Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, October 4, 1861

The Indianians have been returning from the summit all day, straggling along in squads of from three to a full company.

The men are tired, and the camp is quiet as a house. Six thousand are sleeping away a small portion of their three weary years of military service. This TIME stretches out before them, a broad, unknown, and extra-hazardous sea, with promise of some smooth sailing, but many days and nights of heavy winds and waves, in which some—how many!— will be carried down.

Their thoughts have now forced the sentinel lines, leaped the mountains, jumped the rivers, hastened home, and are lingering about the old fireside, looking in at the cupboard, and hovering over faces and places that have been growing dearer to them every day for the last five months. Old-fashioned places, tame and uninteresting then, but now how loved! And as for the faces, they are those of mothers, wives, and sweethearts, around which are entwined the tenderest of memories. But at daybreak, when reveille is sounded, these wanderers must come trooping back again in time for "hard-tack" and double quick.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 74

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, July 13, 1864

Corn bread, as served here, is to me what a single feather was to Paddy's head on a rock and what he thought more would be if supplied. Irrepressible conflict is brewing between hunger and filling up. Putting plenty of water in the mush is common with some who want something to fill up. We get nothing but rice tonight.

I find Harriman and tent mate Phillips bad off with scurvy, it having assumed malignant form and the flesh of their limbs has become lifeless. Harriman was looking at photographs of home friends and spoke of them with tenderness and a tone keyed to despair. He has ever before been cheerful and quickly responded to expressions of hope and cheer. We find a word of cheer comes not amiss. I trust that "each does well in his degree." But time comes when condolence takes its place and when that cannot remove the fact. How little of either have we now! The downcast soul is robbed of the blessings of consolation from kindred when wafted from this den of sin to the realm beyond. Are its celestial features tainted with this morbid air; is it enfeebled by this languor? God's unbounded provision is the universal remedy for every woe. This we must feel as never before, or be insensible to ourselves. Harriman then related his strange dream which, to him, was extraordinary, in which he beheld immediate conditions, and the blackness and terror of the supposed "river of death" which soon brightened into a bordering stream, before which all misery, terror and darkness vanished, and he beheld the mystic world. He regarded this as a prophecy of a change soon to come to him and said he had no terror of what might come; it had given him strength ineffable. He then briefly sketched his life, his aspirations and disappointments, which are of so much interest to me that I carefully noted them for future writing.

Saw a paper of July 1st; most notable item: Democrats postpone their convention to be held in Chicago, August 29th. Made the acquaintance of a namesake, John H. Northrop, a nephew of the celebrated lawyer, Henry Northrop, of New York; a prisoner nine months, clothes nearly gone, is lively though he has symptoms of scurvy. The evenings are beautiful; religious meetings are being held in various parts. There are some remarkable singers who attract the attention of outsiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 91

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, April 19, 1863

I rested well last night but had the most hideous dreams all night; Mrs. Brownnigg came in early this morning and asked me into her room; I went and found the fire very comfortable; the doctor came to see me and seems to think I am all right now, but must be careful about my diet; says some good brandy is exactly what I need to recruit on; so I missed it by leaving mine at home. Major Holman called to see me this morning; says he will see my transportation fixed all right; offers relief from the loss of my pocketbook; the doctor does likewise; Mrs. Brownnigg offers me money also. I ate nice toast and drank genuine coffee for breakfast; had chicken soup for dinner; spent most of the day in reading one of Bulwer's novels, entitled, "A Strange Story"; have read fifty or sixty pages, but am not much interested yet. My intention now is to leave here so as to remain at Alexandria the shortest time possible. I learn to-day that Mr. A, my hotel landlord, is tired of soldiers, especially sick ones, and grumbles terribly when one gets out of money at his hotel. If this is true, he is not a true man. I would rather be under obligations to the devil.

Little Bettie Brownnigg is quite a nice girl. Hallie Bacon, several years younger, is in a fair way to be spoiled. There is a young lady, Miss Nora Gregg, staying with Mrs. Brownnigg; she seems to be a clever good girl and is finishing my sock, which wife expected Miss Nannie Norton, of Richmond, Va., to knit for me; she has knit thirty pairs of socks in the last two months; she has a most magnificent suit of soft brown hair.

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, p. 19-20

Diary of Private John C. West, Monday, April 20, 1863

I was asleep the greater part of last night, but cannot call it rest. Oh! those hideous dreams which haunted me. I went to a market on Bridge street in Waco, where human flesh, sound and putrid, was bought and sold. I bought and ate, and made my children eat, then dreamed again. Oh! such horrid, phantastic and awful visions as only opium can breed! Fearful crimes were calmly concocted, and the darkest mysteries were enjoyed with devilish glee! Everything which was unholy, everything fiendish, damnable and impure seemed ever present. But the night and the dream have past, and let them be past forever! I am not so well to-day as yesterday, but do not think I will need any more medicine.

Major Holman came to see me again this morning. Mr. Lewis, an old gentleman, formerly clerk of the Federal Court at Tyler, also came to see me. He is just from Huntsville, Alabama, and gave me suggestions as to the route across the Mississippi.

I took a whisky toddy this morning. Miss Beloy came in and brought a very fat, pretty baby, her little sister. She is an amiable looking girl-reminds me of sister Mac (Mrs. DeSanssure) as she looked in the golden old days when we were young and before so many friends had dropped like flowers in the tomb, and when Mac had lightly "supped sorrow." When I have tears to shed let them fall for the dread affliction of my friends, for Oh! how bitterly, bitterly my dear sisters, Mrs. M. B. and Mac DeS. have suffered!

Mrs. Bacon's little girl seems very sick to-day. I have been in Mrs. B.'s room lying on a lounge nearly all the morning.

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, p. 20-1

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 7, 1862

PHILADELPHIA. We were too crowded in the cars to see much, or to do much, coming here. Most of us slept nearly all the way. I did for one, but I had dreams of being trod on, and no doubt I was, for there are some that never sleep, and are constantly on the move. We finally stopped and were ferried across a river and landed in this city.

We then marched to a large hall called "The Cooper Shop," why, I don't know. We were given a royal meal, breakfast I should call it, but it was so dark, and I was so sleepy I hardly knew whether it was supper or breakfast. Cold beef, sausage, bread and butter, cheese, and good hot coffee. It was far ahead of any meal we have had so far. I am told that the place is kept open night and day by some benevolent association, and that no regiment passes through without getting a good square meal. If soldiering is all like this I am glad I am a soldier. If the Rebs ever get as far North as Philadelphia, I hope the 128th New York may be here to help defend the "Cooper Shop." After breakfast we went out on the sidewalk and slept until after daylight. We soon after started for a railroad station, where we took a train for Baltimore. Our ride so far has been one grand picnic. We have lots of fun. No matter what our condition may be, there are some that see only the funny side, and we have enough of that sort to keep up the spirits of all. All along the way the people were out, and the most of them gave us cheers, but not all, as was the case in Hudson. We are nearing the enemy's country. The change in sentiment begins to show, and the farther we go, I suppose, the less cheering we will hear, until finally we will get where the cheers will all be for the other fellow, and we will find ourselves among foes instead of friends.

Later. We are stuck on an up-grade. The engine has gone ahead with a part of the train, and we are waiting for it to come back. The train men say we are about forty miles from Baltimore. That means forty miles from our fodder, and I for one am hungry now. That meal at the Cooper Shop was good, but not lasting enough for this trip. The boys are out on the ground having some fun and I am going to join them.

BALTIMORE, MD. We are here at last. Marched about two miles from where the cars stopped, and are sitting on the sidewalk waiting to see what will happen next. I hope it will be something to eat, for I am about famished. Some of the men are about played-out. The excitement and the new life are getting in their work. The day has been very hot, too, and with nothing to eat since some time last night, it is not strange we begin to wonder where the next meal is coming from, and when it will come. Baltimore is not like New York. I know that much now, but I don't know enough about either city to tell what the difference is. A regiment, fully armed, escorted us here from the cars, and are either staying around to keep us from eating up the city, or to keep the city from eating us, I don't know which. Some act friendly, but the most of the people look as if they had no use for us. Later. We have finally had something to eat. My folks always taught me never to find fault with the victuals set before me, so I won't begin now. But for that I should say something right now. But whatever it was it had a bracing effect and we soon started and marched through the city to high ground, which I am told is "Stewart's Hill."

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 18-20

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 23, 1864

Snowed last night three inches. Clear and cold this morning; ground frozen.

Had a dream last night—that meeting a few men in my wood and coal-house, I nominated R. Tyler for the Presidency, and it was well received. I must tell this to Mr. T.

I narrated my dream to Mr. T. Before I left, he said a clerk ship was at the disposal of my son Thomas; but Thomas is clerk in the conscription service, getting rations, etc. etc., better than the $4000 per annum. But still that dream may be realized. He is the son of President Tyler, deceased.

John Mitchel is now editor of the Examiner, and challenged Mr. Foote yesterday—the note was borne by Mr. Swan, of Tennessee, Mr. Foote's colleague. Mr. Foote would not receive it; and Mr. S. took offense and assaulted Mr. F. in his own house, when Mrs. F. interposed and beat Mr. S. away.

Gen. Winder has been appointed, by Gen. Cooper, commander of all prisons east of the Mississippi.

Gen. Winder has been made Commissary-General of all prisons and prisoners of war. The Bureau of Conscription is yet sustained in power. All this is done by Gen. Cooper,—unwise, probably fatal measures!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 337

Major Charles Wright Wills: March 8, 1865

Five miles north of Laurenburg, N. C., Laurel Hill,

March 8, 1865.

One hundred and twelve miles of steady rain, and the best country since we left Central Georgia. Looks real Northern like. Small farms and nice white, tidy dwellings. Wheat fields look very well. In the cornfields rows are five feet apart, and one stalk the size of a candle, in a hill. But at every house there were from 200 to 1,000 bushels of corn and an abundance of fodder. Sherman said yesterday that our campaign is over, and to-day Howard issued an order that all foraging for provisions shall cease, there being enough rations in the wagons to last us through. I dreamed last night of being at home on leave and seeing you all, and starting back to the army again. Only 90 miles yet to mail.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 358-9

Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, September 13, 1864

CAMP NEAR SUMMIT POINT, VIRGINIA, September 13, 1864.

DEAREST: - We have had heavy fall rains and are now having windy, cold fall weather. We are, however, very comfortably camped, clad, and fed.

No fighting of importance since the third. The enemy was still in our front yesterday morning. A division is now out feeling of their lines — the cannonading indicates that they have not all gone.

McClellan, I see, has written a pretty good war letter. I suspect it will make him trouble among the genuine copperheads. Mr. Lord declines running in the Second District and Mr. Butler is put in his place! I think both of them are good war men and that they do not differ much from me. A funny mix it is.

We have had two votes in this camp. The Thirteenth Virginia, Colonel Brown, gave three hundred and seventy-five for Lincoln, fifteen for McClellan. The Ninth Virginia two hundred and seventy for Lincoln, none (!) for McClellan. The platform and Pendleton destroys his chances in the army.

I dreamed about you and the boys last night. I hope you are as well as I thought you looked.

Love to all 

Affectionately ever 

R. 

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 507

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: May 16, 1865

A cool morning. Up betimes. Dreamed till nervous about F. Would that I could reasonably get this subject out of my mind. God guide me. There would be satisfaction in a short look into the future. Chet and I called on Electa and Lorenzo. Went to a Catholic Fair.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 163

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: March 20, 1865

Relieved by the 2nd N. Y. about noon. Returned to camp near W. House. Drew rations and forage. Inspection of horses. Estimates for clothing, C. and Garrison equipage. A very hot day. Seemed like Petersburg. Read old file of papers. Dreamed of Fannie.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 148

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: March 21, 1865

Clear and beautiful day. Warm. Cleaned up. Went to the landing. Could find nothing which I wanted. Rained. Papers of the 20th received. Everything seems to be moving off prosperously. God grant us an early peace. Dreamed of little Carrie.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 148

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: March 23, 1865

Sun shines out in its fullness. Dreamed of being at home last night. It was Sunday and I at church. Mail came. Glorious news. A child born, a nephew. (Albert Ellis.) Joy is in the household. Prosperity and happiness to the father and mother. Received Tennyson's “Enoch Arden.” A sweet, sad story. Any number of old papers. Spent the day feasting upon good things. Splendid day.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 148

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: December 15, 1864

Got horses shod. Cloudy. Saw F. again in my dreams. I wish I could be rid of this thought about such things. Could never live at home. Am better off here than I would be there.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 137

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: Wednesday, November 2, 1864

All quiet. Relieved in P. M. Raw cold day. Dreamed of F. last night. Grief of soul.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 134

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: May 6, 1864

Regt. saddled and moved out into position at 2 o'clock. After breakfast went out to Regt. awhile. Very hot. Firing commenced at daylight. Heaviest again in Sedgwick's Corps. Burnside over near Chancellorsville. Just about dark firing was very heavy. Various reports in regard to loss. Dreamed last night of Fannie.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 115

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: Thursday, April 7, 1864

Letters from home yesterday. Read the “Life of Capt. Hurley Vicars” in the morning. Tom and Thede went to town to see Dan. P. M. went out to see companies drill. Would like to drill right well. Dreamed of Fannie last night.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 113

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: May 17, 1864

Had a funny dream last night. Thought the rebels were so hard up for mules that they hitched up a couple of grayback lice to draw in the bread. Wirtz is watching out for Yankee tricks. Some one told him the other day that the Yankees were making a large balloon inside and some day would all rise up in the air and escape. He flew around as if mad, but could find no signs of a balloon. Says there is no telling what “te tam Yankee will do.” Some prisoners came to-day who were captured at Dalton, and report the place in our possession, and the rebels driven six miles this side. Kilpatrick and Stoneman are both with Sherman and there are expectations of starting out on some mission soon, supposed to be for this place. Nineteen thousand confined here now and dying at the rate of ninety per day, Philo Lewis, of the 5th Michigan Cav., can live but a day or two. Talks continually of his wife and family in Ypsilanti, Mich. Has pictures of the whole family, which he has given me to take home to them, also a long letter addressed to his wife and children. Mr. Lewis used to be a teacher of singing in Ypsilanti. He is a fine looking man naturally, and a smart man, but he must go the way of thousands of others, and perhaps myself One of his pupils is here confined. Philo Lewis must not be confounded with F. L. Lewis, the member of our mess. The latter, however, cannot live but a short time unless relief comes. Fine weather but very warm. The sandy soil fairly alive with vermin. If this place is so bad at this time of the year, what must it be in July, August and September? Every man will die, in my estimation, but perhaps we may be relieved before then. We'll try and think so anyway. New prisoners die off the fastest.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 58-9

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: 1 p.m., Sunday, July 28, 1861

I have just woke up from a two hours' sleep that had more dreams than all the sleeping I ever did before. I dreamed everything from being a partner of Adam and Eve in their orchard down to seeing Stephens’ iron battery.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 23

Diary of Sarah Morgan: Sunday Morning, March 15, 1863

To my unspeakable surprise, I waked up this morning and found myself alive. Once satisfied of that, and assuring myself of intense silence in the place of the great guns which rocked me to sleep about half-past two this morning, I began to doubt that I had heard any disturbance in the night, and to believe I had written a dream within a dream, and that no bombardment had occurred; but all corroborate my statement, so it must be true, and this portentous silence is only the calm before the storm. I am half afraid the land force won't attack. We can beat them if they do; but suppose they lay siege to Port Hudson and starve us out? That is the only way they can conquer.

We hear nothing still that is reliable.

Just before daylight there was a terrific explosion which electrified every one save myself. I was sleeping so soundly that I did not hear anything of it, though Mrs. Badger says that when she sprang up and called me, I talked very rationally about it, and asked what it could possibly be. Thought that I had ceased talking in my sleep. Miriam was quite eloquent in her dreams before the attack, crying aloud, “See! See! What do I behold?” as though she were witnessing a rehearsal of the scene to follow.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 338-9