Camp Alcorn, Hopkinsville, Ky., }
January 4th, 1862. }
Miss Pattie: It is with the purest of motives that we write you these lines. We are now in the army of our country, deprived of the enjoyment of the society of loved friends at home, and the greatest satisfaction we have is in communicating with those we have left behind, in whose company we once took delight. And though our acquaintance with you is limited, yet it is nothing but truth to say that the impression you have made upon our mind to desire to place you in the catalogue of absent friends, and to communicate with you as such.
It is true that the impression you have made upon us must last while memory exists, and though we should fall before the enemies of our country amid the smoke of battle and the clangor of arms, the last recollection of our mortal existence will be of our native Southern land and the fair and beautiful ladies that inhabit the same.
Since we have left our friends and peaceful homes we have learned by experience what we knew from reason before, that is, that the soldier’s life is very hard. But who with one drop of patriotic blood in his veins could refuse to respond to the call of his invaded country? Our once happy country is now bleeding at every pore. A mighty host of vandals and infidels have seized the reins of Government and trampled under their unhallowed feet the Constitution of our fathers, and in their madness have set at defiance the holy edict of sacred write, and declare that there is a higher law that must govern the actions of the free people of America. A tyrant more odious than ever reigned in the kingdoms and empires of Europe, is now enthroned in the cerulean chair of state, and his anathematical denunciation (that the South must submit to him) has gone forth and is irrevocable. And now to carry out his nefarious designs, he has called out the largest armies ever drilled in modern times, and has sent them forth, for our subjugation and everlasting ruin as a people, and they are pouring down upon us like mighty gathering avalanches, and threatening to overwhelm us in one grand destructive wreck. Under these circumstances I would ask again, what patriotic Southern son could refuse to go and drive away the invaders of his country’s liberty? Our country called us to leave our homes to defend and preserve untarnished and untouched by the hand of the invader, her fair escutcheon. Our duty said to us, go, young soldiers, and prove yourselves to be the sons of immortal sires. Nature, with all her ten thousand tongues, seemed to say to all the brave of Southern climes, go to the field of battle and preserve for yourselves and future generations, political and religious liberty. So we have determined that come what may, weal or woe, death or prosperity, our country must be free. That the South will prevail, that her arms will prove invincible, and that the enemy will fly before them like chaff before the wind of heaven.
And in conclusion, fair Miss Cone, permit us to say that we scarcely hope that after the smoke of battle and the noise of war shall have passed away; that when peace shall have hovered over our fertile land, like ministering angels over the returning prodigal, to see you and enjoy your company and society again.
There is no rest or enjoyment for us until the land we love the most is cleared of our enemies. But our hopes and prayers now are, that the God that holds the sceptre and controls the destiny of the vast universe, will bring this war to a speedy and peaceful termination, and that we may yet live to see all our friends again in a state of happiness and prosperity; and that universal peace, like a mighty river, pure as the fountain that was opened in the House of David may spread over the plains of earth and that the rider of the white horse may again pass over this war distracted continent, followed by the Angel that has the everlasting gospel to preach to the fallen of Adam’s race.
Geo. McLeod.
He was wounded at Fort Donelson and died at the hospital at Mound City, Illinois, February 3d, 1862.
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Daily Missouri Republican, February 27, 1862
Rutherford B. Hayes (diary entry) – We had heard the first rumor of a great defeat, but this gave us the details. A routed army, heavy loss, demoralization, on our side; a great victory, confidence, and enthusiasm, on the other, were the natural results to be expected. Washington in danger, its capture probable, if the enemy had genius. (read more:
Mary Boykin Chesnut – Witnessed for the first time a military funeral. As that march came wailing up, they say Mrs. Bartow fainted. The empty saddle and the led war-horse —we saw and heard it all, and now it seems we are never out of the sound of the Dead March in Saul. It comes and it comes, until I feel inclined to close my ears and scream. (read more:
Jane Eliza Woolsey – God be praised for that telegram! What a day was yesterday to us; and what a day must it have been to you, my dear Eliza! The terrible news, the conflicting reports, the almost unendurable suspense we were in, the distance from you at such a time! Altogether it was a time to be remembered! (read more:
Judith White McQuire – Our loss, when compared with that of the enemy, was small, very small; but such men as have fallen! How can I record the death of our young friends, the Conrads of Martinsburg, the only sons of their father, and such sons! (read more:
Georgeanna Woolsey – Everything was in our hands and success seemed certain at Bull Run, when from some cause or other a panic was created, our men fell back, the rebels seized the moment for a bold rush and we were entirely routed. Joe says there never was a more complete defeat. All last night the soldiers were arriving in all sorts of conveyances, and on horses cut from ambulances and baggage wagons. An officer from Bull Run told us he saw four soldiers on one horse; and so they came flying back to Washington in all directions. (read more:
Josiah Marshall Favill – Dodd and I dressed up in our best clothes, and walked to the city, first going to the telegraph office, where we had to wait a long time for our turn, to notify our families at home that we were not killed, wounded, or missing. (read more:
Robert Shaw Howland – Of course the first thought of us civilians is to take care of the wounded. I send enclosed a cheque from Cousin Edward and one from myself. If you find you cannot use these amounts satisfactorily at Washington let us know and we will send materials as they may be wanted. (read more:
Horatio Nelson Taft – Yesterday was a rainy day and the poor Soldiers were coming in all day wet and cold. We had our house full of members of our Lyons Co. to tea, and made them as comfortable as we could. Today I have taken down to the camp for them two pairs of pantaloons, bot tobacco for the Zuaves and helped them “out” all I could. The City is full of returning soldiers, many in a bad condition, wounded & tired out. (
Charles Francis Adams, Jr. – I don’t see any good in my saying anything of the disgraceful and disastrous battle of yesterday. The impression here is very general that Scott’s policy was interfered with by the President in obedience to what he calls the popular will and at the instigation of Sumner, Greeley and others, and the advance was ordered by Scott only after a written protest. The result was a tremendous and unaccountable panic, such as raw troops are necessarily liable to on a field of battle in a strange country, and it all closed in the loss of guns, colors, equipage, and even honor. (read more:
Rutherford Birchard Hayes (letter). – The Washington affair is greatly to be regretted; unless speedily repaired, it will lengthen the war materially. The panic of the troops does not strike me as remarkable. You recollect the French army in the neighborhood of the Austrians were seized with a panic, followed by a flight of many miles, caused merely by a runaway mule and cart and “nobody hurt.” (read more:
William Howard Russell. – The morning was far advanced when I awoke, and hearing the roll of waggons in the street, I at first imagined the Federals were actually about to abandon Washington itself; but on going to the window, I perceived it arose from an irregular train of commissariat carts, country waggons, ambulances, and sutlers’ vans, in the centre of the street, the paths being crowded as before with soldiers, or rather with men in uniform, many of whom seemed as if they had been rolling in the mud. Poor General Mansfield was running back and forwards between his quarters and the War Department, and in the afternoon some efforts were made to restore order, by appointing rendezvous to which the fragment of regiments should repair, and by organising mounted patrols to clear the streets. (read more: 













