Sunday, 5th—The atmosphere is clear and it is getting quite warm. We remained in our rifle pits all day, but had to put up our shelter tents, for we actually suffered from the heat. All is quiet in front. We had company inspection this morning and dress parade in the evening. We drew two days’ rations to last ten days, but we have an abundance of forage. The boys brought in smoked bacon by the wagon load, also great quantities of corn meal, sweet potatoes, honey and other good things.
February 2015
5th. Sunday. Spent the day in quarters reading Independent, Testament and a story. Windy.
Twelve miles south of Johnston’s Summit,
Augusta and Branchville Railroad,
February 5, 1865.
They call the stations on this road “turnouts.” Negroes are swarming into our camps. I never heard a negro use the word “buckra” until last night. One of the 97th Indiana was killed this morning while foraging close to camp. Our men killed two and captured four Johnnies, all dressed in our clothing. Only moved four miles to-day, and will probably lay here a few days as Sherman told Wood we were four days ahead of time, he having counted it would take that long to effect a crossing at Buford’s bridge.
February 5th.—Clear and cold. Our commissioners are back again! It is said Lincoln and Seward met them at Fortress Monroe, and they proceeded no further. No basis of negotiation but reconstruction could be listened to by the Federal authorities. How could it be otherwise, when their armies are marching without resistance from one triumph to another—while the government “allows” as many emissaries as choose to pass into the enemy’s country, with the most solemn assurances that the Union cause is spreading throughout the South with great rapidity—while the President is incapacitated both mentally and physically by disease, disaster, and an inflexible defiance of his opponents—and while Congress wastes its time in discussions on the adoption of a flag for future generations!
This fruitless mission, I apprehend, will be fraught with evil, unless the career of Sherman be checked; and in that event the Battle for Richmond, and Virginia, and the Confederacy, will occur within a few months—perhaps weeks. The sooner the better for us, as delay will only serve to organize the Union party sure to spring up; for many of the people are not only weary of the war, but they have no longer any faith in the President, his cabinet, Congress, the commissaries, quartermasters, enrolling officers, and most of the generals.
Judge Campbell was closeted for hours last night with Mr. Secretary Seddon at the department. I have not recently seen Mr. Hunter.
We have news from the Eastern Shore of Virginia. My wife’s aunt, Miss Sally Parsons, is dead—over 90 years of age. The slaves are free, but remain with their owners—on wages. The people are prosperous, getting fine prices for abundant crops. Only a few hundred Federal troops are in the two counties; but these, under the despotic orders of Butler, levy heavy “war contributions” from the unoffending farmers.
February 5th.—Arrived at home very unexpectedly to all, about 9 P. M. after having marched nine days and over a distance of about two hundred miles.
The weather was freezing cold during our two-hundred mile homeward march. The shoes I had drawn from Confederate States Government were so short I could not bear my feet in them, and so pressed down the vamps and tying the quarters over the instep, my feet, with very thin socks, were exposed on top of the shoe vamps. Result, my big toes were so frozen that soon the nails came off.
Remained at home until the 7th. Reported at Tunnel Hill; was sent to Chattanooga. Brother J. H. Magill came and got us set at liberty, Brother Tom and myself, by our taking the Amnesty Oath. Brother J. H. bought us a nice suit of clothes each and gave us government contract to put cord wood on Eastern Tennessee, Virginia and Georgia Railroad at Chickamauga Junction. So we went to work for the Government, and continued until 1st of July, when the job played out, and we returned home. During this time all the Rebel armies had surrendered, and all was quiet. In July I made a visit to relatives in East Tennessee. Since that time I have been at home. While in the army I marched 3,320 miles; and travelled on railroad trains, 2,280 miles; total, 5,600 miles.
R. M. Magill
Camp near Petersburg, February 4th, 1865.
Once more I find myself in camp, ready to act my humble part in the closing scenes of this great drama. I arrived at my journey’s end last evening; found the regiment where and as I left it; the men in good health and spirits.
I had the good fortune to meet my comrade, Charles Groesbeck, at the depot in Jackson. Our journey to Baltimore was pleasant as circumstances would admit; no accident, which is itself an accident.
At Baltimore our annoyances began. The bay had been closed for nearly a week. My furlough expired that night. Thursday morning I went to the Quartermaster to see if a boat was likely to leave. I learned the mail boat was to make an effort at 3:30 p. m. We were not alone; hundreds of soldiers were there on the same errand; some had been waiting over a week. There was a rush for transportation, and we were forced to leave our furloughs until noon, when they would be returned to us with our transportation papers. Noon came, and with it our furloughs— minus the others. There was a fix. We would not be allowed on board without it; to obtain it that day would be impossible. At the wharf we found a Government shipping agent, whose duty it is to furnish transportation for troops when ordered by the Quartermaster. He informed us that a Government vessel was to leave for Fort Monroe at 3:30, and, transportation or not, he would see us on board, and then we could take the mail for City Point. The time came, but no Government vessel, and the mail was about to leave. The bell rings; again it sounds out a warning peal; in five minutes she is off. Already they are preparing to haul in the planks. A hundred men in blue appeared, maddened by the unnecessary delay; gather around, threateningly. The temptation was irresistible; a charge was made; the guards were swept aside; we are on board. Put us off who can. The effort was not made.
We made slow progress until past Annapolis, stopping often for the ice boat to clear the way. Below Annapolis the Bay was clear of ice, and we made excellent time, reaching Fort Monroe at 8 o’clock next morning. Here another attempt was made to find out who had transportation and who had not.
Five guards were placed at the gangway, with bayonets fixed, and orders to let only one man pass at a time, while an officer stood by to examine our papers. The attempt was vain; again the guards were brushed aside; we rush on shore; make a “straight wake” for the Provost’s office, had our furloughs stamped, rushed again to the Quartermaster, where we succeeded in procuring transportation to City Point. From this time all went smoothly until we reached the Point at 5:30 Friday evening. Here we had our furloughs restamped and boarded a freight train for the front.
I found my comrades all right, and our little house in as good condition as when I left.
The Ninth Corps is under marching orders, and are turning over mules, wagons, etc.
God knows what the future has in store, but the memory of those few days spent with my loved family will ever be cherished as among the happiest of my life.
February 4.—While getting ready to go back to the hospital, my father came in overjoyed, and told me that my work was over, and that we are to have peace at last. Lincoln has agreed to receive peace commissioners, and three of our ablest men, Vice-president Stevens, Judge Campbell, and Senator Hunter, have gone on the mission.
Many think the northerners are going to war with France, and expect us to assist them, but I know that none of our people will be mad enough to do that; indeed, I am certain that they will not. Let the northern people fight their own battles; we will be neutral.
All seem much pleased with the selection which has been made in our commissioners. I hope Stevens is satisfied now that he has gone on the mission for which he has so long wished.
Saturday, 4th—We remained in line of battle all night, not being allowed to build any fires. This morning we moved out about two miles nearer the upper bridge, the rebels having left the vicinity during the night. We remained here, fortifying the bridge. Our teams and batteries came across the bridge this morning. General Mower’s division lost several men here at the bridge yesterday morning about the time that we were crossing below.[1]
[1] There was a concerted move by the Union army all along the line. —Ed.
February 4 — Some more prisoners went out to-day for exchange; this time they were called in regular order and taken in turn as they were captured. But when the provost marshal stepped up on the wall this morning to commence the calling, he looked over the assembled crowd inside and remarked: “There are lots of good Rebels in there, and I hate to give you up.”
Buford’s Bridge, north side Salkehatchie River,
February 4, 1865.
Most unaccountably, to me, the Rebels evacuated an impregnable position (if there is such a thing), and our brigade was saved thereby from making some more history, for which I am grateful. A straight pike or causeway three quarters of a mile long and in which there are 24 bridges, was our only chance of crossing. They had strong embrasured works, but left an hour before our adance reached their fortifications. We got a lot of good horses and more good forage than I ever before saw brought in. I am sure that we have either a nice ham or shoulder for every two men in the regiment, and I think, more. A Company B boy got a good strong horse which he let me have. People here say that the Rebels have all gone to Branchville. Colonel Catterson told Sherman (he was in our camp some time to-night) that a negro reported that the Rebels had all gone to Branchville. “Pap” replied, “They can go to Branchville and be d____d.” We infer from that, that we don’t go there. He also said to Catterson, who was superintending the bridge building, “Build them strong, Catterson, build them strong; the whole army may have to pass over them, and the ‘Army of the Cumberland’ is a very heavy army, sir.” Besides the little slur on the 14th and 20th, that gave us an idea of the whereabouts of the left wing.
I just now heard what made the Rebels evacuate this. Mowers’ Division of the 17th formed line and marched across this stream and swamp eight miles below at River Bridge. They waded through three miles of water and then took the Rebel works with a loss to us of only 12 killed and 72 wounded. I think that beats anything I ever heard of in the show line. There was a town of 20 or 25 houses here, but we have used it up in building bridges.
