St. Lawrence Hotel, Philadelphia,
Jan. 17, 1864.
Dear Sister L.:—
The regiment started for the sunny south last night, leaving me behind. I shall go to New York before I go and I would like to see you once more first, but it would require too liberal construction of my orders to find any business in Chautauqua. I am left to settle my business as quartermaster and to take command of a squad of men not yet reported to the regiment.
Camp White, January 17, 1864.
Dear Mother: — We are all very well and have enjoyed the cold snap. We had good sleighing about ten days. The river was closed, cutting us off completely from the civilized world. Provisions were pretty plenty, however, and we felt independent of the weather.
It is not quite certain yet when I can get off. I hope to do so by the last of this month. Lucy will come with me. We shall go first to Cleveland where some of our veterans are recruiting; from there to Fremont, thence to Delaware and Columbus, and return by the way of Cincinnati. . . .
Affectionately, your son,
R.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
Jan. 17th. Copied barrack rules. There are skaters on the river.
Huntsville, Sunday, Jan. 17. A pleasant day. Meeting was announced to be had at 2 P. M. in the Presbyterian Church. Obtained permission and went down, but found none, it being held at 6 P. M. Walked over town. Visited the waterworks of the city, which is the largest of the kind South, with the exception of one at Columbia, S. C. A large stream gushes out of the solid rock under the courthouse, which is dammed about four feet and propels a large water wheel which works a powerful force pump that forces water all over the city, furnishing a hydrant at every corner. Pump is enclosed in a neat stone house. Returned to camp for supper and evening roll-call, then we walked back again. The church was very neat and filled with soldiers, but one woman in the audience. Chaplain of 18th Wisconsin officiated, of the Calvinistic school, and but ill agreed with my views, but it seemed good to be once more listening to an earnest speaker and hear the old-fashioned tunes swell in the bass voices that filled the room. Returned to camp, if not better, a more thoughtful man. It was the second sermon I have listened to since leaving home, and in common with all soldiers, I have acquired a careless and light way of passing time.
Sunday, January 17.—Went to the Methodist Church, now reopened for service. Mr. Holland, a young man, apparently not over eighteen years of age, from Kentucky, preached. To all appearance his sermon was extempore. His language was most eloquent, and he spoke with great fluency. His subject was prayer, and he discoursed on the mysterious power of that great moral lever with all the clearness and force of an able and experienced divine. He is certainly a young man of extraordinary abilities.
In the evening Mr. Moore preached an excellent sermon in a ward filled with patients. We burn tallow-candles, and we always carry ours with us to light up the ward, as well as we can.
I often think of these meetings, and how strange every thing has turned. The ward is usually filled with men dressed in all kinds of uniforms, and some, unable to be up, are in their bunks. The ward is dimly lighted, but not too dim to prevent us distinguishing the faces of the men, and see the eagerness with which they listen to the expounding of the word of God, and the words of comfort in the solemn prayers which are offered up in their behalf, and frequently in behalf of our cruel enemies.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JANUARY 17TH.—There is nothing new to-day. The weather is pleasant for the season, the snow being all gone.
Custis has succeeded in getting ten pupils for his night-school, and this will add $100 per month to our income—if they pay him. But with flour at $300 per barrel; meal, $20 per bushel, and meat from $2 to $5 per pound, what income would suffice? Captain Warner (I suppose in return for some writing which Custis did for him) sent us yesterday two bushels of potatoes, and, afterwards, a turkey! This is the first turkey we have had during our housekeeping in
I rarely see Robert Tyler nowadays. He used to visit me at my office. His brother John I believe is in the trans-Mississippi Department. My friend Jacques is about town occasionally.
January 17.—This morning the rebels made a desperate attack upon the Union lines near Dandridge, Tenn. They threw out no skirmishers, but pressed down upon the Nationals in full force, seemingly determined to sweep them from the field. Observing their desperate determination, General Sturgis ordered Colonel D. M. McCook, who was in command of a division of Elliott’s cavalry, to charge the enemy on horse. This order was obeyed most gallantly. The charge of this division turned the fortunes of the day, which, up to this time, had been decidedly against the Nationals. The First Wisconsin, which bore the brunt of the enemy’s attack, lost sixty in killed and wounded. The Union loss in all did not exceed one hundred and fifty.—A fight occurred at Camp Butler, near Springfield, Ill., destroying the officers’ quarters and quartermaster’s stores. Captain Dimon and Lieutenant Bennett, of the Thirty-eighth Illinois cavalry, were burned to death, and two other lieutenants were badly injured.—The bombardment of Charleston, S. C, by the forces under General Gillmore, was continued with great fury, several new Parrott guns having been opened on the city from Battery Gregg.
Camp of 1st Mass. Cav’y
January 16, 1864
As I wrote in my last my company has re-enlisted. It is the only one in the regiment which has done so, and it did it in a way inexpressibly gratifying to me. Under these circumstances I am privileged to take it to Massachusetts for thirty-five days and I expect to receive my orders every day. They can hardly fail to come by tomorrow, in which case I should leave here on Monday and push right through to Boston. In case my leave does not arrive by the time I am forced to start, I shall at once, on getting my Company home, turn round and come back here and put my leave through myself. At any rate rest assured I mean to be with you in February and I shall allow no trifling obstacle to turn me from my purpose. Getting my leave through will be child’s play compared with the difficulty of getting my Company home and I succeeded in tiding over the many shoal places which perplexed me through that operation. . . .
Meanwhile the re-enlistment question has destroyed all discipline and nearly broken our hearts. It has reduced our regiment to a Caucus and finally three quarters did not re-enlist. My Company alone has kept up to the mark. I told them that I expected myself to go to Europe for sixty days and that I would therefore have nothing to do with individual re-enlistments, but that if the whole Company would re-enlist I would remain here and see them home, if I had to remain here all winter. The result was highly satisfactory and more than three-quarters of my men have been mustered into the service for three years from the first of this month. I cannot express how gratified and yet how pained I am at this, as well as almost innumerable little evidences lately of the great confidence in, rather than attachment to me, of the men of my Company. They seem to think that I am a devil of a fellow. They come to me to decide their bets and to settle questions in discussion; they wish to know before they re-enlist whether I am going to remain in the regiment; and finally they came to the conclusion that it would be safe to recruit if I promised not to go away until I saw them home for their furloughs. To be egotistical, I think I see the old family traits cropping out in myself. These men don’t care for me personally. They think me cold, reserved and formal. They feel no affection for me, but they do believe in me, they have faith in my power of accomplishing results and in my integrity. . . .
January 16th.—A visit from the President’s handsome and accomplished secretary, Burton Harrison. I lent him Country Clergyman in Town and Elective Affinities. He is to bring me Mrs. Norton’s Lost and Saved.
At Mrs. Randolph’s, my husband complimented one of the ladies, who had amply earned his praise by her splendid acting. She pointed to a young man, saying, “You see that wretch; he has not said one word to me!” My husband asked innocently, “Why should he? And why is he a wretch?” “Oh, you know!” Going home I explained this riddle to him; he is always a year behindhand in gossip. “They said those two were engaged last winter, and now there seems to be a screw loose; but that sort of thing always comes right.” The Carys prefer James Chesnut to his wife. I don’t mind. Indeed, I like it. I do, too.
Every Sunday Mr. Minnegerode cried aloud in anguish his litany, “from pestilence and famine, battle, murder, and sudden death,” and we wailed on our knees, “Good Lord deliver us,” and on Monday, and all the week long, we go on as before, hearing of nothing but battle, murder, and sudden death, which are daily events. Now I have a new book; that is the unlooked-for thing, a pleasing incident in this life of monotonous misery. We live in a huge barrack. We are shut in, guarded from light without.
At breakfast to-day came a card, and without an instant’s interlude, perhaps the neatest, most fastidious man in South Carolina walked in. I was uncombed, unkempt, tattered, and torn, in my most comfortable, worst worn, wadded green silk dressing-gown, with a white woolen shawl over my head to keep off draughts. He has not been in the war yet, and now he wants to be captain of an engineer corps. I wish he may get it! He has always been my friend; so he shall lack no aid that I can give. If he can stand the shock of my appearance to-day, we may reasonably expect to continue friends until death. Of all men, the fastidious Barny Heywood to come in. He faced the situation gallantly.
Saturday, 16th—The weather has been warm and pleasant for a week. We have our regular daily drills and dress parade. It came my turn to go on the picket line again. The Thirteenth Iowa received their muster rolls, and when they are filled out, the regiment will be sworn into the United States service as a veteran regiment.
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