One of the days to be remembered, having had a deeper experience of life than ever before. Early in the day orders came to put on our best rig, and get ready to be sworn in, as a mustering officer was coming to camp to perform that (to Uncle Sam) very important duty. Our company was drawn up facing the head-quarters for a long time. The boys being in a fever of excitement as to how the operation would work, whether it would hurt much, or whether the home-folks would know us ever afterward. It turned out about as easy as the measles; some itching for a while, but soon over. The officer, Captain N. B. McLaughlin, of the Regular Army, walked up and down each rank as we stood in open order; looking at each man; picking out one or two and punching them a little, probably to scare them as much as possible; intending to pass them all. Then, coming in front of us while our hats were off and right hands raised, repeated the oath of service, and we were finally soldiers of the Volunteer Army. We felt that we were taller men by at least ten inches, and it is possible if Sergeant Thayer had measured the company then and there it would have been one of the tallest. But it was still "Left," "Left," "Left," again, and we soon found our level.
We are a social party; hardly a day but brings crowds from the city. Our company has its share. One afternoon quite a party of young ladies were with us trying to keep up our spirits. They were to stay awhile in the evening, going home by the late train, so we thought we would get up a little dance, but half-past eight o'clock came all to quickly, they had to go; and then the question arose how were we to see them to the cars. Try our best we could only spare one man. That lucky individual, whoever he was, will remember the incident. As this was probably the young ladies' last visit before our start for the South, we demanded and received our last good-bye kisses, but when they saw the same boys falling in the second time, and some of them strangers, they scattered like a drove of sheep over the fences and far away to the station. I think that was the last effort the company made (as an orgaization) to kiss them all a good-bye.
SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 8
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