Diary of Musician David Lane, July 20, 1863

Vicksburg is ours; Johnson defeated and his forces scattered; our work in Mississippi is performed, and we have taken up the line of march for some other distant field.

We left Jackson at 3 a. m. today for Haines Bluff, where we take transports for some point north or east. I think I will be glad to put in the balance of my work a little farther north, although I would not hesitate to go anywhere, so I might contribute my mite toward putting down this rebellion. But, other things being equal, I would choose to be where we could get pure water, and, what I prize more than all else, hear from my loved family with some degree of regularity. It has been a sore trial, and hard to bear, to be compelled to wait for days and weeks for tidings from a sick and suffering wife.

We marched twelve miles this forenoon, and have halted for dinner. Fifteen miles must be made this afternoon to obtain water. It is a tough march, but necessity compels. It would seem that, in an emergency like this, when our lives depend upon our "staying power," some unseen hand sustains us. As for myself, I have never borne hard marches so well as in Mississippi.

I see by the papers there is much talk of the Rebels carrying the war into the North. Well, let them go. "Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad." I am not sure but it is the only thing that can unite the North; certainly it will hasten the downfall of the Confederacy.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 69-70

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 23, 1863

Haines Bluff, Miss.  We arrived at our old camp yesterday—twenty days from the time we left it—the toughest twenty days of our experience. A dirtier, more ragged and drilled-out lot of men I hope never to see. The first thing I did, after eating a little hardtack and drinking a cup of coffee, was to bolt for the spring, build a fire, boil my shirt, pants and socks, scrub myself from head to heels, put on my clothing wet—though not much wetter than before and return to camp a cleaner, therefore a better man. There have been times when we could not get water to wash our hands and face, to say nothing of our clothing, for a week or more.

It was dark when I returned to camp, but fires were burning brightly in every direction, and around them were gathered groups of men silently reading letters. I hastened to the Orderly and asked him "Have you anything for me?" "Yes, I have four letters for you." My heart gave one great bound of gladness, and, grasping them tightly, I hastened to the nearest fire to learn what news from home. Rumors of a great battle, fought and won by Meade, had been in circulation several days, but no one knew whether true or false. These letters from my wife confirmed them. The threatened invasion took place, was crushed, and Lee was suffered to recross the Potomac at his leisure, as he was allowed to do after Antietam.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 70-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 29, 1863

Haines Bluff. We did not leave on the 23d, as was rumored, but are still in our old camp, enjoying a short season of repose preparatory to our voyage up the river. It is a repose much needed by our men. What prompted our commander to hurry us through as he did sixty miles in three days—I cannot conceive. Strict orders were issued against straggling. No man would be allowed to leave the ranks without a written pass from the Surgeon, and all stragglers were to be picked up by the Provost Guard and taken to headquarters for trial by court martial. The General "reckoned without his host." Some men, so great was their respect for discipline, marched in the ranks until they fell, in a dying condition. But most of them cursed the General and his orders and sat down to rest and cool off whenever their judgment told them they were getting too hot, and, when rested, came on again.

After the first day, no attention was paid to orders. Men fell out in such numbers the Provost could not arrest them, and came straggling into camp until nearly morning.

The next morning after our arrival, in the Seventeenth alone, one hundred twenty men were reported unfit for duty, and forty-five are now sick in hospital. Doubtless much of this sickness is the effect of the poisonous liquid we were compelled to use for cooking and drinking purposes. How grateful to us, then, is the delicious, sparkling water that flows in abundance from that romantic spring I described on our first arrival. Before I leave this subject, let me record our experience the week we were encamped before Jackson. The first day we used cistern water, but that soon failed. After that, all that was left for coffee and for cooking purposes was water from an artificial pond, scooped out in a barnyard, and all the battery and camp horses—five or six hundred of them in number—were watered there every day. They were ridden right into the pond! Rather than drink it, I have been three miles to the rear, after having been on duty all day, for a canteen of cistern water.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 71-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 3, 1863

July 3d, 1863.

We are encamped six miles from Haines Bluff, on a ridge of ground, in a perfect wilderness. I have hardly seen level ground enough, in this State, for a regiment to camp on. I find blackberries in abundance, and, therefore, am content. They have formed a large share of my diet, and have been both food and medicine. Scurvy and diarrhea have entirely disappeared. That which we most need and cannot get is pure water. The streams have all run dry, and unless it rains soon, every spring within reach of us will fail. Water is now so scarce every regiment except the Seventeenth has placed a guard over its own spring, and will not allow others to use it. If we stay here long, we will be compelled to dig wells.

We are now twelve miles from Vicksburg and eight miles from the Big Black. I can still hear the thunder of artillery, morning and eve, at the former place. If Grant celebrates the Fourth inside of Vicksburg, as report says he intends to do, he must do something decisive soon. He may be doing that very thing this minute. When I began writing, his cannon kept up a continual roar. It has almost ceased. Perhaps he is now storming their works.

Our men are still throwing up fortifications. The whole country for fifteen miles around Vicksburg is little less than a fortification. The inhabitants around here did not run away at our approach. Most of them are intensely loyal just now. The reports of want and destitution with which the papers are filled, and which I doubted, are true. Many families draw all their supplies from our Quartermaster. Soon all must do so.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 62-3

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

 

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 24, 1863

Haines Bluff. Yesterday, as I was strolling through the ravines, picking berries, I came across a spring of delicious water, cold and pure. It is about half a mile from camp, in a lovely, romantic spot, almost shut out from the light of day by the thick foliage of the magnolia and other evergreens which are thickly interwoven with flowering vines. I wish I could picture the unrivaled beauty of the magnolia. The largest I have seen is about fifty feet in height, leaves from four to six inches in length by two in breadth in the middle, rounding each way to a point, and are of the darkest shade of green. Its chief beauty lies in its blossoms, which are pure white, about six inches in diameter, contrasting strongly with its dark green leaves. It is very fragrant, filling the air with sweet perfume. Nature is indeed prolific in this Southern clime, bestowing her gifts in the greatest variety and profusion, both animate and inanimate, things pleasant to look upon and grateful to the senses, and those that are repulsive and disgusting in the extreme. Insects and reptiles, varying in size from diminutive "chiggers," too small to be seen by the unaided eye, but which burrows in the flesh and breeds there, to the huge alligator that can swallow, a man at a single gulp. I have not seen an alligator yet, but some of our men have seen him to their sorrow. Soon after our arrival some of the men went in to bathe and wash off some of the dust of travel. They had been in the water but a few minutes when one of their number uttered a shriek of terror and disappeared. Two of his comrades who happened to be near by seized him and dragged him to shore. The right arm was frightfully mangled, the flesh literally torn from the bone by an alligator. Since that incident bathing in the Yazoo is not indulged in.

Moccasin snakes and other poisonous reptiles abound, and a species of beautifully-tinted, bright-eyed, active little lizards inhabit every tree and bush, creep into and under our blankets and scamper over us as we try to sleep. The nimble little fellows are harmless, but quite annoying.

There has been uninterrupted firing of small arms and artillery at Vicksburg today. We are busily engaged in throwing up breastworks two hundred rods from here. Our regiment was detailed for that purpose today.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 58-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 26, 1863

Haines Bluff, Miss.  We get no news from the outside world. Not even the New York Herald or Detroit Free Press, those blatant organs of secession, can penetrate these lines. But the air is filled with rumors—rumors that are true today and false tomorrow. It is said the Rebels have a battery now where they fired on us when we came down; that they have captured all our mail and destroyed the mail boat. Today they sank the boat in shallow water and one of our gunboats secured the mail. All we are sure of is we are here, felling trees and throwing up breastworks; that General Grant is still knocking for admittance at the "Gates of Jericho." Were I to credit what I hear, and it comes from "reliable sources," I would believe he has already made the seventh circuit of that doomed city with his terrible ram's horn in full blast, and now, covered with sweat and dust, has paused on a "commanding eminence" to witness the final consummation of his plans. But the continuous thundering of his artillery and the occasional rattle of musketry convince me that, in these latter days, the tumbling down of formidable walls is not so easily accomplished as in the olden times when the Almighty seemed to take more interest in the affairs of men. But, although the long-wished for event is delayed until hope is well-nigh dead, still, seeing and knowing what I do, I have entire confidence in Grant's final success.

But hark! What cry is this? Oh, joyful sound. The mail! the mail has come!

Thank God, there is one for me!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 60-1