Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 16, 1863

Every thing went on quite smoothly until 9 o'clock A.M., when, to our surprise, the enemy ceased firing entirely. The cause was soon made known. In clear, lively tones their bugles sounded the "Forward," and in a short time a strong line of skirmishers was seen advancing on the run-ours falling back to the ditches. Following these came their main line, also at a double

quick. Our impatience got the better of our judgement, and we began firing on their skirmishers, while the artillery threw a perfect torrent of grape and shell into the main line. The consequence was, they were scared back before we could do them much injury. They took refuge in a ravine some five hundred yards off and remained until the afternoon, when General Gregg determined to drive them away and re-establish his skirmish lines. To effect this, the batteries shelled the place furiously for a half hour, when several of our regiments advanced, and, after a spirited fight of fifteen minutes, routed the party and recovered the lost ground. While the picket fighting was in progress, our Orderly Sergeant, Joe English, was badly wounded in the leg, and Dick Smith and I carried him off the field. Nearly all of the regiment was on picket during the evening and night.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 279-80

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Wednesday, September 3, 1862

Rienzi.  Woke by the bugle at 3:30 A. M.; went out to roll call and drill. The weather fine. Washed shirt and stockings for first time. Wrote home. Drilled by Syl. Sweet in the evening on the gun. The enemy skirmished our pickets, wounded three; our horses were harnessed ready. I felt a little flushed.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 3

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, September 7, 1862

Rienzi.  Arose to the sound of the bugle at 3 A. M. Prepared for a general inspection, but Captain, apprehending a move, did not call us out. Drew good bunks from the old camp of 2nd Missouri. After roll call at 9 P. M. I went to bed hoping to have a good night's rest, but I was doomed to disappointment, for ere two hours had elapsed, we were awakened by Corporal Dixon telling us to pack up all our clothing and be in readiness to march. We of course obeyed and waited for further orders, when about midnight, "Strike your tents" was given. This done, the mules began driving in, loading was commenced, the horses harnessed, and by one o'clock all was ready to march. That which could not be taken was piled up ready for the march, but the order did not come, so we were obliged to pick our place and lay down for a short and uneasy sleep.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 4

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, December 5, 1862

Left camp at 6 o'clock. Roads in a terrible condition, mud knee deep, marching almost impossible; artillery stuck in the road, wagons in every conceivable condition. Crossed the Tallahatchie on a pontoon bridge of a very primitive build, being composed of trees cut down fastened together with ropes and tied to the shore with the ropes, small trees were laid crosswise and on this we crossed. The rebels had quite a strong fort here which would have given us a great deal of trouble, but Sherman's march on our flank forced Price to abandon it. The roads on the south side were much better and after a wearisome march of sixteen miles reached Oxford, Mississippi, at 8 o'clock p. m. I never was so tired and never saw the men so worn out and fatigued as they were on this day's march. We were kept over an hour before our camp was located and it seemed as if all dropped to sleep at once. I could not but think of those at home who are all the time condemning our generals and armies for not moving with greater rapidity, for not making forced marches and following up the enemy, when they know nothing about it. We made quite a parade going through Oxford as it is a place of considerable importance. Flags were unfurled, bands struck up, bugles sounded, and men for the time being forgot their fatigue and marched in good order. Nothing like music to cheer up the men.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 5-6

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, November 29, 1862

Marched at 8 o'clock in the morning. General Grant passed us at about 10 o'clock; arrived at Holly Springs at about 11 o'clock; halted an hour, marched to Lumpkins Mills where we encamped for the night. Had to take off our pants, etc., to wade a stream to reach our camping grounds—found a splendid pond of water which was made good use of. Firing in the distance. I saw one of the grandest sights tonight. I had occasion to ride up on a high hill and in the valley below there were some 40 or 50 thousand troops encamped and going into camp the thousands of camp fires, the cheers of the men as they were going into camp, the tattoo of the regiments which had already gone into camp, some with bands of music, others with only the bugle, others with drums, all together made up a scene long to be remembered. I would not have missed seeing it for hundreds of other scenes at home. I staid on the hill for some time and at midnight not a sound was heard, all was as still as could be and the only things to be seen were groups of soldiers either lying or sitting around the camp fires.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 4-5

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, February 25, 1863

February 25, 1863.

This afternoon our regiment was reviewed by Gen. Saxton in the presence of Gen. Hunter. The staff and body guards of these two Generals made about a hundred horsemen. I quite enjoyed the bugle notes as they gallopped into camp and thought how much more exciting a cavalry regiment must be than infantry. In the course of the battalion drill our boys were ordered to make a charge toward them and I verily believe that if the Col. had not been in front, the order "Halt," would have passed unheeded till the cavalry had scattered over the field.

All this evening I have been squeezing Kansas history out of Col. Montgomery, a history with which he himself is so completely identified that I have really been listening to a wonderful autobiography. Col. M. is a born pioneer. Ashtabula County, Ohio, is his native place. Forty-nine years ago, Joshua R. Giddings and Ben Wade were young men and Montgomery in his boyhood was accustomed to hear their early pleadings at the bar. So you see how birth and early surroundings fitted him for a fiercer frontier life. New England life seems puny beside the lusty life born on the frontier. Of the Colonel's eight children two of his sons are to hold commissions in his regiment. They are young but as “they don't know the meaning of fear,” and hate slavery he is sure they will get on. In medicine he has a weakness for pellets instead of pills. It is humiliating that our two strong colonels should exhibit such weak points. So long as we remain in good health I don't know but this foible of homoeopathy is as harmless as any of the popular vagaries. . . .

Yesterday Mingo Leighton died. Many weeks ago, I saw him step out of the ranks one day when upon the double-quick and discovered that he had slight disease of the heart. He was a noble fellow, black as midnight, who had suffered in the stocks and under the lash of a savage master, and did not accept any offer of discharge papers. Later he realized some of his hopes up the St. Mary's, so that he was very quiet under his fatal congestion of the lungs. He was ill but a few hours and was very calm when he told me on my first visit that his work was finished. He never gave me his history, though he regarded me as his friend, but one of his comrades confirmed my convictions of his worth. This same comrade, John Quincy, a good old man, who for eight years, paid his master twenty dollars per month for his time and eight dollars per month apiece for mules, and boarded himself and animals, this man told me that Mingo was deeply religious, but said little about it, and that he himself had been "trabblin by dis truth sometin' like twenty-five year." I have rarely met a man whose trust in God has seemed to me more immediate and constant.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 367-8

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Monday, October 26, 1863

This morning at two o'clock the bugle's blast is heard and soon the regiment is moving towards Iuka. At daylight we come to a halt one and a half miles from Iuka where we tie up and feed, after which Colonel Rowett proceeds with the regiment to Iuka, and reports to General Sherman.

Companies A, B, C, D, E, G and K, go into camp in the woods west of Iuka. Companies H, I and F, under the command of Captain Johnson, pass through Iuka and go into camp as an out-post, on the road leading south.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 200-1

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Thursday, November 5, 1863

The bugle blows at early dawn, all are soon up and prepared to move; it is now raining in torrents. All the infantry are now in motion. During the morning the Seventh stand in the rain, expecting to move every minute. We wait and wait; mid-day is now passed and the Seventh still at luka. After this standing in the rain all day waiting for an order to move forward, we receive orders to unsaddle and remain another night, and in consequence the Seventh are far from being in a good humor this evening.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 203

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 23, 1863

Dog or Shelter Tent.

We halted this morning at six o'clock, and but a few minutes elapsed before two-thirds of the regiment were fast asleep. A few very hungry ones, only, made coffee and took breakfast.

We find ourselves again on the road to Jackson, but what our final destination is, no one knows except the stars in front. We surmise our course to be through Johnston's army, if we can find it. The “blarsted” bugle blasted us out on the road again at seven.

I believe I, for one, would rather have spent my hour in eating than sleeping. However, we trudged our eight miles at an easy pace and halted again. The birds were singing merrily, with no sounds of war to interfere. It is rumored that we are out hunting the paymaster instead of Johnston. 

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 63-4