Pvt. George T. Brown holding pistol, 3rd Texas Cavalry Regiment (SMU Libraries Digital Collection)
This letter was written by Pvt. James H. McKoy of Co. I, 3rd Texas Cavalry (South Kansas Texas Regiment Mounted Volunteers). James was mustered into the regiment at Dallas, Texas, on 13 June 1861. The regiment participated in the Battle of Wilson’s Creek and was present at Pea Ridge, though not engaged. They were then absorbed into Earl Van Dorn’s army at Corinth, Mississippi, where they fought as well at the Battle of Iuka and the raid on Holly Springs. In July 1863, McKoy was detailed as a scout as he and other members of the regiment were utilized in fending off Union raids into the interior of Mississippi from Union-occupied Vicksburg.
In December, 1863, Col. Lawrence Sullivan (“Sul”) Ross took over permanent command of a brigade formed from the 3rd, 6th, 9th, and 27th Texas Cavalry regiments and were then called “Ross’s Brigade.” They were utilized in guarding Gen. Johnston’s flanks in the Confederate retreat to Atlanta and in rear-guarding Hood’s army in his retreat from Nashville.
“In early 1864, the Federals learned that Col. Lawrence Sullivan “Sul” Ross and his Sixth Texas Cavalry Brigade was using Yazoo City as a base to run several thousand muskets, in wagons up through the swampy country, to near Greenville. From there, by night, to avoid Yankee gunboats that after Vicksburg’s fall controlled the entire Mississippi River, the weapons were being ferried across to Confederate units in Arkansas and Texas.
The first Union convoy of gunboats and troops transports headed for Yazoo City in early February 1864. But it was so harried by gunfire from “Sul” Ross’s cavalry and artillery on the bluffs at Liverpool, 16 miles south of Yazoo City, and approaching Yazoo City itself, that it turned back. The Texans were then ordered to join up with a larger force near Pickens, however, so on Feb. 9 a second convoy brought Col. James H. Coates and some 1,600 officer and men to Yazoo City without incident. The men were mainly of Coates’s Eleventh Illinois Infantry. But he also led several companies of black soldiers from the 8th Louisiana Infantry, newly freed former slaves with white officers, and a detachment of First Mississippi Cavalry, also black.
Leaving only a part of his force in Yazoo City—about 250 men—Coates and the convoy continues upriver to Greenwood, plundering along the way for 19 days and as far afield as Grenada. On Feb. 29, he returned here with much booty, as well as many slaves seeking their freedom.” [Source: Visit Yazoo]
This letter refers to the skirmishes with this Union expedition to Yazoo City led by Col. Coates and then describes the Battle of Yazoo City that took place on 5 March 1864 in which Ross’s Brigade turned back the Federals, prompting Sul Ross to boast in a letter to his wife, “We have fought and won a very hard engagement against an enemy greatly superior numerically…again at Yazoo City. The Division Headquarters has commended us and has allowed “Yazoo City” to be added to the banners of each regiment serving in my brigade. The local press proclaim our valiant Texians can travel anyhere they want without paying a cent whilst others are charged heavily. Our name has become a terror to the Yankees. When I rode down into Yazoo City the Negro troops ran wildly through the streets shouting “Old Ross, Old Ross is coming…”
[Note: McKoy signed his name “H. J. McKoy” though he was carried in muster records as James H. McKoy or McCoy. He enlisted in Co. I but he must have been transferred too Co. H by this time of the war. His muster records are only available through 1863.]
Transcription
Camp 3rd Texas Cavalry Yazoo County, Mississippi March the 28, 1864
Dear Cousin,
I this evening avail myself with the pleasure of writing you a few lines according to promise. I have no news worthy writing.
A Texas Star Hat Pin often worn by member of the 3rd Texas Cavalry
We had a little fights with Negroes several days ago when our Brigade first got here. There was a Battalion come out from the city not knowing that Ross’s Brigade was near. After our scouts taken them to be a part of a company of conscripts that belongs in this county and they came whooping in on us whereby [paper creased and illegible] of camping. The order was given to charge them so we pitched in and sit them up as we went. Killed 38 in the road, several through the woods as they ran off. There was a great man that made their escape to the woods though there was not but 6 men that ever got back to the city—five Negros [and] one white man, the Major in command.
We had another little brush with them the 5th of this month. We had two brigades engaged at the city. We killed 200 of them [and] lost but few men on our side. One Major of a Tennessee Regiment & 1 General Richardson’s Brigade, 8 or 10 men wounded in our regiment, about 45 or 50 killed and wounded [paper torn] Brigades.
I have given you all the news that I have learned since I saw you. write soon and often. Your friend and cousin, — H. J. McKoy
Direct as follows:
H. J. McKoy, Co. H, 3rd Texas Cavalry, Ross’s Brigade
These letters were written by Robert McKee Gaston (1840-1863), the son of John Gaston (1817-1870) and Rachael McKee (1815-1869) of New Castle, Lawrence county, Pennsylvania. Robert had been employed teaching a public school in Mount Pleasant prior to the outbreak of the Civil War but enlisted when he was 21 years old with other young men from his community as a corporal in Co. F, 100th Pennsylvania Infantry on 31 August 1861. At age 23, he accepted a commission as 1st Lieutenant of Co. F, 1st Regiment South Carolina Volunteers (33rd USCT) on 23 October 1862 at Beaufort. This commission made him a marked man for an article appearing in the Charleston Mercury on 30 August 1862 under the title “Marked Men” listed him among the officers of the 1st South Carolina (Negro) Regiment, with the preamble, “In view of the recent order of President Davis, concerning the execution of officers of negro regiments, we copy the following list from the New York Tribune. Though eager to lead his men into a major battle, Gaston never got the opportunity. On 27 May 1863, while leading a “scouting expedition from Port Royal Ferry to the mainland, in the excitement of the moment a negro accidentally discharged his musket and instantly killed Lieut. Gaston of the First Negro Regiment who was ahead of him.”
Robert’s younger brother, Sylvester S. Gaston (1842-1887) served with the Roundheads as well, though as a private in Co. K. He was severely wounded in the left arm during the fighting at Second Bull Run on 29 August 1862 resulting in an amputation and discharge from the service. He died at the age of 44.
Oscar Lawrence Jackson, 63rd OVI
He wrote both letters to his boyhood friend, Oscar L. Jackson who was born in Shenango Township, Lawrence County, Pennsylvania to Samuel Stewart and Nancy (Mitchell) Jackson. He attended the common schools, Tansy Hill Select School, and Darlington Academy. He later taught school in Hocking County, Ohio.
During the Civil War, Jackson served as an officer in the Union Army from 1861 to 1865. He entered the service as the captain of Company H of the Sixty-third Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and later received promotions of major, lieutenant colonel, and colonel by brevet after the war. He was shot in the face by a Confederate soldier with a Squirrel Rifle and left for dead in the 2nd Battle of Corinth.
Rebel General Thomas F. Drayton’s Mansion at Hilton Head, headquarters of the 1st Regt. South Carolina (African Descent) Volunteers
Headquarters 1st Regt. S. C. Vols. Camp Drayton Hilton Head, S. C. Monday morning, May 19th 1862
My dear Capt.
You will no doubt think I have made rather a queer heading to this for a letter from a Union soldier. Nevertheless, Capt., it is all right and the First Regt. S. C. Vols. recognized by Uncle Sam is actually encamped here at the plantation of the Rebel General [Thomas F.] Drayton, having his former dwelling for its headquarters. Don’t resign your commission on account of what I am going to tell you as some unprincipled demagogues in high places have threatened to do. General Hunter, as you will have heard through the [newspapers] ere this reaches you has immortalized himself by proclaiming freedom to all the slaves of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, and right on the heels of this proclamation he issued another calling on noncommissioned officers and privates who had an interest in the cause and would go into it with all their might to volunteer their services to drill and take care of such contrabands as would volunteer their services as soldiers.
Your humble servant was one who volunteered his services in this novel undertaking and now on this beautiful Monday morning, I have been on my duties one week. I knew of this project when I wrote you last but my services had not then been accepted by General Hunter. Hence, I did not mention the matter at that time. Jackson, I wish I had time and space to tell you of my doings for the last week but I cannot do it but will make the same remark that you have made in previous letters that if we lived to see peace restored to country again and we to our homes, we will have much to tell each other. Suffice it to say that I am engaged in one of the most interesting and at the same time one of the most difficult undertakings possible.
To deny that they (the contrabands) are ignorant and hard to learn to act like human beings would be folly but any of them are exceptions to this rule and learn remarkably fast. It is it’s being hard work that makes the whole undertaking interesting and I thank God that He has given me an opportunity to make myself instrumental in bettering the condition of this oppressed and much wronged people. Their inclination and desires to learn either military discipline or (book learning) is remarkable. I have yet to see any people or set of people that make any efforts to be compared with the efforts to be compared with the efforts made here of the ex-slaves to learn. They are perfectly infatuated with their books. The missionary societies of Boston and New York had distributed easy reading books and primers among them at their homes on the various plantations. These books had to be brought along though everything else remain behind. And now here in camp, you may see them around in groups of 5 or 6 helping one another to make all the improvement possible. And they do improve and that exceedingly fast in most cases. Many of them can read easy reading already and most of them can spell quite well. And all this they have taken up themselves except what they have got from the soldiers in the various camps. None of them have ever gone to a regular school but there are schools in Beaufort where the little ones are learning to read and write while the older ones are learning the art of warfare. And thus the glorious cause goes on.
God has said the Hellish institution must perish and all good men in all lands cry Amen! Amen! while unprincipled demagogues having the name of statesmen howl and shriek and shallow pated officers and men in the army cry out at the top of their voices that they did not come out to free the slaves. Thou fool! if you did not come out to fight for universal liberty, know you that you ought to have staid at home! God does not intend that the blood of the patriots shed at Donelson, Pittsburg [Landing], and many others shall be in vain.
But more to the business in hand. We who have engaged in this business do it on the following terms. If the matter is a success and we turn out to be efficient drill masters, we are to be commissioned Captains and Lieutenants with the same rank and pay as other officers in the Army of the U. S. of the same grade. The Colonel of our regiment is one of General Hunter’s aides—Arthur M. Kinzie. He (the Col.) has appointed me 1st Lieutenant of Co. B. Jackson, there are many that sneer and scoff at this whole matter and I am sorry to say it there are some in the Roundheads Regt., but it is far different with me. I care not for their sneers. I am engaged in a laudable—nay, a glorious undertaking, and I am proud that I am 1st Lieut. in the second company of the First Regiment of ex-slaves. Will you not congratulate me. I know you will.
If the experiment fails, we will be returned to our regiment with the satisfaction of having labored in a laudable business. If it is a success, we can make a nice thing of it both in a money and in a moral point-of-view.
I have nothing else except this change in my fortune to write of that I know of. It may be intruding my personal affairs on you but I always liked to hear of your personal good fortune and I think you will feel some interest in mine. I wrote you about a week since. We have had no mail since them but there is one at Hilton [Head] now and it may be we will get ours today. But if it goes to our regiment at Beaufort then back here, we will not get it for a day or two. I hope I may have the good fortune to hear from O. L. J.
Maj. General David Hunter
Let me say that I think one of the best things that ever happened in this Department and the whole country was the placing of General Hunter in command here. He is a remarkably plain man with hair as straight as an Indians. He comes up to our camp which is a very beautiful one and looks around almost every day. The first time I saw him, I thought it was some old fellow that had charge of the plantation. He had an old light-colored summer coat and an old Kossuth hat with not a particle of dress that would indicate him to be an officer. Men are not to be judged by appearances.
Hoping these hastily written lines will find you well, I will sign myself your most obedient, — Gaston
Address—Lieut. R. M. Gaston, Company B, 1st Reg. S. C. Vols., Port Royal, Hilton Head, S. C.
To be forwarded.
Letter 2
Headquarters 1st Regiment South Carolina Volunteers June 17, 1862
Dear Friend Jackson,
I am again permitted to indulge in the pleasure of writing you a letter hoping the time is not far distant when it will be unnecessary for us to write to each other—when we can converse face to face as of yore. It is a long time since I have heard from you. I can’t conjecture what is the reason I don’t hear from you for I know you have written to me if you are alive and well. I have written you two letters and this is the third since I have had any from you. However, if I don’t hear from you, I hear from your Division. I see General Pope was the first to possess Corinth after its evacuation by Beauregard and took the lead in pursuing the enemy and capturing a large number of prisoners, arms, &c. You no doubt had a share in the glory of the action. I hope you had and come off safe and sound.
You were mistaken in your prognostications when you thought the big fight of the war would take place at Corinth. However, you are not the first who has made wrong calculations. This is a strange, unnatural war and we must look for it to be carried on in an unnatural and strange manner. I heard yesterday that Beauregard had come it over you, removing all his force to Richmond. I hope this is only another of many false reports we are continually tortured with.
I don’t fear for the result finally before Richmond, however much they (the enemy) may be reinforced, but I fear they may make a desperate stand and much loss of life on our side result from it. General Halleck seems to manage the officers of the Western Department very adroitly. I have been watching the movements of the different portions of the army and their generals and I think the commander of your Division (or command) deserves no mean praise. General Pope, I think, has shown so far during this campaign that he understands when to strike and how, which I don’t think many of our generals do at all times. I see in a sketch of his life in some paper that his wife [Clara] is a daughter of Hon. V[alentine] B[axter] Horton, member of Congress from Ohio. I used to hear you speak of Horton when you mentioned your doings down in Hocking county. You ought to make your acquaintance with Horton turn to good account. You are pretty good at such things “you know.”
If you got my last letter, it informed you of my change in situation from the famous Pa. Roundheads [100th Pennsylvania Regt.] to the not less famous or at least noted 1st Regiment South Carolina Volunteers. I have been waiting (patiently I hope) for a letter from you that I may see what you think of your friend R. M. G “stooping so low as to take charge of niggers.” Of course I would like to hear of your approbation and sympathies in the matter but approbation or no approbation, I am into it and intend to stay in it and make it succeed (God willing) though all Hell should frown on me—not that I expect that the negroes can be made soldiers of yet to enter the field at present and save the country, but it is a step in the right direction [and] a step that cannot be recalled. We certainly cannot make soldiers of the Blacks while the war lasts and when it ends, return them as slaves to our enemies.
But I will not bore you with an antislavery essay tonight, Friend Jackson, but will give you what will be far more interesting to you—viz: tell you how the “thing” moves. Well, it moves although there are many obstacles in the way. The Blacks are apt to learn the drill and surprise all the visitors (which are not a few) who come to see us. But you have no doubt noticed that with white soldiers, the most intelligent put up with the trials and hardships of a soldier’s life far better than the ignorant and untaught and consequently are not very contented with their lot. They would rather be at home with their family that play soldiers. Of course they don’t know what is best for their good but we will learn them by and by. Before they were here two weeks, they wanted [to go] home to see their families. One would say he had come away without knowing where he was going and he must go back and see them and tell them all about it. Another says, “My wife was expecting to be sick and no one to take care of her,” and so on till perhaps not a dozen in the regiment but had some reason for going home.
Well most of them have been home and most of them are more contented since while there is a portion I question if they will ever be contented. This is, I may say, the only trouble we have. If they would only be contented, there is no other reason why they will not make good soldiers. They have been uniformed in a suit the same as white soldiers exactly and of good quality.
Of course we have many curses both loud and deep on our devoted heads from the unprincipled officers and men from the regiments. But we have the best backing on the Island; hence we do pretty much as we please. General [David] Hunter visits our camp more than any other in his command and well he may for we get the name of having the most tidy camp in the Division.
Our Col. (formerly Lieut. Kinzie—a nephew and member of Gen. Hunter’s staff) is gone North. When he returns, we expect more decisive action and expect our regiment to be filled up (there is but 550 in it) to 1,000 men. A second regiment is on the eve of being formed also and a General has been selected to take charge of the whole. Who says the world don’t move! Hey?
You have no doubt heard that the President has put a quietus to the “nigger Brigade” but you need not believe it. But Jackson, it is getting late and I am almost asleep over this page so I will close for tonight and finish this when I feel more like it. So a pleasant nights rest to you which will not be possible if you have as many fleas as we have here. They are as plenty as the sand on the sea shore and of the worst kind at that. O! who wouldn’t be a soldier. — R. M. G.
Wednesday, June 18th [1862]
I resume writing again this morning but I feel very little like writing much. My health is not very good and my spirits are worse. Oh! how I wish this vile, hateful war was over. It don’t suit me. I am free to admit I cannot succeed very well in the capacity of a soldier. I don’t like it well enough—the highest honors in the service awakens not the least ambition in me. I am ready to exclaim like Cardinal Woolsey in Shakespeare with a little change, “Vain pomp and glory of war I hate ye.” Oh for the return of peace and a quiet home. I think if I had an opportunity I could appreciate a good home better than I used to. Man cannot tell the inclinations of the heart in the future but it seems to me at present the height of my ambition would be to see this war ended on the basis of equity and justice and myself installed in some pleasant home with a pleasant occupation, plenty of books, and a few tried friends around me. I have no inclination for mixing with the cold world. With yourself I doubt not it is different. You have mixed with strangers and been received by them with favor. However, less of this world will answer my purpose than yours. Your aspirations are higher and consequently your mind will crave more of the world and its people. For the present, my duty to my God is duty to my country and I intend to try to see her out of her trouble if my life is spared so long. But it goes hard by time to think we cannot be of service to country and humanity in this war without feeling the blush of shame and indignation mantling our cheeks by hearing of actions and words from those high in power which vie with European monarchs of old in barbarity and cruelty.
I thought when General Hunter issued his order of emancipation 1 a month or two ago that he was likely authorized to take the step and that the goal was at length struck. But lo, the President, over his own signature, throws cold water on the whole affair and aids and abets treason by giving traitors another assurance that the “Beauty” of Secession shall not be harmed. When I think of the unscrupulous manner in which our enemies have carried on this war and then the actions of our leaders towards them, I am ready to exclaim, “Oh Lord, how long—how long—shall sacrifices yet be made to this moloch of slavery. However, let us take courage. All will yet be well. The handwriting is on the wall, Slavery must perish though the New York Herald, Gen. McClellan, and the President himself be opposed to its abolition. It is simply the powers of darkness and light combined against each other and light and justice must be victorious.
8 o’clock P. M.
Jackson, I wrote the preceding page this morning and I am not sorry that I did not finish my letter for I have heard stirring although sad news within the last hour. I will begin back a few weeks ago in order that you may better understand. I suppose you have heard ere this that we are acting on the offensive in the neighborhoods of Charleston. Steven’s Brigade (the Roundheads, 8th Michigan and 79th Highlanders) left Beaufort 2 weeks ago last Saturday. Pretty much all the troops in this division rendezvoused at Hilton Head and left here on Monday enroute for Charleston. On Tuesday [10 June 1862], a portion of the troops among which was four companies of the Roundheads under command of Capt. [James H.] Cline landed on James Island which as far as I can learn is not a great ways from the city. I am told in a letter from Sylvester that the pickets can see Forts Moultrie and Sumter in the distance. But to the landing, as far as I can learn, Capt. Cline with his force were instructed to drive the pickets back and put out pickets of our own and were to be covered in their advice by by the 28th Massachusetts regiment. They got along very well and succeeded in driving back the enemy’s pickets for three or four miles when they came upon a larger force of the enemy and the Massachusetts Regiment becoming frightened, raw away and left Cline and his men to the mercy of the enemy and their own strength. They fought valiantly for awhile but the enemy flanked them and Capt. Cline and 22 men were taken prisoners. Four men were killed, two of which were of Co. F and one of them—[Solomon W.] Fisher by name—was a messmate of mine since I came out till I left the company. He was one of the best of boys and bade promise of making a mark in the world—cut down in the bloom of youth with all the aspirations and plans of youth blasted in one short hour by this cursed rebellion.
This is the reward we get for the President’s kindness in rescinding Hunter’s proclamation. Since them, the forces on the Island have had frequent skirmishes but nothing very serious till last Sunday we heard heavy cannonading in that direction, the result of which I did not hear till a few minutes ago. Two men arrived here from a New York regiment who saw the engagement and have given us a general idea of it. It seems there is a fort of some consequence in the interior of the Island which our men thought they must have if it should be taken at the bayonet’s point. General Stevens with his brigade attacked it and with the assistance of some light artillery had possession of it for some 10 minutes. They gained this much with fearful loss—so great a loss that they were forced to retire. The enemy were superior in numbers and far superior in point of position. Our informants say the 8th Michigan Regiment had the advance and suffered most severely. In fact, they are completely cut up. One company (a small company) had their Captain and one Lieutenant and 35 men killed. The Highlanders had 20 killed. As to the 100th Penn. Vols., our informants think their loss was but slight. I hope they are all right. This is about all I know at present. Another great calamity to our army. But perhaps our leaders will learn after while that the enemy we have to deal with are not to be conquered without an effort and without taking all the advantages we can of them instead of treating them like friends.
I will close this in the morning hoping to have more news by that time.
Thursday morning, June 19th. A mail arrived here yesterday from New York and I confidently expected to get a letter or letters from you. But I was doomed to disappointment. I got no letter from you nor from anyone else. I am almost swearing mad (I have quit swearing pretty much). We only get a mail about once in 10 days and not to get any then is too bad.
I have not heard anything further from James Island. You will no doubt see an account of the whole matter in the New York papers as soon as you get this. I don’t expect to get a correct account of the matter myself till I see it in the papers.
The weather is not very warm—not as warm as I have felt in Pennsylvania at the same time of year. But we may expect it hot in July and August.
I want you to be sure to write often and long letters. Excuse the wretched penmanship in this and all the writing I ever done. This may be a long time in getting to you as I don’t know your address of late. No more now.
From your friend, — Gaston
N. B. You will not put Co. B in my address as I have been transferred to another company. Address simply, R. M. Gaston, 1st Regt. S. C. Vols., Hilton Head, S. C.
1As the Commander of the Department of the South, Maj. General David Hunter made a pronouncement that caused controversy across the United States. Hunter, a strong advocate of arming blacks as soldiers for the Union cause, issued General Order No. 11, emancipating the slaves in Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida. It read:
“The three States of Georgia, Florida and South Carolina, comprising the military department of the south, having deliberately declared themselves no longer under the protection of the United States of America, and having taken up arms against the said United States, it becomes a military necessity to declare them under martial law. This was accordingly done on the 25th day of April, 1862. Slavery and martial law in a free country are altogether incompatible; the persons in these three States — Georgia, Florida, and South Carolina— heretofore held as slaves, are therefore declared forever free.” —Maj, General David Hunter, 1862
After General Order No. 11, Hunter began enlisting black soldiers from the occupied districts of South Carolina and formed the first such Union Army regiment, the 1st South Carolina (African Descent), which he was initially ordered to disband, but eventually got approval from Congress for his action. This order was quickly rescinded by Abraham Lincoln, who was concerned about the political effects that it would have in the border states, driving some slave holders to support the Confederacy. (Lincoln’s own Emancipation Proclamation was announced in September, taking effect in January 1863.) Nevertheless, the South was furious at Hunter’s action and Confederate president Jefferson Davis issued orders to the Confederate Armies that Hunter was to be considered a “felon to be executed if captured.”
Grave of R. M. Gaston in Beaufort National Cemetery. Photo by Rich Condon.
This splendid letter was penned by Eugene Atwater (1842-1878), the son of master mason Henry Atwater (1815-1865) and Catherine Fenn (1817-1863) of Plymouth, Litchfield county, Connecticut.
Early in life, Eugene (or “Gene”) possessed “strong literary tastes and just prior to the Civil War attracted considerable reputation as a public lecture, his principle lecture being a carefully prepared dissertation upon the life and times of, and writings of S. T. Coleridge. While in the service he contributed a series of articles, illustrations, and descriptions of army life which was highly praised in the Waterbury American.
Eugene enlisted on 23 October 1861 as a private in the 1st Connecticut Light Artillery. Sometime between the Battle of Grimball’s Landing in mid-July 1863, and the date of this letter in September 1863, Eugene transferred to the 6th Connecticut Infantry where he worked his way up from sergeant to Captain of Co. D prior to his discharge in August 1865. He received his promotion to captain following the attack on Fort Fisher “for gallant and meritorious conduct.” Among the battles and skirmishes that Gene claimed participation were Pocotaligo, S. C., May 29, 1862; St. John’s Bluff, Fla., October 5, 1862; Grimball’s Landing onJames Island, July 16, 1863; John’s Island, Feb. 11, 1864; Chester Station, Va., May 9 and 10, 1864; Prochis Creek, May 14, 15, and 16, 1864; Wavebottom Church, Va., June 16, 1864; Deep Bottom. Va., July 26, 1864; Four Mile Creek, August 14, 1864; before Petersburg, Sept. 1864; Chapin’s Farm, Oct. 7, 1864; Darbytown Road, Oct. 13 and 28, 1864; Fort Fisher, N. C., Jan. 15, 1865; Wilmington, N. C., Feb. 22, 1865.
After the war, in 1869, Gene married Alice Hitchcock and the couple had three children. But Gene did not live long. He contracted tuberculosis and passed away in 1878 at the age of 36, his body withering away to only 60 pounds.
Transcription
Camp of the Sixth Regiment Conn. Vols. Hilton Head, South Carolina September 28, 1863
Dear Mother,
Having now a little time for myself, I will improve it by letting you know how I prosper in the Land of Dixie. I informed you in my previous letter which may have been too long for your patient perusal of my movements up to the time of my arrival at Hilton Head. Our party consisted of Lt. Col. [Redfield] Duryée, Sergt. [Gottlieb] Hildebrand, Andy, and myself, and twenty recruits for the different Connecticut regiments in this Department who had to be turned over to their separate commands. The 7th and 10th Connecticut lay on Morris Island and it was necessary that the Col. [Duryée] should deliver the men in person.
Arriving at the headquarters, we stayed there long enough to get supper which we eat in the camp of the Sixth. The men for that regiment were to be left behind on the trip but I, thinking it a good chance to get a sight at active operations, begged permission to go which was readily granted. Borrowing Andy’s overcoat and with half ration of bread in a borrowed haversack, I started off and embarked on board the U. S. Steamer Monohansett. The government owns or charters many small steamboats which formerly ran to different places in the Northern states. A constant supply of them is kept here and are used for carrying mails, baggage, freight, officers, and men to and fro, different points in this Department.
The steamer Monohansett was chartered by the U. S. Govt. to carry dispatches to U. S. Navy Ships.
The headquarters of this, the Department of the South, are here at Hilton Head but the headquarters of the Field are at Morris Island. Communication of course is constantly kept up between all points—Beaufort, Fort Pulaski, Fernandina, &c.
The steamer Monohansett is about the same size of the Ansonia and much like it as boats of that class do not materially differ. She formerly ran from New Bedford, Mass., and proved to be a fast little craft, her officers very kind and accommodating. I was placed where I could see any shirk that wanted to get away. We did not leave this dock until 9 P.M.; then dropped off into the stream and cast anchor to wait till morning that we might not have to wait off Charleston for the tide. I slept on the floor all in a heap and not very well so was up early in the morning in time to see them weigh anchor and start.
Nothing of importance occurred on the voyage. We were nearly out of sight of land and the wind was dead ahead, rolling the sea considerably. The boats generally make a six or seven hours run between the two islands and we calculated to get to the place of our destination at about noon. About ten we spied Folly Island where our regiment lay last summer and from which the assault was made that resulted in the capture of the upper part of Morris Island with the Rebel works thereon. Quite a fleet lay in Stono inlet and the shore along the whole length of the island was covered with tents. By a great mistake I had left the Colonel’s glass behind so could not be favored with a view at a distance.
On the upper end of the island was seen a tall lookout looming up like a steeple above all the trees. This is a framework built around a tall tree and continued some ways above the top with a stairway and platforms one above the other so that one standing on them can see farther as he goes higher. The enemy’s works and fortifications in Charleston Harbor and vicinity must be very plainly seen from its top.
The Sixth moved on Folly Island last April and encamped on the shore about mid-way between the two creeks on either end that form the island. You will see on the map how the land lies and where an attack must be made to be effective. Work could be done only in the night time and then only silently, as nought but a narrow but swift-flowing stream separated our working parties from the rebels who were strongly fortified or with batteries and rifle pits and would stir at the slightest noise. Our regiment could make no fires for fear the Rebs would see them and shell. So everything had to be cooped and carried a distance of two or three miles. They would go up and work five nights shoveling as hard as they could, not being allowed to speak a loud word nor by any means to strike a shovel, then go back and rest five days. The timber for the lookout was cut in the centre of the island and carried for miles on the men’s backs. Everything had to be done with the utmost secrecy and batteries were built under the noses of the Rebs when they were unconscious.
Our steamer had now arrived so near that without the aid of a glass we could see that famous sand bar called Morris Island all covered with tents. Now and then could be seen in the air little tiny balls of smoke that, growing a little larger, looked like white balloons floating in the air from which some skillful aeronaut might be making a reconnoissance and calmly looking down upon the combatants below. These wreaths of smoke were caused by the bursting of shells thrown from some of the many batteries—either Federal or Rebel, we could not tell which.
Steaming on, we soon saw the ragged walls of Sumter, standing out in bold relief—an island of itself, its face towards Wagner entirely demolished, the broken fragments still being at its base, a part having fallen into the sea. I was surprised to find it so large for you cannot judge much from a paper Fort. Over the point of Morris Island could be distinctly seen with the naked eye. The Moultrie House, Moultreville, and the Fort with [Rebel] flag flying. I could see no flag on Sumter.
Regularly, at intervals of about two minutes, smoke could be seen issuing from one of the ports of Moultrie; then watching carefully the wreath of smoke could be seen just over where we supposed Fort Wagner was situated and shortly after we could hear two reports. The enemy were keeping up a slow but constant fire of shell to prevent our fatigue parties from working. We could see the flash of Moultrie’s guns and could easily distinguish which shot came from Battery Beauregard and those on James Island. At one time as we passed along before the crossing of the bar, I got in range and distinctly saw the buildings of the doomed city. The [USS] New Ironsides with her heavy frame and grim looking port holes and the little monitors scarcely discernible lay off the harbor, silent spectators of the scene.
The USS Ironsides (large vessel in right distance) shelling Forts Sumter and Moultrie in Charleston Harbor in 1863.
Numerous vessels too—transport gunboats, hospital ships &c., lay inside the bar but out of range of the enemy’s guns. Probably they would not have lain in that particular spot had not the glory of Sumter departed. The tide was not sufficiently high for us to cross the bar so we cast anchor and formed another of the numerous craft. The Wabash was just ahead of us, having left the Head [Hilton Head] as we were steaming in on the Arago. She moves like a log and with steam power her motion is so low as scarcely to be perceptible. She would be worse than useless in action. Most of the steamers that carry freight from the Head lie in a small stream that separates Morris and Folly Islands that was the point of our destination.
The stream from where we lay appeared to be pretty full of steamboats, tugs, schooners, sailing vessels of almost every description. [They] were immovable because constantly moving rowboats manned by men from different regiments were employed in landing passengers from the steamers, putting them on board, or carrying them across the stream. All had the bunting at the mast head in honor of Major General [Adams Q.] Gillmore on whose shoulder another star had been made to shine but the day before—an honor of which the noble was well worthy. This display of flags, the Stars and Stripes, mingled with all colors, shapes, and sizes, according to the different fancies of those commanding the vessels formed a very pleasant picture.
After waiting off the bar long enough to get tired of looking at Sumter’s broken walls, and the bombs bursting in air, the captain headed the steamer for the stream. At the entrance over one of the inside bars lay the wreck of the iron steamer Ruby sunk by our batteries whilst trying to run the blockade. Perhaps you remember that I wrote home what a time both parties had upon hunting her for plunder. How a boat’s crew from ether side met on her one night and our boys drove the rebs away. Many times was she the cause of our batteries being shelled and many a good rifle did our boys get from her.
We found the stream filled with vessels waiting, sailing, or [ ] from the Quartermaster. We cast anchor as the docks are not yet finished and the officers and civilians were let ashore in boats. The Colonel [Duryée] went to make preparations, secure transportation, &c., while we were left behind to wait until two o’clock. There was plenty of food for the eyes. It was all new to us though very monotonous to those on shore. Every kind of munitions of war, forage &c., horses and cattle, men—black and white, in all kinds and colors of dress were scattered on the beach in the greatest confusion while on Folly Island fatigue parties would be seen working in the sand.
At two o’clock or after, as I said before, we landed and started for the camp of the 7th Connecticut. The sun came right down on our backs although the day was not one of the warmest while the sand, ankle deep, made walking none of the easiest. However, I had no knapsack while all the others had. So I got along quite easily.
Morris Island is nothing more nor less than a huge sand bar as far as I could see. Not a tree interrupts the unbroken surface of sand although on the side towards Folly Island some grass and low bushes grow. The trees that were growing there when our forces took possession have since been cut down. In the sandy places of the island, you will occasionally see tufts of long, thick grass resembling very much what you call North ground [ ]. But the beach is splendid. When the tide is down, one could not have a better place for bathing. The sand is smooth and solid, with no breaks in it such as you see in our beach, while the waves rolling in with their white caps, makes it equal to Newport. It is grand to stand on the shore and see the breakers come tossing and tumbling over each other like dolphins in play, while the continuous roar, sounding far above the boom of the cannon, is sublime.
But we were seeking the camp of the 7th Connecticut. We had occasion to pass by the Headquarters of Maj. Gen. [Quincy Adams] Gillmore. Some of the soldiers had just before been giving him an honor salute or serenade. There was a long chariot covered with American flags drawn by six horses. In it was a band which I suppose had been playing National airs. A large eagle had also occupied a conspicuous place in the chariot but it had been presented to the General so that I did not get a chance to see it. A body of armed men on foot accompanied this as a body guard.
At last we found the camp but saw in it only one familiar face. We waited there for the papers to be turned over, then started for the camp of the 10th [Connecticut], minus ten of our party left behind. The camp of the Tenth lay just adjoining at the foot of a huge sand hill on which the Rebs had mounted guns and used as a fort. This was protected by rifle pits on which the Sixth so gallantly charged on the morning of the eleventh just before the disastrous charges of Wagner. While waiting, I wanted very much to go to the top of the mound to get a possible view of Wagner and Gregg but the way was guarded and no visitors allowed on top.
Business all finished, back we went to the dock, our party dwindled down to three. We took our time going back so I went to the Office of the Commissary and saw Horace Hanford. He was looking pretty well and was very busily occupied among barrels of flour and huge piles of bacon. He told me that there were — regiments on the Island all drawing food from there. It keeps him busy all the time but he has a very good place notwithstanding—one which many would covet.
We sauntered leisurely down to the dock and up in the most comfortable place to wait for Lt. Col. [Redfield] Duryée who had stayed behind. The sun was setting and evening fast approaching A heavy breeze sprang up just at dusk and notwithstanding the heat of the day and the tropical climate, we were scarcely able to keep warm with our great coats on. We sat watching the fatigue parties of engineers coming in from their work on Folly Island until the Colonel came, all tired out from riding so much, and nearly sick. He told us that we could not get across that night but must go back to the camp of the Tenth to wait till morning for we were bound to the camp of the 17th on Folly Island to leave a recruit. We were very kindly treated by the officers and men of the 10th. We were shown a place to sleep and I believe that the occupant put himself out of the way for us. He treated us most hospitably. All the troops on the island are encamped in what is called the “A” tent shaped like that letter in front. It will not comfortably accommodate more than three men. Owing to the scarcity of boards, they could build no bunks, nor even floors, and nought but a rubber blanket spread on the loose sand comprises their bed.
The occupant of the tent to which we were shown, however, with Yankee ingenuity, had dug a narrow ditch about one foot or 18 inches deep right through the center of the tent, thus forming a place for the feet, and giving the appearance of a bed. It was a very good idea. We watched the boys play crib [cribbage] till roll call, 9 o’clock, then lay down in our crib and being very tired, slept soundly till the rolling drum beat. Even though the enemy kept up a constant firing all night, I was not in the least disturbed. Our breakfast consisted of the soldier’s usual fare in this part of the country—hard tack and salt horse. Then the fatigue parties went out to work with the shovel and we took a fresh start for Folly Island, right glad to leave such a God forsaken spot as Morris Island. When I got up on that morning, my ears, hair, eyes and pockets and shoes were all filled with grit. Deliver me of such a place. If what I have seen is a fair specimen of the Sunny South about which romantic fools have sung, may my stay in it be short.
In a row boat we crossed over to Folly Island, tried to get a wagon but could not. Colonel got a horse and we tried to hoof it. Found out after going considerable distance that the 17th was on the shore about three miles down. Quite a pleasant prospect before us indeed. But the tide was out, the sun not very hot, and the hard beach afforded us a good foundation. We approached about 150 men drilling on the beach who, on nearer approach, proved to be negro troops though from their movements one would suppose them veterans. One squad was under command of a colored sergeant, who was putting his men through the manual of arms, drilling them by motion. He apparently understood his business and his orders were given in a full, clear tone that would have done credit to man or officer of the gold button and gilt lace order, while the men executed the movements and counted the motions with a precision equal to some older and whiter regiment. 1
The camps of the troops are situated on a high bank that rises from the beach just at high water mark, and sentries were stationed all along so that it is impossible to mass from one camp to another. We reached the camp of the 17th [Connecticut] sooner than we expected and just in time for dinner. The first fellow that I saw was George [H.] Spencer [of Newtown], the Hospital Steward. While talking with him, Henry Chatfield came out of his tent nearby. He is not very well nor has he been for some time.
Change of climate and miserable water have made many of them sick and though the regiment went out 1,000 strong and has been out but one year, it now has but few over 100 men for duty. Saw Lieut. Blum. He looks miserable. I hardly knew him. Saw George Keeler & Joe Mott but not as many of the Bridgeport boys as I expected to. Many are now at the camp of the paroled prisoners waiting to be exchanged. [Morris] Jones [of Bridgeport], that used to sell fancy goods at ___ing’s has risen to the position of 1st Sergt. [Co. K]—two more steps in the regular line of promotion, and he will have a commission.
I sat down in Hen Chatfield’s tent and had quite a talk with him. He as well as all the others, were anxious to know all the Bridgeport items. I learned for the first time than Hen had a sword shot in two and a horse killed under him. He was very brave on the battlefield of Gettysburg. 2 Colonel [William H.] Noble seemed very glad to see me. Asked about father &c. He has become very popular since Gettysburg.
Waiting for the tide to fall so that we could walk on the beach, we started back to our own camp gratified to know that our business was all settled up right and happy in the knowledge that we were homeard bound.
As we left, Col. [William H.] Noble was starting out with a part of his men who were going on picket. The tide appeared to go down very slowly and sometimes I had to dodge the waves but at one time was not going quick enough and I got my feet wet. After that I did not care but trudged right through—water or no water. Night overtook us before we arrived at our journey’s end and we were halted by the voice of the sentry challenging, “Whoes goes dar?” and friends without the countersign. “Hawt,” says the darkey, as if his mouth was full of gravel. The Colonel went to the camp of the regiment which was from North Carolina for the countersign. I wished afterwards that I had gone too, to the darkey soldier as he is in camp.
That night we spent on board the steamer Monohansett and as but few had come aboard, had a good bed in the saloon. In the morning being very anxious to get a letter to you on the return mail, borrowed some paper from the steward, and wrote the last letter to you on board the steamer waiting transportation to Hilton Head. At the time of writing, I was in the stream between the two islands—Morris and Folly. I had no ink at the time and had to use pencil. That was excusable under the circumstances. While writing, [guns] which proved to be a [salute] that were being fired in honor of General Gillmore. I afterward learned that a [ ] as had on the island that morning. Did not know it at the time but would not knowingly have missed it for considerable.
Major Gen. Quincy Adams Gillmore–“a noble looking man.”
As we were about to start, the General [Gillmore] himself came on board a steamer alongside of us. He is a noble looking man and time has sat lightly on his brow. A part of his staff was with him. He went on the upper deck and stood there with folded arms watching movements about him. Not the smallest thing escaped his watchful eye.
The body of Capt. [Joseph] Woodruff of an Indiana [Illinois] regiment was brought on board. He had been killed in the trenches the night before. 3 Some heavy firing was done that night as the report of the cannon shook the windows of the boat in which we were.
Thursday morning early we arrived safe and sound in the regiment where I have been ever since, doing duty with it. Have been on guard once and fatigue twice. Expect to go on again tomorrow. My last letter would not have gone had not one of the company, going home on a furlough, taking it for me. My chum, who is going North as one of a guard for some prisonrs of war, will take this.
I miss my things very much and look for them everyday. The Arago will not be in till Monday. Ben[nett] Lewis has been appointed 1st Sergeant of Company I and will be coming down pretty soon. Perhaps he will take a small bundle for you. Need not send my tactics nor my dictionary, but that little needle book marked with my name.
I am afraid I have made this too long but my time is interrupted and writing at different times, it has not seemed so long to me. I suppose it is full of mistakes but have no time to read and correct. You will see that [ ]. I forgot myself and thought I was writing to Helen. I am perfectly well and in good spirits and want nothing more than to hear that you are all well at home.
We hear strange reports about Provost Marshal [James G.] Dunham. 4 Can you let us into the matter a little? Reading matter is very much prized by the soldiers. Indeed, did the ladies know how much they delight in books, papers and pamphlets, they would send them a great deal more. Can’t you occasionally send me a daily or weekly Standard, some weekly paper, some magazines, or the latest fills of New York papers?
Ben[jamin] Penfield is getting along finely and wishes to be remembered to you all. Ask Nell what I shall write to her about. Love to Grandmother, Aunty Ann, and all the family. Respects to all enquiring friends. Enclosed I send a copy of the New South which perhaps you would like to read. Write soon to — Gene
October 2d 1863
1 At Folly Island, South Carolina, in August 1863, the “African Brigade” commanded by Gen. Edward A. Wild consisted of the 54th Massachusetts, the 1st North Carolina Colored Volunteers (N. C. C. V.), and a small detachment of the 2nd N. C. C. V. [Source: Raising the African Brigade: Early Black Recruitment in Civil War North Carolina by Richard Reid.]
Capt. Joseph Woodruff, 39th Illinois Infantry
2Henry (“Hen”) Whitney Chatfield of Bridgeport served as the assistant adjutant of the 17th Connecticut; afterwards promoted to be sergeant-major, and for gallant conduct at Chancellorsville, in rallying and re-forming the regiment, promoted to be adjutant, serving with distinguished gallantry at Gettysburg. The regiment was in the midst of that first day’s fight at Gettysburg, on the other side of the town, and west of its final battle-ground. Lieut.-Col. Fowler, commanding regiment, and Capt. Moore, were instantly killed; Lieut. Chatfield, who was beside Col. Fowler, had his knapsack and uniform riddled, and his sword––a relic of Revolutionary history—broken in splinters, yet received not a scar. Henry was killed in action at Dunn’s Lake, Fla., his death described in the following letter—1865: J. S. Walter to Benjamin Wright on Spared & Shared 9.
3 Capt. Joseph Woodruff of Co. K, 39th Illinois Volunteers died in the regimental hospital on Morris Island on 23 September 1863 a few hours after he was struck by a shell fragment while on duty in Fort Gregg. The shell was hurled into the fort from Fort Moultrie and when it burst, it killed several men and wounded Woodruff mortally in the side. Sergeant James Sanborn had the solemn duty of accompanying the remains of Capt. Woodruff to his home in Marseilles, Illinois.
4 Capt. James G. Dunham was the Provost Marshal for the 4th District located at Bridgeport. In June 1863, he posted notices in the local papers announcing the War Department’s decision to organize an invalid corps made up of officers and enlisted men who had been previously discharged for disability.
Spared & Shared 22 