Elisha Franklin Paxton – Letters from camp and field while an officer in the Confederate Army

Camp near Charlestown, October 25, 1862.

This is a dreary, rainy Sunday; every one idle and at a loss for employment. We came down on yesterday to tear up the railroad; the job is about finished, I think, and we would leave now but for the rain. We will return to Bunker Hill, I suppose, to-morrow. It really seems as if the winter would come before we had any further active work. I care but little whether we have any or not, and feel ready for it, whatever it may be. Some indulge a hope that it will be over this winter. I do not know. Our duty is to prepare for a most vigorous prosecution of the war next spring, and be prepared for the worst that may come. We are in the hands of a just God, who will give us peace when we deserve it. I heartily wish, Love, that I was at home with you. No honor or promotion could tempt me to stay here if my duty and my self-respect did not make it imperative. My manhood is involved in a faithful and fearless sticking to the job until it is finished, or it finishes me, as it has done many good men. With such a future before me, dark and uncertain enough, I am sure, I try to do whatever is required of me well and cheerfully. I have much reason to be gratified at the many evidences of good opinion which I have received from Genl. Jackson and all under whom I have served. I trust I may be able to get a short furlough to visit home this winter, and I look forward to it with much pleasure. The first freezing, snowy weather we have to stop all active work, I shall make an effort to spend a few weeks with you.

Martinsburg, October 19, 1862.

I have spent a busy Sunday, superintending the destruction of the railroad here, and will spend what little remains of the day in writing you a short note. It is a bad chance for a letter, as I write on my pocket-book resting on my knee. I received your letter of the 9th ult., and was glad to hear from you. I felt to-day as though I were at my old trade—destroying the railroad—which I was at eighteen months ago. Last week we thought there was a chance for another battle, as it was reported the enemy was advancing. But it turned out to be only a scouting party. With that exception, we have had a very quiet time.

Bunker Hill, Va., October 12,1862.

It has not been three months since I left home. I can hardly realize that it has been so long, the time has passed so rapidly. During this period I have had the pleasure of participating in what history will record as the most astonishing expeditions of the war, for the severity of the battles fought and the hardships endured by our soldiers. And now it seems like settling down to idleness. The last week was one of quiet and stagnation like the week before. I have not been in a saddle now for two weeks, and have not been half a mile from my camp since we came to our present encampment. Yet I have been kept so busy that the time passed fast enough. I have had general charge of the orders and correspondence, which has given me full employment. We may have some more activity this fall, but I am inclined to think the campaign is over. It is too late now for either side to think of accomplishing much before winter sets in. Our army is in splendid condition. It has been rapidly increasing during the last three weeks by conscripts and convalescents who have been coming in. If the enemy cross the Potomac to begin the offensive, we shall, I think, have another great battle near this place, and I feel sure that it will be a splendid victory for us. Our victories, though, seem to settle nothing; to bring us no nearer the end of the war. It is only so many killed and wounded, leaving the work of blood to go on with renewed vigor. Like everything else, it must have an end sooner or later.

And now, darling, I will take leave of you, hoping you may have a good time getting through with your complicated troubles on the farm. No doubt you think I devote little of my time to thinking about them. True, because my work here occupies my whole time except Sunday, when, by Gen. Lee’s order, we are to remain idle unless necessity compels the work. Kiss our dear little boys for me, and remind them of their absent papa. How I wish I could see you all for a little while! But I must not think of it until Christmas.

Bunker Hill, Va., October 5, 1862.

The army was never so quiet as now, the general impression prevailing that we contemplate no advance upon the enemy and that he contemplates none upon us. We are lying quiet to gather in our absentees and recover from the losses which we have sustained in the active work of the last sixty days. When this is accomplished winter will probably have set in, and the work of this year closed. I fear our troops are to suffer much from want of clothing, and that our supplies will prove greatly inadequate for our wants.

Whilst the army has been apparently idle, I have been unusually busy during the last week. Everybody seems to be making application for something, and my office is crowded with business. I do scarcely any writing, leaving it all to my clerk, Mr. Figgat. If I undertook to do the writing, my eyes would not last long. But as it is, I think I shall be able to do my work without injury. My office is one of much importance and responsibility, and I trust I may be able to fill it without suffering injury to my sight. I think, Love, if this war lasts much longer, you will get to be a pretty good farmer. It really seems as if it would last forever. Both parties seem getting used to it, and the signs of peace and quiet are less, if anything, now than this time last year.

I heartily wish I were at home with you and our dear little boys. It is the wish of many thousands of my comrades who have left loved wives and children at home to mourn their absence and grieve over the danger and hardships to which they are exposed. God grant that we may all soon be gratified—that the fervent prayer for our return may soon be answered. When we do, I think it will be with a more grateful appreciation of the blessings which we were accustomed every day to enjoy.

Now, darling, I will bid you good-bye. Think of me often and cherish the fond love which has marked our intercourse thus far through life as our greatest source of happiness.

______________

The office which General Paxton held at this time was that of Acting Assistant Adjutant-General on Jackson’s staff. The following letter from General Jackson shows the esteem in which he was at this time held by that officer.

Headquarters V. District

September 23, 1862.

General: I respectfully recommend that Maj. E. F. Paxton be appointed Brigadier-General and assigned to the command of the brigade lately under Brigadier-General C. L. Winder. Last year he was major of the 27th Regt. of the brigade and ranked all the officers at present in the brigade, except three. Upon the reorganization of the Volunteer Regiment, Major Paxton was not retained. As he served under me in the line, and at various times I assigned important duties to him, and as for several months he has been my A. A. A. General, my opportunities for judging of his qualifications have been remarkably good; and there is no officer under the grade proposed whom I can recommend with such confidence for promotion to a Brigadier-Generalcy.

I am, General, your obt. servant,

T. J. Jackson,

Major-General.

To Genl. S. Cooper,

Adjt. & Insp.-Gen’l C. S. A.

Frederick, Md., Sunday, September 7,1862.

Your two last letters came to hand yesterday, and I was indeed very happy to hear from you. The date of my letter will surprise you. You would have thought it hardly possible that the fortunes of war should have so turned in our favor that this quiet Sabbath would find us here quietly encamped beyond the limits of our own Confederacy. It has cost us much of our best blood and much hardship, but it is a magnificent result, which, I trust, will secure our recognition in Europe, and be a step at least towards peace with our enemies. We left the Rappahannock two weeks ago to-morrow, and such a week as the first was has no parallel in the war. Two days’ severe march brought us about fifty miles to Manassas. That night we had an engagement with the enemy, in which the place was captured and some prisoners. The next day there was another battle, in which Mr. Newman was wounded. That night—Wednesday—we evacuated the place and took up our position adjoining the old battle-ground, and that evening we had another severe engagement, in which Maj .-Gen. Ewell was severely wounded and our loss very heavy. The next day—Friday —we were attacked by the enemy in much larger force, but we repulsed the enemy and at night both armies occupied about the same ground. We expected the battle to be renewed the next morning. The enemy had time to collect his whole force, Pope and McClellan combined, and we had brought up all we had on this side of the Rappahannock. For a while, the lines were unusually quiet, but after a while the picket-firing began to increase, and soon the whole line was engaged. The assault upon our line was very severe, and for a while the tide of battle seemed to turn against us; but our men stubbornly resisted the assault, and soon the enemy’s line gave way, flying in confusion, our artillery playing upon them as they retreated. Our lines were then pushed forward, and by night the enemy was driven from every position. It was a splendid victory, partly fought on the same ground with the battle of Manassas last year. We sustained a very heavy loss, but how much I have no idea. The next day we moved towards Fairfax C. H. The next day—Monday—we had another severe engagement. Tuesday we spent at rest and in cooking. Wednesday we started in this direction, and reached here early on yesterday, without meeting any further obstruction. What next—where do we go—and what is to be done? We will probably know by the end of next week what our General means to do with us. I think it likely we will not stay here, and that this time next week will find us either in Pennsylvania or Baltimore.

I heartily wish with you that the war was over and we were all at home again. But our success depends upon the pertinacity with which we stick to the fight. I think it may not last through another winter. I spend but little time now thinking about business on the farm. I trust it all to you. My duties here are onerous and responsible, occupying my time and mind so completely that I have but little opportunity to think of much else. Not enough, however, to keep me from thinking of dear wife and little ones left at home, and fondly hoping that the day may soon come when I will be with them. It may never come. My fate may be that of many others. Whatever the future may have in store for me, I trust that I am prepared to meet it with becoming resignation.

And now, darling, I will take leave of you. Think of me often, and believe me, with much love, ever yours.

Fairfax C. H., September 1, 1862.

My Darling Wife: I have only time to say that we were fighting on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and that I am well. The last was a very severe battle and in large force. The enemy was badly routed. His force consisted of the armies of McClellan and Pope united. Ever yours.

[General Paxton had just taken an active part in the battle which has since been known as the battle of Second Manassas when this characteristic note was written. The report of General Jackson upon these battles makes mention of him as follows: “In the prompt transmission of orders (Cedar Mountain) great assistance was received from Maj. E. F. Paxton, Acting Asst. Adj.-Gen’l. . . . Desiring to avoid delay, I directed my Acting Asst. Adj.Genl. to order Jackson’s Division forward.” “In the transmission of orders (2nd Manassas) I was greatly assisted during the expedition by the following members of my staff: Col. A. Smart, Asst. Insp. Genl.; Maj. E. F. Paxton, Acting Asst. Adj.-Genl.”]

August 3, 1862.

For some days I have been expecting that every mail would bring me a letter from home, but have been disappointed. I am sure a letter is on the way, and that you would not suffer two weeks to pass without writing to me. I wrote to you some ten days ago, just after I got here. It may be this did not reach you, and you do not know where I am. I am getting to feel used to the army and to the idea of staying in it until I see the end of the war, or it sees the end of me. The work entrusted to me is highly honorable and very agreeable. I think it will be sufficient to keep me employed and make me as happy as I have ever been in the service. The only objection to it is that my labor is gratuitous and I draw no pay. I shall try and make my expense account as small as possible. The army is more quiet than I have ever known it. The enemy have considerable force some thirty or forty miles from us, amounting possibly to 30,000 men. Their cavalry and ours are occasionally skirmishing, and yesterday had quite a severe engagement with one of our regiments at Orange C. H. They are said to have had some three regiments against our one, and, so far as I can learn, we got the worst of it. No very serious damage, however, as our killed and wounded are only fifteen.

To-day—Sunday—is very quiet, and reminds me much of a Sunday at home, the usual work being suspended. Formerly everything went on as usual on any day, but now the drills and ordinary work of the week are suspended on Sunday. Whilst employment here will make me contented, for there is no use in grieving about what must be borne, yet I heartily wish that I was at home with you and our dear little children. Affection and sympathy attract me towards home as the dearest place on earth, but duty to my country and respect for my own manhood require that I should forego this happiness until the war ends—as end it must, sooner or later. I trust, darling, that you will be as contented and happy as you can under the circumstances. The inconveniences to which you are subjected are just the same which all other ladies have to bear. You, at least, have all the comforts of home and necessaries of life, whilst the wife and little ones of many a gallant man in the service are exiles from their homes or without the necessaries of life. It is a poor consolation for your own troubles that others have worse; but it is alike the dictate of piety and virtue to bear them in patience, and thus show that you merit a better fate. The war must end some day. “We may never live to see it. But we owe to ourselves to cherish the hope that we may one day live happily together again, and there will be bright sunshine after the storm which now envelops us.

Camp near Gordonsville, July 23, 1862.

I reached here on yesterday, and now hold the place which I had when I left—volunteer aide to Gen. Jackson. The position is very agreeable, and the only objection to it is that I draw no pay and pay my own expenses. I feel quite at home, and am entirely satisfied to spend the rest of the war in this position. Everything here seems so quiet. The troops are drilling, and there is every indication that the troops will rest here for some time. Considering the severe hardships through which they have passed since the war began, it is very much needed. Everything has a happy, quiet appearance, such as I have not seen in the army since we were in camp this time last year after the battle of Manassas.

I am sorry to have left you with so much work on hand, but hope you may bear it patiently. There is more need now than ever that as much should be made from the farm as possible, as I am drawing no pay. And now, darling, good-bye. I will write you frequently and let you know how I am getting along. I hope you will be as contented and happy as possible, and manage matters just as you please, and I will be satisfied.

Friday, May 16, 1862.

I don’t know where to date my letter. We left Highland yesterday, and are now on the road to Harrisonburg, seven or eight miles from the Augusta line. We have had three days’ rain, and still a cloudy sky threatening more rain. The road is now very bad, and as every wagon which passes makes it deeper, it will soon be impassable. The weather is worse upon us than last winter. Then the ground was frozen and we had the satisfaction at least of being dry—having dry clothes and dry blankets. But now everything is wet and we have no tents. It has had no happy effect upon my health. Yesterday I left the brigade to stay in a house a few days, but think I shall join it again to-morrow.

We had constant expectation of a fight while we were in Pendleton. We supposed Jackson would certainly make the attack on the morning after we reached Franklin, and every one was surprised when we turned to march in this direction. No one ever knows where he is going or what his plans are. I suppose his destination now is the Valley, where he will consolidate with Ewell and move towards Winchester. But at present, I think, he will be disposed to give his troops a week’s rest. They need it badly, as they have been marching for nearly three weeks since they left their last encampment.

We have not yet had an election in our regiment for field officers, and I feel more unsettled than ever before. I am not sure that I will be elected, and not sure that I will not. If I were elected by a mere majority, and knew that I did not have the good-will of a large portion of my regiment, I am not sure that I would want the place. I have been absent from the regiment on detached service of one kind and another, and when with them I have always been disposed to be rather rigid. The two causes combined have not given me a strong hold upon their affections. So you see I am rather perplexed with doubts —don’t know which end of the road to take, if either. Whatever be the result, I trust I shall do nothing to forfeit the good opinion of my friends; and if I return home, it will be for reasons which now and hereafter shall meet the approval of my judgment. I wish heartily the election was over and I knew my destiny.

(The election was soon after this held under what was known as the “Disorganization Act” of the Confederate Congress, and Major Paxton, with many other officers whose strict and wholesome discipline was not relished by their men, failed to be reelected. He was thus relieved from any further obligation to continue in the service, but his heart was too much in the cause to permit him to abandon the army at such a time. He accepted a place on the staff of his old commander, General Jackson, as a volunteer aide without pay, and in this capacity took part in the seven days’ fight before Richmond. After a brief visit to his home, on July 22,1862, he returned to the army to resume his position as volunteer aide on Jackson’s staff.)