Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Monday, September 22, 1862

Knapsack drill to-day,—something new to me, though I am told it is to take place every Sunday morning when in camp. As we were not here yesterday, it was put off until to-day. We marched out to the drill ground with our knapsacks on, expecting to practice as usual, except that we were loaded that much heavier. As all our belongings were in our knapsacks, they were quite heavy. We formed in column by companies and were told to "unsling knapsacks." We all had to be coached, but we finally stood at attention with our knapsacks lying on the ground wide open before us. Then the colonel, the major and the captain of the company being inspected, marched along and with the tip of their swords poked over the contents, regardless of how precious they might be to us. And such a sight as they saw! Besides our extra underclothing, some clean and some unclean, there were Bibles, whiskey bottles, novels, packs of cards, love letters and photographs, revolvers and dirk knives, pen and ink, paper and envelopes and postage stamps, and an endless variety of odds and ends we had picked up in our travels.

As soon as the inspection was over with Company A, they were marched back to camp and so all along the line until Company B, the last of all, was reached. When we got back to camp some of the companies had been there long enough to get asleep. Nothing more was required of us, and we put in the time as we chose, provided always that we observed the camp regulations.

I may never have so good a chance, so I will try and explain some of the things we have learned to do and how we do it. Begin with roll-call. The orderly sergeant, Lew Holmes, has our names in a book, arranged in alphabetical order in one place, and in the order in which we march in another. If it is simply to see if we are all here, he sings out "Fall in for roll-call" and we get in line, with no regard to our proper places, and answer to our names as called from the alphabetical list. If for drill, "Fall in for drill!" and then we take our places with the tallest man at the right, and so on, till the last and shortest man is in place on the left. We are then in a single line, by company front. The orderly then points at the first man and says "One," which the man repeats. He then points to the second man and says "Two," which is also repeated. So it goes down the line, the one, two, being repeated, and each man being careful to remember whether he is odd or even. When that is done, and it is very quickly done, the orderly commands, "Right face!" The odd-numbered men simply swing on the left heel one quarter of the way around and stand fast. The even-numbered men do the same, and in addition step obliquely to the right of the odd-numbered man, bringing us in a double line and one step apart, which distance we must carefully keep, so that when the order "Front!" is given, we can, by reversing the movement of "Right face!" come to our places without crowding. When coming to a front, the line is not apt to be straight and the order "Right dress!" is given, when the man on the right stands fast and the one next to him puts himself squarely by his side. The next moves back or forth until he can just see the buttons on the coat of the second man to his right,—that is, with his head erect, he must look past one man and just see the buttons on the coat of the second man from him. That makes the line as straight as you can draw a string. "Left face!" is the same thing reversed. In marching, one has only to keep step with the one next in front of him. If this is done, the blame for irregular time all comes upon the file leaders, which are the two in front; they must keep step together. If Company B is going out to drill by itself it is now ready. If, however, the entire regiment is to drill together, as it has a few times, Company A marches out first, and as the rear passes where Company F is standing the latter falls in, close behind; and so each company, until Company B, which is the left of the line, and the last to go, falls in and fills up the line, Why the companies are arranged in the line as they are is a mystery I have so far failed to find out. From right to left they come in the following order: A, F, D, I, C, H, E, K, G and B. A is said to have the post of honor, because in marching by the right flank it is ahead, and meets danger first if there be any. Company B has the next most honorable position, because in marching by the left flank it is in the lead. There is a great advantage in being in the lead. On a march the files will open, more or less, and when a halt is ordered the company in the lead stops short. The other companies keep closing up the files, and by the time the ranks are closed "Attention!" may sound, and another start be made. The first company has had quite a breathing spell, while the last has had very little, if any. If I were to enlist again, I would try hard to get in Company A, for all the marching we have so far done has been by the right flank, Company A at the head and Company B bringing up the rear. When we reach the field we are generally broken up into companies, each company drilling in marching by the front, wheeling to the right and left, and finally coming together again before marching back to camp.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 34-6

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Tuesday, September 23, 1862

Another inspection to-day. This time our guns and accoutrements were inspected, and much fault was found because we had not kept our guns from rusting. Only a few got off without a scolding, and these were some that seem to love a gun and care for it as they would a baby. This, with our everyday drill, and a general cleaning and scouring up of our guns and the brass on our belts and cartridge boxes, has kept us busy all day long. I had kept the inside of my gun clean, so I only had the outside to scour up. Little by little we learn our lesson, learn to put the best on top, and little by little the screws of discipline are turned on.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 36-7

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday Night, September 28, 1862

Meeting to-day. Chaplain Parker preached. He asked those who would stop swearing to hold up their hands, and so far as I could see every hand went up. After inspection in the morning we had nothing to do except to go to meeting and dress parade, which I believe we are to have regularly. We march to the parade ground, which is just back of our camp quarters, and form in line. The colonel, with the major and adjutant on his right and left, station [themselves] in front, the colonel opposite the colors, which are in the center, between Companies C and H. The fifer and drummer pass along in front and back again when the colonel puts us through the manual of arms. A great many civilians come out and it must be a pretty sight, provided the orders are well executed. If we do well, nothing is said, but if not, we are cautioned to do better next time.

How I wish I could peep in on the old folks at home to-night! I imagine just how they are sitting around, talking, perhaps of me, or better yet, writing me a letter.

There is no use denying that I am homesick. I have been such a home-body, and my home life has been so pleasant.

The comforts of my home, though humble, have been many, and I have never missed them as I do to-night. I have only been away a short time, but it seems longer to me than all my life before. It has been crowded so full of strange and stirring events that it seems as if I would go crazy unless I can see and talk with our folks about it. Mr. Parker says confession is good for the soul, and I believe it, for after confessing to my diary as I have I feel better already. I will crawl in now and perhaps dream of home, which I often do, and which while it lasts, is just as good as being there.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 40

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 11, 1863

To-day we have another beautiful Sabbath. The boys are engaged in cleaning up guns for inspection, and as we are not in the immediate vicinity of the enemy, and have no hope of marching orders, we may expect a day of comparative idleness, which is more to be dreaded than any hardship that could be imposed, as it disposes the men to immoral practices to kill time. In two hours at least half of us will be playing cards, while a few, true to the principles of religion instilled into their hearts in times past, will be reading their Bibles, or engaged in other devotional exercises. The news of the defeat of our army in Tennessee [Murfreesboro] has created quite an excitement in our camp, as nearly all of the soldiers here are from that State. We are impatient for orders to go to the defense of our own homes, and some of the men say they will go whether they get orders or not. As yet, however, good order and discipline have prevailed, and I believe will to the end.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 19

Diary of Private Richard R. Hancock: Wednesday, January 1, 1862

As this was the first day of the new year there was a general inspection of horses, arms, etc.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 105

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Monday, May 4, 1863

 All is quiet this morning; the order is to prepare for muster and inspection. The men are now busy cleaning up their guns and accoutrements. Everything seems to move smoothly along now at Corinth. The news from the north is cheering, from the fact that we are assured that the loyal people are more deeply aroused to the importance of the hour that will tell of the greatest trial through which liberty has passed for centuries.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 159

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: July 20, 1864

HOSPITAL LIFE.

Thus far I have been unable to discover any charms in hospital life. With fair health the active camp is far preferable. This hospital is divided into three departments. The first is the officers' ward, the second is the hospital for the wounded and very sick, and the third is the convalescent camp. The first two are in large hospital tents and are furnished with cots, mattresses and other necessary conveniences. In the third are more than 600 men, quartered under shelter tents. I am in this department. It is not supposed that there are any sick men here. They are all either dead beats or afflicted with laziness, and a draft is made from among them twice a week for the front. I had been here only four days when I was drawn, but Garland of company C, who is an attache at Doctor Sadler's office, saw my name on the roll and scratched it off. Although there are none here supposed to be sick, there seems to be a singular fatality among them as we furnish about as large a quota every day for the little cemetery out here as they do from the sick hospital. But then in a population of 600 or more, three or four deaths a day is not surprising. I have been here three weeks and have been drafted four times, but with my friend Garland's help I have escaped. I should be pleased to be back with the boys if I was only half well, but I reckon I shall not be troubled with any more drafts.

Doctor Hoyt sent a man back the other day. The next morning he was sent up with a sharp note to Doctor Sadler, saying that he didn't send men to the hospital that were fit for duty and didn't want them sent back until they were. That roused Doctor Sadler's ire, and he says when Hoyt wants his men he can send for them.

Doctor Sadler has the whole charge of the convalescent camp, and has several young fellows, assistant surgeons so called, on his staff. Some of these fellows I should think had been nothing more than druggists' clerks at home, but by some hook or crook have been commissioned assistant surgeons and sent out. here. Every morning all who are able in all the ten wards go up to be examined and prescribed for by these new fledged doctors, and those not able to go seldom receive any medical attendance, but it is just as well and perhaps better that they do not go, as the skill of these young doctors is exceedingly limited. Doctor Sadler is a fine man and a skilful surgeon. He comes around occasionally, visiting those who are not able to go out and prescribes for them, and for a day or two afterwards the assistants will attend to those cases. These assistants make the examinations and draft the men for the front, after which they are again examined by Doctor Sadler and frequently a number of them will not be accepted, and the assistants oftentimes need not feel very much flattered by some remarks of the doctor.

This convalescent camp holds its own in spite of all the drafts made on it. Recruits arrive daily and the drafts are made twice a week, sending back 50 or 100 at each draft.

When a draft is made one of the assistants comes into a ward and orders it turned out, and every man not down sick abed turns out. The ward-master forms them in single rank and the inspection begins. They commence on the right and go through the ward, making the same examinations and asking the same questions of every man in the ward. They feel the pulse and look at the tongue, and if those are right they are booked for the front. They remind me of horse jockeys at Brighton, examining horses. Some of the boys who are well enough but are in no hurry to go back, chew wild cherry or oak bark to fur their tongues and are thus exempted until Doctor Sadler gets hold of them, when they have to go. We get some recruits from the other hospital, for as soon as a sick or wounded man there is declared convalescent he is sent here.

A good joke occurred one morning when one of them was drafted for the front. He had been slightly wounded in the leg and was getting around with a crutch. When his ward was ordered out for draft he fell in with the rest, and the doctor, not noticing the crutch, but finding his pulse and tongue all right, marked him as able-bodied. When Sadler inspected them, he said to this fellow: “What are you here for?” “Going to the front, I suppose; there is where I am ticketed for.” Sadler laughed, and said: “I'll excuse you.” Then turning to his assistant, remarked: “We are not yet so hard up for men as to want three-legged ones." That assistant looked as though he wished he was at home under his mother's best bed.

This whole hospital is under the management of a Doctor Fowler, and as far as I am able to judge is well and skilfully managed. The cuisine is excellent and far better than could be expected in a place like this. The hospital fund as fast as it accrues is expended for vegetables, fruits, milk, butter, cheese, preserves and many other things which the government is not supposed to furnish. The kitchen is in two departments, one where are cooked and served out the meats, soups, vegetables and other food for the convalescent. In the other are cooked the roasts, steaks, broths, beef tea and all kinds of light diet for the officers' ward and the sick and wounded department. The light diet is presided over by an angel of mercy in the person of a Miss Dame who is the hospital matron.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 140-2

Brigadier-General Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, December 17, 1864

CAMP RUSSELL, December 17, 1864.

MY DARLING: — No certainty about things yet. We fired fifty guns yesterday and one hundred more today over General Thomas' great victories. How happy our men are. We had an inspection today of the brigade. The Twenty-third was pronounced the crack regiment in appearance, etc. It looks very finely — as large as you used to see it at Camp White, but so changed in officers and men. A great many new ones at Camp White; then three hundred of the Twelfth in July; and three hundred conscripts, volunteers, and substitutes since. I could see only six to ten in a company of the old men. They all smiled as I rode by. But as I passed away I couldn't help dropping a few natural tears. I felt as I did when I saw them mustered in at Camp Chase. Captain Abbott joined us today — a prisoner since Cloyd's Mountain. He is very happy to be back. He looks in good health, his arm not perfectly well.

Lieutenant McBride, the brave fellow who took Lieutenant Colonel Edgar and forty-two others at Winchester, is here again. Sweet and Snyder are back. Hastings is in capital spirits; says he will be well long before next spring campaign. Heiliger writes me that he wants to get a commission in Hancock's Veterans.

The band is playing its finest tonight. It contains all the old members and some good additions.

I have written the boys. I asked them how they would like to call the little soldier George Crook; they don't reply. - Love to all.

Affectionately ever,

R.

MRS. HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 549

Brigadier-General Rutherford B. Hayes to Sophia Birchard Hayes, Sunday Morning, December 18, 1864

CAMP RUSSELL, VIRGINIA, December 18, 1864.

Sunday morning before breakfast.

DEAR MOTHER: — We have as yet received no orders as to winter quarters. I begin to suspect I shall not get home during the holidays.

We are feeling very happy over the good news from the other armies. Salutes were fired yesterday and the day before in all our camps in honor of General Thomas' victory at Nashville.

We are living on the fat of the land now. The sutlers are now again allowed to come to the front and they bring all manner of eatables, wholesome and otherwise, but chiefly otherwise.

I wish you could visit our camps. I know what you would exclaim on coming into my quarters, “Why, Rutherford, how comfortably you are fixed. I should like to live with you myself.” I am getting books and reading matter of all sorts against rainy weather. Unless the weather is atrocious, I take a ride daily of a couple of hours or more. We yesterday had an inspection of my brigade. The Twenty-third was in the best condition. Notwithstanding our heavy losses, we have managed to get so many new men during the summer that the regiment is about as large as it was in the spring. It is larger than it was at this time last year.

A large number of men and officers who fell into Rebel hands, wounded, are now coming back, having been exchanged. They are all happy to be back and full of determination to fight it out.

I have been made a brigadier-general, but it is not yet officially announced. It was on the recommendation of Generals Crook and Sheridan.

Affectionately, your son,

R.

MRS. SOPHIA HAYES.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 549-50

Diary of Brigadier-General Rutherford B. Hayes, Saturday, December 17, 1864

An inspection of First Brigade. (The) Twenty-third looked well, but alas! very few of the old men. I shed tears as I left the line. It never looked better. Abbott, wounded at Cloyd's Mountain and a prisoner for months, joined us today. General Thomas completed his victory at Nashville. One hundred guns fired here. General Crook fears that one division will go to Grant.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 548

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: August 12, 1863

AN INSPECTION.

A few days ago orders came to get ready for inspection the next afternoon. All was now hurry and bustle, cleaning up camp, arms, equipments and clothing, and putting everything in order. The artillerists worked like beavers, cleaning up the gun carriages and limbers, using all the grease in the kitchen to brighten them up. The old brass guns were polished up and shone like mirrors and we were congratulating ourselves on being highly complimented.

At the appointed time, Lieut. Col. Moulton and Capt. Rawlston of somebody's staff put in an appearance. The captain was the inspecting officer; a very airy, pompous young gentleman, with a remarkable faculty of making his weak points conspicuous

When the companies fell in, he noticed the artillery detail did not fall in and inquired the reason. Col. Moulton replied that they were expecting to be inspected as artillery. The captain said he knew nothing about that, he was sent here to inspect this detachment as infantry and every man must fall in. Now that was all right enough, only it placed me at a disadvantage, for I had taken no thought or care of Spitfire since my promotion and it was looking pretty bad. But I had no time to clean it up, and I must say it was a sorry looking piece to take out for a show. But as bad as it looked, I had the utmost confidence in its shooting qualities, in fact I have never lost confidence in Spitfire but once, that was when I dropped it in the creek at Goldsboro.

We were marched out and paraded, and after the inspecting officer had “sassed” Col. Moulton and nearly all the other officers, he commenced his job. He found right smart of fault, but didn't find a really good subject until he came to me. He looked me over, and taking Spitfire gave it a very careful and thorough inspection. Handing it back he very gravely informed me that he had inspected the whole army of the Potomac and had never before seen a rifle looking so bad as Spitfire, and still further complimenting me by saying I was about the roughest looking sergeant he had ever seen. I nodded assent, venturing the remark that I had been in the artillery detail while here and my rifle had been somewhat neglected, but I had a gun on the Malakoff that could knock the spots off the sun. He allowed that that was insolence and any more of it would subject me to arrest. Imagine the indignation of the chief of artillery on being threatened with arrest by an infantry captain. My first impulse was to call my command, lash him to the muzzle of the gun on the Malakoff and give him rapid transit over the tops of the pines, but better thoughts soon succeeded and I forgave him, thinking that perhaps he was doing as well as he knew how. The inspection over, he had not long to stay, as the boat was waiting for him. I noticed the officers didn't pet him very much and I don't believe he got more than one drink.

MISS CARROLL.

Three or four miles out here, through the woods, lives a Mr. Carroll. He has two sons in the 1st North Carolina union volunteers, stationed up in Washington. He makes frequent visits up there to see the boys and is often accompanied by his daughter, a rather good-looking young lady of about 20 years of age. It sometimes happens that they get here early in the morning and have to wait an hour or so for the boat, and will sometimes stop an hour on their return before going home. At these times they are guests at headquarters and a few of us, without the fear of the captain before our eyes, will happen in to have a chat with the old gentleman and his daughter. She expressed a great fondness for literature and claims to be “the only really literary young lady in these yere parts." We occasionally fit her out with such story papers and magazines as we may have lying around, for which she expresses great pleasure.

She one day inquired if we had read a certain piece of poetry in one of the magazines we had given her. She was told we had and thought it very nice. We inquired if she was pleased with it. She replied she thought it was “Splendid! beautiful!" We asked if she was fond of poetry. She said, she was excessively fond of it and read a great deal; in a sly, blushing kind of way, she hinted that she sometimes tried her hand at composing. “Ah, indeed; would you favor us with a few specimens, some day when you come over? We should be pleased to look at them.” She promised she would, and the next time she came she brought a composition entitled “Lines to the Union Boys. They were the merest doggerel, but we were loud in their praise and told her that by reading poetry and practising composing she would excel; that when the cruel war was over and we had retired to the peaceful pursuits of life in our far northern homes, we hoped to be reminded of her occasionally, by seeing some of her productions in print. She seemed a good deal pleased with such flattering encomiums, but thought she would hardly attain to that distinction. I thought so too.

I asked if she would allow me to take a copy of the lines during her absence up town, and she kindly consented. Below is the copy :

I suppose you have herd of Swift creek
An the victory there was won
The yankee boys was wide awake
An they made them rebels run.

CHORUS:
Farewell Father an Mother
An a true sweetheart
An the girls we leave in pain
Oh dont forget those yankee boys they are coming back again.

An when the yankees did come in
The guerrillas took to flight
An tore down the bonna blue flag
An hoisted the stars an stripes.

When South Carolina did secede
An surely did go out
The yankee boys must have bin asleep
They had not whipt her back

I take my stand in Richmond
An Swift creek Il persue
I do not care for Whitford*
Nor none of his cowardly crew

The gurrillas hates the Buffalows†
But they dont care for that
If they dont shut their mouths an let them alone
They will make them clere the track

There is good many men in this war
By the names of Hill
An if the yankees dus get them
They will larn them how to drill

There is good many men here
By the name of Whitford two
An when the yankees does get them
They will put them rebels through

The secesh girls look mighty loansum
Walking the road in there homemade homespun
The Union girls dont look sad
Walking the road in there yankee plad

An when the war is ended
The guerrillas they will say
They rather fight the devil
Than the boys that gains the day

Hold your toungs you secesh ones
An see what will be don
The yankees boys are bound to go
The whole hog or none

The Union men looks mighty grand
With there cork heel boots au their gloves on their hands
The secesh men looks mighty mean
Going through the woods an never are seen.

CHORUS, &c.

Now whatever fault can be found with the above lines, there can certainly no fault be found with their loyalty.

WAITING TO BE RELIEVED.

We keep a small camp guard during the night and this duty is assigned to the artillery detail, each gun's company taking its turn, which brings us on every third night. There are only four posts, the guns and magazine, and as they only go on at tattoo and come off at reveille, the duty is not very arduous. The guard is divided into two reliefs, one going on the first part of the night and the other the latter part; the duty is simply to keep their ears open for any disturbance among the pickets out in the woods and alarm the camp. The reliefs sleep in their quarters and are called when wanted. The sergeant or corporal on duty occupies a small wall tent, in which a candle is kept burning through the night. Having my choice of time and it not making any difference to the corporal, I take the latter part, as I prefer sleeping the first part. I have a splendid corporal, I think the best in the service; we go along together, and agree first rate. He is willing to do all the work and I am willing he should. He posts the first relief and then keeps his eyes open until it is time to post the second relief, when he posts them and then comes and calls me, when I relieve him. My work is now all done; all I have to do is to lie down and go to sleep or busy myself with my reading or writing, and call off the relief at reveille. If I am too busy to attend to that duty (which I generally am), they take the responsibility of relieving themselves, which is a great help to me and relieves me of a great burden of care.

One night while on this duty the officer of the day came in and inquired if I would like to take a stroll and make a round of the pickets. I replied that I should. We started out making the round and not being in a hurry did not get back till daylight. I laid down and went to sleep, feeling that everything was all safe and quiet on the Pamlico. About 7 o'clock I was called up and told I was wanted at the magazine. I went out and there stood Charlea, a Roman sentinel amid the wreck of worlds. I admired his fidelity, but I really couldn't commend his judgment and no explanation or excuses of mine availed in the least; he was going to be relieved officially, and after he had got through with me I don't think there were many more cuss words left in him. I certainly felt relieved if he didn't.

THE ROVER.

Capt. Foss somewhere picked up an old boat and with Jed's assistance put it in good repair, rigged up a sail, rated it A 1, and named it the Rover. The captain is skipper and Jed sailing master. She is a long, clipper-built craft, with a large spread of canvas in a carrying capacity of ten or twelve persons. With a spanking breeze she walks up and down the river like a thing of life and makes nothing of sailing right around the little steamer Undine. She makes frequent trips to Rodman's and occasionally to town. The captain selects the party he wants to take out and I am sometimes honored with an invitation. We usually run alongside the gunboat that lays here and take aboard the second assistant engineer, who is a genial, good-natured old fellow, full of his fun and stories, and then put for Rodman's. We stop there an hour and start for home. On the return trip, the old engineer's inventive powers will be a good deal quickened and he will suggest various alterations in the rig and sail of the craft, which will improve her sailing qualities, all of which Jed readily accepts and is going to forth with adopt, but the next day the improvements are all forgotten and never thought of again until another return trip from Rodman's. A few days ago a small party of us made a halt at Rodman's and found Sergeant Martin in command. He did the honors, showing us about the camp and extending hospitalities in a manner that would have done credit to a prince. To my notion Sergeant Martin has got the correct idea of holding a command, not to go dry himself nor let his friends.

BIG JIM.

Big Jim, is he is called, is a character; genial, charitable, good-natured, humorous and generous to a fault. He is quite a theatrical character and loves to deal in romance and tragedy, and he caters to the mirthful and fun-loving among the boys. He does not amount to much as a soldier, but that is more his misfortune than from any unwillingness. He is of enormous proportions and very fat, tipping the scale at 250 pounds. He is sorely troubled with chafing when drilling or on the march, and for that reason is excused from pretty much all duty. He is a sort of independent corps, doing duty when he feels like it; he will often go out in the woods and relieve a man on picket who happens to be taken sick. He sometimes has a feeling come over him that he would like to get away from the noise and bustle of the camp, and be alone by himself. At such times he takes his rifle and goes to the little point, some 100 rods down the river, where there is a picket post. Here he will stay two or three days at a time, caring for no company except at night, and amuses himself with fishing, reading and writing. He has become so enamoured of this kind of life, that he has taken the contract to do the picket duty at that post and has made it his permanent residence, coming up to camp only two or three times a week to see the boys and get his rations. He has opened a trading post down there, and trades with the natives who touch there as they come in their boats from up the bay or cove which sets back from there. He has built himself a log house, and a sign over the door reads “Cash paid for coon skins,” of which and other peltries he has collected quite a quantity, and intends sending them to Boston markets.

_______________

* Whitford was a Guerrilla captain.
† Buffaloes were North Carolina Union volunteers.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 97-102

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 21, 1863

To-day again church bells at the North are calling good people to worship, and to hear words of cheer and comfort to the soul. The prayers of our patriotic mothers and fathers that will go up to-day for the suppression of this rebellion will surely have a hearing.

We had inspection of arms and quarters at nine this morning. Of course everything was in good order, but if such a thing should take us by surprise some time, our beds might be found not made, and things in general upside down. When notice of this inspection was given, or rather an order to prepare for it, one of our boys remarked, “This must be Sunday;” and he added, “I guess I won't wait for this inspection, I'll take my girl to church.” If his girl had been here the whole company would doubtless have wanted to go to church, too. “Though lost to sight, to memory dear.” We can talk to the sweet creatures only through the dear letters exchanged; but a love letter brings a very bright smile to a warrior's face, and the sunshine that prevails in camp after the reading of the mail from home, is quite noticeable. Dear girls, do not stop writing; write letters that are still longer, for they are the sweetest of war's amenities, and are the only medicine that has kept life in the veins of many a homesick soldier. When the mail comes I cannot help wishing everybody may get a letter; but alas! some must miss hearing their names read, and oh! the sadness that creeps over them when the last name has been called and the last letter handed out to some one else. They are sadder than if wounded by a bullet. If wounded, a surgeon may prescribe; but what prescription for the failure of a letter from home? Our mail is by no means daily, and if it comes at all, its favors are few and far between. Indeed, each time it comes we get to feeling as if it may never come again. And so it may prove, in fact. The disappointed one carries his strangled hope into the next day's fight, falls, and dies, perhaps, from some wound that otherwise might prove slight, for his heart is broken.

This afternoon I stood on a little hill just back of a regiment adjoining, talking with a friend there, when crash through his brain went a rebel bullet. He had just alluded to the horrors of the daily strife. Relieved from further duty here, he went to answer roll-call in a better army, to which his honorable discharge from this ought surely to admit him. He answered the first call of his country, and had served faithfully through two years of hardship and danger. I personally know that he fought well, and his name should not fail to be enrolled somewhere in the records of his country.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 61-2

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: June 6, 1862

CAMP OLIVER.

We are now in a neatly arranged camp on somewhat elevated ground at the west side of the city, and about a quarter of a mile to the rear of Fort Totten, a large field fortification mounting twenty heavy guns. A back street runs along the left flank, on which is situated the guard quarters, and a line of sentinels extends along it. This camp is named Camp Oliver, in honor of Gen. Oliver of Salem, Mass., formerly adjutant-general of  that state. We can now brush ourselves up and settle down to the dull routine of camp life—Drills, parades, reviews, inspections, guard duty, fatigue duty and all manner of things which come under the head of a well ordered camp. Our two companies left at Red house are drawn in about five miles, and are now at the Jackson place on the Trent road. That brings them within easy distance. They can be easily reinforced in case of attack or make their own way back to camp. The Red house is again in the enemy's country, but Mr. Bogey is not there; he thought he had rather live under the old flag and take his chances, and so moved with us into town.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 61

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: Sunday, June 14, 1863

No bells to ring us to church. I wish we had one day in seven for rest and freedom from care; but there is no such thing now for the soldier. It is shoot, shoot, dodge, dodge, from morning to night, without cessation, except when we are asleep. When the time comes, we can lie down and sleep soundly all night, right under our cannon, firing over us all the time, without disturbing us in the least. But let the long roll be sounded—every man is up at the first tap-for that sound we know means business for us. 

Occasionally the rebs plant a mortar in some out of the way spot and drop a shell or two into our midst; but a few well directed shots from our big guns at the rear soon settle them. These rebels obey very well. 

We have several large siege guns, lately planted in the rear of our division, which it took ten yoke of oxen to haul, one at a time, to their places. I had been told that the balls from these guns could be seen on their journey, and could not believe it until I put myself in range of the monsters, just behind them, when I found I could see the balls distinctly, as they flew across the hills towards Vicksburg. These guns are nine-inch calibre and they are about twelve feet long. They are monsters, and their voices are very loud. 

Sunday is general inspection day, and the officers passed through our quarters at 10 A. M., finding our guns and accoutrements bright and clean. If any young lady at the North needs a good housekeeper, she can easily be accommodated by making a requisition on the 20th Ohio. In fact we can all do patchwork, sew on buttons, make beds and sweep; but I do not think many of us will follow the business after the war is done, for the “relief” always so anxiously looked for by the soldiers must then come. 

I heard one of our boys—a high private in the rear rank-lament that he was 

“Only a private, and who will care 

When I shall pass away?” 

Poor lad, he was in a sad way! But it was mere homesickness that ailed him. If dissatisfied with his position as a private, let him wait, for if he survives the war, he will, no doubt, have a chance to be captain of an infantry company. 

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 53-4

Classified Advertisement: Review and Inspection of the British Guard, published April 1, 1862

HEADQUARTERS BRITISH GUARD,                

4th Regt. European Brigade

In accordance with orders from Headquarters, you are ordered to meet at your armory on WEDNESDAY next, 2d April, at 2 P. M., military time, fully armed and equipped, for review and inspection by the Major General

Absentees will be fined according to the Militia Law.

By order of J. J. BURROWES, Captain.

A. F. CAMPBELL, O. S.

mh30-3t

SOURCE: The Times Picayune, New Orleans, Louisiana, Tuesday, April 1, 1862, p. 1

Diary of Colonel Jacob Ammen, April 5, 1862

Marched 9½ miles over bad roads, and reached Savannah, Tenn., before 12 m. General Grant was not at his headquarters (Savannah), and no one to give orders. General Nelson ordered me to go into camp. The-Tenth Brigade encamped on the southwest side of the town, about half to three-fourths of a mile from the brick house on the river (headquarters). About 3 p. m. General Grant and General Nelson came to my tent. General Grant declined to dismount, as he had an engagement. In answer to my remark that our troops were not fatigued and could march on to Pittsburg Landing, Tenn., if necessary, General Grant said, “You cannot march through the swamps; make the troops comfortable; I will send boats for you Monday or Tuesday, or some time early in the week. There will be no fight at Pittsburg Landing; we will have to go to Corinth, where the rebels are fortified. If they come to attack us, we can whip them, as I have more than twice as many troops as I had at Fort Donelson. Be sure and call at the brick house on the river to-morrow evening, as I have an engagement for this evening.” He and General Nelson then rode off. General Buell arrived about sundown. I called on him at his headquarters, about a quarter of a mile from my tent. The Nineteenth and Twenty-second Brigades encamped near the road before reaching the town. I was not at these camps. As the division is to remain here some days, I issue orders to the Tenth Brigade for review and inspection, to take place Sunday, April 6, 9 a. m.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 10, Part 1 (Serial No. 10), p. 330-1

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: November 16, 1861

Here it is the middle of November, and the weather is most delightful. No frosts, but a warm, mellow atmosphere like our Indian summer in October. It is beautiful, indeed; I am charmed with it. While our farmers in New England are putting up and feeding their cattle in barns, the cattle here are luxuriating in white clover, young, sweet and tender enough to suit the most fastidious taste of any of the cattle on a thousand hills. The farmers about here are harvesting their crops of corn and sweet potatoes, some of which are very fine. Some of the boys brought in some egg plants which grow about here. I never saw any before, but am told they are very good, when properly cooked. I am not disposed to doubt it, never having eaten any of them, but I cannot believe they would make good egg nog.

We begin to see a little something of the peculiar institution, — slavery. There are a great many negroes strolling around the camps, most of them runaways, and as Maryland is supposed to be a loyal state, we have no right to take sides and afford them protection. But we have adopted a kind of English neutrality, although not giving them much protection, we give them whatever information they desire. The masters and hunters are frequently here, looking up their hoys, as they call them, and we generally manage to put them on the wrong track and then run the boys into other camps, and they run them into the woods.

Our regiment was yesterday inspected and reviewed by Brig. Gen. John G. Foster. We put in our best work, and tried to make the best appearance we could. The general seems to be a man who understands his business. At a single glance he takes a man and his equipments all in; looks at his rifle, passes it back and goes for the next one. He complimented Col. Upton on the good drill and appearance of his regiment, and flattered his vanity a little by telling him that with a little more practice his regiment would be as near regulars as it would be possible to bring a volunteer regiment.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 11-2

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: November 11, 1861

We are now fairly settled in camp life. Several other regiments from Massachusetts and other states are now with us, and drills, inspections and reviews are the order of the day. One can scarcely get time to wash his face, and take, as Gen. Scott said, a hasty plate of soup, before the drum calls to some kind of duty.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 11

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: March 20, 1865

Relieved by the 2nd N. Y. about noon. Returned to camp near W. House. Drew rations and forage. Inspection of horses. Estimates for clothing, C. and Garrison equipage. A very hot day. Seemed like Petersburg. Read old file of papers. Dreamed of Fannie.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 148

Diary of Captain Luman Harris Tenney: Saturday, March 11, 1865

Lay in camp all day. Cleaned up. Two inspections. Bathed and changed my clothes. Details went out for forage. Seemed good to get a day's rest. Improved it as well as possible with the work to do.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 147