Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Thursday, October 16, 1862

5 a. m. The cars shrink, or the men swell, for certainly everybody had less room last night than before.

Cross and crabbed, sore in every joint, and mad at everything and everybody, we crawled out of our beds (?) and shook ourselves together. In spite of strict orders to the contrary, some fresh pork and some poultry found its way past the guards during the night. The owners needn't come looking for it, they would find only bristles and feathers if they did. I suppose the partaker is as bad as the thief, but I didn't feel guilty at all for accepting a slice of pork. I soon found a canteen with no owner, melted it apart over a fire and fried my pork and divided with my chums. There was no question about its being fresh, for we had no salt to make it otherwise. About 9 o'clock we tumbled into the cars and with no more adventures reached Camp Millington late in the afternoon. Can any one imagine our surprise and our great delight at finding the 150th N. Y. in camp right across the road from our camp? In a twinkling we were together. Discipline went to the winds. The officers tried to make a show of authority, but might as well have ordered the wind not to blow. All being from the same neighborhood, we were one great happy family, reunited after a long separation. I doubt if there is a man in either regiment who has not a friend, if not a brother, in the other. They have passed through about the same experiences in the recruiting camp and passed over the same route to this place. They knew the same people we knew and could give us late information about them. My own brother, John Van Alstyne, the same John who scolded me for enlisting, who called me a "fool" and lots of other bad names, had made the same sort of a fool of himself and was here with Uncle Sam's uniform on. Dozens of others I knew almost as well, and the same was the case all through, officers and men alike. As soon as the first round of handshaking was over and our volleys of questions about home and home people were answered, we took our turn at answering as to where we had been and what we had done, and how we liked it, etc., etc. Then we couldn't help standing up a little straighter, and showing as best we could the superiority of old bronzed soldiers like us over raw recruits like them. We had just returned from a sally against the enemy. The enemy had run off and given us no chance to show what we might have done, but that was no fault of ours. But soon the pangs of hunger, which had been forgotten for the time, came back, and as soon as the 150th took in the situation, over the fences and into their deserted camp they went, and soon everything eatable that their camp contained was transferred to ours, and soon afterwards to our stomachs. And how much good it did them to see us eat! They bought out the sutler and fed us until we could eat no more. And then we smoked and talked and chatted until late into the night. Surely I have never seen so much supreme satisfaction crammed into so small a space of time. But we finally separated and have quieted down, and now that I have written up my diary I will crawl in with my snoring comrades.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 52-4

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 27, 1862

Thanksgiving was a great day in the barracks and a fine day outside, except for those who are on guard. We will recollect them all day, having great pity, but unable to relieve them.

To-day has been talked about and worked up for a week. Turkeys and the fixings have been at a premium, but they say our dinner is safe. The day opened splendidly; just cold enough to induce the boys to play at foot and base ball; some of the officers taking hold and seemingly enjoying the sport.

We had dinner at one P.M. The table, extended nearly the length of the barracks, was covered with our rubber blankets, white side uppermost, looking quite home-like. Our plates and dippers were scoured till we could see our faces in them, and how we hated to rub them up! for, according to tradition, the blacker the dipper and the more dents it had, the longer and harder the service. But it had to be, and was done, and we had to acknowledge "How well it looks!" When we were seated, about a man to every ten was detailed as carver; and a few of us who had engineered to get near the platters were caught and had to cut up and serve. We tried in vain to save a nice little piece or two for ourselves; each time we did it some one would reach for it. At last we cut the birds into quarters and passed them indiscriminately. After the meats we had genuine plum-pudding, also nuts, raisins, &c. After the nuts and raisins were on a few made remarks, but the climax was capped by our Lieut. Cumston, who, after telling us not to eat and drink too much, said, "There is a man in camp from Boston, getting statistics; among others, wishes to find out how many of 'E' smoke." The lieutenant said it would be easier counting to ask the question, "How many did not smoke." Several jumped up proud to be counted; among them a few who did occasionally take a whiff. The joke was soon sprung on them, for when they were well on their feet, Lieut. Cumston remarked that he had a few cigars, not quite a box, and hoped they would go round, but those who did not smoke were not to take any. We had the cigars and the laugh on those who wished to figure in the statistics. It was a big dinner, and we did it justice, and gave the cooks credit for it.

In the evening Company D and ourselves gave a musical and literary entertainment. Our barrack was full, and the audience often applauded the amateurs. The programme was as follows:—

PART I.
Song	“Happy are we to-night boys”
Declamation	“England’s interference”	F. S. Wheeler (Co. D)
Song	“Oft in the Stilly Night”
Declamation	“The Dying Alchemist”	S. G. Rawson (Co. E)
Readings	“Selections”	J. W. Cartwright (Co. E)
Song	“Viva L’America”
Declamation	“Spartacus to the Gladiators”	J. Waterman (Co. D)
Declamation	“The Beauties of the Law”	H. T. Reed (Co. E)
“Contrabands Visit”		Myers and Bryant (Co. E)
Song	“Gideon’s Band”
INTERMISSION
	PART II.
Song	“Rock me to sleep, mother”
Declamation	“Garabaldi’s Entree to Naples”	G. H. Vanvorhis (Co. E)
Song	“There’s music in the air”
Imitation of Celebrated Actors		H. T. Reed (Co. E)
Declamation	“Rienza’s Address to the Romans”	N. R. Twitchell (Co. E)
Old Folks Concert		Father Kemp
Ending with “Home Sweet Home,” by the audience

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. 21-2

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 14, 1862

ARRIVAL HOME AGAIN.

By the loud cheering and blowing off of steam in the direction of New Berne, we knew the boys had arrived. The regiment reached camp about noon, and a dirtier, more used-up set of men we never saw. Our friends at home would hardly recognize us as the same party who three short weeks before were parading at Readville. But we are now "vets," of one fight "Rawle's Mill," which we are bound to carry, and as we cannot get it on our flag, the smokers have engraved it on their pipes.

We occupied our barracks to-day. They are new and roomy, but built of green lumber, consequently will soon be well ventilated. The bunks are better and more commodious than those at Readville. Three double ones in each tier; the cook-room in the centre, with fireplace on one side and room for the sergeants opposite.

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. 20

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, October 17, 1862

We have had another march, this time about ten miles, through Dedham and towards Boston; the nearest we came to the city was West Roxbury. Probably we will not see much more of Boston, for the rumors are getting thicker and more substantial; but on this march, the boys who went, saw enough to make them wish to keep on to the city.

Our company is under great obligations to the following Boston gentlemen for the sum of three hundred dollars, with which to buy the patent knapsack: J. M. Beebe & Co., F. Skinner & Co., Alex. Beal, C. W. Cartwright, W. P. Sargent, Read, Gardner & Co., Wilkinson, Stetson & Co., Horatio Harris, J. R. Tibbets, E. & F. King & Co., G. Rogers, and J. C. Converse & Co.; and it is understood measures are being taken to furnish the other companies, so we will be equipped alike. The only trouble being can they be finished in time. This week which looks like the last one to be passed here, has been dismal enough, it has rained a good part of the time, and to crown all, we can't smoke in the barracks. Corporals or no corporals, it is hard work to keep us down. We had a fair time, and many a smoke under cover.

Some one has seen a box of one of the staff officers, marked New Berne, so unless it was a blind, that is our destination, the boys don't care much where, but only to get started. The last few days have finished the business; it is muddy, damp, and growing colder gradually, and we want to get away. Our last furloughs are gone, and the sooner we go the better.

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. 11

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Tuesday, October 7, 1862

This morning we again move early. We cross the Hatchie to-day, entering the great Mississippi pineries. We find it a barren wilderness. All day we keep sending prisoners to the rear. Nothing but a wreck is seen on the war path. The road is lined with old, broken wagons, tents, cooking utensils and blown up caissons. The exhausted rebels fall by the way, hundreds are being picked up and are found in a pitiful condition, being half starved; but none are found who fell in love with Corinth, and by the way they don't like to talk about this subject, or at least they don't seem inclined to introduce it. About dark we go into camp the boys make a raid upon a flock of sheep close by, and the Seventh have mutton chops for supper. It is over now and they are cheerful, and many a soldier sits round the camp fires enjoying hugely his pipe and “legal tender.” We know by experience that it is an earthly heaven for a soldier and his comrade to sit by the camp fire's glimmering embers, and while from each other's pipe the spiral festoons are forming in air to talk of home and the halcyon days that have flown. And then, going to sleep, dream of glory, and wreaths, telling of fame that will not vanish, but wreaths that are as fadeless as the stars in the canopy above.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 111-2

Concerning The President Personally.

Some one was smoking in the presence of the President and complimented him on having new vices, neither drinking nor smoking.  “That is a doubtful compliment,” answered the President; “I recollect once being outside a stage in Illinois and a man sitting by me offered me a segar.  I told him I had no vices.  He said nothing, smoked for some time, and then grunted out, “It’s my experience that folks who have no vices have plagued few virtues.”

The President is rather fain of his height, but one day a young man called on him who was certainly three inches taller than the former; he was like the mathematical definition of the straight line—length without breadth.  “Really,” said Mr. Lincoln, “I must look up to you, if you ever get in a deep place you ought to be able to wade out.”  That reminds us of the story told of Mr. Lincoln somewhere when a crowd called him out.  He came out with his wife on the balcony (who is somewhat below medium height) and made the following “brief remarks:”—“Here I am and here is Mrs. Lincoln.  That’s the long and short of it.”

SOURCE: New York Daily Herald, New York, New York, Friday, February 19, 1864, p. 5, and copied from the New York Evening Post, New York, New York, Wednesday, February 17, 1864.

Lieutenant-Colonel William T. Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, July 10, 1863

Headquarters Delaware Department,

Wilmington, Del., July 10th, 1863.

My dear Mother:

I know I ought to be thankful in my present pleasant position, but somehow or other I was not born to enjoy sinecures. Doing nothing makes me very fretful. I had a capital good time while on Maryland Heights, feeling well repaid for my trip thither, but after leaving, I have been bored to death with the ennui of city soldiering. To be sure we are feted, and take our places among the Princes of Delaware, still, my dear mother, it was not for this I left home, and I cannot, with all the idle time on my hands, avoid regretting the pleasant summer plans we had arranged in old Conn. It is six years since I have strolled about the streets of Norwich the whole summer long. Norwich was never more beautiful than now. So I suppose I feel disappointed at being so peacefully employed at the seat of war. Still here we are, General and Staff — persons of distinction — Ahem! I am on hand in case I am called for. I don't owe my position to Gov. Buckingham, and I expect to get home to my studies in the fall. Good things, all of them! Besides this, I am raising whiskers. I am reading Kinglake's “Crimea.” I have given up smoking. Think of that! You see, at first, when I found there was little to do, I smoked vigorously to pass away time. But when the cigar was smoked, there was an end to the amusement, so I then determined to break off smoking altogether, and, to make it exciting, I kept a handful of cigars in my pocket so that the temptation might be frequently incurred. Whenever I longed for a fragrant Havana, I would take one in fingers, and then sitting back in my chair, reason philosophically on the pernicious effects of tobacco. On reaching the point of conviction, I would return it to my pocket unlighted. This, you see, has afforded me a very excellent pastime.

Occasionally Bishop Lee's benignant face shines upon us. Everyone worships the Bishop here, and how he deserves it, you know well.

Am very sorry for Capt. Nichols. The opposition is a mistake. However I should as soon think of breaking my heart for a Bedlamite Hag, as for one who rejected me on the grounds of prudence. So perhaps Nichols is not so unlucky as he thinks himself. Now that I have practically abandoned military life, I have a fancy Gov. Buckingham made a mistake in persistently ignoring my claims to promotion. I fancy I would have done him more credit than some of his appointments. This may be vanity.

Written in haste with

affectionate intent,

W. T. Lusk.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 285-7

Captain William Thompson Lusk to his sister, Lillie, December 31, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

Dec. 31st, 1862.

My dear Sister Lillie:

I have just received your letter, and am much troubled to hear that mother has been ill. As you were intending to write me on New Year's eve, I have concluded to write you in turn, knowing it to be all one, whether I write you or mother. I am specially disposed to write to-night as I feel very good-natured. I am not troubled for the moment, either with the goadings of disappointed ambition, the peculiarities of Scotchmen, the inclemency of the weather, or even with “the unfortunate Abraham Lincoln.” In a word, I am determined to be good-humored in bidding farewell to the old year, notwithstanding it is responsible (either it, or the aforesaid Abraham) for so many disasters. If all the hopes so fondly entertained at the beginning of the year have not been realized, we know at least that Providence doeth all things well, if not exactly as man would have it.

MARY HARTWELL CHITTENDEN
Whom W. T. Lusk married May 4, 1864

The Highlanders mean to celebrate the New Year, as the accompanying card will show. Turkeys, hams, tongues, bread and butter and a bowl of punch will be furnished to visitors, and we hope they may be many. But pleasantest of all, Hall is coming to visit me, bringing with him a Dr. Hubbard of his regiment — an Uncle of pretty little Mary Chittenden. If we don't have a good time, then I'll hang up my sword on a willow tree, but you will have to wait until the second inst. for particulars. I had a good time Christmas too, and only regret you should have spent it so quietly. You see I raised a pair of ducks and rode up with them tied to my saddle to Stafford C. H. (ten miles), found Hall, eat the ducks (with Hall's assistance), gossiped, and made very merry, though I had so recently written home representing myself so very miserable. Yesterday I made Major Crosby of the 21st C. V. a visit, and found that I used to go to school with him to old Peltis up-town. We had a right good time of it. His heart so warmed toward me finally, that he brought out a loaf of cake made by his wife's fair fingers—good cake it was too. Speaking of cake reminds me that the Chaplain, my tent companion, has just received a cake from his sweetheart. Oh these sweethearts! Chaplain receives every mail pretty pink notes which he likes to be joked about. He likes the cake too.

Hall thinks I have grown dreadfully unrefined. I smoke a pipe and eat onions. Horrible, isn't it? Would you really like your brother at home, who can do such dreadful things? I can't come. I've tried, but Rhadamanthus, that is Old Bull Sumner, is adamant, and bids me wait until I catch swamp fever or lose a leg, when I will be able to return with flying colors. I tried in fact to take the Bull by the horns, and that's what I got for my pains. Dear me, I'm growing older every day, so you can imagine how old I shall be when I get home.

Well, sister Lillie, I would try and be sentimental in view of New Year's Eve, but that could hardly be looked for in a man that eats onions. But may many blessings rest on both my sisters, my mother and the little ones that are dear to us all. True love between you and Tom, between Hunt and Mary, deepening not weakening at each successive return of the New Year.

Had I my six months' pay, and twenty days to spend at home, how I would make things fly around.

Again love to mother, Uncle Phelps, Aunt Maria, Nellie, Tom, friends individually, collectively, and in bulk.

Affec'y, your brother,

Will.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 261-3

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, December 7, 1862

Camp Near Falmouth, Va.

December 7th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

We are still lying quietly in camp — no signs of a move yet, but general suffering for want of clothes, shoes in especial. The miserable article furnished by the Government to protect the feet of our soldiers seldom lasts more than three or four weeks, so it is easy to understand the constant cry of “no shoes” which is so often pleaded for the dilatoriness of the Army. I am, happily, well provided now, and can assure those of my friends that contributed to the box Capt. brought me, that the box contained a world of comfort for which I heartily thank them. I think I have acknowledged the safe receipt of the box and its contents already, but a letter from Lilly says not. I will write Uncle Phelps that it came all right. I have had a rare treat to-day. Indeed I feel as though I had devoured a Thanksgiving Turkey. At least I have the satisfied feeling of one that has dined well. I did not dine on Peacock's brains either, but — I write it gratefully — I dined on a dish of potatoes. They were cut thin, fried crisp, and tasted royally. You will understand my innocent enthusiasm, when I say that for nearly six weeks previous, I had not tasted a vegetable of any kind. There was nothing but fresh beef and hard crackers to be had all that time, varied sometimes by beef without any crackers, and then again by crackers without any beef. And here were fried potatoes! No stingy heap, but a splendid pile! There was more than a “right smart” of potatoes as the people would say about here. Excuse me, if warming with my theme I grow diffuse. The Chaplain and I mess together. The Chaplain said grace, and then we both commenced the attack. There were no words spoken. We both silently applied ourselves to the pleasant task of destruction. By-and-by there was only one piece left. We divided it. Then sighing, we turned to the fire, and lighted our pipes, smoking thoughtfully. At length I broke the silence. “Chaplain,” said I. “What?” says Chaplain. “Chaplain, they needed SALT!” I said energetically. Chap puffed out a stream of smoke approvingly, and then we both relapsed again into silence.

I see a good deal of Capt. Stevens now, who says were his father only living I would have little difficulty in getting pushed ahead. He, poor fellow, feels himself very much neglected after the very splendid service he has rendered. It is exceedingly consoling, in reading the late lists of promotions made by the War Department, to see how very large a proportion has fallen to the share of young officers whose time has been spent at Fortress Monroe, Baltimore, or anywhere where there has been no fighting done. Perhaps our time may come one of these days, but I trust I may have better luck in the medical profession than at soldiering. However I suppose when I get old, it will be a proud memory to have fought honorably at Antietam and South Mountain, in any capacity. I feel the matter more now, for I have been in the service so long, and so long in the same place, that I am fairly ashamed to visit old friends, all of whom hold comparatively high rank. I do not see why before the first of January though, I should not be the Lt.-Col. of the 79th Regiment. In trying to be Major, I attempted to be frank and honorable, and lost. Now I shall try to act honorably, but mean to try and win.

I feel sad enough about Hannah. You know what inseparable playmates we were when children. God help her safely, whatsoever his will may be.

Love and kisses for all but gentlemen friends.

Affec'y.,

William.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 240-2

Diary of William Howard Russell: June 24, 1861

Next morning, just at dawn, I woke up and got out on the platform of the carriage, which is the favorite resort of smokers and their antithetics, those who love pure fresh air, notwithstanding the printed caution, “It is dangerous to stand on the platform;” and under the eye of early morn saw spread around a flat sealike expanse, not yet warmed into color and life by the sun. The line was no longer guarded from daring Secessionists by soldiers' outposts, and small camps had disappeared. The train sped through the centre of the great verdant circle as a ship through the sea, leaving the rigid iron wake behind it tapering to a point at the horizon and as the light spread over it, the surface of the crisping corn waved in broad undulations beneath the breeze from east to west. This is the prairie indeed. Hereabouts it is covered with the finest crops, some already cut and stacked. Looking around one could see church spires rising in the distance from the white patches of houses, and by degrees the tracks across the fertile waste became apparent, and then carts and horses were seen toiling through the rich soil.

A large species of partridge or grouse appeared very abundant, and rose in flocks from the long grass at the side of the rail or from the rich carpet of flowers on the margin of the corn-fields. They sat on the fence almost unmoved by the rushing engine, and literally swarmed along the line. These are called “prairie chickens” by the people, and afford excellent sport. Another bird about the size of a thrush, with a yellow breast and a harsh cry, I learned was “the sky-lark;” and apropos of the unmusical creature, I was very briskly attacked by a young lady patriot for finding fault with the sharp noise it made. “Oh, my! And you not to know that your Shelley loved it above all things! Didn't he write some verses — quite beautiful, too, they are — to the sky-lark?” And so “the Britisher was dried up,” as I read in a paper afterwards of a similar occurrence.

At the little stations which occur at every few miles — there are some forty of them, at each of which the train stops, in 365 miles between Cairo and Chicago — the Union flag floated in the air; but we had left all the circumstance of this inglorious war behind us, and the train rattled boldly over the bridges across the rare streams, no longer in danger from Secession hatchets. The swamp had given place to the cornfield. No black faces were turned up from the mowing and free white labor was at work, and the type of the laborers was German and Irish.

The Yorkshireman expatiated on the fertility of the land, and on the advantages it held out to the emigrant. But I observed all the lots by the side of the rail, and apparently as far as the eye could reach, were occupied. “Some of the very best land lies beyond on each side,” said he. “Out over there in the fat places is where we put our Englishmen.” By digging deep enough good water is always to be had, and coal can be carried from the rail, where it costs only 7s. or 8s. a ton. Wood there is little or none in the prairies, and it was rarely indeed a clump of trees could be, detected, or anything higher than some scrub brushwood. Those little communities which we passed were but the growth of a few years, and as we approached the northern portion of the line we could see, as it were, the village swelling into the town, and the town spreading out to the dimensions of the city. “I dare say, Major,” says one of the passengers, “this gentleman never saw anything like these cities before. I’m told they've nothing like them in Europe?” “Bless you,” rejoined the Major, with a wink, “just leaving out London, Edinbro’, Paris, and Manchester, there's nothing on earth to ekal them.” My friend, who is a shrewd fellow, by way of explanation of his military title, says, “I was a major once, a major in the Queen's Bays, but they would put troop-sergeant before it them days.” Like many Englishmen he complains that the jealousy of native-born Americans effectually bars the way to political position of any naturalized citizen, and all the places are kept by the natives.

The scene now began to change gradually as we approached Chicago, the prairie subsided into swampy land, and thick belts of trees fringed the horizon; on our right glimpses of the sea could be caught through openings in the wood — the inland sea on which stands the Queen of the Lakes. Michigan looks broad and blue as the Mediterranean. Large farmhouses stud the country, and houses which must be the retreat of merchants and citizens of means; and when the train, leaving the land altogether, dashes out on a pier and causeway built along the borders of the lake, we see lines of noble houses, a fine boulevard, a forest of masts, huge isolated piles of masonry, the famed grain elevators by which so many have been hoisted to fortune, churches and public edifices, and the apparatus of a great city; and just at nine o'clock the train gives its last steam shout and comes to a standstill in the spacious station of the Central Illinois Company, and in half-an-hour more I am in comfortable quarters at the Richmond House, where I find letters waiting for me, by which it appears that the necessity for my being in Washington in all haste, no longer exists. The wary General who commands the army is aware that the advance to Richmond, for which so many journals are clamoring, would be attended with serious risk at present, and the politicians must be content to wait a little longer.

SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and South, Vol. 1, p. 351-2

Captain William Thompson Lusk to Elizabeth Adams Lusk, September 28, 1862

Mouth Of Antietam Creek,

79th Regiment,

Sept. 28th, 1862.

My dear Mother:

I have been sitting smoking my pipe by moonlight, pleasantly chatting with my old friend Dr. McDonald, till remembering my anxious mother, I have returned to say cheering words to that most estimable and precious lady. At last your kind pains have been rewarded. A mail-bag has arrived from Washington, and made me the happy possessor of nine letters. What a treasure! Eight from you, and one full of kindness from dear Lilly who promises moreover to write me more, though I should prove a negligent correspondent myself. Tell her to do so by all means. Such proofs of love are very delightful. I wrote you last, that I was entertaining some idea of joining McDonald as his Asst. Surgeon. We had the thing all nicely arranged — had consulted and received the approval of the Medical Director, when a young man presents himself duly commissioned for the position by the Governor of New-York. My lucky star is not in the ascendant.

Another change has taken place in my affairs. A new brigade has been formed, and the 79th Highlanders transferred to it. I was obliged to follow with my Regiment, and consequently resigned the position of A. A. A. G. to the old Brigade. The same position was offered me in the New Brigade, but, not liking the Brigadier, I declined the honor. So now I am back again, a simple Captain in the 79th, sole commander in chief of a company numbering some 20 effective men. So much for “Glory.” It may perhaps console you that Col. Christ, who had charge of five Regiments in the late battles, writes in his reports: “While I have reason to commend in general the conduct of the officers of my command, my special thanks are due to Capt. Lusk for the valuable services he rendered me.” I quote it (as nearly as I can remember) because in the mass of reports which are sent in, few, if any, will ever come to light again.

I am glad you proposed to visit Maj. Elliott in New London. He is a warm and true friend of mine. I wrote Horace to-day quite a long letter. Hunt's letter, recommending me to accept the position of Aide on General Tyler's staff came too late. I could not apply for it, as a Brigadier is not entitled to an Aide beyond the rank of Lieut., unless the officer receives his commission direct from the President. With Stevens I was simply detached for Staff duties. This could be done inside, but not outside, of the Brigade I may be attached to. I could therefore accept by Army Regulations nothing less than the position of Asst. Adjt.-General. Otherwise I would have fancied the thing right well, as, having consigned all ambitious project to him who is said to be the Father of them, I would like very much to see something of campaigning in the West, and the Western country. We are now resting, recruiting, and getting ready for new deeds. I trust we have inaugurated victory now, and mean to hear nothing more of Manassas.

Great must Uncle John's faith be, if he still believes in Pope. I am sure there was not a man in his army, who had any confidence in his capacity, even previous to his final disasters. We all considered him a very noisy, pretentious liar.

It is now so late that I must say Good-Bye.

Affec'y.,

Will.

79th Regiment, 1st Brigade, 1st Div.

9th Army Corps.

SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters of William Thompson Lusk, p. 211-3

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: June 13, 1861

Cairo. I am converted to the belief that Cairo is not such a bad place after all. The record shows that less deaths have occurred here in seven weeks among 3,000 men, than in Villa Ridge (a higher, and much dryer place with abundant shade and spring water), in five weeks among 1,000. There has been but one death here by disease in that time, and that with miserable hospital accommodations. The soldiers lie like the d---1 about Cairo. The days are hot of course, but we do nothing now between 8 a. m. and 9 p. m. but cook and eat, so that amounts to not near as much as working all day at home. The mosquitoes and bugs are furious from 6 p. m. to 11, but we are drilling from 7 p. m. to nearly 9, and from that to 11 we save ourselves by smoking, which we all do pretty steadily. The nights after 11 are splendidly cool, so much so that we can cover ourselves entirely in our blankets, which is a block game on the mosquitoes, and sleep like logs. I believe those Camp Mather boys are hard sticks from the accounts we get of their fingers sticking to chickens, vegetables, etc. The citizens here say that the boys have not taken a thing without permission, or insulted a citizen. “Bully for us.”

We had a little fun yesterday. At 8 p. m. we (the Peoria and Pekin companies) were ordered to get ready for marching in ten minutes. So ready we got (but had to leave knapsacks, canteens and blankets) and were marched down to the “City of Alton,” which had on board a six pounder and one 12 pound howitzer. We cast off, fired a salute of two guns and steamed down the Mississippi. After five miles the colonel (Oglesby) called us together, told us that he was out on a reconoitering expedition, and his information led him to think we should be forced into a little fight before we got back. We were then ordered to load and keep in our places by our guns. At Columbus we saw a secesh flag waving but passed on a couple of miles farther where he expected to find a secesh force. Failed and turned back. At Columbus the flag was still waving and the stores all closed, and quite a crowd collected on the levee, but one gun though, that we could see. The colonel ordered the flag down. They said they wouldn't do it. He said he would do it himself then. They answered, “We'd like to see you try it.” We were drawn up then round the cabin deck guards next the shore in two ranks, with guns at “ready,” and the captain jumped ashore and hauled down the serpent. We were all sure of a skirmish but missed it. Flag was about 15x7, with eight stars and three stripes. I send you some scraps of it. They raised another flag one hour after we left and sent us word to “Come and take it.” The ride on the river was the best treat I've had for two years.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 17-9

Diary of John Hay: January 15, 1864

On board the Fulton. The embarcation of the 54th Boys. Variety of complexions — redheads, — filing into their places on deck — singing, whistling, smoking and dancing — eating candy and chewing tobacco. Jolly little cuss, round, rosy and half-white, singing:—

Oh John Brown dey hung him

We're gwine to jine de Union Army

Oh John Brown dey hung him

We're gwine to Dixie's land.

Way down by James' River

Old massa's grave is made

And he or me is sure to fill it

When he meets de black Brigade.

We're gwine to trabbel to de Souf

To smack de rebels in de mouf.

SOURCES: Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 155; for the entire diary entry see Tyler Dennett, Editor, Lincoln and the Civil War in the Diaries and Letter of John Hay, p. 154-5.

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Friday, October 28, 1864

Rain-storm. Sent letter to Agnes. Frank Palfrey comes down. Very pleasant evening. I smoked a “Manilla.” Told him of my engagement, etc. Letter from leg man, New York.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 147

Diary of 1st Lieutenant John S. Morgan: Tuesday, May 2, 1865

The 2d Brigade starts at 7 A. M. with 4 days rations & in light marching order are accompanied by one battery of 6 guns & 30 empty wagons, about an hour after was surprised to see the whole column returning to camp. I learn the cause to be that at the picket post was met a Liuet & 15 men with a flag of truce who reports that there is a cessation of hostilities in this Department for 30 days he had with him an order purporting to be from Genl Dick Taylor with his name attached forbidding any demonstrations of hostilities for 30 days. The Div Adjt goes out to see him and asks by whose authority he comes with a flag of truce to our lines, says by no other authority than his own. The Adjt tells him to get inside of his own lines as speedily as possible & not to come again without clothed with proper authority. This is talk, but there is other talk no more reasonable. That the flag brought a sealed dispatch which was sent to Mobile unbroken, there being no other boats here the Octorara (Gunboat) was dispatched immediately. I think there is more of it than the authorites would wish the soldier to know, for there must be something important or the brigade would not have turned back neither would the Octorara the only Gunboat here have been sent to Mobile. I spend the forenoon reading, about noon Mr. Rush is in & brings our mess some pickles, he says that he saw a Capt Foster just from Mobile yesterday morning who says there is an armistice of 30 days & that Genls Granger & Taylor have been in conference at 8 mile creek near Whistler for some 4 days, P. M. spend napping. After supper Lt Laughridgc & self take a walk to the river, take a boat ride in a canoe returning towards camp stop at Lt Corys quarters, are soon joined by Maj Boydston. Spend about an hour here smoking & talking. The Maj tells us that it is a truth strange as it may seem that the pickets of both armies occupy Citroville amicably & the Reb army are repairing the R. R. from C — to Meridian, & our army repairing it from C — to Mobile, also thinks the paroles are made out & signed by this time for all of Taylors men, weather warm dust almost in tolerable, & fleas “thicker than the hair on a dogs back” as Brass band serenades Brig Hd. Qtrs, tonight.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 8, April 1923, p. 597-8

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant George G. Smith: May 17, 1864

That General Smith was a joker was conceded by everybody, our friends, the enemy, as well as the union army. When we were in Alexandria I was on guard at the pontoon bridge. An Irishman, stood at the end of the bridge, smoking a clay pipe. Smith returning from a scouting expedition at the head of his forces, rode up to the Irishman coolly took the pipe out of his mouth and put it in his own, and rode on smoking contentedly as though nothing had happened. The Irishman laughed heartily, well pleased with the joke. Many stories were reported of his pleasantries with the enemy while covering our retreat from Alexandria. At one time coming down the plank road he left a baggage wagon on the road and placed a company in ambush within easy range. The rebel hangers on in the rear spied it and made for it on the gallop with a yell. At the proper time the ambush rose up and many saddles were emptied and riderless horses were seen cantering through the woods. The force was nearly all killed or taken prisoners. At two times cannon were left with similar results. Marched into Simsport about noon. The day was hot and the roads were dusty so that our clothes were saturated with mud as well as sweat. It was my practice, during the whole time I was in the army to bathe whenever an opportunity presented itself, and so here was a good one The water in the rivers and ponds we had been passing were generally almost milk warm and I thought this would be, so without further ado I plunged in. “O my! Holy Moses, how cold it was!” I could hardly swim to shore. But I did, and got out too but I did not go in any more that day. The reason of the water being so cold was on account of the rise in the Mississippi river at this time of the year, called the June rise. It is caused by the melting snows in the Rocky mountains, at the head waters of the Missouri and in the Northern part of Minnesota, where the Mississippi rises, and it is a little strange, that water is nearly as cold when it reaches the Gulf of Mexico as it is when it leaves the snows of the Rocky mountains. When this mighty river is high it backs up the Red river and discharges its surplus waters through the Atchaffalaya Bayou into the Gulf of Mexico, so that bayou is really one of the mouths of the Mississippi. It was my turn to go on picket guard that night, so we crossed the bayou on a steamer and went up that stream about a mile and posted the pickets in the woods across the bottom where we fought mosquitoes all night. It was a question which was the worse, the mosquitoes or the rebels. I was not feeling very well from the effects of my bath, so after the guard was posted I hunted the dryest place I could find and laid down, but the conditions were not very favorable for a good night's rest. It did not however last forever.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 117-9

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Monday, September 12, 1864

The boat goes this morning. Thirty officers went. It was hard to see them go and think that in twelve hours they would be under the old flag. I hope I shall not see another load go away without me. I am more contented than I was the last time. Arthur being here makes it very pleasant. We play cribbage, talk, smoke, and study Spanish together; the time passes very quickly. I shall try and keep him down here as long as I can.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 137

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Sunday, August 21, 1864

This has been rather a pleasant Sabbath day. I have so much to be grateful for. I had a very good dinner. My appetite has returned. Have been reading Prayer-book and Rogers's “Italy.” To-night smoked my first and only cigar, one that has been in my coat-pocket all the time. Just six weeks ago to-night, at this very time, I went to see Agnes at the homestead. Where shall I be six weeks hence? In our lines? I fear the hope is vain. I wonder if they have been thinking of me at home to-day as much as I have of them. I expect they have not as much spare time. Perhaps they think that now I am out of danger, and on the whole it's rather a good thing!!

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 129

Diary of Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Sunday, August 7, 1864

Beautiful Sabbath morning, 11 A. M. I wonder if they are at church now at home. It must have been an anxious week for them, but they don't dream of what I have been suffering, fortunately for them. Doctor gives me some new pills; my liver is deranged. Read Moore; wish I had my little Church Service here, I could be reading the same lesson that Agnes is this morning. Hattie's birth-day, I believe. I should like to be at home to-day. Began to carve out a pipe yesterday.

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 123

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 6, 1863

Lieutenant Dwight, the General's brother, was shot by a guerilla. He had been to the rear with dispatches and when returning, in passing a wood, he was shot from behind the trees. One of the fellows was caught, not the one that fired the shot, but they were together so he had to die for it. The army started at 5 a. m., marched about a mile and halted. A grave had been dug. The prisoner was brought out and kneeling beside the grave, facing the firing party, the warrant was read, and the command given to fire. He fell forward on his face. I thought I heard some pistol shots afterward, but I had seen all I wanted to, and the army was again in motion. At night we entered Alexandria, said to be thirty miles from the place where we started in the morning. The army marched through the town and camped in a ploughed field. In passing through the streets there was a house with a bright fire on the hearth. A girl was standing in the door, and I heard her say, “See the scabs.” I was too weary to reply, but I gathered from it that we were not very welcome. As soon as the companies broke ranks I gathered some sticks and weeds, made a cup of coffee, ate some hard tack and salt junk, took a good smoke, laid down between two hummocks, and I was soon in the arms of Morpheus.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 51-2