Friday, 10th–Started on our march again at 7 a. m. and made twelve miles today. It is still raining and the creeks and swamps are all overflowing. There was no show of keeping our clothing dry, for besides the rain, we had to wade some thirteen creeks and sloughs, some of them waist deep. This is a most God-forsaken stretch of country, and there is only now and then a small farm. I can’t understand how anybody could live here; in fact, the citizens have all left their homes.

10th. Moved on to Columbia at the junction of the Rivanna and James. Pleasant day–bad roads. Went into camp and sent out forage detail. Got plenty of forage and subsistence. Very wealthy plantation. Large number of negroes. Canal thoroughly destroyed.

March 10th.–Raining and cold. This is the day appointed by the government for prayer, fasting, etc.; and the departments, shops, etc. are closed. The people, notwithstanding the bad weather, pretty generally proceeded to the churches, which will be open morning, noon, and night, for it is a solemn occasion, and thousands will supplicate Almighty God to be pleased to look upon us with compassion, and aid us, in this hour of extremity, to resist the endeavors of our enemies to reduce us to bondage.

The morning papers contain a dispatch from Lee, giving an account of a successful battle in North Carolina. I append it, as the first success chronicled for a great length of time.

“Headquarters, Etc., March 9th, 1865.

“Hon. J. C. Breckinridge, Secretary of War.

“Gen. Bragg reports that he attacked the enemy, yesterday, four miles in front of Kinston, and drove him from his position. He disputed the ground obstinately, and took up a new line three miles from his first.

“We captured 3 pieces of artillery and 1500 prisoners.

“The number of the enemy’s dead and wounded left on the field is large. Ours comparatively small.

“The troops behaved most handsomely, and Major-Gens. Hill and Hoke exhibited their usual zeal and energy.

“R. E. Lee.”

March 10th, 1865.—Not one of the cadets was hurt. Not many went, because none were permitted to go without a written permit from their parents and those who went are so proud and those who did not go are so chagrined. It is funny to hear them talk it over.

Charley says, “we stayed right behind General Miller and his staff all the time.”

“Why was that, Charley?” I asked.

“So we could protect him,” was the proud answer.

I did not dare to tell the dear little fellow that the commanding officer was supposed to occupy the safest position.

Susan Bradford is 18 years old when this entry was made.

March 10th.–Went to church crying to Ellen, “It is Lent, we must fast and pray.” When I came home my good fairy, Colonel Childs, had been here bringing rice and potatoes, and promising flour. He is a trump. He pulled out his pocket-book and offered to be my banker. He stood there on the street, Miss Middleton and Isabella witnessing the generous action, and straight out offered me money. “No, put up that,” said I. “I am not a beggar, and I never will be; to die is so much easier.”

Alas, after that flourish of trumpets, when he came with a sack of flour, I accepted it gratefully. I receive things I can not pay for, but money is different. There I draw a line, imaginary perhaps. Once before the same thing happened. Our letters of credit came slowly in 1845, when we went unexpectedly to Europe and our letters were to follow us. I was a poor little, inoffensive bride, and a British officer, who guessed our embarrassment, for we did not tell him (he came over with us on the ship), asked my husband to draw on his banker until the letters of credit should arrive. It was a nice thing for a stranger to do.

We have never lost what we never had. We have never had any money–only unlimited credit, for my husband’s richest kind of a father insured us all manner of credit. It was all a mirage only at last, and it has gone just as we drew nigh to it.

Colonel Childs says eight of our Senators are for reconstruction, and that a ray of light has penetrated inward from Lincoln, who told Judge Campbell that Southern land would not be confiscated.

March 10.—Still we go on as heretofore, hoping and praying that Richmond may be safe. Before Mr. Hunter (Hon. R. M. T.) left Richmond, I watched his countenance whenever I heard the subject mentioned before him, and though he said nothing, I thought he looked sad. I know that he understands the situation of affairs perfectly, and I may have fancied the sad look, but I think not; and whenever it arises before my mind’s eye, it makes me unhappy. I imagine, too, from a conversation which I had with Mr. Secretary Mallory, that he fears much for Richmond. Though it was an unexpressed opinion, yet I fear that I understood it rightly. I know that we ought to feel that whatever General Lee and the President deem right for the cause must be right, and that we should be satisfied that all will be well; but it would almost break my heart to see this dear old city, with its hallowed associations, given over to the Federals. Fearful orders have been given in the offices to keep the papers packed, except such as we are working on. The packed boxes remain in the front room, as if uncertainty still existed about moving them. As we walk in every morning, all eyes are turned to the boxes to see if any have been removed, and we breathe more freely when we find them still there.

To-day I have spent in the hospital, and was very much interested in our old Irishman. He has been there for more than two years; first as a patient sent from Drury’s Bluff, with ague and fever. Though apparently long past the military age, he had enlisted as a soldier in a Georgia regiment, but it was soon discovered that he was physically unable to stand camp-life; he was therefore detailed to work in the gardens, which supplied the soldiers at the Bluff with vegetables. He got well, and returned to his post, but [continue reading…]

Four miles south of Montpelier, N. C.,

March 9, 1865.

Rained nearly all last night and poured down all day. Our regiment had the advance of the division, but we followed J. E. Smith. He is the poorest traveler in the army. We had to corduroy all the road after him. Only made four miles. I never saw such a country. There seems to be a thin crust over a vast bed of quicksand. I saw wagons yesterday and to-day moving along not cutting more than two inches, all at once go down to the hub, and some to the wagon boxes. I was riding to-night on apparently high ground in the woods and three times the ground gave way just like rotten ice, and let my horse in belly deep. We have worked hard to-day.

Thursday, 9th–It is still raining. The army started at 8 a. m. Companies C, D and E of the Eleventh Iowa were sent back to town on provost guard, to see that nothing was burned, until the First Division should come up. Our division is on the main road. The First and Third Divisions are on roads to our right, and the Fifteenth Corps is off on our left. We marched twelve miles today.

9th. Moved out in the morning at 6. My Batt. in the extreme advance. Passed Howardsville and Scottsville and camped at Hardware River bridge. Travelled down the tow path mostly. Rain at night.

March 9th. All is quiet. Our regiment voted for governor today. Ballots sealed in envelopes, to be opened in Connecticut on the day of election. Commissioners here to receive the ballots. We hope our war governor, Buckingham, will be re-elected.

March 9th.–Rained all night; clearing away this morning. Warm. Nothing positive from Sherman, Grant, or Sheridan. The enemy’s papers say Gen. Early and 18,000 men were captured–which is nonsense.

Yesterday the Senate passed the Negro troops bill–Mr. Hunter voting for it under instructions.

The enemy did capture or destroy the tobacco sent to Fredericksburg by the speculators to exchange for bacon–and 31 cars were burned. No one regrets this, so far as the speculators are concerned.

Letters from North Carolina state that the country is swarming with deserters–perhaps many supposed to be deserters are furloughed soldiers just exchanged. It is stated that there are 800 in Randolph County, committing depredations on the rich farmers, etc.; and that the quartermaster and commissary stores at Greensborough are threatened.

Meal is selling at $2 per pound, or $100 per bushel, to-day. Bacon, $13 per pound.

Two P.M. Cloudy, and prospect of more rain. It is quite warm.

A great many officers are here on leave from Lee’s army–all operations being, probably, interdicted by the mud and swollen streams. Sheridan failed to cross to the south side of James River, it being certainly his intention to cross and form a junction with Grant, cutting the Danville and South Side Roads on his way.

I saw Mr. Benjamin to-day without his usual smile. He is not at ease. The country demands a change of men in the cabinet, and he is the most obnoxious of all.

Again, there is a rumor of peace negotiations. All men know that no peace can be negotiated except for reconstruction–and, I suppose, emancipation.

Five miles north of Laurenburg, N. C., Laurel Hill,

March 8, 1865.

One hundred and twelve miles of steady rain, and the best country since we left Central Georgia. Looks real Northern like. Small farms and nice white, tidy dwellings. Wheat fields look very well. In the cornfields rows are five feet apart, and one stalk the size of a candle, in a hill. But at every house there were from 200 to 1,000 bushels of corn and an abundance of fodder. Sherman said yesterday that our campaign is over, and to-day Howard issued an order that all foraging for provisions shall cease, there being enough rations in the wagons to last us through. I dreamed last night of being at home on leave and seeing you all, and starting back to the army again. Only 90 miles yet to mail.

Wednesday, 8th–We started at 9 a. m. and marched seventeen miles, going into camp for the night at Floral College, North Carolina. It rained all day and the roads became very muddy. The First Brigade on guard with the supply trains is in camp about six miles in the rear. We entered the state of North Carolina about 10 a. m. and received orders that there should be no burning of property; that any soldier caught in the act of starting a fire should be shot on the spot.^[1]

[1] This was a proper order, for the war was about over, and the order was generally respected.—A. G. D.

8th. In advance of train. Turned towards the river. Went by Arrington Station to New Market at the junction of the Tye and James rivers. Met the 1st Div. which went up the river from Charlottesville. Rainy night.

March 8th.–Damp and foggy. We have no military news yet–9 a.m.

President Lincoln’s short inaugural message, or homily, or sermon, has been received. It is filled with texts from the Bible. He says both sides pray to the same God for aid–one upholding and the other destroying African slavery. If slavery be an offense,–and woe shall fall upon those by whom offenses come,–perhaps not only all the slaves will be lost, but all the accumulated products of their labor be swept away. In short, he “quotes Scripture for the deed” quite as fluently as our President; and since both Presidents resort to religious justification, it may be feared the war is about to assume a more sanguinary aspect and a more cruel nature than ever before. God help us! The history of man, even in the Bible, is but a series of bloody wars. It must be thus to make us appreciate the blessings of peace, and to bow in humble adoration of the great Father of all. The Garden of Eden could not yield contentment to man, nor heaven satisfy all the angels.

It is said the enemy have left Fredericksburg–bought all the tobacco, I suppose.

To-day the State made distribution in this city of cotton cloth, three yards to each member of a family, at $5.50 for 7-8 and $6.25 for 4-4 width. The State paid about $3 per yard for it, and the profits make a portion of its revenue, or, perhaps, the revenue of its officers and agents. Nevertheless, there was a large crowd, and one man fainted. The shops sell at $12 to $15 per yard.

Raining at 12 M. All quiet below.

Another report of the defeat of Sherman is current to-day, and believed by many.

March 8th.–Colonel Childs came with a letter from my husband and a newspaper containing a full account of Sherman’s cold-blooded brutality in Columbia. Then we walked three miles to return the call of my benefactress, Mrs. McDaniel. They were kind and hospitable at her house, but my heart was like lead; my head ached, and my legs were worse than my head, and then I had a nervous chill. So I came home, went to bed and stayed there until the Fants brought me a letter saying my husband would be here today. Then I got up and made ready to give him a cheerful reception. Soon a man called, Troy by name, the same who kept the little corner shop so near my house in Columbia, and of whom we bought things so often. We had fraternized. He now shook hands with me and looked in my face pitifully. We seemed to have been friends all our lives. He says they stopped the fire at the Methodist College, perhaps to save old Mr. McCartha’s house. Mr. Sheriff Dent, being burned out, took refuge in our house. He contrived to find favor in Yankee eyes. Troy relates that a Yankee officer snatched a watch from Mrs. McCord’s bosom. The soldiers tore the bundles of clothes that the poor wretches tried to save from their burning homes, and dashed them back into the flames. They meant to make a clean sweep. They were howling round the fires like demons, these Yankees in their joy and triumph at our destruction. Well, we have given them a big scare and kept them miserable for four years–the little handful of us.

A woman we met on the street stopped to tell us a painful coincidence. A general was married but he could not stay at home very long after the wedding. When his baby was born they telegraphed him, and he sent back a rejoicing answer with an inquiry, “Is it a boy or a girl?” He was killed before he got the reply. Was it not sad? His poor young wife says, “He did not live to hear that his son lived.” The kind woman added, sorrowfully, “Died and did not know the secret of his child.” “Let us hope it will be a Methodist,” said Isabella, the irrepressible.

At the venison feast Isabella heard a good word for me and one for General Chesnut’s air of distinction, a thing people can not give themselves, try as ever they may. Lord Byron says, Everybody knows a gentleman when he sees one, and nobody can tell what it is that makes a gentleman. He knows the thing, but he can’t describe it. Now there are some French words that can not be translated, and we all know the thing they mean–gracieuse and svelte, for instance, as applied to a woman. Not that anything was said of me like that–far from it. I am fair, fat, forty, and jolly, and in my unbroken jollity, as far as they know, they found my charm. “You see, she doesn’t howl; she doesn’t cry; she never, never tells anybody about what she was used to at home and what she has lost.” High praise, and I intend to try and deserve it ever after.

Goodwin’s Mills, 16 miles northwest of Cheraw,

March 7, 1865.

About 11 miles to-day and in camp at noon. The 14th and 20th had come down and cross at Cheraw. We are waiting on them. That expedition to Florence was a failure. Our men got the town but were driven out before they destroyed a thing. I am inclined to think the officers did not do their whole duty. They should have succeeded or lost more blood. Our loss amounted to nothing. One of the best foraging days of the whole trip. Our foragers to-day captured some negroes and horses. The negroes say they were running them over here to get away from General “Schofield’s company.” We are about on the State line now, and will leave S. C. to-morrow. I think she has her “rights” now. I don’t hate her any more.

Tuesday, 7th–Weather is still pleasant. We started at 9 a. m. and marching eight miles, went into bivouac for the night. This is a fine country and we found plenty of forage again today. Negroes are putting in the crops, mostly corn. We saw some fine fields of winter wheat. There is very little cotton put in here.

7th. Went into camp for breakfast at about 8 A. M. 22 miles from Charlottesville–beautiful day. Moved on different roads– still in rear of train. Passed through Lovingston or Nelson C. H. after dark. Camped six miles on picket.

March 7th.–Bright and frosty.

Yesterday we had no certain accounts of the movements of Sheridan. His force was said to be near Charlottesville–at Keswich. Fitz Lee’s cavalry and Pickett’s infantry were sent in that direction. Not a word has yet appeared in the Richmond papers concerning this movement from the Valley–the papers being read daily in the enemy’s camp below. We hear of no corresponding movement on the part of Grant; and perhaps there was none.

Preparations to evacuate the city are still being made with due diligence. If these indications do not suffice to bring the speculators into the ranks to defend their own property (they have no honor, of course), the city and the State are lost; and the property owners will deserve their fate. The extortioners ought to be hung, besides losing their property. This would be a very popular act on the part of the conquerors.

On the 4th inst., the day of inauguration at Washington, the troops (Federal) near Petersburg got drunk, and proposed an hour’s truce to have a friendly talk. It was refused.

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March 7th, 1865.—Today Captain Simmons was buried in the Tallahassee Cemetery. His poor wife came from her home and fainted at the grave. How horrible war is!

I had an invitation to go on a picnic to Natural Bridge today. How awful! I do not understand such curiosity. General Miller says dead negroes were actually piled upon one another in places and the river was covered with their floating bodies. General Newton commanded the Federals, one of his orders, picked up on the battle field this morning is horrible beyond belief. Let us thank God they were not allowed the opportunity to carry it out.

Susan Bradford is nearly 18 years old when this entry was made.

Five miles northeast of Cheraw, S. C.,
March 6, 1865.

Crossed the Peedee this morning. Just after we passed through the town a 12th Indiana boy seeing some powder scattered on the ground threw a coal on it. It communicated with a concealed ammunition magazine and made a fine explosion, killed and wounded 20 or 30 men in our division, stampeded a lot of horses and burned some citizens. There have been half a dozen of such explosions. Good country here, foragers get plenty, and also pick up many Rebel deserters and stragglers. Our foragers yesterday found two of Kilpatrick’s men and five Rebel lieutenants all drunk and put them under guard.

Monday, 6th–Pleasant weather. We started at 9 a. m., marched eight miles and went into bivouac near Bennettsville. We are marching through a fine country and have plenty of forage. There are no rebels in front of us at present. We are nearing the state line now between South Carolina and North Carolina, and our army has certainly made a wide path of desolation through the state.^[1]

[1] In our march through South Carolina every man seemed to think that he had a free hand to burn any kind of property he could put the torch to. South Carolina paid the dearest penalty of any state in the Confederacy, considering the short time the Union army was in the state, and it was well that she should; for, if South Carolina had not been so persistent in going to war, there would have been no war for years to come.—A. G. D.

6th. Another clear, beautiful day. 1st Div. in yesterday. Saddled up at 4 A. M. Moved out to guard train at 6. Moved in rear of brigade at 9. Marched through a passage underneath the Virginia University. Rear guard. Marched all night. Halted every five minutes–burned many rails. Rather poor country.