Saturday, October 8. — Weather was quite cool towards morning. Had a fine day. Room scrubbed out. An officer from Charleston came to the prison to-day with letters for Charlie Amory and me. Five for Captain A., and one for me from Hannah. All well at home, and was glad enough to get it. Second one I have received.
October 8 — We renewed our march this morning, in pursuit of the Yankee barn-burners, down the Valley. We struck the North Mountain road at Cross Roads Church, about eight miles northwest of Mount Jackson. We then moved down on the North Mountain road the remainder of the day, and passed Columbia Furnace on Stony Creek, six miles northwest of Edenburg; the furnace and some other buildings were burning when we passed. We heard some artillery firing this evening, in front. About to-morrow we will have some work on hand for our battery. We are camped tonight on the North Mountain road some five or six miles north of Woodstock.
General Sheridan is the boss burner of this continent, so far as destroying barns is concerned. It is estimated that his troops have burned two thousand barns in Rockingham and Shenandoah counties, and I have no idea how many mills; all that they could find, I suppose.
The principal object in this highly civilized warfare is the wanton destruction of hay and grain, and nearly all the wheat that was in the Shenandoah Valley for a distance of thirty miles is in ashes this evening. If the destruction of wheat is considered to be a military necessity by the powers that be at Washington, then it is an open acknowledgment that the United States feels itself too weak and incompetent to crush the great rebellion by the fair and simple force of arms and has resorted to the torch, a mode of warfare down level with savagery, for this destruction of bread means almost and perhaps actual starvation to hundreds, yes, thousands of women, children, and old men throughout the burnt district.
It is true, General Sheridan, that you are now in the land of the swarthy captive; but if you will lift the curtain of the past and look well in the sands of time you will see the footprints of a Washington and a Jefferson who dwelt in this same land that held the dusky captive in bondage. And, moreover, these same mountain peaks that now silently look down on your hellish work of destruction once echoed the inspiring drum-tap that summoned our grandsires to the plains of Boston, where they willingly, voluntarily, and patriotically rushed to assist their New England brethren in tearing the claws of the British lion from the bleeding flesh of the young American eagle. Ah, but you scornfully say that we are Rebels. That is the same ugly word that George the Third’s red-coated Britishers used on the field of Concord and Lexington, and applied it also to General Washington, Putnam, Patrick Henry, and the whole host of American patriots; that epithet of itself surely puts us in no mean company, and surely not so as to deserve the cursed calamity that you are now heaping on the women and children in the Shenandoah Valley.
In 1775 in yonder little town of Woodstock the Rev. Peter Muhlenberg, whose patriotism called him from the pulpit to the field, cast aside his clergyman’s gown after pronouncing the benediction to his last sermon, and stepped from the pulpit in the full uniform of an American soldier. And as he moved through the aisle toward the door, distinctly and impressively uttering the stirring words, “There is a time to pray and a time to fight,” and proceeded to the church door and ordered drums to be beaten, from his congregation on that memorable Sunday a large company of faithful men volunteered as recruits for the American army that was then struggling for independence. Colonel Muhlenberg marched his men north, and subsequently the crash of the rifles in the hands of Muhlenberg’s sturdy and valiant Virginians on the fields of Brandywine, Germantown, Monmouth, and Stony Point unmistakably proclaimed the gallant and unselfish patriotism and true fealty of the Virginians in the cause of American freedom and independence, and without the least trace of sectional hatred, envious jealousy, or mock philanthropy. But now all these recollections of past little favors lie buried in the ruins and wreck of two thousand barns and their valuable contents, and somebody is trying to crawl to fame through the ashes.
8th. Saturday. Moved on at 6 A. M. 1st Brigade in rear. Rebs charged. 18th P. V., 2nd N. Y. charged back. Then Brigade formed for the regt. to come in. 18th lost some men, 15.
October 8th.—Cloudy, windy, and cold.
The fighting yesterday was more serious than I supposed. It was supposed the conflict would be resumed to-day, but we have no information of any fighting up to this hour—5 P.M.
From Gen. Hood we have a dispatch, saying Major-Gen. French attacked Altoona day before yesterday. He carried all the outworks, but failed at the inner one, and learning a body of the enemy were approaching his rear, Gen. F. withdrew to the main body of the army. He says nothing of the loss, etc., on either side.
At the Tredegar Works, and in the government workshops, the detailed soldier, if a mechanic, is paid in money and in rations (at the current prices) about $16 per day, or nearly $6000 per annum. A member of Congress receives $5500, a clerk $4000.
Friday, 7th.—Marched over mountainous country to Van Wert.
Etowah Bridge, Friday, Oct. 7. Called up early to go aforaging. Swallowed a hasty breakfast and started while it was yet dark, but did not start from Cartersville till 9 A. M. The train consisted of about ninety wagons. After the usual amount of halting, crowding and swearing, by mule drivers and wagon masters, we started west, three armed men to a wagon. Traveled ten miles through much more beautiful country than I expected to find in the Etowah Valley. Saw some palatial mansions with beautiful surroundings. Here our advance saw, or thought they did, “them guerrillas” and they dared not go any farther. Turned out into a field of about four hundred acres, but the corn was very scarce, not having had any care, and choked with weeds. We succeeded in getting half loads. Many returned empty.
Reached camp by 5 P. M. Boys had been at work all day on fort. The Etowah River higher than it has been since we have been here. This morning a large field of driftwood came down, threatening to sweep off the railroad bridge. Displaced several boats and the track sagged about two feet in the center. Pioneers at work all day keeping off the float-wood. Several of our boys went up to Allatoona yesterday. Returned to-day’, having been engaged in dressing wounds, etc. all night. They bring the usual accounts of suffering that follows every battle. Many of the wounded lay out in the cold rain of yesterday. A train loaded with them for Rome, lays at the end of the bridge, failing to cross. The wounded are being transferred to cars on this side by means of ambulances. They must suffer terribly to-night.
Friday, 7th—Weather clear and pleasant. Our division, now the Fourth of the Seventeenth Army Corps, started out to reconnoiter. We went in light marching order without teams or artillery and marching out about twenty miles to the southwest of Marietta came upon the rebels’ pickets, at a place called Powder Springs. We drove them about four miles to the south, they not caring for a fight, and camped for the night. Our division was sent to find out whether or not the rebels are out in force along this road.
Camp near Petersburg, Oct. 7th.
It lacks nine days of four months since I first beheld, through sulphurous smoke and leaden hail, the tall spires of Petersburg. It was the time the Ninth Corps made their first charge and were repulsed. Since that time we have made several advances— always by the left flank—until now we extend from river to river around the city. But we are not discouraged. In fact, we were never one-half so confident as now. We are fulfilling, to the letter, the old injunction to “make haste slowly.” Experience tells us the taking of a city, a victory where the enemy, “runs away and lives to fight another day,” only prolongs the contest. Their armies must be destroyed. Grant has hit upon the right plan. What if Copperheads do say “Grant cannot take Petersburg.” We know better. His operations here are but part of a plan that is literally destroying Lee’s army. It embraces Butler, on the James; Sheridan, in the Shenandoah Valley; Sherman, in Georgia. All are acting in concert, controlled by one master spirit, who rules and guides the whole.
For a time I feared Grant had met his match in Lee. But, as the plot thickens and the current of events brings out and develops his deep-laid plans, I see the hoary-headed traitor struggling with desperate but futile energy to disengage himself from the toils of his relentless foe. In speaking of Grant last spring I said, “I suspend judgment for the present.” Since that time he has exhibited qualities that prove him to be, with scarcely a rival, the military genius of the age. We talk of Sherman’s campaign in Georgia; of Grant’s campaign in Virginia; of Sheridan in the Valley; of Mobile and Charleston. There has been but one campaign, and that is Grant’s campaign against the rebellion. The whole—north, south, east and west—had been guided and directed, under God, by his far-seeing mind. I believe we have at last found the man who is capable of directing the energies of this country, and of leading us on to victory and peace.
October 7, 1864.
The Rebels have left the railroad after being whipped by General Corse at Allatoona Pass. The 14th Corps drove them out to Lost Mountain yesterday. No hard fighting. They tore up not more than eight miles of railroad, which will be rebuilt in a very few days.
Deserters report the whole Rebel Army here, but that the ten days’ rations they started with have run out. Other deserters say that their army has started for Nashville, Huntsville, or hell; that they are satisfied they can’t make either of the first named places, and would rather go to Sherman than the last named. It is wonderful what confidence this army has in Sherman. Every man seems to think the idea of these Rebels being able to do us any permanent harm is perfectly preposterous, and all are in the best of spirits. I can’t help thinking that the Rebels must have all cleared out of this vicinity, or else we’d be going for them. Our stock is in too bad condition to follow them far over the, at present, horrible roads. A man rode along on a poor old bone-rack of a horse a while ago. Some wag commenced, “caw,” “caw,” “caw.” The whole camp took it up and for five minutes you would have thought that 10,000 crows were holding a jubilee. Let some one start a squirrel or rabbit and 500 men will be after it in a minute. Old soldiers are just a lot of men with school-boy spirits.
Officers don’t draw meat like the men. I have just had two meals of beef (and no other meat) in the last ten days. All our officers are the same way. It is mostly our own fault.
Friday, October 7. — Wrote to Mr. Caldwell for some money and sent it by Captain Senn. Captain McChesney was sent for by the commandant of the post, and questioned as to any intended outbreak amongst us. As there was none intended, no information could be given. Four cannon were fired towards evening. Some officers from Charleston came by here in wagons about noon. Spent most of the day mending my trousers. Day rainy and cloudy.
