Diary of Private John C. West, Friday, May 22, 1863

Left Raleigh about 9 o'clock yesterday morning. The road from Raleigh to Weldon is the most crooked and through the most broken country I ever saw. Every foot of it is over an embankment or through a deep cut. The land along the route is all poor and barren and yet there are some beautiful residences and the people seem to be doing well. How they live I cannot tell. There were occasionally fine apple orchards and clover fields. I had the good fortune to meet up with Mr. Carpenter, a member of the North Carolina legislature. He was a pleasant companion and had some genuine whiskey, having married the heiress of a distiller. I made also the acquaintance of an old gentleman named Miller, who was on his way to Richmond to see two wounded nephews, one of whom had lost an arm; he also had some whiskey, which he said came from the drug store and must be good. He had also some cakes, good ham and fresh butter, which I enjoyed very much. He is a Baptist and is acquainted with Mr. Lemmond, of Waco, Texas. We reached Weldon about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and as the cars were not to start until 9 o'clock, I concluded to take a stroll. I obtained a drink of the coldest water I ever drank and observed the address of Captain H. A. Troutman on a box, which put me on the lookout for him. I soon met him and we had a long talk on old college times. He had married a Miss Napier. John Neely is dead; Miss Lou is married to Ed. McClure. Billy Clifton has become a devout Baptist. Charley Boyd, John McLemore and Lucius Gaston are all killed; murdered by fanatical vandals; ten thousand mercenaries cannot pay for such men as these. They helped to make and adorn the character of a noble people. They were all my college friends. We loved each other and cherished common hopes of a happy future.

I went to supper with Troutman. He boards with the post commissary, who, of course, gets a little of everything. We had light rolls, scrambled eggs, genuine coffee, salmon, etc., for supper. The commissary is run by Mr. Peterson, brother of Judge Peterson, of San Antonio, Texas. We left Weldon at 9 o'clock and jogged along slowly until about 3 o'clock a. m., when we reached Petersburg. I shouldered my carpet-bag, overcoat and blanket and walked a mile to the depot. Cars left Petersburg about 5 o'clock a. m., and ran so slowly that I had ample time to inspect the country. When we came within eight miles of Richmond I observed a large amount of timber felled on either side of the road and fortifications thrown up to prevent the advance of the Yanks. When we came within three miles of Richmond one of the bars which connects the cars broke, and we were detained for half an hour or more, but another engine very opportunely came up behind us and pushed us on to Richmond. I found it a much more beautiful place than I had anticipated. The scenery in crossing James River is especially attractive. I put up at the American Hotel and spent the day in wandering "up and down" and "going to and fro" in it. I called on Miss Wigfall, Mrs. Chestnut, Miss Nannie Norton (who was absent), Miss Mary Fisher, Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell and met there Mrs. Carter. Called at the Cabinet Quarters and delivered to C. S. Senator Hon. James Chestnut, a letter (from Hon. Guy M. Bryan, of Texas) to the president. I went to the Ballard House to see Hon. H. P. Brewster, of Texas; was unable to find him. Delivered Mr. Carter's letter to Mr. Winston, who was too busy to notice me, so I retired. I gave him also the letter to Mrs. Benton. Dined with Colonel and Mrs. Chestnut, in company with Billy Preston, who is now major of artillery. Had fish and corn bread, rice and lettuce for dinner, with iced whiskey to wash it down. After dinner went to the Spotswood Hotel, met Captain Rice and Jimmy Winn, also Minnie Moses, whom I have not seen for eight years. He is a clerk in some of the departments. I returned to Miss Mary Fisher's in the afternoon and left my overcoat in her charge. I am too tired to make comments, though I have seen a great deal to write about. I am writing this in the public room of the American Hotel about 11 o'clock at night. They have charged me $7.50 for supper, night's lodging and breakfast.

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. 49-52

Diary of Private John C. West, Sunday, May 31, 1863

This morning about daylight we received orders to be ready to march at 8:30. All is bustle now getting ready. I have been to the spring for water and have just returned; have read the 52nd chapter of Isaiah, and 35th Psalm; am now about to pack up.

Sunday evening at sunset.—We have marched about fourteen miles to-day—a hot dusty march. Nothing of interest occurred. We are now bivouacked in a pine grove twenty miles from Fredericksburg, with our arms stacked with orders to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. The march has not fatigued me anything like as much as many hunts I have taken at home. Some friend of the soldiers has been kind enough to send us a number of religious papers, and I am now enjoying the "Christian Observer," published at Richmond.

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. 56-7

Diary of Private Jenkin Lloyd Jones: Wednesday, November 12, 1862

Grand Junction, Tenn. It having rained during the night, the dust was converted to mud. Ate a breakfast of cold beef and bread, filled our canteens with water, when we scrambled on top the freight cars in order to procure transportation. It was raining, and when the train was in motion the smoke and cinders were torturing. Arrived at Jackson at 1 P. M. Waited an hour for dinner, then took Mississippi Central R. R. for Grand Junction. Remained at Medon Station till 6 P. M. when G. M. Spencer and I spread our blankets and laid down; awoke at Grand Junction at 3 Α. Μ.

SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 12

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 16, 1863

Camp near Hickman's Bridge, Ky. I did not join the regiment as soon as I expected, owing to the negligence of the Medical Director, whose duty it was to furnish me transportation. As I had no money, I was forced to await his pleasure. The regiment took cars for this place the day they crossed over, so I was left in Cincinnati until Friday evening to live as best I might. I crossed the river on Friday, and next morning took cars for Nicholasville, fourteen miles beyond Lexington, and one hundred fifteen miles from Cincinnati. I was just in time to get two months' pay. I should have drawn for two months more, but there was a mistake in the pay rolls, which cannot be corrected until next muster. The Paymaster says he is going to pay us again next month, and the next time muster us out of the service.

We have a very pleasant camp, in a shady grove, and an abundance of pure, sparkling water, which I appreciate now as I never did before.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 77

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 22, 1863

I had comforted myself with the reflection that when we returned to Kentucky, where communications were uninterrupted by guerillas, and were only separated by twenty-four hours of time, I might be permitted to correspond with my family without such harrowing delays, for I would not have my darling in doubt as to my situation or whereabouts for one single day, knowing, as I do, the uncertainty of suspense is worse than the reality. But 'tis said, "The darkest hour is just before the dawn," and, even as I write, my mind filled with dark thoughts, a ray of light from my Northern home flashes across my vision. The whole current of my thought is changed, and thankfulness takes the place of my repining. Thankfulness that it is as well with my beloved ones as it is. Oh, that I could remove every burden, and make their pathway smooth and flowery. I find most of our trials are imaginary, but none the less real for being SO. For instance, my beloved wife's imagination pictures me on my weary way back to old Virginia's blood-stained fields, subject to every hardship, exposed to every danger, and her suffering could be no greater if it were so. On the contrary, I am still in Kentucky, in a pleasant, shady grove, enjoying a season of welcome quiet and repose, soft bread to eat, plenty of pure, cold water to drink. What more could mortals crave. The newspapers were right, as far as they went, about our being ordered to the Potomac. We did receive such orders, but General Burnside telegraphed the War Department the Ninth Corps had marched, during the year, an average of twenty miles a day; that it had just returned from an exhausting campaign in Mississippi; that the men were worn down by fatigue and sickness, and were unfit for active service, and asked that they be allowed to remain here for a season. His request was granted. One year has passed since I left my pleasant home to serve my country a year big with the fate of millions yet unborn—a year the most eventful in our history; perhaps in the world's history.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 81-2

Diary of Private John J. Wyeth, February 2, 1863

Passed Roanoke on our right, about eight o'clock this morning; sea smooth and weather pleasant. Had a good breakfast of dried beef and water. We entered Roanoke river for the second trip on it about noon, and after about four hours' pleasant sail we were alongside the wharf at Plymouth. Since we were here in November the town has become sadly demoralized. The rebels entered it one fine day and drove what troops were there into the Custom House, and then set fire to the place, destroying the larger part. It is decided not to disembark the regiment till to-morrow. The cooks are ashore somewhere, and are making our coffee, while we are lounging round on deck and through the vessel, having a free and easy time, or located in some cosey nook writing up.

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. 36

Diary of Private Adam S. Johnston, October 8, 1862

Left McMinnville camp in the morning, the colonel telling us, ''Boys, you have longed to meet the enemy on the battle-field, and you will have a chance to-day, or do without water, as the enemy holds the spring that we will have to encamp at." The shout went up from every son of Uncle Sam's family, ,, [sic]     A fight and water we will have." The cannons were already booming, and had been all night, so at fifteen minutes past two o'clock we became engaged, and in one hour and three-quarters we lost two hundred and eleven men out of our regiment (the 79th Pa. Vol. Infantry). We went into the fight with forty-three men in our company (D) and came out with eighteen, having had twenty-five wounded and killed; two killed dead and two dying the next day. I myself was unfortunate enough to be shot through the left leg, about two inches below the knee, the ball glancing off the bone and passing through and out at the fleshy part or calf of the leg, injuring the muscle so that I was unfit for fight, and was sent to the rear after the fifteenth fire. This is my first and last wound received in the battle of Chaplin Hill or Chaplin Heights, so called, and fought on the 8th day of October. 1862. in Boyle county, Ky. Making a march of 8 miles.

SOURCE: Adam S. Johnston, The Soldier Boy's Diary Book, pp. 22-3

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, July 5, 1864

We moved back to the old side, five of us, unbeknown to Rebs, it being improved by the removal of so many to the new part, and to get near the well we dug, for we were fifty rods from water. About 3 p. m. the mule teams came to the north gate; the boys cry "rations," the first issued for over sixty hours. I know no other reason for this than that the first night after the new part of the prison was occupied men carried off timbers of the old north wall for wood or for huts. On July 2nd Capt. Wirz directed that no rations be issued until every stick was replaced. He was heard to say on the 3rd, at the gate, that he would "learn the G-d d--n Yankees that he was in command and if the sons of b-----s died like hell, there would be enough left." I paid ten cents for a small rotting apple; it was good. The 6th, Sherman's men report Johnston whipped at all points; the 8th, behind the Chattahoochee, Sherman crossing on his flank; Grant's, Richmond in danger; Lee's cornbread line troubled. The Southern slave empire must come down. Billy Decker, prisoner since October, a Belle Islander, "Pinch's" old playmate, is stopping with us. He belongs to the 1st U. S. dragoons; is from Steuben county, New York.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, April 16, 1863

Went into camp, and a hard place it is; wood scarce and "water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink," except the Mississippi water, which is very trying on one's constitution. Tonight I witnessed one of the grandest sights I was ever permitted to witness. Through the kindness of some officers I got on board the steamer "Quincy South" and went down again to see the running of the batteries. The night was a pleasant one, stars shining brightly and not a cloud in the heavens, and yet not too light. I went down to within two miles of Vicksburg and could see the lights in the city and on the bluffs distinctly. About half past nine I saw some dark objects floating down the river so noiselessly that you could scarcely detect them; not a light was to be seen on them. The transports, with barges of cotton and hay lashed to them on the Vicksburg side, and cotton piled up around their boilers and engines to protect them from the cannon shot. I fairly held my breath; not a sound was to be heard; all was anxiety and suspense; my thoughts were with the brave men who were to undertake such a perilous voyage. I waited for the first shot; after about half an hour's suspense I saw all at once a brilliant light, which was the signal for the rebels, and then it seemed as if a hundred guns opened at once. The rebels built a large bonfire which lit up the river for miles. Oh, what a sight it was the flash of the cannon, the bursting of shells, but above all the deafening roar, which was like peal after peal of the loudest thunder. How I trembled for the fate of those on board the transports, as they were not near so well protected as those on the gunboats. I saw one of the steamers which the officers on board said was the "Henry Clay" floating by the city, burning. How I hope all the rest have gone safely through the fiery path. I am to be envied, as I do not believe there is another officer in our brigade that has had an opportunity to see this scene. I await the news with great anxiety and refer those who read these pages to an abler pen than mine to do this heroic act full justice.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 12

Diary of Major Joseph Stockton, April 23, 1863

Left Milliken's Bend and had one of the hardest marches on account of heat we have ever had. The distance was only twelve miles, yet it was across a country devoid of trees, and in the middle of the day the heat was dreadful; water scarce—more straggling than ever before, except on one occasion. Reached Richmond, La., about dark. I was posted at the entrance of the town to post the men, as they came straggling in, where the camp was.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 13

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: December 10, 1862

Off the coast of Florida. We must be going to New Orleans as has been reported. I did not believe it at first, as there was a report that Charleston was our destination.

Haight died about sunrise, and his death has cast a gloom over Company B. He was one of the best fellows I have met with in the army. He was a little wild at first but later seemed to change. Talked of the trouble his habits had caused his parents and seemed determined to atone for it by a right about face change. We shall miss his cheery voice. Such is war. It is over thirty-six days since the 128th and two companies of the 114th New York came aboard this vessel. It is a wonder so many are alive to-day. We get on deck now and the nights are so warm some of us sleep there. We suffer for good water to drink. What we have may be good, but it is distilled water, and there are so many of us we use it before it has time to get cold. On the quarter-deck, where we are not allowed to go, are barrels which contain real water, for officers' use only. I was let into a secret last night, how to get some of it, and I drank all I could hold. With a long rubber tube I crawled up behind a barrel and let the end down the bunghole, which is left open for ventilation, and sucked away as long as I could swallow. This will go on until someone is caught at it, and then the game will be up.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 69-70

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, October 10, 1863

Had orders last night at 12 o'clock to cook rations and be ready to move at 4 A.M., but this morning nothing farther is said about it. The order was given in anticipation of an attack, in consequence of some demonstrations made by the enemy last night.

It is now three weeks since the great battle, and I understand that a great many of the enemy's dead are yet unburied. I found, four days after the fight, some of their wounded still unattended to. One of them, belonging to the Sixth Ohio, I made as comfortable as possible, by filling his canteen with water and furnishing him some matches.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 368

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 20, 1863

Vicksburg is ours; Johnson defeated and his forces scattered; our work in Mississippi is performed, and we have taken up the line of march for some other distant field.

We left Jackson at 3 a. m. today for Haines Bluff, where we take transports for some point north or east. I think I will be glad to put in the balance of my work a little farther north, although I would not hesitate to go anywhere, so I might contribute my mite toward putting down this rebellion. But, other things being equal, I would choose to be where we could get pure water, and, what I prize more than all else, hear from my loved family with some degree of regularity. It has been a sore trial, and hard to bear, to be compelled to wait for days and weeks for tidings from a sick and suffering wife.

We marched twelve miles this forenoon, and have halted for dinner. Fifteen miles must be made this afternoon to obtain water. It is a tough march, but necessity compels. It would seem that, in an emergency like this, when our lives depend upon our "staying power," some unseen hand sustains us. As for myself, I have never borne hard marches so well as in Mississippi.

I see by the papers there is much talk of the Rebels carrying the war into the North. Well, let them go. "Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad." I am not sure but it is the only thing that can unite the North; certainly it will hasten the downfall of the Confederacy.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 69-70

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 29, 1863

Haines Bluff. We did not leave on the 23d, as was rumored, but are still in our old camp, enjoying a short season of repose preparatory to our voyage up the river. It is a repose much needed by our men. What prompted our commander to hurry us through as he did sixty miles in three days—I cannot conceive. Strict orders were issued against straggling. No man would be allowed to leave the ranks without a written pass from the Surgeon, and all stragglers were to be picked up by the Provost Guard and taken to headquarters for trial by court martial. The General "reckoned without his host." Some men, so great was their respect for discipline, marched in the ranks until they fell, in a dying condition. But most of them cursed the General and his orders and sat down to rest and cool off whenever their judgment told them they were getting too hot, and, when rested, came on again.

After the first day, no attention was paid to orders. Men fell out in such numbers the Provost could not arrest them, and came straggling into camp until nearly morning.

The next morning after our arrival, in the Seventeenth alone, one hundred twenty men were reported unfit for duty, and forty-five are now sick in hospital. Doubtless much of this sickness is the effect of the poisonous liquid we were compelled to use for cooking and drinking purposes. How grateful to us, then, is the delicious, sparkling water that flows in abundance from that romantic spring I described on our first arrival. Before I leave this subject, let me record our experience the week we were encamped before Jackson. The first day we used cistern water, but that soon failed. After that, all that was left for coffee and for cooking purposes was water from an artificial pond, scooped out in a barnyard, and all the battery and camp horses—five or six hundred of them in number—were watered there every day. They were ridden right into the pond! Rather than drink it, I have been three miles to the rear, after having been on duty all day, for a canteen of cistern water.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 71-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 5, 1863

July 5th, 1863.

We have moved about one and one-half miles today. No doubt our northern friends think they have seen dusty roads, but if they could have seen us yesterday or today, they would have thought the dustiest time they ever saw was clean and airy in comparison. The road, and two or three rods on either side, was beaten into the finest powder, and the feet of men and horses caused it to rise in sooty clouds, which enveloped us in their stifling, smothering folds. There was no breeze to carry it away—no possibility of avoiding it. When we halted at night every man of us was a "free soiler," and carried enough dirt on his person to make a "garden spot." Thanks to a kind providence, water is plenty at this place, and we soon washed and forgot our miseries.

One of the boys just killed a huge rattlesnake a few feet from where I am writing.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 63-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, July 11, 1863

Near Jackson, Miss., July 11th, 1863.

On the 6th of July, at about 3 o'clock p. m., we fell into line and started for the Big Black River, distant about two miles. The Rebels had shown themselves in considerable force on the opposite bank, and had engaged our skirmishers from rifle pits, which were dug close to the river bank, and were concealed by a thick growth of small cane, killing and wounding several of our men. Their force was unknown to us, the river fifteen to twenty feet deep, the banks level, and, on the other side, covered with a heavy growth of timber.

Bridges must be built, and the hazardous task was assigned to the First Brigade. In crossing a level stretch of cleared land, by looking back, I could see the whole brigade in motion, winding along like a huge serpent and extending nearly a mile in length, and a feeling of pride and exultation surged over me as I saw, once more, the grand old Ninth Corps advancing on our country's foe, and led, too, by the glorious Seventeenth.

On arriving at the river we formed in line behind a bank, thickly covered with brush, and awaited the darkness of night before beginning our task.

At dusk each regiment was formed into reliefs, for fatigue duty, and the work of building began.

Contrary to our expectations, no opposition was offered. A raft was built on which skirmishers were carried over, but they found no enemy. As soon as they discovered our determination to cross, they fell back toward Jackson. We built our bridge, and crossed the next day, July 7th, at 12 m. A deserter told us they had heard of the surrender of Vicksburg, and had left in haste. Quite a number of mules and beef cattle were left behind, and were taken in charge by our Quartermaster. Here our advance assumed somewhat the nature of a forced march. We halted but a few minutes at a time, and continued, until nearly midnight, to feel our way. Our first day's march, after crossing the river, was over a rough, broken country, covered by a thick growth of timber, which afforded a grateful shade, alternated by open stretches of cleared land, where the sun beat down upon us in all its fierceness. Many of our men fell out; several were sunstruck, two of whom died in a few minutes. On our previous short marches we had been greatly inconvenienced by the scarcity of water, but we had now to travel thirty miles through a country almost destitute of springs or streams, the inhabitants depending on cisterns and artificial ponds for themselves and stock. I have not seen a well of water in Mississippi. The negroes tell us we will not find a drop of water for thirteen miles for man or beast. The long-continued drought has nearly exhausted cisterns and dried up most of the artificial ponds. We could only push ahead and trust in providence. But we were not left to perish, for that very night we marched into camp in the midst of one of the heaviest thunder showers I ever witnessed. It seems to me as much a miracle as the "Smiting of the rock for the Children of Israel." And I thanked God and took courage. That, and the frequent showers that followed, saved thousands of men and horses from perishing of thirst. As often happens when large bodies of troops are in motion, our supply train did not come up, and the second morning from the river found us with empty haversacks. Unlike Virginia, this part of Mississippi abounds in cattle and hogs, and the ravines around our camp were soon converted into slaughter houses, from which our men supplied themselves with meat. We stayed here until 2 o'clock p. m. for the train to came up; half rations were issued, and we resumed our march, and kept it up until midnight. This was a hard day for men and horses, owing to the scarcity of water and the excessive heat. A number of men died of sunstroke, anl twenty-five horses were found dead. Not a man of the Seventeenth has died, although several were compelled to fall out. As for myself, I marched near the head of the regiment all day, and was ready for a like excursion the next morning. We camped that night within five miles of Jackson, and our advance had already skirmished with their pickets, who had slowly fallen back. We were aroused at 4 in the morning, drew four days' rations, and a little after 5 were on the move, cautiously feeling our way to avoid surprise. We marched in this way about two miles, when the enemy was discovered about three-fourths of a mile ahead, in a cornfield, drawn up in line of battle. Smith's division formed quickly to oppose them, artillery was ordered to the front, and every preparation was made for an engagement, but, before our artillery could be brought to bear, they fell back to the left of the city and took up a position in a piece of timber.

About a mile from that place we halted and prepared again for battle. Rebel cavalry could be seen hovering near our left, while a strong force of infantry could plainly be seen in the woods in front of us. Our brigade the First—was ordered to the front, and formed in line of battle, supported by the Third Brigade. The Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Second Michigan deployed as skirmishers about forty rods in advance of us. They moved cautiously about one hundred yards, when the enemy fired on them, wounding four. This was a signal for an advance. We had formed in a cornfield, and advanced at 2:30 p. m. The sky was cloudless; not a breath of air was stirring. Our course, after emerging from the cornfield, lay across a level pasture. We advanced steadily, but the Rebels fell back as we approached, firing occasionally, until dark, when we halted in the wood until morning, sleeping on our arms. Soon after daylight we were up and after them, keeping, all this time, our line of battle. As we emerged into an open field we were saluted by a volley that passed harmlessly over our heads. This was their parting salute, for they immediately retired behind their fortifications, and we took up the position assigned us on the left of the city.

I have written these sketches as I could snatch a moment here and there, a few lines at a time.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 64-8

Diary of Private William S. White, March 5, 1862

Yesterday we received orders to move this morning at daylight. We will join the right section of our battery, from which we have been separated for six months, and march to King's Mill Wharf, on the James River, there take the steamer to City Point; from that place going through Petersburg to Suffolk by rail. We are now attached to the brigade of Brigadier-General George W. Randolph, our former Captain, who has just been promoted.

After a march of six miles we joined our right section, and at 3 o'clock reached King's Mill Wharf. A twenty-mile march through mud and mire is no easy undertaking, and then to camp on a barren bluff minus every comfort is enough to try the patience of Job. No water, no wood in two miles of us, and the cold wind holding a jubilee over our comfortless situation. Our force numbers about five thousand. This will be a large force to take from Magruder, but a fight is early expected at Suffolk, whilst everything seems quiet on the Peninsula.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 111

Diary of Captain Joseph Stockton, February 12, 1863

We have a splendid camping ground, plenty of wood and water, Made ourselves very comfortable. I feel so much better here where we can have batallion drills and dress parade.

SOURCE: Joseph Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph Stockton, p. 8

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: August 10, 1861

My tent is on the bank of the Valley river. The water, clear as crystal, as it hurries on over the rocks, keeps up a continuous murmur.

There will be a storm to-night. The sky is very dark, the wind rising, and every few minutes a vivid flash of lightning illuminates the valley, and the thunder rolls off among the mountains with a rumbbling, echoing noise, like that which the gods might make in putting a hundred trains of celestial artillery in position.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 49

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, July 20, 1863

Made three miles yesterday, and are now encamped in a thick forest with an abundance of good spring water at hand. We are washing clothing and fixing up generally, but ready to begin the march at any moment. We draw flour every day, with bacon occasionally, and roasting-ears are to be had for the gathering.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 281