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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
 |
| Fighting over the enemy's fortifications. |
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
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
 |
| Porter's Gun-boats in front of Grand Gulf. |
