NEW YORK CITY, and my first
peep at it. We are in City Hall Park, but I must go back and tell of our
getting here. We had an all night's ride, passing many large places. So many
knew the names of them, we greenhorns only had to listen to find out where we
were all the time. Some did not want to sleep, and the rest were not allowed
to. The boatmen must be glad to see the last of us. We passed laws for their observance
as well as for our own. The officers kept out of sight. I suppose they were
asleep somewhere. May be it is well for both them and ourselves that they did
not interfere, for the devil in each man seemed to have got loose. We didn't
try to run the steamer but we ran everything else in sight. We took turns
riding the walking beam. Some wanted to and the rest had to, and the wonder is
no one was killed, or at least crippled. We landed at the foot of Harrison
Street, and marched to the City Hall Park, where I am now seated on the front
porch of a tremendous great building, writing about it in my diary. Everything
is clean here, and everything to me is new. I have never been in New York
before, and I don't suppose I shall see very much of it now. I am on business
for the boss, and cannot fool away the time running around the city, even if I
was allowed to, which I am not. The officers have us shut in here, with a high
picket fence, made of iron, around us on every side. Soldiers, real soldiers,
are on guard just outside, keeping a close watch that none of us crawl under or
jump over. We first had a good wash, then a good breakfast, and then were let
alone to read the papers, or write letters or do anything we chose. I had a
good nap. The stone I lay on was but little harder than my bunk in the barracks
at Hudson, and it was a great deal warmer. The papers say the Rebs are expected
to attack Harpers Ferry to-day. Why couldn't they wait until we got there?
Maybe they have heard of us and are improving the time before we get there.
Captain Bostwick has gone home for a visit, saying he would meet us in
Washington.
Night. On the cars in Jersey
City. Part of the regiment has gone on another train, and we are to meet in
Philadelphia. We marched on the ferry-boat in double file, and were made to
kneel on one knee, leaving the other sticking up for the man ahead to sit on.
If it was done for our comfort it was a complete failure, but if it was to keep
us from running all over the boat it worked well. Before we left City Hall Park
I got a fellow on the outside to get me a bottle of blackberry brandy, and when
we were finally seated in the car I out with my bottle and gave it a swing
around my head to let the fellows see what I had, when it slipped from my hand
and went to smash on the floor. Much as some of us needed it, we could only get
a smell, as the fumes rose up to aggravate us.
*They did correspond, and
after the war were married, and as far as I ever knew or heard lived happily
ever after.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van
Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p.
17-8
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