Diary of Corporal David L. Day: July 3, 1863

HILL'S POINT.

Received orders for the right wing, consisting of companies K, I, F, C and B to break camp and be ready to march at an hour's notice. At noon the baggage was all on the wagons and we awaited orders. At 1 p. m., we were ordered into town, and companies F, C and B went aboard the little steamer Mystic, and companies K and I went aboard the Washington Irving, bound for Washington on the Pamlico river.

Left Newbern at 4 p. m., and had a fine sail down the river and through the sound, turning into the Pamlico about dark, and running up to within a few miles of Washington, where we anchored for the night. Early the next morning, we reached our destination. Soon after we were ordered back down the river, and companies K and I landed at Rodman's point, four miles below town, while the Mystic kept on and landed F, C and B at Hill's Point, three miles lower down, relieving a New York battery company which was on duty there.

Our first business was to tote our baggage and camp equipage up the bluff, and under a broiling sun we worked hard, at least I thought it was hard. I carried my knapsack up and was so exhausted I thought I had better celebrate the rest of the day. I started out to explore the surroundings, and soon my eye rested on a board shanty at the foot of the bluff. I entered and found a noble scion of African descent; he was running a restaurant, his whole stock consisting of corn meal, with which he made hoe cakes for the boys on the bluff. I inquired if he intended remaining here or going with the company we had just relieved. He said he should stay if he met with sufficient encouragement from the boys. I gave him a great deal of encouragement, telling him I thought he would have right smart of business and would do well, that I would give him my patronage and that he might commence now by making me one of his best hoecakes for dinner. He said it would be ready in half an hour. I went out and worked hard during that time, watching the boys get the freight up the bluff. I went for the cake and was shown one about fifteen inches across and of good thickness. I began mentally to size my pile, thinking I had been a little indiscreet. I inquired the price of that monstrosity, and was told it was ten cents. I felt relieved and handing out the dime, took the cake and went up the bluff. Here I met Spencer and asked him if he had any meat. He replied, “just a little." I showed him the hoe cake and said I thought we had better dine together; he thought so, too. Getting a cup of water, we sat down on a log and ate our Fourth of July dinner. The afternoon was used up in pitching tents and mounting picket guard. Thus was spent the Fourth of July, 1863.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 93-4

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: Sunday, July 5, 1863

Like most other Sabbaths in the army, so was this; all day busy cleaning up the camp ground, tearing down the board shanties which former occupants had erected and using the material for flooring in our tents. We had our Fourth of July dinner today; bean soup, hoe cake and lemonade. Hill's Point is not a point in the river, as the stream here runs straight, but is a bluff some 25 feet higher than the river and about 20 rods wide. It is the terminus of the table-land beyond, and is formed by wide, deep ravines on either side which run back and soon ascend to the level of the table-land. Heretofore the enemy had a habit of running batteries down here and intercepting the boats coming up the river, forming a sort of blockade, causing our gunboats to waste right smart of ammunition, or necessitating the marching of troops across the country from Newbern to drive them out. During the siege last spring, they had a powerful battery here which caused Gen. Foster a heap of trouble. Since then he has occupied it himself. This is an intrenched camp, sporting three brass six-pounder field pieces. When or by whom these works were built is to me unknown, but they look like the work of the enemy. They contain a great number of angles; commencing on the edge of the bluff next the river, they run several rods along the edge of the ravines, then cross in front of the camp, and from any part of the line can be got direct, cross and enfilading fires. The three guns are in battery on the flanks and center. Major Atwood is in command, and in his absence, Capt. Foss of company F. Such is a description of our present abiding place.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 94-5

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: July 7, 1863

I GET PROMOTED.

Today a sergeant, corporal and eight privates from each company have been detailed to manipulate the big guns. I had the honor of being selected from my company, and was assigned the left gun, a most dangerous and hazardous position. I feel proud of my promotion and am sure I shall sustain the honor of the artillery service. For a day or two we shall be under the, instructions of a battery sergeant who will instruct us in loadings and firings. We shall also have to inform ourselves from a small book, giving instruction in loading, and firing, and in calculating distances, elevations and depressions of the guns. My gun on the left occupies a very commanding position, being some ten feet higher than the other guns. From the top of the parapet to the bottom of the ravine, it is some 30 or 40 feet, and a part of the way nearly perpendicular. I have a range of the whole clearing and covering both the other guns; because of its great natural strength and commanding position, I have dubbed it the Malakoff. I being the senior sergeant, am styled on all hands, by both officers and men, as the chief of artillery, a rank I accept and have assumed all the privileges which that rank implies.

The little steamer Undine plies between town and this port, making her trips mornings and afternoons, giving us frequent and easy transit to town. I intend giving my command two or three passes a day, so they can visit town if they wish to. I am going to be liberal with them, and then if their professional services should be required, I shall expect them to stand by those guns and fight like bloodhounds till the last armed foe expires.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 95

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: July 10, 1863

WHISKEY RATIONS.

This being an isolated post and several miles from any commissary or sutler, the officers feared it would be terribly infected with malaria; having regard for the health and welfare of the men, they prevailed on our assistant surgeon, Doctor Flagg, to order whiskey rations. Up went the order and down came the whiskey, and now the order is to drink no more river water, but take a little whiskey as a preventive. This will prove a terrible hardship to the boys, but the surgeon's orders are imperative. The boys in camp get their whiskey at night, and the pickets in the morning when they come in. After a barrel of whiskey has stood out all day in the sun and got about milk warm, it is curious to observe the boys while drinking it. Some of them with rather tender gullets will make up all manner of contortions of face trying to swallow it, but will manage to get it down and then run about fifteen rods to catch their breath. Commanders of companies deal out the whiskey to their men, consequently I deal out to mine, and when I wish to reward any of my braves for gallant and meritorious conduct, I manage to slop a little extra into their cups. That keeps them vigilant and interested and gallant. Meritorious conduct consists in bringing in watermelons, peaches and other subsistence, of which they somehow become possessed.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 95-6

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: July 20, 1863

A CONFLICT OF AUTHORITY.

There is among army officers a constant jealousy and strife for promotion and rank, watching and looking after each other, fearful lest some one may be assuming some rank or taking some privileges that do not belong to him. I have been giving my men passes out of camp, and these passes have been honored at headquarters. In consequence of that a spirit of envy and jealousy entered the breasts of the infantry officers; it made them feel sore and uneasy, so they consulted together and decided that that could no longer be allowed. They informed me that I was exceeding my authority in passing men out of camp. Being in a minority and not caring to exhibit any stubbornness so trifling a matter I magnanimously waived my authority to issue the passes, but it was a big come down for the chief of artillery. When I wish to leave I simply look in at headquarters and say to the captain.“I propose going out.” If there is anything in the pitcher he always says, “You had better come in, and take something before going.” The captain is as generous as he is brave, and brave men are always generous.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 96

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: August 1, 1863

A FIELD DAY.

We had been drilling and going through the motions of artillery firing every day for a month, and a few days ago it was thought best to test our theory by a little practice. Each gun was to fire eight rounds. The targets, about the size of a large barn, were set up 600 yards in front of the guns.

At noon the pickets were called in from out the woods and soon after the firing commenced. I ordered a blank to commence with to see if the old gun would shoot. It spoke out splendidly; I was pleased with it; I then ordered a solid shot. It was fired and went somewhere, I don't know where; but it didn't hit the target. Calculating that a shell will travel a mile in seven seconds and the target was about a third of a mile away, I thought I would try one with the fuse at three seconds. It was fired and burst at the muzzle of the gun. That was not satisfactory. I then ordered another with the fuse at five seconds. This exploded when about half way to the target. I began to think those shell were all intended for short range anyway, and ordered one at one second. It was tired, and I heard it whizzing off through the woods a mile away. I was disgusted with shell practice and thought I would try canister. We tired one and I could see the bushes cut away ai about 200 yards. Those shots had been fired at two degrees elevation. I ordered the corporal to sight the gun at the tops of the trees out in the woods, and tried another canister. This was better, the shot scattering about the target. : We had now only one more shot, I thought I would try a solid one, and ordered the gun sighted at the top of the target. This was an excellent shot and I know it must have gone very near the target as I saw the top of a tree shake out in the woods in a direct line of the target.

On the whole, the firing was not entirely satisfactory, but the gunnery was all that could be desired and I am inclined to think the fault was in the ammunition. I think it must have been shopworn or second-hand). But perhaps I ought not to find too much fault, as this was our first practice. I am now impatient for an attack, for I know we can hold this post against any force that would be likely to be brought against it, and demonstrate to the country that we are heroes descended from heroes.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 96-7

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: August 12, 1863

AN INSPECTION.

A few days ago orders came to get ready for inspection the next afternoon. All was now hurry and bustle, cleaning up camp, arms, equipments and clothing, and putting everything in order. The artillerists worked like beavers, cleaning up the gun carriages and limbers, using all the grease in the kitchen to brighten them up. The old brass guns were polished up and shone like mirrors and we were congratulating ourselves on being highly complimented.

At the appointed time, Lieut. Col. Moulton and Capt. Rawlston of somebody's staff put in an appearance. The captain was the inspecting officer; a very airy, pompous young gentleman, with a remarkable faculty of making his weak points conspicuous

When the companies fell in, he noticed the artillery detail did not fall in and inquired the reason. Col. Moulton replied that they were expecting to be inspected as artillery. The captain said he knew nothing about that, he was sent here to inspect this detachment as infantry and every man must fall in. Now that was all right enough, only it placed me at a disadvantage, for I had taken no thought or care of Spitfire since my promotion and it was looking pretty bad. But I had no time to clean it up, and I must say it was a sorry looking piece to take out for a show. But as bad as it looked, I had the utmost confidence in its shooting qualities, in fact I have never lost confidence in Spitfire but once, that was when I dropped it in the creek at Goldsboro.

We were marched out and paraded, and after the inspecting officer had “sassed” Col. Moulton and nearly all the other officers, he commenced his job. He found right smart of fault, but didn't find a really good subject until he came to me. He looked me over, and taking Spitfire gave it a very careful and thorough inspection. Handing it back he very gravely informed me that he had inspected the whole army of the Potomac and had never before seen a rifle looking so bad as Spitfire, and still further complimenting me by saying I was about the roughest looking sergeant he had ever seen. I nodded assent, venturing the remark that I had been in the artillery detail while here and my rifle had been somewhat neglected, but I had a gun on the Malakoff that could knock the spots off the sun. He allowed that that was insolence and any more of it would subject me to arrest. Imagine the indignation of the chief of artillery on being threatened with arrest by an infantry captain. My first impulse was to call my command, lash him to the muzzle of the gun on the Malakoff and give him rapid transit over the tops of the pines, but better thoughts soon succeeded and I forgave him, thinking that perhaps he was doing as well as he knew how. The inspection over, he had not long to stay, as the boat was waiting for him. I noticed the officers didn't pet him very much and I don't believe he got more than one drink.

MISS CARROLL.

Three or four miles out here, through the woods, lives a Mr. Carroll. He has two sons in the 1st North Carolina union volunteers, stationed up in Washington. He makes frequent visits up there to see the boys and is often accompanied by his daughter, a rather good-looking young lady of about 20 years of age. It sometimes happens that they get here early in the morning and have to wait an hour or so for the boat, and will sometimes stop an hour on their return before going home. At these times they are guests at headquarters and a few of us, without the fear of the captain before our eyes, will happen in to have a chat with the old gentleman and his daughter. She expressed a great fondness for literature and claims to be “the only really literary young lady in these yere parts." We occasionally fit her out with such story papers and magazines as we may have lying around, for which she expresses great pleasure.

She one day inquired if we had read a certain piece of poetry in one of the magazines we had given her. She was told we had and thought it very nice. We inquired if she was pleased with it. She replied she thought it was “Splendid! beautiful!" We asked if she was fond of poetry. She said, she was excessively fond of it and read a great deal; in a sly, blushing kind of way, she hinted that she sometimes tried her hand at composing. “Ah, indeed; would you favor us with a few specimens, some day when you come over? We should be pleased to look at them.” She promised she would, and the next time she came she brought a composition entitled “Lines to the Union Boys. They were the merest doggerel, but we were loud in their praise and told her that by reading poetry and practising composing she would excel; that when the cruel war was over and we had retired to the peaceful pursuits of life in our far northern homes, we hoped to be reminded of her occasionally, by seeing some of her productions in print. She seemed a good deal pleased with such flattering encomiums, but thought she would hardly attain to that distinction. I thought so too.

I asked if she would allow me to take a copy of the lines during her absence up town, and she kindly consented. Below is the copy :

I suppose you have herd of Swift creek
An the victory there was won
The yankee boys was wide awake
An they made them rebels run.

CHORUS:
Farewell Father an Mother
An a true sweetheart
An the girls we leave in pain
Oh dont forget those yankee boys they are coming back again.

An when the yankees did come in
The guerrillas took to flight
An tore down the bonna blue flag
An hoisted the stars an stripes.

When South Carolina did secede
An surely did go out
The yankee boys must have bin asleep
They had not whipt her back

I take my stand in Richmond
An Swift creek Il persue
I do not care for Whitford*
Nor none of his cowardly crew

The gurrillas hates the Buffalows†
But they dont care for that
If they dont shut their mouths an let them alone
They will make them clere the track

There is good many men in this war
By the names of Hill
An if the yankees dus get them
They will larn them how to drill

There is good many men here
By the name of Whitford two
An when the yankees does get them
They will put them rebels through

The secesh girls look mighty loansum
Walking the road in there homemade homespun
The Union girls dont look sad
Walking the road in there yankee plad

An when the war is ended
The guerrillas they will say
They rather fight the devil
Than the boys that gains the day

Hold your toungs you secesh ones
An see what will be don
The yankees boys are bound to go
The whole hog or none

The Union men looks mighty grand
With there cork heel boots au their gloves on their hands
The secesh men looks mighty mean
Going through the woods an never are seen.

CHORUS, &c.

Now whatever fault can be found with the above lines, there can certainly no fault be found with their loyalty.

WAITING TO BE RELIEVED.

We keep a small camp guard during the night and this duty is assigned to the artillery detail, each gun's company taking its turn, which brings us on every third night. There are only four posts, the guns and magazine, and as they only go on at tattoo and come off at reveille, the duty is not very arduous. The guard is divided into two reliefs, one going on the first part of the night and the other the latter part; the duty is simply to keep their ears open for any disturbance among the pickets out in the woods and alarm the camp. The reliefs sleep in their quarters and are called when wanted. The sergeant or corporal on duty occupies a small wall tent, in which a candle is kept burning through the night. Having my choice of time and it not making any difference to the corporal, I take the latter part, as I prefer sleeping the first part. I have a splendid corporal, I think the best in the service; we go along together, and agree first rate. He is willing to do all the work and I am willing he should. He posts the first relief and then keeps his eyes open until it is time to post the second relief, when he posts them and then comes and calls me, when I relieve him. My work is now all done; all I have to do is to lie down and go to sleep or busy myself with my reading or writing, and call off the relief at reveille. If I am too busy to attend to that duty (which I generally am), they take the responsibility of relieving themselves, which is a great help to me and relieves me of a great burden of care.

One night while on this duty the officer of the day came in and inquired if I would like to take a stroll and make a round of the pickets. I replied that I should. We started out making the round and not being in a hurry did not get back till daylight. I laid down and went to sleep, feeling that everything was all safe and quiet on the Pamlico. About 7 o'clock I was called up and told I was wanted at the magazine. I went out and there stood Charlea, a Roman sentinel amid the wreck of worlds. I admired his fidelity, but I really couldn't commend his judgment and no explanation or excuses of mine availed in the least; he was going to be relieved officially, and after he had got through with me I don't think there were many more cuss words left in him. I certainly felt relieved if he didn't.

THE ROVER.

Capt. Foss somewhere picked up an old boat and with Jed's assistance put it in good repair, rigged up a sail, rated it A 1, and named it the Rover. The captain is skipper and Jed sailing master. She is a long, clipper-built craft, with a large spread of canvas in a carrying capacity of ten or twelve persons. With a spanking breeze she walks up and down the river like a thing of life and makes nothing of sailing right around the little steamer Undine. She makes frequent trips to Rodman's and occasionally to town. The captain selects the party he wants to take out and I am sometimes honored with an invitation. We usually run alongside the gunboat that lays here and take aboard the second assistant engineer, who is a genial, good-natured old fellow, full of his fun and stories, and then put for Rodman's. We stop there an hour and start for home. On the return trip, the old engineer's inventive powers will be a good deal quickened and he will suggest various alterations in the rig and sail of the craft, which will improve her sailing qualities, all of which Jed readily accepts and is going to forth with adopt, but the next day the improvements are all forgotten and never thought of again until another return trip from Rodman's. A few days ago a small party of us made a halt at Rodman's and found Sergeant Martin in command. He did the honors, showing us about the camp and extending hospitalities in a manner that would have done credit to a prince. To my notion Sergeant Martin has got the correct idea of holding a command, not to go dry himself nor let his friends.

BIG JIM.

Big Jim, is he is called, is a character; genial, charitable, good-natured, humorous and generous to a fault. He is quite a theatrical character and loves to deal in romance and tragedy, and he caters to the mirthful and fun-loving among the boys. He does not amount to much as a soldier, but that is more his misfortune than from any unwillingness. He is of enormous proportions and very fat, tipping the scale at 250 pounds. He is sorely troubled with chafing when drilling or on the march, and for that reason is excused from pretty much all duty. He is a sort of independent corps, doing duty when he feels like it; he will often go out in the woods and relieve a man on picket who happens to be taken sick. He sometimes has a feeling come over him that he would like to get away from the noise and bustle of the camp, and be alone by himself. At such times he takes his rifle and goes to the little point, some 100 rods down the river, where there is a picket post. Here he will stay two or three days at a time, caring for no company except at night, and amuses himself with fishing, reading and writing. He has become so enamoured of this kind of life, that he has taken the contract to do the picket duty at that post and has made it his permanent residence, coming up to camp only two or three times a week to see the boys and get his rations. He has opened a trading post down there, and trades with the natives who touch there as they come in their boats from up the bay or cove which sets back from there. He has built himself a log house, and a sign over the door reads “Cash paid for coon skins,” of which and other peltries he has collected quite a quantity, and intends sending them to Boston markets.

_______________

* Whitford was a Guerrilla captain.
† Buffaloes were North Carolina Union volunteers.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 97-102

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 5, 1863

PICKET DUTY.

I fear I was not appreciated on the fort, as I was superseded after my first day's effort and have since been assigned to other duty; but I nobly served my country, and I know that history will do me justice. Yesterday I was out in the country among the wild flowers. I went out with a picket guard, about three miles in a southeasterly direction, to what is called Mills cross-roads, relieving the old picket. After spreading our blankets on the grass beside the fence, we entered vigorously on our duty of waiting and watching for the rebel Gen. Garnett, and listening to the sweet warbling of the singing birds. There is nothing in picket duty that stirs up a great amount of enthusiasm, but still it is a good steady business, with occasionally a little ray of excitement, as when a darky comes along and one has to examine his pass.

About the middle of the afternoon, we heard the approach of horses, and looking up the road, saw two ladies coming at a swift gallop towards us. My first impulse was to charge cavalry, but I refrained from doing so, as I saw they were not enemies. As they came up, I recognized Madames Bartholomew and Cliffton. I turned out the guard and extended to them the customary civilities. They said they were out for an afternoon's ride and supposed it was as far as they could go in that direction. I told them they might go further if they wished, and I should be pleased to furnish them an escort, only it would weaken my lines. They laughed and thanked me for my gallantry, but thought they had better not venture farther. I inquired if there were any news stirring in town, and they answered, “All quiet on the Roanoke.” They then bade us good afternoon and started on the retreat. There is no church service today; all hands are busy at work on the fort, and things are beginning to look as though war was liable to break out at almost any time.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 87-8

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 10, 1863

 NEWS FROM ALONG THE LINE.

The siege of Washington on the Pamlico river continues, and heavy tiring is heard from there every day. We learn they have got Gen. Foster shut up there and he is in danger of being made prisoner. That may be, but I will bet ten to one he holds the keys and will never take off his cap to any general in the Confederate service.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 88

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 16, 1863

Work goes bravely on at the fort; one gun mounted today and if we can have two or three days more we shall be ready to receive company. Our little force here is being well handled, and with the aid of the boats can make a stubborn resistance. We heard that Gen. Spinola left Newbern with quite a force, going overland to the relief of Gen. Foster, but when about half way there he got scared and turned back. Gen. Foster will not compliment him very highly for that feat. I have heard a rumor that we have had an invitation to surrender; that a flag of truce came to our lines and requested an interview with the post commander. Col. Pickett went out. They said something about his surrendering, when the colonel replied he had not been in communication with his superior recently and had received no orders to surrender, and that under the circumstances he thought it wouldn't look hardly military to surrender without first burning a little powder over it. He then dismissed the fag. Bravo, colonel, bravo!

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 88

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 19, 1863

EVACUATION.

The steamer Thomas Collyer arrived last night, bringing dispatches of some kind, but just what we were unable to find out. This morning, however, the mystery was cleared up. The 12th New York battery was on the wharf, the 46th Massachusetts and the other detached companies were breaking camp, preparatory to going aboard the boat. This meant evacuation and going to the relief of Foster. The 25th of course is to be the last to leave, and we cast the last sad, lingering look on Plymouth. That is always our style; the first in and last out, and never lost a battle. But just here, the uncertainty of all things human is again illustrated. Just is the troops were aboard, the old Massasoit comes putting up the river, bringing the welcome news that Foster has run the blockade and the order of evacuation is countermanded. Cheer after cheer rends the air, smiles light up every counterance and hope takes the place of despair. But won't there be larks now, though? If there is anybody hanging around Washington who does not belong there, they had better be getting away.

COLONEL SISSON.

It seems that after Spinola's abortion and the troops' return to Newbern, the brave Col. Sisson of the 5th Rhode Island was so disgusted with the whole thing that he proposer going with his regiment alone to Foster's relief. He and his regiment went aboard the steamer Escort, and on the evening of the 13th, under cover of a heavy fire from the guboats on the batteries at Hill's Point, seven miles below Washington, he successfully ran the blockade, arriving at Washington with his troops and supplies. The next evening, with Gen. Foster aboard, he again ran the gauntlet, landing the general safely in Newbern. But it is said the Escort looked like a pepper-box from the shot holes made in her while running the gauntlet. On this perilous trip only one man (the pilot) was killed. The little garrison at Washington held out bravely. It consisted of only eight companies of the 27th and the 4th Massachusetts regiments, two companies of the 1st North Carolina, one company of the 3d New York cavalry and one New York battery, aided by two or three gunboats on the river. Against this small force was opposed some 12,000 of the enemy as near as we can learn. After Gen. Foster got away they did not seem to care to wait for his return, but folded their tents and silently stole away.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 89

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 24, 1863

ALL QUIET ON THE ROANOKE.

The noise of the battle is over and we are longer harassed by war's dread alarms, but can now sit down, eat our fresh shad and herring and drink our peach and honey in peace and quiet.

A BROKER'S OFFICE.

Our provost marshal, Major Bartholomew of the 27th Massachusetts, has opened a broker's office, where he is exchanging salt and amnesty for allegiance oaths, and as this is the fishing season, he is driving a right smart business. The natives for miles around come in droves, take the oath, get their amnesty papers and an order for salt, and after being cautioned not to be found breaking their allegiance they go away happy. There are probably some honest men among them who would like to do about right if they dared to, but the whole thing looks ludicrous, for there is evidently not one in a hundred of them who would ever think of taking the oath were it not for the hope of obtaining a little salt. The boys call it the salt oath.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 89-90

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: April 28, 1863

GOOD SENSIBLE TALK.

I was out in the country yesterday, doing picket duty, and fell in with an old gentleman with whom I had a good sensible talk, He was an intelligent, well appearing man, who said he was a farmer, or had been one until the breaking out of the war. He owns a plantation just outside our lines, but is not permitted to go into town. He is allowed to purchase in small quantities such articles as he may need by sending in his negro man or getting the boys to bring them out. He said at the commencement of the secession movement, he and all this part of the state, in fact nearly all of the state, was opposed to it, and in two state conventions, to both of which he was a delegate, the ordinance of secession was rejected, and not until after South Carolina on one side and Virginia on the other had gone out was the ordinance of secession passed.

He said: “Situated as we were we could not remain neutral, and although opposed to it from the beginning and all the time even after the war commenced and all our young men had gone into the army, it was but natural that I should sympathize with my own people.”

“Certainly," I replied, “but have you any hopes of the ultimate success of the Confederacy?”

“None whatever, and I told our people so at our conventions. We are a ruined people and the best thing we can do is to make peace with the government on any terms we can.”

“Yes, but you know the terms are very simple, merely to lay down your arms and return to your loyalty to the government.”

“Yes, I know it is simple enough now, but I reckon the government at Richmond is not wise enough to accept it, and the longer they keep up the war the worse we are off, and in the end we will have to accept such terms as are dictated to us.”

A sensible old gentleman that, and I should have liked to go out to his place and sample his peach and honey, scuppernong and things.

STOKES TAKES HIS LEAVE OF US.

An order was received here today from the war department discharging Stokes from the service. When the order was read, it took him by surprise as it was his first intimation of it. He seemed disappointed and said he should like well enough to go home a few days, but did not like the idea of going to stay and thought he should be back with us again in a few weeks.

He left for home this afternoon. I am sorry to lose Stokes and shall miss him very much. He was my chief of staff and I placed great reliance on him. He was one of our best boys, possessed of excellent judgment, and was unsurpassed in the secret service. I parted with him with many regrets and shall always retain pleasant memories of our soldier life.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 90-1

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: January 1, 1863

THE NEW YEAR.

By the blessing of God we have entered the portals of another year. Who knows what storms within it hide? Who can tell how many of us will enter on another year? but let us not despond; let us look with bright hopes to the future, going manfully forward, overcoming all obstacles in our path. We know the hardships, privations and dangers through which we have passed the last year, perils by sea and perils by land, meeting death in a thousand forms, but by an unseen hand have been brought safely through. It has now been fifteen months since our regiment was organized, and we then thought that by this time the trouble would be over and the rebellion would have become a thing of the past. But not so; it seems to have taken deeper root and there is no telling when it will end. It is true our armies have met with many successes and have also met with some reverses; the army of the Potomac has met with nothing but disaster from the first and will probably meet with nothing else until let alone by the war office at Washington. The enemy has a number of cruisers afloat making havoc with our merchant marine, and every success of their army inspires them with fresh hope and courage. I am reminded of what my new-found friend here in town told me a few days after we came here, that I would, if nothing happened to me, serve out my three years and could then re-enlist. I thought then the man was crazy, now I am not quite sure but he was the better prophet of the two.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 85

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: February 1, 1863

THE MAJOR'S EAGLES.

At last the major's eagles, which have so long been winging their flight this way, have alighted on his shoulders, and he looks as pert and gamy as a wildcat. Bully boy! long may you wave!

Promotions will now come along right' smart, and I have no doubt I have been thought of for some important position, but I shall decline all promotions; I had rather be a doorkeeper at the guardhouse than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 85

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: Wednesday, March 18, 1863

WE LEAVE FOR PLYMOUTH.

NEWBERN, After months of idleness in camp, at last comes a change. At 4 o'clock p. m., orders came to break camp, pick up our traps and be ready to march in half an hour. Dark found seven companies of is on board the steamer Escort, bound for Plymouth. Companies A, E and H were left to follow on another boat. The night being dark and stormy we waited till morning before leaving.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 85

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: March 19, 1863

Heavy northeast storm blowing this morning. Steamer starts down the river and enters the sound about 10 o'clock, wind increases, the sound grows rough, the boat rolls, the boys grow sick, the water breaks on deck and many of them get wet; altogether the passage is rather unpleasant.

We arrive at the north end of the sound, near the entrance to Croaton sound, about 9 p. m., and anchor for the night.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 86

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: March 20, 1863

This morning finds the storm unabated.

The boat starts at daylight, passing Roanoke island, and enters the Albemarle, arriving at Plymouth late in the afternoon, where we make our quarters in a large warehouse on the wharf.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 86

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: March 22, 1863

The garrison here consists of companies G, Capt. Swift, and H, Capt. Sanford, of the 27th Massachusetts; company D, Capt. Howard, of the 5th Massachusetts; company C, Capt. Cliffton, of the 1st North Carolina Union volunteers, and part of a company of North Carolina cavalry.

Several gunboats lying in the river. The fellows here are telling us bear stories about one rebel General Garnett (whoever he is) and his brigade which is hovering around here. I think he must be quite a harmless character to let so small a garrison as this go undisturbed, but it is possible he has a wholesome fear of Capt. Flusser and his gunboats. This town has undergone quite a change since we were here last fall. During the winter the enemy made a dash in here, setting the town on fire, burning up the central and business portion of it. These people have singular ideas; they seem to think that by destroying their property, they are in some way damaging is, bit if we destroy any property it is a great piece of vandalism. I reckon they will sometime see their mistake and repent of it in dust and ashes.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 86

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: March 24, 1863

GEN. FOSTER ARRIVES.

Gen. Foster arrived this morning and went to work laying out a fort and other defences which we are to build. That job done, he took companies F, I and K of the 25th and H of the 27th Massachusetts with a party of marines, and a boat howitzer (on board his boat, the John Ferrin,) and left on some sort of an excursion up the Chowan river. The general is no idler, he is always on the move and seeing that everybody else is. He is ubiquitous, turning up at any time in all parts of his domain, and keeping everybody within fifty miles on the qui vive.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 86