Chattanooga, Saturday, March 11. 8 A. M. Assembly sounded and our work apportioned out, I among the digging squad. Worked all day quite hard, but I was not tired at night for the line was opened, and our mail came 10 A. M. with seven big letters for me, so many that I could hardly find time to read them. Mother is much better, John writes. Clothing has been issued, the prices of which have gone up wonderfully. Had to don a jacket to the tune of $9.00 or more. We have also pup tents in the Quartermaster’s tents.
March 2015
Saturday, 11th—It is clear again and quite pleasant. We were off at 7 a. m. and marched twelve miles. Went into bivouac within a mile of Fayetteville. Our division had the honor of driving the rebels out of town, but the Fourteenth Corps was placed on garrison duty. All of Sherman’s forces, the four corps, are concentrating at this place to cross the Cape Fear river. Forage is very scarce, the country being so very poor, but we hope soon to strike rich country where we can fill our haversacks.
11th. Saturday. Lay in camp all day. Cleaned up. Two inspections. Bathed and changed my clothes. Details went out for forage. Seemed good to get a day’s rest. Improved it as well as possible with the work to do.
March 11th.—Bright and frosty. From a published correspondence between Gens. Hampton and Sherman, on the subject of retaliatory executions, it is mentioned by the former that the City of Columbia, S. C., was burned by the latter.
Dispatches this morning inform us of some little successes— Hampton over Kilpatrick in the South, and Rosser over a body of the enemy at Harrisonburg, in the North.
Some 1500 prisoners, paroled, arrived this morning—making some 10,000 in the last fortnight. I fear there will soon be a great scarcity of arms, when the negroes are drilled, etc.
Mrs. Hobson, of Goochland County, a relative of my wife, has offered a home to my eldest daughter Anne. Mr. H. is wealthy, and his mansion is magnificent. It is lighted with gas, made on the plantation.
I am often called upon to lend a copy of the “Wild Western Scenes.” My copy is lost. I learn that new editions of my works are published in the United States, where the stereotype plates were deposited. Here, as in old times in the North, the publishers prefer to issue publications upon which they pay no copyright— and, I believe, most of our publishers are not Southern men by birth, and hence have no care but for the profits of the business.
Congress was to adjourn to-day. But it is said the President has requested them to remain a short time longer, as further legislation will be required growing out of a treaty with France, about to be consummated. It is said as alliance has been agreed upon, offensive and defensive, etc. etc. If this should be true! It is but rumor yet—but was first mentioned, gravely, by Judge Campbell, Assistant Secretary of War.
Camp Hastings, March 11, 1865.
Dear Mother: — Nothing of interest in this particular locality. As part of Sheridan’s command, we feel a good deal of interest in his cavalry raid. He has already sent back about fourteen hundred prisoners. We hope to hear further.
Major-General Hancock is now our immediate commander. He is a very large, noble-looking man — not less than six feet three inches high, and very large. All his new arrangements are very satisfactory to our division. He will hardly be so great a favorite as General Crook, but is making a most favorable impression. . . .
Affectionately,
R. B. Hayes.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
11th.—Sheridan’s raid through the country is perfectly awful, and he has joined Grant, without being caught. Oh, how we listened to hear that he had been arrested in his direful career! It was, I suppose, the most cruel and desolating raid upon record—more lawless, if possible, than Hunter’s. He had an overwhelming force, spreading ruin through the Upper Valley, the Piedmont country, the tide-water country, until he reached Grant. His soldiers were allowed to commit any cruelty on non-combatants that suited their rapacious tempers—stealing every thing they could find; ear-rings, breastpins, and finger-rings were taken from the first ladies of the land; nothing escaped them which was worth carrying off from the already desolated country. And can we feel patient at the idea of such soldiers coming to Richmond, the target at which their whole nation, from their President to the meanest soldier upon their army-rolls, has been aiming for four years? Oh, I would that I could see Richmond burnt to the ground by its own people, with not one brick left upon another, before its defenceless inhabitants should be subjected to such degradation!
Fighting is still going on; so near the city, that the sound of cannon is ever in our ears. Farmers are sending in produce which they cannot spare, but which they give with a spirit of self-denial rarely equalled. Ladies are offering their jewelry, their plate, any thing which can be converted into money, for the country. I have heard some of them declare, that, if necessary, they will cut off their long suits of hair, and send them to Paris to be sold for bread for the soldiers; and there is not a woman, worthy of the name of Southerner, who would not do it, if we could get it out of the country, and bread or meat in return. Some gentlemen are giving up their watches, when every thing else has been given. A colonel of our army was seen the other night, after a stirring appeal had been made for food for the soldiers, to approach the speaker’s stand with his watch in his hand, saying: “I have no money, nor provisions; my property was ruined by Hunter’s raid last summer; my watch is very dear to me from association, but it must be sold for bread.” Remembering, as he put it down, that it had been long worn by his wife, now dead, though not a man who liked or approved of scenes, he obeyed the affectionate impulse of his heart, took it up quickly, kissed it, and replaced it on the table.
Randallsville, N. C., March 10, 1865, 12 p.m.
Ten miles to-day, most of which we had to corduroy. Our regiment in rear of the division and corps. Crossed the Lumber river about 4 p.m. Fine country. We had reveille at 3 this morning, and the rear of train with our 1st brigade did not get in until an hour later. They had a hard time. Hope we’ll get the advance to-morrow. This Lumber river is a spoon river, with a third of a mile of swamp on each side thereof. Hear to-night that Grant has taken Petersburg, and believe it to be—bosh. Blair, with the 17th A. C., is close to Fayetteville, but it is said he has orders to lie still and let the left wing enter the town.
Chattanooga, Friday, March 10. Last night, 8 P. M., I was relieved in heavy rain. At midnight I entered my tent white with snow, and this morning 6 A. M. pinched through with cold, everything frozen hard and very cold, but the sun soon warmed us up a little. Griffith gone off on guard to Major’s headquarters, the others on duty. I alone had nothing to do all day, and I had some trouble to amuse myself without mail.
The forenoon I passed reading an excellent volume entitled The Hills of the Shatmuck a story in which the characters were noted for high purposes and aims and pure moral interest, a rare exception among novels, but the book was finished and all the afternoon was given to thinking and day dreaming. I too once, like “Winthrop,” longed to pluck the precious fruits of knowledge and prepare myself for something high and ennobling. But the time that I once wished to be spent in the school room and among books, I have freely devoted to my country. But he, in spite of obstacles, kept his aim towards the desired point, and accomplished it nobly. Cannot I too learn much that is to be learned, and is there not a niche somewhere in this free country that I may occupy yet with profit to myself and others? “I’ll not give up! No grim despair shall ever forge a chain for me.” And I’ll try to do my best though humble it may be.
Fast-day, March 10.— Went to the Presbyterian Church with Dr. Reessc, and was well pleased with the discourse. The church was the dirtiest I have ever been in; I was shocked to see a house dedicated to the worship of God in such a state. I am told that the rector, Dr. Patterson, has a day-school in it, as his school-house was last year taken for a hospital, and has since been burned. I miss greatly in this place “the sound of the church-going bell.” On making inquiries, I was informed that all the bells had been taken to make cannon. Griffin is a nice little place, but not so pretty as Newnan. It is in Pike County, Georgia, on the Macon and Western Railroad, fifty-eight miles north-west of Macon. It is said to be very healthy, and is noted for its excellent water.
The day is bitter cold, and wood is scarce. I thought it bad enough to have so little to eat; but we have no candles or light of any kind, not even light wood. I am compelled to retire at dark, which is a severe trial, as the days are short. I do not believe that even Mark Tapley could be “jolly” under these circumstances. The only consolation I have is comparing my lot with that of the men in the field— I know they are so much worse off.
Friday, 10th—Started on our march again at 7 a. m. and made twelve miles today. It is still raining and the creeks and swamps are all overflowing. There was no show of keeping our clothing dry, for besides the rain, we had to wade some thirteen creeks and sloughs, some of them waist deep. This is a most God-forsaken stretch of country, and there is only now and then a small farm. I can’t understand how anybody could live here; in fact, the citizens have all left their homes.
