Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 16, 1862

Another hard night; one of a few very cold and disagreeable ones. We left the ranks early for rails, and after carrying them two or three miles, found, on arriving at camp, there were plenty on hand and not accounted for. We got our supper and tried to sleep, but it was almost impossible. We would have suffered severely had it not been for our woollen blankets; as it was, when we woke up this morning, many of us found the water in our canteens frozen, said canteens having been used as pillows during the night.

WHITEHALL.

After starting at seven o'clock, we kept halting continually until nine. We had travelled not more than four or five miles when we heard heavy firing in our immediate front. Our brigade being a head, our regiment was sent in about the first. We left the main road, taking the one over the hill on the left, and were immediately under fire. Here we came upon two men of "A" who had been killed by a shot or shell. We dropped our knapsacks and filed along a line of fence, coming to a halt in front of the Neuse, with the rebels on the opposite shore.

We fired several volleys by company, then the order came, "At will," which was easier. We had an old rail-fence in front, and beyond that a few barrels of pitch or turpentine, then a slope, and the water, and the rebels beyond. We received a good share of their bullets, and hoped ours did better execution, as we were fortunate in not losing a man. There were several narrow escapes, however. The flag was immediately behind our company, and a part of the time the flag of the 9th New Jersey was unfurled behind us also, which might have drawn an extra amount of fire; but we did not suffer any loss, while some of the companies lost several. "A," four killed and seven wounded; "B," one wounded; "C," three killed; "K," one killed; "D," two wounded; "F," one wounded; "G," two wounded; "H," two wounded. We were on the rebels' right. We stayed there about an hour and a half and then were ordered back, and started directly across the field in line of fire for cover, where we could see other regiments flat on the ground. All the protection we had there, was by hugging mother earth and folding our arms back of our heads, the bullets whistling close to us in a neighborly fashion. Here we waited, and those who had hard-tack munched it; but we kept up a thinking all the while whether the muscles of our arms would stop a bullet from going through our heads. Soon Belger's battery took our old place and opened on the rebels, who treated them pretty severely for a time, as we could see good R. I. material dropping constantly. The battery boys came for the water we had in our canteens, with which to cool their guns, the firing having been quite brisk. After two hours of very steady work, the rebels concluded to give up the fight. As they had destroyed the bridge yesterday, we could not chase them, so fell in and started again for Goldsboro, and about eight o'clock camped in a field at the junction of two roads.

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. 26-7

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: September 15, 1864

WE LEAVE VIRGINIA.

NEWBERN. On the 5th of this month the 23d and 25th Massachusetts embarked on the steamer Winona, from Bermuda Hundred bound for Newbern. The 9th New Jersey and 27th Massachusetts embarked on another boat at the same time for the same destination. On the morning of the 6th we ran up to Portsmouth, taking our camp equipage and knapsacks aboard, and ran back into Hampton Roads and anchored. There was a heavy storm blowing outside and we lay at our anchorage all day the 7th. On the 8th we steamed up and anchored off Fortress Monroe, but soon received orders to put out to sea. The captains of both boats objected to going, saying it was too rough to venture outside. On the morning of the 9th we received peremptory orders to pull up our mudhooks and start. Then ensued a sharp correspondence between our captain and some one in the fort, said to be Gen. Butler, and it certainly sounded a great deal like him. The captain objected to taking out his boat on the ground that she was only a light river boat and entirely unfit for an ocean trip, and besides was only chartered for the bay and rivers, and he did not feel like taking her out without first consulting her owners at Baltimore. Word came back that it made no difference about the owners or for what she was chartered, the boat was going to Newbern or go to pieces. In this dilemma the captain said that the boat might go but that he shouldn't take the responsibility of taking her out. Soon word came back that he would take her out, or go into the fort, wearing a ball and chain. The captain, finding himself of no more account than a common soldier, was obliged to accept the situation. Toward night our consort, which was a sea-going boat, led off, we following after.

I felt a little nervous about going out to sea in so frail a craft, and thought it rather rough that after having gone through what we had we should be taken out to sea and drowned. I comforted myself with the thought that soldiers were not supposed to have any choice in the manner of their death. We found it rough going round Cape Henry, as there is almost always a chop sea there even in mild weather. Getting around the cape, we encountered heavy swells and rollers and every little while a big roller would strike us under the port guard and make every timber in the old craft snap. I expected every minute to see the guard, if not the whole deck torn off. I remained awake the whole night watching our consort, which kept just ahead of us, and reckoned on my chance for a swim.

We reached Hatteras inlet early on the morning of the 10th, and landed at Fort Spinola, on the south side of the Trent river at Newbern, in the afternoon. After landing we marched up into the camp of the 9th Vermont—a sick, ragged, dirty, lousy crowd. The Vermonters gathered wonderingly around us, extending us every sympathy and hospitality that lay in their power. The old regiment was divided off into three or four small companies, one of which under command of Capt. Emery, was sent out to Price's creek, about a mile from here, to go into quarters and do some light picket duty. We have once more got ourselves cleaned up, our hair trimmed and dressed in clean, whole clothing, and begin to look quite like ourselves again.

We are again on our old stamping ground, but, alas, how changed! Only a small remnant now remains of that grand old regiment that left Worcester three years ago. They fill honored graves on half a hundred battlefields, they are inmates of every hospital from Boston to Newbern, and are wasting away in rebel prisons; a handful only remaining to tell the sad tale. In a few days more they will be still further decimated by a hundred or more whose time will be out and go home. The whole south for the past three years has been singularly exempt from the scourge of yellow fever, but it has now broken out in Newbern, and is raging to a great extent, 30 or 40 dying daily. It has not yet reached the camps outside the city, and hopes are entertained that it will not.

OFF FOR HOME.

On the 5th of October, two days before the expiration of our term of service, an order came to Price's creek, ordering all those who were entitled to muster out to turn over to the proper authorities our arms and equipments and report at the railroad station near Fort Spinola. This was just after dinner. Capt. Emery sent to the pickets across the creek for all those who had not re-enlisted to report at quarters. In a few minutes we were all there; the captain read the order and the boys cheered. I was all ready to comply with the order, and bidding faithful Spitfire a long and final farewell, I handed it to the captain. It was soon found out what was up, and for the next half hour the enemy was left to take care of themselves, and all hands gathered at quarters to say their good-byes and see us off. We went aboard the cars at Fort Spinola and picked up others along the road, arriving at Morehead about dusk. There about 100 of us went aboard the steamer Dudley Buck, and soon after were sailing out the harbor of Beaufort, leaving behind us the scenes of our triumphs and hardships. The next morning we were around Cape Lookout and out to sea. Pretty soon saw the officers come up out of the cabin, they were talking among themselves and seemed to wear a troubled look. It was soon discovered that there was a lot of citizens aboard coming down with yellow fever, and before noon one was brought up out of the cabin dead and laid in a boat that hung on the davits.

AN INDIGNATION MEETING.

The boys held an indignation meeting, declaring it was wrong and cruel on the part of the government or other authorities to allow these men to come aboard, and it seemed to be the evident intent of the government or some one else to murder us. They had just tried to drown us and failing in that had now, after having gone through one of the most unheard of campaigns, and as though were too obstinate to die, would give us one more chance, and smuggle aboard a lot of yellow fever stricken devils to go home with us. The captain disclaimed all knowledge of how they came aboard, but it was evident they were here and couldn't have got here without the knowledge and consent of somebody. They still further declared that those citizens were of no earthly use nor hadn't been of any, they were simply buzzards who had run away from the draft in New York, and were now running away from the yellow fever, and as a measure of safety and self-protection it was voted to throw them all overboard. The captain thought that would be most too summary a way of disposing of them, besides we would be liable to a charge of mutiny and murder at sea. It certainly was no lack of will, but only our better judgment that prevented their being thrown overboard. We reached Fortress Monroe on the forenoon of the 7th and were detained several hours by some quarantine regulations, but were finally permitted to resume our journey.

IN QUARANTINE.

On the morning of the 9th we sighted Sandy Hook, and on getting nearer we could see quite a fleet of vessels lying there. This was the lower quarantine. We ran through this, arriving at the upper quarantine at Staten Island about 10 a. m.

We were now in sight of New York, and were buoyant in hope that we should soon be there. As we neared a big steamer lying in the middle of the channel we were hailed with “Steamer ahoy!” We slowed down and ran alongside. Some kind of an official came to the middle gangway and said:

“Where are you from?"
“Beaufort, North Carolina."
“Any sick aboard???
“Yes, sir.”
"Any deaths?"
“Yes, sir.”
“How many days out?”
“Four.”
“How many deaths?”
“Four."
“Four deaths in four days. About ship and go back to the Hook.”

Our hearts that a few moments before were buoyant with hope now sank within us. The Hook was a cold, dreary place, and there was no knowing how long we should have to stay, but it was easy enough to know that some of us wouldn't story there very long. We ran back to the Hook, and dropped anchor, not far from the large hospital ship.

After a little while we saw a gig lowered from the hospital ship; a man stepped in and was pulled alongside our boat; he climbed aboard and proved to be some kind of health officer. He looked us all over and then looked over the boat. He signaled a tug to run alongside, he hustled out those citizens, and put them aboard of it. He also took Samuel Champney of company D, whom he found lying down, and took them all over to the hospital ship. We bade Sam good-bye as he went over the side of the boat. We never saw him afterwards, and I have since learned that he died there. The next morning, when the gig was seen coming over, the call went over the boat: “All hands on deck; don't be caught lying down; all out on deck!” When he came aboard he found us all fooling and knocking off caps. He looked us over and remarked that we didn't seem to be ailing very much. He then looked the boat over and not finding any down took his leave, but if he could have looked through the side of the boat he would have seen half of us down by the time he was in his gig.

Capt. Denny of company K, who is in command of this detachment, and who is a genial, big-hearted man, said he would see what he could do for us. He went over to the hospital ship and a little while after we saw him on a tug going towards New York. I knew if there was any help for us, Capt. Denny was the man to do it. He is a good talker and great in diplomacy, and when he sets about a thing he is pretty sure to accomplish something. Tuesday night came but no Denny, and the question, “Where is Denny?" was oft repeated without an answer. I could but feel that the captain was working for us and no news was perhaps good news. Wednesday morning, the 12th, was a cold, bleak, cheerless morning, and we were growing weaker every hour, but all hands rallied on deck when that hospital fiend was seen coming. Noon came but no Denny. Where is Denny? What has happened to him? Can it be possible that he has deserted us? were questions that went unanswered. I said it was possible something may have happened to him, but I cannot believe he has deserted us. He is not that kind of a man, besides he would not miss taking us into Worcester for half the wealth of the city, but if he don't come tonight, we will send Captains Parkhurst and Emery to see what has become of him.

About 3 p. m. we sighted a large tug coming through the narrows, and soon after it headed towards our boat. Long before it got within hail we saw a man in the bow, waving his cap. It Was Capt. Denny. Deliverance had come, and I reckon when that hospital doctor heard our cheers, he must have thought we were not very badly affected with yellow fever. I had known Capt. Demy for sereral years before the war, but cannot remember a time when I was so glad to see him as I was on that afternoon. The tug came alongside and we were not very long transferring ourselves aboard of it and it was again heading for the city, We ran along the starboard side of the Norwich steamer, and boarded her at the forward gangway, and were hustled among the cotton bales and freight like so many lepers. We were not allowed abaft the forward gangway, and were not troubled with visitor's as no one cared to see the brave defenders. But we cared nothing about that so long as we were going towards home, and the accommodations were as good as we had been accustomed to having.

We reached Norwich about 2 a. m. on the 13th, and went aboard the cars, arriving at Worcester at 4 o'clock. At this hour Worcester people were still wrapt in the arms of Morpheus and of course we didn't meet with a very enthusiastic reception. Our little party formed on Foster street and noiselessly wended our way to the City Hall. A few stragglers who were around the depot reported our arrival and an hour after we received an invitation to go back to the depot refreshment room for lunch. This invitation was readily accepted and a famine was created in that refreshment room Soon after our entrance. We had a good breakfast of hot coffee, cold meats, bread, pies, cakes, etc.

After breakfast we returned to the hall to receive visitors, among the first of whom was Col. Pickett, who warmly welcomed us, shaking hands with all. We were right glad to see our colonel, and learn that he was getting the better of his wounds received at Cold Harbor.

By 8 o'clock the hall was filled, and welcoming speeches were made by his honor Mayor Lincoln and others. After which it was proposed we make a parade and show ourselves over the city. This was objected to, not because we didn't wish to please our Worcester friends, but because we were sick and tired, and had had enough of parades and marches; our thoughts were of home and we were in a hurry to get there. Free tickets were furnished us on all the railroads, and we were dismissed for a week or until our muster out. I arrived home at noon, agreeably surprising my family, who were not expecting me for a week to come.

On the 20th of October we again met in Worcester for muster out and discharge papers. I was once more a free man, having been under the care and keeping of others a little more than thirty-seven months.

CLOSING SCENES.

Two months later we again met in Worcester to be paid off. This was to be our last meeting, henceforth we should travel in different paths and our meetings would be only by chance if ever. Shaking hands and wishing each other all manner of good fortune, we said our good-byes and parted. I have been through it and have had a great experience. I shall have no regrets that I did not go and have brought back no sorrowing memories. I have done what I could to preserve the union of the states.

I have met the enemies of the country face to face, and done what I could to roll back the tide of rebellion, and if I have been of any little service to the country, I am glad of it. With all the officers of the regiment my relations have always been on the most amicable footing, and I am vain enough to believe that they will all bear me witness that I have always cheerfully obeyed all their commands and done all the duty required of me; that I have always treated them politely and shown them all the respect due their rank. In my little sports and jokes I have shown no partiality, and I trust there is no one who bears any malice towards me on that account. I have brought from the field no resentments or animosities towards any, but shall always hold in pleasing remembrance all, both living and dead, with whom I have been associated.

Let him not boast who puts his armor on

Like him who lays it off, his battle done.

THE END.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 148-53

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: April 18, 1864

GUERILLA HUNTING.

The country above here and that part of it lying between the Suffolk and James rivers is a good deal infected with guerrilla bands. It was thought best to send out in different directions three or four regiments to stir them up. In accordance with that arrangement we left our mud hole early in the morning of the 13th going aboard a big double-ender steamer at Portsmouth. In company with a small gunboat we steamed up the James river some 20 miles, when turning to the left we entered a small creek; following this a few miles we came to a village called Smithfield.

We landed here about noon and marched up into the street. The village seemed to be deserted, scarcely any one in sight. We had not been here many minutes before Col. Pickett was met by a good-looking elderly gentleman, who seemed to be considerably agitated about something. He wished the colonel to send a guard to his house, as he feared the negroes would take too many liberties with him during our stay. The colonel inquired if there were many Confederates about here. The old gentleman replied that he had seen none recently, and just then the report of rifles was heard up the creek. At this the colonel in a very abrupt and ungentlemanly manner, said: “D--n you and your house! Forward, march!" The old gentleman turned away sorrowfully, and started for home. This man's name was Atkinson and he was formerly a member of Congress.

A little farther up the street we made another halt to fix on some plan of action. While waiting here I went into a house. There was no one at home, but from some books and papers lying around, I learned that its occupant was a namesake of mine, a Mr. Day, a lawyer by profession. I was disappointed in not finding the 'squire at home. Mrs. Day had just finished ironing and her clothes lay on a table nice and clean. I noticed among them some towels, and being short of these, I borrowed a pair. I left my card expressing regrets at the 'squire's absence and said if he would send me his address, I should like to correspond with him.

Just out the village the roads forked. We halted a minute to determine which one to take, and while waiting a darky came along driving a pair of bulls hitched to a cart. Not being accustomed to seeing so grand a display, the animals became frightened and balked. The darky standing in the cart applied the whip and yelled at them. They began to bellow, and sticking their tails straight up in the air, went bellowing down the road at a gait which would have shamed a locomotive. We went out on the Suffolk road about five miles, where we met some scouts who said there was a regiment ahead of us. We then returned to Smithfield and soon after we were joined by the 9th New Jersey, who informed us that the 23d Massachusetts had had a brush with a party of guerrillas and bad driven them towards Suffolk; those were the troops who were ahead of us when we met the scouts. The next morning on going down to the boats we flag spread over something on the deck of the gunboat, and learned that it covered the body of a lieutenant of marines who was shot while going in a boat up the creek; those were the shots we heard. We arrived back to Camp Wellington in the afternoon.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 134-5

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: May 3, 1864

YORKTOWN.

On the 27th of April we broke camp at Getty's station, arriving here about dark, and marched up the Williamsburg road about two miles where we bivouacked. On this trip we were furnished transportation. On the morning of the 29th we were ordered into camp about three miles higher up the road. We had not much more than got up there when an order came for us to report at the landing immediately. We now had a five mile march before us, with the dust in the road about three inches deep. This was no march but a race, the companies trying to run past each other and get the advance to shield themselves from the dust. The colonel let them have it their own way and they made the dust fly right smart. We made the distance in less than an hour and on arriving at the landing looked like walking dirt heaps. A guard was placed along the bank of the river to prevent our washing in it for fear of creating a sand bar. There didn't appear to be anything wanted of us after we got here and we are now in camp on the bluff just above the landing.

Our brigade now consists of the 9th New Jersey and the 23d, 25th and 27th Massachusetts, under command of Brig. Gen. C. A. Heckman, and is known as the 1st brigade, 2d division, 18th army corps, under command of Gen. William F. Smith, otherwise known as “Baldy." Our knapsacks have been sent back to Portsmouth and we are now in light marching order, having only the clothing we have on and our blankets. Our camp equipage consists of two camp kettles for each company, and shelter tents. These tents are simply pieces of cotton cloth, about six feet long by four wide, made to button together, and every man is supplied with one which he carries with his blanket. Ordinarily they are used as blankets, but in case of a storm three of them are buttoned together, two forming the roof and the other the end, which makes a kind of burrow which partly shelters three men. We fellows who are used to roughing it think it all well enough, but I feel sorry for the officers; it will come pretty hard on them. It is something they are not used to and besides it sort of reduces them to the ranks.

Yorktown is hardly as much today as it was the day of Cornwallis' surrender, and I don't think there has been a nail driven or an ounce of paint used since. There is the old church and about a dozen weather-beaten old houses, the most pretentious of which was Cornwallis' headquarters.

The 18th corps are all here, infantry, artillery and cavalry, and yesterday Gen. Butler reviewed them. The review came off on the plain below the town and was quite an imposing affair. We came a very clever little dodge on the enemy last night. About midnight we were all routed up and every man given a chunk of raw salt pork. After standing there about half an hour holding our pork and awaiting further developments, we were then told we might go back to bed again. Now that was taking a mean advantage of a brave and chivalrous foe, thus to conceal the kind and quantity of our rations. They are probably thinking that we have nothing to eat and are keeping up their hopes that we shall soon surrender.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 136-7

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: May 18, 1864

ON THE SICK LIST.

Since the affair over on the railroad, I have been on the sick list and have suffered severely with chills and fever and from other causes. I am not yet able to do much and I fear I shall not be able to go on many more excursions with the boys. The regiment has been out nearly every day, and has suffered a loss of more than 200 men, killed, wounded and prisoners. In the fight at Drury's Bluff, two mornings ago, we lost heavily, some 150 men being killed, wounded or taken prisoners. Heckman's brigade was almost annihilated. He was taken prisoner together with Capt. Belger, who lost four pieces of his battery, and Col. Lee, with nearly the whole of the 27th Massachusetts regiment, besides a good many officers and men of the 23d Massachusetts and 9th New Jersey.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 140

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

NEWPORT News, VA., Dec. 1, 1863.

On receipt of my furlough, which came promptly to hand at the appointed time, I, in company with eight others from the three companies, left Hill's Point for Massachusetts. I had 25 days at home, a part of which I used up on the lounge, with chills and fever, and listening to the expressions of sympathy from callers. Ordinarily, when a person is sick, it is pleasant to be surrounded by sympathizing friends, but a person with chills and fever does not want sympathy; that only makes him mad. What he wants is whiskey and quinine, and the more whiskey the better. I was asked if the disease ever terminated fatally. I replied that the most provoking thing about it was, there was not the slightest danger of dying from it. After recovering from the chills and fever, I enjoyed the balance of my visit very much, and reported back in New York the next morning after the expiration of my furlough.

Arriving in New York, I went directly to the New England rooms on Broadway. These rooms are a kind of free hotel for New England soldiers en route through New York, but will accommodate any others when they are not full. The rooms well fitted up and there is a spacious loft or hall which is used for sleeping with 100 or more single cots, on each of which is a good mattress, pillow, a pair of woolen blankets and white spread. In this room a man is in attendance day and night to attend to the wants of patrons, preserve order and look after things generally. The dining hall will seat about 200 persons, and the tables are well supplied with plain, substantial, wholesome food. Another room is used for a sick room or hospital, and is filled up few cots and lounges, and the tables are well supplied with books and newspapers. This room is presided over by a kind-hearted, sympathetic lady, who was formerly a hospital matron in McClellan's peninsular campaign. Besides, there is the office and baggage room, where one's knapsack or other baggage is put away and checked. The owner takes his check and gives no further thought or care of his baggage until wanted. In addition to these, are all other necessary conveniences. These rooms were fitted up and are supported by the patriotic generosity of New Englanders, residents in New York, and many are the thanks and blessings they receive from their beneficiaries. Here I found Spencer and Lewis, who were furloughed with me, and who had just arrived. The clerk told us we must report to a certain quartermaster up town for instructions. We reported; he examined our papers, endorsed on the backs "reported back all right and on time," and told us we must report at the transportation office with a down near the battery park. We reported, and were informed there was no transportation waiting, but we must report every morning in order to avail ourselves of the first boat that left.

RECLINING ON OUR MILITARY.

There were 100 or more soldiers waiting transportation to Newbern, besides hundreds of others for all parts of the army: The officer in charge of the office would no more than get his coat off and sleeves rolled up, ready for business in the morning, when we would appear to him. He would get rid of any of us by a wave of his hand and "No boat for Newbern." This continued for several mornings, until he became tired of seeing us and hung a card on the door with “No boat for Newbern.”

One morning the card was off and all hands made a grand charge inside. He gave us the cheering information that Gen. Foster had moved his old brigade from Newbern to Fortress Monroe, and he would give transportation by way of Baltimore to as many of us as belonged to that brigade. No one seemed to know just what to do, and no reply was made to the statement. After waiting a few moments, he inquired what we were going to do. As no one spoke, I ventured the remark that I had received no official information of the removal of the brigade or of my regiment and until further orders, I thought I had better stick to the order in my furlough and report in North Carolina. That seemed to clear away the cloud that hung over the boys, and we were soon on the street again.

The next morning, however, the clouds thickened again. The officer said he had reliable information that the 23d, 25th and 27th Massachusetts and 9th New Jersey regiments, together with the 3d New York cavalry, were at Fortress Monroe; he was going to give orders for rations and transportation by way of Baltimore to all those belonging to those regiments, and we could come in the afternoon and get them. I inquired if he was authorized to order us to report at Fortress Monroe. That gave him a sort of blind staggers. He said he was not really, but it would be all right enough, especially if we were anxious to join our regiments.

I replied, “We are anxious to join our regiments, but as everything in military has to run in its regular groove, and as order holds good until another is given, it would hardly look military to be acting on our own judgment and hearsay stories, and going off across lots, reporting somewhere else than where our orders say.”

"You seem to be right on your military. Do you always pay as strict observance to orders?”

“That is the way we have been educated, sir.”

That question settled, we were soon on the pave again.

AN ENCOUNTER WITH A POLICEMAN.

During our long wait for transportation we had a fine chance of doing the city, an opportunity of which availed ourselves in the most thorough manner. We visited all places of interest and everywhere that there was anything to be seen or heard. One day Spencer and I, after a long ramble over the city, wandered into City Hall park, and feeling rather tired sat down on the City Hall steps to rest and watch the passing throng. We had not sat there many minutes when a policeman came along, and pointing to us with his cane, said: “You can't sit there," and passed along. We regarded that as a sort of camp rumor and kept our sitting. He presently returned, and coming up to us in a very imperious manner, said: "How many times do you fellows want to be told that you can't sit there?" I looked at him, and with all the innocence and simplicity I could assume, I said: “You see, sir, that we do sit here.” That shot struck below the water line, and he then said: “What I mean is, you are not allowed to sit there.” “Ah! in that case we will remove hence, as you will observe by our raiment that we are preservers, rather than breakers, of law”

Visit To BARNUM'S.

The outside of Barnum's Museum is always covered with immense show bills and people have become so accustomed to them that they attract but little attention, unless it is some new and curious thing he has got on exhibition. Noticing a picture of an enormous sea lion and railing glowing descriptions of him in the newspapers, I remarked to Spencer: "We had better take that in.” Now Barnum’s is a good place to go, as it is a highly moral show, and inexpensive—twenty-five cents giving one the whole range from basement to attic. Taking those things into consideration he thought we had better go, so one evening we went up.

Exchanging our quarters at the office for tickets we were admitted to the great show. After strolling around awhile and looking at some of the minor curiosities, we went down into the basement where is located the aquarium. We soon found the sea lion.

He laid on a large platform with his head towards the grating and about three feet from it. At the rear end of the platform was a large tank of water where he could bathe. He was a harmless looking lion enough and resembled a mule as much as a lion. He looked like pictures I have seen of the walrus, and laid there, a huge jelly-looking mass apparently dead, but on close inspection respiration was observable. We tried to start him up, but he seemed to prefer quiet, and no motion with our arms and caps had the slightest effect on him. I had an uncontrollable desire to see him go into the tank, and looked in vain all around the place for something to stir him up with. Presently a gentleman came along and stopped to look at him. He had an umbrella and 1 asked him to stir the creature up and see him go into the water. But he thought he had better not, saying it was probably against the rules for visitors to disturb him. I said that was probably the case, but we had paid our money to come into the show and wanted to see all the tricks, and if he would let me take the umbrella I would stir him up and take the responsibility. But he declined, and moved on.

A bright thought now struck me; I would fill his eye with tobacco juice and see what effect that would have. I chewed up a large piece of tobacco; filling my mouth with the juice and getting a beautiful range on his left eye, let drive, covering it completely, and to my utter astonishment that creature never so much as winked. I was dumbfounded at the result of my experiment, as this was the first creature I had ever seen which had eyes that a little tobacco juice in them would not make things lively for a few minutes. I can account for my failure in no other way than that, being a marine animal, there is probably some kind of film or covering over the eye that protects it from foreign substances while in the water. Spencer laughed at my discomfiture, and said perhaps we could find something else I would have better luck experimenting with.

Strolling around up stairs we came to the mummy cabinet. Now I like mummies and am always interested in them; they have a habit of minding their own business the steadiest of any class of people I ever met with, besides they are always civil to callers and are free from the disputes, quarrels, gossiping [sic], slanders and other vices with which our generation is afflicted. They are a very ancient people, and in their time were doubtless an intelligent and highly respectable class of citizens, but they don't amount to much now; they are too far behind the times and I don't think it would be of much use for them to try to catch up. In this cabinet was quite a large collection and they looked black and dirty as though they neglected their baths and toilets; they all looked so much alike it was difficult to distinguish their sex. I think if they could be taken out and washed and dressed up in fashionable clothing they would make quite a respectable appearance.

I looked around to find some biographies of these people but could not. I called the attention of an attendant and inquired of him if there was any. He replied there was none that he knew of. I then asked: "Is Mr. Barnum about the place? I should like to see him.” He stated that Mr. Barnum was away and inquired my business with him. I said I wanted to suggest to Mr. Barnum that if he would hang a biography on every one of these mummies it would be the most taking thing he ever had, not excepting the What-is-it. This attendant somehow didn't seem to get interested in Barnum's interests, and dodged off out of the way. I pointed out the largest one to Spencer and said: “That gentleman was once a soldier and did provost duty in the city of Thebes 3000 years ago.” He made no reply but kept looking at it and presently I heard him muttering to himself: "Can that be possible? Brave old fossil!”

We got up into the exhibition room, near the close of the play; they were playing the ghost. I should think it might be a good enough play, but the acting was not all that a connoisseur would accept, but then it was good enough for soldiers and the price. I thought the ghost illusion was very cleverly performed, but Spencer said it was tame compared with the Gum swamp trick.

OFF FOR NEWBERN.

After waiting thirteen days a boat arrived and we were now off. The boat leaves in the afternoon and all hands go down to the transportation office to get our orders and say good bye to the genial officer in command: I noticed that my draft for rations was on the Park barracks. Now I had a dim recollection and a sort of instinctive horror of those barracks, and it occurred to me that I had seen down on the Battery park, near the water, a small building where was kept first class rations, which were dealt out to officers, and other attaches of the army as department and sutler's clerks and such like nobility. I suggested to Spencer that we go down there; we could fix up some kind of a story and perhaps succeed in getting our rations.

Now Spencer is a conscientious young man and objects to anything that does not dovetail in the exact line of right and honor. He objected to going, saying we should have to tell some extravagant stories and then get nothing, and perhaps get ourselves into some trouble. I said we would make only a plain statement of facts; that we are living in perilous times and that the end would justify the means.

We went down there and the only regalia the supervisor of the place had on that denoted any rank in the army was a pair of blue pants; just what rank he held we were unable to determine by those pants. We showed him our orders. He looked at them and said: “What are you here for? Go up to the Park barracks where your orders say.”

“Yes, I know; but we have just come from there; they are all full up there and are running short of rations; they sent us down here."

“Don't believe a word of it; they have no business to be short of rations up there and have no business to send you here anyway, and I don't believe they did.”

“You, sir, have a perfect right to believe just what you please, but here is an order for rations; the boat leaves in about an hour and if we don't have the rations we shall not go in her, and if we don't go it will be somebody's fault."

Thinking perhaps that tracing out faults might prove unpleasant, he pointed us to a tub of boiled corned beef and a basket of soft bread, telling is to take as little as would do us. To allay any fears he might have on that score, we said we did not care to burden ourselves with any superfluous freight. We not only took the meat and bread he told us to, but helped ourselves liberally to some boiled ham and raw onions that stood near by against his most emphatic protest. So, with some lying on our part and considerable swearing on his part, we succeeded in supplying ourselves with first-class rations.

When we came out, Spencer said: "I was shocked to hear you lie so.”

“But I have not been lying."

“Well, then, I should like to know what you would call it ?”

"What I said might possibly be twisted and contorted into something that would give it the appearance of lying, but I have only made few positive statements, and as I said before the end justifies the means."

That statement seemed to satisfy him, and a little while after we were aboard the steamer Albany, bound for Newbern. Standing on the quarter-deck as we steamed down the harbor and through the narrows,

We watched the big city with curious eye,

'Till the last towering dome had gone out in the sky.

We arrived at Newbern after a four days passage and reported to the provost marshal, Capt. Denny of our regiment, who welcomed us back and gave us the liberty of the city. He informed us the regiment was at Fortress Monroe, and if we had only known it while in New York, we could have saved ourselves the trouble of coming here and having to go back.

We were somewhat surprised at this intelligence, and disappointed at not knowing it while there, and saving ourselves all this unnecessary trouble and delay. But, however, we must put up with it, and take the next boat back which leaves for Fortress Monroe.

After a four days' visit here we went aboard the little steamer Vidette, bound for Fortress Monroe. We had aboard about 200 soldiers and about 100 Confederate prisoners. We left in the afternoon and the next morning were at Hatteras inlet. The sea was pretty rough, and in crossing the swash we fouled with a schooner, carrying away her bowsprit and losing one of our anchors. The old captain, who by the way was a jolly old fellow, said he never had so good luck before in getting through the inlet; he had only lost an anchor and taken off a schooner's bowsprit. As we went past the battery, he yelled out to them to fish up his anchor against he got back.

The following morning we were at Fortress Monroe and here learned that our regiment was at Newport News, at the mouth of the James river. We re-shipped on another boat, and an hour after were receiving the ovations and congratulations of our comrades, after an absence of nearly two months.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 103-9

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: January 15, 1862

Rough weather still continues, and we are out of rations, subsisting entirely on hardtack and a short ration of that. Unless it calms down so a tug can get alongside, we shall be entirely out in a day or two more. Three more boats dragged their anchors and went ashore this morning, and other boats, with their flags union down, are calling for help. In fact, things are beginning to look gloomy, but amidst all the trouble and discouragements, Gen. Burnside is everywhere to be seen, flying about among the boats and vessels, encouraging his men and looking as cheerful as though everything was going to suit him. Today a rebel boat came down the sound to take a look at us. One of our boats went out to meet her, but the rebel, not caring for an interview, hauled off. The colonel, surgeon and one other man of the 9th New Jersey regiment were drowned today, by the upsetting of a small boat they were in. And so we go, trouble and dangers by sea, and I suppose there will be more by land, if we ever get there.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 22

In The Review Queue: The Sharpshooters

The Sharpshooters:

A History of the Ninth New Jersey

Volunteer Infantry in the Civil War

By Edward G. Longacre

Recruited as sharpshooters and clothed in distinctive uniforms with green trim, the hand-picked regiment of the Ninth New Jersey Volunteer Infantry was renowned and admired far and wide. The only New Jersey regiment to reenlist for the duration of the Civil War at the close of its initial three-year term, the Ninth saw action in forty-two battles and engagements across three states. Throughout the South, the regiment broke up enemy camps and supply depots, burned bridges, and destroyed railroad tracks to thwart Confederate movements. Members of the Ninth also suffered disease and starvation as POWs at the notorious Andersonville prison camp in Georgia.

Recruited largely from socially conservative cities and villages in northern and central New Jersey, the Ninth Volunteer Infantry consisted of men with widely differing opinions about the Union and their enemy. Edward G. Longacre unearths these complicated political and social views, tracing the history of this esteemed regiment before, during, and after the war—from recruitment at Camp Olden to final operations in North Carolina.

About the Author

Edward G. Longacre is the award-winning author of numerous books on the Civil War, including The Early Morning of War: Bull Run, 1861; Fitz Lee: A Military Biography of Major General Fitzhugh Lee, C.S.A. (Nebraska, 2010); and Gentleman and Soldier: A Biography of Wade Hampton III (Nebraska, 2009). He lives in Newport News, Virginia, on land fought over during the 1862 Peninsula Campaign.

ISBN 978-1612348070, Potomac Books, © 2017, Hardcover, 432 pages, Photographs, Maps, Illustrations, Appendix, End Notes, Bibliography & Index. $34.95. To purchase this book click HERE.

The Burnside Expedition Officially Heard From

Four of the Vessels Lost, Three Run Ashore, and a Number of Lives Lost, and the Fleet Lands in Pamlico Sound.

FORTRESS MONROE, January 27.

By the arrival of the steamer Eastern State, we have the first direct and official intelligence of the Burnside Expedition.  The Eastern State left Hatteras Inlet last night, and arrived here this morning.

The recent storms were unusually severe at Hatteras, and considerably delayed and crippled the expedition, but when the Eastern State left, everything looked favorable.

The Burnside Expedition sailed from Hampton Roads on the 11th and 12th of January, and consisted of over 125 vessels, of all classes. – They arrived at Hatteras between the 12th and 17th inst., having been greatly retarded by severe storms and adverse winds, which prevailed during that time.

After their arrival at Hatteras they experienced a series of unparalleled storms, so that at times it was impossible to hold communication between any two vessels of the fleet.

After the storm it was discovered that no vessel drawing over 7 feet 8 inches could pass into Pamlico Sound.  No vessel either could pass outside the bar, drawing over 13 feet, unless very skillfully piloted.  In consequence of this the City of New York struck on the outside of the bar.  She had cargo valued at $200,000, of powder, rifles and bombs, and proved a total loss.  Her crew was saved.

The steamer Pocahontas went ashore near the light house and became a total loss.  Ninety valuable horses belonging to the Rhode Island Battery were on board of her, and were all drowned, including several valued at $500 each.

The Grape Shot parted her hawser and went down at sea.  Her crew were saved.

An unknown schooner, loaded with oats, and another schooner, name unknown, with six of her crew, were lost on the beach.

The steamer Louisiana struck on the bar, where she still remains.  The report of her burning is incorrect.  She may get off.  The Eastern Queen and the Voltigeur are also ashore.  The latter will probably get off.

The Water vessels attached to the Expedition had not reached their destination when the Eastern State left, and had it not been for the condensers on board some of the vessels, and a vessel on shore, the most terrible suffering must have occurred among the troops.  As it was, the water casks were composed of old whiskey camphene, and kerosene oil casks.

It is thought the pilots of Hatteras are traitors, having intentionally run the vessels ashore.

The waves dashed with a clean sweep across the Hatteras shore, completely cutting off the fort from outside communication.

Colonel Allen of the 9th New Jersey Regiment, and his Surgeon, Weller, with a boat’s crew, and the 2d Mate of the Anne Thompson, when they found that the troops needed water, manned a life boat in order to reach the General and obtain it.  The boat swamped and the Colonel, Surgeon and Mate were drowned.  The crew were saved.

Gen. Burnside has succeeded in getting over the bar one half of his vessels, including the gunboats and 7,000 troops.  Everything appeared to be in satisfactory condition when the Eastern Star left.  The large transports with troops remained outside until the arrival of the Spaulding, from Port Royal on the 3d, when Capt. Hawes volunteered to bring them all inside.  This was accomplished yesterday afternoon, the Eastern State passing the last of them as she left.

A portion of the tug boats chartered by Gen. Burnside for the expedition refused to proceed any further than Fortress Monroe.

Fair weather has set in, and the schooners of the expedition are making their appearance with water, coal, and provisions, and everything looks more promising.  Gen. Burnside has been indefatigable, he is confident of the ultimate success of the expedition and has the respect of every man under his command.

The only troops that have been landed are the 24th Massachusetts Regiment and the Rhode Island Battery.  Col. Hawkins’ regiment goes with the Burnside Expedition.

There has been no loss of life except what is above mentioned.  Different reports are received at Hatteras from the surrounding population in relations to the disposition and intentions of the enemy.  Some who came in say that the rebels are completely frightened and will not make a stand.  Another report is to the effect that large masses of troops will be concentrated in the vicinity, and still another store, confirmed by many, that their exertions will be directed chiefly to placing obstacles in the way of our progress to Norfolk.

The rebels keep a good look out on our movements with their gunboats.  Two of them made their appearance after the storm, but disappeared when chased.

The mails by the Eastern State will be forwarded to-morrow.

The Pensacola left here (Ft. Monroe) this afternoon for Key West, Pensacola and Ship Island.  She will report to the Commodore of the fleet in the Gulf of Mexico.

The Baltimore boat brought down this morning the 2d and 4th batteries from Wisconsin. – They will remain at Fortress Monroe for the present.

A flag of truce was sent out this P. M. to meet the rebel steamer Selden, and brought back among the release prisoners, Lieut. Parks, 4th Michigan, Dr. Wm. B. Fletcher, 6th Indiana, Lieut. Wm. Booth, 2d Wisconsin, and Lieut. Hooper, 1st California.

We find the following in Southern papers.

To-day’s Richmond Dispatch has reliable authority for making the statement that “General Beauregard takes command of the army at Columbus, Ky., and Gen. Gustavus W. Smith succeeds him in the position he has so long and so successfully occupied.  At Columbus, we understand, that Gen. Beauregard is subordinate to no one except Gen. A. Sydney Johnson [sic].  This change goes into effect without delay.”

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, February 1, 1862, p. 2

Details Of The Late Battle In North Carolina

NEW YORK, March 19. – The following are the details of the battle of Newberne:

Com. Case was in command of the fleet of Gunboats, and had sunken vessels, torpedoes and other rebel obstructions to overcome and pass, but surmounted them all, with but light damage to two of his fifteen vessels.  Two brigs, three barks and nineteen schooners were sunk by the rebels, above two rebel batteries.  The latter were silenced, the sunken vessels passed and our flag hoisted over the enemies batteries as our forces went along.  This was Saturday afternoon and night.

On Sunday morning a heavy fog set in, but lifted soon, and our boats passed up safely, silenced Ft. Thompson with its twenty guns heavy Columbiads, then Fort Ellis, with nine guns was captured after pretty brisk fighting, but the rebels fled in a panic, and our flag waved over another fort.

Only one fort was left to be engaged and Newberne would be at the mercy of our troops.  This was Ft. Lane, but the rebels having had enough of our boats, offered little, if any resistance, and fled.  The rebels then fired a large number of scows, filled with rosin and turpentine, intending to float them down and burn our gunboats, but they got stuck and burnt away furiously. – The gunboats then shelled the depot and track, but our troops had then crossed, and a white flag was hoisted.  Our Navy did not lose a man.

Operations on the land were briefly as follows.

Our troops landed 12 miles below Newberne, and began to prepare for an advance.  Most of the troops being so anxious to land that nearly every regiment jumped into the water and waded ashore, and the whole disembarkation was performed in less than two hours.

After marching two miles they found the deserted rebel camp with fires burning and a hot rebel breakfast untasted.  The division bivouacked for the night, and early in the morning skirmishing began.

Foster’s brigade, composed of the Massachusetts 23d, 24th, 25th and 26th with the 10th Connecticut in reserve, were in line and engaged a twenty gun battery of the rebels on their left flank, who showered grape, canister and shell upon them, also firing musketry from their infantry.  The 2d brigade comprising the 21st Mass., 51st New York, 51st Penn’a, and 9th N. Jersey, engaged them on the right and General Parks 3rd brigade took position in front.

The 1st brigade bore the brunt of the battle and the 24th Massachusetts had Maj. Stephenson and Lieut. Horton wounded, and the 23d Mass., lost Lieut. Col. Merritt, by a cannon ball carrying away one side of his body.  The 10th Conn., were ordered to support the 27th Mass., which had suffered severely.  The 3d brigade, together with the 2nd, executed a flank movement, and a hand to hand fight ensued of a most desperate character, when our troops drove the rebels out at the point of the bayonet, chasing them out of sight.

The rebels took possession of a Railroad train and fled from Newberne, burning the bridges, the Warrington House and several private dwellings.  A number of whisky and turpentine distilleries had commenced burning but were stopped.

A number of unionists were found in the city.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, March 22, 1862, p. 3