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

Friday, October 19, 2012

Post image for Diary of a Southern Refugee, Judith White McGuire.

Diary of a Southern Refugee, Judith White McGuire.

October 19, 2012

Diary of a Southern Refugee During the War by Judith White McGuire

Ashland, October 19.—We are now snugly fixed in Ashland. Our mess consists of Bishop J.-and family, Major J and wife, Lieutenant J. J. and wife (our daughter,) Mrs. S. and daughter, of Chantilly, Mr.——, myself, and our two young daughters—a goodly number for a cottage with eight small rooms; but we are very comfortable. All from one neighbourhood, all refugees, and none able to do better, we are determined to take every thing cheerfully. Many remarks are jestingly made suggestive of unpleasant collisions among so many families in one house; but we anticipate no evils of that kind; each has her own place, and her own duties to perform; the young married ladies of the establishment are by common consent to have the housekeeping troubles; their husbands are to be masters, with the onerous duties of caterers, treasurers, etc. We old ladies have promised to give our sage advice and experience, whenever it is desired. The girls will assist their sisters, with their nimble fingers, in cases of emergency; and the clerical gentlemen are to have their own way, and to do their own work without let or hindrance. All that is required of them is, that they shall be household chaplains, and that Mr.—— shall have service every Sunday at the neglected village church. With these discreet regulations, we confidently expect a most pleasant and harmonious establishment. Our young gentlemen are officers stationed in Richmond. Mr. —— and themselves go in every morning in the cars, after an early breakfast, and return to dinner at five o’clock. J. J. and myself have free tickets to go on the cars to attend to our hospital duties. I go in twice a week for that purpose.

A dispatch just received from General Bragg, claiming a signal victory at Perryville; but in consequence of the arrival of large reinforcements to the enemy, he had fallen back to Cumberland Gap. These victories without permanent results do us no good, and so much blood is spilled. There seems to be a revolution going on at the North. Ohio, ndiana, and Pennsylvania have given the Democrats a large majority for Congress ! So may it be!

Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.

October 19, 2012

Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.

October 19 — This morning at daybreak we returned to our picket post again.

Post image for A Confederate Girl’s Diary

A Confederate Girl’s Diary

October 19, 2012

A Confederate Girl's Diary by Sarah Morgan Dawson

Clinton,

October 19th, Sunday.

What an unexpected change! I am surprised myself! Yesterday as the Baton Rouge party were about leaving, Miriam thought Lilly would be lonesome alone here with her sick baby, and decided that we should leave by the cars, and stay with her until mother returned. There was no time to lose; so dressing in haste, we persuaded Anna to accompany us, and in a few moments stood ready. We walked down to the overseer’s house to wait for the cars, and passed the time most agreeably in eating sugar-cane, having brought a little negro expressly to cut it for us and carry our carpet-bag. Three young ladies, who expected to be gone from Saturday until Wednesday, having but one carpet-bag between them! Can it be credited? But, then, we knew we had clothes here, and depended upon them for supplies, when we now find they are in the trunk and mother has the key.

We walked aboard alone, in the crowded train, and found ourselves in the only car reserved for ladies, which was already filled with a large party returning from Port Hudson, consisting of the fastest set of girls that I have seen for some time. Anna and I had to content ourselves with a seat on a small box between the benches, while Miriam was established on the only vacant one, with a sick soldier lying at her feet. The fast girls talked as loud as possible and laughed in a corresponding style in spite of the sick man. They must have been on a picnic, from the way they talked. One in a short dress complained that she had not seen her sweetheart. A pert little miss of thirteen cried, “You can bet your head I never went to any place where I did not see one of my sweethearts.” One of about seventeen, a perfect beauty, declared she would die of thirst. “So will I! and I don’t want to die before I get a husband!” exclaimed her vis-à-vis. They evidently expected to produce an impression on us. At every “brilliant” remark (“stupid” understood), they looked at us to see what we thought. All of them sat with bare heads in the strong light, an unfailing proof of la basse classe on steamers and cars. Every time my veil blew aside, they made no difficulty about scanning my features as though they thought it might be agreeable. I must confess I was equally impolite in regard to the Beauty; but then her loveliness was an excuse, and my veil sheltered me, besides. While this young Psyche was fascinating me, with her perfect face and innocent expression, one of her companions made a remark — one that I dare say is made every day, and that I never imagined could be turned into harm. My Beauty uttered a prolonged “Oh!” of horror, and burst out laughing, followed by all the others. My disgust was unspeakable. Mock modesty is always evident. A modest girl could not have noticed the “catch”; the immodest, on the lookout for such an opportunity, was the only one who could have perceived it. Well! after all, no one can be perfect; this may be the single stain on my Beauty, though I confess I would rather have any other failing than this, almost.

Putting this aside, I hardly know which I was most amused by: the giddy, lively girls to my right, or the two ladies to my left who were as cross and ill-natured as two old cats and railed unmercifully at the silly creatures behind them, and carried their spite so far as to refuse to drink because the conductor (the husband of one of them) gave the young ladies water before passing it to their two elders. Did n’t the poor man get it! She would n’t taste a drop of that nasty dirty drippings, that she would n’t! Might have had the decency to attend to his kinfolks, before them creatures! And why did n’t he wait on those two young ladies behind her? He did ask them? Well, ask them again! they must want some! Poor Henpecked meekly passed the can again, to be again civilly declined.

I confess the “drippings” were too much for me also, though I did not give it as my excuse. Mrs. Hen recommenced her pecking; poor Mr. Hen at last surlily rejoined, “For Heaven’s sake, don’t make a fuss in the cars,” with an emphasis on the last word that showed he was accustomed to it at home, at least. With my veil down, I leaned against the window, and remembering Colonel Breaux’s remarks two nights before concerning cross people, I played his “little philosopher” for the remainder of the journey.

At sunset we walked in at Lilly’s gate, and astonished her by standing before her as she sat alone with her poor sick little Beatrice in her arms. . . .

Post image for Downing’s Civil War Diary.–Alexander G. Downing.

Downing’s Civil War Diary.–Alexander G. Downing.

October 19, 2012

Diary of Alexander G. Downing; Company E, Eleventh Iowa Infantry

Sunday, 19th—Nothing of importance. This is our first Sunday in a quiet camp for more than two months. We had company inspection this morning and dress parade at 5 o’clock in the evening.

Post image for Reminiscences of the Civil War by William and Adelia Lyon.

Reminiscences of the Civil War by William and Adelia Lyon.

October 19, 2012

Reminiscences of the Civil War, William and Adelia Lyon

To Mrs. Lyon.

Fort Henry, Tenn., Oct. 19, 1862.—We moved our camp yesterday upon better ground, one-fourth of a mile distant, all except the quarters of the field and staff officers, to be removed tomorrow; so, being isolated from the regiment, I am having a very quiet Sunday, indeed.

We are having beautiful Indian summer weather, with cool nights. The only drawback is the heavy fogs that gather along the river every morning, producing agues and intermittents among the men. Ten per cent of our men are reported sick, that is 60 out of 600, the number we have here. This will subside in a month or so, and then I think you must come here, provided things look as though we would remain for some time longer.

I am feeling perfectly well, and perform all my duties without difficulty, but find that I am far from having my old strength. I take the best possible care of myself, keeping out of the hot sun and out of the fogs as much as possible. You know it is the easiest thing in the world for me to keep out of a morning fog.

I have not given you any particulars of this command, and will do so now. This military district embraces Forts Henry, Heiman, and Donelson. By looking on the map you will see that Kentucky extends a few miles farther south on the west side of the Tennessee river than it does on the east side. Fort Heiman is in Kentucky, on the west bank of the river, close to the state line of Tennessee. Fort Henry is on the east bank of the river, about one-half mile below, or north, of a point opposite Fort Heiman. Fort Donelson is fifteen miles southeast of us, on the west bank of the Cumberland. These places are called forts, but the guns are all taken away but one or two, and they amount to nothing as fortifications. The district is commanded by Colonel Lowe, of the 5th Iowa Cavalry, who is said to be a careful, excellent officer. He has been absent ever since I came here, and so I have not seen him.

The forces at the three points are the 83d Illinois, 13th Wisconsin, four companies of the 71st Ohio, the 5th Regiment of Iowa Cavalry, and four pieces of field artillery; or, more correctly speaking, two sections, eight companies of the 83d and two of the cavalry and one section of artillery are at Donelson, and the balance of the force is here and at Heiman. In the absence of Colonel Lowe the district is under the command of Colonel Harding of the 83d, a rich old fellow from Illinois, with no military training whatever. He is as brave as Julius Caesar and is a grand man, and I am very fond of him. Last night I got a telegram from him ordering me to move this morning with all of my available force to Canton, thirty miles distant, thence to La Fayette, thirty miles farther, where we would be thirty-five miles from here. The commanding officer of the cavalry had received the same orders. The object of the expedition was no doubt to chase a band of thieving guerillas who infest the region of La Fayette, but who mounted on fleet horses always run at our approach. We knew that it was useless to go after them and that Colonel Lowe if here would disapprove of the expedition; so we held a council of officers to devise the best way ‘how not to do it.’ The result was that we sent a couple of smooth-tongued officers to Donelson to coax the old Colonel off the notion. They succeeded, and at two o’clock this morning the order to march was countermanded by telegraph. The only loss was part of a night’s sleep.

We are not in decently respectable peril here, and yet these posts must be held by somebody. Our greatest privation is want of mails. I have not heard a word from home since I left. I expect a mail tomorrow morning. You did right to have father go to Mauston to see and comfort poor suffering Katie and her family.

Since commencing this, four companies of my regiment have been ordered on a six-days’ expedition in the country.

Post image for War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney.

War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney.

October 19, 2012

War Diary of Luman Harris Tenney.

Sunday, 19th. Fed when out two or three miles. Got some apples. When we reached Heron’s division, I called at his quarters and inquired if he could give the Capt. any information. Very pleasant. Stylish. A fur coverlet, neat stove and desk, cigars and very fine dress. Said that the rebel pickets were within a third of a mile of ours the night before. Wouldn’t pass his pickets, hardly advisable, do as he thought fit. Went through to the town, 100 of our Indians there. Called at two houses and had very pleasant and spicy chats with two girls, one pleasant lady. Southern officers left their “regards” for any “Feds” that might call. Believed the south right. Would fight if a man. Got back to camp at dark and found good letter from home and Fannie. Pleased with the whole trip and incidents. Quite a laugh with the captain. Like Arkansas first rate considering—good farms and orchards—pretty girls.

Post image for War Letters of William Thompson Lusk.

War Letters of William Thompson Lusk.

October 19, 2012

War Letters of William Thompson Lusk.

79th Regiment, Camp Israel,

Pleasant Valley,

Oct. 19th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

It is some little time since I have had an opportunity to write you, for a few days ago we were suddenly sent to Frederick for the protection of that place, apprehensive of an attack from Stuart’s troopers. While there, we had no conveniences for inditing epistles, little to eat, and plenty of exposure. When I left for Frederick, I was quite ill with camp dysentery, but it left me very soon, although I have no doubt, could you have seen me lying out of doors without shelter in the cold night air, you would have predicted certain death to me. I find men don’t die easy, unless they are shot. Atmospheric exposure doesn’t kill. Men grow and thrive with hardship.

Well, so I am another Uncle, bless my heart! As well as the little heart of the new youngster who wouldn’t be a girl for any consideration! The female sex don’t seem to smile upon me, but then boys are such “rare birds,” as Dr. Tyng said of Billy Willson’s Zouaves. There’s some consolation in that. I think I shall accept the Uncleship of Ellen’s baby, so that when I get old and a busybody, I can make a match between this last nephew of mine and little Miss Dodge. Hey! Won’t it be fun! Give the small boy a good kissing, tell him I am going to arrange all his love matters for him when he gets old enough, and most charming of all, will buy him a new drum as soon as he can handle the drumsticks. For the rest I do not doubt but that he is a phenomenon of a beautiful mottled cherry color, in fact beyond comparison, unequalled by any other baby of his age living. Give my congratulations to Hunt and Mary, and tell them, like a good, brother I rejoice with them, and only wish I could be present with them for a few days to share their joy.

It is raining hard to-night and we think that cold weather will follow. As for promotion, I do not bother my head about that. I have enough to disgust me in a thousand ways to make me sick of soldiering. However, duty is duty, so I put my nose to the grindstone and say, “Grind away.” . . . My own tent—we are five of us together—has a pretty good set of fellows. The only trouble is, with the exception of my old first Lieutenant (appointed Capt. today), they sadly lack interest in the cause they are engaged upon. These new Regiments have destroyed the enthusiasm of the old. The newly enlisted men have already in advance, in the way of bounties, received more money than old soldiers can hope to earn in the entire war. The old officers who have been in many battles and by hard service have learned their duty, are obliged to receive instructions when on picket or other extra duty, from some Major just entering on military life, who very likely pegged shoes for them, without an inspiration for military glory, a year ago. These things are hard to gulp down, and unless the sense of duty is very strong the murmurings are loud indeed.

Affec’y.,

Will.

Post image for An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones.

An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones.

October 19, 2012

An Artilleryman's Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones, 6th Battery, Wisconsin Artillery.

Corinth, Sunday, Oct. 19. To-day we were told the sad news of the death of one of our number, John Haskins, who died during the night of chronic diarrhea. We had an inspection at 9 A. M. and in the afternoon we paid the last tribute of respect which one man can pay to another, to the remains of our comrade, Haskins. He was buried by the side of the brave five that fell in the battle of Corinth.

Post image for “I felt to-day as though I were at my old trade—destroying the railroad—which I was at eighteen months ago.”–Letters from Elisha Franklin Paxton.

“I felt to-day as though I were at my old trade—destroying the railroad—which I was at eighteen months ago.”–Letters from Elisha Franklin Paxton.

October 19, 2012

Elisha Franklin Paxton – Letters from camp and field while an officer in the Confederate Army

Martinsburg, October 19, 1862.

I have spent a busy Sunday, superintending the destruction of the railroad here, and will spend what little remains of the day in writing you a short note. It is a bad chance for a letter, as I write on my pocket-book resting on my knee. I received your letter of the 9th ult., and was glad to hear from you. I felt to-day as though I were at my old trade—destroying the railroad—which I was at eighteen months ago. Last week we thought there was a chance for another battle, as it was reported the enemy was advancing. But it turned out to be only a scouting party. With that exception, we have had a very quiet time.

Post image for Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

October 19, 2012

Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

Sunday, October 19. [Chattanooga] —While visiting the men this afternoon, I found four who had not eaten any thing for some time. I sent a nurse to one of the citizens—Mrs. Moore; told him to tell her to send us some milk, for charity’s sake, which she did, and the poor fellows drank it as if it really did them good. I could not help thinking, if I was only near some of my Mobile friends, how gladly they would give me as much as I wanted.

Went to the Episcopal Church this morning, but found it closed. Mrs. W. and I went, this evening, to the Presbyterian Church, accompanied by Rev. Mr. Williams, whom I knew in Okolona. He is a colporteur in this department. We heard an excellent sermon, preached by a chaplain. We were warned, as we have often been before, to try and live in obedience to God’s commands, so that we might get his blessing instead of his curse. The ministers of the gospel seem to have done their part in this respect; so, if we go astray, it will be willful blindness.

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