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

July 2014

by John Beauchamp Jones

            JULY 3D.—Clear and dry; pleasant temperature.

            I learn thatPetersburg has not been much injured by the enemy’s batteries, and that Gen. Lee has ordered the casting of mortars for use immediately.

            To-morrow being the anniversary of the surrender of Vicksburg to Grant, I should not be surprised if that general let off some fire-works, not only in commemoration of that event, but in pursuance of some desperate enterprise against Richmond. I don’t see how he can feel any veneration for the day ofIndependence for the “rebels” of 1776, without sympathy for the “rebels” of 1864, struggling also for independence.

            After the failure of the enemy’s next move, I think the tempest of war will rapidly abate. Nearly every movement in this (I think final) effort to captureRichmond has failed.Sheridan failed to destroy the Central, Hunter the South Side, and Wilson the Danville Railroad—each losing about half his men and horses. Grant himself, so far, has but “swung round” a wall of steel, losing 100,000 men, and only gaining a position on theJames River which he might have occupied without any loss. On the other hand, Lee wields a larger army than he began with, and better armed, clothed, and fed.

            This ought to end the vain attempt at subjugation. But if not, the Confederate States, under the new policy (defensive), might maintain the contest against a half million of invaders. Our crop of wheat is abundant, and the harvest over; our communications will be all re-established in a few days, and the people being armed and drilled everywhere, the enemy’s raiders will soon be checked in any locality they may select as the scene of operations. All the bridges will be defended with fortifications. Besides, Lee is gathering rapidly an army on the Potomac, and may not only menace the enemy’s capital, but take it. Early and Breckinridge, Imboden and Morgan, may be at this moment inflicting more serious injury on the enemy’s railroads and canals than we have sustained inVirginia. And it is certain the stores of the Federal army inGeorgia have been captured or destroyed to a very serious extent.

            Still, in this hour of destitution and suffering among certain classes of the people, we see no beggars in the streets.

            Likewise, notwithstanding the raiding parties penetrate far in the rear of our armies, there has been no instance of an attempt on the part of the slaves to rise in insurrection.

July 3d. No boats showed up last night. This morning finds us still waiting at Camp Piatt. Yesterday’s march was a hard one. We are resting while waiting. Up and down hill over these old stony roads makes a fellow tired and used up. At noon two boats arrived. They had large stern wheels and flat bottoms. The first I ever saw. About two o’clock we marched on board and were soon under way, leaving Camp Piatt, sailing on down the Kanawah. Weather fine and we were enjoying the trip. A pleasant change. Scenery grand on the river through this mountainous country. Salt, iron, coal, in these mountains along each side of the river. The boats are going very slow down the river. We are in no hurry. We make good use of the time, eating and sleeping whenever we feel like it. Night coming on, reported we will tie up for the night and start by daylight tomorrow morning.

Sunday, 3d—All is quiet. Our men are still marching around to the right. The Seventeenth Corps drove the rebels back about two miles, taking one line of their works. Wagon trains are going by the hospital day and night, and the roads are getting very dusty.

Kingston, Saturday, July 2. Rained very heavy all night and nearly all day. Dried my clothes and my knapsack, and commenced writing a letter. Finished by night. Three regiments, 2nd Brigade, left last night, hack to Calhoun and Macon to guard railroad. Two regiments of 3rd Brigade, left this afternoon, to be stationed on the Rome railroad, eighteen miles long. This infantry is going to guard road. Rumor says artillery goes to this point. A long train of wounded from the front, among whom was A. Silsby shot in arm and hip severely. Is full of pluck. Was with him a long time. No letters by mail for the Battery. How provoking!

Saturday, 2d.—Reported Yanks have cut railroad between here and Atlanta.

Saturday, July 2nd.

In camp all day. Am not feeling at all well. That persistent Virginia diarrhœa which has afflicted me more or less ever since we left Culpepper, aggravated, no doubt, by the intense heat we have had to endure, and by the coarse and scanty fare upon which we have been compelled to subsist (for I actually lived for nearly two days at one time on half an ear of corn which one of my men stole from the manger of a mule), seems at last to have perceptibly affected a naturally strong constitution. I think I’ll see the surgeon to-morrow.

We hear that many heavy guns have been put in position and that a regular siege of Petersburg has been decided on. Why don’t they give us some of these guns instead of muskets?

2nd. Rations of forage and commissary. Marched about 8. Went by the 9th Corps. Maj. Seward, Meeks, Thede and I rode over to Wilcox’s Div. and saw Reeve Spencer. Went up to the line and saw the 60th Ohio. Got popped at twice by sharpshooters, and were careful too. Took dinner with Reeve. Our works strong but rebel works full as strong and occupying more commanding ground and much of the ground in rear of our 1st line. Sharpshooters doing much damage. About 20 hit each day in the Div. Interested in the heavy works taken by the 18th Corps and by the Darkies. Saw quite an artillery duel between a heavy battery on our side and reb battery on the other side of Appomattox. Petersburg in plain view. Splendid time. Rode down to City Point and thence to Light House Point where we found our corps, about 200 2nd O. V. V. C. quite encouraging. The Detachments came down behind us.

Headquarters Mass. 56th Vols.,
Near Petersburg, Va., July 2, 1864.

Dear Hannah, — . . . I understand that Captain Hollis is engaged. He was engaged to a Miss French of some place, Exeter, I think, and just before the war the engagement was broken off. Rumor says that was the cause of Captain H.’s going to the war. When wounded and going through Washington, he met Miss F. and the engagement was immediately renewed. Romantic, is n’t it? Captain H. is a very nice fellow indeed, and I am sorry that you were not introduced to him at Class Day. . . .

I am very sorry indeed about Major Putnam’s death. He was one of my best and bravest officers. So was Lieutenant Priest. Both are a severe loss to the regiment.

We lose a man or two every day from the enemy’s sharpshooters. Two nights ago, when everything was comparatively quiet, I heard two fearful shrieks from one of my men. He was lying with two other men under a shelter tent. A stray bullet entered the tent, and wounded him in the abdomen so that he died in a few hours. He was the centre one of the three, and was acting as first sergeant of F. Co., making the seventh first sergeant in that company that has been killed or wounded in this campaign. I tell you it made me shudder to hear these two shrieks breaking the stillness of the night. Wounded men seldom cry out. I have had men knocked over close by me time and again, but have never had anything affect me the way this did.

We shall probably remain here almost all the summer, from what I can see. The weather is fearful, hotter than anything I have ever experienced. Occasionally we get a slight shower or a cool breeze, and then I feel as if I were in Paradise. . . .

Night before last there was a fire in Petersburg, probably set by our shells. I could plainly hear the fire-bells ringing. The fire burned all night. . . .

July 2. — Were moved to the second line this evening, we coming about in the centre of the brigade. The 3d Maryland relieved us. Court-martial continues case of McLeod.

July 2d. 1864.

No tidings yet from home. Everything is going favorably with me. Good health, a good position, numerous friends, abundant opportunity to do good, and will to do it, and yet I am very miserable. How can I endure this agonizing suspense? Were it not for the hope of hearing from my loved ones in three or four days, at farthest, I should, indeed, despair. There lies the secret: “Were it not for hope,” which keeps the heart from breaking in its sorrow.

I am requested to go to Washington with a boat load of wounded—must go immediately.