Showing posts with label Letter Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Letter Writing. Show all posts

Sunday, July 27, 2025

Diary of Elvira J. Powers: Saturday Evening, April 9, 1864

Last Wednesday Miss O. and myself visited Hospital No. 1, for the second time.

They were just robing one young boy in his soldier's suit of blue for the last time. He was then borne to the deadhouse. His name was Hickman Nutter, of the 31st Ohio. I secured the Post Office address of his people and that of several others who had died and had no message sent home. I passed the whole of the next day in writing soldiers' letters, and in my journal. My fortitude was sorely tried and really broke down after getting back, to find that in ward 1 alone from two to four boys are dying daily, while the Chaplain has not been in to speak to a single sick or dying boy for two weeks. Wards 2 and 3 have fared little if any better, as is the testimony of ward-masters and nurses. It is his duty also to write to the relatives of those who die, and common humanity would dictate that it be done, and every comforting message sent to them. I was told by the clerk, whose duty it was to collect the names for report in the public prints, that in no single instance had he known the Chaplain to attend to that duty. I was indignant and determined to report him, but was given to understand by more than one Christian minister, that the expression of indignation was considered a bad omen for my future success in hospitals.

"People here," said one, kindly in explanation, "must learn to see and hear of all manner of evil and wickedness going on around them, and be as though they saw and heard not."

Being by nature and birth an outspoken New Englander, and having inhaled freedom of speech from the breezes which blow from the hills of the "Old Bay State," I fancy it will not be very easy becoming initiated into this phase of military service.

We found several interesting cases on passing through wards 1, 2 and 3.

In the first, saw one man in a dying condition, who was brought the night before. He was lifted from the ambulance and brought in by two men, who immediately left without being questioned or saying anything about him. The attendants were busy and expected to find all needed information in the medical papers, which it is rulable and customary to send, but which were not to be found. No one had observed the ambulance or men sufficiently to identify either. The disease could not be determined. There were no wounds and the lungs were in a healthy condition, but he was dying and insensible. A letter was fortunately found in his pocket, from his wife, which gave his name, company and regiment, as being Henry Clymer, Co. K., 128th Indiana.

In passing through ward 2 we came to a handsome young man, who was looking so well compared with others that we were passing without speaking. But the nurse said to us:

"This man is blind!"

Could it be possible! His eyes to a casual observer were perfectly good, but upon a closer examination one saw that the pupil was greatly enlarged and the expression staring and vacant. Questions revealed the fact that he could see nothing except a faint light when looking towards the window. I asked the cause.

"Medicine, the Surgeon here says," was the reply. "I had chills and fever while at the front, and the physician gave me large quantities of quinine, which made me blind. I have the ague now, but the Doctor dare not give any more quinine. I have been blind two weeks."

"Doesn't the Surgeon think the medicine will leave your system, and that you may recover your sight?"

"Well, he doesn't speak very encouragingly says he doesn't know."

And we now see that although the eyes cannot do duty in one way they can in another, for they absolutely rain tears, as he tells us with quivering lips, that his wife does not know anything about it; that he is dreading to send her word by stranger hands, he cannot bear to think that may be he can never write again,—never see her or other friends in this world. He is yet young and life has looked so pleasant; he is a professing Christian, but finds it so hard to bear this affliction. And he sobs like a whipped child, as, kneeling by the head of his low bed, with hand upon his forehead, we listen to this recital and strive to comfort him. We tell him of others afflicted in the same way who have not passed a life of idleness in consequence, but of mental or physical activity. Of those who have risen superior even to this calamity, and in the battle of life have learned

"How sublime a thing it is

To suffer and grow strong."

He says our words have been a blessing, as we take his hand in a good-bye, and with a promise to break the news to his wife, as gently and hopefully as possible. [We do so subsequently and upon the last visit find that he has been gaining his sight so that he can distinguish forms, though not features. Again we stand by his vacant bed and learn that he with many others have been sent North to make room for more sufferers from the front. But he was still gaining his sight.]

In the same ward we find one slight young boy, who looks as if he ought to be at home with his mother, and we sincerely believe is crying because he isn't—though he'd be bayonetted sooner than own it. He draws his sleeve across his red eyes as we approach, and upon our questioning informs us that he is "almost seventeen," and furthermore that he is "nearly half a head taller and two pounds heavier than another boy in his regiment;" but confesses that he is "right tired a' laying this way day after day—fact is I'd a heap sight rather be at home if I could get to go there, for I enlisted to fight, not to be sick!" Now we ask him if he ever thought while lying there that he is suffering in the service of his country, and a quick flash of the eye, a smile and an emphatic "no," tell us that it is entirely a new thought. Then we beg him not to forget that he is, and assure him that it requires a much braver soldier to suffer day after day in a hospital than on the hardest battle-field, and we leave him with a look of heroic endurance on his childish brow.

Here is a good-faced German, who is moaning with pain from an amputation. It is twenty days since the operation, but he suffers terribly every few moments from a spasmodic contraction of the muscles. And we also find upon conversing, that the fact of the amputation hurts his feelings in more ways than one, and we must needs tell him to bear the pain like a good brave soldier, and that it will grow less and less each day, and really last but a few days more altogether, and that as to being without a limb he will not be the only one capable of exhibiting such a proof of the service rendered his country, that it is an honor rather than a disgrace to lose limbs while battling for the right; and now the hero's look of determination settles over his features also. But just as we turn to leave, he expresses his opinion that two or three more such "cookies" as we brought him the other day wouldn't hurt him, indeed,

"Dey was mosht as goot vot my moder used to make."

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. 19-23

Saturday, July 26, 2025

Diary of Private John C. West, Monday, May 4, 1863

Traveled all night Saturday night, having left Minden at dark, and all day Sunday; reached Vianna about 10 o'clock Sunday morning; the road was pretty rough, lying mainly through a hilly country, covered with large pines and red and white oak; reached the dinner stand about 4 o'clock and found it a very neat and comfortable place; was waited upon at the table by two young ladies. Had a tedious and disagreeable ride from this place to Monroe, which place we reached at 12 o'clock last night; took possession of the flatboat and rowed ourselves across the river; found the hotel crowded and could not get a room; spread down my blanket and slept on the piazza; got up this morning and wrote a letter to my dear wife before breakfast; after breakfast walked down to see the Anna, the boat we expected to go down the river in; found her a dirty little craft; went to the quartermaster's office to find out when the boat would leave; he could not tell for two or three hours yet; returned to the hotel; met Ormsby; he is in the postoffice department; he has a thousand pounds of postage stamps and is on his way to Texas.

I saw a very interesting game of poker between Captain R——— and a professional gambler; it was twenty dollars ante, and the pile grew fast and soon reached twenty-five hundred dollars, and everybody went out of the game except Captain R——— and the professional, who was a very rough looking customer, reminding me of descriptions I have read of pirates in yellow covered novels; he was weather-beaten and fierce looking; Capt. R——— was only about twenty years of age, with a beardless face as smooth as a woman's. A dispute arose and each man seized the pile (paper money) with his left hand and drew his pistol with his right; they rose at arm's length and stood glaring at each other like tigers; one looked like a black wolf, the other like a spotted leopard; the crowd retired from the table; it was one of the most fearful and magnificent pictures I ever saw. They were finally persuaded to lay their pistols and the money on the table in charge of chosen friends; the door was locked and a messenger was dispatched five miles in the country to bring Colonel ———, a noted local celebrity—a planter who stood high in social as well as sporting circles. We waited three hours; he came, and after hearing the testimony gave the pile to "old rough and ready," and Captain Ryielded gracefully, a wiser but a poorer man.

After dinner a stranger named Peck gave me a letter to carry across the river and also enough tobacco to smoke me to Natchez. I loafed about until the steamboat started at 5 o'clock in the afternoon; took passage in her to Trinity, costing me $15 besides transportation furnished by the Confederate States. I am now on boat enjoying the beautiful scenery on the river; wish my dear wife was here to participate in my pleasure; such a sunset! it is a vision for a poet.

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, p. 31-3

Diary of Private John C. West, Monday, May 11, 1863

Reached Montgomery this afternoon about 5:30, just too late for the cars, hence must be detained another night on the road. I walked up town a little while ago and met Mr. John A. Elmore; inquired about Culp, my old college chum, and found he was a lieutenant in the army at Vicksburg; his family is with his father-in-law. Heard here of "Stonewall" Jackson's death; it is a sad calamity for the south, but I doubt not God will raise up other great spirits to aid us with their counsels and to fight our battles for us. I wrote a letter on the steamboat, which I intended to hand to some one to mail across the Mississippi, or else mail it in Augusta.

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, p. 37


Thursday, June 5, 2025

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Monday, November 17, 1862

I commenced several letters to different ones. Our company, G, 8th Infantry, was mustered in.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 8

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Tuesday, November 18, 1862

I wrote to Rev. Loomis. Lieut. Col. Peteler and Captain Smith arrived.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 8

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Friday, November 21, 1862

Baker and I were out prospecting; caught one muskrat; set two traps. I sent a letter and $2 for some books at St. Paul.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 9

Thursday, April 24, 2025

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Sunday Night, November 16, 1862

The day has been cold and blustery. We have spent it in reading tracts the chaplain gave out, writing letters and swapping yarns. I am new to it all, and the boys have shown me all over the Arago where they are allowed to go. Our sleeping quarters are between decks, and are very similar to those on Hudson camp ground. That is, long tiers of bunks, one above the other from the floor to the ceiling above, just high enough for a man to sit up in and not hit his head. They are wide enough for four, but a board through the middle separates each into berths for two men each. They are the whole length of the room, with just enough space to walk between them. Along the sides is a row through which are small round windows which can be opened, and which give the only light the room has. For ventilation, a huge bag hangs down from above deck which ends up in a big tin or iron funnel which is kept away from the wind and so is supposed to draw up the air from our bedroom when it becomes heated. Where fresh air comes from I have not yet found out, but suppose it drops down through several openings in the deck above. A swap was made with one who bunked with Walter Loucks so my crony and I could again be together. It is on the side, and has a window in it. Walt has kindly given me the light side so I can keep up my scribbling. What we are here for, or where we go from here, is not yet told us. In fact I don't know as it is yet determined.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 62

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Monday, November 17, 1862

On shore again. The well ones are drilling and the sick are enjoying themselves any way they can. Mail came to-day and I have a long letter from home. Every mail out takes one from me and often more. I have so many correspondents, I seldom fail to get one or more letters by each mail. On the bank or shore, up and down as far as I have seen, are negro shanties which look as if put up for a few days only. They dig oysters and find a ready sale to the thousands upon thousands of soldiers that are encamped on the plains as far as the eye can reach. This gathering means something, but just what, we none of us know, A case of black measles is reported on board ship and if true we may be in for a siege of it. I hope I may get entirely well before it hits me. Jaundice is quite common too, and many men I see are as yellow as can be and look much worse than they appear to feel.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 62-3

Saturday, April 19, 2025

Diary of Senator Orville Hickman Browning, Saturday, February 1, 1862

Snowed last night, and slush and slop all day. Raining in the forenoon *After breakfast went to the War & State Departments Wrote letters and franked documents the rest of the day

SOURCE: The Diary of Orville Hickman Browning, Vol. 1, p. 528

Diary of Senator Orville Hickman Browning, Saturday, February 8, 1862

At Presidents. War Department, 2nd Auditors, Comms Genl. Surgeon Genls, Post Office—Got back at 2½ and wrote letters till dinner

SOURCE: The Diary of Orville Hickman Browning, Vol. 1, p. 529

Wednesday, January 29, 2025

Diary of Private John C. West, Tuesday, April 21, 1863

I went up town this morning; feel like I am growing stronger, but am suffering with a very sore mouth. Think I shall start for Shreveport on Tuesday. Have heard nothing of my pocketbook; paid the printer five dollars for handbills and one dollar for twenty envelopes. Heard today of the death of Captain Brownnigg; announced it to Mrs Brownnigg; the effect was as might have been expected; I thought at first that she would not revive at all; she seems more quiet now. Major Holman promised to let me have money to continue my trip. I am about to commence a letter to my wife.

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, p. 21-2

Diary of Private John C. West, Friday, April 24, 1863

Forgot to say in my diary yesterday that I met Mrs. Conrow, of Waco, and her son, Frank Harris, on their way to Arkadelphia; got up this morning and after breakfast walked up town; loafed about until 10 o'clock; engaged passage in the stage to Alexandria; went to boarding house and wrote a letter to my precious wife and one to my sister, Mrs. Mary West Blair, at Austin; came to town again, and have been witnessing a few games of billiards between Lieutenant Ochiltree and Devoussy, the daguerrean. I am bored to death and want to get away. Lieutenant Ochiltree let me have $35.00, which I am to pay over to Major T. S. Bass, of the First Texas, when I get to Richmond; I am not speaking of Tom Ochiltree, but Lieutenant W. B. Ochiltree, Adjutant Culberson's Eighteenth Regiment, Walker's Division.

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, p. 24-5

Thursday, January 23, 2025

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Saturday, September 20, 1862

Rienzi. There was nothing to break the monotony of camp life. Wrote two letters. Washed clothes. In the evening news of another battle at Iuka. They cleaned Price out and chased him four miles; 400 killed on both sides.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 6

Wednesday, December 18, 2024

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, October 29, 1862

We drilled forenoon in manual of arms & afternoon in battallion drill & dress perade Our Reg took a march through the citty & drilled some on main Street evening I wrote our Capt a letter visited the hospitals & with our 1st & 2nd Seargent took a dish of Oisters two of the men of our Reg in Capt Vermilions Co. ware sent home to be buried

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 93-4

Friday, November 29, 2024

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Sunday, November 2, 1862

I sent letter to pupils at Spring Mills, Locke's Mills. Two messengers left on the mules, Billy and Dixie.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 8

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Saturday, November 8, 1862

I finished a letter to my sister Caroline. A man fell through the scaffolding. Doughnuts by baker, 15.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 8

Friday, November 1, 2024

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 5, 1862

Something has happened. Last night, just as we were settling down for the night, orders came for a move. Dr. Andrus came round looking us over and ordered me to the hospital, as well as several others. Where the regiment is going is a secret from us yet. While the tents were coming down and packing up was going on, an ambulance drove in and with others I did not know, I was carted to what I understand is called "Stewart's Mansion Hospital." It is in the city, and I think near the place of our first night's stay in Baltimore. I was assigned a bed and for the first time since leaving home took off my clothes for the night. It seemed so strange I was a long time getting sleepy.

I am in a large room full of clean cots, each one with a man in it more or less sick. Not being as bad off as many others, I have written some letters for myself and some for others who wished me to do so. The room is warmed by two big stoves and if I knew where the regiment was, I would be willing to put in the winter right here. Nurses, men detailed for that purpose, are here just to wait on us and ladies are coming and going nearly all the time. They bring us flowers and are just as kind as they can be. I am up and dressed and have been out seeing the grounds about the place. One building is called the dead house, and in it were two men who died during the night. As none were missing from the room I was in, I judge there are other rooms, and that the one I was in is for those who are not really sick, but sickish. John Wooden of our company is probably the sickest man in the ward. John Van Alstyne came in just at night to see how I came on. Snow is falling and the natives call it very unusual weather for the time of year.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 57-8

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

Diary of Private Ephraim Shelby Dodd: Tuesday, February 17, 1863

Received twenty-four boxes, saddles, bridles, halters, etc. Sent to Camp. Got a detail and put them all in a house and locked them up. We took charge of the Clerk's Office to sleep in, tied our horses in Court Yard and got our forage from the farmers around. Secured boarding at Maj. Holden's, a clever gentleman and nice family; has one grown daughter, Miss Emma, a nice young lady. Remained here Wednesday, 18th-Monday, 23rd. During this time had nothing to do but write letters, visit MY GIRL THAT PAWS IVORY, and make acquaintances. Among them Miss Lou Hill I prize highest. We had prayer meeting and church. I purchased four books and left them with Miss Emma: Mormon's at Home, Pilgrim's Progress, Bayard Taylor's Travels and Bible Union Dictionary.

SOURCE: Ephraim Shelby Dodd, Diary of Ephraim Shelby Dodd: Member of Company D Terry's Texas Rangers, p. 8

Thursday, October 10, 2024

Diary of Private John C. West, Wednesday, April 15, 1863

I went to the supper table last night too sick to eat anything; left the table and laid down on a lounge until the hotel keeper could show me a room; I retired early and slept well; got up this morning all right, but did not go to the breakfast table; took a lunch from my own haversack; walked out in town; went to the ten-pin alley and spent an hour rolling; had not played a game before for eight years, and enjoyed it very much; smoked a cigar, a notable scarcity in these times, and returned to the hotel, where I wrote a letter to Judge Devine, and one to my dear wife; may heaven's choicest blessings rest upon her and my sweet children; went to the dinner table and found the landlady apologizing for some defect and two young females discussing the merits of the Episcopal and Baptist faith; got through dinner somehow and walked down to the quartermaster's office; got the Vicksburg Whig; stretched myself out on the counter; read and took a nap; got up; went to the armory and would have enjoyed looking over the work very much but felt sick; it produces four Mississippi rifles per day at $30.00 a piece on contract with the state; I am now sitting at the foot of the hill below the armory.

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, p. 16-7

Monday, October 7, 2024

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Tuesday, September 2, 1862

Rienzi, Miss.  We went out in the morning to drill on the field but did not see much into the wild scampering way. I wrote to Sp[ring] Gr[een]. Had no time to write home before mail went out. Was drilled on foot by Corporal Sweet in the evening.

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