of my regiment. This I had n’t the slightest idea of doing under the circumstances, and now the farce began. They had all gone off at half-cock on a parcel of verbal complaints of citizens against my regiment, and now they only had blind wrath to show, and lots of it, but neither facts nor evidence. Meanwhile it was my innings. My course was, not to defend my regiment, but, allowing all they said, simply to demand facts on which to punish officers and men. They had n’t one to give. Gradually a noticeable change took place in my position. I became an ill-used, injured man to whom redress was due. Meanwhile, before my release, an inspection of my regiment, with a view to smashing it and me generally, had been ordered and had taken place the very day before my release. I had the Inspector’s report hunted up at once and submitted to General Ord. The Inspector submitted facts and the General in command asked for orders. That report was at once referred to ME by General Ord to recommend what orders should be given. This grew ludicrous. The next day I sent back the report endorsed, recommending simply that all questions and complaints in relation to the regiment be referred to me for investigation and settlement, and that no future complaints be received, except in writing, and all such be at once referred to me. The same day orders in accordance with my recommendation were issued. I was told to put the regiment in camp wherever I chose, and they promised me that I should n’t be troubled any more. The deliciously ludicrous result was thus arrived at, that, after being under arrest a fortnight, the Inspector’s report on the very facts on which I was to stand a trial was referred to me, and finally the facts themselves sent back to me to do what I saw fit about them. They had gone off at H.Q. on the half-cock and with just the usual result.

The whole difficulty seemed to arise from certain horse-stealing propensities of my men. They stole horses at just the wrong time and place. Meanwhile, in other respects, I must confess they are as hard a pack to manage as any I ever had to handle and a most inveterate set of stragglers and pilferers. They can only understand the sternest discipline and must be punished to enforce discipline in a way I never heard of in my old regiment. I no longer wonder slave-drivers were cruel. I am. I no longer have any bowels of mercy…

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Postscript
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In May orders came for an expedition large enough to crush out all resistance in Texas. Colonel Adams, though reluctantly, determined to remain with his regiment, believing that he owed something to his position and that “it would not do for a Colonel to set the example of resignation in the face of a distant and dangerous expedition.” A large cavalry force, under the command of Sheridan, was to reduce to submission or destroy General Kirby Smith’s army. The regiment prepared for transportation and only awaited final orders, when Colonel Adams’ health again broke down, through exposure, and on June 1st he set out for Quincy. After five days of trying experience he reached that place, much reduced in weight, wretchedly weak, unable to take up any work or project, mentally depressed and quite broken in spirit. For more than a month he remained in this state when a stay at St. Johns and the Isles of Shoals quite restored him. His military career was ended by his discharge, August 1, after an active service of three years, seven months and twelve days. He turned to civil occupations, practically beginning life anew. The rest is characteristically related in the “Autobiography.”

Tuesday, May 2d, 1865.

While praying for the return of those who have fought so nobly for us, how I have dreaded their first days at home! Since the boys died, I have constantly thought of what pain it would bring to see their comrades return without them — to see families reunited, and know that ours never could be again, save in heaven. Last Saturday, the 29th of April, seven hundred and fifty paroled Louisianians from Lee’s army were brought here — the sole survivors of ten regiments who left four years ago so full of hope and determination. On the 29th of April, 1861, George left New Orleans with his regiment. On the fourth anniversary of that day, they came back; but George and Gibbes have long been lying in their graves. . . .

Camden, S. C., May 2, 1865.—Since we left Chester nothing but solitude, nothing but tall blackened chimneys, to show that any man has ever trod this road before. This is Sherman’s track. It is hard not to curse him. I wept incessantly at first. The roses of the gardens are already hiding the ruins. My husband said Nature is a wonderful renovator. He tried to say something else and then I shut my eyes and made a vow that if we were a crushed people, crushed by weight, I would never be a whimpering, pining slave.

We heard loud explosions of gunpowder in the direction of Camden. Destroyers were at it there. Met William Walker, whom Mr. Preston left in charge of a car-load of his valuables. General Preston was hardly out of sight before poor helpless William had to stand by and see the car plundered. “My dear Missis! they have cleaned me out, nothing left,” moaned William the faithful. We have nine armed couriers with us. Can they protect us?

Bade adieu to the staff at Chester. No general ever had so remarkable a staff, so accomplished, so agreeable, so well bred, and, I must say, so handsome, and can add so brave and efficient.