Showing posts with label Salt Pork. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Salt Pork. Show all posts

Thursday, March 14, 2024

Diary of Private William S. White, June 7, 1861

Throwing up breastworks all day, and we now are impatiently awaiting the enemy. Provisions are scarce; had a couple of hard crackers and a teaspoonful of salt pork gravy. Somewhat different from good old Mrs. Mottley's suppers at the Linwood House on Main street, where we Richmond boys most delighted to board. However, I didn't suffer much, having succeeded in getting a good dinner for a slight compensation. The people in this neighborhood are in rather poor circumstances, and of course we are willing to pay for anything we get of them.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 95

Diary of Private William S. White, June 14, 1861

Arrived at Bethel Church this morning about 9 A. M., and immediately set to work to get breakfast—such a breakfast: salt pork, black Rio coffee and hard crackers. Well, such is a soldier's life, and we mustn't complain. The Zouaves are having even a harder time of it than we, for their rations have not yet arrived. Most of their officers seem to be gentlemen, but some of them are very cruel to their men. The Second Louisiana regiment came down a few hours since.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 101

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Diary of Colonel Jacob Ammen, March 31, 1862

General Nelson directs me to conduct the march so as to reach Savannah, Tenn., Monday, April 7, as we are not wanted there before that time. Marched 10 miles, passed Mount Pleasant, encamp by a large stream; hear of some provisions about 3 miles off, belonging to the Confederates; send a detachment, and get six wagon loads of salt pork, &c.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 10, Part 1 (Serial No. 10), p. 330

Saturday, July 8, 2017

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 31, 1863

The commissioners, appointed for the purpose, have agreed upon the following schedule of prices for the State of Virginia, under the recent impressment act of Congress; and if a large amount of supplies be furnished at these prices — which are fifty, sometimes one hundred per cent, lower than the rates private individuals are paying — it will be good proof that all patriotism is not yet extinct:

“Wheat, white, per bushel of 60 pounds, $4 50; flour, superfine, per barrel of 196 pounds, $22.50; corn, white, per bushel of 56 pounds, $4; unshelled corn, white, per bushel of 56 pounds, $3.95; corn-meal, per bushel of 50 pounds, $4.20; rye, per bushel of 56 pounds, $3.20; cleaned oats, per bushel of 32 pounds, $2; wheatbran, per bushel of 17 pounds, 50 cents; shorts, per bushel of 22 pounds, 70 cents; brown stuff, per bushel of 28 pounds, 90 cents; ship stuff, per bushel of 37 pounds, $1.40; bacon, hoground, per pound, $1; salt pork, per pound, $1; lard, per pound, $1; horses, first class, artillery, etc., average price per head, $350; wool, per pound, $3; peas, per bushel of 60 pounds, $4; beans, per bushel of 69 pounds, $4; potatoes, Irish, per bushel of 69 pounds, $4; potatoes, sweet, per bushel of 69 pounds, $5; onions, per bushel of 60 pounds, $5; dried peaches, peeled, per bushel of 38 pounds, $8; dried peaches, unpeeled, per bushel of 38 pounds, $4.50; dried apples, peeled, per bushel of 28 pounds, $3.”

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 337

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 12, 1863

Rested here in a piney woods until [today]. These woods reminded me of the hunting scenes I had enjoyed in Texas before the war. I noticed we had been passing over ground for the last two days that I had passed over two years before on my way home from Texas. The Rapides Bayou, and it is not a bayou, takes its rise here in a large spring, which is peculiar from the fact that its waters divide, and part flows north and empties into Red River, and the other part flows south forming the Rapides Bayou and empties into Grand Lake, thence into the Gulf of Mexico.

[The] Army made an about face early in the morning, and commenced to retrace its steps towards Alexandra, arriving at 4 p. m. This was a severe march, making only one halt in twenty miles, and a hot day at that. But it often happens that severe trials work out for us blessings instead of afflictions. Our severe march proved to be a case in point. My larder, or rather haversack, I knew was running low, and the question arose as to what I was to have for dinner. My entire stock on hand consisted of a piece of boiled salt pork, a few pieces of hard tack and some coffee. Salt junk was all gone. Salt pork I could not, and hard tack I would not eat, and what was to be done? After a little reflection I said, “I am resolved what to do. I will soak my hard tack in some hot water and soften it up a little, and fry some of the salt pork in my tin plate and then fry the soaked hard tack in the gravy.” Very good! Why had not I thought of that before? But after a long time noon came, and the army halted for dinner in a wood where there was a brook, and I proceeded to put my plans in operation. A soldier noticed something unusual going on and stood watching me. As soon as he saw what I was going to do he wheeled on his heel and walked rapidly away. My plan was successful, and the dish was quite, and I may say, very palateable at least to me at that time. But I had builded better than I knew. I gave it no farther thought, only that I should repeat the process upon future occasions. So I did not mention it to anybody, but in less than a week I was surprised to see everybody frying soaked hard tack and salt pork. The officers' servants had caught the idea, and it was a prominent dish on every officer's table, from the General down to the lowest private. I had been in the Army of the Gulf almost two years, and I had never seen it done before. I had taken two unpalatable articles of food, forming a part of the soldiers' rations, and put them together, making one wholesome, palatable dish. But nobody knows who did it to this day, I suppose on account of my inability to blow a horn. But the idea must have been a saving of thousands of dollars to the subsistance department, for the pork ration was almost always discarded by the soldiers and thrown away, while the hard tack was a byword and a hissing. The original packages were marked “B. C.” I never knew exactly what it meant, but the soldiers said it meant “Before Christ,'” and judging from the hard and stale condition of some of it, I was not prepared to say it did not mean just that.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 52-5

Monday, April 18, 2016

Lieutenant-Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes to Lucy Webb Hayes, March 22, 1862

Raleigh, Virginia, March 22, 1862.

Dearest: — Your letters, 13th and 15th, reached me yesterday. Also the gloves and [percussion] caps. They suit perfectly.

You don't know how I enjoy reading your accounts of the boys. Webb is six years old. Dear little fellow, how he will hate books. Don't be too hard with him. Birch's praying is really beautiful.

We are in the midst of one of the storms so frequent in these mountains. We call it the equinoctial and hope when it is over we shall have settled weather. It is snowing in great flakes which stick to the foliage of the pine and other evergreen trees on the hills, giving the scene in front of the window near me a strangely wintry appearance.

To kill time, I have been reading “Lucile” again, and you may know I think of you constantly and oh, so lovingly as I read. When I read it first we were on the steamer in the St. Lawrence River below Quebec. What a happy trip that was! It increased my affection for you almost as much as my late visit home. Well, well, you know all this. You know “I love you so much.”

We are all feeling very hopeful. We expect to move soon and rapidly, merely because Fremont is commander. I do not see but this war must be soon decided. McClellan seems determined, and I think he is able to force the retreating Manassas army to a battle or to an equally disastrous retreat. A victory there ends the contest. I think we shall be months, perhaps even years, getting all the small parties reduced, but the Rebellion as a great peril menacing the Union will be ended.

General Beckley, whose sword-belt Webby wears, came in and surrendered to me a few days ago. Mrs. Beckley brought me his note. She is a lady of good qualities. Of course, there were tears, etc., etc., which I was glad to relieve. The old general is an educated military gentleman of the old Virginia ways — weak, well-intentioned, and gentlemanly; reminds one of the characters about Chillicothe, from Virginia — probably of less strength of character than most of them. A citizen here described him to Dr. McCurdy as “light of talent but well educated.”

Gray, “the blind soldier” you saw at Camp Chase, is, I notice, on duty and apparently perfectly well. Gray, the orderly, you saw drunk is in good condition again, professing contrition, etc. McKinley is bright and clean, looking his best. Inquires if you see his wife.

So, you go to Fremont. You will once in a while see our men there, too. Some five or six Twenty-third men belong in that region.

You ought to see what a snow-storm is blowing. Whew! I had a tent put up a few days ago for an office. Before I got it occupied the storm came on and now it is split in twain.

Our regiment was never so fine-looking as now. It is fun to see them. No deaths, I believe, for two months and no sickness worth mentioning. Chiefly engaged hunting bushwhackers. Our living is hard, the grub I mean, and likely not to improve. Salt pork and crackers. The armies have swept off all fresh meats and vegetables. A few eggs once in a great while. Love to Grandma and all the boys.

Affectionately, as ever,
R.
Mrs. Hayes.

SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 214-6

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Major Wilder Dwight: September 2, 1861

camp Near Darnestown, Monday, September 2, 1861,
Supply Train Camp.

I have got a chance at pen and paper in the Commissary's office, and improve the chance for a letter. I am here in charge of two companies guarding our Division Supply Train, but shall be relieved to-day. The duty is a tedious one. The event of yesterday was the arrival of the coffee-mills. Colonel Gordon reports that the men are in ecstasies with them. I am only a witness by his report, for I was ordered off on this duty just as the coffee-mills arrived. I know how badly they were needed, and I hear how admirably they work. Since our arrival here at this new camp we have undergone the invariable inconveniences attending the moving of a division, and for the past two days my mind and time have been absorbed with the problem of how to overcome them. Night before last, having accumulated the evidence from reports of captains, and from our own quartermaster, about the want of tea, hard bread, salt pork, &c., I went up to General Banks's head-quarters, and had a long talk with him, urging the remedies which have occurred to me. The General promises to change all this, and to accomplish the regular and constant issue of the ration to the soldier in the form and at the moment required by law. I was so much struck with the difference between our condition and that of the grand army about Washington, that I have been the more exercised since my return. One consolation I have, that we are learning lessons and acquiring habits which will have to be learned, perhaps, under less favorable circumstances by others; and I have hopes that something may be done to make feeding easier. We have had a grand reduction of baggage going on, in order to get us into easier moving train. I am persuaded that the true equipment for the soldier is the combination tent and knapsack, which enables him to carry his shelter on his back, and which dispenses with more than one half of the wagons of a regiment. By that arrangement every four men would carry their tent. It is put up in a moment, and they are never separated from it. In the future, if the war lasts, I hope to get our regiment equipped with it. The autumn campaign, however, must be made in our present trim, and we must prepare, as best we can, to make it. Where are the enemy? In our isolated position we hear nothing of them. I confess that this quietness puzzles me. If they only knew their opportunities, what fine fun they might have had.

My head-quarters in my present guard duty are on a pine hill, under a bower built of pine-boughs. We had a good camp-fire last night, and I enjoyed it very much. This morning I visited all my pickets and outposts very early, and had a fine ride through the woods. I am writing in the midst of a Babel of mule-teams, and am surrounded by huge piles of barrels of flour and hard bread, boxes of soap, bags of oats and corn, and other stores. The wagons are packed in two fields, and the work of distribution is going on all the time. The portable forges are just back of the tent where I write, and a dozen busy blacksmiths are ringing their anvils. It is a lively scene. I do not know that there is anything of narrative or prophecy that I can send you entertaining. I hope father will send the coffee-roaster, and have it as portable as the required result will allow. It will complete my effort in that direction. I have been some time without a letter, because our mail has not yet found us out in our new position. I hope it will do so tomorrow. I must get on my horse and go about to visit my guard. We sent our pay-rolls to Washington to-day, which is prompt work. Our pay will come again next week. The men of our regiment are now contented and efficient, illustrating my statement, that the only trouble was the want of pay. All those questions of enlistment, &c., have died out. They never had any real hold on the men, but were a form of grumbling. The change was abrupt and sudden. The paymaster came like a sunbeam. Good by. Love to all.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 90-2

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Diary of Corporal Charles H. Lynch: June 29, 1864

Up very early this morning and on the march. A hot, muggy morn. After being under way about two hours, we could hear in the distance the popping of guns. Sounded like skirmishing firing. We thought there was music ahead for us. We kept pushing on. After a time the road rounded a curve on the mountains, where we could see ahead for a short distance. We could see the men leave the road and some running back. As we came near the point, saw that it was a cliff, a great overhanging rock. We learned that it was known as the Hawk's Nest, giving a grand view of the New River, the mountains and valleys. We were allowed a look and permission to shoot, and listen to the wonderful echo our old muskets made. The view was something grand and awful. Shall never forget that scene. We learned there was a legend connected with its history. Indian lovers jumped from the cliff because the father, a chief, would not let his daughter marry the man of her choice. The story was told us by people living near.

After a time we began to descend the mountains, which I learned were the Gauley Mountains. At the foot of the mountains we came to a halt at the Gauley River, the bridge having been destroyed at the breaking out of the war, when General Rosencrans drove the rebel General, Robert E. Lee, out of West Virginia. We went up the river a short distance, where we managed to cross. The New River and the Gauley meet at this point and form the Great Kanawah River. A short distance from the Gauley River, on the bank of the Kanawah River, an ideal spot, camp was located. At this point rations had been stored for Hunter's hungry army. Good bacon, salt beef, salt pork, rice, beans, coffee, sugar, hardtack. Good water. Fine place for bathing. The Kanawah River was as clear as crystal. Plenty to eat, a chance to bathe, wash our clothes, rest, made a great improvement in our condition in a very short time. This is a very interesting point here, as we learn its history from the old residents. They seem pleased to meet us and give us all the particulars about the location. Great lofty mountains on each side of the rivers. More inhabitants here than we have seen in any place for a long time.

SOURCE: Charles H. Lynch, The Civil War Diary, 1862-1865, of Charles H. Lynch 18th Conn. Vol's, p. 88-9

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Diary of Josiah M. Favill: Tuesday, April 23, 1861

I LEFT home at 7 A. M., satchel in hand, crossed the ferry, and soon arrived at the armory. It was already filled with men of the regiment receiving their arms and equipments. We were furnished with a Springfield musket, bayonet, cartridge-box, cap-pouch, haversack, and blanket. Our new uniform were not ready, and so the greater part of the regiment appeared in every-day clothes and hats. Every company had a few regularly equipped men, however, so that we had some little military appearance. The greatest difficulty was an absence of knapsacks, which necessitated carrying valises, a very awkward arrangement, giving us more the appearance of a lot of emigrants than a regiment of soldiers.

About two hours after I joined every man had been furnished with all there was for him, and we were standing for the first time shoulder to shoulder in the ranks. The roll was called, and all present mustered into the state's service. Immediately afterwards we marched downstairs into Bond Street, wheeled into column by platoons, and marched into and then down Broadway to Cortlandt Street, thence to pier 4, North River, where we embarked on board the steamship R. R. Cuyler.

On reaching the street from our armory we found ourselves almost unable to move on account of the enormous crowd, a magnificent crowd too, overflowing with enthusiastic loyalty and good nature, filling the air with endless cheers and patriotic songs; there were many, too, who shed tears, — mothers, wives, sweethearts, sisters, who were seemingly alone fearful of results. I felt very sorry for many of them. It is easy for us, amidst constant excitement and ever-varying circumstances, to keep our spirits up, but to these poor women at home, who can only wait, it must be very trying.

As the head of the column turned down Broadway it was confronted by a dense mass of humanity, filling the street from side to side. The doors, windows, and roofs of every building on Broadway and those adjoining, commanding a view of the line of march, were jammed with crowds of people waving handkerchiefs and flags, and cheering with all their might and main. At the corners of some of the streets were steam fire-engines tooting their whistles, and everywhere myriads of starry banners fluttering in the breeze. The police, gradually and with much difficulty, forced a passage through this immense crowd, and we followed marching to the music of our splendid band, amid the yells and cheers of the ever-increasing multitudes. They not only cheered and sang and shook hands and hugged us, but filled us up with every imaginable thing; as we were obliged to halt every few minutes, they closed in amongst us and delayed our progress sadly. We were nearly three hours in marching from Astor Place to Cortlandt Street, and on account of our baggage, very much fatigued. Individually, I got along very well, wearing a uniform frock coat, and carrying all that I had wrapped in a rubber blanket strapped to my back. Most of the men, however, carried valises in their hands. At last we reached the dock and marched directly on board the ship. She had capacity for about three hundred souls; we mustered eleven hundred in all ,and hardly managed to find standing room. However, we got on board, and very shortly afterwards the vessel's lines were cast off, the whistle blew, and the good ship left her dock and headed down the stream amid the most tremendous cheering, yelling, and screeching one can possibly imagine.

The docks and vessels in the vicinity were crowded with people, many of whom amused themselves bombarding the ship with oranges; myriads of handkerchiefs and small flags and lusty arms waved us an affectionate good-bye, and amidst this glorious and magnificent send-off, we steamed away and were soon well down the lower bay, our destination unknown, except that we were to meet the enemies of our country. We go forward in a great cause, confident of victory, delighted with the surroundings, and happy in the knowledge that the whole city we leave behind us look upon us as their representatives, and will diligently look after our necessities while we look after the enemy.

On Tuesday morning we came to an anchor, and were told the ship was off the Naval Academy at Annapolis, on the Chesapeake Bay. Our experience the past two days has been most unpleasant. The ship is outrageously crowded from deck to keelson; towards evening of the first day out the wind began to blow, increasing until midnight, when it blew a gale and rain fell in torrents. Those of us who were quartered on deck got promptly soaked through, and as a rule were horribly seasick, with no conveniences, and packed literally like sardines in a box; the state of affairs may readily be imagined by one who has been to sea, but it is difficult to describe. Seasickness is a dreadful leveler of rank and destroyer of the ordinary amenities of life; every one is indifferent to the wants of others and utterly without sympathy. There were a few facetious fellows, too gross to feel the effects of the rolling of the ship themselves, who took a fiendish delight in dangling pieces of fat pork from the end of a string in the faces of those less gross, and this little pleasantry usually succeeded in producing the desired effect. There were many of us who wished more than once that we had never been born.

At 5 P. M. the first day out we fell in for dinner, struggled up to the galley, and there received a chunk of salt pork and large slice of bread, which we ate standing, bread in one hand, meat in the other. My piece of meat had a large bone in it, and smelt so badly that I threw it overboard to the fishes, and ate the bread alone. As the wind was freshening every minute, and the ship beginning to roll suspiciously, my appetite was not of the best, and later on entirely disappeared. Monday the wind went down and it stopped raining, but we did not get dried out, and as we had no shelter, were much the worse for want of sleep. There is not much romance about this, certainly, but we are beginning to get experience.

This morning, Tuesday, we found ourselves in company with five other vessels, all packed with troops similar to our own, convoyed by a small cutter called the Harriet Lane, a handsome craft carrying a couple of guns, and regular man-of-war crew. She is ready for action and looks quite warlike. About nine o'clock we anchored, rations were issued, including hot coffee, the band shook themselves together and played some stirring airs, and as the sun came out just about this time, we soon forgot our little troubles and became thoroughly interested in the magnificent view around us. The bay was smooth as glass, all the ships were gay with bunting, and crowds of armed men were mustering on every deck, while their bands were playing, sending their martial strains far over the silvery surface of the placid waters. Surely this is a small but beautiful picture of glorious war that we have dreamed of so much. Some time afterwards a tug boat came puffing along, and reported to the officer commanding the Lane that the rebels were reported in force ashore, intending to dispute our landing. In consequence the Lane steamed in towards shore, guns shotted and run out; when she got pretty close she lowered boats, armed with howitzers and marines, and sent them in to land and reconnoiter the town. We knew Maryland was a questionable state, being about evenly divided in its sympathies, and, consequently, were greatly interested in the outcome of the present affair. If they proved friendly, our chances would be greatly improved; on the contrary, if they opposed our landing, the capital might be in serious danger. After a good deal of delay and manoeuvering, the boat's crews landed, finding nobody to oppose them. This was signaled to the Lane, when our ship was immediately ordered to weigh anchor, go in and disembark the regiment. We got aground, and were transferred to the steamer Boston, and then landed at the Naval Academy docks. The Academy we found deserted, the students scattered, and only a few men in charge. We stacked arms, broke ranks, and received rations, coffee, meat (the same old salt pork), and bread, but we did not confine ourselves to this diet; the grounds swarmed with negroes, men and women, who had for sale, in abundance, eggs, pies, butter, and milk; we soon bought them out, and for the first time since leaving home fared sumptuously. We appreciated it immensely, not yet being used to hard living and roughing it, and miss our regular meals prodigiously.

There were no white persons in the camp, nor any white men in town; all had disappeared, the negroes say, to join the rebel army. We remained overnight for want of transportation for the quartermaster's department, and were quartered in some of the many class-rooms. We heard various rumors about the doings of the rebels in this neighborhood, and since dark have seen many blue lights and rockets in the air, no doubt signals to warn their friends of our arrival; we conclude rail traffic between here and Washington is destroyed, from the reports of the negroes, and that we shall have to march, instead of going by train, as was expected; and possibly have to fight, if, as is reported, some organized rebel troops are in the neighborhood. Marching in the condition we are in, loaded down with satchels, bundles, etc., is going to be very tiresome. It is nearly thirty miles to the junction, the place we must reach before we can go by rail.

SOURCE: Josiah Marshall Favill, The Diary of a Young Officer, p. 15-9