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

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Camp near Boonville, Miss., June 13, 1862.

This is the fourth camp that we have had to call as above. We have lived all around the burg, but to-morrow we leave. We have just got nicely arranged here after working hard all day, and now an order comes to move brigade headquarters back to Rienzi, nearly 10 miles toward Corinth. Bah! how sick it makes me to write that name. I haven’t seen the place yet, and have no desire to. I feel about once a week as though a little skirmish would do me good, but I don’t see any use in getting mad because they won’t give me a chance to fight. I couldn’t feel any more out of the war at home than I do here. The enemy have all gone further into Dixie and we’re left the undisputed occupants of this neck. Our headquarters here are about 25 miles south of Corinth, and we have pickets at Baldwin, 15 miles south of this. Pope’s whole division has moved back to just this side of Corinth except our brigade, so here we are, maybe 1,200 effective men, doing outpost duty nearly 40 miles in advance of the army. Yesterday the colonel, his A. D. C. and myself rode around our entire picket line, I mean the part of our brigade that is guarding the M. & O. R. R. There is only one regiment doing this, and they are strung out so that our ride was full 40 miles. When we were within two miles of our camp, coming in, I was galloping along ahead of the colonel, maybe 50 yards (’twas 10 p.m.) and I thought I heard a “halt,” but was so sure there were no pickets there (full a dozen miles inside of our corps’ pickets) that I didn’t mind it until bang, went an old musket, and the bullet zipped considerably over my head. I halted. They were some infantry pickets whose regiment was close by in the woods (some two miles). Well, we hadn’t the countersign and they wern’t going to let us pass. The colonel swore, I was awful hungry, and I cussed, the A. D. C. raved, but the picket sergeant was immovable. At last we coaxed him to send us in with a guard to his colonel. He sent six men with us as guard, and the cuss gave orders to shoot us if we tried to run. The chap that shot was one of the guard, and he told me that he shot over my head on purpose after he had halloed “halt” several times. They didn’t know there was cavalry outside of them and said they’d shot us sure if they hadn’t seen the glimmer of my straps in the moonlight. We got their colonel up, took a toddy with him and—home. Did I ever tell you about my darkey, “Charley”? We got him at Cape Girardeau. He informed our troops where his master and company had hidden some 14 kegs of powder and some arms. His massa found out he had informed and put him in irons four weeks. He escaped and came to us. We lost him at Madrid and never knew what had become of him until he turned up here a week since. He had been sick in the Cairo hospital. He comes very handy to me when I’m a little lazy, which, though, is only 30 or 40 times a day. He has my boots blacked and clothes brushed when I get up in the morning, is a splendid hand to take care of a horse, and all told a very handy institution. He wants me to promise to take him home with me. If you will have him, I’ll do it. He’d be right handy about our house. I have the nicest horse. He is a perfect staver. A little tiresome to ride because so anxious to go fast, but he is so strong and never tires. After that ride yesterday of 40 miles through a broiling sun he danced along at the last as much as when we started. We were coming in from a reconnoisance one night last week and about 10 p.m., dark as Egypt, an artillery wagon crowded me off a causeway and Siegel (my horse) went into the mud to his shoulders and I, over his head, gracefully. He got out and sloped, and I walked into camp. ‘Twas only a quarter of a mile. An artillery sergeant caught him and I walked out to the road just in time to see him passing. He dismounted very spryly. Siegel licks my hands just like a dog and he will follow me away from his oats any time. After he got away from me that night he went back again to where we fell and that’s where the sergeant got him. He is a large bay and I wouldn’t take anything for him. I was riding to-day with the colonel, and as we crossed the M. and O. R. R. I saw a couple of fellows 300 or 400 yards down the road coming towards us, and one of them threw up his hands. I thought he was a deserter and waited. They proved to be what I thought. One was an Alabamian and the other from Arkansas. They had seen our pickets further out but thought them Confederates and slipped by them through the brush. I took them to the colonel, and since then, this p.m., nine more have come in, and ’tis not a very good day for deserters either. These people here are very tired of war. You would be if this army should march through Canton, indeed you would. You can’t go into hardly a house here but what they’ll ask if you know anything of “my son,” “my brother,” or “my husband” that was taken prisoner at this place or that place, and then the poor creatures will cry as though their hearts were broken and you begin to feel queer about your throat, and—I can’t stand that at all. It hurts me under my vest to see these poor women suffering, for maybe not the fault of those they mourn, but of rich men and politicians who have by threats and lies induced these poor devils to leave their families to die of starvation, to fight for, they can’t tell what.

I have just seen a Mobile Register of the 5th. It says they have taken at Richmond 7,000 prisoners, 80 pieces artillery, wagons, etc., innumerable quartermaster and commissary stores in vast quantities. That McClellan is driven back 30 miles and his army is surrounded, but a few of them may escape by James river. Very jocular and highly edifying. They also claim 15,000 stands small arms captured.

JUNE 13TH.—Gen. Lee is satisfied with the present posture of affairs—and McClellan has no idea of attacking us now. He don’t say what he means to do himself.

Friday, 13th—It came the Eleventh Iowa’s turn to go on picket today. The teams still have to go to Pittsburg Landing, twenty-two miles from Corinth, for provisions and ammunition for the army.

June 13 — This morning we left Vernon Forge, crossed the South River, and marched toward the Valley pike. We crossed Middle River and arrived at Naked Creek on the Valley pike by noon, then marched down the pike to within five miles of Harrisonburg, and camped.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Camp five miles south of Corinth, Friday, June 13, 1862.—I have been doing picket duty at Booneville. We shall probably remain here some time. Indeed, I think we are in summer quarters, unless some exigency of the war should call us away. We are encamped in scattering timber, on a dry and, I think, healthy location. We have hot days, but cool and comfortable nights, and no mosquitos. The water is tolerably good.

General Halleck turned all of the lying newspaper reporters out of his camp after the battle of Farmington. Hence their hostility to him. The army is well satisfied with him and has unbounded confidence in him. He was not fooled by quaker guns, for there were none of these weapons at Corinth except a rusty revolver of mine which won’t shoot! I have already explained to you that the position was what we wanted, and it does seem to us here that it was better to win it without much bloodshed. Talk about soldiers getting blood-thirsty! Why, the desire which seems prevalent at the North that thousands of us should have been uselessly butchered before the formidable entrenchments at Corinth beats us blind in cool blood-thirstiness! My dear, put not your trust in the newspapers!

13th. Issued rations in the morning. Moved camp over the river west. Pitched our tent in a splendid grove in a secesh corn field. Found some mulberries.

Written from the Sea islands of South Carolina.

St. Helena Island, June 13, 1862.

You do not know how comfortable and even elegant our apartments are, now that we have all the furniture the cotton agent had in his half of the house. There are no other such accommodations in this region, and we shall be foolish to go away for anything but health. If there should be any likelihood of sickness, we can remove easily to the watering-place of the islands, St. Helenaville, about six miles from here, and then we can ride over twice a week or so to see our people. But I do not see why this place cannot be a good enough location to stay in all summer. As for the late alarm about “Secesh” coming, everybody is ashamed of it, and all try to prove that they were not frightened at such an unlikelihood. It is an impossibility now, as gunboats are stationed on all sides. I am so glad we did not run. It was a great shame we had all the bother of packing our trunks and unpacking them again. . . .

You may imagine that I was not well pleased to see my entire letter printed. That last — “but I must get a little sleep” — seems so boasting, and in other places I would have modified it. But I do not care much. If my present leisure continues, I shall perhaps write for the Tribune an occasional letter; but Mr. McKim is taking notes, and will tell everything, I fancy. Lucy is a very nice girl and she is busy collecting facts, etc. Mr. French, too, is writing a book, and so there will be an overstock of information, I think. . . .

Dr. Hering’s looking-glasses have come, but not his violins, and the candy and sugar are enjoyed hugely….

I wish you were as free from every fret as I am, and as happy. I never was so entirely so as now, and no wonder. We found the people here naked, and beginning to loathe their everlasting hominy, — afraid and discontented about being made to work as slaves, and without assurance of freedom or pay, of clothes or food, — and now they are jolly and happy and decently fed and dressed, and so full of affection and gratitude to the people who are relieving them that it is rather too flattering to be enjoyed. It will not last, I dare say, but it is genuine now and they are working like Trojans. They keep up the tasks of those who have gone to the forts and do not complain of any amount of little extra jobs. It is such a satisfaction to an abolitionist to see that they are proving conclusively that they can and will and even like to work enough at least to support themselves and give something extra to Government.

All my affairs go swimmingly (I have the Boston clothing too now, only there is none to sell), so do not think of me as being a martyr of any kind.

Friday, 13th.—Arrived at Knoxville, 12 M. Left for Morristown at 2 P. M.; arrived 5 P. M.


(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

USS DaleU. S. Ship Dale, St. Helena sound, South-Carolina, June 13, 1862.

Sir: This morning, at four o’clock, it was reported to me that there was a large fire on Hutchinson Island. Shortly after a preconcerted signal that the enemy were in the vicinity had been made from the house of our pilot, I immediately started in the gig, accompanied by the tender Wild Cat, Boatswain Downs, Sen. Acting Midshipman Terry; first cutter, Acting Master Billings; second cutter, Acting Master Hawkins, and cutter, Coxswain Shatluff, up Horn or Big River Creek, in the direction of the fire.

Soon after leaving the ship a canoe containing three negroes was met, who stated that the rebels, three hundred strong, were at Mrs. Mardis’s plantation, killing all the negroes. As we advanced up the creek we were constantly met by canoes with two or three negroes in them, panic-stricken, and making their way to the ship, while white flags were to be seen flying from every inhabited point, around which were clustered groups of frightened fugitives.

When about two and a half miles from Mrs. Mardis’s, I was obliged to anchor the Wild Cat, from the want of sufficient water in the channel, with orders to cover our retreat if necessary. On arriving at Mrs. Mardis’s the scene was most painful. Her dwelling and a chapel in ruins, and the air heavy with smoke, while at the landing were assembled one hundred souls, mostly women and children, in the utmost distress.

Throwing out a picket-guard, and taking every proper measure against a surprise, I satisfied myself that the enemy were not in our immediate neighborhood, the negroes assuring me that the had left the island and returned to Fort Chap man. I then gathered the following particulars: The rebels, during the night, landed on the Island from Fort Chapman, with a force of unknown numbers, and guided by a negro, who for a long time had been on the Island in the employ of the army, surrounded the house and chapel in which a large proportion of the negroes were housed, posting a strong guard to oppose our landing.

At early dawn they fired a volley through the house, and as the alarmed people sprang nearly naked from their beds and rushed forth frantic with fear, they were shot, arrested, or knocked down. The first inquiry of the rebels was for the d — d Yankees, and at what time they were in the habit of visiting the islands, mingled with exclamations of “Be quick, boys, the people from the ship will be up,” “Let’s burn the houses,” “Not yet; they will see the fire from the ship and come up.”

Having collected most of the chickens and despoiled many of the poor people of their very wretched clothing, and told them that as they belonged to the State, or others nearly adjoining, they would not molest them, they fired the building and fled.

As the people were clamorous to be removed, I filled the boats with them and pulled down to the tender, on board of which they were placed.

On our return for the remainder they were observed, as we approached the landing, to be in the utmost confusion, dashing wildly into the marshes, and screaming: “The secesh are coming back.” On investigation, however, it proved that the enemy, in full sight, about two miles off, crossing an open space of ground, were in hasty retreat instead of advancing. On our first visit they must have been concealed in a patch of woods not more than half a mile from our pickets.

Having succeeded in removing or in providing with boats all who wished to remain to collect their little property, I returned to the ship, bringing with me about seventy, among them one man literally riddled with balls and buckshot, (since dead;) another shot through the lungs, and struck over the forehead with a clubbed musket, which laid the bone perfectly bare; one woman shot in the leg, shoulder, and thigh; one far gone in pregnancy, suffering from a dislocation of the hip-joint and injury to the womb, caused by leaping from a second-story window; and another suffering from the displacement of the cap of the knee and injury of the leg from the same cause.

It appears that the negro who had guided the party had returned to them after the evacuation of the place, told them all the troops had been withdrawn, and that the islands were entirely unprotected except by this ship. I am therefore at a loss to account for their extreme barbarity to negroes, most of whom were living on the plantation where they had been born, peacefully tilling the ground for their support which their masters, by deserting, had denied them, and who were not even remotely connected with the hated Government army.

I trust you will approve my sending the contrabands to Hilton Head. Had I not been unable to provide for such a large number, and so much embarrassed by the frequent demands made upon me for provisions by new arrivals, I should have waited for your advice in the matter.

Last Tuesday we had an arrival of thirty from the main land, and scarcely a day passed without one or more of them, always in a half-starved condition, whose appeals for food I have not yet been able to resist, though they trespass rather largely on the ship’s stores.

All those newly arrived give the same account of the want and scarcity of provisions among the white population, and of their own dangers and sufferings in effecting their escape. Though exercising no control over the negroes on the neighboring islands, I have, ever since the withdrawal of the troops, urged them to remove to Edisto or St. Helena, and warned them that some night they would be visited by the rebels.

But the majority insisted on remaining, because there was their home, while all seemed to have most perfect faith in the protection of the ship, though perhaps, as was the case last night, ten or twelve miles distant from her.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

W. T. Truxton, Lieut. Commanding. Flag-Officer S. F. Du Pont, Commanding Southern Atlantic Blockading Squadron, Port Royal, S. C.

June 13.—Since the water ran off, we have, of course, been attacked by swamp fever. H. succumbed first, then Annie, Max next, and then I. Luckily, the new Dr. Y. had brought quinine with him, and we took heroic doses. Such fever never burned in my veins before or sapped strength so rapidly, though probably the want of good food was a factor. The two or three other professional men have left. Dr. Y. alone remains. The roads now being dry enough, H. and Max started on horseback, in different directions, to make an exhaustive search for supplies. H. got back this evening with no supplies.

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Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in New Orleans, the diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were often used instead of full names — and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials.