Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 18, 1862

Mr. Parker came last night, and is to be our chaplain. He is the one who preached for us at Hudson Camp Ground, and the one we asked to have for chaplain of the 128th. He can sing like a lark, and we are glad he is here. There are many good singers in the regiment. There is talk of organizing a choir or club, and no doubt the dominie will join it. We have more good news from the front. McClellan seems to fit the place he is in. It is reported that George Flint and Elihu Bryan have been taken prisoners. I know them well, but don't remember the regiment they went out in.

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

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 19, 1862

Reports are that a great battle has been fought at Antietam, and a great victory won. Do they tell us this to keep up our courage, or has the beginning of the end really come? To-morrow we have the promise of going on picket duty. Good! anything for a change. It will give me something to write about in my diary, if nothing more. Things are getting rather monotonous, and any change will be good for us, provided it is not for the worse. Prayer meeting every night now. Chaplain Parker seems in dead earnest. He wants us all to be ready to die. Then, he says, if death don't come, we will be in better shape to live. Very few of the officers attend prayer meeting, though they encourage the men to do so.

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

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday Night, September 28, 1862

Meeting to-day. Chaplain Parker preached. He asked those who would stop swearing to hold up their hands, and so far as I could see every hand went up. After inspection in the morning we had nothing to do except to go to meeting and dress parade, which I believe we are to have regularly. We march to the parade ground, which is just back of our camp quarters, and form in line. The colonel, with the major and adjutant on his right and left, station [themselves] in front, the colonel opposite the colors, which are in the center, between Companies C and H. The fifer and drummer pass along in front and back again when the colonel puts us through the manual of arms. A great many civilians come out and it must be a pretty sight, provided the orders are well executed. If we do well, nothing is said, but if not, we are cautioned to do better next time.

How I wish I could peep in on the old folks at home to-night! I imagine just how they are sitting around, talking, perhaps of me, or better yet, writing me a letter.

There is no use denying that I am homesick. I have been such a home-body, and my home life has been so pleasant.

The comforts of my home, though humble, have been many, and I have never missed them as I do to-night. I have only been away a short time, but it seems longer to me than all my life before. It has been crowded so full of strange and stirring events that it seems as if I would go crazy unless I can see and talk with our folks about it. Mr. Parker says confession is good for the soul, and I believe it, for after confessing to my diary as I have I feel better already. I will crawl in now and perhaps dream of home, which I often do, and which while it lasts, is just as good as being there.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 40

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday, September 14, 1862

My first day on duty as corporal of the guard. Two hours on and four off duty gives me lots of time to write, and as it may interest our folks to know what guard duty really is, I will describe it as best I can. An officer of the guard, a sergeant of the guard, four corporals, and four times as many privates as there are posts to guard, are detailed the night before. In the morning at 8 A. M. the fife and drum sounds the call for guard-mount, and the whole detail reports at guard-headquarters, which is wherever the call is sounded from. Three quarters of the detail go on duty and the other quarter, called supernumeraries, have nothing at all to do, unless a man on duty is taken sick, when a supernumerary takes his place. The corporal then on duty goes with the one just going on with the first relief, and marches to post No. 1, where the guard calls out, "Who comes there?" The corporal says, "Relief." "Advance Relief," says the guard on post, when he is replaced by a man from the new guard, and he takes his place in the rear, marching on to the next post, where the same ceremony is repeated until the last post is reached. The new guard is then on duty and the corporal marches the old guard to headquarters, where they are discharged and are free from all duty for the next twenty-four hours. The corporal of the relief now on post remains at guard headquarters for two hours, unless some trouble on the line happens, in which case the guard cries out "Corporal of the guard!" giving the number of post. The corporal then goes direct to that post, and if the trouble be such as he cannot cope with, he calls "Sergeant of the guard!" In case it be too serious for the sergeant, the officer of the guard is called in the same way, and he is supposed to be able to settle the trouble, whatever it may be. At the end of two hours, the second relief goes on, and then the third in its turn, after which the first relief goes on again. This keeps on until 8 A. M. the next morning, when a new guard is mounted and the old one goes off. This gives each corporal and his relief four turns of duty of two hours each, and sixteen hours to lie around headquarters and do pretty much as he pleases. The sergeant and the officer of the guard rarely have anything to do but pass away the time in any lawful manner. But they must be ready, on call, at all times.

Train-load after train-load of troops keeps going past. The North must get empty and the South get full at this rate. Mosquitoes and flies are very troublesome. We must cover up head and hands at night, or if the blanket gets off we must scratch all the next day. Some don't mind it, but the most of us do, and if the pests would go where they are often told to go, they would get a taste of what they are giving us.

We have a sutler now. No peddlers are allowed on the camp grounds. It is buy of him now or go without. For change, he uses cards with his stamp on, good for from three to twenty-five cents, at his tent, and good for nothing at any other place. Report says we are to have a chaplain by next Sunday, and that it is the Rev. Mr. Parker, who preached for us at Hudson. I hope he will bring along all his patience and forbearance. He will need it. Bad as we are, I don't suppose we are worse than the average, but I think we must average pretty well up. We will know if he comes, and won't have to watch the almanac to tell when Sunday comes.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 26-7

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Joseph Stockton, September 30, 1862

For the past ten days there was nothing of particular interest. Quite a number of men are sick. I was in the hospital today seeing my men and while there one of Co. C men was dying. He was delirious and wanted his gun that he might take his place in the ranks of his company. Poor fellow, before tomorrow's sun he will be marching with that country's host that have already gone before. Some six or eight others have already died but none as yet from my company. We came near having a large fire the other day, but owing to the exertion of the guard under the command of my 1st Lieutenant Randall, it was put out. He was complimented on dress parade for his courage. Some days we are required to go to church which is held by the men being drawn up in a square and our Chaplain Barnes discourses in the center. As we have a number of good singers the music goes off very well, but there is a great deal of opposition to church on the part of the men, some being Catholics and one a Jew. In my company are two Germans who are atheists so there is quite a mixture. On Sunday last, sixty of the men marched down to the church in the city and took communion. Our camp life promises to be tedious in some respects but we are kept busy in batallion and company drills. Colonel Starring is very proficient in the formations.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 2-3

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, August 19, 1862

HUDSON CAMP GROUNDS. I have enlisted! Joined the Army of Uncle Sam for three years, or the war, whichever may end first. Thirteen dollars per month, board, clothes and travelling expenses thrown in. That's on the part of my Uncle. For my part, I am to do, I hardly know what, but in a general way understand I am to kill or capture such part of the Rebel Army as comes in my way.

I wonder what sort of a soldier I will make; to be honest about it, I don't feel much of that eagerness for the fray I am hearing so much of about me.

It seems to me it is a serious sort of business I have engaged in. I was a long time making up my mind about it. This one could go, and that one, and they ought to, but with me, some way it was different. There was so much I had planned to do, and to be. I was needed at home, etc., etc. So I would settle the question for a time, only to have it come up to be reasoned away again, and each time my reasons for not taking my part in the job seemed less reasonable. Finally I did the only thing I could respect myself for doing, went to Millerton, the nearest recruiting station, and enlisted.

I then threw down my unfinished castles, went around and bid my friends good-bye, and had a general settling up of my affairs, which, by the way, took but little time. But I never before knew I had so many friends. Everyone seemed to be my friend. A few spoke encouragingly, but the most of them spoke and acted about as I would expect them to, if I were on my way to the gallows. Pity was so plainly shown that when I had gone the rounds, and reached home again, I felt as if I had been attending my own funeral. Poor old father and mother! They had expected it, but now that it had come they felt it, and though they tried hard, they could not hide from me that they felt it might be the last they would see of their baby.

Then came the leaving it all behind. I cannot describe that. The good-byes and the good wishes ring in my ears yet. I am not myself. I am some other person. My surroundings are new, the sights and sounds about me are new, my aims and ambitions are new;—that is if I have any. I seem to have reached the end. I can look backwards, but when I try to look ahead it is all a blank. Right here let me say, God bless the man who wrote "Robert Dawson," and God bless the man who gave me the book. "Only a few drops at a time, Robert." The days are made of minutes, and I am only sure of the one I am now living in. Take good care of that and cross no bridges until you come to them.

I have promised to keep a diary, and I am doing it. I have also promised that it should be a truthful account of what I saw and what I did. I have crawled off by myself and have been scribbling away for some time, and upon reading what I have written I find it reads as if I was the only one. But I am not. There are hundreds and perhaps thousands here, and I suppose all could, if they cared to, write just such an experience as I have. But no one else seems foolish enough to do it. I will let this stand as a preface to my diary, and go on to say that we, the first installment of recruits from our neighborhood, gathered at Amenia, where we had a farewell dinner, and a final handshake, after which we boarded the train and were soon at Ghent, where we changed from the Harlem to the Hudson & Berkshire R. R., which landed us opposite the gates of the Hudson Fair Grounds, about 4 P. M. on the 14th. We were made to form in line and were then marched inside, where we found a lot of rough board shanties, such as are usually seen on country fair grounds, and which are now used as offices, and are full of bustle and confusion. After a wash-up, we were taken to a building which proved to be a kitchen and dining room combined. Long pine tables, with benches on each side, filled the greater part of it, and at these we took seats and were served with good bread and fair coffee, our first meal at Uncle Sam's table, and at his expense. After supper we scattered, and the Amenia crowd brought up at the Miller House in Hudson. We took in some of the sights of the city and then put up for the night.

The next morning we had breakfast and then reported at the camp grounds ready for the next move, whatever that might be. We found crowds of people there, men, women and children, which were fathers and mothers, wives and sweethearts, brothers and sisters of the men who have enlisted from all over Dutchess and Columbia counties. Squads of men were marching on the race track, trying to keep step with an officer who kept calling out "Left, Left, Left," as his left foot hit the ground, from which I judged he meant everyone else should put his left foot down with his. We found these men had gone a step further than we. They had been examined and accepted, but just what that meant none of us exactly knew. We soon found out, however, Every few minutes a chap came out from a certain building and read from a book, in a loud voice, the names of two men. These would follow him in, be gone a little while and come out, when the same performance would be repeated. My name and that of Peter Carlo, of Poughkeepsie, were called together, and in we went. We found ourselves in a large room with the medical examiner and his clerks. His salutation, as we entered, consisted of the single word, "Strip." We stripped and were examined just as a horseman examines a horse he is buying. He looked at our teeth and felt all over us for any evidence of unsoundness there might be. Then we were put through a sort of gymnastic performance, and told to put on our clothes. We were then weighed and measured, the color of our eyes and hair noted, also our complexion, after which another man came and made us swear to a lot of things, most of which I have forgotten already. But as it was nothing more than I expected to do without swearing I suppose it makes no difference.

The rest of the day we visited around, getting acquainted and meeting many I had long been acquainted with. In the afternoon the camp ground was full of people, and as night began to come, and they began to go, the good-byes were many and sad enough. I am glad my folks know enough to stay away. That was our first night in camp. After we came from the medical man, we were no longer citizens, but just soldiers. We could not go down town as we did the night before. This was Saturday night, August 17th. We slept but little, at least I did not. A dozen of us had a small room, a box stall, in one of the stables, just big enough to lie down in. The floor looked like pine, but it was hard, and I shall never again call pine a soft wood, at least to lie on. If one did fall asleep he was promptly awakened by some one who had not, and by passing this around, such a racket was kept up that sleep was out of the question. I for one was glad the drummer made a mistake and routed us out at five o'clock instead of six, as his orders were. We shivered around until roll-call and then had breakfast. We visited together until dinner. Beef and potatoes, bread and coffee, and plenty of it. Some find fault and some say nothing, but I notice that each gets away with all that's set before him. In the afternoon we had preaching out of doors, for no building on the grounds would hold us. A Rev. Mr. Parker preached, a good straight talk, no big words or bluster, but a plain man-to-man talk on a subject that should concern us now, if it never did before. I for one made some mighty good resolutions, then and there. Every regiment has a chaplain, I am told, and I wish ours could be this same Mr. Parker. The meeting had a quieting effect on all hands. There was less swearing and less noise and confusion that afternoon than at any time before. After supper the question of bettering our sleeping accommodations came up, and in spite of the good resolutions above recorded I helped steal some hay to sleep on. We made up our minds that if our judge was as sore as we were he would not be hard on us. We spread the hay evenly over the floor and lay snug and warm, sleeping sound until Monday morning, the 18th.

The mill of the medical man kept on grinding and batches of men were sworn in every little while. Guards were placed at the gates, to keep us from going down town. I was one of the guards, but was called off to sign a paper and did not go back. Towards night we had to mount guard over our hay. Talk about "honor among thieves," what was not stolen before we found it out, was taken from under us while we were asleep, and after twisting and turning on the bare floor until my aching bones woke me, I got up and helped the others express themselves, for there was need of all the cuss words we could muster to do the subject justice. But that was our last night in those quarters.

The next day the new barracks were finished and we took possession. They are long narrow buildings, about 100 feet by 16, with three tiers of bunks on each side, leaving an alley through the middle, and open at each end. The bunks are long enough for a tall man and wide enough for two men provided they lie straight, with a board in front to keep the front man from rolling out of bed. There are three buildings finished, and each accommodates 204 men. We were not allowed either hay or straw for fear of fire. As we only had our bodies to move, it did not take long to move in. Those from one neighborhood chose bunks near together, and there was little quarrelling over choice. In fact one is just like another in all except location. Walter Loucks and I got a top berth at one end, so we have no trouble in finding it, as some do who are located near the middle. These barracks, as they are here called, are built close together, and ordinary conversation in one can be plainly heard in the others. Such a night as we had, story-telling, song-singing, telling what we would do if the Rebs attacked us in the night, with now and then a quarrel thrown in, kept us all awake until long after midnight. There was no getting lonesome, or homesick. No matter what direction one's thought might take, they were bound to be changed in a little while, and so the time went on. Perhaps some one would start a hymn and others would join in, and just as everything was going nicely, a block of wood, of which there were plenty lying around, would come from no one knew where, and perhaps hit a man who was half asleep. Then the psalm singing would end up in something quite different, and for awhile one could almost taste brimstone. I heard more original sayings that night than in all my life before, and only that the boards were so hard, and my bones ached so badly, I would have enjoyed every minute of it.

But we survived the night, and were able to eat everything set before us, when morning and breakfast time came. After breakfast we had our first lesson in soldiering, that is, the men of what will be Captain Bostwick's company, if he succeeds in filling it, and getting his commission, did. A West Point man put us through our paces. We formed in line on the race track, and after several false starts got going, bringing our left feet down as our instructor called out, "Left, Left," etc. A shower in the night had left some puddles on the track, and the first one we came to some went around and some jumped across, breaking the time and step and mixing up things generally. We were halted, and as soon as the captain could speak without laughing, he told us what a ridiculous thing it was for soldiers to dodge at a mud puddle. After a turn at marching, or keeping step with each other, he explained very carefully to us the "position of a soldier," telling how necessary it was that we learn the lesson well, for it would be of great use to us hereafter. He repeated it, until every word had time to sink in. "Heels on the same line, and as near together as the conformation of the man will permit. Knees straight, without stiffness. Body erect on the hips, and inclining a little forward. Arms hanging naturally at the sides, the little finger behind the seam of the pantaloons. Shoulders square to the front. Head erect, with the eyes striking the ground at the distance of fifteen paces." Every bone in my body ached after a little of this, and yet our instructor told us this is the position in which a well-drilled soldier can stand for the longest time and with the greatest ease. This brings my diary up to this date and I must not let it get behind again. There is so much to write about, it takes all my spare time; but now I am caught up, I will try and keep so.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 1-7

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday, August 31, 1862

Spent the day in camp and a very quiet day at that. A paper has been circulated among us asking that the Rev. Mr. Parker, who preached for us once, be sent with us as chaplain. I understand every regiment has a chaplain (a minister) to look out for the spiritual welfare of the regiment. Judging from this one, they must find plenty to do.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 13

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, October 21, 1863

October 21.

Yesterday some contrabands from the "main" reported that they overheard a rebel Colonel say that the Chaplain they had taken prisoner was "the sauciest damned Yankee they had ever seen." No one doubts that he referred to our Chaplain.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 394

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, April 19, 1863

April 19.

Yesterday the rebels at the Ferry made arrangements for Col. Higginson to meet General [W. S.] Walker this morning under a flag of truce. The request was that the Colonel in command here should send over a boat to bring the General across. But the Colonel concluded to go over to them at the hour appointed. I would have gone with him but for my lameness, a wrench to the knee from the Quartermaster's poor horse falling upon it. The Colonel was met by the General's staff with an official letter, but when informed what regiment he represented, they replied that their orders were to hold no official Communication with officers of such regiments. The Colonel learned that General Walker is the W. S. Walker of the regular army, who was under my care in Worcester in the autumn of 1852, and who subsequently in 1856, at the head of a company of dragoons, was sent by Gov. Geary to meet the Colonel on the plains of Kansas while he was at the head of an armed emigrant train. The meeting then was one of mutual surprise, and instead of arrests being made and the train stopped, they went together to the Governor, and the affair took a less stringent turn than had threatened. Yesterday the Colonel took especial pains to send him word that his old acquaintance, T. W. H. would have been happy to send his compliments, had he been treated with due respect, and that his old medical friend, Dr. R. was also here.

In the absence of the Chaplain today, Thomas Long of Co. G held the divine service. His prayers were so deep and simple and touching that we all found our sight somewhat dimmed by tears. In the course of his sermon he said; "If each one of us was praying men, it appears to me that we could fight as well with prayers as with bullets, for the Lord has said that if we have faith, even as a grain of mustard seed cut into four parts, you could say unto that sycamore tree, arise, and it will come up."

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 389-90

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, April 30, 1863

April 30.

Tomorrow I am to be blessed by taking into my employment, York Brown. The old man has been nurse in the hospital during the last two months, but he prefers to avail himself of General Saxton's voluntary offer and take his discharge papers. He has been all his life a "gentleman's waiter" and "knows how to take keer of a hoss." Think of my having this religious old white-headed man, whom I reverence, constantly near me. . . .

Today, Dr. Minor, the Chaplain and I went up to the pools in the cypress swamp, but the great reptile drew his head under as we approached. The Chaplain was so religiously impressed by the sanctuary that he declared it would be sacrilegious for us to shoot the alligator; that God would never again permit us to be thrilled by the beauty of natural scenery. We knew it before and thanked the Chaplain for his sermon, and hereafter shall try to practice forbearance. It will be safer, however, for us to leave our Ballards at home.

Colonel Montgomery's regiment is nearly full, mostly drafted men from these islands. They are stationed at Pigeon Point, nearer Beaufort.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 391

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, October 12, 1864

Near Petersburg, Va.,        

October 12, 1864.

I have not received a letter from you for several days, as there seems to be something wrong with the mails again.

Grant has come to a dead halt before Petersburg and Richmond. It is believed that the next fight will take place across on the north side of the James River. The Richmond papers state that there is encouraging news from Georgia, but they will not tell us what it is, because they say they do not want Grant to find out about it. Hood may have Sherman in a tight place.

About twelve thousand men from Richmond have been sent into the trenches at the front. Many of them were in the Government service and many others were gentlemen of leisure. The authorities sent everybody. The police would capture men in all parts of the city and send them under guard to some point to be organized and put under the command of officers who happened to be in Richmond from the army. A man told me these officers were seized in the same way on the streets, and that the authorities would even send out and capture a colonel and put him in command of the whole battalion. A medical officer would sometimes be seized. He would plead that he was due at his command and that he was a noncombatant, but they would tell him he was the very man they needed to attend to the wounded. It delights soldiers to hear of these things. It does them good all over. The soldiers are accustomed to these sudden dashes at the front, but the miserable skulkers almost die of fright.

We are building chimneys and fixing up things in our camp as if we are to remain here. If I were sure of it, I would have you come out and stay with me awhile. It is useless for me to try to get off now while we are so tightly pressed I saw Billie this morning. I carried a haversack full of biscuits and ham to him. I will have ham, light bread and coffee for breakfast in the morning. I have been living well this year.

We have a new chaplain in our brigade named Dixon. I heard him preach yesterday, and he does very well. If Congress would pass a conscript law bringing the preachers into the army we could have chaplains. They have acted worse in this war than any other class of men.

We are having rain to-night and I am very glad to see it, for the weather was dry and the roads were dusty.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 108-9

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, April 2, 1863—Evening

CAMP SAXTON, BEAUFORT, S. C.,

April 2, 1863. Evening.

Such is the management here that my notes no longer date from satisfactory advance posts. Four weeks ago tonight I was saying a last goodbye to our camp ground, and at a late hour went on board the steamer that was forever to take us from South Carolina. The deserted camp by moonlight saddened me, but this inglorious return impresses me more than I can express. It seemed appropriate that we should steam up Beaufort River the night of April 1.¹

It was not too late for me to visit dear old Mr. Saxton. He told me how terribly disappointed the General was at the sudden and unexpected conclusion of General Hunter to order the evacuation of Jacksonville. One night it was agreed that General Saxton should visit us in person, but early in the morning all was reversed and empty steamers were sent for us. General Hunter could not be persuaded to countermand the order.²

Today the long slumbering fleet at Hilton Head has begun to move towards Charleston. A very small force is being left to protect these Islands and you will be glad to know that we are to do picket duty in the absence of other troops. An attack upon us is not the most improbable thing to anticipate. I think our boys would enjoy a fight with almost any number of the enemy and some of our officers are slightly belligerent.

One of our soldiers who was expatiating on the pluck of the chaplain exclaimed, "My God, what for you made him preacher? He is de fightenmost Yankee I eber did see."

Last night about a hundred of the boys bivouacked on the hurricane deck and early this morning they were full of cheerful congratulations. I heard one say, "Well, Jim, how are you?" Bully, tank God." I am constantly amused by their pointed, laconic remarks.

I understand that Gen. Hunter gives as a reason for withdrawing our regiment from Jacksonville that he needed the others and dared not leave us alone. So far as safety is concerned, I would rather be on the mainland of Florida than the islands here.³ My box of supplies from the Soldiers Aid Society of Worcester, opened well today. We brought it up from Fernandina with us. The Gen. Burnside was loaded with stores for us at the moment General Hunter was McClellandized, and everything was dumped off at Fernandina. The box has arrived at the moment we most need it, and, with the exception of the lint, every article will be exceedingly useful. We confiscated a few bales of oakum up the St Mary's and I like it better than any other material for general dressing.

_______________

¹ See report of Colonel John D. Rust, in 1 Records of the Rebellion, XIV.

² He was always the most impulsive of men. - T. W. H.

³ The subsequent battle of Olustee proved that Hunter was right. — T. W. H.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 384-5

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, April 9, 1863

April 9.

Everything was going on quietly until we heard heavy cannonading in the direction of the Ferry before sunrise this morning. The George Washington, an old steamboat converted into a semi-gunboat, was cruising in the river and got aground last evening. The rebels had ample time to send for artillery during the night and they blew her up. The explosion threw her men into the water and marsh, from which they were brought out by our pickets and the Chaplain. I judge that not more than a dozen were killed or wounded. They were sent to the Hospital in Beaufort. I would like to have the care of them, but we have no accommodations here. One of them told the Adjutant's wife that he was glad to have me take care of him for he had often seen me in Worcester. Another was a handsome Providence boy, who was terribly broken to pieces, but who will recover.¹

_______________

¹ See 1 Records of the Rebellion, XIV. 280–283, 891.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 387

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, August 10, 1863

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

August 10, 1863.

All is quiet here now. When two armies have a great battle both sides are so crippled up that neither is anxious to fight soon again. The enemy must be somewhere about, or we would not be here. I do think there will not be another fight soon, for the Yankees dread us too much. It seems that Meade will not attack us, and that whenever we fight we must make the attack. I believe it will be a long time before we have another battle, if we have to wait for the enemy to advance on us.

Our long trip lately was very fatiguing, and we all became very thin and lean, although our health remained fine. Your brother tells me the Pioneer Corps had a very hard time of it on the way back from Pennsylvania. He took a more direct route to Culpeper Court House than we did, in order to assist some of Ewell's men in crossing the Shenandoah River.

Wilcox of Alabama is the major-general appointed over us, but he cannot surpass General Pender, who commanded us at Gettysburg. Pender was an officer evidently superior even to Hill. He was as brave as a lion and seemed to love danger. I observed his gallantry on the opening of the battle. He was mortally wounded on the first day as the fight was closing.

I have seen letters from some of our wounded who were left at Gettysburg. They are now in New York, and all say they are treated well. I had a chance to remain with our wounded, and, had I preferred to do so, I might have had a very interesting experience. Our chaplain, Beauschelle, was captured and is somewhere in Yankeedom, and I suppose is in prison, as chaplains are now held as prisoners, but he is apt to be released soon.

Our army is in splendid health and spirits, and is being increased rapidly every day by conscription and by men returning from the hospitals. Last year when a soldier was sent to a hospital he was expected to die, but all who come from the hospitals in Richmond now are highly pleased with the treatment they received. The hospital sections set aside for officers are admirably kept.

We get plenty to eat now and I am beginning to get as fat as ever again. Beef, bacon and flour, and sometimes sugar and potatoes, are issued to us. Dr. Tyler and I have obtained twenty pounds of sugar, a fine ham and one-half bushel of potatoes, and we hope to get some apples and make pies, as we have so much sugar. Vegetables are abundant in the country around here, and I succeeded in getting so much blackberry pie to eat recently that it made me sick.

Our regiment is on picket duty to-day. It went on last night. The weather is intensely hot, as hot as I ever experienced in South Carolina, but we are encamped in a fine grove and do not suffer from the heat as we would if marching.

The first chance I have I will send you two hundred dollars. You must buy everything you need, even if calico does cost three dollars a yard and thread one dollar a spool.

I am extremely gratified to hear that you and George are both in such excellent health, and I am glad you had him baptized.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 73-5

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, March 14, 1863—Evening

March 14, Evening.

A curious incident occurred this morning which gave me a full hundred (from both regiments) sick and wounded to examine and prescribe for and fill out my prescriptions. The John Adams started for a secret raid up the river at daylight, without notifying Dr. Minor, the steward and hospital nurse, who were all sleeping on the boat. It was a good enough joke, but for me not so practical as to make me crave a repetition. Tonight our sick and wounded are in the hospital. Colonel Montgomery thought the Lord had grown these handsome shade trees especially for barricades, and I have never a doubt that the Washington Hotel, with its sixteen chambers, and a fire-place in each, was especially intended for a military hospital. Possibly it is because it seems too good to last that I deem it hazardous to bring our sick ashore, but the two Colonels assure me it is perfectly safe to do so.

Our belligerent Chaplain¹ is armed with a revolver on each side and a Ballard rifle on his back. He keeps so persistently on the advanced picket line that I could scarcely persuade him to conduct the funeral service of a poor fellow who was shot the other day. Today he got on the track of some cavalry and infantry, and was certain of surrounding and capturing them, if he could only get permission from the Colonel. His hatred of slavery is so intense that his prayers are of a nature to keep his powder dry.

We have burned a good many houses within a mile of town, to get rid of screens for the enemy between us and the woods, where rather formidable trees are being felled to complete our water barricade. The houses are often occupied by women and children whose husbands and fathers are in the Confederate service. The Chaplain, being a man of fire, has much to do with this matter. Today, I questioned him as to his usual mode of proceeding. I found he gave them the choice of the two governments, but with the explicit statement that their friends in arms were to be killed soon unless they came in and surrendered. His division of the effects of these families seems rather scriptural. "What seems to belong to the woman, I yield to her, but what seems to belong to the man, I have brought into camp."

Some of these cases are very pitiful and call out my deepest commiseration. Today I visited a poor widow who has a son in the rebel service. Her house was burned and she, with her children, was brought into town. She has not been able to walk a step during the last five months. On examination I found that her prostration was due entirely to privations and hardships resulting from war. For more than a year her food has been "dry hominy" with now and then a little fish. She was born in Alabama of "poor white" parents. As I talked to her it seemed to me it must be difficult for her to understand the justice of our coming here to invade the homes of those who had always earned their bread by the sweat of their brows.

Yesterday I conversed with a lady who lives in a pleasant cottage, with her beautiful little children and her aged mother. Her husband is a captain outside our barricades and when the Colonel granted her permission to go wherever she chose, she said so many had gone from the river and coast towns to the interior that one could scarcely find a barn to stay in or food to subsist on. She remains here for the present. Her husband was a music teacher and was taken into the army by conscription. From what I can learn of him through Union men, I have no doubt he would gladly return to loyalty. What are we to do with such families? "Things are a little mixed" here in the South, but we must all suffer the results of our great national sin, some one way, some another.

I have given out word that the Surgeon of our regiment will cheerfully and gladly attend to the medical needs of all civilians here. To be the means of relieving suffering is sufficient compensation, but in this case there is the additional good of being able to make anti-slavery statements in a satisfactory way.

I never supposed I could be so much gratified by comparatively level scenery. The river is very beautiful, – quite clear and of a deep amber color. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy my evening bath. Dr. Minor usually goes with me. Once, while in the water, the companies were hurriedly ordered to "fall in," but it seemed so unnatural that one's bathing should be interfered with that we were not startled by the alarm.

We find the rebel women here exceedingly desirous to prove that our soldiers are guilty of all the outrages they might expect from a long-injured people now in power. Many of our soldiers are natives of this place and meet their old mistresses here. On the day of our landing I was over and over implored, by those who knew their deserts, to protect them from the "niggers." It was an awful turning of the tables. I quite enjoyed saying "These are United States troops and they will not dishonor the flag."

Several charges have been preferred against the soldiers, but thus far, when sifted down, have proved quite as much against those who complained as against our men. The Adjutant told me of a lady of easy manners, who had been very much insulted by a soldier. Close investigation proved that he actually sat on her front door-step.

That our soldiers do some outrageous things, I have little doubt. When women taunt them with language most unbecoming, as they sometimes do, I should be very sorry if they did not return a silencer. Thus far they have behaved better than any white regiment has done under such temptations. They "confiscate" pigs and chickens because their captains connive at it and the Provost Marshal cannot do everything alone.

Today the John Adams and the Burnside are off on some speculation up the river. I was too busy to go with them this morning, or should have asked the privilege. Colonel Montgomery has gone with his men. They declare he is a "perfect devil to fight, he don't care nuttin 'bout de revels." His bravery is apparently rashness but in reality far from it. He evidently thinks the true mode of self-defense is to attack the enemy on his own ground.

_______________

¹ Rev. James H. Fowler, of Cambridge, Mass.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 373-5

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 12, 1863

Hospital near Hamilton's Crossing, Va.,        

June 12, 1863.

Our corps is lying in line of battle in the trenches, and has been for six days. The Yankees are still on this side of the river. The picket lines are within speaking distance of each other and we exchange newspapers with them every day. I went there this morning and was never before so close to the enemy when in a hostile attitude. I saw the New York Illustrated News, and will try to get a copy to send to you. I stay out on the field with the troops during the day, but come back to the hospital at night.

Chaplain Beauchelle messes with Dr. Tyler and me while his messmates are out in the line. He and Tyler sleep together. Tyler is one of the most wicked and profane men I ever knew, but he is a very intelligent man and is generous and high-minded. His father educated him for the ministry, and he and the chaplain argue on Scripture at night. It is highly amusing, for he is hard to handle in an argument on Scripture.

I am told that all of our army has gone in the direction of Manassas except our corps (A. P. Hill's), which was formerly Stonewall Jackson's. It consists of Pender's, Heath's and Anderson's divisions, and is about twenty-five or thirty thousand strong. We can take care of any Yankee force which may come at us in our present position. I have not seen Edwin in two days, and suppose he is strengthening the entrenchments here and there where they may chance to be defective.

My father wrote me that George was the liveliest child he ever saw, and that it was a matter of rejoicing when you and George were seen coming.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 53-4

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, March 8, 1863

STEAMER Boston Mouth of St. John's River,        

March 8, 1863.

Waiting, waiting, waiting, with thermometer at 80° F. this bright Sunday. Great sandbanks like snow, atmosphere shimmering in the hot sunlight, while the young, tender foliage softens the landscape into beauty.

At daylight this morning we left Fernandina and arrived off the bar at the mouth of this river at 9.30 A. M. The gunboat Uncas came off to meet us and considerably before noon we were anchored in here with the Uncas, the Norwich and our transport, the Burnside. Why the John Adams has not reached here, we cannot imagine. This delay warns the rebs of our approach to Jacksonville and, if they choose to dispute our landing, I do not see why some lives may not be lost. James [Capt. Rogers] and I have been ashore this afternoon and have seen various wild flowers unfamiliar to us. The Colonel is deep in consultation with gunboat captains, and a steady frown indicates his impatience and perplexity about the John Adams. Rough and ready Capt. Dolly remarked when we passed her, that he was d----d if he didn't admire the Lt. Col. because he was always to be found just where we left him. His theory however about the non-arrival of the Adams is that the chaplain has gone for the last well to be dug. Wells are one of the chaplain's specialties and it would not be surprising if the theory proved correct. To me the worst feature of the delay is the exposure of our men to disease. I dread confinement in close air for them much more than I do rebel bullets.

Yesterday I heard of a little coincidence which quite amused me. One of our captains is not so broad and catholic as Theodore Parker, and very constantly manifests a jealous nature by petty complaints and watchings for evil. Yesterday morning he was speaking to me of the Colonel and remarked that the only fault he could find with him was a lack of discipline, that the men ought not to be allowed to insult their officers without severe punishment. I replied that I did not know of an officer in the regiment who was obliged to cross the track of the men so much as I, and yet, without any specific control over any but those in the hospital department, I never dreamed of being insulted and that if I were, I should feel that the fault were mine. This captain happened to be the officer of the day and, towards evening, I noticed that he was looking very demure and that he was minus his sash. On inquiry I found he had permitted some slight improprieties among the men and that the Colonel promptly put another officer in his place. I have not heard of a better disciplinarian than Col. H. and I doubt not Capt. is getting convinced on the same point.

Just now I found one of our men in a collapsed state, which will prove fatal.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 370-1

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, February 11, 1863

February 11.

It is to be remembered that the officers of a regiment in which the privates do not read and write, have much to do that would otherwise be done by an orderly or by a private detailed for the purpose. Today I have planned a new hospital and begun to lay the foundation of the first ward. This looks a little like having a brigade here sometime. We have a charming spot near the river, for hospital buildings. I shall have only sixteen patients in a ward. Each ward is to be a separate building 20 x 50 feet, containing two fire-places. From morning till evening, all through the summer, a breeze comes up the river and my wards shall be blessed by it. What a relief it would be to have Stephen Earle [of Worcester] take charge of this, but it is all to be very simple and our efficient chaplain takes almost all of it on his hands.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 360

Brigadier-General Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, April 8, 1865

NEW CREEK, (WEST) VIRGINIA, April 8, 1865.

DEAREST:— The glorious news is coming so fast that I hardly know how to think and feel about it. It is so just that Grant, who is by all odds our man of greatest merit, should get this victory. It is very gratifying too that Sheridan gets the lion's share of the glory of the active fighting. The clique of showy shams in the Army of the Potomac are represented by Warren. We do not know the facts, but I suspect Warren hung back, and after the Potomac fashion, didn't take hold with zeal when he found Sheridan was to command. So he was sent to the rear! General Crook wrote me the day before the battle that the men were in superb condition and eager for the fray, but that some of the generals were half whipped already. No doubt he meant Warren. Crook commanded the advance of Sheridan's attack. No doubt his strategy had much to do with it.

Personally, matters are probably as well as they could be, considering that we are in the hands, as Joe says, of the Yankees. The fall of Richmond came the day before we all left Camp Hastings. We had a glorious time. All the men gathered, all the bands; Chaplain Collier and I talked. I did not then of course say good-bye, but I said about all I would have said if just parting. The Thirty-sixth is about as near to me, the officers possibly more so, than the Twenty-third. I am in a command of all sorts now, a good regiment of cavalry, the old Pennsylvania Ringgold Cavalry, two batteries of Ohio men, one of them Captain Glassier's (the old Simmonds Battery), one of the veteran West Virginia regiments (Second Veterans), and a lot of others of less value. It was intended to send me in command of about five thousand men, quite a little army, by mountain routes towards Lynchburg. We are still preparing for it, but I have no idea now that we shall go. I wish to remain in service until my four years is up in June. Then I shall resign or not, as seems best. If matters don't suit me, I'll resign sooner.

Now, if things remain here in statu quo, would you like (to) come here? It is a most romantic spot. I have Captain Nye and Lieutenant Turner of Thirty-sixth as part of my staff, Charley Smith, Billy Crump, and two other Twenty-third men as orderlies. We have speedy communication by rail and telegraph and with a little more company it would be very jolly.

Love to all. Affectionately,

R.

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 572-3

Brigadier-General Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, March 21, 1865

CAMP HASTINGS, March 21, 1865.

DEAREST: – You would have boiled over with enjoyment if you had been here today. General Crook came out to my quarters. Both bands were out and all the men. We had about forty rousing cheers, a speech from Chaplain Collier, a good talk from the general, a little one from me, and lots of fun. It is four weeks today since the capture.

We are having the finest possible time. The Twenty-third is not camped with me now. It is two and one-half miles off in the prettiest camp they ever had the other side of town. But the brigade is a unit now. The mountain scenery is glorious; the men happy and well behaved. Chaplain Little and his wife get up something good at the log chapel daily.

Affectoinately

R.

We have an old fellow, hard-looking and generally full of liquor, who brings in our wood and builds fires of the Thirteenth. He says, “I was glad to see old Uncle George."

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 568-9