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

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Colonel Lyon’s Letters.

 

Claysville, Ala., June 8, 1864.—We got here last night after a rough march, but all well. The country is very pleasant. Only three or four families here. Will give you full particulars in my next. The wagon train is just leaving for Woodville for supplies. We are not settled yet.

The journey was pretty rough. We had to ford one large creek where the water was up to the horses’ sides. We got through without accident. There is but one decent house in the place, and in it lives a widow— an old lady—and two daughters, young women. The Adjutant and I took possession of the surplus rooms in the house for headquarters, and we have made an arrangement by which the family do the cooking and washing. They are poor people, but neat and respectable, a good deal above the average of poor whites down here. I think that they do not chew snuff, although I am not quite sure about the youngest one. All we pay is to furnish provisions for the whole. They seem to be very economical, and I think we shall like the living. They cook well. I have a good airy room up stairs. The old lady has lent me a feather bed. I shall fill my cotton tick with cotton, of which there is plenty here. I brought from Stevenson a nice camp bedstead, and am rigged out very comfortably indeed.

I have four companies, B, G, C and I, on the river, and shall send out three more tomorrow, A, F and D, leaving with me H, E and K. Company C is but a little over a mile from here. They exchange shots occasionally with bushwhackers, but it is too far to do any execution. There seem to be no organized bands of rebels on this side of the river, and no considerable number on the other side.

We get our mail from Woodville, twenty miles distant. It seems odd to go five or six days without hearing a word from the outside world, yet we will get used to it after a little I suppose.

We had green peas and mutton for dinner. The peas we bought, the mutton we confiscated.

There is a better class of people here than there was at Stevenson or Donelson. They are cleaner and more intelligent, and generally not so wretchedly poor.

I have a very trusty, honest horse. I intended to go out with A, P and D, but the roads are so bad I will not go. It is about fifteen miles to the farthest post, and bad roads at that. It is quite a serious thing to haul all of our supplies from there. I am trying to make arrangements to get them by way of the river.

We suspect that old Fever-and-ague lives down here and will be amongst us in August and September. The country is flat, but it is only a few miles to the spurs of the mountains. Brigade headquarters are going to Decatur. It would suit me just as well if they went to the Isthmus of Suez. They do not disturb us.

June 8th. Again routed out early. Into line on the march through town to continue our work of destruction. Piling up ties, place the rails on top, set fire to the ties. When the rails become hot in the center, they warp or bend, making them useless. The march out of town, along the railroad, destroying it, makes very hard work for us, as we put in a long day, and not very much food. We manage to pick up some corn meal and a little flour, which we make into pan-cakes, called by the boys, ToeJam. Some of the boys received bruises and jams in the work on the railroad. There is much kicking over the hard work.

In camp tonight, talking over the events of the day, wondering what the morrow has in store for us. Many buildings and much property in town have been destroyed by fire, by order of General Hunter. Many of the women look sad and do much weeping over the destruction that is going on. We feel that the South brought on the war and the State of Virginia is paying dear for her part. The loss of our good boys brings us many sad hours. We cannot help think, and wonder who will be the next one to give his life for our country.

8th. Got an order from Col. Hammond and procured a forge of the 5th N. Y., an old one, shoes and nails. 2nd O. V. C. went out on picket. Relieved 1st Conn. Firing still continues at intervals along the line. Grant is getting siege guns up to the front. Everything looks encouraging. Railroad in progress.

Wednesday, 8th—We moved forward early this morning, marching twelve miles to the little town of Ackworth, where we went into camp. We are now with Sherman’s army, our corps being placed on the left in front of Atlanta. Our front is about twenty-five miles north of the city, while my division is back about ten miles farther. Sherman’s forces now number about one hundred and fifty thousand men and it is thought that the rebels under Johnston have seventy-five thousand. Our army, in the main, is lying still today, though there is some skirmishing in the front. The rebels have fallen back about ten miles. The health of our men is excellent; they are in fine spirits and anxious for a fight.

Huntsville, Wednesday, June 8. Exceedingly heavy rain, completely inundating our camp, which lies in a poor locality for wet weather. Several of the hoys attacked with ague, and more will follow if this weather continues.

Wednesday, June 8. — Had all the men in the command washed to-day, and took a bath myself in the millpond. Day pleasant. Had no firing on our line. General Crittenden left us to-day, having been relieved at his own request. General Ledlie takes command of the division, and Colonel Gould of the brigade.

White House, Va., June 8th, 1864.

I am constantly on the move, seldom sleeping two nights in one place. I came here by request to procure supplies for our field hospital. The paroled men are all at the hospital, by order of General Burnside, until some provision can be made for them. Most of them are doing nothing, but I cannot remain in sight of so much suffering and do nothing to alleviate it, especially when help cannot be procured. I am not —will not—be detailed, and, by so doing, take a soldier’s place. On the contrary, what I do is so much that would not be done did I not do it, and I would do the same for friend or foe. God knows there is little enough done now, and I think He would hold me guiltless could I do an hundred times as much.

Dr. Bonine gives me full authority to do as 1 think best, asking nothing, and sanctioning all I do. Constant exertions, under unfavorable conditions, begin to tell on our brave men.

There are now more sick than wounded coming in, or, rather, passing through, this hospital, for they are sent away as fast as transportation can be procured. How sad and sickening the thought that the ceaseless tide of buoyant manhood that has been surging along in seemingly resistless force, as steadily returns, a crimson flood that threatens to deluge every hearthstone in our land with tears and blood. But the more fierce the storm, the sooner past. Our soldiers are firm in the belief that this is to be the closing struggle, and fight with a determination seldom equaled, never excelled.

June 8 — We moved camp this evening to the south side of the Chickahominy. We are now camped near the Brook Turnpike, in a section of beautiful, rich, and productive country of fertile land. The Brook Turnpike is an excellent macadamized road leading out of Richmond in a northwesterly direction through a gently rolling country of green fields and well cultivated farms and gardens. The pike proper is only six miles long and leads to the Yellow Tavern, where the road forks, one leading to Louisa Court House and the other, known as the Telegraph road, leading to Fredericksburg. The Yellow Tavern is six miles northwest of Richmond and is the spot that makes our memories bleed, for there a few weeks ago, on the eleventh of May, our gallant, brave, and dashing leader, General J. E. B. Stuart, fell, mortally wounded while fighting with his face to the foe. A braver and nobler cavalier never drew a sword or wielded a saber.

Diary And Memoranda, 1864

June 8th. Started for the “White House Landing,” Va., on steamer Lizzie Baker. Had a splendid sail.

Staunton, June 8, 1864.

Dearest: — We reached the beautiful Valley of Virginia yesterday over North Mountain and entered this town this morning. General Hunter took the place after a very successful fight on the 6th. We seem to be clear of West Virginia for good. We shall probably move on soon.

Our march here over the mountains was very exciting. We visited all the favorite resorts of the chivalry on our route, White Sulphur, Blue Sulphur, Warm, and Hot Springs, etc., etc. Lovely places, some of them. I hope to visit some of them with you after the war is over.

We know nothing of Grant but conjecture that he must be doing well. We are now in Crook’s division, Hunter’s Army, I suppose. General Crook is the man of all others. I wish you could have seen the camps the night we got our last mail from home. It brought me two letters from you, one of [the] 26th. I told General Crook, Webb sent his love. “Yes,” said he, “Webb is a fine boy; he will make a soldier.”

We have enjoyed this campaign very much. I have no time to write particulars. It is said that the prisoners will be sent to Beverly tomorrow and that the men and officers of [the] Twenty-third whose time expires will go as guard. I shall perhaps send my sorrel horse by Carrington and if he can’t sell him for two hundred dollars to take him to Uncle Moses to do just what he pleases with him. If he can’t keep him he may give him away or shoot him. He is a fine horse and behaved admirably at Cloyd’s Mountain, but he is too fussy and noisy.

I feel the greatest sympathy for you during these long periods of entire ignorance of my whereabouts. I trust it will soon be so that I can hear from you and send news to you often.

[R. B. Hayes.]

Mrs. Hayes.