Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, January 9, 1863

Left Indiana hospital No. 6 and came to Louisville Exchange barracks the same day; a stay of two months and three days in this hospital, making a march of 4 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 25

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, January 12, 1863

Left Louisville barracks and came to Portland the same day, making a march of 3 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 25

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 11, 1863

Louisville, Ky. Again in Louisville—eleven hundred miles nearer home than one week ago and yet how far. Still, it is joy to feel I am comparatively near. We reached Cairo on the evening of the seventh, took on fresh supplies, and left next day at noon for Cincinnati, which place we expect to reach some time tomorrow. We are now—3 p. m. taking on coal, and will start in a few minutes.

The Ohio is very low-in places not more than three feet deep. We have brought up against sand bars and been forced to back off perhaps fifty times since leaving Cairo. From this place to Cincinnati, I am told, there are no obstructions. The most difficult part of our way was from New Albany to Louisville. We were six hours in making three miles last night. It was nothing but "Back 'er and try again" for about a mile, and then we had a canal with three locks to pass through.

We have had no deaths since the seventh, and our sick and wounded boys are doing nicely. These fresh northern breezes are more exhilerating than wine, and the hope that they may be sent to their homes to recruit their health is more healing than medicine.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 75-6

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, October 1, 1862

Left Louisville camp and marched to South Fork, and encamped for the night, making a march of 20 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 22

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, October 27, 1862

Left Lebanon hospital, or was ordered to be sent to Louisville No. 12 hospital, and arrived there the same evening, and was conveyed to the hospital and well cared for. Making a march of 84 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 25

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, November 6, 1862

Left Louisville, and was sent by orders to New Albany, Indiana, hospital No. 6, and a nice place too and well cared for, remaining nine days in this hospital, and making a march of 4 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 25

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, September 26, 1862

Left Nolin camp and marched to Louisville, Ky., on the morning of the 27th, and encamped in the town for three days to rest and recruit and get four months' pay, and draw clothing, making a march of 31 miles. Being the second time we encamped in Louisville.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 22

Diary of Elvira J. Powers: Saturday, April 2, 1864

Reached the "City of the Falls" in the night. Left the boat about six this morning, took a hasty breakfast at the “National,” then a hack for the depot, calling at the office of Provost Marshal to secure passes on train to Nashville. Am pleasantly impressed with Louisville. A pretty green plot in front of private residences, even if quite small, with linden, ailanthus and magnolia trees, are peculiarities of the city. It is too early for the foliage of the trees to be seen, but the deep green, thick grass and the blossoms of the daffodil are in striking contrast to the snow I saw in the latitude of Chicago and Buffalo only day before yesterday.

The cars are now so crowded with soldiers en route for "the front," that it is quite difficult for citizens to find passage. Some have to wait several days before they can find an opportunity. Only one car is appropriated for this use, and ladies with their escort always have the preference. Thus gentlemen who are alone are liable to be left, As we were leaving the "National" this morning a gentleman rushed out and inquired if we were going to take the Southern train, and if there was only one gentleman to the two ladies. He "begged pardon—knew he was a stranger—wished to go to Bowling Green his wife was sick and he had written her he would be home to-day. If the ladies would be so kind as to pass him along, and if the gentleman would step with him into the office he could convince him, through the keeper of the "National," that he was a man of honor,” Mr. R. referred the matter to the ladies. They decided to take under their protecting wing the lone gentleman and see him safe home if the interview with the landlord, with whom Mr. R. was fortunately acquainted, should prove satisfactory. It was so, and Mr. Moseby—not the guerilla as himself informed us—entered the hack. He had "taken the oath of allegiance," he said, and "lived up to it, but had a right to his own thoughts."

Upon arriving at the depot found the ladies' car locked, and we were left standing by it while the two gentleman looked after the baggage. Mr. R. was not to accompany us farther. Soon an elderly, pale-looking man, with a white neck-tie, came up, who asked if we each had a gentleman travelling with us. We hesitated and evaded the question. This was being in too great demand altogether. It was not even included in Mr. R.'s list of our duties. He "was really hoping we had not, and that one of us would take pity on an old man and pass him along."

His fatherly look and manner banished selfishness, and he was told to wait until the gentlemen returned, and we would see about it. As they did so Mr. Moseby stepped up and cordially shook hands with the old man, calling him “Judge." But all Southerners are styled judges, captains, colonels or generals, thought I, and this one is an honest old farmer nevertheless. As Mr. M. assured us that he was "all right," and a "man of honor," I told him he might occupy half of my seat in the car. But it was not long before I found that my poor old farmer was no less a personage than Judge Joseph R. Underwood, one of the most noted men and pioneers of Kentucky. He has been Judge of the Supreme Court of that State six years, a United States Representative for ten years and a Senator for six.

A spruce little Captain came through to examine military passes before the cars started. Quite a number of citizens were left as usual, and as we were moving off I heard one young man exclaim in desperation that he would "go right back to the city and marry." The gentlemen congratulated themselves upon their good fortune, and the subject elicited the following incidents:

A gentleman of Mr. M.'s acquaintance could get no admission to the cars, no lady would take him under her care, and he asked the baggage agent if he might get in the baggage car. That functionary said he had orders to admit no one. "Then you'll not give me permission, but if I get in will you put me out?"

No answer was made, but the agent walked away, and the man, thinking like children, that "silence gives consent," entered the baggage car and remained.

Another gentleman, a merchant of Bowling Green, by name F—— C——, could get no chance to ride. But fortunately having on a blue coat, in desperation he stepped up to a man with the two bars on his shoulder who was putting his soldiers aboard, and said with a pleading look and tone:

"Captain, can't you lengthen out my furlough just two days longer?"

"No," said the Captain, in a quick authoritative tone, "you've been loafing 'round these streets long enough, in with you," and he made a motion as if he would materially assist his entrance if he didn't hurry.

“Well, if I must I must, but its hard, Captain."

"No more words," was the short reply, "in with you.” Another was related by an eye witness. A lady who was travelling alone was about stepping into the car, when a gentleman, who was trembling with anxiety lest he should be left, stepped up and offered to take her box. He did so, and stepping in behind was allowed a seat by her side, cautiously retaining the box. He had two comrades equally desirous of securing a passage, who had seen his success. One of them stepped to the car window and whispered him to pass out the box. It was slyly done, and the gentleman marched solemnly in with the weighty responsibility. The box went through the window again, and again walked in at the door, until it must have been thoroughly "taken in" as well as the guard.

Just out of the city we passed a camp and saw soldiers lying under the little low "dog tents" as they are called, and in the deep, clay mud, while only a few rods distant was a plenty of green sward. Any officer who would compel his men to pitch tents where those were ought to be levelled to the ranks.

I saw for the first time to-day, fortifications, stockades, riflepits, and mounted cannon at the bridges. We passed over the battle-ground of Mumfordsville, and saw the burnt fences and the levelled trees which were to obstruct the march of our troops, and the building which was used by them as a hospital. In the deep cut passes one sees suddenly the picturesque figure of a negro soldier, far above upon the heights, who with shining uniform and glittering bayonet stands like a statue, guarding the portals of liberty. At the fortifications are sign-boards upon which are printed in large letters, "Please a drop a paper," while perhaps half a dozen hands point to it as the train whirls past. Some papers were thrown out. There were other things which had for our Northern eyes the charm of novelty. A half respectable or squalid farm-house, with a huge chimney upon the outside, and with a huddle of negro quarters. Also negro women with turbans upon their heads, working out of doors, and driving teams—in one case on a load of tobacco, while driving a yoke of oxen. The total absence of country school-houses, and the squalid and shiftless appearance of the buildings and people at the depots, are in striking contrast to the neat little towns of the Northern and Eastern States. The scenery is fine, much of the soil good, and the water-power extensive. Nature has dealt bountifully with Tennessee and Kentucky, but the accursed system of slavery has blasted and desolated the land, and both races, black and white, are reaping the mildewed harvest.

I find my honorable companion very entertaining and instructive. I am indebted to him for many items of interest, both concerning the early settlers, and also the modern history of the places we pass. His personal history is full of interest, and is one more proof that early poverty is not necessarily a barrier to honor and position. The Judge was given away by his parents to an uncle, who educated him, gave him five dollars and told him he must then make his own way in the world. Another uncle lent him a horse, and he set out to seek his fortune as lawyer and politician. He has in trust the fortune of an eccentric old bachelor, which is known in Warren County as the Craddock fund. Three-fourths of this is used to educate charity children, while the other fourth pays the Judge for his care of the fund. His friend Captain C., while upon his death-bed, sent for the drummer and fifer to play tunes in the yard, and from those selected such as he wished played at his funeral. He was buried with military honors.

“Muldroughs-Hill" which we saw, is a long ridge extending about one hundred miles from the mouth of Salt-River to the head of Rolling-Fork. It was named from an early settler who lived twenty miles from the others, and was farthest west. Rolling-Fork is a tributary of Salt-River. The origin of the term "going up Salt-River" originated at a little place we passed, now called Shepherdsville. It has only four or five hundred inhabitants. But in its early days its salt licks supplied all the Western country with salt, and was a growing aspirant for popularity, as it invited so much trade. It was a rival of Louisville, but unlike that, made no provision for its future well-being, but depended on its present worth alone. "Thus," moralized the Judge, “do we often see two young men start out with equal advantages, and find afterward that one became a Shepherdsville, and the other a Louisville." Now there is a bridge at Shepherdsville guarded by cannon, then there was no bridge and ferry-boats were used. It was not a smooth stream, and to cross, one must row up the river some one hundred rods before heading the boat to the opposite shore. Owing to the rapidity of the current, it was hard rowing, and great strength was needed. There were those engaged in the making of salt who were called kettle-tenders, and who for the most part were a low, rough set, being often intoxicated and quarrelsome. Two of these having a fight, the victor finished with the triumphant exclamation of There, I've rowed you up Salt River!"

Lincoln's birth-place is near this, in the adjoining County of Larue—although this was not the name at the time of his birth. And how little did the mother of Lincoln think, as she taught him the little she knew of books, that the people in the vicinity would ever have cause to exclaim of him, in relation to his rival for the Presidency, as they do of the successful politician—" he has rowed him up Salt River !"

There is a little river called "Nolin," which waters his birth-place. It was so named from the fact that in the early settlement upon its banks a man named Linn was lost in the woods, and never found. He was probably killed by the Indians. But the neighbors searched for several days, and at night met at a place upon its banks, calling to each other as they came in, "No Linn"—" No Linn, yet."

The Judge has carried lead in his body for over fifty years, received in the war of 1812. He was in the battle on the Maumee river called Dudley's defeat. The regiment, under Dudley, had crossed the river to take cannon of the enemy, which they succeeded in doing, but instead of returning they pursued them two or three miles, leaving a few behind to protect the captures. But a detachment of the enemy passed around in their rear, retook the cannon, and when the regiment returned, their retreat was cut off, and all were taken prisoners and obliged to run the gauntlet. About forty were killed in running the gauntlet. The Judge saw that the line of men which had formed at a little distance from, and parallel with the river, had a bend in it, and that if he ran close to the guns they would not dare fire for fear of hitting their own men. The Indians were armed with guns, tomahawks, and war clubs. In that day the gun was accompanied with what was called the "wiping-stick," which was a rod made of hickory notched, and wound with tow, and used to clean the gun. He escaped by receiving a whipping with some of those sticks. It was the last gauntlet ever run in the United States. During the trip I had quite a spirited but good-natured discussion upon the condition of the country, with Mr. M., who I found is really a strong rebel sympathizer. He worships Morgan since his late raid into Ohio, and secretly cherishes his picture in his vest pocket. Just before reaching Bowling Green, where we were to separate, the fatherly old Judge took a hand of each in his own, and with moisture in his eyes and a tremor in his voice, said:

"My children, you represent the two antagonistic positions of the country, and like those, do not rightly understand each other, on account of sectional prejudices. And now let an old man who has watched the growth of both sections, who has, as he trusts, fought for their good in the field, the desk, and senate, join your hands in the grasp of good fellowship, and oh, how sincerely I wish that I could bring also together the North and South in one lasting peace!"

Soon after, he pointed out his residence—the cars stopped, and we parted with our pleasant friends.

Reached the "City of the Rocks" about five, this P. M. Shall wait to see more of it, before making note of impressions.

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. 5-12

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 27, 1863

A letter from home—the first since April 25th, and written by my beloved wife. On receiving it I sought my tent with eager haste and perused its welcome pages over and over again. Well may my darling say, "God has been better to me than my fears," for we have been spared to each other, and our children to us both.

I do not believe my darling's dream was all a dream. On that same day, the 9th of June, I was on my way from Louisville to Cairo. We went directly north to Seymour, Indiana. Almost home, it seemed to me, where we changed cars for the southwest. I was cast down, discouraged, more so than at any other period of my life. My thoughts and affections were drawn out to my sorrowing wife with an intensity that was agonizing. I had given up hope of her ever becoming reconciled to our fate, and believed she would mourn her life away for him who would gladly have given his own to save his wife. I felt I could do no more. Under the circumstances was I not permitted to visit her, that my spiritual presence might cheer, comfort and encourage her by the assurance that she was not forsaken; that, though far away, her husband was still present, even to her outward senses.

I believe my darling has often visited me, and I love to cherish the fond thought. Every nerve and fiber of my soul has thrilled with joy unspeakable at the familiar touch of her dear hand upon my brow.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 61-2

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: about June 1, 1865

About the first of June we leave Washington by rail, taking the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, and while passing by Harper's Ferry the men make the welkin ring by singing "John Brown's soul is marching on." Upon arriving at Parkensburg, Va., we embark on Government steamer and are soon floating down the Ohio.

Sitting upon the deck of the proud steamer, Lieutenant Flint, ever full of his poetical genius, writes:

Beautiful river; well named they of old

Thee, the blue flood that pours o'er thy channel of gold,

Speed down from the mountains, thou fairest of daughters,

That meet on the breast of the father of waters.

Rush down from thy mountains and bear us along,

With bugle and drum note, and wild burst of song,

Our eyes will grow dim as they follow thy shore,

And thy waves bear us downward and homeward once more.

Bring out the old flags; their rents and their scars,

Are as dear to our hearts as their stripes and their stars,

Wave your old flags, men, point them towards home,

Proudly in victory and honor we come.

O mothers and sisters, and sweethearts and wives,

Glean our prairies of flowers for this crown of our lives;

Strew a path for the war-horse that moves at our head,

For his rider is dear to the legions he led.

Know ye our leader? Aye, millions shall tell

How the strongholds of Treason like Jerichos fell,

From the streams of the west to the furthermost shore,

His story is writ on the banners he bore.

Shake out your old flags and point to their scars,

Sherman is leading his host from the wars;

Wave your old flags, men, point them towards home,

Shout! for in victory and honor we come.

The weather is pleasant and the boys seem happy as they remember that blood has ceased to flow, and that a conquered peace is drawing nigh. As we stand upon the steamer moving so queenly, we cast our eyes towards the Kentucky shore; the hills are green and our feelings tell us they never were so beautiful before. Years ago, one could not help thinking of the many sad hearts that throbbed over there. But now the song of freedom is sung on that side of the river as well as on this side. Yet there are memories associated with those hills that will make us sad years to come, for many brave hearts are stilled in death over there. Over and around their graves the green grass is growing, and the freedman will weave chaplets of flowers and spread over the graves of the lone soldiers; and may be he will sing a song in grateful remembrance of his fallen benefactor. Arriving at Louisville we pass through the city and go into camp about five miles up the river.

We now notice that Colonel Rowett wears the well merited stars, which are honors fitly bestowed, and which should have fallen upon his shoulder long ere this. But as it happened he was no sycophant, and never crawled at the feet of power. After remaining in camp here a short time the Seventh is ordered to proceed to Louisville and report to the post commander for provost guard duty. We go into camp upon one of the vacant lots in the city where we remain performing the aforesaid duty, until we receive orders to prepare to be mustered out and discharged from the United States service.

SOURCE: abstracted from Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 311-13

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 1, 1863

Lebanon, Ky., June 1st, 1863.

I have been home on furlough, and am on my way to rejoin my regiment. I reached Louisville last night at midnight, and stayed at the Soldiers' Home until morning. Charles Groesbeck came with me from Detroit, and we found two more of our boys and our Chaplain here, waiting to take cars this morning.

We have a good "drive" on our drum major. He reached Louisville on Friday and reported to the post commander for a pass to his regiment. The Colonel gave him a pass, all right, but to his utter dismay and disgust sent him to the barrack, kept him there until this morning, then sent him to Lebanon under guard. Charlie and I did not report, and came through like free men.

We have a march of sixty miles before us, but a wagon train is going out, and we may get our baggage carried part of the way.

We left Lebanon at three o'clock and walked ten miles. Next morning at three o'clock we were again on the road, intending to make Columbia, but, a heavy rain setting in, we took possession of a barn about four miles out and stayed until morning. We had walked twenty miles and carried our baggage, and were ready to walk eighteen in the afternoon, which is the distance from this place to Jamestown, where we expect to overtake the regiment.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 43

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 6, 1863

Lebanon, Ky., June 6th, 1863.

I did not go to Jamestown, as I intended. I called on the Provost Marshal for a pass and learned the program had been changed, and the Seventeenth was then on its way back to Lebanon. I found the company about nine o'clock in the evening, a half mile from Columbia, tired and worn by a march of twenty six miles. The boys had stretched themselves on the ground, too tired to erect their tents, but when they learned of our arrival, they flocked around us to learn the latest news from home. And such warm greetings I seldom ever witnessed. The Colonel said we were all right on time; he did not expect us to start from home until Monday.

Here I learned the Ninth Corps had received orders to report immediately at Louisville. We started early next morning and marched twenty miles. After supper we threw ourselves upon the ground and forgot our pains and aches in "balmy sleep."

At two o'clock we were aroused by "the shrill bugle's cry," and were told we were to be in Lebanon at 12 m. eighteen miles. We turned out, cooked and ate our breakfasts, and at four o'clock were on the move. The Quartermaster soon overtook us with teams that he had "pressed" to carry our knapsacks for us. With many thanks to Colonel Luce—it was he that ordered the wagons to follow us—we started on our way with light hearts and lighter feet. But eighteen miles in half a day is no easy task, even in light marching order, and soon the men, worn out by repeated forced marches, began to tire, and many were ready to declare they could go no further, when we were met by a wagon train, sent from Lebanon to bring in those not able to walk. The train was soon filled to its utmost capacity. Not being one of the unfortunates, I "hoofed it" the entire distance.

The all-absorbing question with us is, where are we going? The Louisville Journal says we are "going to take a new lesson in geography." Of course, then, we leave the state. Our officers are about equally divided between Washington and Vicksburg. But which? If we are to take a new lesson we will not go east. Then it must be Vicksburg. Our men say it makes but little difference to them, if only we go where work is to be done.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 44-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 10, 1863

Cairo, Ill., June 10th, 1863.

We are now three hundred and sixty-six miles from Lebanon, which place we left at 3 p. m. of Sunday, and reached Louisville about seven. The ladies had prepared supper and we partook of it with many thanks to the generous doners. After supper we crossed over to Jefferson and took cars for this place. Here we missed the executive ability of General Poe. In all our journeying from Newport News everything was arranged with care and precision. Here all was disorder and confusion. The cars assigned to our regiment were partly filled with men and baggage of other regiments. Colonel Luce requested the officer who seemed to be in charge to remove them. This he refused to do, swearing they would have a fight first. The Colonel looked in vain for someone to bring order out of this chaos. Finally he assumed the responsibility himself; told the officer in charge if a fight was what he wanted, a fight he should have; ordered us to throw them out, and we did it with a will. About daylight we took possession and were soon under way.

Our trip through Indiana and Illinois caused an ovation. It seemed that the entire population turned out to encourage and cheer us on our way. Women and children, with bright smiles and waving handkerchiefs, thronged the way, and at every station fruit, cakes, bread and butter, newspapers, and, better than all, warm, friendly greetings, were literally showered upon us.

At Washington, Indiana, we halted for supper. It was midnight, but, as usual, the station was thronged with people of both sexes and all ages. Some ladies came to our car—food was served in the cars—and · requested that all who were asleep might be awakened, for, as they had been cooking until that time of night, and had then walked nearly a mile to see us, they would like to see us all. So we aroused the sleepers, and had a lively time during our short stay.

They presented us with bouquets, cards, mottoes, etc., and took their leave with many kind wishes for our success and safe return to our families and friends. God bless the loyal people of America, is the soldier's prayer.

We reached Cairo about twelve o'clock last night, and immediately went on board of transports.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 45-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, March 27, 1863

Louisville, Ky. We did not go to Suffolk as I anticipated. Third Division went in our stead, while we took another direction, and in eight days, by water and rail, landed in Louisville. We broke camp at Newport News on the 19th inst., marched on board a fleet of transports, went to Norfolk, where we took in coal. While lying there a heavy storm of snow set in, which lasted several hours. It was bitterly cold, or so it seemed to us, and we suffered severely. Toward night the storm abated and we sailed for Baltimore. There we were transferred to cars and came by the way of the B. & O. R. R. to Parkersburg, W. Va. From Harper's Ferry our route followed the course of the Potomac River to Columbia, a lovely city far up among the mountains, and near the head of that river. The country from Harper's Ferry is mountainous, and Columbia is near the dividing line, from which point the water flows in opposite directions. We were three days and three nights on the cars, winding around or darting through the rocky barriers that opposed us. For, where they could not be evaded, the energy and power of man pierced their huge forms and ran his fiery engines beneath their towering summits. There are twenty-seven tunnels on this road, twenty-five of which we passed through in the daytime. Some of the shorter ones are arched with brick, others with heavy timbers, while some are cut through solid rock and need no support. At Parkersburg our three regiments were crowded into one vessel, and away we went "down the Ohio." We made a short stop at Cincinnati, where we received orders to report at once to Louisville, as an attack at that place was apprehended. We halted on our way through Louisville and partook of a free dinner, prepared for us by the loyal ladies of that city. Soft bread, potatoes, boiled ham, cakes and hot coffee were served us till all were filled (and many a haversack was also filled), when we gave three cheers and a tiger for the generous donors.

We found much excitement, as bands of guerillas came within six miles of the city the night before, conscripting men and confiscating horses and other supplies.

We stole a march on the Johnnies in coming here, they having notified the citizens that they would breakfast with them on the morning of our arrival, and when they—the citizens—saw their streets filled with soldiers, they thought the promise about to be fulfilled, but the Stars and Stripes soon undeceived them. Here our brigade was divided, the Eighth Michigan and Seventy-ninth New York going to Lebanon, the Seventeenth and Twentieth Michigan remaining at this place.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 35-7

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, February 14, 1862

Left Camp Woodsonville, Ky., on our first march or counter-march, for two months all but two days remaining in this camp. Getting marching orders to our whole Western Army to right-about or counter-march to West Point, 20 miles down the Ohio river, below Louisville, going a march of 14 miles through mud and snow six inches deep, and encamp the night, not having our tents with us, on account of the roads being so bad that our baggage-wagons could not reach us; so we had to make ourselves as comfortable as possible by building square pens of rails, and sleeping on the tops of these pens, to keep us out of the snow and from the frosts of winter.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 10

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, October 17, 1861

Left Pittsburgh for Louisville, being ten days in Camp Wilkins, getting equipped and fitted out. Went on board the "Silver Wave" steamboat, and a short time after the front part of the hurricane deck gave way, letting many of our soldiers and musicians fall to the lower deck, hurting two men badly. We moved down the Ohio river three days and three nights, cheered from either shore by hundreds, and safely reached Louisville, Ky., on the 20th of October. Making a march of 625 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, p. 9

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: between January 7 & 15, 1864

Corraling our horses and mules and leaving them in charge of the non-veterans, the regiment on the 8th of January, with drums beating, colors flying, and hopes beating high, march from Pulaski, Tennessee. Arriving at Columbia we take the cars for Nashville, where we remain in the Soldier's Home until transportation is furnished. Transportation being furnished we proceed by rail to Louisville, Kentucky, where we remain until we receive our pay and bounty-after which we cross the Ohio and take the cars for Springfield, Illinois.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 221

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: between January 19 & February 28, 1864

"Southward, ho! How the grand old war-cry
Thunders over the land to-day,
Rolling down from the eastern mountains,
Dying in the west away.
Southward, ho! Bear on the watchword,
Onward march as in other days,
Till over the traitors' fallen fortress
The stripes shall stream and the stars shall blaze,
And the darkness fly from their radiant van,
And a mightier empire rise in grandeur
For freedom, truth, and the rights of man.”

After mingling for a while so pleasantly with the good people of Illinois, enjoying their hospitality and receiving from them many words of cheer, we rendezvous at Camp Butler, February 18th. While here we add to our rolls a large number of recruits. Noble men they are who have been waiting patiently to arrive at the necessary age for a soldier. That period having arrived, they now seem to feel proud in their uniforms of blue. Colonel Rowett having been by special order, (contrary to his wishes,) assigned to the command of Camp Butler, on the twenty-second of February the regiment, under the command of Major Estabrook, takes the cars for Dixie. Arriving at Louisville, Kentucky, we receive transportation for Nashville. On arriving there, we are furnished lodgings in the Zollicoffer House. The regiment will long remember the accommodations received there at the hands of the government contractors. How the bristling bayonets clashed together at the entrance, and how they practiced their expert chicanery to work their egress therefrom.

Remaining here until transportation is furnished, on the twenty-eighth we proceed on our way to Pulaski, Tennessee. The trains running all the way through, we arrive in our old camp at five P. M.; all seem glad to get back; the non-veterans are glad to see us, and hear from their friends at home; and even the mules send forth their welcome.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 225-6

Fight at Perrysville, Ky.[Bragg] [De]feated.

LOUISVILLE, Oct. 10, P. M. Yesterday [morning] Buell attacked Bragg’s forces at Chaplin [Creek in] the immediate vicinity of Perrysville. A shor[t but] terrible fight ensued, when the rebels [broke and rap]idly fled over three diverging roads  southward.  [Our] forces are in close pursuit; and hope to bag the lot.  At last accounts Gen. Gilbert’s forces [were in] the rear of the rebels, and some distance [below them.]  Military exigencies require the suppression [of the] name of the place. No further accounts [of the loss]es on either side.

LOUISVILLE, Oct. 10.—Great anxiety [and excitement] exists here respecting the fate of [of our soldiers] in the pending battle. Capt. Aldershaw [is on his] way hither from Bardstown, with the re[mains of] Gens. Jackson and Terrell, and Col. Webster [of the] 18th.

Among the Perrysville casualties are, killed—Gens. Jackson and Terrill, [acting Brig.] Generals Webster and Lytle of Ohio; [Lieut. Col.] Jewett and Major Campbell of the 15th [Kentucky] cavalry.  Col. Pope of the same [regiment is] wounded.

There is no confirmation of the [death of Gen.] Sheridan.

Gen. Rosseau is reported slightly [wounded.]

Col. Woolford, of the 1st Kentucky [cavalry, af]ter five charges, took two batteries, [and the enemy] after hard fighting, were driven 8 [miles.]

The foregoing relates to Wednesday[’s fight.]

Various rumors are circulating of [a fight] yesterday, (Thursday) said to be [favorable to the] Federals but are traceable to no [authentic source.]  At headquarters, 11 o’clock Friday [morning,] have received no advices from the [battlefield later] than Wednesday evening.

Our force in that fight was about [15,000 infantry,] 8 batteries of artillery, and 2,500 [cavalry, but were] reinforced toward the close of the [engagement.]  The rebel force has not been [estimated.]

Thursday morning we occupied [an advantageous] situation on all sides of the enemy. [Our troops are] in high spirits and are confident [of victory.]

Our loss in killed and wounded [in the] battle was 1,500.  The enemy’s loss [is considered] much greater.

The 10th Ohio lost 282 killed [and wounded] yesterday.

Company B. Capt. Farman [of Pope’s regiment] mostly from Louisville lost in [killed and wounded] all except twelve men.

SOURCES:  The Union Sentinel, Osceola, Iowa, Saturday, October 18, 1862, p. 2, the right side of the article was caught be the seem of the bound newspaper volume and partially torn from the binding I have had to reconstruct the article by using articles from the Muscatine Weekly Journal, Muscatine, Iowa, Friday, October 17, 1862, p. 4, the Illinois State Journal, Springfield, Illinois, Saturday, October 11, 1862, p. 2 and The Rock Island Argus, Rock Island, Illinois, Saturday, October 11, 1862, p. 2.  The missing or illegible words from the Union Sentinel article appear in brackets.

George L. Stearns, writing from Nashville, Tennessee, September 5, 1863

Left Louisville on Friday morning and arrived here at 6.30 p.m. Have seen Governor Andy Johnson. He is well disposed, understands the subject, and will co-operate and advise me. His aid will be very valuable. From him and others I got the following information. For years a large number of persons in this state, many of them wealthy slaveholders, have entertained feelings hostile to slavery, but did not dare to share their thoughts with any man. Many were afraid to think on the subject.

SOURCE: Preston Stearns, The Life and Public Services of George Luther Stearns, p. 309