Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, October 4, 1863

EMPIRE HOSPITAL, ATLANTA, GA., Oct. 4th.

SINCE the 20th of August, I have had little opportunity, and less inclination, to write in my diary. About the 10th of September, Gregg's Brigade received orders to take the cars for Atlanta, Ga., and we were soon on our way via Mobile, where mean whisky upset some of the boys. At Montgomery, I went to the theatre and witnessed a very poor play. On the way from this place to Atlanta, a soldier was killed by falling between the cars while running. On arrival at Atlanta, we camped two days near the city, and then took the train for Resaca, on the road to Chattanooga, where we again rested for two days. In leaving Atlanta, I became separated from the regiment, which left at 7 o'clock P.M., and did not get off until the next morning, when I succeeded in getting aboard of the train carrying the Fiftieth Tennessee, General Gregg and Staff, and the brigade commissary stores. Three miles north of Marietta, the car containing the subsistance broke down, and had to be thrown off the track; consequently, about twenty-five of us had to walk back to Marietta and wait for the next train. The order turned out to be a piece of good fortune for the party, as the train we left was run into by a down train that night and completely demolished-eighteen men being killed and seventy-five wounded, mostly of the Fiftieth Tennessee. This accident occurred on Sunday night, September 13th. On Monday, I got on board the passenger train, and, after a run of a few miles, the rear coach ran off, but no one was seriously injured, though the escape was miraculous. This accident occurred at Big Shanty, and here I had to remain until the following day, when I was enabled to get through to my regiment at Resaca without further delay. Wednesday morning, we were again en route to Ringgold, and reached the burnt bridge, two miles below that town, just at night-fall. Soon after, the Forty-fourth Tennessee came up and camped near us. In this regiment we found many friends and acquaintances. Thursday morning, we had orders to cook two days' rations, but our supplies being behind, we could not do so. Saw where General Forrest had whipped the enemy a few days before. During the day we heard that a battle was expected every day between Bragg and Rosecrans, and that we were now in seven miles of the enemy's advance. General Bragg had increased his army by reinforcements from Virginia and Mississippi, and was supposed to have about sixty-five thousand men wherewith to match Rosecrans' one hundred thousand hitherto victorious and well-armed troops. Thursday evening, a courier announced to General Gregg that the enemy's cavalry had driven in our pickets beyond Ringgold, and were then in possession of the place. In a short time, the brigade was under arms and on the march. Had to wade the Chickamauga three times in going one-half a mile. Heard artillery firing ahead, but, after taking position on a hill overlooking the town, learned that Bushrod Johnson's Brigade had driven the enemy off. The brigade was then marched back to camps and ordered to cook four days' rations, which consumed the greater part of the night.

At 4 o'clock Friday morning, the march was resumed, with the understanding that there was to be a vigorous pursuit of the enemy. Gregg's and Johnson's Brigades were formed into a division under command of the latter—Colonel John S. Fulton succeeding him in command of the brigade. By daylight the troops were fairly in motion, and, passing through Ringgold, took a westerly course, which, in seven miles, brought us up with the enemy. Our line of battle was quickly formed in an open field, and ordered forward to the edge of the woods in which the enemy was supposed to be covered; but, after advancing some four hundred yards it was halted, and skirmishers were thrown forward. No hostile force was found, and, after a vigorous shelling of the woods, the brigade was moved by the left flank some distance and again ordered forward. The Chickamauga Creek was waded and the steep acclivities beyond were climbed in vigorous pursuit of the enemy, who showed no disposition to come to an engagement. The line of battle kept pushing ahead for several miles, through thickets and dense woods, until more open ground was reached, when a short halt was made to rectify the alignment; after which the advance was resumed, passing through a Yankee camp which had been abandoned a short while before. Just about dark our brigade came up with the enemy's skirmishers, and, the whole division joining in the yell with which the Thirtieth Tennessee opened the ball, these were quickly driven in. Night now being at hand, a halt was made and the men were ordered to sleep upon their arms. A general silence seemed to pervade both lines, in view of the prospect of a heavy battle on the morrow. The night was remarkably cool for the season of the year, and before morning we were allowed to unsling blankets for comfort. At sun-rise, September the 19th, our brigade was thrown into position on a rocky ridge along the west bank of the Chickamauga, and skirmishers thrown out in readiness for the attack which we had reason to believe the enemy would make during the morning; but it was near 10 o'clock before the battle opened with artillery and heavy musketry on the right. In our front every thing was quiet except the rattling of artillery-wagons, as they were being moved up to where the fighting was going on. The engagement gradually extended along the line until at midday it had reached the right of Johnson's Division, and the roar of conflict had been continuous.

We could hear Cheatham's men cheering as they charged and drove the enemy, and the feebler cheer of the other side as it took the offensive, and, in turn, drove Cheatham back.

About 2 o'clock, being on the skirmish line, my attention was drawn to matters more directly in our own vicinity by the whizzing of a few minnie bullets at the front. I then saw a brigade of "blue coats" approaching in splendid order at a double quick, and I apprised Lieutenant Chafin, the officer in command, of the fact; but every one said they were our own men, and it was concluded not to fire at any event until they came closer. When they were within two hundred yards or less, we saw they were Yanks, and no mistake, and firing one round we ran in, according to orders. I took deliberate aim at an officer on horseback, but never learned the effect of my shot. As we reached the main line it was kneeling and at a ready, and perfectly cool. The retiring skirmishers had hardly time to get into their places before the enemy appeared and opened fire with a heavy volley. Our boys now opened with a will, and a severe combat of thirty minutes ensued without any relative change on either side, when our opposers fell back out of range. Bledsoe's Missouri Battery aided materially in the repulse by its splendid firing, which it kept up after the enemy was beyond the range of musketry. About this time General Gregg rode up to Colonel Tillman, commanding the Forty-first, and told him to move forward and see what those fellows are doing down there in the heavy timber." The command was given to forward along the whole brigade, and forward we went in splendid order. At the foot of the hill a halt was called, while skirmishers were thrown out. Colonel Tillman ordered Lieutenant Chafin to detail some of his best men and deploy them as skirmishers at least three hundred yards in advance of the brigade; the three first files of company C were called for, and we went forward, deploying at a double quick, and firing as a "blue coat" came in view. We found the enemy lying down in line of battle waiting for us, and reported the fact. I heard General Gregg's stentorian "Forward!" and a wild yell, as the boys came on at a charge. We waited until they came up, and fell into our places. The whole division was yelling and firing as it went; the bushes were too thick to allow good order or much execution. The yell seemed to have done the work, for the enemy gave way, leaving their dead and wounded and throwing down their guns and knapsacks. The charge was kept up for a half mile, when progress was stopped by a heavy battery in front of Johnson's Brigade, and which we had to give them time to take, the order being for us to preserve line. While waiting here we learned that our gallant General Gregg had been severely, if not mortally, wounded. Colonel Walker, of the Third Tennessee, took command of the brigade. At this stage word was passed along the line that the enemy was moving up in our rear, and we were ordered to fall back, which was accomplished just in the nick of time. After reforming, a half wheel to the right was made to protect the flank, and this position was maintained the rest of the evening. Captain Feeney's Company was thrown forward as skirmishers as night was coming on. The fighting in front of our brigade was over for that day, but was still heavy on the left wing. Of the casualties in the brigade I knew nothing. In the Forty-first the loss was very light, considering that, for a time, we were exposed to a heavy cross fire. We had killed and wounded a great number of the enemy, and captured a few prisoners, besides a number of guns and knapsacks. Three-fourths of a mile of ground had been gained since morning. Of individual acts of heroism on the part of officers and men I will not speak, nor of the few who showed arrant cowardice at the first fire. At dark, Company C was relieved from skirmish duty by a company from the left of the brigade. James Wilson and myself, being detailed to go for water, set out with the canteens of the company, and walked about two miles before obtaining a supply. On our return we wandered about in the woods, completely lost, for about two hours, when we accidentally stumbled upon the line, just as we were about broken down and had given up in despair. During the night, logs and rocks were piled up as protection against bullets. The atmosphere was again quite cool and foggy. General Gregg was in advance of the line when he was wounded, and was left in the hands of the enemy for awhile, who rifled him of his sword, money and watch, and were taking him off the field when he feigned death and was left on the ground. His wound is in the neck, and not considered dangerous. Colonel Granberry, of the Seventh Texas, received a painful wound during the day. All of the other regiments suffered more than the Forty-first. Colonel Sugg, of the Fiftieth Tennessee, was wounded, but, after being attended by the surgeon, came back and took command of the brigade, which, in the meantime, had devolved upon Colonel Walker, of the Third.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 325-9

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Tuesday, January 17, 1865

Warm & pleasant. Genl Inspection by Capt Barnes A. A. I. G. 1st Div at 2 P. M. Sharman removed to Officers Hospital

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 571

Diary of Elvira J. Powers: Thursday, April 7, 1864

Nashville, Tenn., Thursday Evening, April 7.

The present week, thus far, has been to me, full of new and thrilling experiences.

On Sabbath, the day after our arrival, I entered an ambulance and visited a camp for the first time. The company consisted of three, besides myself—Rev. Dr. D., a young theological student who is passing vacation here, and Miss T. The day was warm and springlike; the hyacinths, crocuses, and peach trees in blossom. It was the camp of the 7th Pennsylvania Cavalry, and situated upon one of the hights overlooking the City. The tents were white, the soldiers well-dressed, the uniform bright and everything tidy. A new and gaily painted banner pointed out the tent of the Colonel. As we entered the grounds, that gentleman, with the Major, met us cordially, a seat was prepared for the ladies at the opening of the Colonel's tent, while a huge box in front served for a speaker's stand. The bugle then summoned such as wished to listen, and service was held by the two gentlemen of our party. Books and papers were afterward distributed, for which the soldiers seemed eager. The Colonel informed us that the Regiment had just been reorganized, and new recruits filled the vacant places in the ranks, made so by the heroes, who fell at such battles as Lookout Mountain, Mission Ridge, and Chickamauga. There is a long list of such inscribed upon this banner, of which they are justly proud.

On Monday, visited a hospital for the first time. Was accompanied by Mrs. E. P. Smith, Mrs. Dr. F. and my travelling companion Miss O, beside the driver. As the ambulance halted, we saw through the open door and windows the homesick, pallid faces raised from the sick beds to greet us with a look of pleasure. Upon entering, almost the first object was that of a dying boy. His name was John Camplin, of Co. G. 49th Illinois Vols. He was a new recruit of only seventeen, and the victim of measles. He "did'nt want to die," but, after the singing of such hymns as "Rock of Ages," and "Jesus lover of my soul," he grew more resigned. I took the card which hung in a little tin case at the head of his bed, and copied the name and address of his father. The dying boy had been watching, and he then with difficult speech asked me to write to his people and tell them "good bye,” and that he was "going home." I tried to obtain a more lengthy message to comfort them, but speech was soon denied nd reason wandered. He died a few hours after, and the sad tidings was sent next day.

Found another poor boy quite low, with pneumonia. He knew his condition, but with an heroic smile upon his wasted features said, that "if" his "life would do his dear country any good" he was "willing to give it."

The Masonic Hall and First Presbyterian Church constitute Hospital, No. 8. We visited that on Tuesday.

As we enter the Hall, past the guard, we find a broad flight of stairs before us, and while ascending, perceive this caution inscribed upon the wall in evergreen.

"Remember you are in a hospital and make no noise." Up this flight, and other cautions meet us, such as "No smoking here"—" Keep away from the wall," &c. We here pause at a door, and are introduced to the matron who is fortunately just now going through the wards. It is Miss J-tt, of Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Ascending another broad flight, and asking in the meantime of her duties, she throws open the door of the linen room where are two clerks, and says:

"This department comprises all the work assigned to me whatever else I do is voluntary and gratuitous. "But today," she adds laughingly, "it would be difficult to define my duties. I think I might properly be called 'Commandant of the Black Squad,' or Chief of the Dirty Brigade;" and she explained by saying that she had seven negro women and two men, subject to her orders, who were cleaning the building. She next throws open the door of a ward which contains but a few patients, and has a smoky appearance. She tells us, they are fumigating it, having had some cases of small pox, most of which have been sent to the proper Hospital.

We pass to another, where she tells us, previous to entering, is one very sick boy. He is of a slight form, only fifteen, and with delicate girlish features. His disease is typhoid fever, from the effects of which he is now quite deaf. As we approach, he says to her faintly, "Sit down here, mother, on the side of my bed.”

She does so, when he asks her to "to bend her head down so he can tell her something." This she does, when he says, quite loud, but with difficulty;—“There's some money under my pillow, I want you to get it, and buy me some dried peaches."

"I don't want your money," she says, "but you shall have the peaches if I can get them," and she writes a note and dispatches it to the sanitary rooms for them." "This boy always calls me mother," she says, "and the first day he was brought here, he sent his nurse to ask if I would come up and kiss him. He has always been his mother's pet, and I now correspond with her on his account."

His fever is very high, and we pass our cold hand soothingly over his forehead and essay to speak words of cheer, and as we turn to leave, he looks up pleadingly and says:

"Can't you kiss me?"

"Yes, indeed, I can—am glad to do so," and we press our own to his burning lips and receive his feverish, unpleasant breath, not a disagreeable task though, for all, when we remember that he is the pet of his mother, who misses him so very much, and who may never look upon her boy again.

Of one-a middle-aged, despondent looking man we ask cheerily, how he is to-day.

"About the same," he replies coldly, but with a look which is the index of a thought like this:

Oh, you don't care for us or our comfort,—you are well, and have friends, and home, probably near you, and you cannot appreciate our suffering, and only come here to satisfy an idle curiosity."

He does not say this, but he thinks it, and we read the thought in the voice, manner, and countenance. We determine to convince him of his mistake, if possible, notwithstanding he looks as if he prefers we should walk along and leave him alone.

"Were you wounded?" we ask.

"No-sick," was the short gruff answer.

"Your disease was fever was'nt it?" we persist," your countenance looks like it."

"Yes, fever and pneumonia,” he replies in the same cold, but despairing tone.

"Ah-but you're getting better now."

"Don't know about it—reckon not."

"Well, how is it about getting letters from home?"

His countenance, voice and manner undergo a sudden change now, and his eyes overrun with tears, at the simple words "letters from home."

And as he raises his hand to his mouth, to conceal its quivering, he tells us with tremulous voice that he has sent three letters to his wife and can get no answer. She has left the place where they used to live, and he does not know certainly where to direct. We ask who we can write to, to find out, and learn that a sister would know. We take the probable address of the wife, and that of the sister, and after some farther conversation leave him looking quite like another man as we promise to write to each in the evening. (Subsequently, we learned that he received a reply to both, and was comparatively cheerful and very grateful.)

Down stairs, and we enter a ward on the first floor. Here is a thin sallow visage, the owner of which piteously asks if we "have any oranges," "No," but we provide means, by which he can purchase.

"I'm from North Carolina," he says, "I hid in the woods and mountains and lived on roots and berries for weeks, before I could get away."

In reply to our query as to whether he would like a letter written home, he informs us that his wife and father arrived in town only a few days ago,

"Then you have seen them," we say.

"Yes, they both visit me, but my wife comes oftenest."

Just now, his nurse, a young man who should know better, interrupts him by telling us that "it isn't so, and his family are all in North Carolina."

"That's just the way," said the sick man, turning to me with a flushed and angry look, "that they're talking to me all the time, and trying to make everybody think I'm crazy. I reckon I know whether I've seen my wife or not!"

"Of course you do," we say quietingly; "does she bring you anything nice to eat?" and we add that we wish she would come while we were there, so we could see her.

"Well, she don't bring me much to eat," he says in a weak, hollow voice, but earnestly, "she don't understand fixin' up things nice for sick folks, and then she's weakly like, but she does all she can, for she's a right gude heart. She doesn't fix up, and look like you folks do, you know," he added, “for she's sort o' torn to pieces like by this war."

“Yes, we can understand it."

Upon inquiring about this man a few moments after of the Ward-Master, we find that he is really a monomaniac upon this subject, persisting in the declaration that his wife and father visit him often though no one sees them.

"He can't live," said the Ward-Master, "he has lost all heart and is worn out. The chance of a Southerner to live after going to a hospital is not over a fourth as good as for one of our Northern boys. They can do more fighting with less food while in the field, but when the excitement is over they lose heart and die.”

We find upon several subsequent visits that he is growing weaker, and at the last when his countenance indicates that death is near, we are thankful that he is still comforted by these imaginary visits from father and wife.

We crossed the street and entered the First Presbyterian Church, which constitutes a part of the hospital. This place is notable for the promulgation of secession sentiments from its pulpit in other days. A specimen of the style was given here a short time before the entrance of our troops, by Prof. Elliott of the Seminary, who in a prayer besought the Almighty that he would so prosper the arms of the Confederates and bring to naught the plans of the Federals, that every hill-top, plain and valley around Nashville should be white with the bones of the hated Yankees!”

“After hearing this it was doubly a pleasure, in company with Miss J., another "Northern vandal," to make the walls of the old church echo to the words of "The Star Spangled Banner," with an accompaniment from the organ; and it would have done any loyal heart good to see how much pleasure it gave to the sick and wounded soldiers.

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, p. 13-19

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

Sent off ambulances to-day to commence bringing forward the sick of my regiment, and whilst they were gone, after having put my hospital in good order for their reception, I stepped over again to Commodore Jones' house to see how the guards stationed there had succeeded in carrying out their orders. Till I entered the house, I thought I had seen evidences of extreme vandalism, but the wanton destruction here beggars everything I have before witnessed. Furniture broken; feather beds opened, and their contents emptied over house and yard; even those beautiful family pictures were ground to atoms and thrown to the winds. But I need not describe here, for the impression is deeply stamped in memory, more durable and more accurate than words and letters can ever make. Everything destructable was destroyed.*

In handling over the papers I picked up the Commodore's "Journal of a cruise in the U. S. ship Relief-bearing the broad pennant of Commodore Jones-Thos. A. Downer, Esq., Commander," which I have preserved, and also a letter from a son of Commodore Tatnall (late of the rebel Merrimac) to Commodore Jones, written from the Meditterranean, asking to be relieved from duty there, and to be permitted to return to America.†

As it will be a matter of interest to me, in future, to study my predictions as to the course and conduct of this war-to rejoice and be vain over those which prove correct, and to laugh at or be ashamed of those which prove false, I shall continue to record them as I have begun; and here I enter one in which I hope to take interest a long time hence. As I have constantly predicted, we have had no fight here nor shall we have; and I now very much doubt whether we shall have a fight even at Manassas, and for this reason: "After all the feints of the enemy here to draw Gen. Banks from Harper's Ferry had failed, they, seeing that we have got foot-hold in North Carolina, will fall back on their fortifications at Centerville and Manassas, and then presenting a bold front with a small body, will cover the withdrawal of the larger part of their force, which they will distribute in Kentucky, Missouri, Tennessee and Western Virginia, and I very much doubt whether they will retain enough at Manassas to make a respectable fight. Kentucky and Tennessee are to become the theatre of war; and if I am not greatly mistaken, Kentucky will have trying times between this and the first of January. I hope that Gen. McClellan is taking the same view of things, and is preparing to meet it." What I have here marked as a quotation is a copied from a letter this day written to a friend on the prospects of the war.

_______________

* It is worthy of remark here, that thus whilst this wanton destruction was going on, a half a mile away, everything on the place of Mr. Johnson, (a loyalist, whose house and garden were in the very midst of the encampments,) though unguarded was unmolested; every article he had to dispose of was bought and paid for, at high prices, by the soldiers. Even thus early could we read the soldier's aversion to guarding, or having guarded the property of rebels.

† This letter I handed to a lady connection of the Tatnall family, who was with me at the time, and she found means of restoring it to them.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 42-3

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 19, 1862

10 Oc I & Emma Amandus & our Cozens Maria & Mary Kelley attended Catholic Church after which we went to the Hospital Boat & from that we went to the hospitals & amongst the sick & wounded 5 Oc I was on dress perade evening I preached in the tent 30th Reg text Gal 6th 1st & 2nd v

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 92

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 23, 1862

I went with our Capt to the Hospital & gave him his medison & staid with him most of the day afternoon a short time on drill & Dress perade evening Emma & I attended prayer meeting at exchange St Church after that we went into see some of our sick Soldiers in the Hospital

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 93

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 24, 1862

It was so cold we did not drill any this day Emma & I visited the hospitals & tryed to Comfort the suffering evening Emma Amandus & I attended the prayer meeting at the African church

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 93

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 25, 1862

We did not drill but had Dress perade at 4 Oc the 30th Reg left here this day on the Packet John Warner they ware in fine spirits I had the children all with me to see them leave then Emma & I attended the hospitals & evening Emma & Mary Kelly & I attended meeting in the hospital in the lighton house & I spoke from the 1st Psalm one of the 30th died

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 93

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 26, 1862

Our Reg got our coats pants shirts & socks & caps & they needed them verry much 9 Oc I was at love feast in the African church then visited our boys in the hospital. then helped to receive & distribute the uniform 4 Oc we were on dress perade evening Emma & Mrs & Miss Kelly visited the hospitals & attended preaching at exchange church

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 93

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 29, 1862

We drilled forenoon in manual of arms & afternoon in battallion drill & dress perade Our Reg took a march through the citty & drilled some on main Street evening I wrote our Capt a letter visited the hospitals & with our 1st & 2nd Seargent took a dish of Oisters two of the men of our Reg in Capt Vermilions Co. ware sent home to be buried

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 93-4

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 30, 1862

Forenoon I drilled the Co in the manual of arms afternoon we ware on battallion drill & dress perade & ware down on main street & had our arms inspected I visited our boys in the hospital morning & night some of them are verry sick one of Co [F] Capt Vermilion died he is a brother to one that was sent up yesterday

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 94

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, June 6, 1864

The impression is growing that the situation is more and more unfavorable every day. Hospitals are overflowing with sick and no more admittance, though crowds throng at the gate daily; deaths are rapidly increasing. The numbers laying about, helpless and speechless, are growing daily. Thompson reported a particular case to the gate, asking help, and got the answer: "You Yanks help yourselves." Sergeants of detachments have reported so many cases of insane, helpless and entirely naked men, and got no satisfaction, that they ceased to do so.

A much worn Atlantic Monthly of 1861, fell into my hands which I read with interest; "Concerning Veal," by the author of "Recreations of a Country Parson," and "Nat Turner, the Slave Insurrectionist of 1831," who aroused all Virginia to defend slavery. I noticed today a man with the whole lower part of his body buried in dirt as a remedy for scurvy.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 72-3

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Friday, November 7, 1862

Commenced raising frame of new hospital.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 5, 1862

Something has happened. Last night, just as we were settling down for the night, orders came for a move. Dr. Andrus came round looking us over and ordered me to the hospital, as well as several others. Where the regiment is going is a secret from us yet. While the tents were coming down and packing up was going on, an ambulance drove in and with others I did not know, I was carted to what I understand is called "Stewart's Mansion Hospital." It is in the city, and I think near the place of our first night's stay in Baltimore. I was assigned a bed and for the first time since leaving home took off my clothes for the night. It seemed so strange I was a long time getting sleepy.

I am in a large room full of clean cots, each one with a man in it more or less sick. Not being as bad off as many others, I have written some letters for myself and some for others who wished me to do so. The room is warmed by two big stoves and if I knew where the regiment was, I would be willing to put in the winter right here. Nurses, men detailed for that purpose, are here just to wait on us and ladies are coming and going nearly all the time. They bring us flowers and are just as kind as they can be. I am up and dressed and have been out seeing the grounds about the place. One building is called the dead house, and in it were two men who died during the night. As none were missing from the room I was in, I judge there are other rooms, and that the one I was in is for those who are not really sick, but sickish. John Wooden of our company is probably the sickest man in the ward. John Van Alstyne came in just at night to see how I came on. Snow is falling and the natives call it very unusual weather for the time of year.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 57-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 13, 1862

Yesterday and to-day I have been fixing to get away from here and join the regiment. Captain Wooden's mother from Pine Plains came in to-day and I am full of home news. I kept her answering questions as long as she staid. Andrus says I must not think of going yet, but if I get a chance I'll show him. Doctors don't know it all. I have had such good care and such nice warm quarters I am really myself again, only not quite as strong as I was once. My clothes don't fit very close yet, and if the looking-glass in the wardroom is correct I have had something that has made me look rather slim.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 60

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Friday, November 14, 1862

Dr. Andrus is going to-day. He says I ought not to think of leaving here yet. But he does not forbid it, so if I get a chance I shall try it. I have burned my big pile of letters and discarded every thing my knapsack was stuffed with except what belongs to Uncle Sam.

3 p. m. Mail in and a five-dollar bill came in a letter from home. I went right out and bought a pair of boots with it, which beat the low shoes I have so far worn.

7 p.m. On board the steamer Louisiana. I had a hard time getting here, making two miles in twenty minutes with my gun and accoutrements all on. Dr. Andrus went and as soon as the chance came I sneaked out and started. I was just in time, as the gang-plank was being pulled aboard when I came to it. Dr. Andrus was on deck and saw me and had them wait until I was on board. Then he scolded some and made me get into a berth where he covered me up in blankets and made me drink a cup of hot stuff which he prepared. I was nearly roasted by this treatment, but I am away from the hospital and on the way to be with the boys again and so did not complain.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 60

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Saturday, October 5, 1861

morning clear & nice Health of camp improving only 3 of our Comp. now in the Hospital. Capt. Parke making arrangements for going home—has drawn his pay from the Pay Master. Drilling as usual both forenoon and afternoon

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 228

Diary of Elvira J. Powers: April 1, 1864

ON BOARD THE "GEN. BUELL,"        

OHIO RIVER, April 1, 1864.

HAVING been duly commissioned and ordered to “report immediately at Nashville, Tenn., for hospital service at the front," my friend, Miss N—— O——, and myself find ourselves steaming down the Ohio, between Cincinnati and Louisville.

Thus far we are quite ignorant of the duties of hospital life, though so soon to enter upon them. Our Northern friends have been questioned to little purpose, except that of ascertaining how very little knowledge there is upon the subject; and the papers are equally silent.

This fact determines me to keep some sort of a journal, however imperfect. It will of course necessarily be so, as I must neglect no duty for the sake of scribbling about it.

We have just been seeking information of our gentlemanly escort, Mr. R., of Louisville. He, it appears, has an innate love of humor and a peculiarly dry and quiet way of quizzing people. Here was a fine opportunity. But we determine to ward off the attacks as skilfully as possible with the little knowledge we do possess. He says:

“Well, ladies, I suppose you are prepared to make bread and gruel, sweep and mop, make beds, dress wounds and plough?"

In reply the gentleman was informed that had we not been proficient in each, especially the ploughing, we should never have dared to make application for the situation.

He explained by informing us that one of the Southern refugees, who confessed herself unable to do either of the others, said she "could plough."

"And I suppose you have each brought good knives along with you?" was the next query."

“Knives—oh yes, but for what purpose do you mean?" And visions of being set to amputate limbs or to protect ourselves against personal assaults flitted through our minds.

“Well, nothing, only you'll have an enormous amount of onions to peel for those boys down there. You can peel those during the night, for you'll hardly have time in the day, that's the way I used to do."

"Did you? That's pleasant employment. I've practised it considerably myself, but didn't, like you, have the satisfaction of knowing during the grievous operation that I was shedding tears for the good of my country."

Then he wished to know whether in our visits to the sick wards we should "notice only the good looking ones." Upon being informed that we have fully-determined to minister to such only as looked as if they were ministers, doctors, lawyers or editors, the gentleman seemed satisfied that we were fully fitted for the service. Still he felt called upon to caution us against excessive attention even to such, by relating that one of the class was asked by a lady visitor if she might "comb his hair."

"Yes-you-may," meekly responded the sufferer, "but it will be the thirteenth time to day."

Evening.

Just at sunset we passed North Bend, and had a glimpse of the tomb of President Harrison. The remains of Mrs. Harrison have within the last thirty days been laid by the side of the old hero. The place was pointed out by Dr. S., of Louisville, who is a second cousin to Mrs. Harrison. He informed us that the brother of his grandfather received a grant of all the land lying between the "Big and Little Miami,” and extending back sixteen miles from their mouths. 4500 acres of this was willed to the grandfather of the Doctor and about the same to the mother of Mrs. H.

Dr. S. also informed us that he was the only one in Louisville who voted for Lincoln. That the polls were twice declared closed, and the clerk with oaths refused to record his vote, when the son of one of our Generals—I regret having forgotten the name—peremptorily ordered it done; when an A. and L. and a long black stroke was dashed upon the record, The baser sort had all day threatened hanging him upon the back porch, but at the close of the day most of them were safely intoxicated.

The Doctor has the sad trial of losing a son, who had by the offer of military emolument been drawn into the Confederate service. He was wounded or taken sick and carried to Ohio, where a brother took care of him till his death. The father wished him brought home, and funeral services performed, but the military authorities of Louisville forbade it, as similar occasions had drawn out crowds of two or three thousands of secession proclivities. Then he was buried in Ohio, but when the citizens of the loyal little town learned that he had been in the Confederate service, they obliged Dr. S. to remove the body. That such staunch loyalists should suffer innocently is one of the saddest features of this rebellion.

In the course of conversation this evening we were informed by the Doctor that we were to pass the next day within seven miles of Mammoth Cave. And he spoke of the subterranean streams and mills in the vicinity, and of the blind fishes in the waters of the Cave.

"Yes," said Mr. R., in his usual serious way, "and I believe that is where your people go a craw-fishing!"

The Doctor replied in the affirmative, but in a tone which excited my curiosity. Here was a chance to add to my rather meagre stock of knowledge in natural history, and with the anxiety of a reporter for something out of which to manufacture an item, I inquired what kind of fish those were—if that was the name given to those blind fishes in the cave. To my astonishment a universal laugh greeted me from the trio. An explanation followed; and it seems that the same or something similar to what at the North we find in creeks and ditches, and call fresh-water crabs, there bear the name of craw-fish. And moreover as those crawl backward, they have attached a meaning to the term, so that when a man "puts his hand to the plough and looks back," he is said to have “gone a craw-fishing." So, like that notable traveller in Pickwick Papers, I can make a note of the discovery of a new kind of fish of the skedaddle genus. Hallicarnassus was decidedly

wrong in thinking one can sail around the world in an armchair. He should have considerately assisted that big trunk down stairs, and benignly seconded Gail's efforts to go abroad and see the world, for peradventure she might learn something even about craw-fish.

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, p. 1-5

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 6, 1862

About 4 Oc I awoke by the sound of the fire & church bells there was a fine frame building burnt down the blaze looked nice but it was a source of grief to me at 1 Oc P.M. I was in the city getting 2 sick men of our company that were in the hospitals to sign the pay roll & the alarm of fire was given I assisted in running the Ingine to the fire but little dammage done I put in most of this day getting the men to sign the pay rolls 8 in number

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 91

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 8, 1862

We drilled some & was on dress perade in the rain. I visited the hospitals & talked to the sick. the Fanny Bulley Steamer arived last night with between 300 & 400 sick & disabled soldiers I assisted some in getting them off

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 91