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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
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
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
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
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
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