Dead Horses and Soldiers’ Graves Were a Common Sight: A Wisconsin Soldier in the Shenandoah

While escorting a wagon train of supplies to General Phil Sheridan's army at Harrisonburg, Virginia in late September 1864, a Wisconsin soldier stumbled across one of the most controversial acts of Sheridan's Valley campaign: the burning.

    "When within eight miles of Harrisonburg, we met a force of cavalry gathering cattle, horses, sheep, and hogs into droves, and burning barns, hay, and grain stacks," he wrote. "As far as I could see in all directions the country was on fire. It is well settled and in times of peace must have been a wealthy country. It was a fearful sight. No one out of the army can conceive of the awful waste of property that a marching army makes." 

    The following soldier's letter first appeared on the front page of the October 20, 1864, edition of the Appleton Motor published in Appleton, Wisconsin. The correspondent, listed by the newspaper as simply "one of our neighbors now serving in the army," was never identified. 

 

Alfred Waud sketched this image of "the burning" on October 7, 1864, near Mount Jackson, Virginia. The action was a deliberate policy devised by Grant who ordered Sheridan to "do all the damage to railroads and crops you can. Carry off stock of all descriptions and Negroes so as to prevent further planting. If the war is to last another year, we want the Shenandoah Valley to remain a barren waste." The Union army, stung so many times by Confederate armies that traversed the Valley and invaded the North, was determined to put an end to raids and invasions like Early's. 

Martinsburg, Virginia

October 8, 1864

My dear father,

          It will be seven weeks next Monday since I left Appleton and I have not received a letter from anyone as yet, but I suppose there are a number in store for me at Washington that will be forwarded to the regiment as soon as we stop long enough in any place to warrant the officers sending for the mail.

          When at Harper’s Ferry, I wrote that we were under marching orders but did not know whither bound, but it now appears that we were ordered to guard supply trains to Sheridan’s army. His base of supplies was then at Harper’s Ferry. It is now at this place about ten miles nearer and I see by this morning’s paper that it will be at Strasburg in a few days.

          Our trains consisted of 500 wagons, each drawn by three spans of miles or horses, but principally by miles and driven in one line- an awkward way of driving in a Yankee’s estimation. These wagons are all covered with canvas and look like the prairie schooners we used to see. Between every 15 or 20 wagons were placed two or three companies of infantry besides a small force of cavalry which acted as scouts.

          We spent the Sabbath and Monday at the Ferry; on Tuesday morning, we had orders to shoulder our knapsacks, cartridge boxes, and gun, and to take our places in the ranks which was accomplished in ten minutes but it was 3 p.m. before we fairly started. We arrived at Harrisonburg, a distance of 108 miles, Saturday evening. I stood the march as well as any in the company though we were all footsore and weary.

          When within eight miles of Harrisonburg, we met a force of cavalry gathering cattle, horses, sheep, and hogs into droves, and burning barns, hay, and grain stacks. As far as I could see in all directions the country was on fire. It is well settled and in times of peace must have been a wealthy country. It was a fearful sight. No one out of the army can conceive of the awful waste of property that a marching army makes.


          We spent the Sabbath, or what answers for that day in the army, at Harrisonburg. On Monday, our wagons were loaded with refugees, sick, and wounded soldiers, and we started for this place in charge of 160 Rebel prisoners who had to hoof it with us. Some of them were barefooted but most of them were comfortably clad. They were marched in ranks of four with a file of our men on either side with fixed bayonets.

          That first night they had a hard time. It commenced raining about 4 in the afternoon and we marched until nearly 10 before we went into camp. We were all wet and the ground was wet; where the prisoners were placed was muddy and but few of them had blankets. We passed rails to them and they made fires and places a few at the side to lay on and bunked for the night. My mate and I were on guard till 12 o’clock and the most of the time it rained hard.

          Our blankets were wet and things looked gloomy and where we were to roost for the remainder of the night was getting to be a serious question. But fortunately, the wind changed and we went to a barn about a quarter of a mile distant and confiscated six bundles of unthreshed wheat and carried them back to lay on, which made us quite comfortable. The most of the time in this march I have laid on the ground with only a single piece of canvas under me and strange to say have not taken cold. The weather has been warm most of the time with no frost yet as of Sabbath morning October 8, 1864.

          It was rumored in camp yesterday that we are to start with another train tomorrow and this is the only chance I shall have to write until I return. There is much that I have seen that would be interesting to relate but my accommodation for writing are so poor that I shall defer it till another time. Our march was over the same road that Sheridan fought the Rebels. Dead horses and soldiers’ graves were common sights. At Winchester and Fisher’s Hill, I saw a great many graves.

Source:

Letter from unknown soldier, Appleton Motor (Wisconsin), October 20, 1864, pg. 1

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