Diary of a Young Officer–Josiah Marshall Favill (57th New York Infantry)

September 17th. This is the anniversary of the battle of Antietam; another year of constant campaigning has gone, and still the war lasts. Will it ever end? This is our third year of fighting, and much of the romance of early days has faded away.

Our comrades continually drop by the wayside, causing many changes, some of which are not so agreeable, but we are still firm of purpose and sanguine of our ability to conquer in the end. General Meade, who has been in command of the army since just before Gettysburg, is a very careful officer, not thought to possess any great merit as a general, and has none of the dash and brilliancy which is necessary to popularity. It seems likely we shall be led in a plodding, ordinary sort of way, neither giving nor receiving any serious blows, a great pity. At 9 A. M. the division crossed Cedar and Slaughter mountains, a distance of about seven miles, and then bivouacked for the night.

September 16. At ten o’clock this morning the division marched southwest to the Rapidan river, soon coming in sight of the enemy on the high mountain ground on the left, contesting the advance of our cavalry force. Towards evening we witnessed a splendid artillery duel on the mountain side, under cover of which the enemy withdrew to the other side of the river; went into bivouac in the woods, a wretchedly swampy place.

September 15th. The fascinations of our charming young hostess, together with the large collection of books and music, were so tempting that most of us spent the whole morning in the house; such a state of happiness for the Bold Soldier Boy was not likely to last long, of course, and we were determined to make the most of it, but at noon we were ordered into a defensive position, and fate compelled us to take a hasty leave, and so bidding good bye to our fair hostess, we reluctantly mounted our horses and rode away.

The division moved forward about three miles south of the town and formed in line of battle along the high ground. The enemy, however, did not show up, and after standing all day about the line, the troops were ordered to bivouac for the night. Broom found another house suitable for headquarters, but it was abandoned and there was no fair lady on hand to weave a web of romance and make it attractive.

September 14th. Weather dull and wet. At 8 A. M. fell in and marched to the Rappahannock, crossed the river on pontoon boats at 9 A. M. and marched directly for Culpeper, where the cavalry had been fighting all day long a sort of running fight. We passed over the principal battle ground, but saw only a few dead horses and no men. Broom, with his usual appreciation of comfort, selected a fine mansion as headquarters, and while the rest of us put the troops in position for the night, he devoted himself to getting dinner ready, taking care to plant the division flag by the gate post, to let us know where to find him. Tents were pitched in the yard under some fine old trees, and the large drawing rooms appropriated as the general rendezvous; the house belongs to a Mr. Wallach, said to be the editor of a Washington paper, and is in charge of his daughter and a half dozen female former slaves; the daughter is a bright, handsome young woman of eighteen or twenty years, and carries herself superbly, serene and undisturbed. In the parlor everything indicates wealth and culture, while the large hall is lined with books, very miscellaneous indeed, but a genuine treasure to a hungry book lover. This young lady has an eye to business, as well as the fascinations of social life, and soon induced the accommodating general to order guards over her barns, fences, and various properties, her retinue of female servants in the meantime exercising such potent fascinations over our cooks and servants that they secured the complete stocking of their larder for weeks to come from the abundance of Uncle Sam’s commissary. In the evening, after a good dinner in the front yard, we all went into the parlors, where the young lady was on hand to receive us, and spent a delightful evening. She is very fascinating, perfectly at ease, and brilliant as a dewdrop on a summer morn. She sat down to the piano and sang several songs, most of them very rebellious, with considerable skill, receiving, of course, immense flattery, but maintained her dignity and gracious behavior throughout, and an observer would have taken us for intimate friends, on a perfect footing of equality. We sang many war and college songs, and did our best to entertain her. At twelve o’clock she retired and left us to our own resources.

The cavalry fight was between General Pleasanton, commanding Bufort, Gregg and Kilpatrick’s divisions, and the rebel General Stuart; our cavalry met them near Brandy Station, and in a succession of brilliant charges drove them through the town, capturing three guns and one hundred men. Pleasanton followed them over Cedar Mountain, near the Rapidan, and then went into bivouac. Our corps was ordered here in support, in case of a reverse to the cavalry force.

September 13th. Tents were struck, wagons loaded and at ten o’clock the entire corps marched for Bealton Station. The day was frightfully hot and several men were sunstruck, two or three of whom died. It is reported that Longstreet’s corps has been detached from Lee’s army and sent to assist in fighting Rosecrans and that we are to demonstrate, to entice him back, or possibly take advantage of his absence. This I think doubtful. Towards evening the sky became overcast, and a most refreshing shower cooled the air and revived the drooping men. We marched, I think, only about seven miles, then went into bivouac two miles below the station.

September 12th. Since the gunboat expedition in which the doctor distinguished himself so preeminently, nothing of importance has ocurred. The weather is superb and the health of the officers and men excellent.

Our headquarters are about the house of Doctor Cooper, a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, who for some unknown reason, has not been drafted into the Confederate army although distinctly rebellious in his views. Amongst the inmates of his home are his wife and three young women, none of whom interest me, but Wilson and Hobart find a good deal of amusement with two of them, and pay them much attention, taking them out riding, etc. We sleep in our tents, but eat in the house, the doctor’s wife presiding with much dignity the mess, furnishing the food, the cooks, waiters, and many of the appointments. We feed the entire family, which is a great thing for them, as they have nothing left of their own, and Broom furnishes the mess luxuriously.

For the first time since the cavalry expedition, we heard cannonading; it was on the right and quite vigorous. About five o’clock orders were received to prepare everything for the march to-morrow morning; it seems really too bad to leave this delightful spot, but life on active service is most uncertain.

No member of this staff will soon forget the gunboat expedition. The cavalry succeeded, I think, in destroying both the boats, and on the fourth of September we marched back to camp, starting at 6 A. M.

The country around Morrisville is invested with guerillas, and if an officer or enlisted man chances to stray beyond the picket line, he is certain of being captured. Many men have thus been taken prisoners and report says, some of them murdered. In many cases where the officers have made the acquaintance of families living just outside the lines, and have supplied them with food and stores, they have accepted invitations to spend an evening, and in several cases have been captured by these guerrillas, who are the friends or relations of the people, and are kept informed by them of all that goes on in the neighborhood; several men, too, have been betrayed in the very act of carrying supplies, none of the natives can be trusted as a rule, and stringent orders have been issued to keep within the lines.

August 31st. Reveille at break of day. Immediately after breakfast the division fell in, leaving its tents standing, and marched to Bank’s ford, halted there a short time, and then advanced to the United States ford, and bivouacked there in the woods, entirely out of sight. Headquarters were established about a small old stone house, and here we had a lot of sport, no enemy being near, and every one in fine spirits on account of getting out of camp. Various games were indulged in throughout the whole command, the division staff not excepted.

In the evening the staff gathered in the house, servants spread the blankets on the floor, and lying upon them, there being no furniture besides a rickety old table, we exercised our wits. I don’t know why so many fairly sensible creatures should suddenly lose their senses, but in this case, at least in the general’s opinion, they certainly did. The fun grew fast and furious, finally, the party divided itself into two equal parts, and agreed to attack and defend the room. Accordingly one half of the men went out while the other half remained inside to conduct the defense. Doctor Stiles, Derrickson, Hobart, the First brigade quartermaster, and myself, formed the garrison. Stiles was stationed at the door, Derrickson and Hobart each defended a window, whilst the quartermaster and I carried supplies of ammunition, reinforced the weakest spots, and generally kept our eyes open. Stones, logs of wood, iron pots, and sundry other missiles came flying through the windows. We put out the light to hide our strategy, hung blankets over the windows, and spared nothing in the proper defense of the place. The windows were quickly battered in and then came pails of water followed by showers of flour and corn meal. Derrickson, Stiles, and Hobart were soon plastered from head to foot, but were so intent upon avoiding the heavier ordnance of stones and dinner pots that little heed was paid to flour or water; as the siege progressed the beleaguered garrison were at their wits’ end for material, and Stiles, who by this time was as serious as the famous Don Quixote of happy memory, finding the door about to give away, drew his pistol and emptied it into the angle nearest the attacking force. The illusion was instantly dispelled and hostilities ceased at once. The general was aroused and ordered us immediately to bed, on pain of arrest. When the outs were admitted, they were unable to control themselves for laughter over our pitiable appearance; we were covered with flour and meal and the room in which we all proposed to sleep, was a scene of utter desolation. It took the combined force of servants an hour to make it fit for sleeping in, and at least another hour was necessary to make ourselves presentable.

[August 29]

One of the beautiful features of a soldier’s life in active service is the love engendered for the flag, the symbol of what we fight for. In time it becomes to the regiment a fetish, and it would be ashamed of any of its men who would hesitate to go to its rescue, if it was certain death to do so, and I have yet to see a man of that sort. I have frequently seen tears come into the men’s eyes when the flag was waved aloft, and it is pleasant to think that there are at least in the army any number of men whom the Roman axiom, “dulcet et decorum est pro patria mourior,” is still applicable.

During the afternoon of this day, orders were received to hold the division in light marching order, with three days’ rations; we hear the enemy have sent a couple of gunboats up the Rappahannock, and that Kilpatrick, with his cavalry division, is moving down upon them. We were to march in support in case of emergency. It seems a novel proposition to attack ships with cavalry, but the Dutch fleet in January, 1794, was actually captured by Hussars of the French Republic, and so perhaps in these modern times we may be permitted to capture gunboats.