Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Post image for Rutherford B. Hayes.

Rutherford B. Hayes.

November 23, 2014

Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes

Camp Russell, Virginia, November 20, 1864.

My Darling: — You see the Army of the Shenandoah has a name for its camp. Named after the General Russell who was killed at the battle of Winchester, September 19.

We have had no battle for a month! No Rebel firing for a week! Wonderful. But we don’t feel settled yet. We are quite comfortable, nevertheless. We are I think waiting to see the issue of Sherman’s daring campaign in Georgia. At present no furloughs or leaves of absence are granted except for sickness.

November 23. — Colder than any huckleberry pudding I know of! Whew, how it blew and friz last night! I took my clothes off in Christian style last night. No enemy near for a week and more makes this the correct thing. It got windy, flue disgusted smoked, let the fire go out, then grew cold; put on pants, coat, and vest, in bed. Cold again, put on overcoat and in bed again. Colder than ever, built up the fire, [it] smoked. So I wanted to be cold, and soon was. Tent-pins worked loose from the wind flapping the fly; fixed them after much trouble; to bed again, and wished I was with my wife in a house of some sort!

Today the men were to have had overcoats, stockings, shirts, etc., which they greatly need, but behold, we learn that the clothing couldn’t come because all the transportation was required to haul up the turkeys and Thanksgiving dinner! We must wait until next train, eight days! And we all laugh and are very jolly in spite of it.

8 P. M. — The clothing has come after all. The turkeys are issued at the rate of a pound to a man. Very funny times we are having! When the weather is bad as it was yesterday, everybody, almost everybody, feels cross and gloomy. Our thin linen tents — about like a fish seine, the deep mud, the irregular mails, the never-to-be-seen paymasters, and “the rest of mankind,” are growled about in “old-soldier” style. But a fine day like today has turned out brightens and cheers us all. We people in camp are merely big children, wayward and changeable.

Believe me, dearest, your ever loving husband,

R.

Mrs. Hayes.

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