Major Henry Hitchcock, Monday Morning, October 31, 1864

HEADQUARTERS,

MILITARY DIVISION OF THE MISSISSIPPI

IN THE FIELD. ROME, GA. October 31 1864

(Monday morning)

I have this moment (10½ A.M.) arrived here at the General's Headquarters and finding him gone down town improve the minutes till he returns by sending a word to you. I am perfectly well, and in the best spirits—have had a very quick, pleasant and fortunate trip though with just enough "roughness" to make it spicy: met nor heard of any guerrillas on the road, save the evidences of where they had recently been along, and have had good luck and good company all the way. I was very sorry to write you so hurriedly from Nashville and Chattanooga, but it was something to do that: and you must take it for granted once for all . . . that when I write thus, and if I do not always write often, it is because one cannot always do as they would "in the field."

I met Fullerton,† as I mentioned, at Chattanooga, a fortunate encounter and very jolly for us both. His (4th) Corps arrived there that (Sunday) morning and was passing through westward while we were there, which was only for an hour. My note thence to you was written in the open air, sitting on my valise with a pile of other baggage, on a piece of paper lent me by a friend. By the way Margie's‡ nice portfolio is locked, and I don't find the key yet—but I'll get it opened soon. Tell M. that I found time to open my valise and make a formal presentation of the sword; tell her it was done in the presence of hundreds if not thousands of officers and soldiers (entre nous they were all minding their own business and the "presence" means a radius of a ½ mile) that I made an eloquent and inspiring speech, but omitted to mention the donor's name, and that the gallant Colonel was so overcome by his feelings that he made no reply at all but to say that (being in a hurry) he would postpone that to another occasion.

I do not yet know what my duties will be, nor will till I see the General, but find that they will not be those of Judge Advocate, for there are none such to do, now at least, on this staff. So much the better. Gen. Sherman asked for me, and if he can't find something for me to do I'm mistaken and it's none of my business anyhow.

Don't "you'uns" fret about Hood, not a bit. The story is that he has crossed the Tennessee, -for which if true we are understood to be very much obliged to him. Lt. Col. Kittoe,¹ (Med. Director on Gen. S's staff) just said to me that Hood's late movement north had been a faux pas, and of more good to us than him; and if I was a prophet I should tell you, probably, that within the next fortnight Hood will hear news from below that may make him wish he had staid there. However, once for all, for obvious reasons, I do not expect to deal in predictions. Letters sometimes miscarry, and predictions sometimes do harm where it was not intended.

I am glad to find that my "transportation"—one valise and one roll of bedding—is universally pronounced very moderate and entirely within bounds; also my French cot is greatly admired for convenience and compactness. I was indebted to it last night for a comfortable bed at Kingston in a room 10 ft. 5 in. x 9 ft. 3 in. (by measurement), which had bare walls and floor for furniture and which four of us were very lucky to get control of. More than that, seventeen of us, officers en route for Headquarters were thoroughly grateful to the Agent of the U. S. Sanitary Commission at Kingston for a most welcome supper, after all other chances had failed, served on tin plates and tin cups, and consisting of fat bacon, boiled beef (cold) in "chunks," dried apple sauce and baked beans, with what was understood to be coffee, and being brown and warm, was undoubtedly such. So a meeting was duly organized, and as Chairman of a "Committee on Resolution" I submitted one the original draft of which is inclosed and which was adopted nem. con.

After the rest left I wanted to pay the Agent something—he wouldn't touch it. I then insisted that I had a right to subscribe to the funds of the Sanitary Commission at Kingston as well as at New York, for the benefit of the soldiers, but he couldn't see that either, and refused positively anything whatever under any pretext. What must these men do for the soldiers when their kindness comes so welcome to officers.

. . . I cannot tell you how I rejoice to have entered the service. I understand perfectly well, did so before, and cannot do so more truly hereafter, what its realities are. I have no boyish impulse or nonsense about it, but the satisfaction of hoping to do a manly part and share the risks which these men take. It was a singular thing to be and travel with the men I was with, most of them, as it happened, younger than I, who have been in the service one, two and three years, and to whom the names of events and places which to us are only historic, are the mementoes of their own experience. I have been fortunate in meeting in almost every case, quiet, manly pleasant fellows who made no pretense, and had no brag about them. I have uniformly been received and treated with frank and pleasant courtesy, and though I felt like being very quiet with men who had seen and done what I have only read of, nothing in their manner or words claimed any merit. Of course this was right and all that; but it is creditable too.

I have even more reason than I knew of to be glad of an appointment on Sherman's Staff, among others, it implies facilities in the way of sending and getting letters and packages which I might not have elsewhere.

At Nashville I was lucky to be just in time to come down with one of the General's special messengers, bringing down his mail and sundry boxes, etc., for his staff-a good fellow, quick, ready and smart, as well as knowing his place. I have made a friend of him and shall need his services.

As I wrote before, address all letters and everything for me to "Headquarters of The Military Division of the Mississippi, Nashville, Tenn." They will be all attended to there. And remember that when an army and its Headquarters are moving, it is no easy matter always either to send things from or to the same, even for the General himself. The Headquarters which are here today may be somewhere else tomorrow (will be somewhere else very soon)—and even our special messenger had to telegraph ahead from Chattanooga Sunday morning to Rome, to learn by a dispatch which met us at Kingston, whether we should come here or go on direct to Atlanta to find these same "Headquarters." So you must not think it strange if you hear from me irregularly, and what troubles me is that I can hear from you only at intervals. But well you know that while I am here hoping to serve my country it is you who are to me the visible embodiment of what hallows that name.

It is plain enough and sad enough to see that this region is and has been the seat of war. I wish I had time to describe to you the scenes I have already looked on,—I do not mean, of course, any of the active scenes of war, but its visible results. Houses in towns and by the roadside of which only charred timbers and ruins are left; buildings converted into fortifications by embankments, and their brick walls pierced for musketry; and all along the railroad from Greysville, Ga., to near Kingston the half burnt ties, and bent and twisted rails lying by the newly built track, as well as the new watertanks and new timber, etc., in bridges, telling of the destruction which only two or three weeks ago Hood vainly thought would "coop up" Sherman and result in all sorts of terrible things. But somehow it didn't work. I do not wonder at the intense and universal admiration his soldiers feel for "Uncle Billy."

I find another thing everywhere, that so far as I can learn by inquiry, and from conversation both with and between others, one in ten would be a large estimate of the McClellan men in the army. This is true even of the New Jersey regiments, of which there are three or four in this army.

I must close this to be sure of sending it back by today's messenger. I will write whenever I can, and how I hope and long to hear from you and all of the dear ones at home. Give them my dear love, and kind words to friends who may inquire for me. Pray for me that I may do my duty to God and man; trust in God, and believe me ever and always in truest devotion

Your

H.

_______________

* It was Maj. Hitchcock's habit to write on letter paper bearing this printed heading, here reproduced once for all.

† Bvt. Brig. Gen. Joseph S. Fullerton, Chief of Staff, Fourth Army Corps.

‡Mrs. Hitchcock's younger sister, Margaret Collier, afterwards Mrs. Ethan Allen Hitchcock.

¹ Edward D. Kittoe.

SOURCE: M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Editor, Marching With Sherman, Passages from the Letters and Campaign Diaries of Henry Hitchcock, Major and Assistant Adjutant General of Volunteers, November 1864—May 1865, pp. 15-19

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Tuesday, April 19, 1864

Another change. I am to leave this hospital to-day, as a Miss P. from Chicago, who had been engaged for the place, and expected some three weeks since, has just arrived. I have become really attached to the patients, and on some accounts dislike leaving. It seems that Miss O. and myself were intended for Chattanooga or other place farther toward the front, but in consequence of waiting for Miss O., the place was filled before our arrival. I fear there may not be any other place open for me. And when I can go in so many hospitals and see sick men suffering from neglect or want of more help, I shall think it very hard if I cannot do something. Two other ladies have been sent back, with the assurance that there was no opening for them.

I have just been through the tents and introduced Miss P. to the patients. Many are feeling sad, or appearing and expressing themselves so, that I am going to leave. Received many warm expressions of gratitude from many for the very little I have been able to do for them.

In going into one tent, found one of the nurses just recovering from an attack of lockjaw. When able to speak, he told me that it had "followed him, like an evil shadow, for ten long years."

Then followed an interesting recital of the cause, which was a gun-shot wound in the spine from the hand of a brother in an encounter with a grizzly bear in the rocky mountain. He himself ran away from home at the age of twelve, to follow his brother in a hunting expedition. After the brother had fired, the bear sprang toward him, and with one stroke of his paw laid the flesh from the bone from the forehead down one side of his face and arm to the elbow. The ball had only grazed the spine of the narrator, and seeing his brother in such danger, who called to him to fire, he did so and fortunately the shot was fatal to bruin. Their horses bore them to the nearest settlement, and the brother's life was saved.

This nurse I had always observed as quiet, efficient, faithful, and a favorite with the patients.

The sergeant mentioned last under date of the 17th, overhearing me say that I was to leave to-day, and that I did not know where I should be stationed, advised me "not to be going round from one place to another, but to join a regiment, as I would be in less danger from guerillas."

Northern people, who think that all Government employees fatten on commissary stores, ought to see the table which is set at this hospital. It is exceedingly plain; and it sometimes requires more moral courage than all are very long, capable of exercising, to inhale the odor of oyster soup, custards, pies, and sweatmeats, which latter are sometimes prepared for those who are convalescing, but very rarely bless the palate of those who prepare them, or daily to deal out the jellys, blanc-mange and canned fruit without ever tasting. An instance of this kind has occurred here which not only increased our respect for the surgeon, but amused us not a little.

The usual rations, such as tough army beef, baker's bread and stale butter, with muddy coffee, served in brown mugs, has been the diet for so long a time that it has ceased to be very palatable. To the steward perhaps this was particularly so, and probably thinking that we had been sufficiently industrious and self-denying to merit a treat, and as five boxes of canned oysters had just arrived as a present from the Christian commission, he ordered enough cooked for dinner, in addition to the usual fare, to give all, from the surgeon in charge to the servants, a taste.

"It will take but five cans for us," said the wife of the surgeon-in-charge to me, "while for the patients a meal, it will require twenty cans."

So she, with the wife of doctor R., who jointly had charge of the diet kitchen, prepared the oysters, and at the usual hour, those, with the hungry expectants, appeared in the dining-room. The soup had been partially served up but no one had time to taste it, when the surgeon-in-charge walked in and took a seat at the table. Probably the peculiar odour of the oysters and the ominous hush at the table warned him to be on the alert for something unusual.

Unusually demure, certainly, was the manner of the one table waiter, as he proceeded to the table, with another dish of the forbidden food.

The surgeon might well have exclaimed with Cæsar, " Veni, vidi, vici," for smoothing an instant smile from his features, with a forced sternness he demanded:

"What have you there?"

"Oysters," meekly responded the servant, who as well as the rest of us, more than suspected what might be coming.

"Take every one of those from the table," said he, "and don't let me see anything of this kind again. There are too many sick boys up at the tents, needing these things, for us to eat them!"

The oysters were taken from the table we are quite positive, and furthermore, that that was the last we ever saw of them.

It was, however, respectfully suggested to the surgeon by some one that he make it convenient to dine out at as early a day as possible, and acquaint his wife and the steward with the fact some time previous. He didn't promise, however, and the oysters have never since appeared to us.

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. 50-3

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday, January 4, 1863

Hip, Hip, Hurrah! The Laurel Hill, a steamer, has stopped at our camp and we have orders to pack up for a move. All that are able are to be taken to Chalmette, the old battle ground below New Orleans. Anywhere but this God-forsaken spot, say I. Chaplain Parker preached hot stuff at us to-day. Says we don't take proper care of ourselves, that we eat too often and too much. That made me laugh. Dominie, if you lived with us a while, ate at the same table and had the same bill of fare to choose from, I think you would tell another story. Poor man, it is getting on his nerves sure. But it sets me to wondering if our officers all think that way. If they blame us for the condition we are in, who brought these conditions about? Did we from choice herd in between decks like pigs, while the officers, chaplain and all had staterooms and a bed and good food to eat, well cooked and at regular hours? If they blame us for our condition to-day, I can only hope that at some time they may get just such treatment and fare and that I may be there to remind them it is their own fault. Chaplain Parker must do some tall preaching to make good what he has lost by that tongue lashing. It was uncalled for and a sad mistake.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 80

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 11, 1861

I have just received a letter from a lady friend of mine aye, and of the soldiers, too, in which she says she "cannot but think of the suffering patriot-soldier, with nothing but a tent above his head, with no covering but a single blanket, and but so little care when sick." This induces me to put on record here, the following description for reference, a long time hence, when, if this war continues, I may wish to read it and compare it with the hospitals then existing, with the improvements which experience shall have causes to be adopted:

My hospital at present consists of five large tents, fourteen feet long by fifteen feet wide. They open into each other at the ends, so as to make of the whole one continuous tent, seventy feet long. This will accommodate forty patients comfortably. On an emergency, I can crowd in fifty-five. In the center of the first tent is dug a hole about three feet in circumference and two and a half deep. From this hole there passes through the middle of the tents a trench or ditch two feet wide and of the same depth, which terminates in a large chimney just outside of the fifth tent. It is covered for about ten feet of its length, at the beginning with broad stones, the next fifteen feet with sheet iron, thence to the chimney with stones and earth. A fire is made in the hole at the beginning of this ditch, which, through its large chimneys, has a great draught. The blaze sweeps through its whole length, and by means of this fire, no matter what the weather, or how changeable, the temperature in the hospitals need not vary three degrees in a month, and at all times, night and day, have full ventilation without varying the temperature. Since the adjustment of the difficulties, I have my full quota (10) of nurses, and these are never, night or day, less than two on watch. The cots for the sick are ranged side by side, with their heads to the wall and feet to the center of the tent, leaving just room between their sides for the nurses to move freely, and for the patients to get up and down, and between their ends for the ditch, on which, over the covering already described, is a ladder or rack, with slats so close as not to admit the feet between them when the nurses and patients are walking on them.

So long as there is room in the hospital, no patient of my regiment is permitted to be confined to his tent by sickness. The moment he is sick enough to be confined to bed, he is brought to hospital, where he remains constantly under the eye of the Surgeon and nurses till he recovers. There are, to-day, thirty-six in hospital, each, instead of lying with "nothing but a tent above his head, and with no covering but a single blanket," is on a comfortable bed of straw, the tick emptied and refilled once in four weeks, with all the covering they want. I have plenty of good sheets, and not less than two blankets for each, besides what they bring with them. They are never without fresh meat, rarely without rice, potatoes, jellies in abundance, tea, coffee, sugar, milk, and I am now purchasing for them two dozen chickens a week; and I have this day a hospital fund of not less than one hundred and seventy-five dollars, which is increasing every day, from which I can replenish or add to the comforts now allowed.* This is a description of my own hospital. I regret to learn from the U. S. Medical Inspector who has visited me to-day, that other hospitals are not so well provided or so comfortable. I regret it, because there is no reason why all may not be provided just as well, so long as we remain near a good market; and if they are not, there is blame either in medical or military departments, which ought to be corrected.

From ninth of November to this date, the time I was shut out from the medical supervision of the camp, there have been more deaths in the regiment than during the whole five months before, including the sickly season of August, September and October. The health of the regiment now, however, is good, and I hope it will remain so during the winter.

_______________

*It may be a matter of some interest to the reader to know how this hospital fund is realized. It is thus: The soldier is entitled to certain rations every day, and these continue, whether he is sick or well. When well, they are drawn by the captains of companies and distributed to the men. When sick and in hospital, the Surgeon notifies the Commissary of the fact, and they are not issued to the Captain, but credited to the hospital. The Surgeon draws them in whole, in part, or not at all. The days' rations are worth from 17 to 20 cents per man. Now, any economical and honest Surgeon can feed his sick men well when near a market, and save to the hospital fund at least one third of this amount, for the purchase of delicacies. Give him thirty in hospital, he can realize two dollars per month on each man, ($60 per month.) In a neighborhood where markets are very high, this will be proportionally reduced. Where he cannot buy at all, it will be increased.

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. 62-5

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Sunday, April 6, 1862

Great scarcity of food. Our battery went on a reconnoisance with General Burns' brigade. Only the pieces were taken along, with eight horses to each. We are in plain sight of Yorktown. See the rebel flag floating from the parapet. They fire very frequently at our troops. After running suddenly against some of the enemy's batteries, we returned to our former camp, "Winfield Scott."

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 37

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Friday, February 24, 1865

Rained all night Boys all wet. offs of 33d. no blankets & lay on cabin floor. rains all day and heavy wind, at 12. see no land. at 5 P. M. at Grants Pass. an draw eats. have to give up some to our officers. I am ordered on duty. wind up so that the gulf is not safe boat draws too much water to go through the pass. quite a no sea sick today. rations running low.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 575

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 30, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky. We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are encamped about one mile south of the village, in a lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and forests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumberland Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to guide us on our course when next we move.

From what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the boys will have to depend on their rations for food.

Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work as though his very life depended on present exertions. We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, when no man knows how long we may remain or how soon we may move on.

Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock above the entrance. The place is now being strongly fortified.

We had a lively skirmish in Company G this morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt out freely.

Solon Crandall—the boy who picked the peaches while under fire at South Mountain—is naturally pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This morning, while under the influence of his "ration," he undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G.

Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your business. Understand, I am running this company, and if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the bull pen. At this the Captain "closed" with his rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Captain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day.

I have the most comfortable quarters now I have ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of canvas, each piece the size of our small tents—two for the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or all at once, according to the weather. Three of us tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a voluptuous bed. I received a letter from home last evening, dated August 13th. Oh, these vexatious postal delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious that love had sped its message and was anxiously awaiting a return. A letter from home! What thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not altogether the words, be they many or few, but the remembrances they call forth; the recognition of the well-known handwriting; old associations and past scenes are brought forth from the storehouse of the memory and held up to view. The joy of meeting—the agony of parting—all are lived over again.

We are having brigade inspection today, which is suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned up yet, and we will not take the field without it.

The health of our men has improved wonderfully since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty set of men I never saw than the few who are left. But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to Jackson, Mississippi.

Oh, how I miss familiar faces!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 86-89

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Tuesday, November 25, 1862

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

Diary of Private William S. White, June 21, 1861

Nothing of importance stirring—very hot and rather hard to get anything to eat unless one's pocket is well lined with Confederate money and then you can get any quantity of prime fish and oysters, with an occasional "snifter" to aid digestion. Our men seem disposed to find fault with everything—continually quarreling among themselves, and seem disposed to fight something.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 102

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 9, 1862

Camp near Fredericksburg, Dec. 9th, 1862.

It has been a long time—fully five weeks since I made the last entry in this journal. The forced marches, exposure, and insufficient food of the week preceding our arrival at this place had been too much even for me. It had rained or snowed almost continuously; we were out of reach of our supply train for seven days. Food gave out, but on we pressed. When we halted on the evening of our arrival, too utterly worn out to pitch a tent, I spread my blanket on the ground, threw myself upon it and slept the sleep of exhaustion. It rained during the night, and when I awoke I found myself lying in a pool of water that half covered me. My recollection of what occurred for several successive days is very vague; I knew I was being cared for by somebody, somewhere; I had no cares, no anxious doubts or perplexing fears. If in pain, I had not sense to realize it. One morning after, I do not know how many days, I awoke to consciousness; I heard a well-remembered step tripping across the floor and stop at my bedside, a soft, cool hand was pressed upon my brow; a sweet, familiar voice whispered in my ear: "You are better, dear; you will get well now." Nay, do not smile, thou unbelieving cynic, for from that hour—yes, from that instant—I began to mend. I learned afterward that I had been very low with some form of fever; that I was not taken to the hospital because my kind friend and comrade, Orville Collier, had begged the privilege of nursing me in his own tent. I can now sit up, can walk about a little, and hope soon to be well.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 22

Diary of Private Louis Leon: July 28, 1864

We were treated very good on the road, and especially at Goshen, N. Y. The ladies gave us eatables and the men gave us tobacco.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 67

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, August 30, 1862

Our first morning in camp. We were rudely awakened and dragged from our bunks at six o’clock, very few being used to such early hours, except perhaps on 4th of July, and were expected to be on the parade ground before our eyes were fairly open.

My advice is if you ever enlist again, start with buckle or congress boots, or none at all, don’t wear laced ones. Why Thereby hangs a tale. One man who wore laced boots was late, consequently had to fall in at the foot of the column. In a minute or two, around came the adjutant and some other officer, who wanted a man for guard. The man who was late at roll-call, was detailed of course. He went without a word was posted on the edge of a pond his orders being “Keep this water from being defiled, allow no privates to bathe here, let only the officers bathe and the cooks draw water to cook with.” The orders were fulfilled, but the poor guard was forgotten, and paced up and mostly down (as it was a pleasant grassy sward,) till eleven o clock. That was his first experience of guard duty, and he always owed a grudge to the sergeant of that guard and his laced boots.

Meanwhile, the company, left standing in the street, with their towels, combs, &c., proceeded to the water, where the pride of many a family got down on his knees, and went through the farce of a toilet, and then back to breakfast.

To-day we have been busy cleaning up and getting ready for our friends from home. It has been as novel a day as last night was new, it is a great change, but we will conquer this, and probably worse.

Our friends began to arrive about three o clock, and by supper-time the barracks were well filled, many remaining to supper so shawls and blankets were spread upon the ground, and we gave them a sample of our food. The coffee was good but so hot, and having no saucer with which to cool the beverage, we had to leave it till the last course. Our plates were plated with tin, but very shallow, and as bean soup was our principal course we had some little trouble in engineering it from the cook s quarters to our tables. We must not forget the bread, it was made by the State, and by the looks, had been owned by the State since the Mexican war. We had never seen the like, and begged to be excused from enduring much of it at a time. (We afterwards found no occasion to grumble at our food, for as you may remember, we were looked after well during our whole service. We had as good rations as any one could wish, but here, within ten miles of home, we felt that this was rough on the boys.)

For a week, little was done but feed and drill us, to toughen us for the dim future, and the furloughs were granted very freely. We were soon astonished to find that we had for a surgeon, a man who meant business. Among other things, he thought government clothes were all that we needed, so spring and fall overcoats and fancy dry goods had to be bundled up and sent home. All our good things were cleaned out, everything was contraband excepting what the government

allowed. We had always thought it a free country, but this broke in on our individual ideas of personal freedom, and we began to think we were fast losing all trace of civil rights, and becoming soldiers pure and simple. Nothing could be brought into camp by our friends unless we could eat it before the next morning but goodies would come, and as we had to eat them, of course we were sick.

SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 6-7

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, August 10, 1863

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

August 10, 1863.

All is quiet here now. When two armies have a great battle both sides are so crippled up that neither is anxious to fight soon again. The enemy must be somewhere about, or we would not be here. I do think there will not be another fight soon, for the Yankees dread us too much. It seems that Meade will not attack us, and that whenever we fight we must make the attack. I believe it will be a long time before we have another battle, if we have to wait for the enemy to advance on us.

Our long trip lately was very fatiguing, and we all became very thin and lean, although our health remained fine. Your brother tells me the Pioneer Corps had a very hard time of it on the way back from Pennsylvania. He took a more direct route to Culpeper Court House than we did, in order to assist some of Ewell's men in crossing the Shenandoah River.

Wilcox of Alabama is the major-general appointed over us, but he cannot surpass General Pender, who commanded us at Gettysburg. Pender was an officer evidently superior even to Hill. He was as brave as a lion and seemed to love danger. I observed his gallantry on the opening of the battle. He was mortally wounded on the first day as the fight was closing.

I have seen letters from some of our wounded who were left at Gettysburg. They are now in New York, and all say they are treated well. I had a chance to remain with our wounded, and, had I preferred to do so, I might have had a very interesting experience. Our chaplain, Beauschelle, was captured and is somewhere in Yankeedom, and I suppose is in prison, as chaplains are now held as prisoners, but he is apt to be released soon.

Our army is in splendid health and spirits, and is being increased rapidly every day by conscription and by men returning from the hospitals. Last year when a soldier was sent to a hospital he was expected to die, but all who come from the hospitals in Richmond now are highly pleased with the treatment they received. The hospital sections set aside for officers are admirably kept.

We get plenty to eat now and I am beginning to get as fat as ever again. Beef, bacon and flour, and sometimes sugar and potatoes, are issued to us. Dr. Tyler and I have obtained twenty pounds of sugar, a fine ham and one-half bushel of potatoes, and we hope to get some apples and make pies, as we have so much sugar. Vegetables are abundant in the country around here, and I succeeded in getting so much blackberry pie to eat recently that it made me sick.

Our regiment is on picket duty to-day. It went on last night. The weather is intensely hot, as hot as I ever experienced in South Carolina, but we are encamped in a fine grove and do not suffer from the heat as we would if marching.

The first chance I have I will send you two hundred dollars. You must buy everything you need, even if calico does cost three dollars a yard and thread one dollar a spool.

I am extremely gratified to hear that you and George are both in such excellent health, and I am glad you had him baptized.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 73-5

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, October 8, 1862

Berkeley County, Va.,        

October 8, 1862.

When I left Charlestown yesterday morning the weather was delightful and I felt so buoyant and fresh that it caused me to walk too fast, and to-day I am very sore and stiff. I found four letters from you, and they were a treat, for I had had no intelligence from you since July. I never get homesick in camp when I hear that you and George are well.

Our army has been here for three weeks. We are fourteen miles from Charlestown and ten miles northeast of Winchester. There is smallpox in Winchester, and General Lee has ordered the entire army vaccinated.

The weather is dry and pleasant and the men are in better health than I have ever seen them. This rich valley is full of provisions and the army is well fed. It is said that vast quantities of provisions of every kind are being sent from this valley into the interior to prevent the Yankees from getting them, and that when we have eaten out everything in this region we shall retire toward the interior. We have at present no prospect whatever of a fight. If our victory at Sharpsburg had been complete, doubtless we should now be in Pennsylvania.

Dr. Chapman got sick at Richmond, and we have heard nothing from him since. He had become so disagreeable that we had enough of him.

I have tried to be very faithful to my duty since I have been in the army, and I get along finely with the other doctors.

I will close this letter, so good-by, my dear wife and little boy.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 33-5

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, December 28, 1862

Camp on Rappahannock River,                

Spottsylvania County, Va.,        

December 28, 1862.

The weather during Christmas has been as warm and pleasant as I ever saw it at the same season in South Carolina, but this morning it was quite clear and cold. I like the cold weather here, for we have such fine health. It is seldom that we have a man to die now. Our army was in better fighting trim at the battle of Fredericksburg than at any time since the war began, and it is still in the same condition. It does not seem possible to defeat this army now with General Lee at its head.

The Yankees are certainly very tired of this war. All the prisoners I have talked with express themselves as completely worn out and disgusted with it. Our regiment was on picket at the river a few days ago and the Yankee pickets were on the opposite bank. There is no firing between pickets now. It is forbidden in both armies. The men do not even have their guns loaded. The two sides talk familiarly with each other, and the Yankees say they are very anxious to have peace and get home.

Edwin and James Allen dined with me yesterday and said it was the best meal they had partaken of since they left home. We had fried tripe, chicken and dumplings, shortened biscuits, tea which was sweetened, and peach pie. Ed slept with me and took breakfast with me this morning. He thought my quarters very good for camp.

I have a pocketful of money now, and while there is a dollar of it left you can have all you wish. I would certainly like so very much to be with you, but it will never do for our country to be sacrificed in order that our selfish desires for comfort and ease may be gratified. It is everyone's duty to lend a helping hand to his country and never abandon his post of duty because a few who have no patriotism do so.

While I write I hear Chaplain Beauschelle preaching at a tremendous rate. He seems to think everyone is very deaf. I should prefer to hear some ludicrous old negro preacher, for that would afford me some amusement.

To save my life I cannot think of anything more to write, so good-by, my dear wife. Take good care of George.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 39-41

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, March 5, 1863

Camp near Rappahannock River, Va.,

March 5, 1863.

Edwin, Jim Allen and Ben Strother took dinner with me yesterday, and I think I gave them a pretty good dinner for camp. We had biscuit, excellent ham, fried potatoes, rice, light bread, butter, stewed fruit and sugar. They ate heartily, as soldiers always do. Edwin is not suffering from his wound, but on account of it he is privileged to have his baggage hauled.

A man was shot near our regiment last Sunday for desertion. It was a very solemn scene. The condemned man was seated on his coffin with his hands tied across his breast. A file of twelve soldiers was brought up to within six feet of him, and at the command a volley was fired right into his breast. He was hit by but one ball, because eleven of the guns were loaded with powder only. This was done so that no man can be certain that he killed him. If he was, the thought of it might always be painful to him. I have seen men marched through the camps under guard with boards on their backs which were labeled, "I am a coward," or "I am a thief," or "I am a shirker from battle," and I saw one man tied hand and foot astride the neck of a cannon and exposed to view for sixteen hours. These severe punishments seem necessary to preserve discipline.

We have no prospect of a fight now whatever, but if the weather continues dry and pleasant it may come soon. We are too well entrenched for them to attack us here, but it is hard to tell what these crazy, fanatical Yankees intend to do.

Our troops are all in fine health. We seldom send a man to the hospital now, but when we were on the Chickahominy River near Richmond we sent from five to twelve each day. I trust we will be exposed to no greater danger in the future than the bullets, for they do not compare in destructiveness with disease. Captain Hunt's company has lost seven men from bullets and twenty-five from disease, and in most of the companies the difference is greater than this.

The weather for the last three or four days has been very windy and blustering and characteristic of March. It was intensely cold last night, but to-day the sun broke out and it is pleasant.

I am anxious to see George. I know he is a charming little fellow.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 44-6

Diary of Private Louis Leon: June 23, 1863

Here all day. Tom Tiotter and myself went out to buy something to eat, but when we came to a house, they would close their doors in our faces, or let us knock and not open. We got the ear of one or two ladies, and after proving to them that we were not wild animals nor thieves, they gave us what we wanted, but would not take pay for anything.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 32

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: September 11, 1864

Showery.

No war news, though important events are looked for speedily. It is time. If our coat-tails were off, we should, in nine cases out of ten, be voted a nation of sans cullottes. We are already meager and emaciated. Yet I believe there is abundance of clothing and food, held by the extortioners. The government should wage war upon the speculators—enemies as mischievous as the Yankees.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 280

Diary of Private Louis Leon: February 6, 1863

Nothing to eat yet. Wortheim, W. Eagle and myself went out foraging, to buy something to eat. We got to one house and there was no one at home, but in the yard there were two chickens, which we captured, for we were afraid they would bite us.

We went to the next house and ate our breakfast. One of the ladies asked us where we got those chickens. I told her that we bought them at the house before we got there. She told us she lived there and that there was nobody at home. I then told her the truth, paid her for them and left. The next house we got to we bought a ham, a peck of meal, a peck of sweet potatoes and some turnips. We took dinner in this house. We then returned to camp. We had a good reception from our mess, as they had still nothing to eat.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 16

Major-General Ulysses S. Grant to Surgeon John Moore, July 14, 1863

Head Quarters, Dept, of the Ten,        

Vicksburg Miss. July 14th 1863

Surgeon J. Moore

        Medical Director,

Sir:

Gen. Smith,' C, S, A. complains that the prisoners in hospitals, in many cases have not received proper supplies of either medicine or food. In some cases the sick have only had hard bread and pork although requisitions have been sent to the Medical Purveyor for articles required.

I wish you would have this matter inquired into as soon as possible and have every thing necessary for the health and comfort of those confined in hospital supplied. Let me know the facts about these supplies being furnished as soon as you can.

Very Respectfully

U. S. Grant        

Maj. Gen. Com

SOURCE: John Y. Simon, Editor, The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant, Volume 9, p. 49-50