Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 7, 1861

On the high land overlooking the Potomac, about six or seven miles above the Navy Yard at Washington, we have, since our arrival here, thrown up a small fort, formed extensive abattis, and made redoubts and fortifications to command the turnpike leading down the river, and the bridge over which any enemy must pass from any direction above here to reach Washington. This looks like business. The earthwork fort is small, but very strong, and its large siege guns, from twelve to eighteen feet long, with their sullen faces watching up and down the road in every direction, give it a most formidable appearance. A brigade (I have not learned what one) has just advanced beyond us to commence another fort, about two miles to the southwest of us. Neither fort has yet been officially named, but the one just finished is called by the soldiers Fort Mott; the one about to be built they will for the present distinguish by the name of Fort Ethan Allen. In this manner we are closing on the enemy by slow approaches, or parallels. Let Dupont and Butler, from North Carolina, advance to meet us, whilst Fremont takes care of the Mississippi, and we shall have an early closing up of the war. Every day's observation more and more satisfies me that the enemy will not fight us here.

9 P. M.—Our fort is completed, and we have just received orders to cook three days rations, and be ready to move at a moment's notice.

I will here note, once for all, the manner of the soldiers taking care of themselves in a storm, when they have no tents. They all have "rubber blankets." Two forks are set, and a pole laid from one to the other, some four or five feet from the ground. A kind of lean-to roof is made by placing brush or poles against this, one end resting on the ground, the other end resting on the pole. To make this roof water-proof, the rubber blankets are stretched, like tiles on a roof, and no water gets through. In moderate weather the men cuddle together under this, and are reasonably comfortable. In cold weather they make large log fires in front of these "bivouacs," and pass the nights without freezing.

An order was received to-day from the War Department, that in future no labor shall be required of soldiers on the Sabbath, except what is absolutely necessary for our defence.

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. 25-6

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, September 15, 1861

I am alone to-night, and tired enough to lie and sleep for twenty-four hours, did not the scenes around call up associations which banish repose, and yet invite it. In the deep, deep woods, in a deep, deeper valley, with a mountain rising high on either side of me, and the semi-roaring babble of a large mountain brook, leaping over stones and precipices just in front of my lonely tent; the night speaks of the wildness of nature, and carries back my imagination to the times when the red man revelled here in the luxury of his mountain hunt. The song of the catydid talks to me of the rural home of my childhood, while the scream of the screech-owl right over my head awakens mingled feelings of aboriginal wildness, and of the ruins of civilization. The night is still, and over the mountain comes the strain of vocal music, with the accompaniment of a martial band, from more than a mile away, where with a regiment of Vermonters our chaplain is holding religious exercises, and "Dundee's sacred strain," mellowed by the distance, is in harmony with all around me. These are my nearest settled neighbors to-night, and so far away that I am outside of all their guards, yet near enough to hear the "Halt! who comes there?" of the picket, as he hails the rock, loosened from above, as it comes rushing down the mountain side. The tattoo of the night drums, too, as it comes rumbling over the mountains, and calls the soldier to his hard, but welcomed bed, awakens in the reflecting mind sad stories of the passions of men; of happy homes, deserted; of families, once united, now separated, perhaps forever; of the once freeman, to whom the dungeon now denies all hope of liberty again; of a country, once a unit, which held the world at bay, now an object of the ridicule or pity of nations which but a few short months before trembled at her power; of reflections which, I fear, must convince that "war is the normal condition of man." There were threats of an attack on us yesterday and to-day. My hospital was in an exposed position, and my sick must be moved. At dark I commenced moving to a more secure place; selected this beautiful ravine; got my tents here, but not deeming it best to disturb the sick by moving them in the night, am here alone to take care of my tents and stores. And how beautifully the moon sheds its reflections over this quiet little valley, and brightens, as with myriads of diamonds, the ripplings of the little mountain streams! How deliciously sweet the fresh odor of the clean grass, untainted by the stench of the camp. But hark! I hear at this moment, from Fort Corcoran, "the three guns," a signal of approaching danger, and in another moment the "long roll" may summon us to scenes of trouble. I am still stubborn in the belief that the enemy is only making a feint, and that we shall have no fight here. The long roll does not call me. The “three guns” must have made a false alarm, and so I will retire and "bid the world good-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. 30-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, February 15, 1863

We are now on the “heaving sea and the bounding wave.” We were aroused yesterday morning at four o'clock, ordered to prepare breakfast and be ready to march at a minute's notice. At five-thirty the bugle sounded "fall in." We slung our accoutrements, the first time since the battle of Fredericksburg, and in fifteen minutes were en route to the depot, distance about two miles. After some delay we took cars for Aquia Creek, where we arrived at 10 o'clock a. m., and were immediately transferred to transports, bound for Fortress Monroe. The Seventy-ninth New York and Seventeenth Michigan were crowded on the North America, an old Hudson River propeller. There was hardly standing room, much less room to walk about. The day is fine, and the bay, unruffled by a breeze, presents a lively and picturesque appearance. Steamers are continually arriving and departing, sailboats of all sorts and sizes spread their white wings and glide leisurely through the still waters, while the active little tugs go whisking and snorting here and there, assisting larger and more unwieldly vessels. We left Aquia Creek at 10:30 o'clock a. m., expecting to reach the Fortress by nine o'clock next morning. I love the sea in all its forms and phases, and it was with a thrill of joy I took my seat on deck, prepared to enjoy whatever of interest might present itself. The Potomac, at Aquia Creek, is truly a noble stream, if stream it may be called, for there is no perceptible current, being, I judge, one and one-half miles wide, gradually broadening out as it nears the bay, until at its mouth it is nine miles wide. There is a striking contrast between the Maryland and Virginia shores. The Virginia side, nearly the entire distance, presents a rugged, mountainous aspect, with very few buildings in view, while the Maryland shore is level, dotted with farm buildings, and, at frequent intervals a village with its church spires glittering in the sun. In contemplating these peaceful scenes of rural life, the quiet farm houses surrounded by groves of trees, the well-tilled fields, outbuildings and fences undisturbed by war's desolating hand, the genial air of quiet repose that pervades the scene calls up emotions that have long lain dormant. For many long months, which seems as many years, my eyes have become inured to scenes of blood, of desolation and of ruin; to cities and villages laid waste and pillaged; private residences destroyed; homes made desolate; in fact, the whole country through which we have passed, except part of Maryland, has become through war's desolating touch, a desert waste. As I gazed on these peaceful scenes and my thirsty soul drank in their beauty, how hateful did war appear, and I prayed the time might soon come when “Nations shall learn war no more.”

Gradually the wind freshened, increasing in force as we neared the bay, until it became so rough the captain thought it unsafe to venture out, and cast anchor about five miles from the mouth of the river to await the coming of day. I spread my blanket on the floor of one of the little cabins and slept soundly until morning. When I awoke in the morning the first gray streaks of early dawn were illuminating the eastern horizon.

The gale having subsided, we were soon under way, and in about half an hour entered the broad Chesapeake. And here a most grand and imposing scene met my enraptured gaze. Not a breath of air disturbed its unruffled surface. Numerous vessels, floating upon its bosom, were reflected as by a mirror. A delegation of porpoises met us at the entrance to welcome us to their domain; they were twenty-two in number, were from six to eight feet in length; in color, dark brown. It was truly amusing to witness their sportive antics as they seemed to roll themselves along. They would throw themselves head foremost from the water half their length, turning as on a pivot, perform what seemed to be a somersault, and disappear.

A flock of sea gulls fell into our wake, sagely picking up any crumbs of bread that might be thrown them. They are a strange bird, a little larger than a dove, closely resembling them in color and gracefulness of motion. They followed us the whole distance, and as I watched their continuous, ceaseless flight, the effect on the mind was a sense of weariness at thought of the long-continued exertion.

Soon after we entered the bay I observed what I thought to be a light fog arising in the southeast. We had not proceeded far, however, before I discovered my mistake, for that which seemed to be a fog was a shower of rain. I was taken wholly by surprise, for I had been accustomed to see some preparation and ceremony on similar occasions. But now no gathering clouds darkened the distant sky, warning me of its approach, but the very storm itself seemed to float upon the waves and become part of it, and before I was aware, enfolded us in its watery embrace. The storm soon passed, but the wind continued through the day, and, as we neared the old Atlantic and met his heavy swells, they produced a feeling of buoyancy that was, to me, truly exhilerating.

Some of the boys were seasick, and a number "cast up their accounts" in earnest. We entered the harbor about sundown and cast anchor for the night under the frowning guns of Fortress Monroe.

Vessels of war of every class, monitors included, and sailing vessels of all sizes, crowded the harbor. It was a magnificent scene, and one on which I had always longed to gaze.

In the morning we learned our destination was Newport News, distant about five miles. We arrived about eight o'clock, marched two miles to Hampton Roads, our camping ground, pitched tents and, at noon, were ready for our dinner of coffee and hardtack.

We have a pleasant camping ground, lying on the beach, where we can watch the vessels as they pass and can pick up oysters by the bushel when the tide is out.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 30-3

Diary of Private William S. White, June 22, 1861

Early this morning we were awakened by a heavy wind storm and we had as much as we could do to keep our tents from being blown away. Sent off a gun from Brown's Second Company on a scouting expedition.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 102

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: June 26, 1861

Arrived at Clarksburg about midnight, and remained on the cars until morning. We are now encamped on a hillside, and for the first time my bed is made in my own tent.

Clarksburg has apparently stood still for fifty years. Most of the houses are old style, built by the fathers and grandfathers of the present occupants. Here, for the first time, we find slaves, each of the wealthier, or, rather, each of the well-to-do, families owning a few.

There are probably thirty-five hundred troops in this vicinity—the Third, Fourth, Eighteenth, Nineteenth, and part of the Twenty-second Ohio, one company of cavalry, and one of artillery. Rumors of skirmishes and small fights a few miles off; but as yet the only gunpowder we have smelled is our own.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 10

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Wednesday, September 24, 1862

New tents were given us to-day. "A" tents they are called; I suppose because they are in the shape of a letter A. They are like the roof of a house cut off at the eaves, and one gable split open for us to enter, with strings sewed fast to one side and buttonholes in the other so we can close them up tight. A detail from each company has been clearing up the ground and laying out for an all winter stay. The officers have moved back to the more level portion of the field, which brings our lines of tents on much better ground than before. A long and wide street has been laid out and is being graded off, on the west side of which the officers' tents are ranged, the colonel's tent in the middle and a little in the rear of the tents of the captains and lieutenants, which are directly in front of their respective companies. On a line with Colonel Cowles' tent are those of the lieutenant colonel (which by the way has no occupant yet, he being off somewhere on detached service), the major, quartermaster, adjutant, surgeon and chaplain. Back of these is a big tent called the Hospital, which so far has not been of much use. Then in front of all these are the companies' quarters, the ten company streets running off at right angles to the broad street along which the company officers' tents are now being placed. A wide space is left in front of Colonel Cowles' tent, and runs clear through camp, nothing being on it but a flag-pole, which is to stand directly in front of the colonel's tent and in line with the tents of the company officers. So many hands make light work of any job, but I am only telling how it is to be, for only the laying out is completed and the grading begun.

We that were not detailed for the work were taken out to the great sandy plain toward what I am told is Chesapeake Bay and given a lesson in battalion-drill.

The 135th N. Y. was with us, and from the crowds of people who were there I suppose battalion drill is something worth seeing. But it was anything but fun for us, and we came back to camp hungry, tired, and with as much dust on us as would stick. We were glad enough to crawl into our old shelter tents. It is well I wrote the most of the day's doings before we went out, for it is hard work to put this little finish to it. Good-night, diary.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 37-8

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Friday, September 26, 1862

Camp Millington again. A sort of trial called a court-martial has been held and the boys who celebrated yesterday, are meditating upon it in the guard-house, which by the way is a mule stable on the end of the sutler's shop. Our old tents were taken down and our new ones are up. Each one is trying to outdo the other in making them look homelike. Boards are in great demand for flooring, and already complaints are coming in from the natives, that every loose board or one that could be loosened from their fences or outbuildings is missing, and they have reason to think they came this way. We are delighted with our new tents. Each holds four men. Walter Loucks, George and Jim Story and myself make up our family. We have to lay straight, and at that there is no room to spare. But we are protected from rain, and the heavy dews that are almost as bad, and best of all, we can shut up tight and keep out the mosquitoes. Those that do get in we can smoke out in short order.

A rumor is afloat that another regiment has been raised in Dutchess County and is to come here. We think ourselves soldiers now and are planning how we will entertain the greenhorns when they come.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 38-9

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 29, 1862

CAMP MILLINGTON, BALTIMORE. On account of the heat we were not taken out for drill to-day. We have cleaned up our quarters, for since getting our new and comfortable tents we are quite particular about appearances. There is a friendly rivalry as to which of the ten companies shall have the neatest quarters. All being exactly alike to start with, it depends upon us to keep them neat and shipshape. The cooks have tents as well as we, and altogether we are quite another sort from what we were a week ago. It has been a regular clean up day with us. The brook below us has carried off dirt enough from our clothing and bodies to make a garden. While we were there close beside the railroad, a train loaded with soldiers halted, and while we were joking with the men, someone fired a pistol from another passing train, and a sergeant on the standing train was killed—whether it was by accident or purposely done, no one knows; or whether the guilty one will be found out and punished, no one of us can tell. But I wonder so few accidents do happen. There are hundreds of revolvers in camp and many of them in the hands of those who know no better how to use them than a child.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 40-1

Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, March 11, 1862

a beautyfull warm sunshiney day and we cleaned our streets and struck our tents today

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 16

Diary of Private Edward W. Crippin, August 29, 1861

Reveille early this morning preparations for leaving Camp McClernand, Tents struck at a few minutes after 10 A. M. Baggage packed & loaded by ½ past 11 A. M. Companies on parade ¼ past 12 M. Marched into Jacksonville at 1 O'clock P. M. in court yard till 4 O'clock P. M. Marched to the cars, nothing but open cars for the men, Large crowd at the depot to witness our departure. Had some trouble while at the depot with private Sullivan, he was drunk had to tie him for refusing to be still, Left Springfield at 10 minutes past 5 P. M. amid the firing of cannon and immense cheering of the citisens 1st Sergent Browning left behind to recruit his health, to follow up as soon as that will permit. Arrived at Decatur without anything of moment transpiring. At 1 O'clock on the morning of the 30th issued some rations of hard crackers & cheese to the men Changed cars; better accommodations from there, to Cairo, in passenger coaches but nothing better to eat. Arrived at Cairo at 4 O'clock P. M. marched to quarters on the open plain above the city.

SOURCE: Transactions of the Illinois State Historical Society for the Year 1909, p. 223

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, August 27, 1861

On my arrival here, I found our tents pitched on ploughed ground, in a swale. The bottoms of the tents were very damp, and the mud in the streets over shoe-top. I at once set to work to correct this. I had the streets all ditched on either side, the dirt thrown into the middle, and already, instead of the mud and water streets and tents, we have them so firm, smooth and dry that they are swept every day. I hope by this, and by constant care in ventilating the tents, to arrest the rapidly increasing sickness.

Having finished the above note for the day, I have, on the point of retiring, just received an order from Gen. King to be ready to move at a minute's notice. The enemy is probably again threatening Washington. I must prepare.

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. 19

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, October 28, 1862

We have been hard at work yesterday and to-day fixing up our camp, which is located about a quarter of a mile from town on the old racecourse. There are troops stationed in our neighborhood in every direction. Quite a village; but our time so far has been too much employed at home to do much visiting. We are in tents, nineteen men to a tent. We have been banking and boarding up, to prepare for bad weather, although our barracks are nearly done, and we hope to get into them soon. We are very much crowded in our tent, but have plenty of fresh air, of which we have had very little for a week, and are correspondingly thankful. Rumors are beginning to come; we have them to-night that we are going to into the Wilderness immediately. Our tent is comparatively vacant, as this afternoon five were taken out for night guard on a supply train.

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

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

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, October 31, 1862

[Click on map to enlarge.]

At daybreak we were well into the river, and at noon reached Little Washington. At home, this would be a small, and decidedly second-class town, here it is a city. It is well located on the banks of the river, and with energy might be made quite a place. We marched to the easterly end of the town to a large open field, and pitched camp. Not even tents this time. But we found a lot of box boards, and soon had comfortable bunks. Many of them like coffins, just large enough to lie in. A queer-looking camp it was. We have heard to-night that our woollen blankets are to be packed away; we go in light marching order.

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. 16-7

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, November 20, 1862

Left Columbus this morning about 4 o'clock on board the cars of the M. & O. Railroad. Men all in good spirits. Left a number in the hospital. Was sick myself but the prospect of getting into active duty soon cured me. Worked most of the night in getting tents, etc. ready. Arrived at Grand Junction on Memphis & Charleston Road on the morning of the 21st; ordered to LaGrange; arrived there by 2 o'clock, camped at LaGrange that night. On the 22nd was ordered to Moscow, a station twelve miles west of LaGrange. Owing to the roads being torn up we marched there, where we arrived at noon. Soon 30,000 troops were encamped in this vicinity and the rumors of an early advance are flying. Not yet brigaded.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 4

Diary of Private Richard R. Hancock: Wednesday, February 26, 1862

We rejoined our battalion at Black's Shop, seven miles from Murfreesboro, on the Lebanon pike. We were ordered to hunt quarters for the night, as we still had no tents.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 134

Diary of Private Richard R. Hancock: Thursday, February 27, 1862

On reassembling the battalion drew five tents to each company, and put them up at Black's Shop.

Hearing that the Federals were about five miles south of Nashville and still advancing toward Murfreesboro, the battalion moved out about eight miles in the direction of the former place. Hearing that about one thousand Confederate cavalry were three miles in advance of us, we turned and went back to camps at Black's Shop.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 134-5

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Monday, September 8, 1862

Monday morning. Our first night in Baltimore is over. We had roll-call, to see if we were all here, and then spread our blankets on the ground and were soon sound asleep. Walt. Loucks and I each having a blanket, we spread one on the ground and the other over us. With our knapsacks for a pillow, we slept as sound as if in the softest bed. The dew, however, was heavy, and only for the blanket over us we would have been wet through. As it was, our hair was as wet as if we had been swimming. Sleeping on the ground, in clothing already wet with sweat, and the night being quite cool, has stiffened our joints, so we move about like foundered horses. Had the Rebs come upon us when we first got up we couldn't have run away and we certainly were not in a condition to defend ourselves. But this wore off after a little, and we were ourselves again. As it was in Hudson, so it is here. All sorts of rumors as to what we do next are going the rounds. I have given up believing anything, and shall wait until we do something or go somewhere, and then, diary, I'll tell you all about it.

Night. We put in the day sitting around and swapping yarns, etc. None of us cared to go about, for we were pretty tired, after our hard day yesterday. Shelter tents were given out to-day. One tent for every two men. They are not tents at all, nothing but a strip of muslin, with three sticks to hold them up. There are four pins to pin the corners to the ground. Then one stick is put in like a ridge pole, and the other two set under it. The ends are pinned down as far apart as a man is long, and then the middle raised up. They may keep off rain, if it falls straight down, but both ends are open, and two men fill it full. We have got them up, each company in a row. It is a funny sight to stand on the high ground and look over them. Lengthwise, it is like a long strip of muslin with what a dressmaker calls gathers in it. Looked at from the side it is like a row of capital A's with the cross up and down instead of crosswise.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 20-1

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Tuesday, September 9, 1862

About midnight, an officer of some sort rode into camp with some word that was the means of our being routed out by the "Long Roll," the first time any of us ever heard it. It appears the "Long Roll" is only sounded when the quickest possible getting into line in fighting trim is necessary, as when the enemy is about to pounce upon us, etc. But we didn't hurry. One after another got up and all the time the officers were shouting, and some of them swearing. I thought they had all gone crazy. But finally we understood, and then down came our tents. The quartermaster team rushed up with boxes of guns, which were broken open and the guns handed out as fast as possible. Ammunition, too, was passed out, and we were told to load up and defend ourselves. The excitement was so great, and the ammunition so new to us, about half the guns were loaded with the bullet end down. The cartridges are a charge of powder, a big long bullet and a piece of paper. The paper is rolled up with the powder in one end and the bullet in the other, and to us, in the dark, both ends looked alike. But no great harm was done, for no enemy appeared. Just what it was all for I don't know now, and quite likely never will. We got a ration of bread and coffee and with our guns—great heavy, clumsy things—and our tents added to our already heavy load, started off on a brisk pace, which was kept up until some began to fall out, completely exhausted. These were picked up by the quartermaster and commissary wagons, and so we went for about six miles along the road that is said to lead to Frederick. Then we halted, and after the stragglers had caught up, started back again, soon turning off in another direction on another road, and marched for about the same distance, where we turned into a field, partly level, and the rest a side hill. We halted when a little way from the road and were told we were to go into permanent camp there. Baltimore is in plain sight, although it is some way off. We were so tuckered out by our long tramp in the hot sun and with the heavy loads on our backs, we were glad to get up our tents, and after a coffee and bread supper, to turn in and sleep.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 21-2

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 12, 1862

The storm came. A soaking rain in the night; it soaked every one of us. I suppose the officers fared better, for they have tents like houses, but we, the shelter-tent brigade, certainly took all that came. I got up from a puddle of water. The water ran down the hill, under our tents, and under us. This softened the ground so we sank right in. The ground is a red color, and we are a sight to behold. By looking at a man's trousers it is easy to tell whether he slept on his back or on his side. In one case he has one red leg, and in the other, two. I think it would improve the appearance if the whole trousers were soaked in the mud. This sickly blue is about the meanest color I can think of. I guess the Government had more cloth than color. One fellow says there was only one kettle of dye. The officers' clothes were dipped first, then the privates' coats, and last the pantaloons. No matter what question comes up there are some who can explain and make it all clear. A part of Company B was sent out on picket duty to-day. I don't know where or what their duties are. All sorts of war stories are in the air. One paper tells of a great battle and the next one contradicts it. I guess it is done to make sale for papers. Newsboys rush into camp yelling "Extra" and we rush at them and buy them out. But it gives us something to talk about, and that is worth much to us.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 24-5