Sunday, 4th.—Marched five miles to Little Warrior River; water bound.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Sunday January 4th 1863. Washington D.C.
A painful suspense have we all been left in today in reference to the “great Battle” reported in Tennessee. The “Sunday Morning Chronicle” has nothing definite as to the result. This Silence is rather ominous of evil, good news travels faster than that over the wires. But the wires may be down. We will solace ourselves with that idea till tomorrow. I attended religious Service at the Capitol this morning. I like to Stray up there of a Sunday morning to not only hear the old Chaplin preach and Miss Rumsey sing. But to gaze on Leutz’ fine picture of the Emigrant Party which decorates the Western Stair Case of the South Wing. The picture is a Study painted on the wall and covering the whole broad space in front as you ascend the stairs. I cannot but pronounce it the finest painting in the Capitol, it is so life like, so true to Nature. I spent an hour or two at Charleys this evening. I think his confinement in the Hospital is undermining his health. He must live in an impure atmosphere much of the time. In my walk this evening I called at “Willards.” There was great anxiety manifested to hear from Rosecrantz. Maj Genl Hooker was there. It is rumored that Burnside is to resign and Hooker be appointed to the Command of the Army of the Potomac. Had a conversation with Eli Thayer in reference to his proposed Florida Emigration Scheme. He is quite sanguine of Success. But the Sec’y of War oposes it in Cabinet meeting.
January 4, 1863.
There I quit, for we received orders to get ready at once to march to Jackson, Tenn. The colonel ordered me to take charge of the train (wagons) and with my company guard it through by the wagon road, while the other nine companies went through by railroad. The regiment got off that evening, but I was delayed until the 31st, when just as I got my company into line to start a couple of the finest houses in town took fire, and burned down. The colonel commanding the 15th Illinois Infantry, which had just arrived, put me under arrest and stationed a guard around my company, but after an hour’s detention, my strong protestations against arrest and my arguments in favor of the honorable acquital of my men of the charges, induced him to allow us to proceed on our way. By Lieutenant Mattison’s personal smartness the train was taken from the road in the p.m., while I was ahead selecting camping grounds for the night, and I did not get with it for two days, which I traveled alone. The distance is about 90 miles. The first night I stayed at Holly Springs and slept in the bed which General Pemberton, Van Dorn and Lovell of the Rebel Army, and Hamilton, of ours, in turn occupied. ‘Twas in the room they occupied for headquarters. Mrs. Stricklin, the lady of the house, was charming. Her husband is a major in the Rebel Army. I ate my New Year’s dinner at Dr. Ellis’. He was not at home, but his lady treated me very politely, and I give her credit for having the noblest face I ever saw on woman. She is a sister of Rebel General Hindman. Stayed at a private house at Lagrange that night (Mrs. Cockes) and heard some delightful music made by a daughter. Saw seven mounted Rebels on the 2d, and felt uneasy traveling alone, but got through safe to Bolivar. Here I caught up with my train which I thought was behind. When we started my men were on foot, when I caught up with them at Bolivar, 38 of them were mounted on horses or mules. Stayed at Medon Station last night, and arrived here at 3 this p.m., all safe. I have to go back to Holly Springs to-morrow to testify against the 109th for disloyalty.
Camp Reynolds, Near Gauley, Virginia, January 4, 1863.
Dear Uncle: — First of all, my arm gives me no trouble at all ordinarily. Getting on or off from a horse, and some efforts remind me once in a while that it is not quite as good as it was. Perhaps it never will be, but it is good enough, and gives me very little inconvenience.
I am learning some of your experience as to the necessity of overseeing all work. I find I must be out, or my ditches are out of shape, too narrow or wide, or some way wrong, and so of roads, houses, etc., etc. We are making a livable place of it. I put off my own house to the last. Fires are now burning in it, and I shall occupy it in a day or two. It is a double log cabin, two rooms, eighteen by twenty each, and the open space under the same roof sixteen by eighteen ; stone fireplaces and chimneys. I have one great advantage in turning a mud-hole into a decent camp. I can have a hundred or two men with picks, shovels, and scraper, if I want them, or more, so a day’s work changes the looks of things mightily. It is bad enough at any rate, but a great improvement.
We have rumors of heavy fighting in Tennessee and at Vicksburg, but not enough to tell what is the result. I hope it will be all right. I tell Dr. Joe to bring out Lucy if he thinks best, and I will go home with her.
Sincerely,
R. B. Hayes.
S. BURCHARD.
Camp Reynolds, January 4, 1863
Dearest: — The same old camp, but “Reynolds,” after our gallant Sergeant-Major Eugene M., [L. Reynolds] who was killed at South Mountain.
I am glad you are all well and happy with the uncles and “all the boys.” Yes, I confess I did forget the 30th [the tenth anniversary of his marriage]. Strange, too. I had thought of it a few days before. I did not neglect to think of you. That I do daily; but nothing occurred to call to mind the happy day. A white day in my calendar — the precursor of the ten happiest years. On the 30th we were all agog with the order and movements connected with General Ewing’s departure with four of our regiments. This may have caused the lapse.
We had none of your bad weather. This [the] morning opened rainy, windy, and turbulent, but by 2 P. M. it was warm, bright, and serene. At our evening parade I made a little address on the New Year and the past. I’ll send you it to be put in the archives.
It is Sunday evening and our cook, Frank Halpin (the best tenor going), with three or four Company A comrades are singing in the kitchen. “Magnif!”
In the very worst of the rain-storm this morning, an ambulance passed with Mrs. Brown, her son, and Ed Cook. Ed is sick, decidedly, not as yet dangerously. He refuses to go home because he has been home sick already. Plucky. Perhaps it’s as well, although I rather urged his going. He will go to Cannelton, where the regiment is now stationed, and will be well cared for. Mrs. Brown takes the captain home. I suspect Ike [Nelson]1 will soon be captain of the company. Brown is not able to stand service, I think. Ike now commands the company.
Send me Rud’s picture, and another installment of mine, for distribution.
If not costing more than about a couple of dollars, I wish Joe would bring me Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations,” also “Lucile.” The first large print. At Gallipolis or somewhere he better get three or four split-bottomed or other cheap chairs — none but cheap— [and] a cheap square looking-glass.
I am still busy trying to conquer the mud. We are very comfortable but a sprinkling of snow or rain makes us ankle-deep where the sand is not put on. This and our little town gives me plenty to do. The lieutenant-colonel and major are both absent.
I shall be very glad to have you here. My only fear is possible ill health for the boys. There is less sickness than last year and by keeping carefully housed if the weather is bad, you will be safe. — Darling, much love for you and the dear ones at home.
Affectionately,
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
[The address mentioned in the letter follows.]
Comrades: — We have just closed an eventful year in our soldier life. During the year 1862 the Twenty-third Regiment has borne well its part in the great struggle for the Union. The splendid fight of Company C at Clark’s Hollow, the daring, endurance, and spirit of enterprise exhibited in the capture of Princeton and Giles Court-house, the steadiness, discipline, and pluck which enabled you, in the face of an overwhelming force of the enemy, to retreat from your advanced position without panic or confusion and almost unharmed, the conspicuous and acknowledged achievements of the regiment at the battles of South Mountain and Antietam, amply justify the satisfaction and pride which I am confident we all feel in the regiment to which we belong.
We recall these events and scenes with joy and exultation. But as we glance our eyes along the shortened line, we are filled with sadness that we look in vain for many forms and faces once so familiar! We shall not forget them. We shall not forget what they gave to purchase the good name which we so highly prize. The pouring out of their lives has made the tattered old flag sacred.
Let us begin the new year — this season to us of quiet and of preparation — with a determination so to act that the future of our regiment shall cast no shadow on its past, and that those of us who shall survive to behold the opening of another new year shall regard with increased gratification the character, history, and name of the gallant old Twenty-third!
1 Cook and Nelson, cousins of Mrs. Hayes.
Pontoon Wagons on their way from Aquia Creek to the Rappahannock – Sketched by Henri Lovie. Published January 3, 1863 in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper.
January 4.—We have had another battle—fought on Friday, the 2d. I believe we made the attack, and were repulsed with heavy loss. It is reported that our army is falling back. I hope this is not true, although we can scarcely expect to cope successfully with the enemy, as, comparatively speaking, our army is small, and we have the very flower of the northern army and one of their best generals to contend with. From what I have heard judges say, we ought to be satisfied if we can only hold our own.
We have about five hundred wounded prisoners in the hospital. They have their own surgeons with them. I saw some of the latter dressing their wounded, and was not a little shocked at the roughness with which they did it. Neither Mrs. W. or myself have visited any of them, as we are totally unable to go into the wards. They receive exactly the same food and attention that our men do. 1 have spoken to some who were walking about. They were Germans, and I am told the majority of them here are.
Sunday morning, January 4th. This morning, at ten thirty, prayers were read on the quarter-deck, after which a general muster of the crew took place. To-day we received a mail from home by the U. S. steamer Circassian.
January 4 — We remained nearly two hours where we fed our horses last night, and little after midnight we renewed our march through a broken, or rather mountainous country. We forded Mill Creek at two o’clock last night. Mill Creek is a stream traversing a scope of hilly country that lies southeast of Petersburg; it empties into the South Branch two miles below Petersburg.
At about three o’clock the moon went down behind the Alleghanies; from then on until day it was very dark. Just about the time the moon set we struck Ketterman’s Mountain, which is rough, rocky, and steep, but we pressed onward and upward, and when the first golden rays of the morning sun touched the distant peaks of the Alleghanies we stood on the summit of Ketterman Mountain, looking down the tortuous mountain-bound little valley of the South Fork. We descended the mountain and arrived on South Fork at ten o’clock this forenoon, where we had left our wagons and from where we had started at two o’clock night before last.
At noon to-day we got some bread and meat, and we were surely in a fine condition for its reception, as we had not eaten a morsel for over thirty-six hours, and marching nearly all the time. Sleep is cheap, but for the last two nights we did not get even the least snatch of doze, consequently I put in a good piece of work in that line this afternoon, elegantly executed, and the soothing charms of Morpheus’ embrace were never so sweet before.
Sunday, January 4th.
One just from Baton Rouge tells us that my presentiment about our house is verified; Yankees do inhabit it, a Yankee colonel and his wife. They say they look strangely at home on our front gallery, pacing up and down. . . . And a stranger and a Yankee occupies our father’s place at the table where he presided for thirty-one years. . . . And the old lamp that lighted up so many eager, laughing faces around the dear old table night after night; that with its great beaming eye watched us one by one as we grew up and left our home; that witnessed every parting and every meeting; by which we sang, read, talked, danced, and made merry; the lamp that Hal asked for as soon as he beheld the glittering chandeliers of the new innovation, gas; the lamp that all agreed should go to me among other treasures, and be cased in glass to commemorate the old days, — our old lamp has passed into the hands of strangers who neither know nor care for its history. And mother’s bed (which, with the table and father’s little ebony stand, alone remained uninjured) belongs now to a Yankee woman! Father prized his ebony table. He said he meant to have a gold plate placed in its centre, with an inscription, and I meant to have it done myself when he died so soon after. A Yankee now sips his tea over it, just where some beau or beauty of the days of Charles II may have rested a laced sleeve or dimpled arm. . . .[1]
Give the devil his due. Bless Yankees for one thing; they say they tried hard to save our State House.
[1] This “little ebony table”— which happened to be mahogany so darkened with age as to be recognized only by an expert many years after the war — and a mahogany rocking-chair are the two pieces of furniture which survived the sacking of Judge Morgan’s house and remain to his descendants to-day. Such other furniture as could be utilized was appropriated by negroes. — W. D
