"We Can Hear the Distant Cannon."

Tuesday, September 16, 1862, Harpers Ferry, Virginia

It was not much of a fight. We came here to remove the Yankee threat to the army's rear, to keep our supply lines safe. We spent the time since leaving Martinsburg moving on Harpers Ferry. It took a while but we surrounded the town with our guns. Maryland Heights, Loudoun Heights and Bolivar Heights, overlooking the town and commanding it from above. Had the Yankees fought better to hold these heights, we could never have claimed victory.

But they did not fight more than a token's worth. We positioned our guns and infantry more or less without interference. Yesterday morning, we opened fire on the garrison. We could get at them but they not at us for we were too high. They did resist for a while but there comes a time to recognize that continued resistance only gets men killed with no positive gain to balance the scale. They surrendered and we moved it. Our brigade had not fired a shot.

Better than winning the battle for those of us high privates was the capturing of all their supplies. It reminded us of the capture of the Yankee supply depot at Manassas Junction. There were so many muskets captured that all of us now have new Springfields. Duncan got rid of that riduculous top hat in favor of a Federal kepi. We all profited ourselves with something from the Yankee supplies. I have enough hard crackers to last all year. I also took a wool shirt as winter is coming. Several of us went to visit the firehouse where the abolitionist John Brown and his insane followers made his last stand in '59.

Hill's division, including our brigade, has been left behind to see to the parole of the prisoners while Jackson and the rest of his command goes south. We do not mind as it gives us extra time to enrich ourselves courtesy of Massa Linkum.

Several of us in the company were guarding some of the prisoners. I saw men from Vermont, Ohio, Illinois and New York. It was New Yorkers of the One Hundred and Fifteenth specificly that we were guarding. Duncan and I got to talking with some of them. One was named Doxtater, another was called Platt. Both were young men, just past their teens. Then there was Joseph Wood from some place called Ephratah. He was the old one at thirty-seven. All three of them were both disappointed at having been surrendered and yet at the same time relieved that they are being paroled . No one will be shooting at them until they are properly exchanged.

We exchanged small plesantries with them and avoided politics for the most part. They looked very dejected and expressed much dissatisfaction with their senior officers. One of them said that if Jackson had been their general they would have prevailed. Castles and Duncan escorted them to where they could fill their haversacks with rations before they leave.

It is now dark and I am about out of ink. All attention is directed to the south, in the direction Jackson went. We can hear the distant cannon. This isn't over yet.