Diary of Private William S. White, August 28, 1862

Very cloudy; marched nearly to Louisa Courthouse; our men are much jaded.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 127

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, June 21, 1863

Paymaster Frazer paid the regiment to May 1. This made the men feel good and put us all in good humor with Uncle Sam. Sutlers are here now with the good things of this life in the way of canned fruits, cheese, butter, etc., etc., and are doing a thriving business. Many of the men send all the money they can spare to their families at home.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 18

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, December 12, 1861

In camp near Elizabethtown. The road over which we marched was excellent; but owing to detention at Salt river, where the troops and trains had to be ferried over, we were a day longer coming here than we expected to be. The weather has been delightful, warm as spring time. The nights are beautiful.

The regiment was greatly demoralized by our stay in the vicinity of Louisville, and on the march hither the boys were very disorderly and loth to obey; but, by dint of much scolding, we succeeded in getting them all through.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 86

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, January 18, 1863

Yesterday the chaplain's tent for public worship came and this morning we were all gathered there and the chaplain was praying, when snap went something in the top and down came the tent upon us. He didn't have time to say "Amen," to say nothing of the benediction. In the afternoon Isaac T. Winans, Jim Story and I went to see Walter and found him in a good bed and in a warm room. He is much better, but his wrists are swollen yet and look as if the joints had been pulled apart.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 83

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, January 19, 1863

It rained hard last night and before the tents got soaked up enough water sifted through to wet our blankets and we hardly slept at all for the cold. Not being called on for anything I lay all day and dosed, trying to make up for the miserable night. Isaac Brownell, of Company B, who has done more to keep up the spirits of the men than anything else, is down and very sick. He is a mimic and could mimic anyone or anything. His antics have made us laugh when we felt more like crying, and we are all anxious about him. A case of smallpox was discovered yesterday and the man put in an outbuilding, where he died this morning. Dr. Andrus so far has been alone, and he looks like death.

Later. He has given out and another doctor from the hospital is coming to take his place. The sick list grows all the time.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 84

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 Musician David Lane, September 24, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We left the Gap on the twenty-first and made twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two or three miles, then down the other side. It was a toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Morristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, made a dash for rails with which to build our camp fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly again, the bugle sounded "fall in"—the rails were abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here at 4 o'clock this morning and marched directly to the Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, where we are now encamped.

The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches, and a few days' rest will do them good.

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

Diary of Private William S. White, July 4, 1862

To-day we have been ordered back to the old camp of the First Virginia Artillery, and a lovely spot it is. In front of us is an open field, whilst in our rear is a sloping hill covered with magnificent oaks; at the foot of this hill meanders through a grassy dale a silvery stream, and its soft ripple is music sweet to the ear so long wearied by the continued crash of cannon and the roll of musketry, mingled with the cries of the wounded and the dying.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 125

Diary of Private William S. White, July 11, 1862

Raining very hard all day; 'tis extremely dull in camp. As is the weather so is the spirit; the sombre clouds of a gloomy day often cast an equal gloom over our spirits. Though McClellan's army has been seriously defeated, and his vain boastings brought to naught, yet he has succeeded in gaining a very strong position on the James River, near Charles City Courthouse, where he may now safely reorganize his army. Beyond a doubt, he displayed great Generalship in extricating his army from the perilous situation in which it was placed after the battle of Gaines's Mill.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 125

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty, October 13, 1861

It is after tattoo. Parson Strong's prayer meeting has been dismissed an hour, and the camp is as quiet as if deserted. The day has been a duplicate of yesterday, cold and windy. To-night the moon is sailing through a wilderness of clouds, now breaking out and throwing a mellow light over valley and mountain, then plunging into obscurity, and leaving all in thick darkness.

Major Keifer, Adjutant Mitchell, and Private Jerroloaman have been stretching their legs before my fireplace all the evening. The Adjutant being hopelessly in love, naturally enough gave the conversation a sentimental turn, and our thoughts have been wandering among the rosy years when our hearts throbbed under the gleam of one bright particular star (I mean one each), and our souls alternated between hope and fear, happiness and despair. Three of us, however, have some experience in wedded life, and the gallant Adjutant is reasonably confident that he will obtain further knowledge on the subject if this cruel war ever comes to an end and his sweetheart survives.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, pp. 81-2

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 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne: December 29, 1862

John Van Hoovenburg, another Company B boy, is about gone. The men are getting discouraged and to keep their minds from themselves it is said drilling is to begin to-morrow. The seed sown on the Arago is bearing fruit now. Something to do is no doubt the best medicine for us. I know I should die if I laid around and talked and thought of nothing but my own miserable self.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 77-8

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, July 13, 1864

Corn bread, as served here, is to me what a single feather was to Paddy's head on a rock and what he thought more would be if supplied. Irrepressible conflict is brewing between hunger and filling up. Putting plenty of water in the mush is common with some who want something to fill up. We get nothing but rice tonight.

I find Harriman and tent mate Phillips bad off with scurvy, it having assumed malignant form and the flesh of their limbs has become lifeless. Harriman was looking at photographs of home friends and spoke of them with tenderness and a tone keyed to despair. He has ever before been cheerful and quickly responded to expressions of hope and cheer. We find a word of cheer comes not amiss. I trust that "each does well in his degree." But time comes when condolence takes its place and when that cannot remove the fact. How little of either have we now! The downcast soul is robbed of the blessings of consolation from kindred when wafted from this den of sin to the realm beyond. Are its celestial features tainted with this morbid air; is it enfeebled by this languor? God's unbounded provision is the universal remedy for every woe. This we must feel as never before, or be insensible to ourselves. Harriman then related his strange dream which, to him, was extraordinary, in which he beheld immediate conditions, and the blackness and terror of the supposed "river of death" which soon brightened into a bordering stream, before which all misery, terror and darkness vanished, and he beheld the mystic world. He regarded this as a prophecy of a change soon to come to him and said he had no terror of what might come; it had given him strength ineffable. He then briefly sketched his life, his aspirations and disappointments, which are of so much interest to me that I carefully noted them for future writing.

Saw a paper of July 1st; most notable item: Democrats postpone their convention to be held in Chicago, August 29th. Made the acquaintance of a namesake, John H. Northrop, a nephew of the celebrated lawyer, Henry Northrop, of New York; a prisoner nine months, clothes nearly gone, is lively though he has symptoms of scurvy. The evenings are beautiful; religious meetings are being held in various parts. There are some remarkable singers who attract the attention of outsiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 91

Diary of 1st Sergeant John S. Morgan, Tuesday, January 3, 1865

Feel rather blue but finish the Pay rolls P. M. Battalian drill was not out.

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 Seth J. Wells: November 8, 1862

We struck our tents and started for Grand Junction about 10 o'clock. The boys are in fine health and spirits. We marched about nine miles and camped by a clear spring.

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. 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

Brigadier-General Henry W. Slocum, July 10, 1862

[July 10, 1862]

My last letter to you, written two or three days ago, was rather blue I think. I had then been here a day or two, and the reaction from the excitement of the previous ten days weighed heavily upon me. I felt weak and sick. I now feel better. But I must say that although this army is safe, I do not think the prospect of an early and successful termination of the war is bright.

I spoke in my letter of the twenty-sixth of being unwell. I was very weak on the twenty-seventh; was taken with a fit of vomiting and was obliged to dismount for a few minutes. I soon returned to the field, or rather I did not leave the field, but went to a place in the shade.

On Monday I had a position assigned to my division which I was to defend. I did it in my own way, and have the satisfaction of knowing that I saved hundreds of lives. I tried to save life by carefully posting my troops and using my artillery. I have allowed matters connected with our movements here to worry me until I came near being sick; but I know I can do no good. Things must take their course, and I made up my mind to get a good novel and try to forget everything here.

I feel better to-day than I have in several days. Rest and quiet will soon make me all right. I dreamed every night after our arrival of being on the march, of losing wagons, artillery, etc. I do not want you to think I have been sick, but I got rather worn and nervous.

SOURCE: New York (State). Monuments Commission for the Battlefields of Gettysburg and Chattanooga, In Memoriam : Henry Warner Slocum, 1826-1894, p. 70-1

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 23, 1861

Officers and men are low-spirited to-night. The news of yesterday has been confirmed. Our army has been beaten at Manassas with terrible loss. General McClellan has left Beverly for Washington. General Rosecrans will assume command in Western Virginia. We are informed that twenty miles from us, in the direction of Staunton, some three thousand secessionists are in camp. We shall probably move against them.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 34

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, May 28, 1863

This morning at four o'clock we left our camp of the last four days, and came to our present abiding place, in a thick grove, about two miles east of Canton. We are well situated as far as shade and wood are concerned, but the water is very bad; in fact, all that we have had for the last four weeks was hardly fit for swine to wallow in. Yesterday our hearts were gladdened by the arrival in camp of some of our Tennessee friends who, hearing that we had been engaged at the battle of Raymond, and being ignorant of the casualties, had come on to render any needed assistance to their sons and friends. The party was composed of Messrs. Goodloe Woods, the father of "Our Jeems"; R. S. Woodard, the father of Galen and James (or "Daddy,” as we call him); W. H. Webb, James' father; D. P. Holman, "Bud's dad"; and R. P. Ferney, the father of our gallant Captain. Their presence seemed to have brought a new ray of sunshine into camp, and cheered the boys greatly.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 214