Reached as far as we can go today, our progress being stopped by a large rebel fortification called Fort Pemberton, which is about two miles off. We disembarked and were assigned camping ground by General Sanborn, our brigade commander. It is on a clearing—our tents are pitched among decayed pine trees, which have been girdled for the purpose of clearing the ground.
SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 10
Hurrah for camp once more! Our tents are being sent ashore and a detail from each company goes to put them up. This began just at night and lasted all night. Nobody slept, for some were working and the rest were thinking of living outdoors again.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 66
Cool. Routine of
Drilling as usual—Battalion Drill superintended by the Lieut. Col. Nothing new
as usual—The same dull monotony seems to pervade the camp as usual.
SOURCE: Transactions
of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 230
Rienzi. There was
nothing to break the monotony of camp life. Wrote two letters. Washed clothes.
In the evening news of another battle at Iuka. They cleaned Price out and
chased him four miles; 400 killed on both sides.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 6
During these two
days the regiment has been busily engaged in moving its camp about four miles.
The new camp is to be called Camp Vanderwerken, from the name of a man owning a
large property in the immediate neighborhood.
Very shortly after
crossing Chain Bridge, our regiment was transferred from Gen. King's to Gen.
Smith's brigade, to which we remained attached till about the 28th of
September, when Gen. Smith was promoted to the command of a division, and we
transferred to a new brigade under command of Brigadier General Winfield Scott
Hancock, an officer of fine appearance, but with rather a narrow forehead, and from
what little I have seen of him, I should presume him to be at least excitable,
if not irritable. We have been between three and four months organized, and
have not yet lost a man by either disease or accident. So after all, the life
of a soldier, if his health is properly looked after, is not more exposed to
sickness than that of a civilian. I am fast coming to the conclusion that the
great mortality of camp life is owing much more to neglect of the proper means
within our reach of preserving health, than to any exposures to which the
soldier is peculiarly liable.
SOURCE: Alfred L.
Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of
Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B.
McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day
January, 1863, p. 39-4
Left camp on the 16th on a scout to hunt up Blythe's forces. Orders came upon us suddenly to prepare two days rations and go in light marching order. Men strapped a rubber and one common blanket across their shoulders and were soon ready, all glad of the change as camp life had become very monotonous. Our force consisted of some 500 cavalry, 800 infantry (our regiment and part of the 11th) and two pieces of artillery. It had been raining for some time and the roads were horrible. Marched about twenty-one miles the first day. The rebels had burned all the bridges and we had to cut down trees to cross over the streams. Rained the first day. About 6 o'clock in the evening we went into camp, without any tents. Sleep was almost impossible. Reached Blythe's camp on the morning of the 17th, but the bird had flown. Company A were thrown out as skirmishers and moving forward in that way came upon Blythe's camp. They had been forced to retreat so fast that they had left all their camp utensils and provisions covered up with leaves and hid under branches of trees cut down. We destroyed everything we could find and commenced our march homeward, Co. A as rear guard. We kept skirmishing with the Rebs who would come just near enough to get a shot at us. Raining hard all the time. Marching terrible through a swamp when it was so dark you could not distinguish the men in front, we waded through water for an hour; when we came to Horn Lake river it was so swollen and deep from the rain that we could not ford it and as all the bridges have been burned down we cut down two large trees which fell across the stream and by the light of a single lamp crossed on these. We went into camp about four miles from the river but sleep was impossible owing to the rain. I sat on a log most of the night and tumbled off once in the mud from being asleep. I was a tough looking picture. Next morning we reached camp and all glad to get back. It was on this march that an incident occurred which was very amusing. We had halted and stacked arms at noon near a farm house where the men went for chickens, geese, pigs and everything eatable they could get, when all at once a lot of the men came rushing out of the yard yelling what was thought to be "Rebs." Men rushed for their arms-officers mounted, when it was discovered instead of Rebs it was bees. A lot of men in search of provisions had come upon a number of bee-hives and in trying to get the honey upset the hives and the whole swarm of bees set upon them. They were routed and fled, the bees attacked the horses and men so vigorously that we had to move the regiment.
SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 8
In camps yet, with nothing to do and plenty to eat, and no fear of the enemy's pursuit. We had a military execution here yesterday, on the person of —— —— of the 29th Georgia, who had deserted to the cavalry. The sentence seemed so harsh that a paper praying for his pardon was signed by all of the officers, even to Major-General Walker; but General Johnston refused to grant it. An example is needed in this army, and it is well to crush out the spirit of desertion in the bud. It is said that some —— regiments have lost half of their men since the evacuation of Jackson. It is a trying time on us now, but I believe light will dawn again on us.
SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281
very pleasant—no news unusually quiet in camp. Distressingly dull nothing but Drill Drill all the time.
SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 228
Received our big
cook-stove. Our ammunition was examined, and nearly all condemned. Usual
routine of camp-duty. Orders were received to be ready to march at one o'clock,
Sunday, Jan. 18; countermanded till Monday at the same hour. Capt. Martin
returned from his furlough.
SOURCE: John Lord
Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second
Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light
Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 271
Rienzi. Went through the usual routine of drill and
camp life. Received my first mail since my arrival, consisting of two letters
and a [Milwaukee] Sentinel. Changed mess. The 2nd Missouri Infantry left. Wagons
moving, fires burning all night.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 4
Rienzi. I answered the summons of the reveille, but I
did not feel very well; had an attack of the ague but got over it by dinner.
Nothing to break the monotony of camp life. Reinforced by one regiment of
infantry.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 4-5
CAMP MILLINGTON, BALTIMORE.
From the time of our home-coming and the royal welcome given us by the 150th, I
have only made notes which I will try now to write out. Nothing out of the
ordinary routine of a soldier's life in camp has transpired. I am getting more
and more used to this, and the trifling occurrences that at first made such
deep impressions are soon forgotten now. Still, as some one may read this who
will never know of the details of a soldier's life in any other way, I shall
try and keep to my promise to tell the whole story.
The box of good
things that was mentioned in the letter I received while we lay in the street
at Baltimore, waiting for a train to take us to Gettysburg, came a few days
after our return to camp. In it was a great big package for me. I opened it and
there lay the roasted body of our old Shanghai rooster. He was minus head, feet
and feathers, but I knew him the minute I laid eyes on him.
I at once began to
figure how many stomachs like ours he would fill, and then gave out that many
invitations. All came, and brought their plates. With mouths watering, they
stood about as I prepared to carve.
At the first cut I
thought I smelled something, and at the next was sure I did. The old fellow,
tough as he was, was not able to stand close confinement in such hot weather,
and had taken on an odor that took away all appetite for roast chicken.
Terribly disappointed, we wrapped him up again, and taking him out of camp,
gave him as near a military funeral as we knew how. He was a brave old bird. I
have seen him whip Cuff, mother's little guardian of the garden patch. "He
sleeps his last sleep. He has fought his last battle. No sound shall awake him
to glory again."
Requests for passes
to visit the camp of the 150th are the pests of the commanding officers of our
regiment, and the same can be said of the 150th. As soon as guard-mount is
over, and the other details for camp duty made, the old guard (those who were
on duty the day before, and who are excused from all duty except dress parade
for the next twenty-four hours) try for a pass to visit the city or the 150th,
the two attractions now. John Van Alstyne often visits me, as well as others
with him with whom I am well acquainted. These visits I return as often as I
can get away. Our camp ground has been laid out in regular order and the
company streets graded and made to look very respectable. There is a broad
street, along one side of which are the officers' tents, the colonel's in the
center. Back of these are the quartermaster's and the commissary's stores, the
sutler's tent and the mules and horses. In front of the colonel's tent is the
flag-staff, and running out from the street are ten shorter streets, one for
each company, with cook-houses or tents at the bottom. Men are detailed every
day to clean up and keep in order all these and are called supernumeraries.
When it rains we that are not on duty lie in our tents and amuse ourselves in
any way we can, or visit from tent to tent as the fancy takes us. In fair
weather we have either company-drill or battalion-drill, and every now and then
the regiments are put together for brigade-drill. Any of it is hard work, but
it is what we are here for, and we find little fault. The weather is chilly. I
notice but little difference in the weather here and as we usually have it at
home. There we expect it, while here we do not and that I suppose makes it seem
harder to put up with.
One of our company,
Elmer Anderson, deserted and enlisted in an artillery regiment a few days ago.
He came into camp showing his papers and was arrested and put in the
guard-house. What the outcome will be I don't know, but it seems as if there
should be some way of preventing such things. Sunday mornings we have what we
call knapsack-drill. Why they save this for Sunday I don't know, but I suppose
there is some reason for it. We pack our knapsacks, brush up our guns, clothes,
shoes, etc., and march to the drill ground and form in columns by companies.
Company A on the right and B on the left. This brings Company A in front and
the first company to be inspected, after which they march back to camp and are
through for the day. Company B being the last, it is something like an hour we
stand there with our knapsacks open before us on the ground, everything in them
exposed to view of the passer-by, who is the inspection officer and the captain
whose company he is inspecting. With his sword tip he pokes over our
belongings, and if any dirty socks or handkerchief or any other article a
soldier ought not to have is found, a lesson is read to him on the spot and
repeated in plainer terms by the captain afterwards. As we must take everything
we own or have it stolen while we are away, we take a great many chances. I
shall never forget the first inspection. We knew nothing of what was coming,
and such an outfit as that inspection officer saw I don't think any other one
ever did. Little by little we learn the lesson, learn to put the best on top,
for not all knapsacks have their contents stirred up. A great deal of allowance
was made for us at first, but as we go along the screws of discipline are
slowly but surely turned on, and finally I suppose it will be easy to obey.
That one word, "obey," seems to be all that is required of us. No
matter how unreasonable an order seems to us, we have only to obey it or get in
trouble for not doing it.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 54-7
We have enjoyed three days of furlough, with no drill or duty to speak of, and most of the company are in good trim again. It has rained much lately, which shuts us in-doors, most of our time being occupied in writing and sleeping. We have just received our blankets, which we left at Washington, never expecting to see them again. They are very acceptable, as the nights are not of the mildest.
Our camp is very pleasantly located, a few rods nearer the Neuse than our first one. The barracks are formed in two wings, with cook-house in rear of each company, and quartermaster's department to be built in the square behind; the line officers in barracks by themselves on each flank, and staff in front of the right wing; the guard line being just outside of all, giving us a convenient parade ground. About six men are drawn from the company each day for camp guard and two for police, making that duty comparatively light; but other work comes in regular order, so we don't have much leisure time. Our routine is about as follows: Reveille at half-past six A.M. and roll-call; then basins to the front, and we go to the water, although we often find some running back to the barracks to get a little more sleep; breakfast, seven; surgeon's call, half-past seven; about this time the first sergeant makes his morning report; guard mounting at eight; then squad drilling from half-past eight till ten, unless the officers get tired of it; company drill, eleven to twelve; then one hour for dinner; company drill from one to two; battalion drill, three to four; company parade and roll-call at half-past four; dress parade, five; supper, six; tattoo and roll-call, half-past seven; taps, half-past eight. No rest for the weary, for between whiles Sergt. Thayer wants three men to get rations, or Sergt. Parsons wants one to sweep barracks, or perhaps the captain wants one to carry a loaded knapsack in front of his quarters for an hour or so for discipline. We wish the paymaster would come; we have been borrowing and lending to each other just to be able to remember the looks of a dollar. There is about three months' pay due us, which would alleviate our misery much just now, especially as Thanksgiving is near at hand.
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. 21
Since Thanksgiving we have been drill, drill, drilling, the same as at Readville, only, we hope, better. There is very little to write about; there is a sameness about camp-life which renders it oft-times monotonous. Today has been a sample of brisker times. We would hardly be recognized as the same boys who have occupied the barracks since Thanksgiving night. Then peace and quietness was in camp, now all is bustle and confusion. A few who fell out on the previous march to Tarboro have been examined and talked to, but most of us were allowed to go again if we would behave. A few who are sick have been detailed to stay behind and care for the barracks and the things we have in them. The rest have been as busy as bees making boxes to pack our extra things in. When that was done to our satisfaction we occupied ourselves in writing home.
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. 23
The Fourth has passed off quietly in the little town of Buckhannon and in camp.
At ten o'clock the Third and Fourth Regiments were reviewed by General McClellan. The day was excessively warm, and the men, buttoned up in their dress-coats, were much wearied when the parade was over.
In the court-house this evening, the soldiers had what they call a "stag dance." Camp life to a young man who has nothing specially to tie him to home has many attractions—abundance of company, continual excitement, and all the fun and frolic that a thousand light-hearted boys can devise.
To-night, in one tent, a dozen or more are singing "Dixie" at the top of their voices. In another "The Star-Spangled Banner" is being executed so horribly that even a secessionist ought to pity the poor tune. Stories, cards, wrestling, boxing, racing, all these and a thousand other things enter into a day in camp. The roving, uncertain life of a soldier has a tendency to harden and demoralize most men. The restraints of home, family, and society are not felt. The fact that a few hours may put them in battle, where their lives will not be worth a fig, is forgotten. They think a hundred times less of the perils by which they may be surrounded than their friends do at home. They encourage and strengthen each other to such an extent that, when exposed to danger, imminent though it be, they do not seem to realize it.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 13-4
Have loafed about
camp all day. Have not been out for drill since Saturday. But I am finding no
fault. The weather keeps hot and dry, and the boys were a sight to behold when
they came in from drill. Hot, dirty, tired and hungry. What would we do without
the brook running past us? I wonder it doesn't choke up with the dirt it washes
from us.
To-day has been
election day in Baltimore, and to-night the city seems to be on fire. We have a
fine view of the city by day, and of the lights by night. To-night everything
seems to be ablaze, and we are wondering what it can mean. We will know in the
morning when the papers come.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 46
Weather pleasant.
Drilling and other duties performed as usual. 60 muskets drawn by our Company
this afternoon Other Comps. in our Regt. also have drawn in proportion to the
number of men. No news of consequence to day Great activity through out the
camp, however in our vicinity
SOURCE: Transactions
of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 225
Duties of the
morning gone through with as usual Our Company on Police Duty to day cleaning
up the Parade ground & digging sinks. nothing of importance transpired to
day. Dress Parade this evening as usual.
SOURCE: Transactions
of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 226
Newport News is a
military post, and is of no importance in any other sense. There were no
villages or cities here previous to the war. Now there are quite a number of
temporary buildings, and barracks to accommodate 60,000 men. It is an ideal
camping ground, lying on the north bank of Hampton Roads and inclining gently
to the northeast. The soil is light sand, which absorbs the rain as fast as it
falls and is never muddy. The Ninth Corps, composed of forty-eight regiments,
is extended in a direct line along the beach, covering about two miles in
length. Stringent rules have been adopted, which, if carried out, will greatly
enhance the efficiency of the men in field operations. We are to have revielle
at six, when every man must turn out to roll call; breakfast call at seven,
when we fall in line, march to the cook's quarters and receive our allowance of
"grub.” Immediately after breakfast we are marched to the creek, where
every man is required to wash hands, face and neck. From eight to half-past,
police duty, or cleaning up in front of tents; from eight-thirty to ten-thirty,
company drill; from this time until noon, clean guns, brasses and do any little
jobs we may have on hand; dinner at twelve; from one-thirty to two thirty,
skirmish drill; from three to four, battalion drill, after which is dress
parade; at eight-thirty, tattoo, or go to bed; at nine, taps, or lights out.
Saturday is set
apart for washing and cleaning up generally. Sunday morning at eight o'clock is
inspection of arms, and at two o'clock divine service.
Some of the boys
think the regular routine is reversed in our case—fighting first and drill
afterward. Poor fellows; I expect they will see fighting enough yet. I have not
seen a newspaper since our arrival, and know as little of what is going on in
the world as did Cruso on his desert island.
SOURCE: David Lane,
A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 34-5
In camp eight miles
from Oxford. We cannot move our camps but a few miles distance from the
railroad, as all our subsistence depends on our being able to keep the road
open. Our camp is in a beautiful forest of splendid large trees, fine water,
and I enjoy the large log fires we have, particularly at night when it is the
only light we can have. There are a number of Germans in my company who sing
very well and it is always a pleasure to me to have them come up to my quarters
and sing. Days are warm and pleasant. Sent a few leaves of holly to Kate as my
Christmas gift. Also sent some to St. James church for a Christmas wreath.
SOURCE: Joseph
Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph
Stockton, p. 6
