Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Thursday, November 20, 1862

Moscow. Mail arrived to-day. Received two letters; weather rather cold. Went foraging in the morning; returned with fresh pork, beans, corn and fodder in plenty.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 13

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 20, 1862

After some trouble we managed to get to bed last night about eleven o'clock; but for a long time after that the mules kept us awake; perhaps they were hungry also. The weather was clear and not cold, so we got a little rest. At six o'clock this morning we were ordered on, after a very light breakfast, excepting for a few who may have foraged. There were a few chickens and a little applejack about our mess. To-day has been the hardest of any day of the tramp, and there has been more straggling. The company organization was in the line, but thinned out terribly. We had no noon-rest; but at two o'clock we filed from the road to a field, came to the front, and received a good scolding. Our regiment looked as if it had been through two Bull Runs; only about 150 left, and the rest not "accounted for." In fact there were very few left of those who should do the accounting. The colonel stormed a little, but that did not bring up the men; so, as he was probably as hungry, if not as tired, as we were, he let us go to eating, which was a decided farce. Our haversacks were as flat as our stomachs. We found a few grains of coffee and tobacco-crumbs in the bottom of our bags, and succeeded in digging a few sweet potatoes, which we ate raw. We were told they were very fullsome. We waited here two hours or so for the stragglers, who finally came along. They had been having a fine time, plenty of room to walk, and two hours more to do it in than we had; and, more than that, they were in the majority, so nothing could be done but "Right shoulder shift" and put the best foot forward. About sundown we saw, in crossing a bridge, a wagon-load of hard-tack bottom side up in the creek. Some of the boys sampled the bread, but it was not fit to eat. Shortly after a signboard indicated fourteen miles to New Berne. That was encouraging! The walking was fearful, the roads full of water, in some places waist deep, and covered with a skimming of ice. At last we met a wagon loaded with bread, and after much talk with the driver we got what we wanted. Next we met a man who said it was only twelve miles to New Berne. They either have long miles or else some one made a mistake; we seemingly had been walking two hours or more from the fourteenth mile post, and now it was twelve miles. We came to the conclusion not to ask any more questions, but "go it blind.”

We at last reached the picket-post, seven miles out, and halted to rest and allow the artillery to go through. Here Col. Lee told us we were at liberty to stay out and come into camp Sunday; but most of "E" thought of the letters and the supper we would probably get, and concluded to stand by the flag. After a rest we started again, and at last began to close up and halt often, so we knew we were coming to some place or other.

The writer has no very distinct idea of those last seven miles, excepting that he was trying to walk, smoke, and go to sleep at the same time, and could only succeed in swearing rather faintly, and in a stupid sort of manner, at everything and every one. It was dark and foggy, but finally we saw what appeared to be the headlight of a locomotive a long way off. Then the fort loomed up, and we were passing under an arch or bridge, and in a few minutes we reached "E's" barrack, and our troubles were all forgotten. Now we were wide awake; gave three hearty cheers for every one; had all the baked beans and coffee we could stagger under; and then the captain's "Attention for letters" brought us to our feet. Some had as many as a dozen. They had to be read at once, and, notwithstanding our fatigue and the lateness of the hour, read they were.

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. 29-30

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 21, 1862

CAMP STEVENSON.

Sunday. A splendid day; but what a miserable-looking set of boys we are!—stiff, lame, and dirty, and hungry for more beans. We received the welcome order, "No work for three days." We went to church this morning, so there are really only two days and a half, and they will soon be gone. But we have letters to answer, trips down-town to make, for those who can get passes; and the first thing we know it will be Wednesday.

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. 30

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 13, 1862

Last night the company forager, Russell, nearly lost his life. Having stolen or appropriated a mule, he spent most of his time, while on the march, scouring the neighboring chicken-roosts, and, as usual, came in last evening loaded down, a hoop-skirt pannier on each side of his animal, being distended to its uttermost capacity with good things, from eggs to a side of bacon. The picket where he came on the line happened to be a Dutchman, who understood very little English, and nothing of his duty (not of our regiment), and the mule, caparisoned as he was with the white skirts, stealing upon him with little noise, frightened the poor fellow so that he fired at the forager, and then challenged him, but after a deal of talk, our man got by and rendered a good account of himself.

We started about seven this morning, and after marching about nine miles heard firing ahead, and were ordered to halt, and "right and left" was the word. Lying down, we rested while our artillery went through the line. We waited a long time. Then we moved forward, and, entering a large field on the left, were drawn up in line of battle. We were on an elevation, where we could see all that was going on, or thought we could, which served the purpose, as we all found out sooner or later. The men knew little or nothing, and anyone asking an officer, he always replied, "I'm sure I cannot tell you”—a most unsatisfactory way of explaining matters.

About four o'clock we stacked our arms, with orders not to leave the ranks; and supposing the enemy to be in our immediate vicinity, we kept quiet for an hour;then, as there did not appear to be any special movement, we were allowed to get something to eat; and soon found we were to stay here all night, but were not allowed to remove our accoutrements.

From our position we have a beautiful view of our camp-ground. We are situated on a knoll, with General Stevenson's head-quarters in our immediate vicinity, with the different regiments scattered in all directions; while down in the woods, directly in front of our line, we can just see the cavalry picket. We are wondering if all our fighting is to be done on Sundays. Our first fight was on Sunday, and it is now Saturday night; and we are so close to the enemy that we have orders to sleep with our rifles in our hands. Probably no baked beans or brown bread for us to-morrow.

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. 24-5

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, August 30, 1862

Our first morning in camp. We were rudely awakened and dragged from our bunks at six o’clock, very few being used to such early hours, except perhaps on 4th of July, and were expected to be on the parade ground before our eyes were fairly open.

My advice is if you ever enlist again, start with buckle or congress boots, or none at all, don’t wear laced ones. Why Thereby hangs a tale. One man who wore laced boots was late, consequently had to fall in at the foot of the column. In a minute or two, around came the adjutant and some other officer, who wanted a man for guard. The man who was late at roll-call, was detailed of course. He went without a word was posted on the edge of a pond his orders being “Keep this water from being defiled, allow no privates to bathe here, let only the officers bathe and the cooks draw water to cook with.” The orders were fulfilled, but the poor guard was forgotten, and paced up and mostly down (as it was a pleasant grassy sward,) till eleven o clock. That was his first experience of guard duty, and he always owed a grudge to the sergeant of that guard and his laced boots.

Meanwhile, the company, left standing in the street, with their towels, combs, &c., proceeded to the water, where the pride of many a family got down on his knees, and went through the farce of a toilet, and then back to breakfast.

To-day we have been busy cleaning up and getting ready for our friends from home. It has been as novel a day as last night was new, it is a great change, but we will conquer this, and probably worse.

Our friends began to arrive about three o clock, and by supper-time the barracks were well filled, many remaining to supper so shawls and blankets were spread upon the ground, and we gave them a sample of our food. The coffee was good but so hot, and having no saucer with which to cool the beverage, we had to leave it till the last course. Our plates were plated with tin, but very shallow, and as bean soup was our principal course we had some little trouble in engineering it from the cook s quarters to our tables. We must not forget the bread, it was made by the State, and by the looks, had been owned by the State since the Mexican war. We had never seen the like, and begged to be excused from enduring much of it at a time. (We afterwards found no occasion to grumble at our food, for as you may remember, we were looked after well during our whole service. We had as good rations as any one could wish, but here, within ten miles of home, we felt that this was rough on the boys.)

For a week, little was done but feed and drill us, to toughen us for the dim future, and the furloughs were granted very freely. We were soon astonished to find that we had for a surgeon, a man who meant business. Among other things, he thought government clothes were all that we needed, so spring and fall overcoats and fancy dry goods had to be bundled up and sent home. All our good things were cleaned out, everything was contraband excepting what the government

allowed. We had always thought it a free country, but this broke in on our individual ideas of personal freedom, and we began to think we were fast losing all trace of civil rights, and becoming soldiers pure and simple. Nothing could be brought into camp by our friends unless we could eat it before the next morning but goodies would come, and as we had to eat them, of course we were sick.

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. 6-7

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 24, 1864

Field Infirmary, near Petersburg, Va.,        

June 24, 1864.

When I wrote to you two days ago I said appearances indicated that we were about to have a fight. Sure enough, about half an hour after I had finished writing the battle began. Our division was engaged. McGowan's Brigade did not suffer much. It supported Wright's Georgia Brigade of Anderson's Division, and, as the men were not engaged, they had the privilege of lying down. Consequently most of the missiles passed over them. The brigade lost only thirty or forty, and the Thirteenth Regiment had but one killed and two wounded

We were very successful. It is estimated that we killed and wounded about two thousand. We captured about the same number and four cannon.

Our loss was about four hundred. We are still in our old position. There was heavy cannonading this morning on our extreme left. If there was any musketry, it was too far for me to hear it. Just as I began to write this letter I had two wounded men to come in. They were hurt by a shell early this morning.

I had my third mess of beans yesterday, and a big one it was too. I shall have rather a poor dinner to-day—only bread, meat and coffee. We have been getting enough coffee and sugar to have it twice a day ever since I got back from home in April.

The weather is becoming very warm and we need rain. It will soon be too hot for military operations.

When you write again tell me all the little particulars about yourself. You do not know how much it interests me.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 100-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 2, 1864

Hot and dry.

A dispatch from Gen. Lee (will be published on Monday) says Gen. Beauregard reports the number of prisoners taken from Wilson's south side raiding party about 1000, besides the killed and wounded, and several hundred negroes recaptured, 13 guns, many small arms, wagons, etc. It is said the killed and wounded amount to 1500, of whom there are not exceeding 300 of the latter, leaving 1200 killed.

Gen. Morgan has got back to Western Virginia with 1800 men, having lost but 200. He did not fight a battle with Gen. Burbridge at all; hence the Federal account of Morgan's defeat was without foundation. Morgan will probably soon be in Maryland and Pennsylvania, attending to the enemy's railroads, bridges, mills, etc. The President said (so reported) to Dr. Garnett, yesterday, he hoped to hear of no more raids, since the last fared so badly.

I drank two cups of coffee this morning, which seem to have had an extraordinary effect upon my strength, activity, and spirits; and indeed the belief that the discontinuance of the use of this beverage, about two years ago, may have caused the diminution of all. I am, and have long been, as poor as a church mouse. But the coffee (having in it sugar and cream) cost about a dollar each cup, and cannot be indulged in hereafter more than once a week. We had also boiled beans to-day, followed by fritters, the cherries from our garden, with sugar-sauce. This the family consider a sumptuous dinner—with no meat!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 242-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 30, 1864

Fair and cool; hot at noon.

It is rumored that Mr. Memminger will resign. If he does, it will cause much rejoicing. Mr. Foote censured him severely in Congress; and moved a resolution of censure, which was not laid on the table—though moved, and voted on—but postponed.

Gen. Lee has been a little ill from fatigue, exposure, and change of water; but was better yesterday, and is confident.

Messrs. Cardoza and Martin, who sell a peck of meal per day to each applicant for $12, or $48 per bushel, flour at $1.60 per pound, and beans $3 per quart, are daily beset with a great crowd, white and black. I do not think they sell for the government, but they probably have facilities from it. The prices are only about half charged in the shops.

But Messrs. Dunlop and Moucine are selling meal (on their own account, I believe) at $25 per bushel, or 50 cts. per pound, allowing each white member of the family about five ounces per day; and selling them twice per month, or nine pounds per month to each. The rule is to sell to only the indigent, refugees, etc. My friend James G. Brooks, Clay Street, informed me this morning that he got half a bushel there. He is rich!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 222

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: March 29, 1864

A furious gale, eastern, and rain.

No news, except the appearance of a few gun-boats down the river; which no one regards as an important matter.

Great crowds are funding their Treasury notes to-day; but prices of provisions are not diminished. White beans, such as I paid $60 a bushel for early in this month, are now held at $75. What shall we do to subsist until the next harvest ?

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 178

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 19, 1863

Whitworth Projectile

For a month we have been watching our enemy vigilantly, and a panorama, consisting of a great variety of war scenes, has, during that time, passed before us. We have had charging, digging rifle-pits, blowing up forts and firing all sizes of cannon, to say nothing of percussion shells, spherical case shot, time shells, parrot, grape, cannister, shrapnel, etc., the memory of which will be vivid to all, both blue and gray, who have seen the show around Vicksburg. The terrible noises, too, that have rung in our ears, must echo for years to come. I may add our endurance of this southern sun, at times being short of rations, and at no time out of danger, yet all the time nearly uncomplaining-every one trying to make the best of it, and all as merry as the situation would admit. Each day some of the Boys have come in relating new discoveries on reconnoisance, and I do not think there is a foot of ground about these hills that has not been explored, a well or spring that has not been tested, or a single object of interest of any kind that has not been worked until it was stale.

SHELL WITH FUSE.—The fuse is graduated on the outside into equal parts, representing seconds and quarter-seconds. In the bottom of this channel is a smooth layer of a composition of lead and tin, with a piece of wick or yarn underneath it. On this is placed a piece of metal. When ready for firing, the dial is gauged at the proper point at which the fuse is to burn through into the shell.

Then each man has had his peculiar view of how a siege like this ought to be conducted—that is, from the standpoint of rank and file. However, we are all agreed that the quiet man in command of our forces is still able to anticipate the requirements of our situation. I call him quiet, for that is just what he is. There is no dash or glitter about him, but he is marked by a steady nerve, and piercing glance that seems to be always on the alert. Many a second lieutenant has fallen a victim to the sharpshooter because of his fresh uniform, while officers of more experience have escaped under slouched hats and old blouses. There seems to be no limit, however, to the experience of some of them.

A cook of the 96th Ohio happened to be cooking beans the other day, when Gen. A. J. Smith, commanding a division of the 13th Army Corps, came around on camp inspection. After being properly saluted by the cook, the general began a colloquy as follows:

Gen. Smith.— What are you cooking?
The Cook. —Beans, sir.
General Smith. —How long do you cook beans?
The Cook. —Four hours, sir.
Gen. Smith (with a look of withering scorn).—Four hours! You cook 'em six hours!

That cook’s beans were tender enough that day.

"Once again the fire of hell
    Rained the rebel quarters,
With scream of shot and burst of shell,
    And bellowing of the mortars.”

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 58-9

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: February 2, 1862

A high wind prevailed this morning and the sea was somewhat rough; the boat had considerable motion, but the boys had their sea legs on, so it caused them very little trouble.

HIGH LIVING.

Our company cooks, with commendable enterprise and industry and with an eye to our present well being, furnished us with baked beans and hot coffee for breakfast. This was a great treat, and every man had all he wanted; a vote of thanks was given the cooks. For dinner boiled beef was served, the first we have had since leaving Fortress Monroe.

I hope this kind of fare will hold out, but fear we shall have a relapse of the worst kind. The chaplain held services in the saloon this morning and afternoon. The boys spent most of the day writing letters, reading newspapers and making up their diaries.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 31

Captain Charles Wright Wills: October 6, 1864 – 12 m.

Rained all last night, and has just suspended for a few minutes, I expect. Kept dry, thanks to our rubber blankets. Drew five days' rations this morning, full of everything except beans; plenty of beef, though. We only drew one-quarter of a pound per man for the whole five days. Part of our railroad bridge across the Chattahoochie washed away a few days ago. It will be finished again today. There was some fighting up near Allatoona Pass yesterday, in which, rumor says, our folks were worsted. The Rebels are moving up the road in that direction. They will have to leave there or wait and fight us. I hear that Kilpatrick burned 200 or 300 of their wagons yesterday. We'll warm those fellows if they will only wait for us somewhere. We are under orders to start at a moment's notice. Mud is not over a foot deep and everything else is lovely in proportion. I was confoundedly sick all day yesterday, could not eat any supper, but about 9 p. m. the boys brought some beans about half cooked, and the notion taking me I ate a couple of quarts thereof. Have felt splendidly ever since. Our pickets that we left at Eastpoint have just got in. The division field officer of the day who had charge of them misunderstood his instructions and marched to the river at Sandtown, 15 miles below where we crossed. The Rebels fired into them and I suppose captured half a dozen stragglers.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 306

Captain Charles Wright Wills: June 6, 1864

June 6, 1864.

I will try and send you this to-day. Our postmaster never calls for letters, though we could send them if he would. I will try hereafter to send oftener, though you must not feel anxious about me. I will take the best care I can of myself (and do my whole duty). I yet think that to be connected with such a campaign as this is well worth risking one's life for. It occasionally gets a little old, but so does everything in this life, and altogether I don't know but that it wears as well as any of life's pleasures. Do you remember when I was at home how little I knew about good eatables? Here it is a great advantage to me. For five weeks we have been living on “hard tack,” pickled pork and coffee, varied by not half a dozen meals of beef, not even beans or rice. Nearly every one grumbles, but I have as yet felt no loss of appetite, and hardly the desire for a change.

Nearly all the prisoners we capture say they are done fighting and shamefully say, many of them, that if exchanged and put back in the ranks they will shirk rather than fight. It would mortify me very much if I thought any of our men that they captured would talk so. It seems to me that the Confederacy is only held together by its officers exercising at least the power of a Czar, and that should we leave it to itself it would crumble. Well, I am calculating that this campaign will end about the 15th of July, in Atlanta. I cannot hope for a leave of absence again until my time is out, unless I resign, and if active campaigning continues, as some think it will, until the war is over, of course I will have no chance to do the latter. Cousin James is near me here, and I expect to see him soon.

Passed Charlie Maple on the road yesterday; also saw Clegget Birney. He is a splendid looking boy. They say the 7th Cavalry will soon be here; also the 8th Illinois. I will try to write you every week hereafter.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 255-6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 9, 1863

No news from the armies.

Mrs. ex-President Tyler, who has already been permitted to visit her native State, New York, once or twice during the war — and indeed her plantation has been within the enemy's lines — has applied for passage in a government steamer (the Lee) to Nassau, and to take with her "a few bales of cotton." I suppose it will be "allowed."

We have fine hot August weather now, and I hope my tomatoes will mature, and thus save me two dollars per day. My potatoes have, so far, failed; but as they are still green, perhaps they may produce a crop later in the season. The lima beans, trailed on the fence, promise an abundant crop; and the cabbages and peppers look well. Every inch of the ground is in cultivation — even the ash-heap, covered all over with tomato-vines.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 31, 1863

The commissioners, appointed for the purpose, have agreed upon the following schedule of prices for the State of Virginia, under the recent impressment act of Congress; and if a large amount of supplies be furnished at these prices — which are fifty, sometimes one hundred per cent, lower than the rates private individuals are paying — it will be good proof that all patriotism is not yet extinct:

“Wheat, white, per bushel of 60 pounds, $4 50; flour, superfine, per barrel of 196 pounds, $22.50; corn, white, per bushel of 56 pounds, $4; unshelled corn, white, per bushel of 56 pounds, $3.95; corn-meal, per bushel of 50 pounds, $4.20; rye, per bushel of 56 pounds, $3.20; cleaned oats, per bushel of 32 pounds, $2; wheatbran, per bushel of 17 pounds, 50 cents; shorts, per bushel of 22 pounds, 70 cents; brown stuff, per bushel of 28 pounds, 90 cents; ship stuff, per bushel of 37 pounds, $1.40; bacon, hoground, per pound, $1; salt pork, per pound, $1; lard, per pound, $1; horses, first class, artillery, etc., average price per head, $350; wool, per pound, $3; peas, per bushel of 60 pounds, $4; beans, per bushel of 69 pounds, $4; potatoes, Irish, per bushel of 69 pounds, $4; potatoes, sweet, per bushel of 69 pounds, $5; onions, per bushel of 60 pounds, $5; dried peaches, peeled, per bushel of 38 pounds, $8; dried peaches, unpeeled, per bushel of 38 pounds, $4.50; dried apples, peeled, per bushel of 28 pounds, $3.”

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 337

Diary of Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney: May 23, 1863

Drew rations for the 7th Ohio. Got rations over for the remainder of the month. Potatoes and beans. Thede went out a mile or so with the horses and came back used up. Looks miserable. Eyes glaring and face emaciated. Made me frightened. Had the doctor look at him. Gave some rhubarb, uneasy during the night, cramps. Slept with him. Wrote to Fannie.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 70

3rd Sergeant Charles Wright Wills: January 10, 1862

Bird's Point, January 10, 1862.

Since daylight yesterday morning we have been all ready with five days' rations and expecting every moment the orders to fall in and commence a march. We were delayed untill 11 a. m. to-day by a fog so dense that boats could not run even from Cairo to this point. All that time we were in the greatest suspense and after everybody had conjectured all their conjectures, we were yet perfectly in the dark in regard to our destination. All the troops here, save enough for guard duty, are going. I believe I'm within bounds when I say that 75,000 different lies have been circulated here in the last 36 hours, and all in regard to the present expedition. Well the suspense is over and we (think we) know that Columbus is our goal.

At 11 a. m. to-day the fog was dispersed by a cold north wind, and immediately two gunboats steamed down the river, giving us the first intimation of our route. They were shortly followed by other gunboats and then by steamers loaded to their utmost capacity with soldiers. All afternoon they have been going down. The last boat that I saw was towing a couple of flats loaded with ambulances, or “soldier-buggies.” I think all the troops have gone from Cairo and the boats that carried them will be back and take us at daylight to-morrow noon. I think they are landing them about six miles this side of Columbus, maybe not so far from there. General McClernand is taking his whole stock in the soldier business with him. It's a permanent thing certain. If this really means Columbus, and I don't see how it can be anything else, it has been managed with more secrecy than any expedition, besides, up to this time in war. I never guessed it within the possibilities of a month. These generals, we have three of them here (Grant, Paine and McClernand) may know their business, but we of the ranks don't understand what kind of truck 20,000 men want with the army at Columbus. And 10,000 is, I'm sure, considerably outside of the number that will move from here. There are probably 10,000 more at Paducah, that I think are also going. Well, maybe we'll get the place, hope we will. If we don't it won't be the men's fault, for we do hate that hole. It's funny what an effect this soldiering has on men. I suppose there is no mistake about our being within two days, at farthest, of a great battle, and yet these men don't to any eye show a sign of even a shadow of care or concern. Since I commenced this I don't believe that one of them has given it a thought. To save my neck I can't get up enough excitement to kill a flea or even to warn him. The boys are almost all playing cards. Sam Nutt and my chum Hy thought they didn't get enough supper to-night, so they put about a peck of beans in to boil and have just got them in eating order. I suppose Sam can plant more beans than any other living man of his weight. They have also a lot of pig's feet between them. Little Ame Babcock and Ike McBean are going with us to-morrow. Colonel Kellogg goes with five companies of his regiment. The Canton company does not go. I am not real well now but I wouldn't miss this trip to Columbus to save my life. I've had my heart set on being at that fight a long time and I'm [going] if I can walk two miles.


January 13, '62. I wrote this letter and thought I wouldn't send it untill we'd start and save myself a chance of being fooled, but now I'll send it to show how badly I was misled.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 53-4

3rd Sergeant Charles Wright Wills: January 2, 1862

January 2, 1862.

We've waited patiently until after New Year for the box of provisions, and nary box yet. Have given it up for a goner. We're just as much obliged to you as though we had received it. We haven't yet eaten all the tomatoes, etc., that came with the quilts. Partly because we are too lazy to cook them, but mostly because we don't hanker arter them. Beans, bacon and potatoes are our special hobbies or favorites rather, and we are never dissatisfied on our inner man's account when we have them in abundance and of good quality. Company H of the 17th, Captain Boyd, was down here on the 30th. All the boys save Chancy Black and Billy Stockdale were along. We had a grand time, Nelson's, Boyd's and our boys being together for the first time in the war. Yesterday, New Year, the camp enjoyed a general frolic. A hundred or two cavalry boys dressed themselves to represent Thompson's men and went galloping around camp scattering the footmen and making noise enough to be heard in Columbus. The officers of the 11th Infantry were out making New Year calls in an army wagon with 30 horses to it, preceded by a splendid band. The “boys” got a burlesque on the “ossifers.” They hitched 20 mules to a wagon and filled it with a tin pan and stovepipe band, and then followed it in 60-mule wagon around the camp and serenaded all the headquarters.

General Paine said to-day that our regiment and the 11th would move in a week, but I don't believe it.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 50-1

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: March 27, 1864

We have issued to us once each day about a pint of beans, or more properly peas, (full of bugs), and three-quarters of a pint of meal, and nearly every day a piece of bacon the size of your two fingers, probably about three or four ounces. This is very good rations taken in comparison to what I have received before the pine which we use in cooking is pitch pine, and a black smoke arises from it; consequently we are black as negroes. Prison gradually filling from day to day, and situation rather more unhealthy. Occasionally a squad comes in who have been lately captured, and they tell of our battles, sometimes victorious and sometimes otherwise. Sometimes we are hopeful and sometimes the reverse. Take all the exercise we can, drink no water, and try to get along. It is a sad sight to see the men die so fast. New prisoners die the quickest and are buried in the near vicinity, we are told in trenches without coffins. Sometimes we have visitors of citizens and women who come to look at us. There is sympathy in some of their faces and in some a lack of it. A dead line composed of slats of boards runs around on the inside of the wall, about twelve or fourteen feet from the wall, and we are not allowed to go near it on pain of being shot by the guard.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 44

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: June 9, 1861

Cairo. I have been over to Bird's Point this morning for the first time. They have thrown up breastworks and dug a deep ditch outside of them, making a pretty strong camp. We don't apprehend, a shade of a fuss here but the officers are making as much preparation as if a Waterloo No. 2 were coming. I went to old Bird's house this morning. It is just like the pictures we have seen in Harper's of southern planters' homes. A wide, railed porch extends around two sides of the house from the floor of each story. On the lower porch sat Bird and his family talking with a number of officers and their ladies. Looked very pleasant. Back of the house were the quarters filled with 46 of the ugliest, dirtiest niggers I ever saw, dressed in dirty white cotton. Awful nasty! The soldiers at the point have plenty of shade. We have but one tree on our grounds. The boys took a lot of ammunition from Bird the other day, and also another lot from a nest five miles back in Missouri. It was all given back, however, as private property. Our whole brigade of six regiments had a parade yesterday. We are all uniformed now and I think we made a respectable appearance. The general gave us a special notice. Are the Canton boys going or not? Do they drill? We have been sleeping on hay up to this week, but have thrown it away, and now have but the bare boards. The change has been so gradual from featherbed at home to plank here that I can't think where it troubled me the least. I had a mattress in Peoria, straw in Springfield, and hay here. Our living is now very good. Fresh beef every day, potatoes, rice and beans.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 17