Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Saturday, November 15, 1862

Mail arrived, 8 for me. Snowy. S. V. Carr gone to Breckenridge. Sent a letter and Indian scalp to father.

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

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Friday, November 14, 1862

Dr. Andrus is going to-day. He says I ought not to think of leaving here yet. But he does not forbid it, so if I get a chance I shall try it. I have burned my big pile of letters and discarded every thing my knapsack was stuffed with except what belongs to Uncle Sam.

3 p. m. Mail in and a five-dollar bill came in a letter from home. I went right out and bought a pair of boots with it, which beat the low shoes I have so far worn.

7 p.m. On board the steamer Louisiana. I had a hard time getting here, making two miles in twenty minutes with my gun and accoutrements all on. Dr. Andrus went and as soon as the chance came I sneaked out and started. I was just in time, as the gang-plank was being pulled aboard when I came to it. Dr. Andrus was on deck and saw me and had them wait until I was on board. Then he scolded some and made me get into a berth where he covered me up in blankets and made me drink a cup of hot stuff which he prepared. I was nearly roasted by this treatment, but I am away from the hospital and on the way to be with the boys again and so did not complain.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 60

Diary of 1st Sergeant John S. Morgan, Monday, January 2, 1865

Not very well today. drill the co part of the time this P. M. Recd mail, a letter from Mattie

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 570

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Monday, January 9, 1865

Gloomy day—Raining all day without any intermission. Mail in this P. M. see no Northern papers and hear no news

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 570

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

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Saturday, September 6, 1862

Rienzi.  Went through the usual routine of drill and camp life. Received my first mail since my arrival, consisting of two letters and a [Milwaukee] Sentinel. Changed mess. The 2nd Missouri Infantry left. Wagons moving, fires burning all night.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 4

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 26, 1863

Haines Bluff, Miss.  We get no news from the outside world. Not even the New York Herald or Detroit Free Press, those blatant organs of secession, can penetrate these lines. But the air is filled with rumors—rumors that are true today and false tomorrow. It is said the Rebels have a battery now where they fired on us when we came down; that they have captured all our mail and destroyed the mail boat. Today they sank the boat in shallow water and one of our gunboats secured the mail. All we are sure of is we are here, felling trees and throwing up breastworks; that General Grant is still knocking for admittance at the "Gates of Jericho." Were I to credit what I hear, and it comes from "reliable sources," I would believe he has already made the seventh circuit of that doomed city with his terrible ram's horn in full blast, and now, covered with sweat and dust, has paused on a "commanding eminence" to witness the final consummation of his plans. But the continuous thundering of his artillery and the occasional rattle of musketry convince me that, in these latter days, the tumbling down of formidable walls is not so easily accomplished as in the olden times when the Almighty seemed to take more interest in the affairs of men. But, although the long-wished for event is delayed until hope is well-nigh dead, still, seeing and knowing what I do, I have entire confidence in Grant's final success.

But hark! What cry is this? Oh, joyful sound. The mail! the mail has come!

Thank God, there is one for me!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 60-1

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 Private John J. Wyeth, December 20, 1862

After some trouble we managed to get to bed last night about eleven o'clock; but for a long time after that the mules kept us awake; perhaps they were hungry also. The weather was clear and not cold, so we got a little rest. At six o'clock this morning we were ordered on, after a very light breakfast, excepting for a few who may have foraged. There were a few chickens and a little applejack about our mess. To-day has been the hardest of any day of the tramp, and there has been more straggling. The company organization was in the line, but thinned out terribly. We had no noon-rest; but at two o'clock we filed from the road to a field, came to the front, and received a good scolding. Our regiment looked as if it had been through two Bull Runs; only about 150 left, and the rest not "accounted for." In fact there were very few left of those who should do the accounting. The colonel stormed a little, but that did not bring up the men; so, as he was probably as hungry, if not as tired, as we were, he let us go to eating, which was a decided farce. Our haversacks were as flat as our stomachs. We found a few grains of coffee and tobacco-crumbs in the bottom of our bags, and succeeded in digging a few sweet potatoes, which we ate raw. We were told they were very fullsome. We waited here two hours or so for the stragglers, who finally came along. They had been having a fine time, plenty of room to walk, and two hours more to do it in than we had; and, more than that, they were in the majority, so nothing could be done but "Right shoulder shift" and put the best foot forward. About sundown we saw, in crossing a bridge, a wagon-load of hard-tack bottom side up in the creek. Some of the boys sampled the bread, but it was not fit to eat. Shortly after a signboard indicated fourteen miles to New Berne. That was encouraging! The walking was fearful, the roads full of water, in some places waist deep, and covered with a skimming of ice. At last we met a wagon loaded with bread, and after much talk with the driver we got what we wanted. Next we met a man who said it was only twelve miles to New Berne. They either have long miles or else some one made a mistake; we seemingly had been walking two hours or more from the fourteenth mile post, and now it was twelve miles. We came to the conclusion not to ask any more questions, but "go it blind.”

We at last reached the picket-post, seven miles out, and halted to rest and allow the artillery to go through. Here Col. Lee told us we were at liberty to stay out and come into camp Sunday; but most of "E" thought of the letters and the supper we would probably get, and concluded to stand by the flag. After a rest we started again, and at last began to close up and halt often, so we knew we were coming to some place or other.

The writer has no very distinct idea of those last seven miles, excepting that he was trying to walk, smoke, and go to sleep at the same time, and could only succeed in swearing rather faintly, and in a stupid sort of manner, at everything and every one. It was dark and foggy, but finally we saw what appeared to be the headlight of a locomotive a long way off. Then the fort loomed up, and we were passing under an arch or bridge, and in a few minutes we reached "E's" barrack, and our troubles were all forgotten. Now we were wide awake; gave three hearty cheers for every one; had all the baked beans and coffee we could stagger under; and then the captain's "Attention for letters" brought us to our feet. Some had as many as a dozen. They had to be read at once, and, notwithstanding our fatigue and the lateness of the hour, read they were.

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, p. 29-30

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Friday, October 24, 1862

So very blustery and cold that we could not go to Georgetown. Stamps, 5c. I sent letter to sister Letitia West.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 7

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, January 3, 1863

We encamped in a corn field last night, completely exhausted; in the middle of the night it commenced to rain but I slept through it until I woke up and found myself in two inches of water. I tried the top of a furrow but that was not much better, so gave up sleep as a bad job. We started about 10 o'clock on our march for a camp ground. The roads were the worst I have yet marched on; snow, mud, water, everything that makes marching disagreeable except dust. Marched a few miles and then filed off into some beautiful woods where I understand we are to camp for a while—good water, plenty of wood and a good chance for rations and mail to reach us, what more can a soldier want?

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 7

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, January 18, 1863

Went into quarters in the navy yard at Memphis. Quarters very good. Men under shelter. The machine shop is used as barracks for the regiment. Officers use the offices around the yard. Weather very cold and hard work to keep warm. I use a carpenter's bench as my dining table and bed at night. Sheets are a luxury not to be thought of. Regiment goes on provost duty. Mail communications, my regular letters and papers are not following us around as on the march. We have not had any pay for a long time and all are very hard up. I got a draft for $75 cashed and divided it among my men. They were all very grateful for it. Memphis is at present a hard place, filled with soldiers. I regret to say many drunken officers are to be seen, while with the men it is almost too common to be mentioned. Orders came to destroy liquor wherever found and our regiment has destroyed a great many barrels. You might as well try to dam the Mississippi river as to keep the men from getting liquor.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 7-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Saturday, October 11, 1862

Before daylight. We have been turned out, for some purpose, and are standing in line with our guns and accoutrements on.

Later. Are back in quarters, waiting to see what comes next. It has at last begun to rain and has every appearance of keeping it up. I don't suppose it will interfere with our movements, though it can make it unpleasant for us.

8 a. m. The papers have come, and say Stuart's Cavalry have invaded Pennsylvania, and are taking all the horses they can lay hands on.

Later. We have orders to pack up two days' rations, and have just been given forty rounds of ammunition. Begins to look like business now, We are in line waiting for further orders, and I am improving the time by keeping my diary right plump up to the minute. One man is missing, absent without leave. Not a soul of us knows which way we are to go or what for. If we were mounted I would think we were going to stop Stuart's horse-stealing, but as we are on foot that can hardly be.

Noon. At the foot of Biddle Street, Baltimore, waiting for transportation. From all I can learn, our movements depend on dispatches from some higher authority, yet to be received. Major Foster's horse fell and hurt the major's leg, but he has caught up with us, though he has quite a limp.

Night. Here we sit, or stand, just as we choose, still waiting for a train. It has rained nearly all day, and we are wet and cold, and everyone is cross, even to the officers. Just then our regimental post-master caught up with us, and gave me a letter from Mrs. Loucks, also one from uncle Daniel. My sister says a box of good things is on the way for us. Too bad it didn't come before we left. No telling whether we get it now or not. Well, such is war.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 47-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Monday, October 6, 1862

Back in Camp Millington, and the rest of the day is ours. A letter from Miss Hull, in answer to one written her mother. It was full of home news, and I feel as if I had been there. My homesick fit has left me, but it was a terror while it lasted. I believe it is more common than we think. I see many faces yet that look just as mine felt. Like me they keep it to themselves, or possibly tell it to their diaries, as I did to mine. I am not the only one who keeps a diary. There are plenty of others who do, and others still who say they can remember enough of it without writing it down. In the afternoon Lieutenant Dutcher invited me to go for a walk. We followed the Baltimore & Ohio R. R. for about a mile and came to abandoned camp grounds nearly all the way. We found some housekeeping necessities which we brought back with us. After dress parade, we visited about until roll-call, and are going to bed early, for to-morrow the grind begins again. Good-night.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 45

Diary of Musician David Lane, January 15, 1863

Our shanties are completed, and we moved in yesterday. They are warm and dry, and cannot but affect the health of the men favorably. I received a letter from home last night, and great was my astonishment to see, on reading it, an indictment against one dearer to me than life, and in whose behalf I plead "Not guilty."

My poor, wounded, suffering wife; what could have put such thoughts into your mind? Have you not always been the most tender, the most loving, of wives? Have you not always been by my side to advise, assist, uphold and sustain me? Have you not watched over me, in sickness and in health, and nursed me with more than a mother's tenderness? Have you not borne poverty without a murmur for my sake; and still, as a wife, you are a failure? Oh, banish such thoughts from your mind, for, I do assure you, they come of an over-sensitive imagination. You say you have always been a clog to my feet. No, no! I have been my own clog. The error was in the start. Youthful ignorance and folly added to the advice of men in whom I confided, but whose council proved a snare started me in the wrong direction, and I have continued to float downward with the tide. But, dear, I have no regrets. My life has been happy beyond the lot of most men, and what, my beloved, has made it so? Certainly not the pleasures of wealth or honors conferred by man. What, then, but the never-failing, self-sacrificing power of love which you have always lavished on your husband that has bound him to you with cords stronger than bands of steel? The only things I craved when I was sick were the tender accents of your voice and your dear hand upon my brow.

There seems to be a bond of sympathy between us that knows no bounds—is not confined by space. Many times since I left home have I visited you, or received your visits, and the impression left was that of reality. Last night, after I retired to rest—before I went to sleep, for the boys were gathered around the fire and I could hear their jests and laughter—I held your hands in both of mine, trying to comfort and console you, and it was real as reality itself. There is so much hollow-heartedness and deceit practiced here by men who, under the false guise of patriotism, seek wealth and position, that, had I all the world can bestow, I would give it all to enjoy with you one hour of social intercourse.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 25-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 29, 1862

December 29th, 1862.

As I was sitting by my cosy fire last evening—for we have evenings here, long, dreary ones—thinking of past events and trying, with my weak vision, to pierce the dark future, the thought occurred to me where is all the trust and confidence with which I started out, and which cheered and sustained me until our late defeat? Have we made no advance? Surely we have made blunders, but will we not profit by them? We are learning the art of war—time is required to change a citizen into a soldier. Our officers are being weighed the light weights cast aside or relegated to their class—and the good work will go on until one is found of size and weight to cope with Lee. 'Tis said, "Great generals are born, not made;" that true greatness is also modest, and does not vaunt itself; but our President is on the lookout for him and will find him—never fear—one who has the genius to plan, the will to do, the nerve to dare. As I pondered, hope returned and all my gloomy forebodings fled away.

As I was about to retire for the night, our door was thrown open and some letters were handed in. Among them was one for me. I recognized the well-known hand—tore open the envelope, and, after perusing the welcome contents over and over again, I went to bed and dreamed of home.

Inexpressibly dear, to the soldier, are letters from home. It is interesting to stand by as the mail is being distributed, and, as the names are called, witness the animated, joyful expression that illuminates the countenance of the happy recipients, while those less favored retire to their tents disappointed and sad.

Captain Goldsmith has returned, but will not stay long, as he has sent in his resignation. The regiment is hard at work building winter quarters. Our houses are all built after the same pattern-eight feet by ten in size, five feet high-rafters one-fourth pitch, covered with tent cloth. The different companies are separated by streets one rod wide. The men do not work with very good heart, as they expect orders to leave as soon as finished. They say this has been their experience in the past.

Contrary to expectations, the health of the men does not improve with frosty nights. Diarrhea, colds and rheumatism prevail, with now and then a case of fever.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 24-5

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: November 15, 1864

This morning the command moves by day-light. The Seventh is ordered to bring the extreme rear from the Chattahoochee to where Companies H and K are now ordered to assist the pioneers in taking up the pontoons, after which we move on and join the division at Atlanta, where we find it halted for dinner. Here we receive our last mail, which brings the commissions for the new officers of the regiment. The promotions in the veteran organizations are as follows:

Captain Hector Perrin to be Lieutenant Colonel, vice Rowett, promoted.

Captain Edward S. Johnson to be Major, vice Estabrook, term expired.

Commissary Sergeant Frank Morse, to be First Lieutenant and Adjutant, vice Robinson, killed in battle.

First Lieutenant Benjamin Sweeney to be Captain of Company A, vice McGuire, term expired.

Quartermaster Sergeant Henry L. Balcom to be First Lieutenant of Company A, vice Sweeney, promoted.

First Lieutenant Edward R. Roberts (now prisoner of war) to be Captain of Company C, vice Lawyer, term expired.

Second Lieutenant John Hubbard to be First Lieutenant of Company C, vice Roberts, promoted.

First Lieutenant Seth Raymond to be Captain of Company D, vice Clark, term expired.

Private Elias Lorey to be Second Lieutenant of Company E, vice Miller, term expired.

First Lieutenant Henry Ahern to be Captain of Company F, vice Knowlton, term expired.

Second Lieutenant Thomas B. Atchison to be First Lieutenant of Company F, vice Ahern, promoted.

First Sergeant William P, Hackney to be Captain of Company H, vice Ring, term expired.

Sergeant D. Lieb Ambrose to be First Lieutenant of Company H, vice Pegram, term expired.

Private William E. Norton to be Captain of Company I, vice Johnson, promoted.

Private James Crawley to be First Lieutenant of Company I, vice John E. Sullivan, killed in battle. Second Lieutenant William C. Gillson to be Captain of Company K, vice Hunter, term expired.

First Sergeant Sanders to be First Lieutenant Company K, vice Partridge, resigned.

Commissions for the above promotions, with the exception of Lieutenant Colonel Hector Perrin's, Major Johnson's, and Captain Norton's, were received by to-day's mail, Lieutenant Colonel Hector Perrin's, Major Johnson's and Captain Norton's, having been received while in camp at Rome. The regiment is now newly officered by soldiers who have labored long and faithfully, and Allatoona tells us that the above list merit well their commissions. This evening at three o'clock we again move, our division being the last to pass through Atlanta; we go into camp three miles from the city. Up to this day communications have kept open. This evening the last train will leave for Nashville, by which Sherman will send his last dispatches to the Government, and ere the sun goes down we will have launched forth upon the perilous march. The destination we know not-everything seems to be clouded in mystery. The camp fires are now burning as it were upon a thousand hills, as if to rival the stars above. The boys are all in fine spirits. We to-night behold the conflagration of the great city. Atlanta is burning. "She sowed to the wind, she is now reaping the whirlwind."

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 275-8

Diary of Private Louis Leon: May 25, 1864

Engle received a letter from his father today, who told him they had seen my parents, and I would hear from them soon. This is the first time that I have heard about my parents since the commencement of the war. Thank God, my parents, as well as my sisters and brothers, are well.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 65

Diary of Private Louis Leon: May 26, 1864

Received two letters to-day, one from home and one from my brother Pincus, who went to Washington on his way to visit Morris and myself, as he has to get a pass from headquarters before he can see us. He was refused and returned home. Our daily labor as prisoners is that at 5 in the morning we have roll call; 6, breakfast, 500 at a time, as one lot gets through another takes its place, until four lots have eaten; we then stroll about the prison until 1 o'clock, when we eat dinner in the same style as breakfast, then loaf about again until sundown. Roll is called again, thus ending the day. We get for breakfast five crackers with worms in them; as a substitute for butter, a small piece of pork, and a tin cup full of coffee; dinner, four of the above crackers, a quarter of a pound mule meat and a cup of bean soup, and every fourth day an eight-ounce loaf of white bread. Nothing more this month.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 65

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

Yesterday my brother-in-law, Jack Smith, came in as a recruit, and, to my great disappointment, brought me no letters. I am certainly the most unfortunate man in the regiment in that respect. I have numerous friends and relatives at home, besides a wife, whom I love better than myself, and yet I never get a letter or a message, while others who are considered as being friendless get long epistles by every one who comes. Ab. Snell, another of the men who came down with me from Tennessee, died yesterday of small-pox. He was full of life and spirits during the entire trip. God save me from such a fate! Fowler, another of my compagnons du voyage, is reported to be dying of the same vile disease. Colonel Farquharson arrived yesterday, and will take command of the regiment immediately. He is beloved by the entire command.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 21