13th. Contrary to the general expectation, marched. A little rain. Went into camp near Nottoway Station. Put up picket poles and laid out camp in order. Letter of the 6th from home. Folks are all resigned and cheerful. I am so glad.
April 2015
Chattanooga, Thursday, April 13. A sunny day, but Chattanooga is sick with its nature element, viz mud, thick and thin, wherever we go. On duty all day. Did not work hard. Took our horses out grazing, outside the picket this afternoon. Rather small picking. Gathered a beautiful bouquet of delicate spring flowers, violets, forget-me-nots, sweet williams, etc. I wish I could carry them to mother’s sick room. Track out of order somewhere. No mail. Six men from the works reported to Captain Hood, formerly 3rd Battery men.
April 13th. Our happiness continues. Ten minutes walk from camp, towards town, is a pump where we are obliged to go for water. Good water. A great meeting place for the people and the soldiers. News of the day is talked over. It is known as the news pump. Newspapers are not very plenty. They come from Baltimore and Ohio. Those who are first at the pump in the morning bring the news and stories that can be picked up, and are soon circulated through camp. So we look for the morning news from the pump.
April—I suppose the end is near, for there is no more hope for the South to gain her independence. On the 10th of this month we were told by an officer that all those who wished to get out of prison by taking the oath of allegiance to the United States could do so in a very few days. There was quite a consultation among the prisoners. On the morning of the 12th we heard that Lee had surrendered on the 9th, and about 400, myself with them, took the cursed oath and were given transportation to wherever we wanted to go. I took mine to New York City to my parents, whom I have not seen since 1858. Our cause is lost; our comrades who have given their lives for the independence of the South have died in vain; that is, the cause for which they gave their lives is lost, but they positively did not give their lives in vain. They gave it for a most righteous cause, even if the Cause was lost. Those that remain to see the end for which they fought—what have we left? Our sufferings and privations would be nothing had the end been otherwise, for we have suffered hunger, been without sufficient clothing, barefooted, lousy, and have suffered more than any one can believe, except soldiers of the Southern Confederacy. And the end of all is a desolated home to go to. When I commenced this diary of my life as a Confederate soldier I was full of hope for the speedy termination of the war, and our independence. I was not quite nineteen years old. I am now twenty-three. The four years that I have given to my country I do not regret, nor am I sorry for one day that I have given—my only regret is that we have lost that for which we fought. Nor do I for one moment think that we lost it by any other way than by being outnumbered at least five if not ten to one. The world was open to the enemy, but shut out to us. I shall now close this diary in sorrow, but to the last I will say that, although but a private, I still say our Cause was just, nor do I regret one thing that I have done to cripple the North.
Wednesday Night.—We have heard nothing new to-day confirming the report of the surrender, which is perhaps the reason my spirit feels a little more light. We must hope, though our prospects should be as dark as the sky of this stormy night. Our wounded are doing well— those who remain in our hospital and the convalescents have been ordered to “Camp Jackson.” Indeed, all the patients were included in the same order; but Miss T. having represented that several of them were not in a condition to be removed, they have been allowed to remain where they are.
Colonel R. is improving, for which we are most thankful.
April 12, 1865, 10 a.m.
We hear this a.m. that Lee has surrendered to Grant the army of northern Virginia. It created a great deal of enthusiasm among us. It is hard to make our men believe anything, but Logan told us half an hour ago as he passed it is true as gospel. We have passed a large infantry camp that the Rebels left yesterday. Johnston is moving towards Raleigh. Our division has the advance to-day. We consolidated the regiment for the campaign into five companies.
Left bank of Neuse River, 20 miles East of Raleigh,
April 12, 1865, 4 p.m.
Twelve miles to-day. Our cavalry pushed ahead and drove the Rebels past here at 8 a.m. Saw a barn and cotton press in flames to-day. There has been no burning this trip worth mentioning. This to-day was all I have seen and it was to destroy the cotton. Poor country to-day, but one very nice country place; the house 4th rate, but the grounds and shrubbery finer than any in our part of Illinois.
This is an army of skeptics, they won’t believe in Lee’s surrender. I do, and I tell you it makes this one of my brightest days. His surrender makes sure beyond any chance that what we have been fighting for for four years is sure. Look for me July 4th, 1865. [This promise was kept. Ed.]
April 12th.—Warm and cloudy. Gen. Weitzel publishes an order to-day, requiring all ministers who have prayed for the President of the Confederate States to pray hereafter for the President of the United States. He will not allow them to omit the prayer.
In answer to my application for permission to take my family to the Eastern Shore of Virginia, where among their relations and friends shelter and food may be had, Brevet Brig.-Gen. Ludlow indorsed: “Disallowed—as none but loyal people, who have taken the oath, are permitted to reside on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.” This paper I left at Judge Campbell’s residence (he was out) for his inspection, being contrary in spirit to the terms he is represented to have said would be imposed on us.
At 1½ P.M. Another 100 guns were fired in Capitol Square, in honor, I suppose, of the surrender of Johnston’s army. I must go and see.
Captain Warner is still in prison, and no one is allowed to visit him, I learn. ,
Three P.M. Saw Judge Campbell, who will lay my paper before the military authorities for reconsideration to-morrow. He thinks they have acted unwisely. I said to him that a gentleman’s word was better than an enforced oath—and that if persecution and confiscation are to follow, instead of organized armies we shall have bands of assassins everywhere in the field, and the stiletto and the torch will take the place of the sword and the musket—and there can be no solid reconstruction, etc. He says he told the Confederate States authorities months ago that the cause had failed, but they would not listen. He said he had telegraphed something to Lieut.-Gen. Grant to-day.
The salute some say was in honor of Johnston’s surrender— others say it was for Lee’s—and others of Clay’s birthday.
Wednesday, 12th—We started at 8 a. m. and marched five miles, all the way through one continuous swamp. News came to us this forenoon that General Lee had surrendered his entire army to General Grant. It was glorious news. We forgot all about our hard marching, and the whole brigade commenced singing songs—”John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave, As we go marching on!”
12th. Marched at usual hour in rear of Division train. Bad roads and very tedious marching. Col. Nettleton met us near the Junction. Had a good visit with him. Line from home. How anxious I am to see dear mother and sisters. I love them more dearly than ever. Camped at B. New colors arrived. Rained. All begin to talk of home and peace. I do desire to be a true exemplary Christian during my remaining days.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, April 12. Another of the many rainy days that we have to experience in this country, a continuous stream poured down all day. Had to water the horses twice, doing which I got thoroughly soaked each time, but it would not be military to change.
Received letters from home stating they had their wheat all in. Here the trees are not in leaf yet, although spring has opened six weeks ago. What little farming is done here goes on very leisurely, while Wisconsin gives the husbandman but a short season, and he must go at it with a rush. So give me the cold regions, that demand energy, in preference to the balmy South that cultivates sluggish habits after all. This is a great cause of the backwardness of Southern agriculture. As long as the one-horse shovel-plow, made out of a crooked stick works, why should they ask for better, they think. But the day of reformation is at hand. Progression has vindicated her rights by the bloody hand of war.
