Unidentified soldier in Confederate uniform with Colt Navy revolver and double handle D-guard Bowie knife.
Liljenquist Family Collection of Civil War Photographs; Ambrotype/Tintype photograph filing series; Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
Record page for image is here.
Civil War Portrait 014
October 12 — On picket to-day we heard some cannon firing, which I suppose was in Loudoun County.
Sunday, 12th—We started early this morning and marching thirty miles arrived at Corinth just at dark. The soldiers are all very tired and worn, having marched about sixty-five miles over a heavy road in two days. We came into Corinth over the ground we had fought over in the battle of October 3d and 4th. This battlefield is a terrible sight and gives one a horrible picture of war. Our men having hurriedly gone in pursuit of the fleeing rebels, the burial of the dead was left to the convalescents, together with such negroes as could be found to do the job. Many of the dead bodies had become so decomposed that they could not be moved and were simply covered over with a little earth just where they lay.
In Camp At The Capitol.
Camp On E. Capitol Hill,
Washington, Oct. 12, 1862.
Dear Free Press:
The Twelfth left its temporary quarters at the Soldiers’ Rest, on Friday at 11 o’clock, and moved to our present camp, something over a mile to the east of the Capitol. It is upon the wide, high, level plain called Capitol Hill. To the south of us, but hidden from our sight, runs the Eastern Branch of the Potomac, and across it are the Virginia heights, with four or five forts crowning the more prominent elevations. The ground on which we are encamped has but two or three trees in a square mile, and having been the site of numerous camps, is not overstocked with grass. Some of the men looked a little blank as they saw the bare, cheerless surface of Virginia clay on which they were to pitch their tents, and some blanker yet when they took in the length and breadth of the little strips of canvas which were to be our only shelter from sun and storm. The “shelter tent” is a couple of strips of light cotton duck, about five feet long and four feet wide, which button together at the top or ridgepole of the concern, is pitched by straining it over the muzzles of a couple of muskets set upright, and so forms a little shelter, with both ends open, under which two men may huddle and sleep at night. A short man can be fairly covered by it; a man of ordinary height must draw up his feet or let them stick outside. We got our little tents pitched by dark, and officers and men were by that time hungry enough to enjoy their supper of three hard army biscuit apiece, —there was no fuel to cook anything with, and our cooked rations had spoiled on the journey—and tired enough to drop off quickly to sleep, with but their blanket between them and the ground. Most of us, however, were waked at midnight by the rain driving into our little tabernacles. My bedfellow turned out and hung rubber blankets so as to keep out the most of it from us, and we dropped to sleep again, to sleep soundly till morning. These are mere trifles of a soldier’s every-day life; but they are what many of your readers, who wish to know just how their boys are living while away, want to know about, and so I put them on paper.
Next day our colonel and quartermaster got the strings of red tape which hang around the various departments of supply, thoroughly pulled, and by two o’clock a train of a dozen army wagons came filing into camp with fuel, rations of good bread, beef, pork and potatoes, forage, and, last but not least, A tents. These were quickly made to take the place of the little shelters, and were viewed with intense satisfaction by the men. They are not the biggest things in the world—are in fact the simplest form of tent proper, wedge shaped and holding six men apiece lying closely side by side; but they are tents, and can be closed against the weather. When we take the field, we must take the others again.
We shall now begin the work of active drill, and will soon, I trust, be in fighting order.
We have already been visited by many of our friends of other regiments—by Quartermaster Dewey, Capt. Erhardt, Sergeant Morse and others of the First Vt. Cavalry, whose camp is across the river; by several from the Eleventh Vt., which is in camp about four miles away; by Lieut. Carey, of the 13th Mass., which fine regiment, once of 1100 men, has now 700 in hospital, sick and wounded, and is reduced by losses (in battle mainly) to 191 effective men; by Lieut. “Willie” Root, of the 22d Conn., which was in camp close by us yesterday, but to-day has struck tents and moved away to Chain Bridge; and by others, whose brown and hearty faces it was pleasant to see.
We begin to realize that we are a part of the big army of the Republic—and that a single regiment is but a little part of it. Camps surround us on every side. Six thousand men, they say, came into Washington the day we did, and some come every day. They come, encamp, and disappear, the rest know not whither. Our thousand is but one of a hundred thousand, and its best blood,—which will be given as freely as water, if need be—will be but a drop in the red tide which the demon of rebellion causes to flow.
What can be done for any regiment our colonel will do for this. The men already feel attached to him—and the sentiment will strengthen, I think, as they know more of him. He will be well seconded by his field and staff; and if the Twelfth does no service it will not be the fault of its officers, as I believe. We are to be temporarily brigaded, in our present camp, with the 25th and 27th New Jersey.
Yours, B.
October 12.—This day, the rebel General Stuart’s cavalry, which had passed around the Union army of General McClellan, made good its escape across the Potomac at White’s Ford, near the mouth of the Monocacy River. During the day, General Pleasanton, with five hundred cavalry, harassed the rebel rear, and engaged them in a sharp skirmish, but with no material loss on either side.—(Doc. 5.)
—Considerable excitement was created in Gainsville, Texas, by the discovery of a secret organization of Unionists, whose object was said to be that of killing the secessionists, after which, they were to remove to Missouri, taking with them whatever property they could carry, and burn the remainder. The militia were called out, and arrested twenty-nine persons supposed to belong to the organization, two of whom were immediately hanged.—Houston News.
Sunday, 12th. Cleaned my revolver and dried my cartridges. Indians had preaching by their Chaplain. Seemed good to hear singing and preaching even in an unknown tongue. Took a bundle of letters to headquarters. Smith went with me, a right good fellow. Went to spring and bathed.
Sunday 12th.—Remained still to-day. 6 P. M., drew four days’ rations to-day; flour and pickled pork. Wagons have not come with the cooking vessels; our mess had half-gallon bucket and one copper plate; fried out grease in the plate and made up dough in the half-gallon bucket; baked part in the ashes and part wound round sticks and held over hot coals. Had rations cooked by 11 P. M. Wagons and sick are being sent away; look for fighting soon.
Corinth, Sunday, Oct. 12. To-day it was a little warmer, the rain of the last two days having cleared. My anxiety to visit the Battery was such that I was induced to start out on foot in order to see them. The walk was rather fatiguing as it was rather warm, but we found them at last on a ridge in a shady grove. But it did not look much like the camp of the 6th Battery, as they had no tents pitched and were quartered in brush bivouacs or under tarpaulins; I found them all well but somewhat reduced by the march. I remained with them for an hour, then retraced my steps alone through the solitary woods. I enjoyed pleasant thoughts of the good times to come. I reached camp by sunset well pleased with my walk and not as fatigued as I expected.
October 12th.
It is now nine o’clock of a Sabbath evening, and as I pen these lines my wife and children, perhaps are listening to words of peace as they fall from the lips of their beloved pastor. How vividly memory recalls the past, and, as of old, we seem to walk the well-known path to the house of worship, to join with dear friends in singing hymns of praise, and to receive instruction from the Word of God. How great the contrast between past and present.
Instead of pursuing the peaceful avocations of life, surrounded by my loved family, I find myself separated from them by many a weary mile, and surrounded by the savage enginery of war. Even as I write I hear the booming of cannon in the direction of Harper’s Ferry. Last evening, while mustering for dress parade we received orders for every able-bodied man to get ready to march with only their guns, ammunition and blankets, in the shortest possible time.
Bunker Hill, Va., October 12,1862.
It has not been three months since I left home. I can hardly realize that it has been so long, the time has passed so rapidly. During this period I have had the pleasure of participating in what history will record as the most astonishing expeditions of the war, for the severity of the battles fought and the hardships endured by our soldiers. And now it seems like settling down to idleness. The last week was one of quiet and stagnation like the week before. I have not been in a saddle now for two weeks, and have not been half a mile from my camp since we came to our present encampment. Yet I have been kept so busy that the time passed fast enough. I have had general charge of the orders and correspondence, which has given me full employment. We may have some more activity this fall, but I am inclined to think the campaign is over. It is too late now for either side to think of accomplishing much before winter sets in. Our army is in splendid condition. It has been rapidly increasing during the last three weeks by conscripts and convalescents who have been coming in. If the enemy cross the Potomac to begin the offensive, we shall, I think, have another great battle near this place, and I feel sure that it will be a splendid victory for us. Our victories, though, seem to settle nothing; to bring us no nearer the end of the war. It is only so many killed and wounded, leaving the work of blood to go on with renewed vigor. Like everything else, it must have an end sooner or later.
And now, darling, I will take leave of you, hoping you may have a good time getting through with your complicated troubles on the farm. No doubt you think I devote little of my time to thinking about them. True, because my work here occupies my whole time except Sunday, when, by Gen. Lee’s order, we are to remain idle unless necessity compels the work. Kiss our dear little boys for me, and remind them of their absent papa. How I wish I could see you all for a little while! But I must not think of it until Christmas.
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