USA > Virginia > Under the stars and bars ; a history of the Surry Light Artillery > Part 12
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The next letter will relate principally to the events of two or three weeks spent in New Kent county, doing picket service on the extreme left.]
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LETTER THIRTY-NINTH.
Picketing in New Kent-Unburied dead-A battle-scarred coun- try-Corn bread only-Note.
NEW KENT, VA., June 30, 1864.
My Dear Friend :- Since my last letter to you, and since Grant's army has left these parts and crossed over to the James, we have been on picket duty over here in New Kent county, which, you know, lies be- tween the Chickahominy and the Pamunkey rivers. We are distant from Richmond about twenty-five miles, and directly east from the city. We forded the Chicka- hominy at the railroad crossing, first laying a corduroy of poles to prevent the horses and guns from sinking into the mud. There are no Federals hereabouts now, as many thousands as were here a week ago. All have crossed over to the James.
No, I mistake; there are quite a number of Federals here around yet. But they are dead Federals. Or, rather, the most of them are negroes that had joined the Federal army, and were fighting against their former masters. And they are unburied negroes. They were some of Sheridan's lawless gang, and were killed in a cavalry engagement between Wade Hampton and Sheridan, that occurred about ten days ago. They have been left unburied, and scores of them are lying here,
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festering and rotting under the rays of the hot sum- mer's sun. It is a sickening sight. But there are no inhabitants, or, but very few, to be inconvenienced or endangered by the terrible stench, and so, as I suppose, they will lie and rot, and their bones will bleach here beneath the dews and suns of summer, even until "this cruel war," this heartless strife, is finally ended. Alas ! the poor negro! how very little does the Federal army or the Northern people really care for him! In the army, they put him in the front rank, to be hewed down like sheep !- or they set him to work to dig trenches for the white soldiers to shelter under. We have several negro cooks, and I think the sight of their dead brethren here has opened their eyes a little.
This, indeed, and in very truth, is a battle-scarred country. Made desolate in the beginning of the war by the tread and the hate of two hundred thousand armed invaders, it has remained so, and will so continue, until Peace and Industry once more arise to cover it with the healing mantle of prosperity and repose. We all, my friend, have abundant cause to be thankful, yea, doubly thankful, that an invading host has not swept through Surry and Isle of Wight, with its besom of woe and destruction, as it has here in these counties on the east of Richmond, and on down to the bay and the sea. Could you witness the ruin that has been wrought wherever a Federal army has been, your heart, I know, would swell with gratitude that your section had escaped.
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My heart goes out in sympathy and pity to the women and children and old men of New Kent and Charles City, and the other counties over here, who are forced refugees from their lands and once pleasant homes. But the ashes of a terrible desolation mark them now.
Do you suppose that the old soldiers of the South can ever forget these things ?- that the picture of these blackened ruins will ever pass entirely from their memory ?
But there is another matter that is troubling us now- that of food, something to eat. Rations are fearfully short and have been for sonietime. The men have no money, and if they had any, there is nothing in this part of the State to buy. There are no crops, no gar- dens, nothing of anything like vegetables, fruit, fowls, or eggs. It is a barren country. And since the arrival . of Lee's army, which has to be rationed from the two cities, it seems that our commissary department is en- tirely unable to furnish anything like the proper amount of bread and meat to feed us. It has been three weeks since our Command-the Battalion-tasted meat. And flour we have not had in sometime. It is only corn meal now, a short pound per day to each man, and this has been our sole fare for more than two weeks. Corn-pone only, made into dough with all the husk and litter it may contain, three times a day! No; not
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three times. There is never enough of it for three meals a day, and many a time the men will cook the whole day's ration and eat it all at one time! Yea, and do not have enough then. These are literal facts.
It well-nigh makes our good-natured Commissary Sergeant weep to go to town for rations and have to return with nothing for the men but just plain corn meal. They say it is the best they can do for us now. But they could hardly do much worse.
Picture to yourself, if you can, a company of sol- diers, all seated around in small groups, each group constituting a "mess," and all munching away upon corn bread only-nothing but corn bread to eat. It may be, there is some show at hilarity and mirth, for it is a dark day indeed in camp, if some soldier cannot evoke mirth out of something. But there is apparent an undercurrent of unrest, of dissatisfaction, of some want or desire unsupplied, which, if not expressed in words, is manifest in the faces and manner of the men. They cannot help it. Hunger will tell. And while bread alone will appease the appetite for a time, it will not continue to do so indefinitely. But we have passed through such dearths before, and fondly hope this one is nearly over.
Besides,. we have orders to return at once to Bottom's Bridge, and we like that much better than staying here. All is quiet about here. No Federals are near us any- where that we can hear of. They have left the mud and mosquitoes of the Chickahominy for the broader James
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and the turgid Appomattox. And Petersburg is to be now the storm-centre of the war in Virginia. May the cloud soon recede, spanned by the rainbow of peace. Your friend, B.
[The period of three or four weeks covering the transition of General Lee's army from Cold Harbor to the lines before Petersburg, may, very properly, be called "the starving time" of the army. It was a time of scarcity that was felt everywhere by all the people, out of the army as well as in it. The time had passed by when the men were receiving boxes from home. For- tunately, through the great exertions of the provision department of the army, better and more liberal sup- plies were shortly afterward obtained and continued even up to near the close. At no time afterward were we obliged to subsist for so long a time on nothing to eat but corn bread. And generally we had beef. As the fall and winter of '64 approached and the tax-in- kind began to be collected, the supplies furnished the army became more liberal and in greater variety. It is wonderful how the supplies department managed to do as well as it did.]
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LETTER FORTIETH.
Return to the city-Our summer camp-View of the city-Rich- mond the Mecca of the South-Often on picket-Note.
RICHMOND, VA., Aug. 15, 1864.
My Dear Friend :- Well, we are back here again, in view of the dear old city. Our camp is in a large and beautiful oak grove, on the northeastern environs of the town, and quite near the Confederate cemetery of Oak- wood. The three Batteries are all camped together. The ground is dry and smooth, with ample shade, and wood enough for cooking purposes. It is a very pleasant place, either for a summer or a winter camp. We are near the inner line of defences, and convenient to the roads leading to the outer defences. The Battalion has roll calls and drills at the same hour, and the Bat- talion bugler-a negro-sounds the calls for all the Companies.
There meanders near us a fine, rocky stream, which affords a good watering place for the horses. And there is a grist-mill nearby, and a small pond, which, being in a retired nook, presents a capital bathing place for the men. Altogether, we are admirably located for personal comfort, if only they will let us remain here.
The view of the city from our camp, while partly obstructed by intervening groves and timber, is exten-
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sive and beautiful. There is also some fine scenery on the eastern and northeastern outskirts, and the farther- off rural prospects. The more I see of the city, the more I am convinced what a grand metropolis our National Capital is. It is a queenly city.
And this is the Capital of the Southern Confederacy. This the city for which so much noble blood has been shed, so many brave lives sacrificed, to defend it from the despoiling and desecrating hand of a vandal foe. It is the devoted Capital against whose walls have been dashing and leaping the angry waves of war for four terrible years. It is the place where Southern heroism and devotion, from whatever State it might come, whether from far-off Texas, the pearl of the Southwest, or nearby Maryland, the queen of the Chesapeake- from the land of the Rio Grande or the soil of the Po- tomac; it is the centre where Southern patriotism has congregated, to lay its richest treasures, and test its most sacred honor and fidelity to the principles it believes to be true.
"Where the noisy James, with ceaseless song, Leaps o'er its jagged falls, A nation's strength and bravery throng, To guard her sacred walls."
Richmond is the Mecca of the South; the sacred tomb where so many hundreds of her heroes sleep. Here around, on a hundred battlefields, they rest from their toils-in a hundred wayside cemeteries they here
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repose in peace-here in Hollywod and Oakwood they lie-all guarding still the hallowed halls and conse- crated fanes of this politically holy ground. No matter what the final result of this war may be, for every true Southern heart this noble city must ever possess an interest and attraction superior to any other place in the Southern Confederacy. Here the men of every Southern State have fought side by side, and seen their comrades fall and die. Here the sick and the wounded of every commonwealth have languished in hospital and received the tender ministrations of the devoted women of the city.
And now the tide of war has rolled hitherward again, and tens of thousands of war-scarred veterans of Dixie Land to-day stand between these hallowed walls and thirty miles of bristling bayonets in hostile hands, and the ten thousand ponderous cannon that are daily and nightly belching forth fire and death, and hate and destruction, that they may level down and desecrate and trample upon these shrines, so dear to the heart of every mother and child in the Confederacy.
Of course, my friend, there is no rest for us while the bloody drama lasts. Our pleasant camp may soon be given up, for the foe is ever alert and active. We are often out on picket duty, a part or a whole Battery at a place. The enemy's cavalry are first on this side of the river and then on the other, hoping to gain the advantage somewhere.
I have recently been out to Gaines's Mill, and on to Cold Harbor, the scene of the late mighty slaughter of
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man by man. Two words describe it all-horror, deso- lation. Details need not to be given. It is too heart- rending.
There is a melancholy interest in looking around at the graves in Oakwood-the new burial ground set apart for the Confederate soldiers who die in the hospitals in the city. The space is extensive, but it is filling up rapidly. Many hundred soldiers lie here. The hos- pitals are all full of sick or wounded men, and many of them die. Our Company has four men buried here.
But I am on duty to-day, and must bid you adieu. May God keep you safe to the end.
Your friend, B.
[The following are the four comrades referred to in this letter, as being interred at Oakwood: Zacheriah Holland and Edward W. Wright, both of Surry county, and both wounded on May 7th, 1864, at Walthall Sta- tion, while serving at the same gun ; Josiah Gwaltney, of Isle of Wight, an amiable youth, not twenty years old, who died of fever, July, 1864; and James Pond, of Sussex county, a youth, who lost an arm at Fort Stephens, May 14, 1864, and who died of pneumonia at Chimborazo hospital one month later.
Now let the ivy and the pine Their mortal dust enscreen, And round their names the wreath entwine Of everlasting green.
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I trust that my former comrades will not think my soldier-boy eulogy of the city of Richmond too extrava- gant. I believe what I wrote of it then was but the spontaneous feeling of every Southern heart. I cannot see how the place where one's relatives fought, suffered and bled can be otherwise than dear to them-how the soil where one's kindred sleep can ever cease to possess a sacred interest to surviving friends. The heroic struggle that was made there for Southern liberty by the men of every State, and its final failure, after the expenditure of so many lives, must ever invest the queen city of the James with a solemn and a mournful in- terest, that is yet tender and touching to the feelings of every true son and daughter of Dixie land. Time should not destroy this regard for the soil where so many of the fallen braves of the South are reposing in their last, long sleep. Indeed, as the fleet-footed years pace by, this love should increase and grow tenderer, truer, stronger, holier. To that Mecca let the pil- grimages of future years be turned, while men love liberty, or honor Statehood rights, or possess the man- hood to lift a hand against invasion.]
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LETTER FORTY-FIRST.
Picketing around-The "poetry of war"-Frequent exchange of shots-No news from home-Note.
RICHMOND, VA., Sept. 15, 1864.
My Dear Friend :- We are yet located at the pleasant summer camp I told you about in my last letter. That is, it remains our headquarters. But some part, or all of the Company-except "Company Q," which always remains behind to guard the camp-is almost constantly out, doing picket duty at some threatened or exposed point. We have no idea, when we turn in to rest at night, that we will be permitted to "sleep out our full sleep" until morning.
There is hardly an acre of ground from Richmond to Petersburg, or from the James to the Chickahominy, that we have not been over a dozen times. And we scarcely go a mile without passing some spot where we have before slept or bivouacked. The River road, the Williamsburg road, the Darbytown road, (Enroughty, they spell it here), the Nine-mile road, the Mechanics- ville road, the Brook turnpike, the Military roads, and almost every other road, lane, by-path, and alley about here are quite familiar to us. We can go anywhere on the darkest night without mishap.
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But there is precious little fun in this ceaseless tramping around from pillar to post, and from post back to pillar again. And if, as is often the case, we make the march at night, through rain, mud and slush, it is anything but romantic. As a regiment of infantry was plunging along through the mud, on the Military road, one night recently, I heard a fellow exclaim : "This knocks the poetry out of war, don't it ?" I thought so, too. But the expression will serve to show you what good-natured, tough, invincible material the Southern soldier is made of. No adversity can down him. He never gives up entirely. The only way you can conquer him is to kill him. Such, my friend, is the life of the soldier when not in battle-when on the march, or on the outer posts.
Frequently, while out on these outpost expeditions, the enemy comes in sight, and we send them over a shell or two, just to let them know the old soldier is yet at his post. So far, nobody in our Company has been hurt recently. Gun No. 3, while lately on the lines near Roper's farm, had a piece knocked off the muzzle by the impact of a Federal shell, which exploded just as it struck the gun. None of the men were hurt. But Lieutenant Barham, who was in charge, quickly re- sponded with one or two 12-pound Napoleons, and the Federals withdrew.
Other guns and sections of our Battery have, at times recently, exchanged shots with the enemy, as some of their scouting party appeared. The other Batteries also
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are frequently engaged with them. Hampton's cavalry and all the rest, is down on the south side of Petersburg now, and the artillery here is performing both cavalry and artillery duty at the same time. The conscript fathers and the old guard have also to turn out some- times.
It has been several weeks since we had news from home. The Federals have pushed their lines so far to the south of Petersburg that communication is cut off from the lower counties of the Southside, except by the circuitous route via Hicksford, Jerusalem and Ivor. I trust that, at least, this line will be kept open, and that the mail will pass regularly, so that our men will not be deprived of the pleasure of hearing from home. These letters from home are, I assure you, of priceless value to all the men, for there.is scarcely one who does not have some friend with whom to correspond. But I have no idea when this letter will reach you, or when I will hear from home again.
Well, all is in God's hands. The private has only to fight and pray. Believing that our cause is just, in God we trust, and fight, and wait, and hope.
Your friend, B.
[This letter will exhibit to the sons, daughters and friends of the S. L. A. a living picture of our soldier life during the closing months of 1864, when the armies of Lee and Grant were grappling together like two giants, each spreading out on the flanks, and seeking
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1 to overflow and encoil the other-and when both cavalry and artillery were ever on the go-cavalry often per- forming the duty of infantry, and the artillery of cavalry. It was active duty on the skirmish line, or outpost, or picket. And while there was practically but little hard fighting, there was great need for alert- ness and watchfulness at every hour, day and night. And especially was it required of every man on guard at night, that he be more than commonly watchful and cautious, lest the enemy approach him unobserved. It was a time of exposure to the weather also. We would have no shelter from the rains, or scarcely a chance for cooking the few rations that we had. The shifts the boys sometimes made to cook a piece of beef, or knead a bit of dough and get it baked, would seem like a tale of myth or fancy. It was a stirring, active, wearing life. It tested the physical endurance to the utmost. None but the best and most resolute could keep at his post, and the hospitals were crowded with men.]
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LETTER FORTY-SECOND.
Ceaseless boom of cannon-The flight and bursting of a shell- Recruits-Deserters-Note.
RICHMOND, VA., October 15, 1864.
My Dear Friend :- The steady, ceaseless boom of the big cannon on the Federal gunboats in the James, has become a striking feature of the siege, and it is mo- notonous already. At regular intervals of one or two minutes, every hour almost, day and night, the boom of a cannon is heard down on the James. And then, after a few seconds, comes the report of the bursting shell, a mile or two out on the land, either on this side or the other side of the river. And if one is near enough, he may see the huge missiles, like nail kegs, as they speed through the air, and he may hear the frag- ments of the shell as they tear through the tree-tops in the forest, or fall here and there around him.
It is interesting to watch the flight of those shells, and to note the little cloud of white smoke that forms in the atmosphere where a shell explodes. The smoke at first collects in a rounded mass, and then slowly fades from view. It does not float off on the wind like any other cloud, but vanishes slowly from sight, a picture of all that is human. The Federals waste an untold amount of ammunition in this way to no pur-
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pose whatever. The soldiers regard the shells with supreme indifference. Many a time, a shell bursting overhead, evokes no remark or notice from the men.
Recently we have had several names added to our roster, but I fear that the most of these late recruits are poor material for serviceable men. "Substitutes" and men "whipped in" are not likely to become effective soldiers. Some of these men may be worse than worth- less to our cause-they may be spies. It is an easy matter, and only a short walk, to reach the Federal lines now. I fear that our authorities are not as careful as they should be in regard to these eleventh-hour laborers. They may be here-some of them, at least- to gain what information they can, and then desert us.
But we have had recruits during the present year from our home counties, of men that we knew some- thing about, and these, in most cases, proved to be some of our best and most effective men. The most of them came in during the early part of the year, before the Butler campaign began, and have done good service since they came. They are but youths, boys just ar- rived at military age, and are volunteers, coming in of their own volition-neither substitutes, conscripts, or "whipped in" men. They have made an honorable record.
But the others-our Company would have been better off without them. Some have deserted us already. They got their money and stayed long enough to be
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counted, and vanished-and where ? Are they skulk- ing? or have they gone to the enemy ? or were any of them spies ?
Well, all is well that ends well. We will hope and fight on to the end.
Your friend, B.
[The following good and serviceable men came to us in 1864, mostly before the active operations of the sum- mer began, and they shared in the battles and toils of the remainder of the war:
James S. Avery and William Holt Berryman, from Surry county ; Fidding A. Coakley, from Richmond, a brother of Dr. J. B. Coakley, physician for the Bat- talion; John Hankins, from Surry, a brother of Cap- tain J. D. Hankins; Robert James, from Surry, en- listed in February, 1864, our "Uncle Bob;" Robert H. Jones, from Surry county; James N. Matthews, from Surry, under the military age when enlisted; James Pond, from Sussex county, wounded May 14, died in July; Joel J. Presson, from Southampton, under the military age; Henry W. Rogers, from Surry county ; Julian A. Stewart, from Surry, painfully wounded May 16; William S. Underwood, from Surry; George Waggoner, from Highland county, a good man and ser- viceable soldier ; and Samuel D. Warren, from Surry, who enlisted in February. ]
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LETTER FORTY-THIRD.
In winter quarters again-Clothing-Rations-Both armies rest- Courtesies along the lines-Note.
CAMP HENRICO, VA., Nov. 15, 1864.
My Dear Friend :- The army has gone into winter quarters once more, the fourth time since the war be- gan. Some of the barracks are better, some worse, according as the material was at hand to build them. It would furnish object lessons in construction and ornament to an architect to go around to the different camps, and note the various wonderful designs and figures in the art of carpentry that are to be seen. Elaborate or beautiful they are not. Original, unique, grotesque they are. They are picturesque also, and all more or less serviceable as the temporary abodes of men who have no furniture to speak of, and but one object for a shelter over them, namely, comfort. Most of them are fairly comfortable, as soldiers' barracks. Our men have built them good log cabins, and we are near a forest, where there is plenty of fuel for fires.
Our camping-place this time is near the Nine-mile road leading out eastwardly from the Capital, and we are four miles from the suburbs of the city. The cabins are covered with slabs, but have no plank floors, and the bunks are placed on the sides of the cabins, one
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above another. We had no nails to fasten the roofs, and so the slabs are held in place by logs laid on top. Of course, the cabins are rough and unsightly enough, nothing like the neat ones that we had at Camp Pem- berton, in the winter of '61-'62, when we had both plank and nails furnished us, and tools to work with.
But these are much better than no cabins at all, and we are thankful enough that we have them. Many com- mands have only cloth tents to shelter them, and not wood enough for fires. Our horses, too, have good stalls, while some of the cavalry commands have no shelters for their horses. General Gary's cavalry, how- ever, to which command we are attached now, and whose camp is near us, have good stalls for horses, and warm cabins for the men.
If only the men had warm and comfortable clothing, fit to protect them from the inclemency of the winter, and even half as much rations as were furnished us in 1861, we would fare well enough, even royally, so far as creature comforts go. But, alas ! both of these highly- essential "sinews of war" are conspicuous mostly for their absence. Supplies of every sort are growing scarcer and scarcer all the time, and we need both warm garments and blankets, and more of food. Many of the men have no overcoats, and some no blankets. And the present supply of footgear is discreditable in the extreme.
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