Saturday, 28th—Started this morning on a scout through Blunt—Charley Mason, John Kelison, Jessy Kirkland. Met up with Charley Pelham and Sam Piper.
Kirkendol of Company G was with us. Found Steve Gallagher and Jim with Mr. Upton. Jim was wounded; Steve came on with us. We crossed the River at Niles Ferry and staid all night at Mr. Norwood’s.
Near Chattanooga, Saturday, Nov. 28. Reveille aroused the dreaming camp at 3 A. M. It had been raining nearly all night, but we slept dry and well. Feed call. One of my horses missing. Walked up and down the hills and hollows for over an hour in the search. At last found him. I found breakfast ready, consisting of coffee, corn cake and fresh mutton, which I devoured with a keen appetite. 5 A. M. we started. We were to go back, and faced in that direction. We were glad of it, as both we and the horses were too much worn out to follow, and the roads were getting very bad with the rain and lateness of the season. The excitement was much less. We marched with more labor than if following the enemy, but we knew that plenty of others were on their track, and Bragg’s forces scattered, he taking three different roads, showing that he did not intend to risk a general engagement with Grant very soon. Raining heavy all day. The roads very bad and we had much trouble to get along with artillery. All of the batteries of the 15th Corps not in marching condition. Returned with the 3rd Division in charge of Captain Dillon, which were five besides our own. Stopped at Chickamauga Station at noon to feed, gathering corn along the railroad where hundreds of bushels had been scattered by the rebs.
Reached the pontoon bridge over Chickamauga half an hour of sundown. After a long delay it was clear and we crossed. Met General Sheridan and his Division followed by two others, going to relieve Burnside. Came to our old camp before the battle, after night. The rain had ceased and it turned very cold, and the wind whistled as of old Wisconsin. Unhitched, unharnessed, cleaned off my muddy team, and then with a great deal of chattering and shivering, etc. pitched tents, made our bed on the muddy wet ground. Felt very much like eating a good home supper as prepared by Mary, but after waiting a long time it was substituted by a dish of mush and a cup of coffee and thankful for that. Many of the infantry had nothing but parched corn and no tents, no rails to make a fire; rather tough but I suppose it is honest.
Richmond, Va., November 28, 1863.—Our pleasant home sojourn was soon broken up. Johnny had to go back to Company A, and my husband was ordered by the President to make a second visit to Bragg’s Army.[1]
So we came on here where the Prestons had taken apartments for me. Molly was with me. Adam Team, the overseer, with Isaac McLaughlin’s help, came with us to take charge of the eight huge boxes of provisions I brought from home. Isaac, Molly’s husband, is a servant of ours, the only one my husband ever bought in his life. Isaac’s wife belonged to Rev. Thomas Davis, and Isaac to somebody else. The owner of Isaac was about to go West, and Isaac was distracted. They asked one thousand dollars for him. He is a huge creature, really a magnificent specimen of a colored gentleman. His occupation had been that of a stage-driver. Now, he is a carpenter, or will be some day. He is awfully grateful to us for buying him; is really devoted to his wife and children, though he has a strange way of showing it, for he has a mistress, en titre, as the French say, which fact Molly never failed to grumble about as soon as his back was turned. “Great big good-for-nothing thing come a-whimpering to marster to buy him for his wife’s sake, and all the time he an—” “Oh, Molly, stop that!” said I.
Mr. Davis visited Charleston and had an enthusiastic reception. He described it all to General Preston. Governor Aiken’s perfect old Carolina style of living delighted him. Those old gray-haired darkies and their noiseless, automatic service, the result of finished training—one does miss that sort of thing when away from home, where your own servants think for you; they know your ways and your wants; they save you all responsibility even in matters of your own ease and well doing. The butler at Mulberry would be miserable and feel himself a ridiculous failure were I ever forced to ask him for anything.
[1] Braxton Bragg was a native of North Carolina and had won distinction in the war with Mexico.
Saturday, 28th—A detail of forty men from our regiment was sent into town on provost guard. Our orders were to arrest all citizens and soldiers found upon the streets without passes from the commander of the post here or from the provost marshal, and take them before the latter for investigation and punishment.
28th. Have an old store for the Commissary, storehouse below and office above. Cleaned up and put up a stove. Looked about to get mills. Hear no word from B.—borrowed meal. Aggravating. Lewis not successful. Dan fixed up a very good desk from an old P. O. box. Read some in Burns. Settled some accounts.
November 28 — We were ordered to be ready to march this morning at three o’clock; at two o’clock the confounded old bugle’s shrilly sound screamed through the cold darkness with a chilling thrill, and the orderly sergeant was running through the bivouac with his everlasting “Get out and get ready to march.”
About an hour before daylight an order came for us to report to General Fitzhugh Lee near Moton’s Ford, which is about two miles above Raccoon Ford and on the left of our line. We moved immediately after we received the order, and reported to Fitz Lee early in the day near the Moton house, and about four miles southwest of Moton’s Ford. A little while after we reported to Fitzhugh Lee the Yankees made a demonstration as though they intended to make an attack without delay. We went in position right at Moton’s house and kept our guns in battery all day, but the enemy made no advance on our part of the line, yet the country is blue with Yanks between us and the Rapidan. This evening at dark one of our guns advanced and shelled a piece of woods in which the Yanks had kindled their camp-fires and fixed to spend the night, but when our shells exploded among the tall trees and gently scattered a few whispering fragments of Dixie casting impartially around the camp-fires the enemy hastily bade us good night and disappeared toward the river.
Some little artillery firing along the lines to-day on the right and some sharpshooting near Raccoon Ford. Rained all day. Bivouacked with our guns in battery ready for action, near Moton’s house.
Saturday, 28th.—Regiment camped near Dalton; reported Pat Cleaborn’s Division held position in the gap at Ringgold yesterday, driving Federals back with heavy loss.
November 28.—A gloomy day, but still gloomier news. I can not see one gleam of light either on nature’s horizon or the nation’s. Alas! for the fate of our brave army. It has had a battle; and, after fighting desperately, had to retreat leaving the wounded in the enemy’s hands. It is bad enough to be wounded, and with friends; but wounded and a prisoner, how dreadful that must be! May God comfort them, and be their stay in affliction! For once, the sight of the wounded coming in makes me perfectly happy, for I know that they at least are not in the hands of the enemy. The hospital is again filled with the same sad spectacle—men mutilated in every possible way.
Last night Lieutenant Payne breathed his last. He was a member of the Twelfth Tennessee Regiment, and was in his twentieth year. The only regret he had when dying, was being unable to see his father and mother, who are in the enemy’s lines. Major P., his brother, was with him, and his last wants were ministered to by the hands of loving friends. He suffered long and patiently. Mrs. W. had conversed with him on the subject of religion before he or any of us had the least idea of his being cut off so soon, and she found that he walked humbly with his God. She feels satisfied that he was fully prepared to join the redeemed in that land where there is no gloom, hunger, nor pain, and where God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.”
Mr. Davis, the young man who had his arm amputated, is doing pretty well. His father is nursing him. He has lost a son and a son-in-law in this war, and has five more sons in the army, and he has not heard from either of them in some time. He is sixty-four years old—nurses this one as well as any young man could. I have not yet heard one murmur from him. The son has suffered a good deal, as he has had gangrene.
We have some dreadful cases of that awful disease. One man, by the name of Deal, a large, fine-looking Texan, who was wounded at Chickamauga. We thought it was impossible to cast a cloud o’er his spirits, as he formerly laughed and made fun of every thing and every body. Since he has had gangrene he is grave enough. He is wounded I think in three places; in his back, in one of his knees, and his chest. The doctors are fearful they will not be able to stop the gangrene on his back before it eats inwardly and reaches some vital part; nor on his knee at all, and that he will likely lose his leg.
We have more just such cases. A Texan, named Hempflin, wounded at the same battle. When he first came here he was able to walk about for some weeks, but has taken gangrene in his wound, and is now hovering between life and death. The disease has eaten into one of the main arteries. Continued compression of the vessel is necessary to save him from instant death. A number of men are detailed for that purpose, who remain with him night and day. They relieve each other every twenty minutes.
A young man, who was slightly wounded on one of his legs, received a furlough, which elated him so much that he jumped around a good deal; the consequence was that he hit his wound against something, causing it to bleed. The surgeons, on examining, found one of the large arteries ruptured, and there was every likelihood of the man’s bleeding to death. Men were detailed to keep up manual compression for three weeks. The man is now well, and has gone home.
The manner in which some of our men’s lives are saved is a perfect miracle. I never expected to see this man get well, But our doctors never despair while there is life.
November 28th. Formed line of battle and marched forward, expecting to meet the enemy, but finding them gone, formed in column and closely followed their rear guard. Approaching Mine Run the enemy were found occupying the high ground, entrenched with rifle pits; we drove their pickets across the creek and lay in line of battle all night; the night was very cold and everybody suffered severely and was glad when daylight came, although the works were to be carried by assault. While the attack was being arranged, it was discovered the enemy had retired during the night, leaving us masters of the field.
Brothers Private Henry Luther and First Sergeant Herbert E. Larrabee of Company B, 17th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment
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Close-up crops:
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sixth-plate ambrotype, hand-colored ; 9.3 x 8.3 cm (case)
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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Note – This image has been digitally adjusted for one or more of the following:
Civil War Portrait 107
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