23rd. All astir again early. Soon after breakfast teams pulled out. Thede and I went ahead. Got a drink of milk at West’s. Case not so well. Crossed the river and reached camp at 3 P. M. Found good letters from home and Fannie. Have had nice cool weather for marching all the time. Felt like having ague.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
23d June (Tuesday).—Lawley and I went to inspect the site of Mr Mason’s (the Southern Commissioner in London) once pretty house—a melancholy scene. It had been charmingly situated near the outskirts of the town, and by all accounts must have been a delightful little place. When Lawley saw it seven months ago, it was then only a ruin; but since that time Northern vengeance (as directed by General Milroy) has satiated itself by destroying almost the very foundations of the house of this arch-traitor, as they call him. Literally not one stone remains standing upon another; and the debris seems to have been carted away, for there is now a big hole where the principal part of the house stood. Troops have evidently been encamped upon the ground, which was strewed with fragments of Yankee clothing, accoutrements, &c.
I understand that Winchester used to be a most agreeable little town, and its society extremely pleasant. Many of its houses are now destroyed or converted into hospitals; the rest look miserable and dilapidated. Its female inhabitants (for the able-bodied males are all absent in the army) are familiar with the bloody realities of war. As many as 5000 wounded have been accommodated here at one time. All the ladies are accustomed to the bursting of shells and the sight of fighting, and all are turned into hospital nurses or cooks.
From the utter impossibility of procuring corn, I was forced to take the horses out grazing a mile beyond the town for four hours in the morning and two in the afternoon. As one mustn’t lose sight of them for a moment, this occupied me all day, while Lawley wrote in the house. In the evening we went to visit two wounded officers in Mrs ——’s house, a major and a captain in the Louisianian Brigade which stormed the forts last Sunday week. I am afraid the captain will die. Both are shot through the body, but are cheery. They served under Stonewall Jackson until his death, and they venerate his name, though they both agree that he has got an efficient successor in Ewell, his former companion in arms; and they confirmed a great deal of what General Johnston had told me as to Jackson having been so much indebted to Ewell for several of his victories. They gave us an animated account of the spirits and feeling of the army. At no period of the war, they say, have the men been so well equipped, so well clothed, so eager for a fight, or so confident of success—a very different state of affairs from that which characterised the Maryland invasion of last year, when half of the army were barefooted stragglers, and many of the remainder unwilling and reluctant to cross the Potomac.
Miss —— told me to-day that dancing and horseracing are forbidden by the Episcopal Church in this part of Virginia.
Tuesday, 23d—Fighting is still going on. A force of thirty thousand under command of General Sherman was sent to rout Johnston. The Eleventh Iowa, with the exception of Company E, went on an expedition[1] in the direction of the Big Black river. Company E was left here for picket duty.
[1] To join Sherman’s forces.—Ed.
Letter No. VI.
Camp Near Millwood, Twenty Miles
West Of Harper’s Ferry,
June 23rd, 1863.
To Miss Decca Stark, Columbia, South Carolina:
Dear Decca: Yours of the 6th inst., with one from Miss Nannie Norton of the same date reached me about eight days ago, and I have not had a moment since to answer you, and even now cannot tell whether I shall be interrupted before I am half done this. I am writing on my knee, with everything packed ready to move at the sound of the bugle. I wrote you last on the 6th of June from near Culpepper Court House. On that day we took a hard march of eighteen miles through the rain, and on very muddy roads. We halted about 10 o’clock at night. I was wet and very tired.
There was an order against making tires, as we were near the enemy, being on the same ground on which Stuart fought them a few days afterwards. Of course I slept; a soldier, if he knows his own interest, will sleep whenever opportunity offers, but there were 10,000 or 12,000 men huddled on the side of the road in a promiscuous mass, just as you have seen cattle about a barn lot; no one knowing how much mud or filth he reposed in until the generous light of day revealed it. It rained a good deal during the night and kept me thoroughly soaked. The next morning we were ordered back to the camp near Culpepper, and marched over the same road by 1 o’clock and remained there until the 9th, when early in the morning about 5 o’clock we heard heavy firing of artillery. This was the opening of Stuart’s cavalry fight. We formed and marched to Lookout Mountain, about three miles from Stephenburg, and lay in line of battle upon it until the fortune of the day was decided and then returned to camp.
Colonel Frank Hampton was killed in or near Stephenburg by a pistol shot. He was in a hand to hand encounter, it is said. On the 13th we received orders to be ready to march or fight, but it turned out to be only a march of five miles, which we accomplished in an hour and reached Cedar Run, the scene of one of Stonewall Jackson’s battles last August. There were a great many unburied skeletons, presenting a very ghastly appearance. There were forty-nine skulls in one little ditch; the bodies were torn to pieces and scattered about, having been taken from their shallow graves by hogs or other animals. A hand or a foot might be seen protruding from the earth, here and there, to mark the last resting place of the patriotic victims of this horrible war.
We left this camp on the 15th and marched through Culpepper towards Winchester. This was one of the hottest days and one of the hottest marches I have yet experienced. Over 500 men fell out by the road side from fatigue and exhaustion, and several died where they fell; this was occasioned by being overheated and drinking cold water in immoderate quantities, and the enforcement of the order requiring us to wade through creeks and rivers up to our waists without the privilege of even taking off our shoes. I felt quite sick and giddy with a severe pain in my head as I was climbing the hill after wading the Rappahannock, but it passed off, and I kept with the company, though I saw two dead men during the time and several others fall.
Oh! how I would have enjoyed one of mother’s mint juleps then as we rested in “the shade of the trees.” I slept gloriously that night on a bed of clover and blue grass and thought of the little “pig that lived in clover and when he died he died all over.” On the 16th we marched twenty miles without so much suffering, though the day was very warm, and many fell by the way, and like the seed in the parable, “on stony ground,” for we were getting towards the mountains. Camped that night near Markham station in another field of clover, though not so comfortable, for I was very cold and slept little. On the 17th marched fourteen miles up hill and down dale through a beautiful, mountaineous region and camped in a splendid grove of oak and hickory about one mile from Upperville, and the neighborhood of some of the most beautiful family mansions I ever saw. All the country we have passed through is perfectly charming, and I cannot see why any Virginian ever leaves Virginia. All that I have seen so far fills my ideal of the-“promised land.” On the 18th we marched to the Shenandoah, ten miles, and waded it with positive orders not to take off any clothing. The water was deep and cold. I put my cartridge box on my head. The water came to my arm pits. We camped about a mile beyond the river. A tremendous rain drenched us before night, so we were reconciled to the wading. My blankets and everything that I had was soaked, except Mary’s daguerreotype, which Colonel B. F. Carter took charge of for me. I slept in clothes and blankets soaked wet. On the 19th we marched down the river about ten miles over a very muddy road, and crossed several little streams about knee deep, and then re-crossed the Shenandoah and marched up through Sniggers Gap to the top of the mountain, and here about dark we experienced the hardest storm of wind and rain I ever saw. It seemed to me as if the cold and rain, like the two-edged sword of holy writ, penetrated to the very joints and marrow. I laid down but did not sleep a wink until about an hour before day, and woke up cold and stiff. More than half the soldiers spent the night in a desperate effort to keep the fire burning, which was done with great difficulty.
I took off my clothes, one garment at a time, and dried them, and baked myself until I felt tolerably well; but truly a soldier knows not what a day may bring forth. Just as I was thoroughly dried, up came another cloud and soaked us again, and then came an order to fall into line “without arms.” We were then marched about half a mile from camp and ordered to build a stone fence about half a mile long. This, several thousand men accomplished in about two hours; though it worked me pretty hard to carry and roll stones weighing from 50 to 200 pounds. Alter my morning’s work I dined with Captain Bachman, who had an elegant dinner, consisting mainly of cow-pea soup. After dinner, while we were taking a sociable smoke and chat, an order came to get ready to leave immediately. I hurried to my company and we started back down the mountain, and it was only after getting into the valley, where the sun was shining, that we discovered that we had been encamped in a cloud on the mountain top, right in the heart of the rain factory, the summer resort of Æolus himself. The division again crossed the Shenandoah, but this time I mounted one of Captain Bachman’s caissons and rode over, thus escaping the chill of the waters, though the rain had wet me thoroughly before. I would like for Mrs. Bachman to paint such a scene. It was one of the most splendid for a picture I ever witnessed, 25,000 or 30,000 men, with the wagons and artillery, and horses, all crowding into the stream; a perfect living mass, with towering mountains looking down upon us, and the old stone mill reminding one of the halcyon days of peace and a hundred other incidents which I have not the ability to describe correctly; all united to form one of the most picturesque and wonderful sights my eyes ever beheld.
We camped on this side of the river two nights and one day, and on yesterday morning marched for this place, where for the first time, since the reception of your letter, I have had an opportunity to answer it, for the captain carries my paper for me, and frequently, when we stop, the wagon which carries his baggage is not near to us. I have not written to Mary for ten days, and must ask of you the favor of writing to her for me and giving her the principal items of my journey, for I shall hardly ever get an opportunity of sending a letter by hand from here, and the mails are so uncertain that there is little satisfaction in writing. I am glad she does not know of the privations I am suffering, for it would give her more pain than I have felt in enduring them. I saw Captain Bachman again yesterday. He is well and in fine spirits. I have seen James Davis and all the Camden boys and old friends, and schoolmates in McLaws division. They each hold an office of some kind. They are very lucky in having friends on good terms with the appointing power. I think I could get a place above the ranks, but I doubt my qualifications for a higher place. I can march and shoot, and I love my musket next to my wife and my country, and this constitutes my qualifications for military service. I have quite a severe cold, though I am better to-day than I was yesterday. Don’t write this to Mary. I hope we will soon get through our demonstrations and come to the fighting part of the drama.
I have not heard from home yet, though it is more than two months since I left Texas, and there are several letters in the regiment of recent date. I understand there is a large mail for our brigade at the Texas depot, in Richmond, awaiting an opportunity to be sent to us. My love to all, and tell “Theo” to study hard and get his lessons well, for an educated man can make a better soldier, a better ditcher, or well digger, and a more perfect gentleman than an uneducated one.
Your brother, truly,
John C. West.
Before Vicksburg, Tuesday, June 23. Reveille at 5 A. M. Drivers fall in for roll call, then stable call. No horses to be taken from the picket rope except at water call. Pioneer Corps put up a brush screen to hide us from the view of the sharp-shooters, who of late became not only annoying but dangerous. Heavy wind and rain in the evening.
June 23 — This morning we marched to Union, which is about five miles in a northerly direction from Rector’s. We halted there some four hours and then moved to Snickersville. There is some beautiful land around Union and between Union and Snickersville. Camped in an orchard at Snickersville.
June 23, Tuesday. Seward called this morning and had quite a story to tell of foreign affairs and the successes that have attended his management. For a time, he says, matters looked a little threatening with France, but Count Mercier tells him all is now right, — we can do, on certain points which have been controverted, pretty much as we please.
All this was a prelude to a proposition, the object of which was to make excellent friends of the French, who have ten thousand hogsheads of tobacco in Richmond which they declare was purchased before the Rebellion, and which they cannot get out by reason of the blockade. This tobacco was being heavily taxed by the Rebels, and what the French Government now wants, and what he very much wanted, was an arrangement by which this French tobacco might be got from Richmond. It would be such a capital thing, and the favor would be so highly appreciated by the French, that they would become our very good friends.
I informed Mr. Seward it was a plain case and easily disposed of. We had only to lift the blockade and the French tobacco and everybody else’s tobacco would leave Richmond. I did not see how this favor could be granted to the French Government and denied to other governments, and if extended to foreigners, our own citizens, many of whom had large amounts of property in the Rebel region, could not be interdicted from its exportation. In plain words the blockade must be maintained in good faith or be abandoned. I was not aware that we were under any special obligation to the French Government; I would not purchase or bribe, and I was opposed to favoritism as a principle in government. He said his idea was that a distinction might be made in this, — that the tobacco belonged to the Government, and therefore was an isolated case which could not be claimed as a precedent, and furthermore it was bought and paid for before the blockade was established. I told him the principle was the same with governments as with individuals; that the Belgian and others had made haste to remove their tobacco within the time limited when the blockade was declared; that their sympathies were with us, they had no faith in the Rebel movement, but it was different with the French Government. It did not pain or grieve me that they were taxed and heavy losers by the Rebels, and the rules of blockade ought not in my opinion to be relaxed for their benefit.
Mr. Seward was, I saw, discomfited, and he no doubt thinks me impolitic, unpractical, and too unyielding and severe to successfully administer the Government. I on the other hand deem it a misfortune that at a period like this there should be any disposition to temporize and indulge in expedients of a questionable character or loose and inconsiderate practices. “What we have most to fear,” said Sir Vernon Harcourt, “is not that America will yield too little, but that we shall accept too much.” It was not, nor will it be, my conduct that prompts this humiliating characterizing of the American Government. No improper concessions will be made by me to France or her Minister.
Neither Seward nor Stanton was at the Cabinet-meeting. Mr. Bates has left for Missouri. The President was with General Hooker at the War Department when we met, but soon came in. His countenance was sad and careworn, and impressed me painfully. Nothing of special interest was submitted. The accustomed rumor in regard to impending military operations continues.
Chase, who evidently was not aware that General Hooker was in Washington until I mentioned it, seemed surprised and left abruptly. I tried to inspire a little cheerulness and pleasant feeling by alluding to the capture of the Fingal. For a few moments there was animation and interest, but when the facts were out and the story told there was no new topic and the bright feelings subsided. Believing the President desired to be with General Hooker, who has come in suddenly and unexpectedly and for some as yet undisclosed reason, I withdrew. Blair left with me. He is much dispirited and dejected. We had ten or fifteen minutes’ talk as we came away. He laments that the President does not advise more with all his Cabinet, deprecates the bad influence of Seward, and Chase, and Stanton, Halleck, and Hooker.
Had two interviews with Dahlgren to-day in regard to his duties as successor of Du Pont in command of the South Atlantic Squadron. Enjoined upon him to let me at no time remain ignorant of his views if they underwent any change, or should be different in any respect from mine or the policy proposed. Told him there must be frankness and absolute sincerity between us in the discharge of his official duties, — no reserve though we might differ. I must know, truthfully, what he was doing, what he proposed doing, and have his frank and honest opinions at all times. He concurs, and I trust there will be no misunderstanding.
My intercourse and relations with Dahlgren have been individually satisfactory. The partiality of the President has sometimes embarrassed me and given D. promotion and prominence which may prove a misfortune in the end. It has gained him no friends in the profession, for the officers feel and know he has attained naval honors without naval claims or experience. He has intelligence and ability without question; his nautical qualities are disputed; his skill, capacity, courage, daring, sagacity, and comprehensiveness in a high command are to be tested. He is intensely ambitious, and, I fear, too selfish. He has the heroism which proceeds from pride and would lead him to danger and to death, but whether he has the innate, unselfish courage of the genuine sailor and soldier remains to be seen. I think him exact and a good disciplinarian, and the President regards him with special favor. In periods of trying difficulties here, from the beginning of the Rebellion, he has never failed me. He would, I know, gallantly sustain his chief anywhere and make a good second in command, such as I wished to make him when I proposed that he should be associated with Foote. As a bureau officer he is capable and intelligent, but he shuns and evades responsibility. This may be his infirmity in his new position.
The official reports of the capture of the Fingal, alias Atlanta, are very gratifying and confirm our estimate of the value of the monitor class of vessels and the fifteen-inch guns. The Department, and I, as its head, have been much abused for both. Ericsson, the inventor of the monitor or turret vessels, wanted a twenty-inch gun. His theory is impregnability in a vessel and immense calibre for his guns, which shall be irresistible. Dahlgren would not himself consent to take the responsibility of more than a thirteen-inch gun. Fox and Admiral Smith favored a fifteen-inch, which the Department adopted, though with some hesitation, without the approval of D., the Ordnance Officer, who, however, did not remonstrate against it, but went forward under orders, the responsibility being with me and not on him.
June 23.—The hospital is again filled with very sick, sent from the army, in prospect of a battle. News has come that we gained a victory last week in Virginia.
A Federal negro has just died in the hospital; he came in very sick.
June 23—Here all day. Tom Tiotter and myself went out to buy something to eat, but when we came to a house, they would close their doors in our faces, or let us knock and not open. We got the ear of one or two ladies, and after proving to them that we were not wild animals nor thieves, they gave us what we wanted, but would not take pay for anything.
JUNE 23d.—We halted this morning at six o’clock, and but a few minutes elapsed before two-thirds of the regiment were fast asleep. A few very hungry ones, only, made coffee and took breakfast.
We find ourselves again on the road to Jackson, but what our final destination is, no one knows except the stars in front. We surmise our course to be through Johnston‘s army, if we can find it.
The “blarsted” bugle blasted us out on the road again at seven. I believe I, for one, would rather have spent my hour in eating than sleeping. However, we trudged our eight miles at an easy pace and halted again. The birds were singing merrily, with no sounds of war to interfere. It is rumored that we are out hunting the paymaster instead of Johnston.
