Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, November 4, 1861

. . . comfort ably cool Routine of Duties as usual. Capt. Parke Officer of the day at camp Cairo Every thing quiet in camp Weather very pleasant Battalion Drill this afternoon General Paine from Paducah and Ajt. Gen. M. Breyman of this place present. We drew 36 Overcoats to day for our Co. and the full complment of Haversacks.

8 men detailed from our Regt. as Extra Duty men to work on Fortifications. Joel Knip detailed from our Comp. for Ten Days commencing tomorrow Dress Parade at the usual hour.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 231

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, December 26, 1862

Warm and raining. We were astir early, cooked our breakfasts, filled our haversacks with meat and what little bread we had, and fell in about 7 o'clock. It began to rain and we had gone but a mile or two when we were wet through. We secured two ox teams, one of six oxen, and one of four, which hauled our knapsacks. The 12th Ind. is still camped on the Tallahatchie. Saw Lieut. E. Webster and Tom Anderson, they are living on quarter rations. Capt. Williams, now Colonel of the regiment, was at Holly Springs at the time it was captured and he was taken for the third time. We marched to the Yazoo Bottoms and camped on the opposite side. It rained and we were completely soaked. The ground was muddy and I looked around, found a stack of corn, dug down to the dry stalks, husked out a lot and made a bed for myself. We are, within seven miles of Holly Springs.

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. 22

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells: December 13, 1862

Marching orders, sure enough. We drew three days' rations this morning, with orders to have two cooked and in our haversacks, ready to march at 5 o'clock the next morning. I have a new pair of boots which I expect to break in on the march—or they will break me. We were relieved this morning by the 126th. I have a very severe cold.

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. 16

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells: Sunday, December 14, 1862

Reveille sounded this morning a little after 2 o'clock. We filled our haversacks, got our breakfasts, and by daylight were ready for the march. We fell into ranks, the regiment was formed, and then we witnessed an unexpected ceremony which is disgusting to every true soldier—the drumming out of a fellow soldier for disobedience and disgraceful conduct. I should prefer death to being marched between two lines of a regiment by a guard, at a charged bayonet, with an escort, the band playing the Rogues March, and the remainder of the regiment standing at charged bayonets; but it was soon over, the ranks were closed, and the regiment started on the march. We crossed Wolf Creek, a fine stream one mile from LaGrange. We passed over a fine country somewhat broken. The army has surely left its mark here. Miles of fences and scores of houses have been burnt. From one place we could count seven or eight ruins. The destruction of property is not countenanced by a good soldier, but every regiment has its straggling, order breaking reprobates that are a disgrace to the flag they fight under. We reached Coldwater toward night and camped. I was on guard. I came across an old cove who helped build dam No. 4, in Maryland, and knew all the citizens who live there now.

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. 16-7

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 26, 1863

Our camp yesterday was enlivened by the joyful news that we had orders to take the cars for some unknown destination, and it is generally believed that Gregg's Brigade is to join Bragg's army, a petition having been sent up some time since with this request, if any are allowed to go; in it it was urged that most of this brigade were Tennesseeans, who had not seen their families since the day of their enlistment, in 1861. With a day's ration cooked, and another of crackers and bacon in haversacks, we were on the cars ready to start at 5 The entire night was consumed in going to Meridian, a distance of sixty-one miles. While waiting this morning, a train load of paroled Vicksburg prisoners, under the influence of whisky, made a charge upon a lot of sugar lying near the depot, and guarded by a detail of the Fourteenth Mississippi. In the melee a guard fired a blank cartridge at the crowd, when a lieutenant shot him in the head with a pistol, making a severe, but not dangerous, wound. The guards then left their posts, and the sugar was given up to pillage. Our brigade is now at Enterprise, from which place it can reach any needed point very quickly.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281-2

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 19, 1862

We were up and at it at the usual time this morning, on the home tramp, which kept up the spirits of many. About ten o'clock we came in sight of our first day's fighting ground. We found that several of the graves of our men had been opened by the rebels. After repairing them we kept on, taking the Neuse Road, which we steered clear of in coming up on account of the heavy entrenchments and barricades the rebels had placed on it. Every little while we had to leave the road and take to the woods to get by their obstructions, which continued for four or five miles from Kinston; some of them were very formidable.

About three o'clock we marched into a large field on the left of the road to receive rations, which we understood had been brought to us on the cars from New Berne, and it was about time; our larder was getting low. We received a little bread, but not enough to satisfy both stomach and haversack, so we filled the former and stowed away the crumbs that were left in the latter. The report is that the bread and beef were left at New Berne, and soap and candles shipped to us,—an explanation which did not soothe our feelings entirely.

We marched about five miles farther and then camped for the night.

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. 29

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 20, 1862

After some trouble we managed to get to bed last night about eleven o'clock; but for a long time after that the mules kept us awake; perhaps they were hungry also. The weather was clear and not cold, so we got a little rest. At six o'clock this morning we were ordered on, after a very light breakfast, excepting for a few who may have foraged. There were a few chickens and a little applejack about our mess. To-day has been the hardest of any day of the tramp, and there has been more straggling. The company organization was in the line, but thinned out terribly. We had no noon-rest; but at two o'clock we filed from the road to a field, came to the front, and received a good scolding. Our regiment looked as if it had been through two Bull Runs; only about 150 left, and the rest not "accounted for." In fact there were very few left of those who should do the accounting. The colonel stormed a little, but that did not bring up the men; so, as he was probably as hungry, if not as tired, as we were, he let us go to eating, which was a decided farce. Our haversacks were as flat as our stomachs. We found a few grains of coffee and tobacco-crumbs in the bottom of our bags, and succeeded in digging a few sweet potatoes, which we ate raw. We were told they were very fullsome. We waited here two hours or so for the stragglers, who finally came along. They had been having a fine time, plenty of room to walk, and two hours more to do it in than we had; and, more than that, they were in the majority, so nothing could be done but "Right shoulder shift" and put the best foot forward. About sundown we saw, in crossing a bridge, a wagon-load of hard-tack bottom side up in the creek. Some of the boys sampled the bread, but it was not fit to eat. Shortly after a signboard indicated fourteen miles to New Berne. That was encouraging! The walking was fearful, the roads full of water, in some places waist deep, and covered with a skimming of ice. At last we met a wagon loaded with bread, and after much talk with the driver we got what we wanted. Next we met a man who said it was only twelve miles to New Berne. They either have long miles or else some one made a mistake; we seemingly had been walking two hours or more from the fourteenth mile post, and now it was twelve miles. We came to the conclusion not to ask any more questions, but "go it blind.”

We at last reached the picket-post, seven miles out, and halted to rest and allow the artillery to go through. Here Col. Lee told us we were at liberty to stay out and come into camp Sunday; but most of "E" thought of the letters and the supper we would probably get, and concluded to stand by the flag. After a rest we started again, and at last began to close up and halt often, so we knew we were coming to some place or other.

The writer has no very distinct idea of those last seven miles, excepting that he was trying to walk, smoke, and go to sleep at the same time, and could only succeed in swearing rather faintly, and in a stupid sort of manner, at everything and every one. It was dark and foggy, but finally we saw what appeared to be the headlight of a locomotive a long way off. Then the fort loomed up, and we were passing under an arch or bridge, and in a few minutes we reached "E's" barrack, and our troubles were all forgotten. Now we were wide awake; gave three hearty cheers for every one; had all the baked beans and coffee we could stagger under; and then the captain's "Attention for letters" brought us to our feet. Some had as many as a dozen. They had to be read at once, and, notwithstanding our fatigue and the lateness of the hour, read they were.

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. 29-30

Diary of Private Ephraim Shelby Dodd: Sunday, February 1, 1863

Rained all day, came within four miles of Charlotte. A very poor country. I and Reuben Slaughter went out and staid all night with Mrs. Hood. Her husband had been conscripted. She boiled a ham, baked some pies, filled our haversacks and started us on our way rejoicing. Came down to Mr. Ventress.

SOURCE: Ephraim Shelby Dodd, Diary of Ephraim Shelby Dodd: Member of Company D Terry's Texas Rangers, p. 6

Diary of Musician David Lane, March 17, 1863

We have just received orders to be ready to march at a minute's notice, with two days' rations in our haversacks. The quiet of repose is suddenly disturbed by war's alarms; the Rebels attacked our forces today at Suffolk, about twenty miles from Norfolk. The supposition is we go to support our forces at that place. Our men are excited to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. As I write I hear their shouts and joyful exclamations. The Seventeenth has recovered its old-time energy, and is eager for the fray.

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

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 17, 1862

Two letters to-day, and two papers, all from home. Seems as if I had been there for a visit. I wonder if my letters give them as much pleasure? I expect they do. It is natural they should. I know pretty nearly what they are about, but of me, they only know what I write in my letters, and in this, my everlasting letter, as I have come to call my diary. It is getting to be real company for me. It is my one real confident. I sometimes think it is a waste of time and paper, and then I think how glad I would be to get just such nonsense from my friends, if our places were changed. I suppose they study out these crow's tracks with more real interest than they would a message from President Lincoln. We are looking for a wet bed again to-night. It does not rain, but a thick fog covers everything and the wind blows it in one side of our tents and out the other.

Maybe I have described our life here before, but as no one description can do it justice I am going to try again. We are in a field of 100 acres, as near as I can judge, on the side of a hill, near the top. The ground is newly seeded and wets up quickly, as such ground usually does. We sleep in pairs, and a blanket spread on the ground is our bed while another spread over us is our covering. A narrow strip of muslin, drawn over a pole about three feet from the ground, open at both ends, the wind and rain, if it does rain, beating in upon us, and water running under and about us; this, with all manner of bugs and creeping things crawling over us, and all the while great hungry mosquitoes biting every uncovered inch of us, is not an overdrawn picture of that part of a soldier's life, set apart for the rest and repose necessary to enable him to endure several hours of right down hard work at drill, in a hot sun with heavy woollen clothes on, every button of which must be tight-buttoned, and by the time the officers are tired watching us, we come back to camp wet through with perspiration and too tired to make another move. Before morning our wet clothes chill us to the marrow of our bones, and why we live, and apparently thrive under it, is something I cannot understand. But we do, and the next day are ready for more of it. Very few even take cold. It is a part of the contract, and while we grumble and growl among ourselves we don't really mean it, for we are learning what we will be glad to know at some future time.

Now I am about it, and nothing better to do, I will say something about our kitchen, dining room and cooking arrangements. Some get mad and cuss the cooks, and the whole war department, but that is usually when our stomachs are full. When we are hungry we swallow anything that comes and are thankful for it. The cook house is simply a portion of the field we are in. A couple of crotches hold up a pole on which the camp kettles are hung, and under which a fire is built. Each company has one, and as far as I know they are all alike. The camp kettles are large sheet-iron pails, one larger than the other so one can be put inside the other when moving. If we have meat and potatoes, meat is put in one, and potatoes in the other. The one that gets cooked first is emptied into mess pans, which are large sheet-iron pans with flaring sides, so one can be packed in another. Then the coffee is put in the empty kettle and boiled. The bread is cut into thick slices, and the breakfast call sounds. We grab our plates and cups, and wait for no second invitation. We each get a piece of meat and a potato, a chunk of bread and a cup of coffee with a spoonful of brown sugar in it. Milk and butter we buy, or go without. We settle down, generally in groups, and the meal is soon over. Then we wash our dishes, and put them back in our haversacks. We make quick work of washing dishes. We save a piece of bread for the last, with which we wipe up everything, and then eat the dish rag. Dinner and breakfast are alike, only sometimes the meat and potatoes are cut up and cooked together, which makes a really delicious stew. Supper is the same, minus the meat and potatoes. The cooks are men detailed from the ranks for that purpose. Every one smokes or chews tobacco here, so we find no fault because the cooks do both. Boxes or barrels are used as kitchen tables, and are used for seats between meals. The meat and bread are cut on them, and if a scrap is left on the table the flies go right at it and we have so many the less to crawl over us. They are never washed, but are sometimes scraped off and made to look real clean. I never yet saw the cooks wash their hands, but presume they do when they go to the brook for water.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 28-31

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 21, 1862

Sunday morning. Nothing happened during the night. We bought a good breakfast of a family who make a business of feeding the soldiers that come here, for I was told there is a detail here every day. I wish it might be us every time. As soon as the new guard arrives we are to go back to camp and camp fare again.

2 p. m. In camp again. It seems hotter and dirtier than ever after our day in the country. Before we left Catonsville we filled our haversacks with great luscious peaches. Those that ripen on the tree the people cannot sell, so they gave us all that would fall with a gentle shake of the tree. How I wished I could empty my haversack in your lap, mother. On the way to camp we met a drove of mules, said to be 400 of them, loose, and being driven like cattle. They were afraid of us and all got in a close bunch, and the 400 pairs of ears all flapping together made a curious sight. We were told they came from Kentucky and are for use in the army. They were all bays, with a dark stripe along the back and across the shoulders, looking like a cross laid on their backs. It hasn't seemed much like Sunday. But Sunday doesn't count for much in the army. Many of our hardest days have been Sundays. But I am sleepy, having been awake all last night. It is surprising how little sleep we get along with. I, who have been such a sleepy-head all my life, get only a few hours' sleep any night, and many nights none at all. I suppose we will sometime get accustomed to the noise and confusion, that so far has had no end, night or day.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 33-4

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, October 22, 1862

We broke camp bright and early, about six o'clock, had our last bath at the pond, and breakfast at the old barracks, which had been our home so long, and then commenced the packing of our knapsacks and haversacks, till about eight o'clock, when we fell in with the rest of the regiment, and about nine o'clock marched to the station. After a fine salute from the 45th, who were drawn up on the hill at the right of the railroad track, we started for Boston. We marched to the Common, where we found our friends once more. We stayed here about an hour, talking the last talk for many a long week, then fell into line, and escorted by the New England Guard Reserve and other organizations, we took our way up Beacon Street, down Tremont, Court, State, and Commercial, to Battery Wharf to the steamer "Merrimac." Here we had a rest, and we needed it, our knapsacks were full, and the tramp was hard on us. Many of our friends smuggled themselves through the line at the head of the Wharf, and we held our last reception once more. Our guns were taken from us here, and finally we were packed away too, in the lower hold; no light, and about the same quantity of air. We left the Wharf about six o'clock, the cheers of our friends following us far out into the stream.

Our reception while passing through the city was a fine one, the streets were crowded, especially State Street, and we were cheered from one end of it to the other. We leave plenty of friends, as the following clipped from the Transcript will show:

DEPARTURE OF MASS. REGIMENTS FOR NEW BERNE.

 

The city has been thronged by strangers to-day to witness the arrival in the city of the three Mass. Regiments, and their embarkation on board the steamers which are to convey them to New Berne.

 

The "Forty Fourth," which has been encamped at Readville, absorbed the chief interest of the citizens of Boston. This regiment is the child of the New England Guard, and from its appearance, will worthily maintain its hereditary honor. It is the second regiment recruited by prominent members of the Guards, and is largely composed of young men who will be sadly missed here.

 

The hold the Forty-fourth has upon the sympathies and affections of our community has been shown to-day by the large turn-out to greet the boys as they went through the city.

 

The scene in the vicinity of Boylston Street was of quite an exhilarating character. The streets were filled with people, and windows and balconies contained large numbers of the fair sex, who waved their heart-welcome for the soldiers as they marched along.

 

Company H, Capt. Smith, had the right, and Company A, Capt. J. M. Richardson, the left.

 

Crowds thronged the avenues through which the troops passed, and loudly applauded them. The Forty-fourth marched almost with the steady tread of veterans, and by their precision of movement deserved the applause so liberally bestowed. The Roster is as follows:

Colonel—Francis L. Lee.

Lieut.-Colonel—Edward C. Cabot.

Major—Chas. W. Dabney, Jr.

Adjutant—Wallace Hinkley.

Quarter-Master—Francis Bush, Jr.

Surgeon—Robert Ware.

Assistant Surgeon—Theodore W. Fisher.

Chaplain—Edmund H. Hall.

Sergt-Major—Wm. H. Bird.

Quarter-Master-Sergt.—Fred. S. Gifford.

Commissary Sergt.—Charles D. Woodberry.

Hospital Steward—Wm. C. Brigham.

Principal Musician—Geo. L. Babcock.

 

COMPANY A.

Captain—James M. Richardson.

1st Lt.—Jared Coffin.

2nd Lt.—Charles G. Kendall.

 

COMPANY B.

Captain—John M. Griswold.

1st. Lt.—John A. Kendrick, Jr.

2nd Lt.—Charles C. Soule.

 

COMPANY C.

Captain—Jacob H. Lombard.

1st. Lt.—George B. Lombard.

2nd Lt.—James W. Briggs.

 

COMPANY D.

Captain—Henry D. Sullivan.

1st. Lt.—James H. Blake, Jr.

2nd Lt.—Asa H. Stebbins.

 

COMPANY E.

Captain—Spencer W. Richardson.

1st. Lt.—James S. Newell.

2nd Lt.—James S. Cumston.

 

COMPANY F.

Captain—Charles Storrow.

1st. Lt.—Alfred S. Hartwell.

2nd Lt.—John E. Taylor.

 

COMPANY G.

Captain—Charles Hunt.

1st. Lt.—James C. White.

2nd Lt.—Frederick Odiorne.

 

COMPANY H.

Captain—William V. Smith.

1st. Lt.—Edward C. Johnson.

2nd Lt.—Albert R. Howe.

 

COMPANY I.

Captain—Joseph R. Kendall.

1st. Lt.—William D. Hooper.

2nd Lt.—Benjamin F. Field, Jr.

 

COMPANY K.

Captain—Frank W. Reynolds.

1st. Lt.—Richard H. Weld.

2nd Lt.—Fred. P. Brown.

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. 11-13

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 2, 1862

We are all togged out with new blue clothes, haversacks and canteens. The haversack is a sack of black enamelled cloth with a flap to close it and a strap to go over the shoulder, and is to carry our food in,—rations, I should say. The canteen is of tin, covered with gray cloth; in shape it is like a ball that has been stepped on and flattened down. It has a neck with a cork stopper and a strap to go over the shoulder. It is for carrying water, coffee or any other drinkable. Our new clothes consist of light blue pants and a darker shade of blue for the coats, which is of sack pattern. A light blue overcoat with a cape on it, a pair of mud-colored shirts and drawers, and a cap, which is mostly forepiece. This, with a knapsack to carry our surplus outfit, and a woollen blanket to sleep on, or under, is our stock in trade. I don't suppose many will read this who do not know from observation how all these things look, for it seems as if all creation was here to look at them, and us.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 13-4

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 5, 1862

Still in Hudson. Was routed out twice last night, for no particular reason as far as I can discover, unless it was to make a miserable night still more miserable. After forming in line and standing there, half asleep, for awhile, the order, "Break Ranks" would come and we would go back to our bunks, and so the night wore away. At 4.30 we were called again, marched out for our morning ablutions, and then marched back again, wide awake, but pretty cross and ugly. We signed receipts for one month's pay in advance, and then had breakfast. We did nothing more until dinner time and were then told to take our haversacks and canteens with us. After dinner we were each given a day's supply of bread and a canteen full of coffee, and told to be ready to march at any minute.

Six P. M. On board the steamship Oregon, bound for New York City. We had a busy time getting off. Crowds upon crowds of people lined the way from the camp ground to the steamboat landing. The windows and the house tops were also full. I don't see where so many people came from. Men, women and children were waving flags, handkerchiefs or anything else that would wave. They cheered us until hoarse. Bands played, every steam whistle in Hudson was blowing, in fact every thing that could make a noise did so. Through it all we marched, reaching out every little while for a final handshake, and a last good-bye. Everyone seemed to know everybody else. I presume I shook hands with a hundred that I never saw before and may never see again. But the heartiness of it all, and the sincerity showed so plainly, that by the time the landing was reached the tears were washing the dust from our faces. I am glad it is over. No matter what comes next, it cannot be more trying than that march through Hudson.

Later. The sail down the Hudson is glorious. It is all new to me. As soon as we were clear from the dock I got into the quietest place I could find and told my diary about it. I wish I could better describe the doings about me. This will do to remind me of it all, if I ever see these scribblings again, and if not those that do see them may turn their imagination loose, feeling sure that it cannot overdraw the picture. But there is no use trying to write any more. Confusion reigns, and I am going to put away my dairy and take a hand in it.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 15-7

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Monday, July 15, 1861

Great excitement in camp; order was received to get ready for a forward movement; ammunition packed; haversacks and canteens were issued.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 9-10

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 20, 1863

Fighting over the enemy's fortifications.

This morning our whole line of artillery—seven miles long-opened on the doomed city and fortifications at six o'clock, and kept up the firing for four hours, during which time the smoke was so thick we could see nothing but the flash of the guns. No fog could have so completely hid from view objects around, both close and familiar. Had the rebs made a dash for liberty then, they could not have been discovered until they were right upon us. But they did not do it. Our infantry was all called out in line of battle, and we stacked arms till the firing ceased. O, what a calm after that terrific bellowing. There was every variety of tone to-day from the dogs of war—from the squeak of a little fiste to the roar of a bull dog. The sound of some brass pieces was so loud as to drown the reverberations of the larger guns, and not a return shot was fired. Poor fellows, how tamely they took it! They had nothing to say—at least that we could hear. Several of our boys laid down and slept during the firing as soundly as if they had been on their mothers' feather beds at home. When the clouds cleared away I thought the stars and stripes never looked so beautiful. Even if the defenceless women and children in Vicksburg are protected, or feel as if they were, such a screeching of shot and shell must prove a terror to them, and my heart has not yet grown so hardened that I can not feel for them.

There is a good deal of complaint, in our company at least, about the coffee we get. It seems not quite so good as that we have had, and I suspect it has been adulterated by somebody who is willing to get rich at the expense of the poor soldier, whose curses will be heaped strong and heavy on anybody who deteriorates any of his rations, and particularly his coffee. The only time a soldier can not drink his coffee is when the use of that ration is suspended. In fact, there is nothing so refreshing as a cup of hot coffee, and no sooner has a marching column halted, than out from each haversack comes a little paper sack of ground coffee, and a tin cup or tin can, with a wire bale, to be filled from the canteen and set upon a fire to boil. The coffee should not be put in the water before it boils. At first I was green enough to do so, but soon learned better, being compelled to march before the water boiled, and consequently lost my coffee. I lost both the water and the coffee. It takes but about five minutes to boil a cup of water, and then if you have to march you can put your coffee in and carry it till it is cool enough to sip as you go. Even if we halt a dozen times a day, that many times will a soldier make and drink his coffee, for when the commissary is full and plenty, we may drink coffee and nibble crackers from morning till night. The aroma of the first cup of coffee soon sets the whole army to boiling; and the best vessel in which to boil coffee for a soldier is a common cove oyster can, with a bit of bent wire for a bale, by which you can hold it on a stick over the fire, and thus avoid its tipping over by the burning away of its supports.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 59-61

Diary of Private Louis Leon: July 6, 1862

We got orders to march this morning. Left here with two days’ rations of corn meal and bacon in our haversacks. We got to Petersburg in the evening—fifteen miles—after a hard march. It is very warm, and we did not rest on the way, as it was a forced march. We camped on Dunn's Hill.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 8

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 26, 1863

Up this morning at three o'clock, with orders for three days' rations in our haversacks and five days' in the wagons—also to be ready to move at ten o'clock to the rear, in pursuit of Johnston, who was thrusting his bayonets too close to our boys there.

I am not anxious to get away from the front, yet a little marching in the country will be quite a desirable change, and no doubt beneficial to our men. I have been afraid we might be molested in the rear, for we were having our own way too smoothly to last. I think the confederate authorities are making a great mistake in not massing a powerful army in our rear and thus attempting to break our lines and raise the siege. We shall attend to Johnston, for Grant has planted his line so firmly that he can spare half his men to look out for his rear. What a change we notice to-day, from the time spent around the city, where there was no sound except from the zipping bullets and booming cannon; while out here in the country the birds sing as sweetly as if they had not heard of war at all. Here, too, we get an exchange from the smoky atmosphere around Vicksburg, to heaven's purest breezes.

We have marched to-day over the same ground for which we fought to gain our position near the city. Under these large spreading oaks rest the noble dead who fell so lately for their country. This march has been a surprise to me. It is midnight, and we are still marching.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 37

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 9, 1863

Orders this morning to draw two days' rations, pack up and be ready to move at a moment's warning. We drew hard-tack, coffee, bacon, salt and sugar, and stored them in our haversacks. Some take great care so to pack the hard-tack that it will not dig into the side while marching, for if a corner sticks out too much anywhere, it is only too apt to leave its mark on the soldier. Bacon, too, must be so placed as not to grease the blouse or pants. I see many a bacon badge about me—generally in the region of the left hip. In filling canteens, if the covers get wet the moisture soaks through and scalds the skin. The tin cup or coffee-can is generally tied to the canteen or else to the blanket or haversack, and it rattles along the road, reminding one of the sound of the old cow coming home. All trifling troubles like these on the march may be easily forestalled by a little care, but care is something a soldier is not apt to take, and he too often packs his “grub” as hurriedly as he “bolts” it. We were soon ready to move, and filled our canteens with the best water we have had for months. We did not actually get our marching order, however, until near three o'clock P. M., so that being anxious to take fresh water with us, we had to empty and refill canteens several times. As we waited for the order, a good view was afforded us of the passing troops, and the bristling lines really looked as if there was war ahead.

O, what a grand army this is, and what a sight to fire the heart of a spectator with a speck of patriotism in his bosom. I shall never forget the scene of to-day, while looking back upon a mile of solid columns, marching with their old tattered flags streaming in the summer breeze, and hearkening to the firm tramp of their broad brogans keeping step to the pealing fife and drum, or the regimental bands discoursing “Yankee Doodle” or “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” I say it was a grand spectacle—but how different the scene when we meet the foe advancing to the strains of “Dixie” and “The Bonny Blue Flag.” True, I have no fears for the result of such a meeting, for we are marching full of the prestige of victory, while our foes have had little but defeat for the last two years. There is an inspiration in the memory of victory. Marching through this hostile country with large odds against us, we have crossed the great river and wil1 cut our way through to Vicksburg, let what dangers may confront us. To turn back we should be overwhelmed with hos[t]s exulting on their own native soil. These people can and will fight desperately, but they cannot put a barrier in our way that we cannot pass. Camped a little after dark.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 11-12

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: May 1, 1863

Logan's Division, to which we belonged, embarked on transports, that had passed the batteries at Vicksburg and Grand Gulf, last night, about two miles below the latter place, where we had marched down the Louisiana levee to meet the boats. Crossing the Mississippi river, we landed at Bruinsburg, and left that place this forenoon at 10 o'clock, marching twelve miles over dusty roads and through a hilly and broken country.

Although the boys were tired, their minds were diverted with the scenery of a new State. After crossing the great Mississippi, we bade farewell to Louisiana and its alligators, and are now inhaling the fragrance and delightful odors of Mississippi flowers. Arriving near Port Gibson about dark, found that the advance of McClernand’s corps had defeated the enemy, who had marched out from Vicksburg to check our army. The fight was quite spirited, and the rebels hotly and bravely contested every foot of ground, but they were overpowered, as they will be in every engagement they have with us. Having only two days’ rations in our haversacks, guess we will have to eat rather sparingly of them, for our wagon train is not on the road. Should rations run short, we will have to forage off the country; but even the supplies from that source will not feed Grant's large army. We were well satisfied, however, that the stars and stripes were victorious, in this battle, without our assistance. We did not smell the battle afar off, but heard cannonading through the day, and fully expected to take a hand in it. When we stopped, as we supposed, for the night, our Colonel drew the regiment into line, and said Gen. McPherson had asked him if his regiment was too wearied to follow the retreating enemy. When the question was put to the men, every one wanted to go, and started on the trail with the swiftness of fresh troops, marching as rapidly as possible until 10 o'clock, then camped in a ravine for the night. During this rapid movement, we did some skirmishing. The Confederate army had retreated, and we made the tail of it fly over the road pretty lively.

“The battle wa? fought, and the victory won;

Three cheers for the Union! the work was well done.”

Porter's Gun-boats in front of Grand Gulf.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 3-4