August 19, 1864.—We started from Newnan on the 15th instant, and very much to our regret, as we had to leave so many of our old patients behind. Mr. Morgan cried like a child; but, child-like, I suppose he has forgotten all about us ere this.
Mr. Williams of the Ninth Kentucky, one of our old patients, tried to procure a permit to come with us, but he did not succeed. We were very sorry, as he was anxious to get away from Newnan for fear of being captured. He had been in the country at the time the hospital was moved.
Many of the ladies of the place called on us before we left, and promised to do all in their power for the wounded.
As we have very little money, Dr. W. insisted on our taking some from him. He said we did not know what we were about, to think of starting in these times with the small amount we had; and he was about right, as the sequel proved.
We arrived at West Point about sundown the same day. Dr. W. had put us under the care of the conductor, and he took us to a small hotel—the Exchange. The landlord was moving, but informed us we might lodge there for the night, as we had provisions with us; that was all for which we cared. He gave us a room without even a wash-bowl or pitcher in it; for the privilege of remaining in this delightful room we paid the moderate sum of ten dollars.
There was a large brick hotel in the place, but as we had such a short time to remain, we thought it would be useless to change.
We walked around the place; it is like many other of our small towns—in a forlorn condition. There are in it some very nice private dwellings, but no one seems, in these war times, to care how their property is kept.
There is quite a formidable fort built on a high hill, and from it we had a very fine view of the surrounding country. The fort is garrisoned by Massingale’s battery, the men of which very politely showed us all its mysteries.
An accident occurred in it but a short time since. A lieutenant of Massingale’s battery and one of the men were standing near a caisson, when a shell exploded, killing the lieutenant instantly and wounding some of the men. The former was from Macon, and had been but a short time married.
We had a pleasant walk on the bridge which the enemy were so desirous of destroying. I believe the guard on it were Governor Brown’s men. In the late raid through this portion of the country, the enemy’s object was the destruction of this bridge, as it is a very important one to us. By its destruction we would lose one of the communications with the Gulf States, and at present they are the granary of the Tennessee army; and, besides that, all communication between these states and both armies would be hindered, at least for awhile. The river at this point is very wide.
The late raiders did not come any further than Opilika, which is not many miles distant. There they destroyed a large portion of the railroad and government property.
We stopped at a small farm-house, to try and procure some milk; we were unsuccessful, but the lady of the house gave us a watermelon, for which she would take no money.
We asked her what she intended doing in the event of a battle being fought there. She said she did not know, but supposed she would have to remain.
We next visited the hospital. Dr. Oslin, the post surgeon, we knew well from reputation. We introduced ourselves to him. His personal appearance did not belie the high encomiums we had often heard passed on him. I am told he is not only a kindhearted and polished gentleman, but a Christian. He has no ladies in his hospital, Miss W.’s sister having never come. He told us that our friend, Miss W., who is living near, would take charge of one if we would remain there with her. This we felt very much tempted to do, as we should be much nearer the army there than where we were going.
We went around the hospitals; they were filled with badly wounded and sick; there were a number of erysipelas cases in a ward by themselves.
If the enemy should attack the place, I do not know what would become of all these poor fellows.
We were informed that morning that the Federals had cut the road between that point and Atlanta, and as the train did not come in at its usual time, we were confident the report was true, but the arrival of the train proved it false. We left about 4 P. M. on the 16th.
When a few miles beyond Opilika, the locomotive ran off the track, and we came near having a very serious accident. I was reading, and knew nothing of it until I heard some ladies scream. I then felt a motion as if the train was about to upset. I saw several of the cars ahead of us plunge off the road, and men jumping from them; many took to the woods, as they were fearful of an explosion.
We remained on the car all night. Next morning men who had came from Opilika were at work trying to clear the track, but the job looked like an endless one. Every car excepting the one we were on (it being the last) was off the track. Had we gone a very little further, we would have been thrown down quite a precipice, and no doubt many of us sent into eternity.
One of our old patients made us some coffee, and we, like all the rest, ate our breakfast on the roadside. We were in the woods, and no sign of a habitation near. As there was little or no hope of our leaving there for some time, a gentleman who had found an empty house a little ways back came and took his party, Mrs. W., and myself to it. We found it quite a nice retreat. It had been a schoolhouse, and the benches and desks were left standing. We had books, and altogether had quite a pleasant day. Our gentleman friend was Senator Hill, of Lagrange, Georgia. With him were two nice young ladies, the Misses Leach, who were on their way to their homes in New York. They had been spending some few years in the South. Senator Hill informed us that the ladies of Lagrange had undertaken the care of the wounded left there, and his daughter, a girl of sixteen, had special charge of six. I was much pleased to hear this, and only hope the ladies of Newnan will do the same. Mr. Hill gave us some nice biscuit and ham, his servant made our coffee for dinner, and altogether we had a most delightful repast.
Miss Evans, the authoress, was on the train, going to Columbus, where she has a badly wounded brother. From her I learned that all was quiet in Mobile, although we have had a naval battle, and Forts Morgan, Powell, and Gaines were taken. The battle was a desperate one, and we have lost our splendid ram, the Tennessee. Admiral Buchanan was severely wounded; himself and whole crew are prisoners. I believe we have lost several gun-boats. We were attacked by a fleet of war ships, and instead of retiring, as would have been policy, fought them. The act was a bold and daring one, but showed a lack of wisdom. We have too much of this spirit among us, and I think it would be much better every way had we less of it and more discretion.
About 3 P. M., a wood-car came from Columbus, on which we all got. We cut branches of trees and held them over us for protection from the sun, and I have no doubt, as we went along, that many thought that “Birnam wood” was coming. We reached Columbus without further accident in time to catch the Macon train. We arrived at the latter place about 4 A. M., the 17th. Went to a hotel and paid ten dollars for a bed, and as much more for breakfast. We called on Drs. Bemiss and Stout, and learned from them that our hospital had gone to Americus, Georgia. These two gentlemen were low-spirited; they do not like the idea of coming so far South at this season, and think it will be deleterious to the wounded.
Miss Leach took the address of some of my relatives in Europe, promising to write and let them know of having met me. As communication with foreign parts is uncertain, we take advantage of every opportunity of sending letters through the lines. The train to Americus had already gone, and Mrs. W., being fearful that if we remained in the hotel another day our exchequer would be empty, we called on our old friend, Dr. Cannon, who has charge of the Wayside Home. I knew he could tell us where we could procure a boardinghouse more suited to our means. His two daughters were with him, and were keeping house in two rooms, refugee style; one of the rooms was parlor, bed-room, and dining-room, the other a kind of dressing-room. It astonishes me to see how well every body manages now-a-days; they put up with inconveniences as if they had been used to them all their lives. The war seems to have raised the minds of many above common every-day annoyances. Dr. C. insisted on us remaining with his family, and as Mrs. W. was half sick, and we were both worn out, we were only too thankful to accept the kind invitation. The family seem to be perfectly happy, as much so, I expect, as they ever were in their home in Tennessee. I shall never forget the cup of coffee I drank there; it put me in mind of New Orleans.
Dr. Nagle and an officer who is stationed at Andersonville, where the prisoners are kept, spent the evening with us. The prisoners and their behavior was the principle topic of conversation, and from all we could learn we did not like the prospect of being so near them. (Americus is ten miles below Andersonville.) This officer informed us that no less than a hundred died daily. He said they were the most desperate set of men that he had ever seen. There are two parties among them, the black republicans and the copperheads, and they often have desperate fights, and kill each other. This officer said it was revolting to be near such men, and did not like his position.
Dr. C. sent us to the depot on the 19th in an ambulance. The train stopped a little while at Fort Valley, where the Buckner and Gamble Hospitals, of our post, have remained. There we saw a few familiar faces. The train remained about a half an hour at Andersonville, so we had time for a good view of the prisoners’ quarters. I must say that my antipathy for prison-life was any thing but removed by the sight. My heart sank within me at seeing so many human beings crowded so closely together. I asked a gentleman near why we had so many in one place. He answered that we would not have men enough to guard them were they scattered. O, how I thought of him who is the cause of all this woe on his fellow-countrymen— Abraham Lincoln. What kind of a heart can he have, to leave these poor wretches here? It is truly awful to think about. But, as sure as there is a just God, his day of reckoning will come for the crimes of which he has been guilty against his own countrymen alone. To think of how often we have begged for exchange; but this unfeeling man knows what a terrible punishment it is for our men to be in northern prisons, and how valuable every one of them is to us. For this reason he sacrifices thousands of his own. May Heaven help us all! But war is terrible.
Arrived at Americus to-day, the 19th. We can not tell how we shall like the place. It is quite a large village, and from all appearances we are going to have a very nice hospital, but none of us liked being compelled to come to it . We are far south-west, near the Florida line, and the weather is very warm; I think much warmer than in Mobile, as there we have the sea breeze. The town is in Sumter County, on the South-western Railroad. It is one hundred miles south-west of Milledgeville.
I have a number of letters from various points, one from a young man, a member of an Alabama battery, shows that, with all our retreating, our soldiers are not down-hearted:
Bivouac, 11 Miles West Of Atlanta,
August 4, 1864.
Your kind favor of the 19th ultimo came to hand. I can tell you I was delighted at receiving it. Since last writing you, there has been many a hard fight, in which, I am happy to say, I was a participant.
The Yankees are broken of charging rebel breastworks. They keep shelling all the time; but, thanks be to God, there is not much damage done. It is astonishing to see two armies drawn up confronting each other for hours and hours; every thing is as still as a mouse, when all at once, men rush to arms. Then commences the booming of artillery and the heavy roar of musketry.
This kind of fighting has been going on for the last eighty-six or eighty-seven days, more or less, much to the detriment of Sherman and his hirelings. Poor old Sherman! he has had a hard road to travel, and in my opinion he will never reach Atlanta as long as Sergeant Hood intends keeping him out.
We have just been relieved from a position on the left of our division, where we did some good firing, and came here this morning. The Yankee sharp-shooters are very troublesome, and have been so all through this trip, at least this campaign.
Last night, while sleeping along side of our guns, I was awoke by heavy moaning; on inquiry, I found that an infantryman had been shot by a sharp-shooter while sleeping, thinking of no danger. Poor fellow! I pitied him. There were two or three others hit at the same time, but, thank God, none were killed.
On the 26th or 27th—I have forgotten which—General Hood issued orders for every man on the line to have a musket in his hands, excepting only those who were needed to work the guns of artillery.
I took a musket, and on the 28th the Yankees pitched into our pickets, and such another cheering and rattling of small arms I never heard for picketing. I gathered up my ammunition, and took my gun and ran into the ditch along side of the infantry, expecting the Yankees to charge, but it was only a feint on their part.
The sound of small arms to me has become monotonous; you may think I am callous, but I am not. I am determined not to do any thing that is inconsistent with my duty, and, through God’s assistance, I intend doing that to the letter.
You must excuse me for not answering your last sooner, for we have been marching, digging, and fighting all the time. I must close and smoke my pipe.
Yours, etc., J.
In papers received from Mobile, I see that General Maury is begging the people to leave the city, but I do not expect the appeal is heeded. Governor Shorter has had sheds built for the people to live in, so they have no excuse.
The planters are still holding on to their corn, and will not sell it to those who have the best right to it.
