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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Commenced raising frame of new hospital.
SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 8
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Rainey nearly all
day & we had a wet time of it on dress perade I visited the hospitals
evening by request I preached in Capt Vermilions tent we got the Blankets for
our boys today
SOURCE: Edgar R.
Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October
1925, p. 91
Awakened by the guard
at 4 a. m.; at daylight go on the street receiving a small day's ration, the
fourth issue since our capture. Rain is over; we are delighted to get out-door.
I shall not soon forget the morning. We are starting on a long, tedious journey
southward dependent on the mercies of enemies whom we had justly counted
barbarous in respect to the motives of the war they precipitated and are
needlessly waring. The fates of many seem desperate. How many of this long line
of Unionists will return to their Northern homes! How many and who of us will
sleep the last sleep in the far South!
We pass two large
buildings used as hospitals which appear filled. It was an hour and a half
before we reach the cars, a long train of flat and box. I take a seat on the
bottom of a flat. At 10 a. m. we start on a new road from Danville, Va., to
Greenboro, N. C., 48 miles. A guard near me, a man about 55 years old, ventured
to say that he believed the South missed it in going to war; it was not true
that they were forced to it. He believed President Lincoln just such a man as
Henry Clay in his principles, and he was a Clay man all his life.
"That is so,
the South can settle with Abraham Lincoln as easily as with any living
man," I replied. He said:
"I believe
it."
"Then why do we
find you with your gun in the Rebel service?"
"Because I had
to be somewhere; I enlisted in the militia, rather be here than fighting. Had I
not gone in they'd 'scripted me and sent me to the front; but being pretty old
and willing, they have me to do such duty as this."
"How do you
expect to come out with this war and how long will it last?"
"There's no
telling, not right away; there will be some right smart fights before you get
Richmond."
"Will they give
up then?"
"Well, no; I
reckon— it's the hardest place we've got; I reckon it can't be taken."
"Clinging to
Richmond will only continue the war until we completely besiege it; the
shortest way to end it, unless the whole South lay down their arms."
"You are
divided in the North; we think you will get sick of fighting. Heaps o' people
believe you to be a hard race; they want to get rid of you. This is what we
people are told."
"If the South
wants to settle as it is claimed they do, why don't they lay down their arms
and ask for terms?"
"That's it;
they no more want peace than they did when they commenced."
Looking about him,
he said: "Plenty of men have been put in prison and hung for saying what
they believed, they'd send me to the front sure for what I have said."
"We must have
Union and liberty as the ultimate result of this war, or there is no salvation
for North or South. The triumph of the South would be the greatest calamity
that could befall; our triumph the blessing of both."
"You're
right."
"Then as a
Union man whose election do you prefer this fall?” "I think Lincoln is a
good man."
This was an
interesting conversation; I am really in the Confederacy in conversation with a
Union man but a Rebel soldier. After going 25 miles we were ordered off the
train, there being a piece of road six miles not completed. We moved off across
the plantation till we came to a road. Long trains loaded with army supplies
driven by the raggedest negroes I ever saw, began to meet us as we went on the
road. It was amusing to hear their answers as to the distance to the railroad, which
the men were frequently asking. It was very hot several men died on this short
march. We reached the road about 4 p. m. and waited for the train. I was here
introduced to James B. Hawks of the 7th Michigan, by Thompson, which was the
beginning of a new friendship. Hawks had the advantage of a collegiate
education, and pleased us with several declamations still fresh in his memory
although he had endured the hardships of the peninsular campaign. A pile of
supplies lay beside the road. A group of ladies and men came to look at us
though there was few houses in sight. Just dark the train backed up with
several hundred soldiers for Lee's army. Here as at Charlotteville a few
contemplated escape if possible, should we remain after dark. But by dark we
were all driven on board. The order was "Shoot every man that tries to get
out," so Boodger and I were again flanked. It was midnight before we
started. As to the mode of our lodging we were like the Dutchman's hen that
stood up and set.
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 49-50
Nothing of
importance to day. Capt. Parke went to the Hospital this morning. Daily routine
as usual prospect for a rain to night.
SOURCE: Transactions
of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 226
Found dead Indian at Slabtown. I was sick all day. Went to the hospital in the evening. Very pretty moonlight night. Ord. Gibhard sentenced to be reduced to the ranks and 30 days' hard labor.
SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 6
