Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, January 14, 1862

the snow was about shoe mouth deep And Mr. Clover and Young and Joshua and my self went a rabbit hunting and caught one squirl And indeed we saw a heep of fun that day.

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 12

Letter from “Red Stick,” December 4, 1861

CAMP NEVIS, Ky., December 4, 1861:—I have another opportunity of talking with my pen to you and to the readers of the JOURNAL.  As expected, we are still here, not knowing when we will advance.  Our force here is sufficient for a good hand to hand encounter with the rebels.  So far we are like Old Maids are said to be: “Ready but not wanted!” It is openly proclaimed in camp to-day that we will be able for an advance as soon as one million freemen unite their destiny with ours, and march from their homes in the Great Free West, for they need a body guard at the houses of every man in the State of Kentucky.

This is a singular war and it must be carried on with more regard to the wishers of the rebels than of interest to the country.  The property of well known secessionists must be strongly guarded and protected.  Away with this childish play.  If there is any law let its supremacy be vindicated.  Let the world know that we are capable of self government.  Let us stop boasting of our Nationality, and have a rigid enforcement of all laws.

The health of the 49th regiment is fast improving, and the men are satisfied.  They endure a soldier’s life like old campaigners.  The friends of soldiers in the 49th regiment need have no fears, for no man suffers.  They have plenty to eat of good and substantial food, but our Camp does not abound with luxuries.  It is hard bread, bacon, rice, beef, potatoes, coffee, &c.; the &c. being what is accidently picked up by the men.  They also have sufficient clothes to keep them dry and warm. All that we require of friends at home, is to write us cheering letters and not forget to send us the papers.

On Thanksgiving Day, while our friends in Ohio were living on the fat of the land—I know that in many households a seat was vacant at the festive board by the absence of a son, husband or father, who had gone forth to battle for their country—our Thanksgiving was passed on picket guard!  For thirty-six hours we stood at the post of duty, during the whole of which time it rained very hard.  We were compelled to ford creeks where the water was three feet deep, and during the whole time lived upon two scanty meals.  With the creeks and the rain together we get pretty thoroughly soaked, but not a murmur was heard.

Lieut. Wilcox is on the sick list, but he is now convalescent, and bids fair to soon be entirely recovered.

On the third day of December it snowed all day, and we now have about seven inches of snow, good skating and excellent sleighing.—The boys only regret that the Buckeye girls they left behind could not enjoy the pleasure of a sleigh with them.

Capt. Bartlett and squad of men, have gone out rabbit-hunting.  By the way, the captain is extremely popular with his men.

This morning Capt. Lovejoy accidently shot himself in the mouth with his revolver.  The ball lodged in the upper jaw.  The wound is not considered dangerous.

So far the Paymaster has not made the acquaintance of the 49th regiment, but we are all anxious for an introduction.

In the 49th regiment we have Bob Morris’ Sheep Skin Band, whose music reminds one of the croackings of the bull-frogs in some dismal swamp.  Their music is unearthly and should be abolished.

John Stoner, a Printer boy in Company F, makes a good soldier.

The railroad bridge across salt river has washed away and cut of supplies.  Some regiments are reported as having nothing but bacon and coffee.  With them hard bread would be a luxury.

Winter has come, and with it its pelting storms, but we hope it may not be a “winter of discontent.”

We are willing, if necessary, to have the 72nd regiment track the 49th in their victorious marches, through snow-drifts and rivers of ice making our tracks traceable by bloody footsteps upon the frozen snow.  Our blood may chill but our love of country shall remain unchilled forever.

RED STICK.

SOURCE: “Army Correspondence,” The Freemont Weekly Journal, Freemont, Ohio, Friday, December 13, 1861, p. 2.

Captain Charles Wright Wills: April 18, 1864

Scottsboro, Ala., April 18, 1864.

No changes to note in the military situation of our portion of Dixie, but the note of preparation is heard on every side. All making ready for the Spring campaign, which every one prophesies will be the bloodiest one of the war. Johnston is undoubtedly collecting all the Rebel troops in the West, on the Georgia Central R. R. and will have a large force. But ours will be perfectly enormous. Not one of our regiments but is stronger to-day than a year ago, and many divisions number from one-third to three-quarters more than then. Our division when we marched through from Memphis last fall was hardly 4,500 (for duty) strong. Now 'tis 7,000, and growing every day. We have no doubt of our ability to whip Johnston most completely, but if he can raise 70,000 men, and we think he can, of course somebody will stand a remarkably good chance for being hurt in the proceedings. He has crossed a division of infantry, away off on our right, beyond Elk river. 'Tis hard to tell what for. Maybe to cooperate with Forrest. Certainly to forage some, and some think possibly to attract our attention in that direction while he makes a dash on our lines east of Huntsville. This latter would, to my idea, be akin to the action of that youth Harper represents in his “April,” standing on his head on the railroad track, six feet before the locomotive under way: “Rash.” Twenty-four years old yesterday, and three years in the service. Celebrated the day by calling on a good looking “mountain ewe,” and dining therewith. Made arrangements to have a deer and turkey hunt with her papa and some of his friends, Colonel Cobb, (formerly of United States Congress) among others. To give you an idea of the Southern love for titles, I'll name part of the citizens who help to form our party next Wednesday. Colonel Cobb, Colonel Provinse, Colonel Young, and Majors Hall and Hust. Every man who owns as many as two negroes is at least a colonel. None of them rank as low as captains. Spring is coming very slowly. At least four weeks behind time. Trees are becoming quite verdant, and many of the flowers are up. I would like to send you a few haunches of nice venison after my hunt, but expect, all things considered, 'twould hardly be worth while to try. Heard to-day of the wedding of one of my most particularest friends, a young lady of Decatur. Was sensible enough to marry a soldier; but am not certain she got the right one. Heaven help her.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 227-8

Captain Charles Wright Wills: December 23, 1862

Provost Marshal's Office, Waterford, Miss.,

December 23, 1862.

Suspect this will be my last from this country. Where the army is going I know not, but the divisions which have been in front are now filing past us, faces northward. The movement commencing at the time of the raid on Holly Springs, gives it the appearance of a retrograde for that reason, but I think that has nothing to do with the matter, for though I have no idea of the future plans of the general commanding, yet have known for some time that it was not the intention to pursue further than Grenada on this line, and that point has been evacuated by the enemy for some days. The raid into Holly Springs was capitally done. The Rebels made a No. 1 haul. Immense stores of clothing, commissaries and ordnance fell into their hands, all of which, however, they were obliged to destroy, save what they could carry away on their horses. About 1,200 or 1,500 officers and soldiers were paroled by them, some 1,000 horses carried off and I think not less than $1,000,000 of greenbacks. One-half million worth of cotton was burned, etc.; loss to Government cannot be less than three or four millions of dollars. Colonel Murphy is the man who is responsible for the whole thing, and I can think of no punishment equal to his deserts. ’Twas but nine miles from us and we of course immediately prepared for a visit, but were not so honored. These successful raids of the enemy almost make me sick. If our men would only be on the alert so that they could make something of a fight, I wouldn't care a d--n. But to lose a thousand prisoners without the enemy's having one killed makes me disgusted with the army. I'm allying a little fun with business as opportunities offer. Friday last I got permission of the colonel to make a little reconnoisance of the country along Tippah river, and on the Tallahatchie between the mouth of Tippah and the railroad. I stayed six miles from camp the first night and went possum hunting. Hunted until 2 o'clock a. m. and although we treed a good many, couldn't get them. Examined the country thoroughly next day, made a map of it, found there were no guerrillas near our camp and then got a shot gun and hunted. The young fellow I was with and myself, in an hour killed seven squirrels and a coon. Got back to town at dark, Saturday night, and found everybody terribly excited about the Holly Springs affair. They had given me up for a goner. The regiment laid on their arms and I laid on my featherbed, for I knew devilish well there was no danger. We've been on the alert ever since but the enemy has gone. To-day the guerrillas have been seen on all sides of us within a few miles, but Ross' division has just arrived so there is no chance for a fight.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 137-8

Sabbath Tragedy At Indian Lake, St. Clair County, Illinois – A Hunting Excursion – One Of The Party Shot Dead

A horrible affair occurred between seven and eight o’clock yesterday morning, at Indian Lake, on the line of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad, about five miles east from St. Louis.

At 11 o’clock Saturday night, four young men of this city, Germans, crossed by the [illegible] street ferry to the Illinois shore, with the view of hunting for ducks and other game in the vicinity of the lake named.  The youths were John Scantkraft, George Schmitzmeier, Christian C Poeper and Frederick Mueller, of ages ranging from seventeen to nineteen years.  The expedition resulted in the death of Schmitzmeier at the hand of Scantkraft, whose account of the matter is as follows:  Having walked to the lake, the party built a bonfire and sat chatting around it till four o’clock in the morning.  At this hour they commenced looking for game, and about seven o’clock had bagged several birds.  The young men then drew together, all their guns being loaded, and stopped to rest and converse, Poeper was standing and the others were sitting.  While all were thus good naturedly talking and joking Schmitzmeier sportively tossed some fine stones upon Scantkraft, hitting him in the face, but without inflicting serious pain.  He regarded it as a trivial matter, and in a similar vein threw back some particles in return. – Schmitzmeier, still in fun, responded by saying, “I’ll shoot you,” and rising to his feet leveled his gun, which was full cocked, directly at Scantkraft.  The parties were within five yards of each other.  To carry out the amusement Scantkraft replied, “no you won’t,” rose and drew his gun, taking deliberate aim at his friend’s breast.  The weapon was “half cocked,” and at once discharged – he not having touched the trigger.  The contents, a heavy load of duck shot, entered the victim’s breast, shattering the sternum and riddling him through and through.  A portion of the charge probably pierced the heart.  He instantly fell, exclaiming, “O! Johnny!  I am killed!” and immediately expired without uttering another word.  His horrified companions tore open his vest and shirt; and contemplated, aghast, at the awful issue of their Sabbath morning’s sport. – St. Louis Dem.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 5, 1862, p. 2