Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 17, 1862

Two letters to-day, and two papers, all from home. Seems as if I had been there for a visit. I wonder if my letters give them as much pleasure? I expect they do. It is natural they should. I know pretty nearly what they are about, but of me, they only know what I write in my letters, and in this, my everlasting letter, as I have come to call my diary. It is getting to be real company for me. It is my one real confident. I sometimes think it is a waste of time and paper, and then I think how glad I would be to get just such nonsense from my friends, if our places were changed. I suppose they study out these crow's tracks with more real interest than they would a message from President Lincoln. We are looking for a wet bed again to-night. It does not rain, but a thick fog covers everything and the wind blows it in one side of our tents and out the other.

Maybe I have described our life here before, but as no one description can do it justice I am going to try again. We are in a field of 100 acres, as near as I can judge, on the side of a hill, near the top. The ground is newly seeded and wets up quickly, as such ground usually does. We sleep in pairs, and a blanket spread on the ground is our bed while another spread over us is our covering. A narrow strip of muslin, drawn over a pole about three feet from the ground, open at both ends, the wind and rain, if it does rain, beating in upon us, and water running under and about us; this, with all manner of bugs and creeping things crawling over us, and all the while great hungry mosquitoes biting every uncovered inch of us, is not an overdrawn picture of that part of a soldier's life, set apart for the rest and repose necessary to enable him to endure several hours of right down hard work at drill, in a hot sun with heavy woollen clothes on, every button of which must be tight-buttoned, and by the time the officers are tired watching us, we come back to camp wet through with perspiration and too tired to make another move. Before morning our wet clothes chill us to the marrow of our bones, and why we live, and apparently thrive under it, is something I cannot understand. But we do, and the next day are ready for more of it. Very few even take cold. It is a part of the contract, and while we grumble and growl among ourselves we don't really mean it, for we are learning what we will be glad to know at some future time.

Now I am about it, and nothing better to do, I will say something about our kitchen, dining room and cooking arrangements. Some get mad and cuss the cooks, and the whole war department, but that is usually when our stomachs are full. When we are hungry we swallow anything that comes and are thankful for it. The cook house is simply a portion of the field we are in. A couple of crotches hold up a pole on which the camp kettles are hung, and under which a fire is built. Each company has one, and as far as I know they are all alike. The camp kettles are large sheet-iron pails, one larger than the other so one can be put inside the other when moving. If we have meat and potatoes, meat is put in one, and potatoes in the other. The one that gets cooked first is emptied into mess pans, which are large sheet-iron pans with flaring sides, so one can be packed in another. Then the coffee is put in the empty kettle and boiled. The bread is cut into thick slices, and the breakfast call sounds. We grab our plates and cups, and wait for no second invitation. We each get a piece of meat and a potato, a chunk of bread and a cup of coffee with a spoonful of brown sugar in it. Milk and butter we buy, or go without. We settle down, generally in groups, and the meal is soon over. Then we wash our dishes, and put them back in our haversacks. We make quick work of washing dishes. We save a piece of bread for the last, with which we wipe up everything, and then eat the dish rag. Dinner and breakfast are alike, only sometimes the meat and potatoes are cut up and cooked together, which makes a really delicious stew. Supper is the same, minus the meat and potatoes. The cooks are men detailed from the ranks for that purpose. Every one smokes or chews tobacco here, so we find no fault because the cooks do both. Boxes or barrels are used as kitchen tables, and are used for seats between meals. The meat and bread are cut on them, and if a scrap is left on the table the flies go right at it and we have so many the less to crawl over us. They are never washed, but are sometimes scraped off and made to look real clean. I never yet saw the cooks wash their hands, but presume they do when they go to the brook for water.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 28-31

Captain Charles Wright Wills: July 7, 1864

July 7, 1864.

The shooting still continues in our front, but hear no Rebel artillery. The water here is excellent, and everybody seems to get a few blackberries. We also stew grapes and green apples, and everything that ever was eaten by anti-cannibals. There is so much confounded fighting to be attended to that we can't forage any, and though fresh beef is furnished to the men regularly there is some scurvy. I have seen several black-mouthed, loose-toothed fellows, hankering after pickles. Teamsters and hangers-on who stay in the rear get potatoes, etc., quite regularly. I do not believe the Johnnies intend fighting again very strongly this side of the river. Our scouts say that between the river and Atlanta the works run line after line as thickly as they can be put in. Per contra, two women who came from Atlanta on the 6th say that after we get across the river we will have no fighting, that Johnston is sending his troops to Savannah, Charleston, Mobile and Richmond, except enough to fight us at different river crossings. Our scouts also say that the Rebels are deserting almost by thousands, and going around our flanks to their homes in Tennessee, Kentucky, etc. I have not been in a house in Georgia, but several citizens I have met in camp said they had heard many soldiers say they would never cross the river with Johnston since the charge of the 27th.

Harrow has kept our brigade in reserve, and I think he will continue to do so unless a general battle is fought. We have suffered more heavily than any other two brigades in the army, and when we started we were one of the smallest. I am willing to see some of the others go in a while, though I want to help if Johnston will stand a fair fight in open ground. The chigres are becoming terrific. They are as large as the blunt end of a No. 12 and as red as blood. They will crawl through any cloth and bite worse than a flea, and poison the flesh very badly. They affect some more than others. I get along with them comparatively well, that is, I don't scratch more than half the time. Many of the boys anoint their bodies with bacon rinds, which the chigres can't go. Salt-water bathing also bars chigres, but salt is too scarce to use on human meat. Some of the boys bathing now in a little creek in front of me; look like what I expect “Sut Lovegood's” father did after plowing through that hornet's nest. All done by chigres. I believe I pick off my neck and clothes 30 varieties of measuring worm every day. Our brigade quartermaster yesterday found, under his saddle in his tent, a rattlesnake, with six rattles and a button.

This is the 68th day of the campaign. We hope to end it by August 1st, though if we can end the war by continuing this until January 1st, '65, I am in. Reinforcements are coming in every day, and I don't suppose we are any weaker than when we left Chattanooga. The Rebels undoubtedly are, besides the natural demoralization due to falling back so much must be awful. My health is excellent. Remember me to all the wounded boys of the 103d you see.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 274-6

Captain Charles Wright Wills: June 13, 1864

June 13, 1864.

The rain continued until 5 p. m. Everything and everybody thoroughly soaked. Our division moved about one-half mile to the left this p. m. Strategy! We moved out into an open ploughed field. You can imagine the amount of comfort one could enjoy so situated, after two days' constant rain, and the water still coming down in sheets.

The field is trodden into a bed of mortar. No one has ventured a guess of the depth of the mud. It is cold enough for fires and overcoats. My finger nails are as blue as if I had the ague. There is one consolation to be drawn from the cold, it stops the “chigres” from biting us. I would rather have a bushel of fleas and a million of mosquitoes on me than a pint of “chigres,” — don't know the orthography — They are a little bit of a red thing, — just an atom bigger than nothing; they burrow into the skin and cause an itching that beats the regular “camp” all hollow. Some of the men have scars from “chigre” bites that they received at Big Black last summer, and will carry them across the Styx. The ants here also have an affinity for human flesh and are continually reconnoitering us. I kill about 200,000 per day. Also knock some 600 worms off of me. Great country this for small vermin. I pick enough entomological specimens off me every day to start a museum. I do manage to keep clear of greybacks, though.

Every time I commence talking about chigres I feel short of language. I am satisfied of one thing, if my finger nails don't wear out, there'll be no flesh left on my bones by autumn. The case stands finger nails vs. chigres, and skin is the sufferer. Notwithstanding rain, cold or chigres, we are in excellent spirits. Sherman don't tell us anything (in orders) good or bad, but every man feels that we have “a goodly thing” and is content to work and wait. I never heard less complaining, or saw troops in better spirits. If we get to Atlanta in a week all right; if it takes us two months you won't hear this army grumble. We know that “Pap” is running the machine and our confidence in him is unbounded.

We have so far had abundance of rations, but if it comes down to half, we will again say “all right.” Our army is stronger to-day than it ever was in numbers and efficiency. I am sure that there is not a demoralized company in the command. There has been considerable shooting along the front to-day, and the lines have been advanced some, but we are nearly a mile back, and being constantly ready to move. I have not been out, and don't know much about the exact situation. Its something new for our division to be in reserve. Time passes much more quickly in the front. The general opinion is that we are gradually working to the left, and will cross the Chattahoochie about east or northeast of Marietta. We are now 26 miles from Atlanta by railroad and something nearer by pike.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 259-60

Captain Charles Wright Wills: April 28, 1864

Scottsboro, Ala., April 28, 1864.

We received marching orders last night, and will probably move to-morrow morning. Supposition is that we go to Huntsville first, there store our baggage, and then cross the Tennessee river and open the Spring campaign. I am much pleased at the prospect of moving once more. Have never been so well and comfortably situated in the army, nor was I ever tired of lying still. Lieutenant Miller R. Q. M. while hunting some mules a few miles from camp, last Monday was captured by the enemy, and is now on his way to the "Hotel de Libby" (not) rejoicing. 'Tis something of a joke on Miller. Weather is becoming most uncomfortably warm. Altogether too hot for marching. Boys of our regiment and troops of the whole corps, never started on a march in better spirits. Will write as often as have opportunities. Swarms of flies interfere with my afternoon naps lately.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 228-9

Captain Charles Wright Wills: September 28, 1863

September 28, 1863.

By the exercise of a little strategy, this morning I caught a chameleon who had ventured out of a hollow tree to gobble some flies for his breakfast. I enveloped him or rather lassoed him with a pocket handkerchief and then slipped him into a bottle. He only showed two of his colors, changing from a very pretty snuff color to a beautiful light green.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 192

Captain Charles Wright Wills: September 22, 1863

Camp at Messenger's Ferry, Big Black River, Miss.,

September 22, 1863.

I wrote you a few lines from Vicksburg on the 18th inst. to notify you that I had escaped the perils of navigation (sandbar and guerillas) and of my safe arrival. I had a delightful trip down the river. A splendid boat, gentlemanly officers, not too many passengers, and beautiful weather. Major General Tuttle and wife and Mrs. General Grant were of our number. I think Mrs. Grant a model lady. She has seen not over thirty years, medium size, healthy blonde complexion, brown hair, blue eyes (cross-eyed) and has a pretty hand. She dresses very plainly, and busied herself knitting during nearly the whole trip. Believe her worthy of the general. Vicksburg is a miserable hole and was never anything better. A number of houses have been burned by our artillery firing, but altogether the town has suffered less than any secesh village I have seen at the hands of our forces. But very few buildings escaped being marked by our shot or shell, but such damage is easily repaired in most cases. No business whatever doing in the town, except issuing orders by generals, obeying them by soldiers and the chawing of commissary stores without price by the ragged citizen population. I was of the impression that I saw some rough country in Tishomingo County, Miss., and in the mountains in north Alabama, but after a day’s ride in the vicinity of Vicksburg and to our present camp, I find I was mistaken. They call it level here when the surface presents no greater angles than 45 degrees. I found only one officer to a company present here, and the colonel is also on leave. There is a great deal of sickness but the health of the regiment now is improving. We have lost a large number by disease since I left the regiment. Anyone who saw us in Peoria would open wide his eyes at the length of our line now, and think we'd surely passed a dozen battles. The greater part of the material this regiment is made of should never have been sent into the field. The consolation is that these folks would all have to die sometime, and they ought to be glad to get rid of their sickly lives, and get credit as patriots for the sacrifice. We are now in the 2d Brigade 4th Division 15th Army Corps, having been transferred from the 16th Army Corps. We are camped on the bluffs of Black river, which we picket. Our camp is the finest one I ever was in. There are two large magnolias, three white beeches, and a half dozen holly trees around my tent. I think the magnolia the finest looking tree I ever saw. Many of the trees are ornamented with Spanish moss, which, hanging from the branches in long and graceful rolls, adds very much to the beauty of the forest. Another little item I cannot help mentioning is the “chigger,” a little red insect much smaller than a pin-head, that buries itself in the skin and stings worse than a mosquito bite. Squirrels skip around in the trees in camp, and coons, owls, etc., make music for us nights. Capt. Gus Smith when on picket several nights, saw a bear (so he swears) and shot at it several times. The enemy's cavalry are maneuvering around on the other side of the river, constantly making it unsafe for our boys to straggle much over there. Sabbath evening we, our brigade, moved out across the river about four miles to meet a party of Rebels, but as usual they were not there. We ate our supper while waiting for them and returned by moonlight, 8 o'oclock p. m. We've had a brigade review and a short brigade drill, and I've eaten a very hearty supper since finishing the last period. I feel perfectly well once more. Much better than I did any day while North. Did I tell you that I had the ague for a week or so before I started South? My continued ill health more than anything else is what started me off for the regiment so suddenly. The general wanted me to stay until after the fair, but I wouldn't have done it for a horse. Altogether, I feel very happy over getting back to my company. The boys profess being very glad to have me with them again, and I assure you that such compliments do me good. I didn't know that I could take as much interest in any strange humans as I feel in these men of my company. While I was in Central Illinois I wished many times that this war was over, and that I could settle in one of the many good points I saw for trade. I know that I could do well selling goods in any of a half dozen towns that I visited there, and even in Decatur. But I know I could not be satisfied out of the army while this war lasts. I am glad to be out of staff duty for several reasons. One of the most important is that it costs all my pay to keep me. I did not make a cent while with the general, and have only two months' pay due me now. It has been very cold here. Night before last I had six blankets over me, last night five and will use four to-night. ’Twas quite warm this p. m., but the nights are very cold. We will have hot weather yet. There is a great deal of ague here.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 187-9

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, June 25, 1862

Headquarters 1st Division,

Battery Island, June 25th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I have received your kind letters with their urgent requests from both you and Lilly to be present at the great affair which is to take place in July. How I would like to be there, you can well divine, yet the fates never seem to favor my leaving my post. With all quiet in Beaufort I had my hopes, with all in turmoil here my chances seem but small, and yet there are some who have not been half the time in the service I have, who have visited their homes once, twice, and are now going home again. That is a sort of luck some people have, a sort of luck which does not favor me. Yet there will be a time I suppose when it will be pleasant to remember I was never absent from duty, though I cannot see that strictness in such respects is held in any special honor now. You must tell Lilly I will think of her with all a brother's feeling of love, when the day comes. I will see that I am properly represented at the table which bears her marriage gifts. I will dream of the orange flowers that bind the brow of the bride and will wish them — the bride and groom —  God speed. I will wish them a brave career, and will rejoice that they do not fear to face the future together. I have no patience with that excessive prudence which would barter the blessings of youth and happiness and love, for some silly hope of wealth, and the happiness wealth can give to hearts seared with selfishness and avarice. If misfortunes come, will they be heavier when borne together? And are men less likely to prosper when they have something more than themselves for which to toil? And when one man and one woman are brave enough to show they have no fear, but are willing to trust, "Bravo!" say I, "and God grant them all that they deserve."

My coat and pants have come. All very well, only the coat is about six inches bigger round the waist than I am. There are tailors around the camp though who can remedy so excellent though rather ungraceful a fault.

I have had a letter from Hall lately, who seems quite happy. On this island, dear Mother, there are secret, hidden, insidious foes which undermine one's happiness. We are truly in the midst of enemies which give no quarter, whose ruthless tastes blood alone can satisfy. Now I am not alluding to the human "Seceshers" — they are only mortal — but the insect kingdom. What a taste they have for Union blood! Mosquito bars are useless. They form breaches, and pierce every obstruction imagination can invent, when they once scent Union blood. Flies march over one in heavy Battalions — whole pounds of them at a time. Mosquitoes go skirmishing about and strike at every exposed position. Sandflies make the blood flow copiously. Fleas form in Squadrons which go careering over one's body leaving all havoc behind. Ticks get into one's hair. Ants creep into one's stockings. Grasshoppers jump over one's face. You turn and brush your face. You writhe in agony. You quit a couch peopled with living horrors. You cry for mercy! — In vain. These critters are "Secesh." They give no quarter. You rush wildly about. You look for the last ditch. Until utterly exhausted you sink into unrefreshing sleep. Then begins a wild scene of pillage. Millions of thirsty beings, longing for blood, drink out one's life gluttonously. Enough! Why harass you with these dismal stories?

Benham has been sent home under arrest. The last thing he did on leaving Hilton Head was to lie. He doubtless has not discontinued the practice since.

My love to Mary and Lilly, the little boys (how I would like to see them), and all my dear friends. I have been several times with a flag of truce to the enemy, concerning our prisoners in their hands. In all these interviews I heard of Sam Lord. I wished to see him very much, but permission was not granted. I was allowed, however, to write him concerning Miss Alice Mintzing's welfare. The Colonel of his Battalion — Lamar — was badly wounded in our late engagement. Genl. Stevens has mentioned me handsomely in his official report of the fight, but he has done the same to all his staff.

Very affec'y. your Son,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 160-2

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: August 29, 1863

Aroused at daylight. Saddled and waited two hours for “forward.” Hornets’ nest by road. Bees after Gen. Shackleford and others, occasioned considerable fun. Moved 5 miles and stopped for breakfast and to feed horses. More big hills. Air cool and bracing. Nice day for marching. 30 miles from Montgomery, where we camp. Four companies left with wagons. Ours at head of Batt. Rode some with Major Nettleton and Robertson. Camped about dark. Found hay and corn. In the woods.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 85

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 13, 1864

It is now as hot and sultry as it was ever my lot to witness. The cloudy weather and recent rains make everything damp and sticky. We don't any of us sweat though, particularly, as we are pretty well dried up. Laying on the ground so much has made sores on nearly every one here, and in many cases gangrene sets in and they are very bad off. Have many sores on my body, but am careful to keep away the poison. To-day saw a man with a bullet hole in his head over an inch deep, and you could look down in it and see maggots squirming around at the bottom. Such things are terrible, but of common occurrence. Andersonville seems to be head-quarters for all the little pests that ever originated — flies by the thousand millions. I have got into one bad scrape, and the one thing now is to get out of it. Can do nothing but take as good care of myself as possible, which I do. Battese works all the time at something. Has scrubbed his hands sore, using sand for soap.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 66-7

1st Lieutenant Charles Wright Wills: June 29, 1862, 11. p.m.

11 p. m., 29th. — There is talk among the officers that Buell with 60,000 men is en route for Atlanta, Ga., intending to occupy that city, and thus cut off connection between the eastern and western portions of the Rebel Army. It will be a bold strike and looks safe; but it seems to me, from a glance at the map, that the occupation of Montgomery, Ala. would more effectually accomplish that end, for then there would be no railroad line open to the Rebels (we holding the Memphis and Charleston) while there are two lines running east from Montgomery, only one of which a force at Atlanta could cover. A deserter came in this evening who says that they are organizing the army at Tupelo, mustering the men as five years' regulars, with promises of furloughs until this war is over. That England and France have decided that the Southern States shall all have a chance at the ballot box, and must, within 60 days, say whether they will cleave to the Government of the United States or be independent; if the latter, those governments will sustain them and thus end the war, and if the former, the war will be ended accordingly. So they are organizing a regular army upon the supposition that they will be an independent confederacy. The above shows they are able to start as huge a lie in their camps as we can in ours. I wouldn't have believed it before.

The colonel, A. D. C. and myself took tea with General Ashboth this evening. He is such a pleasant man. Has a great liking for pets. He has a tremendous large dog, who lays his head on the table right by the general's plate during meal time, and he gets his share at the first table. On the other side of him two little Indian ponies range themselves as quick as he sits down, and he lays biscuits on the corner of the table for them, which they gobble with the greatest relish. He spreads biscuits for one pony with sugar, and with salt for the other. His conversation is divided about equally between his ponies, the dog, and his other guests. The ponies he got in Arkansas, and they are the prettiest little fellows imaginable. The general is one of the most polite and kind men I ever saw. His troops all love him. He carries his right arm in a sling yet from a wound received at Elkhorn.

If you'd multiply all the bugs, say by 10,000, you'd have something near the number that visit me nightly. They are of all sizes less than a door knob, and the shapes and colors are innumerable. When they're bumping against you by candle light, if you were not acclimated, you would swear someone was brickbatting you.

We could overrun the whole West and Southwest as fast as we could travel, with the army we had here, if it were policy. Vicksburg cannot stand two hours when attacked. But it has leaked out at headquarters that we are letting them think they are holding us in check, so that they will keep all their forces in the West until after the big fight at Richmond. I have heard from Captain Nelson that Sammy Nutt distinguished himself in the skirmish yesterday. He captured that prisoner I spoke of. Captain says Sam was the head man in the chase and that no man ever behaved better. Sam's pistol went off accidentally after he had captured the secesh and the bullet came within half an inch of knocking a hole in the Rebel's head. The boys all give Sam a great deal of praise. ’Twas daring of the captain to run his handful of men almost into the enemy's camp, and 25 miles from any support; but if any company can do it, Company K can. Captain Nelson looks well but grumbles at being brought back from the front to where there is nothing to do but rest. His men feel the same way. For my part I don't consider myself in the war here any more than I would be in Canton.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 110-2

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 4, 1864

Have not been dry for many days. Raining continually Some men took occasion while out after wood, to overpower the guard and take to the pines. Not yet been brought back. Very small rations of poor molasses, corn bread and bug soup.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 64

Diary of Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney: June 13, 1863

Another hot sultry day. Flies swarm about the commissary by thousands — a continual fight to keep them off. Got some lemons for Henry and some candy. Independent and Congregationalist came. Good sermon by Beecher. Both Thede and I are bothered with diarrhoea.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 73-4

1st Lieutenant Charles Wright Wills: March 26, 1862

Camp near Point Pleasant, Mo., March 26, 1862.

It is, to-day, very much warmer. I'm altogether too hot to be comfortable in my shirt sleeves. Don't know what is to become of us in July if it is so hot in proportion. I shake in my boots at the thought of the mosquitoes, flies, etc., we will have to endure. Vegetation is giving the surroundings a greenish appearance already, and have seen a peach tree in nearly full bloom. Wheat is about three or four inches above ground. Makes a very respectable sod. I think there are more Union people here than in any part of Missouri that I have been in, and fewer widows. Men are nearly all at home and putting in their crops as coolly as though there was no war. Some of our soldiers impose on the natives pretty badly. You don't know how thankful you ought to be that you don't live in the invaded country. Wherever there is an army, for 10 or 15 miles around it there will be hundreds of stragglers. Some out of curiosity, some to see the natives and talk with them, but the majority to pick up What they can to eat. There is not a farm house within ten miles of camp, notwithstanding the positive orders against straggling, that has not, at least, 50 soldier visitors a day, and they are the poorest soldiers and the meanest men that do all the straggling, or nearly all. They will go into a house and beg what they can and then steal what is left. Rough, dirty, coarse brutes, if they were all shot, our army would be better off. Most of these fellows are bullies at home, and that class makes plunderers in war. I've seen enough of war to know that it isn't the brawling, fighting man at home that stands the bullet whistle the best. A favorite game of these chaps, where they are not utterly depraved (there are a good many of the latter), is for a couple of them to go in the house and make themselves as interesting as possible while the others clean out the smokehouse, chicken yard, and the premises generally. The greatest objection and the only one I have to being in the army, is the idea of being associated, in the minds of the people of this country, as well as the home folks, with such brutes. But I tell you, that I have always acted the gentleman to the best of my ability since I entered the army, and I don’t believe I’m a whit worse than I was at home. I haven't drank one-tenth as much liquor as I did in the same length of time at home, and you know how much that was, and that I hate the stuff too much to ever taste it unless forced upon me. The last I touched was with poor George Shinn just before the 17th left the cape. We drank to “Our next shake hands, may it be at the end of the war, at home and before three months.” George was a No. 1 soldier. We bays all think everything of him. Tell him we all sympathize with him and wish him a speedy recovery, and that his services may not be needed any more. Seems to me I write you nearly every day, but haven't had a letter from home for two or three weeks. Our mail is very irregular though, and I can excuse, but I would like you to get all of mine and save them, for I would like to look these over myself when I get home, as I keep no diary. The day is so warm that our boys are all out bathing in a little swamp lake near here. The Lord knows some of them need it. Cleanliness is undoubtedly the best preventive of disease in the army. Hardly any of the boys that are cleanly suffer from disease. The colonel and Sidney went to Cairo yesterday. The colonel with dispatches from General Pope, I believe, and Sid. just because he could. We buried our two boys yesterday morning that were killed at Cane Bridge, and I (never felt sadder in my life. I’m sure that knowing I would be killed to-morrow wouldn’t hurt me half as much. These poor fellows have suffered all the hardships and trials of the private soldier's life, and are now put under the ground in the dark-swamp, without a friend here, save their comrades, and probably after the army leaves, a friendly eye will never see their graves. I sent a package of letters back to a young lady that one of them was engaged to. Our men have been living on mush and the other messes, makeable from cornmeal for a week, without coffee or any thing else. Couldn't get provisions through from Cairo near fast enough, and Pope gobbled up everything that did come for the troops at Madrid. Chet. Caswell, a Canton boy, is here now and cooking for our mess, I can live on fried mush as long as the next man. The frogs, bugs, blackbirds and sich like, keep up a perfect bedlam around us the whole time.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 73-5

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: April 12, 1864

Another beautiful but warm day with no news. Insects of all descriptions making their appearance, such as, lizards, a worm four or five inches long, fleas, maggots &c. There is so much filth about the camp that it is terrible trying to live here. New prisoners are made sick the first hours of their arrival by the stench which pervades the prison. Old prisoners do not mind it so much, having become used to it, No visitors come near us any more. Everybody sick, almost, with scurvy — an awful disease. New cases every day. I am afraid some contagious disease will get among us, and if so every man will die. My blanket a perfect Godsend. Is large and furnishes shelter from the burning sun. Hendryx has a very sore arm which troubles him much. Even he begins to look and feel bad. James Gordan, or Gordenian, (I don't know which) was killed to day by the guard. In crossing the creek on a small board crossway men are often shot. It runs very near the dead line, and guards take the occasion to shoot parties who put their hands on the dead line in going across. Some also reach up under the dead line to get purer water, and are shot Men seemingly reckless of their lives New prisoners coming in and are shocked at the sights.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 50-1

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: June 13, 1861

Cairo. I am converted to the belief that Cairo is not such a bad place after all. The record shows that less deaths have occurred here in seven weeks among 3,000 men, than in Villa Ridge (a higher, and much dryer place with abundant shade and spring water), in five weeks among 1,000. There has been but one death here by disease in that time, and that with miserable hospital accommodations. The soldiers lie like the d---1 about Cairo. The days are hot of course, but we do nothing now between 8 a. m. and 9 p. m. but cook and eat, so that amounts to not near as much as working all day at home. The mosquitoes and bugs are furious from 6 p. m. to 11, but we are drilling from 7 p. m. to nearly 9, and from that to 11 we save ourselves by smoking, which we all do pretty steadily. The nights after 11 are splendidly cool, so much so that we can cover ourselves entirely in our blankets, which is a block game on the mosquitoes, and sleep like logs. I believe those Camp Mather boys are hard sticks from the accounts we get of their fingers sticking to chickens, vegetables, etc. The citizens here say that the boys have not taken a thing without permission, or insulted a citizen. “Bully for us.”

We had a little fun yesterday. At 8 p. m. we (the Peoria and Pekin companies) were ordered to get ready for marching in ten minutes. So ready we got (but had to leave knapsacks, canteens and blankets) and were marched down to the “City of Alton,” which had on board a six pounder and one 12 pound howitzer. We cast off, fired a salute of two guns and steamed down the Mississippi. After five miles the colonel (Oglesby) called us together, told us that he was out on a reconoitering expedition, and his information led him to think we should be forced into a little fight before we got back. We were then ordered to load and keep in our places by our guns. At Columbus we saw a secesh flag waving but passed on a couple of miles farther where he expected to find a secesh force. Failed and turned back. At Columbus the flag was still waving and the stores all closed, and quite a crowd collected on the levee, but one gun though, that we could see. The colonel ordered the flag down. They said they wouldn't do it. He said he would do it himself then. They answered, “We'd like to see you try it.” We were drawn up then round the cabin deck guards next the shore in two ranks, with guns at “ready,” and the captain jumped ashore and hauled down the serpent. We were all sure of a skirmish but missed it. Flag was about 15x7, with eight stars and three stripes. I send you some scraps of it. They raised another flag one hour after we left and sent us word to “Come and take it.” The ride on the river was the best treat I've had for two years.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 17-9

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: May 23, 1861

Lots of men come through here with their backs blue and bloody from beatings; and nine in ten of them got their marks in Memphis. A man from St. Louis was in camp a few days since with one-half of his head shaved, one-half of a heavy beard taken off, two teeth knocked out and his lips all cut with blows from a club. This was done in Memphis the day before I saw him. My health continues excellent. Never felt so well, and think that care is all that is necessary to preserve my health as it is. I can't think that this Illinois climate is mean enough to give a fellow the chills, after it has raised him as well as it has me.

I never enjoyed anything in the world as I do this life, and as for its spoiling me, you'll see if I don't come out a better man than when I went in.

We have commenced fortifying this point. One company is detailed every day to work on this. It is said that it will cost three million. As for enlisting for three years, I can't, or rather won't say now. Tis a sure thing that as long as this war continues I will not be satisfied at home, and if I would there will certainly be no business. There is no use trying to coax me now for I can't tell until my three month's are up. Then, if I feel as now, I shall certainly go in for the war. Our company gets compliments from all the newspaper correspondents.

The whole camp is aching to be ordered to Memphis. Bird's Point is not occupied. We had a company there for one day but withdrew them.

I commenced this about 12 last night in the hospital, but I had so much to do and there were so infernal many bugs that I concluded to postpone it. We do have the richest assortment of bugs here imaginable, from the size of a pin-head up to big black fellows as large as bats. I was sitting up with an old schoolmate from Bloomington, whose company have gone up to Big Muddy and left him to the tender care of our surgeons. The poor devil would die in a week but for the care he gets from a dozen of us here that used to go to school with him. There are about 50 men in our regiment's hospital, and save the few that go up to care for their friends unasked, the poor fellows have no attendance nights. I gave medicine to four beside my friend last night, two of whom are crazy with fever. One of the latter insisted on getting up all the time, and twice he got down stairs while I was attending the others. Not one of our company is there, thank heaven.

Yesterday our company with the whole 7th Regiment were at work on the fortifications. Wheeling dirt and mounting guns was the exercise. The guns we mounted are 36 pounders and weigh three and one-half tons each. Our regiment, except this company, are at the same work to-day. To-morrow the 9th works. General Prentiss paid us a very handsome compliment in saying that our company did more work than any two companies have yet done in the same time. You should see our hands. Mine are covered with blisters. You might as well be making up your mind to the fact that I am not coming home soon. There is but one thing in the way to prevent my going in for the war. That is the talk of cutting off the heads of all lieutenants over 25 years of age, and of all captains over 35. Now under that arrangement all three of our officers will lose their heads, and we know we cannot replace them with as good. This thing, though not certain yet, has created a great deal of excitement in camp, and if it goes into effect will smash our company completely. Our company is the best officered of any in camp. There are no two sides to that proposition.

You'll see that your Canton company will not regret the selection of officers they have made. The companies here with inexperienced officers have worlds of trouble, and five captains and one lieutenant, though good men at home, have resigned at the wish of their companies. Four of these companies tried to get our first lieutenant for captain, but he won't leave us. The thousand men who occupied Bird's Point the other day are most all Germans; many of them “Turners,” and a very well drilled regiment. They will get their cannons from St. Louis next week. None of the men expect an attack here, but we know that General Prentiss thinks it at least possible, and from his actions we think he expects it. A family were in camp yesterday who were driven away from a place only 12 miles from here in Missouri, and left a son there with a bullet through his brains. It happened yesterday morning. We have had our uniforms about a week. Gray satinet pants and roundabout, with a very handsome blue cloth cap. Nine brass buttons up the jacket front and grey flannel shirts. We are obliged to wash dirty clothes the day we change and to black our shoes every evening, and polish our buttons for dress parade. Our company is the only one that does this though, and they call us dandies. We have done more work and better drilling though, than any of them, so we don't mind it.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 14-6