13 Voices of the Civil War by Time-Life Books

  

An unforgettable new look at the Civil War from eyewitness accounts by people who were there. Diaries, letters, journals, media reports and more.

Virginia had gained secession in April of 1861, and Federal troops flocked to Washington to defend the capitol. The series of clashes that ensued culminated in the battle at Manassas Junction, where the Confederate army forced Federal troops to retreat north. Stonewall Jackson laid it down as law: "If this Valley is lost, Virginia is lost".

Militarily, the Shenandoah Valley was the gateway to the Old Dominion. Follow Jackson's defense of the Valley in one of the most agile and inventive campaigns of the war. For the first time in my life I understood what was meant by'Joshua's sun standing still on Gibson,' for it would not go down. No one knows how long sixty seconds are, nor how much time can be crowded into an hour, nor what is meant by'leaden wings' unless he has been under the fire of a desperate battle, holding on, as it were by his teeth, hour after hour, minute after minute, waiting for a turning or praying that the great red sun, blazing and motionless overhead, would go down, Lieutenant Henry. Here is the story of the second Federal attempt to take the Confederate capitol of Fredericksburg. The entrenched Rebel forces mowed down wave after wave of advancing Federals. Finally, the Federal troops withdrew, with nothing to show for their efforts but 12,653 casualties. General Lee, mounted upon that. Horse which we all remember so well, rode to the front of his advancing battalions... The fierce soldiers with their faces blackened with the smoke of battle, the wounded crawling with feeble limbs from th e fury of the devouring flames, all seemed possessed with a common impulse. One long, unbroken cheer, in which the feeble cry of those who lay helpless on the earth blended with the strong voices of those who still fought, rose high above the roar of battle, and hailed the presence of the victorious chief. He sat in the full realization of all that soldiers dream of--triumph; and as I looked upon him in the complete fruition of the success which his genius, courage, and confidence in his army had won, I thought that it must have been from such a scene that men in ancient days rose to the dignity of gods. This book is by and of the soldiers and civilians who experienced the Antietam campaign. Through their words and images you can relive the emotions, the terrifying rush of events, the horrors-even the human comedy-of one of the Civil War's major campaigns. You hold in your hands an album of personal recollections from letters, diaries, photographs, sketches, and artifacts. At Kingsville I caught a glimpse of our army. Longstreet's corps going west. God bless the gallant fellows. Not one man intoxicated--not one rude word did I hear. It was a strange sight--miles, apparently, of platform cars--soldiers rolled in their blankets, lying in rows, heads all covered, fast asleep. In their gray blankets, packed in regular order, they looked like. One man near where I sat was writing on his knee. He used his cap for a desk and he was seated on a rail.

I watched him, wondering to whom the letter was to go. Home, no doubt--sore hearts for him there!

A feeling of awful depression laid hold of me. All these fine fellows going to kill or be killed.

And a word got to beating about my head like an old song--'the unreturning brave. Next to me, on my right, was a boy of seventeen, Henry Parker. I remember it because, while we stood-at-ease, he drew my attention to some violets at his feet, and said,'It would be a good idea to put a few into my cap. Perhaps the Yanks won't shoot me if they see me wearing such flowers, for they are a sign of peace.

'Capital,' said I, I will do the same. We plucked a bunch, and arranged the violets in our caps. The men in the ranks laughed at our proceedings, and had not the enemy been so near, their merry mood might have been communicated to the army.

Voices of the Civil War Gettysburg. Where are you, my dear husband what are you doing and what is going on. We live in utter ignorance of everything and everybody, outside our immediate neighborhood. We rarely see a Southern paper and never hear anything definite of our army.

Yesterday, we heard there had been a fight in Pennsylvania and that we had whipped the enemy. Of course, we are all anxiety to hear more. I live daily and hourly in dread of a battle.

We have spent the last two nights in a cave, but tonight I think we will stay at home. It is not safe I know, for the shells are falling all around us, but I hope none may strike us... Two persons only that I have heard have been killed in town, and a little child. The child was buried in the wall by a piece of shell, pinned to it.

Today a shocking thing occurred. In one of the hospitals where some wounded had just undergone operations a shell exploded and six men had to have limbs amputated...

In the midst of all this carnage and commotion, it is touching to see how every work of God save man, gives praise to him... Nature is all fair and lovely--'all save the spirit of man seems divine.

We got down safely this morning. On my arrival found a letter from John Stoney, telling me that they had recovered the body of my precious husband... Tis a comfort to me too. Know that he could not have suffered.

Serge Owens said as soon as the line began to move forward under heavy fire, Mr. Palmer went ahead & said Come on boys' they were his last words. Oh my God, how hard it is to give him up, altho' I know he is so much happier now. I try to feel resigned, but at times my heart feels so rebellious.

All this time I have allowed myself, altho' I felt it was wrong, to cling to the hope of his being alive. Fancy the comforts of such a life as this! Roused at dawn to crawl out and stand half-dressed in a drenching storm while the company-roll was being called; then return to damp blankets--or to rub the skin off of your knuckles, trying to start a fire with green pine poles in the storm; go down to the marsh to break the ice off of a shallow branch or rivulet, and flirt a few handfuls of muddy water upon you face, then wipe it off on the clean corner of a dirty pocket handkerchief, borrow a broken piece of comb having lost your.