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

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Lookout Mountain, Tenn., Thursday, Nov. 19. Reveille woke us at 4 A. M. Slept cold. A heavy frost covers the ground this morning. Marched before the cooks got breakfast ready, so we had to take dry grub. Took the Chattanooga road and marched leisurely down, coming to the end of the valley; the mountains and the river coming together. Our road lay along the bank, and the R. R. several hundred feet above us, sometimes running over a precipice and then over stilty-like bridges. An engine ran by us here. We next left the river and soon entered the hills, winding through the valleys and crossing stony points, which was very slow and laborious as our horses were jaded out and hard to keep up. A few inhabitants were seen but they could not find much to live on. 4th Corps stationed through the valley as guards, each squad already located in neat “shebangs”. Passed Sand Mountain at noon, a force being stationed upon it, the very high bridge having been destroyed near by and not yet commenced to be built. The R. R. is in bad condition and will require a good deal of labor before it will be rebuilt. A large part of it is laid with wooden rails, an iron plate fastened on top. Coal abounds in the hills. We passed a large bed of nitre, out of which saltpetre was manufactured for Confederate States’ use.

Came in sight of Lookout Ridge about 4 P. M., and at sundown we were directly under the enemy’s line, their picket fires burning brightly not more than half a mile off. Did they but have the artillery they could soon shell us out. The roads are very bad, filled with slough holes some of which were bridged. 8 P. M. halted nearly an hour to allow the pioneer corps to repair the roads. Most of the boys made coffee. Hard-tack very scarce. I had none since dinner. After the roads were fixed we moved out and marched about four miles right under the point of the guns which could not be brought to bear on us. We passed by Joe Hooker’s headquarters. It was a very beautiful evening, bright moonlight, and pleasant marching. Came into camp at 11:30 P. M., our horses having nearly given out. When the wagons came up we fed horses and drew crackers, but I was not as hungry as sleepy, so I laid down in the open air with Point Lookout frowning in full view, on which is a battery of heavy guns that at any moment could hurl terror to our Corps.

Thursday, 19th—All is quiet and there is nothing of importance. The report in camp is that the Sixth Division will remain at Vicksburg all winter; we are thankful if that is the case, as we are comfortably fixed for winter.

19th. About two stopped at a house and warmed. Got into a bed for two hours. Pitied some poor people. Gave a woman $22 scrip. Wolf and I went to a Mr. Tate’s (rebel off the road) for breakfast. One very affected rebel girl with curls, perfectly disgusting. Train corralled near. One and one-half miles from Bean Station. Lay down and took a nap. Mack lost his horse last night, left him standing while he went to warm, walked 8 miles. Found him today. Pearson and men messing with us. Went with Mr. Berley to Div. Com. to sell him some beef and hogs. Boys came up before night. Sent Lewis back to see about flour and beef for Brigade. Moved about 8 P. M.—just settled for night’s rest—to the foot of Clinch Mountain. Trains and troops crossing all night. Slept well in open air. Hired George

November 19 — Renewed our backward march this morning and arrived at our camp near Orange Court House, where we started from on the evening of the seventeenth. We crossed the Rapidan at Liberty Mills, about six miles west of Orange Court House.

Wednesday, 19th.—Building shanty to-day.

National Hotel, Washington,
Nov. 19, 1863.

Dear Sister L.:—

Perhaps you think my long silence bodes no good. If you do, dispossess yourself of that idea immediately.

I am half “luny” with delight. Do not think that because I would not allow myself to think or speak of coming home, or listen to you, that I cared nothing for my home or my friends. No, indeed! But now times are altered and I shall be with you next week, God willing. “How? Why?” Because I am “First Lieutenant, Eighth Regiment, United States Colored Troops, Philadelphia. Pennsylvania.” and have leave of absence for fifteen days, signed by the Secretary of War, in my pocket.

I shall go to New York to-night to buy some clothes and see my friends. I shall stay till Monday night. Then I come to you. I will stop on my way to Michigan to call for E. and take him home with me.

This is good news to you, I know. It is to me. I hardly expected to get home, but last night I went down to see Major Foster, stated my case and asked ten days. “Why, you can’t go to Michigan in ten days; it will take you all the time to go and come.” I thought, you see, that if I asked too much, I wouldn’t get anything. “Make your application in writing and I will see what I can do for you.” I made the application this morning for fifteen days and got my papers through the whole red tape in an hour.

E. made the most sensible remark I have read since the talk of my promotion. Said he, “I shall think no more of you than I did when you carried a musket, but the world will.” Straps are honored, and already I see the advantage of wearing them, though I have not got them on.

November 19.—With the exception of a few, the wounded are doing pretty well.

We have one man, Captain Thompson, who lost a leg at Chickamauga, and while in the field hospital took gangrene and pneumonia besides. No words can ever express the suffering which this man has endured, and I have never seen him without a smile on his countenance, nor heard a murmur from his lips. One of his men is nursing him, and is very devoted to him.

Mr. Green, our chaplain, has gone on a visit somewhere; so I got one of the ladies of the place to send for Mr. Smith, the Methodist presiding elder, who came and prayed with the captain and many of the others. Captain T.’s cousin, Miss W., a very nice young lady, has come to see him. She is with me, assisting.

November 19.—We wish we were at Gettysburg to-day to hear President Lincoln’s and Edward Everett’s addresses at the dedication of the National Cemetery. We will read them in to-morrow’s papers, but it will not be like hearing them.

Authors Note, 1911. — Forty – eight years have elapsed since Lincoln’s speech was delivered at the dedication of the Soldier’s Cemetery at Gettysburg. So eloquent and remarkable was his utterance that I believe I am correct in stating that every word spoken has now been translated into all known languages and is regarded as one of the World Classics. The same may be said of Lincoln’s letter to the mother of five sons lost in battle. I make no apology for inserting in this place both the speech and the letter. Mr Whitelaw Reid, the American Ambassador to Great Britain, in an address on Lincoln delivered at the University of Birmingham in December, 1910, remarked in reference to this letter, “What classic author in our common English tongue has surpassed that?” and next may I ask, What English or American orator has on a similar occasion surpassed this address on the battlefield of Gettysburg?”

“Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here—but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honoured dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve, that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

It was during the dark days of the war that he wrote this simple letter of sympathy to a bereaved mother:—

“I have been shown, in the files of the War Department, a statement that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from your grief for a loss so overwhelming, but I cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation which may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.”

Unidentified soldier in Confederate uniform of Company E, Lynchburg Rifles -- in frame

Unidentified soldier in Confederate uniform of Company E, “Lynchburg Rifles,” 11th Virginia Infantry Volunteers holding 1841 “Mississippi” rifle, Sheffield-type Bowie knife, canteen, box knapsack, blanket roll, and cartridge box

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Close-up crop:

closeup -- Unidentified soldier in Confederate uniform of Company E, Lynchburg Rifles

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Sixth-plate ambrotype, hand-colored ; 9.4 x 8.1 cm (case)

Photographer: Charles R. Rees; created 1861

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.

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digital file from original item, tonality adjustedNote – This image has been digitally adjusted for one or more of the following:

  • fade correction,
  • color, contrast, and/or saturation enhancement
  • selected spot and/or scratch removal
  • cropped for composition and/or to accentuate subject matter
  • straighten image

Civil War Portrait 098

by John Beauchamp Jones

NOVEMBER 19TH. —Miss Harriet H. Fort, of Baltimore, has arrived via Accomac and NorthamptonCounties, with a complete drawing of all the defenses of Baltimore.

The Medical Purveyor’s Guards have petitioned the Secretary for higher pay. They get now $1500 per annum, and say the city watchmen get $2300.

Gens. Banks and Taylor in the West are corresponding and wrangling about the exchange of prisoners—and the cartel is to be abrogated, probably.

The Governor of Mississippi (Clark) telegraphs the President that the Legislature (in session) is indignant at the military authorities for impressing slaves. The President telegraphs back that the order was to prevent them falling into the lines of the enemy, and none others were to be disturbed.