Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, April 1, 1863

Nothing worth writing for a few days. To-day those we left at quarantine came up looking hale and hearty. Most of them have had smallpox or varioloid. The weather is warm and the boys who have been out of camp report alligators are plenty in the swamp back of us, and snakes of many kinds also. I am rambling about camp nowadays, but am not discharged from the hospital yet. General Neal Dow found a place next door to camp to-day where liquor is sold. He took every bottle he could find and smashed them across the porch rail after first locking up the landlord. Camp is being cleared and every precaution taken to keep away yellow fever. There is none of it yet, but it is expected this summer on account of so many soldiers that are new to the climate. Lew Holmes has been worse for some days and we fear we shall lose him yet.

Midnight. I am sitting up to let a tired out nurse get a nap. Holmes died a few minutes ago. He tried to tell me something, but his tongue was so swelled I could not understand what he said. He pulled me clear down to his face and his breath was awful. I pretended to understand, and he settled back as if satisfied and only breathed a few times more. His troubles are over, and those of his old father and mother and his wife and child will begin when the news reaches them. I am glad they did not see the end.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 94-5

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, Saturday, April 4, 1863

Cleaning house day in the hospital. I have been helping so one of the nurses can get off for a walk outside. We found a burying ground where I counted fifty from the 12th Connecticut Volunteers. Nearly all died in August and September last. So we have not had all the sickness and death. I will try and not complain as much as I have. There were only eight from our regiment besides two we have sent home. From there we followed the parapet to the Jackson & Mississippi R. R., which runs not far back from camp. Saw a regiment of negro soldiers, who seemed to feel fine, were having all sorts of games and were in first-rate spirits. Their camp was clean and at the head of each company street were flower beds. Just outside they had planted a garden and onions and other things were growing. The commissioned officers were white. Everything else was black. But for get-up and style they beat any white regiment I have yet seen. It made me ashamed to go home. When I get out of the hospital I mean to try and get the boys to be more like them.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 95-6

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, April 6, 1863

One of Company A's men died to-day. His name was Burch. A boat-load of negroes landed here to-day and were taken down towards the city, what for I did not learn. Many of the men in camp are having diarrhea, and some have to go to the hospital, where the diet can be regulated. Some corn and contraband goods were seized to-day a short distance up the river. A man has been suspected for a long time and to-day was seized upon with all his goods. We are expecting letters every day now. We watch the papers for the mail steamers, and if we get no letters are much disappointed.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 96-7

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, April 13, 1863

Wrote and mailed some letters this morning. Wm. Partington died in this room this morning. He and I came here the same time and lay side by side. I was taken to the big tent and he left here. We were both hard sick and when I came back Bill was in just about the same condition I was. We both got round together and began to go out at the same time. A day or two ago diarrhea hit him and now he is taken and I left. So it goes. We plan for to-morrow and to-morrow we are wrapped in a blanket and out we go.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 98

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, Saturday, April 18, 1863

The regiment has gone and I am left. When will I get clear from the hospital? One of the hospital cooks, E. Furguson, died to-day. There are hardly enough men in camp to bury him, only the sick and convalescent being left.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 99

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, March 19, 1862

William H. Ashley died this day at Cairo. The firing still continues. Lt. Allen left the Boat, on board the Steamer Rob Roy in a skiff with 3 citizens for the upper Ft. They approached within 200 y'ds of it could see One Gun Two empty carriages, and about 15 or 20 men apparently. Not doing any thing to them returned to the flag Boat Benton & reported to the Commodore.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 238

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Tuesday, May 3, 1864

Spring has long delayed her coming here as well as northward. I could not be comfortable this P. M. in my room without a fire. Still, despite the cold, I have seen the blossom of a species of magnolia, which is very beautiful. It is in shape and size something like the African lily, and grew upon a tree the size of the common apple. It is of a peachblow hue upon the outside and white within, and with the mingled fragrance of the roses and lemon.

Aunt Nanny, the former housekeeper of the rebel banker who owned this residence, has just been giving me a highly interesting account of the scenes here when it became known that our forces were coming towards Nashville. It was on Sunday morning the news reached the white citizens, when they were on their way to church. And the streets were soon filled with half-crazed people flying here and there, women and children and even men running out of breath, and screaming, "The Yankees are coming," while the less excited ones were securing every possible conveyance to use for flight.

"We colored folks," said Aunt Nanny, "knew it in the night, and all de mornin' while de white ones was so quiet a putin' on dere finery for church, we knew it wouldn't last long. An' we was all so full wid de great joy, dat we'se a sayin' in our hearts all de time "Bless de Lord," "Thank de good God," for de "day of jubilee has come!"

"But we was mighty hush, an' put on just as long faces as we could, an' was might' 'sprized when they told us of it. An' missus she come runnin' back from the street wid' her bonnet on her neck, an' the strings a flyin', an' she come to the kitchen and put up both arms, an' she said:

"Oh, Aunt Nanny, we'll all be killed! The Yankees are coming! They'll hang or cut the throat of every niggar that's left here!'

"An' after that she tried to have me go south with her, but I told her I'd risk the Yankees a killin' us, an' I wouldn't go."

Aunt Nanny is respected by all who know her. She is neat, industrious, well-informed, although she cannot read, respectful, polite, affectionate, virtuous, and a Christian. Her husband is here, and she has one little daughter who is in my division at school.

She tells me also that only last Sunday she saw the body of a dead negro boy of about nine years who died from blows received from his mistress. The cause was her anger that his mother had run away in search of freedom. But the mother heard of the illness of her child and returned in time to hear him say that "the whipping his mistress had given him had killed him," and to find upon his back the terrible gashes from the whip, and bruises from blows.

I wish I had known of this before the child was buried. Having the name of speaking my mind, it might be as well to do so, occasionally.

Have just listened to a little incident which occurred some months since. While Grant had charge of this department, General Rousseau in his absence, issued an order to the effect that slaveholders, who had taken the oath of allegiance, might dispose of their slaves. One man from the country, accordingly drove in several slave women tied hand to hand. But Grant had suddenly returned and countermanded the permit, and he could not dispose of them. He got into his carriage and ordered his negro women to march home. They refused to obey. This was unprecedented insolence. He caught his horse-whip and was about laying it over their shoulders when the "blue coats" appeared as suddenly and as thick around him as if like fairies they had popped out of the ground.

"No whipping here! No whipping here!" they exclaimed, and the result was, he was forced to return alone, and they were slaves no longer.

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 70-2

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Wednesday, May 4, 1864

A death in the house. Little Clark, the only son of Rev. E. P. Smith, aged three and a half years, died last night. It is a sad affliction. The disease, decline from measles. The funeral service was held in the parlor, this P. M., by Rev. Mr. Allen. His body was embalmed and is to be sent to the Sabbath School of the parish, over which Mr. S. presided, at Pepperill, Massachusetts.

To me it seems strangely touching this trusting of the precious remains to the chances of travel, and so many miles away, to land in the throng of sad little faces to whose questioning glances he can perchance respond

"From the land o' the leal."

He was laid out in a child's military suit of light blue, with star-flowers, snow-drops, rose-buds, and leaves of the rose geranium. It was a sweetly sacred bequest to the Sabbath School.

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, p. 72

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Saturday, May 7, 1864

Have been to Hospital, No. 1, at the request of a mother whose young son had died there. She is in great anxiety to learn something of his last words, and whether he died a Christian. I have just written her the facts, that there was no outward evidence of the same, but that she must trust the Good Father that it was "well with him."

All the patients whom I have mentioned in my journal, are better. Even the one with ulcers is improving. As for William he has applied for a furlough, and expects soon to go home.

Day before yesterday a girl came to school who had just the look and complexion of a snuff-dipping refugee. She, also, like them, wore a dress of the same color, derived from some kind of bark. Her manner was as listless and her expression as vacant. Wishing much to know whether she could claim our superior race as her own, or whether a few drops of the black blood in her veins had procured perhaps from her father and master the fiat— "only a niggar!" I made known my curiosity to one of the teachers, with my perplexity as to how I should obtain the coveted information, without wounding her feelings.

"Oh! you need not fear that," was the reply, "they're used to it, and expect to be asked whether they're niggars or not." I could not do it, however, without considerable circumlocution; and commenced by asking if she could buy herself a book, whom she lived with, &c. After some time the questions eliminated the fact that though she didn't know whether she was free, or a “refugee," her own second name, or the age, she did know that she had lived most of her life in Texas, where she had always worked out of doors, had hoed corn, and ploughed that she lived with the same people now—that her father she had never heard anything of—that her mother was black, "though not real black," and finally that she herself was a "niggar," which nobody else could have told by her features or complexion.

A lady who stopped over night, on her way home from Bridgeport, where she has been stationed with her husband in charge of sanitary stores, relates the following:

She said that sitting a few days since in the rooms where were the stores of the Christian Commission, she saw a woman, when half a mile distant, who had a long stick in her hand. She supposed that being weary perhaps, with a long walk, she had picked it up to serve the office of a cane. But after entering, and engaging for some time in jovial conversation and laughter with some neighbors, she found there, she made known her errand. She wanted to beg a shirt, pair of stockings and a coffin for her husband, and the stick was the measure of his body. My informant asked the age of the deceased husband, and she replied:

"Well, now, I never rightly axed him how old he was. but I reckon he mought be nigh on to thirty or forty!"

SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 72-4

Private John C. West to Mary Eliza Stark West, July 9, 1863

CAMP NEAR HAGERSTOWN, MD.,        

JULY 9TH, 1863.

MY PRECIOUS WIFE:

On yesterday I wrote a bungling letter to my "little man" intending it for his birthday, as I feared we would be ordered off to-day, and sure enough I have just learned we are to leave directly. God has mercifully preserved me through the terrible battle of Gettysburg, though my escape was as narrow as possible. I cannot attempt an account of the battle as a private only knows what occurred in his immediate presence. Our regiment went into the fight with 350 and lost 150 in killed, wounded and missing. Lieutenant Joe Smith, son of Captain Jack Smith, on Hog Creek, was killed. We had just climbed a stone fence and crossed a branch and little marsh. Lieutenant Smith had wet his handkerchief in the branch and tied it around his head. It was extremely hot. It was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and we had double-quicked across an open field for nearly 500 yards. He was killed in twenty feet of me, just after we crossed the branch—shot through the head, the bullet passing through the folds of his handkerchief on both sides. He was a splendid officer and we miss him very much.

From the 1st to the 6th of July I never took off my accouterments night or day. I marked in my Bible the Psalm which I read while in the line of battle among the rocks on the third of July. We were somewhat in advance of our main line and held our place, but could drive the enemy no further neither could they dislodge us. We remained there until the close of the battle. I have requested my friends to save my Bible and the little tin cup, which baby gave me for you in case of my fall. I threw away my blankets and all of my extra clothing when we went into the battle, but I picked up a blanket on coming out. You need not trouble yourself about my wants, as it is impossible to make a soldier comfortable. I was soaking wet from the 2nd to the 6th of July, without meat and with little bread, and have been for some time; so you see if I had all the comforts you might fix for me, I would have to throw them away on a long, wet march. It is impossible to carry them. I started from Texas to find a fight, and I have made a success of it. I am much delighted and gratified at the way in which you seem to be spending your time. With kisses for the little ones, I am,

Your husband, faithfully ever,

JOHN C. WEST.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 87-8

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, January 27, 1862

Expectation is still on the strain. How long it has been kept up! But no order to move, and I doubt whether we get any soon. Indeed, I think now that we should not move. 'Tis too late. The roads are excessively bad, and for a long time we have been having an almost continuous storm of freezing rain and snow. An army could not lie out over night in this terrible weather, and be in condition next day to fight against those who had slept in good quarters and been well fed. The time has passed to move. But why are we not ordered to winter quarters? There seems to me to be great recklessness of the soldiers' health and comfort in this army. There is wrong somewhere.

A sad case has just passed under my notice. Three days ago, as I was busily engaged in attending to hospital duties, I entrusted, necessarily, the light sickness of quarters to others. As I passed out just after morning call, I heard one of my nurses say to a man, "You look sick; why do you not come to hospital, where we can take care of you?" "That is what I came for, but the doctor says I am not sick, and has returned me to duty." I passed on, but notwithstanding that there is scarcely a day that some "shirk" who is pretending to be sick to avoid duty, is not treated thus, that voice rang sadly in my ears. In ten minutes I returned, and inquired after the man. The drums had beaten to duty, and he was on parade. I followed to parade ground, found him endeavoring to do his duty, on a "double-quick." I took him from the ranks, examined him, and sent him to hospital. Before they got him to bed he was delirious. He has just died. 'Twas a case of typhoid fever, of which he had been sick for two days before I saw him. I ask of army Surgeons, Had you not better excuse ten "seeds" who are worthless, even when in rank, than sacrifice one good man like this, who believes he is not sick, because you tell him he is not?

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, pp. 79-80

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Sunday, March 8, 1863

I made out returns and wrote two letters. An awful snow storm came up just in the evening. Hospital walls caving in. Private Small, Co. D of the Seventh, died about noon; lung fever. Battalion drill. Lieut. Col. gave me five stamps, 15.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 13

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Saturday, March 14, 1863

Nothing of special importance occurred except the arrival of train and last supplies from Alexandria and mail. D. Phelps, Co. D, Seventh Minn., died of inflammation of the bowels.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 14

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, February 16, 1863

In the hospital after all. Dr. Andrus came last night to our tent and ordered me into the house I spoke of. I had a warm, dry bed and a good night's rest and feel much better to-day. The doctor has his office downstairs and the upstairs part is crammed full of sick men. A big tent is being put up and cot beds put in to put the fever patients in. Captain Bostwick was married last night, so it is said. Corporal Knox died in a fit this afternoon. It tires me to write so I must stop. Good-night.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 88

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, February 20, 1863

Captain Bostwick came to see me to-day. Two men died last night, one in the hospital and the other in his tent. I don't feel as well to-day.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 88

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, March 5, 1863

Am very weak yet. A little tires me out. A letter from Herman just a month old. Coon died last night, but we none of us knew it till we saw him carried out.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 89

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, March 18, 1863

Too much excitement yesterday and I feel like two weeks ago. The doctor says I will have these setbacks though and it is only a part of the process of getting well. A man named Kipp died to-day. I don't know how many die out in the tent.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 91

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, March 19, 1863

Poor Crowthers died very peacefully about noon to-day. His cot is next mine and he seemed like one of the family to me. The company has undertaken to raise money to send his body home.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 91

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, Thursday, March 26, 1863

The finest morning yet. The air is just right. The birds are singing, the sun shining bright and everything seems just right for getting well. A man named Barker died last night about midnight. He has seemed to be dying for a week and we have watched to see him breathe his last any minute. Orderly Holmes is better and may get well after all. Some of the boys killed an alligator to-day and cooked and ate his tail. They say it is just as good as fish and looked like fish.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp    . 91-2

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, March 28, 1863

Another fine day, and another trip downstairs. My legs behaved better this time. Am not near so tired. Now that I can write without getting tired I must put down some things I remember, but which I could not write at the time. I shall always remember them of course, but I want to see how near I can describe them on paper. First I want to say how very kind my comrades have been all through. I can think of many acts of kindness now that I paid little attention to then, but they kept coming along just the same. Whatever else I think of, the thought of their care for me and how they got passes and tramped miles to get me something to eat, always taking it to Dr. Andrus first to see if it would do for me these thoughts keep coming up and my load of gratitude keeps getting heavier. Can I ever repay them? God has been good to me, better than I deserve. I was first taken to the room where I am now writing. I remember but little of what happened before I was taken out and put in the big hospital tent. It is a large affair, made up of several tents joined together endwise and wide enough for two rows of cots along the side, with an alley through the middle, towards which our feet all pointed.

I remember the head medical man coming through every day or so and the doctors would take him to certain cots, where they would look on the fellows lying there and put down something in a book. I soon noticed that most always such a one died in a short time, and I watched for their coming to my cot. One day they did, and I remember how it made me feel. Dr. Andrus was so worked down that a strange doctor was in charge, but under Dr. Andrus, who had charge over all. When he came through I motioned to him and he came and sat on the next cot, when I told him I would get well if I could get something good to eat. "All right," said he, "what will you have?" I told him a small piece of beefsteak. He sent one of the nurses to his mess cook and he soon came back with a plate and on it a little piece of steak which he prepared to feed me. But the smell was enough and I could not even taste it. The doctor then proceeded to eat it, asking if I could think of anything else. I thought a bottle of beer would surely taste good and so he sent to the sutler's for it. But he had to drink that too, for I could not. He laughed at me and though I was disappointed, it cheered me up more than anything else had done for a long time. When I got so I could eat, I surely thought he would starve me to death.

A poor fellow across the tent opposite me got crazy and it took several men to hold him on his cot. The doctor came and injected something in his breast which quieted him for the night, but when it wore off he was just as bad and he finally died in one of them. On my right lay a man sick unto death, while on my left lay another whose appetite had come and who was begging everybody for something to eat. His company boys brought him some bread and milk which he ate as if famished. The next morning when I awoke and looked about to see how many faces were covered up I found both my right and left hand neighbors had died in the night and their blankets were drawn up over their faces. The sights I saw while I was able to realize what was going on were not calculated to cheer me up and how I acted when I was out of my head I don't know. At any rate I got better and was brought back to this room, where I have since been.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 92-4