Corinth. I joined my
Platoon, went into tent with E. W. Evans and T. J. Hungerford as before. Owing
to my weakness I was not put on full duty immediately, being excused from
mounted drill, etc.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 9
Corinth. We were
moved from the tent this morning to an old deserted house a quarter of a mile
from camp. In the afternoon it snowed and by night the earth was clothed in
white.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10-11
Our camp here was
made without consulting the Surgeons. It was laid out without order, and the
tents are so close together that teams cannot pass through to remove its rubbish,
its offal, and its filth. My Colonel, too, has interfered much with my sanitary
orders, particularly those in reference to ventilation. The result is the
largest sick list we have had, I have succeeded, however, in getting consent to
move the camp to other ground, high and dry, where I am now engaged in ditching
the streets, and staking out the ground preparatory to a move, where I hope we
shall be able to reduce the list of sick. I believe I omitted in the proper
place the record of the first death in our regiment. It occurred on the 3d of
this month. The poor fellow died of Nostalgia (home-sickness), raving to the
last breath about wife and children. It seems strange that such an affection of
the mind should kill strong, healthy men; but deaths from this cause are very
frequent in the army; the sufferer, towards the last showing evidences of
broken down nervous system, accompanied by most of the symptoms of typhoid
fever.
A little incident
to-day. A reconnoitering party went out this morning towards Vienna and Flint
Hill. At noon, a courier came in with a report that they were fighting. I was
ordered to take an ambulance and join my regiment "in the direction of
Vienna" immediately. On starting, I met with Surgeon Thompson, of the 43d
N. York Vols., told him I was going in search of an adventure, and invited him
to go with me. He accepted. We reached our outer lines "in the direction
of Vienna," but had not found my regiment. To Surgeon T.'s question,
"What now!" I replied that my orders were to "go till I found my
regiment." "But are you going to cross the lines into the enemy's
country?" My orders are unconditional; will you go with me further?"
"Certainly," said the Doctor. Shortly after leaving head-quarters, we
met the 1st Regt. Regular Cavalry, who told us they had left one man badly
wounded between Flint Hill and Vienna. This man we determined to rescue, if
possible. We found him in a house in Vienna. I had now obeyed my order, though
I had not found my regiment, and I determined to take this man back with me, though
the enemy were all around us. One ball had passed between his ear and skull, a
second had passed through the leg, a third had entered the back, just below the
shoulder blade, but had made no exit. He was suffering severely from pain and
difficult respiration. He could not ride in an ambulance, so Doctor T.
volunteered to return to our lines for litter-bearers and an escort, whilst I
should remain with our newly made friend. I confess that as I caught the last
glimpse of the Doctor's fine black horse dashing over the hill, there was at
the ends of my fingers and toes a sensation very much akin to the "oozing
out of courage." I was alone in the enemy's country. But there was no
other way now, so I dressed the wounds, and waited his return, with what
patience I could. He soon returned. We started the man in the direction of our
lines, under an escort of eight men.
We mounted our
horses, and paying but little attention, got some mile ahead of our escort,
when suddenly, eight horsemen, well mounted and armed, came bearing down on us,
evidently intending to surround us. They were about a quarter of a mile off
when first discovered. "We are in for a trip to Richmond," said
Doctor T. "Is it not safer," replied I, "to fight than to be taken
prisoners by these fellows?" "I'm in," said the Doctor. We drew
our revolvers and waited, one of us, I am certain, in considerable trepidation.
By this time they were in hailing distance. We called them to halt, when, to
our mutual disgust, we found that we were friends—they were cheated of the
capture of two very fine looking rebel officers," and we of a short road
to "that borne whence no traveller returns.” A little after dark we
reached camp with our man. In civil life, it will hardly be credited that the
commanding officer of this regiment, when he found his man so badly wounded,
ordered him to be taken from his horse and left, whilst the horse was to be
taken away; yet the man states that such is the fact, and that he saved himself
from such a fate by drawing his revolver and threatening to shoot the first man
who should approach him for that purpose. After the regiment left him, he
managed to sit on his horse till he reached Vienna, about three miles from
where he was shot.
Since last date, we
have had an opportunity of learning something of the military qualities of our
brigade officers. We have not been before on ground where we could have our
brigade drills; but here we have them.
General Smith, who
commands the Division, is a stout, short man, rather under size, from Vermont,
I think. He is taciturn, but exceedingly courteous and gentlemanly, and firm
and decided. Of his mental calibre, we have not yet had an opportunity to
judge. It is a strange paradox of human nature, that whilst we acknowledge that
a vast majority of our mentally big men are quiet and reserved, yet when we
meet a stranger, if he says little, we fall at once into the opinion that he
knows little. How this is with General Smith, I do not know. I am much disposed
to construe his quiet and courteous manner favorably; but I confess that
whispers from the grove have rather prejudiced me against him.
Brigadier General
Winfield Scott Hancock is the very antipode of General Smith. He is fully as
long as his name, with title perfixed, and as for quiet and courtesy—Oh, fie! I
saw him come on to the field one morning this week, to brigade drill. He was
perfectly sober. He is one of those paradoxes who believe that one man, at
least, is to be known by his much talking. He became excited, or wished to
appear so, at some little mistake in the maneuvering of his Brigade, and the
volleys of oaths that rolled and thundered down the line, startled the men with
suspicion that they were under command of some Quarter Master lately made
General, who mistook the men for mules, and their officers for drivers. He must
be a facetious chap, that General, to wish to excite such suspicions. I think
he hails from Pennsylvania, but nobody seems to know much about him, except
from his statement that he has been seventeen years in the service, and knows
all about it." Wherever he has been, he has certainly acquired a perfect
intimacy with the whole gamut of profanity.
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. 44-7
We have moved our
camp about one hundred rods, are out of the mud, on high dry ground, where the
tents can be ventilated and the streets kept clean. I look for a great
improvement in the health of the regiment from this.
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. 48
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
