Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, March 11, 1863

The boys say they are ready to march, but don't get any further orders. Letters from home. Have written to father wish I could see him.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 90

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, Saturday, March 21, 1863

This is a hard spot to get well in. Two poor fellows are near their end to all appearances, and it is trying to hear them rave about home and their families. I am glad their friends cannot see and hear them. And yet the hardened wretches called nurses find something in it to laugh at. I wish I could change places between them and the sick ones. Wrote three letters to-day and don't feel so very tired. Begin to think Dr. Andrus was right. If he would only let me eat about four times as much, what a jewel he would be.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 91

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, April 14, 1864

A woman and boy died in my division last night. The woman left a little child, eighteen months old, which is inconsolable. The father, a soldier, wishes to take the child away, but was not permitted to do so or to see it, for fear of contagion. It is to be kept to see if the child has the disease. [It did not, and had no scar from vaccination, such queer freaks the disease takes.]

The boy, an Alabamian, told me yesterday he was getting better. He had been sent here with measles, recovered from those, but the small pox did not break out. He died easy, and said he was "going to Heaven." I write his people today, via Fortress Monroe. His name was G. B. Allen, of Rockford, Cousa Co., Alabama. One man died yesterday, to whose people I have written to-day. Another died to-day. The mortality here is great. Said one patient to me: "People die mighty easy here."

I asked in what way, he meant.

"Oh," he replied, "they'll be mighty peart-like, one minute, an' the next you know, they're dead!"

This is true, and I find so many who were sent here with measles, recover from those, and die of small pox. Sixty cases of measles were sent to this hospital in one month, as I learn from the lips of the surgeon in charge himself, Dr. F. These are sent by the several physicians of Nashville. The fact itself speaks volumes, but to stay here and see its effects day after day in the poor victims of such ignorance, impress one with a sense of the importance by the medical faculty of distinguishing between the two diseases.

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, pp. 42-3

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Saturday, April 16, 1864

I find many very interesting cases here, some of which shall wait to see the finale before making note of them.

What seems to me a strange feature, as I become more familiar with death-bed scenes, is the fact that so few know they are dying or are even dangerous, but persist with the last breath, or until the last struggle, that they are "getting better."

One poor young boy from Georgia, by the name of Ashman, who must die, although he eats nothing except a few canned peaches and milk, which I carry to him, will tell me sometimes when I go into the tent, that he is expecting a can of peaches every minute from home, and at another that he has just heard that his mother is in town, and that if he really knew she was, he would'nt lie there a great while before he'd be hunting her up. At another, he asked my name and State, and whether I took him to be a man or only a little boy. He is a slight little fellow of about 18, but in answer to the question I told him that of course I considered one really a man who could be a soldier and fight for our country, and who could be so good and patient while sick. To-day he called me to him, as soon as I entered the tent, and asked if I "could'nt discharge him to-day—that the doctor had told him to ask me about it, and that whatever I said he might do."

I told him that I would discharge him just as soon as that limb of his got well, and reminded him that he would want to be able to walk to the cars before starting home. He has a bad abscess on his limb, from which the doctor says the flesh is sloughing, and he does not expect him to live through tonight. And yet the boy wants me to "write to his mother in Atlanta, Georgia, and tell her to write to his aunt Shady, in Butler," that he "has been sick, but is getting better."

One man—G. W. Crane, of 3d Missouri Infantry, and who is called Major, was given up the day before yesterday by Dr. R.

He complained greatly of his throat, and I have since kept wet bandages on it, greatly to his relief. I asked permission of the doctor to do this, and advice as to telling him of his danger. He thought it would be well to do so, as he might wish to make some business arrangements. It was a most unwelcome task, but I believed it best; and first, asked him if he would like a letter written to his people.

"Oh no," was the reply, I shall be able to write myself in a few days."

"Perhaps you may," I said, "but we are all in more or less danger when sick." Adding as gently as possible, "How would you feel about it, if you thought you were not going to get well?"

The queries seemed cruel, but I knew he had loaned a gold watch and money to a man, and thought he might wish to at tend to that and other matters. But he said decidedly "I do not think anything about it, as I have no doubt I shall soon be up again. And Madam," he added politely, "it would afford me great pleasure to talk with you, if I were feeling well and in good spirits you know, but my throat is so bad it hurts me to talk”

After this rebuff, and being really undecided as to duty in the matter, I left him. Yesterday I found him living, but evidently near his end, and I felt that I ought to let him know his condition. First, I asked as before about writing letters, when he said with great difficulty that he did'nt wish to talk with me as it distressed him to speak. I then said I would only ask him one or two questions and then leave him, and I said:

If the doctor and all thought you could not live, would you wish to know it?"

He said "No," decidedly.

"Well then," I said "I will not trouble you any more, but if at any time you wish letters written, you can send me word by the nurse.”

I left him and he died in about an hour. He called for water, but as the nurse raised him to give it, he exclaimed "I am dying," and then gave some incoherent charge, in which the nurse distinguished the words; "the lady" and "a letter."

His request has been complied with.

Mrs. F. was relating a similar incident to me the other evening. Dr. F. was at the depot in Nashville, when an old acquaintance was found there, who had been ill, had received a sick furlough, and was to take the cars for home. He was so feeble, he was persuaded to go to a hospital to remain over night, and take the train next day. In the course of the evening there was a change, and the physician knew he could live but a short time. He knew also that were he aware of the truth he would wish to send some message to his family. The man was speaking of his home and laying plans for the future, when the physician asked if he should'nt write a letter for him to his wife.

"Why no," he replied, "what need of that when I'm to start home tomorrow?"

"You may not go then," said the doctor.

"Oh, yes," I must start tomorrow," was the reply.

The surgeon did not answer immediately, but was sadly thinking how to do so, and regarding the countenance of his friend, when the patient, who was about talking more of his plans, suddenly paused upon observing the expression of the surgeon's face, and earnestly asked:

"Doctor—you do not think me very sick, do you?"

"I do," was the sad reply.

"But doctor you don't think me dangerous?"

"I think you a very sick man."

He lay silent for a few moments while thought was busy, and then asked:

"Am I about to cross the lines, doctor?"

Tears, and the simple "I think you are," was the answer.

Then was business arranged, messages given, and they were alone again. Then he said:

"Why, doctor is this all that death is? It's nothing at all to die."

And thus he "crossed the lines."

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, pp. 43-7

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Monday, April 18, 1864

One man, this morning, while I was taking the name of one who had just died, to write to his friends, told me that people throughout the whole land, will bless me for what I am doing. Wonder if I am doing good. I cannot help knowing that some will hear from their friends who die here, who otherwise would not.

There is a singular case in Dr. C's. division. Upon entering the tent the first day after my arrival, with reading matter for distribution, I inquired of a young German if he could read that language presenting a paper. He said "no," I then offered one in the English language, asking the same question He said he could read, but didn't wish the paper. The next day I did not notice him particularly, as he was sitting up, but the day following found him lying in bed, and that he would not answer when spoken to. While feeding another man with canned peaches who lay near, the nurse said :"You cannot make that man speak to you."

"What is the trouble," was asked. "Well, it is this," was the reply. He says that day before yesterday, when you asked him if he could read English, he told you a falsehood, for he cannot read at all. He has been dreadfully distressed about it ever since, and says the Lord has appeared to him and told him not to eat a mouthful, nor speak to any one except once a day, to the surgeon and myself, until he has forgiven him for the sin. He will speak to no one, not even the other nurse who has charge a part of the time, and says, he will not, until he gets religion."

"What is his name?"

"Oswald."

"Wouldn't you like some of these nice canned peaches, Oswald?" we ask, dipping up some of the delicious fruit. He looked at us smiling but with tightly pressed lips.

"These are very nice—they'll do you good, and we want to make you well as soon as possible. Won't you have some, Oswald?"

No answer.

"Not going to speak to me? Why only think—here's a man trying to get religion and be a Christian and he won't speak to somebody else who is a Christian. I've professed to be one these many years, and you won't speak to me! Now, if you could only read the Bible, you'd know that it says "speak often to each other. You cannot read, can you?" He shakes his head.

"Well, it's a pity, but don't you see that if the Bible says so, you ought to speak, and don't you see that Christian ministers have to talk to sinners to teach them to be good—and if ministers talk to sinners, shouldn't sinners talk to Christians—don't you see that?"

"Yes, yes, I do," he ejaculated, seizing my hand—"I will talk to you for you're a Christian."

We gave him some peaches and left him. The next morning, however, nothing could induce him to speak. He has continued thus ever since—five days and has eaten nothing. He received a forcible cold bath this morning with the promise of its repetition if he does not speak and eat. [This was continued till he both spoke and ate. But he was believed to be a hopeless monomaniac, and after some weeks received his discharge and was sent home.] It is possible that this is mere pretence and his object the same as that of another soldier of whom we have heard, at Jefferson Barracks, Mo. This one used to go daily with a bent pin for a fishhook, and sit for hours upon a stump on the hillside, waiting quietly for the bite which never came, at least in the estimation of others. He was the butt of ridicule for the whole camp, who, while they pitied him on account of his supposed insanity, could but laugh at his perseverance in fishing upon dry ground. He received his discharge, when flourishing it in their faces, he informed them that it was "now his turn to laugh, as he had received what he had all along been fishing for—viz: a discharge!"

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, pp. 48-50

Diary of Elvira J. Powers, Monday, April 25, 1864

The ambulance and driver were placed at my disposal this P.M., and I visited Hospital No. 1. I find changes here, but mostly for the better. Some have recovered sufficiently to be sent North. The "Alabamian," as he was called, who together with "William" was placed in my care, I am grieved to learn has "crossed the lines." He was getting better I was told, until one night he died suddenly of an ulcer on his lungs. William is dressed and walks around is surely getting well, and talking of going home. Has had a letter written to his father and received a reply. Seems very grateful. The German suffered no more pain from the amputation, and is hopeful. The Norwegian has no gangrene in his arm now, and it is fast healing.

I find two or three new cases of interest. One is a middle-aged man who is suffering greatly from ulcers caused by scurvy. It is thought that he cannot live long; and he tells me that he isn't ready to die that he has "been a bad man, that if the Lord will only spare him this time, he will live a different life." Another, a young man with fair skin, red cheeks and bright eyes, the victim of consumption, was moaning,

"Only to die at home with mother!"

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. 60

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, March 14, 1863

We were expecting a gay time to-day, it being the first anniversary of the capture of New Berne. It was reported that besides a review we were to have various salutes and plenty of beer. We were awakened about five o'clock by a salute, and, although we growled at the early hour, started out to see the fun. We soon found the saluting was done with shotted guns. Belger and Morrison were posted on the river bank, firing as fast as they could. The old "Hunchback," using her 100-pounder, and a little farther down stream, the "Delaware" pegging away at the woods beyond the little fort where the 92d N.Y. Regiment was stationed, they firing also and the river alive with shot and shell from the rebels. We were immediately ordered out in "light marching order," and it looked as if our breakfast as well as our beer would get stale.

Rumors were plenty. About ten o'clock it was reported that we were going across the river to relieve the troops there, but stayed quietly where we were, hearing everything and seeing very little. By four P.M. everything was quiet, and the company returned to barracks. A mail was distributed, and the boys are busy answering letters, for the boat leaves in the morning.

SOURCE: John Jasper Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass. Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, pp. 41-2

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, Sunday, January 4, 1863

Clear & Pleasant with frogs jumping about the ponds. This place, Hellena is almost impassible for persons on foot, this day at 10 Oc I started alone & took a ramble up to Col Busseys¹ head quarters found Horis Cutler on his Staff he is an old acquaintance in Keosauqua, I then rambled out back of the town over the poor broken points that skirt the place, was in & viewed the fortifications they seem well arranged to defend the place against any attack by the enemy. at a frame building on one of the points I heard a black man preach text if the earthly house of this tabernacle &c. at 1 Oc same place I heard another black man preach text John 1st ch & 1st v. 2½ Oc our Chaplain preached out in the midst of our camp text 36 Psalm 11th & 12th v. evening I wrote some to my daughter. 4 Oc we ware on Dress perade

_______________

¹ Cyrus Bussey, a merchant of Bloomfield; state senator, 1860; colonel Third Iowa Cavalry, 1861; brigadier-general, 1864-65.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, pp. 102-3

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, January 5, 1863

We was out this morning by request of our Col & had a tryal at target shooting with him the commissioned officers of us, pistol shooting. Capt Hale made the best shooting. forenoon we had company drill & at 4 Oc we ware on dress perade. night I continued my letter to my children. I recd a verry interesting letter from Ellis Burch of Ia.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 103

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Wednesday, February 4, 1863

I finished my letter to W. J. Hawn. The saw mill once more under way, and broke down. A threshing wind. Military school.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 12

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Friday, February 13, 1863

Stockading. I wrote to Ottman and Caroline. Received four crochet and one stilletto needle from John Goodenough.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 12

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Friday, February 27, 1863

I wrote off parts of two letters which he received from Adjt. Gen. Olin relative to defence. We had a sham battle.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 13

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 23, 1862

5 Oc morning I went out and brought in the picket guard and we loosed cable & started, we landed on Island No. 36 Arkansas & wooded Mississippi County, 45 miles above Memphis. 5 Oc we landed at Memphis and at 7 Oc we was called of the boat & formed in line marched into Court Square & formed in columns by companies ordered to load & lay down in line on our arms. it is a beautifull place with new trees & blue grass, so we all laid on the grass and had a good sleep. I wrote a letter in there by the gass light to my children. the people are much excited & are expecting an attact on the citty & are rejoicing at our arivel.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 100

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Saturday, January 3, 1863

Larned, Jr., gone to St. Paul. I gave 25c to help make up $7 for McBride of the Times, Lake City. I wrote to (Rev. Wm.) Speer, Lake City, Minn. Sore eyes.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 10

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Sunday, January 11, 1863

I copied a letter from Gen. Sibley. Colonel set me to learning artillery for howitzer.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 10

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Friday, January 16, 1863

20 below zero. I wrote to sister Letitia.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 11

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Sunday, January 18, 1863

I wrote to adjutant general. Second Lieut. Randolph spent the evening with me.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 11

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Sunday, January 25, 1863

Beautiful mirage. I wrote to Mrs. Dilley, acknowledging the reception of hospital stores. Sergeant Fred Miller, Company G of the 7th, reduced to the ranks. At singing school. (Adjutant sings in my office.)

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 11

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne: December 28, 1862

We have had a rain and the hard ground made the softest kind of mud. It sticks to our feet and clothes, and everybody is cross and crabbed. The sun came out, however, and our spirits began to rise as the mud dried up. There was preaching and prayer meeting both to-day.

Our chaplain's courage is something wonderful and many of us attend the services out of respect to him when we had much rather lie and rest our aching bones. The captain of the Arago sent word he will be along to-night on his way to New York and would stop for letters. He will find some, judging from the writing that has been going on.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 77

Diary of Private John C. West, Wednesday, May 20, 1863

I spent yesterday morning writing to my precious wife. I wrote two letters; one to take the chances and uncertainties of the mails; the other reserved until I can find some one going across the Mississippi River. I called on Mrs. Bachman and there met Mrs. Carroll and her daughter. Mrs. Bachman spoke of Mary as of a sister; she is a sweet, good woman and was anxious to do something for my comfort. She gave me a letter to Captain Bachman and also one for some of her cousins in Virginia; wanted me to leave all my extra clothing with Miss Nannie Norton in Richmond; said that Wat Taylor had left his things there. Mrs. Bachman's paintings are enchanting to me. What a useful and delightful accomplishment painting is. By it we can leave such precious and enduring mementoes of ourselves, when all other memories have faded in the oblivion of a shadowy past. I spent the afternoon with mother only, and began to feel like I had somebody to love me this side of the Mississippi. For all that I hold dearest is west of the river. Mother (Mrs. Stark) has treated me as her own son. She has furnished me with clothing, which I needed; has given me $40.00 and appears anxious to do more for me. I went out to auntie's, at Stark Hill, late in the afternoon and bade them good bye; talked as if they were parting with one who had a right to their affections; all this nerves me very much and added to the approval of my own conscience makes me more willing and ready to suffer whatever may be in store for me and let my trials be what they may. May God save my wife and children from affliction. Let all the evil which may perchance be in store for them be meted out to me. After supper last night mother went up stairs with me and we concluded that it would be best to carry only a change of clothing and leave the rest in Columbia with her, to be sent as I needed them. She packed my things and spoke so kindly and affectionately to me that I love her next to Mary. It is now. 6 o'clock on Wednesday morning. I am waiting for Decca to get ready to go to the depot with me; she is going as far as Winsboro to pay a visit to Jennie Preston Means.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 47-8