Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Friday, April 4, 1862

The Second Corps on the move. Started by eight o'clock A. M.; by four o'clock we went into park at Big Bethel, to camp for the night.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 37

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Saturday, April 5, 1862

Marched at daybreak. Cannonading going on in front of Yorktown. General McClellan passed the line amidst great cheering of the troops. Strong intrenchments were found near Howard's Mills. At six o'clock P. М. we went to camp three miles from Yorktown.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 37

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, January 14, 1862

Weather still very cold, marching orders have been issued and at 10 O'clock we leave this place for a different locality. The 10th & 18th Regts. and one Battery of artillery in front—our Regt. next the 29th 30th 31st & 48th the train of wagons &c. Bal of artillery & cavalry bringing up the rear     Near sundown we encamped near a place called Blamville having marched a distance of 9 miles for the first day.

Firing has been heard all this afternoon in the direction of Columbus One or Two of our Gun Boats have dropped down and are answering them by throwing a few shot and shell into their intrenchments

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 234

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 9, 1863

Cannonading heard toward Warrenton, in the afternoon.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 275

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 13, 1863

Received two months' pay. Left camp at seven o'clock at night, in an awful rain-storm; marched through the mud, and arrived at Hartwood Church at eleven o'clock. Went into camp for the night. Marched six miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 275

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 14, 1863

Reveille sounded at half-past two A.M. Started from Hartwood Church at nine o'clock, and marched to Weaverville. Went into camp at seven P.M., after a march of twenty-three miles. The day was very pleasant, and the roads good.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 275

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 15, 1863

Reveille sounded at two A.M. Left camp at five o'clock, and marched to Manassas Junction, where we went into position on the left of the railroad, at three р.м. Marched nineteen miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 275

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 17, 1863

Reveille was sounded at one A.M. Marched till half-past four, to Centreville, where we saw the Ninth Massachusetts Battery. Went into camp at three P.M., at a place called Gum Springs. The day was very hot, and the roads dusty, and several of the men were sun-struck. Eighteen miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, pp. 275-6

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 22, 1863

Started from Middleburg at half-past nine A.M., and stopped in the road three hours while eight or ten thousand cavalry passed us. Saw a lot of rebel prisoners in a barn. Started about noon, and went back to the town, and went into battery about a mile from it. Stopped an hour, then limbered up, and started up and went back to camp at Aldie. Arrived at half-past four, and remained in camp till June 26.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 276

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 26, 1863

To-day begins the Pennsylvania campaign. Reveille sounded at four A.M. Left camp at six o'clock. Marched through Leesburg, and crossed the Potomac on a pontoon-bridge at Edwards's Ferry. Went into camp on the Maryland side at eight P.M. There was a fine rain almost all day, and the roads were very bad; but marched twenty-two miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 276

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 27, 1863

Started at five A.M.; marched through Buckeyetown, Md. We passed a great many fields of wheat and corn. The roads were muddy. Crossed the Monocacy River. Marched fifteen miles. A year ago to-day was the battle of Gaines's Mills.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 276

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 29, 1863

Left camp at eleven A.M.; marched till nine P.M. The day was pleasant, but it rained during the night. Marched fifteen miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 276

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, June 30, 1863

Started at five A.M.; marched through Liberty, Johnsonsville, Middletown, Union Bridge, Uniontown, and Frizzleburg, and went into camp at six P.M. Marched twenty-eight miles.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 277

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, May 31, 1863

This morning about daylight we received orders to be ready to march at 8:30. All is bustle now getting ready. I have been to the spring for water and have just returned; have read the 52nd chapter of Isaiah, and 35th Psalm; am now about to pack up.

Sunday evening at sunset.—We have marched about fourteen miles to-day—a hot dusty march. Nothing of interest occurred. We are now bivouacked in a pine grove twenty miles from Fredericksburg, with our arms stacked with orders to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. The march has not fatigued me anything like as much as many hunts I have taken at home. Some friend of the soldiers has been kind enough to send us a number of religious papers, and I am now enjoying the "Christian Observer," published at Richmond.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 56-7

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 2, 1863

Struck out tents early this morning and marched to Colliersville, a distance of seven miles from Lafayette and twenty-four from Memphis. As soon as we had stacked our arms and broken ranks, John Cumbersworth and I went out a mile and a half from camp and got a fine hog. While we were skinning it our orderly-sergeant, Sullivan, Jesse Walker and Mike Walsh were captured not more than a quarter of a mile distant, by a band of rebel cavalry. Sullivan turned and ran and several shots were fired after him, which we heard plainly but we thought it was the boys shooting hogs. When we got into camp Bob Dew and Charlie Berry came in with their paroles, they having been caught by the same company. Five paroled from Co. K in one day. Five such days' work will muster Co. K out of service. The 17th Ill. at present musters about three hundred and fifty men. On guard tonight; storming fearfully.

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. 25

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 12, 1863

We were called up at half past three this morning and were on the road inside an hour, and by sunrise were four miles on the way. We arrived at Germantown about 10 o'clock. It is a village. At five minutes before 12 o'clock we halted for dinner, and started again on our march at 1 o'clock, our regiment in advance. We reached the edge of a town at dusk where we learned that we were selected as guard at the navy yard. As we passed through the town, the little children followed us and hurrahed for Jeff Davis. We moved to the upper end of town and encamped on land adjoining the navy yard. Col. Norton bought five cords of wood for us. He made a speech in which he said Gen. Hamilton ordered McArthur to send his best disciplined regiment here as guard, and he wanted us to be strict, orderly, and diligent. He also said the duty was a kind of secret service (how so I do not understand). The guerillas crossed over last night, cut around and burned a steamer. We are very tired this evening, having made the heavy march of twenty-six miles.

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. 26

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 22, 1863

I had comforted myself with the reflection that when we returned to Kentucky, where communications were uninterrupted by guerillas, and were only separated by twenty-four hours of time, I might be permitted to correspond with my family without such harrowing delays, for I would not have my darling in doubt as to my situation or whereabouts for one single day, knowing, as I do, the uncertainty of suspense is worse than the reality. But 'tis said, "The darkest hour is just before the dawn," and, even as I write, my mind filled with dark thoughts, a ray of light from my Northern home flashes across my vision. The whole current of my thought is changed, and thankfulness takes the place of my repining. Thankfulness that it is as well with my beloved ones as it is. Oh, that I could remove every burden, and make their pathway smooth and flowery. I find most of our trials are imaginary, but none the less real for being SO. For instance, my beloved wife's imagination pictures me on my weary way back to old Virginia's blood-stained fields, subject to every hardship, exposed to every danger, and her suffering could be no greater if it were so. On the contrary, I am still in Kentucky, in a pleasant, shady grove, enjoying a season of welcome quiet and repose, soft bread to eat, plenty of pure, cold water to drink. What more could mortals crave. The newspapers were right, as far as they went, about our being ordered to the Potomac. We did receive such orders, but General Burnside telegraphed the War Department the Ninth Corps had marched, during the year, an average of twenty miles a day; that it had just returned from an exhausting campaign in Mississippi; that the men were worn down by fatigue and sickness, and were unfit for active service, and asked that they be allowed to remain here for a season. His request was granted. One year has passed since I left my pleasant home to serve my country a year big with the fate of millions yet unborn—a year the most eventful in our history; perhaps in the world's history.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 81-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 28, 1863

Camp Dick Robinson, Ky. Again we are on the move en route to Crab Orchard, thirty miles from our late camp, where a military post is to be established. I understand there is to be a line of posts from Lexington to Cumberland Gap. Report says these posts are to be held by the Ninth Corps. I hope not. I much prefer active service, with its toil and exposure, to a life of comparative ease in camp. While there is work to be done, and God gives me strength, I want to be doing. When I can be of no more service, then I would go home.

But I see no preparations for field service. We have no artillery or ambulances, which is proof conclusive. I was disappointed in Camp Dick Robinson. I had read so much of it, I expected to find a military station, or fortifications of some kind. Instead, I find a beautiful grove of oak and black walnut trees. It is noted as being the first camping ground occupied by loyal troops in Kentucky. General Nelson, its founder, who was shot last fall by General Davis, is buried here.

I have borne the march well today. My feet were somewhat tired, and what wonder? Two hundred twenty pounds the weight of myself and load is quite a load to carry ten miles over a macadamized road in half a day.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 85-6

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 John J. Wyeth, February 8, 1863

Then Lieut. Newell told us to "go," and we went, as well as we could, for quarters. Arriving at the granary, and having left our chickens at a negro shanty to be cooked, we turned in, all booted and muddy, and slept through everything till nearly noon. When we started up for breakfast it was a comical sight. Nearly all had turned in their wet clothes, and of course were about as wet when they got up, and very stiff. We found our chickens and ate them. While eating, the 27th guard called us, saying the regiment was under orders and we were to leave immediately. The way those chickens disappeared made those darkies laugh. We went back happy, as we knew when once on board the steamer we could sleep for a while and get rested; for after being on an all-night march of twenty-five miles at least, we were tired out, and felt we would be safer from another trip, for a day or two, than if on shore. We were all on board by half-past four o'clock, and soon after dropped down stream, leaving Plymouth and the 27th in all their glory. The boys who had bunks coming up are forbidden that pleasure now, so a dozen of us congregated together on the deck, outside the cabin, with shelter tents tacked up as roofs ; and we think we are having a better time than those inside, and no "sour grapes" in the mess either.

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. 38