Diary of Musician David Lane, June 16, 1863

At about four o'clock this afternoon we met two of our gunboats near Napoleon, Mississippi, who told us they had just dislodged a Rebel battery planted on the shore, and had burned two small villages. Thinking it not safe to proceed, our fleet was hauled inshore, a strong guard was posted and pickets stationed on shore to prevent surprise. Most of the men threw themselves down, their arms beside them, to rest as best they might. Some few had gone ashore and were enjoying a social chat around their blazing camp fires, while the more restless ones were working off the effects of the bad whisky they had imbibed during the day with boisterous, hilarious merriment. It was half-past ten; feeling wakeful, I had not retired, but sat on the railing of the vessel, talking over past events with a friend from Jackson. Presently two rifle shots rang out, followed by a volley from our pickets. Then was there hurrying to and fro. The men sprang instinctively to arms. Officers rushed from their rooms in dishabille, the timid crouched behind anything that offered the slightest protection. Confusion reigned. But soon our Colonel appeared, cool and collected, calm as a summer eve. "Steady, men, stand by your arms and wait orders." More pickets were sent out and we patiently awaited the attack. But it did not come. It was, probably, an attempt by some cowardly wretches to murder one or two of our pickets and escape under cover of darkness. No one was hurt. We started soon after daylight, convoyed by two gunboats, prepared for any emergency, and expecting fun. One gunboat led the way, the other followed in our rear, their bright little guns portruding from their coalblack sides. They have a jaunty, saucy air, that seems to say: "Just knock this chip off my shoulder, if you dare." We were all excitement for a while, eagerly scanning every tree or log, thinking to see a puff of smoke or a "cracker's" head at every turn. Seeing nothing for so long a time, we began to think it all a hoax, when suddenly, as we rounded a point, running close inshore, the transport in front of us was fired on by a concealed foe. Their fire was instantly returned, and the saucy little gunboats rounded to and gave them a broadside of grape, followed by shell, at short range. Our boys were quickly in line, watching with eager eyes for Rebel heads. Fortunately not a man was injured on either vessel. A sad accident occurred this afternoon. A young man of Company H was standing guard at the head of the stairs. He stood on the upper step, leaning on his gun. It slipped and the hammer struck the step below. The bullet passed through his stomach and lodged near the spine.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 50-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 23, 1863

Once more we are on the wing. Yesterday morning we were ordered to be ready to march when called on. Of course, the men do not expect to stay anywhere, but it always comes a little tough to leave a pleasant camp just as they get comfortably settled. But military orders are inexorable, and, in spite of regrets, we "struck tents, slung knapsacks," and started on our winding way among the hills. This part of the country is made up of ranges of high hills separated by ravines down which the water has cut channels from ten to twenty feet deep. We marched about three miles on the road leading to Vicksburg and halted on the top of a high hill just large enough to hold our regiment. It was plowed last spring and planted to cotton. Colonel Luce looked indignant, the company officers grumbled, the men swore. General Welch regretted, but Major General Parks ordered the left to rest here, and it rested. But Colonel Luce could still do something. Ordering us in line, he said: "Men, you need not pitch your tents in line in this open field; go where you can make yourselves most comfortable, only be on hand when the bugle sounds." Three cheers and a tiger for Colonel Luce. then a wild break for trees, brush; anything to shelter us from the fierce rays of a Southern sun. We are now nine miles from Vicksburg by the road, six miles in a direct line. We can distinctly hear musketry at that place, which has been kept up almost incessantly the last three days. At intervals the cannonading is terrific. Our Orderly Sergeant rode over there yesterday, to see his brother. He says Grant's rifle pits are not more than twenty-five rods from the Rebels, and woe to the man on either side who exposes himself to the marksmanship of the other. As near as I can learn, matters remain about as they were three weeks ago. Unless General Grant succeeds in mining some of their works, thus affecting an entrance, he will be compelled to starve them out.

We would think, in Michigan, such land as this utterly unfit for cultivation. But the highest hills are cultivated and planted with corn or cotton. Corn, even on the highest hills, I have never seen excelled in growth of stalk. One would naturally suppose that in this hilly country water of good quality would abound. Such is not the fact. Soon as we broke ranks I started out in quest of water. I followed a ravine about half a mile, then crossed over to another, but found none. Blackberries being plentiful, I filled my cap and returned to camp. Some of the boys had been more successful, and after resting a few minutes I took another direction, for water we must have. This time I followed a ridge about half a mile, then began to descend—down, down, I went, seemingly into the very bowels of the earth, and when I reached the bottom found a stagnant pool of warm, muddy water. Making a virtue of necessity, I filled my canteen, returned to camp, made some coffee, ate my berries, with a very little hardtack, and went to bed to dream of "limpid streams and babbling brooks."

This morning my comrade and I arose with the early dawn and started out in search of berries, which we found in great abundance.

A strange stillness pervades our hitherto noisy and tumultous camp. The men are scattered in every direction, lounging listlessly in the shade, not caring even to play cards, so oppressive is the heat. I am sitting in the shade of a mulberry tree, Collier lying on the ground near by; we alternately write or lounge as the mood takes us. Most assuredly I never felt the heat in Michigan as I feel it here. Yet men can work in this climate, and northern men, too. The Eighth and Twentieth have been throwing up fortifications for several days.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 56-8

Colonel Luce is Dead

Colonel Constant C. Luce, one of the old pioneers of Michigan is dead at Monroe. He was commander of the famous Michigan “Stonewall” regiment, which was conspicuous at the battle of South Mountain, Md.

SOURCE: “Colonel Luce is Dead,” Port Huron Daily Times, Port Huron, Michigan, Monday, March 2, 1903

Obituary of Colonel Constant Luce, 17th Michigan Infantry

WAS A PIONEER OF MONROE

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COL. CONSTANT LUCE, WHO DIED THERE YESTERDAY.

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APROMINENT BUSINESS MAN AND A LEADING CITIZEN.

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No Immediate Member of His Own Family Now Living.

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Monroe, Mich., February 28.—Col. Constant Luce, one of the most prominent business men and pioneers of Monroe county, died this morning at his resident corner of Second and Macomb streets after an illness of only a few weeks.

Col. Luce for over three-quarters of a century was a resident here and for over fifty years one of the prominent men of the section. He was born in Pittsfield, Mass., in March 1819 and was very nearly 84 years old at the time of his death. He came to Monroe in his childhood, reaching here in 1826. He was one of the earliest abstractors in the west, and early began to make up the abstracts of Monroe county, beginning shortly after Michigan became a state. For four terms he served as register of deeds of the county, and while holding that office perfected the system of abstracts which later came into general use throughout Michigan.

At the outbreak of the war he became colonel of the Seventeenth Michigan Regiment and served with distinction throughout the war of the rebellion. Upon his return to Monroe he again engaged in the abstract business, under the firm name of Redfield & Luce. The name of his partner, Hon. Heman J. Redfield is prominent in the history of the city and county. After the death of Mr. Redfield the firm became Luce & Landon, and has thus continued to the present day.

Col. Luce is the “last of his race,” so far as his own family is concerned. Two brothers and a sister have preceded him into the silent land, and his only son died shortly after the close of the war. His aged wife died recently, and since her death he has made his home with a niece. He was a man of wonderful vitality, and until his last illness was a well known figure here in the city, being as hale and active as the ordinary man of 50. Mr. Luce was a member of Monroe Lodge, No. 27, F. & A. M., and had been on the emeritus roll for twelve years. He was a Knight Templar and one of the oldest Masons in Michigan. His funeral, on Monday, will be under Masonic auspices.

SOURCE: The Detroit Free Press, Detroit, Michigan, Sunday, March 1, 1903, p. 3

Diary of Musician David Lane, April 30, 1863

Columbia, Ky., April 30th, 1863.

At the date of my last entry—the 26th inst.—I had seen no indication of a move. We retired that night at the usual hour, and just as I was dropping off to sleep the order came: "Be ready to march tomorrow morning at five o'clock with two days' rations." It came like a "clap of thunder from a cloudless sky," surprising both officers and men. Our officers had formed numerous and pleasant associations with Kentucky's fair daughters, and it was with many regrets they were compelled to leave their agreeable society for the stern duties of the field. But military orders are inexorable as fate, and at precisely a quarter to five the bugle sounded "fall in," and at five we were on the move, bound for Columbia, forty miles away.

The weather is warm and pleasant now, but the burning heat of a Southern summer is close upon us. A forced march was before us, with no teams to carry our luggage. We could not carry all our winter clothing, therefore hundreds of good blankets and overcoats were thrown away. When we had marched three or four miles many of the men found they still had too much load, and then the work of lightening up began in earnest. For miles the road was strewn with blankets, dress coats, blouses, pants, drawers and shirts. In fact enough clothing was thrown away for Rebels to pick up to supply a whole brigade. No wonder so many Rebel regiments are dressed in our uniforms. As for myself, I was determined to stay by my goods, if I could not carry them. As a matter of fact I carried load enough that day to down a mule, and feel none the worse for it. We marched to Campbellville, twenty miles, and camped for the night. We were expected to cover the entire distance in two days, but fully one-half of the brigade were so utterly used up it was found to be impossible. We only made nine miles the second day, and camped at Green River. Here the Eighth Michigan and Seventy-ninth New York were ordered to remain; the Seventeenth was ordered to Columbia and the Twentieth to the Cumberland, forty miles beyond.

Lieutenant Colonel Luce is Provost Marshal of this district, and we are detailed to do provost duty. Colonel Luce's orders are: "Protect government property, keep good order in the town, arrest all disloyal citizens and report to headquarters every day." This part of the state has been much infested by guerillas, and we expect lively times.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 41-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 6, 1863

Lebanon, Ky., June 6th, 1863.

I did not go to Jamestown, as I intended. I called on the Provost Marshal for a pass and learned the program had been changed, and the Seventeenth was then on its way back to Lebanon. I found the company about nine o'clock in the evening, a half mile from Columbia, tired and worn by a march of twenty six miles. The boys had stretched themselves on the ground, too tired to erect their tents, but when they learned of our arrival, they flocked around us to learn the latest news from home. And such warm greetings I seldom ever witnessed. The Colonel said we were all right on time; he did not expect us to start from home until Monday.

Here I learned the Ninth Corps had received orders to report immediately at Louisville. We started early next morning and marched twenty miles. After supper we threw ourselves upon the ground and forgot our pains and aches in "balmy sleep."

At two o'clock we were aroused by "the shrill bugle's cry," and were told we were to be in Lebanon at 12 m. eighteen miles. We turned out, cooked and ate our breakfasts, and at four o'clock were on the move. The Quartermaster soon overtook us with teams that he had "pressed" to carry our knapsacks for us. With many thanks to Colonel Luce—it was he that ordered the wagons to follow us—we started on our way with light hearts and lighter feet. But eighteen miles in half a day is no easy task, even in light marching order, and soon the men, worn out by repeated forced marches, began to tire, and many were ready to declare they could go no further, when we were met by a wagon train, sent from Lebanon to bring in those not able to walk. The train was soon filled to its utmost capacity. Not being one of the unfortunates, I "hoofed it" the entire distance.

The all-absorbing question with us is, where are we going? The Louisville Journal says we are "going to take a new lesson in geography." Of course, then, we leave the state. Our officers are about equally divided between Washington and Vicksburg. But which? If we are to take a new lesson we will not go east. Then it must be Vicksburg. Our men say it makes but little difference to them, if only we go where work is to be done.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 44-5