_Field Hospital near Spottsylvania Court
House, Va.,
May 17, 1864._
I received your letter of the 3d inst. this morning. You express regret
that I do not receive your letters. I do receive them regularly, but
you evidently do not receive mine.
We are still in “statu quo,” the two armies confronting each other.
I expect you know as much about the situation--or more--than I do,
for, although we are right here, we know nothing unless we see the
newspapers. I sent a telegram to Father on the 7th inst. from Orange
Court House that my brother Billie had passed through the battle of the
Wilderness safe.
We left there late that afternoon for Spottsylvania. I went over part
of the battlefield as we were leaving, and saw that the Yankees had not
taken time to bury their dead except behind their breastworks. We had
no breastworks as far as I could see. In hurrying on we double-quicked
much of the way. I understand that the dead are very thick on the
battlefield near this place.
The weather cleared off yesterday, but it looks like rain again to-day.
I never was more tired of rain. We all still have plenty to eat.
_Between Chickahominy and Pamunky
Rivers, Va.,
June 1, 1864._
Your letters of the 24th and 26th ult. both reached me last night. The
mails seem to be more regular now than for some time past.
There was not much fighting yesterday. It was only skirmishing. A few
men were wounded in our brigade, only one of them being in my regiment.
About an hour ago I heard heavy musketry on the extreme right of our
lines, but it was far to the right of our division. We have every
confidence that we shall be able to hold Richmond this summer. General
Lee has an enormous army here now, and we all hope that Grant will
attack us as soon as possible.
Jack Teague wrote me that Jim Spearman had been conscripted and
assigned to light duty. Jack is very anxious for me to return to South
Carolina as soon as possible, but it is no use to hand in a resignation
at such busy times as these. I may send it in, though, whenever we get
quiet again, so that it will be attended to. The longer I delay it the
more apt it is to be accepted.
I was glad to know that you have the wool for my suit. I was proud of
my old brown suit of last winter, but when I get a Confederate gray
I shall be proud of it, sure enough. I have not drawn any money since
last January, but as soon as I do I will replenish your purse. I should
like so much to see your catskin shoes.
The weather is becoming quite warm. The dust is very bad and we are
needing rain again. I have not seen your brother for several days,
but suppose he is well. I have nothing more of importance to write at
present, but will write you again to-morrow.
_Field Infirmary, near Petersburg, Va.,
June 24, 1864._
When I wrote to you two days ago I said appearances indicated that we
were about to have a fight. Sure enough, about half an hour after I had
finished writing the battle began. Our division was engaged. McGowan’s
Brigade did not suffer much. It supported Wright’s Georgia Brigade
of Anderson’s Division, and, as the men were not engaged, they had
the privilege of lying down. Consequently most of the missiles passed
over them. The brigade lost only thirty or forty, and the Thirteenth
Regiment had but one killed and two wounded.
We were very successful. It is estimated that we killed and wounded
about two thousand. We captured about the same number and four cannon.
Our loss was about four hundred. We are still in our old position.
There was heavy cannonading this morning on our extreme left. If there
was any musketry, it was too far for me to hear it. Just as I began to
write this letter I had two wounded men to come in. They were hurt by a
shell early this morning.
I had my third mess of beans yesterday, and a big one it was too. I
shall have rather a poor dinner to-day--only bread, meat and coffee. We
have been getting enough coffee and sugar to have it twice a day ever
since I got back from home in April.
The weather is becoming very warm and we need rain. It will soon be too
hot for military operations.
When you write again tell me all the little particulars about yourself.
You do not know how much it interests me.
_Near Chaffin’s Bluff, Va.,
July 6, 1864._
I have not written to you for several days because I knew a letter
could not go South from here. In the recent raids by the Yankees they
cut both the Weldon and Danville railroads. I do not know that the way
is open yet, but I will write anyway.
We remained at Petersburg just two weeks and then came back here last
Saturday night to relieve two brigades of Heath’s Division which were
here on picket duty. We had a very pleasant time while in Petersburg.
I succeeded in getting plenty of vegetables to eat. The Yankees are
shelling the city, but the shells do very little harm and have killed
but few. The people are not at all frightened by them. I would often
see young ladies sitting on their porches reading quietly while shells
were occasionally bursting near by.
As soon as communication is established between Weldon and Petersburg
I hope we can get our box from home. I suppose Edwin is still about
Petersburg, improving the entrenchments. It now looks as if our army
will have to lie in line of battle all summer to keep the Yankees back.
Poor devils! How they do long for Richmond! Our minds are prepared to
endure anything rather than submit to them, and the nearer they get
to us the more determined we are not to yield. In the interior where
there is no danger nearly everybody is whipped, and they should be
ashamed of themselves.
I am of course anxious to see you, but it is impossible for me to get
off now. In fact, nothing could tempt me at this time to abandon the
army. However, I hope it will not be long before we can be together,
and remain so.
_Near Chaffin’s Bluff, on James River, Va.,
August 8, 1864._
The weather for the last few days has been intensely hot. It is very
dry, and I hope we shall soon have some rain. My health is excellent.
We get plenty of blackberries, and all we need is plenty of sugar to go
with them.
I expect we shall soon go back to Petersburg, but I am informed
that Kershaw’s Brigade and several thousand cavalry have left for
the Valley. This indicates that the seat of war may soon be around
Washington instead of Richmond. I hope we will not be sent to the
Valley again, for I detest those tedious marches. However, I am willing
to do anything to whip out the Yankees.
Matters are comparatively quiet at present, although we hear more
or less cannonading somewhere every day. At this moment I hear the
booming of cannon away down on the James River. We are so quiet now
that we have nothing to think about but home and our loved ones.
Word was sent from the headquarters of Wilcox’s Brigade to McGowan’s
that a negro was captured at Petersburg the day Grant’s mine was sprung
(July 30), who claims to belong to a medical officer of McGowan’s
Brigade. On the provost marshal’s register is the name of “William
Wilson of New York.” He always claimed that to be his name. I believe
it may be my servant, Wilson. If so, the remarkable part of it is that
he was captured charging on our breastworks. If I get him, I shall
regard him as something of a curiosity in the future.
I received more pay on the 5th, and will send you one or two hundred
dollars. I sent Bob the ten dollars for your catskin shoes. I bought
an excellent pair of pants from the quartermaster for $12.50. They are
made of merino wool. We shall soon have some fine gray cloth issued to
the brigade for officers’ uniforms. There will not be enough for all,
so we will draw lots for it. If I am lucky enough to get any, I will
send it to you.
I am very anxious to get a long letter from you giving me all the news.
When I can hear from you regularly and know that you are safe and well,
I feel satisfied.
_Near Petersburg, Va.,
September 14, 1864._
It seems that you have not received the bundles I sent to you. I sent
some gunpowder home recently, and you should get some of it for your
brother Jimmie, if he wants it.
You express some apprehension that I shall not be able to get home this
fall. I will try very soon to get off, but if I am disappointed you
can come on here. I believe our brigade will remain about Petersburg
this winter, and if we do I shall make some arrangements for you to be
with me. Those of us here who have no children have planned to have our
wives come out here and be with us this winter. The greatest difficulty
in a man’s keeping his wife here is in finding enough for her to eat,
but we intend to have supplies sent to us from home. You must begin to
make arrangements to come and be ready between the 15th of November and
Christmas, if I do not get home before that time myself.
_Near Petersburg, Va.,
Sunday, October 2, 1864._
Last Thursday afternoon we received orders to be in readiness to
move to the north side of the James River, and at about nine o’clock
that night we started. We traveled until about two hours before day,
and were nearly to Drury’s Bluff when we were ordered back because
the Yankees were making a demonstration on our right. That afternoon
(Friday) our brigade and Lane’s North Carolina had a considerable fight
on the right. We drove them nearly two miles to their breastworks.
It was a nice victory for us and our loss was small. The Fifteenth
Regiment lost eight killed on the field and had about twenty wounded.
I have never before known so large a proportion to be killed. Spencer
Caldwell was killed. Colonel Bookter of the Twelfth Regiment and three
officers of the Thirteenth were killed--none that you know. Billie
was in it, but was not hurt. His company had one killed and but one
wounded. Lang Ruff’s boys were both in it, but were not hurt. I saw
them all this morning and everybody was in fine spirits.
Our cavalry had a fight yesterday afternoon on the extreme right, and
it is reported that General Dunnovant was killed. We are expecting
the Yankees to attack us again. Grant is evidently doing his best for
Lincoln’s election. He must have been heavily reinforced. I hope to
hear good news from Forrest. If Sherman is forced away from Atlanta and
we can hold Richmond this winter, I believe we shall have peace.
We need ten or fifteen thousand more men here, and we could easily get
them if the able-bodied exempts would come on here, but they seem to
have become hardened to their disgrace. If the South is ever overcome,
the contemptible shirkers will be responsible for it. They should have
seen our poor fellows Thursday night coming in wounded and bleeding
and shivering with cold; but these very men who suffer and have often
suffered in this way are the last ones to say surrender.
I received your letter on Thursday, but have not been able to answer it
until now. The weather is beautiful this afternoon, but it has been wet
and was very disagreeable the day we had the fight.
_Near Petersburg, Va.,
October 12, 1864._
I have not received a letter from you for several days, as there seems
to be something wrong with the mails again.
Grant has come to a dead halt before Petersburg and Richmond. It is
believed that the next fight will take place across on the north side
of the James River. The Richmond papers state that there is encouraging
news from Georgia, but they will not tell us what it is, because they
say they do not want Grant to find out about it. Hood may have Sherman
in a tight place.
About twelve thousand men from Richmond have been sent into the
trenches at the front. Many of them were in the Government service and
many others were gentlemen of leisure. The authorities sent everybody.
The police would capture men in all parts of the city and send them
under guard to some point to be organized and put under the command of
officers who happened to be in Richmond from the army. A man told me
these officers were seized in the same way on the streets, and that the
authorities would even send out and capture a colonel and put him in
command of the whole battalion. A medical officer would sometimes be
seized. He would plead that he was due at his command and that he was a
noncombatant, but they would tell him he was the very man they needed
to attend to the wounded. It delights soldiers to hear of these things.
It does them good all over. The soldiers are accustomed to these sudden
dashes at the front, but the miserable skulkers almost die of fright.
We are building chimneys and fixing up things in our camp as if we are
to remain here. If I were sure of it, I would have you come out and
stay with me awhile. It is useless for me to try to get off now while
we are so tightly pressed.
I saw Billie this morning. I carried a haver-sack full of biscuits and
ham to him. I will have ham, light bread and coffee for breakfast in
the morning. I have been living well this year.
We have a new chaplain in our brigade named Dixon. I heard him preach
yesterday, and he does very well. If Congress would pass a conscript
law bringing the preachers into the army we could have chaplains. They
have acted worse in this war than any other class of men.
We are having rain to-night and I am very glad to see it, for the
weather was dry and the roads were dusty.
_Near Petersburg, Va,
October 25, 1864._
I have a bright fire this morning. There is a nice chimney to my tent,
which makes it almost as comfortable as a house. The regiment is on
the extreme right of our lines, but is several miles from the field
infirmary where I am stationed. The brigades are frequently shifted
about, but I trust ours will remain where it is, because there is
plenty of wood near by.
Everything is very quiet on the lines. I suppose you have heard of the
defeat of General Early again in the Valley. He has not yet gained a
single victory worth mentioning, and it is time we had a new commander
there. We have a great many good fighters, but so few good generals.
I am anxious to hear something from General Hood, for if he can whip
Sherman at Atlanta the situation may be entirely changed.
The health of all the men appears to be about as good as if they were
at home under shelter and with suitable diet. Our troops seem as happy
and lively as men could be, although they get nothing to eat now but
bread and meat. We have eaten nearly all the beef Hampton captured
recently in rear of Grant’s army, but we have received some from North
Carolina which is very nice and tender.
Your brother Edwin is to be appointed a lieutenant in the Fourteenth
Regiment. I took dinner with him yesterday. Lieutenant Petty, with whom
he messes, had just received a box from home, and I fared sumptuously.
My box has not yet arrived. Boxes now take about two weeks to reach
here. Your brother had received his new suit from home. Billie is well
and hearty, but he needs a new coat. These government coats are too
thin for exposed duty.
I have a nice little Yankee axe, which is so light that it can be
carried in a knapsack, but it just suits a soldier for use in putting
up his little shelter tent or for making a fire. All the Yankees have
these little axes, and many of our men have supplied themselves with
them, as they have with almost everything else the Yankees possess.
Are you making preparations to come out here this winter? Colonel Hunt
will have his wife to come out again, and a great many other officers
are arranging for their wives to come on soon. Some of them are here
already, but I think it best for you to wait until winter puts a stop
to military operations. When we left the Rappahannock River last fall
some of the officers carried their wives along by having them wrap up
well and putting them in the ambulance; and if you were here and we had
to move I could easily take you along that way. I want you to come just
as soon as circumstances will permit, but this war has taught me to
bear with patience those things which cannot be avoided and not to be
upset when my wishes cannot be gratified.
_Near Petersburg, Va.,
October 29, 1864._
I suppose you have heard how we whipped the Yankees on both this side
and the north side of the James River. The killed and wounded fell
into our hands here at Petersburg, and we have been attending to their
wounded all day to-day. Our loss was very small. Wilcox’s Division was
occupying a part of our line that was not assaulted, and therefore
it was not engaged. We now have strong hopes of being able to hold
Petersburg and Richmond.
This war can never end until the fanatics, both North and South, are
gotten rid of. They are influenced solely by their blind, senseless
passions, and reason never enters their heads. It is always such
discontented, worthless wretches who bring about revolutions. The
North is still infested with such characters, and the South is not far
behind. If we could get those hot-headed fools in South Carolina who
composed that meeting at Columbia recently and put them in the army and
get them all killed off, it would be much better for us. What a pity
we cannot have them killed, but they cannot be made to fight. I do not
believe that Boyce will fight a duel with such a man as Tradewell, for
he must have more sense than to do that.
My box is not here yet. I will continue to keep on the lookout for it
until it arrives. My dinner will soon be ready and I think it will be
fine, for I shall have white cabbage, bacon, potatoes and biscuit.
As soon as I can I will send you one hundred and fifty dollars to pay
your expenses in coming out. The Government owes me about five hundred
dollars, which I hope to be able soon to collect. If you can come by
the first of December you can remain at least three months, and I may
be able to go back with you in March.
_Near Petersburg, Va.,
November 3, 1864._
We are still quiet. Nothing is going on except the continual fighting
of the skirmishers, which amount to little more than a waste of
powder and lead, although a man gets killed or wounded occasionally.
The Yankees are keeping very quiet since the thrashing they received
recently at this place and in front of Richmond. They will be apt to
keep quiet now for some time--possibly for the remainder of the winter.
We are having rain. It fell all night and continues to-day. Billie’s
big coat came just in time for this cold spell of weather. He is as fat
as a bear. The health of our troops is excellent and the spirit of the
army is as fine as can be.
We shall know in a few days who is elected President of the United
States. In my opinion Old Abraham will come in again, and I believe
it would be best for us. McClellan might have the Union restored, if
elected. I should prefer to remain at war for the rest of my life
rather than to have any connection with the Yankees again.
You ask me to see Captain Pifer. I will do so if I happen to be near
where he is again. He is now on the other (north) side of the James
River with General Lee.
A man by the name of Simeon Werts is going home to-day on sick furlough
for thirty days, and I shall send this letter to you by him. I shall
also send my father some smoking tobacco, which we have been drawing
monthly as part of our rations, and I shall send Dr. Clark some
rolls of blistering ointment which we captured from the Yankees at
Chancellorsville. I have more of it than I could use in two years. He
has been very kind to you and I wish I had something more I could send
him.
Our box of provisions from home still holds out, and if you will hurry
up and come on, we may have some of it left when you arrive. I have
just finished my breakfast, which consisted of hash, potatoes, biscuit,
molasses and coffee. I do not mind the war as long as I can have plenty
to eat and comfortable quarters. Your brother is very anxious for you
to come out, and I believe you will enjoy it here this winter. It is
most unfortunate that we have been able to see so little of each other
during the four years of our married life.
_Near Petersburg, Va.,
November 28, 1864._
The mails seem to be greatly deranged again, for I have not heard one
word from you in two weeks. These clerks in the postoffices are the
contemptible imps of cowardice who seek all the soft and safe places.
They should be placed in the ranks and made to fight, and their places
given to the young ladies who are refugees from within the enemy’s
lines and who would be glad to secure such employment.
Everything is quiet here now--only an occasional gun. Kershaw’s
Division has come back from the Valley and is now on the north side of
the James River. The Yankees have not shelled Petersburg for several
weeks, and it is beginning to have quite an air of business.
Grant agreed to cease shelling the city if General Lee would agree to
keep all government property out of it. I do not believe Grant will
make a serious attempt soon again to take Richmond or Petersburg.
A man is going home to-day on sick furlough, and I shall send this
letter by him to be mailed to you from Columbia. I am glad you have
decided positively to come on to Virginia. I will have everything ready
for you when you arrive and will try to make you as comfortable as
possible while you remain.
_Newberry, S. C.,
May 2, 1865._
It was well you left Petersburg when you did, for the very next day
(April 2) our extreme right was attacked, and, as our line was very
thin, it was easily broken. Billie was digging a rifle pit when some
Yankees charged it and captured all who were at work on it, and he is
now a prisoner.
During the day a few prisoners were brought back, and among them was a
smoke-begrimed captain with gray hair. I invited him into my tent and
gave him something to eat. He had been in some of the hardest fighting
of the war, and he said to me: “You see these white hairs. When I came
into the army they were all coal black.”
As night came on many wounded were brought back to some huts lately
occupied by soldiers, but now used by us as a hospital. Among them was
Mose Cappocks, and I amputated his thumb. General Hill was killed.
The next day we began to leave, and there was continuous fighting. Our
march soon developed into a disastrous retreat, and we were pushed to
the extreme every hour of it for eight days. At Sailors Creek we were
compelled to abandon our wagons, and they were burned. In one of them
I had a new case of the finest surgical instruments. They had recently
run the blockade and I hated to see them destroyed. General Kershaw
and his young son were captured here. I saw some Yankee spies in gray
uniforms marched along with us under guard. They had been captured in
our lines, but the surrender occurring so soon afterwards saved them
from being hung.
Our retreat was most trying, and when we reached Appomattox on the
morning of the 9th General Gordon had a fight and captured a battery.
Appomattox is in a basin with high hills on all sides. The Yankees
seemed to have surrounded us, and their blue lines, with white flags
here and there, came moving in slowly and silently. There was a report
in the early morning that we had surrendered, and this made us think it
might be true.
I heard some of our men yelling, and saw General Lee and his staff
riding towards us, and as he stopped to dismount the men crowded around
him to shake his hand and every man was shedding tears. Sad as was the
sight, everyone felt relieved that it was all over.
The Yankees camped on the hills, and men from both armies went back
and forth on apparently friendly terms. Their wagons, mules, harness
and entire equipment was the very best and everything was in perfect
condition throughout. All of their wagon covers were white and new.
Ours made a sorry spectacle in comparison. I unhitched a little mule
from an ambulance, and that afternoon Colonel Hunt, Lieutenant-Colonel
Lester, Captain Copeland and I started together for South Carolina.
We had one little fly tent under which we slept at night. Bill Byers,
who was mounted on a tall, gaunt horse, joined us before we reached
the Catawba River. Copeland’s horse gave out and he continued with us
on foot. The river was swift and deep at Island Ford, and in crossing
only the face and ears of my little mule remained above the surface.
We found a farm house near by, where we stood before a blazing fire to
dry. The people were very kind to us and gave us the best they had to
eat, but our clothes were too dirty and vermin-infested for us to sleep
in their houses, so we slept in the barns.
At one house where we stopped and asked for something to eat the man’s
wife was in a pitiful condition with cancer, but was without medicine
to alleviate her suffering. I happened to have a bottle of morphine in
my haversack, which I gave her and which was enough to last her for the
short time she could live.
We were three weeks on the way, and when I reached my father’s home
nobody was expecting me. I was completely exhausted, but after getting
on some clean, whole clothes and sleeping in a bed once more I felt
greatly refreshed. Father has given me a good horse in exchange for my
little mule, and I hope to be rested enough to leave here day after
to-morrow and go through the county in a buggy for you.