Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, June 12, 1864

Four days I have been ill. Among new men bloody flux and dysentery prevail; this is my trouble. I am better today; a fine breeze lifts me. From last date it has rained every day. We have news from my regiment. Adjutant Carpenter was killed in a charge, both Col. Grover and Lieut. Col. Cook are disabled; Capt. J. L. Goddard, of my company, in command. The movement of trains toward Americus is on account of wounded Confederates being taken to Americus from battlefields about Atlanta. All doctors absent; no sick call for a week. The dead are daily drawn out by wagon loads.

On the 8th a Catholic priest said to us he supposed we were badly treated, but there are as kind hearted people about here as anywhere; that officers have it their own way; thought our government unwilling to exchange, but if better provisions could not be made for us, something ought to be done. Priests, though frequently in, have little to say. They are said to be using their doctrinal influence to get men to swear allegiance to the Confederacy. I do not accept this as true, though one of Erin's sons frequently visited, who said to me that he refused to renounce Uncle Sam, yesterday went out with the priest and has not returned.

I am out of conceit with many reports which originate in camp. I have no faith in innocent liars who tell so much news. For instance: Lincoln is going to give two for one to get us out; "is going to throw the nigger overboard to please Rebels"; that Secretary Stanton has said that "none but dead beats and coffee boilers are taken prisoners, and the army is better off without them." Likely some Rebel started this story, but it had weight among some. Indignant crowds gather and vent their curses on Stanton. Grant is cursed by some, so is the President and the Cabinet; for these gossipers have but little depth of thought and are easily moved by groundless rumors. It is cheering to know many on whose eyes are no scales, logically rebutting these stories and laying the blame of our abuse on the Rebel authorities, where it belongs. A small ration of rice today.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 73-4

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 31, 1861

The Fifteenth Indiana, Colonel Wagner, moved up the valley eight miles.

The sickly months are now on us. Considerable dysentery among the men, and many reported unfit for duty.

My limbs are stiff and sore from yesterday's exercise, but my adventure proves to have been a lucky one. The mountain path I stumbled on was unknown to us before, and we find, on inquiry, that it leads over the ridges. The enemy might, by taking this path, follow it up during the day, encamp almost within our picket lines without being discovered, and then, under cover of night, or in the early morning, come down upon us while we were in our beds. It will be picketed hereafter.

A private of Company E wrote home that he had killed two secessionists. A Zanesville paper published the letter. When the boys of his company read it they obtained spades, called on the soldier who had drawn so heavily on the credulity of his friends, and told him they had come to bury the dead. The poor fellow protested, apologized, and excused himself as best he could, but all to no purpose. He is never likely to hear the last of it.

I am reminded that when coming from Bellaire to Fetterman, a soldier doing guard duty on the railroad said that a few mornings before he had gone out, killed two secessionists who were just sitting down to breakfast, and then eaten the breakfast himself.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 39-40

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, August 30, 1861

It is now between two and three months since our regiment went into camp. We have had nearly three hundred cases of measles, with about as many of diarrhoea, dysentery and fever. Not one quarter of the regiment but has been sick in some way, and yet last night every man who left home with the regiment slept in camp-not one death by sickness or accident, none left behind, not one lost by desertion! May we not challenge the armies of the world for a parallel? We are sleeping on our arms every night, in anticipation of an attack on Washington, and it seems to be the general belief that we shall be attacked here. I am no military man, and my opinion here is of no account to the world, but to me, for whose especial benefit it is written, it is worth as much as would be the opinion of a Napoleon. That opinion is, that we shall have no fight here—that the enemy is out-generaling us by feints to induce us to concentrate our forces here, whilst he makes a strike and overpowers us elsewhere.

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, p. 19-20

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, March 18, 1863

March 18.

This morning a message came in by flag of truce from Camp Finnegan, giving us 24 hours to send out the women and children to the brick church, where the skirmish was yesterday, and their teams will meet them there.¹ The message was signed by Lieut. Col. [A. H.] McCormick. This afternoon another came from Col. [Duncan L.] Clinch [of the Southern army] repeating the former and adding that we should be held responsible for what might happen to those left in town. This looks as if they intend to approach the town with artillery and set it on fire with shells. This is feasible, in spite of our gunboats. If there is any pluck in them the attempt will be made. Many of our officers think the message a mere flourish for intimidation, but I do not and shall hold myself in readiness to send my sick and wounded to the steamer at short notice. Meanwhile we look for reinforcements by the Boston. Her delay is unaccountable.

Owing to hard fare and excessive fatigue, several of our officers are quite out of health. I am satisfied that the blacks have too much credit for good cooking. I have yet to find one who knows how to make bread or cook meat. If we hold this town we shall have a "post" and good bread, getting rid of the villainous fried dough which is bringing dysentery into camp.

_______________

¹ It was the Brick Yard Church. The order is in 1 Records of the Rebellion, XIV. 839.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 376-7

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: June 20, 1864

Moved camp into the woods to the left of the old camp in the open field. Major Nettleton attacked with dysentery. Letter last night from George, the night before, from home. Both welcome. Drew two days' forage.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 120

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, October 19, 1862

79th Regiment, Camp Israel,                      

Pleasant Valley,        

Oct. 19th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

It is some little time since I have had an opportunity to write you, for a few days ago we were suddenly sent to Frederick for the protection of that place, apprehensive of an attack from Stuart's troopers. While there, we had no conveniences for inditing epistles, little to eat, and plenty of exposure. When I left for Frederick, I was quite ill with camp dysentery, but it left me very soon, although I have no doubt, could you have seen me lying out of doors without shelter in the cold night air, you would have predicted certain death to me. I find men don't die easy, unless they are shot. Atmospheric exposure doesn't kill. Men grow and thrive with hardship.

Well, so I am another Uncle, bless my heart! As well as the little heart of the new youngster who wouldn't be a girl for any consideration! The female sex don't seem to smile upon me, but then boys are such “rare birds,” as Dr. Tyng said of Billy Willson's Zouaves. There's some consolation in that. I think I shall accept the Uncleship of Ellen's baby, so that when I get old and a busybody, I can make a match between this last nephew of mine and little Miss Dodge. Hey! Won't it be fun! Give the small boy a good kissing, tell him I am going to arrange all his love matters for him when he gets old enough, and most charming of all, will buy him a new drum as soon as he can handle the drumsticks. For the rest I do not doubt but that he is a phenomenon of a beautiful mottled cherry color, in fact beyond comparison, unequalled by any other baby of his age living. Give my congratulations to Hunt and Mary, and tell them, like a good brother I rejoice with them, and only wish I could be present with them for a few days to share their joy.

It is raining hard to-night and we think that cold weather will follow. As for promotion, I do not bother my head about that. I have enough to disgust me in a thousand ways to make me sick of soldiering. However, duty is duty, so I put my nose to the grindstone and say, “Grind away.” . . . My own tent — we are five of us together — has a pretty good set of fellows. The only trouble is, with the exception of my old first Lieutenant (appointed Capt. today), they sadly lack interest in the cause they are engaged upon. These new Regiments have destroyed the enthusiasm of the old. The newly enlisted men have already in advance, in the way of bounties, received more money than old soldiers can hope to earn in the entire war. The old officers who have been in many battles and by hard service have learned their duty, are obliged to receive instructions when on picket or other extra duty, from some Major just entering on military life, who very likely pegged shoes for them, without an inspiration for military glory, a year ago. These things are hard to gulp down, and unless the sense of duty is very strong the murmurings are loud indeed.

Affec'y.,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 220-2

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Harriet Plummer Bartlett, September 11, 1864

Libby Prison Hospital, September 11, 1864.

Dear Mother, — I write this to send by some officer who goes by this flag of truce boat. I don't know whether any of my letters have reached you or not. I have sent three or four. I was sent to Richmond from Danville, August 26, to be exchanged, and was to have been sent north by first boat. The boat came September 1. I was carried down with the other officers in the ambulance, got on board the boat, and then an order came for me to go ashore again and back to prison. Commissioner Ould said I could not go because the (rebel) General Walker, for whom I was to be exchanged, had not been sent up. So back to prison I came. It was a bitter disappointment, as you can imagine. I could not even send you messages by the officers who went, or to Major Mulford, our Agent of Exchange, to send General Walker by the next boat. I hardly dare hope I shall get off on this boat. I suppose it will depend on Walker's being sent up. I got your letter of August 3 on the 30th, the only letter I have had. I have been very sick, but am better. Arthur is up stairs; he is very well indeed. I was surprised to find him here. I hope my horses and all my things are safely at home long before this. They should have been sent at once. Dr. White promised to attend to it.

I am comparatively comfortable in this hospital. The suffering among the prisoners here and farther south is too horrible to speak of. It is a disgrace to our government that they do not make a general exchange. The rebel government is ready and willing to do it, on almost any terms. I hope I shall get away before long. I am improving in health, and so am not so anxious as I was when so low with dysentery. Give my love to all. It Is useless for me to write, except by some officer going North, or else I should often (if I could get the paper). Hoping you are all well, I remain ever,

Your affectionate son,

W. F. B.

Let Uncle Edwin and A. P. know that you have heard from me, if you get this. Let Arthur's father and mother know that he is in splendid health and spirits. I got permission for him to come down and see me the other day, when I expected to go away. Gave him a good breakfast, and all the money, etc., that I had left. I am going to have him come down again to-day.

Much love to all,

W.

I wish you would give Mr. Cotting twenty dollars, as a present, for me. He has been very kind to me while I have been here.

W. F. B.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 136-7

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett to Harriett Plummer Bartlett, August 20, 1864

Prisoners' Hospital,

Danville, Va., August 20, 1864.

My Dear Mother, — I have been very ill with dysentery, consequent on the exposure after the over-exertion and exhaustion on the 30th of July. I am still very weak, but have turned the corner and am out of danger. General Young, C. S. A., came to see me while I was sick, and told me he would see Commissioner Ould when he went to Richmond, and do all that he could to get me sent to our lines (either exchanged or paroled), where I could soon get well, or at least die among friends. I have not heard from him yet. It is more than a week, and as he promised to write as soon as he saw Ould, I fear his letter must have miscarried. I am not so anxious, now that I am getting better. Still I hope we shall be exchanged before long. All the other generals have been exchanged down at Charleston, S. C. I shall probably go to Columbia, S. C, as soon as I get well enough. I had a letter from Captain Amory from there a few days ago. They are much more comfortable there, and want me to come. I shall be glad to get anywhere, where I can have company. I walked out a few steps on crutches to-day for the first time. I am still very weak. I have heard nothing from our lines since our capture. See Richmond paper occasionally. Give my love to all at home, and to Aunt Carry and Uncle Edwin. Send them a copy of this letter if it reaches you.

Much love,

W. F. B.

I hope my horses and all my things got home safely. Dr. White promised to see to it.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 128-9

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, December 14, 1862

CAMP ON WOLF RIVER, NEAR MEMPHIS, Dec. 14, 1862.

The papers, I suppose, have told you what we have been about. My regiment was the first to cross the Tallahatchie. We have marching orders for the 18th, four days to rest and get ready, and then for Vicksburg or Jackson, or what God pleases. We shall have an active winter campaign. My health has been good until within a day or two. I have recurrence of the infernal dysentery. I suppose the dampness in some way strikes upon my bowels, and I could get no brandy. Whiskey, and very bad whiskey at that, is all we can procure in the army, and it is my abomination.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 249

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, June 29, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,

CAMP NEAR MOSCOW, TENN., Sunday, June 29,1862.

My last letter to you was dated from Lagrange yesterday week, and written so hurriedly, for I was just on the eve of march, that I think it must have been unintelligible. We are so hurried from point to point, the mails so uncertain, and facilities and opportunity for writing so scant, that it really becomes a task, or rather I should say enterprise hard to succeed in, the getting of a letter from camp to one's friends. I wrote, if I recollect, that we had marched from Chewalla to Lagrange, that from thence my brigade had made a hurried descent upon Holly Springs, one of the principal cities of Mississippi, where we expected to meet the enemy in considerable force; that they fled at our approach; and that, returning from that point to Lagrange, we found marching orders for Memphis, for which march I was prepared when I wrote that letter. Our course lay through a country more fertile and more highly cultivated than any we had met, but the weather being hot and dry, and the road exceedingly dusty, our troops were made to suffer very much. We accomplished nineteen miles the first day, and were halted at a town called Lafayette. From thence we dispatched a train of fifty wagons to Memphis for provisions, our rations having given out. These returned in safety, but a train of cars, which was started laden with returning soldiers, was intercepted by a force of cavalry, thrown from the track, and Colonel . . . with a number of soldiers taken prisoner. This circumstance, together with intelligence that Breckenridge had concentrated a force at Holly Springs, determined a counter-march with a view of attacking him at that point, and therefore our troops were brought where we now are, some ten miles from Lagrange and twenty-five from Holly Springs, where we shall probably go to-morrow.

The weather is becoming very warm, many of my command are suffering from the effects of the heat and the privations and discomforts to which they are necessarily subjected. With the exception of camp dysentery and diarrhoea, whatever it may be called, my own health is pretty good. The bowel complaint is of a very singular nature, and not to be combated with the ordinary remedies. I have suffered from it ever since the battle of Shiloh, more or less at different times.

Major Fisher has been very sick, he is now convalescent. We shall have a summer campaign right here in the cotton states. A furlough or leave of absence is a thing utterly impossible, therefore I make up my mind to stick it out. I had hoped after the evacuation of Corinth that there were hopes of a close of the war, but these hopes have proved delusions. McClellan is slow, we are much disappointed in his movements. As a consequence, Beauregard and Breckenridge are rallying in the South. The people to a man and woman are decidedly and unanimously "Secesh." We have no friends here but the slaves. The war will be a ten years' war at the least. Ohio must lose fifty thousand men for her quota before it is closed, and the sooner the draft is made upon her, the better I shall be pleased. . . . The war is terrible in its effects here. Homes destroyed, families ruptured, parted, never to meet again; fields and farms desolated, country ravaged, people starving. God has cursed the land. When can their evils be stayed?

There are beautiful forests and broad savannahs here; all fruits and cereals flourish; a land for milk and honey; if peace could come, plenty would follow. The insect life here is wonderful; such innumerable bugs and spiders, moths and winged and crawling things you never could imagine without seeing, while lizards and chameleons, of all sizes and colors, are constantly in pursuit of their game. It is no unusual thing for me to drive the lizards off my cot before I lie down at nights, and every night the spiders crawl over me by myriads. I have been bitten by spiders but once or twice, and with no serious effects, but I do suffer from lice, fleas, bedbugs, and wood-ticks.

My horses are all in tolerably good condition, though they miss their hay. There is no hay grown in this country — its place is supplied with blades of corn. Oats do not thrive here, either, and Northern horses feel the difference. Mine carry me very well notwithstanding, up to this time.

I like your strictures upon the newspapers, and am glad you understand them. Newspaper articles, unless they appear over the signatures of well-known and perfectly responsible parties, are regarded by the army, both off1cers and privates, worthless for information upon any current event, especially matters connected with the service. Mere puffs, they generally emanate from paid correspondents or scribblers, whose object is to write a man into notoriety, as they would publish a patent medicine or advertise a sale at auction.

You would all doubtless like to know more of me and my surroundings than I have it in my power to write. The faculty of description and vigor of memory may make many a fortune for the striving actor in scenes such as these transpiring about me. Every day is an incident, every night in reality a dream of romance. The moonlight, the forest, the bugle, the sentry, the alarm, the march, stealthy and catlike, stealing on the foe, or with loud alarm of drum and fife and flaunting of flag, dashing down to intimidate; the bivouac, the encampment, the gathering around the camp fires, the bottle, the pipe, the tale, the jest, all that you read of in novels, only a good deal more so, all these are my daily life. If one battle would suffice, but many and many a battle must be fought, rivers of blood must yet flow, before we can herald peace.

Well, dear children, Mamma will read this letter or a part of it to you, and while reading it, you must reflect that father is far down South on the line between Tennessee and Mississippi, in a large forest, on the banks of Wolf River, in a hot climate, where the cotton grows; that he is sitting under the shade of his tent, writing to you, surrounded by soldiers, and all the pomp and panoply of war, that he is battling or about going into battle to secure you the same rights and the same good government that was secured to him and his fathers by our Revolutionary forefathers, and you must pray for the success of his cause, and for his deliverance from the evil, and if he should fall in the battle, you must pray for the good of his soul, but always be tender and kind to your mother, your aunt, your teachers and friends.

God bless you all.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 217-20