Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Camp Ewing, November 10 (Sunday night late), 1861.

Dearest : — I have just returned from a hard day’s work examining the romantic mountain gorge of New River which we are preparing to cross, but which I suspect we shall not cross. A glorious day — exciting, and delightfully spent.

Got your letter by Dr. Clendenin on my return at dark. A good letter, darling. Write ’em often.

Yes, Frémont’s removal hurts me as it does you. I hate it as much as I did the surrender of Sumter. It may be justified and required by the facts; but I don’t see it in anything yet published against him.

Mrs. Herron is misinformed about Matthews. I know all about it. The colonel would have returned and expected to return. He wished a change immensely, but he would not have resigned. I am sorry to lose him. I know he did his best to get me with him. He got a promise which he thought would please me even better. — It is all agreeable with me here — perfectly so. I can’t say when I shall be able to go home. Not for some weeks, but sometime during December or January, I see no reason to doubt that I shall see you. . . .

We sent home a lot of things and would send more if we could. (Take care of the soldier with the scalded hand. You will, of course.[1]) The reason is, the roads are bad and when we move as we must do often, we shall be compelled to leave or destroy all surplus baggage.

Affectionately,

Rutherford.

Mrs. Hayes.

[1] Mrs. Hayes wrote November 19: “We had kept the soldier, Harvey, here. His hand was badly burnt, but mother has dressed it every day, and now it is well.”

Camp Ewing, November 9, 1861.

Dear Mother : — It is a rainy disagreeable November day. I have done up all the little chores required, have read the article in November number of the Atlantic Monthly on “Health in Camp,” and hope not to be interrupted until I have finished a few words to you.

I wish you could see how we live. We have clothing and provisions in abundance, if men were all thrifty—food enough and good enough in spite of unthrift. Blankets, stockings, undershirts, drawers, and shoes are always welcome. These articles or substitutes are pretty nearly the only things the soldiers’ aid societies need to send. India-rubber or oilcloth capes, or the like, are not quite abundant enough. Our tents are floored with loose boards taken from deserted secession barns and houses. For warmth we have a few stoves, but generally fires in trenches in front of the tents or in little ovens or furnaces in the tents formed by digging a hole a foot deep by a foot and a half wide and leading under the sides of the tent, the smoke passing up through chimneys made of barrels or sticks crossed cob-house fashion, daubed with mud.

There is not much suffering from cold or wet. The sickness is generally camp fever — a typhoid fever not produced, I think, by any defect in food, clothing, or shelter. Officers, who are generally more comfortably provided than the privates, suffer quite as much as the men — indeed, rather more in our regiment. Besides, the people residing here have a similar fever. Exposure in the night and to bad weather in a mountain climate to which men are not accustomed, seems to cause the sickness irrespective of all other circumstances. We have nine hundred and twenty five men and officers, of whom two hundred and thirty are sick in camp, in hospitals in Virginia and in Ohio. Less than one-fourth of the privates are sick. One-half the captains, and one-half the lieutenants are or lately have been sick. Few are seriously or dangerously sick. Almost all are able to walk about. Only five out of about as many hundred cases have died. Three of them were very excellent men. Overwork and an anxiety not [to] give up had much to do with the fatal nature of their attacks. One was one of our best and hardiest captains, and one a most interesting youngster who somehow always reminded me of Birch — Captain Woodward, of Cleveland, and Bony Seaman, of Logan County.

I never was healthier in my life. I do not by any means consider myself safe from the fever, however, if we remain in our present location — higher up in the mountains than any other regiment. If I should find myself having any of the symptoms, I shall instantly come home. Those who have done so have all recovered within a week or two and been able to return to duty. I do not notice any second attacks, although I suppose they sometimes occur. Other regiments have had more deaths than we have had, but not generally a larger sicklist.

Our men are extremely well-behaved, orderly, obedient, and cheerful. I can think of no instance in which any man has ever been in the slightest degree insolent or sullen in his manner towards me.

During the last week the enemy have made an attempt to dislodge us from our position by firing shot and shell at our camps from the opposite side of New River. For three days there was cannonading during the greater part of daylight of each day. Nothing purporting to be warfare could possibly be more harmless. I knew of two or three being wounded, and have heard that one man was killed. They have given it up as a failure and I do not expect to see it repeated.

Dr. Jim Webb came here a few days ago, on a dispatch from the general, and will aid in taking charge of the sick in some part of the army, not in our regiment. He brought many most acceptable knickknacks and comforts from home. . . .

The newspapers do great mischief by allowing false and exaggerated accounts of suffering here to be published. It checks enlistments. The truth is, it is a rare thing for a good soldier to find much cause of complaint. But I suppose the public are getting to understand this. I would not say anything to stop benevolent people from contributing such articles of clothing and bedding as I have described. These articles are always put to good use. — Love to all.

Affectionately, your son,

R. B. Hayes.

Mrs. Sophia Hayes.