Rienzi, Saturday, Sept. 20. There was nothing to break the monotony of camp life. Wrote two letters. Washed clothes. In the evening news of another battle at Iuka. They cleaned Price out and chased him four miles; 400 killed on both sides.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
20th.—11 o’clock A. M.—I worked too hard yesterday, and was so tired that I could not sleep last night. Fortunate for me that we have not moved to-day; I must have been left. I am feeling better now, however, and if we rest till evening I shall be able to go on. Terrible fighting ahead, within three or four miles, and in hearing of us. I do not know where, nor by what forces. I was stopped writing here by—who comes to me, loaded with packages from home! How appropriate the contents, and what a relief. This morning, put on my last pair of socks, having worn ragged ones for a week, fearing to use the only ones left. The package contains some beautiful ones sent me by good friends, who seem never to forget my needs. I ought to be grateful and I am. A box of cigars, too, very fine ones, from my good friend
B——. I fully appreciate the kindness which dictated this attention, and shall not forget it.
P. M.—I have kept my bed—no, my lie-down on the broad surface of mother earth, with her clean and fragrant spreads and quilts and counterpanes of clover, and now feel rested and refreshed. Was called an hour since, to have all ready for a move. I am packed, and hear that we are to march to-night.
11 P. M.—Called into line from our earthy beds and under the cover of the dark black night, through which peeps a few bright stars we take up our march. Passing Sharpsburg, and one or two log cabin villages, we halted at daylight about two miles southeast of Williamsport, a village on the Maryland side of the Potomac, with a population, I should judge, of five or six hundred.
September 20— It was ten o’clock this morning when we left camp. We moved up the Winchester pike to Bunker’s Hill, and remained there till dusk, when we moved to Smithfield and camped. We passed about two hundred army wagons on the road between Bunker’s Hill and Smithfield. There are a great many troops camped around Bunker’s Hill. The whole country around there was ablaze this evening with camp-fires.
September 20th, Saturday.
General Carter has just received a letter from Lydia, which contains what to me is the most melancholy intelligence — the news of the death of Eugene Fowler,[1] who was killed on the 22d of August, in some battle or skirmish in Virginia. Poor Eugene! . . . Does it not seem that this war will sweep off all who are nearest and dearest, as well as most worthy of life, leaving only those you least care for, unharmed?
Saturday, September 20th.—An official account in the morning’s paper of the surrender of Harper’s Ferry to our men on Sunday last. Colonel Miles, the Federal commander, surrendered, unconditionally, to General Jackson, 11,000 prisoners, 50 pieces of artillery, 12,000 stand of arms, ammunition, quartermaster and commissary stores in large quantities. McClellan attempted to come to the rescue of Harper’s Ferry. A courier was captured, sent by him to Miles, imploring him to hold out until he could bring him reinforcements. General Lee ordered General D. H. Hill to keep McClellan in check, and, for this purpose, placed him on the road near Boonesborough. It is said that McClellan had a force of 80,000 men, and that General Hill, on Saturday and Sunday, kept him in check all day—General Longstreet getting up at night. Next day they attacked him, repulsed and drove him five miles. The details of the battle have not yet appeared. We have further rumours of fighting, but nothing definite. It is impossible for me to say how miserable we are about our dear boys.
The body of Brigadier-General Garland was brought to . this, his native city, and his home, yesterday for interment. He was killed in the battle near Boonesborough. This event was a great shock to the community, where he was loved, admired, and respected. His funeral yesterday evening was attended by an immense concourse of mourning friends. It made my heart ache, as a soldier’s funeral always does. I did not know him, but I know that he was ” the only child of his mother, and she is a widow;” and I know, moreover, that the country cannot spare her chivalric sons.
September 20, Saturday. Am troubled by Preble’s conduct. There must be a stop put to the timid, hesitating, and I fear sometimes traitorous course of some of our officers. Tenderness, remonstrance, reproof do no good. Preble is not a traitor, but loyal. An educated, gentlemanly officer of a distinguished family and more than ordinary acquirements, but wants promptitude, energy, decision, audacity, perhaps courage. I am inclined to believe, however, an excess of reading, and a fear that he might violate etiquette, some point of international law, or that he should give offense to Great Britain, whose insolence the State Department fears and deprecates and submits to with all humility, had its influence. He paused at a critical moment to reflect on what he had read and the state of affairs. A man less versed in books would have sunk the pirate if she did not stop when challenged, regardless of her colors. No Englishman had a right to approach and pass the sentinel on duty. Preble was placed there to prevent intercourse, — was a sentinel to watch the Rebels and all others, — and no Englishman had a right to trespass. A board of officers would be likely to excuse him, as in the case —— of and ——,[1]on account of his amiable qualities, general intelligence, and good intentions. The time has arrived when these derelictions must not go unpunished. I should have preferred that some other man should have been punished. I have had the subject under consideration with some of the best minds I could consult, and found no difference of opinion. I then took the dispatches to the President and submitted them to him. He said promptly: “Dismiss him. If that is your opinion, it is mine. I will do it.” Secretary Seward and Attorney-General Bates, each of whom I casually met, advised dismissal. It is painful, but an unavoidable duty. I am sorry for Preble, but shall be sorry for my country if it is not done. Its effect upon the Navy will be more salutary than were he and fifty like him to fall in battle.
Commander Joe Smith,[2] who died at his post when the ill-fated Congress went down from the assault of the Merrimac, perished in the line of duty. I have never been satisfied with the conduct of the flag-officer[3] in those days, who was absent in the waters of North Carolina, — purposely and unnecessarily absent, in my apprehension, through fear of the Merrimac, which he knew was completed, and ready to come out. It was like dread of the new Merrimac at Richmond, which was nearly ready, that led him finally to resign his squadron command. He has wordy pretensions, some capacity, but no hard courage. There is a clan of such men in the Navy, varying in shade and degree, who in long years of peace have been students and acquired position, but whose real traits are not generally understood. The Department is compelled to give them commands, and at the same time is held responsible for their weakness, errors, and want of fighting qualities.
Nothing conclusive from the army. The Rebels have crossed the river without being hurt or seriously molested, — much in character with the general army management of the war. Little is said on the subject. Stanton makes an occasional sneering remark, Chase now and then a better one, but there is no general review, inquiry, or discussion. There is no abatement of hostility to McClellan.
[2] Lieutenant Joseph B. Smith.
[3] Captain, afterwards Rear-Admiral, Louis M. Goldsborough.
Saturday, 20th—We remained in line of battle all night and early this morning advanced in a line about two miles, when we received orders to march on into Iuka. The rebels retreated during the night, and General Rosecrans’ forces are after them. We learned this morning that a battle had been fought yesterday here by Rosecrans’ forces alone. When we were waiting for the sound of Rosecrans’ cannon, we could not hear them on account of an unfavorable wind. The rebels attacked him and made the fight come off a day before the time set for our capture of them. The Sixteenth Iowa of Crocker’s Brigade had been detached from us and sent forward, being the only regiment of our brigade engaged in the fight. Their loss was fourteen killed. The Fifth Iowa in Rosecrans’ army was trapped in an ambush which was made with a battery masked in green leaves, and lost forty-one killed. The rebels were driven out and left their dead and wounded on the field. Quite a number of our wounded are now being brought into town from the battlefield. Iuka is a nice place with some good buildings. It is well supplied with good water from splendid springs. There is poor farming land around here, it being quite rolling in this part of Tennessee. The timber, mostly pine, is rather scrubby.
September 20. — Got a dispatch from Platt. Fear Lucy has not heard of my wound; had hoped to see her today, probably shan’t. This hurts me worse than the bullet did.
Saturday, 20th. Reveille at sunrise. Boys got the coffee and bacon ready at the creek. Went down with Archie, washed and breakfasted.
As we passed the Big Drywood, we noticed our bed of rough crooked poles. Reached Lamar at 4 P. M. Orders for no man to enter any house or to disturb any property whatever. Some complaining at first but boys soon saw it was the better way. Capt. bought a sheep for breakfast. Noticed several rather tasty girls.
Saturday, 20th.—Big Eagle Creek has ceased to run, and we have to drink pond water, along with the horses, cows, hogs, etc. Orders to move at 6 in the morning.
