only last night we discarded our close and found out that the Hospittle
was full of Body lice. they had got on most of us. I hear every Hospittle in
town are full of them. how they got here God only knows. I don’t
SOURCE: Vinson Holman Diary Exerpts, Pea Ridge National Military Park: https://www.nps.gov/peri/learn/historyculture/vinsonholman.htm
accessed November 9, 2026
Our rations touch the starvation limit, and still "the song and the
jest goes round." Not a murmur, not a word of complaint. We simply
"gird up our loins" a little tighter. Our fare now is one-fourth
pound per man of a mixture made up of coarse black flour, bran and unbolted
corn meal; beef in proportion; not half as much as a man would eat, even of
that vile stuff, at one meal. Night before last our pickets were driven in and
sixteen of our boys captured. Last night an attack was made on Fort Saunders.
We had expected a night attack and were on the alert. About 9 o'clock our
pickets were driven in and the ball opened. It was "fast and furious"
while it lasted, but was soon over. The Rebels lost about one thousand in this
assault.
Dr. Crosby, our Regimental Surgeon, has been to General Ferrera [sic] and
got me detailed for hospital service, and has given me charge of a ward in the
City Hospital. The doctor says he has discovered in me the "sympathetic
touch," more soothing to irritated nerves than opiates. That is the way he
puts it.
Our doctor has the poetic temperament, although one would hardly suspect
it by his looks. But he is kind and tender to the sick and wounded, and
skillful in his profession.
It is rumored Grant is organizing a force to send to our relief. God
speed him on his way, for we are on the verge of starvation.
SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a
Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 129-30
Knoxville, Tenn. I have been three
weeks "head nurse" in the first ward of the First Brigade hospital.
Dr. Crosby is with the regiment at Blains Cross Roads, about eighteen miles
from here. Most of my patients are from my own regiment, and were wounded at
Campbell's Station or during the siege of Knoxville. The building we occupy was
once a court house. The room is about thirty feet by forty. There are two large
fireplaces, one on each side of the room. There are now thirty-three patients.
All but six of the wounded can walk about the room with or without the aid of
crutches. Around each fireplace is a group of men, eagerly discussing the probability
of being sent to Washington or Baltimore. At one end of the room, resting one
arm on the railing that surrounds the "judgment seat," stands the
"ward boss," trying to write to the loved ones at home.
I am not on duty, but my patients ignore the fact, and frequently
interrupt me with: "Mr. Lane, please step here a minute;" or,
"Please give me a drink of water." I return and try to shut out all
sights, all sounds, all thoughts but those of home. Vain effort. The voice of
my favorite, Fred Byron, faintly strikes my ear: "Davie; oh, Davie!"
Involuntarily I drop my pen and hasten to his side. "What is it, Fred?
What can I do for you, my boy?" "Oh, I'm so tired, and nobody cares
but you. That man with black whiskers handles me as though I am made of
wood." I turn him gently over, adjust his bed and pillow, moisten his hot,
feverish brow, and give him a sup of cool water. "There, Fred, now go to
sleep, and when you wake you will feel better." As I turn to leave him,
after bidding him good-night, he grasps my hand in both of his. "Oh,
Davie, you are so kind; nobody can do for me as you can.'
He is a German, from Massachusetts, nineteen years old, fair as Adonis—brave
as a hero—which he is.
I have many strong attachments here, and cannot well forsake them to
return to the regiment.
SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a
Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 131-2
Knoxville. I still remain at the
hospital—can all winter if I choose. The sick and wounded are doing fairly
well. Most of them will soon be well enough to go home on furlough. They are to
be sent fast as it may be safe for them. One squad starts tomorrow. The men are
eager to get away from here somewhere—anywhere.
This is called a United States General Hospital. It partakes of the
nature of such an institution only so far as patients and shoulder-strapped
doctors go toward making it one. And patients are becoming scarce, thank God.
It is not a desirable place for convalescents, and, as soon as they are able,
they gladly leave for their regiments. The wounded are all to have furloughs so
says the Surgeon—and they are very impatient. They would run any risk to
escape this den of filth, privation and starvation.
Think of a hospital where the patients have no bedding but the blankets
they brought with them; no clothing but the dirty rags they wore from the
field; no dishes but their tin cups and butcher knives; where there is no
"bed pan," and only two night vessels for one hundred forty sick men;
where washing is put off, week after week, for want of soap, there being not so
much as one piece to wash hands with. I went to every store, grocery and
sutler's shop in the city this morning, seeking soap and finding none. Where
wounded soldiers are fed on coarse bread and beef or vegetable soup twice a
day, and not half enough of this to satisfy.
It is no valid excuse that hospital stores cannot be procured here. They
might have been sent from Kentucky before this time. Our troops the Ninth Corps
in the field are in no better condition. They are encamped eighteen miles from
here, unfit for duty for want of clothing; all are ragged; many have not a shoe
to their feet or rags enough to cover them. Washington's army at Valley Forge
is the only parallel in the history of this Nation. We have drawn very little
clothing since we started for Mississippi in June last. I saw our Quartermaster
Sergeant yesterday, Mr. Woodin; he assures me there is no prospect of our
receiving supplies in the near future. What I have said applies to the Ninth
Corps only; the Twenty-third and other corps are well supplied. The reason
given is we are out of our department, and there is no regular channel of
supply. I have just drawn two months' pay. I intended to send every dollar of
it to my wife, who needs it, but will be compelled to use some of it or go
naked. I have only one shirt, and that is nearly worn out. Army shirts-no
better than those issued to us—cost six dollars at the sutler's. My shoes are
nearly off my feet, and army shoes cost four dollars. I am destitute of socks,
and socks cost one dollar. I do not wish to find fault, but the thought will
arise, if sutlers can get their goods over the mountains, why cannot the
Government? Again, there is, and has been, a heavy stock of clothing at the
Gap. Why don't they send it on?
SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a
Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 132-4
A squad of ten convalescents left for the North today. The balance of the
wounded will go as fast as their condition will permit. Twenty-six, out of
thirty in my ward, will be able to go by Wednesday next, and I will be left
without patients. I rejoice with the poor fellows. The thought of going home,
where kind friends can minister to their wants and supply their needs, is a
wonderful tonic.
There has been much excitement among the old regiments the past two
weeks. The Eighth Michigan boys have enlisted for "during the war,"
nearly every man. The same is true of several other regiments whose terms of
service expire next spring. They are to have four hundred dollars bounty and
thirty days' furlough.
The Seventeenth is not included in this order, having over a year to
serve. There is much talk of the Ninth Corps leaving this department. I wish I
knew it to be true.
SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a
Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 134-5
I received your long
looked for letter last night and I set my self about answering it as soon as I
had read it, but had hardly commenced when the word came (to arms) or rather to
go and get our new Sabers. I had to go. I have a very good one indeed. There
was so much nois and clamor that I could not think of writing more last night.
This Sunday morning we had to pack up evrything that is caried on horse back
and appear on grand review or inspection after forming in line of Battle we
marched around Brig. Gen. Curtis'27 quarters, He (with his Body
Guard close by) was to inspect our Battalion as we marched by. I had a fine
opportunity of seeing him he is a fine looking old man, and quite gray hair,
all the soldiers had to salute him with the Saber. It was dinner time when I
came in quarters, and as soon as I could take care of my horse and put away my
things it was two oclock, and now as I want to write this letter (not knowing
when I may have another opportunity) I will have to give up going to meeting,
which is at four oclock We have orders to leave here between this and
Wednesday. I know not where, but unless the order is countermanded we will go.
I expect we will have to be put through drilling while we stay here, we drill
mostly on a trot and a gallop, and when chargeing, on a dead
run. I am geting used to riding, I beleive I shall make a good horseman a
number of the boys have been thrown from their horses and some been run away with
I believe that not any of them have been hurt. I am proud of my horse he is
such a steady good one, When I get my accouterments all on and drilling I tell
you I feel animated and like fighting. I beleive I shall do good exicution when
I get a chance at those Missouri Ruffians. I think my chance is good for one
stroke at least soon too, Day before yesterday our Lt. Crissy28 came
back from Lyons with recruits among them were Blacksmith-Clark J. Kilmer,
Thoms. Else,29 Although they are nearly strangers to me, they
seem like old friends. It came my turn to stand on stable guard that night from
twelve untill six in the morning. I had so many long stories to exchange with
the Camanche boys that I did not go to bed to get any sleep that night. Aaron
Reccord & Lucian Beely30 also came down at the same time in
pesuit of their Regt. I suppose you knew that they had been in the Hospital at
Camp McClellan, and home on a furlough They are here yet and as Aaron is quite
lame (from the affects of over walking when too week) I think he will stay here
untill he is better, while Beely will start tomorrow morning, to over take his
Co. that I think is near Warsaw.31 I got a pass to go to the
Hospital but they would not admit me I enquired for John Dam and was told that
he was not There, I suppose that he went with his Co, The last I heard of Isaac
and Co R. they were at Jeferson City. Tell Aunt Rebecca32 Isaacs
letters will be forwarded from Head Quarters and I will not see them You said
you was glad to hear of any delay of our Co. for my personal safety I do not
want you to feel so, I came to fight, and the sooner we get at it
the sooner it it [sic] will be ended I can not give you any information
concerning the war I do not get the news regular and there is so many rumors in
camp that a person can not beleive any of them, and a soldier never knows where
he is going or what he is going to do I beleive our Regt is as good as any them
is, or at least Col. says so, & Brig. Gen. Cortis [Curtis] says it has cost
as much as any two Regt. organized.
We have another suit
of evry day clothes in the Col.['s] charge so we shall not get out this winter
Besides we have a dress suit for a fancy rig but the Col. will not give it us
yet I do not want it to mus now since I wrote you last we have received fatigue
caps and partly enough overalls, expect the rest soon they are a good
institution If I have time before I go from this place I will send you my
likeness with my arms I shall expect to receive yours soon (I mean all the
folks) Emma wondered if I was standing on guard the night she wrote I beleive I
was or the night before I am not positive which You told me about Parkes how
hard he had to work I am sorry he has to work so hard I believe it is easier to
soldier, but since we have been at Benton Barracks my whole time has been
occupied though it is not hard work, We have so much cleaning to do by the way
I will tell you something I have to do We have to keep our Buttons Bright (we
use chalk and a brush) all our clothes brushed clean, our Boots Blacked There
is a great deal of Brass about our saddles, spurs Bridles and all have to be
kept Bright and clean We have Brass shoulder Plates or Appauletts our Arms
&c all have to be kept Bright. We also have to keep our Quarters clean and
take care of horse. We Drill five hours evry day and have Dress Parade at five
oclock it takes about half or three fourth hours I have to cook every ten days
and stand on guard once in from three to six days, we all have to get up at six
oclock or Reveille, (The sound of the Bugle) and cannot go to bed untill after
Roll call or Tattoo (sound of the Bugle) which is at nine oclock P. M. If we do
not answer at Roll Call we get a black mark, and about three markes makes extra
guard duty (I never got a black mark yet) I was sorry to learn that Father and
mother did not go to Wis. I think they would have enjoyed the visit by the way
there is some boys here from McGregor, Iowa. Some are acquainted in Grant Co, Wis.
they say they are acquainted with some Kaslers but not our friends relatives as
I can learn. There is some here from Adair Co. Mo. They Have been at Shibleys
Point33 but not acquainted there I have not written to Uncle Jacobs
yet. I will the first spare time I have, for I know they would be glad to hear
from me, But I want to write a good & a long letter when I write. I hope I
may have an opportunity to visit them, though I think the prospects of geting a
furlough is rather dubious, several have applied but to no effect I almost
forgot to tell you of my visit to the Arsinal Yesterday I got a pass to go down
town I went on horse back and rode nearly all day through the city The Arsinal
is about three miles below the city and on the river Bank It is surounded by a
high stone wall and includes about ten acres There is many large stone and
Brick buildings where all kinds of arms are manufactured I see 1.25 large
cannon about half were six and eight inch bore and Riffled Cannon the rest were
light and ten inch and one did weigh 12,051 lbs I see a number of morters and
Bom shells a number of Brass cannon In one building they were makeing
cartridges and five hundred boys would make two hundred Thousand a day it would
seam enough to shoot all the rebbles in existence It was interesting to see the
process of cartriges makeing and others makeing impliments of war, I have no
time for explanations.
27 Samuel R. Curtis was at this time a
brigadier general; shortly afterwards he was promoted to major general, and in
March, 1862, was in chief command of the Union army at the decisive victory of
Pea Ridge, which gave an opening wedge for later Union invasions of Arkansas.
On September 24, 1862, he was assigned to command of the Department of Missouri
and Kansas. He kept the Confederates in this field on a defensive and guerrilla
basis of warfare throughout his period of command; but his policy of
maintaining as many troops as possible in Missouri to dragoon southern
sympathizers into submission instead of furnishing contingents to other fields
when asked for them set him at odds with the authorities at Washington. On
March 10, 1863, President Lincoln ordered Gen. E. V. Sumner to relieve him.
Sumner died on the way to St. Louis, so the President on May 13th ordered
General Schofield to relieve Curtis. Curtis afterwards commanded the Department
of Kansas and Indian Territory. - Battles and Leaders of the
Civil War (New York. The Century Co., 1888), Vol. III, pp.
446, 454, Vol. IV, pp. 376, 377.
28 James Crissy, 1st lieutenant in Company M.
29 "Blacksmith-Clark" was James
Clark; "J. Kilmer", Jeremiah Kilmer; "Thoms. Else", Thomas
C. Elce. All three were evidently from Lyons and all enlisted after
muster. They re-enlisted in 1864 and apparently served out the war.—Lothrop's A History of
the First Regiment Iowa Cavalry Veteran Volunteers, pp. 396, 403.
30 Reccord and Beely were evidently friends and
neighbors at home. Nothing further is known about them.
31 Warsaw is the county seat of Benton County,
Missouri; it lies about 60 miles southwest of Jefferson City.
32 William's Aunt Rebecca Gulick, wife of
Abraham Gulick, a brother of William's father.
33 Shibley's Point is a small inland town about
15 miles northwest of Kirksville, in Adair County, Missouri.
34 Dr. Ankeny was a brother of Captain William
H. Ankeny who was in command of Company M at this time.
35 "Uncle Abe" was Abraham Gulick,
William's father's brother.
SOURCE: Benjamin F.
Shambaugh, The Iowa Journal of History and Politics, vol. 28
(1930), pp. 213-20.
I washed some & done a little tailoring in the way of mending some rents in my Cloths evening I attended meeting in our log Chapple the Chaplain of the 46th Iowa opened the exersizes he took no text, gave us a good talk he is an Old Baptist Brother. Rob is the name. Our Chaplain followed & commenced a general speaking we had a good time bless the good Lord Wm. Pearson Co K 29 Iowa Inftn died in hospital in Helena Arkansas I believe he was from Guthrie Co Iowa & is son of John Pearson & is remotely connected to me
SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, pp. 110-1
Nothing worth
writing for a few days. To-day those we left at quarantine came up looking hale
and hearty. Most of them have had smallpox or varioloid. The weather is warm
and the boys who have been out of camp report alligators are plenty in the
swamp back of us, and snakes of many kinds also. I am rambling about camp
nowadays, but am not discharged from the hospital yet. General Neal Dow found a
place next door to camp to-day where liquor is sold. He took every bottle he
could find and smashed them across the porch rail after first locking up the
landlord. Camp is being cleared and every precaution taken to keep away yellow
fever. There is none of it yet, but it is expected this summer on account of so
many soldiers that are new to the climate. Lew Holmes has been worse for some
days and we fear we shall lose him yet.
Midnight. I am sitting up to let a tired out nurse get a nap. Holmes died a few
minutes ago. He tried to tell me something, but his tongue was so swelled I
could not understand what he said. He pulled me clear down to his face and his
breath was awful. I pretended to understand, and he settled back as if
satisfied and only breathed a few times more. His troubles are over, and
those of his old father and mother and his wife and child will begin when the
news reaches them. I am glad they did not see the end.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 94-5
Cleaning house day
in the hospital. I have been helping so one of the nurses can get off for a
walk outside. We found a burying ground where I counted fifty from the 12th
Connecticut Volunteers. Nearly all died in August and September last. So we
have not had all the sickness and death. I will try and not complain as much as
I have. There were only eight from our regiment besides two we have sent home.
From there we followed the parapet to the Jackson & Mississippi R. R.,
which runs not far back from camp. Saw a regiment of negro soldiers, who seemed
to feel fine, were having all sorts of games and were in first-rate spirits.
Their camp was clean and at the head of each company street were flower beds.
Just outside they had planted a garden and onions and other things were
growing. The commissioned officers were white. Everything else was black.
But for get-up and style they beat any white regiment I have yet seen. It made
me ashamed to go home. When I get out of the hospital I mean to try and get the
boys to be more like them.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 95-6
One of Company A's
men died to-day. His name was Burch. A boat-load of negroes landed here to-day
and were taken down towards the city, what for I did not learn. Many of the men
in camp are having diarrhea, and some have to go to the hospital, where the
diet can be regulated. Some corn and contraband goods were seized to-day a
short distance up the river. A man has been suspected for a long time and
to-day was seized upon with all his goods. We are expecting letters every day
now. We watch the papers for the mail steamers, and if we get no letters are
much disappointed.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 96-7
About camp and
hospital yesterday, getting well every minute. Except that I am skin poor and
tire out easily, I am well. My little looking-glass first told me what a change
my sickness made in my looks, but I can see my old self coming back every day
now. A short meeting to-day, the only thing besides my diary to remind me it is
Sunday, God's day. He only asks one day in seven, and it seems as if more
attention should be paid it.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 98
The regiment has
gone and I am left. When will I get clear from the hospital? One of the
hospital cooks, E. Furguson, died to-day. There are hardly enough men in camp
to bury him, only the sick and convalescent being left.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 99
Walter Loucks has
returned to camp and looks well. He feels some sore from sleeping on a board,
after his stay in the hospital, but that will wear off. General Dow has cleared
the peddlers out of camp and torn down some shanties near, where pies, etc.,
were sold. My throat has got sore again and I must get Dr. Andrus to fix it up.
We have had marching orders a couple of times, but each time they were
countermanded.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 101
MY DEAR LITTLE MAN: I wrote to mamma from our camp near Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, and as to-morrow is your birthday, and you are getting to be a big boy, I thought you would like for papa to write you a letter and tell you something about the war and the poor soldiers.
God has been very good to me since I wrote to mamma. He has saved my life when many thousands of good men have been slain all around me. On the 1st, 2nd and 3rd of July a very terrible battle was fought near Gettysburg. We marched all night, leaving camp at 2 o'clock in the afternoon in order to reach the battlefield in time. There had been some fighting on the 1st and we passed a hospital where I saw a great many wounded soldiers, who were mangled and bruised in every possible way, some with their eyes shot out, some with their arms, or hands, or fingers, or feet or legs shot off, and all seeming to suffer a great deal. About two miles farther on I found a great many soldiers drawn up in a line, ready to meet the Yankees, who formed another line a mile or two in front of them. These lines were three or four miles long, and at different places on the hills were the batteries of artillery.
These, you know, are cannons, which shoot large shells, and iron balls a long distance. We kept in this line so long, and I was so tired, I went to sleep and dreamed about you and mamma and little sister, and I asked God to take care of you if I am taken away from you. After awhile we were marched off in a great hurry towards the left of the Yankee line of battle, which is called the left wing, and was opposite to our right wing, which was composed principally of Hood's division. Our brigade was ordered to charge upon one of the Yankee batteries, which was posted on a mountain as high as mount Bonnell, with another battery on a still higher mountain, just back of it, to support it. We were standing in an open field, under the shot and shell of these batteries, for half an hour, before we moved forward, and a good many soldiers were killed all around me. One poor fellow had his head knocked off in a few feet of me, and I felt all the time as if I would never see you and little sister again. When the command was given to charge we moved forward as fast as we could towards the battery. It was between a half and three-quarters of a mile across an open field, over a marshy branch, over a stone fence, and up a very rugged and rocky hill, while Yankee sharpshooters were on the higher mountains, so as to have fairer shots at our officers. On we went yelling and whooping, and soon drove the Yankees from the first battery, but were too much worn out and exhausted to climb to the second, besides a great many of our men were killed, and minnie bullets and grape shot were as thick as hail, and we were compelled to get behind the rocks and trees to save ourselves.
We renewed the charge several times, but the slaughter of our men was so great that after four or five efforts to advance we retired about sunset and slept behind the rocks. I had thrown away my blanket and everything except my musket and cartridge box in the fight, and so spent a very uncomfortable night. We remained at the same place all the next day, and every now and then Yankee bullets would come pretty thick amongst us. One bullet went through my beard and struck a rock half an inch from my head, and a piece of the bullet hit me on the lip and brought the blood.
Lieutenant Joe Smith, of McLennan county, was killed in ten feet of me, and John Terry and Tom Mullens were both wounded in the shoulders. I wanted to write my little man a letter, which he could read when he was a big boy, but it has been raining and the ground is very wet and everything so uncomfortable that I cannot enjoy it.
Tell mamma she had better put off her visit to South Carolina until the war is over, as she seems to be doing very well, and it will be better for her.
SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 84-6
I confess to myself
to-night, that deeply as I am interested in the cause for which we fight the
question of government against anarchy—what I have witnessed today has cooled
much of the enthusiasm with which I entered the service of this government,
which I find so tardy in doing justice to those who are fighting for its preservation:
This is a stormy day in mid-winter. Whilst going my rounds of camp to see what
was needed for the health and comfort of the men, I passed the guard house of
the regiment, and stepped in to see the condition of things. I there found
soldiers—formerly my neighbors—sons of my friends, imprisoned in a pen where
pigs could not have lived a fortnight without scalding the hair off them, (this
is not figurative language) and in which these men had been kept for three
months, awaiting the decision of a court martial which had tried them for some
trivial offence, the extremest penalty of which would have amounted to some
three to six days' confinement! at all events, under the extremest limit of the
law, its punishment could not have exceeded in severity a sentence of three
days' imprisonment in this vile hole of filth and water! Yes, they had been
tried, and for three months had been kept, not only in this vile hole, but
under indignity and disgrace, awaiting the convenience of gentlemanly officers,
to send them word whether they were honorably acquitted, or that they must be
imprisoned for two or three days. When these men, who, perhaps, have never been
guilty of offence besides being suspected of it, are released from this
disgraceful punishment, will they not feel indignant at hearing the justice of
their government questioned, and be ready to rush to arms again to defend it?
If scenes like this are necessary to the preservation of a government for my
protection, then in God's name let me be untrammelled by
conventional forms, and left dependent on my own powers for my protection. I
assumed a prerogative; I pronounced most of these men sick, and ordered them
sent to my hospital. They will hardly be pronounced well before the gentlemanly
members of the court get ready to inform them of their sentence.
From this last scene
I passed on to look up a party of our Regiment, who had been detailed to guard
the General's Headquarters. I found them; and, my God! what a sight! Around the
house occupied by the General was a large ditch, some five feet deep, and some
ten or twelve feet wide, dug as the commencement of a fort. In this ditch, over
which a few evergreen boughs had been thrown as a covering, stood a well
dressed Lieutenant, (from my own county) with a squad of soldiers guarding the
General's house—the Lieutenant trying to infuse into the men a little warmth of
patriotic feeling, whilst the winter torrents poured through the evergreen
branches, and their whole frames shook with cold in this sentry house,
charitably built for them by orders of the General, who at that moment was
being joyful over his wine, and with his friends!! And is this the REPUBLIC,
the government of equality for which I am fighting? If we were men,
this would be pitiable, but we are only soldiers, volunteer soldiers at that;
and what right have we to be cold, when our services are wanted for the comfort
of a General? But these are only thoughts; should I write or speak
them, it would amount to shameful insubordination, and I should be
disgracefully dismissed from the service of the country which tolerates it. I
am too honorable a man to permit myself to be disgraced, even for the privilege
of uttering a truth. I therefore decline to say, or even to write, what I have
seen.
This afternoon I
received an order to be ready to move at a moment's notice, and to give no more
certificates for furloughs, as the applications would not be entertained. I
have lost faith in the idea that the authorities have the slightest intention
to move. They have seen our impatience to do something, and this order is a
mere dumb-watch thrown us children to amuse us with the old promised hope that
"when it gets a little older it will keep time."
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, pp. 76-9
Expectation is still
on the strain. How long it has been kept up! But no order to move, and I doubt
whether we get any soon. Indeed, I think now that we should not move. 'Tis too
late. The roads are excessively bad, and for a long time we have been having an
almost continuous storm of freezing rain and snow. An army could not lie out
over night in this terrible weather, and be in condition next day to fight
against those who had slept in good quarters and been well fed. The time has
passed to move. But why are we not ordered to winter quarters? There seems to
me to be great recklessness of the soldiers' health and comfort in this army.
There is wrong somewhere.
A sad case has just
passed under my notice. Three days ago, as I was busily engaged in attending to
hospital duties, I entrusted, necessarily, the light sickness of quarters to
others. As I passed out just after morning call, I heard one of my nurses say
to a man, "You look sick; why do you not come to hospital, where we can
take care of you?" "That is what I came for, but the doctor says I am
not sick, and has returned me to duty." I passed on, but
notwithstanding that there is scarcely a day that some "shirk" who is
pretending to be sick to avoid duty, is not treated thus, that voice rang sadly
in my ears. In ten minutes I returned, and inquired after the man. The drums
had beaten to duty, and he was on parade. I followed to parade ground,
found him endeavoring to do his duty, on a "double-quick." I took him
from the ranks, examined him, and sent him to hospital. Before they got him to
bed he was delirious. He has just died. 'Twas a case of typhoid fever, of which
he had been sick for two days before I saw him. I ask of army Surgeons, Had you
not better excuse ten "seeds" who are worthless, even when in rank,
than sacrifice one good man like this, who believes he is not sick, because you tell him
he is not?
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, pp. 79-80
For nine days I have been prevented from making usual notes. Little passed I care to recall; I force myself to write today. I know no one who takes a general note of things; it is with hesitancy as well as difficulty, that I do. I cannot say that mine is more than meager penciling. They are samples of the best and some of the worst things that I note. Two of the sick mentioned the 11th, died the 13th; the others on the 15th. One had turned gray since I first saw him. He had money but could not save himself. His was the common complaint. He died within four feet of me suddenly falling; was from Pennsylvania. Another old prisoner died today of squalor within a few feet of us. The mortality, notwithstanding the removal of so many of the worst cases, has increased. The average is over 100 per day this month. On the 15th, 140; the 17th, 128 died. I am told by a man who is on duty at the hospital. The sick again admited to the gate for prescription; but three taken to the hospital out of several hundred applicants. It is the most disagreeable task one ever had to do, to cary a sick man before the doctor and then it amounts to nothing.
H. D. Merritt of our company was taken out in an awful condition on the 14th. He is from Sodus, Wayne county, N. Y. Fourteen of Company F have died; eleven more are in bad condition. (This does not include myself.) Madison hurt his foot a few days ago; his blood is so weak that it does not heal. Gangrene set in; it has eaten to the bone. The limbs of others are so affected as to be unable to walk. Most of them were strong heavy men, but we have to carry them to sick call. Gangrene is one of the frightful phases of these diseases. W. M. Townsend of the 111th N. Y. received a slight scratch on his thigh which has spread to a large and painful sore. It is by great precaution it is kept from being maggoty. The 12th I accidentally found Hanson, a young German of our company whom I had not seen for a long time, he belonged to another detachment. He was helpless but could talk; had fallen in the swamp, was completely daubed. His gums are rotted with scurvy; the backs of his hands and feet raw from sunburn; maggots actually crawling in his flesh. I got Sergeant Burton and went to the gate begging aid. At last got the answer, "You Yanks do something for your own selves." We returned to Hanson, lifted and gave him water, cleansed his wounds, found his detachment sergeant, borrowed a ragged blanket to cover him; could do no more. He died August 16th.
Tunnel was discovered not long since this way: It had been completed to the point where they wished to come out. The head man was pulling down the dirt when suddenly it broke away covering him, and down came a gray jacket with a Rebel in it, gun and all. The relief guards were just being mounted and one of them stepped upon the exact spot where they were to escape.
A Rebel paper I saw today spoke of Major Currill, Commissioner of Exchange, visiting our fleet in Mobile Bay, having reference to sending packages. Fighting at Richmond and other places, and close work at Atlanta. They abound in speculations on the Presidential campaign, and in extracts from the New York World, Herald, News and Albeny Argus and from their view argue the South's success. The World has an article on "The Failure of Grant," denouncing his whole course; and claims that "Grant is played out," though he has punched Lee back into his Richmond ditches and is still operating. Southern Rebels do not claim Grant is a failure. They keep up a bold front which they consider a political as well as a military necessity; but their own admissions, in general tones, are evidences of their strait. To me it seems they have ceased to hope for that degree of success from their armies that can save the little prestige they have abroad, much less secure their recognition, so turning to political bickerings, presenting their armies in the feigned attitude of triumph and strength but base their hope on the election. They believe that a party that could expiate their crimes in the past, would do even more in the future, if raised to power to look down on a forest of Rebel bayonets instead of threatening, sophistical politicians to whom they had succumbed. But they are a mere shell full of dead and rotting strength that has passed its zenith. The Southern heart is burning to ashes; they would negotiate for a respite to replenish the flame, not for Union. Oh, let the North be true in this crisis! Rebels would despair of success before January.
They do not give wood enough to ten men for one. Men go to extremes to obtain it, stealing dead men from their friends to carry out with the hope of getting it. Four men are permitted to go and can bring in quite a jag. Then some will trade half of their scanty rations for a stick to cook the other half. A few will trade a day's rations for a ten cent bit of tobacco. A few so far lose their reason as to throw clothing away, becoming disgusted with lice; add themselves to disgusting sights by going naked. All capable of being degraded so as to lose self respect, become so. God only knows the wickedness and woe of such a state!
I wandered to a locality new to me, a few days ago. I came to a quartet of Tennesseeans who told their war experiences; of persecutions their people suffered for being Unionists; how they fled from home to escape Rebels who were savage against all who refused to support secession. Their madness knew neither law nor friendship; their frenzy neither justice nor mercy. They, with a hundred others, armed themselves and one day cut their way through an armed mob claimed to have been sent by Governor Isham Harris, who designed to massacre or capture them. They marched many miles to join Buell's army, and had several fights with gorillas. They were captured in Rosecrans' operations near Chattanooga, in 1863; wintered at Danville, Va.; came here in March, seven stopping together. Three have died. Prison hardships affect them severely. The character of these sturdy mountain people, their honest, intelligent patriotism in connection with this crisis, also their general history, inspire these lines:
THE MEN OF TENNESSEE.
God save from woes of Anderson
The men who bravely stayed
By Lincoln's flag, for country one,
Where slavery's power had swayed;
Eschewed the leaders of the South,
Of low and high degree,
And deemed the flag ensign of truth,
Brave men of Tennessee.
They lived upon their native soil;
They loved it well and true;
They lived by faithful, honest toil;
They loved the peace they knew.
But they were those who weighed events
As they should pondered be;
They saw conflicting sentiments
Distracting Tennessee.
And when the Union of the States
Was threatened by its foes,
With the Union they allied their fates
Secession to oppose.
When driven from their homes away,
By the
powers of slavery,
They joined the Union's armed array,
Grand men of Tennessee.
They spurned the rule that would
disrupt
The Nation's life they loved;
They spurned the rule, wrong and
corrupt,
As patriots true behooved,
And leaving homes they loved behind,
Engulfed in war's red sea,
They showed great strength of heart
and mind,
These men of Tenneessee,
They nobly tendered strength and life,
If human blood must shed,
Against secession's valorous strife
By Southrons madly led,
And side by side with Northern men
They fought most valiantly-
Here brook the ills of prison pen
Brave men of Tennessee.
Behold them suffer here and die
Within dark Sumter's walls!
The earth their bed, the roof the sky,
Where woes their hearts appal!
And yet all offers they resent
That promise them to free;
By loyalty invite torment-
True men of Tennessee.
O, hail the men who know the right
And for it stand and fall;
Who will not swerve at Treason's might
Though death may claim them all;
And here in prison pine and rot,
Though today they could be free!
No truer men have ever fought,
Than men of Tennessee.
The valor of some Spartan band
From ancient time men laud;
But the acts of these, of Jackson's
land,
Who will their deeds applaud?
I see them dying day by day
'Mid scenes of misery;
No voice to praise, where death has
sway,
These men of Tennessee.
HOSPITALS, THEIR HISTORY.
Noting the indisposition or inability of doctors to clear the stockade of sick—victims conspicuous for their wretchedness—I have applied my mind to learn facts regarding so-called hospitals. It is no mystery that men sicken in the stockade. Coarse, unpalatable food, a mixture of meal containing cob and bran doctors call it meal and husk—often musty and bitter, stirred in filthy water in large batches, often souring before baking or while baking with green wood, no salt, no yeast, no soda, often partially raw, often over-roasted with a crust hard and tasteless. If changed to rice, that is colored with the dirty water and often uncooked. Exposed to all weather and until some wells were dug, all drank and washed in the same small stream, always roiled and more and more, night and day, being poisoned by drainage from without and within. Thirst becomes feverish, unbearable; to drink is to pollute our bodies with the offal, intermixed, made more stenchful and rotten by heat and rain. Nothing could be more unsanitary, more conducive to disease. What are the hospital facilities to cope with rapidly developing conditions absolutely adverse to health in strongest men? I find these facts, attested by appearances and results. No Confederate doctor or officer pretends to dispute.
This is the history of so-called hospitals here to date and they must continually grow worse. When the prison was built most of its early prisoners were from prisons farther north, Danville and about Richmond, where they were under roofs. Coming here in February and March they readily chilled through. Some refuse of the timber from which the stockade was built was appropriated by prisoners for fuel and shelter, and before hot weather and an increase of prisoners, both air and water might have been an improvement on their former abode. But old prisoners broke down and the first hospital was erected inside of poles and brush. This was the best hospital the place has ever had. The poles or logs were left several inches apart, and as sickly men were put in them the place became as odious and no more commodious than a backwoods hog-pen. A portion had a lose floor, no beds, no bunks, no blankets, no straw. The storm and wind beat through the space between the logs and rendered patients that retained sensitiveness or desire to live, uncomfortable. A few prisoners had threadbare blankets, or remnants, with the U. S. brand, but no other was provided whether prisoners had a U. S. rag or not.
This was the original provision and remained the only hospital until the middle of May, or a few days later, when prisoners began to come from the spring campaigns and were so packed about this hospital pen that the air was infected and it was removed to its present locality to make room. We arrived here from the Wilderness fields in Virginia just two days after this change; but even then the place where it had been, was covered with men fresh from our armies little heeding that the very earth which they had been forced to accept as their abode, was soaked with the filth of the lately removed wards of death, for, then as now, there was no means of disposal of excreta of men who were slowly wasting and unable to seek the swamp or stream, except in illy provided open excavations within the 'hospital" or death-pen. The hospitals now simply consist of old canvas appropriated from other use, ragged or patched, open at the sides, without floors, beds, bunks, stoves or straw. Men lay on the earth in ghastly rows. The ground where they lay is saturated with offal of wasting bodies. The sickening exhalation is constant. Patients have no clothing except that worn during their imprisonment and in active service, never but a single suit, in many cases not much of that, no blankets, except where prisoners happened to retain them on coming to prison. Patients are sickly visages of squalor, decaying bodies, while yet their minds retain dreary existences. There are fleshless skeletons with skin drawn over them; on some bones have broken or worn through the skin. Limbs of others whose flesh has not vanished, are swollen with dropsy and scurvy, discolored, yellow and brown. In many cases ulcers appear—sores from wounds that never heal, and gangrene is having an unchecked if not undisputed reign. Myriads of lice and flies swarm over helpless men; maggots infest gangrenous sores that may have originated from a scratch, a sunburn or from ulcerous eruption caused by corrupted blood.
These matters, seemingly, have reached an uncontrollable stage. There is scarcity of medicine, scarcity of physicians. Nurses are dumbfounded; if they have any sense of the situation they are in despair; can do little to comfort and it seems that those detailed have no adaptation for the work. Except now and then one, would they be retained and for just that reason, in a hospital well ordered for work. From first to last there is nothing provided, nothing arranged, nothing expected but death, and the quicker the better. If doctors had ordinary skill, and nurses had any idea of sanitation, some police regulations would be visible. If this were so and the Richmond government had meant to do anything but murder, better facilities would be provided. I have met a doctor or two apparently of skill, good sense, and humane intent; but they seemed to have despaired of doing justice to their profession or to patients, lacking means and having to contend against conditions which no skill and no medical supplies can meet until conditions change. They have no hope of that. There are some bunglers in charge with a slight knowledge of surgery ready to improve their quack skill by revolting practice. Amputation has been performed where no hope was possible or expected, and in cases where there was a lingering hope, yet the bodily condition of patients did not justify amputation. In no case as I can hear, has gangrene been cured by amputation. Slight wounds are not healable owing to weak blood. Some of these fellows are perfectly brutal, and enlisted in this capacity rather than be conscripted and carry a musket. These conditions are known at Richmond. The prison has been inspected by military and civil officials of high rank. Reports of surgeons, Drs. Reeves, Pelot and Thomburg in preceding months expressly stated not only general conditions but that there were men that were living masses of putrifaction; hospitals without bunks, beds or straw; as above stated, speaking of corn bread raw and sour and the effects of such diet on sick and well that they could not practice successfully, that sickness could not be prevented nor patients cured until made comfortable; appealing for "beds if any in Dixie." All was unanswered. Confidentially these facts are told me by a doctor.
I wrote to John C.
Haradon and copied letter to Sibley. Lieut. W. Kinney and I examined the report
of hospital. Artillery and horse power arrived. Fire in the hospital kitchen.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 13
I made out returns
and wrote two letters. An awful snow storm came up just in the evening.
Hospital walls caving in. Private Small, Co. D of the Seventh, died about noon;
lung fever. Battalion drill. Lieut. Col. gave me five stamps, 15.
SOURCE: Lewis C.
Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 13
The days are so much
alike I have given up noting the doings of each as it comes. Since February 1st
our meeting-house tent has been repaired and raised again. Rumor of a move came
early in the week and has kept us guessing ever since. I think it means something,
for the sick in camp hospital have been sent to the general hospital in New
Orleans. The weather has been of all sorts. Cold and windy and then a thunder
and lightning storm that shook the very earth. The hospital is filling up
again, too. Twenty men from Company K were reported to-day, and five from
Company B. I fear my turn is coming, for in spite of all Dr. Andrus does, my
cough does not let up.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 86
