WAR

In April, 1861, when Virginia took her stand beside her southern sisters, she became the forefront of the four-year battle. But although the tocsin had sounded at Fort Sumpter, and great battles were being fought, to us in and around Norfolk, war was something which had gathered within our midst thousands of brave and gallant gentlemen who had donned the gray from many southern states, as well as those of our own section, for this was a famous camping ground during that first year, and the bloody battlefield seemed too far off to touch our dear ones.

The days of ‘61 and the early months of ‘62 were bright and happy days, for all thought the war would soon be over, and no one dreamed that it would ever reach our threshold. On all sides the soldiers were encamped. Every family kept open house. Old Virginia hospitality was everywhere in evidence, and there was many a sound of revelry at night when gay Virginia girls made merry with the southern soldiers.

After the fall of Roanoke Island in February, 1862, we began to realize that play-time had ended, and the war cloud was gathering over us also. Many regiments were ordered to the front, only sufficient left for coast defense. Soon came that fateful week when we were bereft of all our soldier brothers and friends. On the eighth of May, we bade farewell to brother Joe, who marched away with his regiment, the Seaboard Rifles, never to see home or loved ones again.

On the tenth the Yankees landed at Sewell's Point. The Chesapeake Cavalry were the last to leave Norfolk, protecting the retreat of the infantry and the artillery. About midday, all other troops being disposed of, the cavalry crossed over the Old Draw Bridge at the foot of Main Street. There many mothers and sisters had gathered, hoping for a parting word with son or brother. Miss Sue Ingram and her Aunt, Miss Herbert Livingston, were among them, for Livy and Jack Ingram were with their regiment.

As our cavalry crossed the bridge, the Yankees were marching into the other end of the city. There was no order to halt, so a wave of the hand, a lifted cap, and that band of men had gone to meet their fate. Miss Sue never saw her brother Livingston again. He fell in the Battle of Yellow Tavern, following General Stuart to his death. They were both mortally wounded on that field. Jim, my brother, was fortunate in the thick of that battle.

The departing army after evacuating Norfolk marched through the country to Suffolk, the cavalry covering the rear. Once on the road to Great Bridge, Major Borroughs gave our neighborhood boys leave to break ranks and ride to their homes for a parting word. Again the cheery words were spoken and the lips smiled brassily while hearts were almost breaking. Jim, only a boy, reached the end of the lane and turned in the saddle for a parting wave. We were all there to wave back.

Then came the dark hour. I had just read the morning Psalter for the tenth day. I don't believe I have ever read it since without thinking of that day. Then came the lonely weary waiting for news from the front. The first of our boys who ceased to answer the roll call was Watt Thompson, such a merry bright fellow, and an only son. Then there were others, and others, and always that dread in one's heart as to the next.

On the 11th of May, ‘62, we had our first visit from the blue coats. An officer and company rode all around the neighborhood visiting every home, asking many questions, among them how many men in the army, how many at home. We had our house searched by soldiers in the middle of the night, looking for arms. They did not hesitate to walk right into our bedrooms. They took my father's double-barreled gun, in spite of all protests. Then there was only left a small boy's gun belonging to Dick which was overlooked.

All during this year of ‘62 we were constantly having Yankee raids through the country. Wagons were backed up to barn doors and filled with provender for their horses. Food and milk were demanded, sometimes politely, at other times, most impudently. We had no money, and our silver was reposing in the ground underneath the brick floor of the cellar.

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