MARCH
22, 1864:
Several citizens of
Fayetteville write of Sherman’s seizure of their city. From their diaries and
letters it is possible to get some hint of the extent of the destruction
visited upon them by Sherman’s men.
From
The Diary of A Confederate Woman
(reprinted in part):
Sherman has gone and
terrible has been the storm that has swept over us with his coming and going.
They deliberately shot two of our citizens ---murdered them in cold blood ---
one of them a Mr. Murphy, a wounded soldier, Confederate States Army. They hung
up three others and one lady, merely letting them down just in time to save
life, in order to make them tell where their valuables were concealed; and they
whipped-stripped and cowhided-several good and well known citizens . . . There
was no place, no chamber, trunk, drawer, desk, garret, closet or cellar that
was private to their unholy eyes. Their rude hands spared nothing but our lives
. . . At our house they killed every chicken, goose, turkey, cow, calf and
every living thing, even to our pet dog. They carried off our wagons, carriage
and horses, and broke up our buggy, wheelbarrow, garden implements, axes,
hatchets, hammers, saws &c., and burned the fences. Our smokehouse and
pantry, that a few days ago were well stored with bacon, lard, flour, dried
fruit, meal, pickles, preserves, etc., now contain nothing whatever except a
few pounds of meal and flour and five pounds of bacon. They took from old men,
women and children alike, every garment of wearing apparel save what we had on,
not even sparing the napkins of infants! Blankets, sheets, quilts, &c. . .
. they tore to pieces before our eyes . . . [O]ne of these barbarians had to
add insult to injury by asking me “what you (I) would live upon now?” I
replied, “Upon patriotism; I will exist upon the love of my country as long as
life will last, and then I will die as firm in that love as the everlasting
hills.”
“Oh,” says he, “but we shall soon subjugate
the rebellion, and you will then have no country to love.” . . . And he turned
and left me with a fiendish chuckle.
From The Hillsborough Recorder (reprinted in part):
FAMINE AT
FAYETTEVILLE
We are in great distress.
The Yankees arrived on Sunday morning, and have nearly destroyed both town and
country . . . Many, very many families have not a mouthful to eat. We have meal
and meat to last us two weeks, by taking two meals a day. Our house and many
others burned, and everything destroyed. Even the negroes have been robbed and
abused . . . Do spread the news of our destitution and urge the people to bring
us something to eat. If relief does not come soon many must starve to death . .
. All the factories, the arsenal and the . . .
[town]
square . . . have been burned. Every
store and house in town and country have been robbed.
The Richmond
Daily Dispatch reassures its readers:
Whilst Sherman
advances northward, the sea closes behind him, and lifts up its unfettered
hands on high. He leaves not even a trace of his conquering keel over the vast
expanse he has crossed. The subjugation of such a territory as that of the
Confederacy is simply an impossibility, if the people are true to themselves.
Borne down in one place, we will rise in another, and let him discover that he
has a war on his hands which will last as long as his most passionate desires
for bloodshed can demand. We cannot yield life, honor, property, freedom, all
that makes us men, without struggling till every hand is paralyzed and every
heart grows cold in death.
While the Daily Dispatch inspires, and while the citizens of Fayetteville
mourn the loss of their city, the Union army enters Goldsboro. Colonel George
Nichols U.S.A. writes:
The army has entered
Goldsboro’. Its march has been delayed seventy hours by Johnston’s operations,
but the interruption has not materially interfered with [us] . . . Our army will at once be . . . refit[ted] for
the next campaign; not only to be reclothed, but to gain . . . repose . . .
Mind, as well as body, requires rest after the fatigues of rapid campaign[ing]
. . . These ragged, bareheaded, shoeless, brave, jolly fellows of Sherman’s
legions . . . Yet, with all the
hardships of the campaign, the surgeons’ returns show the wonderfully healthy
condition of the army. Only two per cent of sick are in hospital . . . The
great majority of the soldiers are strong, healthy, cheerful, confident. The
mental strain, however, is visible . . . With a few days of quiet for animals
and men . . . we will soon be ready to strike another blow for our nationality.
