Private John C. West to Mary Stark West, May 20, 1863

ON THE RAPIDAN,        

MAY 20TH, 1863.

MY PRECIOUS WIFE:

I am at last safely encamped with the Fourth Texas Regiment in a beautiful grove of chestnut on a hillside about one mile from Raccoon Ford on the Rapidan about seventy-five or eighty miles from Richmond, and must say that I feel better and happier and of a clearer conscience than since the war commenced.

We have no tents and few blankets, mine being lost, you know, and being replaced by a light one which Aunt Mary Stark gave me. The ground is hard but the weather is pleasant and water fine. I did not believe I could feel so well satisfied so far from you, but, thank God, that I have a full and perfect faith on one point, viz: that whatever may await me, heaven will protect you and the children. I have not felt uneasy for a moment on that subject, and this morning I took out my Bible and opened it by chance and found the (104th) one hundred and fourth Psalm on the mighty power and providence of God. Can you not trust in such a power and enjoy yourself and feel satisfied? I do not want you to be sad a moment on my account.

I am perfectly well and have bacon, bread and a clear conscience. I have consummated the desire of my heart in connecting myself with this brigade. I intend to remain with it until it returns to Texas under a reign of peace, or I expect not to return at all. All of the Waco boys are well except Allen Killingsworth. I am afraid he is dangerously sick. He was in the hospital a month ago and came out too soon. He has a high fever and flux and is very weak this morning.

Billy Dunklin and all the rest are well. We have been encamped at this place for a week and may be ordered to move at any moment. I knew everything the brigade was doing when I was at home and on the way here, but am unable to find out anything about it now. We know less than anybody else. Tom Williams is the same old Tom. The whole brigade is in fine spirits, and it really does seem strange to see men who have lost so many friends seem so careless and happy. They sometimes talk almost like bullies at a street corner, except with a mild, calm air of determination and no swagger. The usual feeling seems to be, "We can't be whipped, but we may all be killed." I am satisfied that an imprudent leader could carry them to destruction. I met Tom Lipscomb yesterday on the cars. He is a major in Hampton's Brigade, in Butler's Regiment. Your brother, Lamar Stark, has been scouting in the enemies lines for more than six months. A few days ago he got into a fight; he was captured and Gillespie Thornwell was killed. Lamar is now a prisoner in the Old Capitol at Washington. Some of them have been exchanged already by lot, but Lamar was not drawn. He is well treated and will doubtless be exchanged soon. I learned this from Lipscomb, who got it from returned prisoners; so do not despond about him.

If you ever get my letter in which I make some suggestions about your coming to Columbia, you must let them be qualified by any change in the condition of our affairs in the West. Leave the servants by all means, all of them, and do not go more than $500.00 in debt. If you try it, write to me from Jackson, Mississippi. As soon as I get too sick to march or get wounded I will come to Columbia. You and Bro. Burleson, Mrs. Pearre, Miss Lambden, Dr. McDonald and Mrs. Carter must pray for me.

Your husband, faithfully ever,

JOHN C. WEST.

SOURCE: John Camden West, A Texan in Search of a Fight: Being the Diary and Letters of a Private Soldier in Hood’s Texas Brigade, pp. 60-3

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, February 25, 1863

Our division was inspected today by Major Strong, Inspector-General. Ours was the first regiment inspected. We had a thunder shower in the afternoon and an awful one last night and this morning. Our tent leaked like a sieve. The river is rising very fast. The bank is being leveled to keep the water out of the canal. We had dress parade this evening.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 41

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones, Wednesday, December 3, 1862

Enroute. A sunny and bright day, dried up the mud and made things cheerful. Hitched up at 8 A. M., stayed harnessed until 3 P. M. We then moved out to the river and went to camp in sight of the rebels' fortifications. Some of the boys crossed the river while watering [horses]. Pitched our tents.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 17

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, January 2, 1863

Night verry high wind with incessant heavy rain, our canvas tents shelter us well from the storm but the storm of wind gave us some uneasiness, we feared our stakes might draw & our tents capsize About 2 Oc a Rebble boat Bracele came up with a flag of truce & anchored opposite town to exchange the crew of our boat Blue Wing which they captured a fiew days since. Mr. Oldfield who knows the Capt of the Blue Wing told me that he David Hugle was at heart a traitor & he believed that the taking of his boat with government stores was as Hugle wished it to be, & Oldfield shook hands & talked with Harry Nolen of Cincinatti who was one that came on shore to see about an exchange & his wife is in Cincinatti sewing to Support herself & family & the citty helps to keep her. At 4 Oc we ware on dress perade

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 102

Diary of 2nd Sergeant Richard R. Hancock: Monday, June 9, 1862

We moved about two hundred yards and encamped on the bank of the Tombigbee. Our wagons were brought out to us, loaded with corn, provisions and cooking vessels. Our tents were left at the railroad. Our wagons had not been with us, except two nights at Booneville, since they left us at Jacinto (May 5th).

Fulton, the county seat of Itawamba County, was about one mile from our camp, on the east side of the Tombigbeę, and about twenty-one miles from Marietta.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, pp. 174-5

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, January 18, 1863

Yesterday the chaplain's tent for public worship came and this morning we were all gathered there and the chaplain was praying, when snap went something in the top and down came the tent upon us. He didn't have time to say "Amen," to say nothing of the benediction. In the afternoon Isaac T. Winans, Jim Story and I went to see Walter and found him in a good bed and in a warm room. He is much better, but his wrists are swollen yet and look as if the joints had been pulled apart.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 83

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, January 19, 1863

It rained hard last night and before the tents got soaked up enough water sifted through to wet our blankets and we hardly slept at all for the cold. Not being called on for anything I lay all day and dosed, trying to make up for the miserable night. Isaac Brownell, of Company B, who has done more to keep up the spirits of the men than anything else, is down and very sick. He is a mimic and could mimic anyone or anything. His antics have made us laugh when we felt more like crying, and we are all anxious about him. A case of smallpox was discovered yesterday and the man put in an outbuilding, where he died this morning. Dr. Andrus so far has been alone, and he looks like death.

Later. He has given out and another doctor from the hospital is coming to take his place. The sick list grows all the time.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 84

Diary of 5th Sergeant Lawrence Van Alstyne, January 27, 1863

Two doctors came to take the place of Dr. Andrus and they have had plenty to do. For several days the weather has been hot, which opens the pores in our tents so the first rain sifts right through. Last night it rained and we had another night of twisting and turning and trying to sleep and with very poor success. I cough so when I lie down that I keep up and going all I can, for then I seem to feel the best. Dr. Andrus still looks after us. He is getting better and we are glad, for he is the mainstay in the family. Brownell died this forenoon and I shall never forget the scene. He was conscious and able to talk and the last he said was for us to stick and hang. "But boys," said he, "if I had the power, I would start north with all who wanted to go and as soon as we passed over four feet of ground I would sink it."

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 84

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Saturday, March 4, 1865

Storm in night. sand wouldn't hold tent pins. get wet &c. day somewhat cool. Nothing unusual going on. 24 yr's old.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 576

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Monday, March 13, 1865

Rather a pleasant day. Officers ordered to take to dog tents. G. Steenwyk joins company Lieut Sharman gone home with his mother. Lt Cory recs his detail this evening.

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 577

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 9, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky.     Again has the note of preparation sounded in our camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason from that unhappy State. Orders have not been issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens and tents have been distributed, and, more ominous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out to every man—in fact, we are ready to take the field at a minute's notice, and only await the order.

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 90

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Thursday, April 3, 1862

Hampton Roads. Great concentration of McClellan's army. Our battery has to give up the tents.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 37

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant John S. Morgan, Monday, February 27, 1865

Make out Muster Rolls. Co draws shoes & dog tents. Raining this evening. The balance of Regt get in a little before dark

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, Thirty-Third Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, Vol. XIII, No. 8, Third Series, Des Moines, April 1923, p. 576

Diary of Private Seth J. Wells, January 4, 1863

We had inspection at 1 o'clock. Col. Norton's tent burned today.

SOURCE: Seth James Wells, The Siege of Vicksburg: From the Diary of Seth J. Wells, Including Weeks of Preparation and of Occupation After the Surrender, p. 25

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, November 2, 1862

Corinth. I walked up to the Battery, the farthest I had walked since my lameness. Saw the boys off; they left their tents standing, their knapsacks etc. under charge of Lieutenant Simpson, and those unfit for the march. The inmates of the hospital were taken to the general hospital under Dr. Arnold, nine in number, viz: Orderly J. G. S. Hayward (fractured ankle), Corporal G. B. Jones (chronic diarrhea; waiting for discharge); W. W. Wyman (waiting for discharge); G. W. Benedict (diarrhea); E. W. Evans (fever); David Evans (convalescent); Alex. Ray (convalescent); E. R. Hungerford (chronic diarrhea); Jenk. L. Jones (bruised ankle), remained in the hospital until [Sunday,November 9, 1862.]

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 11

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Sunday, November 9, 1862

Corinth. Learning that the Battery had gone to camp at Grand Junction, Tenn., Sergeant Hamilton was sent back to bring forward the baggage, etc., etc. and was to start by train in the morning. E. W. Evans, David Evans and myself procured a dismissal from the hospital and bade good-bye to our comrades (who were all doing well except E. R. Hungerford, who was very low) at 6:30 A. M. and reported at the depot. We found the boys and baggage on the platform, but owing to the rush of troops we could not get off today. We laid around all day, exchanged our tents, drew some quartermaster stores.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 11

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 27, 1863

Nicholasville, Ky. We are again enjoying the quiet of camp life. Our miniature tents are pitched in regular order, streets are policed and brigade guards posted to keep our unruly boys within bounds.

Colonel Luce, five line officers and twenty privates have gone home on furlough—others to Cincinnati on leave of absence. Everything indicates a period of rest. Our boys are trying to make up for their privations "down below." Nearly every tent presents the appearance of a market for the sale of fruit or vegetables.

Potatoes, peaches, apples, cabbages, onions, watermelons and green corn are piled in heaps or lie around loose throughout the camp. Then we have artists, too. Two Daguerian cars are running full blast, where the boys get indifferent pictures at one dollar each. I saw a great curiosity today—a relic of bygone ages. About a mile from camp there is a shop where the old-fashioned spinning wheel is manufactured on quite an extensive scale, and they find a ready sale. This is a fair index to the progress of the people. Their manners, forms of speech and customs all point to past ages. They are very loyal and very friendly when sober, but when filled with corn whiskey, hypocrisy and self-interest take a back seat, and they speak their real sentiments with a frankness and fluency that is not at all flattering to us "Yanks." From what I have seen, I conclude all Kentuckians drink whiskey. There are distilleries in every little town, where the "genuine article" is turned out. I called at a farm house one day for a drink of water. The good woman was catechising her son—a lad of ten or twelve years about ten cents she had given him with which to buy some little notion at the store. She gave me a drink of water, then, turning to the young hopeful, angrily inquired, "But where's that ten cents I gave you?" "I guv five cents to Bill." "Where's the other five?" "Bought my dram with it." The explanation appeared satisfactory.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 78-9

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 Major Joseph Stockton, March 10, 1863

Disembarked on a sandy ridge and pitched our tents. River very high and swift. Miserable place for a camp, surrounded on all sides by water.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 9

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, March 23, 1863

Reached as far as we can go today, our progress being stopped by a large rebel fortification called Fort Pemberton, which is about two miles off. We disembarked and were assigned camping ground by General Sanborn, our brigade commander. It is on a clearing—our tents are pitched among decayed pine trees, which have been girdled for the purpose of clearing the ground.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 10