Army letters of Oliver Willcox Norton (Eighty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers)

Camp at Gaines’ Mill, Va.,
Monday, June 16, 1862.

Dear Mother:—

I received your letter of the 10th yesterday. I was writing at the time and intended to answer yours as soon as I finished the one I was writing, but a thunder storm came up and prevented me. I suppose you would think at home that was a singular excuse, but anyone who has lived in these shelter tents any length of time can appreciate the difficulties of writing in a heavy shower, perfectly. The wind blows and the rain comes down in great drops that spatter right through our light canvas tents. It whirls round and comes driving in the door, and by the time we have something hung up to stop that fun, there is a pretty large creek running right through where we want to sleep, and as that won’t do, why that must be attended to also, and so it goes. This is a great country for rain. It rains for two days and the next day it rains, and then we have some rain and wet weather. For a wonder we had three or four very hot days last week, but the rain yesterday afternoon was cold and last night we slept cold. Night before was very hot and we could not sleep for the heat.

I feel better this morning than I have in some time before. I have been quite unwell since the fight. I got very weak and couldn’t eat, but I’m just about all right again now. It seems wonderful that I have stood it so well.

With regard to Captain Austin’s complimentary remarks, I presume he was conscientious in what he said, but I must say if that was a specimen of his judgment, he is a very poor judge of military matters. I think, however, that I have done tolerably well in some things. I’ve been in the service over a year now and I’ve never been “pricked” (marked absent without leave) or had any extra duty imposed on me for misconduct. I’ve never been in the guardhouse or had any serious difficulties with officers or men. The nearest I have come to that was two or three days ago when I turned around and struck a fellow a tolerable crack in the face for his extra exertions to get his feet entangled with mine in the ranks. It made some little stir for the time being, but the captain did not say a word. I know he did not blame me much, but it would not do to say anything in defense of such conduct in the ranks, and so he said nothing. I feel well enough satisfied myself and I have an idea that the fellow, who is the veriest bloat and bully in the company, will conclude to let me alone. I suppose he thought as some others did, because I never wrestle or scuffle or box, that I hadn’t much spunk, and could be snubbed round by a bigger fellow with impunity. I don’t know as my temper is any better than it used to be, but I control it rather more. I suppose you won’t think the above is evidence of the fact, but my ideas of non-resistance are different from Father’s and, perhaps, from yours.

Camp near New Bridge, Va.,
Tuesday, June 10, 1862.

Dear Sister L.:—

The last week or so has been very dull here. Nothing to break the monotony but an occasional artillery duel across the Chickahominy, in which the rebels are always worsted. Sunday, the day you wrote your letter, was a pretty big day on the lines further to the left (Battle of Fair Oaks). We lay in our tents and heard the constant war of artillery and the rattle of musketry, and, as the sound retreated, we knew our boys were driving them. Lowe was up in his balloon right beside our camp, watching them and telegraphing to McClellan just what they were doing. You wanted me to tell you something about the large guns. I don’t know much about artillery myself, still I might tell you something new perhaps. “Parrott guns” are not all of the same size. In Battery No. 1 at Yorktown we had one hundred pound Parrotts and Griffin’s battery of light artillery has Parrott guns of three-inch bore. The peculiarity of this gun is in the construction. It is very long and slim and is noted for the strength and accuracy of its range. Those guns at Yorktown would throw a one hundred-pound shell two miles with great accuracy. I saw them drop just inside the rebel fort time and again. And these field pieces will throw a shell eight inches long and three inches in diameter as accurately three miles as they will half a mile. Our artillery and our artillerists are vastly superior to the rebels, and they are well aware of it. But of all the artillery, we have the greatest one yet in our regiment. We have a cannon drawn by one horse that one man can fire two hundred times a minute by merely turning a crank. Every revolution fires one ball. It is a curious Yankee contrivance. The cartridges are put in a hopper, carried one by one round in a cylinder, shoved into the barrel and fired. It makes a noise like the dogs of war let loose. The balls are only a size larger than our musket balls, a regular “Mime ball.” Don’t you think one of those coffee mills would “weed out” a secesh regiment about as quickly as any tools they have? I understand that every Pennsylvania regiment in the service is to have them. All the Pennsylvania regiments near here have them.

I have been quite unwell ever since the battle. I got overdone. Friday is the first day that I have felt at all like myself these two weeks. I think I shall be all right again soon.

Yesterday we had a grand review in honor of the Spanish General Prim. You have seen his name in the papers lately, I presume, in connection with the tripartite intervention in Mexico. He presented quite a contrast to the plain dress of “our George,” as he rode by in his gold lace and trimmings. Well, every nation likes its own style. There are many men even in McClellan’s staff who dress more showily than he does, but they don’t command the respect. There is hardly a man in the army who does not know George by sight and not a man but likes him.

I had more fun with some of the darkies at Hanover the day after the battle, more than a little. One old fellow told me how he acted when our shells began to come where he was. Says he, “Dere was ’bout twenty of us plowin’ and I hearn sumfin’ go pop-pop-p-p-pop, and pretty soon sumfin’ crash, bizz-z-z. right ober my head. I luff dat plow right dar and I went in dem woods quicker dan I went so far afore. I got down behind a log and I thought you gemmen was a makin’ our people run, and I jumped up and cried, ‘Glory to God!’ and just den ‘long comes ‘nudder of dem t’ings, bizz-z-z-z. Golly! I was down on my belly agin mi’ty quick. De oberseer run as if de debil was after him, but I larfed.”

A man named George Taylor who had inhumanly whipped a slave, came into our camp after him and he came near losing his life by the operation. He escaped by taking the oath of allegiance, but he lost his nigger. Peter is now with the colonel of the Twelfth regiment. Our camps are full of niggers. They are rapidly taking the place of white men as teamsters. They seem well adapted to that.

Richmond is not taken, but we could have taken it two week ago if George had wanted it. He wants to end the war here and he has not got everything ready yet. There is a good time coming yet, boys.

Camp near New Bridge, Hanover Co., Va.,

Monday, June 2, 1862.

Dear Brother and Sister:—

Before this reaches you, you will have heard of the battle of Hanover Court House, and I know you will be very anxious to hear from me. I should have written before, but my time has been so taken up and I have been so worn out by the extraordinary exertions of the past week that really I could not. In fact. I can scarcely write to-day.

Last Tuesday morning at 3:30 o’clock we were called out and formed in line without time to get breakfast. It was raining great guns and continued to rain till 10 o’clock and the rest of the day was intensely hot. We took a blanket and tent, three days’ rations and sixty rounds of cartridges and started, we knew not where, and cared not, only that we went toward secesh. We had the hardest march we have ever had yet, over twenty miles through mud, swamp and cornfield, fording creeks and climbing hills. Officers and men gave out, unable to go further. Four captains, ours included, and a half a score of lieutenants, gave up and still we kept on at a killing pace. At last we came up to them. The Twenty-fifth New York was ahead and was the first fired on, which they returned with interest. Then our brigade and a battery. The rebels, of course, were in the woods and we in the field, but they were driven out and we drove them over two miles to the north and then turned, supposing the fighting was all over. In this we were mistaken. A train of cars from the south brought reinforcements to the enemy, and, when our boys were half way back, the rebels, six regiments strong, attacked the Forty-fourth and Twenty-fifth, which had not joined in the chase. They stood their ground well, though they were terribly cut up, but a came to the rescue. On came the brigade and poured in a fire that quickly caused the discomfited secesh to beat a retreat. They were totally routed. Here then is the amount of the day’s work—a forced march, three separate fights and three victories, with a loss on our side of three hundred and seventy-nine in killed, wounded and prisoners—fifty-three killed, over one thousand rebels ditto, and over two thousand prisoners, North Carolina and Georgia troops. The Eighty-third lost two killed and thirteen wounded. Sergeant Hulbert and Frank McBride in Company K were both shot in the foot. Sergeant H. loses his foot and Frank his toes, the only casualties in our company.

I cannot tell you how I felt that day. As long as there was any prospect of a fight I kept my place in the ranks, but, when we gave up the chase and turned back to where our blankets were left, I fell out to get some water and bathe my head. My tongue was swollen with the heat and thirst, and I so faint I could hardly stand. I followed on, however, but the regiment was some distance ahead. I came up to Denny and Henry. Henry could not walk but a little way without stopping, and Denny and I waited for him and helped him along, but soon we heard the sharp rattle of musketry ahead and the third fight had commenced. We tried to get Henry along, but finally left him and he came on slowly while Denny and I pushed on as fast as we could, but the firing was done when we caught up. The regiment was in line in a very large wheat field and the rebels in the woods beyond. The balls whistled round us, but none touched me, so I am perfectly safe, but I was so worn out that I have not felt right since. Night closed in and we went back to our blankets and, wrapping up, lay down between the rows of corn to sleep. Generals and privates alike spent the night on the ground. Morning came, and stiff and sore we rose. The work of collecting and burying the dead was soon commenced. The woods were full of dead rebels who lay, as they fell, in all shapes. They were carried out and laid in a ghastly row on the grass. One fine looking young man was shot through the heart as he was loading his gun. His hands had not changed their position, one extended above his head drawing his rammer and the other grasping his gun by his side. His eyes were open and the expression of his countenance as calm as though he was sleeping, but the fearful wound in his breast told that he would never wake on earth again. We buried over one hundred of them. We spent the day in recruiting our exhausted soldiers. General Porter gave permission to stay and eat, and, if an army ever made havoc with an enemy’s provisions, we did. We killed all the beef, pork, veal, mutton and poultry we could eat and carry away. We captured a train of cars loaded with supplies for the rebels, and our regiment got over fifteen hundred pounds of sugar and nearly a ton of splendid tobacco, which will all be given to the men. Secesh knapsacks were scattered everywhere, and our boys, if they could have carried away the things, would have got a good many comforts, but we could not. We got a good many love letters, etc., bowie knives and pistols, and I got a great bowie but I threw it away, I couldn’t carry it. I send you a letter that I got in a knapsack, and a secesh stamp. The letter is an excellent specimen of secesh literature and love. I almost wish I had as fond a sweetheart. We retraced that long weary march on Thursday night, arriving in camp at 3 o’clock in the morning. On Saturday night we were ordered out at midnight and went out to the Chickahominy. We came back yesterday afternoon. Lowe’s balloon is up in our camp watching the rebels and the report is that they are all leaving Richmond. I have heard no firing to-day and we are expecting orders to follow them every minute. I must close. Goodbye. Write very soon to your brother Oliver. Direct Company K, Eighty-third Pennsylvania Volunteers, Morell’s Division, Porter’s Corps, Army before Richmond, Va.

Saturday P. M., May 31. A tremendous thunder storm came up yesterday and prevented my finishing my letter. The rain fell in torrents and the lighting was very sharp. A flash struck the quartermaster’s tent in the Forty-fourth, about five rods from me, instantly killing him, and stunning twenty others. The bright steel bayonets made excellent lightning rods and a great many in all the camps around were sensibly affected by it.

To go on with my story about the battle. About two miles south of Hanover Court House the Seventeenth New York, which was in front, came upon a North Carolina regiment in the woods. They immediately formed in line of battle in a wheat field and the battery just behind came up and commenced throwing grape into the woods. We followed the battery into the field and took position in time to support it. The rebels retreated and Companies A and B were thrown out as skirmishers and we followed them half a mile through the woods and halted just in the further edge with our skirmishers in front in the field. This was a large clover field three-quarters of a mile across and on the further side we saw two regiments of rebels with three pieces of artillery. They shelled us as well as they could, but only one man was hurt. Our skirmishers kept picking off the stragglers and our battery soon came out and drove them again. We came out and followed across the field (or fields, for it was cut up by numerous gullies) and in them we took several prisoners. Company K took the first two. They were skirmishing under the bushes, and, as I jumped over the fence, I almost stumbled on them. They were instantly disarmed.

Camp near New Bridge, Hanover Co., Va..

Friday P. M., May 30, 1862.

Dear Friends at Home:—

We have had our first battle. The accounts will reach you in the papers and I know you will be very anxious till you hear from me, so I embrace the earliest opportunity I have had of writing to give you some of the particulars, though I am so very tired that I am afraid I shall not make out much of a letter.

Last Tuesday morning we were called out at 3:30 o’clock and ordered into line without our knapsacks, taking one blanket and tent, three days’ rations, and sixty rounds of cartridges. We had no time to make coffee, and had no breakfast but crackers and water. It was raining heavily and continued to do so till 10 o’clock and then cleared off very hot. The roads were horrible and the artillery was constantly getting stuck and causing delay. We took the road to Hanover Court House, twenty-four miles from camp, and traveled as fast as men could travel except when hindered by the artillery. The bridges were all destroyed but one, and the creeks had to be waded through. It was the severest march we ever had. Officers could not stand it any better than the men, for we had not very heavy loads, and officers and men gave out and lay by the roadside together, utterly unable to go any farther without rest. Captain Austin, Captain Carpenter, Captain Stowe and Captain Graham all gave out, and half the lieutenants in the regiment with scores of the men fell out and lay down to rest.

New Bridge, Chickahominy River, Va.,

Monday, May 26, 1862.

Dear Friends at Home:—

It seems a long time since I received your last and a long time since I have written. In that time we have traveled over the country from Yorktown to within six or eight miles of the rebel capital. Half a day’s march now without special delay would bring us to Richmond. And yet we’ve seen no rebels except prisoners and deserters, and they are but very poorly calculated to inspire a high opinion of their associates in arms. When we entered the rebel works at Yorktown and looked back at our own, we were surprised at their apparent nearness and at the little loss of life with which they were constructed. I begin to suspect it was the smell of fresh dirt which sickened them and made them leave their forts, for the last night of their stay our boys dug rifle pits under their very noses. At Yorktown, we took a steamer at dusk and the next morning found us in sight of West Point. We landed and camped on the field where the battle was fought the day before. The papers have given you much better accounts of it than I can, for I was a day too late to see anything, but some of the wounded and dead. In Captain Woodward’s street considerable blood was still seen on the ground and the boys gathered around it with a curious interest and expressed all sorts of feelings at the novel sight. We stayed three or four days at West Point and then were on the road to Richmond. The time from that day to this has been passed in various camps and marches in the heat and dust and in the rain and mud. Slow and toilsome progress was made but it was sure. No going back. “On to Richmond” is the watchword in earnest now. Yorktown has taught me a lesson, however, and I would not dare to prophesy how soon we shall be there. I am well satisfied that, if fighting is necessary to get there, we are good for that. I think the battles of Lee’s Mill, Williamsburg and West Point have amply demonstrated the fact that McClellan’s army is not one drilled for grand reviews alone, but that the spirit of the men is just as impetuously brave as any found in the western troops.

Cold Harbor, Powhite Swamp, Va..

Saturday, May 24, 1862.

Dear Brother and Sister:—

My duty as bugler exempts me from guard and picket duty. While at Yorktown bugles and drums were not used and I had nothing to do, so I went into the ranks again and volunteered to do picket duty and work in the trenches, and took my regular turn in all the work of the regiment except camp guard which I always had an aversion to and wouldn’t do when I was not required to. We had a corps of twelve buglers when we left Fort Monroe and I was the leader, but, finding that a good many more than was necessary, the colonel dismissed all but two, Lederer and myself. Now, I’ll just give you an idea of our duties. At sunrise buglers at brigade headquarters sound the “brigade call” and the “reveille” (rev-el-lee is camp pronunciation). The buglers of each regiment as quickly as possible assemble on the color line, give their regimental call and repeat the reveille. The fifes and drums follow and awake the men. This is the signal to rise and fall in for roll call.

You may guess that the buglers of an army of 30,000 men all within sound of each other, make some music. At sunset we have another call, “The Retreat.” At half past eight the “Tattoo,” at nine the “Extinguish Lights.” Then there are calls “To Strike Tents,” “To Assemble,” “To the Color,” “Sick Call,” “Officers Call,” “Church Call,” etc. It is our duty to repeat all such calls that are first sounded at headquarters. On the march, the order to march, or halt, or lie down and rest, etc., in fact, all orders are given by the bugle.

Cold Harbor, Powhite Swamp,Va..

Friday, May 23, 1862.

Dear Sister L.:—

I think I have not written to you since we left Yorktown. Doubtless you have plenty of papers and have heard all about that long ago. We went on board a steamer there and landed at West Point, the head of York river, the day after the battle and camped three days on the battlefield. We then followed the “river road” up the Pamunkey to Kent Court House, Cumberland and White House landing, Tunstall’s, Hanover, etc., on the road to Richmond. We are now within ten miles of the rebel capital. What lies beyond I do not know, but suspect that the enemy is in considerable force not far off. General Butterfield sent me an order this morning not to give the reveille with the bugle, and the bugles and drums are as silent to-day as they were before Yorktown. We have had all the varied experiences of the soldier in the field since leaving Yorktown, marching through rain and shine, mud and dust, wading through creeks and drawing artillery and baggage wagons out of the sloughs. We make slow but sure progress.

The country is as beautiful a section as I ever saw. Lovely scenery, glorious landscapes, everything is beautiful and “only man is vile.” Great clover fields in full bloom spreading away over gentle swells of ground and broad fields of wheat all headed out abound. We stopped three days at the “White House” on the Custis estate. This is a large plantation, seven thousand acres of very productive land on the Pamunkey river, late the property of the rebel General Lee. It is the old homestead of the Custis family and occupied by them in the days of Washington. Here Washington first met Martha Custis, and here, on the very spot where Lee’s White House now stands, they were married. There are several hundreds of slaves on the estate and we had the opportunities we wanted to talk with them. Oh, they were a happy set of darkies when they learned that they were free. They were most of them born on the place. I saw one old Uncle Tom, over sixty years old, who had never been five miles from the place in all his life. He had worn his life away on these fields. Contrabands are pouring in on us every day. Almost every officer has one or two along now. They hardly know what to do with themselves on learning that they will never be returned to their masters.

The white inhabitants of the country are a miserable set. Every house exhibits the white flag as our troops pass. They are mean enough to take advantage of such protection and refuse a drink of water to our troops almost suffocated with heat. We have had some days when we could scarcely march half a mile without resting. Some of the boys went to fill their canteens at a well near the road. The woman of the house came out and stood by the well and told them they might go to the river to drink. She wasn’t going to have the d—d Yankees drink out of her well. It was well for her she was a woman. Our boys would have knocked a man endways who would insult them in that way and perhaps put a bayonet through him. The men are just as mean as the women, but a little more discreet. I went to one of the white flag houses and said to the man who stood in the yard, “Where do you get water?” “No water here, sir, I have to tote all I use right smart o’ two miles.” “I couldn’t see” any such yarn as that, so I made a reconnoissance and found a splendid spring not a dozen rods behind the house. I filled my canteen, and. when I went up showed it to him, with, “What do you call that but water?” “Oh,” says he, “we don’t never use that.” Says I, “What kind of a flag do you call that?” “Flag— flag—Oh, that’s a white flag.” “What is that a sign of?” “It’s a sign of truth.” “Don’t you think it would look better for a little more coloring?” “Well, I don’t know but it would, but I hadn’t anything handy to color it with.” “Well, I think you better get it down as soon as possible and fix it over as near like that one as you can” ( pointing to our regimental colors). “Well, I guess I will if I can find anything about the house to color it with.” (Mem. I guess he won’t.) I bought a secesh bill of him, and, thinking possibly you haven’t seen any, I’ll send it to you. It is a specimen of Confederate States art, beautiful to see but “not worth a red” to spend. Save it as a memento of the war.

White House, Va.,
May 20, 1862.

Dear Father:—

There are long rows of “quarters,” log huts with no windows but holes in the walls and only a mud floor. The slaves were mostly born on the plantation, and, though many had been sold south, but few had been brought on. One old “Uncle Tom,” over sixty years old, had worn his strength out in sight of the house—had never been five miles away. One man told me he was owned over on the State road six miles away. He married a woman on this plantation, had been married eight years and had six children. The only time he had ever been allowed to visit his wife was to come on Saturday night after dark and be back to his work in the field by daylight on Monday morning. He was a good looking, intelligent man and gave me much information about the modes of cultivation, the crops, etc., and about negro life in the system of slavery. He could hardly believe or realize that he and his family could never be slaves again. He said “if he was sartin of it, he would stay where he had always lived.” He could find “right smart to do,” and felt very confident he could support his family. There were all sorts of darkies there, stalwart field hands, and old wornout men, laughing, careless “Topsies” carrying buckets of water on their heads, strong-limbed boys, and little toddlers running round with nothing to cover their ebony but a nether garment that looked as though it had been in contact with their master’s character. They all appeared very healthy, except the very old men and women.

Well, if I don’t stop running on so I shall have no time to answer any questions. About that Zouave cap, it is dark blue, and, of course, it has no front, that’s Zouave style. The Duryea Zouaves wear a red cap, conical, with a white roll around it, and a very heavy, long tassel of yellow worsted, blue jacket (some like our three months’), red pants, very baggy, and yellow leggings. They are a dashing set of fellows.

I am very glad if the money I sent was of use. We expect another two months’ pay in Richmond.

I saw Conway Ayres at White House. His regiment was to be mustered out of service in a few days, but he said he should not go home till we got to Richmond.

We have lately got a suit of government uniforms and the Zouaves are played out.

General Porter is raised to the command of a corps and the division is now Morell’s division.

I hope you will reply as promptly as I have, and that our letters will be received a little more quickly hereafter.