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 Private Seth J. Wells, Sunday, February 1, 1863

We went forty miles last night. This is a rainy day. Fortune seems to be against us when we float the Mississippi. Our rations in the bread line since we left Bolivar have been mostly hard-tack with cornmeal. We occasionally draw flour. The hard crackers we draw are better now than they have been before. The boats have moved very slowly against the current today. We arrived at Providence the middle of the afternoon, landed above the town, and went ashore. Our company and company F surrounded the town but caught no one. Capt. Wheeler and three or four of us entered the Post Office and searched it. We found a few letters and papers. We broke open the ballot box which was full of tickets voted for Jeff Davis. Abe and I each got us a set of chess men. I got a six-inch drafting rule, also some pamphlets giving the object and description of the K. G. C., or Knights of the Golden Circle. Providence, before the war, must have been a beautiful town, but now it is almost deserted. A few women and children were standing in the doors, nearly scared to death. They scarcely knew what to expect from the long dreaded Yankees. The Post Office is a large brick building, in the back part of which was the equipment of the Sons of Malta. We caught no guerillas. We threw out our pickets and slept upon the boat, Abe and I upon the hurricane deck, as our wood pile was burned up. It was quite cool for this country, one might say cold. We lay in the boat until the middle of the afternoon. A detail from the brigade went out mule-back this morning on a scout. When we heard that guerillas were out a few miles in the country, our company and company G were ordered out. Col. Dietzler said there was no use in going farther as there were none there, but the boys wanted a little exercise, so they took us about two miles to a nice plantation, where we killed a lot of chickens. Gus Schultz and I caught eight, I caught five and found some eggs. John Cumberworth, also of our mess, got a frying pan which we needed very much. One of our boys was thrown from a mule. It commenced raining just as we started back, and before we arrived at camp we were completely soaked through. We were called aboard and dropped off below town where we remained until morning. The night was very cold and the ground was frozen quite solid. This morning there was a detail of nearly half the brigade for fatigue. We were put to work digging away the levees to let the water into Lake Providence, which is one mile back from the river. There was once a channel between the river and lake in high water, but it is dammed up. The lake makes connections with Red River through bayous. Providence is equally divided into three parts, they are separated by the old channel, which forms a common for the town. The town is a little higher than the channel, but lower than the levee. The inhabitants are badly scared and are moving out. It will all be inundated when we get the levee cut through. The engineers say there are four feet and six inches of fall between the surface of the river and the surface of the ground below the levee. We worked until noon, and then another relief came on. The regiment moved down to the boats and camped on the other side of the levee. We got a large barroom stove for our tent. This evening there was a detail sent across the river to a large plantation for Nigs. One hundred and forty were caught and sent to Vicksburg. We saw peach trees in bloom today. We met Gen. McArthur and bodyguard when we were coming out.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, pp. 36-8

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 1, 1863

We have pitched our tents in rear of our guns and still occupy the same position. Our trap was set for a band of guerillas who have been operating a few miles south of us. Our cavalry—sent out to drive them in—encountered them yesterday, killed several, took a few prisoners, and are in pursuit of the remainder. We busy ourselves by arresting everything and everybody that comes our way. Citizens are all taken before Acting Brigadier General Leisure, who asks them all sorts of questions, gathering, in this way, much valuable information—administers the Oath of Allegiance, grants protection papers, etc. Deserters are constantly coming in, mostly from Bragg's army. I saw two North Carolinians last evening.

They say Beauregard and Longstreet are at Chattanooga—also that the Rebels burned Charleston and evacuated. We are kept very close, no man-not even officers' cooks-being allowed to cross over to the city. From the best information I can get, I conclude Bragg has sent a force to operate on Rosa's rear, threatening this place in their course. Nine bushwhackers were brought in last night and were taken to headquarters.

These wretches are being hunted from their hiding places in the mountains with untiring zeal by the Home Guards.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 99-100

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 3, 1863

Our trap is sprung at last. For three long, weary days and sleepless nights we patiently awaited the coming of that "flanking column" which we were to capture or annihilate. First they were reported crossing at Tennessee Ford, twenty miles below, thirty thousand strong, to sweep the "Northern vandals" from this fair valley and open up a way for supplies to reach Richmond. Next their advance had reached Marysville, fourteen miles from this place. Citizens came flocking in all day Thursday, telling sickening tales of outrage perpetrated by their "advance" on unoffending "Union people." Some reported them four hundred strong, others fifteen or twenty thousand.

Yesterday it was reported ten thousand of our cavalry had gone out to reconnoitre. They visited the Ford no "raid" had been there—Rocksville; no cavalry had been there to Loudon; no guerillas had been there. A council of war was held, and they decided to return by the way of Marysville. There the enemy had been seen. Cautiously they advanced to beleaguer the devoted town. A short distance from the town a halt was called and scouts sent out to reconnoitre. They found the city "occupied" by a force of eight bushwackers. These were captured "without the loss of a man on our side."

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 101-2

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Friday, November 21, 1862

Moscow. Weather cold and frosty. 2 Р. М. bugle sounded the assembly, "Fall in", when we were given orders to prepare to march immediately. The horses were harnessed, everything packed ready for further orders which after an hour waiting, came, to unharness. It proved to be an alarm caused by a party of guerillas making a dash upon our foraging train, capturing some seventy mules, then skedaddling before the escort could come up.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 14

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 12, 1863

We were called up at half past three this morning and were on the road inside an hour, and by sunrise were four miles on the way. We arrived at Germantown about 10 o'clock. It is a village. At five minutes before 12 o'clock we halted for dinner, and started again on our march at 1 o'clock, our regiment in advance. We reached the edge of a town at dusk where we learned that we were selected as guard at the navy yard. As we passed through the town, the little children followed us and hurrahed for Jeff Davis. We moved to the upper end of town and encamped on land adjoining the navy yard. Col. Norton bought five cords of wood for us. He made a speech in which he said Gen. Hamilton ordered McArthur to send his best disciplined regiment here as guard, and he wanted us to be strict, orderly, and diligent. He also said the duty was a kind of secret service (how so I do not understand). The guerillas crossed over last night, cut around and burned a steamer. We are very tired this evening, having made the heavy march of twenty-six miles.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 26

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 22, 1863

I had comforted myself with the reflection that when we returned to Kentucky, where communications were uninterrupted by guerillas, and were only separated by twenty-four hours of time, I might be permitted to correspond with my family without such harrowing delays, for I would not have my darling in doubt as to my situation or whereabouts for one single day, knowing, as I do, the uncertainty of suspense is worse than the reality. But 'tis said, "The darkest hour is just before the dawn," and, even as I write, my mind filled with dark thoughts, a ray of light from my Northern home flashes across my vision. The whole current of my thought is changed, and thankfulness takes the place of my repining. Thankfulness that it is as well with my beloved ones as it is. Oh, that I could remove every burden, and make their pathway smooth and flowery. I find most of our trials are imaginary, but none the less real for being SO. For instance, my beloved wife's imagination pictures me on my weary way back to old Virginia's blood-stained fields, subject to every hardship, exposed to every danger, and her suffering could be no greater if it were so. On the contrary, I am still in Kentucky, in a pleasant, shady grove, enjoying a season of welcome quiet and repose, soft bread to eat, plenty of pure, cold water to drink. What more could mortals crave. The newspapers were right, as far as they went, about our being ordered to the Potomac. We did receive such orders, but General Burnside telegraphed the War Department the Ninth Corps had marched, during the year, an average of twenty miles a day; that it had just returned from an exhausting campaign in Mississippi; that the men were worn down by fatigue and sickness, and were unfit for active service, and asked that they be allowed to remain here for a season. His request was granted. One year has passed since I left my pleasant home to serve my country a year big with the fate of millions yet unborn—a year the most eventful in our history; perhaps in the world's history.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 81-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 24, 1863

We have nearly the same regulations here as at Newport News, everything being regulated by bugle call. Of course, we drill; it would be hard to imagine a military camp without drill; but it would make a horse laugh to see us do it. We fall in line, march to the parade ground and halt under the shade of a big tree. A Sergeant puts us through the manual of arms about five minutes; then stack arms and rest. The remainder of the time is spent in lounging on the grass until the bugle sounds recall.

We are under marching orders again; that is, we are ordered to be ready, an order altogether superfluous, for we are always ready. The general impression among the officers is, this division is to be broken up and scattered over the State, a regiment in a place. Our old brigade commander, General Poe, is here. He is now Chief Engineer in the regular service. He is working, I am told, to get our brigade attached to the engineer corps. I hope he will not succeed, as I do not fancy that branch of the service. If he does succeed, I think I will resign. There has been much talk of mounting this brigade and sending us to fight guerillas. That would suit me to a fraction. Give me a "bounding steed" and a "God speed you" from my "lady love," and never did "armed knight" grasp spear and shield with greater enthusiasm and devotion than I would experience as I hastened to the field of bloody strife. But I do not believe Burnside will send us from the State at present. He has already sent away most of the troops in this vicinity, and is sending the rest fast as he can mount them, and probably we will take their places.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 82-3

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells: December 1, 1862

While I was looking out of the window this morning at some recruits for the 48th Indiana, whom should I see but John Metternich of our old company. (Co. E, 12th Ind.) He was as much surprised as I; the last time I saw him, his head was bruised and bleeding as the result of a spree. This morning a band of guerillas came up within about two miles of this place, captured a number of mules and burned the cotton they were hauling.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 14

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells: December 11, 1862

Weather warm. I was on fatigue nearly all day, cutting and hauling wood for the company. We had dress parade at 4 o'clock. Just at dusk the news came in that a guerilla band was to attack us before morning. Fifty men from our regiment and forty-eight from the 126th (which is here doing picket duty) were detailed to build breastworks of cotton, four hundred bales of which lay near the depot. Col. Norton and Major Bates did the engineering. After they had finished we lay on our arms during the night, but no enemy made its appearance, and about 7 o'clock we were ordered back to camp.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 15-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 16, 1863

At about four o'clock this afternoon we met two of our gunboats near Napoleon, Mississippi, who told us they had just dislodged a Rebel battery planted on the shore, and had burned two small villages. Thinking it not safe to proceed, our fleet was hauled inshore, a strong guard was posted and pickets stationed on shore to prevent surprise. Most of the men threw themselves down, their arms beside them, to rest as best they might. Some few had gone ashore and were enjoying a social chat around their blazing camp fires, while the more restless ones were working off the effects of the bad whisky they had imbibed during the day with boisterous, hilarious merriment. It was half-past ten; feeling wakeful, I had not retired, but sat on the railing of the vessel, talking over past events with a friend from Jackson. Presently two rifle shots rang out, followed by a volley from our pickets. Then was there hurrying to and fro. The men sprang instinctively to arms. Officers rushed from their rooms in dishabille, the timid crouched behind anything that offered the slightest protection. Confusion reigned. But soon our Colonel appeared, cool and collected, calm as a summer eve. "Steady, men, stand by your arms and wait orders." More pickets were sent out and we patiently awaited the attack. But it did not come. It was, probably, an attempt by some cowardly wretches to murder one or two of our pickets and escape under cover of darkness. No one was hurt. We started soon after daylight, convoyed by two gunboats, prepared for any emergency, and expecting fun. One gunboat led the way, the other followed in our rear, their bright little guns portruding from their coalblack sides. They have a jaunty, saucy air, that seems to say: "Just knock this chip off my shoulder, if you dare." We were all excitement for a while, eagerly scanning every tree or log, thinking to see a puff of smoke or a "cracker's" head at every turn. Seeing nothing for so long a time, we began to think it all a hoax, when suddenly, as we rounded a point, running close inshore, the transport in front of us was fired on by a concealed foe. Their fire was instantly returned, and the saucy little gunboats rounded to and gave them a broadside of grape, followed by shell, at short range. Our boys were quickly in line, watching with eager eyes for Rebel heads. Fortunately not a man was injured on either vessel. A sad accident occurred this afternoon. A young man of Company H was standing guard at the head of the stairs. He stood on the upper step, leaning on his gun. It slipped and the hammer struck the step below. The bullet passed through his stomach and lodged near the spine.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 50-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 18, 1863

Haines Bluff, Miss. Once more on land, and glad are we of the change. We arrived at the mouth of the Yazoo at ten o'clock yesterday morning, six miles from Vicksburg, and, turning upstream, came to anchor at this place, fifteen miles from its mouth, at 12 m.

We had a perilous voyage down the river. It would seem, on looking back on the dangers through which we were safely carried, that a power higher than man's had been exerted in our behalf. To say nothing of the guerillas, three times were we in imminent danger of being "blown up." Once nothing but a miracle—men called it luck—saved us from capsizing; once we were driven on shore by a hurricane on the only spot, so said our pilot, where we could by any possibility have escaped being wrecked.

Part of our division, two days in advance of us, has reported at Vicksburg. Two divisions of the Ninth Corps are here, the other—the Third—is at Suffolk, Virginia. The place we now occupy was lately in possession of the Rebels. It is strong by nature, and has been made still stronger by man, but those terrible little gunboats made it too hot for secession, and they left in haste, leaving part of their baggage, a few horses and cattle, and even poultry, which our boys found skulking in the bushes. Of course, they arrested the cowardly creatures and brought them into camp.

The inhabitants have all left, driving their stock with them, and burning what furniture they could not carry.

The face of the country is rough and broken, quite as much so as Maryland and Virginia. Spite of Jeff. Davis' prohibition, I find much cotton planted in this part of Mississippi, but it will not come to much unless Uncle Sam soon gives it in charge of his colored children, who literally throng our camp. I wish I could describe the beauty and grandeur of these forests, but to be appreciated they must be seen. That which gives them their greatest charm is the long, wavy, gray moss which hangs suspended from every limb, from the smallest sapling to the mighty, towering oak. Wild plums and blackberries, large and luscious, abound and are now in season. Figs will soon be ripe. Among other things, good and bad, fleas and woodticks are in evidence.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 52-3

 

Major-General Henry W. Slocum: General Orders No. 6, May 12, 1864

GENERAL ORDERS No. 6.}

HDQRS. DISTRICT OF VICKSBURG,        

Vicksburg, Miss., May 12, 1864.

I. The United States Government having adopted the policy of leasing abandoned plantations and giving employment to freedmen, it is the duty of the military authorities to give protection as far as possible to the lessee and laborer. This protection can only be given by holding responsible the districts in which the bands of guerrillas, who are constantly committing depredations upon them, are organized and encouraged.

II. It is therefore ordered that hereafter in every instance where a Government lessee is robbed of his property, the commanding officer of the nearest military post shall send a sufficient force to the locality, with instructions to seize from disloyal citizens property sufficient to fully indemnify the lessee, which property will be sold at public auction and the proceeds paid to the injured person. If the crops of the lessee are destroyed, or in any manner injured, crops of the same kind will be seized from disloyal citizens and harvested for the benefit of the injured party. If any lessee is killed by guerrillas, an assessment of $10,000 will at once be levied upon the disloyal people residing within thirty miles of the place where the offense was committed. Property of any kind will be seized and sold for this purpose. The amount so assessed will be appropriated for the benefit of the family of the lessee. Full reports of all seizures and sales of property under this order will in all cases be forwarded direct to these headquarters.

Ill. In deciding upon the class of persons who are to be assessed, it should not be forgotten that the oath of allegiance is not an infallible test of loyalty. If a citizen has relatives and friends among these, if he harbors or protects them, or if having the means of doing so he fails to inform the lessee of their approach, he must be held accountable. Men must be judged by their acts and not by the oaths they have taken.

By command of Maj. Gen H. W. Slocum:

H. C. RODGERS,        

Assistant Adjutant-General.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 39, Part 2 (Serial No. 78), p. 31-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, April 30, 1863

Columbia, Ky., April 30th, 1863.

At the date of my last entry—the 26th inst.—I had seen no indication of a move. We retired that night at the usual hour, and just as I was dropping off to sleep the order came: "Be ready to march tomorrow morning at five o'clock with two days' rations." It came like a "clap of thunder from a cloudless sky," surprising both officers and men. Our officers had formed numerous and pleasant associations with Kentucky's fair daughters, and it was with many regrets they were compelled to leave their agreeable society for the stern duties of the field. But military orders are inexorable as fate, and at precisely a quarter to five the bugle sounded "fall in," and at five we were on the move, bound for Columbia, forty miles away.

The weather is warm and pleasant now, but the burning heat of a Southern summer is close upon us. A forced march was before us, with no teams to carry our luggage. We could not carry all our winter clothing, therefore hundreds of good blankets and overcoats were thrown away. When we had marched three or four miles many of the men found they still had too much load, and then the work of lightening up began in earnest. For miles the road was strewn with blankets, dress coats, blouses, pants, drawers and shirts. In fact enough clothing was thrown away for Rebels to pick up to supply a whole brigade. No wonder so many Rebel regiments are dressed in our uniforms. As for myself, I was determined to stay by my goods, if I could not carry them. As a matter of fact I carried load enough that day to down a mule, and feel none the worse for it. We marched to Campbellville, twenty miles, and camped for the night. We were expected to cover the entire distance in two days, but fully one-half of the brigade were so utterly used up it was found to be impossible. We only made nine miles the second day, and camped at Green River. Here the Eighth Michigan and Seventy-ninth New York were ordered to remain; the Seventeenth was ordered to Columbia and the Twentieth to the Cumberland, forty miles beyond.

Lieutenant Colonel Luce is Provost Marshal of this district, and we are detailed to do provost duty. Colonel Luce's orders are: "Protect government property, keep good order in the town, arrest all disloyal citizens and report to headquarters every day." This part of the state has been much infested by guerillas, and we expect lively times.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 41-3

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 15, 1863

Orders have come at last. "Forward to Vicksburg!" is the cry. We are steaming down the grand old river once again, ready to face danger in any form, either by Rebel bullets or the more deadly miasma of the Southern swamps, for "Liberty and Union." The way from Memphis down is not entirely safe for transports. Guerillas have a trick of concealing themselves along the banks and firing on them as they pass. We have a strong guard, with loaded guns, ready to return their greeting should they salute us. As we do not travel nights, it will take us at least two days to make the trip.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 50

Diary of Musician David Lane, March 27, 1863

Louisville, Ky. We did not go to Suffolk as I anticipated. Third Division went in our stead, while we took another direction, and in eight days, by water and rail, landed in Louisville. We broke camp at Newport News on the 19th inst., marched on board a fleet of transports, went to Norfolk, where we took in coal. While lying there a heavy storm of snow set in, which lasted several hours. It was bitterly cold, or so it seemed to us, and we suffered severely. Toward night the storm abated and we sailed for Baltimore. There we were transferred to cars and came by the way of the B. & O. R. R. to Parkersburg, W. Va. From Harper's Ferry our route followed the course of the Potomac River to Columbia, a lovely city far up among the mountains, and near the head of that river. The country from Harper's Ferry is mountainous, and Columbia is near the dividing line, from which point the water flows in opposite directions. We were three days and three nights on the cars, winding around or darting through the rocky barriers that opposed us. For, where they could not be evaded, the energy and power of man pierced their huge forms and ran his fiery engines beneath their towering summits. There are twenty-seven tunnels on this road, twenty-five of which we passed through in the daytime. Some of the shorter ones are arched with brick, others with heavy timbers, while some are cut through solid rock and need no support. At Parkersburg our three regiments were crowded into one vessel, and away we went "down the Ohio." We made a short stop at Cincinnati, where we received orders to report at once to Louisville, as an attack at that place was apprehended. We halted on our way through Louisville and partook of a free dinner, prepared for us by the loyal ladies of that city. Soft bread, potatoes, boiled ham, cakes and hot coffee were served us till all were filled (and many a haversack was also filled), when we gave three cheers and a tiger for the generous donors.

We found much excitement, as bands of guerillas came within six miles of the city the night before, conscripting men and confiscating horses and other supplies.

We stole a march on the Johnnies in coming here, they having notified the citizens that they would breakfast with them on the morning of our arrival, and when they—the citizens—saw their streets filled with soldiers, they thought the promise about to be fulfilled, but the Stars and Stripes soon undeceived them. Here our brigade was divided, the Eighth Michigan and Seventy-ninth New York going to Lebanon, the Seventeenth and Twentieth Michigan remaining at this place.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 35-7

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Joseph Stockton, October 15, 1862

Yesterday we had a very large fire here. About 9 o'clock a fire broke out on the commissary boat "Admiral." I was "officer of the day" and was just about to be relieved by Captain Prior. I hastened to the boat but found her so enveloped in smoke that it would be useless to attempt to save her. The fire soon communicated to the store ship "Philadelphia" which had on board a large lot of loaded shell and cartridges. They soon commenced to explode. General Dodge, Post Commander, soon came along and ordered all hands to commence moving boxes of shells and cartridges that were on shore. Soon the shells on the boat commenced to burst and fly all about; several of the men were knocked down. The danger was very great but most of the men stood it well. Both boats were a total loss. The other day when I was "officer of the day" I had charge of the prison in which were a number of rebel prisoners. No one had a right to enter without a permit from the Provost Marshal, the commanding officer of the post or myself. A sickly looking woman with a baby in her arms, a little girl about five years old beside her, came to me and said she had walked thirty miles to see her husband who had been confined two months on charge of being a guerilla. Her wan and dejected appearance confirmed her story and I escorted her to the sick ward where her husband was lying. The moment she saw him she rushed to his cot, threw her arms around him, the little thing climbed up on his bed, and such tears and exclamations of affection I have never heard before. At the same time another prisoner who was confined for the same offence and who was lying directly opposite, died. His friends crowded around his cot and they gave way to their tears and sobs. I could not but turn away and feel the hot tears trickling down my own cheek; there was not a dry eye in that room. I was the only Union soldier present and the wife turned on her knees toward me and begged that I would let her husband go home with her, that he was dying then, as he certainly was. He, too, begged me for his life, but I, of course, was powerless to act in the matter. The friends of the dead man crowded around and begged that they might be permitted to send his body home, which was granted. I was only too glad to get away from such a scene. I have more than my share of such duty as there are only four captains able for duty, all the rest being sick. Making the grand rounds at night, with an orderly for a companion, is not so pleasant when you have to ride through a dense wood for ten or twelve miles. It would be an easy thing for the Rebs to pick me off and I wonder they don't do it. I had a present from home of a box containing cake, preserves, etc., from several of my young lady friends. It was most acceptable.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 3

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: August 19, 1864

Up to this morning nothing has transpired to disturb the quiet of our camp near Rome; but this afternoon a little excitement is created in camp by the attacking of a foraging party sent out in the morning under the command of acting-Lieutenant Billington of Company C, which resulted in the killing by the guerrillas of acting Lieutenant Billington of Company C, and the wounding of privates William Ross and Frits of company D, and Dr. Felty of the hospital department, and the loss of all the mules belonging to the teams. Companies H and K are despatched at once to the scene of death and robbery, but no guerrillas are to be found, all having fled in great haste. The fray happened at a noted rebel's house, to which we apply the torch, and return to camp.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 248-9

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Friday, June 24, 1864

To-day companies D, H and I, leave Tunnel Hill on the cars for Tilton, where we arrive late in the night. We remain here guarding the railroad, scouting and running after guerrillas until July 8th, when we take the cars for Rome, Georgia, to join our division and brigade stationed there. Arriving at Kingston we change cars for Rome, where we arrive on the evening of the 9th. We immediately cross the Etawah river and go into camp one-half mile from the city.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 247

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: March 27, 1864

Our scouts and patrols are now continually picking up stray guerrillas. This morning Captain Ring sends to headquarters at Baily Springs, seven prisoners captured since our arrival here. Patrols are again sent to the Tennessee river, which now is a daily duty. Nothing new to-day, save some fine horses brought in this evening by the foraging parties. The Seventh is feasting high to-night.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 230