Friday, 24th—Our skirmish line was advanced late yesterday evening and the men worked all night building rifle pits to protect themselves today; I was on a detail that worked till 1 o’clock. The Fifteenth and Sixteenth furnished the skirmishers for the brigade, and the Fifteenth had two men killed. There was some skirmishing with heavy cannonading today. Our company with Companies F and G went out this evening after sundown to relieve the skirmishers, and we worked again most of the night throwing up rifle pits. Things are usually very quiet after night, though now and then skirmishing breaks out and arouses a little excitement.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Friday, June 24th.
We finished the line of breastworks commenced last night and remained behind it all day. Private Lynch, my “body guard” already referred to, got possession of some “commissary” somewhere, and, as usual when such an opportunity offered, towards night got very drunk, and I sent Corporal O’Connor to trice him up by the thumbs. This is a mode of punishment quite familiar to Lynch, and is usually very effective in inducing early sobriety, but when the Corporal went to visit him a little after dark, he found that the inebriate had untied himself and disappeared, and a most careful search failed to find him anywhere in the camp. Sometime during the night Major Arthur came rushing out of his tent, shouting that the enemy was upon us, and ordering that the men be gotten into the breastworks as quickly as possible to repel a charge, but after waiting a little while and no enemy appearing, the truth leaked out and we returned to our blankets. It seems that Lynch, on releasing himself, was sobered up sufficiently to want to hide somewhere, so he went into the Major’s tent in that officer’s absence, and crept under his bunk, which was built in the usual way, of little parallel poles supported a foot or thereabouts above the ground by cross sticks held up by forked posts, and after the Major had turned in and gone to sleep, in attempting to turn over Lynch had suddenly lifted his superior officer and rolled him out of bed and so caused all the commotion.
June 24.—My brother writes that the army is now south of Marietta, and as it passed through that beautiful city the people cheered them on, and seemed perfectly hopeful of success, expecting them back soon as conquerors. He also says that the army is in fine spirits, and that they get plenty to eat, and have coffee and sugar; but says they are all certain that it is General Bragg who is getting them so many good things.
Another of the brave youths of Mobile, Ben. Scattergood, has fallen a martyr for his country. He was a member of Garrety’s battery, and was killed instantly, near Resaca.
All the churches, with the exception of one, have again had to be taken for hospitals, and the young ladies’ college besides. We have two very large sheds put up; one is on the court-house square. I like them very much for wounded, and the patients are all perfectly delighted with them. They have board roofs and tent-cloth sides, so as to be raised up or let down, as circumstances may require. They are twelve feet in width, and one hundred feet in length, with bunks arranged on each side, with an aisle in the center about five feet wide. I think this is the best arrangement that can be made for wounded in summer. They are well ventilated, and have none of the inconveniences of tents. Post Surgeon Wible has always been an advocate of them, and these have been put up at his suggestion.
A few weeks ago an article appeared in one of the papers of this place complimentary to the hospitals here. The editor said that, when the hospitals first came, there was great prejudice against them, on account of the sickness of which the people were afraid they might be the cause. But the reverse effect has been produced; that never, since Newnan was a town, had it been more healthy, more quiet or pleasant as a place of residence. After complimenting all in them, he ends with a deserved one to the sick and wounded soldiers who from time to time filled them, saying that, by their quiet, unobtrusive conduct, urbane manners, and dignified bearing, they have convinced the most skeptical that southern soldiers and gentlemen are synonymous terms.
June 24.—I have just witnessed the death of John Patterson, a member of the Third Florida Regiment. He had been in the hospital for some time, and not being very sick, I paid him little attention. A few days ago he was taken very ill, and all that could be done for him was of no avail. Mr. Moore, who is very attentive, had spoken to him on the subject of religion, and he had then made up his mind to live for God. This morning he begged me not to leave him, and I did not unless when compelled. Mr. Moore prayed and talked with him a good portion of the day. Colonel Mashburn and Lieutenant Sutton, of his regiment, were with him. He did not feel assured that he would be accepted at the last hour, as he had been so long in seeking the Lord. I read some hymns to him, two of which seemed to give him great consolation; they were “Just as I am without one plea,” and “Jesus, savior of my soul.” Mrs. W. and I were with him when he breathed his last, at nine o’clock to-night. The last words he uttered were, “Take me, Lord, ’tis all I have to give.” He is one of five brothers who have died in the service. What a record and a tale is in these few words! Five of one circle offered up a sacrifice for freedom; they are
“Martyrs in heroic story,
Worth a hundred Agincourts!”
He requested me to write to his sister, who lives in Madison County, Florida. His colonel tried to get a detail to carry his body home, but was unsuccessful.
Yellow Bluff. Fla.,
Friday, June 24, 1864.
Dear Sister L.:—
The greatest excitement here is caused by the advent of our new regimental commander, Major Edelmiro Mayer. He is a South American, and has been ten years in the army in foreign countries. He speaks several languages, the English poorest of any, and with his inexhaustible fund of anecdotes and his quaint remarks, keeps everybody in the best possible humor. Ever since the battle of Olustee the regiment has been under command of Captain Bailey, who though a very nice man and good company commander, couldn’t “keep a hotel” or command a regiment. He allowed himself to be led by the nose by the doctor, who virtually commanded the regiment, had his say in everything, and bullied and interfered in all possible ways. The new major “has broken the doctor’s nose” and given him to understand that his duties are to attend to the sick and not to act as “General Adviser.” Of course the medi-cuss is not “sweet on” the major, and of course everyone else is jubilant that “Othello’s occupation’s gone.”
Hear the major specifying the duties of the day: “After the reveille he (the soldier) shall bathe himself in the river and from 7 o’clock till 9 he shall drill in the company for perfect himself in the mechanism of his little duties. From 9 o’clock till 3 is very hot and he shall eat his dinner and in his tent stay, with that little divertisement—what you call ’em scratch himself. From 3 o’clock till 5 is battalion drill and after—dress parade and supper.”
He gets right down to the bottom of things and our regiment is going to improve under his direction.
Scottsboro, Ala., Friday, June 24. Started out in advance with the 3rd Brigade at 4 A. M. after hasty preparation and half-swallowed breakfast. The Brigade men in the advance for the first time, and they pulled out in good earnest to show what they could do. The sun came out in all its fierceness, but on we plodded over rocky hills and through shady glens, greedily snatching cooling draughts as it gushed out from the rocks in plenty. Reached Larkinsville by 11 A. M., a distance of fifteen miles, with but three short rests, very fast, getting my toes all blistered. Halted an hour here for dinner. I bathed my feet in cold spring water and felt better. Started again for Scottsboro which we reached by 3 P. M. Part of the road being very bad, waited for the pioneers to repair it. No straggling allowed at all. All stand it well. I am very tired. Marching isn’t fun this hot! hotter! hottest! weather. Twenty miles, big day.
Headquarters 56th Mass. Vols.,
Near Petersburg, Va., June 24, ’64.
Dear Father, — We are still in our old position in the front line of rifle-pits. Our brigade was relieved last night, and put in the second line, but as there were not enough men in the brigade relieving us to fill up the space we occupied, six companies of my regiment had to remain. We are about as safe here as in the second line, unless the enemy attack us, which I don’t think he will do in our front. We have a thick skirt of woods in our front, which hides us from the rebel sharpshooters.
You will probably find James at home by the time this reaches you. He is pretty well frightened, and has not been of much use to me lately on that account. I think on the whole it was best for him to go home. He asked me to let him go, and I made no objection. He paid his own way home, as I had no money with me. Will you please settle with him up to the 22d day of June?
I wish you would send me, every few days, a five- or ten-dollar note in your letters, and charge the same to me. I have four months’ pay due me, but until I get it shall be dependent on what I receive from you.
I also wish that you would buy me a knife and send it on to me, as I need one very much.
The weather here is excessively hot. We had a man die of sun-stroke yesterday. We have had no rain for several weeks, to amount to anything.
Please send word to Mrs. Jones that I saw her son this morning. He is an aide on General Turner’s staff, and is in good health and spirits.
I am perfectly well, as I have been throughout the whole campaign.
The left of our army is swinging round to the rear of Petersburg. They have captured the Petersburg and Roanoke R. R., which is of great importance to the rebels. I hope we shall gradually close in on them, so that they will have to abandon their line here.
The smell around here from the dead bodies is anything but pleasant. Towards evening it becomes disgusting. Please give my love to Hannah and all the rest.
Friday, June 24. — It was reported that Smith was to attack, so all the line was notified to be in readiness to repulse any attack from the enemy, in case Smith was unsuccessful. No attack occurred, however. Day very warm. Night unusually quiet, there being but very little firing along the line. Nothing new happened.
Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.
London, June 24, 1864
And so we have sunk the Alabama. That at least was well done and has I think no drawback to unmixed pleasures. But the spitefulness which the English have shown has revived all my irritability. Semmes sought the fight, knowing all about the Kearsarge and expecting to whip her. He was so cut up as to be compelled to strike his colors, and actually cut the cross out of his flag, and ran it up again as a white flag. He sent a boat to the Kearsarge and surrendered the ship, and then was pulled out of the water, shouting for help; was stowed away at his own entreaty under a tarpaulin, deserting his own men, and running away by violation of every honorable demand through the treachery of a neutral flag kept near him for the purpose. And they’re trying to make a sea-lion of this arrant humbug. I expect the matter to give us more diplomatic bother.
Fortunately for us in these rough times the attention of people here is pretty thoroughly absorbed in their own affairs. The Conference seems at last to have come to an end, and the prospect is very blue. The crisis will come on Monday unless some last resort is dragged into play tomorrow at the formal close of the Conference. The curious part of the whole matter is that every body is equally anxious to avoid war, and both rulers and people are running into every rat-hole to keep out of it. I send you herewith a copy of our newspaper of the season, the “Owl,” so that you may get an idea of the way things are going. The Owl is probably edited by Laurence Oliphant, with assistance from half the young men about town. We consider the wit pretty fair for London and at any rate much better than the letter-press of Punch. Meanwhile it is said that Gladstone will leave the Ministry next week, in which case be will probably be followed by Gibson, Villiers, and perhaps Argyll — our friends. But another account says Russell is to go out. Palmerston and he have been in favor of a strong policy, but were outvoted in the Cabinet, five to four. I should not wonder if there were a complete reconstruction of the Government. No one seems to suggest it, but I see no reason why the Tories, or the moderate half of them, should not come in under Palmerston, and Derby retain a reversionary interest. Will war be the result of a change? C’est ce que je ne crois pas. At all events it busies them, and as I am now satisfied that Russia must mean war, or at least means to obtain its ends at any risk of war, I do not quite see how Europe can long be quiet. There may be many more calms and squalls before that though. . . .
24th.—I have been much occupied nursing the sick, not only in the hospital, but among our own friends; and a sad, sad week has the last been to us. We have had very little time to think of public affairs, but now that the last sad offices have been performed for one very, very dear to us, with sore hearts we must go back to busy life again. It is wonderful to me that we retain our senses. While the cannon is booming in our ears from the neighbourhood of Petersburg, we know that Hunter is raiding among our friends in the most relentless way; that the Military Institute has been burnt, and that we have nothing to hope for the West, unless General Early and General Breckinridge can destroy him utterly.
