Found dead Indian at Slabtown. I was sick all day. Went to the hospital in the evening. Very pretty moonlight night. Ord. Gibhard sentenced to be reduced to the ranks and 30 days' hard labor.
SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 6
Another hot day. How
hot I don't know, but it wilted me. I tumbled down, completely used up while at
drill. Several others did the same. We seem to be getting over it to-night, as
the air cools off. The nights are cool, and that is all that keeps us from
melting. Not cool enough, however, to stop the mosquitoes. The heat, together
with our changed condition of living, is beginning to get in its work. Several
are in the hospital.
Later. There is
great excitement in Company B to-night. Orderly Sergeant Lewis Holmes, the one
we voted to be our orderly, is to be set back and a corporal named Gilbert
Kniffen is to be put in his place. As soon as the companies were organized at
Hudson, we were allowed to vote which of the five sergeants of Company B should
be orderly sergeant. We did not know then, but have since learned that the
orderly sergeant stands next in the line of promotion to the commissioned
officers. Kniffen is only a corporal, but he has friends at home who have
influence, and this influence has been brought to bear so heavy that this move
has been decided upon.
9 p. m. It is all
over, and Lew Holmes is still orderly sergeant of Co. B, 128th N. Y. Vols. We,
the enlisted men of the company, talked the thing over and decided we would not
put up with it. We did not know if we would be able to prevent it, but we
finally decided we would stand by Holmes, and fight the thing to a finish,
whatever the outcome might be. When we spoke to Captain Bostwick he acted as if
he was ashamed of himself, but he said the change had already been made and
could not be unmade. We told him we could unmake it, and would, or die in the
company street. So the matter rested until time for roll-call, when Kniffin
came out with the book and called the name of William H. Appleby, the first
name on the list. To his honor be it said, he remained silent, and was
immediately put in the mule-stable, which was our guard-house. The next man's
name was called, and he went to join Appleby. This went on until the guardhouse
was full, when a council of the company officers was held, after which the
captain gave us a lecture, telling us what insurbordination [sic] meant, and
that the whole regiment, if necessary, would be used to enforce obedience. We
had agreed not to talk back, but to simply refuse to answer to our names when
called by Corporal Kniffin, or in any way acknowledge him as orderly sergeant,
so we said nothing. The men were brought back from the guard-house, and Kniffin
again called William H. Appleby. He did not answer and was again put in the
guard-house. After a few more had been sent to keep him company another halt
was made, the prisoners were again brought out, and the captain called the
roll, when every man responded promptly. We were then ordered to break ranks
and so the matter stands. But we have won our first battle, we feel sure of
that, although we are warned that a company, and if necessary the whole
regiment, will be called upon to shoot any who do not answer roll-call in the
morning. My name is so near the bottom of the list it was not reached, and so I
had nothing to do but look on and listen, but I am as determined as any, and I
flap my wings and crow just as loudly as William H. Appleby does.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 41-3
Holmes called the
roll this morning and we hear no more about being shot for mutiny. It may
possibly come later, but from all I can see and hear the trouble was entirely a
company affair and did not reach beyond it. If Colonel Smith, who is said to be
very strict on discipline, had taken a hand in it, we might have fared worse,
but I doubt if he would allow such a cowardly trick to be played on so good a
soldier as Holmes is, and has been, to say nothing of jumping a corporal over
the heads of five sergeants, who have all been prompt and faithful in the
discharge of their duties. Our first real sick man was sent to the hospital
to-night, one of Company B, from Dover.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 43
On Sunday evening left Big Black and moved to Church, occupying our old camping ground of May 20th, where we are resting and waiting orders. Occasional cheering reports come in from our beseiged friends, one of which is to the effect that the enemy attacked Vicksburg again on Friday, and was repulsed and driven five miles from the field; our loss said to be seven hundred. From some causes we are placed under greater restrictions now than ever, and are not allowed to go outside of the guard line without a pass. Yesterday two men of Comb's Tennessee Battalion, who had fallen out of ranks at Yazoo, came up and were immediately arrested, tried, and had one side of their heads shaved, all in the space of a few hours. Rations still short, consisting of beef and meal.
SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 215-6
We are getting right
down to business now. Have company drill and will soon drill with the whole
regiment together. To-day we practiced the double-quick, which is nothing more
than a run. The day was hot and these heavy clothes buttoned around us made us
sweat, and one man gave out. He fell down and several fell over him, stopping
the work long enough for us to catch breath. He was put under a tree, and by
the time we were through was able to walk back to camp. I went into the mill
to-day and asked for a job. The miller said he thought I had about all the job
I could attend to. That is the nearest approach to a joke I have heard from a
native. They are the dumbest set of people I ever met. At least they seem so to
me. The country is queer, too. There are no roads here. They are all turnpikes.
Many of the houses set so far back from the road, and shade trees are so
plenty, that they are not seen unless one goes on purpose. To the west and
south the country looks like a forest, but there are no forests here, only
scattering trees all over the fields and along the roads. The people are Dutch,
mostly, and the rest are negroes,—"Niggers" they are universally
called here. Money has another name, too. I bought a bundle of straw for a bed,
which I was told was a "fip" for a bundle. I tied up a bundle and was
then told it would be a "levy," all of which meant that if the man
bound it up it was a "fip" and if I bound it it would be a
"levy," which is two fips. I found out at last that a "fip"
was sixpence and a "levy" was a shilling. Two fellows got too much of
the sutler's whiskey to-day. They forged an order for it, and as a punishment
each had a placard pinned to his back, with the nature of his offense printed
in large letters, and were marched about the camp until sober.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 27-8
1 Anderson was put under arrest, and marched
through with the Fifteenth Mississippi to Corinth, Mississippi, He fought so
bravely in the Shiloh battle that I think he was afterward released.
SOURCE: Richard R.
Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee
Confederate Cavalry, p. 131
To-day there was a man shot for desertion. Eight balls passed through him. The way this is conducted is the brigade that he belongs to, or sometimes even the division, is drawn up in full sight of the doomed man. He is tied to a stake in front of his grave, which is already dug, and his coffin at his side. There is a squad of twelve men and one officer detailed to do the shooting. Eleven of the guns are loaded. The guns are given to them by the officer, so that no man knows which gun is loaded. The order is then given to fire. Thus ends the deserter's life. The brigade, or division, then marches around him, so that every man can see his, the deserter's, end.
The army is filling
up with conscripts, absentees and others, and if we get also the principals of
the substitutes our army will soon be very formidable. Mose Cappock has
returned, although his wound has not quite healed. I believe if we whip the
Yankees good again this spring they will quit in disgust. Their cause is not
just, like ours, and they are sure to become discouraged more readily.
The people of
Richmond have had a great time recently, feasting and fêting General Morgan.
Men who saw him there tell me he is very young, handsome and attractive, but is modest
and has a most pleasing address. I learned that when he passed through Newberry
the people made him come out of the train and let them all take a good look at
him.
An officer in our
regiment was cashiered for forging a furlough, sure enough. I feel very sorry
for him and think he should go to the Yankees the first chance he gets, for he
is ruined wherever this thing becomes known.
The winter has been
unusually severe so far, but I am perfectly comfortable in every way, except
that our diet is becoming anything else but bountiful or extravagant. We draw a
little coffee and sugar occasionally. For breakfast this morning I had a cup of
"Pure Rio," some ham, rice, biscuit and butter, but I have a hankering
for such things as syrup, sweet potatoes, sauer-kraut, and the like. I do hope
it will not be a great while before I can have such things.
Edwin still has some
of the good things to eat which he brought from home in his trunk. His servant,
Tony, stole some of his syrup to give to a negro girl who lives near our camp,
and Ed gave him a pretty thorough thrashing for it. He says Tony is too much of
a thief to suit him and he intends to send him back home. I had to give Gabriel
a little thrashing this morning for "jawing” me. I hate very much to raise
a violent hand against a person as old as Gabriel, although he is black and a
slave. He is too slow for me, and I intend to send him back by Billie when he
goes home on furlough.
I must close, as
Gabriel is bringing in my dinner. I will write to you again in a few days.
Two men out of our
regiment were whipped for desertion. They were undressed all but pants and
shoes, tied to a post, and each given thirty-nine lashes on their bare backs.
The balance of this month nothing new, only very cold.
Went uptown to-day
on French leave, and when I returned was put on guard duty for going.
