Soldier's Stories

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Dear Mrs. Miles, By your request; I am not ashamed of my life as a soldier. Joined the Church in 1851, lived a sober life in camp. I did not play cards or drink whiskey, had good health all during the war, always up with my command on all special details. Served Secret Scouts six weeks, I lay in thirty steps of infantry and watched a corps pass, and a drummer boy come into the road and beat the long roll for the boys to fall in line. I was in lots of close places, can't tell them all. I was under General Bragg in Kentucky, Perryville—Bragg and Rosecrans slept together in Kentucky one night. Both armies had a fight over the spring at near Perryville, Kentucky. This was a bloody battle. The men on both sides drank blood and water. During the assault at Vicksburg, Grant tried twice to take the breastworks on July the 4th, 1863. My treatment during the war was good considering the times. I was in the battle of Lookout Mountain November 26th, 1863. I had some close calls while in battle. I was in the battle of Missionary Ridge the day following. Was in seven different charges. I was in the engagement of Kennesaw Mountain and in the battle of Murphreesboro, December 31 and January 2, 1862. The longest I went without anything to eat or drink was four days and nights. Part of the time I had scant clothing, sometimes our clothes froze on us. We did not have any fire to warm by. I was color guard of my regiment and was never put under guard during my soldier life. My neighbor girls gave me a Testament and I carried it all through the war and still have it in my possession. I want to thank the United Daughters of the Confederacy for kindness to us old veterans. H.H. Turley
December 15, 1924

Was wounded at the battle of Kennesaw Mountain, Georgia when skull was broken two inches across the top of his head.

[bill_torrens]

Cash,

Sorry for the delay in getting back to you about Pickett & Haskell.

You're quite right: Haskell has Pickett and his staff at the Codori Barn. And I have to agree with you that two such references to Pickett in a slim volume of memoirs does suggest that Haskell had his own agenda.

He draws attention to the fact that neither Pickett nor any member of his staff suffered a wound on 3rd July. I checked the biographical sketches of each staff member in Krick's "Staff Officers In Gray", and it's certainly true that no wound is mentioned. I pass this on for what it is worth.

Cheers,

Bill

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"near where I had halted my platoon to wait the slower movement of the line lay a Federal Sergeant, variously hurt, who had had been a fine giant in his time. He lay face upward, taking in the breath in convulsive, rattling snorts, and blowing it out in sputters of froth which crawled creamily down his cheeks, piling itself alongside his neck and ears. A bullet had clipped a grove in his skull, above the temple; from this his brain protruded. . . dropping off in flakes and strings. . .

One of my men, Asked if he should put his bayonet through him. . Shocked by the cold-blooded proposal, I told him I thought not; it was unusual , and to many were looking... Sgt. Maj. Bierce 9th Indiana Infantry Hazen's Brigade - Battle of Shiloh

"Dysentery was truly awful disease that could rob a man of the last vestiges of human dignity before it killed him. A couple of weeks before getting it my old pal was as smart and upright as a guardsman. Yet after about ten days it was dreadful to see him crawling about, his trousers round his feet, his backside hanging out, his shirt tail all soiled - everything was soiled. He couldn’t even walk.
So I took him by one arm and another pal got hold of him by the other, and we dragged him to the latrine. It was degrading, when you remember how he was just a little while ago. Neither my pal nor I were very good - but we weren’t like that. Anyway, we lowered him down next to the latrine. We tried to keep the flies off him and turn him round - put his backside towards the trench. But he simply rolled into the foot-wide trench, half-sideways, head first in the slime. We couldn’t pull him out, we didn’t have enough strength, and he couldn’t help himself at all. We did eventually get him out but he was dead, he’d drowned in his own excrement."
Ordinary Seaman Joe Murray
Hood Battalion, Royal Naval Division
WW1
Forgotten Voices
of the Great War
Max Authur

I know this is not a war betwixt the states story. Nor even an American one. But it is a soldiers story and soldiers in combat and wars suffer alike and time and place changed little over the centuries. Besides, I recall from Civil War Illustrated the story of an illiterate and uncommunicative kid that joined the Union army and died by having a seizure and drowned in the cesspit. Drowning in latrine was a horrible death and sadly happened more than you’d think. Officers usually just listed them as drowning.
YMOS
tommy



(Message edited by aphillbilly on April 06, 2004)

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Tommy,

There was a story I read not to long ago that I read that was similar to that. This was an of a confederate though he enlisted and was discharged for his a seizures and enlisted in another unit make a long story short he survived some of the most horrible battles of the war before finally be discharged of his wounds that he received at the angle. On to several years later by having a seizure while out for a walk and drowning in a pool of water in the road.

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Being this is the Anv. of the Battle of Shiloh i Will post several more more Quotes and From the people who were there taken from: <u>Eyewitnesses at the Battle Of Shiloh</u> by David R. Logsdon.

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April 6th 1862
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At four o'clock in the morning, we rose from our damp bivouac. ... After two days of marching, and two days of bivouacking and living on cold rations, our spirits were not so buoyant. ... For two days, we had subsisted on sodden biscuit and raw bacon ... while exposed to two nights of rain and dew, and had marched twenty-three!
We stood in rank for half a hour or so. ... Day broke. ... Next to me, on my right, was a boy of seventeen, Henry Parker. ... While we stood at ease, he drew my attention to some violets at his feet, and said, 'It could be a good idea to put a few into my cap. Perhaps the yanks wont shoot me if they see me wearing such flowers, for they are a sign of peace.' 'I will do the same.'I said. We plucked a bunch, and arranged the violets in our caps. the men in the ranks laughed."

"We loaded our muskets, and arranged our cartridge pouches ready for use. Our weapons were the obsolete flintlocks, and the ammunition was rolled in cartridge-paper, which contained powder, a round ball and three buckshot. When we loaded we had to tear the paper with our teeth, empty a little powder into the (flash)pan, lock it, empty the rest of the powder into the barrel, press paper and ball into the muzzle, and ram home."

"Then the Orderly -sergeant called the roll. ... Soon after, there was a commotion, and we dressed up smartly. A young aide galloped along our front, gave some instructions to Brigadier Hindman, who confided the same to his colonels, and presently we swayed forward in line, with shoulder arms."

"As we tramped solemnly and silently through the thin forest and over its grass, still in its withered and wintery hue, I noticed that the sun was not far from appearing, that our regiment was keeping its formation admirably."(CS) Henry M. Stanley 6th Arkansas Shaver's Brigade

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" Aim low, men! Commanded Captain Smith. I tried hard to see some living thing to shoot at, for it appeared absurd to be blazing away at shadows. But still advancing, firing as we moved, I saw a row of little globes of pearly white smoke streaked with crimson, breaking out from a long line of bluey figures and simultaneously, there broke upon our ears an appalling crash.

We loaded and fired, with such nervous haste as though it depended each of us how soon this fiendish uproar would be hushed. My nerves tingled, my pulses beat double quick, my heart throbbed loudly, almost painfully ... We continued advancing step by step loading and firing as we went. To every forward step, they (yankees) took a backward move, loading and firing as they slowly withdrew." (CS) Henry Stanley 6th Arkansas Infantry Shaver's Brigade

" Colonel Peabody with a look of mortified pride but great determination conjured the men to hold the ground. Pointing to the words in golden letters on our flag, he cried out: 'Lexington, men; Lexington; remember Lexington!' Behind trees in the company streets, and simply tents that screened us from sight, we kept up a constant fire. The enemy dared not charge over the comparatively open ground between us and because of our disorganized condition and his vastly superior numbers, we could not charge them." (US) Charles Morton 25th Missouri Infantry, Peabody's Brigade

"As we were passing through our camps I paused to aid Mrs Johnson, our cook. By the Time we put the bedding, trunks, camp seats and our peck of a meal into the wagon, one mule was wounded and seven balls had passed through the wagon sheet. The Rebel shot and shell were cutting limbs from trees all around us. Our teamster could no longer control the team, and we had to leave our $60mess chest and our stock of nice eatables." Chaplain John M. Garner 18th Missouri Infantry, Miller's Brigade

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Cyrus Boyd was only twenty-four when he volunteered for the 15th Iowa Infantry in 1861. He "escaped the uncertain fates of War" and was mustered out of the service in 1864. Some time after the war, Boyd used the daily notes he'd kept to write about his wartime experience, in the form of a journal. Though he never published it, Boyd sent a copy of his journal to an old friend, whose family passed it down through several generations. In 1951, ninety years after Boyd's enlistment, his journal was presented to the Iowa State Historical Society.

Boyd first saw action at Shiloh, and recalled the battle vividly:

At ten o'clock we are ordered ashore with all our equipments including forty rounds of ammunition. With our knapsacks, haversacks, canteen (and almost everyone had an extra suit of clothes) and our overcoats -- haversacks filled to the top with hard tack and last but not least each of us had a big high hat with a large brass "eagle" on the side. If we were not a choice looking lot of fighting coocks as we stood in line that morning then I am no guesser. We formed in line on the Bluff overlooking the river. We were in great confusion as Col. Reid and Dewey galloped back and forth without seeming to know exactly what they were doing. Col. Dewey did a considerable amount of hard swearing and I had time to notice him wheel his horse around and take some consolation through the neck of a pint bottle. This seemed to give him a stronger flow of swear language than before. When we had got into something like a line we were presented with several boxes of ammunition and each man ordered to fill up to the extent of a hundred rounds...

The wounded men were by this time coming in freely and were being carried right through our ranks. And we could see hundreds of soldiers running through the woods. Col. Reid got us started. Who gave the order I know not. Who our guide was I knew not. We started on the double quick in the direction of the heavy firing, which was mostly of musketry... Thus we kept on for at least three miles meeting hundreds -- yes thousands of men on the retreat who had thrown away their arms and were rushing toward the Landing -- most of these were hatless and had nothing on them except their clothes. Some of them were wounded and covered with blood from head to foot. Some of the wounded were being carried on stretchers. The woods were full of Infantry, cavalry, Artillery and all arms of the service were flying toward the river in countless numbers. Men yelled as they passed us: "Don't go out there!" "You'll catch hell!" "We are all cut to pieces!" "We are whipped!" Some declared they were the only ones left out of a whole Regiment or a Battery as the case may be...

Here we were a new Regiment which had never until this morning heard an enemy's gun fire thrown into this hell of battle -- without warning... The enemy opened on us with artillery at close range using grape, canister and shell and all manner of deadly missiles. Above the roar of the guns could be heard the cheers of our men as they gained new ground. At last we could see the enemy and they were advancing around our left flank and the woods seemed alive with gray coats and their victorious cheer and unearthly yells and the concentrated fire which they had upon us caused somebody to give the order for retreat. The word was passed along -- and we went off that bloody ground in great confusion and had to fall back over the same open ground by which we came.

As we started down the Ravine a wounded rebel caught me by the leg as I was passing and looking up at me said, "My friend for God's sake give me a drink of water." He had been shot about the head and was covered with blood to his feet. I at once thought of that command "If thine enemy thirst give him drink" and I halted and tried to get my canteen from under my accouterments -- but I could not and pulled away from him and said "I have not time to help you..."

We were massed upon the surrounding bluffs about the [Pittsburg] Landing. General Grant and General Buell rode along the line and urged every man to stand firm as we should have thousands of reenforcements in a short time and pointed to the opposite side of the river where we could see a long line of blue coats as far as the eye could reach -- and that was Buell's army. This sight was all that saved Grant's Army. No promises or words could have inspired men on this desperate occasion. Every man who stood in that crumbling wall felt the great responsibility. To give way then would be destruction to the whole Army...

At last! At last!... the glad news came that the enemy was retreating. No shipwrecked sailors on a desert island, famished and ready to die, ever hailed a passing vessel with more delight and joy than every one on the Union side hailed that glad news. Men mortally wounded jumped upon their feet and shouted for Victory! Every coward who had slunk under the river bank was out of his hole. There had not been so many men wanting to go to the front since the battle began....

Two or three of us took a little ramble out on the field... We took a look at the ghastly sights.... I saw five dead Confederates all killed by one six pound solid shot -- no doubt from one of our cannon. They had been behind a log and all in a row. The ball had raked them as they crouched behind the log (no doubt firing at our men). One of them had his head taken off. One had been struck at the right shoulder and his chest lay open. One had been cut in two at the bowels and nothing held the carcass together but the spine. One had been hit at the thighs and the legs were torn from the body. The fifth and last one was piled up into a mass of skull, arms, some toes and the remains of a butternut suit....

Ambulances and men are hurrying over the field and gathering up the wounded. The surgeons are cutting off the arms and legs. Burying parties and details are out burying the dead this evening... The terrible rain of last night has filled the ground with water... The trees are just bursting into leaf and the little flowers are covering the ground -- but their fragrance is lost in the pall of death which has settled down on this bloody field.

"This is the valley and the shadow of death."

Excerpt from:
Throne, Mildred, ed. The Civil War Diary of Cyrus F. Boyd. Fifteenth Iowa Infantry, 1861-1863.

The State Historical Society of Iowa, 1976. Reprint, Millwood, NY: Kraus Reprint Co., 1977.

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Henry Morton Stanley: A Confederate Soldier at Shiloh

He was possibly the nineteenth century's most famous foreign correspondent. Henry Morton Stanley would enter the history books as the man who, in 1871, found Dr. David Livingstone, the missionary and explorer who had disappeared in central Africa while searching for the headwaters of the Nile River.

Stanley's entire life was a series of hair-raising adventures, though, and one of his first was at Shiloh, when he was just 21 years old. He had volunteered with the 6th Arkansas regiment, a group of Confederate soldiers who called themselves the "Dixie Greys." He remembered the battle of Shiloh in his autobiography:

Day broke with every promise of a fine day. Next to me, on my right, was a boy of seventeen, Henry Parker. I remember it because, while we stood-at-ease, he drew my attention to some violets at his feet, and said, "It would be a good idea to put a few in my cap. Perhaps the Yanks won't shoot me if they see me wearing such flowers, for they are a sign of peace." "Capital," said I, "I will do the same." We plucked a bunch, and arranged the violets in our caps. The men in the ranks laughed at our proceedings, and had not the enemy been so near, their merry mood might have been communicated to the army.

We loaded our muskets, and arranged our cartridge-pouches ready for use. Our weapons were the obsolete flint-locks, and the ammunition was rolled in cartridge-paper, which contained powder, a round ball, and three buckshot. When we loaded we had to tear the paper with our teeth, empty a little powder into the pan, lock it, empty the rest of the powder into the barrel, press paper and ball into the muzzle, and ram home. Then the Orderly-sergeant called the roll, and we knew that the Dixie Greys were present to a man. Soon after, there was a commotion, and we dressed up smartly. A young Aide galloped along our front, gave some instructions to the Brigadier Hindman, who confided the same to his Colonels, and presently we swayed forward in line, with shouldered arms...

The world seemed bursting into fragments. Cannon and musket, shell and bullet, lent their several intensities to the distracting uproar... I likened the cannon, with their deep bass, to the roaring of a great heard of lions; the ripping, cracking musketry, to the incessant yapping of terriers; the windy whisk of shells, and zipping minie bullets, to the swoop of eagles, and the buzz of angry wasps. All the opposing armies of Grey and Blue fiercely blazed at each other.

After being exposed for a few seconds to this dreadful downpour, we heard the order to "Lie down, men, and continue your firing!" Before me was a prostrate tree, about fifteen inches in diameter, with a narrow strip of light between it and the ground. Behind this shelter a dozen of us flung ourselves. The security it appeared to offer restored me to my individuality. We could fight, and think, and observe, better than out in the open. But it was a terrible period! How the cannon bellowed, and their shells plunged and bounded, and flew with screeching hisses over us! Their sharp rending explosions and hurtling fragments made us shrink and cower, despite our utmost efforts to be cool and collected. I marvelled as I heard the unintermitting patter, snip, thud, and hum of the bullets, how anyone could live under this raining death. I could hear the balls beating a merciless tattoo on the outer surface of the log, pinging vivaciously as they flew off at a tangent from it, and thudding into something or other, at the rate of a hundred a second. One, here and there, found its way under the log, and buried itself in a comrade's body. One man raised his chest, as if to yawn, and jostled me. I turned to him, and saw that a bullet has gored his whole face, and penetrated into his chest. Another ball struck a man a deadly rap on the head, and he turned on his back and showed his ghastly white face to the sky...

Dead bodies, wounded men writhing in agony, and assuming every distressful attitude, were frequent sights... As for myself, I had only one wish, and that was for repose. The long-continued excitement, the successive tautening and relaxing of the nerves, the quenchless thirst, made more intense by the fumes of sulphurous powder, and the caking grime on the lips, caused by tearing the paper cartridges, and a ravening hunger, all combined, had reduced me to a walking automaton, and I earnestly wished that night would come, and stop all further effort.

Excerpt from: Sir Henry Morton Stanley, Confederate. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2000. Hughes Jr., Nathaniel Cheairs, ed.

[thea_447]

Confederate soldier J.C. Morris to his wife, Amanda:

May 10th 1863.

My Dear Amanda,

It has been a long time since I had an opportunity of writing to you, and I gladly avail myself of the present opportunity. I am not certain that I will have a chance of sending this but I will write a few lines any how and try and get it off to let you know that I am among the living.

We have been on a raid into Ms. but I have not time to give you the particulars of our trip. I will write in a few days if I can get a chance to send it and write you a long one. I just came off of picket and found the boys all writing to send by a man that has been discharged who is going to start home this morning. I was quite sick three or four days while in Mo. but have entirely recovered. We captured a good many prisoners while in Mo. We went up as high as Jackson 8 or 10 miles above Cape Girardeau. We fought them nearly all day at the Cape on Sunday two weeks ago today. The yanks boasted that we would never get back to Ark but they were badly mistaken, for we are back again and have sustained but very light loss, we never lost a man out of our company and only one or two out of the regt. I wish I had time to give you a full description of our trip. It would be very interesting to you I know; but you will have to put up with this little scrawl for the present. I am in hopes that I will get a whole package of letters from you in a few days. I never wanted to see you half as bad in all my life as I do now. I would give anything in the world to see you and the children. I have no idea when I will have that pleasure. We can't get any news here - do not know what is going on in the outside world. The boys will all write as soon as they get a chance to send them off.

We will remain in this vicinity, I expect for some time to recruit our horses. Our horses are sadly worsted. We found plenty to eat and to feed our horses on in Mo but hardly even had time to feed or eat as we traveled almost insesantly night and day. We could get any amount of bacon of the very best kind at 10 cts and every thing else in proportion.

I must close for fear I do not get to send my letter off. Write offten I will get them some time. I will write every chance, do not be uneasy when you do not get letters, for when we are scouting around as we have been it is impossible to write or to send them off if we did write. Give my love to the old Lady and all the friends. My love and a thousand kisses to my own sweet Amanda and our little boys. How my heart yearns for thou that are so near and dear to me. Goodbye my own sweet wife, for the present. Direct to Little Rock as ---.

As ever your devoted and loving Husband, J.C. Morris.

Mrs. A.N. Morris.