Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Middletown, Monday, September 22, 1862.

Dear Uncle : — I am still doing well. I am looking for Lucy. My only anxiety is lest she has trouble in finding me. Indeed, I am surprised that she is not here already. I shall stay here about ten days or two weeks longer, then go to Frederick and a few days afterwards to Washington. About the 15th or 20th October, I can go to Ohio, and if my arm cures as slowly as I suspect it will, I may come via Pittsburgh and Cleveland to Fremont and visit you. I do not see how I can be fit for service under two months.

The Eighth Regiment was in the second battle and suffered badly. You must speak well of “old Frederick” hereafter. These people are nursing some thousands of our men as if they were their own brothers. McClellan has done well here. The Harpers Ferry imbecility or treachery alone prevented a crushing of the Rebels. Love to all. Send me papers, etc., here “care Jacob Rudy.”

Do you remember your Worthington experience in 1842? Well this is it. I don’t suffer as much as you did, but like it.

Middletown is eight miles west of Frederick on the National Road. The nearest telegraph office is at Frederick. Two thirds of the wounded men of my regiment have gone to Frederick. The worst cases are still here. In my regiment, four captains out of eight present were wounded, thirty-nine men killed, one hundred and thirty-seven wounded, and seven missing. I expect about twenty to twenty-five of the wounded to die. The New York Times account gives us the nearest justice of anybody in its details of the Sunday fight but we are all right. Everybody knows that we were the first in and the last out, and that we were victorious all the time. How happy the men are — even the badly wounded ones. One fellow shot through the body has gathered up a banjo and makes the hospital ring with negro songs!

Good-bye,

H.

S. BIRCHARD.

September 21. — Battle of Antietam rather with us. The Twenty-third has done nobly. Very gratifying. But alas, thirty or forty dead, and one hundred and thirty or one hundred and forty wounded.

September 20. — Got a dispatch from Platt. Fear Lucy has not heard of my wound; had hoped to see her today, probably shan’t. This hurts me worse than the bullet did.

September 19. — Begin to mend a little.

Thursday, September 18, 1862. — [At] Captain Rudy’s (Jacob Rudy, merchant), Middletown, Maryland. Here I lie nursing my shattered arm, “as snug as a bug in a rug.”

September 12, entered Frederick amidst loud huzzahs and cheering — eight miles. Had a little skirmish getting in; a beautiful scene and a jolly time.

September 13, marched to this town, entered in night — Middletown, Maryland.

September 14, Sunday. Enemy on a spur of Blue Ridge, three and one-half miles west. At 7 A. M. we go out to attack. I am sent with [the] Twenty-third up a mountain path to get around the Rebel right with instructions to attack and take a battery of two guns supposed to be posted there. I asked, “If I find six guns and a strong support?” Colonel Scammon replies, “Take them anyhow.” It is the only safe instruction. General Cox told me General Pleasanton had arranged with Colonel Crook of [the] Second Brigade as to the support of his (General Pleasanton’s) artillery and cavalry, and was vexed that Colonel Scammon was to have the advance; that he, General Cox, wished me to put my energies and wits all to work so that General Pleasanton should have no cause to complain of an inefficient support. The First Brigade had the advance and the Twenty-third was the front of the First Brigade.

Went with a guide by the right flank up the hill, Company A deployed in front as skirmishers. Seeing signs of Rebels [I] sent [Company] F to the left and [Company] I to the right as flankers. Started a Rebel picket about 9 A. M. Soon saw from the opposite hill a strong force coming down towards us; formed hastily in the woods; faced by the rear rank (some companies inverted and some out of place) towards the enemy; pushed through bushes and rocks over broken ground towards the enemy; soon received a heavy volley, wounding and killing some. I feared confusion; exhorted, swore, and threatened. Men did pretty well. Found we could not stand it long, and ordered an advance. Rushed forward with a yell; enemy gave way. Halted to reform line; heavy firing resumed.

I soon began to fear we could not stand it, and again ordered a charge; the enemy broke, and we drove them clear out of the woods. Our men halted at a fence near the edge of the woods and kept up a brisk fire upon the enemy, who were sheltering themselves behind stone walls and fences near the top of the hill, beyond a cornfield in front of our position. Just as I gave the command to charge I felt a stunning blow and found a musket ball had struck my left arm just above the elbow. Fearing that an artery might be cut, I asked a soldier near me to tie my handkerchief above the wound. I soon felt weak, faint, and sick at the stomach. I laid [lay] down and was pretty comfortable. I was perhaps twenty feet behind the line of my men, and could form a pretty accurate notion of the way the fight was going. The enemy’s fire was occasionally very heavy; balls passed near my face and hit the ground all around me. I could see wounded men staggering or carried to the rear; but I felt sure our men were holding their own. I listened anxiously to hear the approach of reinforcements; wondered they did not come.

I was told there was danger of the enemy flanking us on our left, near where I was lying. I called out to Captain Drake, who was on the left, to let his company wheel backward so as to face the threatened attack. His company fell back perhaps twenty yards, and the whole line gradually followed the example, thus leaving me between our line and the enemy. Major Comly came along and asked me if it was my intention the whole line should fall back. I told him no, that I merely wanted one or two of the left companies to wheel backward so as to face an enemy said to be coming on our left. I said if the line was now in good position to let it remain and to face the left companies as I intended. This, I suppose, was done.

The firing continued pretty warm for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, when it gradually died away on both sides. After a few minutes’ silence I began to doubt whether the enemy had disappeared or whether our men had gone farther back. I called out, “Hallo Twenty-third men, are you going to leave your colonel here for the enemy?” In an instant a half dozen or more men sprang forward to me, saying, “Oh no, we will carry you wherever you want us to.” The enemy immediately opened fire on them. Our men replied to them, and soon the battle was raging as hotly as ever. I ordered the men back to cover, telling them they would get me shot and themselves too. They went back and about this time Lieutenant Jackson came and insisted upon taking me out of the range of the enemy’s fire. He took me back to our line and, feeling faint, he laid me down behind a big log and gave me a canteen of water, which tasted so good. Soon after, the fire having again died away, he took me back up the hill, where my wound was dressed by Dr. Joe. I then walked about half a mile to the house of Widow Kugler. I remained there two or three hours when I was taken with Captain Skiles in an ambulance to Middletown — three and a half miles — where I stopped at Mr. Jacob Rudy’s.

I omitted to say that a few moments after I first laid [lay] down, seeing something going wrong and feeling a little easier, I got up and began to give directions about things; but after a few moments, getting very weak, I again laid [lay] down. While I was lying down I had considerable talk with a wounded [Confederate] soldier lying near me. I gave him messages for my wife and friends in case I should not get up. We were right jolly and friendly; it was by no means an unpleasant experience.

Telegraphed Lucy, Uncle, Platt, and John Herron, two or three times each. Very doubtful whether they get the dispatches. My orderly, Harvey Carrington, nurses me with the greatest care. Dr. Joe dresses the wound, and the women feed me sumptuously.

Don’t sleep much these nights; days pretty comfortable.

[Yesterday, the] 17th, listened almost all day to the heavy cannonading of the great battle on the banks of the Antietam, anxiously guessing whether it is with us [or] our foes. [Today, the] 18th, write letters to divers friends.

Middletown, September 16, 1862.

Dear Mother: — It would make you very happy about me if you could see how pleasantly and comfortably I am cared for. Imagine Mrs. Wasson and two or three young ladies doing all in their power to keep me well nursed and fed, and you will get a good idea of my situation.

The worst period of my wound is now over. I am, when still, free from pain. A little boy, about Ruddy’s age, (eight or nine) named Charlie Rudy, sits by the window and describes the troops, etc., etc., as they pass. I said to him, “Charlie, you live on a street that is much travelled.” “Oh,” said he, “it isn’t always so, it’s only when the war comes.” Mrs. Rudy’s currant jellies remind me of old times in Delaware.

I hope Lucy will be able to come out to see me. At any rate, I shall probably come home and stay a few weeks when I shall see you. Thus far, the best of the fighting is with us. My regiment has lost largely but has been victorious. — Love to all.

Affectionately,

R.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.

(Telegram.)

Frederick, Maryland, September 15, 1862.

To W. A. Platt, Columbus, Ohio.

I am seriously wounded in the left arm above the elbow. The Ohio troops all behaved well.

R. B. Hayes.

Frederick, Maryland, September 13, 1862, A. M.

Dearest : — Yesterday was an exciting but very happy day. We retook this fine town about 5:30 P. M. after a march of fourteen miles and a good deal of skirmishing, cannon firing and uproar, and with but little fighting. We marched in just at sundown, the Twenty-third a good deal of the way in front. There was no mistaking the Union feeling and joy of the people — fine ladies, pretty girls, and children were in all the doors and windows waving flags and clapping hands. Some “jumped up and down” with happiness. Joe enjoyed it and rode up the streets bowing most gracefully. The scene as we approached across the broad bottom-lands in line of battle, with occasional cannon firing and musketry, the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains in view, the fine town in front, was very magnificent. It is pleasant to be so greeted. The enemy had held the city just a week. “The longest week of our lives,” “We thought you were never coming,” “This is the happiest hour of our lives,” were the common expressions.

It was a most fatiguing day to the men. When we got the town, before the formal entry, men laid [lay] down in the road, saying they couldn’t stir again. Some were pale, some red as if apoplectic. Half an hour after, they were marching erect and proud hurrahing the ladies!

Colonel Moor, Twenty-eighth, of Cincinnati, was wounded and taken prisoner in one of the skirmishes yesterday. The enemy treat our men well — very well. We have of sick and wounded five hundred or six hundred prisoners taken here.

Well, Lucy dearest, good-bye. Love to all. Kiss the boys.

Affectionately, ever,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

Wednesday, September 10, 1862. — We camped near Seneca Bridge, about twenty-five to thirty miles from Washington. The order cutting down baggage trains leaves us eight waggons; — one for headquarters, i. e. field and staff; one for hospital; two for stores; four for company cooking utensils and the like. The band trouble breaks out again. We enjoy these short marches among great bodies of moving troops very much. Tonight the sutler sold brandy peaches making about ten or a dozen of our men drunk. I thereupon made a guard-house of the sutler’s tent and kept all the drunken men in it all night! A sorry time for the sutler! Got orders to move at the word any time after 10 o’clock. I simply did nothing!

Camp near Rich or Ridgefield [Ridgeville], about forty miles from Baltimore, about thirty from Washington, about seventeen from Frederick. Marched today from ten to fourteen miles. Occasionally showery — no heavy rain; dust laid, air cooled. Marched past the Fifth, Seventh, Twenty-ninth, and Sixty-sixth Ohio regiments. They have from eighty to two hundred men each — sickness, wounds, prisoners, etc., etc., the rest. This looks more like closing the war from sheer exhaustion than anything I have seen. Only four commissioned officers in the Seventh. A lieutenant in command of one regiment; an adjutant commands another! Saw General Crawford today, he was very cordial.