Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Cross Lanes, Near Gauley River, Below
Summersville, Virginia, September 19,
Thursday A. M., [1861].

Dearest: — I fear you do not get the letters I have written the last ten days, as we are out of the reach of mail facilities. I got your letter of the 5th about forty miles north of here out of a waggon-train that I stopped. You can always know of my welfare from the correspondence in the Gazette and [the] Commercial. They are informed directly from headquarters. I see their correspondents daily. Colonel Scammon being at the head of a brigade (a very little one), Colonel Matthews commands our regiment. On the day of the fight, and most of the time since, I have had an independent command. Most [of] the time almost a regiment, made up from our regiment, the Thirtieth, and small parties of cavalry. I have thus far been the sole judge advocate also of this army; so I am very busy. We tried three cases yesterday. It is a laborious and painful business. And after writing so much I would not write you but for my anxiety to have you know how much I think of and love you. Love and kisses to all the boys.

My impression is that the enemy has left our bailiwick entirely, but there are rumors of re-enforcements, etc., etc. If so, we shall have another fight within ten days. With anything like management and decent luck, we shall surely beat them. But there is a great deal of accident in this thing. Not enough to save them unless they do better than heretofore.

Dr. Joe is well. All of us getting thin and tough. Matthews has lost twenty-five pounds, Dr. Joe five pounds. I have lost five to eight. The soldiers generally from ten to twenty pounds. I never was so stout and tough. You need not send my pants unless you see somebody coming direct or get a chance with Mr. Schooley’s things. I am well fixed. Dr. McDermott is here, one week from Ohio. We now get news by way of Kanawha in two days from Cincinnati.

You need have no fear of my behaviour in fight. I don’t know what effect new dangers might have on my nerves, but the other day I was several minutes under a sharp guerrilla fire — aimed particularly at Captain Drake and myself (being on horseback), so I know somewhat of my capacity. It is all right. In the noisy battle, for it was largely noise, none of our regiment was under fire except the extreme right wing of my little command; two were wounded, and I could hear the balls whistle away up in the air fifty feet over my head; but it amounted to nothing. A portion of Colonel Lytle’s men caught nearly all the danger, and they were under a very severe fire.

It is beautiful weather — lovely moonlight nights. A great many well cultivated farms; plenty of fruit, vegetables, and food. Good-bye again. The paymaster is expected soon. I shall be able to send you lots of money if he does [come], as I now spend next to nothing. Kisses for all. Dearest, I love you so much.

Affectionately,

Rutherford.

P. S. — This letter is so incoherent by reason of interruptions. Joe wants me to say that we had peaches and cream just now.

Mrs. Hayes.

Cross Lanes, September 19, 1861.

Dearest: — It is a lovely moonlight evening. I mailed you a letter this morning, but as Lieutenant Wall of Captain Mcllrath’s company has resigned to go with the navy, and will go to Cincinnati tomorrow, I thought I would say a word further while our band plays its finest tattoo tunes. They are sweet, very. You see by the enclosed the scrape I am in. I have tried four or five cases on general orders, and here comes an order making me permanently a J. A. [judge-advocate]. It is not altogether agreeable. I shall get out of it after a while somehow. For the present I obey. It is pleasant in one respect as showing that in my line I have done well. Lieutenant Wall will, I hope, call and see you. He is a good soldier and we are sorry to lose him. If this reaches you before other letters from here and Birch River, you may know that two older and longer ones are after you.

One thing in the new appointment: If I can’t get out of it, you may see me one of these days, sooner than you otherwise would, as it confers some privileges, and that would be sweet. Love to all.

Affectionately,

R. B. Hayes.

P. S. — We hear tonight of the death of Colonel Lorin Andrews at Kenyon.¹ We feel it more deeply than in most cases.

He was my classmate — a fellow student of Colonel Matthews. He took a great interest in our efforts to get a place in the war, and rejoiced with us when we got a fine regiment. McCook gave me Andrews’ spurs when he left for home, to wear until his return. Alas! we are not to see him. He was an earnest, true man. Hail and farewell! We have been so full of humor tonight and this saddens us. Good-bye again, dearest.

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

__________

¹Lorin Andrews born at Ashland, Ohio, April 1, 1819. Studied law, but soon gave up the practice to devote himself to work of education. He was President of Kenyon College at the outbreak of the war and was the first man in Ohio to offer his services to the country. He was colonel of the Fourth O. V. I. in the first campaign of the war and “died, a martyr to the Union, September 18, 1861.”

Birch River, Between Summersville and
Sutton, Virginia, September 14, 1861.

Dear Uncle : — I have no time to write letters. We are getting on finely. Our battle on the 10th at Gauley River, you have no doubt heard all about. Nothing but night prevented our getting Floyd and his whole army. As it was, we entirely demoralized them; got all their camp equipage even to their swords, flag, and trunks (one of the best of which the general gave me). I had an important and laborious part assigned me. An independent command of four companies to be the extreme left of our attacking column. We worked down and up a steep rocky mountain covered with a laurel thicket. I got close enough just at dark to get two men wounded and four others struck in their garments.

This is not a dangerous business; after tremendous firing of cannon and musketry, we lost only thirteen killed, about fifteen badly wounded and fifty or sixty slightly wounded. The enemy are no match for us in fair fighting. They feel it and so do our men. We marched rapidly seventeen miles, reaching their vicinity at 2:30 or 3 P. M. We immediately were formed and went at them. They were evidently appalled. I think not many were killed. Governor Floyd was wounded slightly.

On yesterday morning I was sent on a circuitous march to head off parties hastening to join Wise or Floyd. Four companies of my regiment, two companies of Colonel Ewing’s, and a squadron of Chicago cavalry are under my command. We marched up Gauley River to Hughes Ferry. There we were fired on by a lot of guerrillas concealed in rocks. It was more dangerous than the battle. Three of us who were mounted and in advance were decidedly objects of attention, but fortunately none were hit. We chased them off, getting only one.

I am now here relieving a small party of our folks who are entrenched and who have been in constant dread of an attack. We are without tents and expect to return to the battle-ground in six days.

In the battle only one commissioned officer was killed, Colonel Lowe. One acquaintance of yours, Stephen McGroarty, an Irish Democratic orator, formerly of Toledo, now of Cincinnati (a captain), was shot through the body, but kept on his feet until the fight was stopped by the darkness. He will recover. One of my comforts is that my horse has come out in better plight than ever. I think he never looked so well and spirited as he did today as we marched over Birch Mountain.

If no disaster overtakes us at Washington, we shall soon see signs of yielding by the South. The letters, diaries, etc., etc., found in Floyd’s trunks and desks, show that their situation is desperate. Thousands are in their army who are heartily sick of the whole business.

We retook a large part of the plunder taken from Colonel Tyler as well as prisoners. The prisoners had been well treated, very. The young men in Floyd’s army of the upper class are kind-hearted, good-natured fellows, who are [as] unfit as possible for the business they are in. They have courage but no endurance, enterprise, or energy. The lower class are cowardly, cunning, and lazy. The height of their ambition is to shoot a Yankee from some place of safety.

My regards to all. Send this to Mother and Lucy.

Sincerely,

R. B. Hayes.

P. S. — The enclosed picture of a lieutenant in the army we routed is for Laura.

S. Birchard.

Tuesday, 10.—Marched seventeen miles, drove enemies’ pickets out of Summersville, followed nine miles to Gauley river. Enemy entrenched on a hill, high, steep, and hidden by bushes, three to six thousand strong. We get ready to attack. We have been divided into three brigades: First, General Benham’s, consisting of Tenth (Colonel Lytle’s Irish), Twelfth (Colonel Lowe’s), and Thirteenth (Colonel Smith’s) regiments; Second, Colonel McCook’s—the Ninth, Twenty-eighth, and Forty-ninth; Third,—Twenty-third and Thirtieth and Mack’s Battery. McMullen’s Battery attached to McCook. Stewart’s Cavalry, West’s to headquarters, and Schaumbeck’s Cavalry to McCook’s.

First Brigade led the attack. We stood near half an hour listening to the heavy cannon and musketry, then were called to form in line of battle. My feelings were not different from what I have often felt before beginning an important lawsuit. As we waited for our turn to form, we joked a great deal. Colonel Matthews, Scammon, Captains Drake and Woodward, and privates—all were jolly and excited by turns.

Finally our turn came. I was told to take four companies and follow one of General Rosecrans’ staff. I promptly called off Seventh, Eighth, Ninth and Tenth companies. We marched over a hill and through a cornfield; the staff officer and myself leading on, until we reached the brow of a high hill overlooking the Gauley River and perhaps three-quarters of a mile from the entrenchments of the enemy. He [the officer] then said to me that I was to be on the extreme left of our line and to march forward guided by the enemy’s guns, that he had no special orders to give, that I was an officer and must use my own judgment. He never had been over the ground I was to pass over; thought the enemy might retreat that way.

I marched to the wood; found it a dense laurel thicket on the side of a steep hill, rocky and cavernous; at the bottom a ravine and river and up the opposite hill seemed to be the enemy. I formed the four companies into order of battle, told them to keep together and follow me; in case of separation to push forward in the direction of the declining sun and when the firing could be heard to be guided by it. I handed my horse to one of the unarmed musicians, and drawing my sword crept, pushed, and struggled rapidly down the hill. When I reached the bottom but four or five of Company K (Captain Howard) were in sight. Soon men of Captain Zimmerman’s came up and soon I gathered the major part of the four companies. I had sent Captain Woodward and twenty scouts or skirmishers ahead; they were among the unseen.

By this time it was getting late. I formed a line again extending from the river up the hill and facing towards the enemy, as we supposed. The firing had ceased except scattered shots. We pushed slowly up, our right up hill, where I was soon encountered [by] the Twenty-eighth—lost. Had a laugh and greeting with Markbreit who was on the left of the Twenty-eighth (he was my partner). The head of my column was near enough to be fired on. Two were wounded, others hit; none seriously hurt. The face of the hill on which the enemy was posted was towards precipitous rock. We could only reach them by moving to the right in front of the Twenty-eighth, Forty-seventh, and Thirteenth.

I have heard nothing clear or definite of the position, either of the enemy or ourselves. The above [drawing] is no doubt very erroneous, but is my guess. I got up nearer than anybody except the Tenth and Twelfth but was down a steep hill or precipice and concealed. Some of my men bore to the right and pushing in front of the Twenty-eighth and Forty-seventh mixed with the Thirteenth. It soon got dark; all firing ceased. I drew off single file, Captain Sperry leading; got up the hill just at complete dark; found messengers ordering us to return to the rest of our regiment, on the extreme right. Some thirty of my men were missing—Captain Woodward, Lieutenant Rice, etc., etc. I left ten sentinels along the brow of the hill to direct them where to find us. The greater part soon overtook us. We marched through lost fragments of regiments—Germans mostly, some Irish, talking of the slaughter, until we got into an old field near our regiment. There we waited. Nobody seemed nervous or anxious—all wishing for light. Talked with McCook who criticized the orders, but was in good temper; had lost three horses. Finally found our regiment and all marched off to bivouac. In the morning great cheering near the fort. Enemy had run away in a panic by a road over the hill back of their works, leaving flag, etc.