May 30th, Greenwell.

After all our trials and tribulations, here we are at last, and no limbs lost! How many weeks ago was it since I wrote here? It seems very long after all these events; let me try to recall them.

Wednesday the 28th, – a day to be forever remembered, – as luck would have it, we rose very early, and had breakfast sooner than usual, it would seem for the express design of becoming famished before dinner. I picked up some of my letters and papers and set them where I could find them whenever we were ready to go to Greenwell, burning a pile of trash and leaving a quantity equally worthless, which were of no value even to myself except from association. I was packing up my traveling-desk with all Harry’s little articles that were left to me, and other things, and I was saying to myself that my affairs were in such confusion that if obliged to run unexpectedly I would not know what to save, when I heard Lilly’s voice downstairs, crying as she ran in – she had been out shopping – “Mr. Castle has killed a Federal officer on a ship, and they are going to shell –” Bang! went a cannon at the word, and that was all our warning.

Mother had just come in, and was lying down, but sprang to her feet and added her screams to the general confusion. Miriam, who had been searching the libraries, ran up to quiet her; Lilly gathered her children, crying hysterically all the time, and ran to the front door with them as they were; Lucy saved the baby, naked as she took her from her bath, only throwing a quilt over her. I bethought me of my “running-bag” which I had used on a former case, and in a moment my few precious articles were secured under my hoops, and with a sunbonnet on, I stood ready for anything. [continue reading…]

30th. Friday. I wrote a letter to Ella Clark, in answer to one received weeks before. I am ashamed of my negligence or inability to write more. Showed the letter to the Oberlin boys.

May 30, 1862. invitation to dine We have our horses saddled all the time since 2:30 yesterday morning. Owing to Colonel Kellogg’s continued illness he was this morning retired from further command of brigade, and Mizner put in his place. We could hear the cars running at Corinth all last night, and now there is a heavy black smoke hanging over the place. Some think they have evacuated, but ’tis doubtful. Firing all the time since 3 this morning. Up to this time we (our regiment) have had but three men killed and nine wounded here. Have been remarkably fortunate. I gave up my cot to Major Rawalt and am sleeping on the ground now, and the confounded lizards are working me into a fever. They are as thick as you ever saw grasshoppers. One of them ran into Allan Heald’s shirt bosom yesterday and they say he moved rather sprightly for a few minutes. Lots of snakes here, cottonmouths, copperheads, rattlesnakes, and commoner varmint. There’s also a scorpion that looks like a lizard with a green head. They say it is poisonous.

Friday, 30th–Corinth was evacuated during the night. Upon leaving, the rebels burned the depot and several houses, besides a large amount of other property, and also blew up their powder magazine. They burned some cars loaded with their own supplies which they could not get away because they had no engineers. At daylight General Pope with his force entered Corinth and then went in hot pursuit of the rebels.

29th.—No official accounts from “Stonewall” and his glorious army, but private accounts are most cheering. In the mean time, the hospitals in and around Richmond are being cleaned, aired, etc., preparatory to the anticipated battles. Oh, it is sickening to know that these preparations are necessary! Every man who is able has gone to his regiment. Country people are sending in all manner of things—shirts, drawers, socks, etc., hams, flour, fresh vegetables, fruits, preserves—for the sick and wounded. It is wonderful how these things can be spared. I suppose, if the truth were known, that they cannot be spared, except that every man and woman is ready to give up every article which is not absolutely necessary; and I dare say that gentlemen’s wardrobes, which were wont to be numbered by dozens, are now reduced to couples.

It is said that General Johnston, by an admirable series of manœuvres, is managing to retreat from Williamsburg, all the time concealing the comparative weakness of his troops, and is retarding the advance of the enemy, until troops from other points can be concentrated here.

MAY 29th.—More troops are marching into the city, and Gen. Lee has them sent out in such manner and at such times as to elude the observations of even the spies.

Thursday, 29th–There was heavy cannonading today off on the left flank and the pickets are still fighting. General Pope cut the railroad and with the aid of the Second Iowa Cavalry burned a train of cars and took one thousand stand of arms.

May 29th. Early this morning the Brooklyn, with her attendants, arrived from up the river, when the Flag Officer ordered the troops, fifteen hundred in number, ashore to watch the city, while we broke out of our ship’s hold nearly all of our provisions for their use. At ten o’clock the Brooklyn got under way for New Orleans, and we soon followed, leaving two gunboats to guard the place by water. We anchored at night as usual, and on the morning had the misfortune to lose our anchor by the parting of the chain. We got under way early, and reached New Orleans a little after noon, where we found a display of shipping not unlike the happiest days of the Crescent City.

There were some half dozen men-of-war here, also the U. S. mail packet Ocean Queen, a large and splendid ship; also the U. S. transport Connecticut, with a mail for us, and a large number of transports and merchantmen lining the levee, while the merchant steamers flying about the river created a lively and pleasing appearance. On this passage, Quartermaster Donnelly died of apoplexy, induced by the heat of the sun and season, being the second case from the same cause. We lay here for more than a week, during which time steamships were constantly arriving from the North, bringing mails, dispatches, &c., and a corresponding number departed, among them the U. S. sloop-of-war Dacotah.

29th. Thursday. Went to Neosho Falls, nine miles, to see the Indians play ball. Gay time and gay dinner. Visited them in their camp and home. Saw some slaves among them. Was disgusted with their primeval customs. Saw Seminoles and Delawares. About 7,000 encamped along the river.

MAY 28th.—Prisoners and deserters from the enemy say the Yankees get the Richmond papers, every day, almost as soon as we do. This is a great advantage they possess; and it demonstrates the fact that the Provost Marshal has interposed no effectual barriers between us and the enemy.

Wednesday, 28th–Some very hard fighting out on the right flank. Our men were driven back from their line, but rallied and regained the ground lost. In the mix-up we took some prisoners and there were some killed and wounded on both sides.

28th. Wednesday. Wrote to Fannie in time for the mail. Read Will’s old journal.

Thunder Storms.

May 28. It has rained almost constantly for the past week, and when it rains here in Dixie it is no drizzle, but comes down a perfect waterfall, sometimes for twelve hours together, accompanied with lightning and thunder of the grandest description. There is a grandeur in one of these storms at night, when in the woods among the tall pines, far away from the camp on picket, that no person can form much of an idea of unless they have been there to witness it. On such a night the solitude is awfully impressive, the picket stands concealed behind a tree in the drenching rain, solitary and alone, absorbed only in his own reflections and looking out for the lurking foe. The vivid lightning with almost continuous flashes illumines the grand old woods, while peal after peal of deafening thunder breaks, rolls and rumbles athwart the sky, sending back its echoes, as though a hundred batteries filled the air. Although there is a grandeur beyond description on such a night, there are very few of the boys, however, who care enough about witnessing it to be very anxious about going. But it has got to be done, and somebody has got it to do, so after the detail is made, they go off cheerfully, consoling themselves with the thought that they can have all the whiskey they want when they get back the next morning.

May 28th. During the night the levee broke opposite to our ship, and the water is running through at a fearful rate, threatening to flood the surrounding plantations. We weighed early, and arrived at Baton Rouge at ten o’clock, A. M. Everything looked quiet, and the dingey was sent ashore with Chief Engineer Kimball, manned by four boys. On landing at the levee, they were attacked by a body of guerilla cavalry, and immediately shoved off; but the guerillas poured a volley of slugs and shot into the boat, wounding the Chief Engineer and two of the boys. They then scampered off on horseback as fast as they could go, while our boat was picked up by a gunboat which was anchored below us. We immediately opened our battery on them, raking the streets and firing some twenty shots, when the men were with difficulty compelled to cease firing. The excitement on board our ship was intense, and each man desired to see the city in ashes. During the afternoon, several Northern ladies came off for protection, and the Mayor of the city, with those of secesh proclivities, had already skedaddled, leaving the place nearly desolate.

Near Farmington, Miss., May 28, 1862

We moved up here this morning under the hottest sun and over the dustiest roads, and I then helped the major lay off the camp, and pitched our tents ourselves. Gracious, how hot it was! I worked and sweated and blessed General Pope for ordering us forward on such a day. I’ll wager we are the only field and staff that pitch and strike our head quarter’s tents without the aid of the men. But I can’t bear the idea of making men who are our equals at home do our work here. Soldiering in the ranks spoils a man for acting officer “a-la-regular.” We’re ordered to have our horses saddled by 3 a.m. to-morrow. There has been the liveliest kind of cannonading along the whole lines to-day. Our whole army advanced about a mile. I think that at almost any point on the line we can throw shot into their works. Distances vary from one and one half miles to two and a quarter or two and one-half. Many of the generals think that to-morrow there will be a general fight. They talk a great deal more since the news correspondents have been sent off; and of course anything of that kind, that a brigadier says, goes the rounds of the whole camp in real telegraph style. Have heard of a number of killings to-day, and haven’t heard a tithe of the whole. The enemy are beginning to dispute our further advance right strongly. Many think that Halleck has commenced a regular siege. He has left a line of splendid defences to-day, and if he forms new works on the position taken up to-day, we will know that we are in for a long fight, a-la-Yorktown. Two regiments of cavalry went out this morning to destroy the Ohio & Mobile R. R., 30 miles south of Corinth. I wish them luck. Many of the Rebel shot and shell struck within a half mile of the front of our camp to-day. It looks somewhat like the times at Madrid and Point Pleasant, but will probably be a little more interesting before we finally finish it.

27th.—General Jackson’s career going on gloriously. After defeating Millroy, and Fremont’s advance in the Valley, and driving them back in confusion, so that nothing was to be feared from his threatened union with Banks, he pursued the enemy as far as Franklin, Pendleton County. Then returning, he marched on rapidly, captured Front Royal on the 23d, chasing the enemy through it at more than double-quick. Still pressing hard upon Banks, he gave him no rest night nor day, piercing his main column while retreating from Strasburg to Winchester—the “rear part retreating towards Strasburg. On Sunday, 25th, the other part was routed at Winchester. At last accounts, Brigadier-General George H. Stuart was pursuing them with cavalry and artillery, and capturing many.” I quote from the General’s own telegram, dated Winchester, May 26th. And now, notwithstanding our condition in Richmond, our hearts and voices are attuned to praise, and our pagans are more loud and bright in contrast to our late distressing trials.

MAY 27th.—More troops came in last night, and were marched to the camp at once, so that the Yankees will know nothing of it.

Tuesday, 27th–Things are quiet all along the lines today. Our supplies and ammunition are hauled by team from Pittsburg Landing. We still draw our full army rations every five days.

May 27th. Got under way, and taking a coal schooner alongside, proceeded on our way. Passed Natchez at eleven thirty, A. M., without stoppage, and ran all day without any occurrence of note, anchoring by a plantation, and sending ashore for fresh provisions at sunset.

May 27th.

The cry is “Ho! for Greenwell!” Very probably this day week will see us there. I don’t want to go. If we were at peace, and were to spend a few months of the warmest season out there, none would be more eager and delighted than I: but to leave our comfortable home, and all it contains, for a rough pine cottage seventeen miles away even from this scanty civilization, is sad. It must be! We are hourly expecting two regiments of Yankees to occupy the Garrison, and some fifteen hundred of our men are awaiting them a little way off, so the fight seems inevitable. And we must go, leaving what little has already been spared us to the tender mercies of Northern volunteers, who, from the specimen of plundering they gave us two weeks ago, will hardly leave us even the shelter of our roof. O my dear Home! How can I help but cry at leaving you forever? For if this fight occurs, never again shall I pass the threshold of this house, where we have been so happy and sad, the scene of joyous meetings and mournful partings, the place where we greeted each other with glad shouts after even so short a parting, the place where Harry and father kissed us good-bye and never came back again!

I know what Lavinia has suffered this long year, by what we have suffered these last six weeks. Poor Lavinia, so far away! How easier poverty, if it must come, would be if we could bear it together! I wonder if the real fate of the boys, if we ever hear, can be so dreadful as this suspense? Still no news of them. My poor little Jimmy! And think how desperate Gibbes and George will be when they read Butler’s proclamation, and they not able to defend us! Gibbes was in our late victory of Fredericksburg, I know.

In other days, going to Greenwell was the signal for general noise and confusion. All the boys gathered their guns and fishing-tackle, and thousand and one amusements; father sent out provisions; we helped mother pack; Hal and I tumbled over the libraries to lay in a supply of reading material; and all was bustle until the carriage drove to the door at daylight one morning, and swept us off. It is not so gay this time. I wandered around this morning selecting books alone. We can only take what is necessary, the rest being left to the care of the Northern militia in general. I never knew before how many articles were perfectly “indispensable” to me. This or that little token or keepsake, piles of letters I hate to burn, many dresses, etc., I cannot take conveniently, lie around me, and I hardly know which to choose among them, yet half must be sacrificed; I can only take one trunk.

27th. Woods and I issued five days’ rations. We boys carried ours to the woman where we board.

Camp on Corinth Road, Miss., May 27, 1862.

Why don’t you write me just a word, if no more? I’m almost uneasy. Not a line from home for a month. We hear that smallpox is raging in Canton, and—I want you to write. They say there is some smallpox in the center and right of the army, but think ’tis like the milk sickness of our Egypt, “a little further on.” There’s enough sickness of other kinds, so we have no room for grumbling if we can’t have that disease. The hospitals at Hamburg make almost a city. I think there can be no more sorrowful sight, real or imaginary, than that camp of the sick.

I don’t know the number of patients, somewhere in thousands, all packed in tents as closely as they can lie, and with not one-tenth the care a sick horse would get at home. I suppose the surgeons, stewards and nurses have feelings like men when they first enter the hospitals, but familarity with disease and suffering seem to make them careless and indifferent to a degree that surprises me, and I can’t but look upon it as criminal. I suppose nearly half the bad cases are typhoid fever. Yellow fever, cholera and smallpox have never been known here to the citizens. They all say this is a very healthy country, and I believe it. Our boys are suffering from the change of climate and water, and as much as anything, the sudden change in temperature. Our regiment is improving in health now rapidly. We have gained about 40 for duty within a week. We had about 250 sick last week. The 17th has some 300. I found a batch of live secesh women last Sunday. [continue reading…]

May 27th, 1862.—They have gone. It is bad enough to give up the sisters but it is even worse to let the children go. Mother says I love them too well. But she loves them as well as I do if the truth was known. The girls have promised to write us every day, that is, if the writing paper holds out; nearly everything is scarce and hard to get. At last I am growing taller, and pretty soon my dresses will all be too short. Mother is having a piece of checked homespun woven and she is going to make me some dresses for next winter from that; the dresses she made me last fall for the trip to Raleigh are getting too small as well as too short. A growing girl in these days doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance.

Susan Bradford is 16 years old when this entry was made.

Eliza Woolsey Howland to her husband, Joe.

Floating Hospital,
Off White House, May 27.

Still not a word from you for a fortnight now. I am beginning to be very hungry, – not anxious, only hungry, for letters. I only hear in indirect ways that our division was near the Chickahominy a day or two ago and was ordered to march into Richmond the next morning; and again yesterday that the whole army was to move in light marching order, leaving wagons and tents behind the Chickahominy. I dream about it all, and wonder, but know nothing. . . . We moved to the Knickerbocker from the Small and found a great state of confusion consequent upon having the Elm City emptied into it. . . . The event of this evening is the return of the old Daniel Webster, which we all look upon as a sort of home. … Dr. Grymes always invites us over “home” when he arrives in it, and we had a very nice dinner with him to-day. He rose as we came in and said, “I give you welcome where you have a right.” Mrs. Trotter returned in the Webster and Mrs. Baylies, Mrs. Bradford and Miss Mary Hamilton came down from New York this time. The two latter are to stay, and be replaced on the return trip by some of our force who want to go home. The Webster brought us more bundles and stores from home and lots of letters and papers.