Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 30, 1863

I was detailed on fatigue this morning. The detail from our regiment worked on the big break in the levee. We did a good day's work, and slightly checked the current. The Mississippi continues to rise. Uncle Ben, Scott and Patterson returned from their three days' scout. They had been up the river after beef and had secured fifty head. Mail came in last night, Frank received a letter from Rosalie, dated Jan. 4. Just to think, they have had no snow yet in the north. Generals U. S. Grant and Ross have arrived.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 35

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Thursday, November 20, 1862

Moscow. Mail arrived to-day. Received two letters; weather rather cold. Went foraging in the morning; returned with fresh pork, beans, corn and fodder in plenty.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 13

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, November 23, 1862

Moscow. Laid in tent all day. Mail arrived in the afternoon. Received two very welcome letters from home and Thomas L.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 14

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 18, 1861

I am disappointed to-night, and feel sadly. I had almost no letters from home lately. None yesterday, to-day none. To-morrow I hope I shall hear from home, and get news of the returning health of my family, and then feel better. It is very hard to be shut up here, hundreds of miles from those we love most dearly, and during their sickness, can have no hope of getting to see them. I suppose the "necessities of war" demands the sacrifice, and we must submit.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 65

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 19, 1861

To-day I have received the expected letter; but it relieves no part of my sadness. My dear child at home is no better. I may never meet her again. This in another of the trials of this unholy war; but I am selfish. How many have so much more reason to complain than I?

Boxes of luxuries and comforts for the sick received from home to-day. Many of the days which we have spent in this army have been days of gloom and darkness; and, oh! how these stars of kindness do sparkle in the gloom and lighten the darkness around us! The luxuries contained in the boxes are a comfort to the sick, but these are not THE comforts which we derive from them. They come from friends at home. They tell of the interest felt by them in the cause for which we suffer, of their interest in us as the defenders of that cause, and that we are not forgotten! Names of many of those who are engaged in this work of kindness are known to us, and whenever heard will call up a thrill of grateful affection so long as memory holds a place among us.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 66

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 21, 1861

Did ever husband and father need the comforting aid of the help-meets of home as I need them this evening? See my table. Six full foolscap sheets of letters from home—read, re-read, studied, spelled, and now to be answered. I wonder if any body ever imagines the value of a letter to a soldier. His power of estimating must be large indeed, if he can appreciate it. Were it not for this value I should never have the courage to attempt answering all this pile. But then, I have no room to arrange all these with a view to replies, for my whole tent is as crowded as my table, full of evidences of the kindness—I will dare to say, of the affection of so many of my kind lady-friends. The dictates of kindness and benevolence may crowd upon you articles of comfort and utility, but it requires the affections to indicate the numerous little tokens which peep from the packages of useful things now piled around my tent. They strengthen and they cheer me. I shall endeavor, right here, to make myself worthy of all this confidence. What a field this is for the exercise of the "unseen heroism" of life!

But how in the name of Legerdemain do our friends contrive to get so many things into a little box? Why, my 10x10 tent is absolutely full. It is well, too, that the box was opened just to-day, for things in it were getting considerably "mixed." Two or three preserve and jelly jars, and a bottle of pickles had been broken. The contents had escaped, and to make amends for their long confinement, like colts let loose, they ran considerably. The pickles had "pitched into" the sugar. The jelly had made a dash at the tea. The nutmegs were luxuriating in a mixture of preserves and coffee. There seemed to be an inclination amongst these belligerents to get into "a muss" generally; but I "offered mediation." After two or three hours of back-ache work, I got the conglomerates restored to their original elements, and gave the men a look at them. They were gratified and thankful. I do not think one man looked on one of these evidences of home rememberance but felt strengthened in his resolves to perform manfully the duties which he had undertaken.

Yesterday we had the first fight worthy the name, since we joined the army. General McCall sent out a Brigade (about 4,000 men) to reconnoitre. They came upon an equal number of the enemy, and after taking a good look at each other, concluded to "go in." In this fight we gained a decided victory. No mistake this time. We fought and won.

We lost a few men—about ten killed and some thirty wounded. Amongst the latter is Lieutenant Colonel Kane of the Pennsylvania "Buck Tails." He is a brother of the late Doctor Kane, of the Arctic Expedition.*

Yesterday a few Surgeons met in my tent and gave expressions to their feelings against a self-constituted organization calling itself the "U. S. Sanitary Commission." I have had very little acquaintance with its members, or with its mode of doing business. From the almost universal prejudice which the Surgeons have against it, I infer that it must possess many bad or troublesome traits of character. I have naturally enough imbibed impressions which are anything but favorable in regard to it. At our little talk, yesterday, it was determined amongst us that the Commission must be "written down." I am selected to do the writing, my professional brothers to furnish the data. This morning I commenced my first article, but before it was finished, the roar of cannon and the bursting of shells arrested my attention, and I left my writing to watch the progress of the battle of Drainesville [sic]. In a little while, the wounded began to be brought in, and the whole being new to us, the Surgeons, now, for the first, began to examine their stores and appliances for wounded men. We had very few things which we needed, and whilst mourning over the delay necessary to procure them from Washington (some 9 miles distant) the agents of this Commission, having got wind of the progressing fight, had loaded up light wagons with their sanitary stores and rushed to the scene of suffering with the very things most needed. I confess that I feel a little ashamed to have been caught in the act of writing such an article, under such ci[r]cumstances. Something good may come out of Nazareth yet. I think I shall wait and see, rather than be induced by the prejudices or opinions of others, to commit an act, perhaps a wrong, which I may be sorry for.

_______________

* Battle of Dranesville.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 66-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 25, 1863

The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings, fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston River. I have just returned from the city, where I have spent most of the day. These are glorious days for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day of their deliverance has come at last. The story of their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens followed us to their homes, from which they had been driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their own defense. We have given them the oportunity, and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the sacrifices they have made.

We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he could not express his gratitude to us for their timely deliverance.

Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burnside is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee.

It is twenty days since I received my last mail. During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place in other parts of the world.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 95-6

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 6, 1862

Capt Fee & Orderly Spooner spent the day in the Citty we had a general cleaning up in the barracks, afternoon I took 3 of the boys & went out & got a fine lot of Sasafrass & we had some pistol target shooting I stood No one. 4 Oc we ware on dress perade I received a letter stating Amandus is verry sick

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 97

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Friday, January 2, 1863

Received letter from Rev. Loomis, Lewisburg, Penn., and one from Brother Moses Paxson, Newton, Penn.

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

Cadet William T. Sherman to John Sherman, December 6, 1837

WEST POINT, N.Y., Dec. 6, 1837.

Dear Brother:

In compliance with your request I sent you a paper shortly after the reception of your letter, which I should have answered much sooner had I not been till within a few days past under the impression that it had been done. This excuse is sufficient, I suppose, for my long delay, especially as a letter from me is not very desirable.

I hope that you still have as favorable opinions as ever with respect to your employment,1 for in my opinion a man's success in his profession depends upon the impressions he receives at the beginning; for if these are favorable, most undoubtedly he will endeavor to succeed, and success will be the necessary consequence. You have now been engaged at that employment about a year and must be by this time quite an expert engineer. I would not be much astonished if when I came home I would find you superintendent of some public work. I have not received many letters from home lately; in fact, I am almost too busy to write many, and if I do not answer all their letters immediately upon their reception, they follow my example apparently, which is the cause of it, I presume; but after our examination in January I will endeavor to be a little more punctual and expect the same of my correspondents. At present we are very much engaged in preparing for the examination which takes place immediately after Christmas. I think I will still have about the same standing as I have now in Mathematics and French, but in Drawing I think I will be among the first five. Preparation for the Christmas spree is now all the go. I have joined in with about a dozen others and laid the foundation for a very good dinner costing about three dollars apiece. I wish we could get ahold of some of our western turkeys, chickens, and the like, which cannot be obtained here except at an enormous price, and as money is something to us like teeth, we are obliged to go without. Winter seems to be very reluctant about setting in. The weather at present is more like spring than winter. This time last winter, the river was closed, and we had fine skating, but no doubt it will soon set in with a vengeance, giving us our full share of north winds, which it generally deals out very liberally to the inhabitants of the Highlands. It is now about half-past nine, and we are obliged to go to bed at ten. You must, therefore, allow me to come to a conclusion, wishing you at the same time to give my best love to all the family when you next write home. Do not fail to write soon.

From

Your affectionate brother,

W. T. SHERMAN.

JOHN SHERMAN, Esqr.

_______________

¹ John Sherman was then, at the age of fourteen, junior rodman in an engineer corps, engaged in the improvement of the Muskingham River, Ohio. Particulars of his life will follow in introducing his letters.

SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman Letters: Correspondence Between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, pp. 2-3

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne: December 21, 1862

Inspection of arms to-day and a sermon by the chaplain. We are thinking and talking of the letters we will get when we have a mail. Uncle Sam keeps track of us someway and sooner or later finds us. We have a regimental postmaster, who is expected every day from the city with a bag full. We have enough to fill him up on his return trip. The Arago is unloading all our belongings, which looks as if we were to stay here. Good-bye, Arago! I wish there was a kettle big enough to boil you and your bugs in before you take on another load. So many are sick the well ones are worked the harder for it. I still rank amoung the well ones and am busy at something all the time. Just now I have been put in place of fifth sergenat, who among other duties sees that the company has its fair share of rations, and anything else that is going. I also attend sick call every morning, which amounts to this. The sick call sounds and the sick of Company B fall in line and I march them to the doctor's office, where they are examined. Some get a dose of whiskey and quinine, some are ordered to the hospital and some are told to report for duty again. Dr. Andrus and I play checkers every chance we get. We neither play a scientific game, but are well matched and make some games last a long time. He is helping my throat and my cough is not so bad lately. Our quarters were turned into a smoke house to-day. An old stove without a pipe is going and some stinking stuff is burning that nothing short of a grayback can stand. It is expected to help our condition, and there is lots of chance for it.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 75-6

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 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Thursday, February 23, 1865

Very little mail Belle Ve Dere starts A. М. at 2 P. M. our Regt on board the Izetta to cross to depot. drop 4 miles below, & return to depot. unload at 4 P. M. raining hard. move up to depot. an Irish girl brings out hot coffee for some of the boys. at 7. load on the cars & have a 20 minutes run to Lake city, on Lake Pontchastran where at 8. P. M. cos B. G. & K embark on board steam ship Alabama. find it full of mules & about 300 men of some 7 regts. 35 Wis, 7th Vermont, 27 & 28th Wis 1st La. &c. at 10 weigh anchor and are off.

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. 575

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Sunday, February 26, 1865

Fine day. hunt shells on the beach, see the porpoises, &c camp on banks of white sand covered with scrub oaks plenty of fresh water by digging in the sand. boys wade in the bay & gather oysters Plenty of them. troops landing nearly all the time, can send no mail

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, pp. 575-6

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Saturday, November 15, 1862

Davis Mills. Heard from home. Received two letters, from John and Thomas, which eased my anxiety. Listened to the first sermon [in camp].

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 12, 1863

Cincinnati, Ohio. We arrived here at 9:30 this morning. My day's work is, at last, completed, at 9 p. m. This has been a busy day. In fact, I have not been idle or had much rest, by day or night, since July fourth, and yet I am fresh and vigorous as in days of old. The sick and wounded all removed the worst cases to the General Hospital in this city, the convalescents to Camp Denison, eighteen miles out, while a few return to their regiments.

The Seventeenth passed through here today, and is now in camp near Covington, on the opposite bank of the river.

I expect to join them in the morning, and look for a handful of letters.

People call the weather here very hot, but it is not Mississippi heat, and I enjoy it. The mornings and evenings are delightfully cool, while there it is constant, relentless heat both day and night. Here a coat is comfortable in the morning—there one needs no cover day or night.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 76-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 20, 1863

Camp Parks, Ky. I received a letter from a friend in Michigan last evening, saying: "If you were in Michigan, or could see the situation from the standpoint of the North, you would be less hopeful of the speedy termination of the war." If by "speedy" is meant a single campaign, as was promised us one year ago, I do not now believe in it, but nothing but the most signal failure can change my faith in the ultimate success of our cause.

We have steadily gained ground from the first. The series of reverses that attended our arms the first year of the war has forced our government to accept the inevitable, seemingly against its will. I do not forget the violent opposition to the Emancipation and Confiscation Acts, passed by Congress in December, 1861, by Northern men of undoubted loyalty, nor the President's timid recommendations in his inaugural address to that Congress. I remember well that reverses and disasters attended all our efforts until the government was compelled, as by an overruling Providence, to free the slaves of rebels, which includes them all; and that from the moment these measures became the fixed policy of the government, reverses ceased. It is not the issue of a battle or campaign that gives me hope, but the successes that have attended our arms all through the month of July were attended by such peculiar circumstances as to force upon me the conviction, "There IS a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will."

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 80-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 30, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky. We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are encamped about one mile south of the village, in a lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and forests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumberland Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to guide us on our course when next we move.

From what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the boys will have to depend on their rations for food.

Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work as though his very life depended on present exertions. We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, when no man knows how long we may remain or how soon we may move on.

Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock above the entrance. The place is now being strongly fortified.

We had a lively skirmish in Company G this morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt out freely.

Solon Crandall—the boy who picked the peaches while under fire at South Mountain—is naturally pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This morning, while under the influence of his "ration," he undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G.

Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your business. Understand, I am running this company, and if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the bull pen. At this the Captain "closed" with his rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Captain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day.

I have the most comfortable quarters now I have ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of canvas, each piece the size of our small tents—two for the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or all at once, according to the weather. Three of us tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a voluptuous bed. I received a letter from home last evening, dated August 13th. Oh, these vexatious postal delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious that love had sped its message and was anxiously awaiting a return. A letter from home! What thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not altogether the words, be they many or few, but the remembrances they call forth; the recognition of the well-known handwriting; old associations and past scenes are brought forth from the storehouse of the memory and held up to view. The joy of meeting—the agony of parting—all are lived over again.

We are having brigade inspection today, which is suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned up yet, and we will not take the field without it.

The health of our men has improved wonderfully since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty set of men I never saw than the few who are left. But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to Jackson, Mississippi.

Oh, how I miss familiar faces!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 86-89

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Friday, December 26, 1862

Mail came in this evening. Adj. Larned (the old man) and I had a long talk. I wrote to Silas L. Slack.

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

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Saturday, February 4, 1865

Last night pickets of 43d Ills Kill one capture one and see another bushwhacker. Colm moves at 6.30 for the Rocks, Roads 1½ good 1½ very bad. at the burned mill at 12, in our quarters at 3 P. M. Marching orders awaiting us Find our details all back from up rivers except corp schippers wonded in head and left at Clarksville. Rebs captured the Chipawa with detail of 50th Ind. Rebs were 1500 with 3 pieces Artilery. boat crew parolled Raining this Evening. recd our mail but little of it.

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, pp. 572-3