My passion is studying American history leading up to & including the Civil War. I particularly enjoy reading, transcribing & researching primary sources such as letters and diaries.
I could not identify the author of this letter whose name appears to read “William Mawhorr.” He gives his location as Taylor’s Station which was a whistle stop on the railroad east of Columbus, Ohio—just east of the present day Columbus International Airport. William’s letter beseeches the US Military to send him some word of his son Joseph, having not heard from him in 15 months. William states his believe that Joseph was serving in the 6th US Cavalry, Co. C.
I do not have access to a roster to enable me to check for Joseph so for now, Joseph and his father will remain identified in name only.
Transcription
Taylor’s Station June 15th 1863
Dear Sir,
I request of you to let me know if you can find any tidings of Joseph Mawhorr, Co. C, 6th U. S. Cavalry. Please, sir, investigate about him as we as you can. He is my son and I am trouble mind about him because I cannot find out whether he is dead or alive. The last account I got from him was last March a year ago. Then he was in Washington.
Please, after trying to find him out, in a few days write to me and direct to Wm. Hawhorr, Blacklick P. O., Franklin county, Ohio
The following letter was written by Isaac Smedley (1838-1867), the eldest son of Jeffrey Smedley (1810-1861) and Catherine W. Denny (1802-1877) of Willistown, Chester county, Pennsylvania. Isaac was 23 years-old when he was mustered into Co. C, 97th Pennsylvania Infantry on 11 September 1861. He was quickly appointed 1st Sergeant of his company and was commissioned at 2nd Lieutenant on 19 February 1862. He was discharged for disability on 9 March 1863, at Seabrook Island, South Carolina. Unmarried, he sadly died of consumption (tuberculosis) on 12 February 1867 at the young age of 28 and was buried in Willistown Friends Cemetery, Chester, Delaware Co.
In his letter, Isaac describes the expedition led by Flag Officer Samuel Du Pont to take Fernandina, Florida—a railroad connected port city of some importance near the border with Georgia. With limited resources at hand in early 1862, the Confederates strengthened Savannah and Charleston and all but abandoned the lesser ports like Fernandina which was guarded by Fort Clinch. When an escaped slave informed DuPont that Fernandina was only lightly defended, he took the city with little or no resistance. The 97th Pennsylvania was part of that expedition and remained in Fernandina from March 5th until March 24th, when they moved to Jacksonville. Isaac suggests that the few rebels that guarded Fernandina were duped into not firing on the Union fleet because they approached the city under French colors but I have not been able to verify this under any other account.
This image showing Union troops marching down Second Street in Fernandina, was published on March 4, 1862. On March 3, the Union fleet had arrived and exchanged fire with the Confederates, who were abandoning Fort Clinch.
Fernandina, [Florida] March 14, 1862
Dear Ed,
Your letter dated February 2nd did not reach me direct as it should or I would have answered ere this but you do not know how a letter is appreciated when received by friends so near home. It is the only way we can hear from that source and I am ever ready and on hand to answer promptly as possible. You no doubt think I am negligent but it is not the case. I have now several letters to go and a mail may not leave here for a week or perhaps two.
The 21st of January, we left Hilton Head for a few days only we thought. Near two months have elapsed since that time and we have seen many changes and some little hardships. We have lost four men since I last wrote to you, but am happy to say that I only had five men to report at the Doctor’s this morning, so you see the health of the company is good. As for me, I am in excellent health, having completely recovered of the measles sufficient to attend to my business which is no trifling task, but have a little of the work taken from me by taking the letters O. S. [Orderly Sergeant] from the rear of my name and affixing Lieut. to the front. I expect a commission from Gov. Curtin by the next mail. Your friend Harry and myself have a marque to ourselves, and I tell you we live like fighting cocks. He is at this present time mixing some cakes to cook for supper. He says that you are two or three letters in his debt and would like them to be forthcoming.
In your last letter you ask if there is anything between that young lady of West Chester and myself. I would just simply say and answer fairly that you are perfectly willing, if she is, welcome to give her your attention, but expect you to surrender on my return from the army.
I cannot say how long we are to stay at this place but think we will not move soon unless we are compelled to by the Rebels and they do not seem to fancy our warlike appearance or they would not have forsaken this town without shedding blood. I was told their force here was six thousand while ours was not more than one half the number. Had they have been armed as well as we are, they could have stopped twenty thousand from entering the town. One mile north of the town is the entrance from the ocean by a channel not more than two hundred yards wide. At the mouth of this channel is a fort of no little strength, built of brick, and mounts near fifty guns of the heaviest caliber, besides smaller ones. They had great advantages at this place, as our gun boats had to go so close before doing any execution, and besides the channel was so narrow that no two boats could get in at once. But the real fact is they will not stand fire. It would have done you good to have seen us coming down the stream.
When we got in sight of a few houses, the boys were all on deck watching and looking for something to do. We did not know at this time whether there would be any resistance or not. We kind of drawed the wool over their eyes at one time by showing false colors. It appears—from what the niggers say here—that the Rebels have been looking for a month back the arrival of a French vessel to ship some cotton to that country and by arrangements of Commodore DuPont, all vessels kept in the rear, except the one he was on, and that one ventured in under French colors. This the Rebels thought was bully for them, so they sent a Colonel and a few men in a small boat to meet the Commodore. He then stopped his boat, allowed them to get aboard, and after telling them they were prisoners, deposited them below for safe keeping and immediately hoisted the flag of our Union. This I consider was a pretty nice affair, but we had one great disadvantage to contend with, which was the low tide of waters, the channel being so narrow that the large vessels which carried the transports could not get in which gave the Rebels time enough to leave the town and take everything with them of any value. The only capture we made of any importance was a pleasure boat. It would have made its escape had it not have been for a shell fired after it, warning it of the danger of attempting to pass one of those Kill Devils, as the Rebels call them and dread so much.
I have just come in from drill and will attempt to finish this letter before dress parade. Lieut. Griffith has been unwell ever since we came here, which throws the company in my charge. I have had no time to go into town since I came here, only a few minutes at a time. I want to as soon as Lieut. Griffith is able to command the company, to take a good look over it and see a little over the country. It has been a splendid place and from the style of the houses, there must have been an aristocratic set of inhabitants therein. The town is about the size of West Chester. Our place of encampment is south of it about a hundred yards alongside of a park.
The papers you speak of we get a goodly number of them from you and peruse them with interest. Accept my sincere thanks for paper, pen, and ink which Harry shared with me and will try to remunerate you in some future time. Hoping to hear from you soon, and if this letter has not tired you, please answer.
I am truly your friend, — Isaac Smedley, O.S., Co. C, 97th Regt. P. V.
The following letters were written by William Newell Brainard (1823-1894), the son of Jonathan Brainard (1794-1856) and Sarah Gage (1797-1867 of De Ruyter, New York. William went to California as a gold seeker in 1850. He mined on the North Fork of the American River and then went to Sacramento where he engaged in the produce commission business with Morehouse. While there, he was elected city treasurer. He returned to Chicago in the spring of 1858 and engaged in the grain trade.
William wrote the letters to Ransom Morehouse (b. 1827) who, with his brother William Henry Morehouse (1832-1901) were partners with Brainard in the firm Morehouse & Brainard. The Morehouse brothers were from Kane county, Illinois.
William was married to Melinda B. Coley (1826-1908) on 3 May 1853 in Syracuse, New York. The couple had at least three children—Hattie Belle Brainard (1855-1855), William Vallejo Brainard (1857-1886), and Frances Marion Brainard (1863-1894).
Dear Morehouse, after I wrote you last, I made my way to Berkshire P. O., went to St. Charles, hired a team to carry me over to your father’s, passed him on the way—he was going to St. Charles—did not know him—he got there and found I had gone over & turned about & went home & found me there. I saw the old Elder before I got to your father’s—found your folks very well & very glad to see me—delivered your letters & Dogtype [daguerreotype]. I staid all night & your father took me to Elgin. I expected to find George Hawley there but he has sow pigged I guess for I have not heard from him. Spence came on first alone and attend our headquarters from Rock Island to this place as it was better for our purposes. Triune Adams has also failed in coming forward. We were very fortunate in getting my brother-in-law to go. I had rather have him than 4 like then although they are clever boys.
We have taken an old partner of Spencer’s in who used to ranch with him on the Sacramento whose name is Head & a blood fellow. We are getting traps and things together as fast as possible and five wagons including one 4-horse wagon. All kinds of stock is damned high—from 50 to 75 percent higher than last year & next it will be still higher.
The company have bought 7 horses costing about $120 each and rousing horses too. I have also bought a dray horse for our own use & going over on our own hook. He is a buster—17 hands high, coal black, and weighs 1500. He will take down anything in California. He is green as grass. I bought him of the man who raised him. 6 years old. I paid $150 & I could sell him in Chicago, I’ll bet, for $300. [Lewis W.] Walker 1 has on his own hook a French mare for his wife to ride. Spencer’s wife is on the ground all right.
We mean to leave here April 4th. We have about all our work oxen bought. We calculate on 16 yoke cattle. 4 wagons & 4 yoke to each wagon. We have also some cows bought up and the boys all out now buying. I have just come in town—have been out buying. Good cows will cost us on an average $20 & cattle for yoke $75. We shall start and buy along the road till the money gives out.
Your father paid me $275 & I wrote him to send me the balance he could make out to this place for as George has failed me, we cannot operate any up in Kane county & did not see Bill Smith. I sent and to him but he did not come up & did not see John McClelland & told your father about his & George’s affairs. I saw Ed Hucley. His father was away. I had quite a visit with the old Elder. He is all right. I was in a devil of a hurry when I was there, having learned that George & Lum were missing—and it was high time something was done. We shall be bothered for men some, I expect, for I understand that on the lines at Council Bluff their drovers are hiring men to go. There are not a great many single men going to California this spring. Last winter’s news gave them a damper all over this country, but I am in hopes we can get along on that score.
After I started for this place on the cars from Syracuse, that night we ran into a freight train & smashed everything up. I stove my head into the back of a car seat & my head looked as if I had had a little turn. The next night a train of cars ran off at a switch behind us & turned the engine bottom side up, thrower the engine and fireman 3 rods over a fence about half dead. I was sick of railroading & was delayed 4 days on the road by accidents before I landed at Peoria. My brother-in-law and sister came on ahead of me two days and laid over for me in Chicago. They are also on the ground. I have taken him in company with us & our investments will be about or over $5,500. Spence $900, Head $1600, making $8,000, and I am in hopes to get up a respectable train.
I will write you by next mail if possible but I shall be very busy and have hardly time to write this. I have not fully made up my mind about women yet. I may take one back & I may not. I have no time to think it now. Give my regards to the boys. Yours very hasty, — W. N. Brainard
You must not write to me after the middle of April for I mean to leave N. Y. for California 5th of June. Write to me to Panama.
1 Lewis W. Walker (b. 1825) was married to Lydia Jane Brainard (b. 1826). The couple made it to California on the overland trail in the summer of 1853 and Lewis took a farm in Petaluma.
Letter 2
Dowagiac, Michigan April 14, 1853
R. Morehouse, Esq. Sacramento, California
Dear Morehouse, I have got so far on my way back to New York and stopped here a few days to see some of my friends and am now waiting for the cars to come along and thus shall continue my way back home, and thought I would write you now for I don’t know when I shall have the opportunity to do so & get the letter in the mail that leaves New York the 20th inst. and I don’t know that this will be in but hope so.
Well, to commence where I left off in my last, we—the “New York California Co.” left Peoria April 4th with the 4 ox wagons & one 4-horse wagon, got in our loose stock about there & went over to Farmington & collected in the next day what I had bought about there and went on toward Burlington, Iowa. April 9th we crossed the Mississippi with 170 cows and heifers and steer, some 20 yoke of oxen, 7 horses belonging to the company, one of our own, one more belonging to my brother-in-law, and myself for my sister to ride, and 20 other horse belonging to two men in the train making 11 horses in all. The outfit was all about the wagons excepting flour, sugar, and bacon which they are to take in at Council Bluffs. And we have got O entire to say as good a lot of stock as will start this year from the states. I had rather have our 200 or more head than double the number of any stock I have seen start. The company consists of Spencer, Head & Walker with Spencer’s wife and my sister and 12 men besides. Some of the men paid in $50, some less, and some nothing, and are good men, I guess, as can generally be got together. The capital stock included is $7825 and I have invested on our account $4250, besides the dray horse and charges on him for shoeing & keeping him $160 and my expense going out and back will be not far from $100.
I left the company Burlington & they had some $1500 left for expenses & to invest in stock in trade across the plains or otherwise as needed and that will make as large a drove as is well to drive in one company. I did not go to your father’s on my way back for my time would not admit of it. Just before I started I had a letter from your father & one from George Hawley who had got out there but he was sick and of no account as to going across the plains. I got only the $275 of your money at home. Your father wrote me that he could not collect in the rest and it is just as well.
I have pledged the boys that you will meet them on the desert & you must if I should be cast away or go down to the bottom on my way back. I wish you would make some suitable enquiries as to where we can drive the stock after we get there into California. Perhaps we can make some arrangements with Jim & Alex McCane to drive them onto their ranch and I should like to have Alex or Jim go over to Carson Valley with you and buy stock in company & meet our train. Broach the matter to them in time for them to prepare for it and also as regards our business there.
You have as yet not wrote me how you are doing or how much or hoe much trade you have been having & I can form no idea about it & can’t advice. I have received your letter up to February 14. I think you had best try on [ ] as to the probability of hiring out lot for another year after our lease expires. When I was at New York I could not find Wortham.
Well, Morehouse, I expect I am stuck for a wife. I have asked a girl and she says she will go it live or die and if all signs don’t fail, I shall sleep with her before you get this letter. I shall of course take her with me & I wish you would prospect a good, quiet boarding place for us. I intend to leave New York June 5th if possible & be there about the 4th of July. Keep matters running as fast as possible for I shall be on hand if I don’t croak.
I have not much more time to write for I expect the cars along soon. I hope to see you “Prev Tempor” & will then tell you more particulars and of accidents by flood & field—matters that I have no time to write about. And I have a budget full to tell you. Give my regards to all the boys and all enquiring friends. I see by the papers that Tom Hendly has got some appointment. Tomorrow morning I expect to be in Detroit & shall drop this letter there, then take the steamboat to Buffalo. I am now on the Michigan Central Railroad. Well, goodbye.
I couldn’t find an image of Isaac in uniform but here is Jehoida Worth of Co. D, 4th Iowa Cavalry.
The following letter was written by Isaac Harry Botkin (1834-1922), the son of Robert C. Botkin (1791-1863) and Rachel Vernon (1796-1841). Isaac was living in Mt. Pleasant, Henry county, Iowa, when he enlisted as a Private in Co. C of the 4th Iowa Cavalry on Oct 15, 1861. He was mustered into federal service on Nov 25, 1861, and appointed as 4th Corporal. During his term of service, Botkin was promoted to 3rd Corporal on Feb 1, 1862; to 2nd Corporal on Feb 25, 1862; to 1st Corporal on Sept 1, 1862; to 6th Sergeant on June 10, 1863; to 2nd Sergeant on Feb 9, 1864; and finally commissioned as the 1st Lieutenant of Co. I of the 4th Iowa Cavalry on Feb 18, 1865.
Isaac’s letter gives us a good description of Brig. Gen. Samuel D. Sturgis’s June 1864 expedition from Memphis down into Mississippi hoping to cut the Mobile & Ohio Railroad and proceed on as far as Mobile, if possible. The expedition was a disaster. Though Isaac claimed they were outnumbered 2:1, Maj. Gen. Nathan B. Forrest with only 3,500 cavalry were successful in turning back Sturgis who had 4,800 infantry and 3,300 cavalry with him—odds that favored the Federal force by nearly 3:1. Sturgis and his men retreated all the way back to Memphis, losing men and military supplies all the way. The fight came to be known as the Battle of Brice’s Cross Roads or the Battle of Guntown.
Several years ago I transcribed the diary of Lot Abraham who served in Co. D of the 4th Iowa. His diary entries for the day of the battle, June 10, and the day after read as follows:
Friday, 10. Moved out early. Went 10 miles & met the Rebels at 11 o’clock A.M. 1st Brigade of Cavalry went in 1st. We went in about noon & there in that thick brush at Brice’s cross roads [we] witnessed sights & heard noises that will never be forgotten. Infantry got cut all to pieces. Had our artillery taken & was in full retreat at sundown. Badly whipped.
June, Saturday, 11, 1864. A ruined army retreated all night. Lost all our train. Abandoned all artillery that was not taken [by the enemy] & could see nothing but confusion & rout. Rebels come up with us at daylight. Four hit hard in Ripley & got routed. They passed us hard, took all the infantry, then we come faster. All I knew how & kept the 1st Battalion together (except Co. A). The boys done well. The Rebels gave up the chase at dark.
Transcription
Memphis, Tennessee June 21st [1864]
Mr. William Lowery
Sir, being anxious to hear from that quarter, I thought I would drop you a few lines. I was reading a speech made by the traitor [Clement] Vallindigham 1 and was surprised to hear of his being back there again [in Ohio]. There is considerable talk in our regiment about it and I think the people of Ohio ought to do something with him immediately. He has come back on no other purpose but to raise another disturbance this fall and I am in hopes some soldier will shoot him. He has done more harm to our cause than Jefferson Davis himself and [I] say let him suffer a traitor’s doom. Well, I close on that subject.
I had a very pleasant trip from there back to the army again. Our regiment did not have a man that stayed over his time. All was prompt to return at their appointed time.
We have been moving ever since we came back into the field. We have just returned from the Expedition under General [Samuel D.] Sturgis. There was about eight thousand troops started from here to cut the Mobile and Ohio Railroad and to drive Forrest out of the country. Well we moved along without being molested until we came within five miles of the railroad where the enemy met us. I suppose they had been preparing for us and the met us in the morning about ten with about two to one. The fight lasted until dark. Our forces was rather worsted and retreated that night. The enemy followed in full force. We lost considerable in wagons and prisoners and some artillery. We fought the enemy all the way back to Memphis.
A. J. Smith is here now and is building the railroad from here to Corinth and is in command of the army and tomorrow we will move on the enemy again in the direction of Tupelo, Mississippi. I suppose you will hear from us soon again. The boys are anxious to give Forrest another fight and I think we will clean him out this time. Our company lost thirteen men killed and wounded—two killed dead, the rest badly wounded. We went into the fight dismounted and stayed there until the retreat was ordered.
I will close by saying do something with Vallandigham. Do not let him raise another fuss this fall.
Give my love to all and if I come back safe this time, I will write again. Yours, — Isaac H. Botkin
Co. C, 4th Iowa Cavalry
1 “During the Civil War he bitterly attacked the administration of President Abraham Lincoln, charging that it was destroying not only the Constitution but civil liberty as well. He also became commander of the secret, antiwar Knights of the Golden Circle (later Sons of Liberty). In 1863 he made vigorous speeches in Ohio against the war and the government and consequently grew to be one of the most suspected and hated men in the North. He was arrested in May by military authorities for expressing treasonable sympathy with the enemy; tried and found guilty by a military commission, he was sentenced to imprisonment. Soon afterward Lincoln commuted his sentence to banishment behind Confederate lines. Bored with exile in the South, Vallandigham made his way to Canada, where he continued his campaign of harassment from across the border. In September 1863 the Ohio Peace Democrats nominated him in absentia for governor, but resounding Union military victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg in July ensured his decisive defeat at the polls. He returned illegally to Ohio in 1864 and took an active part in that year’s election campaign. He also wrote part of the national Democratic platform in which the war was denounced as a failure.”
This letter was written by Charles F. Dewese (1845-1864), the son of John Allison Dewese (1811-1870) and Mary Ann Sloan (1819-1911) of Mecklenburg, North Carolina. Charlie was carried on the muster rolls of Co. K, 56th North Carolina Infantry from 29 February 1864 until 26 June 1864 when he died of chronic diarrhea at Stuart Hospital in Richmond, Virginia. He was in the hospital approximately three weeks.
Charlie had two brothers who also served in Co. K, 56th North Carolina. They were George B. Dewese and Calvin T. Dewese whose letters I have also transcribed on Spared & Shared.
This is the only extant letter he wrote during his brief time in the service. I should note that Charlie’s writing was atrocious so I have significantly corrected the spelling and grammar to make it readable.
Transcription
Drewry’s Bluff, Virginia May 22, 1864
Dear Father,
I will write you a few lines to let you know where I am. I am in Virginia. I am not very well at this time. We left Gaston last Friday evening and we got to Weldon a little while before sundown and then we took the train and went to Petersburg about three o’clock in the morning and we lay down in the street and took a little nap and we got up in the morning and struck out and we marched about ten miles and we found about half of our company and we stopped there and stayed all night.
We lay down to take a nap and soon as we got to sleep, we got orders to fall in and we had to double quick about a mile to the breastworks and we lay in the line of battle till about ten o’clock [when] the Yankees commenced firing at us and they there bombs at us about an hour and we just lay low and there wasn’t any of us hurt. I am living here in the old breastworks yet and the shells is falling around us and bursting and flying every [which] way. I tell you, it is a dreadful sight. I am looking to be killed every minute [but] will trust to the Lord to save me.
They had a big fight here the day before we got here and there was several of our company was wounded. Alfred Washan and B[ranch] A. Washam and Lee Brown was wounded. 1 Tom Cashion and S. R. Andrews weren’t in the fight—they have got the measles. Smiley is in Goldsboro and Tom is in Petersburg.
All of our company is out on picket but two or there. They keep up a continual firing all the time. Old Butler is throwing his shells at them and us all the time. You must excuse this bad writing for I have a poor chance to write. I am lying here in the hot sun and I am about to melt.
The men here is talking about peace is going to be before long. I hope it may end before long but there will be some hard fighting before it is ended, I am afraid. Nothing more at present. I will close by requesting you to write soon and give me the news. Nothing more but remain your affectionate brother till death, — Charlie F. Dewese
1 Charlie is describing the fight on 20 May 1864 at Ware Bottom Church in which eight Confederate brigades under Gen. Pierre G.T. Beauregard attacked Butler’s advance picket lines near Ware Bottom Church. Nearly 10,000 soldiers from both sides clashed in the vicinity of the structure. At the end of the severe fight, over 1,400 men were left either dead or wounded. After the battle, the Confederates constructed the Howlett Line, a series of strong defensive works from the James to the Appomattox River, effectively trapping Butler’s army on the Bermuda Hundred peninsula.
This letter was penned by Thomas R. Smith (1828-1864), a private in Co. E of the 28th North Carolina Infantry. He and his two brothers—Reuben Smith and William D Smith—mustered into the “Montgomery Grays” when the regiment was first organized in June 1861 from their hometown of Troy, North Carolina. According to family oral history the three brothers promised each other that if any survived the war, they would take care of the other’s families. Reuben died of typhoid in September 1862 at a hospital in Lynchburg. Thomas was killed during the battle of Spotsylvania Court House on 12 May 1864 when the regiment lost 4 officers and 84 men.
William was the only brother to survive the fighting and surrender at Appomattox. According to the family history, he kept his promise to his brothers by helping to raise their surviving children. As far as is known, there are no surviving pictures of any of the brothers.
Thomas and his wife, Matilda G. Dallard were married on 9 February 1855 in Montgomery county, North Carolina. In the 1860 US Census, the couple were enumerated in Zion District of that same county where Thomas worked as a “hireling” or day laborer.
The following letter may very well have been the last one Thomas wrote to his wife a few weeks before he was killed.
[Note: This letter is in the possession of Paul Dixon, a descendant 3rd great grandson of Thomas Smith who offered it for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared.]
Transcription
April 17th 1864
My dear wife,
With pleasure I seat myself to inform you that I am well at this time, hoping these few lines may find you well or better. I have been looking for a letter but no letter yet. I do hope you will write as I can’t see you. It is not worth my while to say how nor try for I can’t express it to you but let it suffice to say that I want to see you the worst I ever did. I do hope you will write and give me all the news & tell me what is going on. I am entirely out of anything to write.
O thou who rulest the heavens & earth thou good & gracious God thou who to everything givst birth that walkest on the sod.
To whom we look for every good that upon our head to whom all creation looks for food of whom men asks his bread
Father of every living one of good as well as bad who giving they beloved son So many hearts made glad
We look to thee with upturned eyes Imploring thy great aid convert to smiles those heavy sighs Let all be pleasure made
O grant that while on earth we dwell our days be those of joy may all with us on earth as well with good our hearts employ
And when with earth we come to part fit us for heaven above O cleanse this sinful heart and fill my soul with love
The following letters were written by Calvin T. Dewese (1837-1916), the eldest son of John Allison Dewese (1811-1870) and Mary Ann Sloan (1819-1911) of Mecklenburg, North Carolina. Calvin enlisted on 8 July 1862 in Co. K, 56th North Carolina Infantry. He was with his regiment for most of the war, except for an illness in the fall of 1862. He was taken prisoner at Fort Stedman on 25 March 1865 and confined at Point Lookout, Maryland, until taking the Oath of Allegiance on 4 June 1865.
Calvin was married to Martha Ann Barnett (1840-1906) early in 1862. Together the couple had at least twelve children born between 1862 and 1889. After the war, Calvin returned to farming on Long Creek in Mecklenburg county.
I could not find an image of Calvin but here is one of Neill Beard who served in Co. B, 56th North Carolina Infantry.
Letter 1
Camp Badger Wilmington, North Carolina September 30, 1862
Dear father,
I received your letter last Friday that you wrote the 21st inst. and I was sorry to hear little Johnny was sick. I am very unwell at this time. I was excused from duty yesterday and today I am able to go about yet. I do hope that I will not get past going for I tell you, it is a hard place for sick to get along. It is hard enough for well people to get along let alone the sick. I do hope when these few lines come to hand they may find you all enjoying good health.
I suppose you will hear before you get this letter about the frolic we had with the Yankee bomb shells. We were out on drill when they commenced. They whizzed by us pretty strong for a while. I don’t think there was a shell came closer than a hundred yards. I tell you, they can boom us out of here whenever they get ready but I tell you they don’t want it for it is my belief that they keep up a regular trade at Wilmington as they did before the war commenced. There is a vessel comes in every few weeks. They call it the English steamer but it is nothing but a Yankee vessel. If you will go to Wilmington, you will find it too for every store is full of anything you call for. It is there new and fresh. They have fooled about until they have got the yellow fever in Wilmington about right. If it gets in the army, it will soon put an end to their fighting.
We have a great deal of sickness in camp at this time. It don’t matter what ales a man, he has to take the same medicine & it will be before long they will have nothing to give at all. The medicine they have got now is that old that it is of no account. When a man gets sick here, he just has to wear it off.
I must come to a close as I don’t feel able to write. Tell all the friends and neighbors howdy for me & tell them to write to me & let me know what they are all about. And tell Mother I think she might write to me some time. Tell Sarah & Mag to write to me soon. I would like to get a letter from home every day for I don’t expect to get home until the war is over—if I live—for they will keep a man here when he is of no service to them at all & so I have give up to stay & put up with it the best I can.
So nothing more at present but hope to remain your affectionate son until death. Yours truly, — Calvin T. Dewese
to John A. Dewese
Letter 2
Camp Clingman Goldsboro, North Carolina October 26, 1862
Miss Margaret C. Dewese,
Dear sister, I received a few lines from you that you sent in George’s letter and I was glad to hear from you one time more. I thought I would write you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this time. It is the first time you have ever wrote me a letter with anything yet. It appeared to me like you have forgot me or don’t care, I don’t know which, but I hope you will be better for the time to come. You must consider my condition & sympathize with me in my trouble. You have more chance to write than I have.
There was three of your troublesome conscripts got here at last. They fetched all our things safe. We got a fine mess—all our mess got something…it made a fine pile.
This is a very wet day. We are all huddled up in our tents [paper missing]…I am glad our boys came for this is my week to cook and it saved me doing so for two or three days.
Dear sister, I long for the time to come when we shall have war no more and [we can] return home once more to see our friends and connections. I am truly tired of seeing the way people has to be punished. They can’t get to go home. If a man does happen to get home & stays one minute over his time, he has to carry a log for a week. A private can’t do anything but take care for the officers. They can go home when they please & stay as long as they please. They have got about a dozen of men carrying logs now. There is a time coming, I hope, when we will get out of this place of bondage, when we can be free & do as we please as well as them.
I have not much to write so [I will] come to a close at this time by requesting you to write as soon and as often as you can. Nothing more at present but hope to remain your affectionate brother until death. — Calvin T. Dewese
Letter 3
Rocky Mount Edgecombe county, North Carolina January 7th 1863
Mrs. Mary A. Dewese,
Dear Mother, I now embrace this opportunity of writing you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this tie & hoping when these few lines reach you, the may find you enjoying the same blessing. The company is generally well. B. A. Wartham is gone to the hospital at Petersburg. We left him there as we come from Franklin and I have not heard from him since.
We are expecting an attack here or at Goldsboro. We were the first here. We have been reinforced with three other regiments since we came & expecting more yet. Several regiments has passed by here going to Goldsboro—infantry, artillery, and cavalry. One regiment of cavalry come today. I expect we will have a big fight or a big run, one or the two.
The Yanks is reinforcing at Kinston every day by the thousands. They are determined to take Weldon and Goldsboro. By doing that, they will cut off communication from Richmond. Then they will stick it to us about right. But I hope they may not get there ends accomplished. I long to see the war come to a close some way soon so that I may get home once more and enjoy the blessings of a family fireside. You don’t know how bad I want to see you all. It is awful to think how we have to be parted but I still live in hopes that the scale will turn some day. I shall be satisfied if I only can get home safe and sound so I can enjoy myself when I get there.
Nothing [more] at present. Write soon adn let me know how you are getting along. Give love to all the children. Yours truly, — Calvin T. Dewese
Letter 4
Rocky Mount Edgecombe county, North Carolina January 27th 1863
Mr. John A. Dewese,
Dear father, I take this opportunity of informing you that I am not very well at this time. I have been very unwell ever since the regiment left here. It will be two weeks day after tomorrow since it left here. I heard from them once since they left. They were at L___ville then and I have not heard from them since. I cannot tell where they are now or what they are doing. I suppose they have not got in any fight yet or I would have heard of it before this time. They have had a hard time of it. It has been raining nearly every day since they left here and been very cold too.
I took sick this day was two weeks ago and I was left behind and I am here yet. I been pretty bad off with headache and fever but I am a great deal better now, I have not heard from George. I don’t know whether he is well or not. I told [him] when he left to write to me and let me know how he was getting [on] but he never has done it yet. I can’t tell what is wrong. I expect they will come back before long.
They are looking for another big fight at Fredericksburg. The Yankees is advancing there strongly. I expect they [will] fool about till [they] get us in a fight yet. Paul [Fletcher] Faison wants to get into a fight more than a bull dog. He is our Colonel, if you did not know him by the name of Paul. I can tell [you] he is a particular sad case if you did not know it.
I sent a box of clothing to Charlotte by Express in [care] of John R. Alexander. I wrote him a letter and told him to take it up to his house and let you know so you could get it. Me and George, James Hill, M. D. Alexander, J. C. Bell, Allison Christenbury all has our clothes in it. I suppose it [will] go safe. If it don’t, I will get pay for it. I have got a receipt for it on the railroad company. Nothing more at present. Write soon and let me know how you all are getting along.
Yours truly, — Calvin T. Dewese
To John A. Dewese
Letter 5
Topsail Sound, New Hanover county, North Carolina March 8th 1863
Mr. John A. Dewese,
Dear father I now take the opportunity of writing you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this time & hoping when these few lines comes to hand, they may find you enjoying the same blessings of God. I have not received a letter from you for some time. I have wrote two or three letters to you & the rest of the family & have got no answer as yet. I don’t know what is the matter with the mail that I do not get any letters from none of you. I have not got a letter from none of you in six weeks except from Martha.
There is a large trade going on in Wilmington. I left Rocky Mount 24th of last month & landed in Wilmington 27th & stayed there until the 28th. There was eight steamers there said to be from England. The brought in a large supply of goods of various kinds—a lot of cotton, bacon, calico and many other things to tedious to mention. I know not where they came from but I have my own opinion about where they came from. I think they came from Yankeedom. They have been coming in there ever since the war commenced carrying off cotton by the wholesale. There is no danger of the Yankees taking Wilmington while they keep up trade with them.
Wilmington is made up with nothing but Jews and they keep as fresh stores I ever they did & [ ] while the poor [soldier] gets but $11 a month and living on half rations at that. And they say they are going to reduce our rations to quarter rations. If they do that, I guess, if they do, our [ ] will feel very lank. They say the provisions aren’t too good. If that be the case, I think the war will have to stop before long.
I must close. Nothing [more] at present but remain your affectionate son until death, — Calvin T. Dewese
To John A. Dewese
[in a different hand]
March the 9th, 1863
Dear Father, as Calvin was writing I thought I would write you a few lines as I have a little time this morning. I am well at this time and doing the best I can though it is a poor do. I have become so that I don’t care where I am so I get plenty to eat. I expect when the war ends that we will be used to it, that we can’t come home and we will have to join the regular army to get to stay away from home but they had better not end the war if they don’t want me to go home.
We get six biscuits a day. If we continue to get that much, we won’t starve. Besides that we get a small ration of bacon. We are faring better than we have done for some time though times are hard. I try to do the best I can and always try to look on the bright side of things. We have saw no hard times yet compared with the times that some have had since the war commenced.
I have no particulars to write at this time so I will have to close for this time. Direct to Wilmington, N. C., 56th Regt. N. C. T., Co. K, Gen. Ransom’s Brigade. Write soon. Nothing more.
— G. B. Dewese
Letter 6
Kinston, North Carolina April 17th [1863]
Dear Brother,
It is with pleasure that I seat myself this morning to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this time & I hope when those few lines comes to hand they will find you enjoying the same blessing of good [health].
I have nothing of importance to write [paper torn]…for you that came here yesterday & I thought I would write a few lines & send it to you. We have been under marching orders since yesterday morning but we have not gone yet & I suppose we will not go at this time.
The enemy were advancing but they have gone back. I suppose we will await further orders. The 49th Regiment has gone over the river. William Black has come to the company. He brought me a letter from home. They are all well. I have nothing more to write this time. I want you to write. Get someone to write for you if you are not able & let me know how you are getting along. I hope how soon you may get well and return to the company.
Yours truly, — Calvin T. Dewese
Letter 7
Camp of the 56th N. C. Regiment Troops Ivor Station near Black Water [River] Southhampton county, N. C. June 19th 1863
Mr. D[avid] R[ankin] Alexander, 1
Dear brother [in-law], I take the opportunity of dropping you a few [lines] to inform [you] that I am well & as hearty as I ever was & I trust these lines may find you enjoying the same great blessing of God. I suppose you think that I have forgot to write to you but you need not think hard of me for not writing to you for I have not had time to write. We have been over about [ ] for the last month. I couldn’t get time to do anything.
I have seen some pretty rough times since I left home but nothing to compare with what you have seen though I thought once that I was obliged to be killed or wounded, one or the other. I went across the enemy’s fire [with]in fifty yards of them while they poured one volley after another. The balls flew thick all around me in every direction. I walked a while & run some & crawled som. Any way I would go, it seemed like they would hit me anyhow. But thanks be to Almighty [God], I come through safe & I hope & trust that I may never get into another such a scrape again. If I have to fight, I want them to stay in my front & then I can shoot at them all day if there ain’t but one place to watch. But I can tell you when they get to shooting at my face, and the other end too, both at the same time, I want to get away from there in quick time if there is any chance at all. 2
All is quiet on Black Water. Our brigade is strung along Black Water about 20 miles. we send scouts over the river between here and Suffolk. They gather a few once in a while, killing some & capturing some. There is nothing but scouts a pillaging the country and destroying everything they can. There is not a chicken to be found between here and Suffolk. Our boys that has been out say that the woods is lined with chicken feathers. The reports of today say that they are fighting at Petersburg. I don’t know whether it is true or not. I suppose that the Yanks are determined at two points—that is Fredericksburg and Vicksburg. They was still fighting at Vicksburg the last account I listened to hear of them. They are reinforcing heavily at each point and if they should get Vicksburg, it will sever us [and] I think the war would soon close some way or other.
Well, Rankin, your brother Milas is gone home. Him [and] Henry Starns started last Monday. I suppose they are home by this time. You will be apt to see him before we come back. You must let me know if you think he has changed any since you saw him. I suppose if nothing happens, I will get home in 4 or 6 weeks. There is 7 married men to go yet that came out with the company. I would be glad to get home while you are at home but I will have to go whenever I get the chance. I do wish the thing was settled so we all could go home to stay with our friends where our affection lies is my prayer.
Write soon. Give my love to sister & all my friends. I remain yours truly, — Calvin T. Dewese
To D. Rankin Alexander
1 David Rankin Alexander (1834-1864) was married to Sarah J. Dewese, Calvin’s sister. David served in Co. C, 37th North Carolina Infantry, until he was wounded in 1861 and was reported at home recuperating in the last four months of the year. After he was returned to the regiment he rose in rank to sergeant but was killed in action on 3 May 1864.
2 The fighting Calvin describes in this paragraph refers to the Second Battle of Gum Swamp near Kinston, North Carolina. It was during Maj. Gen. Daniel Hill’s campaign to recapture New Bern in the spring of 1863. It began in late March 1863 when Brig. Gen. Ransom’s brigade was ordered to Kinston to guard the town, and they arrived on April 2nd. The 24th NC Regiment was sent to guard the railroad bridge at Weldon. The 56th NC Regiment was sent to several locations in the vicinity of Trenton, Moseley Creek on the Neuse Road, and to Gum Swamp, where they had a sharp skirmish on April 28th, which was First Gum Swamp. On May 22nd, the 25th NC Regiment and the 56th NC Regiment were surprised and virtually surrounded by five Union regiments at Gum Swamp (Jones County); they were forced to fight their way out or flee into the swamp. More than 160 men of the 56th NC Regiment were captured. It was not a proud moment for the regiment.
Letter 8
[Note: The following letter is actually written to Calvin from his sister Sarah J. (Dewese) Alexander, the wife of David Rankin Alexander of the 37th North Carolina Infantry.]
[Mecklinberg county, North Carolina] August 28, 1863
Dear Brother,
I take my pen in hand this morning to write you a few lines to let you know that we are all well at this time and hope should these few lines reach you, they may find you enjoying the same blessing from Almighty God. I have nothing of importance to write to you. I received your letter last Tuesday and was glad to hear that you were well but sorry to hear that furloughs are stopped again. We have all been looking for you every day for some time but look in vain. I hope that you will get home before long now as you are the next to come. Live in hopes and never despair. I long to see the day when you will get home and the sound of war will cease, never to be heard any more.
Rankin is lying sick in the hospital in Lynchburg. It is nearly two weeks since I heard from him. I cannot tell you how he is now. He is thought to be better the last account. I long to hear from him. If he is sick much longer, I think I will try to go or get someone to go after him. It is hard for us to be separated from our friends in health and it is worse in sickness, but it is the Almighty will and we will have to submit to it. He knows what is best and if we look to Him and put our trust in Him, he will be with us in every time of trouble.
Father’s folks are all well. Martha A. was here a few minutes yesterday evening. She and Lizzy are well. The weather is very dry now but I think we will have rain before long. Our crop is looking very well and if you were here today, I could give you a mess of sweet potatoes but any day you come will do as well. I want you to write to me soon and often as you can and give me all the news. Nothing more but hope to remain your affectionate sister, — Sarah J. Alexander
to Calvin T. Dewese
Letter 9
Wilkes county, North Carolina October 6, 1863
Mr. John A. Dewese,
Dear father, I take the opportunity of informing you that I am well at this time and I hope these lines may find you enjoying the same blessing. I have scarcely had time to write to you since I came back to the company. I have been scouting nearly all the time over the mountains & lying around houses to catch the men when they would go in to draw rations and have caught a great many and killed and crippled some and a great many are coming in and giving up. But still there is a great many out yet and it is likely they will be out for a long time to come yet with a considerable change. It is pretty hard marching over the hills and rocks but I believe I would rather stay here as in the army. We get more to eat than we would if we were there.
We are 12 miles above Wilksboro at Covenant Church [with]in about 7 miles from the Blue Ridge. We caught a man today with a woman’s dress on. That’s the way they undertake to conceal themselves from being caught.
I must close. It is getting dark. Nothing more at present but hope to remain your affectionate son till death, — C. T. Dewese
To John A. Dewese
Letter 10
Covenant Church Wilkes county, North Carolina October 8th 1863
Dear Mother,
I will write a few lines to let you know that I am well & still in the land of the living. And I hope these lines may find you well.
I had a hard time to get to my company. I thought once that I would never get to the company or see any of my friends anymore. When the deserters caught me, I did not know but what they would kill me but they kept me there under guard & turned me over. It was two weeks from [when] I left home till I got to the company. We have pretty hard duty to do here but not much fighting to do. We get plenty to eat such as chickens, cabbage, beans, and honey & hardly ever pay anything for it. The people are very angry at us but it can’t be helped. We have to have something to eat & we can’t work for nothing & board ourselves. And if they don’t want us to eat up what they have, they will have to give up and let leave the country. If we have to stay here all winter, there will not be any left for the women and children to eat. I don’t see what they mean. Some of them say they will starve to death before they will ever come in and go to the army.
Nothing more at present but hope to remain yours affectionately, — Calvin T. Dewese
To Mary A. Dewese
Letter 11
[Note: In the following letter, Calvin is referring to Maj. Gen. George A. Picket’s attacked on New Bern at Batchelder’s Creek on February 1, 1864.]
Camp near Weldon, North Carolina February 12, 1864
Dear father,
It [is] with pleasure that I seat myself to write you a few lines to inform you that I am only tolerable well at this time. I was plagued with a severe diarrhea and sick stomach yesterday but I am better today except a bad cold & caufg but I hope it will wear off in a day or two. George received a letter from you today of the 9th inst. stating you were all getting better. I hope when this reaches you, it may find you well.
We have had pretty rough times since we left High Point. There was 10 days after we left there we were marching or riding on the cars where we could not sleep. We never got to sleep one whole night at a time on the whole route & some nights we did not get to sleep any at all lying in line of battle all the time when we were not advancing. I tell you, I thought it was [ ] times with [ ] the morning of the 1st inst. when the muskets began to rattle and the cannon roar. I was [chased?] for two days that bad I scarcely knew which end I was standing on but it so happened that we escaped unhurt. I am as nigh Newbern as I want to be unless it gets in better fix for visiting than it is at this time.
I have nothing of interest to write for the present. There is different reports in camp about the changes of the times but I look at them as I always have done to be lies & it is no use to waste time & paper with them. All I can say is of no use for me to trouble myself about anything. I have to stay in the war till it’s over if I live & will have to make myself easy. Your affectionate son till death, — C. T. Dewese
Letter 12
Camp near Weldon, N. C. March 18th 1864
Mr. C. F. Dewese,
Dear brother, it is with much pleasure that I seat myself this evening to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this time & I hope when these lines reach you, they may find you enjoying the same blessing. I think the time long to get a letter from you as you have nothing else to do. I think you might drop me a few lines [once in] awhile if only to let me know what you think of yourself in this time of war and trouble. I hear that you are having many diverse engagements and gaining many glorious victories without the loss of a man. I am glad to hear that you came out victorious. I will advise to stand your ground as long as you can for it is much better there [at home] than here.
I suppose you will have to come to the war before long or go somewhere else but if you can get into any work that will keep you out of this horrible place, I want you to do it—any place but to be in the ranks of an army. I would rather work for nothing and board myself if I could get to stay anywhere near home than to be here. I would like to see you and be with you and would be very glad of your company at any time, but I never want to see you in bondage as i am at this time. Two of us are enough and two too many to be starved, frozen or melted to death just as they please to have it fighting for that—that we have not got. And if we fight five years, we will never get. I think you will get clear if you will fool them a little while longer for I think it will surely wind up this spring or summer. I am in hopes it will anyhow, so we can all get home to live in peace once more.
I must close for this time. Write soon. Nothing more but remain your affectionate brother. — C. T. Dewese
Letter 13
Camp near Weldon, North Carolina March 28th 1864
Dear father,
It is with pleasure that I seat myself to inform you that I am well at this time & I hope these lines may find you well. I received your kind letter last Saturday night through the care of G. B_____ and also a fine box of provisions which was very acceptable in this unholy place of suffering & want. Our bread baskets were so empty that we have very well finished it already. I am thankful that I have friends somewhere [even] if they are a great distance from me that I can get a good bite from them once in a while [even] if it ain’t often. It makes me feel like I could live when I do get it. What we get is so rough that a person can almost share it. Digesting it makes such a fuss. If they [ ] on such as they have been doing lately on as rough diet, I think we will have to get new digesting machines or fetch the old one or we will see holes in a few weak ones. Our meat is very good but the quantity is not sufficient to satisfy the appetite that I have at this time. We are drawing the [ ] meat. I suppose they have no other to give us. The government meat, I think, is done and therefore the people at home have to board the army at their expense and it looks like the Confederacy might get rich when they so many hands working for nothing and boarding themselves.
I have nothing of interest to write. The army are quiet on both sides as far as I can learn but I dread the opening of the spring campaign. I fear there will be a good deal of fighting to do shortly but I hope this war may be settled without much more fighting although I don’t see any prospect of its stopping soon.
I will close for the present. Give mu love to the family and tell them to write. Nothing more but remain your affectionate son, — C. T. Dewese
to J. A. Dewese
Letter 14
Camp near Weldon Railroad April 3rd 1864
Miss Margaret C. Dewese,
Dear sister, with much pleasure I seat myself to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well & hoping when these lines reach you they may find you well. The health of the company in general is good except one case of small pox. John Sloan was sent to the hospital yesterday. He was broke out pretty bad with them. He caught them from the Yankees while guarding them in South Carolina. I look for more of them to have them for they said there was plenty in every crowd that they had taken off. If they all take them, we will have a [ ] time among us but I hope they will not get spread any farther. We have bought enough times here without having the small pox to make it worse. I have had no chance to catch them as I have not been near John since he came back.
Well, Mag, our way of living seems to change fast. We still get our meal with the brand in it but our meal is very good. But the quantity is not sufficient to satisfy the appetite. We can get nothing to buy here at all. The country is gleaned for 10 miles around our camp of everything but that we would desire to eat if there was any to get. It would take a one horse wagon to haul out enough money to get one chicken. So we might as well be without it as to drive it for all the good it was. Sometimes I wish there was no money so these high headed fools couldn’t get their fists stuffed…then I think this cruel war would stop.
Brother George is guarding the bridge at Weldon. He will be there for several days. He has had a rough time since he went there. It has been rainy nearly every day for a weak & snowing together. It rained & snowed yesterday all day. The weather has moderated today a little but is still cloudy & very cool for the 3rd of April. It is cold enough to snow yet. I hope if another winter sets in that we may all be out of this cruel place of bondage & trouble & wickedness & be where we can converse with our friends & enjoy the blessings of peace as we once did. But Oh! when will that time come—we cannot tell. It may come soon and it may never come. But we can look forward for a better day…I can’t see no sign of peace now more than I did 12 months ago. The soldiers are in good spirits owing to the resumption of furloughs. There was several sent in today for the regiment. The men are flying around rapidly getting ready to go. I wish it was my time to go. I would fly around too.
— C. T. Dewese
Letter 15
Gaston, North Carolina May 4th 1864
Dear Father,
With pleasure I seat myself to write you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this time & I hope these may find you enjoying the same blessing. The health of the company is very good what is here. I have no news of our brigade more than you have heard. There is various reports about their movements. It is reported that Washington surrendered without the fire of a gun. The latest news we have, our troops are advancing on New Bern twelve thousand strong. They moved within four miles of the place Tuesday last. I suppose they are fighting by this time. I am glad that I am out of it although it may not be so long but I want to putt off as long as I can. Our boys have saw a hard time since we left them but they came out well to what I expected to hear.
James Sasseman passed here a few days ago going to Raleigh hospital wounded in the right arm. He went through all the fight safe and was wounded accidentally the day after the fight. There was only one man wounded in our company. That was John Strider from Randolph. He was wounded in the leg between the foot and knee. It was so badly mangled it had to be amputated.
I don’t care how long they keep us here while they are doing so much fighting. I suppose there will be no more furloughs signed until they get settled again. I hear no word on any prisoners coming in & I can’t say how long we will stay here. We may be ordered away in a few days & we may stay a good while. I don’t care how long we stay if it is till the war is over. We are on the bank of the Roanoke river where we can get as many fish as we want. If I had the salt to save them, I could send you a mess every day but I have not the salt to spare & I reckon you will have to do without the fish.
I suppose you are done planting. Come over tomorrow & spend the day with us & we will have a big mess. Bring mama and the children along too & we’ll all feast together. I must stop my foolishness & all so close my letter for I have got clear out of anything to write. Give my love to all the family and all of you write to me. Don’t wait for me to write for my chance is very slim to write to all my friends. It is two weeks today since I left home & not one letter have I got yet. I begin to feel like I was lost when I can’t hear from home. Nothing more but remain your affectionate son, C. T. Dewese
To F. A. Dewese
Direct to Weldon, North Carolina
Letter 16
Gaston, North Carolina May 14th 1864
Dear Sister,
I will write you a few lines to let you know where I am. I got here yesterday evening about sundown. They are looking for the Yankees here today. The pickets is firing at the Yankees now and everything that is here is fixing to run. There is about 300 soldiers here at this place. The Yankees could easily take this place if they would but I hope they won’t come yet a while. Part of my company is here and the balance of it is in Virginia. they have been fighting and they have drove the Yankees back and they have [been] reinforced and [are] coming again. I expect they will be here today. If they come today, they will take this place.
We had a big mess of fish for breakfast. We got them four apiece. I want to stay here. We could get plenty of fish to eat but if the Yankees gets near, we won’t get so many fish to eat. I hope they won’t get us.
I have nothing to write for I ain’t very full of news at this time. You must excuse this bad writing for it is the best I can do for these idle fellers, they are tearing about so they won’t let me sit still. You may tell William Cashion’s folks that W. T. C. was at Petersburg fighting the Yankees. They drove them back with heavy loss.
I will close by requesting you to write soon and give me the news. Nothing more at present but remain your affectionate brother till death. — C. F. Dewese
to M. C. Dewese
Letter 17
Camp of the 56th Regt Near Weldon, N. Carolina August 10, 1864
Miss Margaret C. Dewese,
Dear sister, it is with pleasure that I seat myself to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well & I hope these lines may find you enjoying the same blessing. I thought I would of got to go home before I would write again but they have stopped the furloughs & I don’t know when I will get home but I am in hopes that it won’t be long till they will take pity on me and let [me] go. There is no use in the way they are doing—giving furloughs one day and stopping the next. I don’t know how long they will be stopped. I don’t know what they mean. We are lying about doing nothing—only drilling a little. No Yankees anywhere near and I don’t see what they are keeping us from going home for. If they were looking for a fight shortly, I would not think strange of it. They have guards around us every day like we were Yankees. You need not look for me home till you see me coming for I will not know when I am going till I get my furlough in my pocket & get on the cars & then if they get me off, they will have to be smarter than they are.
George is well & improving every day & following his old trade. Him and Andrew Barnette and Dicxk Hough is writing every day—writing their fool letters, first one and then another. They appear to enjoy themselves better than anyone in camp. They are now writing a letter to someone but they take care to not put their names to it.
Well it looks like I had not much to write when I am writing about their little tricks & so too for my mind is so bothered when I sit down to write I can’t do it. No tongue can express or pen describe the way I feel sometimes when I get to studying about the war I have to live. I do hope the time is speedily coming when I shall be released from this awful place of trouble & vexation. I will close for the present. Write soon and often for that is all the pleasure I have is reading letters from home.
Yours till death, — Calvin T. Dewese
Letter 18
Petersburg, Virginia October 21st 1864
Dear Father,
With pleasure I seat myself to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well & hope these few lines may find you enjoying the same blessing.
I have been at the field hospital most of the time since I came back building chimneys to the hospital tents for the sick. I have not been in the ditches but four nights since I came back. I have not done anything since Tuesday. The doctors took a notion to move the hospital across the river about two miles from this place but they have not moved yet & it is uncertain when they will for they are scared half to death half their time so that they don’t know what to be at for fear the Yankees gets them. They are three miles in the rear now and when they move, they will be five miles away and when a man gets wounded, it will be a half a day before they get anything done for him.
All is quiet on the lines at this time and has been for some time except picket firing & they keep up the usual old sound with their bombs day and night. There is not much shelling on the part of the line that our brigade is on now. Our men and the Yankees get up on the works and talk to each other whenever they feel like a chat. I heard a heavy cannonading late yesterday evening in the direction of Richmond but I have not heard the result. It may of been an artillery duel & no fighting going on. They are looking for a heavy fight before many days. They think the election will bring on a big fight. I hope there is nothing of it. If there does be, I hope to miss it and be spared to meet you all once more.
Give my love to all. I remain your affectionate son, — C. T. Dewese
Letter 19
Petersburg, Virginia November 26th, 1864
Dear Sister,
I received yours of the 11th a few days ago. I was glad to hear you were well. I am enjoying tolerable health at this time. I am some better than I was a few days ago. I had a very bad cold & a misery in my breast & side. I have got better of that but I have a severe sore on the back of my neck which pains me very much. I have been at the field hospital since the 12th. The doctor has been burning my neck for the last three days with some hot stuff till it was black as a coal. It hurt me last night so I could not sleep but it feels a little better this morning. I think it will get better now in a few days.
We have had pretty rough times for the last week. It has been raining for nearly a week & that [so] cold that we could scarcely stand it for we had not much shelter or much wood to make fire with. Our wood is issued to us & that a very small ration at that. I am sitting over a little handful of wood now—not enough of fire to singe a chicken—and smoking my eyes out so I can scarcely write. Our wood has to be hauled six miles & if we have to stay here all winter, it will be to haul farther than that & I expect the longer we stay, the scarcer it will get. It is not like what we have been used to every winter since we have been out. We always could camp in the woods & build a large fire & be comfortable. It takes a lot of wood for so many men when they have to stay out & take the weather as it comes. There is 13 wagons hauling for our brigade. We get tolerable good rations if they would only give a little more. We get cured meat, and flour, bacon and beef, rice, coffee and sugar. I cannot see where all the provision comes from that it takes to feed the army. I thought it [would] of give out long ago but it looks like it was as plenty yet as ever it was. We get some bacon sometimes looks like it might be 6 years old.
As you are now acquainted with the market at Petersburg, I will give you a list of the prices of a few articles. Apples are fifty dollars per bushel, potatoes, d[itt]o., chickens half grown twelve dollars a head, meal one dollar a pound, flour two dollars a pound, pork $5 a pound, beef $4, eggs $10 per dozen, butter 12 a lb., molasses $32 per gallon, coffee $10 a lb., grown peas $70 dollars a bushel. It takes about 20 dollars to get what a man can eat. It takes as much as one can carry to get a day’s rations & I don’t see any prospect of it being any better soon.
They are conscripting the negroes to drive the wagons and sending the white men to the ditches. I look for the negroes to be put in the ranks with us before the war is over yet if it don’t stop soon. If they do, I shall begin to think about leaving the pen and let them go all out with their negro war. I can’t stand him, he smells too bad.
It is quiet at this time and has been since I came back. They still keep up the usual shelling and sharp shooting. Both armies appear to be lying perfectly quiet. I suppose the fighting is stopped for this winter but it will begin again in the spring as bad as ever of they don’t make peace. I do hope they will come to some kind of a compromise before that time & let us go home if we should be spared to live that long. I hope to be spared to see the end of it and get home to enjoy the blessings of a peaceful fireside.
I will close by requesting you to write soon and often. Give my love to all the family. I remain your loving brother, — C. T. Dewese
The following letters were written by John Walter Dewese (1844-1876), the son of William Alfred Dewese (1821-1873) and Martha Black McAulay (1824-1900) of Mecklenburg county, North Carolina.
The first two letters were written in 1864 while John was working as a civilian at the Mecklenburg Salt Company whose works were located at Mt. Pleasant near Charleston, South Carolina. The operation was managed by Professor Washington Caruthers Kerr, a native of Guilford county, N. C., a chemistry professor at Davidson College, who took a leave of absence to attend to the works—salt being a crucial resource of the Confederacy. He managed the works until April 1864 and then we learn that it was taken over by a Capt. Loftin.
John enlisted at the age of 20 as a private in Co. C, 37th North Carolina Infantry on 11 January 1865 and was present for duty with his company until he was taken prisoner on 4 April 1865 at Petersburg. He was released one week later. At the time of his release at Point Lookout, Maryland, he was described as standing 6’1″ tall, with “light yellow” hair and hazel eyes.
Note: Some time ago I transcribed a letter by another worker at the Mecklenburg Salt Works near Charleston, South Carolina, at about the same time as John W. Dewese. They were, in fact, first cousins. See 1864: Ephraim Alexander McAulay published on S&S 14.
Letter 1
December 1863 Map of Charleston Harbor showing Mt. Pleasant at top center.
Mecklenburg Salt Works near Charleston, S. C. [Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina] March 20, 1864
Dear Cousin,
I now seat myself to answer your very kind letter which I received about an hour ago. I was glad to hear from you once more. I have no news of importance to write at this time. I am well and doing as well as you might expect and hope when these few lines reaches you, [they] may find you enjoying the same great blessing from God.
There is no news here of any consequence. No fighting going on at present. There was a man killed himself on yesterday. He was a soldier. Some of our hands were down at the boat landing last night and saw him put on the bat taking him over to Charleston. What made him do it, I know not.
Well, Mag, I don’t want you and James to get married without letting me know it as I want to be one in the midst. I think James needs me to take him down a link or two. I can’t tell you what to do with him. You will have to do the best you can with him till the boys gets home. So I will quit my nonsense and draw this short and uninteresting letter to a close as I know you will think it is no letter at all.
If you see Miss Hetty Tye, give her my best respects. Tell her I am all right. Excuse this short letter for this time. [I’ll] try to do better next [time]. Write soon. Remaining yours truly, — J. M. Dewese
to M. C. Dewese at home.
Letter 2
Mecklenburg Salt Works near Charleston, S. C. [Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina] April 1st 1864
Dear Cousin [George B. Dewese],
I now seat myself to drop you a few lines in answer to your kind letter which I received on the 28th of March. I was glad to hear from you one more time. I am well at this time and hope when these few lines reaches you, may find you enjoying the same great blessing from God.
Well, George, I have no news of importance to write at this time but I will give you what I have. I am boiling salt at this time. I work 12 hours and rest 12, I like the business very well. The Works does not belong to Mr. Kerr now. He has sold them to a man by the name of Loftin. He is captain of a company which camped near here. He is a very fine man. He had 25 men when we were detailed [at] Richmond but we have come down to 12 only now.
A man that does not want to work need not be at the Salt Works. I had a great notion when at home last to go to the army or Mr. Kerr had sold the works to other men but no one would persuade me to go.
I received a letter from home last night which stated that they had took Ben Dewese & Bob Montieth and put them in jail t keep them there till Silas & Jonathan comes up, let it be long or short.
I do wish this cruel war would end so we all could get home to enjoy peace and harmony as we once have done. But I see no sign of the end yet—no more than I did a year ago. They have been more calm here at Charleston for the last month than they have been since the 9th of last July. Sometimes they let off steam from Morris Island like they were going to tear things all to smash, but they don’t get much done. A month back they did shell the city continually but they have most quit that now. I was in the city too when they were showering the bombs in there which made me feel sorter stricked.
We can see the flag on Morris Island from here. The soldiers say there is nothing to hinder them from taking Sullivan’s Island if they would just try. There’s not more than 1500 men on the island. I look for them to make a big break some of these days.
Write to me, George, when you think you will get home. I want to try and go there myself. The girls have all forsaken me. As it is getting late, I will close. Give J. H. Johnson my best respects. Tell him I am all right. Excuse bad writing and spelling & short letter. Try and do better next time. So goodbye. — J. W. Dewese
to G. B. Dewese
Write soon.
Letter 3
John’s letter informs us that deserting was becoming a nightly occurrence in front of Petersburg in 1865. Desertion among Tar Heel soldiers during the war was slightly over 23%.
Camp near Petersburg, Va. February 21, 1865
Miss M. C. Dewese,
Dear cousin, I now seat myself to write you a few lines in answer to your kind letter which I received on yesterday. I was glad to hear from you one more time in the troublesome time. This leaves me well. I hope it may find you all well.
I will now give you some items of the war. There is great confusion in this Army of Virginia at the present time. There is some goes to the Yankees every night. A good many has gone out of the regiment. There was four went away last night out of Co. E of this regiment. And night before last in the 33rd Regiment there was one whole company went off to the Yankees.
I was on picket last night. I had nothing to eat from yesterday morning till this morning but a little piece of cold cornbread. I stand picket [with]in about 200 yards of where [your] poor [brother] George was killed. I think of him every time I go to that place. The Yankees run their trains right along in sight of us [on the Weldon Railroad]. We can just see them flying. So I will stop that subject.
Uncle D[aniel] N[eal] McAulay [of our company] is not expected to live over this night. He has not been well since he had the measles. They have lost all hopes of him ever being up again. That is the way a many a poor fellow goes in this cruel war. I hope it will not be my misfortune but I am as liable as anyone.
You told me to your respects to all the pretty boys. J[ohn] D. Barnett told me to ask you if you called him one of them. If you did, let me know in the next letter. John D. is a first rate fellow. I hear that J. S. Barnett is at Sasseman’s every two weeks. I suppose all is right on that line.
Well cousin, I will draw to a close for this time. I want you to write and give me all the news. Give my respects to Miss H[arriet] C[ornelia] Tye and all enquiring friends. Tell Aunt Mary Loudy for me. Tell her I hope to get home to another quilting. So I will quit. Goodbye for this time. I hope to hear from you soon. Not only that, I hope to see you soon, But if I never see you again, I hope to meet you in heaven. Remains your affectionate cousin till death. — John W. Dewese
I could not find an image of Samuel but this long lanky soldier probably bore some resemblance to him. Samuel’s tall, slim figure and dark hair no doubt made him appear younger than his actual years.(Megan Kemble Collection)
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).
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.
Sample of Samuel’s handwriting—quite legible though the pencil is smudged a little in places.
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.
Warrenton, Virginia
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.
These two letters were written by Henry D. Dewese (1827-1881), the son of William Marchant Deweese (17891858) and Nancy Allison (1787-1865) of Mecklenburg county, North Carolina. Henry was married to Laura R. Sloan (1830-1910) in 1857.
I could not find an image of Henry but here is one of Alfred Newton Leatherwood of Co. E, 39th North Carolina Infantry
I believe Henry was a private in Co. C, 39th North Carolina Infantry. If this is the same soldier, he was with his regiment until late February 1863 when he was sent to a hospital by order of the regimental surgeon and then deserted in June 1863 from a hospital in Atlanta. There is no further record of him in the muster rolls of the 39th North Carolina.
These two letters, written in August and September 1864, inform us that he was returned to the army though we don’t know if he did so voluntarily or was rounded up by the Home Guard. Both letters are written from Camp Holmes near Raleigh, North Carolina.
Henry wrote the letters to his older brother, John Allison Dewese (1811-1870). In the second letter he attempts to comport his brother after hearing the news of the death of John’s son, George B. Dewese. George served in the 56th North Carolina, Co. K, and was killed in the Battle of Globe Tavern on 21 August 1864—the very fighting mentioned by Henry in his first letter.
Letter 1
[Camp Holmes near Raleigh, N. C.] August 23, 1864
My dear brother,
It is with pleasure that I seat myself to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well at this time and hope these few lines may find you all enjoying that great blessing of health. I have no news to write at this time—only I am here at Camp Holmes yet. I do not know what they will do with me. The regiment I was assigned to is in Pennsylvania and the Yankees is got possession of the road between Weldon and Petersburg so they can’t get men off from here. They had a fight at Weldon yesterday. The report is that our men give the Yankees fits but the Yankees still hold the road. I don’t call that any gain at all. If they had run the Yankees back and took the road, that would been more like the thing, I think.
Well, I will close for this time by asking you to write soon and often. I will write to you again as soon as I find out what they do with me. Give my love to all the friends and leave share to yourself. Excuse this uninteresting letter. Nothing more but remain your brother till death. Goodbye for this time.
— H. D. Dewese
To J. A. Dewese
Direct your letter to Camp Holmes near Raleigh.
Letter 2
[Camp Holmes near Raleigh, N. C.] September 9, 1864
Dear Brother,
It is with pleasure I seat myself to drop you a few lines to let you know that I have not forgot you yet and to let you know that I have not been well since I have been here but I am better today than I have been for a week. I can knock around right smart today. I hope these lines may find you and family in good health.
I was very sorry to hear of [your son] George’s death but I hope he is gone to a world of peace and happiness. Dear brother, don’t grieve for him. Try to live prepared to meet him in heaven where parting shall be no more. I hope to meet all my friends in heaven if no more on earth. But I hope to get home to see you all once more.
I suppose you heard that the Yankees had Atlanta in Georgia.
Well, I have not much to write at this time. There is men coming in here every day and they send off every day so our crowd don’t increase very fast. They have sent about one hundred and fifty free negroes off since I come here.
Well, my friends, I think this war will soon end for they have deaf and dumb, and blind, and men with one arm and one leg, so there is no chance for me to get home. So I will close. Write soon and give me all the news.
Excuse this bad[ly] written letter. No more but remain your brother till death. Give my love to all the friends. Share it yourself. Goodbye for this time. — H. D. Dewese
Spared & Shared 23 