Diary of Musician David Lane, October 1, 1863

We have pitched our tents in rear of our guns and still occupy the same position. Our trap was set for a band of guerillas who have been operating a few miles south of us. Our cavalry—sent out to drive them in—encountered them yesterday, killed several, took a few prisoners, and are in pursuit of the remainder. We busy ourselves by arresting everything and everybody that comes our way. Citizens are all taken before Acting Brigadier General Leisure, who asks them all sorts of questions, gathering, in this way, much valuable information—administers the Oath of Allegiance, grants protection papers, etc. Deserters are constantly coming in, mostly from Bragg's army. I saw two North Carolinians last evening.

They say Beauregard and Longstreet are at Chattanooga—also that the Rebels burned Charleston and evacuated. We are kept very close, no man-not even officers' cooks-being allowed to cross over to the city. From the best information I can get, I conclude Bragg has sent a force to operate on Rosa's rear, threatening this place in their course. Nine bushwhackers were brought in last night and were taken to headquarters.

These wretches are being hunted from their hiding places in the mountains with untiring zeal by the Home Guards.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 99-100

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 2, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.  We are shut out from all intercourse with the rest of the world. Even Dame Rumor has retired behind the scenes, exhausted, doubtless, by the herculean efforts she has put forth the last few days. By the last and only mail we have had since we came here, we received a bundle of Detroit Tribunes, dated September 15th. Since then the silence of isolation has enveloped us. There is a tiny sheet published daily at Knoxville. It is silent on all except local subjects, and nearly so on them. I notice, in yesterday's edition, a convention has been held by the people of this county to nominate delegates to a state convention, to be held at Nashville, for the purpose of nominating a state ticket. The delegates pledge themselves to support no candidate who is not truly loyal. Thus, while politicians and demagogues are wrangling over "reconstruction and territorial admission," the people are solving the most difficult problem by the most simple process.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 101

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 3, 1863

Our trap is sprung at last. For three long, weary days and sleepless nights we patiently awaited the coming of that "flanking column" which we were to capture or annihilate. First they were reported crossing at Tennessee Ford, twenty miles below, thirty thousand strong, to sweep the "Northern vandals" from this fair valley and open up a way for supplies to reach Richmond. Next their advance had reached Marysville, fourteen miles from this place. Citizens came flocking in all day Thursday, telling sickening tales of outrage perpetrated by their "advance" on unoffending "Union people." Some reported them four hundred strong, others fifteen or twenty thousand.

Yesterday it was reported ten thousand of our cavalry had gone out to reconnoitre. They visited the Ford no "raid" had been there—Rocksville; no cavalry had been there to Loudon; no guerillas had been there. A council of war was held, and they decided to return by the way of Marysville. There the enemy had been seen. Cautiously they advanced to beleaguer the devoted town. A short distance from the town a halt was called and scouts sent out to reconnoitre. They found the city "occupied" by a force of eight bushwackers. These were captured "without the loss of a man on our side."

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 101-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 7, 1863

Colonel Luce is going home again, on furlough, to recruit. He takes with him three officers of the line and ten Sergeants—one from each company. They are to be gone sixty days. If enlisting is "played out," as many claim, sending men from active service for the purpose of soliciting enlistments is the height of folly. Perhaps there is so little for us to do just now, we may as well be in Michigan as Tennessee. If that is so, why not send all of us home?

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 102

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 9, 1863

At daylight yesterday we were ordered to be ready to march at 9 o'clock. It had been rumored for several days the Rebels had possession of Greenville, seventy-five miles up the valley, and that our forces were falling back toward Morristown. The Second Brigade was sent that way last week. Monday the First Brigade of the First Division moved forward to Morristown and was followed on Wednesday by the Second. Today the Third Brigade follows.

The Second and Twentieth Michigan Infantry and the One Hundredth Pennsylvania have gone, and we are momentarily expecting the train which is to take us. General Wilcox has arrived with five thousand new troops, and is at Morristown. We have, also, a heavy force of mounted infantry and cavalry at Greenville. The Rebels are reported eight thousand strong. The intention is to lure them on to near Bulls Gap, and, while the mounted men work around the mountains to their rear, we close in on them in front and grind them between us.

Burnside went to the front today, from which I infer there is work to be done. This line of railroad is of the utmost importance to Virginia Rebels. They cannot safely winter there without it, and they will make a desperate effort to regain control of it.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 103

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 12, 1863

We left Knoxville at 9 a. m. of Saturday and arrived within ten miles of Greenville about sundown. The hills and valleys were covered with troops, those in front in line of battle. Artillery and musketry could be heard about two miles in front, and we were told there had been skirmishing in front nearly all day. It was nearly dark, and our brigade, being in front, we marched about half a mile and encamped for the night. Before it was fairly light the next morning we joined our brigade, which was in the extreme front, supporting a battery. Every preparation had been made for a "big fight," and our boys awaited the attack with eager anticipation. Skirmishers were thrown out to ascertain the position of their infantry, that our batteries might open the ball by a salute at sunrise. Our skirmishers soon returned—they had found no enemy. Instantly away dashed a regiment of cavalry in hot pursuit, followed by the First Division—the Seventeenth in advance. We did some fast marching for about two hours, when we halted for two mounted brigades to pass. Here we learned the Rebels passed through Greenville about daylight, and were some ten miles ahead, making the best time possible. But Foster's cavalry had been sent around to intercept them should they retreat.

He was expected to cross the river at a ferry fifteen miles above Greenville and intercept them in a ravine about five miles beyond. But the ferry boats had been destroyed, and he was compelled to go several miles to a ford, which caused so much delay he did not arrive in time. We followed several miles and gave up the pursuit.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 103-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 14, 1863

Our part in this expedition is done, and we are on our way back to Knoxville. Wilcox's "baby brigade," as our boys call them, and the Twenty-third Corps, together with cavalry and mounted infantry, are following up the retreating Rebels. I have not learned the result of the fight, and probably will not for some days to come. Over a hundred of their dead are buried at Blue Springs, where our forces first overtook them, and as far as I went which was fifteen miles—every house was filled with their wounded.

I saw some were from Lee's army. One Lieutenant said he remembered seeing our regiment at Fredericksburg. He had stood picket opposite our boys several times. There was a brigade from the Rappahannock. Their force, he said, was about eight thousand, all mounted. The facts in the case were about as follows: Burnside had cleared his department of armed Rebels and had advanced into Virginia as far as Salt Town, where the Rebels had extensive salt works, strongly fortified. Before he could concentrate sufficient force to destroy these works, word came that Rosa was in danger—that Burnside was to hold himself in readiness to reinforce him at a minute's notice. In order to do this he must withdraw all his forces from the northeast and concentrate them near Knoxville.

The Rebels followed up as he fell back, and occupied the positions he had driven them from.

Before Burnside reached Morristown, word came from Rosa that he was safe inside his fortifications and was being rapidly reinforced by Grant. This left Burnside free to do over again what had been undone, but through no fault of his.

It was a touching sight to witness the joy of these much-abused people at our return. Men who had fled to the bush as the Rebels advanced, and dare not, for their lives, appear, came flocking in and were welcomed with tears and shouts of joy by wives and children. Their gratitude was unbounded.

As I witnessed the delight of these people and listened to their tales of suffering, I felt more than ever that I was engaged in a just and holy cause, and my heart was strengthened to do and dare for human liberty.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 105-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 9, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky.     Again has the note of preparation sounded in our camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason from that unhappy State. Orders have not been issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens and tents have been distributed, and, more ominous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out to every man—in fact, we are ready to take the field at a minute's notice, and only await the order.

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 90

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 13, 1863

London, Ky.     We broke camp last Thursday morning, the tenth of September, bound for Cumberland Gap, ninety miles distant. The first day we marched eleven miles over a rough, broken country, and encamped for the night. The next morning we started at 5 o'clock and made eighteen miles; yesterday, nine miles — thirty-eight miles in three days, with eight days' rations and our accoutrements. The second day we marched rapidly, making few halts, our business being urgent, for Burnside's left was threatened, and we were hastening to the rescue. But, thanks to a kind Providence, a messenger met us at this place with the intelligence that the Rebels had suddenly left East Tennessee to join Bragg's army at Lafayette, and the Gap was already in possession of our forces. There being no cause for haste, our commander decided to spend the Sabbath here, and give the poor, tired mules a chance to rest. We will probably resume our march in the morning and proceed leisurely to the Gap—perhaps to Knoxville. We have borne the fatigue thus far better than I expected.

It is a long time since I carried a knapsack, but the more I have to do, the more strength I have to do it with.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 90-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 14, 1863

We were aroused this morning at 3 o'clock and ordered to be ready to march at 5 o'clock. In a very few minutes hundreds of fires were brightly glowing, striving by their feeble rays to dispel the gloom of night. At the appointed hour we were up and away with hearts as light and buoyant as though privations, toil and danger were unknown. The morning was delightfully cool, and before the god of day had risen to scorch us with his burning rays, nearly half our day's march was done. The rest of the day was made easy by frequent halts, and when, at 2 o'clock p. m., we filed into line and stacked arms, all were agreeably surprised. We had marched twelve miles.

Today is the anniversary of our first battle—our baptism. The mind naturally reverts to that trying time, and all its scenes pass rapidly in review. Then, for the first time, we met face to face our country's foe. The chivalry of the South then met the mudsills of Michigan and learned to respect them. Today we met them again, but not in battle array. As we were starting, this morning, we came upon 2,300 prisoners taken at Cumberland Gap. They were free to talk, and a more ignorant lot of semi-savages I never met. We could not convince them that Vicksburg or Port Hudson were in our possession. They were very "frank," and indulged freely in epithets and pet names.

9 o'clock p. m.     Our camp is in a beautiful grove, on the banks of a "babbling brook." A cool, delicious breeze is gently blowing from the west. The sky is cloudless, and the bright, scintillating stars shine out in unwonted brilliancy, and the pale moon is pouring down upon the earth a flood of silvery light. It is an ideal night in which to rest after a fatiguing march-an ideal night, so seem to think our boys, in which to celebrate the anniversary of our first battle. The Sutler came up about sundown with the "accessories." The preliminaries have been gone through with, and the "celebration is in full blast." Pandemonium reigns. This quiet glen has been transformed, for the time being, into the council hall of demons. Men fall upon each other's necks and weep, and laugh, and drivel, and shout "’Rah for Seventeenth Michigan." It was an impressive ceremony, and one in which all allusions to the brave men who fell and sympathy for their bereaved families were considerately left out, lest they wound the tender sensibilities of the living.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 91-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 16, 1863

I was so completely exhausted yesterday I did not expect to be able to march at all today, but, thanks to my recuperative powers, I arose this morning "good as new." The distance is nothing; it is the load we carry, and the rough, hilly country, winding up, higher and higher, that fatigues. Rough and hilly as it is, this country is thickly settled by a people who raise barely enough to keep soul and body together. We have marched only nine miles today, and will lay over until the day after tomorrow.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 93

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 20, 1863

Cumberland Gap.     We are now in East Tennessee, one mile south of the famous Gap in the Cumberland Mountains.

When we left Crab Orchard we expected a fight here, as it was then in possession of the Rebels. I cannot say I am sorry they gave us possession without a struggle, for it is an ugly looking place, and "hard to take" without opposition. Our route, for the last sixty miles, has been over, around and among mountains, but this is the "back bone," or main ridge, which rises in a direct line high above the isolated peaks on either side. The Gap is a slow, gradual ascent that rises to about half the altitude of the mountain on each side; is very crooked, and, at places, barely wide enough for a wagon to pass. At the summit it widens out into a small plain, or basin, containing about five acres, and shut in by a solid wall of rock two or three hundred feet in height. Near the center of the basin is a large spring of crystal water. Here are the fortifications, and a stronger position can hardly be imagined. One thousand men can hold it against any force that can be sent against it, so long as provisions and ammunition holds out. On the summit is a marble shaft that marks the corners of Virginia and Kentucky and the north line of Tennessee. By taking two steps I was in three different States. We are awaiting orders, and may remain over tomorrow. It is yet undecided whether we go to Knoxville or to Morristown, thirty miles above the former place, on the Richmond & New Orleans Railroad.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 93-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 25, 1863

The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings, fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston River. I have just returned from the city, where I have spent most of the day. These are glorious days for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day of their deliverance has come at last. The story of their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens followed us to their homes, from which they had been driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their own defense. We have given them the oportunity, and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the sacrifices they have made.

We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he could not express his gratitude to us for their timely deliverance.

Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burnside is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee.

It is twenty days since I received my last mail. During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place in other parts of the world.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 95-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 27, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We are again under marching orders. It is rumored we go to Rosecrans' support tomorrow morning. Our boys are quite as enthusiastic as when they first left home, and for the same reason. They are ready to go anywhere—do anything to hasten the end. They have borne with wonderful fortitude the excessive fatigue of marching through a mountainous country. Burnside does not like to spare them—will not unless absolutely necessary. He owes something to the Ninth Army Corps. Those stars upon his epaulets that shine so brightly, and which he wears so jauntily, were won for him by the Ninth Army Corps. General Burnside is truly a noble man. We respect him for his honesty and frankness in acknowledging his mistakes as well as for his great administrative ability.

Our orders to march have just been countermanded. General Burnside told Colonel Luce he had received a despatch from Rosecrans that we are not needed at present. That seems to confirm the rumor of his success. We are having delightful weather, clear and cool.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 97

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 29, 1863

It was rumored this morning that we march tomorrow at 5 a. m. Little attention was paid to this, however, and the men were enjoying themselves as usual, gathered in groups around their camp fires, which the cool mountain breezes rendered grateful, singing songs, spinning yarns or writing letters to loved ones at home. About 9 o'clock the official order came: "Reveille at 3; march at 5." Rations were to be drawn, which occupied us until nearly midnight, and left little time for sleep. Again was there a change of program, and we were notified that reveille would sound at the usual hour. At last we retired to rest, thinking to get two or three hours of quiet sleep. Alas, the "glorious uncertainties of war," I had hardly closed my eyes in sleep or so it seemed to me ere our Orderly Sergeant came around to every tent "Fall out, boys; pack up; we are off immediately." We have soldiered too long to stop and ask questions, be our curiosity ever so great, so out we fell, packed our traps in silence, and awaited orders.

We had not long to wait. Colonel Luce soon came around to each company and said, in his mild, quiet way, "Put on your things, men, and fall in on the color line without further orders."

In less than fifteen minutes from the time we were first aroused our brigade was in motion, filing down the ravine silently as a band of Indians upon the warpath. We marched directly to the ferry, south of the city, crossed over, and a little after daylight formed in line about two miles from the landing.

The road from the city followed a ravine running south about a mile, then turned abruptly to the right, winding around the hills in a southwesterly direction. At or in rear of this angle a cannon was placed in position to sweep the road for about half a mile. This piece was supported by the Twentieth Michigan. In advance half a mile, and on the left of the road, the Second Michigan was concealed in a cornfield, while on the right, and a little in advance of them, another gun was masked and supported by the Seventeenth. Still further on, and to the left, were two more pieces of artillery, supported by the One Hundredth Pennsylvania. Not a sign of these movements could be seen from the road. Here, then, is a most ingeniously contrived trap. Where is the game? And what?

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 97-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 7, 1863

It was with a bounding heart, brimful of gratitude to God, that I stepped on board the Dakota and bade farewell to Haines Bluff on the second day of August. We have three hundred sick and wounded on this boat and are short of help. Quite a number who started as nurses are sick. Four men died the first night. We ran the boat ashore, dug a grave large enough for all, and laid them in it, side by side. Our Chaplain read the burial service, and we hastened on board to repeat the ceremony, the next morning, for some one else. It seems hard—even cruel—but it is the most solemn burial service I ever witnessed. Nine have died since we started, and one threw himself overboard in the frenzy of delirium and was drowned. We kill a beef every evening. Two nights in succession the best part of a hindquarter has been stolen. The boat hands were questioned, and a huge Irishman acknowledged the theft. He was court martialed and sentenced to be "banked." The boat was stopped opposite a wilderness. No human habitation was in sight. He was forced to pack his bundle, take to the woods and run his chance with hunger and the Rebels.

As we were running leisurely along, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of yesterday, my curiosity was aroused by our boat running suddenly against the shore and sticking there. All hands were called, and, with the aid of soldiers, she was soon shoved off, and on we went again. A Sergeant asked the Mate why we landed there. His reply was, "Something wrong in the wheel house." One of our boys asked a darkey the same question. "Well, boss, I 'specs dey see a rabbit ober dere, an' t'ink dey kotch 'im." Soon after, as two comrades and myself were sitting in the bow enjoying the cool breeze, my attention was attracted by the glassy stillness of the water in front of us. Pointing to the right, I said, "Yonder is the safe place to sail." The words had scarcely left my mouth when we felt a sudden shock, the bow of the boat was lifted about two feet, a full head of steam was turned on, which carried us over the obstruction. We had "struck a snag." Soon after, we anchored for the night, as the pilot was "too sick" to run the boat.

The sick from our regiment are doing well. I never saw wounded men do so nicely. Of five who came as nurses, four are on the sick list. As for myself, I have not been so well in years.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 74-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 11, 1863

Louisville, Ky. Again in Louisville—eleven hundred miles nearer home than one week ago and yet how far. Still, it is joy to feel I am comparatively near. We reached Cairo on the evening of the seventh, took on fresh supplies, and left next day at noon for Cincinnati, which place we expect to reach some time tomorrow. We are now—3 p. m. taking on coal, and will start in a few minutes.

The Ohio is very low-in places not more than three feet deep. We have brought up against sand bars and been forced to back off perhaps fifty times since leaving Cairo. From this place to Cincinnati, I am told, there are no obstructions. The most difficult part of our way was from New Albany to Louisville. We were six hours in making three miles last night. It was nothing but "Back 'er and try again" for about a mile, and then we had a canal with three locks to pass through.

We have had no deaths since the seventh, and our sick and wounded boys are doing nicely. These fresh northern breezes are more exhilerating than wine, and the hope that they may be sent to their homes to recruit their health is more healing than medicine.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 75-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 12, 1863

Cincinnati, Ohio. We arrived here at 9:30 this morning. My day's work is, at last, completed, at 9 p. m. This has been a busy day. In fact, I have not been idle or had much rest, by day or night, since July fourth, and yet I am fresh and vigorous as in days of old. The sick and wounded all removed the worst cases to the General Hospital in this city, the convalescents to Camp Denison, eighteen miles out, while a few return to their regiments.

The Seventeenth passed through here today, and is now in camp near Covington, on the opposite bank of the river.

I expect to join them in the morning, and look for a handful of letters.

People call the weather here very hot, but it is not Mississippi heat, and I enjoy it. The mornings and evenings are delightfully cool, while there it is constant, relentless heat both day and night. Here a coat is comfortable in the morning—there one needs no cover day or night.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 76-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 16, 1863

Camp near Hickman's Bridge, Ky. I did not join the regiment as soon as I expected, owing to the negligence of the Medical Director, whose duty it was to furnish me transportation. As I had no money, I was forced to await his pleasure. The regiment took cars for this place the day they crossed over, so I was left in Cincinnati until Friday evening to live as best I might. I crossed the river on Friday, and next morning took cars for Nicholasville, fourteen miles beyond Lexington, and one hundred fifteen miles from Cincinnati. I was just in time to get two months' pay. I should have drawn for two months more, but there was a mistake in the pay rolls, which cannot be corrected until next muster. The Paymaster says he is going to pay us again next month, and the next time muster us out of the service.

We have a very pleasant camp, in a shady grove, and an abundance of pure, sparkling water, which I appreciate now as I never did before.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 77

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 20, 1863

Camp Parks, Ky. I received a letter from a friend in Michigan last evening, saying: "If you were in Michigan, or could see the situation from the standpoint of the North, you would be less hopeful of the speedy termination of the war." If by "speedy" is meant a single campaign, as was promised us one year ago, I do not now believe in it, but nothing but the most signal failure can change my faith in the ultimate success of our cause.

We have steadily gained ground from the first. The series of reverses that attended our arms the first year of the war has forced our government to accept the inevitable, seemingly against its will. I do not forget the violent opposition to the Emancipation and Confiscation Acts, passed by Congress in December, 1861, by Northern men of undoubted loyalty, nor the President's timid recommendations in his inaugural address to that Congress. I remember well that reverses and disasters attended all our efforts until the government was compelled, as by an overruling Providence, to free the slaves of rebels, which includes them all; and that from the moment these measures became the fixed policy of the government, reverses ceased. It is not the issue of a battle or campaign that gives me hope, but the successes that have attended our arms all through the month of July were attended by such peculiar circumstances as to force upon me the conviction, "There IS a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will."

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 80-1