Woolsey family letters during the War for the Union

Saturday, March 29.

To camp again. Snow-storm. Stayed at Mrs. Bright’s cottage Saturday night and drove up to camp on Sunday. Service in hospital tent, Dr. Miller, of the 16th, and Dr. Adams, of the 5th Maine, officiating. Communion—about thirty soldiers and several officers partaking. Heavy and continual thunder, with everything outside covered with snow—a singular combination of summer and winter, and rendering this interesting occasion still more strange and impressive.

Stopped Sunday night again at the Brights’, a clean and comfortable cottage at the head of Cameron Lane. All around us were the tents d’abri and other tents, and hundreds of men without any tents at all, bivouacking on the hills and in the fields and swamps everywhere; one cavalry regiment had arrived and their tents were pitched while we were out at the 16th. The camp fires at night were a new feature to me, and strangely did they loom up in the darkness, bringing to view groups of soldiers gathered round them;—hundreds of these fires in all directions.

Eliza’s Journal.

March 21.

A damp, drizzly day, but I wanted to see Joe in camp once more, and we went down to Alexandria, where Mother and Hatty distributed a lot of sweet flowers to the poor fingerless, one-armed and broken-legged fellows in the hospital, while I went on.

Joe has only had command of the regiment these few days and I found him extremely busy reorganizing and getting it into condition for the advance. Each man has been thoroughly inspected and all deficiencies in clothing, etc., are being filled. He keeps the officers busy, has an informal class of instruction for some of them, and has been issuing orders for arrangements on the transports, precautions against fire, etc. I only stayed a very little while. On our return boat from Alexandria we had a chance to see eleven of the transports start down the river crowded with troops, the men cheering and tossing their hats. It was a fine and striking sight as the boats, densely packed with volunteers, moved out from the docks, the sun lighting up the sails and colors of the schooners and steamboats, the signal flags nodding and bobbing, and the bands playing lively tunes, while the crowds on shore cheered in response.

We met the Berdan sharpshooters marching down to embark, and shook hands with Will Winthrop and Capt. Hastings. As we drove into town, McClellan (looking old and careworn) and Franklin passed us, going out to the army.

March 20.

We have been getting some stores to-day for Will Winthrop. They are at last delighted by the order to join Heintzelman. Twenty to thirty thousand men have gone in the transports already. Will’s black mess-boy came in to us and took out a basket with enough for the voyage. Have been up to see Charles Bradford, son of Captain Woolsey Hopkins’ sister, at Columbian Hospital, and have sent him jelly, oysters, etc. Nice young fellow and pleased to see us.

March 14.

One of General Franklin’s aids has been in to say that his Division is now marching into Alexandria and is to embark on Saturday or Sunday, down the Potomac. . . . We went down to Alexandria and took lodgings at Mrs. Dyson’s, on Water street, for over Sunday, and two more wretched or longer days I never passed. Through a drenching storm McDowell’s corps was marched back from Centreville, 35 miles, and arrived at dusk, cold, hungry, wet to the skin, to find no transports ready and no provision made for their shelter or comfort. The city was filled with the wretched men, many crowded into the market stalls and empty churches, others finding shelter in lofts or under sheds and porches, and some, we know, sleeping in the open streets. In the market they had large fires, but with soaking knapsacks, no dry clothing to put on. In one place, the loft of a foundry, where Chaplain Hopkins found shelter for one company, the steam which rushed out as he opened the door was as that of a laundry on washing day. The poor fellows suffered from hunger as well as cold and fatigue, for on Sunday all the stores were closed. Whiskey could be had, which Moritz and G. and H. distributed among tired and wet volunteers on cellar doors. Some of them actually begged for bread or offered to sell their rings and trinkets for food. It was a wretched and heart-sickening day and shook our confidence in McClellan or McDowell, or whoever the responsible person may be. We sent Moritz up to Washington for a half barrel of socks Aunt E. had just sent on and took them to the churches where the soldiers were quartered, and distributed them among the eager and grateful men. The men were lying on the benches and floors, and in the baptistry of the “Beulah Particular Baptist” and the Presbyterian secesh churches, and we stumbled about, holding the end of a candle for light, distributing socks. All ours were soon gone, and Chaplain Hopkins went back to the hospital, and telling the steward to protest, so that he might be shielded from blame, deliberately took ten dozen pairs from the store-closet and distributed them. The two long useless marches with nothing accomplished, no shelter and no food, have shaken the unbounded faith in McClellan. Congress has been debating a bill displacing him; the Star says it was withdrawn to-day. Our soldier, Joe, and the 16th, were not in that wretched plight but were kept in bivouac out of the town. Joe took final command of the regiment that Sunday morning.

March 13

While we were cooking some arrowroot in our parlor for a Vermont private, sick in this hotel, Joe came in, back from Fairfax for a ride. The officers had been all over the old battlefield at Bull Run, McDowell crying, and all of them serious enough. The rebel works at Centreville, Joe says, are splendid, as formidable as any of ours about Washington. Their winter quarters were capital log houses, enough to accommodate 100,000 men. The burial ground was near at hand, and not far away a field of hundreds of dead horses. The works at Manassas were very slight, mounted in the most conspicuous places with logs of wood painted black. The rebels had been evacuating for some time, but, at the last, left in a sort of panic, leaving dead bodies lying beside coffins, and quantities of food, clothing and baggage of all kinds, some of it fired.

March 12

The most extraordinary movements are taking place. While I write the 85th Pennsylvania is scattered about at rest on 14th street, having just marched back from the other side of the river. The 14th New York Cavalry, dismounted and serving as infantry, marched up before them; wagons filled with baggage, blankets, canteens, etc., have followed them. It is reported now that all the regiments are ordered back again, and Edward Walker tells us that the roads on the other side of the river are all lined with them returning.

March 12, ‘62.

Charley has come back safe and sound via Baltimore from Roanoke, with rebel bowie knives, “shin-plasters,” etc. He is ready to keep with us or go South when we go. He brought up parcels and letters from General Burnside for friends in New York, and took them on personally at once.

March 11.

So the great move was made, the thing we had been looking forward to for so many months. The entire army was in motion, troops on the other side the river advancing, troops on this side taking their place. All day Monday and far into the night regiments marched over the bridges into Virginia,—50,000 over the Long bridge, they say, and to-day we drove up to the Chain bridge, and they told us 15,000 crossed there yesterday. We walked down towards the Long bridge to-day; crowds of people were collected on 14th street to see the move. As we crossed the canal, mother, Charley and I, swinging along with the rest, three large army wagons brought up the rear, marked T. E., carrying the telegraphic apparatus for the Engineers, and the wires must have been laid last night, for this morning General Williams had the announcement from McClellan (who slept at Fairfax Court House), that our troops are in possession at Manassas.

We went to bed in a state of great excitement and were awakened early Monday morning by a knock from George and a note from Joe saying it was all true. He wrote at 2 A. M., having been up all night. They had just received their marching orders—the brigade to leave at 5 A. M., the rest of the corps at 9. I sent George over at once with a note to J., and he found him on horseback just starting, the regiments formed and ready, and the General and staff in their saddles, all off for Fairfax Court House, which they reached, J. writes me, at 5 P. M., all in good spirits, having borne the march well. The rebs have abandoned both Centreville and Manassas, falling back, the “Star” says, as far as the Rapidan and Gordonsville—whether by panic or by a preconcerted plan, is unknown.

J. writes the climate at Fairfax C. H. is lovely and the air dry, pure and very sweet, but the country is utterly desolate, houses burnt or pulled to pieces, fences gone, and the inhabitants, except a few miserable negroes, fled.