On the afternoon of the 10th, the regiment moved with the division, a
few miles south of Leetown, and here the writer lost sight of it for
several days, as he was detained at the hospital to assist in caring
for the wounded. Nothing, however, of interest occurred during his
absence, except the visit of the Paymaster, and a few changes of camp.
By remaining at hospital, the writer escaped much hard fare, as the
army was, for several days, entirely destitute of provisions, and
subsisted solely on parched corn and _nothing else_. By very great
exertions, Dr. Maynard succeeded in keeping a supply at the hospital,
until the orders came to move all the wounded to Cassville, twenty
miles farther north.
On the 14th, the wounded were started for Cassville; some were too
badly hurt to be handled so roughly, and were not sent. Among these
were James Murphy and John L. Ransom, and John B. Bass, who had a leg
amputated. James Murphy died on the 18th. The others were subsequently
brought up. The writer was ordered to report at Cassville with the
wounded, and here is an extract from a letter written to his daughter
soon after his arrival:
"Wednesday morning, the 19th. I am up pretty early this morning as
usual. The sun is just beginning to tinge the horizon with his red
beams, and the promise of a pretty day is written on the sky above him.
The night has been a stormy one. It was raining when I spread my
blankets, but now the sky is clear, the atmosphere pure and bracing,
and indicates a few days of fine spring weather. Spring is opening
earlier here than in Illinois, as we are farther south. If you will
examine, you will find that Cassville is more than two hundred miles
south of where you live, and of course the climate is more mild and the
seasons earlier. We have had quite a number of warm, spring-like days,
and the grass looks quite green. The buds on the trees will soon open
out, and it will not be long till nature will all be clothed in its
summer garb.
"Cassville is situated in a pretty location. It is in a small valley,
surrounded by hills of different magnitude. On the east are several
ridges of considerable height, dotted on their sides with cedar trees
in green, which are nature to the rocky hill sides of this region. At
the foot of one of these ridges, a four story mill contrasts her white
coating of paint with the green of the cedar, and produces a pleasing,
romantic picture. A small stream meanders along at the base of those
hills, with here and there a spring gushing from among the rocks, or
boiling up from even the bed of the stream. On the west there are also
hills of considerable height. The valley is a mile wide, and two or
three miles long, or perhaps more. The soil is rich and productive.
From my room I can look out over a field of wheat, which completely
clothes the ground in living green. It is quite refreshing to sit here,
and look upon a green spot of earth, after having contemplated only the
sear and barren trunks of trees and brush for four long months of
winter. From another window I can see a pretty little cottage, white as
the driven snow, nestled in among the surroundings of a cultivated
home. A large fine orchard, and all the out-buildings of comfort, and
all deserted. Wounded soldiers are spread over the floors of the house,
and soldiers' horses are tied to and destroying the fruit trees, and
soldiers' fires have burned the rails and boards which inclose the
premises. Dreadful are the ravages of war! Cassville is situated in the
center of this valley, and was a thriving, pretty town before the war.
There are about forty good dwelling houses, six store rooms, and a very
decent little court house, besides blacksmith shops, &c.
"When we came here, there were only four families remaining in town,
and they were women and children, the men being in the army. Now, there
are over four hundred wounded and sick soldiers quartered here; every
house is full and some are in tents outside. The houses are being torn
up, so as to be made more convenient for bedding the wounded. The
fencing before the door yard is being torn down and burned, and
anything which adds to the comfort and convenience of those here, is
being appropriated without let or hindrance.
"There is another pretty town, five miles from here, in precisely the
same condition, filled with sick and wounded. These two towns are
samples of all the towns in Missouri, where the armies have been. The
citizens have fled and the soldiers have destroyed their property. Many
fine houses have been burned on our march, and others entirely riddled,
windows broken, doors torn from their hinges, &c. Both armies are
engaged in destroying; what the enemy leaves, our men destroy. The
enemy destroys Union property, and the Union troops destroy secesh
property--and there being only the two kinds of property, it is
ALL destroyed.
"An express rider has just came in from the army, bringing news that
Price is moving towards them again. We, here, can't tell what reliance
can be given the report. If it is true, and he should continue to
advance, there will be some more hard fighting. I do most sincerely
hope that our regiment may not get into another engagement here. If it
should, we, in the hospital, will not get away from here for two or
three months to come, unless Price should be victorious and drive us
out on double quick; for the wounded will be brought here, and of
course will prolong our time as much longer as the difference between
the time of the first fight and that which shall come off now. But it
is not on account of that alone, that I am unfriendly to another
battle. I have seen enough of the suffering attending the wounded of
the last battle. Poor fellows! They bear it patiently, and make light
of the most serious wounds. I do not suppose it would be very
interesting to you to read a description of the wounds we have to dress
every morning, or I would describe some of them. We have eighty
different wounds to dress in our building, and you can imagine how
great the variety. Some are about the head, some about the body, arms,
legs, feet and hands; some are only slightly wounded, but the majority
are badly hurt. One poor fellow died yesterday, from the effect of a
ball through the lungs; and others will die from their wounds. Our men
are well provided for here. They have all the attention from Surgeons
and nurses that they require, and all the food and other comforts
necessary for them. Dr. Clark, of the Thirty-Seventh Illinois
Volunteers, is our Surgeon. Dr. Maynard was left with the regiment. I
am in charge of the wounded from our regiment, and Thomas Kelly is with
us as Warden. We two are the only ones of our acquaintances here,
excepting Hiram Snearly, who is quite badly wounded, the ball passing
through the arm, close to the shoulder, and into the side under the
arm, and coming out below the shoulder blade behind. His wound seems to
be doing well, yet it is difficult to tell what the result may be. I
shall now retire from the desk, and finish this short epistle at some
other sitting.
"I am sleepy to-day, at three o'clock, because of not sleeping well
last night. The floor, some how or other, was unusually hard last
night, and caused me to be restless. I prophesied fair weather
yesterday--this is the 20th--but was deceived by appearances. We are
very often deceived by appearances. In an hour after I had made the
prophesy, the sky was completely clouded over, and has remained so ever
since; and now it is spitting snow.
"Reports are still coming in of the advance of the enemy, and the
retreat of our army. It is said that Price has been strongly
reinforced, and now numbers more men than he did at first. We have also
been reinforced to the number of one thousand men, but are still far
inferior, as to number, to the enemy. It is probable, that our army
will make a stand at or near Keitsville, eight miles from here, where,
if the enemy comes upon them, they will have a hard fight.
"The Fifty-Ninth and the Thirty-Seventh Illinois regiments, occupied
the court house as an hospital. Dr. Clark, of the Thirty-Seventh
Illinois, having the supervision of the whole.
"On the 23d of March, it became evident that Johnson Kelly, of Company
D, Fifty-Ninth Regiment Illinois Volunteers, would either have to
undergo the operation of having his leg amputated, or lose his life--or
perhaps both. Dr. Clark proceeded to the operation. Chloroform was
administered in the usual manner, and the leg taken off without the
knowledge of the patient. The amputation was very handsomely performed,
but it proved to be useless. In four hours the patient was dead.
Johnson Kelly was buried with the honors of war, on the 24th of March,
1862. Hiram Snearly lingered until the 22d of April, 1862, with the
hope firmly fixed in his mind that he would get well. He was told by
the Surgeon and by his friends, that he could not survive, but he
believed them not. His spirits were buoyant to the very last hour of
his existence. He died and was also buried with the honors of a
soldier.
"A day or two after coming to Cassville, Dr. Clark requested a detail
from the Provost Marshall, to clean up around the court house. Captain
Montgomery happened to have a squad of rebel prisoners at Cassville, at
this time, and they were set to work picking up the rubbish in the
court house yard--Captain Montgomery overseeing them himself. From the
wrongs his family had received at their hands, his heart had become
entirely callous to any pity. With the greatest apparent satisfaction,
he rode round among these fellows very much like one of their own negro
drivers, with whip in hand and bitter curses on his tongue; and if one
ceased from his labor, whack went the whip and glib the tongue.
"Among these prisoners was an intelligent Catholic priest, from
Louisiana. This morning he was unwell, and entirely unaccustomed to
picking up chips, his progress at work was rather slow. The Captain
seemed to take special delight in tormenting him. 'Well,' says he, 'old
fellow I pity you, indeed; but it can't be helped. You must take care
in the future to be caught in better company. If you had kept out of
the company of these imps of hell, you would not now be degrading
yourself by manual labor--work away then my old priesty.'"