Showing posts with label Soldier Pay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Soldier Pay. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 23, 2024

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Wednesday, January 22, 1862

Received two months pay. News arrived in the evening of the Union victory at Springfield, Kentucky, and death of the rebel General Zollicoffer, in honor of which a national salute of thirty-four guns was fired. Quiet in camp, the latter part of January.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 31

Sunday, October 20, 2024

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 19, 1863

Drew flour this morning for the first time in eight months. We are to stay here to-day and draw ten months' pay. Our pay-rolls are in the hands of Sergeant English, who is, probably, a prisoner, and, consequently, we will make no draw.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 280-1

Monday, October 14, 2024

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, Monday, October 14, 1861

morning clear air and bracing. Drilling from 6 to 7 O'clock. to day is Pay Day Comps. A. & E. are paid first—as they are going off on a scouting expidition—To-morrow we get paid, the boys are over joyed at getting their pay, have been disappointed so often that they had no confidence any more as to the promised pay day. Have no Battalion Drill to day. A stern wheel Boat came up the River this afternoon with a flag of Truce flying The purport of her visit is no known This Brigade was ordered down town on Double Quick this evening and paraded about an hour on the levy

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 228

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, January 24, 1863

Started at six A.M., and arrived in camp at Potomac Creek at eleven o'clock. Time occupied in once more fixing up our old quarters, that being the second time we had returned to them. We were paid off for four months.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 272

Saturday, September 28, 2024

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, December 30, 1862

The paymaster looked in on us. He is the first we have had any dealings with, and we are glad he came, for most of "E" have been "hard up." We received pay from August 29th to November 1st,—$27.30 each. We expected to get the whole, and were disappointed; for when many of us squared up, it took about all that we received to settle our debts. We are drilled now as a brigade nearly every day, firing blank cartridges; consequently our guns need extra cleaning, and we get more marching. Evidently they mean our brigade to be number one.

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. 31

Monday, August 12, 2024

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 20, 1862

We have enjoyed three days of furlough, with no drill or duty to speak of, and most of the company are in good trim again. It has rained much lately, which shuts us in-doors, most of our time being occupied in writing and sleeping. We have just received our blankets, which we left at Washington, never expecting to see them again. They are very acceptable, as the nights are not of the mildest.

Our camp is very pleasantly located, a few rods nearer the Neuse than our first one. The barracks are formed in two wings, with cook-house in rear of each company, and quartermaster's department to be built in the square behind; the line officers in barracks by themselves on each flank, and staff in front of the right wing; the guard line being just outside of all, giving us a convenient parade ground. About six men are drawn from the company each day for camp guard and two for police, making that duty comparatively light; but other work comes in regular order, so we don't have much leisure time. Our routine is about as follows: Reveille at half-past six A.M. and roll-call; then basins to the front, and we go to the water, although we often find some running back to the barracks to get a little more sleep; breakfast, seven; surgeon's call, half-past seven; about this time the first sergeant makes his morning report; guard mounting at eight; then squad drilling from half-past eight till ten, unless the officers get tired of it; company drill, eleven to twelve; then one hour for dinner; company drill from one to two; battalion drill, three to four; company parade and roll-call at half-past four; dress parade, five; supper, six; tattoo and roll-call, half-past seven; taps, half-past eight. No rest for the weary, for between whiles Sergt. Thayer wants three men to get rations, or Sergt. Parsons wants one to sweep barracks, or perhaps the captain wants one to carry a loaded knapsack in front of his quarters for an hour or so for discipline. We wish the paymaster would come; we have been borrowing and lending to each other just to be able to remember the looks of a dollar. There is about three months' pay due us, which would alleviate our misery much just now, especially as Thanksgiving is near at hand.

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

Sunday, July 7, 2024

Diary of Private Richard R. Hancock: Tuesday, March 18, 1862

McNairy's Battalion drew five months' pay, from the 1st of August to December 31st, 1861. Each private drew twenty-four dollars per month. There were quite a number of troops camped near Decatur, but they were being rapidly conveyed by rail to Corinth, Mississippi.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 137

Sunday, May 12, 2024

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, Saturday, November 1, 1862

In camp in Pleasant Valley all day. Mustered for two months' pay.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 268

Thursday, May 9, 2024

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 10, 1861

Our regiment has received two months pay to-day, and to-night all are boisterously happy. We had been notified to have our muster-rolls ready, and we should be paid off on the first day of this month. The rolls were ready but the pay was not. We had received no pay since we entered Uncle Sam's service. We had had to use all our little private means to buy uniforms and outfit for the war, and there was not money enough in the whole regiment to pay for washing one shirt. We were all in debt, and momentarily expecting orders to march into the deserted parts of Virginia. What were we to do? We could not think of leaving so. Day before yesterday we had intimations from our commanding officers that we should remain a day or two longer where we are, and our troops who heretofore had been constantly impatient to advance, were now overjoyed at the delay, not doubting but that it was to receive our pay, and oh how many dreams of little presents to be sent home before we should be plunged into the wilderness. Perhaps some thought of photographs for sweethearts and wives. But scarcely had the joyous echoes from the rocky hills around us died away, when we were officially informed that there was no money in the treasury. It was a damper. I at once made business to the city; saw the paymaster; through him and my friends, got audience of the Secretary of the Treasury; told a story of our penury (and such a story). I got the money which the paymaster had failed to procure. To-day we have been paid off, and to-night I ride a high horse in the affections of the regiment. If they do not dismount me before their money is all expended, their constancy will be greater than my knowledge of human nature generally warrants me in expecting. We are all joyous to-night.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 26-7

Friday, March 1, 2024

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 5, 1862

Still in Hudson. Was routed out twice last night, for no particular reason as far as I can discover, unless it was to make a miserable night still more miserable. After forming in line and standing there, half asleep, for awhile, the order, "Break Ranks" would come and we would go back to our bunks, and so the night wore away. At 4.30 we were called again, marched out for our morning ablutions, and then marched back again, wide awake, but pretty cross and ugly. We signed receipts for one month's pay in advance, and then had breakfast. We did nothing more until dinner time and were then told to take our haversacks and canteens with us. After dinner we were each given a day's supply of bread and a canteen full of coffee, and told to be ready to march at any minute.

Six P. M. On board the steamship Oregon, bound for New York City. We had a busy time getting off. Crowds upon crowds of people lined the way from the camp ground to the steamboat landing. The windows and the house tops were also full. I don't see where so many people came from. Men, women and children were waving flags, handkerchiefs or anything else that would wave. They cheered us until hoarse. Bands played, every steam whistle in Hudson was blowing, in fact every thing that could make a noise did so. Through it all we marched, reaching out every little while for a final handshake, and a last good-bye. Everyone seemed to know everybody else. I presume I shook hands with a hundred that I never saw before and may never see again. But the heartiness of it all, and the sincerity showed so plainly, that by the time the landing was reached the tears were washing the dust from our faces. I am glad it is over. No matter what comes next, it cannot be more trying than that march through Hudson.

Later. The sail down the Hudson is glorious. It is all new to me. As soon as we were clear from the dock I got into the quietest place I could find and told my diary about it. I wish I could better describe the doings about me. This will do to remind me of it all, if I ever see these scribblings again, and if not those that do see them may turn their imagination loose, feeling sure that it cannot overdraw the picture. But there is no use trying to write any more. Confusion reigns, and I am going to put away my dairy and take a hand in it.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 15-7

Monday, February 26, 2024

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Tuesday, September 24, 1861

We were paid off in gold for two months service. Quiet in Camp Jackson up to [Monday, September 30.]

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 21

Monday, February 12, 2024

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, August 19, 1862

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, October 30, 2023

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Thursday, July 25, 1861

Received the first government pay in gold. The First Regiment left Camp Sprague for home, marching by our camp. Capt. Reynolds proposed cheers for every company, which was spontaneously replied to.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 15

Friday, January 27, 2023

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 8, 1864

 Cloudy, windy, and cold.

The fighting yesterday was more serious than I supposed. It was supposed the conflict would be resumed to-day, but we have no information of any fighting up to this hour—5 P.M.

From Gen. Hood we have a dispatch, saying Major-Gen. French attacked Altoona day before yesterday. He carried all the outworks, but failed at the inner one, and learning a body of the enemy were approaching his rear, Gen. F. withdrew to the main body of the army. He says nothing of the loss, etc., on either side.

At the Tredegar Works, and in the government workshops, the detailed soldier, if a mechanic, is paid in money and in rations (at the current prices) about $16 per day, or nearly $6000 per annum. member of Congress receives $5500, a clerk $4000.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2p. 301

Sunday, February 21, 2021

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Friday, May 23, 1862

To-day our regiment is detailed to advance with the picket line and protect a fatigue party while building roads and bridges for the advance of our division. We have a brisk skirmish with the heavy rebel pickets.

This evening the Paymaster visits the Seventh, and before it is midnight the Seventh is flush with the “bonus."

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 73

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Saturday, May 24, 1862

This morning the boys are busily engaged depositing their money for expressage home, not wishing to be encumbered with any extra cash, especially when a battle seems threatening. This evening we are ordered to fall in on the color line, which is repeated several times through the night by false alarms from the pickets on St. Philips' Creek.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 73-4

Friday, February 19, 2021

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: July 3, 1863

Uncle Sam's cashier has arrived at last, and we have been paid for two months' service. The married men are quite anxious to send their money home to their wives and little ones. It is risky sending money North from here, yet, to some, more dangerous to keep it. I saw two boys sitting on a log, today, playing poker at five cents a game. Five cent currency is paid in a sheet, and, as either lost the game, a five cent piece was torn off.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 74

Wednesday, December 23, 2020

Diary of Private Louis Leon: September 9, 1862

Up to to-day nothing new. Our regiment was paid off to-day, we receiving one month's wages-eleven dollars for a private, which I have the honor to be.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 11

Saturday, October 10, 2020

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: June 12, 1863

We expect to be paid off soon, as the pay-rolls are now being made out. Money cannot do us much good here among the hills, but we can send it home. Many a family is dependent upon the thirteen dollars a month drawn here by the head of it. 

When the war is over, how many soldiers will be unable to earn. even their own living, to say nothing of that of their families, all on account of wounds or disability incurred in the service. I have heard many a one say he would rather be shot dead in a fight than lose a limb, and thus be compelled to totter through life disabled. But I know our country will be too magnanimous to neglect its brave defenders who have fought its battles till they have become incapacitated for further service. I know we are not fighting for a country that will let its soldiers beg for a living. 

We have now but a year left of the term of our enlistment, and the boys are already talking about what they will do. Some say they will stay till peace comes, no matter how long may be the delay, and I think the majority are of this mind. A few, however, will seek their homes when their time runs out, should this war last so long, and the Lord and rebel bullets spare them. For myself, I shall stay, if I can, till the stars and stripes float in triumph once more over all the land. 

Here are a few lines : 

TO COMPANY E. 

You started at your country's call 
     To tread the fields of blood and strife, 
Consenting to give up your all- 
     All, even to your very life. 
And many storms of leaden rain 
     And iron hail have been your lot; 
While yet among the number slain 
     The dear ones North have read you not. 
Oh, may you safely yet return 
     To those who wait your coming, too; 
May their fond hearts not vainly yearn 
     To greet you when the war is through. 
But, though I wish you back in peace, 
     'Tis not a peace that quite disarms- 
'Tis not a full and sure release, 
     You simply take up other arms. 

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 50-1

Friday, September 25, 2020

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 6, 1864

Major-Gen. Breckinridge, it is said, is to command in Southwestern Virginia near the Kentucky line, relieving Major-Gen. Sam Jones.

Yesterday the cabinet decided to divide the clerks into three classes. Those under eighteen and over forty-five, to have the increased compensation; those between those ages, who shall be pronounced unable for field service, also to have it; and all others the Secretaries may certify to be necessary, etc. This will cover all their cousins, nephews, and pets, and exclude many young men whose refugee mothers and sisters are dependent on their salaries for subsistence. Such is the unvarying history of public functionaries.

Gen. Pickett, finding Newbern impregnable, has fallen back, getting off his prisoners, etc. But more troops are going to North Carolina.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2p. 144