Diary of Private Seth J. Wells: Sunday, November 9, 1862

We marched about fifteen miles today and arrived at La Grange, three miles west of Grand Junction. It is dry and very dusty. Sometimes the dust was so thick we could not see the ground. That and the smoke and heat from the burning fences was almost intolerable. We passed miles and miles of burnt and burning fences, fired by troops in advance. Large and fine farms and plantations were laid waste. We met fully forty teams of four and six mules each, loaded with wenches and young woolly heads, and all their personal effects, and in fact all they could smuggle from their masters. Ask them where they are going and they will tell you, "You folks sent's to Bolivar, don't know where wes goin' from thar." I blistered my feet badly on the march. We hear that Hollow Springs is evacuated. We have very stringent orders in regard to stealing. Everything has to be paid for by the division when it cannot be traced to the company, regiment or brigade of the persons committing the theft. I hope they will be enforced.

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 Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, September 7, 1862

Rienzi.  Arose to the sound of the bugle at 3 A. M. Prepared for a general inspection, but Captain, apprehending a move, did not call us out. Drew good bunks from the old camp of 2nd Missouri. After roll call at 9 P. M. I went to bed hoping to have a good night's rest, but I was doomed to disappointment, for ere two hours had elapsed, we were awakened by Corporal Dixon telling us to pack up all our clothing and be in readiness to march. We of course obeyed and waited for further orders, when about midnight, "Strike your tents" was given. This done, the mules began driving in, loading was commenced, the horses harnessed, and by one o'clock all was ready to march. That which could not be taken was piled up ready for the march, but the order did not come, so we were obliged to pick our place and lay down for a short and uneasy sleep.

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

Diary of Musician David Lane, June 21, 1863

The sky is overcast with clouds, a cool breeze comes from the west, which makes the temperature delightful. I have been out berrying, and have succeeded admirably. On my way in I found some short pieces of board, of which I have made a comfortable seat, with a desk in front, on which I am now writing. I feel quite like an aristocrat. In my ramble across the field I discovered a flowering vine, the most bewitchingly beautiful thing I ever saw. I searched in vain for seed sufficiently matured to germinate. I wish I could describe its matchless beauty, but words are feeble.

We are still lying here waiting for Johnson, of course, to come to us, although no one seems to know where Johnson is—whether on the Yazoo, the Big Black or the little one. I suspect it is not definitely known whether his "large army" is a myth or a reality. But, doubtless, these hidden, secret, mysterious "strategic movements" and original plans will, some time, be made apparent, and then I, at least, will make one desperate attempt to appreciate and admire the wisdom and energy which could see, plan and execute with such unerring certainty and success. But Vicksburg, the center of gravity at present, is really a very stubborn fact. I do not understand it, cannot comprehend it, but I believe Grant will investigate it to the satisfaction of all loyal people. All the reliable information I can get at present is brought on the wings of the wind. This is not Grant's official report, but the report of his artillery. Last night his cannons' sullen roar reverberated from cliff to cliff and shook the hills. There are all sorts of rumors which it is folly to repeat, for they are replaced by new ones every hour. I believe I will record the latest, so here goes:

Last night Pemberton conceived the brilliant idea of turning loose four or five hundred horses and mules, creating a stampede among them, and, when Grant's lines open to let them through, as certainly would be done, if he suspected nothing, why, out they would rush, artillery, infantry and all, before the lines could close again, and thus escape. But Grant was wide awake, fell back a mile or two to give himself room to work, opened his lines for the horses to pass through and the Rebels to pass in, then closed on them and had them trapped.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 53-5

Diary of Private William S. White, October 28, 1861

Our Captain, Robert C. Stanard, died to-day at Camp Deep Creek, of disease contracted in the army. He was a man of warm impulses and generous heart.

Remained in Williamsburg about ten days, when I concluded to call on my Gloucester friends once more, as it would be worse than folly to return to my command in such ill health.

Hired a buggy in Williamsburg and went to "Bigler's Wharf," on the York River; there hired a boat and crossed over the river to Cappahoosic Wharf. At this place I found a member of my company who lived some half a mile from the wharf.

Remained at his father's, Captain Andrews, (a Captain of artillery in the war of 1812) for several days, eating oysters and rolling ten-pins.

Captain Andrews is a jolly specimen of an old Virginia gentleman, whose motto seems to be Dum Vivimus Vivamus.

From Captain Andrews's I went to "Waverly," where I most pleasantly spent ten days, after having been joined by my brother, Rev. Thomas W. White, who insisted on my getting a discharge from the army. Concluded to return to my command, he and I going to Cappahoosic Wharf, he taking the up boat for West Point and I waiting for the down boat for Yorktown. Whilst on the wharf, I was again taken with a severe chill, and remembering my friend, Captain Andrews, I crawled, rather than walked, to his house. I was then seriously ill, but had every attention possible; my physician being Dr. Francis Jones, brother of the owner of Waverly. Dr. Frank, seeming to take a fancy to me, told me if I would come to his house, where he could pay me especial attention, he would promise to get me all right in a week. As soon as I could sit up, I took him at his word, and he put me through a regular course of medicine, watching carefully everything I eat. Kind hearted old Virginian; I wonder if it will ever be in my power to repay him and other dear friends in this good old county for kindnesses to me? When I commenced improving, I felt a longing desire to get back to camp, and accordingly returned to Yorktown in the latter part of November. My company officers now are: Captain, Edgar F. Moseley; First Lieutenant, John M. West; Senior Second Lieutenant, Benjamin H. Smith; Junior Second Lieutenant, Henry C. Carter.

Found they were stationed some twenty miles from Yorktown, and next day started to hunt them up. Hearing they were at Young's Mill, I went to that place, but found the First and Second detachments had returned to their camp, at Deep Creek, on the east side of Warwick River, whilst the Third and Fourth detachments were on picket duty at Watt's Creek, six miles from Newport News. Joined them at that place, having been absent three months. None of the boys ever expected to see me again, and they wondered but the more when I told them that since I had left them I had swallowed enough quinine pills to reach from Newport News to Bristol, Tennessee, were they to catch hold hands.

We remained at Watt's Creek very quietly for a few days, but one night the Yankees brought up a gun-boat and gave us a terrific shelling; when we got up and "dusted."

My mess, composed of Andrew, Dick and Mac. Venable, Gordon McCabe, Clifford Gordon, Kit Chandler, and myself, owned a stubborn mule and a good cart, driven by a little black "Cuffee" whose appellative distinction was "Bob." Now, "Bob" and the mule came into our possession under peculiar circumstances in fact, we "pressed" them into service on some of our trips and kept them to haul our plunder. Bob was as black as the boots of the Duke of Inferno and as sharp as a steel-trap; consequently, we endeavored to give his youthful mind a religious tendency: yet Bob would gamble. Not that he cared for the intricacies of rouge et noir, ecarté, German Hazard, or King Faro, or even that subtlest of all games, "Old Sledge." No, no; he de voted his leisure time to swindling the city camp cooks out of their spare change at the noble game of "Five Corns."

George Washington (Todd) had never heard of that little game, or there would have been a Corn Exchange in Richmond long before the war.

It seems that they shuffled the corns up in their capacious paws and threw them on a table or blanket, betting on the smooth side or pithy side coming uppermost.

Night reigned—so did "Bob," surrounded by his sable satellites, making night hideous with their wrangling.

Say dar, nigger, wha' you take dem corns for? My bet. I win'd dat."

Boom!-boom!—and two nail-keg gunboat shells come screaming over our heads, disappearing into the woods, crashing down forest oaks and leaving a fiery trail behind them.

"Hi -what dat? Golly!" and up jumped Bob, leaving his bank and running into our tent. "Say, Marse Andrew, time to git, ain't it?"

"We must wait for orders, Bob.”

"I woodd'n wate for no orders, I woodd'n; I'd go now," said Bob, as he tremblingly slunk back into his house. But the Demon of Play had left Bob and grim Terror held high carnival within his woolly head.

Boom! Boom!! Boom!!! and as many shells came searching through the midnight air in quest of mischief.

And Bob knelt him down and prayed long and loud: "O-h! Lord, Marse, God'l Mity, lem me orf dis hear one time, an' I'll play dem five corns no more. Mity sorry I dun it now." And Robert ever afterward eschewed the alluring game. Returned to our camp at Land's End, on the west side of Warwick river.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 107-10

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: April 14, 1865

We enter Raleigh, the capitol of North Carolina, pass through the city and go into camp one mile from the outer works. To-day Companies A and K leave for headquarters to be mounted. The dismounted portion of the regiment is now very small. Company H and the three new companies, B, D and G, are the only ones now remaining to plod their way on "terra firma;" but we all hope soon to be mounted; especially old Company H, who, from past experience, know what virtue there is in mules.

SOURCE: abstracted from Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 303-4

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: May 20, 1865

On the 20th we turn over our stock, saddles and bridles to the A. Q. M., 4th Division. We part from our mules this time without any regrets, inasmuch as we need them no more, having finished our work in the south-land. But the Seventh will ever feel grateful to Major General Logan for permitting them to retain their stock until their arrival at Washington, thereby saving them from a long weary march.

SOURCE: abstracted from Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 309

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 13, 1862

Last night the company forager, Russell, nearly lost his life. Having stolen or appropriated a mule, he spent most of his time, while on the march, scouring the neighboring chicken-roosts, and, as usual, came in last evening loaded down, a hoop-skirt pannier on each side of his animal, being distended to its uttermost capacity with good things, from eggs to a side of bacon. The picket where he came on the line happened to be a Dutchman, who understood very little English, and nothing of his duty (not of our regiment), and the mule, caparisoned as he was with the white skirts, stealing upon him with little noise, frightened the poor fellow so that he fired at the forager, and then challenged him, but after a deal of talk, our man got by and rendered a good account of himself.

We started about seven this morning, and after marching about nine miles heard firing ahead, and were ordered to halt, and "right and left" was the word. Lying down, we rested while our artillery went through the line. We waited a long time. Then we moved forward, and, entering a large field on the left, were drawn up in line of battle. We were on an elevation, where we could see all that was going on, or thought we could, which served the purpose, as we all found out sooner or later. The men knew little or nothing, and anyone asking an officer, he always replied, "I'm sure I cannot tell you”—a most unsatisfactory way of explaining matters.

About four o'clock we stacked our arms, with orders not to leave the ranks; and supposing the enemy to be in our immediate vicinity, we kept quiet for an hour;then, as there did not appear to be any special movement, we were allowed to get something to eat; and soon found we were to stay here all night, but were not allowed to remove our accoutrements.

From our position we have a beautiful view of our camp-ground. We are situated on a knoll, with General Stevenson's head-quarters in our immediate vicinity, with the different regiments scattered in all directions; while down in the woods, directly in front of our line, we can just see the cavalry picket. We are wondering if all our fighting is to be done on Sundays. Our first fight was on Sunday, and it is now Saturday night; and we are so close to the enemy that we have orders to sleep with our rifles in our hands. Probably no baked beans or brown bread for us to-morrow.

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. 24-5

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 6, 1861

I introduce the following letter to a friend, as sufficiently explicit as to the occurrences since the last date:

CHAIN BRIDGE, VA., Sept. 6, 1861.

 

I commence this letter with the reiteration, Poor Virginia! That State, which for forty years has stood as the guiding star of our galaxy of States,—that State, which alone could, six months ago, have assumed the position of umpire to the belligerents, and which only would have been respected in the assumption—now stands at the very foot of the list. In the commencement of this contest she degraded herself by offering to become the cat's paw for South Carolina, and was still farther degraded by South Carolina rejecting the proposition to become her menial. By her officious subservience, however, she got her paw into the fire, and how dreadfully it is burned only those who are on her soil can form any idea. Everywhere is the destruction going on. Her soil is the battle-field, and, so far as the destruction of property is concerned, it matters but little which party is successful. Armies must have room to move and manœuvre, soldiers will have the fruits and vegetables which grow around their encampment, and camp life is a poor fertilizer of that moral growth which marks the line of "meum et tuum."

This letter is written on sheets taken from the former residence of Hon. W. W. Slade, once a member of Congress from Virginia. I rode around with a foraging party. We entered his fine old mansion, and I could not but weep over the sad changes which I could see had taken place within a few hours, Within no living soul was left. The soldiers entered; for a time I stood back, but when I did go in what a sight presented itself! Already the floors were covered knee-deep with books and papers, which it must have required a long life of toil and trouble to amass, fine swinging-mirrors shivered into thousands of pieces—a fit emblem of the condition to which efforts are being made to reduce this glorious government—each piece reflecting miniature images of what the whole had shown, but never again to reflect those pigmy images in one vast whole. In the large and spacious drawing-room stood the ruins of one of those old-fashioned sideboards, around which had grown so much of the reputation of Southern high life and hospitality; its doors, wrenched from their hinges, lay scattered on the floor; large mahogany sofas, with their covers torn off, marble-top tables, stationery, china, stoves and spittoons, were there in one promiscuous heap of ruins. I stepped into the library, hoping to bring away some relic that had been untouched by the soldiers, but I was too late—all here was ruin. In a corner I picked up a few yellow pamphlets, and read "Constitution and By-Laws of the National Democratic Association." Sadly enough I left the house, and seated myself, to rest and think, on the spacious verandah. For a moment I looked on the vast orchards, the beautiful flower garden, the long rows of laden grape vines, the broad acres of corn and clover, and thought, "What a place and what a condition to pass old age in comfort and quiet," and my heart began to lighten. How momentary the lightning, for just then company after company from the different regiments came up; gates were thrown open, fences thrown down, and horses, cattle and mules were destroying all these evidences of prosperity and comfort. And this is but one feature in the great haggard countenance of war which stares at us whenever we look at Virginia's "sacred soil." Alas, poor Virginia! This subject alone would give interest to a whole volume, but I must leave it.

On Tuesday night, at half-past ten o'clock, the "long roll" brought our brigade, of five regiments, to their feet, when we found ourselves under orders to march at once for the Virginia side of the river, where, it was said, a large body of rebels had been collecting just at night. We had had slight skirmishing in that neighborhood for several days, and now the crisis was expected, and our regiment was to have a chance. All was excitement, and in half an hour from the alarm we were ready to start. By the time we arrived here it had commenced raining—we found no enemy—bivouaced for the night, and slept in the rain to the music of the tramp, tramp of infantry, and the rattling, roaring tear of artillery wagons over the roughly macademized road which passed by our encampment. Yesterday it rained all day, as if every plug had been pulled out; still we kept on our arms and ready for action—our general and brigade officers dashing about all the time, and warning us to be ready for an attack. Day before yesterday a scouting party of our brigade went in pursuit of a party of cavalry who had been seen hovering about us. When they came in sight the cavalry took to their heels, leaving to us only three large contrabands, who "tink massa oughten to run away from poor nigga so, heah! heah! They just run and leab us to de mercy of de darn abolishuns, heah! heah!" They report that around Fairfax and Centreville there are sixty or seventy regiments, who are well provisioned, but that there is a great deal of sickness among them, measles being the prevailing disease. We had, when we left Kalarama, about twenty-five in the hospital, whom we left there under the charge of Dr. There are three or four here who have sickened in consequence of exposure to the two days and two night's rain, but they will be out in a day or two. We have not yet lost a man by disease or accident, though I hear that one man yesterday received a musket ball through his cap, but as it did not hit his head it is thought he will recover. The musket was carelessly fired by some soldier in our camp.

A little occurrence to-day has caused quite a stir in our camps, and I deem it worthy to be noted here for my remembrance. Capt. Strong, of the Second Regiment of Wisconsin Volunteers, was with a small party on picket guard. He strolled away from his company, and suddenly found himself surrounded by six of the rebel pickets. Being out of reach of help from his men, he surrendered himself a prisoner. After a short consultation as to whether they should kill the "d----d Yankee" on the spot, they concluded that they would first take him into camp. They demanded his pistols, which he took from his belt and presented. But at the moment when the rebels were receiving them, they both went off, killing two of his captors on the spot. But there were four left, two on foot, two on horseback. He dashed into a pine thicket, they discharging their pieces after him and immediately giving chase. He struck into a deep hollow or ravine leading down to the Potomac. It was so precipitous that the horsemen could not follow. But when he emerged from it near the river; he found himself confronted by the two horsemen who had ridden around and reached the spot in time to head him off. He had received a shot through his canteen. Immediately on seeing his pursuers he fired again, killing one more of them, and simultaneously he received another shot through his cheek. He continued firing with his revolvers till he had made in all eleven shots. By this time the fourth man had been unhorsed. The footmen did not pursue, and he made his way into camp. This is the story, though some are so uncharitable as to discredit it, notwithstanding one hole through his canteen and another through his cheek.

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. 21-5

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 21, 1862

Sunday morning. Nothing happened during the night. We bought a good breakfast of a family who make a business of feeding the soldiers that come here, for I was told there is a detail here every day. I wish it might be us every time. As soon as the new guard arrives we are to go back to camp and camp fare again.

2 p. m. In camp again. It seems hotter and dirtier than ever after our day in the country. Before we left Catonsville we filled our haversacks with great luscious peaches. Those that ripen on the tree the people cannot sell, so they gave us all that would fall with a gentle shake of the tree. How I wished I could empty my haversack in your lap, mother. On the way to camp we met a drove of mules, said to be 400 of them, loose, and being driven like cattle. They were afraid of us and all got in a close bunch, and the 400 pairs of ears all flapping together made a curious sight. We were told they came from Kentucky and are for use in the army. They were all bays, with a dark stripe along the back and across the shoulders, looking like a cross laid on their backs. It hasn't seemed much like Sunday. But Sunday doesn't count for much in the army. Many of our hardest days have been Sundays. But I am sleepy, having been awake all last night. It is surprising how little sleep we get along with. I, who have been such a sleepy-head all my life, get only a few hours' sleep any night, and many nights none at all. I suppose we will sometime get accustomed to the noise and confusion, that so far has had no end, night or day.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 33-4

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: June 16, 1864

On the evening of the 15th we take the cars for Chattanooga. All are in fine spirits, and as we move from Athens we are wont to say, farewell mules! farewell North Alabama! Arriving at Stephenson the train stops until morning, when it again moves on its way southward. We are now approaching Chattanooga. Lookout Mountain is seen looming up in the dim distance—it presents to the eye of the soldier an impressive grandeur, impressive because on its highest pinnacle, a flag honored and loved by earth's struggling people is flying as it were in the atmosphere of heaven. Arriving at Chattanooga we leave the train and march outside the city limits and go into camp for the night.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 244

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: May 7, 1864

This morning the train proceeds on its way to Florence; gone but one hour when a courier comes dashing back to the detachment headquarters with the word “Attacked at Shoal Creek bridge! The train is in danger! Captain Ring, you are requested to send one company immediately to Captain Yeager's aid” (who was commanding the train and escort). Company F, Captain Ahern, is sent. The train is turned back towards our camp, where it soon after arrives. Company F reports back to Captain Ring with the intelligence that General Roddy and Colonel Johnson, with about fifteen hundred rebels, were now crossing the Tennessee; that their advance had crossed early in the morning and captured Sergeant Josiah Lee and squad, standing as a picket guard at Bainbridge Ferry; that they now occupied the road leading towards Florence. The situation is critical. Rowett, with a part of the regiment at Florence, Estabrook with a part camped on Sweet Water, three miles northwest from Florence, Ring with three companies one mile beyond Shoal Creek and nine miles from Florence. We attempt to communicate with Rowett and Estabrook, but the courier returns with no news from them. We only know that they have been attacked by an overwhelming force. Captain Ring, with his detachment and the regimental teams, remains on the opposite side of Shoal Creek from Florence, anxiously waiting to hear from Rowett. We are now convinced that he has been driven; we expect every moment that the rebels will be upon us. Lieutenant Fergus is now sent out with twelve men on a reconnoisance towards Shoal Creek. He soon comes up with a squad of rebels, when he boldly gives the command “forward.” Driving the rebels a short distance, a company lying in ambush spring into the road and succeed in capturing the Lieutenant and private Joseph Burkhardt of Company F, who happened to be on horses in advance of the rest who were mounted on mules, and being in consequence unable to afford any relief, are compelled to beat a retreat to Center Star. Scouts now report to Captain Ring that a part of the rebel force is advancing towards us. It is now night; we know that Rowett has been driven from Florence; that to night he is some forty miles from us; we know that if we remain here until morning we will be compelled to confront two rebel battalions and a battery of artillery. Nine o'clock.—We are still lingering around Center Star as if loath to leave. The train is now headed towards Athens, Alabama. Ten o'clock. Captain Ring concludes for the safety of the command and the train to move on and cross Elk River. We travel all night, and early on the morning of the eighth find Elk River between us and Florence. We are now fifteen miles from Athens. Soon after crossing we go into camp to await orders. We are now distinguished as the army of the Elk. We receive a dispatch this evening informing us that Colonel Rowett has made his appearance at Pulaski, Tennessee, having lost from his command Captain McGuire of Company A, and Lieutenant Roberts of Company C, and thirty men, all taken prisoner. The particulars of Rowett's engagement with Roddy we have not yet learned. We receive orders to-day to report to the commanding officer at Athens, where we arrive and go into camp late in the evening.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 235-7

Brigadier-General George H. Thomas to Brigadier-General Don Carlos Buell, December 30, 1861

HDQRS. FIRST DIVISION, DEPARTMENT OF THE OHIO,        

Lebanon, Ky., December 30, 1861.

Brig. Gen. D. C. BUELL,
        Commanding Department of the Ohio, Louisville, Ky.:

GENERAL: I received your letter of the 29th with the map. Have made arrangements to move as light as possible, and hope to get started to-morrow, although with raw troops and raw mules I fear there will be some difficulty. I have but few wagons over and above the regimental wagons. The provisions will have to be hauled with hired teams until Captain Mackay can have time to break in his raw mules, which I fear will delay us much longer than we should be delayed. I have been told that the country we are going to is very poor, and it will be necessary to pass through speedily should we attempt to penetrate to Knoxville. I will therefore submit for your consideration if it would not be a better move for my main force to go down the river (should we succeed with Zollicoffer) as far as Burkesville, take to that place subsistence enough to last us to Nashville, place the subsistence on flat-boats, and march with a light train in two columns, one on each side of the river; the provisions and extra forage being floated down the river in boats under a strong guard.

The enemy being thus threatened on their rear and right, would greatly aid your advance in their front, and should they make a determined stand at Bowling Green, I might with my column cut off their retreat at Gallatin.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

GEO. H. THOMAS,        

Brigadier-General, U.S. Volunteers.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 7 (Serial No. 7), p. 524

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Tuesday, March 29, 1864

The boys are scouring the country in every direction for horses and mules this evening.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 230

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

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

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

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Friday, November 20, 1863

The companies are busy to-day getting their foot-sore mules shod, preparatory to another expedition, for rumor already has it that the regiment will leave Pulaski to-morrow morning on some mission.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 207

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, November 1, 1863

This morning companies C, G and H, commanded by Major Estabrook, go out on a foraging expedition. We go about three miles—load our wagons with corn, fodder and sweet potatoes, and strap all we can to the mules, and then start for camp. Entering camp the detachment reminds us of what might be called a moving "fodder panorama."

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 202

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Saturday, November 7, 1863

This morning the Seventh is aroused early. Cross in twenty minutes is now the order. We feed and proceed to the river and halt to await our time. The twenty minutes have now grown to hours. We succeed in getting across the river by noon, where we go into camp, feed, and eat our dinners. The last of the army is now across the Tennessee, moving on towards the front, the Seventh bringing up the rear. We move out about eight miles and go into camp on the side of a large hill (no other place being found where we could tie our mules.) After feeding, and eating our supper, we remove some of the larger rocks and make “our beds." We all lie down, but it is with difficulty that we maintain our position. We predict that by morning we shall be down at the foot of the hill. All is still now. Nothing is heard save the watchful sentry's quiet tramp.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 203-4

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, November 8, 1863

We are aroused early this morning. We are made to conclude that the Seventh is indeed a tenacious regiment, to have held their position so well on this hill-side during the night. None are found at the foot of the hill, as was predicted. The mules too have been good in holding their positions. The Seventh being ordered to take the advance, we soon move forward, through north Alabama on the north side of the Tennessee, halt and feed about twelve miles from Florence, after which we move on, and about three P. M. pass through the suburbs of Florence; we march about six miles farther and go into camp.

Where the main army is to-night we do not know. We are now away off on the flank, isolated and alone.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 204

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Tuesday, November 10, 1863

This morning the Seventh takes the left flank, the Ninth Illinois the right. We pass through a wild country to-day: hills and rocks seem to look frowningly upon us. The flinty roads are hard on the mules; their feet are becoming sore. We go into camp to-night thirty miles from Pulaski, Tennessee. Our supplies run out to-day, and this evening we draw largely from the surrounding country.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 205

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Sunday, October 4, 1863

This morning at seven A. M., we leave our old camp at Corinth, with all our camp and garrison equipage. The Seventh, as they move through Corinth with their knapsacks strapped to their mules, and with their long train of pack mules, look very much like an immense caravan starting on a pilgrimage. After about three hours ride we arrive at Chewalla, finding fine quarters and fine grounds, &c. The Eighteenth Missouri are now leaving, and as fast as they vacate we take possession. This evening the men are busy cleaning up and arranging their quarters.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 198