31st.–We were awoke this morning at daylight, by the pattering of rain on our faces, and at once went to work preparing to meet the foe, and perhaps to fight the battle decisive of the war and the fate of our poor “friend-ridden” country. Oh, my country; both you and your friends are making a history, and when it is written, may I be there to help. * * * But we are preparing for fight. Must all of our great battles be fought on Sundays?

10 1-2 A. M.–”Fall in, fall in.” The rain pours whilst we march and counter march for an hour, forming into line of battle. Why spend so much time at what could have been done in twenty minutes. No need of delay, now that Pope is whipped.

We have remained all day at Centreville. No advance by either party. I have a bad cold to night, and lie down with wet feet, and between wet blankets, and yet with this discomfort, how enviable my condition compared with that of thousands whom, and whose families our tardiness has doomed to a life long intensity of pain or misery.

The retreat from the Peninsula was almost immediately, (August 29, ’62,) followed by the “Second Bull Run” disaster, which again filled the Washington and Alexandria hospitals to overflowing and taxed the hospital workers to the utmost. Chaplain Hopkins, still on hard service in Alexandria, writes:

Office of General Hospital,
12 O’clock Sunday Night.
Alexandria, August 31st, 1862.

My dear Mrs. Howland: These days are more terrible than any thing the nation has yet seen, and their horrors are at our very doors. Yesterday we sent 375 men to the north, and 433 to-day, and yet to-night we have opened a hall where, strewn on the floor, without even blankets, lie scores of wounded men unattended, with rebel lead festering in their bodies, but thankful for even that accommodation. Many of them came all the way from the battlefield in horrid army-wagons after lying in the rain and mud upon the field through the night; – patient, unmurmuring men. The best of New York and Boston blood oozes from their undressed wounds. I have just come from doing all that I could for them and am resting for the next train, which we momentarily expect at the foot of Cameron Street. . . . You have seen all this at Harrison’s Landing, but in my wildest dreams, when I first reported to you in Washington, I never thought of such scenes. Through all the wards confused heaps of torn and dirty clothes and piles of bloody bandages, tired attendants doing their best to make comfortable the poor fellows torn and mangled with shot and shell in every imaginable way. Things now, from what I hear in the hall, are coming into order, several surgeons having just reported themselves to Doctor Summers, besides large numbers of citizen attendants from the departments in Washington and from this city, too. [continue reading…]

August 30th.

Still no prospect of a lodging; so here we remain. I never before lived in a house without a balcony, and have only now found out how inconvenient it is. The whole establishment consists of two rooms on each side of a passage as wide as the front door; and as it has a very low ceiling, with no opening, and no shade near, it is decidedly the warmest spot I ever inhabited. We all sleep on the floor and keep our clothes in our trunks – except Lilly, who has an armoir without doors. Knives and forks for dinner to-day, though the table still consists of a single plank The house really has a suffocating effect on me, there is such a close look about it. The front is fully a foot below the level of the street, while quite a flight of steps leads from the back door to the yard. In fact, the whole town consists of abrupt little mounds. It is rather a pretty place; but Heaven save me from the misery of living in it! Miriam is crazy to remain – even advocates that dirty, bare, shutterless boarding-house where we passed the first night, from what attraction I cannot imagine. I am just as anxious to get into the country. I would hate the dull round of this little place; I prefer solitude where I can do as I please without being observed. Here we are as well known by people we never before heard of as though we were fellow-citizens.

Saturday, 30th–We are on guard every other day now. I am on picket post again on the main road out east from our camp. There are thirty of us with a captain in command. I stood on vedette for eight hours. Our reserve post is close by a farm house owned by a man named Patrick. He has a great many slaves who are out in the fields picking cotton, and they have a colored foreman, a slave at that, over them. But Patrick himself is the “driver,” though he seems to be kind to his slaves, who are mostly women and children. Patrick had been forced into the army of the Confederacy, but he escaped, and returning to his plantation, he hopes now to remain within the Union lines.

Saturday, 30th. In the morning was on picket in the town. Roasted corn for breakfast. Ate and slept on a porch to a jayhawked store. Slept soundly. Went to the tannery and had a good wash. Got some peaches. Went out about noon and joined the main command, two miles out. Went out a mile where Capt. Welch was staying with a picket guard. Got plenty of melons to eat from a Mrs. Dade, whose husband was in the secesh army, a surgeon. Scouting parties went out ten and twelve miles each way, north and east. Went out and met our command. Slept in a house on floor. Strange.

Saturday, 30th.—Met regiment this morning at Little Laurel bridge. Marched through Loudon at 10 A. M. Rather shabby-looking place. Camped two miles from Rock Castle River.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

AUGUST 30th.—Banks, by the order of Pope, has burnt 400 Yankee cars loaded with quartermaster’s and commissary stores. But our soldiers have fared sumptuously on the enemy’s provisions, and captured clothing enough for half the army.

August 30th.—A package arrived last night from our sisters, with my sister M’s diary, for my amusement. It was kept while our dear ones of W. and S. H. were surrounded by McClellan’s army. I shall use my leisure here in copying it, that our children’s children may know all that our family suffered during this cruel war. During the six weeks that they were surrounded by the foe, we only heard from them through letters written to their husbands in Richmond. These letters were captured by the enemy, and published in a New York pager; and one was republished in the Richmond Enquirer, where we were most delighted to find it. In that way W. B. N., then incarcerated in the walls of Fort Delaware, heard from his mother, wife, and children, for the first time since he was captured, in March.

Mrs. N’s diary begins: “May 18th.—S. H, Hanover County, Va. C. M. and myself set off yesterday morning for church. At my brother’s gate we met Dr. N., who told us that there were rumours of the approach of the enemy from the White House. We then determined not to go to our own church, but in another direction, to the Presbyterian church. After waiting there [continue reading…]

Aug. 30—Men wade Rapidan, and I drink of it. Pass Cedar Run, where there had been a hard fight August 9. Robert Henderson, a venerable old man, had been arrested. As our men passed his gate he said with tears, “God preserve you, my boys!” Pass Culpepper C. H. Town and country around desolated by war. Sick and wounded Federals in town.

30th.–We can distinctly hear the fighting beyond Centreville; yet we move slowly, and in that direction. This fight has been going on for two days, with great advantage of numbers and position on the side of the enemy, and yet we stop to rest every half hour, when no one is tired. The troops have had no marching for a week. What can our delay mean? God send it may not be the jealousy foreshadowed in a letter written to my wife a week ago. Go on! go on! for God’s sake, go on. The whole army says go on, and yet we linger here. We stop an hour in the suburb of Fairfax, whilst the sound of the fight is terrible to our impatience, and we tarry here.

5 P. M.–We have just reached Centreville. The battle rages in sight, yet we stop again to rest when no one is tired, but all anxious to rush on. After having “rested” for two hours, we moved slowly forward for two miles, when we met a courier, who exclaimed: “Oh, why not one hour earlier!” Close on his heels followed the flying crowd, again overpowered, beaten and whipped at Bull Run, the disastrous battle field of last year, and we too late to save it.

Alas, my poor country! and must you at last be sacrificed to the jealousies, the selfishness, the ambition, the treachery or the incompetency of those to whom you have entrusted your treasure, life, honor, every thing? Grouchy failed to come. So did Hancock, Franklin and McClellan. There may be good reasons for our delay, and we not be permitted to know what they are. The subordinate is forbidden to discuss the merits or the motives of his superior, but we must not be blamed for thinking. Pope was whipped. Thousands of our neighbors and our friends died on that bloody field, whilst struggling to hold it till we could reach and save them, and the joyous faces of many officers of our Army of the Potomac made us think that the whipping of Pope and the slaughter of his men, had something to do with their joy. We could not help thinking, and the army regulations will be lenient with us, if we will only not tell our thoughts. But there is one subject connected with this, on which I am inclined to think that, if spirits ever talk, those of the slaughtered there will cry aloud, in spite of the army regulations. Whilst we rested for hours in sight of the battle field, couriers came to us from the Medical Director of General Pope’s army, asking that our Surgeons might be sent forward to the aid of the wounded, as they were suffering dreadfully and falling faster than their Surgeons could take care of them. On receipt of this message, I saw a Surgeon ride up to General Hancock (who was lying on the ground) and asked permission to go to their aid; the General abruptly ordered him back to his regiment! I could not learn that a single Surgeon to us permitted to go forward!

Having met the retreating crowd, and night having come on, we fell back about two miles, now tired and dispirited, and threw ourselves on the ground in and around the fortifications at Centreville, and by 12 o’clock we were all resting, preparatory to another fight to-morrow.

29th.—The Richmond papers of yesterday mention two severe skirmishes on the Rappahannock within a week The enemy are retreating through Culpeper, Orange, etc., and our men are driving them on. General Jackson has reached Warrenton. Burnside’s army is said to be near Fredericksburg, and Pope retreating towards Manassas. The safe situation of this town makes it a city of refuge to many. Several of our old friends are here. Mr. and Mrs. D., of Alexandria, are just across the passage from us; the J’s are keeping house, and Mrs. M. is boarding very near us. This evening our friends the S’s arrived. None but persons similarly situated can know the heartfelt pleasure of meeting with home friends, and talking of home scenes—of going back, as we did this evening, to the dear old times when we met together in our own parlours, with none to make us afraid. We see very little of Lynchburg society, but in this pleasant boarding-house, with refugee society, we want nothing more. The warmest feelings of my heart—have been called forth, by meeting with one of the most intimate friends of my youth—now Mrs. Judge D. We met the other day in the church-door, for the first time for many, many years. Time has done its work with us both, but we instantly recognized each other. Since that time, not a day has passed without some affectionate demonstration on her part towards us. At her beautiful home, more than a mile from town, I found her mother, my venerable and venerated friend Mrs. Judge C, still the elegant, accomplished lady, the cheerful, warm-hearted, Christian Virginia woman. At four-score, the fire kindles in her eye as she speaks of our wrongs. “What would your father and my husband have thought of these times,” she [continue reading…]

August 29, Clinton, La.

Noah’s duck has found another resting-place! Yesterday I was interrupted while writing, to pack up for another move, it being impossible to find a boarding-house in the neighborhood. We heard of some about here, and Charlie had engaged a house for his family, where the servants were already settled, so I hurried off to my task. No easy one, either, considering the heat and length of time allowed. This time I ate dinner as I packed, again. About four, finding Miriam did not come to Mr. Elder’s as she promised, I started over to General Carter’s with her clothes, and found her just getting into the buggy to ride over, as I arrived warm, tired, hardly able to stand. After taking her over, the General sent the buggy back for Mrs. Carter and myself, and soon we were all assembled waiting for the cars. At last, determining to wait for them near the track, we started off again, General Carter driving me in his buggy. I love General Carter. Again, after so many kind invitations, he told me he was sorry we would not remain with him; if we were content, he would be only too happy to have us with him; and spoke so kindly that I felt as though I had a Yankee ball in my throat. I was disposed to be melancholy anyway; I could not say many words without choking. I was going from the kindest of friends to a country where I had none at all; so could not feel very gay. As we reached the track, the cars came shrieking along. There was a pause, a scuffle, during which the General placed me and my bird in a seat, while Lilly, Charlie, Miriam, mother, five children, and two servants, with all the baggage, were thrown aboard some way, when with a shriek and a jerk we were off again, without a chance of saying goodbye, even. [continue reading…]

Friday, 29th–No news of importance. We are all on fatigue duty today, building rifle-pits and a fort. Our fortifications are not on high ground, but in case of an attack upon our camp, they would give us ample protection.

Friday, 29th. Morning passed as usual in reading the late papers and loafing. Washed dishes. No encouraging news. Several commissions came over–some very just and deserved ones. In the afternoon came a detail of all well mounted men to go on an expedition into Mo. Archie and I went. 50 men in all under Capt. Welch. 9th Wisconsin, Allen’s Battery, and part of the 9th Kansas along under Gen. Salomon. We went as advance. Rode all night. Slept a good deal in saddle. Was very sleepy. Reached Montebello just before sunrise. Went in on all roads, dashing down at full gallop, but never an enemy. Expected to find 1200 there.

Friday, 29th.—Notified to-day that we were marching to Richmond, Kentucky. Camped at Big Laurel Bridge. Lieutenant D. U. Fox, R. F. Anderson, Brothers Tom and Lon Magill and myself went out to Uncle Newton Magill’s; very strong for the Union. Said he could not understand how children of his brother could be fighting against the Union. We explained to him that where we lived it was either fight or be conscripted, and made to fight, and so we only had “Hobson’s choice,” no matter which end of the dilemma we took, it was to land in the army. The whole family treated us so nicely that we enjoyed our stay for the night. We trusted them so implicitly that we stacked our guns in the corner down-stairs, and left and went up-stairs to sleep, leaving ammunition and everything down there. It has always been a pleasure to me to think back of how nicely they all treated us.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

AUGUST 29th.—Bloody fighting is going on at Manassas. All the news is good for us. It appears that Pope, in his consummate egotism, refused to believe that he had been outwitted, and “pitched into” our corps and divisions, believing them to be merely brigades and regiments. He has been terribly cut up.

Aug. 21—Threatened with jaundice. Take medicine.

Aug. 24—Dark and damp. One year ago today, my dear little Eddie was cold in death in parsonage in Smithville (Southport), North Carolina, and I was almost dead. I preached on “Samaritan.”

August 25. 1862—My birthday! Thirty years old! And yet how little knowledge I have acquired! How little grace! How little good have I done! God help me in time to come! Get marching orders at nine at night.

Aug. 26—Long hard march on our men.

Aug. 29—Called at C. H. and wrote to wife. Camped at Rapidan. I slept under a wagon.

29th.–Struck tents near Alexandria, at 10 A. M., and have marched in direction of Fairfax Court House, I suppose to go to Bull Run, to reinforce General Pope, who with fifty thousand men is now engaged with Jackson and Longstreet’s army, over one hundred thousand strong. I hope to God that may be our destination, and that we may be in time. We have marched to-day only about six miles. The day is beautiful and cool, the roads fine. Why do we not go further. Is it because we have other destination than what I hoped?

Tuscumbia, Ala., August 28, 1862.

The order has been issued requiring battalion adjutants to be mustered out of the service, but Colonel Mizner insists on our remaining, and being either assigned to companies or made regimental adjutant commander and quartermaster, which offices this new law provides. General Oglesby wants me very much. I was down to Corinth a few days since and saw him. Told him about this order mustering me out, and he offered to go with me to General Grant and ask for an order excepting me from muster. I knew that the wording of my commission wouldn’t allow such an irregularity and had to decline. If I stay with the regiment now, I will not be able to get on Oglesby’s staff, as I wish, for in either of the three places which I can get, I could not be detached. But General Oglesby said that he would give me plenty of time to go home and hunt a lieutenancy in the company, and then he would have me assigned to him. I could not get home in less than eight days, and by that time I think would have a difficulty in getting a position, for regiments will be so near organized that new comers will stand a poor chance. Have almost made up my mind to go home and run my chances. I know I am worth more than a lieutenancy, and that in these regiment staff places there is no chance for promotion. Would almost as lief commence again in the ranks. Am sure I would be a captain as quickly.

[He came home and raised a company in the 103d Illinois Infantry, and was elected captain.—Ed.]

Thursday, August 28th.

I am satisfied. I have seen my home again. Tuesday I was up at sunrise, and my few preparations were soon completed, and before any one was awake, I walked over to Mr. Elder’s, through mud and dew, to meet Charlie. Fortunate was it for me that I started so early; for I found him hastily eating his breakfast, and ready to leave. He was very much opposed to my going; and for some time I was afraid he would force me to remain; but at last he consented, – perhaps because I did not insist, – and with wet feet and without a particle of breakfast, I at length found myself in the buggy on the road home. The ride afforded me a series of surprises. Half the time I found myself halfway out of the little low-necked buggy when I thought I was safely in; and the other half, I was surprised to find myself really in when I thought I was wholly out. And so on, for mile after mile, over muddy roads, until we came to a most terrific cross-road, where we were obliged to pass, and which is best undescribed. Four miles from town we stopped at Mrs. Brown’s to see mother, and after a few moments’ talk, went on our road.

I saw the first Yankee camp that Will Pinckney and Colonel Bird had set fire to the day of the battle. Such a shocking sight of charred wood, burnt clothes, tents, and all imaginable articles strewn around, I had never before seen. I should have been very much excited, entering the town by the route our soldiers took; but I was not. It all seemed tame and familiar. I could hardly fancy I stood on the very spot where the severest struggle had taken place. The next turn of the road brought us to two graves, one on each side of the road, the resting-place of two who fell that day. They were merely left in the ditch where they fell, and earth from the side was pulled over them. When Miriam passed, parts of their coats were sticking out of the grave; but some kind hand had scattered fresh earth over them when I saw them. Beyond, the sight became more common. I was told that their hands and feet were visible from many. And one poor fellow lay unburied, just as he had fallen, with his horse across him, and both skeletons. That sight I was spared, as the road near which he was lying was blocked up by trees, so we were forced to go through the woods, to enter, instead of passing by, the Catholic graveyard. In the woods, we passed another camp our men destroyed, while the torn branches above testified to the number of shells our men had braved to do the work. Next to Mr. Barbee’s were the remains of a third camp that was burned; and a few more steps made me suddenly hold my breath, for just before us lay a dead horse with the flesh still hanging, which was hardly endurable. Close by lay a skeleton, – whether of man or horse, I did not wait to see. Not a human being appeared until we reached the Penitentiary, which was occupied by our men. After that, I saw crowds of wagons moving furniture out, but not a creature that I knew. Just back of our house was all that remained of a nice brick cottage – namely, four crumbling walls. The offense was that the husband was fighting for the Confederates; so the wife was made to suffer, and is now homeless, like many thousands besides. It really seems as though God wanted to spare our homes. The frame dwellings adjoining were not touched, even. The town was hardly recognizable; and required some skill to avoid the corners blocked up by trees, so as to get in at all. [continue reading…]

Thursday, 28th–Nothing of importance. We are enjoying a well-earned rest in camp today, after having been without sleep for forty-eight hours. Our camp ground is getting dryer and more settled, and the weather is more pleasant.

Thursday, 28th. In the morning came the detail for the 2nd Kansas Battery. Heretofore officers had said that such a detail should not be made. But the order came to the Colonel for 150 men and the Colonel gave orders to Batt. commanders for the detail and they to their companies. The detail was made but not a man would go. Three or four companies marched to guard house. Finally after several Orderly calls and speeches by Majors to Battalions, the detail submitted. The wrangle about the to-be colonel of the regiment continues. Papers went on signed by ten in favor of Doubleday and nine against. Miner, Burnett and Ratliff rascals– selfish. Major P. sent in his resignation.

Thursday, 28th.—Passed through Barbourville to-day about sundown; very dusty. Great many wagons, horses and mules here that have been captured. Saw where Scot’s Cavalry had burned Yankee wagon train. Camped one miles from town; wrote letter and sent home by Rogers.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

AUGUST 28th.—Pope’s coat was captured, and all his papers. The braggart is near his end.