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

Friday, November 9, 2012

Sunday, 9th.-—How little like Sunday the day has been; marching, whooping, hollering. Few even know it is Sunday. From present appearances, one would judge that—

“The sound of the church going bells,

These valleys and rocks never heard.”

March to-day with all teams in advance. What does it mean? Are we again retreating with our two hundred thousand of the best troops the world ever saw? I will not believe it yet, though McClellan’s friends claim that he is the best retreater known in modern warfare. We are encamped to-night near New Baltimore, a Virginia town, which once boasted a blacksmith shop and two houses.

Sunday, 9th.—Received suit clothes and letter from home.

November 9th. Arrived off the city of New Orleans at noon, and came to anchor. Here we were saluted again by a French and an English man-of-war which were laying at anchor here. We are once more occupying our old position as the Flag Ship. As a matter of course all business for the fleet is transacted on board of this ship. As soon as we dropped our anchor the business began. All commanding officers attached to vessels lying here come on board to report to the Admiral. The city looks about as it did when we left, with one exception; there seems to be a little more business going on about the levees; there are also more vessels in port than when we left here.

November 9 — This morning we were ordered to White Post. We started at daylight and arrived at White Post before midday, but continued our march through the village, toward Front Royal. We marched till night, and camped within four miles of Front Royal. White Post is a little village in the southern part of Clarke County, near the Warren line, ten miles from Winchester. The village derives its name from a large post in the center of the place.

Sunday, November 9th.

I hardly know how these last days have passed. I have an indistinct recollection of rides in cane-wagons to the most distant field, coming back perched on the top of the cane singing, “Dye my petticoats,” to the great amusement of the General who followed on horseback. Anna and Miriam, comfortably reposing in corners, were too busy to join in, as their whole time and attention were entirely devoted to the consumption of cane. It was only by singing rough impromptus on Mr. Harold and Captain Bradford that I roused them from their task long enough to join in a chorus of “ Forty Thousand Chinese.” I would not have changed my perch, four mules, and black driver, for Queen Victoria’s coach and six.

And to think old Abe wants to deprive us of all that fun! No more cotton, sugar-cane, or rice! No more old black aunties or uncles! No more rides in mule teams, no more songs in the cane-field, no more steaming kettles, no more black faces and shining teeth around the furnace fires! If Lincoln could spend the grinding season on a plantation, he would recall his proclamation. As it is, he has only proved himself a fool, without injuring us. Why, last evening I took old Wilson’s place at the bagasse shoot, and kept the rollers free from cane until I had thrown down enough to fill several carts, and had my hands as black as his. What cruelty to slaves! And black Frank thinks me cruel, too, when he meets me with a patronizing grin, and shows me the nicest vats of candy, and peels cane for me. Oh! very cruel! And so does Jules, when he wipes the handle of his paddle on his apron, to give “Mamselle” a chance to skim the kettles and learn how to work! Yes! and so do all the rest who meet us with a courtesy and “Howd’y, young Missus!” Last night we girls sat on the wood just in front of the furnace — rather Miriam and Anna did, while I sat in their laps — and with some twenty of all ages crowded around, we sang away to their great amusement. Poor oppressed devils! Why did you not chunk us with the burning logs instead of looking happy, and laughing like fools? Really, some good old Abolitionist is needed here, to tell them how miserable they are. Can’t Mass’ Abe spare a few to enlighten his brethren?

Sunday, 9th—We moved our camp to higher ground today, and are now in camp on the banks of Scott creek.

Sunday, 9th. Recrossed the mountain, after a breakfast of hoecake of meal captured from the enemy. Went by another road direct for Fayetteville. Very rough roads and poor country most of the way. Encamped in sight of the town.

Corinth, Sunday, Nov. 9. Learning that the Battery had gone to camp at Grand Junction, Tenn., Sergeant Hamilton was sent back to bring forward the baggage, etc., etc. and was to start by train in the morning. E. W. Evans, David Evans and myself procured a dismissal from the hospital and bade good-bye to our comrades (who were all doing well except E. R. Hungerford, who was very low) at 6:30 A. M. and reported at the depot. We found the boys and baggage on the platform, but owing to the rush of troops we could not get off today. We laid around all day, exchanged our tents, drew some quartermaster stores.

NOVEMBER 9TH.—It is too true that Charleston, Va., and the great Kanawha salt works have been abandoned by Gen. Echols for the want of an adequate force to hold them, If the President had only taken Gen. Lee’s advice a month ago, and ordered a few thousand more men there, under the command of Gen. Ed. Johnson, we should have kept possession of the works. The President may seem to be a good nation-maker in the eyes of distant statesmen, but he does not seem to be a good salt-maker for the nation. The works he has just relinquished to the enemy manufacture 7000 bushels of salt per day—two million and a half a year—an ample supply for the entire population of the Confederacy, and an object adequate to the maintenance of an army of 50,000 in that valley. Besides, the troops necessary for its occupation will soon be in winter quarters, and quite as expensive to the government as if in the valley. A Cæsar, a Napoleon, a Pitt, and a Washington, all great nation-makers, would have deemed this work worthy their attention.

Only three days ago the President wrote to the Secretary that the idea of trading cotton to the enemy must be postponed until the first of January, and perhaps indefinitely, but now he informs Mr. Randolph that he has sent the requisite authority to his friend, Gov. Pettus, to launch out in that trade.

No, the people have made the nation. It is a people’s war, and it is the momentum of a united, patriotic people, which carries everything with it. Our brave men win victories under adverse circumstances, and often under incompetent officers, and the people feed and clothe the armies in spite of the shortcomings of dishonest commissaries and quartermasters. They are now sending ten thousand pairs of shoes to Lee’s army in opposition to the will of the Jew Myers, Quartermaster-General, who says everything must be contracted and paid for by his agents, according to red-tape rule and regulation.

The weather continues cold, 38°, and snow still lies on the ground. This must produce a cessation of hostilities, and afford Lincoln’s drafted recruits opportunity for meditation.

If it be true that the Democrats have carried the day in the North, I think the war is approaching a termination.

November 9th. Upon our arrival where most of the army is encamped, we went into bivouac and established brigade headquarters in a log house close to the village; not very comfortable, but still more convenient than tents. Early this morning all preparations were made for the great review, and about ten o’clock we marched out on the main road, and formed in close column in the fields parallel to the road. The road was lined with troops for miles, and made a formidable display. When McClellan came galloping down the line, followed, as is his custom, by a large staff and escort, the troops broke out in an immense cheer, which was taken up and carried from one end of the line to the other. There was a great deal of enthusiasm, and the soldiers seemed sorry to change commanders. Every one feels sad to think we could not pull together to the end, but the change is undoubtedly for the best, although nobody expects much from Burnside. The number of the army here is estimated to-day at one hundred and thirty thousand. The parade showed up a wonderfully fine looking body of men which, under a capable leader, could do almost anything.