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

August 2011

August 15.—At Arlington, Va., sixty noncommissioned officers and privates of the Second Maine Regiment of Volunteers, having formally and positively, in the presence of the regiment, refused to do any further duty whatever, alleging that they were not legally in the service of the United States, were, with the approval of the General-in-Chief, transferred, in arrest, from the regiment, as no longer worthy to serve with it, to be sent to the Dry Tortugas, in the Gulf of Mexico, there to perform such fatigue service as the officers commanding might assign them, until they should by their future conduct show themselves worthy to bear arms.—Army Orders.

—The Twenty-third Regiment of Indiana Volunteers, under the command of Col. Sanderson, left the camp near New Albany, for Indianapolis, and thence for the seat of war in Missouri.—Louisville Journal, August 16.

—Govenor Buckingham, of Connecticut, calls upon “the loyal and patriotic citizens of that State to organize in companies for four regiments of infantry.”—(Doc. 187.)

—Upon the refusal of Colonel Burke, the officer in command at Fort Lafayette in New York harbor, to produce his prisoners in court in response to a writ of habeas corpus, Judge Garrison of Kings Co., N. Y., who issued the writ, made formal application to General Duryea of the militia in Brooklyn to ascertain what force could be obtained by the county to execute the writ. General Duryea informed the sheriff that about fourteen hundred men could be raised, but that the county was in possession of no artillery sufficiently powerful to make an impression on the works, and that it would require between five and ten thousand men to take them.—N. Y. Evening Post, August 15.

—This afternoon the steamer Resolute was ordered from Aquia Creek to Matthias Point, Va., for the purpose of reconnoitring. Seeing a bateau filled with barrels on shore just below the point, a boat was sent from the Resolute with six men, to bring off the bateau. No sooner had the boat touched the beach than a volley of musket balls was opened upon them from a secession force concealed in the woods, killing three of the men instantly, namely—John James Fuller, of Brooklyn, master’s mate, who, it was subsequently ascertained, was pierced by two balls; George Seymour, captain of the gun, of New York, by seven, and Thomas Tully, of Boston, by two balls. Earnest Walter, a native of England, was wounded in the head. Another volley was fired by the enemy as they moved their position, or as soon as they had time to reload. The Resolute was about seven hundred yards from the shore, and fired in the midst of the rebels one shot of canister and nine of shrapnell. The scene on board the small boat is described as heart-sickening—the dead lying outstretched in it, covered with their own blood. The boat was towed a short distance from the shore by one of the crew named Sanderson, who quietly slipped into the water for that purpose, and thus concealed himself from the enemy. The other uninjured man lay in the boat, horrified by the scene through which he had just passed, while the wounded man helped Sanderson to row the boat toward the Reliance, from which assistance was immediately rendered.—(Doc. 188.)

During the months of July and August, 1861, the country was greatly aroused over the prospects of war. Excitement rose high when the news of the battle of Bull Run, July 21st, was flashed over the wires. I was then almost 19 and living at home on a farm near Inland, Cedar county, Iowa. Naturally I was deeply stirred over the question of war. Some of our neighbors and friends had earlier opposed the use of force in preventing secession, but I distinctly remember that my father and many neighbors and friends entertained no doubt as to the righteousness of such a course.

During these days we were at work in the harvest field. We had finished cutting our wheat and oats and during the first two weeks of August were engaged in stacking the grain. Everyone had some part in the work. Father did the stacking, while John was on the stack with him, placing the sheaves at his right hand. Albert and George drove the teams to and from the fields, while Paul and Andrew attended to watering the stock during the day.[1] Tom Toly, a strong Irishman, who had worked for us three or four summers, pitched the sheaves to father from the wagon, and Dave Cole pitched the sheaves from the shocks in the field to me on the wagon, while I arranged them on the load.

There had been some talk of raising a company of troops at Inland, but nothing had come of it. At Tipton, the county seat, a company of one hundred men was raised when the first call for volunteers was made. But as they were not then needed, they went out under the call of July 23, 1861, and became Company A of the Fifth Iowa Infantry.

I had been pondering in my mind the matter of going to join the army. On the evening of Saturday, August 10th, news came of the battle of Wilson’s Creek, and that General Lyon had been killed. The First Iowa Infantry was in that battle and made glorious history for itself and for Iowa. That fact, with the excitement over the battle itself, stirred us boys in the neighborhood, and I practically reached a decision as to what I should do.

The next day was Sunday, and everybody was talking about the battle of Wilson’s Creek. Ministers spoke of it in their sermons and prayers. It was the all-important topic of the day, and for the next three days—the 12th, 13th and 14th of August, it was the topic of conversation while we were finishing our work in the harvest field. On the next day, my birthday, I began my diary and shall now let it speak.


[1] The five boys, John, Albert, George, Paul and Andrew, are Mr. Downing’s half-brothers. They are all living at this time (March, 1916) and all reside in Iowa—Ed.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1861.

Got up this morning and went to market. Doct Barnes and Lieut Gould to Breakfast. Doct Vanslyck to dinner. The “27th” left this morning for V.A. I was at the Pat office awhile & on the Ave. Witnessed this evening the quelling of a mutiny among the 79th Regt. A strong force of Infantry and Cavalry and four pieces of Artillery were brought to bear upon them when they “fell in” and were paraded on 14th St, the ring leaders picked out, 36 in number who will be punished, some of them probably shot. Gov Stevens is now their Col.

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The three diary manuscript volumes, Washington during the Civil War: The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865, are available online at The Library of  Congress.

14th.—I left the camp to-day, and have determined to make my headquarters at Barnum’s Hotel, for a few days, till I recover some of the strength lost by my sickness and over-exertion. My ward master, on whom I have mainly to rely for assistance as a nurse, has been drunk every night, which has made me much extra trouble. Oh the misery resulting from whisky!

“Boston rockers” were an untold comfort to the men able to sit up. The first of the many sent to us were from Daniel Gilman’s father and placed as follows:—

Alexandria Hospital,
Aug. 14, 1861.

My dear Miss Woolsey: The eight chairs are very thankfully received and shall be disposed of precisely as you proposed.

Yours in haste,

Nurse in charge.

Post image for “The fire was effective, the cavalry retreated and we marched on unharmed.”—War Letters of William Thompson Lusk.

Meridian Hill, Washington.

Aug. 11th, 1861.

My dear Mother:

I have been overjoyed by a visit from Hunt, who has now probably returned home and reports me hearty and well. I have been fortunate in meeting several friends most unexpectedly during the last few days. Miss Woolsey was at our encampment on some errand of mercy yesterday evening. I saw her for a few moments, and promised to call upon her and Mrs. Howland soon, which I shall do if allowed to leave the camp. The laws are very strict though now, and I doubt whether I shall be able to leave the camp for some time to come. We are now going through a stage dreaded by all officers in the army, viz: that immediately following upon pay-day. Notwithstanding the utmost precautions the men contrive to obtain liquor, and when intoxicated are well-nigh uncontrollable, so that the utmost vigilance is needful. As the number of our officers is but small we are kept almost constantly active. When the money is once spent we will then breathe more freely. To-morrow I am to be the officer commanding the Guard, so I am scribbling a few lines rapidly to-night, as I shall be too busy to attend to such things to-morrow, and the following day too exhausted to do much after twenty-four hour’s exertion. You see all the labors of an officer generally are compressed into short seasons of unexampled labor, and long periods of repose. We have now a new Colonel — Governor Stevens of Washington Territory. He seems to be a first class man. His advent among us was inaugurated by an order for us young officers to leave the pleasant rooms we occupied when Hunt was with us, and to return to our tents. This was as it should be; and other strict measures toward officers and men show that he is the right sort of a commander for a Regiment like ours, requiring a strong firm hand to govern it. I trust we may continue to be satisfied with him as our chief officer.

I begin to regard it as a little doubtful as to whether we really return to New York. Military men regard such a movement as unprecedented, and as affording a dangerous example. We will see how it is to end. You ask me regarding Gen’l Tyler! I will answer with all candor that he acted with the utmost bravery on the day of the fight. It was owing to his prompt and energetic action that once, after our Regiment was scattered, when weary and exhausted, having also (Elliott assisting) the additional burden of our wounded Captain to bear away, we escaped a cavalry charge in which many of our men were taken prisoners. When the cavalry came in sight, and all was in confusion, you could hear his quick, sharp voice rallying the disheartened to make such a stand as alone would ensure them victory. The men rallied, poured a volley of musketry into the foe galloping upon us, at the same time giving them two fatal shots from a couple of artillery pieces which luckily were in our possession— at which time I must mention the activity displayed by Ned Harland too. The fire was effective, the cavalry retreated and we marched on unharmed. Such things should shut the mouths of slander. Gen’l Tyler unfortunately played a leading part in a fatal engagement, and consequently must bear an undue share of blame. His great fault seems to have been an overweening confidence in our strength, and a great undervaluation of the enemy. Since the fight I regret to say a spirit of bitterness pervades his conversation as well as his official report of the battle.

I have just seen Lieut.-Col. Elliott, and feel more reason to hope we may return, as was before promised. Give the best of love to all,

And believe me,

Very Affec’y-,

William T. Lusk.

August 14th.—Last night there was a crowd of men to see us and they were so markedly critical. I made a futile effort to record their sayings, but sleep and heat overcame me. To-day I can not remember a word. One of Mr. Mason’s stories relates to our sources of trustworthy information. A man of very respectable appearance standing on the platform at the depot, announced, “I am just from the seat of war.” Out came pencil and paper from the newspaper men on the qui vive. “Is Fairfax Court House burned?” they asked. “Yes, burned yesterday.” “But I am just from there,” said another; “left it standing there all right an hour or so ago.” “Oh! But I must do them justice to say they burned only the tavern, for they did not want to tear up and burn anything else after the railroad.” “There is no railroad at Fairfax Court House,” objected the man just from Fairfax. “Oh! Indeed!” said the seat-of-war man, “I did not know that; is that so?” And he coolly seated himself and began talking of something else.

Our people are lashing themselves into a fury against the prisoners. Only the mob in any country would do that. But I am told to be quiet. Decency and propriety will not be forgotten, and the prisoners will be treated as prisoners of war ought to be in a civilized country.

August 14. Wednesday.—The weather has changed to cool, and although the sky is still clouded I hope this long rain is now over. Our prisoners turn out to be Hezekiah and Granville Bennett, cousins of the notorious James and William Bennett, aged forty-nine and twenty-two, father and son, and Moss and George W. Brothers, aged fifty-eight and forty-eight. Our information is not definite as to their conduct. One or more of them belonged to the Southern army, and all are accused by their Union neighbors with divers acts of violence against law-and-order citizens.

Last evening Lieutenant Milroy came over from Glenville reporting that Captain R. B. Moore feared an attack from three companies of well armed Secessionists in the region west of them, say Spencer, and was fortifying himself. The people immediately around him are friendly, he having conducted himself with great prudence and good sense and by kindness and justice made friends of the people of all parties.

AUGUST 14TH.—Zollicoffer has been appointed a brigadier-general; and although not a military man by education, I think he will make a good officer.

Camp Harmon, August —, 1861.

I had a chance to show my gallantry last week. I was directed one night to pass a Mr. Pendleton and his party through, our line of sentinels. I reached the party about ten o’clock, and found the party consisting of an old gentleman driving the carriage, and in it the wife of his son with three or four children. She told me they were going to stay a mile beyond, with a lady to whom she had a letter, and were on their way to Virginia from Washington. Knowing the difficulty they would have in passing the sentinels of the other camps, I volunteered to accompany them. But when they reached the house where they expected to stay all night I delivered their letter and was told they could not be taken in, as the house was full of sick people, and that there was no other house in the village where there was any prospect of getting them in. The only chance then was to take the road and run the chance of getting into a farm-house or travel all night. I went with them, and succeeded in getting them lodging at a farm-house three miles further on. She was profuse in her expressions of gratitude, and I took leave of them and walked back four miles to our camp, which I reached about one o’clock, well paid for my trouble in feeling conscious that I had done a good deed.