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

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Saturday, 20th—There are three armies in camp here, the Army of the Potomac under General Meade, and the Armies of the Tennessee and of Georgia, both under General Sherman. We received orders that the Army of the Potomac would be reviewed by Lieutenant-General Grant on the 23d inst., and the armies under General Sherman on the 24th. The review is to take place in Washington City. It rained all day and it is very disagreeable in our camp on the commons of Alexandria. The firewood is so wet that it is almost impossible to get a fire to cook our food.

20th. Ordered to move. Went out beyond Fairfax Seminary to see 105th Ohio. Cumings and Wilcox away. Intended to stop to see Melissa as we passed through Washington, D. C., but found the marching order countermanded, so went back to camp.

May 20th. Our regular routine has been kept up for the past few days. Guard duty, drill, dress parade, Sunday morning inspection. When at liberty continue to take long walks out into the surrounding country. Call on the farmers. They laugh about the Yankee soldiers making friends with the cows. We tell them that’s because we like milk. We found out the cows would eat hardtack. We fed and petted them while they were out to pasture. Women do the milking in this section. I heard a woman say that she was a good milker but the Yankees could beat her and milk into a canteen at that.

New Creek, West Virginia, May 20, 1865.

Dear Colonel: — My wife came here last evening. I have sent in my resignation and asked to be relieved. I hope to get to Washington to the great doings to come off next week.

I take “Old Whitey” home (to Fremont, Ohio,) and hope you will be able to ride him again.

It is not yet known when troops of the class of Twenty-third, Thirty-sixth, and First West Virginia Veterans will be mustered out. They are all now at Staunton and appear to enjoy it much.

I have had the Cincinnati papers withdraw my name from the candidate list. I am of course much obliged to the brigade, but it would not be the thing for me to allow it.

My wife says she is glad you have sound views on the treatment of Rebels. She doubts her husband.

If Sherman did it with an eye to political advancement, as some say, of course it is bad, but if he thought to follow the policy of Lincoln as indicated by Weitzell’s programme (and this I believe), he surely ought not to be abused for it.

My wife sends regards to your sister and yourself. Excuse haste.

Sincerely,

R. B. Hayes.

Lieutenant-colonel Russell Hastings.

New Creek, West Virginia, May 20, 1865.

Dear Uncle: — Lucy arrived here last night with me from Chillicothe. We expect to go to Washington in a few days, and after a little run about, home probably by way of Fremont about the 5th to 10th of June. I have sent my resignation, and shall be out of service just four years after entering it. My chest will go to Fremont by express; my horse and equipments, flag, sword, etc., etc., start tomorrow with my orderlies. If they need cash, please let them have it

Sincerely,

R. B. Hayes.

S. Birchard.

New Creek, West Virginia, May 20, 1865.

Dear Mother: — I got here safely with Lucy last night. I have resigned to take effect the week after next, and will probably be at Delaware within three weeks to see you. We shall travel about a few days before starting West.

The soldiers are leaving for home very rapidly. They are all in excellent spirits and glad to go. I have no idea that many of them will ever see as happy times again as they have had in the army. — I shall perhaps return by way of Fremont.

Affectionately, your son,

R.

Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.

Camp Harker, May 20, 1865.—They have named the camp “Camp Harker,” after some General I believe. There is still no change in our condition. We are to move camp soon. William and I have been to see the place, about half a mile from here, and we shall have more room.

Chattanooga, Saturday, May 20. Last night I again suffered from chill and very heavy fever, a type of the ague which seems to be a part of my nature. Whatever jars my vital power is certain to bring on ague. Suffered considerable pain under my right shoulder, experiencing some difficulty to breathe at times, a slight attack of pleurisy, I think. Did not arise until breakfast time, did my duty the remainder of the day. No mail yet to speak of, five days’ now due.

New excitement in camp caused by a new batch of rumors, substance of which is that we are to take muskets and go into these forts instead of the 1st Minnesota Heavy Artillery who are going home, they being but one-year men.

May 20th, 1865.—It is late at night and this has been a perfectly horrible day. For three days Sister Mag has been very ill; last night death seemed very near and this morning her dead baby was laid in a little white casket and buried in God’s Acre. She does not know. She has known nothing for hours and the doctors give us little hope. Nellie and Fannie are nursing her. She may never be conscious again. Mother and Father do not leave her and poor Brother Amos is wretched.

Jane left this morning without bathing and dressing Rebecca, so that job fell to my share. I usually dress Eddie myself anyway but Rebecca is badly spoiled and it is difficult. I coaxed them out in the flower garden and then Mother sent me with some directions to the cook. Now, this cook is my own Emeline, who has always professed to love me dearly. I went to the kitchen, but she was not there. I looked around but could not see a single one of the servants who were generally, at that hour, busily employed, each one, in his or her portion of the day’s work. I went on to Emeline’s house and she was standing in the middle of the floor, tying on a sash of blue ribbon, which would complete quite a stunning toilet. “Emeline,” I said, “Sister Mag is so sick and Mother sends the key-basket to you and she says have a good dinner, for Dr. Betton and Dr. Gamble will be here and she is leaving everything to you.” Imagine how I felt when she answered thus:

“Take dat basket back ter your mother an’ tell her if she want any dinner she kin cook it herself.”

I was hurt and dazed. I had not slept all night and I pleaded weakly, “Don’t say that Emeline, Sister Mag is so sick, the doctors think she will die.”

“Dey do? Well, what is dat ter me? I ain’t make her sick, is I?”

Silently I left her house. They are free, I thought; free to do as they please. Never before had I had a word of impudence from any of our black folks but they are not ours any longer.

Retracing my steps I stopped at the laundry door; Melissa stood beside the table ironing a snowy cloth.

“Melissa,” I asked, “what has become of the other servants?”

Slowly she raised her big brown eyes to my face, “I thought you knowed dey wus all gone ter de meetin’ out ter Centreville, dem black soldiers, an’ de white man wid ’em is sont messages ter all de folks cum terday an denounce our freedom. He kin save heself de trubble; I ain’t no bond an’ pressed slave. I ain’t nuvver knowed no mother but Miss Patsy, an’ she ben mighty good ter me.”

Mother did not have to cook the dinner, Adeline saved the day and though dinner was late, it was excellent and, by the time it was served, Sister Mag was conscious and the doctors say the danger is over. We are so thankful.

I have learned a lesson today: we must not expect too much of “free negroes.” Nellie and Fannie could not have acted better than they did but of all the others on the plantation, only Melissa remained at her post and Adeline showed so much good feeling, such true sympathy, that I love her more than ever.