JUST at night, as I
had finished the above, the Laurel Hill, the boat that brought
us from quarantine to Chalmette, tied up in front of camp and down came our
tents and on board we went. We came up the river past New Orleans and between
that city and Algiers, which is quite a large place on the left hand shore. New
Orleans seems a big city, but lies as low as the river. A high dock all along
its front is built up with timber and is so high only the upper parts of the
buildings show from the river. No streets are seen at all. We also passed a
place called Carrolton and very soon after landed at what is said to be Camp
Parapet. There are no tents near the river but there are thousands a short
distance back. The outskirts of Carrolton come close up on the down river side,
while the up river side has a high bank reaching from the river back as far as
I can see. Beyond that is an unexplored country (to me), and away in the
distance appears to be just such a forest as was in sight back of Camp
Chalmette. A good-looking dwelling house and a few small buildings are near by
and the ground is tramped bare of all vegetation, as if soldiers had just moved
away. We came down the Levee and put up our tents and crawled in, for it was
night by that time. We have had some rain and some sunshine, but the weather is
warm and altogether I like our present place of abode the best of any we have
yet had since we left Camp Millington. Another case of smallpox has developed,
but he was hustled to a tent way back of camp and I suppose our arms will have
to be pricked again. Mine looks as if a setting hen had picked it now. Miss
Kate Douglass, from Amenia Union, came to camp yesterday and Captain Bostwick
and several officers have gone to the city with her. Report says the captain
and she are to be married to-night. Six months in the service and I have so far
been only an expense to Uncle Sam. But I have seen something of the big farm
the Rebs hope to rob him of and I hope I may yet do something to put him in
full possession of it again. Letters from home, also one from Walter Loucks,
who is in the hospital at New Orleans.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 87-8
