Reminiscences of the Civil War, William and Adelia Lyon

To Mrs. Lyon.

Iuka Springs, Miss., General Hospital, Sunday, Aug. 31, 1862.—I am still here, you see, but I assure you that I am very greatly improved. The fever has now entirely disappeared, I think, for I am gaining strength rapidly. I can now walk across the room without help. My appetite is fair, but not ravenous. My principal food is mush and molasses, a little broiled beefsteak, and black tea. Dr. Thornhill promises to let me go to the regiment, the 8th, as soon as it will answer, which I think will be in a few days, say three or four, just long enough to recruit a little. Dr. and Mrs. Thornhill have been very kind to me during my illness, as was Dr. Murta while I was with him. John Humphrey and Williams have taken most excellent care of me and have spared no effort to make me as comfortable as possible. I owe my rapid recovery to the excellent nursing I have had, in a great measure.

Immediately after receiving my commission as Colonel of the 13th, General Roseerans made an order relieving me from duty in the 8th and ordering me to report to General Grant, who is at Corinth; so that is my first move when I am able; and I expect to be ordered to join my regiment, with a short leave of absence, which can not exceed twenty days, to purchase outfit, etc., but don’t be too sanguine, for I may fail to get leave. The regiment have been paid lately to the 1st of July, but not being with them I was not paid. I expect to be paid, however, when I report to General Grant, up to the time when my pay as Colonel commences, which I suppose is August 5th. I believe the pay of a Colonel is $218 per month, at least it was. Of course, my expenses will be much larger than they have been. My outfit will cost a good deal, horse, saddle, pistol, sword, mess chest, uniform, etc., etc.

I do not allow myself to pine inordinately for home, but I look upon my illness in a distant land, away from the comforts of home and the tender care of my wife and friends, as one of the sacrifices that I am called upon to make for my country, and I try to make it cheerfully.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Iuka, Gen. Hospital, Friday, Aug. 28, 1862.—Here I am, flat on my back with remittent or intermittent fever, I do not know which. I am slowly recovering, the fever growing less and less every day and the doctor says it will entirely disappear in a few days more. I have had typhoid fever, the doctor now tells me. I suffer no pain now, but for the first few days I suffered a great deal. I was taken down Saturday evening, the 9th inst., very suddenly and severely. Our regiment has gone to Tuscumbia, thirty miles east of here. If I should get worse I will try to go to Columbus and send for you, as no woman is allowed to travel this side of Columbus without a special permit from General Grant.

Dr. Thornhill, our surgeon, is in charge here, and is very attentive to me. Dr. Murta took most excellent care of me until he had to leave with the regiment. I am taking large quantities of quinine. Have had no appetite.

I received my commission about the time I was taken sick. An order has been made by General Rosecrans relieving me from duty here and directing me to report to General Grant for further orders. My intention is, as soon as it is proper for me to leave here, to go to the regiment and close up some company business there; then report to General Grant and if possible get permission to go home to purchase horse, equipments, etc. If I succeed and get there by the 1st of October I shall do well.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Aug. 12, 1862.—The reason I have not written before is that I am flat on my back. I was attacked on Saturday night with pneumonia, very suddenly, and although much better have not sat up any since.

I got my commission this morning as Colonel of the 13th Regiment. As soon as I am able to close my affairs here I shall go to Columbus. I am not seriously sick, so do not be frightened. If I can get a short furlough I will do so. Do not under any circumstances try to get here, for it is utterly impossible now for a woman to get past Columbus.

About July 1, 1862, my father was stricken with paralysis. My sister, Mrs. Susie Adams, and myself were hurriedly summoned to Canada. The doctor said that his condition was critical, and we left immediately. Upon our arrival we found my father somewhat improved, and his convalescence continued from that time until he was entirely well. We remained in Canada about three weeks.

On the 9th day of August, 1862, Captain Lyon was Field Officer of the day, and on account of the sickness of so many of the officers he was obliged to do double duty. The day was fearfully hot and he became very much exhausted. In the afternoon when he returned to camp he felt so weary that he lay down on the ground in his tent. He remembered that Colonel Murphy came into his tent and told him that he had been commissioned Colonel of the 13th Regiment, but it made no particular impression upon his mind. He also remembered that the Lieutenant came into his tent and looked at him, and later that he brought Dr. Murta to him.[1] The following letter, dated August 17, 1862, was received from our brother-in-law, A. S. Northrup:

I have just returned from the 8th Regiment on a visit to Wm. P. Lyon. Colonel Lyon, of the 13th, he is now. Found him rather poorly. He has been sick about a week, but the surgeon says that he is now on the gain.

I should judge from what I learned that he has been quite sick, but the doctor says that there is no danger but that he will get along now. He is relieved from duty in the 8th and will join his regiment, the 13th, at Columbus as soon as able. His disease, the doctor says, is a slow, dull kind of fever. It will take time for him to get over it, but he does not apprehend any danger at all. I think he is a little worried about himself, especially as the 8th is about moving some seventy miles to Tuscumbia, Ala., and his surgeon thinks he had better go with them, for a while at least, as they understand his case and think it would be better than to put him into strange hands. It is not certain that the regiment will go farther than Iuka, about 25 miles on the Memphis and Charleston R. R. William went on the cars. I happened there just in time to see him a little while and help him aboard. I took his cot into the car, so that he could lounge at leisure. When I left him he seemed very comfortable indeed. I tried to get him to come and stay with me until he got able to join his regiment, but he thought he would enjoy himself better to wait until he was able to be about some. I shall expect him in about a week. I should not much wonder if you should see him in Wisconsin in less than a month, as he will hardly be fit for duty in less than two months. William’s company feel like orphans, almost. I find he was a regular pet in the whole regiment. He will receive the very best of attention, and I do not think there is any cause of alarm, as the doctor says that all he requires now is good nursing.

[1] This was the last of my service with the 8th Regiment. While I was ill the regiment moved down to Tuseumbla, past Iuka. I went over to Corinth on my recovery and resigned as a Captain of the 8th. Bartlett took the place of Captain of Company K. Smith had been made Captain of Company B. He was a fine soldier and popular. I went home for a month on leave of absence. A few days after I left Price came and the rebels were whipped. There was a good deal of fighting about there then. After I left, the 8th was in the fight that is called the last battle before Corinth. When I felt able to go on duty again I went to Madison and mustered in as Colonel of the 13th and went back South. I found my regiment at Fort Henry.—W. P. L.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Camp Clear Creek, Miss., Sunday, Aug. 6, 1862 — Once in a while we hear that we are soon to make a forward movement, but it is doubtful about our moving far or trying to do very much for a month yet. The weather is too hot for that. Then, while we are strong enough to hold our present position, we shall need considerable reinforcements when we again take the offensive. All these things, however, are delightfully uncertain.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Camp Clear Creek, Miss., July 31, 1862—You are mistaken in supposing that we are meeting with reverses out here. These raids of guerillas have no significance, whatever. A few of them pitch into an unprotected town of no consequence, rob, steal and burn, and then skedaddle. They have not taken a single place occupied by our troops, of any value to us, except Murfreesboro in Tennessee, and that was retaken in a very few days. So don’t let your heart be troubled when you read all these sensational dispatches about guerilla operations. They serve one good purpose, however, and that is to encourage enlistment at the North.

I think this gigantic rebellion will be put down without resorting to a draft, every soldier of the 1,000,000 who aids in doing it being a volunteer. History furnishes no parallel to this. The whole policy of the Government is now changed, and war from henceforth is to be war. Where the army of the Union goes, there slavery ceases forever. It is astonishing how soon the blacks have learned this, and they are flocking in considerable numbers already in our lines. The people here will learn before this war is over that ‘The way of the transgressor is hard.’

Tell our Canada friends, many of whom seem to be groping in the darkness in regard to us, that this is a war for civil and religious liberty, for civilization, for Cristianity, on the part of this Government against crime, oppression and barbarism; and that all of their sympathies ought to be with us. But whether foreign nations comprehend the true bearings of this struggle or not, as sure as there is justice on earth or a God in heaven, we shall triumph. I shall not think of leaving the service so long as I have an arm to wield a sword or a voice to encourage my men to fight in so holy a cause. But I find I am making a stump speech, so I close.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Camp Clear Creek, Miss., July 28, 1862.—So you fear my good spirits are assumed. Nary a bit of it. With an appetite that enables me to eat two rations. with physical vigor that keeps me free from an ache or a pain and lets me sleep on the hard earth as soundly and sweetly as I ever did on the softest bed, with a tolerably good looking, middle aged wife and two cute children ‘up North,’ with the consciousness of doing my duty, and an increasing habitual reliance upon the protection of Divine Providence, why shouldn’t I be in good spirits!

Should you hear rumors that the North is whipped, you need not believe it. ‘Tis no such thing. History doesn’t tell of so successful a campaign as ours has been since the first of February. Some reverses were to be expected, but no Government ever conducted a war on so large a scale with so few reverses as has ours. Slavery will be wiped out. The South will be subdued, and any nation on earth that interferes with us will get war until it is tired of it.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Camp Clear Creek, Miss., Monday, July 21, 1862. —Yesterday I was Field Officer of the Day (the officer who has charge of the pickets and outside posts), and I was in the saddle nearly all day and tramping a good deal of the night, so I feel stupid today.

I keep your picture hanging in my tent, where I can lie on my bed, that is, on the ground, and gaze at it and get sentimental, and fight flies. Speaking of flies, the Egyptian plagues, although they had locusts, and lice, and frogs, I believe, were a failure, because they did not have flies. Such swarms of them as infest our camps, drawn here by the debris of a great army, you can not conceive of. They are the common house fly and, like everything else here, are dull and stupid— don’t know enough to go when you tell them to. So much for flies.

To Mrs. Lyon.

Camp Clear Creek, Miss., Sunday, July 13,1862 — This is the only way I can celebrate your birthday, to write a long letter. Well, my dear, you are thirty-six years old, are you? Old enough to be a grandmother! I think it about time for you to give up thinking you are good looking, and begin to learn how to grow old gracefully. Confidentially, however, to me you are, etc., etc. I wonder what you will have for dinner today, and speaking of dinner reminds me that some time ago you asked me to tell you how I live, which I believe I have neglected to do thus far. I do not mean that I have neglected to live, but I have failed to give you the modus operandi—to tell you how the thing is done.

Reveille beats at daylight. We get up, clean our tents and quarters, shake blankets, wash, and at 5:30 a, m. turn out and drill for an hour. Then we have breakfast —ham, warm biscuit and very good butter, black tea, pickles, blackberries or currant sauce, is the usual bill of fare for breakfast; ditto for dinner, ditto for supper. I consume very large quantities. We get ham, flour and tea of the commissary; pickles, butter, cheese, etc., of the sutler. Once in a great while I smoke. I have done so today. I think I may possibly repeat it before night. We have battalion drill at 5:30 p. m., and dress parade until sundown; tattoo at 8:30, and then to our downy beds. Mine is luxurious. I smoothed it off the other day with a spade. As usual, I shirk a good deal. For instance, I make the sergeants and corporals take charge of the company at morning drill, under pretense of their learning how to give the commands! Then I divide the company into squads, and put a sergeant over each squad, charged with the duty of seeing to the men— their cleanliness, their arms—in short, everything. This I do under pretense that the ‘Regulations’ require it. ‘Regulations’ is a great institution in the army. It teaches us ‘how not to do it,’ which is the true philosophy of thinking. Blessed be the man who invented the ‘Regulations.’ So, when I say, ‘we’ do anything, you will understand that I speak in a sort of Pickwickian sense. I mean that the boys do it and I help them if I can’t dodge. This last remark applies with peculiar force to the one item of getting up in the morning before daylight.