History of the Seventy-Second Regiment of the North Carolina Troops in the War Between the States, 1861-'65 — A Reader’s Guide

Rations and the Material Life of the Reserves

One of the most concrete passages in the excerpts describes the rations issued to officers and men at Kinston and Goldsboro: "half a pint of black sorghum syrup, a pint of husky meal every other day, a third of a pound of pork or Nassau bacon and a few potatoes occasionally." The term "Nassau bacon" is glossed as a fatty blockade-run commodity distributed to Lee's veterans. The author notes that when cornfield peas were issued, the boys were in "high jinks." This level of detail—specific measures, a local nickname for a ration item, and the emotional response to a dietary change—grounds the history in everyday material conditions. Hinsdale asserts that the men were "uncomplaining," recognizing that the Confederacy was doing its best. The passage offers a rare glimpse into the logistics and morale of a junior reserve unit, though the author's claim of universal contentment may reflect his own perspective rather than the soldiers'.

The Battle of Southwest Creek: Terrain and Tactics

The battle narrative for Southwest Creek (March 1864) is the most extended combat account in the excerpts. Hinsdale describes the regiment's position in "old breastworks on the margin of a swamp, about a hundred yards from the creek," with pickets on the stream. The enemy's skirmishers and sharpshooters appear, and minie balls whistle overhead—each boy believing the bullet came "just by my ear." The reserves crossed the creek on an improvised bridge made by felling trees and covering them with lumber from Jackson's mill. The brigade advanced "under fire through fallen trees, brush, brambles, and bullets," making alignment difficult. Hinsdale contrasts the ragged reserves with the enemy: "fresh troops from New Bern, well dressed, well fed, well armed and well liquored, as was evidenced by the condition of some prisoners captured." The account names specific casualties—Lieutenant John W. Harper and Lieutenant Hamlin—and notes the rainy, dark night that followed. The passage reveals the author's attention to terrain, logistics, and the sensory experience of combat, while also displaying a partisan tone in describing the enemy.

The Author's Voice and the Problem of Memory

Hinsdale's preface and narrative voice reveal a historian aware of the limits of his project. He regrets that the task was not performed earlier, "before the stirring scenes ... have faded into the dim outline of a shadowy dream." He concedes that "some inaccuracies must now necessarily creep into this sketch." Yet he also asserts his qualification: as Assistant Adjutant-General, he possesses "many valuable records" from his office. The text thus oscillates between personal recollection and documentary claim. The opening strategic summary—citing the loss of Missouri, Kentucky, and Tennessee, and characterizing Sherman's march as emulating "the atrocities of the Duke of Alva"—is a retrospective framing that colors the regimental story. Readers should weigh Hinsdale's dual role as participant and compiler, noting where his language shifts from report to interpretation. The excerpts do not reveal how he reconciled his own memories with the records he cites, leaving that question open.

This edition preserves Hinsdale's original 1902 printing, including the transcriber's note that minor changes have been made. Readers interested in the gap between official records and veteran memory will find the text a useful case study. The author's frank admission of possible inaccuracy, combined with his specific details on rations and terrain, invites scrutiny of how regimental histories construct a usable past. The excerpts offer no information on the regiment's later service or disbandment, so the narrative remains incomplete.

The rain drummed on the windows while I followed Colonel Hinsdale’s boys through Southwest Creek, their youth so vivid in the adjutant’s dry notes. That evening, restless, I picked up The Wentworth Letter — Text and Context almost by chance. Both books share a quiet ache—how young men endure what older men send them toward, and how a single letter can hold that same weight.