October 4 — This morning I went to Charlestown with my detachment to relieve the second detachment. I returned to camp this evening, as the gunner of the second detachment refused to leave his piece, but took charge of my men.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
October 4th, Saturday.
While Anna and Miriam went out riding last evening, just as I put down my pen, I went out for a solitary walk down the road that Gibbes would have to pass; but saw nothing of the carriage. When I got back, they told me he was wounded. My fears were well founded, then. With what anxiety we waited for his coming it would be impossible to describe. Every wagon rattling through the fields made us stop and listen; every canestalk waving in the moonlight brought us to our feet.
At last, after supper, far off in the clear light we saw the carriage. I could not sit still. I walked down the steps and stood under the tree in front, followed by Anna. I did not like her to stand nearer the spot where it would stop than I, even. All the rest remained on the balcony. We did not know how serious the wound might be; we must be careful. Eugene Carter advised caution for more reasons than one. “Look out!” he cried; “suppose it should be Colonel Breaux?” “Then I am afraid the Colonel will get a kiss,” I answered nervously, shuffling from one foot to the other. “But suppose it is Mr. M——?” he persisted. “Oh, thank you for the caution! I will look carefully before I greet him!” I returned, moving to the other side, for nearer around the circle moved the carriage. I heard his voice.
“O Gibbes, where is it?” “Left shoulder; mere scratch,” he answered. The carriage stopped, “Gibbes! Gibbes!” I cried. “My darling!” and he had his great strong arm around me; the left was hanging in a sling. Slowly the others moved down the steps towards him. What a meeting! My heart was in my throat, I was so happy. Every one caught the well hand and kissed him again and again, and every one shrunk from that left side. I had almost forgotten my “gear Lygia” in my excitement. We followed him on the balcony and put him in a chair near the steps. I pulled off his hat and coat, and knelt in front of him with my arm across his lap, to get near enough. Miriam stood on the steps with his arm around her shoulder, and Lydia near. The others stood around; altogether, it was a happy group that performed in the tableau of “The Soldier’s Return.” Presently the negroes gathered too. “How is you, Mass’ Gibbes?” in all imaginable keys and accents was heard, while the Captain shook hands with each and inquired into their own state of health.
But even wounded soldiers can eat; so supper was again prepared. I am afraid it gave me too much pleasure to cut up his food. It was very agreeable to butter his cornbread, carve his mutton, and spread his preserves; but I doubt whether it could be so pleasant to a strong man, accustomed to do such small services for himself. We listened to him talk, but though it was evident from his slow, deliberate speech, so different from his ordinary habit, that he was suffering, yet I felt impatient when he was interrupted by any commonplace observation by one of us. I wanted to learn something of his exploits. Much knowledge I obtained! He was wounded at Sharpsburg on the 17th September, at nine in the morning. That is all the information I got concerning himself. One would imagine that the seventeen months that have elapsed since we last met had been passed in a prolonged picnic. Concerning others, he was quite communicative. Father Hubert told him he had seen George in the battle, and he had come out safe. Gibbes did not even know that he was in it, until then. Our army, having accomplished its object, recrossed the Potomac, after what was decidedly a drawn battle. Both sides suffered severely.
Hardly an officer on either side escaped unhurt. Mr. McGimsey is wounded, and Major Herron reported killed. I expect the list will contain the names of many friends when it comes.
I have just come from seeing Gibbes’s wound dressed. If that is a scratch, Heaven defend me from wounds! A miné ball struck his left shoulder strap, which caused it to glance, thereby saving the bone. Just above, in the fleshy part, it tore the flesh off in a strip three inches and a half by two. Such a great raw, green, pulpy wound, bound around by a heavy red ridge of flesh! Mrs. Badger, who dressed it, turned sick; Miriam turned away groaning; servants exclaimed with horror; it was the first experience of any, except Mrs. Badger, in wounds. I wanted to try my nerves; so I held the towel around his body and kept the flies off while it was being washed. He talked all the time, ridiculing the groans of sympathy over a “scratch,” and oh, how I loved him for his fortitude! It is so offensive that the water trickling on my dress has obliged me to change it.
Saturday, 4th—During the night all was quiet and our brigade fell back to the last line of fortifications which, extending almost around the town, had been built in the last few days. Here we lay in line of battle all night. The rebels commenced to throw shells into town this morning at daylight. I was still on guard with the teams and we had to get out of that place in double quick. The rebels threw some ten or twelve shells before our battery in Fort Robinet could get the range of them, but when they did, they opened on them some sixty-four-pounders and soon put the rebel’s battery out of commission. I was relieved and went to join the regiment, which had been advanced to support a battery. About 10 o’clock the rebels made a charge upon Fort Robinet, to our right, and tried to break our lines at that point but failed. This charge was made by a Texas cavalry, dismounted; they came clear over into the fort, driving some of our artillerymen from their guns, but they were soon overpowered, some being killed and some taken prisoner. The colonel of the regiment planted their flag on our fort, but he was almost immediately killed. The rebels’ dead just outside of the fort lay three or four deep and the blood ran in streams down the trenches. The rebels finally withdrew about 4 p. m., leaving their dead and wounded. The Iowa Brigade was placed to the left of Fort Robinet, in support of a battery, but did not become engaged during the day. Some of our forces started after the fleeing rebels. We received orders to be ready to march in the morning, and have to lie in line of battle all night.
October 4, 1826. — Visited the battle-field with Lucy, Mr. Rudy, Corporal West, and Carrington this [my] fortieth birthday, Hunted up the graves of our gallant boys.
[The next day Hayes had a letter from Dr. J. T. Webb, who was with the Twenty-third at Sharpsburg, Maryland, informing him that General Cox had been ordered back to western Virginia. The letter said: “We all expect to be on our way back in a few days. There is much dissatisfaction at the prospect of returning to western Virginia. For my part, I will not remain in western Virginia another winter for any consideration whatever, if there is any way to avoid it.”
Dr. Webb added these words about a young man some day to be President: “Our young friend, William McKinley, commissary sergeant, would be pleased with a promotion, and would not object to your recommendation for the same. Without wishing to interfere in this matter, it strikes me he is about the brightest chap spoken of for the place.”
A few days later Colonel and Mrs. Hayes returned to Ohio. October 17, Miss Laura Platt, Hayes’s niece, wrote Mr. Sardis Birchard announcing her approaching marriage to Mr. John G. Mitchell. To this letter Hayes added the following postscript: “I know Mr. Mitchell (Colonel Mitchell) well. He is a young lawyer, educated at Kenyon, of good family, entered the war as lieutenant, then adjutant, then captain, and now lieutenant colonel of [the] One Hundred and Thirteenth. A member of the Episcopal Church, and a capital fellow. He is neither tall nor slim, but good-looking. He is taller than Laura and about as ‘chunky.'”]
Knapsack Drill And Review.
Camp Lincoln, Brattleboro, Oct. 4, 1862.
Dear Free Press:
An order was read at dress parade Thursday night, announcing the appointment of Col. E. H. Stoughton, of the Fourth Vermont, to the position of Commandant of this Post, and his assumption of the duties of the station. He has established his headquarters just outside the grounds, and it is understood will proceed actively with the work of disciplining these five regiments.
The overcoats, knapsacks, belts, cartridge boxes and haversacks were distributed yesterday morning, completing our equipment. The articles seem to be very good, with the exception, perhaps, of the knapsacks and haversacks, which might be better without injury to the service or to the feelings of the troops. They are, however, I suppose, the best that could be procured. The whole form an amount of harness which strikes the unsophisticated recruit with a slight feeling of dismay. Is it possible, he says to himself, that all this pile of traps is only my share, and is all to be carried on my devoted shoulders? Why have they made them all so heavy? What earthly reason now, for cutting these straps out of such an almighty thick side of harness leather, and making them so broad, too? However, we took them all, and were, I trust, duly thankful for the same.
Yesterday afternoon was rendered memorable by our first knapsack drill. The orders were for a review of the regiment, fully equipped, with knapsacks packed. The overcoat was accordingly folded and placed within the knapsack; the change of underclothing, socks, etc., ditto; and the woolen blanket rolled tightly within the rubber blanket and then strapped on the top. The whole concern, with the straps, weighs on an average about thirty-five pounds, and there goes science, let me tell you, to the production of a skillfully packed knapsack.
The review was considered, I am told, quite a fine affair by the numerous array of spectators. Let me endeavor to give you an inside view of the affair, as it seemed to one in the ranks. We of the rank and file did not think it so fine. At two o’clock, then, each private hoisted on to his shoulders his knapsack, packed as above, slung around him his haversack and canteen, buckled on his cartridge-box and shoulder-belt, and musket in hand, took his place in the ranks. The sun has come out hot. About fifteen minutes of waiting takes place before moving into line, in the course of which the luckless volunteer becomes distinctly conscious of a weight on his back. He straightens up manfully, however, and endeavors, when the order comes, to step out with his customary light step. But that, he finds, is not quite so easy. He is logy. He weighed 145 pounds half an hour ago, now he weighs 190. That knapsack gives an undue momentum to his about-face, and bumps uncomfortably against his neighbor’s as he faces from file to front. But we are in line now. The captain, astonished at the unwonted clumsiness of his men, labors hard, but with only moderate success, to “dress” them into a straight line, and there we stand, arms at shoulder. There is drumming and fifing and stepping into place of officers; but you notice little of what is going on. Your attention is mainly directed to a spot between your shoulder blades, which feels peculiarly. In short it aches. The sensation gradually spreads through your back and shoulders, and is complicated with a sense of suffocation from the pressure of the straps across the chest. The perspiration bursts from every pore. You hear a groan from your comrade on the left, and are comforted to know that you have company in your misery; but it is a poor consolation. Your knapsack is evidently growing both in size and weight. It felt heavy before; now it weighs on you like a thousand of brick. You cease to wonder at the breadth and thickness of the straps which support it,—any thing less strong would snap with the tension of such a weight. You haven’t been in the habit thus far, of considering it a desirable thing to be detailed for guard duty; but you now find yourself looking off at the sentries pacing to and fro with only their muskets to carry, and you wish you were on guard to-day. And now you are conscious of a sharp pain in the hollow of your right arm, from holding your musket at the shoulder for three-quarters of an hour. Why can’t they let us order arms for five minutes? But instead comes the order to wheel into platoons, and around the grounds we are marched for a weary hour. We don’t march good. We don’t “right dress” and “left dress” good, we don’t “wheel” good, and we don’t feel good; but somehow or other we get through with it—though a few of the weaker or ailing ones drop out of the ranks—and we are still alive when marched to quarters and allowed to break ranks. It feels better now that it is done aching; but there are some of us who express the deliberate opinion, that with all the need of drill and toughening for our work, two hours of knapsack drill on a hot afternoon, was a pretty steep dose for raw recruits, the very first time. We shall all learn to like it in time, doubtless; but like olives, tobacco and some other luxuries, one must get accustomed to it to really enjoy it.
At the close of dress parade yesterday afternoon, we were drawn up in hollow square, and a presentation of a handsome sword to Col. Blunt, by the commissioned officers of the regiment, took place. The presentation speech was made by Chaplain Brastow, and was, I am told (we could not hear it) a very appropriate one. Col. Blunt responded in fitting terms. The sword is a beautiful one, of Ames’ make, with two scabbards, one for field service, and the other richly gilt and chased. After this, a presentation of a pair of shoulder straps to Major Kingsley, by the Rutland Light Guard, his former company, took place.
We are to be mustered into the U. S. service, reviewed by the Governor, and inspected in full marching equipment by Adjt. Gen. Washburn to-day. It will be a busy and hard day.
There is a camp rumor that the regiment is to go to New Orleans.
Saturday, 4th. Rainy and cold early. At sunrise got in sight of the enemy at Newtonia. Got batteries and men into position and fired upon them. The scene of the cannonading of our troops and the enemy was grand. The enemy in force are massed behind a fence and upon the plain near the woods. Our troops occupied the surrounding hills. The enemy at first scatter at the artillery fire, then collect again and commence a retreat. Rabb’s Battery, infantry and cavalry follow. We had been support to this battery. Now we change to the 2nd Battery, our own, which had been shelling the town and driven 100 men out. Boys rush into town and soon report 23 wounded of the Dutch retaken. Soon camped for the day. Horses saddled. The enemy fight Rabb. He follows closely and pours shell into them. Boys lay down, half frozen, and slept. One adj. regiment and one Adj. General captured. Took one piece of artillery, a long wire arrangement. Got rails and water and had coffee. Horse grows stronger. Rode about town.
Saturday, 4th.—Left camp on Elk Horn Creek 7 A. M. Arrived at Frankfort at 11 A. M. Our brigade sent in to the city and inaugurated Hawes’ Provisional Governor of Kentucky. Generals Bragg, Kirby Smith, Buckner and several other generals present at the inauguration. When over, a salute of several guns was fired. We then marched up river two miles and began preparing to cook rations, but were ordered off in the direction of Versailes. Reported 15,000 Federals near Frankfort; perhaps that hurried us off. Governor Hawes came with us, anyway. Don’t think he got to occupy the chair as chief executive of the State more than about three hours.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey to her cousin, Georgeanna at Portsmouth Grove.
New Haven, October, ’62.
And now for Miss Wormeley’s delightful letter; my dear, it sounds too good to come true, all of it, and yet I can’t help thinking that Providence smiles on the scheme and will bring about papa’s consent. . . . We shall have it working beautifully in a short time, I see—and oh, G., what a happy winter we shall have! . . . Abby remarks in her last to Mary—”Sarah’s going and Jane’s (! !) I regard in the light of an agreeable fiction, but it will do for them to play at for a little while.” . . .
I shall be ready any day after Monday.
OCTOBER 4TH.—A splendid aurora borealis last night.
Yesterday, most of the delegation in Congress from Kentucky and Tennessee petitioned the President to order Gen. Breckinridge, at Knoxville, to march to the relief of Nashville, and expel the enemy, without waiting for orders from Gen. Bragg, now in Kentucky. The President considers this an extraordinary request, and will not, I suppose, grant it.
It is said Gen, Lee is advancing against Gen. McClellan at Martinsburg. If Lee attacks him, and beats him, he will probably be ruined, for the Potomac will be in his rear.
The enemy’s paper, printed at Nashville, thinks Bragg has taken Louisville. I hope so. I think we shall get Nashville soon.
Gen. Butler, the Yankee commander in New Orleans, has issued an order to all the inhabitants of that city, sympathizing with the Southern Confederacy, to present themselves immediately, and take the oath of allegiance, when they will be recommended for pardon. If they do not comply with the order, they will be arrested by his police, cast into prison, and their property confiscated. These are the orders which rally our men and make them fight like heroes. How many Yankees will bleed and die in consequence of this order? And Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation will seal the doom of one hundred thousand of his own people!
A letter from Gen. Lee, dated October 1st, says that McClellan has not crossed the Potomac. Some of his scouts have been at Martinsburg, or in its vicinity. It is not to be supposed that Lee can be amused by McClellan, while a force of any magnitude is sent against Richmond. Some fear this, but I don’t.
October 4.—Last night one of the returned prisoners died, very suddenly, of congestive chills. His name was Thomas Goff, member of the First Border Rangers of Virginia; he has left a wife and four children to mourn their loss. His brother was with him, and has taken his death very hard. Dr. Hopping, who attended him, was very kind. He did not leave him from the time he was taken sick until he died.
