Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 5, 1861

I have for some time had as mess-mates Surgeon J—— V—— and his two sons. I find him a most estimable Quaker gentleman, and he is by his courteous and affable manner, doing very much to smooth down the asperities of the rough road over which I am now traveling. Since the removal of camp, the sickness is abating rapidly. The list, which two weeks ago numbered over two hundred, is now less than sixty, and every day diminishing. I have much trouble in getting my assistant to perform his duties, which, with the constant interference of military officers, greatly embarrasses me in my course. We have to pass some trying scenes. Last week a private in our regiment, a lawyer from ———, heard of the sickness of his daughter. He asked a furlough of thirty days to visit her. The officers here granted it, but when it reached General McClellan he cut it down to fifteen days, which would but give him time to go and return. He declined to go on it, and yesterday intelligence of his daughter's death reached him. Oh, how much I thought of this, and thought if it were my case! 'Tis very sad to think of.

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, pp. 49-50

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 14, 1861

This morning our Brigade Surgeon ordered me to leave the hospital for a few days, on account of my fatigue and prostration. He said that a regard for my health demanded it, and I must go where I pleased. I rode to Arlington, the headquarters of General King. The Arlington house, I believe, is (unless confiscated) the property of Gen. Lee. It is a magnificent mansion, overlooking Georgetown, Washington, Alexandria, and miles of the beautiful Potomac. In a room of this house, said to have been a favorite room of General Washington, I found my old friend Surgeon ———,badly broken by the fatigue and excitement of the campaign. I called on him, in company with Doctor A——, and after talking of his illness for half an hour, Doctor A. proposed to him to have my advice, to which he replied "Yes! if he will not medicate me too much." I said, "Doctor, I will prescribe for you, and with a single dose will medicate every fibre of your body, and by a healthy shock, restore you to health at once." With a look as if he thought me a hyena, he asked: "What do you mean to do with me?" "To take you out of this place and put you for thirty days under the care of your wife and family." The poor suffering man grasped my hand, burst into tears and sobbed aloud, "My Colonel won't consent to it." For a moment, forgetting his religion, and not having the fear of military commanders before my eyes, "Your Colonel may go to the d-vil, and you shall have a furlough." I rode immediately to medical headquarters in Washington, procured him the promise of a furlough as soon as his papers could be sent in, returned, informed him of it, and had the pleasure on my long night ride back to camp, of feeling that I had contributed something to the happines, and, perhaps, had saved the life of a good and worthy man. How easy for any man, however humble his position, to find opportunities of doing good, if he will only wear the "spectacles of benevolence."

After the vandalism I have witnessed in the destruction of property, in and about the houses of rebels and elsewhere, it was a pleasurable relief to find here, that General King, in the goodness of his always good heart, had enforced respect for the property and furniture. The garden, with its fences, is preserved, and the walls of almost every room in this immense old building, are covered with the rich paintings and old family pictures, left hanging when this favorite of rebeldom left his home. The garden is fine, but I think does not compare with that of Kalorama. The antique bureaus and [s]ide-boards calling up impressions of generations long passed away, are still tenants of the building; and the halls recall Scott's fine description of the Halls of the Douglass, where the arms of the hunters, and the trophies of the hunt, mingled with the trappings of the warrior, constituted the attractive features of the chieftain's forest home. Over the halls, and at every angle in the stairs, were the antlers of the elk and the red-deer fastened to the walls and nearly interlocking their branches over my head as I walked through. They were hung, too, with the arms of the hunter and the warrior. So perfectly does this position command Washington, that had the rebels there secretly collected a dozen mortars, they might have fired the city before a gun could have been brought to bear on them. Everybody is talking of a prospect of a move within three days, but the origin of the reports I know not; perhaps in the impatience of the army to be led forward.

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, pp. 53-5

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 30, 1861

It is a great relief to my feelings that the difficulties heretofore existing between the Military and Medical Departments in our Regiment are to-day adjusted, and I hope removed by the rescinding the order of the 9th inst., that my directions about the sanitary police of the camps need not be obeyed, and by a substitution of a public order from which this is an extract: "The condition of the health of the regiment requires more than ordinary care. The sanitary regulations of the camp must be entrusted to the Surgeon of the regiment." I have good reason to hope, too, that all personal feelings of an unpleasant character, which have grown out of this unhappy difference of opinion as to official rights, are removed, and that in future the relations of the two departments may be pleasant to the parties, and beneficial to the sick. I now determined that more than ever will I devote my energies to the removal of the causes of the recent severe sickness, and to counteract their results.

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. 57

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 25, 1863

We are still in camp, where each day is like the preceding one. The same routine of "duty" is gone through with, which, to me, is exceedingly tiresome. Give me the variations; something new and startling every day. For this reason I prefer active service. Those who love fun, and have a natural penchant for mischief, have abundant opportunity to indulge. I have never heard Billy Dunham complain of ennui. So long as guards are to be "run," melons to be "cooned," peach orchards to be "raided" or a peddler to be harried, tormented and robbed, Billy is in his native element. Peddling to soldiers is not the most agreeable business in the world, especially if said soldiers happen to be, as is often the case, on mischief bent. I have seen a crowd of soldiers gather around an unsuspecting victim, a few shrewd, witty fellows attract his attention, while others pass out to their accomplices melons, peaches, tomatoes and vegetables, and when the poor fellow discovers the "game" and gathers up his "ropes" to drive away, the harness fall to the ground in a dozen pieces, the unguided mule walks off amazed, the cart performs a somersault and the poor peddler picks himself up and gazes on the wreck in silent grief. At sight of his helpless misery the wretches seemingly relent; with indignant tones they swear vengeance on the "man who did it;" help him to gather up his "wares" while he secures his mule. This is soon done, for his "stock" has grown small and "beautifully less." He smothers his rage from prudential motives, throws the "toggle" on his mule and prepares to depart. Alas, the millennium has not yet come. His cart wheels, refusing to perform their accustomed revolutions, start off in opposite directions, while the air is rent by the screams and derisive yells of his tormenters. When once begun, the amusement continues until the stock is exhausted. Speaking of Billy, he has become reconciled to his fate, and takes to soldiering like a duck to water.

Lieutenant Chris. Rath has received a Captain's commission, and has been assigned to Company I. He has well earned his commission by his bravery and efficiency.

There was a sudden change of weather last night. The day had been hot and sultry. Toward night we had a light shower, preceded by a hurricane which cleared the atmosphere of heat most effectually. It is now uncomfortable sitting in my tent with my coat on. Uncle Sam seems inclined to make up to us, in some measure, for past neglect. We have soft bread and other rations more than we can use. Today we were surprised by an issue of tea and sugar, more than we can use. We sell our surplus at twenty-five cents a pound. The Brigade Surgeon has put a stop to drilling except as punishment. No signs of a move are in sight. My health is good. It is years since I was in possession of such buoyant, vigorous health.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 83-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 30, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky. We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are encamped about one mile south of the village, in a lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and forests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumberland Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to guide us on our course when next we move.

From what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the boys will have to depend on their rations for food.

Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work as though his very life depended on present exertions. We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, when no man knows how long we may remain or how soon we may move on.

Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock above the entrance. The place is now being strongly fortified.

We had a lively skirmish in Company G this morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt out freely.

Solon Crandall—the boy who picked the peaches while under fire at South Mountain—is naturally pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This morning, while under the influence of his "ration," he undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G.

Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your business. Understand, I am running this company, and if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the bull pen. At this the Captain "closed" with his rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Captain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day.

I have the most comfortable quarters now I have ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of canvas, each piece the size of our small tents—two for the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or all at once, according to the weather. Three of us tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a voluptuous bed. I received a letter from home last evening, dated August 13th. Oh, these vexatious postal delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious that love had sped its message and was anxiously awaiting a return. A letter from home! What thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not altogether the words, be they many or few, but the remembrances they call forth; the recognition of the well-known handwriting; old associations and past scenes are brought forth from the storehouse of the memory and held up to view. The joy of meeting—the agony of parting—all are lived over again.

We are having brigade inspection today, which is suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned up yet, and we will not take the field without it.

The health of our men has improved wonderfully since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty set of men I never saw than the few who are left. But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to Jackson, Mississippi.

Oh, how I miss familiar faces!

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 86-89

Diary of Private William S. White, June 28, 1862

Our battery moved back last night about one mile and camped on Hogan's farm. This morning when we awoke we found a party of eight hundred Yankee prisoners at Hogan's house. Amongst them were several surgeons, and they actually refused to attend to their own wounded, but insisted, as surgeons were non-combatants, that they should be sent to Richmond and immediately returned to the North.

A great number of wounded Yankees have been brought in by our men, and are receiving all proper attention. We moved forward to Gaines's house, where we remained all day, but near us there was no more fighting.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 122

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: December 16, 1862

The U. S. surgeon from the Marine Hospital has been on board looking us over. Found only four diseases, measles, scurvy, typhoid fever and jaundice. He did not put down the graybacks that keep us scratching all the time. For a long time after they appeared they left me alone, but one morning as I lay on my back in bed writing in my diary one came crawling up over my knee and looked me straight in the face; from that on they have seemed to like me as well as anyone.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 72

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, October 29, 1861

A little occurrence of a very unpleasant nature, today. I have, for a long time, felt that my Colonel was interfering with the Medical Department of the Regiment, to an extent not warranted by the rules of war, and greatly to the prejudice of the health of the men. Seeing so many sick around me, I became excited, and said to him that his interference must stop; that I would submit to it no longer. He considered this insubordination, or something worse, and used language which I construed into a threat of Court-Martial. This was not very soothing to my excitement, or my excitability, and I wrote him a defiant note, inviting him to put his threat in execution. I know it is an offence against military law to use either insulting or disrespectful language to superior officers; and I felt that it was against the law of self-respect to submit to be forever trampled on, so as one of these laws had to be violated, I took my choice. Perhaps I did wrong. The result will show.

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. 48-9

The horses attached to the carriage . . .

. . . in which Mrs. Lincoln was coming into the city this morning from the Soldiers’ Home ran off in consequence of fright, arising from the driver falling to the ground by the breaking of his seat. Mrs. L. leaped out and was considerably bruised, and also received a cut on the back of the head, which bled freely. Surgeons from the Mt. Pleasant Hospital promptly attended Mrs. L., and the injuries fortunately not being serious, she was put into a passing carriage, and came on to the White House.

SOURCE: “Correspondence of The Baltimore Sun. Washington, July 2,” The Sun, Baltimore, Maryland, Friday Morning, July 3, 1863,  p. 4, col. 1

Sad Accident to Mrs. Lincoln.

We regret to learn that a painful accident occurred to Mrs. Lincoln yesterday morning, about ten o’clock near the Mount Pleasant Hospital. It appears that Mrs. L. was passing across the lot near the hospital in her carriage, when the driver’s seat became detached from the carriage in some way, precipitating the driver to the ground. At this the spirited horses became frightened and dashed off at the top of their speed.

Mrs. L. was alone in the carriage at the time, but observing the great danger she was in, quietly and quickly spring from the carriage, her presence of mind and courage not deserting her for a single instant. Although the horses were running at full speed at the time, Mrs. L. fortunately received no more serious injuries from the fall than several severe bruises, which stunned her for a moment. The most severe of these wounds is upon the back part of her head, but we are glad to learn it is not at all dangerous.

Several surgeons from the Carver Hospital were soon upon the spot, and Mrs. L. was taken to the hospital, where the wounds were dressed by Dr. Judson, the efficient surgeon in charge. It was soon ascertained that no bones were broken, and it was thought that she could be conveyed to the White House without too much risk. Dr. Judson quickly had his carriage in waiting, and Mrs. Lincoln was placed in it and driven home. The escape of the lady was almost miraculous considering the circumstances, and we learn that she has entirely recovered from her fright. The injuries are not of a serious character and we hope to see Mrs. Lincoln about in a few days.

SOURCE: “Sad Accident to Mrs. Lincoln,” Daily Morning Chronicle,Washington, D. C., Friday, July 3, 1863, p. 2, col. 7

Serious Accident to Mrs. Lincoln.

This morning, at about ten o’clock, as Mrs. Lincoln was passing in her carriage across the open lot near the Mount Pleasant Hospital, the driver’s seat suddenly became detached from the rest of the carriage, and the coachman was precipitated to the ground. At this accident the spirited horses immediately took fright, and dashed along with fearful velocity.

Mrs. Lincoln was quite alone in the carriage at the time, but, seeing the imminent danger she was in, with courage and presence of mind remarkable at so critical a moment, sprang quickly from the carriage, while the horses were running at full speed. Though for the moment stunned, she most fortunately received no more than serious injury from her fall than several severe bruises. From the most severe of these—one on the back of the head—the blood flowed freely.

Several surgeons from the Mount Pleasant Hospital were instantly upon the spot, and administered promptly to her injuries. So soon as it was ascertained that the injuries, though painful, were not a serious character, and that no bones were broken, it was decided that she could be safely transported to the White House. The original design, therefore, of conveying her to the Mount Pleasant Hospital was abandoned. A carriage passing at the time was taken possession of, and Mrs. Lincoln, now quite recovered from her fright was placed in it.

SOURCE: “Serious Accident to Mrs. Lincoln,” Evening Star, Washington, D. C., Thursday, July 2, 1863, p. 2, col. 1

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, October 12, 1861

I find vast trouble in doing justice to the sick, in consequence of the unwarrantable interference of military officers in matters of which they are about as well qualified to judge as would be so many of their mules. The two forts which we built near Chain Bridge, and have left some three miles in our rear, have been officially named Fort Marcy and Fort Ethan Allen. The former encloses about one, the latter about five acres of land, and are both very strong.

Our division now holds the post of honor, the advanced center in the Army of the Potomac. Nobody ahead of us, but in the rear, and the right and left, for miles it is but a city of tents. By night the views over these camps are beautiful; by day the stench and noise is abominable.

Surgeon Owen, of Chester, Penn., to-day enters on the duties of Surgeon of our brigade, and I entertain strong hopes that he will be able to stop the pernicious interference of military officers with matters purely medical.

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. 43-4

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 5, 1862

Something has happened. Last night, just as we were settling down for the night, orders came for a move. Dr. Andrus came round looking us over and ordered me to the hospital, as well as several others. Where the regiment is going is a secret from us yet. While the tents were coming down and packing up was going on, an ambulance drove in and with others I did not know, I was carted to what I understand is called "Stewart's Mansion Hospital." It is in the city, and I think near the place of our first night's stay in Baltimore. I was assigned a bed and for the first time since leaving home took off my clothes for the night. It seemed so strange I was a long time getting sleepy.

I am in a large room full of clean cots, each one with a man in it more or less sick. Not being as bad off as many others, I have written some letters for myself and some for others who wished me to do so. The room is warmed by two big stoves and if I knew where the regiment was, I would be willing to put in the winter right here. Nurses, men detailed for that purpose, are here just to wait on us and ladies are coming and going nearly all the time. They bring us flowers and are just as kind as they can be. I am up and dressed and have been out seeing the grounds about the place. One building is called the dead house, and in it were two men who died during the night. As none were missing from the room I was in, I judge there are other rooms, and that the one I was in is for those who are not really sick, but sickish. John Wooden of our company is probably the sickest man in the ward. John Van Alstyne came in just at night to see how I came on. Snow is falling and the natives call it very unusual weather for the time of year.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 57-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: Friday, November 14, 1862

Dr. Andrus is going to-day. He says I ought not to think of leaving here yet. But he does not forbid it, so if I get a chance I shall try it. I have burned my big pile of letters and discarded every thing my knapsack was stuffed with except what belongs to Uncle Sam.

3 p. m. Mail in and a five-dollar bill came in a letter from home. I went right out and bought a pair of boots with it, which beat the low shoes I have so far worn.

7 p.m. On board the steamer Louisiana. I had a hard time getting here, making two miles in twenty minutes with my gun and accoutrements all on. Dr. Andrus went and as soon as the chance came I sneaked out and started. I was just in time, as the gang-plank was being pulled aboard when I came to it. Dr. Andrus was on deck and saw me and had them wait until I was on board. Then he scolded some and made me get into a berth where he covered me up in blankets and made me drink a cup of hot stuff which he prepared. I was nearly roasted by this treatment, but I am away from the hospital and on the way to be with the boys again and so did not complain.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 60

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, May 28, 1864

In consequence of the damp nights I cough badly. Nights are cool, compared with the heat of the day, the sun being terrible, in consequence of which I have suffered with headache. Going about camp I find several wells 20 and 25 feet deep. In company with twenty others our mess have commenced digging today. Pinchen is whittling staves out of sticks of pine rations for a bucket with a small jack-knife, to use in pulling up the dirt. Prison managers are against this enterprise; but the jealousy is being overcome happily, through the influence of surgeons and military officers who occasionally come inside and we have shown them the condition of the stream. As yet no spades are allowed for this work, although these officers have kindly suggested that they could be trusted to us under restriction. So they have been dug with case knives, pieces of canteens, or any piece of iron or stick convertible for such use. As digging proceeds men go down on poles, where one can be obtained, bracing against the bank and ascending the same way. The earth is a red sand, packs hard, needs no stoning. After several feet a fine layer of clay is struck, smooth and soft which is a curiosity to some, who smooth it and whittle it into fancy articles, among which are pipes. Tin pails are attached to whatever we can create for ropes for drawing up dirt and water.

Yesterday I noticed a dead-line board laying on the ground inside, one end about three feet from the post, blown, I suppose, by the wind. We have been troubled about getting in and out of the well we are digging, and cannot find anything to put down to climb on: 'I conceived the idea of capturing it to obviate the trouble. It got pretty dark near midnight. I approached the place cautiously, and lay flat and crawled to the board and tied a string to the end farthest in and sitting on the ground 25 feet away, drew it cautiously until out of danger from being shot by sentinels, when I picked it up and brought it to our place. We covered it with sand when Rebel sergeants came in the morning, and after the well was finished, broke it up for wood to cook our rations of meal. The Rebels missed the board, but never found it. Thompson watched the guard while I pulled it away, to warn me if they were likely to shoot, but the other boys didn't know when I stole the "dead line."

Seven hundred men taken at Spottslvania come in; report Grant at Mechanicsville, Johnston falling back on Atlanta. Those who have razors shave for 5c., cut hair for 10c. Sweat boards or dice appear in camp where men can stake 5c. a throw, if he wishes to try his luck at gaming. I have known some to win quite often, but hear of more who lose. A few things have been worked into camp by men who get out on duty or by Rebel sergeants. A fair sized onion goes for $1, apples 10c to 40c, dry hog peas 40c. per pint, plug tobacco $1.50. There is one commodity never had in any market. It is ahead of any Dutch brewery extant; it is meal beer made by letting corn meal sour in water. Molasses can be had for 5c. a teaspoonful; a little is added to give it a twang and sassafras roots can be had by digging, the tea of which is often added to give it flavor. Those who have money, pay ten and fifteen cents for half a pint and drink it with a relish. Men crave something sour, and poor fellows with feverish lips and scabious tendency, without money, beg and whine for it childishly. The vender cries, "Here is your nice meal beer, right sour, well seasoned with sassafras."

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 65-6

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, September 18, 1862

Finished up the examination of the Company & had 7 more rejected but leaves us a full com they had to be stripped naked & thurroughly examined all over by a Seargeon those that were rejected started home on the cars at noon. my boil is verry bad

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 89

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 12, 1861

We were rejoiced this morning to hear of Rosecrans' success, and, at the same time, not well pleased at the escape of the enemy under cover of night. We were ordered to move, and got under way at eight o'clock. On the road we met General Rosecrans and staff. He was jubilant, as well he might be, and as he rode by received the congratulations of the officers and cheers of the men.

Arriving on yesterday's battlefield, the regiment was allowed a half hour for rest. The dead had been gathered and placed in a long trench, which was still open. The wounded of both armies were in hospital, receiving the attention of the surgeons. There were a few prisoners, most of them too unwell to accompany their friends in retreat.

Soon after reaching the summit of Rich mountain, we caught glimpses of Tygart's valley, and of Cheat mountain beyond, and before nightfall reached Beverly and went into camp.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 26-7

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, November 4, 1862

We started early this morning, steadily tramping till a little after noon, when we entered the town of Hamilton, the rebs leaving as our advance went in.

Here we made a long halt, as the men were sore, sick, and lame, as well as tired and hungry. Surgeon Ware made an examination here, and as it was as far as the transports could be with us, he decided to send back what men had succumbed. Our company had two. The unfortunates were put aboard a miserable tub of a boat, with about two hundred sick men on her, and sleeping room for about fifty; but after nearly five days on the crowded, ill-ventilated, poorly provisioned craft, we arrived at New Berne on Sunday morning, Nov. 9th, marched to the old camp-ground, and were received by the guard whom we left there. They washed us, and put us to bed, and then took care of us till we were on our feet again. We had good quarters in the surgeon's tent, and only worried for fear the regiment would come home in the dark, and catch us napping in the officers' quarters.

Rumors are abundant to the effect that the regiment is cut to pieces, but no work for the sick ones, so we write letters by the dozen, smoke, and tell stories of our campaign to the camp-guard. But the company must be looked up.

They started from Hamilton about seven P.M., of the 4th, marching through town with fireworks. Many of the buildings were in flames, having been fired in retaliation, our men being shot at from the houses. Others say the town was burned because a rebel picket shot one of our soldiers on the outskirts of the town. If that was so, it was a wrong done to private property.

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. 19-20

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, August 23, 1861

Colonel ——— to-day complains that I have too much force employed in the hospital, and says that he will cut it down. The regulations allow ten nurses and two cooks to the regiment, besides Surgeons, and Hospital Steward. All I have, are three nurses and two cooks. Will he dare to cut that down? Should he do so I will "try conclusions" as to his authority to do it. Three nurses, for one hundred sick, and that must be cut down! Nor is this all. The Quartermaster, taking his cue from the Colonel, refuses to acknowledge our right to a hospital fund, and I therefore get but few comforts for the sick, except through charity or a fight for it. It is to be hoped that these officers will, by a little more experience, become better posted in their duties, and that the sick will not then be considered interlopers, or intruders on the comforts of the regiment. I forgot to say, in the proper place, that we are brigaded, forming a part of Gen. Rufus King's brigade, composed of four regiments.

I have not yet donned the full uniform of my rank, and there is scarcely a day passes that I do not get a reproving hint on the subject from our Colonel. A few days ago, whilst in Baltimore, he came to me almost railing at certain army officers for appearing in citizens' dress. "There," said he, "is Major B., Major K., Gen. D., Doct. N. P., all of the regular army, and not one of whom can be distinguished from a private citizen." "Colonel," I replied, "they probably fear being mistaken for volunteer officers. He did not feel flattered, but dropped the subject. Since I came here, I think I can tell a man's calibre by his shoulder-straps. The amount of brain is generally in inverse proportion to the size of his straps.

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. 18

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, October 29, 1862

Those of us who are on guard to-day are having a “soft time.” We have our orders to start at three to-morrow morning. The boys are busy packing, receiving cartridges, &c.; the cooks are hard at work in their department, and the surgeon is hunting for men to guard camp. We were afraid the guard were to be left, but the captain says he won't forget us. The knapsacks are to be stored in the officers' tents, and we are ordered to get all the sleep we can from now till four to-morrow, perhaps the last nap under cover for weeks.

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. 16