Highs and Lows of American Civil War
Bostonian Taken Prisoner in Civil War
The Last Years of Civil War

Diary reveals highs and lows of Civil War
David Cook

In April 1861, Fort Sumter was surrendered to rebels after a two-day bombardment by rebel batteries in Charleston harbor. President Lincoln called on the loyal states to provide 75,000 men for three months to put down the rebellion.
A young Irishman in Boston joined hundreds of others in enlisting in a Massachusetts volunteer unit. Three months probably seemed sufficient time to take care of the rebels, because that was the enrollment length, but the young Bostonian and the president had a lot to learn about waging war.

By May 20, he was in camp on Long Island. He wrote in his diary that one regiment already had been disbanded because authorities said there were more volunteers than needed to take care of the southerners. “There are persons who don’t think so,” he added wryly.
A few days later he confided that the war had really begun in the south. “News of battles and skirmishes is arriving daily, and the excitement is increasing hourly.”
His group was mustered into the U.S. Army on June 11, then shortly left for Washington on board three steamers. Washington wasn’t ready for them. On their first night at the Washington arsenal, the soldiers slept on the ground under blankets.
President Lincoln reviewed the troops the next morning, and the diarist got to shake hands with “Honest Old Abe.” Then, the rain set in.
They marched about four miles from the city to Wool Hill and set up a camp they called Camp Cass. They got tents to shelter them. But two men were wounded by rifle bullets fired from the woods at the rear of the camp.

On July 12, the young Bostonian received a pass to visit Washington. “If all the public buildings were taken out,” he wrote, “there would be nothing left but a dirty looking country town where cows, hogs, mules and hungry-looking dogs are allowed to run loose wherever they please. “Soldiers are straggling around, many of them drunk and fighting, and apparently under no discipline whatever…”

The July 22 entry in his diary is sobering. The battle of Bull Run had been fought and lost by the union forces. Gen. George McClellan was appointed to command the Army of the Potomac. Next day the unit moved across the Potomac into Virginia.

A few weeks later when the young soldier got another pass to visit Washington, he found the place changed drastically. The city was under military rule, and he credited McClellan with making the changes for the better.

Work began on building a new Fort Cass on Virginia soil. Trees were cleared away so rebels would have to cross an open field to attack the fort. Stakes were erected to impale anyone so rash as to charge the fortifications.

There were skirmishes along picket lines in which men on both sides were wounded or killed. Efforts were made throughout September and October to gain some advantage, but without much success. On Nov. 1, McClellan was named commander of the U.S. Army, replacing Gen. Winfield Scott, who was said to be too old to command young men.

McClellan was joined by the president and other officials in reviewing the Army of the Potomac on Nov. 15. The Bostonian wrote of the experience, “We returned to camp after dark, pretty tired and somewhat hungry.”

Then, there was a more pleasant period. He joined a detachment in Washington to take charge of a balloon that was being prepared to make military observations. They were quartered in an armory where about 150 girls were making cartridges. “We are having a bully good time,” he wrote.

Of course, there was a certain girl and a romance was struck up, with letters being exchanged when he returned to Fort Cass. For Christmas, a friend in Boston sent a bottle of gin, which he shared with his army buddies. The girl friend sent a box containing turkey, mince pie, cigars, a pipe and tobacco, plus four pairs of white gloves.

In mid-January 1862, he wrote in his diary, “The wives of many officers are spending the winter in camp, and the effect is seen in the change that has taken place in the conduct of those officers in their dealings with the men under their command.”

He was writing Jan. 28, however, that some officers had been cashiered for disobedience of orders, absence without leave “and other little piccadilloes.”

In early March, he was marching along the Loudon and Hampshire Railroad toward Vienna. The job was to repair the railroad which had been destroyed by the rebels. As soon as the repairs were completed, the rebels tore it up again.

He wrote about the battle of the Merrimac and the Monitor in Hampton Roads, with the rebel ironclade being disabled after it had destroyed several federal ships. His group was on the road to Vienna and had learned the rebels had evacuated Manassas, retreating toward Richmond.
Before long, however, he would be captured by the rebels and imprisoned.

David Cook is associate editor of the Ocala Star-Banner.

Bostonian is taken prisoner in Civil War
David Cook

For weeks during the spring of 1862, the Army of the Potomac advanced into northern Virginia, pushing the rebels back toward Richmond. Then, the tide turned, and in a series of battles, the northerners suffered tremendous losses and began to retreat.

The army was still falling back on July 1, and a major battle was fought at Malvern Hill. During skirmishing, the young Irish immigrant from Boston who was keeping a diary of his war activities, was captured along with about 14 others from his unit.

The prisoners were marched to Mechanicsville, where the southerners were collecting their prisoners for a march on to Richmond. The young Bostonian wrote: “The Fields in this vicinity are almost covered with dead horses and the stench is suffocating. We were marched to Richmond about noon today and quartered in Barrett’s tobacco factory on Main Street.
“Every man was searched on coming here, on pretence of looking for articles of contraband; they took from us our money, pocket knives, combs, towels, pocket handkerchiefs, papers and everything else they could find. They gave a receipt for the money and said it would be returned when the prisoners are exchanged, but there is not one among us who is green enough to believe this.

“I made out to hide my money, and they did not find it. I hid my memorandums inside a pair of canvas leggings which I wore.”

His main diary was in safe keeping on a wagon with his unit. He had entrusted it to the wagon driver while he was fighting in the field.

“The ration which we get is scarcely enough to keep life in our bodies,” he wrote. “Those who have been fortunate enough to save their money from the plunderers and are willing to trust to the honesty of the rebel guards, are spending their money to feed themselves. Everything is dear in this city. Coffee is scarce at any price.”

On July 7, he wrote, “The weather is so hot that it is impossible to wear anything but shirt and drawers, and the men are so crowded together, and our clothes are getting so dirty with no change to wash them, that lice begin to swarm on the floor of the building. We got a small piece of bread for breakfast today, and for dinner and supper, we got nothing except the memory of our breakfast.”

He was one of about 8,000 prisoners being held at the warehouse. Fierce fighting was still going on, but permission finally was given to clean the building. It was scrubbed thoroughly.
“One of the rebel guards shot his fingers off his right hand this morning, possibly to avoid serving at the front,” the Bostonian wrote.

The prisoners were moved July 13-14 to an island in the James River. There was little food and many men, mostly the wounded, died. On July 15, 1,500 more prisoners arrived. After two days without food, the Bostonian wrote: “A dog belonging to one of the guards came into our tent, and he was soon cooked and turned into soup.”

Next day the guard came looking for his dog, offering a reward of $20 for it. The only comment to that was: “The dog was worth more than that for soup.”

Later they were to arrange with a southern Irishman for a barrel of flour, but that afternoon they got an ample supply of food from the people of Richmond who heard of their plight.
Many sick and wounded were gathered up for a prisoner exchange on July 24, and a few days later there was a rumor of a general exchange.

On Aug. 2, the Bostonian wrote, “the North Carolinians who guarded the camp since our arrival here were sent away yesterday, and their place is taken by a regiment of Georgians, who are perfect savages.”

Fortunately, the general exchange of prisoners began the next day. On Aug. 6, they were back with the Army of the Potomac and had plenty to eat. “Five members of the rebel guard deserted with us,” the Bostonian commented.

He wrote that he soon recovered from his ordeal and that his diary was in good shape, although only 17 members of his company had survived the battle of Malvern hill. He found his name was among those listed as killed.

Soon the army was on the move again, headed toward Hampton, and within a few days, the Bostonian was at Falmouth awaiting further orders. His unit moved closer to the fighting on Aug. 28. He wrote, “I have had no new shoes since I was taken prisoner, and the old pair became worn out entirely while we were on Ellis’ Ford, and I have been marching barefoot since we left there and I have suffered terribly with my feet on the hot dusty road.”

He was plunged into fighting near Gainesville the next day. About 50 men were killed. The hospitals were full.

“The men composing this army feel themselves to be a match for the rebels on any field, and yet we must admit that we are badly beaten. Somebody is to blame for this state of things, but the soldiers are confident they are not to blame for it.”

David Cook is associate editor of the Ocala Star-Banner

Irishman writes of last years in Civil War
David Cook

The February snow turned to rain in northern Virginia in 1863, and the ground turned to mud and slush. The Army of the Potomac found itself mired in mud about six inches deep, and the generals talked of a final push to destroy the rebels.

As usual, food was in short supply, but on Feb. 18, the young Irish immigrant from Boston, who kept a daily diary, wrote: “A wagon train reached us today and each wagon was drawn by eight mules. They brought us three days rations, including soft bread, fresh and salt meat, hardtack, potatoes, onions and whiskey.

“We received mail also. I got a letter from a friend of mine in Boston, with a lot of postage stamps in it; and another from my lady friend in Washington, she also sent me a pair of socks and a bundle of newspapers. In the afternoon, I went out and cut both their names on two trees near camp.”

Momentarily, the war must have seemed far away.
Then came more snow, more rain and even deeper mud. There was still no movement against the rebels. Just waiting. Like soldiers in most wars. Waiting in the snow, waiting in the rain, sloshing through the mud.

In early March, the regiment finally got it’s own bakery, and the troops got soft bread instead of iron-cased hardtack. On March 12, the War Department authorized the enlistment of colored troops. The young Bostonian commented: “This measure is very unpopular with the army, and the men are deserting in large numbers for this reason …”

The weather turned good for St. Patrick’s Day. There was fun and games, including climbing a greased pole to win a furlough and $15 in cash. There was sack racing, mule racing and a greased pig contest. Three rations of whiskey were issued.

On April 1, the soldier wrote about becoming acquainted with a nine year-old-girl. “When the Ninth comes to the outposts, she comes to look at me. I always remember to bring her something from the suttler’s shop, and we are great friends. Her father is in the rebel army. She tells me her mother is dead, and she is living with her aunt.

“They are very poor, and the old folks are very rebellious, as I learned on visiting them.”
By the end of April, the army was on the move again, headed to Chancellorsville. On May 2, the soldier wrote that fighting had begun. He wrote of the shameful actions of the 11th Corps when attacked by the rebels. Men threw away their arms, ammunition and equipment and rushed for the river, causing a great deal of panic.

But that was a temporary setback. The rebels were stopped and pushed back. Lost ground was regained, and the terrible fighting continued. It was a stalemate, and a few days later, the Army of the Potomac fell back across the Rappahannock and returned to its old camp at Falmouth.
The soldier went to see his little friend at the picket line again and said she was glad to see him. She was glad he didn’t get killed in the battle of Chancellorsville, as so many did.

In June, he wrote about a young lady in Richmond who said “the gayeties of society in that city consists chiefly of what are called ‘starvation parties’ at which people meet in each others houses and have music and dancing but nothing to eat or drink.”

He wrote on July 1, the army had crossed into Pennsylvania and was heading toward a place called Gettysburg where Gen. Robert E. Lee reportedly had his whole army. On July 3, he wrote of severe fighting. Two units were badly cut up, a third “was nearly annihilated.”

The army followed Lee towards Williamsport but found nothing there when it arrived. By July 15, the army was on the move toward Harper’s Ferry. “We have good news from everywhere except New York City where there is a riot to resist the draft which is now in progress.” By this time, the unnamed Irish soldier had completed the first volume of his diary, and on July 19, he began the second volume which continues his observations until the end of the war in 1865. He made his observations in a notebook and later transferred them to his permanent diary. He became ill and was placed in a convalescent camp for several months. Finally, in January 1864, he was returned to his unit in Virginia and began guarding a railroad which was being constantly disabled by the rebels.

His girlfriend from Washington, Menta Greyson, came by train to visit him on St. Patrick’s Day. He was concerned that such a good girl should have “a heathen name.” There was furious fighting ahead, but in June, he was mustered out of the army in Boston, his enlistment having expired. He said Menta didn’t want him to re-enlist, so he didn’t. In January 1865, he was back in Washington, visiting Menta. He got a job transporting horses and mules to the army.
The two-volume diary of this unnamed Irishman was found in the bottom of an old trunk bought at auction in Boston.

There are many songs and poems included, as well as newspaper clippings about events in which the young soldier was involved. It stirs deep emotion, even for one born and reared in the south.

David Cook is associate editor of the Ocala Star-Banner.

Click Here for the Diary Copy

Click Here for images of Lost Diaries of Corporal Timothy J. Regan, Ninth Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry Regiment, American Civil War.

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