Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Monday, September 8. Camp near Leesboro, Maryland. — Nothing new this morning. Men from Ohio all in a talk about General Reno’s abusive language. It is said that when talking with me he put his hand on his pistol; that many standing by began to handle their arms also! I am sorry the thing goes so far.

Sunday, September 7. Washington City. — Left the suburbs of Washington to go on Leesboro Road about twelve to fifteen miles. Road full of horse, foot, and artillery, baggage and ambulance waggons. Dust, heat, and thirst. “The Grand Army of the Potomac” appeared to bad advantage by the side of our troops. Men were lost from their regiments; officers left their commands to rest in the shade, to feed on fruit; thousands were straggling; confusion and disorder everywhere. New England troops looked well; Middle States troops badly; discipline gone or greatly relaxed.

On coming into camp Major-General Reno, in whose corps we are, rode into the grounds occupied by General Cox’s troops in a towering passion because some of the men were taking straw or wheat from a stack. Some were taking it to feed to horses in McMullen’s Battery and to cavalry horses; some in the Twenty-third Regiment were taking it to lie upon. The ground was a stubble field, in ridges of hard ground. I saw it and made no objection. General Reno began on McMullen’s men. He addressed them: “You damned black sons of bitches.” This he repeated to my men and asked for the colonel. Hearing it, I presented myself and assumed the responsibility, defending the men. I talked respectfully but firmly; told him we had always taken rails, for example, if needed to cook with; that if required we would pay for them. He denied the right and necessity; said we were in a loyal State, etc., etc. Gradually he softened down. He asked me my name. I asked his, all respectfully done on my part. He made various observations to which I replied. He expressed opinions on pilfering. I remarked, in reply to some opinion, substantially: “Well, I trust our generals will exhibit the same energy in dealing with our foes that they do in the treatment of their friends.” He asked me, as if offended, what I meant by that. I replied. “Nothing — at least, I mean nothing disrespectful to you.” (The fact was, I had a very favorable opinion of the gallantry and skill of General Reno and was most anxious to so act as to gain his good will.) This was towards the close of the controversy, and as General Reno rode away the men cheered me. I learn that this, coupled with the remark, gave General Reno great offense. He spoke to Colonel Ewing of putting colonels in irons if their men pilfered! Colonel Ewing says the remark “cut him to the quick,” that he was “bitter” against me. General Cox and Colonel Scammon (the latter was present) both think I behaved properly in the controversy.

September 6. Saturday. — Left Upton’s Hill at 7:30 A. M. Marched through Georgetown and Washington to the outskirts of Washington towards Leesboro Road, a very dusty, hot, oppressive day; Twenty-third in the rear. Men kept well closed up through Washington but stopped at a grove, near where we stopped to camp, in large numbers. Lieutenant Christie reported that only three hundred of the Twenty-third marched into camp. This was substantially true, but conveyed an erroneous impression that we fell out and straggled badly. All corrected however soon.

Friday, September 5, 1862, 9 A. M. — Distant firing heard towards Leesburg and up the Potomac. A warm fine day.

P. M. Received orders to be ready to march immediately; to cook three days’ rations, etc. Understood to be to join Burnside.

Thursday, September 4. — A cheerful bright morning and a sound sleep dispels the gloom resting on my views of the future. During the night a courier came to my tent saying that two thousand of our wounded are in the hands of the enemy and are starving! The enemy is in bad condition for food.

Siege guns were put in the fort on our right (Ramsay) during the night; the preparations are advancing which will enable us to hold this post and “save Washington.”

10 A. M. — The rumor is that the enemy is directing his course up the Potomac, intending to cross into Maryland. We now hear cannon at a great distance, in a northern direction.

About 4:30 P. M. the enemy began to fire at our cavalry picket, about three miles out. Waggoners rolled in, horsemen ditto, in great haste. The regiments of General Cox’s Division were soon ready, not one-fourth or one-third absent, or hiding, or falling to the rear as seems to be the habit in this Potomac army, but all, all fell in at once; the Eleventh, Twelfth, Twenty-third, Twenty-eighth, Thirtieth, and Thirty-sixth Ohio can be counted on. After skedaddling the regiment of cavalry, who marched out so grandly a few hours before, the firing of the enemy ceased. A quiet night followed.

Cincinnati is now threatened by an army which defeated our raw troops at Richmond, Kentucky. Everywhere the enemy is crowding us. Everywhere they are to be met by our raw troops, the veterans being in the enemy’s country too distant to be helpful. A queer turning the tables on us! And yet if they fail of getting any permanent and substantial advantatge of us, I think the recoil will be fatal to them. I think in delaying this movement until our new levies are almost ready for the field, they have let the golden opportunity slip; that they will be able to annoy and harass but not to injure us; and that the reaction will push them further back than ever. We shall see! A rumor of a repulse of the enemy at Harpers Ferry by Wool. Hope it is true!

Wednesday, September 3. — No alarm last night. Enemy quiet in front. A little firing near [the] chain bridge, supposed to be feeling of our position. It is rumored that the main body is going up the Potomac to cross. Many men last evening in the retreating ranks were ready to hiss McDowell.

P. M. After supper. I am tonight discouraged — more so than ever before. The disaster in Kentucky is something, but the conduct of men, officers, generals and all, in the late battles near Bull Run is more discouraging than aught else. The Eastern troops don’t fight like the Western. If the enemy is now energetic and wise, they can take great advantages of us. Well, well, I can but do my, duty as I see it.

Tuesday, September 2, 1862. Upton’s. — A clear, cold, windy day; bracing and Northern. No news except a rumor that the armies are both busy gathering up wounded and burying dead; that the enemy hold rather more of the battlefield than we do.

12:30 P. M. — I have seen several accounts of the late battles, with details more or less accurate. The impression I get is that we have rather the worst of it, by reason of superior generalship on the part of the Rebels.

9:30 P. M. — New and interesting scenes this P. M. The great army is retreating, coming back. It passes before us and in our rear. We are to cover the retreat if they are pursued. They do not look or act like beaten men; they are in good spirits and orderly. They are ready to hiss McDowell. When General Given announced that General McClellan was again leader, the cheering was hearty and spontaneous. The camps around us are numerous. The signal corps telegraphs by waving lights to the camps on all the heights. The scene is wild and glorious this fine night. Colonel White of the Twelfth and I have arranged our plans in case of an attack tonight. So to bed. Let the morrow provide for itself.

Upton’s Hill, Near Washington,

September 1, 1862.

Dearest: — Very severe battles were fought day before yesterday and the day before that a few miles west of here. The roar could be heard in our camp the greater part of each day. We are six or eight miles west of Washington over the Potomac in Virginia between Forts Ramsay and Buffalo — strong works which we, I conjecture, are to hold in case of disaster in front. The result of the battles, although not decisive, I think was favorable. The enemy’s advance was checked, and as our strength grows with every hour, the delay gained is our gain.

You have no doubt heard of the battles, and perhaps feel anxious about us. One thing be assured of, after such affairs no news of us is good news. The reason of this is, if we are well we shall not be allowed to leave, nor send communications; if injured or worse, officers are taken instantly to Washington or Alexandria and tidings sent. I write this to relieve, if possible, or as much as possible, your anxiety on hearing of battles. At present I see no prospect of our being engaged, but I look for battles almost daily until the enemy is driven back or gives up his present purpose of carrying the war into our territory. I feel hopeful about the result.

Your letter of the 13th August, directed to me Raleigh, etc., I got last night. We shall now get one another’s letters in three or four days. I was made happy by your sensible and excellent talk about your feelings. A sense of duty or a deep religious feeling is all that can reconcile one to the condition we are placed in. That you are happy notwithstanding this trial, adds to my appreciation and love and to my happiness. Dearest, you are a treasure to me. I think of you more than you suppose and shall do so more here than in western Virginia. Here I have far less care and responsibility. I am now responsible for very little. The danger may be somewhat greater, though that I think doubtful.

By the by, we hear that Raleigh and our camps in west Virginia were occupied by the enemy soon after we left. No difference. There is one comfort here. If we suffer, it is in the place where the decisive acts are going on. In west Virginia, success or failure was a mere circumstance hardly affecting the general cause. .

Well, love to all. Dearest be cheerful and content. It will all be well.

Affectionately,

R.

P. S. — I was near forgetting to say that I think I shall not be permitted to join the Seventy-ninth. That matter I suppose is settled. The prospect of Colonel Scammon being brigadier is good.

September 1. Evening. — About five o’clock this P. M. heavy firing began in the old place — said to be near Centreville or at Bull Run. A fierce rain-storm with thunder set in soon after, and for the last ten hours there has been a roaring rivalry between the artillery of earth and heaven. It is now dark, but an occasional gun can still be heard. The air trembles when the great guns roar. The place of the firing indicates that our forces still hold the same ground or nearly the same as before. It is queer. We really know but little more of the fights of two or three days ago than you do; in the way of accurate knowledge, perhaps less, for the telegraph may give you official bulletins. We have seen some, a great many, of our wounded; some five or six hundred of the enemy taken prisoners, and a few of our men paroled. Some think we got the best of it, some otherwise. As yet I call it a tie.

I am very glad to be here. The scenes around us are interesting, the events happening are most important. You can hardly imagine the relief I feel on getting away from the petty warfare of western Virginia. Four forts or field works are in sight, and many camps. The spire of Fairfax Seminary (now a hospital), the flags on distant hills whose works are not distinguishable, the white dome of the capitol, visible from the higher elevations, many fine residences in sight — all make this seem a realization of “the pride and pomp of glorious war.” The roar of heavy artillery, the moving of army waggons, carriages, and ambulances with the wounded, marching troops, and couriers hastening to and fro, fill up the scene. Don’t think I am led to forget the sad side of it, or the good cause at the foundation. I am thinking now of the contrast between what is here and what I have looked on for fifteen months past.

Dearest, what are you doing tonight? Thinking of me as you put to sleep the pretty little favorite? Yes, that is it. And my thought in the midst of all this is of you and the dear ones.

I just got an order that I must be “especially vigilant tonight to guard against surprise, or confusion in case of alarm.” 1 don’t know what it indicates, but that I have done so often in the mountains that it is no great trouble. So I go to warn the captains. — Good night, darling.

Ever yours most lovingly,

R.

September 2, A. M. — A stormy night but no surprise. A bright cold morning, good for the poor fellows who are wounded.

Mrs. Hayes.

Upton‘s Hill (near Washington), August 31. — Mustered the men for July and August. A rainy, cool day. The great battle of yesterday and the day before, so near here that we heard the roar distinctly, is supposed to have resulted favorably to our arms. How decisively is not yet known here. We hear all sorts of rumors, such as the capture of Jackson and sixteen thousand men and the like; but nothing definite is known. The appearances are favorable. We inquire of every one to get facts and get only vague rumors.

This Sunday evening the reports from the battlefield are less favorable than the morning rumors. There is talk of “no result,” a “drawn battle,” and the like; that our army has fallen back four miles to Centreville. Another [report] says McDowell withdrew a division from one outlet and let Jackson escape. A report says our loss is ten thousand; the enemy’s much heavier. No firing all day today. This evening after dark firing of heavy guns was heard for a few minutes, apparently in the same place as before.

Received a dear letter from Lucy dated August 13 and directed to Flat Top. She says she is happy in the thought that we are doing our duty. This is good. Darling wife, how this painful separation is made a blessing by the fine character it develops, or brings to view! How; I love her more and more!