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

Chapin’s Farm, Va.,
Sunday Eve., Nov. 27, 1864.

My Dear Sister L.:—

I have been pretty busy the past week in getting my new house done in addition to my other duties, and to-day I have just moved in. I could not get my “details” to-day, being Sunday, so I had to turn to myself and put the floor in this morning. Perhaps you think it bending the Sabbath to build while I should be at church, but I cannot see it in just that light. The colonel burned up his tent the other day and to-morrow we have a new major coming and I have to give up my tent to him, so I made the excuse of necessity, rolled up my sleeves and finished my house so that I could occupy it, and moved in, and I am so comfortable to-night! I have a little the most gorgeous residence I have had since I came to the army. It is about the size of your parlor, perhaps a little larger, with a canvas roof which also serves for window, and then the beauty of it is the fireplace, a regular old-fashioned kitchen fireplace that I can have a group sitting around and enjoying themselves.

To-night while I am writing Lieutenant Colonel Cooper, One hundred and seventh Ohio (Captain Cooper of the Eighth), is with me making out his returns preparatory to leaving for his new command, which, by the way, is down in Jacksonville, where we left them. They are supposed to be having a soft thing down there.

I was just sitting down to dinner when a gentleman of color approached bearing in his arms a box which he desired me to accept and give him a “ceipt” for it, which I proceeded to do, and opening it I found the sheets and the fruits and the pickles, etc., in the tip-toppest order. You sent just what I wanted, and you may congratulate yourself on having accomplished a feat that very few who send boxes to the army do. Almost every one sends something that will mold or sour and spoil the rest. I had not the least idea when I asked you to send me sheets that it was going to cause you much inconvenience. Shows how much I know of such things. You must thank Mrs. Ploss for me and remember that I did not think of sending to her for sheets.

Did I write you that Williston Tyler was dead? He died in Louisville, Ky., where he had gone to work for the Government. Denny took the body home. I received a letter from him yesterday containing his photo. He looks just as he used to. Frank says she has heard from you after a long silence.

I suppose you have heard about the Thanksgiving dinner sent to the army. Our part of the army did not get theirs till Friday, but it was good when it came—most of it. The “Field and Staff” of the Eighth got two turkeys, one of which came into my mess, and a cake with a pretty name and Jersey City address and ‘”Tell me how you like my cake” on the bottom of it. I shall proceed to praise the cake (and it would bear praising) after finishing this.

I have got your picture framed and hung up in my new house, and Ed’s and Etta’s and several others.

National Hotel, Washington,
Nov. 19, 1863.

Dear Sister L.:—

Perhaps you think my long silence bodes no good. If you do, dispossess yourself of that idea immediately.

I am half “luny” with delight. Do not think that because I would not allow myself to think or speak of coming home, or listen to you, that I cared nothing for my home or my friends. No, indeed! But now times are altered and I shall be with you next week, God willing. “How? Why?” Because I am “First Lieutenant, Eighth Regiment, United States Colored Troops, Philadelphia. Pennsylvania.” and have leave of absence for fifteen days, signed by the Secretary of War, in my pocket.

I shall go to New York to-night to buy some clothes and see my friends. I shall stay till Monday night. Then I come to you. I will stop on my way to Michigan to call for E. and take him home with me.

This is good news to you, I know. It is to me. I hardly expected to get home, but last night I went down to see Major Foster, stated my case and asked ten days. “Why, you can’t go to Michigan in ten days; it will take you all the time to go and come.” I thought, you see, that if I asked too much, I wouldn’t get anything. “Make your application in writing and I will see what I can do for you.” I made the application this morning for fifteen days and got my papers through the whole red tape in an hour.

E. made the most sensible remark I have read since the talk of my promotion. Said he, “I shall think no more of you than I did when you carried a musket, but the world will.” Straps are honored, and already I see the advantage of wearing them, though I have not got them on.

Kelly’s Ford, Va,, Nov. 13, 1863.

Dear Sister L.:—

I received your and Charlie’s letter. Your expressed wish to see me will not yet be gratified, I fear. I have heard nothing yet from Washington and I would take about ten cents for my chance of a commission. I do not entirely give it up yet, but my expectations are dwindling fast. One of the Forty-fourth New York, who was examined the day after I was, got First Lieutenant, First Class. That I am morally certain of, and he has not got his appointment yet. Until he gets his I shall not entirely give it up.

I copy a portion of the last “General Order” in relation to the fight at Rappahannock Station:

“The enemy was attacked in an entrenched position of great strength in enclosed works, defended by artillery and infantry, and compelled to surrender, after a sharp conflict, to an assaulting column actually inferior in numbers to the force defending the works.

Four pieces of artillery, four caissons filled with ammunition, the enemy’s pontoon bridge, eight battle flags, two thousand stand of small arms, one thousand six hundred prisoners, including two brigade commanders and one hundred and thirty commissioned officers, are the fruits of the victory.”

Headquarters Third Brigade,
Kelly’s Ford, Nov. 11, 1863.

Dear Sister L.:—

I have another name to put on my battle pin (when I get it), that of “Rappahannock Station, November 8th.” Soldiers have a fashion of counting up their battles, with an honest pride when they reach a certain number, and I will count up mine and then tell you a little about the last. Hanover Court House, a battle then, a skirmish now, Mechanicsville, Gaines’ Mill, which no one calls less than a battle even now, Savage Station, White Oak Swamp, Glendale, Malvern Hill, then the greatest battle of America, Second Bull Run, Antietam, Shepherdstown Ford, Fredericksburg, the slaughter pen, skirmish at Richards’ Ford, Chancellorsville, Loudon Valley, Gettysburg, Jones’ Cross Roads, and Rappahannock Station.

Quite a little list, and as I have always been there when the Third Brigade has, I do not feel ashamed of my record.

About four o’clock last Saturday morning the reveille sounded and in half an hour the camps of our division were all astir, brilliant with fires, bristling with preparation for the march at daylight. Daylight came and we began the march toward the river. The day was cold and windy and very dusty, but we marched rapidly and by noon we reached the rebel pickets, or our advance discovered them a mile from the river. We halted for an hour or two, while the generals made their dispositions, and then formed in line. Our division came next to the railroad, on the south of it. On the other side was the Sixth Corps, Second Division of the Fifth Corps on our left and Third Division in reserve.

At 2:30 p. m. the line advanced. The skirmishers soon ran on to a cavalry picket and fired, and the way the rebs did “git” over the little hill was a warning to slow horses. We advanced steadily and soon came to a line of rebel skirmishers thrown out to meet us. They fired and fell back and soon the artillery opened on our line, but oh, such firing! Shells burst all around and over us, but hardly one in the right place. On our side of the river just above the railroad was a fort mounting six or seven guns and the opposite bank of the river was bristling with field batteries.

Griffin’s battery (our favorite) got into position to send a message to the nearest fort and our skirmishers advanced. The rebs opened on them and the aforesaid pet opened on the rebs, and over the rampart went our boys and out went the rebs. Some of them jumped into the river up to their necks, but they had to come back. The result was sixty-five men and five officers prisoners, and seven guns (all in the fort).

The paper states that the Sixth Corps took the fort. It may be so, but men who were the first in say that only one sergeant and one officer from the Sixth were there, and I know that the Eighty-third and Forty-fourth took the prisoners, because I saw and counted them myself and heard Colonel Connor’s report when he brought them to Colonel Chamberlain.

Well, that was about all of it. It was after sundown when the fort was taken and we could not cross the river till morning. Our casualties were very small, twenty killed and wounded in the brigade, three wounded and none killed in the Eighty-third.

We went back into the woods to bivouac. No fires were allowed, but a good many were made, nevertheless, and I made out to get a cup of coffee. I tied my horse to a fallen tree and lay down close by him, and the rascal kept me awake half the night. He pulled my haversack out from under my head, pulled my blankets off, and once I woke and found him with my bugle in his mouth chewing the tassel.

By daylight we were on the move down the river to Kelly’s Ford, crossed on pontoons and back into the country three miles and bivouacked. Monday we lay all day in bivouac and at sundown got up and came back this side the river. Our First Division did. The rest of the corps remained.

We had big times that night for fires. We had no wood, camped on a plain where there had been an old camp, and not a stake for our horses or stick to burn could we find. The wind blew furiously and it began to snow.

The mounted orderlies and I after unsaddling put out and finally found a pole thirty feet long half a mile away. We took that, carried it up and laid it on the ground to tie to. The other boys had got some brush afire and we got coffee and lay down. That night it snowed an inch deep on our blankets. Next morning we moved back into the woods, where we are now and expect to stay a few days to watch guerrillas.

I have heard nothing from the War Department yet. Begin to think I am rejected. Write again soon.

Camp near Warrenton, Va.,
Monday, Nov. 2, 1863.

Dear Sister L.:—

I got back to camp last Thursday night. Next morning early we marched about six miles and brought up on the Branch railroad, about three miles from Warrenton. I do not as yet know any more of the result of my examination than I wrote you from Washington. My papers have not arrived yet.

Washington, D. C,

Oct. 28, 1863.

Dear Sister L.:—

I have just time to tell you the result of my examination, which came off yesterday. Just as I expected, the result depended on the surgeon’s verdict. Before the board I passed without trouble, unless study be trouble, and I hope I satisfied the doctor that I could see a commission. It tried my eyes to do it, though, I assure you of that.

I tried this morning to find out my fate. I could not satisfy myself, but those who pretend to know the ropes and who have heretofore been correct, say I am booked for straps, “First Lieutenant—First Class.” If so I am content. It was what I worked for. Many of my comrades here express surprise that it was not a captaincy. I am not surprised, and should not have been if it had been second lieutenant. It is no boy’s play to satisfy that board that you can make even a lieutenant.

However, it may be all moonshine and perhaps I am rejected after all, but if I am, the surgeon did it.

I return to the army to-morrow, and in the course of a week or two I shall be officially notified of the result, when I will lose no time in informing you. I hope to be able, if successful, to get leave of absence for a few days to come and see you. You would be glad to see me, wouldn’t you? My letters from the army haven’t been sent up. No doubt there is one or more there from you. If there is not I shall think you don’t care much about me, anyway, and shall not care to come home.

374 North Capitol Street,
Washington, D. C, Oct. 28, 1863.

Dear Father:—

The great day for me was yesterday. After waiting almost a month the door swung on its hinges to admit Private O. W. N. to the presence of the arbiters of his fate who would transform him to a “straps” or send him back to his regiment to be the butt for the ridicule of his companions.

Well, it is all over with and I breathe freer. My examination occupied forty-five minutes, and in that time I missed only two questions, and those on points which I had stated to the board that I was not prepared to answer. My examination was unusually long. Many have been commissioned on a ten or fifteen minutes’ examination and very few privates or non-commissioned officers stay in over half an hour.

I was the last one examined, and after I left the room to be examined by the surgeon, a sergeant heard the general remark that they had “not had to reject a man to-day.” So I am satisfied that I am all right if the surgeon was satisfied with me. In testing my eyes he sent me to the corner of the room and the clerk covered one of my eyes at a time while the doctor held up something and asked me what it was. I had played sharp on him by taking an inventory of the articles on the table. I could see just enough with one eye to tell a pen from a paper knife, and a pair of scissors from a cork. He discovered that I was a little near-sighted. He asked me if I could march twenty-five miles and not be sick. That was a thrust at my “shanghais,” but I told him with emphasis I could and had, and he seemed satisfied. He wouldn’t look at my captain’s letter, probably thought he didn’t want any assistance in determining my physical ability.

I went down this morning to try to learn the result, but I could not.

No. 374 North Capitol Street,
Washington, D. C, Oct. 15, 1863.

Dear Mother:—

My examination has not taken place yet and probably will not till next week. I have been here two weeks already, and I am not yet prepared. I am studying all I can. Today I have been up in the President’s room in the Capitol with another candidate for strapic honors, reviewing and cross-examining on the tactics. Imagine my feelings, transferred from my shelter tent on the Rapidan to the royal magnificence of our republican President’s private room in the Capitol. Pier mirrors twenty feet high on three sides of the room, marble top table, luxurious chairs, and, oh, such paintings!

It may be that I am very verdant, but a ramble through the Capitol puts me in mind of the fairy palaces of the Arabian Nights. The vaulted roofs, beautifully painted and frescoed, the marble columns (white and variegated) polished till they look as though they were covered with glass, the labyrinthine passages so puzzling it is almost impossible to enter and come out the same door, the glorious historical and portrait paintings, all make up a scene of wonder and grandeur to a plain republican like me, such as I never have seen and never expect to see again. In the Patent Office I saw Washington’s sword, the one he carried in the Revolution, his dress suit, his writing case, tent, cane, bureau, mirror, etc.

I visited the Smithsonian. I won’t try to tell what I saw there. It set my brain in a whirl that I have not got over yet. It is near supper time and I must close. I will say that nothing but my eyes will keep me from a commission. If I can convince the board that they are right, I shall be all right. If they throw me out on that, I have half a mind to demand a discharge on that ground. I cannot see why my eyes should disqualify me for an officer and not for a private.

Home of the Sanitary Commission,
Washington, D. C., Oct. 15, 1863.

Dear Sister L:—.

My mind has been in such a muddle since I came to Washington that I cannot remember whether I have written to you since I came here or not. I know I have answered your last letter, but I believe I did that in camp, and though I have not heard from you since, it seems time to write again, so here it is.

First, what I am doing here. If you have not heard, you are wondering if I have at last got into a hospital. Not very, at least I am not under medical treatment.

You know that, with my restless disposition, I could not be contented as brigade bugler while there was a possibility of doing better. As long ago as last May I began to work for a commission in a colored regiment. I wrote to Galusha A. Grow for advice. (I presume you noticed the record of that in my diary and wondered what that was about.) I heard nothing from him till this fall, when I received a letter recommending me to the notice of C. W. Foster, Major and Assistant Adjutant General. Chief of Colored Bureau, and requesting that I might be examined. It was dated September 21st. I immediately made an application to Major Foster, enclosing this letter, and in due time received an order from the War Department permitting me to appear for examination before the board of which Major General Casey is president. I reported to the board on the 1st of October and was informed that I could not be examined for a week or two yet, and was sent to this place to stay in the meantime.

Second, my prospects. When I first came here I had a very poor idea of the qualifications requisite to pass a successful examination. I knew I was as well qualified as half the officers of my regiment and I hoped to get through. Now I find that none are commissioned who are not qualified to hold the same rank in the regular army, and I begin to feel very small indeed. A man is required to show, first, a thorough knowledge of Casey’s Tactics (and the examination is very severe in this), then a good knowledge of geography and history, arithmetic, algebra and geometry. Then the “Army Regulations,” ”Articles of War.” muster and pay rolls, etc., etc., in fact be fully as well posted for second lieutenant as colonel of volunteers. Since I have been here two lieutenant colonels and many line officers have been rejected as unfit for second lieutenants.

After all this comes a searching physical examination, and no matter how well a person is posted, if the surgeon does not pronounce him sound in every respect, he is rejected. Knowing all this you may believe that my hopes of success are very small indeed. However, I shall try, and if I succeed shall be very agreeably disappointed, and I shall consider it no small honor, either. I am studying all I can, but I cannot fix my mind to study as I once could. Two years and a half in the army vetoes that.

I left the army at Culpeper. To-day they are reported at Bull Run, and the air is full of rumors of another great battle on that already famous field. For the first time, if so, the “Third Brigade” has been in a fight without me. I confess to no little anxiety for the result. Our army, I know, is weakened. The Eleventh and Twelfth corps have been sent to Rosecrans, and the First, Second, Third, Fifth and Sixth comprise the whole of our army. The papers say that “Meade is only falling back to seek a field,” but I don’t believe it. If he had the force, the fields at Culpeper are just as good as those at Bull Run, where the rebels have the memory of two victories. However, I will not croak, but hope for the best.

From Pennsylvania and Ohio we have glorious news. Curtin is re-elected by 30,000 majority and Brough has beat Vallandigham 100,000. That is a greater victory for Pennsylvania than the battle of Gettysburg. It is a victory for the country. Copperheads are nowhere and the elections speak in unmistakable terms the determination of the people to support the administration. It cannot but have its influence on the South and on the war.