We are shooting at the Yankees to-day for fun, as they are trying to steal sheep from the houses that are between our lines.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 49
We are shooting at the Yankees to-day for fun, as they are trying to steal sheep from the houses that are between our lines.
SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 49
We are in Yankeedom
this time, for certain, and a beautiful and magnificent country it is too.
Since we started we have traveled about fifteen miles a day, resting at night
and drawing rations plentifully and regularly. We are about fifteen miles over
the Pennsylvania and Maryland line and within seven miles of Chambersburg. We
are resting to-day (Sunday) and will get to Harrisburg in three more days if we
go there.
We hear nothing of
Hooker's army at all, but General Lee knows what he is about. This is certainly
a grand move of his, and if any man can carry it out successfully he can, for
he is cautious as well as bold.
We are taking
everything we need—horses, cattle, sheep, flour, groceries and goods of all
kinds, and making as clean a sweep as possible. The people seem frightened
almost out of their senses. They are nearly all agricultural people and
have everything in abundance that administers to comfort. I have never yet seen
any country in such a high state of cultivation. Such wheat I never dreamed of,
and so much of it! I noticed yesterday that scarcely a horse or cow was to be
seen. The free negroes are all gone, as well as thousands of the white people.
My servant, Wilson, says he “don't like Pennsylvania at all," because he
"sees no black folks.”
I have never seen
our army so healthy and in such gay spirits. How can they be whipped? Troops
have so much better health when on the march. I must say that I have enjoyed
this tramp. The idea of invading the Yankees has buoyed me up all the time.
Last year when invading Maryland we were almost starved, and of course anyone
would become disheartened. My health was never better than it is now, and I
feel gay and jovial every way.
My brother Billie is
out to-day guarding a man's premises. He was also out last night, and he told
me this morning that they fed him splendidly. The reason houses are guarded is
to prevent our troops plundering and robbing, which would demoralize them,
thereby rendering them unfit for soldiers. Soldiers must have a strict and
severe rein held over them; if not, they are worthless.
I have George's
picture with me, and I look at it frequently.
SEMINARY, June 28,
1860.
. . . Last week I
dismissed summarily two cadets of good families and large connexions. One has
appealed to the Board of Supervisors who may be weak enough to yield to such
influence. And if they do it will severely weaken my power and influence and
may shake my faith in my hold on their confidence. They meet on Saturday. This
is Thursday and I will then see whether I am to govern here or be governed by
the cast off boys of rich planters.
So well impressed
are all gentlemen here of the necessity of some restraint on the boys, who have
been indulged at home to an unlimited extent, that I doubt not they will
approve my acts, but like all deliberative bodies they may take some half way
course and recommend me to receive them back on their promising reformation. I
will not do so unless they command me, which they have a right to do.
We will celebrate
the 4th of July by a cadet oration and Declaration of Independence, etc., and
our examination July 30 and 31 will be celebrated by a large attendance.
The weather has been
warm but never as warm as at St. Louis or in Ohio. The summers here are long,
but the proximity to the sea gives us the same air as we felt off Cuba which I
think perfect. Indeed I don't object to the summers here. All are well and
healthy and there is no apprehension of epidemic. These always originate in New
Orleans and spread by the steamboats so that here they always have full warning
and can take due precaution. Take the year all round this must be a healthy
place.
The only drawbacks
and they are serious are servants and marketing. All here own their slaves and
there are properly speaking no servants for hire. White girls or boys will not
come from New Orleans though in time they may. All groceries and meats must
come from New Orleans – the grass is so poor that sheep and cattle are
skeletons and milk exceedingly scarce. Goat milk will be better. This year the
drought has been unbearable destroying all gardens, but the season is so long
that they can plant two or three times. The soil on the river bottom is very
perfect, here in the pine hills as poor as poverty itself. Still by care we can
make lettuce, potatoes sweet and Irish, beans, peas and such things when the
season favors. There are no market gardens; the negro slaves have small patches
which they are allowed to cultivate and sell off – but these are all on the
other side of the river. . .
Clear and warm.
The local troops did
not march until this morning, and no one supposes Richmond is seriously menaced
by Grant. I believe the object of the demonstration on the part of the enemy is
to draw our forces away from the vicinity of Washington.
The Chief of the
Signal Corps reports, on information supposed by him to be reliable, that Gen.
Early's captures in Maryland were worth $12,000,000—consisting of some 10,000
horses, 10,000 cattle, 7000 hogs, 4000 sheep, 20,000 barrels of flour, and a
large amount of bacon, etc. Also, that he got between 2000 and 3000 recruits.
All this doubtful.
Mr. G. W. Lamar,
Augusta, Ga., writes the Secretary of War that he knows, personally, over one
hundred men who have bought exemptions, and that they are
bought and sold every day at a certain price. Now will the Secretary order an
investigation? Mr. L. has, or had, nine sons in the army, and he says he could
have bought exemptions for all, as he is rich. And yet a poor ensigncy is
refused one of his sons.
This morning about nine o'clock the 3d brigade takes the backward track towards Bear River. We come to a halt about two miles from the river, and are ordered into camp for the remainder of the day and night. As usual when such movements are made, rumors are on the wing, and one says, "we are taking back water," another, that "the enemy was reinforced last night and has been trying this morning to get in our rear, between us and Bear River." If we are retreating we are doing it very slowly. As soon as our arms are stacked, Colonel Dick Rowett rides along the regiment and calls for five brave men from each company, for, says he, I am going to do something that will call for that kind of metal. Following him they dash into the mountains, and in about one hour he returns with about thirty sheep and a quantity of bacon, found hid away on the mountains by the rebel citizens. The Seventh live like kings to-night.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 148
This morning Companies H and I, under the command of Captain Johnson, are sent on a foraging expedition, taking with them the Division train. They go within six miles of Purdy, making a general sweep of every thing that would in any way serve to satisfy the "inner” of both man and mule.
Wednesday morning they start back with the train loaded down with corn, hogs, sheep, chickens, and geese, and arrive in camp about noon. The Seventh is well supplied, having plenty to eat now though they are minus the half rations due from the government, and we conclude to-night "that Mr. rebels are robbing Paul to pay Peter.”
Another year is now closing—another child of time passing away. Soon turbulent and boisterous sixty-two's death-knell will be sounded, and while she is slowly dying, we trace its history, and behold that great events have transpired since it first walked forth. America has been in commotion, a great people engaged in civil strife. The force of law and the power of republican freedom have been arrayed against ignorance, rebellion, and mad ambition. May this force and power in its mighty march sweep from this land every vestage of marshaled opposition ere the death doom of another year is spoken. Would that this year of war would roll out and a year of peace come in; that no more hecatombs of loyal dead might be reared in the southland; but that harmony, quiet and fraternal love might reign where the beautiful magnolia and citron bloom.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 125-6
To-day some of the Seventh boys return from a foraging expedition in West Tennessee, bringing in some hogs, sheep, chickens and geese, making quite a welcome addition to our scanty supplies. The boys are again becoming very anxious for a mail. How long will they yet be compelled to wait? But no doubt there are more anxious hearts in our far off northern homes.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 128
This morning we again move early. We cross the Hatchie to-day, entering the great Mississippi pineries. We find it a barren wilderness. All day we keep sending prisoners to the rear. Nothing but a wreck is seen on the war path. The road is lined with old, broken wagons, tents, cooking utensils and blown up caissons. The exhausted rebels fall by the way, hundreds are being picked up and are found in a pitiful condition, being half starved; but none are found who fell in love with Corinth, and by the way they don't like to talk about this subject, or at least they don't seem inclined to introduce it. About dark we go into camp the boys make a raid upon a flock of sheep close by, and the Seventh have mutton chops for supper. It is over now and they are cheerful, and many a soldier sits round the camp fires enjoying hugely his pipe and “legal tender.” We know by experience that it is an earthly heaven for a soldier and his comrade to sit by the camp fire's glimmering embers, and while from each other's pipe the spiral festoons are forming in air to talk of home and the halcyon days that have flown. And then, going to sleep, dream of glory, and wreaths, telling of fame that will not vanish, but wreaths that are as fadeless as the stars in the canopy above.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 111-2
HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA, Sunday, October 2, 1864.
DEAREST: — I am writing to you so often these days because I am
thinking of you more anxiously than usual, and on account of the great
uncertainty of our communications. There are some indications today that we
shall push on further south. You will know if we do by the papers. If so we
shall be cut off from friends more than ever.
Dr. Joe has gone with the First Brigade out about six miles to grind up
the wheat at some mills in that quarter. It seems to be a great place for
sport. They are having a jolly time.
We hear from Winchester today. One of our orderlies, Johnny Kaufman,
died of his wound. Captain Hastings and the rest are all doing well.
Great droves of cattle and sheep are going past us north. Everything
eatable is taken or destroyed. No more supplies to Rebels from this valley. No
more invasions in great force by this route will be possible.
P. M. - Indications look more like going on with our campaign. I would
prefer going towards my darling and the chicks. Still, I like to move. We came
here a week ago. After this active year I feel bored when we stop longer than a
day or two. I have tried all available plans to spend time. I read old Harpers,
two of Mrs. Hall's novels, — you know I don't "affect" women's
novels. I find myself now reading “East
Lynne.” Nothing superior in it, but I can read anything.
For the first time in five or six days, we are just startled by cannon
firing and musketry, perhaps four or five miles in our front. It is probably
Rebel cavalry pitching into our foraging parties, or making a reconnaisance to
find whether we have left.
"Have your men under arms,” comes from General Crook. I ask,
"Is it thought to be anything?" "No, but General Sheridan sends
the order to us." Well, we get under arms. This letter is put in my
ammunition box. I mount my horse and see that all are ready. The firing gets
more distant and less frequent. "We have driven them,” somebody
conjectures, and I return to my tent, “East Lynne," and my darling, no
wiser than ever.
I am in receipt of yours of [the] 13th. The mail goes back immediately.
Good-bye. Blessings on your head.
Evening and Ben Deford again, thank God!
Captain Clifton of the John Adams was shot through the head and died instantly. The Major's [J. D. Strong] head escaped by about two inches.
Strange to say no other accidents occurred in this nor in the subsequent firing from the bluffs on the Florida shore. The first attack was from the Georgia bluffs. They were both desperate, but of short duration. One fellow actually jumped on the flat-boat in tow, and was immediately shot by one of our soldiers. I afterwards asked Robert Sutton what he himself was about during the conflict, and found that he was deliberately shooting from the pilot house, with two guns, having a man to load one while he fired the other. But now I will go back to the sunrise. As I was saying, the pickets and skirmishers were so placed that there was no escape for the white families at Alberti’s Mills. The Colonel had gone ashore and a little after sunrise sent for me to go off and take with me some copies of the President's proclamation. I found a little village, all included in the A. estate, and the mansion was occupied by Madame A. and her family. She was a New Yorker by birth and her deceased husband was a native of Philadelphia. Mr. B., former business partner of his - A.'s was at the house on a visit, ill with chronic bronchitis. He, being an important person, must be made prisoner, unless too feeble to be removed from the house. I found, on examination, that he could be taken with us without danger to himself. Madame A. spent much time trying to convince me that she and her husband had been wonderfully devoted to the interests of their slaves, especially to the fruitless work of trying to educate them. The truth of these assertions was disproved by certain facts, such as a strong slave jail, containing implements of torture which we now have in our possession, (the lock I have), the fact that the slaves have “mostly gone over to the Yankees,” and the yet other fact that Robert Sutton, a former slave there, said the statement was false. The statement of a black man was lawful in Dixie yesterday. I called Madame A.'s attention to a former slave of hers, whom she remembered as “Bob,” but never before knew as Robert Sutton, corporal in the army of the United States. Robert begged me to forgive him for breaking through my order that he should not exert himself at all till the danger of inflammation of the brain should be averted. The white bandage about his head was conspicuous at the points of danger through all the twenty-four eventful hours of our expedition. It finally devolved upon him and Sergeant Rivers1 to examine the persons of our six rebel prisoners, for concealed weapons of defense. This last process was so very anti-slavery, that I fancied the rebels enjoyed it somewhat less than I.
I am told that thirteen riderless horses went back to camp after that fight in the woods the other night; that the lieutenant [Jones] in command and five others were killed and many others wounded. Could our party have known the exact state of affairs, the camp might have been destroyed and many prisoners taken. But it was safer and wiser for infantry not to follow cavalry in the night. Our comrades on the Ben Deford greeted us heartily and the Provost Marshal was in readiness to take charge of our prisoners. We shall probably take Mr. B. to Beaufort with us. He is a wealthy and influential rebel and may become a very important hostage when Jeff Davis begins to hang us. We brought off two or three negroes, and rice, corn, sheep and other valuable things, strictly contraband of war. I wanted the Colonel to take a piano already boxed, and in a store-house at the wharf, but we had no room for it. I thought it would especially please Miss Forten to have it in her school.
_______________
1 Prince Rivers.
SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 352-4Lying around here in the woods, hearing no sound but the moaning of the wind through the tree tops, is rather dull business. There is nothing in it that inspires any lofty, rapturous thought, and yet it inspires thought, and already one of Mr. Bogey’s sheep has fallen a victim to thoughts inspired by the soughing of the wind through this dark forest shutting out the day; I reckon it will not be necessary to say anything to Mr. Bogey about it, as he is a loyal man, and, as the lawyers say, the presumption is he would be more than glad to contribute a mutton in suppression of this unholy rebellion.
THE PINE FORESTS.
The woods here abound in timber of the finest description, many of the trees attaining height of more than 100 feet. It is ... seldom one is seen of more than two feet in diameter at its base, tapering but slightly and without limbs for a distance of from 60 to 80 feet. I have seen some that would square fifteen inches, 80 feet from the stump. These are the turpentine trees, and the pitch, or turpentine as it is called, is obtained by cutting a wide, deep box at the base of the tree capable of holding two or three quarts of the pitch. From each corner of the box the bark is stripped off, coming to a point about three feet above the box. This is done when the tree is first boxed. The next year about three feet more of the bark is removed, coming to a point as before. This process goes on until the tree is blazed for a distance of 20 or more feet, and can be done on the east, south and west sides of the trees. The tree will run pitch quite a number of years before it dies, and is then called lightwood, and is either split up into rails or converted into tar. The pitch that runs into the boxes is dipped out into barrels, and is called dip or virgin turpentine, while that which adheres to the tree is scraped off and is called scrape, and is less valuable than the dip. The pitch is barreled up and sold to the distillers. Tar is obtained by cutting the lightwood into lengths of about eight feet and split fine; a tunnel-shaped hole is dug in the ground, with the center about three feet deep, and from the center a drain runs to a barrel or vat sunk low enough in the ground to receive the tar as it runs from the kiln. The wood is packed in this hole with the ends to the center, keeping the center lowest; when all the wood required for the kiln is piled up, the sides and top are plastered over with clay, and the fire kindled on top. The fire smouldering down through the pile, tries out the tar, which settling to the bottom, runs out into the vat, and is then barreled. A kiln will run from ten to twenty barrels according to size.
SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 59-60