Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, August 6, 1864

The sick carried early to the gates but not received; ordered to be brought at 2 p. m. Doctors have got it into their heads that some system is necessary, and so much crowding at the gate was unnecessary and detrimental; so they ordered all back but the sick of eleven detachments and that none come tomorrow but those designated. Many are taken out. It gives hope that they are going to try to help us. Men persist in flattering themselves that we are soon to be relieved. I guard against disappointment and defer hope while action is deferred. The wolf at the door will not go away bloodthirsty until driven. They brought us to Georgia according to a decision of powers that be, that no shelter should be furnished Yankee prisoners. They will not release us for our sake, have disregarded our rights and purposely wronged us. Their cause is desperate; they fight for unprovoked revenge. They fiercely kill with bullets and designedly and half disguisedly plot our lingering death, seeking to profit their cause by our suffering. They began the war in hasty spite; it will end in hellish revenge. If they believe in their cause, need we hope for mercy? Has the government raised its hand to strike out one right the North claims for itself? Have we not compromised our sense of justice to appease unreasoning wrath, and have they not placed the dagger to our hearts? Now shall we be delivered by the murderers from the hands of their agents? Not till the last pillar has been broken and the hell-born spirit that incited this war shall rule no more, will their nefarious plotting cease. Yet we have hope which all of this surmounts, they must fail.

A PRISONER'S SONG.

Strident, yet more strident,

Sound the notes of war.

In our hearts confident

Behold the end afar.

Patient, yet more patient,

We'll bear the pains of fate.

Awake, oh, spirits latent,

And ward the blows of hate!

Higher, and yet higher,

Raise the hope of love;

Let faith new strength inspire

And make us stalwart prove.

Calmer, and yet calmer,

Wait we for the light,

Through savage din and clamor,

The passing of this night.

Freedom, on forever,

O, swiftly onward stride,

Enslaving bonds to sever,

And in this land abide!

Steady, and more steady,

Let our armies go;

They are strong and ready,

They move-it seems so slow!

Starving, we are starving!

We are sinking in distress;

Disease is gnawing-carving;

Our foes do sore oppress.

Help us to see the sunlight

Of victory and feel

Treason's bane has ceased to blight,

E'er death our eyes shall seal.

There is no danger from robbers and Thompson and I walk in the cool of the evening and talk about these things. A sensible companion in tribulation, is worth a thousand fools in peace if one appreciates him. The happiest man I ever saw was a man happy under miserable circumstances; the most miserable man is one wretched when surrounded with the benefits of life, with a vacant heart, a volcanic head, an iceberg and a fiery furnace freezing and burning his nature at the same time. To be contented, to be happy here, in one sense, is a mysterious art, yet the plainest fact.

"There is a Divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough hew them as we will."

We know now how to appreciate a man who is a living statue, not a human straw, a weed, jostled by every breeze, whipped about by adverse winds. We feel like him, believe in him; we are encased in steel. He is one, at least, who appreciates us. He has not only got the poetry of our best poets, but he has the heart, and the head; not only the rhyme but the sentiment.

Recently an interesting episode occurred, but it was not devoid of cruelties incident to this place. It reveals qualities of noble patriotism and keen foresight with a tinge of stern romance. A Georgian is a prisoner here.

Early in 1861 when the war-spirit had become rampant and Georgia was swayed by men like Toombs a man whose name is said to be Hirst, probably assumed, lived not many miles from this prison, who resolved for the Union. He went North, leaving his wife at home, and joined a Western regiment. In a battle between Sherman and Johnston's armies he was captured. He was recognized by a Georgia Reserve, while carrying a sick man out, who in peaceful days lived near him. The recognition was mutual and friendly. From him he got some news of his wife, the first in three years. It was arranged to get a note to her, telling of his imprisonment. In a few days the guard was on duty and tossed the wife's letter over the dead-line in a ball of clay. Two days later the woman came before Wirz and asked an interview. It was granted, the lady to stand outside the gate thirty paces, the man at the gate, neither to speak. At sight of each other they spoke each other's names endearingly. The interview was abruptly ended, the woman ordered away, the man driven into prison. The next day she came again bringing clothing and provisions which she begged Wirz to send him. Wirz promptly ordered her away, warning her never to come again, and sent soldiers to escort her off the ground. The husband was then brought before him and an effort made to enlist him in the Rebel service. This was resented, when he was bucked and gagged and locked in the dungeon, being brought out and maliciously punished at intervals for several days. Failing to impress him into the service, by advice of doctors he was turned into the stockade. [Note.—After leaving Andersonville I, learn he escaped from a train conveying prisoners from there, after Atlanta fell. He probably visited his family and later joined Sherman's forces.]

STACK ARMS.

 

See, an officer in quest of men,

To do some work the Rebels need;

Invites us from this prison pen

To work for them while brothers bleed!

Foreswear our country, Southron? No!

For its cause is true and high!

Join the hosts of Freedom's foe?

Far better starve; in prison die!

We fight for section, Southron? No;

We fight that liberty may spread

O'er all the land that freemen know,

Where, too long, the slave had tread.

We fight for justice in the land

Where freeman's voice has been suppressed;

It shall be heard, from strand to strand,

And every wrong shall be redressed.

Patriotic to fight for wrong

Because 'tis in your section built?

To fight this evil to prolong

Does but enhance the master's guilt.

Patriotism knows no line

That shall Freedom's law restrain;

The die is cast, 'tis God's design

That slavery shall no more remain.

Ah, heed the call of destiny!

The black and white shall both be free;

And stack your arms, for liberty

O'er North and South alike shall be.

Stack arms, brave Southrons, and repent

You ever raised them 'gainst the right.

You know the force of brave dissent;

'Tis murder now to longer fight!

The "Stars and Bars" pull down, pull down;

They lead you wrong, in Slavery's ways,

More hateful than King George's crown

Our fathers spurned in other days.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 98-102

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, August 11, 1864

Recent improvements in camp are timbers laid across the swamp on the west side north of the stream for 20 rods, this will help escape the filth in passing from north to south. A flume and bridge has been made which improves washing facilities; also a road from the north to the stream in the east part. We have more variety of food but scanty allowance, to-wit: corn bread, rice, a curious kind of bean, old and wormy. For several days a small piece of poor beef has come with cooked rations, hardly a mouthful, and in lieu a little sorghum molasses. We have built bake ovens of sand and clay. When several of us have raw meal, we club together to bake it, it being sweeter baked than smoked on a small fire. It economizes fuel, encourages the hope it will not have to be eaten raw. There are five very sick men within a few feet, groaning day and night. It is remarkable with what tenacity life clings to emaciated, corrupted frames.

Williams of the 111th N. Y., of Lyons, N. Y., a boy of education, talent and refinement, a nephew of Hon. Alex. Williams, visited us. He is declining rapidly and engages our sympathy It is a joy to cheer such a sweet spirit. He showed us the likeness of a beautiful girl, remarking that he never expected to see her again, and wept bitterly. We all parted with him regretfully. (He died in September).

I was again struck today by one of the daily duties of men. Passing from north to south through camp I see them stripped, examining clothing for lice. Immediately after roll call they "have a louse," or a "skirmish" or a "peeling off" as they express it from head to heels to give the "gray backs" a cleaning out. These pestering varmints infest clothing, sticking along the seams. Where the torments come from, how they grow in a day, or an hour, is a mystery. Drawing our minds down to hunting lice is humiliating; but the man who don't isn't respectable; we feel disgraced in his company Once a day is tolerable, twice better, three times makes a man of the first order. Neglect this, and he is soon over run, pitied, loathed, hated, sneered and snarled at. Lice polute and sap his blood, he loathes himself and dies. They crawl in droves over the sick, herd in his ears, gnaw him, shade in his hair deep as the hair is long. Talk about "gophers" in the army, no name for this! They sap the life of the strongest. Men who fight their lice effectually every day are brave, meritorious. But wouldn't we be pretty guests for parlor bedrooms! Trousers under the pillow! What would the tidy chambermaid say at Hotel Eagle?, Charming guests for ladies, lousy, brown, yellowed bloated, dirt-eating, wallowing Yankees! And we do laugh though it is not a laughing matter. But I am the only bachelor in our notable family of eight; should we be wafted to Northland from Dixie tonight, no one would be obliged to submit to my embraces. Poor, indeed!

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 105-6

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, July 5, 1863

On the morning of the 3rd when the rebels hung the flag of truce from their fort on the Jackson road, word soon passed along our whole line to that effect and soon firing ceased and the works on both sides were lined with the soldiers of the different armies talking to each other. It must have astonished the Rebs to see we were so close upon them. In front of our brigade we could almost shake hands with them. How anxiously they and we felt as to what Pemberton's reply to Grant would be, and when about half past nine on the 4th we saw the stars and stripes float from the fort we had stormed unsuccessfully, the air was rent with cheers and how relieved we all felt. Orders soon came for us to get ready to march into the city. Logan's division in the advance and the 45th Illinois in the advance of the army owing to their gallantry in storming Fort Hill. The day was a terrible hot one. We packed knapsacks and were soon ready to march. It was hard work but soon we got on the Jackson road and were inside the rebel lines. We marched through long rows of arms, stacked on both sides of the road and their late owners sitting or standing quietly by them. There were no cheers as we passed through these men but the salutations were "How are you Yank?" "How are you Reb?" "Give us something to eat Yank," when our boys would throw them hard tack, coffee and what else they could spare. The march was a terrible one and notwithstanding that it was marching into Vicksburg. I never saw so many men affected by the heat. When we reached the Court House I saw our glorious banner floating from its dome where only in the morning the rebel flag had been waving to the breeze. Our men could restrain themselves no longer and gave one long, loud cheer. We marched around the Court House, which is a fine large building, and then halted, stacked arms while waiting for further orders. They soon came to us to march back to the fortifications and halt on the inside. We did so; reached them about dusk and bivouacked for the night. Captain Dickey of General Ransom's Staff soon came and ordered me on duty as "officer of the day" and to post guards for the night along the fortifications to keep the prisoners from escaping. I had a hard time of it but no one can appreciate my feelings of the satisfaction I had as I rested on a cannon which but a few ours before was shotted against us. The night was a beautiful one and in making my "rounds" I would come across groups of rebel prisoners who would be sitting by a fire discussing their fate. They were anxious to know what was going to be done with them, whether they would be sent North, which they feared; or paroled. They spoke of the incidents of the siege and of the assault on the 22nd of May and how they slaughtered us with so little loss to themselves. As I had eaten no dinner and but a cracker for supper, I was glad when morning came and I was relieved from duty. I slept during the morning as I was completely exhausted, and in the afternoon visited the rebel works opposite our front. I was amazed at their strength and, after we got in, how they could have slaughtered us. You must look to history as to the amount of war material and men surrendered. I was surprised to see their men so well dressed and looking so well. I asked some of them about their rations of mule meat and they say it was issued once, which was more for effect than anything else, as they told me themselves they could have lived several days longer without being starved on what they had, but many of them said they were afraid of what we might do on the 4th; well they might, for in the morning orders had been issued for a national salute of 34 rounds, shot from every gun in position around Vicksburg, and several mines were to have been exploded blowing up their forts. Taking it all in all, it was well for both sides as many thousands of lives would have been sacrificed on both sides in the assault.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, pp. 19-20

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Thursday, November 27, 1862

Moscow. Our boys returned in the afternoon having been out to Collierville, eighteen miles distant, burned a bridge, came upon a party of rebs, capturing three. Weather cold and clear. Health improving.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, pp. 14-5

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 4, 1861

The story of yesterday's fight is all bosh. There were no two hundred prisoners taken—no fifteen killed—no fight—not a rebel seen! Munchausen must have been the legitimate son of a camp, or rather, the camp must be the legitimate progenitor of the whole race of Munchausen.

But it is surprising how camp life enhances the capacities of some men. I left home in July a dyspeptic. I came to Camp Griffin, in October, weighing one hundred and thirty-nine pounds. I record here, as something worth my remembering, an extract of a letter written to-day to a friend inquiring how camp life affected my health:

“ * * * I weigh now one hundred and fifty pounds. I have almost recovered my appetite. With other things in proportion, I now take three cups of coffee for breakfast, three cups tea at dinner, two cups at tea, and eat five meals a day, or suffer from hunger. My last meal is usually taken at 11 to 12 o'clock at night, and consists of one or two chickens, or a can of oysters, with a pot of English pickled cauliflower. With that I contrive to get through the night.

"But with the morrow's rising sun

The same dull round begins again."

"Last night, however, I was so unfortunate as to have no chickens. My can of oysters was sour, and I had to put up with a single head of boiled cabbage, half a dozen cold potatoes, and some cold boiled beef. I wonder what I shall do when we get away from the neighborhood of Washington to where there is no market, no oysters, no chickens, no cabbage, no cauliflower, 'no nothin'.' I shall be compelled to settle back to dyspepsia, and have no appetite."

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. 59

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 5, 1862

Forenoon we was on battallion drill after noon Co drill, no Dress perade about sunset just when the 23 Mo Inft dismissed their dress perade one of their boys snapped his gun at the croud not knowing it was loaded it went of killed one man dead dangerously wounded one & one slightly Evening I attended preaching by one of the 1st Iowa Cavalry to the paroled prisoners text to be spiritually minded is life & peace

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

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 9, 1862

9 Oc Mr. R Murdock & I started to the citty was at the gun boats & Arsenal seen one horse get drouned, took our dinner at the Mt Vernon hotell, kept by Bolander Spent an hour with Dr Elliott Editor of the Central advocate. Evening I spoke to the paroled prisoners text now commandeth all men everywhere to repent Butler D Bailey a stout young man of our company died, the first we have lost

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 98

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 10, 1862

8 Oc I went down into the citty to the government undertaker & made arrangements & arranged to have him burry Corporal Butler D Bailey at 2 Oc. I got the Col to releave our Company from duty that all mite escorte the corps to the graveyard. evening our Chaplain preached to the paroled prisoners. I exorted, text, thou shalt not go with the multitude to do evil we had a good time it turned it into a speaking meeting & there was great liberty

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 98

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 12, 1862

Forenoon we had a fine battallion drill afternoon we ware in Co drill & dress perade evening I spoke to the paroled prisners in their barracks text Son give me thy heart Our Chaplain was present we had a good time.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 98

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, July 30, 1864

Breakfasted on half of a small biscuit and an onion. Prisoners arrive; a crowd gathered when a cannon was fired over the camp.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 94

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Friday, July 31, 1864

Several shots fired during the night, one from a cannon, the shot screaming overhead. Yesterday and today's arrival of prisoners is about 1,200. White flags are put in the center of the prison to designate ground on which crowds must not assemble. If they do they will be fired upon. Accordingly men are constantly at the guns.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 94

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, May 9, 1863

Received orders to move tomorrow. Our camp life at Smith's Plantation has been as pleasant as we could wish. Our time was spent in batallion and company drills and dress parades. Part of the time we were engaged in building bridges across the bayou for troops to cross on which would shorten the distance materially between Milliken's Bend and Grand Gulf, or Carthage, which is opposite. One of the wonders of the day was our men bringing a small steamboat through the bayou from the Mississippi with commissary stores and ammunition, something I believe was never done before. This plantation is a large sugar and cotton plantation and has several large sugar works and cotton gins on it. It is a valuable one, worth before the war many hundreds of thousands of dollars, but as the darkies have all left, there is no saying what it is worth today. I enjoy the morning and evening walks, as the weather then is delightful. I saw quite a number of acquaintances pass on their way to the front. Among them Batteries A and B, Chicago Light Artillery. We have heard of the battles in the front and that our armies have been victorious. One day quite a number of rebel prisoners passed to the rear. Our orders are to move in as light marching order as possible. I take nothing but what my saddlebags will hold, namely, a change of underclothing and tooth brush and comb. Captain James, with two companies, C and I, have been detailed some seven miles from the main camp to guard a bridge over a bayou. I rode down to see them and found them contented and happy, indulging in blackberries to their hearts' content. I enjoyed them myself. We heard the guns at the attack on Grand Gulf, which was a strongly fortified place, and which defied the gunboats. It was taken by troops crossing below and forcing their works. Companies C and I returned to the regiment last night.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 13

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, May 16, 1863

Started at four a. m. Reached Raymond by ten o'clock. The churches were full of the wounded rebels and our men, for there had been quite a fight here, as well as at Port Gibson. We had cleaned the rebels out and our men were in the best of spirits. While resting here, heard firing in the distance. Started at quick time; men were drawn up in line of battle about five miles from Raymond, across a road, but the enemy had gone around us. Orders came to move forward in a hurry. Met some brigades resting on the road, but General Wilson of Grant's staff hurried us forward across fields and arrived at Champion's Hill just as the enemy fled. We were pushed forward to the front and slept on the field of battle. Dead rebels and Union soldiers were lying all around us. The enemy had fled across the Big Black River. Our victory had been complete, captured over two thousand men, seventeen pieces of artillery and a number of battle flags. Marched twenty-five miles today.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 14

Diary of 2nd Sergeant Richard R. Hancock: Friday, May 30, 1862

Between daylight and sunup about twelve hundred Federal cavalry surrounded Booneville, a. small village station on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad. There was one train of cars there and about five or six hundred Confederates, including the sick and their nurses, but there was no armed force there to defend the place. So the Federals had quietly taken possession of the place, set fire to the depot and train of cars, and had collected all the Confederates that were able to travel, and perhaps a number that were not really able, and formed them in line ready to march off, when about eighty of our battalion came upon the scene. Small as our squad was, we made a daring charge and released the prisoners. How they (the prisoners) did come yelling towards us! We then dropped back into the woods near by, and after a little skirmishing, the Federals withdrew in time for us to save two boxes of cars and also the engine. The train was loaded with arms and ammunition. Our loss was one killed (Culwell), three wounded, and it was said that the Federals carried off two prisoners, though the prisoners were not from our battalion. The Federal loss was two killed, several wounded, and nine prisoners. How those prisoners whom we released did appreciate being set at liberty! And they did not forget it, but continued to express their gratitude to our battalion when they happened to meet with any of us along through the war. The release of five or six hundred prisoners, in the hands of twelve hundred Federals, by not exceeding eighty Confederates, was no small feat.

The Confederate Army was moving south along the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, in the direction of Booneville. So there was no little excitement in Confederate ranks on account of the explosion of the bombshells in the burning cars, being taken for heavy cannonading. However, they soon learned better, for it was not long before the head of the column passed Booneville. Our sick had to get out, or be taken out, of the depot to avoid being burned alive, so they were lying about on the ground, some dead and others in a dying condition; so the scene was anything but a pleasant one to look upon. Our battalion moved back to the same place we camped the night before.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 172-3

Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, Friday, March 21, 1862

No definite news from Foot yet, the 19^th he was still bombarding Island N^o 10 — people are now waiting again to hear from Gen^l Burnside — an immense force is moveing down the River. Norfolk & Richmond now. Stirring times these. Our arms are successful everywhere. The great “Anaconda” is closing its coils and wo[e] to those who do not escape in time. It is said that the traitor W L Yancy has been taken prisoner, he ought to be hung.

SOURCE: Horatio Nelson Taft, The Diary of Horatio Nelson Taft, 1861-1865. Volume 1, January 1,1861-April 11, 1862, Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, Washington D. C.

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 Private John C. West, Sunday, May 24, 1863

Left Richmond yesterday about 6:30 o'clock a. m. Found a number of the Texas Brigade and a few of my regiment on the cars and soon became acquainted with them. The trip was monotonous, as usual, until we reached Gordonsville, where the crowd was so great that twenty of us had to stand on the platform. General J. E. B. Stuart was aboard and appeared to be very fond of ladies and flowers. He is of medium size, well formed, fair complexion, blue eyes, whiskers and mustache of sun-burnt reddish color, usually accompanying fair skin. I had quite a pleasant time on the platform watching the attempts of the proscribed to get a seat in the cars and their repulse by the provost guard. The cars were for the accommodation of ladies and commissioned officers. I never knew soldiers of any grade to be put in the same category with women before. I happened, however, to meet Tom Lipscomb, my old college classmate, who is now a major, who managed to get me in under his wing. We had a long talk about Columbia and old college days. He informed me that Lamar Stark, my wife's brother, was a prisoner confined in the old capitol in Washington city. We reached Mitchell's Station at 4 o'clock p. m.; walked five miles, a hot walk, to camp on the Rapidan, near Raccoon Ford. My regiment, the Fourth Texas, has a delightful camping place in a grove of large chestnut trees, on a hillside. We have no tents and the ground is hard and rocky, but we are all satisfied, and one day's observation has led me to believe that no army on earth can whip these men. They may be cut to pieces and killed, but routed and whipped, never! I called on Colonel B. F. Carter this morning and had quite a pleasant interview. He is a calm, determined man, and one of the finest officers in the division. To-day was the regular time for inspection and review. One barefooted and ragged hero came to Colonel Carter's Tent with the inquiry, "Colonel, do you want the barefooted men to turn out today?" to which the Colonel replied negatively, with a smile. I went out to the review which took place in an open field about 600 yards from camp. There were some ladies on horseback on the field. Their presence was cheering and grateful. They were all dressed in black, as were more than two-thirds of the women in the Confederacy. On returning to camp I called on Major Bass, of the First Texas, and gave him $25.00, which I had received for him from Lieutenant Ochiltree, at Shreveport, Louisiana, to be handed to Bass if I did not need it.

I received two haversacks to-day, miserably weak and slazy, made of thin cotton cloth. I have only taken a change of underwear, towel, soap and Bible and Milton's Paradise Lost. I have sent all the rest to Richmond with my carpet sack, to be left at Mrs. Mary E. Fisher's, on Franklin street, half way between Sixth and Seventh.

I wrote a letter to mother and one to wife to-day and read the 104th Psalm. I opened to it by chance, and it contained just what I felt.

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. 52-4

Diary of Private William S. White, June 1, 1862

We cannot as yet procure the full particulars regarding the battle of "Seven Pines" fought yesterday and to-day. As well as I can learn the plan was this: the Yankees had crossed a large force on the south-side of the Chickahominy, and on the night of the 30th of May, we had a most terrific storm. Our Commander, General Jos. E. Johnston, concluding that the bridges were all washed away, and the river past fording, concluded to attack the Yankees on the south-side and crush them out before they could be reinforced. On account of the tardiness of General Huger the plan was not fully successful, though we surprised the enemy, capturing a large number of prisoners with several pieces of artillery. Our camp was on the main road leading to Seven Pines, but 'twas difficult to handle artillery and we received no orders to move. What a heart-rending scene it is to witness the wounded brought in from a terrible battle field. The people of Richmond turned out en masse to render aid to our wounded soldiers. Many a wounded soldier-boy from the sunny South will never cease to remember the fair form of the "city belle" as she soothed his aching brow or bound up his wounded limb. Too often do we hear our Southern allies cursing the people of Richmond as a set of speculators thriving on our misfortunes, but now many of them have been convinced that "in the hour of pain and anguish," Richmond can and will do all within her power to aid those who are seeking to uphold our cause.

'Tis undoubtedly true that Richmond has changed greatly since the war began, for it has, I am sorry to say, become the headquarters of all of the "fancy men" of the South—gentlemen of the Hebrew persuasion have made it their rendezvous to sell blockade goods, and countless numbers of Yankee spies, though outwardly swearing allegiance to our government, hold strong foothold in our city. Gambling hells, furnished with tinseled splendor are at every corner, to catch the unwary, and relieve them of their superabundant "Confederates."

Still there is enough of the old metal left, purified and refined, to make Richmond to me the sweetest, dearest spot on earth. General Johnston being wounded, General Robert E. Lee now commands our army.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 116-7

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

Our battery moved back last night about one mile and camped on Hogan's farm. This morning when we awoke we found a party of eight hundred Yankee prisoners at Hogan's house. Amongst them were several surgeons, and they actually refused to attend to their own wounded, but insisted, as surgeons were non-combatants, that they should be sent to Richmond and immediately returned to the North.

A great number of wounded Yankees have been brought in by our men, and are receiving all proper attention. We moved forward to Gaines's house, where we remained all day, but near us there was no more fighting.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 122

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 3, 1864

New prisoners report favorable progress by our armies. Yesterday there was a powerful rain lasting ten hours. In this part the soil is red and hard, surface flat, and water stood from two to four inches deep. We stood up all night to keep out of it. Those too feeble to do this, were drenched and drowned. It was with great physical and mental effort that I was able to endure the strain as I have been feeble several days.

Four crazy men have been wandering through camp several days. I noticed one today without any clothing, having been naked for two weeks. He lay within four rods of the south gate, arms extended, exposed to the sun, in full view of everybody. His whole body was blistered, his countenance frightfully distorted, giving utterance to unintelligible sounds, frothy matter oozing from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes appearing blind. Another prisoner shot through the hips last night by a guard. One lay near the brook delirious, burning with fever; another near him was unable to speak; one-half buried in the swamp, covered by a mass of maggots and flies. Those who brought him out said his eyes, ears, nose and mouth were filled. Near the sink, in almost every passage, lay half-rotting skeletons, evincing all the signs of deprivation and symptoms of pestilence, and yet alive. All of this and I have not been out of my usual course. Neither do I mention those who have a slight covering to turn the sun. There are hundreds who would require the best treatment to be saved, and perhaps could not be saved. In this absence of medical treatment we resort to simple means to cure ourselves. A very limited supply of red root and white gum bark can be found, on our new lot, and pine bark, which are used to check the almost universal complaints, diarrhoea, dysentery and urinary troubles. I observed several men today had buried their limbs to the knees, as a remedy for scurvy. But the truth is there is no remedy for this condition under the circumstances. Never could we imagine anything so horrible! We might write volumes, and fail to describe the horrible reality. Our people would disbelieve it, and "pooh" as if it were a fabulous tale. Tonight some have a season of prayer near us. One or two most excellent prayers were offered, prayers that would grace pulpits, bearing an earnestness of the soul's devotion. It seemed so much like home, like steadfast faith and adoration, a reflex of the all-reaching Providence, that we felt it good to be there; that hearts are still alive, the finer sympathies not entirely stifled. How much better to see men in such communion, seeking consolation from heaven, than to see them worse than brutes, or fighting demons! No rations today.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 83