If I have kept track right, this is Thanksgiving day up
north. My mouth waters as I think of the good things they will eat to-day. I
suppose we should feel thankful for the fare we have, but it is hard to do it,
and is harder yet to eat it. Still I know how impossible it is to do much
better by us than they do. The family is so big, the individual member of it
must not expect pie and cake with every meal. Some drilling in the manual of arms
is done on the quarter deck. It makes something to do, and anything is better
than nothing. A gun feels pretty heavy to me these days. It is curious to see
how we divide up into families. Men who were friends and neighbors at home are
even more than that here. Our duties may separate us, but when they are over we
hunt each other up again. We know and talk with others, but confidences are all
saved for the few. Our beds are next to each other, but with the fellows next
to us on the other side we have little to do.
The waves run high to-day, higher than any I ever saw, and
yet the sailors say this is almost a dead calm. Still the vessel pitches and
dives, so we run against some one or something every move we make.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an
Enlisted Man, p. 65