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George Whittemore (search for this): chapter 7
ping-ground of a few nights previous, and by his side Captain Bailey, of the Fifty-third Massachusetts, and Lieutenant——of the——. Our Quartermaster and Dr. Thompson were the only officers who attended the funeral; all the others being compelled, by their duty, to be at the front. Lieutenant Mason tells me that his face had its most natural expression,— one of perfect tranquillity and repose. At the grave a few remarks were made by the chaplain of the Fifty-third Massachusetts, Mr. Whittemore. . . . . Your affectionate nephew, Thomas R. Rodman. Headquarters, defences of New Orleans, New Orleans, June 5, 1863. dear Sir,— I had hoped to obtain some of the details of your son's death in time to send by the last mail, knowing that it would be a comfort, though a sad one, for you to know how and where he fell. It is, however, only since the steamer sailed that I have heard anything which I could venture to write as reliable. The regiment was lying down
William Wells (search for this): chapter 7
ss. Vols. (Infantry), August 19, 1862; Lieutenant-Colonel December 4, 1862; killed at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863. the many Boston and Cambridge boys who met thirty years ago at the boarding-school of that fine old-fashioned Englishman, William Wells, in the near neighborhood of Harvard University, can hardly have forgotten one schoolmate who came among us from New Bedford, in the year 1836. He was a large, heavy, rather unwieldy boy, of great personal strength and rather indolent habit,amuel Rodman walk down State Street. Something of this personal prestige belonged to his grandson, in middle life, as a mounted officer. William Rodman spent five years at Friends' Academy in New Bedford, and two years under the care of Mr. William Wells. He entered college with his class in 1838, and graduated in 1842. He soon began mercantile life, being at first chiefly engaged in the oil trade. In 1849, during the California excitement, he sailed for San Francisco in the ship Florida
Weitzel (search for this): chapter 7
llant horse than I did of myself. I don't quite understand it now, but I did not feel afraid of being hit at all. I every now and then stopped to think about it, generally eating a few blackberries in a ditch, while cogitating upon the matter. The fact is, I don't think anybody was afraid, or if any, not more than one officer and a few men. . . . . Tuesday, April 14.—At the dawn of day the Fifty-third moved into the works and planted old glory on the parapet, just about the time that Weitzel crowned the works on the other side. At seven o'clock we were ordered to go and do likewise, and our now baptized flag was placed on the lunette .... At Franklin all went into a field to bivouac, very tired, but in high spirits. We learned that we have taken twelve hundred prisoners, and that the Diana was blown up by the Rebs themselves, while the Queen of the West was destroyed by the Arizona. We began to think ourselves becoming famous; and the boys forgot their sore feet, and ceased
Daniel Webster (search for this): chapter 7
but this is easy talking far away from the probable scenes of danger. . . . . January 25, 1861.—What a short-sighted babydom prevails in Boston. The Mayor fears W. Phillips and the Abolitionists will make a riot, and so closes the Anti-slavery Convention. Boston gentlemen, or rather, Boston snobbery, must stop the mouths of the radicals and fanatics, because, forsooth, the traitors of South Carolina won't like it.—Bah! the fools make one sick. . . . . March 7.—Anniversary of D. Webster's fatal speech, and of my birth. . . . . April 15.—'Tis true Sumter has fallen, and war has commenced. We accept the fact with mortification and anger. A severe accounting must follow. I don't fear the result. Stirring times. Governor Andrew issues orders for an assembling tomorrow of the Massachusetts volunteers, and the Guards are preparing to start in the morning. Two thousand must start for Washington to-morrow .... April 16.—The Guards went off this morning in good
N. Ward (search for this): chapter 7
of you, and more. . . . . I think we did as well as any regiment in the corps would have done. Not to do so would have been disgraceful to us all, and I would not have my darling mother and loving little sister blush for me. . . . . May 3.—Dr. Ward and I are the only really tough ones. My knock — about out-door life tells now, and I don't wilt down like these shade-grown men. Perhaps my time will come, but certes I was never better than now. . . . . May 7.—It is very hard to blow up antaneously. We remained in the causeway until six o'clock, in close proximity to his dead body, when, the order to fall back having been given, the men of his old company put their muskets under him and carried him to the hospital, where Dr. N. Ward had all the necessary arrangements made. He was laid in a box, wearing, except the coat, the clothes he wore when slain,—wrapped in a blanket, and the coffin filled and covered with green leaves. Our good Quartermaster Mason endeavored to h
D. P. Thompson (search for this): chapter 7
the clothes he wore when slain,—wrapped in a blanket, and the coffin filled and covered with green leaves. Our good Quartermaster Mason endeavored to have him carried to New Orleans, to be sent North from that city, but found this was forbidden at this season by general orders. So he was laid in a beautiful little space near our camping-ground of a few nights previous, and by his side Captain Bailey, of the Fifty-third Massachusetts, and Lieutenant——of the——. Our Quartermaster and Dr. Thompson were the only officers who attended the funeral; all the others being compelled, by their duty, to be at the front. Lieutenant Mason tells me that his face had its most natural expression,— one of perfect tranquillity and repose. At the grave a few remarks were made by the chaplain of the Fifty-third Massachusetts, Mr. Whittemore. . . . . Your affectionate nephew, Thomas R. Rodman. Headquarters, defences of New Orleans, New Orleans, June 5, 1863. dear Sir,— I ha
Port Hudson (Louisiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
8th Mass. Vols. (Infantry), August 19, 1862; Lieutenant-Colonel December 4, 1862; killed at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 1863. the many Boston and Cambridge boys who met thirty years ago at the boardithe Thirty-eighth Massachusetts, and from Adjutant Loring of the same regiment. before Port Hudson, June 7, 1863. my dear uncle,—I wrote you and Aunt S. a few lines on the 28th ultimo, giviat you may know the whole. On the 22d of May we landed at Bayou Sara and marched towards Port Hudson. On the 23d we encamped in an old cornfield about three miles from the fortifications. On th the heart, dying instantly and without pain. The Thirty-eighth is on the north side of Port Hudson, so far (twenty miles) from the landing below, that, during the exciting and difficult hour w From the time he took the field in Maryland up to within a day or two of the assault on Port Hudson, where I was not present, through our dreary camp in the marshes near New Orleans, and throug
Savannah (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
of a Republican victory. I have no fear of secession or revolution. The South will bluster and resolve, but cotton is seventeen and a half cents per pound, and all will be quiet. It is a great revolution, however, in one sense. Political power changes hands, and the most corrupt and degraded administration topples over, not, I hope, to be revived in my day. . . . . November 10.—The last three days, talking over returns. Today we have accounts of terrible import from Charleston and Savannah. They will have to submit to the will of the majority in the Union, or go to everlasting smash out of it. My own idea is, that, however the South may fume, fret, and bluster, just now, they will be very calm before next March. . . . . November 13.—Papers still full of Southern secession nonsense. . . . . December 5.—I cannot feel that this great confederacy is to be destroyed just yet, and I don't like to contemplate the fearful ruin that must overtake the South if they pursue th<
San Francisco (California, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
ty, would turn out to see Samuel Rodman walk down State Street. Something of this personal prestige belonged to his grandson, in middle life, as a mounted officer. William Rodman spent five years at Friends' Academy in New Bedford, and two years under the care of Mr. William Wells. He entered college with his class in 1838, and graduated in 1842. He soon began mercantile life, being at first chiefly engaged in the oil trade. In 1849, during the California excitement, he sailed for San Francisco in the ship Florida, part of which he owned; but he went before the mast, and did his full share of the ship's duty. Leaving the vessel at that port, he returned home by way of Calcutta and Europe, having been absent about two years in all. This was his only prolonged absence from home until he entered the army. During the intermediate period his life was quiet and uneventful. He participated moderataly in business life, and in social and political activities; was never married, liv
Opelousas (Louisiana, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
eel as if I were to suffer; but, come what may, be assured of my unalterable love for you. March 29.—It will be a disappointment to have to give up all idea of taking part in any of the great scenes which we hope will go far towards ending the war, but something may turn up for us, and it is consoling to know that not always those most conspicuous are most useful. I shall be content to play an insignificant part, if the war can be brought to a close. . . . . April 18.—On road to Opelousas. It was pitch-dark; we rolled ourselves in our blankets and slept in line of battle. . . . . [April 13, date included in the foregoing.] Their artillery sent a shower of shell over our heads, and the zip-zip of the bullets was ever in one's ears; but although some came near, none were hit. I had, like most men, expected to be a little scared; but somehow I was not in the least so, and our boys all made fun of every shot that came very near us. Meanwhile I had hard work to keep the men fla
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