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.

27th.–Resumed my labors in the hospital this morning making requisitions for provisions and cooking utensils. Some of the men have now been without food, and are in a state of starvation. I have not had to-day half the help I need, and in consequence of my over-work, am sick again to-night, and have been compelled, so to report. Surgeon Jayne, of one of the Vermont regiments, is detailed to take my place.

MAY 26th.—Gen. Lee is still strengthening the army. Every day additional regiments are coming. We are now so strong that no one fears the result when the great battle takes place. McClellan has delayed too long, and he is doomed to defeat. The tobacco savers know it well, and their faces exhibit chagrin and disappointment. Their fortunes will not be made this year, and so their reputations may be saved.

Monday, 26th–It is very warm. Had company drill twice again today. There was very heavy cannonading off on the left flank.

May 26th. Another reconnoissance took place yesterday, but although the gunboats went very near the rebel batteries no firing took place. This morning all hands were surprised with the intelligence that no attack was to be made on the city at present, and that our large ships would again drop down the river. This is said to be caused by the fact that the position of the rebel guns renders the attack dangerous to our large ships, and that we could not at present occupy the place, if taken. The Richmond started early down the river, followed by the Brooklyn and at ten o’clock we got under way with the gunboat Kennebec, leaving eight vessels behind in charge of Capt. Palmer of the Iroquois. We also had in company, or rather ahead of us, two steamers loaded with troops. Nothing transpired to check our rapid passage until the steamers, in passing Grand Gulf, were fired upon by rebel light artillery; we accordingly wheeled round, and in company with the Brooklyn went back for satisfaction. The troops were landed, and they drove the enemy out of the town with slight loss, while we proceeded down and passed the night a few miles above Natchez, where were four of our coal transports.

26th. Helped unload seven loads of provisions. Played ball a little while. Reminded me of old times.

Monday, 26th.—I am more tired this morning than when I went to bed last night. W. E. Story, Adison Ramsey and myself, undertook to sleep together lengthwise of the hill. Had to lay a pole at the lower side to keep from rolling down the hill; but we soon found that would not pay the one against the pole, as he was being well pressed by the other two; so we got up and put a pool between each one, and slept together anyway; that is, if you call sleeping with a pole between us sleeping together. Remained at Gap until June 6th, with nothing to disturb us except lying in line of battle one night.

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

May 26.—During the past week we have lived somewhat like Venetians, with a boat at front steps and a raft at the back. Sunday H. and I took skiff to church. The clergyman, who is also tutor at a planter’s across the lake, preached to the few who had arrived in skiffs. We shall not try it again, it is so troublesome getting in and out at the court-house steps. The imprisonment is hard to endure. It threatened to make me really ill, so every evening H. lays a thick wrap in the pirogue, I sit on it and we row off to the ridge of dry land running along the lake-shore and branching off to a strip of woods also out of water. Here we disembark and march up and down till dusk. A great deal of the wood got wet and has to be laid out to dry on the galleries, with clothing, and everything that must be dried. One’s own trials are intensified by the worse suffering around that we can do nothing to relieve.

Max has a puppy named after General Price. The gentlemen had both gone up town yesterday in the skiff when Annie and I heard little Price’s despairing cries from under the house, and we got on the raft to find and save him. We wore light morning dresses and slippers, for shoes are becoming precious. Annie donned a Shaker and I a broad hat. We got the raft pushed out to the center of the grounds opposite the house and could see Price clinging to a post; the next move must be to navigate the raft up to the side of the house and reach for Price. It sounds easy; but poke around with our poles as wildly or as scientifically as we might, the raft would not budge. The noonday sun was blazing right overhead and the muddy water running all over slippered feet and dainty dresses. How long we staid praying for rescue, yet wincing already at the laugh that would come with it, I shall never know. It seemed like a day before the welcome boat and the “Ha, ha!” of H. and Max were heard. The confinement tells severely on all the animal life about us. Half the chickens are dead and the other half sick.

The days drag slowly. We have to depend mainly on books to relieve the tedium, for we have no piano; none of us like cards; we are very poor chess-players, and the chess-set is incomplete. When we gather round the one lamp—we dare not light any more—each one exchanges the gems of thought or mirthful ideas he finds. Frequently the gnats and the mosquitoes are so bad we cannot read at all. This evening, till a strong breeze blew them away, they were intolerable. Aunt Judy goes about in a dignified silence, too full for words, only asking two or three times, “W’at I dun tole you fum de fust?” The food is a trial. This evening the snaky candles lighted the glass and silver on the supper-table with a pale gleam and disclosed a frugal supper indeed—tea without milk (for all the cows are gone), honey, and bread. A faint ray twinkled on the water swishing against the house and stretching away into the dark woods. It looked like civilization and barbarism met together. Just as we sat down to it, some one passing in a boat shouted that Confederates and Federals were fighting at Vicksburg.

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names—and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller’s biographical sketch.)

Abby Howland Woolsey’s Journal

New York, Monday.

Georgy’s letter of the 23d, written on the Spaulding from White House, came in this morning at breakfast, which is more prompt than usual. It tells of the proposed opening of hospital tents ashore, and two thousand sick ready to put into them at once. Why the Commission should have had to work long and perseveringly to accomplish this, I don’t know. . . . The accumulating number of sick is frightful, especially when we remember that hundreds probably die unknown on the roads, literally from starvation and exhaustion. . . . God’s curse, and not his blessing, is evidently on the whole country now, and will be while such pro-slavery policy as we have had is persisted in, and such burning sins as the Fugitive Slave Law gives rise to are perpetrated on the very Capitol steps at Washington.

Here is Banks, the embodiment of “success,” which is his motto, his command pursued and scattering; the Baltimore & Ohio road and the termini of those other important communications, all abandoned. Mobs in Baltimore, panic everywhere, and we just where we were more than a year ago; the 7th Regiment ordered off this afternoon for the defense of Washington. . . . Why, the war proper hasn’t so much as begun yet. . . .

Later :

Carry took Jane’s turn at Park Barracks yesterday afternoon. They have gone lately on alternate days, and as Carry is very chatty with the men and very communicative when she comes home, we hear a great deal of funny talk and pleasant incident. She helped get tea for them last night at 194. Smoked beef and boiled eggs, tea and toast and butter, all on little white plates, and each man served on a separate little tray at his bedside, if he was weak and in bed.

26th.–To-day, was so far recovered that I reported myself for duty at the Liberty Hall Hospital.[1] I found there about four hundred sick, about one hundred of whom were crowded into the house. The rest were lying about in stables, alive with vermin–chicken houses, the stench of which would sicken a well man, on the ground, exposed alternately to beating rain and the rays of the scorching sun. There were no beds, no blankets, no straw, no cooking utensils and nothing to cook. The sick were lying on the bare floor, or on the bare ground, without covering, and this was the third day they had been in this situation without food, or without any one to look after them, except as they could mutually aid each other. All kinds of diseases prevail, from simple intermittent to the lowest camp typhus, complicated with scurvey; from simple diarrhÅ“a to the severest of dysentery. My first effort has been to separate the simple from the infectious diseases. To pitch what few tents I have, and to get as many as I can under shelter, I have before me, in the organization of this hospital, a Herculean task for a man not quite recovered from a spell of sickness. But what I can, I will do.

[1] Liberty Hall is a large dwelling, the birth place and home, during his life, of Patrick Henry. It is about eight miles from Richmond.

MAY 25th.—The enemy send up several balloons every day. Sometimes three can be seen at once. They are stationary, being fastened by ropes to trees; and give us an idea of the extent of his lines. But with glasses they can not only see our camps around the city, but they can view every part of the city itself.

Sunday, 25th–We stood in line of battle out on picket all night, and were relieved at 9 o’clock this morning. There’s a report in camp to the effect that General Pope is desirous of moving his command around by the left flank to get into the rear of Corinth and cut off the retreat of the rebels. General Halleck, however, would not give him permission, as he did not want to take any chances in allowing his army to be divided, thereby giving the rebels the opportunity of attacking and defeating each part separately. It is estimated that Halleck has about one hundred thousand men in his command here about Corinth, and we hear that Beauregard has about the same number.[1]

[1] Beauregard had been reinforced and now had a force of 50.000. See Rhodes Vol. III. page 628.–Ed

May 25th. Sunday. Wrote home, grazed my horse and rested.