Letters from Triune: 'No wish ... is too cruel for a traitor'

Photo illustration of newspaper clippings of accounts from wartime Triune.

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Third in an occasional series.

Writing from the Triune Hills in Middle Tennessee, "Harry D" of Battery C of the 1st Ohio Light Artillery opens with a moment of rare calm. Sundays along the Harpeth River, he says, can be almost peaceful — no inspections, no bustle — just enough quiet for soldiers to sit with a shingle or tin plate on their knees and write home. 

The Ashtabula (Ohio) Weekly Telegraph
published the letter from Harry D, either
Harry Dinhanan or Harry Dingman of
the 1st Ohio Light Artillery.

Harry D — probably Harry Dinhanan or Harry Dingman — also fumes over Northern politics, especially the nomination of Copperhead Democrats like Clement Vallandigham, reserving some of the letter’s harshest language for anyone he sees as disloyal to the Union. Soldiers, he warns, will remember — and vote. Loyalty, he makes clear, is the one unforgivable line to cross, and the army’s patience for traitors, whether in gray or in civvies, is long gone.

"No wish, however malignant, is too cruel for a traitor," Harry D writes in the letter published in the Ashtabula (Ohio) Weekly Telegraph on June 27, 1863. 

My recent visits to Triune — where the Union army built a network of redoubts, earthworks and rifle pits a 20-minute drive from Franklin, Tenn. — inspired this "Letters From Triune" series.

Union army-built earthworks at Triune, Tennessee

ARMY CORRESPONDENCE

Southwick's Battery, At the Triune Hills, June 14th, 1863

READERS OF THE TELEGRAPH: We have all heard of a "quiet on the Potomac," and many comments have been made upon it, by unthinking, misinformed, people. Here on the Harpeth there is not so much of quiet, although to day matters have assumed a Sabbath day quietude; not even an inspection to mar the tranquility of repose and season of reflection.

And better than all, these Sunday resting spells give the soldier an opportunity to write letters. Look which ever way you will there sits your lad with a shingle on his knee, perhaps an upturned plate, busily chalking down the talk on paper to the dear one perhaps, the one above all price inestimable. Or it may be to a mother whose all of hope and joy he is, and whose loss to her would make her evening of life a chilling blank, a woeful chaos of grief. 

On the face of another scribe you may note the glow of strong manly devotion for the wife in the far off northern home, and the tenderness and truth of filial love on the open page of still another face. Such is the study of faces, the lesson to be learned from the tablet of each one's heart is more difficult to get. Our private opinion is that many little romances could be read from the heart histories of these letter writers and receivers.

Clement Vallandigham
(Library of Congress)

Those readers of the Ashtabula Telegraph who feel an interest in the members of Southwick's Battery could not much better please them than by writing letters. Of course they should be kind and encouraging ones, not hissing with copperhead politics, or fault with the Administration, or any thing in the least degree tainted with treason. We're sure such will not come from Ashtabula, Lake, or Geauga counties, to this army. But in this day of our Nation's calamity, such strange things happen. We are never sure where the serpent will spring from.  

There is the envenomed hiss of corrupt politics on the winds that blow from the North as well as from the Sunny South land. And the keenest sting of all to us from Ohio is the recent nomination of [Clement] Vallandigham and [George] Pugh, by the Democratic party, or better named the snakes from the vomit of hell, sick by a surfeit of treason. Excuse such harsh terms; you would, if you could know how the soldiers in this army feel towards enemies at home. But friends if we are rightly informed, soldiers will vote, and woe betide any blasted home rebel who may be a nominee for office. He might as well crawl away into the inlet to perdition and draw the hole in after his nasty carcass, eternally hiding the filthy thing from the face of earth. No wish, however malignant, is too cruel for a traitor.

Be we ever so merciful to other evil doers, and forgiving to those who wroug us many wise else than by treason, we would even pray for the total and immediate extermination ot traitors from this Free America, that is to be. In this Battery, a unanimity of loyal sentiment and patriotic principle is our platform of politics.

While officers of regiments with which we come in contact show a disregard for the sacred cause of liberty, by fawning about traitors in women's garb, that attract [unreadable] by the witchery of womanly prettiness; the officers of our battery pass them by in silent contempt and perhaps regret, that the sweet creatures were not favor of Union. We feel an honest pride in such officers and in there [sic] example to us is invaluable.

An aerial view of the site of one of the three United States Army redoubts at Triune.

Here at Triune are fields so large that divisions can drill together, and Captain [Daniel K.] Southwick takes the three batteries of his command and drills them together. It is a splendid and exciting spectacle to witness. The command consists of our battery in the 2ud Brigade, the 4th Michigan in the 1st, and Co. I, 4th Regulars, in the 3d Brigade. 

To say that the Captain can handle the three Batteries and do it well is but giving him the due meed of praise; and he would not have been appointed chief of Artillery in the 3d Division if his military abilities were not of a high order. 

We are encamped in a beautiful grove of noble trees, on a slight eminence; the infantry being costly placed in regular rows of tents just down the slope of the hill and on the plain below. Setting under the wing of these lofty maples at night, and looking at the brightly illuminated city of tents, reminds us of a city lit up for the reception of some idol of the people, or for some festive sports.

Apart from all there is in war to sadden us, we have much to make us happy, if we only let contentment be our rule of life. As the eye turns involuntary upward at these silent preachers of the grove pointing Heavenward, the heart grows heavy with a sense of woe; — grows weary of a war we could not shun with honor. And as the sweet and ever present beauties in nations ministry, lead us homeward through the pleasant meads of memory and imagination; the fire of patriotic ardor is newly kindled in our souls.

We are ready for the bloody work of war, and when it comes to us, you will not be ashamed of Battery C.

Yours truly, Harry D

Letters From Triune: Tennessean grapples with 'monster Secesh'

Photo illustration of newspaper clippings of accounts from wartime Triune.

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Second in an occasional series.

My recent visits to Triune — where the Union army built a network of redoubts, earthworks and rifle pits 20 minutes east of Franklin, Tenn. — inspired this "Letters From Triune" series. 

The writer, an East Tennessee private who signed the letter “S.K.H.,” had to scout for months just to reach Federal lines. Writing as a common soldier, he believed a man risking his life for a pittance deserved as much respect as any general.

From Triune, his thoughts turned home. Loyal East Tennessee families, he wrote, were trapped behind Confederate lines, facing violence or slow starvation as rebels seized corn, wheat and bacon to feed their own ranks first. 

The letter, published in The Nashville Daily Union on April 26, 1863, closes with loyalty tempered by frustration and a clear sense of what mattered to him. Above all, he supported preserving the Union — even if that meant slavery remained. 

“We say give us the Government of our fathers and let the negro slide,” "S.K.H." wrote.

Earthworks at Triune, a Union Army complex near Franklin, Tennessee.

TRIUNE, April 21, 1863 | Mr. EDITOR: Dear Sir,

Allow me to write a short article for your most excellent paper, which has more, character in our camps than any other sheet. I claim no position in the army higher than a private, yet I know what East Tennesseans have suffered; having had to scout for four months before I could reach the Federal army. And I think a private soldier, if he demeans himself aright, deserves as much respect as a Major General. The one exposes his life for big pay, the other for a mere pitance; at least the private can claim as much unbought patriotism as the officer, and that is all that should command respect in a war like the present one. 

We, as East Tennesseans, are peculiarly situated. Our homes are in the hands of a bloody and cruel enemy. We know not how soon the fiends incarnate may murder our fathers, and brothers, and even our mothers and sisters, that we have left behind us. They have murdered the kind mother while attempting to save her beloved son, and why will they not do the same thing again? Let man commit murder once, and he can commit the same crime a second time with more ease. But if they do not abuse the persons of our friends, they will take their corn, wheat, and bacon, those things they must have, or perish, and leave them in a state of complete destitution--a condition more deplorable than death itself. 

Remains of Union earthworks at Triune

This is no overstrained picture, for the rebels are now in a starving condition, and every man of sense knows they will let their enemies suffer before they will suffer themselves. How much the poor soldier, cut off from all communication with his home, fears that his wife and little ones will suffer for the want of food, and how it gladens his heart to hear, through some poor refugee who may have made his escape, his friends still live, and have the common comforts of life. 

Our only hope is that the Government will immediately relieve our portion of the State. Oh! what hours of anxiety to the poor refugee soldier. We are all waiting to see if the authorities intend to send us back in the direction of our homes. If those who command us only knew how it would gladen our hearts, they would say, Go, join Gen. BURNSIDE, penetrate East Tennessee, whip the rebels, and liberate your homes.

I sometimes think that we as soldiers have been treated badly, yet I am not disposed to complain. When this rebellion first broke out, every public journal praised the noble hearted East Tennesseans, who, in spite of all opposition, held The Star-Spangled Banner aloft, and claimed that they were loyal. And those in power told us to hold out for a short time, and we will come, to your relief, if we have to come through a wall of living fire.

A road leading to one of the three redoubts at Triune

But how is it today? Two long years have passed away — and our people are still pressed beneath a despotism more cruel than that of Austria or Turkey. Rebel Middle and West Tennessce have been redeemed, at least to a great measure. The Government has spread the broad wing protection over the disloyal portion of the State; yet our people, who have ever been loyal, are left to grapple with the monster Secesh. 

We don't like to grim fight over Middle Tennessee soil, while the rebels are insulting friends and insulting our people. All we ask is, let us try our sabres with the traitors about Greenville, Knoxville and Chattanooga. If we fall in the contest, history's page will give us a spot upon which we will live, and in the agonies of death we will have this consolation, that we died trying to do our duty. 

But, on the other band, if we should be successful, no pen can tell the joy we will bring to our friends at home. And none can paint the visions of horror that will flit across the minds of the secesh that are there. They will have to cry out, let rocks and| mountains fall on us, and hide us from the wrath of the coming Yankees. We are for supporting the Administration at all hazards, as the only chance to save the Government; and if we have to give up the Union, or the institution of slavery, we say give us the Government of our fathers and let the negro slide.

No more at present, but remain yours, truly, S.K.H.

Letters From Triune: 'Fat,' 'lazy' and the high price of whiskey

Photo illustration of newspaper clippings of accounts from wartime Triune.

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First in an occasional series

For a journalist like me, there’s nothing quite like reading soldiers' letters home printed in hometown newspapers. After my recent visit to the Triune earthworks — the maze of rifle pits, trenches and redoubts built by the Union army a 20-minute drive today from Franklin — a letter from a 96th Illinois soldier struck me in a way it might not have before. 

A pond among the earthworks at Triune.
Did soldiers use this?

Dated June 13, 1863, from “Camp at Triune,” Private Samuel F. Vose writes with a mix of humor and candor that pulls me right into camp life. The men are healthy but filthy, freshly paid but only moderately drunk thanks to the high price of whiskey, and settled into the peculiar boredom of waiting behind fortifications in a small yet strategically important Tennessee town 30 miles south of Nashville. 

Vose recounts a brush with Confederate forces — pickets fired on, batteries moved forward, shells sailing overhead — and notes "some killed" in his brigade. Reading it, I can almost hear the echoes of those guns across the fields, and I feel, just a little, what it was like to be there.

Camp at Triune, Tenn., June 13th, 1863

Dear Brother L.— 

As I had written you a few lines and got a few in return, I thought I would write you a letter so as to get one in return.

Well, the first thing is we are all well, fat and lazy, dirty, lousy and ragged, and in good fighting condition. We got our pay for two months yesterday, but did not get very drunk on account of whisky being so high — two dollars per bottle, and beer ten cents a thimble full. There was a few though who got so that they could lie on their backs a great deal easier than they could keep on their feet, so they preferred doing it but were interrupted occasionally by the rise of whisky which somewhat soiled their garments.

The country around here is very good and all the old planters seem to be pretty well off, but I don’t think this war is helping them much. Triune is about as large as Hainesville, and a good deal such a looking place. The fortifications here are good and strong.

Union earthworks snake through the woods at Triune.

The report is that the rebels are within ten miles of us thirty thousand strong, and intend to make an attack on us soon, but I don’t think they will make much if they do. We had a little brush with them last Thursday, and came nearer getting into a fight than we ever have before. They commenced about ten o’clock in the morning by firing on the pickets. We were all got out in line of battle, the batteries in front. The rebels brought up one battery within a quarter of a mile and opened on the 12th Chicago Battery. They had it pretty lively for a while. 

We took all our tents down and sent them back of the intrenchments. The 18th Ohio battery then came into line and commenced firing, and our regiment supported it. Company A went out as skirmishers. The rebels then got some guns to play on us, and the shells whistled over us pretty lively for a while but all went too high to do us any damage. It made some of the boys dodge down their heads, but all in our regiment stood and did not get frightened.

Some of the boys in the 84th Indiana skedaddled and got behind the intrenchments. The first shell that went over scared the sutler’s clerks so that they grabbed up their money box, as they supposed, but it proved to be a box of matches, and ran for a safe place and left their goods. The boys pitched into the eatables and would have destroyed the whole if it had not been for the Quartermaster. He put their things on a wagon and sent them off. When Bingham found he had got the wrong box he mustered up courage enough to come back and get the right one which the boys had not found.

Just beyond Triune earthworks,
a mansion rises.

Wilson of Libertyville was one of the clerks, and had always said if the boys got into a fight he should take a gun and go in with them. He started for home yesterday morning, firm in the belief that he had had a barrel shot from under him. Bingham feels quite cheap about it, he says he supposes that the boys will write home a parcel of lies about it.

I saw a body of armed rebels for the first time; they were making a charge on the pickets at the time Gen. [George] Granger was at the 12th Chicago Battery. He turned a gun on them and sighted it himself, and when they stopped to fire he landed a shell in their midst, but they were not long in getting back to the woods again. The batteries and cavalry did most of the fighting. Company A got a few shots at them and so did some of the pickets. One Sergeant in Company K killed two rebels. They left about 3 P.M.

There was some killed in our brigade, and the cavalry lost some, I don’t know how many. We took some prisoners and killed some, but I don’t know the number. There was two spies hung at Franklin last week. They were passing themselves off as Inspecting Generals from Rosecrans, and had looked the works all over and were just going out of the lines when a cavalry boy recognized one of them, as an officer in the rebel army.

Yours truly, S. F. Yost

Postscript: Yost, a farmer, apparently was some kind of character. In the 96th Illinois' retreat at Resaca in May 1864, he suffered a dislocated arm. Then the Confederates compelled the regiment — Vose included — to withdraw again.

"Stripping off all of his clothing but his pants, the surgeon had just succeeded in pulling the dislocated  arm in place when the stampede begun," a regimental historian wrote. "Vose ran back without many clothes on, an object at once pitiable and laughable, as he made his way to the  rear," the regimental historian wrote. (Page 326.)

Vose mustered out in the summer of 1865. He died in Florida in 1924.

---

SOURCE: The Waukegan (Wis.) Weekly Gazette, June 27, 1863