26 July 1865, South Carolina

'Johnny [Chesnut] took the Yankee captain with him to Knights Hill. That ceremony is necessary when making a contract with plantation hands now. Johnny called, 'Joe'—'William'—'Milly'—

'But is that a lady?'

'What? She was a woman servant.' The lieutenant said, pointing carelessly toward the group of negroes.

'I did not fight for these. I fought for the Union.'

'And I fought to be out of your Union.'

Then said Johnny to me, 'Aunt Mary, after all, the Yankee was not half a bad fellow.'"

30 March 1865, Chester, South Carolina

"I said to General Preston, 'I pass my days and nights partly at this window. I am sure our army is silently dispersing. Men are passing the wrong way—all the time they slip by. No songs nor shouts now. They have given the thing up. See for yourself—look there!' For a while the streets were thronged with soldiers, and then they were empty again. The marching now is without tap of drum. I told him of the woman in the cracker bonnet at the depot at Charlotte who signaled to her husband as they dragged him off. 'Take it easy, Jake—you desert again, quick as you kin—come back to your wife and children.' And she continued to yell, 'Desert, Jake! desert agin, Jake!'"

27 March 1865, Chester, South Carolina

"Lee and Johnston have each fought a drawn battle.* Only a few more dead bodies stiff and stark on an unknown battlefield. For we do not so much as know where these drawn battles took place.
One can never exaggerate the horrors of war on one's own soil. You understand the agony, strive as you will to speak, the agony of heart—mind—body.
'A few more men killed.' A few more women weeping their eyes out, and nothing whatever decided by it more than we knew before the battle."

*On 25 March 1865, Robert E. Lee's troops suffered heavy losses in storming and then abandoning Fort Stedman, east of Petersburg, Virginia. A few days earlier, Joseph E. Johnston also sustained many losses when he unsuccessfully attacked one of Sherman's columns at Bentonville, North Carolina. 

January 1865, Columbia, South Carolina

"Yesterday I broke down—gave way to abject terror. The news of Sherman's advance—and no news of my husband. Today—wrapped up on the sofa—too dismal for moaning, even. There was a loud knock. Shawls and all, I rushed to the door. Telegram from my husband.
'All well—be at home on Tuesday.' It was dated from Adams Run.*
I felt as lighthearted as if the war were over.
Then I looked at the date—Adams Run. It ends as it began. Bulls Run—from which their first sprightly running astounded the world. Now if we run—who are to run? They ran full-handed. We have fought until maimed soldiers and women and children are all that is left to run."

*A point on the Charleston and Savannah Railroad about fifty miles west of Charleston.

October 1864, tragedy at Petersburg

"Preston Hampton rode recklessly into the hottest fire.* His father [Cavalry Lt. Gen. Wade Hampton III] sent his brother Wade [IV] to bring him back. Wade saw him reel in the saddle and galloped up to him. General Hampton followed. As young Wade reached him, Preston fell from his horse. And as he stooped to raise him was himself shot down. Preston recognized his father but died without speaking a word. Young Wade, though wounded, held his brother's head up. Tom Taylor and others hurried up. The general took his dead son in his arms, kissed him, and handed his body to Tom Taylor and his friends—made them take care of Wade—and then rode back to his post. At the head of his troops in the thickest of the fray he directed the fight for the rest of the day. Until night he did not know young Wade's fate. He might be dead, too.
Now he says no son of his must be in his command. When Wade recovers he must join some other division.
The agony of that day—and the anxiety and the duties of the battlefield—it is all more than a mere man can bear. ...
Preston was not yet twenty."

*On October 27, Hampton's cavalry prevented Federal troops from flanking the Confederate defenses at Petersburg and severing Richmond's southern lines of communication.

19 August 1864, Wayside Hospital, Columbia, South Carolina

"Today we gave wounded men...their breakfast. Those who are able to come to the table do so. The badly wounded remain in wards prepared for them, where their wounds are dressed by nurses and surgeons, and we take bread and butter, beef, ham, &c&c, hot coffee, to them there.
One man had hair as long as a woman's. A vow, he said. He has pledged himself not to cut his hair until war [was] declared [over] and our Southern country free. 
Four of them had made this vow. All were dead but himself. One was killed in Missouri, one in Virginia, and he left one at Kennesaw Mountain. This poor creature had one arm taken off at the socket. When I remarked that he was utterly disabled and ought not to remain in the army, he answered quickly.
'I am First Texas. If old Hood can go with one foot, I can go with one arm. Eh?'"

10 August 1864

"Misery upon misery.
Mobile going as New Orleans went.* Those western men have not held their towns as we have held and hold Charleston, or as the Virginians hold Richmond. And they call us frill-shirt, silk-stocking chivalry, a set of dandy Miss Nancys. They fight desperately in their bloody street brawls. We bear privation and discipline best. Brag is a good dog. Holdfast, a better."

*Victories by U.S. Admiral David Farragut preceded the fall of both New Orleans and Mobile. At the battle of Mobile Bay on August 5, Farragut steamed past Confederate shore batteries to enable Union troops to besiege forts protecting the city.

May 1864, prisoners and mortality

"John Boykin died in a Yankee prison. He had on a heavy flannel shirt. They were lying on an open platform car, on their way to their cold prison on the lakes. A Federal soldier wanted this shirt. Prisoners have no right, so John had to strip it off and hand it to him. So that was his death. In two days he was dead of pneumonia. Maybe frozen to death.
One man said, 'They are taking us there to freeze.' But then their men will find our hot sun in August and July as deadly as their cold Decembers &c&c are to us. Their snow and ice finish our prisoners at a rapid rate, they say. Napoleon's soldiers found out all that in the Russian campaign."

May 1864

"General Lee was to have a grand review the very day we left Richmond, and quantities of people were to go up by rail to see it. Turner McFarland writes, 'They did go, but they came back faster than they went. They found the army drawn up in battle array.'*
How many of the brave and gay spirits that we saw so lately have taken flight—the only flight they know—and their bodies left dead upon the battlefield."

*At Gordonsville, Virginia, on April 29, 1864, General Lee reviewed the First Corps of the Confederate army, commanded by Longstreet. Three days later, Union troops under General Grant crossed the Rapidan River and, on May 5, the battle of the Wilderness began.

12 March 1864, Richmond, the truth be told

"Went to see Mrs E of the Treasury. She related with an air of great amusement what she called the first truth ever told in Clarendon. A man said he would not go into the army for fear of being killed.
Then the lamentations of his mother-in-law: 'To have him stay at home—an overseer of negroes—and to give as a reason that he is afraid!'
We admired this lady's delightful candor."

A picnic, interrupted.

"...up rode [John Darby] in red-hot haste, threw his bridle to one of the men who was holding the horses and came toward us, rapidly clanking his cavalry spurs with a despairing sound. 'Stop! It's all up. We are ordered back to the Rappahannock. The brigade is marching through Richmond now.'
... At the turnpike we stood in the sidewalk and saw ten thousand men march by. We had seen nothing like this before. Hitherto, it was only regiments marching, spic and span in their fresh smart clothes, just from home on their way to the army.
Such rags and tags—nothing alike—most garments and arms taken from the enemy—such shoes! 'Oh our brave boys!' moaned Buck. Such tin pans and pots tied to their waists—bread or bacon stuck on the ends of their bayonets. Anything that could be spiked was bayoneted and held aloft.
They did not seem to know their shabby condition. They laughed and shouted and cheered as they marched by. Not a disrespectful or light word. But they went for the men huddled behind us—who at last seemed trying to be as small as possible and to escape observation in our rear.
'Ladies, send those puny conscripts on to their regiments.'"

June 1862, Gen. Winfield Scott (ret.) weighs in

"General Scott on Southern soldiers. He says we have élan, courage, woodcraft, consummate horsemanship, endurance of pain equal to the Indians, but that we will not submit to discipline. We will not take care of things or husband our resources. Where we are, there is waste and destruction. If it could all be done by one wild desperate dash, we would do it. But he does not think we can stand the long blank months between the acts—waiting! We can bear pain without a murmur, but we will not submit to be bored, &c&c&c.
Now for the other side. They can wait. They can bear discipline. They can endure forever—losses in battle nothing to them, resources in men and materials of war inexhaustible. And if they see fit they will fight to the bitter end.
Nice prospect for us—as comforting for us as the old man's croak at Mulberry, 'Bad times, worse coming.'
Old Mr Chesnut says, 'We could not have kept slavery here a day, but the powerful government of the U.S.A. protected it for us.'"

27 April 1862, New Orleans, the aftermath

"New Orleans gone—and with it the Confederacy. Are we not cut in two? That Mississippi ruins us if lost. The Confederacy done to death by the politicians. What wonder we are lost. Those wretched creatures the Congress and the legislature could never rise to the greatness of the occasion. They seem to think they were in a neighborhood squabble about precedence.
The soldiers have done their duty.

Panoramic view of New Orleans, 1862,
Federal fleet at anchor in the river

All honor to the Army. Statesmen busy as bees about their own places or their personal honor—too busy to see the enemy at a distance. With a microscope they were examining their own interest or their own wrongs, forgetting the interest of the people they represent. They were concocting newspaper paragraphs to injure the government. No matter how vital, nothing—nothing—can be kept from the enemy. They must publish themselves night and day and what they are doing, or the omniscient Buncombe will forget them.
This fall of New Orleans means utter ruin to the private fortunes of the Prestons. Mr P came from New Orleans so satisfied with Mansfield Lovell and the tremendous steam rams he saw there. While in New Orleans, Burnside offered Mr P five hundred thousand dollars, a debt due from him to Mr P, and he refused to take it.* He said the money was safer in Burnside's hand than in his. And so it may prove—ugly as the outlook is now. Burnside is wide awake. He is not a man to be caught napping."

*John S. Preston sold his extensive Louisiana sugar plantations to John Burnside, a New Orleans merchant, in 1857. These holdings helped make Burnside the greatest sugar planter in the state during the 1860s.

23 August 1861, Richmond

"Have been with Mrs Randolph to all the hospitals.
I can never again shut out of view the sights I saw of human misery. I sit thinking, shut my eyes, and see it all. Thinking—yes, and there is enough to think about now, God knows. Gillands was the worst. Long rows of ill men on cots. Ill of typhoid fever, of every human ailment—dinner tables, eating, drinking, wounds being dressed—all horrors, to be taken in at one glance. That long tobacco house!...
Then we went to the St Charles. Horrors upon horrors again—want of organization. Long rows of them dead, dying. Awful smell, awful sights.
A boy from home had sent for me. He was lying in a cot, ill of fever. Next him a man died in convulsions while we stood there.
I was making arrangements with a nurse, hiring him to take care of this lad. I do not remember any more, for I fainted. Next that I knew of, the doctor and Mrs Randolph were having me, a limp rag, put into the carriage at the door at the hospital.
Fresh air, I dare say, brought me to. First of all we had given our provisions to our Carolinians at Miss Sally Tompkins's. There they were, nice and clean and merry as grigs.
As we drove home, we brought the doctor with us, I was so upset.
He said: 'Look at that Georgia regiment marching there. Look at their servants on the sidewalk. I have been counting them—making an estimate. There is $16,000—sixteen thousand dollars worth of negro property which can go off on its own legs to the Yankees whenever it pleases.'
We saw among the wounded at the Federal hospital a negro soldier. He was with the others, on equal terms—and a sister was nursing him."

August 1861, the toll of disease

"General Walker (Shot-Pouch) fears [Union General George B.] McClellan will take advantage of our army being prostrated by disease to attack us. One good of Bull Run: it has made them make haste cautiously.
In [General William H. C.] Whiting's command 400 out of 1700 are unfit for service."

August 1861, the subject of slavery

"A General Wool* says, 'This war is an attempt to extend the area of slavery.'
Can that be, when not one-third of our volunteer army are slave-owners—and not one-third of that third who does not dislike slavery as much as Mrs Stowe or Greeley?** And few have found their hatred or love of it as remunerative an investment."

*War of 1812 veteran U.S. Brigadier General John Ellis Wool, quoted from a speech in New York, 15 August 1861.
**Harriet Beecher Stowe was author of the 1852 bestseller Uncle Tom's Cabin, Horace Greeley editor of the New York Tribune. 

18 August 1861, the subject of desertion

"Two Yankee officers who fought or figured at Manassas have since deserted and come over to us.
I can understand how deserters should be detestable, come they from East or West, North or South.
They, the deserters, are going into our army. General Walker* said, 'If I had a brother killed at Manassas, I could shoot down these two man at sight.'
Mr [Robert Woodward] Barnwell gave that little twittering, nervous laugh of his.
'And then you'd be hanged.'
'Never. Twenty thousand Georgians are here. They would create a counter-revolution before they would permit a hair of my head to be touched.'
Mr Barnwell repeated his offensive little laugh.
'Then you would be hanged. You ought to be hanged if you commit murder.'

This he fired off at regular intervals, and Shot-Pouch Walker literally raved.
'No, no. My Georgians would know the reason why, &c&c.'
Mr Barnwell grew very quiet but continued his fatuous smile and to the last stuck to his original proposition.
'You'd be hanged.'
This made me wretched. Mr Barnwell was right, but why would he say it anymore?
I was so uncomfortable—as soon as silence prevailed, I left the table. I made a good deal of commotion in leaving the table, on purpose—dropped things to be picked up: fan, handkerchief—all to divert them from their madness or folly. And a man is always in such a faze about his dignity—what is due his own self-respect, &c&c&c, and so contemptuous of feminine folly!"

*Brigadier General William Henry Talbot Walker of Georgia received extensive gunshot wounds in both the Seminole and Mexican wars. Each time, doctors held out no hope of recovery. He was subsequently given the nickname "Shot-Pouch."

August 1861, Sally Louisa Tompkins

"Went to Miss Sally Tompkins's hospital.* There I was rebuked. I deserved it.
Me: 'Are there any Carolinians here?'
Miss T: 'I never ask where the sick and wounded come from.'"

Sally Louisa Tompkins
(1833-1916)

*After the Battle of First Bull Run, Sally Louisa Tompkins outfitted an old Richmond house as a hospital at her own expense. When the government took over private hospitals, she was allowed to maintain hers. Jefferson Davis commissioned her a captain, making Tompkins the only woman known to hold military rank in the Confederacy.

5 August 1861, Richmond

"Dr Gibbes is a bird of evil omen. Today he tells me eight of our men have died at the Charlottesville hospital. It seems sickness is more redoubtable in an army than the enemy's guns. There are 1100 there hors de combat, and virulent typhoid fever along with them. They want money, clothes, nurses.
So I am writing—right and left the letters fly, calling for help from the sister societies at home. The good and patriotic women at home are easily stirred to this work."

July 1861

"The [New York Daily] Tribune soothes the Yankee self-conceit, which has received a shock—the national vanity, you know—by saying we had 100,000 men on the field at Manassas. We had about 15,000 effective men in all.
And then the Tribune tries to inflame and envenom them against us by telling lies as to our treatment of prisoners.
They say when they come against us next, it will be in overwhelming force."