The Civil War
M.E.O. tells about her father's search for his wounded son. She describes the battle of Petersburg.
My brother Jim was wounded six times during the Civil War. Three of the wounds were very severe, three were slight. The serious wounds were one in the face, one just below the heart, and one in the fleshy part of the left leg, below the knee. Two of the wounds were nearly mortal. In fact, the first, received in the Second Battle of Manasses, was reported as "mortal."
The evening of that battle, telegraphic reports came of the casualties in the Petersburg Regiment: "J.E. Orr severely wounded." Father at once made preparations to go to Richmond early next morning hoping to be allowed to bring Jim home. One of our friends and neighbors was Mrs. W.L. Morton, who lived nearly opposite our house on Bollingbrook Street. Mrs. Morton told Mother, afterwards, that she was so much distressed when tidings had been received the evening of the battle of so many Petersburg boys having been killed and wounded that she could not sleep, and was up very early the next morning and dressed and came downstairs before any of the others of her family were awake or even any of the servants.
But her little boy of three or four years saw his mother going downstairs, put on his little suit and followed her to the front diningroom. Just then the newsboy went past and threw in the paper. Mrs. Morton had heard the evening before that Jim was "severely wounded," but the paper said "mortally wounded." Knowing that Father was going, hoping to be able to bring Jim home, she did not want Mother to see the paper. So she told her little boy to go across the street and bring her "Mr. Orr's paper." The child was amazed but obeyed. All that day, as I well remember, we thought how strange it was that no paper had come to us, but concluded that as the demand for news was so great, the boy-carrier must have given ours to someone else.
As Father had left home for Dunlop's, then our Richmond and Petersburg Railroad station, and had there taken the Richmond train, we passed a very wretched day. But our agony was increased when Father returned, reporting that he had spent the entire day in fruitless efforts to obtain railroad transportation to Gordonsville, the nearest station to the battlefield. He said that everyone he approached was kind and considerate, but all requests for transportation for civilians had to be denied, as reinforcements had to be sent to our army, and supplies, then greatly needed, had to go to the wounded and ill. He had been kindly sent, but sent from one official to another, but not one could give him the transportation asked for. About six or seven he returned home weary, disappointed, but not resentful, for his nature was a kindly one, and he realized the necessity that had caused his not being allowed a seat on the car to Gordonsville.
About nine o'clock, as we were sitting disappointed and despondent, someone rang the front door bell. A note was brought up for Father. It was a kindly note from Mr. Waverley Townes, the Mayor, that he had heard of Father's fruitless efforts to obtain a pass to Gordonsville, but he hoped that he (the Mayor) might be able to aid him. At several of the largest churches, the ladies of each congregation had been busy all day, preparing lint and bandages for the hospitals, and that many jars of preserves and other delicacies for the sick and wounded had been donated. Several large boxes had been filled and were in the basements of the churches, awaiting the orders of the Mayor. Mr. Townes then added that he thought if these boxes were put in Father's charge to Gordonsville, he might be given a transportation pass. Father was more than thankful, so the Mayor wrote a very nice letter to the Provost-Marshall in Richmond and sent word to the churches to have the boxes at Dunlop's at 4 am next morning.
Father was up and at the station very early and, boarding the car, arrived at Richmond quite early that day. When he went to the Provost-Marshall's office and presented Mayor Townes' letter, he was most cordially welcomed. Transportation for the supplies was furnished across the city and on the train to Gordonsville, with a pass for Father as custodian. Father couldn't help saying "This is a very different reception from the one I received yesterday!* And the Provost answered, "We all felt so much sympathy for you yesterday, but our orders regarding the transportation of civilians were very strict and we had to obey." The interview ended pleasantly.
The boxes were delivered as addressed in Gordonsville. Father then hired a wagon, two horses and a driver at $100 per day, and for fifteen days was going from hospital to hospital looking for Jim, who being able to walk, had been sent from hospital to hospital as accommodations were required for the helplessly wounded, who needed care. At last the country wagon reached Aldie, London County, and the tidings meeting Father were, "Yes, your son was here, but left yesterday. General Weisinger, who was struck on the spinal column by a cannonball, offered to take two Petersburg boys, who were able to sit up, in his ambulance." Another wounded soldier had lost an arm, so he and Jim shared the General's ambulance as far as Gordonsville.
After that Jim, with the wound in his leg, and Clayton, who was almost a skeleton from a severe attack of pneumonia, were both home. We had terrible days of bombardment, but only once did it seem so very dreadful. It seemed as if every mortar and every cannon in Grant's army was turned upon us. Thousands upon thousands of General Lee's soldiers, were coming up from the trenches from Prince George, and thousands more coming down Sycamore, then down Bollingbrook to Second Street, to the Pocahontas Bridge.
That night was the worst of all. Jim and Clayton tried to get to Richmond on the train. They were told that there might be another, so they both lay down and were asleep, when a terrible cannonading, apparently directed to the spot, the improvised depot three miles from town, at or near Dunlop's. Jim said he looked at Clayton and the blanket on his shoulders was burning. The boys tore it off and took to the road. At length, there were nine stragglers, all wounded or sick, in their party, but they never could catch up with Lee's army, and only surrendered after they had heard of the terrible day at Appomattox Courthouse.
I remember the dramatic Finale so well that I cannot refrain from describing it. We were sitting at the breakfast table one Sunday morning and from my seat I saw through the large south windows of the diningroom dense clouds of the blackest smoke I had ever seen. Everyone at our table rushed to the windows and in a moment one of the servants who had been at a front window upstairs ran down to the diningroom screaming that Richard Taliaferro's cotton warehouse was on fire! That warehouse was back of the Bollingbrook Hotel which was opposite our house. People said afterwards that gallons and gallons of inflammable oil had been poured on the tobacco to prevent putting out the fires, if the enemy tried to do so.
During the war Uncle Henry still had a large tract of land on the outskirts of Petersberg, but this land he had, during the war, mortgaged, and putting the money thus obtained in cotton and tobacco, (and at prices which such products would then bring), he told Mother once, in my hearing, that he expected to realize three hundred thousand dollars! One the morning of the day when General Lee's forces evacuated the city, we saw every pound of that cotton and tobacco go up in flames. Next
