Excerpts from Confederate Soldier

by John Dooley, 1^st Virginia, Co. H

Summer 1862

…During these marches the men are oftentimes unrecognizable on account of the thick covering of dust which settle upon the hair, eye-brows and beard, filling likewise the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears; and the poor victims are much like hard toiling millers, although much more so.

…Here the fences thrown down and the rails half burnt; the smoking homestead and the houseless, breadless orphan appeal to heaven for retribution upon a wanton cowardly foe whose brutal orders have been but too faithfully executed by a depraved and savage soldiery.

…The road in our rear blocked completely by wagons of every description, commissaries', quartermasters', ordinance, etc., etc. The train extended to the rear at least ten or fifteen miles and our wagons were some three or four miles from our position and I was informed that all these wagons had their proper place in line and could not, even though there was room on the road, leave the position assigned them. Our men were taking up their line of march and I was told to remain behind and bring up the wagons.

…But it happened that two of the General's staff horses, becoming terrified at the blazing flames roaring and crackling too near them, broke their fastenings and plunged wildly over the sleeping masses of soldier.

…I trembled with excitement and, I may add, with fear, for I was never very brave; and Capt. Mitchell had the kindness to give me some advice about loading and keeping cool when we should get under fire.

…Close up forward - steady - dress to the right - give way on the left - don't crowd the center! And one of those enormous projectiles bursts immediately in front of the Regt., appearing to cover us all with dust. The two men beside me are knocked over and covered with dirt; though stunned, neither are hurt and on we go with the whining and whizzing and banging and a hundred contradictory orders [!] until we reach the fence afore mentioned, when we all lie down according to instructions, and await further developments. I was very much frightened and I am sure I wasn't the only one. Altho' the Yankees cannot see us in this position, yet they keep a-feeling for us, which is anything but pleasant, especially when a fellow reflects what Searching things balls are.

…'Fire!' rings out along the brigade, our muskets rattle out a volley along the whole line, and I find myself among dismounted cannon, broken caissons, bleeding horses, the dead and dying.

…And now the bullets strike the ground in front of us and comrades are falling pretty fast all around. I catch a glimpse of the battery; it's on a hill (quite a hill), and as we approach at a double quick all along the line the very earth seems to open and belch forth fire and smoke and balls. Back! down the hill! rolls the brigade which had immediately preceded us; back! in utter rout and confusion, some shouting for us to go back - others to advance - some to lie down.

…At every step they take they see the piles of wounded and slain and their feet are slipping in the blood and brains of their comrades. Shells burst among them and a desultory musketry fire helps to thin their ranks; but still on they press, closing up steadily, splendidly.

Autumn 1862

…When night shuts out the angry glare we are still marching slowly but wearily along the Maryland roads, sometimes half asleep, sometimes sound asleep [!]. Even when half asleep I moved for miles, my bruised, stiffened limbs mechanically following one the other. Sometimes I would drowsily wonder if it were possible for me to walk any further, if my feet would not refuse to make the very next step and in my own despite myself be compelled to halt. But I jogged along, dreaming in this way.

…Suddenly his attention was diverted from his prayers to meaner things, and springing to his feet with all the energy of a little man and a brave and zealous officer he hurled in quick succession the most ferocious invectives against a party of stragglers who were robbing a cornfield near by. 'You thieves, you robbers, you miserable skulking wretches etc.', he yelled, 'Sergeant, take a guard of men and arrest these rascally thieves; I'll teach them to rob the people in this style!'

…Every where smiling fields of wheat, wide stretching acres of green corn with their yellow ears and crimson tassels met the eye; and on every hand were the pasture lands teeming with clover, timothy, and broad waving blades of nourishing grass; while every hundred yards extensive orchards, the branches of whose trees swept the ground with their luscious burdens of pears, peaches, and apples, invited the stragglers who flocked in numbers from each brigade, as it marched by, to gather into their pockets and haversacks the refreshing fruit.

…The men speak in low meaning voices. A fight is no doubt expected, but no one knows anything for certain. We pass thru Hagerstown about 9-1/2 A.M. while the church bells are ringing their warning sounds; and would that some warning bells had rung out for us yesterday and that we were where we are expected.

…Above and around and among us, go crashing into the crags on our left, splintering into a thousand pieces large fragments of rock which wildly fly around our heads, and the crash resounding from ridge to ridge multiplies indefinitely the fearful reports and increases very much the terror which such missiles are wont to inspire. One shot went through a tree about three feet in diameter, splitting nothing but leaving a nice round smooth hole in the body. Another shot (I thought I saw it then) came bounding along the mountain side and right through our regiment. What a scatteration it made!

…Over the fence now, and straight in front we are to find the enemy. Not a gun has been loaded, so suddenly and hastily have we been brought into action. Here under this terrible fire of artillery, creating more terror than havoc, we load our muskets and the regiment is pushed forward to the edge of a field to the right of the road and on the brow of the mountain. Before us the field and fences and sides of the mountains swarm with Yankees, triumphant in their success, but cautious in their advance.

…All talk in a low tone of voice and the movement of their canteens as they knock against their legs and hips are the only sounds to be distinguished. Our turn comes soon [i.e. the turn of Dooley's regiment] and we, probably about two hundred, move quietly and wearily along. We had been marching and fighting all day and must now march and probably fight all night.

…Slept almost feet to feet with their own men, ready to begin the fight as soon as there was light enough to discern friend from foe. (Imagine men sleeping within a few yards of each other and about to kill one another at the slightest warning!) We rested quietly, having no fear of immediate danger and making the best of the little respite afforded us.

…We can plainly see the earth as it is torn up and scattered wildly about in face of each successive line of infantry that marches up the slope; for the enemy must march up a slight acclivity before they see the battery or can themselves be seen. No ammunition appears to be wasted and not a shot is fired by us until the enemy line appears on the crest of the elevation; and then every gun opens almost simultaneously and back go to flying Union troops pell-mell, leaving bloody traces of their disorderly retreat.

…Tried to run through the high corn, for my heavy belt and cartridge box and musket kept me back to half my speed. I was afraid of being struck in the back, and I frequently turned half around in running, so as to avoid if possible so disgraceful a wound. It never entered my head to throw away gun or cartridge box; but, encumbered as I was, I endeavored to keep pace with my captain, who with his long legs and unencumbered would in a little while have far outstripped me but that he frequently turned towards the enemy, and, rubbing backwards, managed not to come out ahead in this our anything but creditable race.

…The enemy having taken our position appeared to think they had performed wonders, for instead of pursuing us and shooting us down, they began to give methodical cheers, as if they had gained a game of base ball.

…But so dangerous and incessant a fire is kept up by the enemy's Sharpshooters that it is a very hazardous enterprise to go beyond our lines. Nevertheless our barbarous soldiers are employed in this humane undertaking and have brought in several of these wretches when one member of the 7th Va. Inf. is struck in the heart by a Minnie ball and expires in a few minutes. This sad event put a stop to any humanity or charitable movements towards the enemy's wounded, since they would rather see their own men die than refrain from the pleasure of killing ours.

…We have to rest for about ten or fifteen minutes in Sharpsburg, and while waiting, as usual, one of the men took about a dozen canteens of the more lazy fellows to fill them with water. This man, McCrossin, was fond of a practical joke, and being absent a little longer than the obtaining water warranted we wondered what was detaining him. Just as we were moving on he comes back and hastily delivered the canteens to their owners. I am very thirsty and take a good draught from my canteen immediately; it was nothing but strong raw whiskey. I went to several other canteens asking for water, and all I came to had whiskey in them. It appears that McCrossin had filled the canteens from a whiskey barrel instead of from a spring; and he was the boy to know if there were any strong whiskey barrels about town, with no one in particular to claim them. We easily obtained water for whiskey.

…He was amazed to discover that this poor soldier's arm had been shot off and was connected with the elbow only by a piece of skin. The gallant hero was bearing his arm along with him, having slung it over his shoulder just as he would his gun. Whistling right merrily he was glad enough to escape at any cost from the Yankees' clutches and would brave all sufferings to keep up with the army.

Winter-Spring 1863

…We are getting our regular rations now, boiled beef and pones of wheaten bread. You may also by good management continue to purchase extras at a neighbouring farmhouse, but provisions are very scarce and it is not often the people have anything to sell.

…The ragged veterans returning from the springs, ladened with canteens of cool sparkling water, good humour in their eyes and ragged homespun on their limbs. They are always looking out for fun, to make a sharp remark or see the ridiculous, to play some funny trick or quiz you with a look. And from woods for miles about the joyous shout breaks out, the ringing laugh echoes, and thousands of brilliant flames mount crackling mid the lower leaves and branches of the oak and chestnut trees, diffusing warmth and lightness, brightness, over the scene, and dispelling the damp breath of the twilight dews that begin to moisten the grass and topmost forest leaves. Then the rude pot or cup of coffee is boiled upon the glowing embers and stirred round with a slender twig. Now it is being settled and when cool enough proves a delightful and exhilarating beverage for the mess.

…The drilling and cleaning up the camp and keeping our muskets bright and clean, - ah, that is another thing! And then to be almost eaten alive by vermin that in myriad troops swarm through the camp and defy the boldest and the most hardened, - ah, these trials are not altogether so sweet as partriotism's first glow in the breast would have us imagine.

…We are usually detailed for twenty four hours and during this time are separated from our command to be transferred to some other scene of action. This evening our rendezvous or guardhouse is at the foot of the hill on which is our bivouac, close by a dead hollow tree some seven or eight feet in height. Near this tree we make a crackling, roaring, fire and prepare to pass the night as comfortably as our guard duties may permit. After pleasantly chatting by the blazing logs we wrap us in our blankets and all fall asleep. The night is very cold and after midnight a high wind rises and sweeps boisterously over the fields. It blows with great force the sparks of our glowing fire into the hollow portions of the old apple tree and in a few moments the whole trunk is on fire top to bottom. Our blankets too are scorching and we wake just in time to save ourselves from quite a disastrous accident; for the cartridge boxes hung round the trunk and in the hollow were singeing under the application of the fierce flames and in a few seconds must have exploded all around our sleepy heads. A portion of my belt and cartridge box was burned to a crisp.

…Old 'Reuben' arrives in camp this evening bringing letters and articles to several members of the Regt. This old ---[the adjective is undecipherable] goes round to our friends in Richmond and after collecting all the needful articles and letters that they will entrust him with, sets out for the Regt.; but on the road always happens to be robbed of about one half of his goods; when he arrives in camp he is so glad to see everybody (and in fact we are glad enough to see him), but his losses are terrible, he can't account for them, and to hear his moans and see his woe begone face you might think he was the most miserable and unfortunate of Negroes. But we all understand him, and so do they at home; but so that we get half of what is sent we are satisfied and willing to let the rest go. He brings me two letters full of home news and interest.

…We must pass through the town in good order. Therefore the ranks are formed and dressed, the drums are rattling, and whatever bands we have begin to do their best, while we march down the main street.

…We have but four blankets between us, so we must manage economically. the way we adopt is for all three to sleep together, lying on one blanket and covering with the other three. This arrangement is all very well with respect to the length of the blankets, but the width is another matter. Provided we all lie in the same position the blankets cover us snugly enough; but if one takes a different position from the other two, the blankets fail to accommodate all. Seeing the dilemma in which we are placed we make the following agreement: We shall all go to sleep in the same position and if during the night one awakes and wishes to turn over he must not do so without giving previous warning, when, all being ready, the movement shall be effected. So now when some one of us awakes during the night and wishes for a 'change of base', he wakes up the others and announces his purpose. Thereupon all being thoroughly awake the man in the middle gives the command 'right' or 'left turn', and the movement is made promptly and without disorder.

…'Bucking' is making the culprit sit in a doubled up posture, clasping his knees with his hands, and whilst his knees almost touch his chin a long stick is inserted between his arms and underneath his knee joints. 'Gagging' is more severe, and is performed by placing a bayonet in the culprit's mouth and fixing it there by tying behind the head strings or cord attached to either end of the implement of torture. Frequently however a stick is used in place of the bayonet on account of the severity of the former instrument. Should the condemned resist or become very insolent, he is shown no mercy until he evinces some marks of repentance and future subordination. Usually neither of these two punishments lasts more than from an hour to two hours.

…Some of the men being caught in the act of straggling from their regiments were brought back and made to march in a circle, like horses working a threshing machine, at the same time having billets of wood tied to their ankles in order to impede their progress. But this novelty I have seen but once.

…We are all drawn up in line and the poor man is tied to a pole about fifty yards in front of us. His hands are stretched above his head and his shirt striped to the waist. The executioner then steps forward and with several heavy switches, the executioner being likewise a criminal who is to earn his release from punishment by inflicting this disgrace on his fellow man. The word being given, the executioner began his disgusting work, the wretched man wincing and his flesh shrinking neath every blow which one after another were delivered in quick succession until 39 were rec'd. by the culprit. In truth it is a horrid sight, and the executioner was so overcome by his feelings that as soon as his work was done his eyes filled with tears and he wept - he wept! This horrible event transpired without the loss of blood to any one, and the wretched creature (or happy individual, had he truly a craven heart) pockets his dishonorable discharge and leaves for parts unknown.

…A courier rides by, and a little dog belonging to one of the soldiers flies at the horse's heels, all the while barking furiously. The courier, indignant at this unmannerly interruption, loses all patience, checks his horse's speed, and drawing his cavalry sword makes a gallant charge. The whole Division sets up deafening huzzas as they witness the act of bravery, and the unfortunate courier rides off completely crestfallen and the subject of numberless sarcasms from the laughing troops.

…The terrors of the battlefield grew not less as we advanced in the war, for I felt far less fear in the second battle of Manassas than at south Mountain or even at Fredericksburg; and I believe that soldiers generally do not fear death less because of their repeated escape from its jaws. For, in every battle they see so many new forms of death, see so many frightful and novel kinds of mutilation, see such varying fortunes in the tide of strife, and appreciate so highly their deliverance from destruction, that their dread of incurring the like fearful perils unnerves them for each succeeding conflict, quite as much as their confidence in their oft tried courage sustains them and stimulates them to gain new laurels at the cannon's mouth.

…I am today in command of the rear guard, whose duty it is to urge forward stragglers and to keep up in fact all who desert their ranks under any pretense whatever. This is at times a painful duty, for frequently it happens - especially when the division if moving rapidly, as today - that many soldiers leave their ranks through necessity, and, weakened by diarrhea, can scarcely with all their efforts rejoin the ranks. Others fall by the roadside either deadly sick or pretending to be so (and who can be sure that they are only pretending?); others are barefoot, and although they may have thrown away their shoes purposely so as to have an excuse for desertion and straggling, still their feet are bruised and even bleeding, and it is a hard thing to keep these men upon the move.

July 3rd, 1863

…The earth seems unsteady beneath this furious cannonading, and the air might be said to be agitated by the wings of death. Over 400 guns nearly every minute being discharged!

…We rise to our feet, but not all. there is a line of men still on the ground with their faces turned, men affected in 4 different ways. There are the gallant dead who will never charge again; the helpless wounded, many of whom desire to share the fortunes of this charge; the men who have charged on many a battlefield but who are now helpless from the heat of the sun; and the men in whom there is not sufficient courage to enable them to rise, - but of these last there are but few.

…The enthusiasm of ardent breasts in many cases ain't there, and instead of burning to avenge the insults of our country, families and altars and firesides, the thought is most frequently, Oh, if I could just come out of this charge safely how thankful would I be!

…Close up! Close up the ranks when a friend falls, while his life blood bespatters your cheek or throws a film over your eyes! Dress to left or right, while the bravest of the brave are sinking to rise no more! Still onward! Capt. Hallinan has fallen and I take his place. So many men have fallen now that I find myself within a few feet of my old Captain (Norton). His men are pressing mine out of place. I ask him to give way a little to the left, and scarcely has he done so than he leaps into the air, falling prostrate. Still we press on - oh, how long it seems before we reach those blazing guns. Our men are falling faster now, for the deathly musket is at work. Folley after volley of crashing musket balls sweeps through the line and mow us down like wheat before the scythe.

July 4th, 1863

…I have slept a little despite a steady but light fall of rain which has undoubtedly proved extremely refreshing and grateful to thousands of fevered brains and burning wounds. This morning I am unable to walk a step and have myself carried about ten yards off the road.

…Our gallant Col. was disabled for life. His left arm was ploughed up by a shot, and another perforated his lung,

…His spinal bone is broken, the shot, I think, striking at the neck joint and running down the spinal column. He suffers continual and intense agony. No position in which he may be placed affords any relief and he constantly seeks some change in the disposition of his head.

…He is a coarse bloated looking Irishman and is whining and groaning continually except when the vehicle jolts over a stone or gully, and then he gives a loose to horrid oaths and imprecations.

…The whole ground for miles around is covered with the wounded, the dying and the dead. Confederate and Yankee are often promiscuously thrown together, although the officials separate us generally as much as is convenient. The Yankees are nearly all comfortably quartered, having tents and blankets and many little comforts which they have of course received from their comrades. This is only natural and one of our boys expect to receive attentions in preference to the enemy's wounded.

…This is a horrid night, cold and wet and rainy. Groans and shrieks and maniacal ravings; bitter sobs, and heavy sighs, piteous cries; horrid oaths; despair; the death rattle; darkness; death. The Yankees near me (nurses, they are called) instead of alleviating to some degree the fearful sufferings around us, are indulging in curses, the most ignorant curiosity, and obscene tales.

…Here is a poor wounded Confederate who is walking up and down, wandering anywhere his cracked brain directs him. Just on top of his head and penetrating to his brain is a large opening made by a shell in which I might insert my hand. He walks about as if nothing was the matter with him, and pays no attention to any advice given him.

…An officer (Yankee) is enquiring if any one here is acquainted with John Scammel. I tell him that he belongs to my company. 'Here then,' he said, 'are some little things I took from his pocket; he died a few minutes ago just a few yards off.' These little effects consist of a five dollar Confederate bill stained with his blood, and a paper showing the date, etc. of his enrollment. Poor fellow, he might have lived if proper care had been shown him. But our poor fellows are dying all around us and but little surgical attention might save them.

…Once I heard him ask of some negro camp attendant in a tone of piteous expostulation to make a little fire near him, for the night was cold and the rain was chilling him to the very marrow of his bones. No fires were made however, for whether it was against orders or the result of neglect, we suffered a great deal from rain and the chilling night air. My poor friend appeared to suffer so much that after a selfish contest with my better impulses I sent him over my oil-cloth that being doubled up and placed under his amputated member it might free him from much pain and distress.

…Genl. Lee, like the Noble thoughtful General he is, has left behind (before retiring) many hundreds of nurses (from among our private soldiers) and many surgeons of his army to assist and to care for the thousands of the brave men whom he know could not receive the attention they required from the hands of the enemy. These nurses and surgeons are afterwards detained as regular prisoners of war.

…What fun we have when the nurses come round to administer 'cornstarch.' About every hour a nurse of the feminine persuasion enters the tent and give each one about a tea spoonful of this delectable refection. All take it just for the fun of the thing.

…Another great source of amusement is the action of one of the sanitary commission who morning and nights and at midday makes the stations. He is a large fine looking man and has remarkable clear lungs but ruined by a terrible twang of the nasal organs. He rushes about from station to station (each less than a para sang in length), and dropping on his knees elevates his voice in prayer to the most high clouds and prays alike for friends and enemies for the preservation of the Union and the success of its glorious arms.

…The Yankee surgeon in charge of all the wounds in these parts is a Georgian! But being educated at W. Point he has thought it incumbent on him to deny his native land and join with its enemies. He is a very fine looking man and has his hand in a sling, for yesterday when operating upon a gangrened wound, the knife with which he was operating cut his finger slightly; and he very sensibly (having no such wife as Edward 3rd had, or if he had, she not being present) had his finger immediately amputated.

…He is battered and bruised from head to foot, his horse shot through the head falls on him, and the Col. is a prisoner covered with bruises and scars. He is very sensitive and very courteous. He is filled to overflowing with that idea of honour, good faith and lofty sentiment so prevalent in southern men who pretend to high birth and nobility of family.

…The Northern lady who raised her dog to bite only Irishmen and niggers. And I may as well remark upon the word 'nig' and 'nigger,' that I never heard this epithet applied to Slaves in the South by any person of refinement and education. The Southern people, understanding the characters and disposition of the negroes gave them their proper place in Society, and insulting epithets towards their Servants were as rare among Southerners as they are common among their fanatical and brutal friends of Yankeedom and their hypocritical friends in England. Many in the South use the tern 'nigger,' but it was a mark of the low and uneducated, the purse-proud vulgar, the stranger Abolitionist or the foreigner who was at a loss for English words. Excuse my diversion.

…Ladies without number and gentlemen also visited without interruption the wounded prisoners, bringing to their quarters every kind of delicacy and convenience. They were permitted to nurse and relieve the wounded in almost any manner they wished, and even brought thousands of dollars to them which were distributed equally or nearly so. One poor fellow was even bored by their kindness, and, being wounded, a benevolent lady requested very earnestly that he would permit her to apply some cologne to his burning forehead. The poor fellow with the face of a victim replied, 'Well, ma'am, it's been done already fourteen times this morning, but if it will do you any good I suppose you may do it again.'

…Some one tells a joke of Gen. Hardee, who, when he took command of our army in Tenn., found a great want of discipline and contempt for army regulations among the soldiers. This he strove to remedy personally, and visited the posts himself. Passing by a rough looking sentinel, instead of meeting with the proper salute he was accosted with a 'How d'ye do, general?' 'Is that the way, sir,' asked the general, 'that you salute your officers?' The fellow actually grinned from ear to ear and exclaimed, 'Oh, h---, General, that thing's played out long ago!'