Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Friday, October 17, 1862

Carr sick. I worked at post return blanks, etc., late in the evening. I forgot to notify the orderlies about going for potatoes. Slept in tent. Indian summer.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 7

Diary of Malvina S. Waring, March 1, 1865

Ballard House, Richmond.—We have taken Richmond, if the Yankees haven't! Yes, we are here; but had some trouble to get settled. The fashionable mode of living is room-keeping, and we are strictly in the fashion. And now how nicely comes in that trunk of provisions my thoughtful papa made me bring, much against my own wishes. On opening it, we found meal, hominy, flour, a side of bacon, some coffee, tea, and a quantity of potatoes. They will help us along wonderfully, as all food products bring a tremendous price in this beleaguered city. Ernestine went to market this morning and paid $10 for a steak for our breakfast. At that rate we can only afford to take a savory smell occasionally! Ernie is simply angelic in spirit—she never loses patience, never gets cross, never says anything she oughtn't to say, even against the Yankees ! The city is crowded to suffocation, the streets thronged with soldiers in uniform, officers gaily caparisoned, and beautiful women, beautifully dressed, though not in the latest Parisian toilettes. I should say there is no more brilliant capital among all the nations. Are there great and somber tragedies going on around us? Is there a war? I thought so before I reached Richmond!

SOURCE: South Carolina State Committee United Daughters of the Confederacy, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, Vol. 1, “A Confederate Girl's Diary,” p. 277-8

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 2, 1862

We started early this morning by the northerly road; we "fell in "regularly enough, but it was not long before we took the "route step," taking the whole road. A mile or two out we halted and loaded up. Evidently the officers thought there would be plenty of game. We saw or heard little or nothing for about six miles, when we passed a camp-fire, and were told the advance had come across an outpost and killed a man. We still kept up a steady tramp, and about noon the light marching order became heavy again, and whatever useless articles we had on hand were thrown aside. At noon, we halted to feed in a field near a planter's house; the family were all on the piazza. For dinner we had potatoes, chickens, honey, applejack, and persimmons; the last of which are good if eaten with care, but, if a little green, beware! We stayed here about an hour, then packed up and started again, followed no doubt by the blessings of that whole family.

RAWLE'S MILL.

About six o'clock (the time probably when our friends at home were writing to us) we heard the artillery, and, coming to a halt, waited anxiously for the next move. To us it soon came. Companies H, Capt. Smith, and C, Capt. Lombard, were ordered forward, "E" being next in line. For a while we heard nothing of them; but when they were about half-way across the stream the rebels fired into their ranks. They, however, succeeded in crossing, and returned the rebels' fire; but Gen. Foster thought it better to shell them out, so Companies H and C were ordered back; "H" having Depeyster, Jacobs, and Parker wounded; and Co. C, Charles Rollins killed; Sergt. Pond and W. A. Smallidge wounded. Lieut. Briggs was stunned by a shell.

After the return of these companies, Belger's Battery shelled across the stream for some time, trying to dislodge the enemy. Our company and "I" were sent forward in the same track of "H" and "C," Company I being held in reserve. We had the fight all to ourselves. It was quite a distance to the water, and an illimitable one before we arrived on the other side. It was very nearly waist-deep and very cold. We had gone about over, when they fired, but the shot went over our heads: we were nearer than they thought. After coming out and shaking ourselves, Capt. Richardson deployed the company as skirmishers, and we commenced to feel our way up the slope. Before we were well at it we received another volley, which sadly disarranged the ideas of several of us, some of the boys firing back at their flash; but probably very many of our first volley went nearer the moon than the rebels; and then we jumped for cover. Some found the grape-vines not conducive to an upright position. We got straightened out at last, and gradually worked our way forward; the writer's position being in the gutter (or where the gutter ought to have been) on the left of the road; soon receiving another volley which we answered in good shape, hoping we did better execution than they had done. We could hear those on the right of the road, but could see nothing, and could only fire on the flash of the rebels. After five or six volleys from our side, and as many from the rebels, we were ordered back, recrossed the ford, and found we had met with loss. Charles Morse was shot through the head. His death must have been instantaneous, as the ball went in very near the temple and came out the opposite side. A detail buried him among the pines, very nearly opposite the surgeon's head-quarters. Charles H. Roberts was quite severely wounded in the left shoulder. There were some narrow escapes, and, among the minor casualties, E. V. Moore was struck by a ball in the heel of his boot; he was tumbled over; immediately picked up by the stretcher-bearers and carried to the rear, but would not stay there, and soon found his way to the front again.

The writer, not wishing to be wounded, persistently held his gun ready to ward off all shot, consequently one of the numerous well-aimed shots struck the gun instead of his leg, fracturing the rifle badly; the bullet, after going through the stock of the gun, entered his pantaloons, scraping a little skin from his leg, and finally found its way to his boot.

The surgeon would not report him as wounded or missing, so he had to report back to his company; found his blanket and tried to turn in, but it was no use: the company had more work on hand.

The part of the company who went into the woods on the right of the road, had a clear passage up the hill, as far as the walking was concerned, but they met their share of fighting, happily coming back with no loss. Parsons, Tucker, and Pierce succeeded in taking three prisoners, who were sent to the rear. We were detailed as baggage guard, which duty we did bravely!! Every time the line halted we would lie down, and were asleep as soon as we struck the mud!! Finally we made a grand start, forded the stream again, and, after being frightened to death by a stampede of horses up the road, we found a cornfield, and, after forming line several times for practice with the rest of the regiment, spread ourselves on the ground and hugged each other and our wet rubber blankets to get warm.

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. 17-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 17, 1862

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

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

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

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

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 4, 1865

Clear, but rained last night.

From the South we learn that Sherman is marching on Branchville, and that Beauregard is at Augusta.

The great struggle will be in Virginia, south of Richmond, and both sides will gather up their forces for that event.

We can probably get men enough, if we can feed them.

The City Council is having green "old field pine" wood brought in on the Fredericksburg railroad, to sell to citizens at $80 per cord a speculation.

The Quartermaster's Department is also bringing in large quantities of wood, costing the government about $40 per cord. Prior to the 1st inst., the Quartermaster's Department commuted officer's (themselves) allowance of wood at $130 per cord!

The President still suffers, but is said to be "better."

Yesterday much of the day was consumed by Congress in displaying a new flag for the Confederacy—before the old one is worn out! Idiots!

I have just seen on file a characteristic letter from Major-Gen. Butler, of which this is a literal copy:

HEADQUARTERS DEPT. VA. and N. C.,            

ARMY OF THE JAMES IN THE FIELD,  

FORTRESS MONROE, Oct. 9th, 1864.

HON. ROBT. OULD-SIR:

 

An attempt was made this morning by private Roucher, Co. B, 5th Penna. cavalry, to commit a rape upon the persons of Mrs. Minzer and Mrs. Anderson, living on the Darbytown Road.

 

On the outrage being discovered, he broke through the picket line, and filed for your lines. Our soldiers chased him, but were unable to overtake him.

 

I have therefore the honor to request that you will return him, that I may inflict the punishment which his dastardly offense merits. I cannot be responsible for the good conduct of my soldiers, if they are to find protection from punishment by entering your lines.

I have the honor to be, your obt. servt.,

 

(Signed)                                    B. F. BUTLER,                    

Major-Gen. Comd'g and Com. for Exchange.

The ladies were Virginians.

I got my barrel (2 bags) flour to-day; 1 bushel meal, ½ bushel peas, ½ bushel potatoes ($50 per bushel); and feel pretty well. Major Maynard, Quartermaster, has promised a load of wood... Will these last until ——? I believe I would make a good commissary.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 408-9

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Friday, September 12, 1862

The Winona boys lying around with one blanket white with frost. Very fine morning. Marched 19 miles to Orino and put up for the night. Very kindly treated, poor woman, corn and potatoes. A good stockade around the church. Many unused to walking are complaining of sore feet.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 4

John Tyler to Julia Gardiner Tyler, April 18, 1861

RICHMOND, April 17,¹ 1861.

Well, my dearest one, Virginia has severed her connection with the Northern hive of abolitionists, and takes her stand as a sovereign and independent State. By a large vote she decided on yesterday, at about three o'clock, to resume the powers she had granted to the Federal government, and to stand before the world clothed in the full vestments of sovereignty. The die is thus cast, and her future is in the hands of the god of battle. The contest into which we enter is one full of peril, but there is a spirit abroad in Virginia which cannot be crushed until the life of the last man is trampled out. The numbers opposed to us are immense; but twelve thousand Grecians conquered the whole power of Xerxes at Marathon, and our fathers, a mere handful, overcame the enormous power of Great Britain.

The North seems to be thoroughly united against us. The Herald and the Express both give way and rally the hosts against us. Things have gone to that point in Philadelphia that no one is safe in the expression of a Southern sentiment. Poor Robert is threatened with mob violence. I wish most sincerely he was away from there. I attempted to telegraph him to-day, but no dispatch is permitted northward, so that no one knows there, except by secret agent, what has transpired here. At Washington a system of martial law must have been established. The report is that persons are not permitted to pass through the city to the South. I learn that Mrs. Orrick and her children, on her way here to join her husband, who is on the convention, has been arrested and detained. There is another report that General Scott resigned yesterday and was put under arrest. I hope it may be so, but I do not believe it. I have some fear that he will not resign. Reports are too conflicting about it.

Two expeditions are on foot,—the one directed against the Navy Yard at Gosport, the other Harper's Ferry. Several ships are up the river at the Navy Yard, and immense supplies of guns and powder; but there is no competent leader, and they have delayed it so long that the government has now a very strong force there. The hope is that Pickens will send two thousand men to aid in capturing it. From Harper's Ferry nothing is heard. The city is full of all sorts of rumors. To-morrow night is now fixed for the great procession; flags are raised all about town.

If possible I shall visit home on Saturday. Tell Gill that I shall send or bring down the sturgeon twine and six bushels of potatoes, which should be planted as soon as they reach home. I wish much to see you after so long an absence, and the dear children, since they have had the measles. Do, dearest, live as frugally as possible in the household,—trying times are before us.

Kisses to all.

Your devoted,

J. TYLER.

Julia is quite well.

_______________

¹ As the ordinance was passed on the 17th, this date ought to be 18th.

SOURCE: Lyon Gardiner Tyler, The Letters and Times of the Tylers, Volume 2, p. 641-2

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, August 19, 1862

HUDSON CAMP GROUNDS. I have enlisted! Joined the Army of Uncle Sam for three years, or the war, whichever may end first. Thirteen dollars per month, board, clothes and travelling expenses thrown in. That's on the part of my Uncle. For my part, I am to do, I hardly know what, but in a general way understand I am to kill or capture such part of the Rebel Army as comes in my way.

I wonder what sort of a soldier I will make; to be honest about it, I don't feel much of that eagerness for the fray I am hearing so much of about me.

It seems to me it is a serious sort of business I have engaged in. I was a long time making up my mind about it. This one could go, and that one, and they ought to, but with me, some way it was different. There was so much I had planned to do, and to be. I was needed at home, etc., etc. So I would settle the question for a time, only to have it come up to be reasoned away again, and each time my reasons for not taking my part in the job seemed less reasonable. Finally I did the only thing I could respect myself for doing, went to Millerton, the nearest recruiting station, and enlisted.

I then threw down my unfinished castles, went around and bid my friends good-bye, and had a general settling up of my affairs, which, by the way, took but little time. But I never before knew I had so many friends. Everyone seemed to be my friend. A few spoke encouragingly, but the most of them spoke and acted about as I would expect them to, if I were on my way to the gallows. Pity was so plainly shown that when I had gone the rounds, and reached home again, I felt as if I had been attending my own funeral. Poor old father and mother! They had expected it, but now that it had come they felt it, and though they tried hard, they could not hide from me that they felt it might be the last they would see of their baby.

Then came the leaving it all behind. I cannot describe that. The good-byes and the good wishes ring in my ears yet. I am not myself. I am some other person. My surroundings are new, the sights and sounds about me are new, my aims and ambitions are new;—that is if I have any. I seem to have reached the end. I can look backwards, but when I try to look ahead it is all a blank. Right here let me say, God bless the man who wrote "Robert Dawson," and God bless the man who gave me the book. "Only a few drops at a time, Robert." The days are made of minutes, and I am only sure of the one I am now living in. Take good care of that and cross no bridges until you come to them.

I have promised to keep a diary, and I am doing it. I have also promised that it should be a truthful account of what I saw and what I did. I have crawled off by myself and have been scribbling away for some time, and upon reading what I have written I find it reads as if I was the only one. But I am not. There are hundreds and perhaps thousands here, and I suppose all could, if they cared to, write just such an experience as I have. But no one else seems foolish enough to do it. I will let this stand as a preface to my diary, and go on to say that we, the first installment of recruits from our neighborhood, gathered at Amenia, where we had a farewell dinner, and a final handshake, after which we boarded the train and were soon at Ghent, where we changed from the Harlem to the Hudson & Berkshire R. R., which landed us opposite the gates of the Hudson Fair Grounds, about 4 P. M. on the 14th. We were made to form in line and were then marched inside, where we found a lot of rough board shanties, such as are usually seen on country fair grounds, and which are now used as offices, and are full of bustle and confusion. After a wash-up, we were taken to a building which proved to be a kitchen and dining room combined. Long pine tables, with benches on each side, filled the greater part of it, and at these we took seats and were served with good bread and fair coffee, our first meal at Uncle Sam's table, and at his expense. After supper we scattered, and the Amenia crowd brought up at the Miller House in Hudson. We took in some of the sights of the city and then put up for the night.

The next morning we had breakfast and then reported at the camp grounds ready for the next move, whatever that might be. We found crowds of people there, men, women and children, which were fathers and mothers, wives and sweethearts, brothers and sisters of the men who have enlisted from all over Dutchess and Columbia counties. Squads of men were marching on the race track, trying to keep step with an officer who kept calling out "Left, Left, Left," as his left foot hit the ground, from which I judged he meant everyone else should put his left foot down with his. We found these men had gone a step further than we. They had been examined and accepted, but just what that meant none of us exactly knew. We soon found out, however, Every few minutes a chap came out from a certain building and read from a book, in a loud voice, the names of two men. These would follow him in, be gone a little while and come out, when the same performance would be repeated. My name and that of Peter Carlo, of Poughkeepsie, were called together, and in we went. We found ourselves in a large room with the medical examiner and his clerks. His salutation, as we entered, consisted of the single word, "Strip." We stripped and were examined just as a horseman examines a horse he is buying. He looked at our teeth and felt all over us for any evidence of unsoundness there might be. Then we were put through a sort of gymnastic performance, and told to put on our clothes. We were then weighed and measured, the color of our eyes and hair noted, also our complexion, after which another man came and made us swear to a lot of things, most of which I have forgotten already. But as it was nothing more than I expected to do without swearing I suppose it makes no difference.

The rest of the day we visited around, getting acquainted and meeting many I had long been acquainted with. In the afternoon the camp ground was full of people, and as night began to come, and they began to go, the good-byes were many and sad enough. I am glad my folks know enough to stay away. That was our first night in camp. After we came from the medical man, we were no longer citizens, but just soldiers. We could not go down town as we did the night before. This was Saturday night, August 17th. We slept but little, at least I did not. A dozen of us had a small room, a box stall, in one of the stables, just big enough to lie down in. The floor looked like pine, but it was hard, and I shall never again call pine a soft wood, at least to lie on. If one did fall asleep he was promptly awakened by some one who had not, and by passing this around, such a racket was kept up that sleep was out of the question. I for one was glad the drummer made a mistake and routed us out at five o'clock instead of six, as his orders were. We shivered around until roll-call and then had breakfast. We visited together until dinner. Beef and potatoes, bread and coffee, and plenty of it. Some find fault and some say nothing, but I notice that each gets away with all that's set before him. In the afternoon we had preaching out of doors, for no building on the grounds would hold us. A Rev. Mr. Parker preached, a good straight talk, no big words or bluster, but a plain man-to-man talk on a subject that should concern us now, if it never did before. I for one made some mighty good resolutions, then and there. Every regiment has a chaplain, I am told, and I wish ours could be this same Mr. Parker. The meeting had a quieting effect on all hands. There was less swearing and less noise and confusion that afternoon than at any time before. After supper the question of bettering our sleeping accommodations came up, and in spite of the good resolutions above recorded I helped steal some hay to sleep on. We made up our minds that if our judge was as sore as we were he would not be hard on us. We spread the hay evenly over the floor and lay snug and warm, sleeping sound until Monday morning, the 18th.

The mill of the medical man kept on grinding and batches of men were sworn in every little while. Guards were placed at the gates, to keep us from going down town. I was one of the guards, but was called off to sign a paper and did not go back. Towards night we had to mount guard over our hay. Talk about "honor among thieves," what was not stolen before we found it out, was taken from under us while we were asleep, and after twisting and turning on the bare floor until my aching bones woke me, I got up and helped the others express themselves, for there was need of all the cuss words we could muster to do the subject justice. But that was our last night in those quarters.

The next day the new barracks were finished and we took possession. They are long narrow buildings, about 100 feet by 16, with three tiers of bunks on each side, leaving an alley through the middle, and open at each end. The bunks are long enough for a tall man and wide enough for two men provided they lie straight, with a board in front to keep the front man from rolling out of bed. There are three buildings finished, and each accommodates 204 men. We were not allowed either hay or straw for fear of fire. As we only had our bodies to move, it did not take long to move in. Those from one neighborhood chose bunks near together, and there was little quarrelling over choice. In fact one is just like another in all except location. Walter Loucks and I got a top berth at one end, so we have no trouble in finding it, as some do who are located near the middle. These barracks, as they are here called, are built close together, and ordinary conversation in one can be plainly heard in the others. Such a night as we had, story-telling, song-singing, telling what we would do if the Rebs attacked us in the night, with now and then a quarrel thrown in, kept us all awake until long after midnight. There was no getting lonesome, or homesick. No matter what direction one's thought might take, they were bound to be changed in a little while, and so the time went on. Perhaps some one would start a hymn and others would join in, and just as everything was going nicely, a block of wood, of which there were plenty lying around, would come from no one knew where, and perhaps hit a man who was half asleep. Then the psalm singing would end up in something quite different, and for awhile one could almost taste brimstone. I heard more original sayings that night than in all my life before, and only that the boards were so hard, and my bones ached so badly, I would have enjoyed every minute of it.

But we survived the night, and were able to eat everything set before us, when morning and breakfast time came. After breakfast we had our first lesson in soldiering, that is, the men of what will be Captain Bostwick's company, if he succeeds in filling it, and getting his commission, did. A West Point man put us through our paces. We formed in line on the race track, and after several false starts got going, bringing our left feet down as our instructor called out, "Left, Left," etc. A shower in the night had left some puddles on the track, and the first one we came to some went around and some jumped across, breaking the time and step and mixing up things generally. We were halted, and as soon as the captain could speak without laughing, he told us what a ridiculous thing it was for soldiers to dodge at a mud puddle. After a turn at marching, or keeping step with each other, he explained very carefully to us the "position of a soldier," telling how necessary it was that we learn the lesson well, for it would be of great use to us hereafter. He repeated it, until every word had time to sink in. "Heels on the same line, and as near together as the conformation of the man will permit. Knees straight, without stiffness. Body erect on the hips, and inclining a little forward. Arms hanging naturally at the sides, the little finger behind the seam of the pantaloons. Shoulders square to the front. Head erect, with the eyes striking the ground at the distance of fifteen paces." Every bone in my body ached after a little of this, and yet our instructor told us this is the position in which a well-drilled soldier can stand for the longest time and with the greatest ease. This brings my diary up to this date and I must not let it get behind again. There is so much to write about, it takes all my spare time; but now I am caught up, I will try and keep so.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 1-7

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 16, 1863

After a very cold night spent in sleeplessness, I arose, determined to have something better to eat than our daily ration of coarse meal and poor beef, supplemented occasionally with a little sugar and molasses. I procured a permit from Captain Feeney, which was duly approved by Colonel Tillman, but could not pass the pickets on it: had to return a short distance and go around them, which was no easy job, considering the topography of the country. After cooning logs over the same crooked little stream some half dozen times, we (Arch Conaway and myself) found ourselves in a dense canebrake, and then in the midst of an impassable swamp. Being lost, we struck out straight ahead, and finally came to a farm-house; asked if we could purchase any potatoes, pork, or butter, and were told "nary tater;" pushed on to the second house, and the same question asked, and the same answer returned; ditto at the third house and the fourth started on return; found an aged colored individual, who agreed to steal us a small hog at night for the small consideration of ten dollars and a half. No help for it. Must have a change of diet. [A story is told of a soldier in this regiment, when at Port Hudson, which is appropriate in this connection. He, like our author, needed a "change of diet," and slipped into a farmer's hog-pen one night to get it. He saw, what appeared to him, a fine large porker, lying fast asleep, and with practiced skill approached and knocked it in the head with his axe. On attempting to turn it over he found his game had been dead three or four days.]

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 20-1

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, October 29, 1864

Near Petersburg, Va.,        

October 29, 1864.

I suppose you have heard how we whipped the Yankees on both this side and the north side of the James River. The killed and wounded fell into our hands here at Petersburg, and we have been attending to their wounded all day to-day. Our loss was very small. Wilcox's Division was occupying a part of our line that was not assaulted, and therefore it was not engaged. We now have strong hopes of being able to hold Petersburg and Richmond.

This war can never end until the fanatics, both North and South, are gotten rid of. They are influenced solely by their blind, senseless passions, and reason never enters their heads. It is always such discontented, worthless wretches who bring about revolutions. The North is still infested with such characters, and the South is not far behind. If we could get those hot-headed fools in South Carolina who composed that meeting at Columbia recently and put them in the army and get them all killed off, it would be much better for us. What a pity we cannot have them killed, but they cannot be made to fight. I do not believe that Boyce will fight a duel with such a man as Tradewell, for he must have more sense than to do that.

My box is not here yet. I will continue to keep on the lookout for it until it arrives. My dinner will soon be ready and I think it will be fine, for I shall have white cabbage, bacon, potatoes and biscuit.

As soon as I can I will send you one hundred and fifty dollars to pay your expenses in coming out. The Government owes me about five hundred dollars, which I hope to be able soon to collect. If you can come by the first of December you can remain at least three months, and I may be able to go back with you in March.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 112-3

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, January 3, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

January 3, 1864.

The cars ran off the track below Gordonsville yesterday, consequently we have no mail to-day. You do not know how anxious I am to hear from you. Your letters relieve the distress of my mind like a soothing balm placed upon a painful wound. I am sure I could forget the loss of our dearest earthly object much sooner if I could only be with you; but time will blunt the keenest thorns of anguish. I shall walk over and see your brother this evening if he does not come to see me before then. He was quite well when I last saw him, and had been busy repairing the roads.

The weather remains intensely cold, but the wind has abated somewhat to-day. I think yesterday was the coldest day I ever experienced, and it was made worse by the strong biting wind which blew incessantly. It is most severe on the wagoners and others who are out and exposed so much. When I saw the First South Carolina Regiment starting off on picket yesterday morning in the bitter cold I felt for them, but they seemed full of the life and vigor which the troops of Lee's army always display under the most trying circumstances.

I gave my old black coat to my brother. It fits him well and he is very much pleased with it. He has been keeping a chicken and it is now nearly grown, so we intend to have a big dinner soon, and will make a pot of dumplings and also have stewed corn and Irish potatoes.

I have been living in the same tent with Dr. Tyler. We slept together and were very comfortable, but I got a tent for myself yesterday and will have a chimney built to it and be ready to move in by the time he gets back. He and I are good friends and always get along very agreeably together, but he is too fond of drinking and gambling to suit me.

News is very scarce here now, and it would be difficult for me to write you a longer letter.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 84-6

 

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, January 30, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

January 30, 1864.

The weather has been fine recently and there have been some indications of a move. Yesterday we were ordered to cook one day's rations and be ready to march, but it has turned very cold to-day and everything is quiet again.

About ten days ago I succeeded in buying some turnips and cabbage, and I found them most delightful for a change until our box from home arrived. Everything in it was in excellent condition except the sweet potatoes. It contained ten gallons of kraut, ten of molasses, forty pounds of flour, twelve of butter, one-half bushel of Irish potatoes, one-half peck of onions, about one peck of sausage, one ham, one side of bacon and some cabbage. I am expecting Edwin to visit me to-morrow and I shall offer him part of the kraut and some of the molasses, but he is so independent I am afraid he will not accept it.

I saw Colonel Hunt's wife yesterday, and she is the first lady with whom I have conversed since my return in December. He pays ten dollars a day board for himself and wife at a house near our camp.

Dr. Tyler has had his furlough extended twenty days by the Secretary of War, and will not return before February. I have been alone for over four weeks. I have had such a quiet time that I have been reading Shakespeare some recently. I received a letter from Robert Land's wife begging me to give her husband a sick furlough, and I told him to write her that if he could ever get sick again he certainly should go at once.

The postmaster is here and I must close.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 88-9

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, September 1, 1863

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

September 1, 1863.

We still remain quiet in our old camp, with no sign of an enemy anywhere. I see no indications of our leaving here soon, but there is no telling. It is unreasonable for us to suppose we shall not have another battle here this summer. Old Lee is no idler; and, if the Yankees do not push a battle on him soon, he is almost sure to push one on them.

A little fellow returned to our regiment a few days ago who had made his escape from the Yankee prison at Fort Delaware. He traveled all the way back at night, and during the day kept safely hidden and rested. He had a most thrilling experience, which was full of just such hair-breadth escapes and wonderful adventures as I used to read about in histories when I was a boy, but which I did not believe at that time. I can believe them all now, for I see just such things occurring with us almost daily.

My new servant, Gabriel, arrived yesterday from South Carolina, and he seems well pleased so far. My brother and I had a great many questions to ask him about home. Billie is just like he used to be—fond of making fun of people. He wanted to know if Gabriel kissed Malinda when he left her, and he joked him about a great many things. Gabriel bought a watermelon in Richmond and brought it to us. It is the first one we have tasted in two years.

I got a new pair of shoes from the Government for six dollars. Billie's shoes are good yet, because I lent him a pair of mine to march in, and he wore them out and saved his own. Marching on these turnpike roads is very hard on shoes, and our army becomes barefooted in a short time.

We are living just as well as we could wish. I bought a bushel of potatoes yesterday, and we have plenty of meal, some flour, one ham and some rice.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 76-7

William T. Sherman to Ellen Ewing Sherman, November 3, 1860

ALEXANDRIA, Nov. 3, 1860.

. . . This is a Saturday evening and I am seated at the office table where the Academic Board has been all week examining cadets. We have admitted in all some eighty; and rejected about a dozen for want of the elementary knowledge required for admission. Tonight, Saturday, we close the business, and on Monday recitations begin. Still many more will straggle in, and I expect we will settle down to about a hundred and twenty, less than we had reason to expect, but quite enough for comfort. . .

People here now talk as though disunion was a fixed thing. Men of property say that as this constant feeling of danger of abolitionism exists they would rather try a Southern Confederacy. Louisiana would not secede, but should South Carolina secede I fear other Southern States will follow, and soon general anarchy will prevail. I say but little, try and mind my own business and await the issue of events. . .

The country is very poor and nothing can be bought here but stewed beef and pork, vegetables are out of the question save potatoes at about five dollars the barrel.

SOURCE: Walter L. Fleming, General W.T. Sherman as College President, p. 301-2

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: June 29, 1863

This morning the command proceeds on to Cotton Ridge, where it is joined by Captains Clark and Aldridge, who were sent out last night on the hunt of guerrillas. From this ridge we move in the direction of the Mobile and Ohio Railroad. In the evening we strike the railroad at Henderson, but no guerrillas are found, all having fled to the woods. The command goes into camp on a plantation near Henderson. We fare sumptuously to-night; hen-roosts and potato patches at our disposal. We sleep in an old cotton gin; the cotton is strewn everywhere to make beds.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 176

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: July 5, 1864

Cool and dry, everything suffering for rain.

All quiet about Petersburg, but later in the day a rumor sprung up that fighting had recommenced there. I doubt it, because by Northern accounts I see Gen. Early is destroying railroads beyond the Potomac, and will undoubtedly threaten Washington itself. If Grant fails to send troops there, Early may even throw shell into the Federal city.

Peter V. Daniel sends the Secretary of War a letter from Mr. Westmoreland, Wilmington, complaining that he is not allowed by government agents to transport cotton to that port, where his steamers are, in redemption of Confederate States bonds, while private persons, for speculative purposes, are, through the favor (probably for a consideration) of government officials, enabled to ship thousands of bales, and he submits a copy of a correspondence with Col. Sims, Assistant Quartermaster-General, and Lieut.Col. Bayne, who is charged with the control of the exporting and importing business. Mr. Daniel thinks there is some “bribery and corruption" even in the South. But Mr. Seddon is incredulous sometimes.

The express company has an arrangement with Col. Sims, the Assistant Quartermaster-General, by which much freight is transported.

New potatoes are selling at $4 per quart in the market.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 244-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 11, 1864

Rained all night, but clear most of the day.

There are rumors of Burnside landing troops on the Peninsula; also of preparations for movements on the Rappahannock—by which side is uncertain. It is said troops are coming from Mississippi, Lieut.-Gen. (Bishop) Polk's command.

The FAMINE is still advancing, and his gaunt proportions loom up daily, as he approaches with gigantic strides. The rich speculators, however, and the officers of influence stationed here, who have secured the favor of the Express Company, get enough to eat. Potatoes sell at $1 per quart; chickens, $35 per pair; turnip greens, $4 per peck! An ounce of meat, daily, is the allowance to each member of my family, the cat and parrot included. The pigeons of my neighbor have disappeared. Every day we have accounts of robberies, the preceding night, of cows, pigs, bacon, flour—and even the setting hens are taken from their nests!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 185

Captain Charles Wright Wills: January 9, 1865

Green Square, Savannah, Ga. 

January 9, 1865. 

Thinking we for once in the service had a chance to enjoy quiet life, two of our number were sent to Hilton Head for a full supply of men's apparel for the outer man, and of refreshments substantial and fancy for the inner. 

They returned to-day just in time to receive marching orders. The men's clothing was packed in valises, and all the eatables sold to parties who remain here, save one barrel of Irish potatoes. We leave to-morrow morning. Major Willison's resignation was accepted to-day, and this evening the officers unanimously agreed to recommend me to fill the vacancy. There was not a hint towards any one else. I take it as a high compliment. I am the youngest captain in the regiment, and this recommendation made by men whom I have campaigned with for two and a half years, and not one of whom has been accused of failing to do his duty in the service, makes me feel a little proud. I will value the recommendation more than the commission, if I get it. 

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 335-6

Captain Charles Wright Wills: November 20, 1864

Near Clinton, November 20, 1864.

Struck out foraging before daylight this morning. Almost any house on the road to-day would furnish pork and potatoes enough for a brigade. I got to the regiment about 8 p. m. last night. They say our brigade marched until 3 a. m., and the reveille sounded before the men got through supper. We passed over the scene of Stoneman's fighting and surrender last August. Some of our men found two of our dead soldiers unburied, which don't speak well for the Rebels, and is charged against them. I think there is less pillaging this trip than I ever saw before.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 321

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: January 24, 1864

 For some cause, we had no mail to-day. Fine, bright, and pleasant weather. Yesterday Mr. Lyons called up the bill for increased compensation to civil officers, and made an eloquent speech in favor of the measure. I believe it was referred to a special committee, and hope it may pass soon.

It is said the tax bill under consideration in Congress will produce $500,000,000 revenue! If this be so, and compulsory funding be adopted, there will soon be no redundancy of paper money, and a magical change of values will take place. We who live on salaries may have better times than even the extortioners—who cannot inherit the kingdom of Heaven. And relief cannot come too soon: for we who have families are shabby enough in our raiment, and lean and lank in our persons. Nevertheless, we have health and never-failing appetites. Roasted potatoes and salt are eaten with a keen relish.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 134