This diary was kept by Samuel Brown Beatty (1818-1863) of Co. E, 57th Pennsylvania Infantry. Samuel was 44 years old when he enlisted as a private in October 1861. At the time of his enlistment, he was described as a 5 foot 11 inch tall shoemaker with dark eye color and black hair. When he joined his comrades in arms, he left a wife—Susan M. (Walker) Beatty (1823-1899) and at least eight children in Delaware Grove, Mercer county, Pennsylvania. Samuel’s parents were Francis G. Beatty (1789-1872) and Isabella Williamson (1792-1879). 

Also serving in the war was Samuel’s oldest son, David “Walker” Beatty (1844-1863)—a member of Co. K, 63rd Pennsylvania Infantry. David’s letters to his mother may be found at the following URL—1861-62: David Walker Beatty to Susan (Walker) Beatty.

An extremely pious man, Samuel often urged his wife to pray for him such as the following passage: “Now I want you to always remember me in your prayers that I may not falter in well doing and that I may be preserved from evil and sin of every kind. That I may be prepared to stand my lot and always be found at my post let that be what it may.” Tragically, Samuel never returned home from the war. He died at the Union Hotel Hospital in Georgetown on 18 January 1863 from wounds that he received in action at the Battle of Fredericksburg on 13 December 1862. Likewise, Samuel’s son Walker died in a Georgetown hospital less than a month later on 7 February 1863 and was interred at the Soldier’s Home Cemetery (Grave 3344).

To read the letters Samuel wrote to his wife, see—1861-62: Samuel Brown Beatty to Susan (Walker) Beatty.

To read the letters written by Samuel’s son, see—1861-62: David Walker Beatty to Susan (Walker) Beatty.

Transcription

Arlington Heights, Virginia

September 14th 1862—Sabbath. It is a fine morning. All is quiet. There is no stir. I am on guard and feel well. There was an order read on dress parade last evening that caused some murmuring from some of the men. It was about stragglers on the march. It seemed a little hard but I think it was all right.

September 15th—Monday. All is quiet in our locality. I am well. Came off guard, cleaned up in from our quarters and moved our tents. Had brigade drill. Got orders after dark to march. Marched five miles and bivouacked for the night. All well and in good spirits.

September 16th—Tuesday. On the march at four. I am well and feel in good spirits. Marched six miles without stopping. It went hard. We stopped at seven. Good news. Lay two hours at Tenleytown . On the march again and went through Rockville two miles. Camped for the night.

September 17th—Wednesday. Up at five. It rained last night. On the march, it is muddy and it is hard marching. Went through Poolesville two miles and camped for the night. Saw no Rebs yet. I am well and in good spirits.

September 18th—Thursday. Up and got breakfast for a march at seven. Did not march till near noon. Marched to the Potomac near Balls Bluff. Camped for the night.

September 19th—Friday. Still at the river doing nothing today. I am well and feel stiff and my feet and legs are very much swelled and I can hardly walk.

September 20th—Saturday. I am well and it is pleasant . Went on picket this afternoon. It is a pleasant place to do duty. There is no danger, My feet and legs are better.

September 21st—Sabbath morning. Still on picket. It does not seem much like the Sabbath. I am well and feel thankful.

September 22—Monday. All quiet. I am well and in good spirits. Company drill. In the evening regimental drill. Nothing else of interest.

September 23rd—Tuesday. It is a very pleasant [morning]. Rain in the afternoon. All is moving on in the same quiet way. We are doing nothing but picket and drill.

September 24th—Wednesday. It is fair and warm. Nothing of interest today. Moved our camp today. Nothing else.

September 25th—Thursday. The same monotony of camp life. Officer drill, the squad drill, the officer, then company drill. At three, regimental [drill].

September 26th—Friday. I am well and in good spirits. The same drill as yesterday. Nothing new or interesting.

September 27th—Saturday. Drill in the forenoon. No regimental drill this afternoon, I am well.

September 28th—Sabbath. Had inspection as usual, then preaching in the evening. Prayer meeting. We had a very nice time of it. I am well and feel thankful to God for His goodness and mercy to me thus far and I still am willing to trust Him.

September 29th—Monday. Still in the same camp. All quiet. The same drill as usual. I am well.

September 30th—Tuesday. We are all well in the same camp. Nothing new today.

October 1, 1862—Wednesday. It looks like rain this morning. Cleared about noon. The usual drill. Got orders to be ready to march at any time. Went to bed and slept all night.

October 2nd—Thursday. The usual morning drill at ten and a half o’clock. Started for Leesburg. Waded the Potomac for the first time and went on to Leesburg and saw no Rebs.

October 3rd—Friday. All is quiet. The usual drill. I am well. Feel nothing the worse of the wade.

October 4th—Saturday. It is still today. The usual morning drill. On guard this afternoon. Rain this evening. It has been very dry here this summer. The farmers say it has not rained any worth naming for four months.

October 5th—Sabbath morning. It is quite cool and fresh. I am well. We had preaching at ten. Had a very good sermon.

October 6th—Monday. I am not very well. Not on duty today. Not much going on.

October 7th—Tuesday. Got the ague. Feel bad. Not on duty. All is quiet. Nothing of interest.

• For those unfamiliar with the word “ague,” it was the early-day name for what we now know as malaria. It is marked by paroxysms of chills, fever, and sweating that recur at regular intervals which were called “shakes.”

October 8th—Wednesday. Still sick. All is quiet. I had a shake today and feel bad.

October 9th—Thursday. All as usual. On drill. I am still off duty. Col. Campbell came back this evening.

October 10th—Friday. It rained some today. It is quite cold. Nothing of interest.

October 11th—Saturday. Drew soft bread today. I am some better. Got orders to march this evening. Marched out to Poolesville. Camped for the balance of the night.

October 12th—Sabbath morning. Up and got breakfast. Got orders to fall in on the march at ten. Marched out on pursuit of some Rebel cavalry. Tramped around all day but did not see any. Got back to Poolesville about 12 at night. It rains. We lie down without shelter for the night. It was a hard day for me.

October 13th—Monday. Fixed up our quarters today. It is still wet and cold. Nothing of interest. I am better.

October 14th—Tuesday. Still in the same place. I am well today. Drill as usual. Nothing of special interest.

October 15th—Wednesday. The same monotony of camp life. I am well, thanks to God for His mercies to me.

October 16th—Thursday. We are in the same camp yet and the usual drill. I am well. Nothing of interest.

October 17th—Friday. Got orders to be ready for a march at any minute. Did not go. I am well.

October 18th—Saturday. At 9 the assembly was sounded and ordered to pack up for a march. On the march. Marched about four miles and camped for the night.

October 19th—Sabbath. In the same place. Had preaching. It looks like rain. Had prayer meeting in the evening.

October 20th—Monday. Went on picket this morning along the Potomac. Nothing new but an invention to grind corn to make mush. We took old plates and pushed holes in the bottom and made first rate meal.

October 21st—Tuesday. Still on picket at the same place. Our men killed two hogs last night but I got none. Nothing of interest. All is quiet.

October 22nd—Wednesday. I went to camp this morning and fixed up our tents again. We can soon pitch tents now, we have done it so often.

October 23rd—Thursday. There is nothing worthy of note except Brigade drill.

October 24th—Friday. All is quiet along the line. We have the usual drill. I am on guard today.

October 25th—Saturday. Still at the same camp. There was one of our company went home to recruit. Nothing else of interest.

October 26th—Sabbath. This is the day the Lord has made. He calls the house His own but it does not seem much like it here. Eleven, raining this morning and we had no inspection nor preaching.

October 27th—Monday. We had orders to be ready to cross the Potomac this morning but it rained and stormed so the order was countermanded and we are still in the old camp yet.

October 28th—Tuesday. Got orders to be ready to move at daylight. All ready but no orders to move came. At nine, we are still in camp. Started on the march at 11 o’clock. Went down to the Potomac and waded it the second time. The water was very cold. We got across without any accident. Marched about one mile and camped for dinner. All is quiet yet. Stayed all night.

October 29th—Wednesday. Short of rations. Still in the same camp yet. The muster rolls came today. On guard today. Got rations today. Nothing else of note.

October 30th—Thursday. Still in the same place yet. All is quiet yet nothing new or of interest.

October 31st—Friday. Mustered for pay this morning at seven. Then packed up for a march. Lat round till twelve. Marched to Leesburg. Went on picket about three miles beyond. I was very tired. Lay down and sleep very well.

November 1, 1862—Saturday. All is quiet along the line. I am well. Still on picket. Got orders to be ready for a march. There is heavy firing to the southwest. Lay all day under arms this evening. Marched some twelve miles. Passed through Mt. Gilead about three miles and stopped for the night.

November 3rd—Monday. Moved about one mile and pitched tents. Got orders to move. Started about nine at night and marched about eight or ten miles, then bivouacked for the night.

November 4th—Tuesday. Moved on about three miles and stopped till the next morning. The Brigade foraged fresh meat and everything that they wanted.

November 5th—Wednesday. Started on the march at nine for Manassas Gap. Went through Middleborough and White Plains and on through Salem about one mile and camped fr the night. It is cold and disagreeable. Met no enemy yet but it is said that we [are] within five miles of them.

November 6th—Thursday morning. All is quiet. I am well but my feet and legs are sore marching. We are about one mile from Salem. Got orders to march towards Warrenton. Up one hill and down another. Nothing of interest.

November 7th—Friday. On the march at seven. Went about five miles and camped. It snowed for the first time this fall. It was pretty cold in our little tents.

November 8th—Saturday morning. It is still cold. Moved about one-quarter of a mile and camped for the night. It is a very rough country here. I am well and have reason to be thankful.

November 9th—Sabbath. It is still cold at night but pleasant today. We had inspection and preaching. All is quiet. I am well.

November 10th—Monday. Still in the same camp. Short of rations but we are in hopes of getting some before we get very hungry. The rations came at noon. Got orders to pack up for a move. Started, crossed a branch of the Rappahannock about two miles and camped for the night.

November 11th—Tuesday. It is clear and cold. All is quiet. I am well. [My son] Walker came to see me and gave me a shirt. Still in the same place yet but I do not think we will stay long. Have nothing of interest.

November 12th—Wednesday. There is a move on foot this morning. It looks like a backward movement. The cavalry is all going back and we are all ready for a move somewhere. Went back across the Rappahannock to our old camp.

November 13th—Thursday. I am well. Went to Warrenton today with the teams to get forage but got none. It has been quite a nice town but it looks rather desolate now of everybody but soldiers and teams. It shows plainly the ravages of war.

November 14th—Friday. In camp today doing nothing. I am well as usual. There is nothing new or interesting.

November 15th—Saturday. Got orders to pack up for a move. Already. Moved about half a mile and camped for the night.

November 16th—Sabbath morning. It is rather cold but we are used to all kinds of weather. Got orders to be ready to march at half past eight. All ready and on the march. Went past Warrenton about two miles and camped for the night.

November 17th—Monday. On picket this morning. Ordered at five and a half o’clock to march. Lay around till eleven. It is raining this morning on this march. Went about six miles and camped for the night. We passed through Unionville.

November 18th—Tuesday. The bugle blew for roll call at three. Up and got breakfast at four. All ready for a march. Lay around till about nine, then started . It is raining and the roads are slippery. Went through Morrisville and camped for the night. Nothing of interest. No enemy.

November 19th—Wednesday. Up at three again but did not start till about nine. The road is some muddy. Marched about six miles. I am well. Nothing new. We are about twenty miles from Fredericksburg. It rained today. Camped for the night.

November 20th—Thursday. It is still wet. We did not move today. I am well. It is very disagreeable in camp. There is noting of interest.

November 21st—Friday. Still raining. We are in the same camp yet. Had inspection. There is nothing beyond the usual monotony of a wet day in camp.

“There is several of our regiments nearly barefooted and almost destitute of clothing of all kinds but still they are cheerful and willing to do their duty. The most of them have over drawn but are not able to carry them on the long and hard marches and they threw them away.”

— Samuel B. Beatty, 57th Pennsylvania Vols., 22 November 1862

November 22nd—Saturday. Got orders to be ready to march at seven. On the march at eight. There is several of our regiments nearly barefooted and almost destitute of clothing of all kinds but still they are cheerful and willing to do their duty. The most of them have over drawn but are not able to carry them on the long and hard marches and they threw them away. We went on the road towards Fredericksburg till within four miles of Falmouth, then turned to the left and went about nine miles and camped for the night.

November 23rd—Sabbath. We are still in the same place and no sign of moving. Fixed around all day to suit our officers. Got no time for thought or meditation.

November 24th—Monday. I am well. We are in the same camp and are short of rations. Some of our boys think it hard but we got them this evening.

November 25th—Tuesday. All is right at this time. I am in good health. Got no clothes yet. Some of our boys are barefooted and almost naked and no sign of clothing.

November 26th—Wednesday. Still in the same place doing nothing.

November 27th—Thursday. We have plenty of rations now. All in good spirits. Still in the old camp. Had General Review by General Stoneman. Nothing else of note.

November 28th—Friday. Regimental drill at 10. Brigade drill at 2. All is quiet. I am well.

November 29th—Saturday. The same drill as yesterday in the morning. In the afternoon. Nothing of interest. I am still in good health.

November 30th—Sabbath. Regimental inspection by Col. Campbell. Then preaching. I am in good health. Nothing else of interest.

December 1, 1862—Monday. The usual sameness of camp life.

December 2nd—Tuesday. Moved camp today. We have a very nice place now. We have inspection every day at 1 o’clock. Nothing else of interest till the eleventh [when] we broke our camp and marched towards Fredericksburg. At five we were woke up by the boom of the cannon. The bombardment has commenced. It continued at intervals all day. In the evening the town was surrendered to our army and General Sumner made his headquarters in it. Tonight our Division did not cross the [Rappahannock] river but camped in the woods near the railroad. I saw [my son] Walker. He is quite sick.

December 12th—Friday morning. Still in camp. All is quiet. At ten there was some cannonading but no general fight yet.

[no more entries]

The following is a description of the 57th Pennsylvania Volunteers at the Battle of Fredericksburg taken from the regimental history (Chapter VI):

At Warrenton the army encountered the first snowfall of the winter, the morning reveille waking the sleeping host covered with an extra blanket of purest whiteness. Our march to the Rappahannock was without further incident of note. On November 25th we arrived upon the heights overlooking the ancient city of Fredericksburg sleeping in the river valley, beyond which rose Marye’s heights and the range of wooded hills, on whose slopes was marshaled our old foe, interrupting our further advance upon the Confederate capital. Here the army pitched its winter camp. Many of the quarters were built quite substantial and comfortable. The messes of five and six, cut and split the soft pine indigenous to that region, constructing therewith log cabins roofed with their shelter tents. Many of these cabins were fitted up quite tastefully, having open fire places and bunks erected against the walls which were supplied with pillows and mattresses of the resinous pine needles covered with army blankets, making very comfortable beds, at least quite luxurious to men who had enjoyed nothing better than the ground, or the soft side of a plank, for a year past. But from this dream of peace and comfort we were soon to be rudely wakened. In the early twilight of the morning of December 11th, the guards that paced their lonely beats about the silent camps were startled by the sudden boom of a signal gun, its deep reverberations up and down the river valley giving warning to friend and foe that a strife for the possession of yonder steeps was soon to begin. For a moment silence followed this signal and then from the hundred brazen throats of the batteries that lined the crest of the hills on the north side flashed sheets of flame amid deafening roar and scream of shot and shell, that brought every sleeper to his feet. The deep notes of the heavier ordnance, mingled with the rifle crack of the lighter parrotts; the whizzing of shot and screaming shells, the path of the latter marked by burning fuse, presented a scene grand and awe-inspiring beyond description. It was war’s magnificent prelude to the fiercer music of the clash of a hundred thousand muskets to follow. By daylight, camps were broken, knapsacks packed, and marching columns were pouring forward toward the river where the batteries continued to play and pile their smoke in thick banks along the crest of the hills. All day long we sat about our campfires in our dismantled quarters waiting the order to move, but none came and darkness found us replacing our shelters for another night’s rest in our accustomed berths. During the afternoon of the 12th our corps, the 3d, marched to the extreme left of the line and bivouacked for the night in a piece of woodland overlooking the river. The next day, the 13th, we retraced our steps, halting just before noon at a point where we had a magnificent panoramic view of the river, town and field, and down into the valley, where could dimly be seen through the river mists the long lines of blue with flying colors waiting the command to storm the wooded heights beyond. Judged by the character of our movements it looked as though we were to be spectators of the struggle about to open. In the line of battle our place properly would be with Hooker’s grand division, which occupied the center, but instead we were on the extreme left in support of Franklin. In this, however, we were mistaken. About 12 o’clock the bugles sounded and the order to fall in passed along the line, and without further delay the long line of the 3d corps wound down the hill, crossed the river on the lower pontoon bridge and from thence marched directly out upon the plain to the front line of battle. That the hour to strike for the possession of yonder wooded slopes, occupied by the veterans of Jackson, had come was evident to all. From our right came the crash and long roll of musketry, telling us that Hooker was crowding the enemy in his front and we should not long be idle. Soon Randolph’s and other batteries in our front and on our flanks began to feel for the enemy in the woods to our front. As we stood intently watching the effect of the bursting shells a stream of smoke shot out from a clump of trees and brush to our left center, and an instant later a shell whizzed wickedly over our heads. The enemy’s cover was now revealed and on this piece of woodland the fire of every gun in our batteries were concentrated. For a time he replied with vigor, sending shot for shot. The voice of Colonel Campbell rang out above the din: “Lie down.” We waited not a second order, but quickly and closely embraced our mother earth. Soon explosion followed explosion in quick succession within the enemy’s lines. A shot from one of our guns had penetrated one of their caissons and now their own exploding ammunition was doing its deadly work, and silencing their only battery in position to do us immediate harm. Now is the time to charge the heights! The Pennsylvania Reserves are chosen for the hazardous task. In three lines, with arms at a right shoulder shift, they advanced at a quick step. What a magnificent spectacle! Not a man falters, but shoulder to shoulder they move across the plain in perfect alignment. At the railroad in the edge of the woods they encounter the enemy, who pour into their ranks a withering fire. With a cheer they spring forward and press back the foe. Soon they are lost to view amid the scrub pine, their location only known by the curling smoke from their pieces and their cheers as they ascend the hill. Over half way to the summit the second line of the enemy is encountered. Again a galling fire is poured into their faces, but still they cheer and press on. Down in the valley we stand anxiously, but idly watching the now desperate and unequal contest our comrades of the Old Keystone are waging. They are brothers, friends and neighbors to many, if not all of us. A half mile intervenes between them and us. We know we are not in supporting distance. Our impatience overcomes our discipline to wait the word to advance. Shouts are being heard all along the line: “Why are not the Reserves being supported?” We know too keenly that they must yield to the overpowering odds against them unless reinforced at once!

“Battalion, right face, forward, file left, march!” rings out clear from the colonel’s lips. The men are quick to obey, and we move more rapidly to the front. “By company, half wheel! Forward into line on first company!” The movement was executed with alacrity. “Forward, guide right.” We pressed forward with quick step toward the woods from which was now emerging the broken lines of the Reserves, not in panic, but resolutely disputing, as best they could, every step. A drainage ditch from three to four feet deep, grown up in many places with a tangle of briers, extended along our front and parallel with the railroad at the foot of the hills. Into this we were ordered in the hope that by its protection we could stay the enemy’s countercharge. The Reserves were still in our front and to deliver an effective fire was impossible. Orders to fall back were given, but in the din of battle were unheard or unheeded, and many who attempted the retreat were left dead or wounded on the field. The enemy swarmed out of the woods in our front without order or alignment, giving but little heed to the ditch, springing over the heads of its occupants in their mad rush for our batteries. There was not time for the gunners to debate the question of the safety of their comrades in their front if they would save their batteries, and possibly the day to our cause. They poured volley after volley of grape and cannister into the advancing enemy, each discharge mowing great swathes in their ranks. It was more than human flesh could bear and soon they were in full retreat for the cover of the woods, and thus ended, so far as the 57th was concerned, the battle of Fredericksburg. In this short encounter, possibly lasting ten minutes, the losses of the regiment were fearful, considering the number engaged. Out of 316 men in line, 21 were killed, 76 wounded and 78 missing, 54 of whom were prisoners, 55.38 per cent of the whole force engaged! Among the wounded was Colonel Campbell, who fell pierced with three balls; Captain Strohecker, and Surgeon Kennedy. During the 14th the remnant of the regiment acted as provost guard to gather up stragglers until evening, when we were again placed in the front line, where we remained until the night of the 15th. During the 15th a truce was declared for the burial of the dead, and removal of the wounded; the ghastly sequel of the battle that robs it of its glory and drowns the acclaims of the victors in the tears of the widowed and sobs of the orphans. During the night of the 15th our army withdrew to the north side of the river, leaving the Confederates the practical victors on the fiercely contested field. The 57th, with shattered ranks, reoccupied its old quarters, the empty tents and broken messes being sad reminders of the horrors of war, and the uncertainty of the soldier’s term of life. Thus closed the second year of the war, and the first of service of the 57th regiment for the preservation of the Union, amid scenes of discomfiture, defeat and gloom.