Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 17, 1862

Two letters to-day, and two papers, all from home. Seems as if I had been there for a visit. I wonder if my letters give them as much pleasure? I expect they do. It is natural they should. I know pretty nearly what they are about, but of me, they only know what I write in my letters, and in this, my everlasting letter, as I have come to call my diary. It is getting to be real company for me. It is my one real confident. I sometimes think it is a waste of time and paper, and then I think how glad I would be to get just such nonsense from my friends, if our places were changed. I suppose they study out these crow's tracks with more real interest than they would a message from President Lincoln. We are looking for a wet bed again to-night. It does not rain, but a thick fog covers everything and the wind blows it in one side of our tents and out the other.

Maybe I have described our life here before, but as no one description can do it justice I am going to try again. We are in a field of 100 acres, as near as I can judge, on the side of a hill, near the top. The ground is newly seeded and wets up quickly, as such ground usually does. We sleep in pairs, and a blanket spread on the ground is our bed while another spread over us is our covering. A narrow strip of muslin, drawn over a pole about three feet from the ground, open at both ends, the wind and rain, if it does rain, beating in upon us, and water running under and about us; this, with all manner of bugs and creeping things crawling over us, and all the while great hungry mosquitoes biting every uncovered inch of us, is not an overdrawn picture of that part of a soldier's life, set apart for the rest and repose necessary to enable him to endure several hours of right down hard work at drill, in a hot sun with heavy woollen clothes on, every button of which must be tight-buttoned, and by the time the officers are tired watching us, we come back to camp wet through with perspiration and too tired to make another move. Before morning our wet clothes chill us to the marrow of our bones, and why we live, and apparently thrive under it, is something I cannot understand. But we do, and the next day are ready for more of it. Very few even take cold. It is a part of the contract, and while we grumble and growl among ourselves we don't really mean it, for we are learning what we will be glad to know at some future time.

Now I am about it, and nothing better to do, I will say something about our kitchen, dining room and cooking arrangements. Some get mad and cuss the cooks, and the whole war department, but that is usually when our stomachs are full. When we are hungry we swallow anything that comes and are thankful for it. The cook house is simply a portion of the field we are in. A couple of crotches hold up a pole on which the camp kettles are hung, and under which a fire is built. Each company has one, and as far as I know they are all alike. The camp kettles are large sheet-iron pails, one larger than the other so one can be put inside the other when moving. If we have meat and potatoes, meat is put in one, and potatoes in the other. The one that gets cooked first is emptied into mess pans, which are large sheet-iron pans with flaring sides, so one can be packed in another. Then the coffee is put in the empty kettle and boiled. The bread is cut into thick slices, and the breakfast call sounds. We grab our plates and cups, and wait for no second invitation. We each get a piece of meat and a potato, a chunk of bread and a cup of coffee with a spoonful of brown sugar in it. Milk and butter we buy, or go without. We settle down, generally in groups, and the meal is soon over. Then we wash our dishes, and put them back in our haversacks. We make quick work of washing dishes. We save a piece of bread for the last, with which we wipe up everything, and then eat the dish rag. Dinner and breakfast are alike, only sometimes the meat and potatoes are cut up and cooked together, which makes a really delicious stew. Supper is the same, minus the meat and potatoes. The cooks are men detailed from the ranks for that purpose. Every one smokes or chews tobacco here, so we find no fault because the cooks do both. Boxes or barrels are used as kitchen tables, and are used for seats between meals. The meat and bread are cut on them, and if a scrap is left on the table the flies go right at it and we have so many the less to crawl over us. They are never washed, but are sometimes scraped off and made to look real clean. I never yet saw the cooks wash their hands, but presume they do when they go to the brook for water.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 28-31

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: November 18, 1864

We remain in camp to-day to let the Seventeenth A. C. pass. We live high to-day; plenty of fresh meat and yams. Five o'clock P. M., we move, go about eight miles and go into camp for the night. The soldiers are tired to-night; it is twelve o'clock before they lie down to rest. We are now far in the South-land, encompassed by foes in the front, the rear, and on both flanks, but the hearts of the seventy thousand warriors beat high, and this land is feeling their powerful tread.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 278-9

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 John Beauchamp Jones: December 20, 1864

A brighter morning, cool and clear. The President was at work yesterday. He and the Secretary and Gen. Cooper put their heads together to make up a regiment for Col. Miller in Mississippi, and designate the two field officers to be under him—from two battalions and two unattached companies.

If the Northern (purporting to be official) accounts be true, Gen. Hood has sustained an irretrievable disaster, which may involve the loss of Tennessee, Georgia, etc.

Hon. Mr. Foote declared last night his purpose to leave the city in a few days, never to resume his seat in Congress, if martial law should be allowed. He said he had information that when Charleston fell, South Carolina would conclude a treaty of peace (submission?) with the United States; and that North Carolina was prepared to follow the example! I have observed that these two States do not often incline to go together.

The great disaster would be the loss of Richmond and retreat of Lee's army southward. This would probably be followed by the downfall of slavery in Virginia.

The Secretary of War has sent an agent to the Governor of North Carolina, to ask for special aid in supplying Lee's army with meat—which is deficient here or else it cannot be maintained in the field in Virginia! Very bad, and perhaps worse coming. There is a rumor that Gen. Breckinridge has beaten Gen. Burbridge in Tennessee or Western Virginia.

Gen. R. E. Lee is in town, looking robust, though weather worn. He complains that the department is depleting his army by details, often for private and speculative purposes, to the benefit of private individuals—speculators.

I drew my (State) salt to-day, 70 pounds, for 7 in family-20 cents per pound. It retails at a $1 per pound!

Mr. Secretary has sent (per Lieut.-Col. Bayne) some gold to Wilmington, to buy (in Nassau) loaf sugar for his family, to be brought in government steamers.

My son Thomas could get no beef ration to-day—too scarce.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 359-60

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 21, 1864

Raining; rained all night.

The following dispatch was received this morning:

"WILMINGTON, December 20th, 1864, 10 A.M.—The head of the enemy's fleet arrived off this port during last night. Over thirty steamers are now assembling, and more are following.—BRAXTON BRAGG."

It may be hoped that Gen. Bragg will do something more than chronicle the successes of the enemy this time. He is nearer to him than when he remained at Augusta; and yet the press could be made reticent on arrivals, etc.

Lieut. Col. Sims, Assistant Quartermaster General, has contracted with the Southern Express Company to transport all the funds of the Quartermaster's Department—hundreds of millions!

Mr. Hunter was with the Secretary this morning, when I laid before the latter Bragg's dispatch. I doubt not it failed to contribute to a mollification of their painful forebodings.

By Northern papers I see President Lincoln disapproves Gen. Dix's order to troops to cross the Canada line in pursuit of raiders. Gold is $45 for one to-day.

The army has no meat this day, the commissaries, etc. have it all, and are speculating with it—it is said. So many high officials are interested, there is no remedy. We are at the mercy of the quartermasters, commissaries, railroad companies, and the Southern Express Company. The President and Secretary either cannot or will not break our shackles.

An official account states the number of houses burnt by the enemy in Atlanta to be 5000!

There is a rumor of another and a formidable raid on Gordonsville. The railroad is now exclusively occupied with the transportation of troops—perhaps for Wilmington. The raid may be a ruse to prevent reinforcements being sent thither.

The Andersonville Report belongs to the Adjutant-General's Office, and therefore has not come back to me.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 360-1

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Wednesday, June 19, 1861

Embarkation of the Second Battery on the steamer Kill Von Kull, and of the Second Rhode Island Infantry, on the State of Maine.

Early in the morning the tents were struck, everything packed up, order was given to mount, and by nine o'clock we commenced our march through Westminster street; from thence, through South Main street, to India Point, where the steamers lay, and started by about four o'clock in the afternoon. The docks were crowded immensely during the day; the fair sex, especially, was strongly represented. Amid the pealing of cannon and the farewell cheers of the multitude, we gradually distanced the shore. Those present will well remember that memorable day. Gov. Sprague and the patriotic Bishop Clark accompanied the Second Regiment, infantry, on the State of Maine. On our approaching Fort Adams, we were saluted by the artillery there. By nightfall, we were made acquainted with the first government ration—pilot bread, the so-called salt-junk, and a cup of coffee. The meat was of a rather poor quality, although it was served out with good grace by our respected captain, W. H. Reynolds.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 6

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 7, 1864

Raining, and warm.

It is said several hundred of the prisoners taken by Rosser in the Valley escaped, on the way to Richmond. A relaxation of vigilance always follows success. How long can this war last?

Hon. Mr. Staples procured four and two months' details yesterday for two rich farmers, Messrs. McGehee and Heard, both rosyfaced, robust men, and yet found for "light duty" by a medical board. Thus we go. The poor and weakly are kept in the trenches, to desert the first opportunity.

It is said a dispatch came from Bragg yesterday (I saw it not) stating that Wheeler and some infantry had a sharp battle with Sherman's advance, near Millen, in which the latter suffered greatly. But reinforcements coming up, our forces fell back in order, disputing the way.

Tea is held at $100 per pound! Wood still $100 per cord.

I saw Gen. Rains to-day. He says he has over 2000 shell torpedoes planted along our lines around Richmond and Petersburg.

Col. Bayne reports the importation of 6400 packages salted meats, fish, coffee, preserved vegetables, from Nassau, Bermuda, and Halifax, since October 1st, 1864, in fourteen different steamers.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 349

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 24, 1864

Field Infirmary, near Petersburg, Va.,        

June 24, 1864.

When I wrote to you two days ago I said appearances indicated that we were about to have a fight. Sure enough, about half an hour after I had finished writing the battle began. Our division was engaged. McGowan's Brigade did not suffer much. It supported Wright's Georgia Brigade of Anderson's Division, and, as the men were not engaged, they had the privilege of lying down. Consequently most of the missiles passed over them. The brigade lost only thirty or forty, and the Thirteenth Regiment had but one killed and two wounded

We were very successful. It is estimated that we killed and wounded about two thousand. We captured about the same number and four cannon.

Our loss was about four hundred. We are still in our old position. There was heavy cannonading this morning on our extreme left. If there was any musketry, it was too far for me to hear it. Just as I began to write this letter I had two wounded men to come in. They were hurt by a shell early this morning.

I had my third mess of beans yesterday, and a big one it was too. I shall have rather a poor dinner to-day—only bread, meat and coffee. We have been getting enough coffee and sugar to have it twice a day ever since I got back from home in April.

The weather is becoming very warm and we need rain. It will soon be too hot for military operations.

When you write again tell me all the little particulars about yourself. You do not know how much it interests me.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 100-1

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, April 19, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

April 19, 1864.

We are still in camp, but yesterday we received an order to send back all surplus baggage and be ready to move at any time. No doubt we shall soon have a very interesting time of it and the papers will then be full of news.

General Longstreet's army is at Charlottesville. He may come here or go to the peninsula. That of course will depend on circumstances. All the news we received yesterday was very encouraging. The capture of Fort Pillow by Forrest was excellent for us. Gold is now 179 in New York, but if we whip Grant we may send it up to 300 for them.

I was glad to hear that old Jim Beauschelle was at our home. My father is decidedly hostile to the preachers who stay at home and preach to the women and old men, but I know he treated Beauschelle like a prince. If you see a certain widow, you might take the liberty of teasing her a little about old Beauschelle. She sent him some nice warm articles of clothing recently.

I have just finished my breakfast. I had corn bread, meat, molasses and coffee. Such a meal is first-rate for soldiers, but if the same were offered me at home I should feel like turning up my nose at it.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 90-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: November 3, 1864

Cold rain; rained all night.

Gen. Lee, urging that his regiments from Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, etc. etc. be recruited from their respective States, concludes a recent letter thus: “I hope immediate action will be taken upon this subject, as I think our success depends much upon a speedy increase of our armies in every possible way.”

This dismal weather casts a deeper gloom upon the spirits of the croakers. They fear Richmond cannot be long defended.

Plymouth, N. C., has been retaken by the enemy.

During this damp weather the deep and sullen sounds of cannon can be heard at all hours, day and night. The firing is mostly from our iron-clads.

The market was well supplied this morning with abundance of good meat, vegetables, fruit, etc.; and I was glad to see but few making purchases. The reason may have been that the extortionate prices repelled the people; or it may have been the rain. I passed on.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 323

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, March 18, 1863

March 18.

This morning a message came in by flag of truce from Camp Finnegan, giving us 24 hours to send out the women and children to the brick church, where the skirmish was yesterday, and their teams will meet them there.¹ The message was signed by Lieut. Col. [A. H.] McCormick. This afternoon another came from Col. [Duncan L.] Clinch [of the Southern army] repeating the former and adding that we should be held responsible for what might happen to those left in town. This looks as if they intend to approach the town with artillery and set it on fire with shells. This is feasible, in spite of our gunboats. If there is any pluck in them the attempt will be made. Many of our officers think the message a mere flourish for intimidation, but I do not and shall hold myself in readiness to send my sick and wounded to the steamer at short notice. Meanwhile we look for reinforcements by the Boston. Her delay is unaccountable.

Owing to hard fare and excessive fatigue, several of our officers are quite out of health. I am satisfied that the blacks have too much credit for good cooking. I have yet to find one who knows how to make bread or cook meat. If we hold this town we shall have a "post" and good bread, getting rid of the villainous fried dough which is bringing dysentery into camp.

_______________

¹ It was the Brick Yard Church. The order is in 1 Records of the Rebellion, XIV. 839.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 376-7

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, June 21, 1863

Between Front Royal and Winchester, Va.        ,

June 21, 1863.

We are in the Valley of Virginia again and are now within ten miles of Winchester. You cannot imagine how delighted the Valley people are at our appearance. The ladies wave their handkerchiefs from every little farmhouse we pass and cheer us onward.

Such sights are enough to make anyone feel enthusiastic. As we marched through Front Royal this morning the people were in ecstasies and our bands played lively airs for them, although it is Sunday.

In coming from Fredericksburg here we have taken a much shorter route than the one we took in going from here to that place last fall. Since we left Fredericksburg last week we have not traveled more than one hundred miles, but we traveled 175 miles by the other route. We camped on the top of the mountains last night. The night before we did not go into camp until about ten o'clock, and then it began to rain furiously. We were in an open grass field and so we had to stand up and take it. It was a very heavy rain and the night was the worst I ever experienced. I sat up the entire night on a rock and kept dry with an oilcloth. Few men were so fortunate as to have so good a place to sit on as a rock. I am willing to endure almost anything, or to be deprived of almost everything, if we can have the pleasure of getting into Pennsylvania and letting the Yankees feel what it is to be invaded. Our army is very large now, and if we get into Maryland or Pennsylvania and Hooker engages us you may be certain that he will be severely whipped. General Lee and his army are bent on it. Our troops are in fine health and I have never before seen them get along half so well on a march. Not a man has given out since the rain. I believe they will fight better than they have ever done, if such a thing could be possible. I feel fine and have stood the march admirably. We have had plenty of meat and bread to eat since we started, and I got some good rich milk this morning at Front Royal.

From where I am writing this letter I can look around me and see one of the most beautiful and fertile countries. I do wish you could see it. My servant has gone to a farmhouse, and he stays so long that I believe he is having something cooked.

I shall write to you as often as I can; so goodby[e] to you and George.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 55-7

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, August 12, 1862

Near Orange Court House, Va.,        

August 12, 1862.

While we are resting a little I will endeavor to write you a few lines. We have been moving about continuously since I wrote to you on the 8th inst., and have had some hard times, I assure you. Most of our hard marching has been during the night, but much of it has been in the heat of the day. We have had nothing to eat but crackers and bacon, and not nearly enough of that.

We first (on the 9th inst.) marched up into Culpeper County, and were within two miles of the battlefield (of Cedar Mountain). It was a brilliant victory for us, as two of their dead to one of ours were left on the field. On the way we met a great many prisoners, who were lively and jocose and seemed glad they were taken.

The weather has been fine, although very hot. We had one hard shower of rain, and everybody stood and took it, as there was nothing else we could do. Tell your brother he should be glad he was wounded, for it has saved him many great hardships. I never murmur at these trials, though, as long as I can have good health.

Last night we began falling back. I suppose it was some strategic move and that we will continue these active operations until a decisive fight takes place. General Jackson will not be outgeneraled, and I believe he is sure to defeat Pope. I saw him (Jackson) this morning. He is a very ordinary looking man.

I would like to write you a longer letter, but have not the time. We are now drawing rations, and as soon as we get our meat boiled will start again. I must close, as preparations are being made to leave, so good-by for this time.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 17-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 13, 1864

Hot and dry. Large green worms have attacked my tomatoes, and from the leaves are proceeding to the fruit. But not many of them will escape! I am warring on them.

No war news, except the continuation of the movement of troops northward. Hampton's division of cavalry, at least three brigades, passed this morning.

From Mobile and Atlanta we have nothing of interest.

Flour is falling: it is now $200 per barrel—$500 a few weeks ago; and bacon is falling in price also, from $11 to $6 per pound. A commission merchant said to me, yesterday, that there was at least eighteen months' supply (for the people) of breadstuffs and meats in the city; and pointing to the upper windows at the corner of Thirteenth and Cary Streets, he revealed the ends of many barrels piled above the windows. He said that flour had been

there two years, held for "still higher prices.” Such is the avarice of man.

Such is war. And such the greed of extortioners, even in the midst of famine—and famine in the midst of plenty!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 263-4

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 19, 1864

Damp and cloudy.

There was no serious battle. The wind was in a quarter which brought the sounds to us, even from the skirmishers, ten miles distant. But our gun-boats shelled the enemy out of their position on Signal Hill, and there was heavy cannonading along the line on the south side of the river. And, as appears by the papers, there was severe fighting at different points of the line.

We have now some further details of the battle of Tuesday. Our loss was 1000; the enemy's, it is said, 5000 to 8000.

It is now, 5 P.M., raining gently, thank Heaven!

To-day we had a distribution of meats, etc. brought from North Carolina by our agent. Custis and I invested $200: we have received 26 pounds bacon and 24 smoked herrings—worth here about $200. Half the money remains in the agent's hands, for which we expect to get 300 pounds of flour—if the enemy will let the railroads alone.

It is believed another raid has crossed the Weldon Road, and is sweeping in the direction of the Lynchburg and Danville Road. The speculators are on the qui vive already, and no flour can be had. I fear our flour will be intercepted, delayed, and perhaps lost! The meat we got to-day will supply but two ounces for each member of my family daily for two months.

This is war, terrible war! But if Grant is not rapidly reinforced, at the present rate of his losses his army will be consumed in two months. There is some consolation in that prospect!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 266-7

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 31, 1864

Clear, dry, and hot.

A dispatch from Gen. Lee (I have not seen it yet) says, in the repulse of the enemy's assault on the breach made by their mine, we captured over 800 prisoners—a general and his staff among them—some 12 stands of colors, and killed some 500. Our loss very light.

The enemy has mostly countermarched from this side of the river, followed, of course, by our army at double-quick, and rumor says there are little or no forces of either party on the north side of the James this morning.

This was probably Grant's grand stratagem for our destruction, and it has failed disastrously for him. What will he do next? No matter what, Lee is the master of the situation.

My daughter's large pet cat died last night under the cherry-tree, and was buried this morning under a rose-bush. I sympathize with Fannie in the grief natural on such an occasion; but really, the death of the cat in such times as these is a great relief to me, as he was maintained at the cost of not less than $200 per annum. His death was probably occasioned by a surfeit of meat which his mistress obtained unexpectedly, seeing it fall in the street, and sending a servant for it.

This morning a large fat chicken was found in my yard, picked and prepared for cooking, brought hither by a cat which had stolen it from some kitchen. A portion of the breast only had been eaten, and our cook seized upon the remains for her own benefit. To such straits are we reduced by this cruel war!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 258

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 2, 1864

Hot and dry.

A dispatch from Gen. Lee (will be published on Monday) says Gen. Beauregard reports the number of prisoners taken from Wilson's south side raiding party about 1000, besides the killed and wounded, and several hundred negroes recaptured, 13 guns, many small arms, wagons, etc. It is said the killed and wounded amount to 1500, of whom there are not exceeding 300 of the latter, leaving 1200 killed.

Gen. Morgan has got back to Western Virginia with 1800 men, having lost but 200. He did not fight a battle with Gen. Burbridge at all; hence the Federal account of Morgan's defeat was without foundation. Morgan will probably soon be in Maryland and Pennsylvania, attending to the enemy's railroads, bridges, mills, etc. The President said (so reported) to Dr. Garnett, yesterday, he hoped to hear of no more raids, since the last fared so badly.

I drank two cups of coffee this morning, which seem to have had an extraordinary effect upon my strength, activity, and spirits; and indeed the belief that the discontinuance of the use of this beverage, about two years ago, may have caused the diminution of all. I am, and have long been, as poor as a church mouse. But the coffee (having in it sugar and cream) cost about a dollar each cup, and cannot be indulged in hereafter more than once a week. We had also boiled beans to-day, followed by fritters, the cherries from our garden, with sugar-sauce. This the family consider a sumptuous dinner—with no meat!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 242-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 10, 1864

The drought continues; vegetation wilting and drying up. There is no war news, save some shelling by the enemy at Petersburg

The raiders have caused many who were hiding and hoarding their meat and grain to bring them to market, for fear of losing them. This has mitigated the famine, and even produced a slight reduction of prices.

But the gardens are nearly ruined, and are only kept alive by watering freely. Mine has repaid me. The tomatoes are growing apace, and seem to endure the drought pretty well; also the lima beans. We are now eating the last of the cherries. We began to pull them about one month ago.

Some of the members of the Tredegar Battalion have been detected endeavoring to pass over to the enemy. It is said (maliciously) Jos. R. Anderson's works (the Tredegar) would not be destroyed if the enemy were to capture the city, nor Crenshaw's nor Haxall's mills, all having an understanding that the party in power shall enjoy the benefits of them. The fall of Richmond would exhibit strange developments among men of wealth. The poor could not get away, and would have no alternative but submission. But Richmond will not be taken.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 246-7

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: July 20, 1864

HOSPITAL LIFE.

Thus far I have been unable to discover any charms in hospital life. With fair health the active camp is far preferable. This hospital is divided into three departments. The first is the officers' ward, the second is the hospital for the wounded and very sick, and the third is the convalescent camp. The first two are in large hospital tents and are furnished with cots, mattresses and other necessary conveniences. In the third are more than 600 men, quartered under shelter tents. I am in this department. It is not supposed that there are any sick men here. They are all either dead beats or afflicted with laziness, and a draft is made from among them twice a week for the front. I had been here only four days when I was drawn, but Garland of company C, who is an attache at Doctor Sadler's office, saw my name on the roll and scratched it off. Although there are none here supposed to be sick, there seems to be a singular fatality among them as we furnish about as large a quota every day for the little cemetery out here as they do from the sick hospital. But then in a population of 600 or more, three or four deaths a day is not surprising. I have been here three weeks and have been drafted four times, but with my friend Garland's help I have escaped. I should be pleased to be back with the boys if I was only half well, but I reckon I shall not be troubled with any more drafts.

Doctor Hoyt sent a man back the other day. The next morning he was sent up with a sharp note to Doctor Sadler, saying that he didn't send men to the hospital that were fit for duty and didn't want them sent back until they were. That roused Doctor Sadler's ire, and he says when Hoyt wants his men he can send for them.

Doctor Sadler has the whole charge of the convalescent camp, and has several young fellows, assistant surgeons so called, on his staff. Some of these fellows I should think had been nothing more than druggists' clerks at home, but by some hook or crook have been commissioned assistant surgeons and sent out. here. Every morning all who are able in all the ten wards go up to be examined and prescribed for by these new fledged doctors, and those not able to go seldom receive any medical attendance, but it is just as well and perhaps better that they do not go, as the skill of these young doctors is exceedingly limited. Doctor Sadler is a fine man and a skilful surgeon. He comes around occasionally, visiting those who are not able to go out and prescribes for them, and for a day or two afterwards the assistants will attend to those cases. These assistants make the examinations and draft the men for the front, after which they are again examined by Doctor Sadler and frequently a number of them will not be accepted, and the assistants oftentimes need not feel very much flattered by some remarks of the doctor.

This convalescent camp holds its own in spite of all the drafts made on it. Recruits arrive daily and the drafts are made twice a week, sending back 50 or 100 at each draft.

When a draft is made one of the assistants comes into a ward and orders it turned out, and every man not down sick abed turns out. The ward-master forms them in single rank and the inspection begins. They commence on the right and go through the ward, making the same examinations and asking the same questions of every man in the ward. They feel the pulse and look at the tongue, and if those are right they are booked for the front. They remind me of horse jockeys at Brighton, examining horses. Some of the boys who are well enough but are in no hurry to go back, chew wild cherry or oak bark to fur their tongues and are thus exempted until Doctor Sadler gets hold of them, when they have to go. We get some recruits from the other hospital, for as soon as a sick or wounded man there is declared convalescent he is sent here.

A good joke occurred one morning when one of them was drafted for the front. He had been slightly wounded in the leg and was getting around with a crutch. When his ward was ordered out for draft he fell in with the rest, and the doctor, not noticing the crutch, but finding his pulse and tongue all right, marked him as able-bodied. When Sadler inspected them, he said to this fellow: “What are you here for?” “Going to the front, I suppose; there is where I am ticketed for.” Sadler laughed, and said: “I'll excuse you.” Then turning to his assistant, remarked: “We are not yet so hard up for men as to want three-legged ones." That assistant looked as though he wished he was at home under his mother's best bed.

This whole hospital is under the management of a Doctor Fowler, and as far as I am able to judge is well and skilfully managed. The cuisine is excellent and far better than could be expected in a place like this. The hospital fund as fast as it accrues is expended for vegetables, fruits, milk, butter, cheese, preserves and many other things which the government is not supposed to furnish. The kitchen is in two departments, one where are cooked and served out the meats, soups, vegetables and other food for the convalescent. In the other are cooked the roasts, steaks, broths, beef tea and all kinds of light diet for the officers' ward and the sick and wounded department. The light diet is presided over by an angel of mercy in the person of a Miss Dame who is the hospital matron.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 140-2

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: June 8, 1864

Clouds and sunshine-cool.

No war news except what appears in the papers.

There was a rumor yesterday that several of the companies of the Departmental Battalion were captured on Monday, but it was not confirmed by later accounts.

Our battery of 49 guns was unmasked, and opened on the enemy, who had been firing over the heads of our young men (clerks). This was replied to by as many guns from the enemy. Thus both fires were over the heads of the infantry in the low ground between, and none were hurt, although the shell sometimes burst just over them.

A pontoon train passed down the river to-day, on this side, one captured from the United States, and brought from Gordonsville. If Grant crosses, Lee will cross, still holding the “inside track.”

Received a letter from Custis. He is at Gen. Custis Lee's headquarters on ordnance duty. A pretty position, if a shell were to explode among the ammunition! He says he has plenty of bread and meat, and so we need not send any more. But he considers it a horrible life, and would rather be without his rations than his daily reading, etc. So I sent him reading enough for a week-all the newspapers I had; a pamphlet on the Bible Society in the South; Report of the Judiciary Committee on the Suspension of the habeas corpus; and, finally, the last number of the Surgical Magazine, in which he will find every variety of gunshot wounds, operations, etc. etc. I had nothing else to send him.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 227-8