Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 20, 1863

Made three miles yesterday, and are now encamped in a thick forest with an abundance of good spring water at hand. We are washing clothing and fixing up generally, but ready to begin the march at any moment. We draw flour every day, with bacon occasionally, and roasting-ears are to be had for the gathering.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Wednesday, September 3, 1862

Rienzi.  Woke by the bugle at 3:30 A. M.; went out to roll call and drill. The weather fine. Washed shirt and stockings for first time. Wrote home. Drilled by Syl. Sweet in the evening on the gun. The enemy skirmished our pickets, wounded three; our horses were harnessed ready. I felt a little flushed.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 3

Diary of Private William S. White, August 23, 1861

Having but a limited supply of underclothing with me at this camp, I doffed my garments and turned washerman for the nonce, intending to seat myself on the sunny side of the mill pond and wait patiently until my clothes were sundried thoroughly. Only one shirt, one pair of drawers and one pair of socks. As a washist, I never have been a success, but clear water and a good will accomplishes much,—when all at once the drum beats to "fall in"—on went my wet clothes and away we marched to Yorktown, reaching that place thoroughly chilled through and through.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 107

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Wednesday, September 24, 1862

Washing, 15c. I wrote to the Lake City Times and Bucks County Intelligencer. Emil A. Burger appointed commander of this post. William Pell acting post adjutant. Lewis C. Paxson, acting post sergeant major.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 5

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 29, 1862

CAMP MILLINGTON, BALTIMORE. On account of the heat we were not taken out for drill to-day. We have cleaned up our quarters, for since getting our new and comfortable tents we are quite particular about appearances. There is a friendly rivalry as to which of the ten companies shall have the neatest quarters. All being exactly alike to start with, it depends upon us to keep them neat and shipshape. The cooks have tents as well as we, and altogether we are quite another sort from what we were a week ago. It has been a regular clean up day with us. The brook below us has carried off dirt enough from our clothing and bodies to make a garden. While we were there close beside the railroad, a train loaded with soldiers halted, and while we were joking with the men, someone fired a pistol from another passing train, and a sergeant on the standing train was killed—whether it was by accident or purposely done, no one knows; or whether the guilty one will be found out and punished, no one of us can tell. But I wonder so few accidents do happen. There are hundreds of revolvers in camp and many of them in the hands of those who know no better how to use them than a child.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 40-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 9, 1862

Pleasant Valley, October 9th, 1862.

We moved from Antietam day before yesterday, in order, as reported, to be nearer our supplies. However, as soldiers know nothing of movements until after they are made, we may leave here today. As I was writing the last sentence, I learned we are to move this afternoon, about two miles, where we will have more room and better accommodations. The order to march is always welcome to me. I hate the monotony of camp life. The same is true of nearly all our regiment. We want to finish up our work and go home to our families—for nearly all have families. From our old camp to the present one is about twelve miles—the toughest twelve miles I ever traveled. Our route lay over the Elk Ridge Mountain, about six miles winding up its steep, rocky sides, the remaining half down the opposite side, the midday sun pouring his fierce rays against its rocky surface, making the heat well-nigh unbearable. There was not even a whispering breeze to cool our throbbing brows. Two men of our brigade melted down and died, while hundreds fell out by the way and came straggling into camp next morning. The movement was foolishly conducted on the principle of a forced march when there was no call for haste. I was quite lame at the time, having cut a deep gash in my heel a few days before, which compelled me to walk on the toe of that foot. This made walking over such a road and for so long a distance rather difficult. I fell behind the regiment for the first time, but came into camp about sundown. Some companies left nearly every man by the roadside.

On Friday Robert Covert and myself went down to the river to wash our clothing. The day was hot, and Robert went in to bathe. I was sitting on the shore, in company with others of my regiment, dreamily watching the sportive antics of the bathers, when my attention was attracted to Robert by what I thought to be a peal of laughter.

With an exclamation of horror I sprang to my feet. "My God, boys, he's sinking, drowning!" He had made but two or three strokes when taken with cramps and rendered helpless. I will long remember the pleading look, the agonized cry, as he rose to the surface. There was no time for thought; he was going down the second time; in a moment he will be beyond our reach. I cannot swim, but I seized a long pole and plunged in. It was not quite long enough to reach the place where he went down, but at that instant a man stripped for a swim rushed past me, and, holding to the end of my pole, threw his shirt to Robert as he came to the surface. He caught it, and we pulled him to the shore.

I am frequently asked how I like soldiering. For a wonder, I am not disappointed. If anything, it is more endurable than I expected to find it. There are hardships as a matter of fact, it is all hardship—but I was prepared for all that. I expected to suffer—to endure—and find myself the gainer by it. While others say: "If I had known, I would not have enlisted," I can say with truth I am glad I did. If I can be of service to my country, I will be satisfied. That which troubles and annoys me most, others do not seem to mind. It is the intolerable, nauseating stench that envelops a military camp. My olfactories have become SO acutely sensitive I can smell an encampment "afar off." Many complain of the strictness of military discipline. That does not trouble me. The law is a "terror to evil doers.” I am thankful for the many kind friends I have found here. I hail with delight the President's proclamation. I believe it is a step in the right direction.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 15-7

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Saturday, September 13, 1862

Washing day. All who are not on duty were let out to go in the stream below the mill and wash. We took off our clothes and rubbed and scrubbed them, until one color, instead of several, prevailed, and then we sat around and waited for them to dry in the sun. From the looks of the wash-water, the clothes should look better than they do. They fitted rather snug when we got into them, but we will soon stretch them out again.

Night. A letter from father! So far as I know, he never wrote a letter before. I do not remember that I ever saw his handwriting until now. I expected to hear from him through others, but of getting a letter direct from him, I never even thought. Another was from my sister, Mrs. Loucks. They are all well, getting along first-rate without me. I guess I was not of so much account as I thought. However, I am delighted to hear about them. Captain Bostwick returned this P. M. and has told me all the home news. I almost feel as if I had been home, he told me so much about every thing I wanted to know, and best of all brought me father's letter. I will answer that letter right off, now, and then go to bed, where many of the company already are.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 25

Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, January 8, 1862

was also coal and me and Bethel washed our close to day.

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

Diary of Private Louis Leon: December 21, 1862

I went to the creek to wash my clothing and myself, and when I got back the water had frozen on my head so that I was obliged to hold my head by the fire so as to thaw it out. Wortheim's eyes are so bad that he can hardly see. Sam Wilson broke his shoulder blade.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 14

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 27, 1863

A number of our boys went a few miles, blackberrying, and picked quite a quantity to bring home, when we heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and suddenly concluding we had berries enough, we beat a hasty retreat for camp and got there safely.

The weather is not quite as hot here as it was in our close quarters at the front, but while we enjoy that change we would much prefer remaining at our post there, until the end of the siege.

Some of the boys have had to boil their pants—the only process which is sure death to an enemy lurking there which we find most troublesome. While our pants are boiling the owner leans over the kettle anxiously, for it is probably his only pair. Well, it is now summer time, and it will do to sun ourselves an hour or two. These little pests lurking in our pants become very annoying when they go foraging. These creatures are about the only war relics from which I have not gathered specimens to send home. I have, in fact, gathered enough of them, but with no view to a museum or cabinet. It is fun to see a fellow get into a pair of boiled pants. The boiling has shrunk them till they fail to reach the top of his brogans by some inches, and accordingly he bends over to try to pull them down to a junction, when the contrary things seem to recoil still further; and the only satisfaction left to him at last-and it is no mean one, either—is that they are at least clean, and he himself is once more their sole occupant. How long he will remain so, however, it is hard to say.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 66

The Southern Mothers and the Special Policeman.

EDITOR APPEAL:  The petition for a special policeman to perform certain duties for  the Mothers’ Rooms, having given rise to much discussion in the Board of Aldermen, and the matter being evidently from the reports of that discussion greatly misunderstood, will you permit me to correct the false impression created thereby and more particularly by the remarks of Ald. Kortrecht.  In the beginning of the enterprise of the Mothers, the Vigilance Committee ordered the free women of the city to do the washing of the establishment in regular course, and the captain of the police was instructed to have them brought to the Rooms, and see that they returned the articles in due time.  This required only a few hours time every week, and there being a larger number of such women in the city enjoying the protection of the laws, for the vindication of which our boys are in arms, the duty, if properly seen to by the police, cannot fall upon the same person oftener than once in two or three months.  It was to attend to this duty, only, that the Mothers desired a special person detailed.  They have no further need for an officer in their establishment.  I regret having troubled the city in the matter, since it has given rise to a misunderstanding of their position and wants.

In regard to the remarks of Ald. Kortrecht, I wish to state that he has been misinformed.  The Secretary of War has been applied to, to give the appointment of a surgeon in the army to G. W. Currey, M. D., the surgeon of the Rooms, but has not yet acted upon the petition.  Gen. Polk has been ordered the payment of the soldiers’ rations to the Mothers while the soldiers are in the Rooms, but they have not yet been drawn, and when drawn will not support the institution or pay one tenth of the expenses.  It takes charge of no soldiers but those in the service of the Confederate States, and of no persons but the soldiers themselves.  It is not a charitable institution.  These men are periling their health, their lives and the hopes of their families in many instances, for the defense of our homes and dearest rights, and we cannot consent to have it called a charity, in those who stay securely under the protection their valor gives them, to care for them with the tenderness of mothers when they shall be sick or disabled.  The people have taken this view of it, and sent to the Southern Mothers money, furniture, food, etc., that has made their institution a home to the sick and disabled soldier; and the great-hearted southern people will do it still, and never think it a charity.  But upon the contributions of that public to thise cause the Mothers ral[l]y, and have relied to this moment.

S. C. LAW, Pres. S. S. M.

Mary E. Pope, Secretary.

(City papers please copy.)

SOURCE: Memphis Daily Appeal, Memphis Tennessee, Friday, August 23, 1861, p. 4

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 22, 1864

As Dan Rice used to say in the circus ring: “Here we are again.” Sleep so sound that all the battles in America could not wake me up. Are just going for that fresh pork to-day. Have three kinds of meat — fried pig, roast pork and broiled hog. Good any way you can fix it. Won't last us three days at this rate, and if we stay long enough will eat up all the hogs in these woods. Pretty hoggish on our part, and Dave says for gracious sake not to write down how much we eat, but as this diary is to be a record of what takes place, down it goes how much we eat. Tell him that inasmuch as we have a preacher along with us, we ought to have a sermon occasionally. Says he will preach if I will sing, and I agree to that if Eli will take up a collection. One objection Eli and I have to his prayers is the fact that he wants the rebels saved with the rest, yet don't tell him so. Mutually agree that his prayers are that much too long. Asked him if he thought it stealing to get those potatoes as I did, and he says no, and that he will go next time. We begin to expect the Yankees along. It's about time. Don't know what I shall do when I again see Union soldiers with guns in their hands, and behold the Stars and Stripes. Probably go crazy, or daft, or something. This is a cloudy, chilly day, and we putter around gathering up pine knots for the fire, wash our duds and otherwise busy ourselves. Have saved the hog skin to make moccasins of, if the Union army is whipped and we have to stay here eight or ten years. The hair on our heads is getting long again, and we begin to look like wild men of the woods. One pocket comb does for the entire party; two jack knives and a butcher knife. I have four keys jingling away in my pocket to remind me of olden times. Eli has a testament and Dave has a bible, and the writer hereof has not. Still, I get scripture quoted at all hours, which will, perhaps, make up in a measure. Am at liberty to use either one of their boons, and I do read more or less. Considerable travel on the highways, and going both ways as near at we can judge. Dave wants to go out to the road again but we discourage him in it, and he gives it up for today at least. Are afraid he will get caught, and then our main stay will be gone. Pitch pine knots make a great smoke which rises among the trees and we are a little afraid of the consequences; still, rebels have plenty to do now without looking us up. Many boats go up and down the river and can hear them talk perhaps fifty rods away. Rebel paper that Dave got spoke of Savannah being the point aimed at by Sherman, also of his repulses; still I notice that he keeps coming right along. Also quoted part of a speech by Jefferson Davis, and he is criticised unmercifully. Says nothing about any exchange of prisoners, and our old comrades are no doubt languishing in some prison. Later. — Considerable firing up in vicinity of the bridge. Can hear volleys of musketry, and an occasional boom of cannon. Hurrah! It is now four o'clock by the sun and the battle is certainly taking place. Later. — Go it Billy Sherman, we are listening and wishing you the best of success. Come right along and we will be with you. Give 'em another — that was a good one. We couldn't be more excited if we were right in the midst of it. Hurrah! It is now warm for the Johnnies. If we had guns would go out and fight in their rear; surround them, as it were. Troops going by to the front, and are cavalry, should think, also artillery. Can hear teamsters swearing away as they always do. Later. — It is now long after dark and we have a good fire. Fighting has partially subsided up the river, but of course we don't know whether Yankee troops have crossed the river or not. Great deal of travel on the road, but can hardly tell which way they are going. occasional firing. No sleep for us to-night. In the morning shall go out to the road and see how things look. Every little while when the battle raged the loudest, all of us three would hurrah as if mad, but we ain't mad a bit; are tickled most to death.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 152-3

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 7, 1864

Another day of smiling weather. Still call our mess the “Astor House Mess” It is composed of only three — the Bucks and myself. I am the only one of the original mess here, and it is still the most prosperous and best fed of any. We are all the time at work at something. Have a good piece of soap, and have washed our clothing throughout, and are clean and neat for prisoners of war. Eli S. Buck is a large fellow, and a farmer when at home. Both are young, and from the same neighborhood. As I have said before, are cousins, and think a great deal of one another, which is good to see. Relatives rarely get along together in prison as well as those who are not related. There were brothers in Andersonville who would not mess together. Seems funny, but such is the case. Should like to see myself throwing over a brother for any one else. Guards denounce Jeff Davis as the author of their misfortunes. We also denounce him as the author of ours, so we are agreed on one point. Going to move. The “mess” will escape en masse at the first move, just for the sake of roaming the woods. With the Bucks in company with me, shall have a good time, and we can undoubtedly soon reach our troops in as much as they are raiding through the South. Dave Buck is the acknowledged leader of us. He prays; think of that.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 133

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: Sunday, June 19, 1864

Bathed and washed shirt and drawers. Read some in the Acts of the Apostles. Went to headquarters with Purington.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 120

Captain Charles Wright Wills to his Sister: December 11, 1863

Bivouac in Mud Creek Cove, near Belle Fonte, Ala.,

December 11, 1863.

Without any earthly cause I am troubled with a small fit of the blues this evening. I can't imagine what brought it on. I am cross, restless and tired. Don't want any company — wouldn't go to see a girl if there were a thousand within a hundred rods. Interesting state for an interesting youth, isn't it. Guess the trouble must be in the fact that I have no trouble. Everything moves too smoothly. No pushing in my family to knock down a looking-glass balanced on a knitting needle. Nothing in my precious life to keep me awake. one minute of my sleeping time, and nothing in the future that I now care a scrap for. All of that is certainly enough to make one miserable. I'm convinced that my constitution requires some real misery, or a prospect for the same, in order to keep me properly balanced. If you can furnish me any hints on the subject, that will induce distress, trouble, or care, in a reasonable quantity to settle on my brain, I will be obliged. I have written you so much about soldiering, sister, that I'm thinking the subject must be pretty well exhausted. You must have received as many as 150 letters from me since I entered the army. I have had a host of interesting experiences since I enlisted, but when I am alone, and naturally turn to my little past for company, I always skip the army part and go back to the old home memories. One finds a plenty of opportunities for such self-communing in the service, and if I haven't profited by mine, it is my own fault. Did I ever tell you how I love picket duty? I have always preferred it over all other of our routine duties, yet it would take a sheet of foolscap to tell you why; and then nobody could understand me the way I'd write it. So we'll pass. It seems a long time since I was at home. What do you think of my eating Christmas dinner with you? Don't let's think of that at all. I start for Chattanooga in the morning to get my team and things. It is six weeks since I have had a change of clothes from my valise. Borrowed a shirt from a woman once and got mine washed.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 205-6

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 18, 1864

Time slowly dragging itself along. Cut some wretchs hair most every day. Have a sign out “Hair Cutting,” as well as “Washing,” and by the way, Battese has a new wash board made from a piece of the scaffold lumber. About half the time do the work for nothing, in fact not more than one in three or four pays anything — expenses not much though, don't have to pay any rent. All the mess keeps their hair cut short which is a very good advertisement. My eyes getting weak with other troubles. Can just hobble around. Death rate more than ever, reported one hundred and sixty five per day; said by some to be more than that, but 165 is about the figure Bad enough without making any worse than it really is. Jimmy Devers most dead and begs us to take him to the hospital and guess will have to. Every morning the sick are carried to the gate in blankets and on stretchers, and the worst cases admitted to the hospital. Probably out of five or six hundred half are admitted Do not think any lives after being taken there; are past all human aid. Four out of every five prefer to stay inside and die with their friends rather than go to the hospital. Hard stories reach us of the treatment of the sick out there and I am sorry to say the cruelty emanates from our own men who act as nurses. These dead beats and bummer nurses are the same bounty jumpers the U. S. authorities have had so much trouble with. Do not mean to say that all the nurses are of that class but a great many of them are.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 88

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 9, 1864

Battese brought me some onions, and if they ain't good then no matter; also a sweet potato. One half the men here would get well if they only had something in the vegetable line to eat, or acids. Scurvy is about the most loathsome disease, and when dropsy takes hold with the scurvy, it is terrible. I have both diseases but keep them in check, and it only grows worse slowly. My legs are swollen, but the cords are not contracted much, and I can still walk very well. Our mess all keep clean, in fact are obliged to or else turned adrift. We want none of the dirty sort in our mess. Sanders and Rowe enforce the rules, which is not much work, as all hands are composed of men who prefer to keep clean. I still do a little washing, but more particularly hair cutting, which is easier work. You should see one of my hair cuts. Nobby! Old prisoners have hair a foot long or more, and my business is to cut it off, which I do without regards to anything except to get it off. I should judge that there are one thousand rebel soldiers guarding us, and perhaps a few more, with the usual number of officers. A guard told me to-day that the yanks were “gittin licked,” and they didn't want us exchanged; just as soon we should die here as not; a yank asked him if he knew what exchange meant; said he knew what shootin' meant, and as he began to swing around his old shooting iron we retreated in among the crowd. heard that there were some new men belonging to my regiment in another part of the prison; have just returned from looking after them and am all tired out. Instead of belonging to the 9th Michigan Cavalry, they belong to the 9th Michigan Infantry. Had a good visit and quite cheered with their accounts of the war news. Some one stole Battese's wash board and he is mad; is looking for it — may bust up the business. Think Hub Dakin will give me a board to make another one. Sanders owns the jack-knife, of this mess, and he don't like to lend it either; borrow it to carve on roots for pipes, Actually take solid comfort “building castles in the air,” a thing I have never been addicted to before. Better than getting blue and worrying myself to death. After all, we may get out of this dod-rotted hole Always an end of some sort to such things.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 80

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 7, 1864

The court for gotten, up by our own men and from our own men; Judge, jury, counsel, &c. Had a fair trial, and were even defended, but to no purpose. It is reported that six have been sentenced to be hung, while a good many others are condemned to lighter punishment, such as setting in the stocks, strung up by the thumbs, thumb screws, head hanging, etc. The court has been severe, but just. Mike goes out to-morrow to take some part in the court proceedings. The prison seems a different place altogether; still, dread disease is here, and mowing down good and true men. Would seem to me that three or four hundred died each day, though officially but one hundred and forty odd is told. About twenty-seven thousand, I believe, are here now in all. No new ones for a few days. Rebel visitors, who look at us from a distance. It is said the stench keeps all away who have no business here and can keep away. Washing business good. Am negotiating for a pair of pants. Dislike fearfully to wear dead men's clothes, and haven't to any great extent.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 77-8

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: October 8, 1863

Sergt. Beers worked on Quarterly Returns. Corp. Wood went out with detail and got potatoes and honey. Thede went for some apples, and took my washing. Orders came to make report or history of companies, all the details since their formation. A tedious duty with all books away. Wrote part of letter to Fannie. Rich prize. Captured Rebel train. Troops continually arriving. Forward movement soon.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 92

Captain Charles Wright Wills: February 25, 1863

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Jackson, Tenn.,

February 25, 1863.

I guess it's full two weeks since I wrote you last, excepting a half sheet a few days ago. My reason is that it has been raining ever since, and my tent leaks so that (that's rather a larger story than I think you'll swallow, so I'll not spoil paper by finishing it); but, Scotland, how it does rain here. Commences slowly and gently, comes straight down and continues coming for about 24 hours in the same manner. Mercury at about 35 degrees. Then the wind will commence blowing, cool, cooler, cold. Stop the rain, scatter the clouds, and getting warm again will, in a day or so, gather the moisture from the surface, and probably give us one pleasant day, rarely more. It seems to me there has not been a day this winter when the sun shone, and the air was calm, that I needed a fire, and I remember but one day during which the mercury sunk as low as 10 degrees. We had two nice “falls” of snow, but they found they'd lit in the wrong country and evacuated in quick time. It can't snow here to much advantage, but I am sure the rest of the world could learn from this region on the rain question. Canton is a parlor compared to this town. Part of the town is on rolling ground, but the hillside seems even muddier than the valleys. This town is thrice the size of Canton, and has ten times as many costly dwellings, but the sidewalks and streets will not compare with yours. The arrangements of gardens is passable and much taste is shown in the distribution of evergreens. One gentleman living between our camp and town has 10,000 pines, hollies, cedars, etc., in the grounds surrounding his house. The grounds comprise maybe fifteen acres. I mean he had 10,000 trees, but the Yankees burned the fences around his paradise, and have in various ways managed to destroy a few thousand evergreens A kind of a parody, you understand, on that Bible story of the devil in Eden. Colonel Kellogg is here to-night, but goes to Memphis to-morrow where he will join Colonel Babcock. They may both be here again within a week, but it is not certain. He says we may be thankful we are not in the Yazoo Swamp or at Vicksburg, but two months heavy picketing here have rendered me unable to see it in that light. Our pickets have been fired on twice during the last two days. Nobody hurt, I believe. We have news to-night of General Dodge, of Corinth, capturing some 200 prisoners and a train of wagons at Tuscumbia, Ala. How I do wish we could be sent into that country again. It's worth all the rest of the South that I have seen.. I have 11 negroes in my company now. They do every particle of the dirty work. Two women among them do the washing for the company. Three babies in the lot, all of which have run barefooted all the winter, and though they have also run at the nose, etc., some, seem to be healthy all the time.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 157-8