Roll call as usual
at 5½ O'clock Inspection of men & tents at 9 o'clock by the Col. & Lt.
Col Pass granted to 8 men to visit Birds Point Also 1 large Squad to attend
Church.
Nothing doing to
day. John Brown & Elijah Hickman went into Town to day without a pass—came
back drunk Compelled to tie Hickman—will be put on extra duty to-morrow Weather
pleasant-continues dry.
SOURCE: Transactions
of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 224
Clear and fine. Roll
call at 5½ A. M. as usual-Breakfast at 6½ Squad drill &c. more activity
will be observed this week in drilling than heretofore. Lt. L. F. Williams
appointed junior Officer of the Guard to day. One of our men who came from town
yesterday in a state of intoxication—by name John Brown is very sick to day—great
suffering & pain in his stomach and lower extremities supposed to emanate
from poison in the liquor drank yesterday. The 2 gun boats stationed here left
this afternoon & 1 Regt. of In from Birds Point, their destination &
the No. of the Regt. we are not informed. Heavy firing heard at 8 O'clock this
evening in the direction of New-Madrid Mo. supposed that our Gun Boats have
engaged the enemy at that point
SOURCE: Transactions
of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 224-5
Monday morning. Our first
night in Baltimore is over. We had roll-call, to see if we were all here, and
then spread our blankets on the ground and were soon sound asleep. Walt. Loucks
and I each having a blanket, we spread one on the ground and the other over us.
With our knapsacks for a pillow, we slept as sound as if in the softest bed.
The dew, however, was heavy, and only for the blanket over us we would have been
wet through. As it was, our hair was as wet as if we had been swimming.
Sleeping on the ground, in clothing already wet with sweat, and the night being
quite cool, has stiffened our joints, so we move about like foundered horses.
Had the Rebs come upon us when we first got up we couldn't have run away and we
certainly were not in a condition to defend ourselves. But this wore off after
a little, and we were ourselves again. As it was in Hudson, so it is here. All
sorts of rumors as to what we do next are going the rounds. I have given up
believing anything, and shall wait until we do something or go somewhere, and
then, diary, I'll tell you all about it.
Night. We put in the day
sitting around and swapping yarns, etc. None of us cared to go about, for we
were pretty tired, after our hard day yesterday. Shelter tents were given out
to-day. One tent for every two men. They are not tents at all, nothing but a
strip of muslin, with three sticks to hold them up. There are four pins to pin
the corners to the ground. Then one stick is put in like a ridge pole, and the
other two set under it. The ends are pinned down as far apart as a man is long,
and then the middle raised up. They may keep off rain, if it falls straight
down, but both ends are open, and two men fill it full. We have got them up,
each company in a row. It is a funny sight to stand on the high ground and look
over them. Lengthwise, it is like a long strip of muslin with what a dressmaker
calls gathers in it. Looked at from the side it is like a row of capital A's
with the cross up and down instead of crosswise.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van
Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p.
20-1
AT READVILLE.
A busy day for Co. E we have been ordered to camp. Each man was told to carry rations enough for two meals. We formed company for the first time, out of doors, on the Boylston Street mall marched to the Boston and Providence Depot, and after hand-shaking with our friends, went aboard the cars, arriving at Readville, ten miles out, at four o clock and here the troubles and tribulations of many a fine young man began. We found that either the regiment had come too soon or the carpenters had been lazy, for only three of the ten barracks were roofed, and some were not even boarded in, so while the carpenters went at work outside, we went at it inside, putting up and fixing the bunks.
About sunset, we saw a load of straw on the way to our barracks at first we supposed it was for bedding for horses, but we were green. It was to take the place of hair mattresses. Could it be that Uncle Samuel proposed that we should sleep in the straw (I remember when a youngster, of going to Brighton, to see the soldiers just home from the Mexican war, they had straw in their tents to sleep on. I little thought then, that I should be jumping upon the wheels of a wagon, tugging for straw enough for a bed, but such was the fact,) straw was used, but for a very little while by most of us.
After our first supper (and a gay picnic one it was) in this wilderness, we sang songs, told stories, formed new, and found old acquaintances, until after eight o’clock. Then for the first time in camp, we heard “Fall in Co. E;” the roll was called, and it was found that of the one hundred and twenty-five names ninty-nine had reported. Our captain made a little speech, to which of course we did not reply and then for bed. We had (that is the quiet ones) made up our minds for a good night’s rest, so as to be all right for the arduous duties of the morrow. There were some however, who thought noise and confusion the first law of a soldier. It was late, and not until after several visits from the officers that the boys decided to quiet down.
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. 5-6
Our first morning in camp. We were rudely awakened and dragged from our bunks at six o’clock, very few being used to such early hours, except perhaps on 4th of July, and were expected to be on the parade ground before our eyes were fairly open.
My advice is if you ever enlist again, start with buckle or congress boots, or none at all, don’t wear laced ones. Why Thereby hangs a tale. One man who wore laced boots was late, consequently had to fall in at the foot of the column. In a minute or two, around came the adjutant and some other officer, who wanted a man for guard. The man who was late at roll-call, was detailed of course. He went without a word was posted on the edge of a pond his orders being “Keep this water from being defiled, allow no privates to bathe here, let only the officers bathe and the cooks draw water to cook with.” The orders were fulfilled, but the poor guard was forgotten, and paced up and mostly down (as it was a pleasant grassy sward,) till eleven o clock. That was his first experience of guard duty, and he always owed a grudge to the sergeant of that guard and his laced boots.
Meanwhile, the company, left standing in the street, with their towels, combs, &c., proceeded to the water, where the pride of many a family got down on his knees, and went through the farce of a toilet, and then back to breakfast.
To-day we have been busy cleaning up and getting ready for our friends from home. It has been as novel a day as last night was new, it is a great change, but we will conquer this, and probably worse.
Our friends began to arrive about three o clock, and by supper-time the barracks were well filled, many remaining to supper so shawls and blankets were spread upon the ground, and we gave them a sample of our food. The coffee was good but so hot, and having no saucer with which to cool the beverage, we had to leave it till the last course. Our plates were plated with tin, but very shallow, and as bean soup was our principal course we had some little trouble in engineering it from the cook s quarters to our tables. We must not forget the bread, it was made by the State, and by the looks, had been owned by the State since the Mexican war. We had never seen the like, and begged to be excused from enduring much of it at a time. (We afterwards found no occasion to grumble at our food, for as you may remember, we were looked after well during our whole service. We had as good rations as any one could wish, but here, within ten miles of home, we felt that this was rough on the boys.)
For a week, little was done but feed and drill us, to toughen us for the dim future, and the furloughs were granted very freely. We were soon astonished to find that we had for a surgeon, a man who meant business. Among other things, he thought government clothes were all that we needed, so spring and fall overcoats and fancy dry goods had to be bundled up and sent home. All our good things were cleaned out, everything was contraband excepting what the government
allowed. We had always thought it a free country, but this broke in on our individual ideas of personal freedom, and we began to think we were fast losing all trace of civil rights, and becoming soldiers pure and simple. Nothing could be brought into camp by our friends unless we could eat it before the next morning but goodies would come, and as we had to eat them, of course we were sick.
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. 6-7
Received two letters
to-day, one from home and one from my brother Pincus, who went to Washington on
his way to visit Morris and myself, as he has to get a pass from headquarters
before he can see us. He was refused and returned home. Our daily labor as prisoners
is that at 5 in the morning we have roll call; 6, breakfast, 500 at a time, as
one lot gets through another takes its place, until four lots have eaten; we
then stroll about the prison until 1 o'clock, when we eat dinner in the same
style as breakfast, then loaf about again until sundown. Roll is called again,
thus ending the day. We get for breakfast five crackers with worms in them; as
a substitute for butter, a small piece of pork, and a tin cup full of coffee;
dinner, four of the above crackers, a quarter of a pound mule meat and a cup of
bean soup, and every fourth day an eight-ounce loaf of white bread. Nothing
more this month.
SOURCE: Louis
Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 65
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
NED CARTER THE BLACKSMITH.
When I first came here I was pretty well used up, but thanks to my friends, Garland of company C and Wheelock and Aldrich of my own company (who are attaches of this hospital), and also to Miss Dame for their attention, kindness and favors, I am feeling the best now I have any time this summer. For their sympathy, attentions and kind offices, I am under a debt of everlasting gratitude.
Within a week two of my sick men have died and another is fast going.
One of them was a character in his way. As near as one can guess the age of a darky I should judge he was about 60 years old, and rather an intelligent man. He always called himself Ned Carter the blacksmith, and delighted in having others call him so. He would talk by the hour of old times, about his old master, and the good times and good cheer they used to have at Christmas time. When I first took this ward I saw that Ned was a sick darky and told him to have things his own way; if he felt like sleeping in the morning and didn't want to come out to roll call I would excuse him. I noticed that he seldom went for his rations, but would send his cup for his coffee and tea.
He said there was very little at the kitchen he could eat. I asked him what he could eat. He said he thought some cracker and milk would taste good. I took his cup up to Miss Dame and asked her if she would give me some condensed milk and a few soda crackers for a sick darky. She gave them to me, and Ned Carter the blacksmith was happy. The convalescent camp is not allowed anything from the sick kitchen, except by order of Doctor Fowler, so any little notion I get from there is through the kindness of Miss Dame or my friend Wheelock. I have often carried Ned a cup of tea and a slice of toast, with some peach or some kind of jelly on it, and the poor fellow could express his gratitude only with his tears, he had no words that could do it. One morning after roll call I went to his little tent and called Ned Carter the blacksmith. I got no response, and thinking he might be asleep I looked in. Ned Carter the blacksmith was gone, but the casket that had contained him lay there stiff and cold.
This morning the dark overhanging clouds are threatening rain. The Seventh are ordered to quarter themselves in the few scattering houses yet remaining in South Florence. Hark! the drum beats for an assembly. The Seventh are ordered to their camping ground on the hill. Colonel Rowett calling the regiment to attention, informs them of the wanton destruction of property out on the plantations, and orders the First Sergeant to call the roll, who reports all present or accounted for, and as usual the Seventh is clear. Though no one would ever suspect any of the Seventh guilty of pillaging houses or stealing, yet a general order is applicable to allhence the roll call by the first sergeants of the regiment. After this the soldiers return to their houses where they remain comfortable during the night.
