Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 3, 1861

There is a rumor here to-day that our troops are in possession of both Savannah and Pensacola. I do not believe it.

What do our leaders mean to do with us this winter? Here we are, the 3d December, a cold, freezing, windy day, in our open tents, without intimation of what we are going to do with no more preparation for winter quarters than we had a month ago. Are we to be kept in this condition all winter? We are getting tired of McClellan's want of vim. How long is he going to be "getting ready?" All is conjecture, except that the wind howls dreadfully around our tents this cold night.

This morning the three divisions of the army here sent out five hundred to a thousand men each, to beat the bush. This moment comes the statement that they woke up about four hundred rebel cavalry, surrounded them, and that they are even now endeavoring to fight their way out; that they have killed about fifteen of our men; that we have taken about two hundred prisoners, and are fishing in the dark for the rest. All this may be true, but I am getting to be a great doubter of the truth of anything I hear in camp. We shall know all about it to-morrow.

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. 58-9

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

Eight days ago to-day, the sick list was 144. Today it is 72! I begin to think that a Surgeon may be as indispensable to an army as a Colonel,—that

"A doctor skilled our deadly wounds to heal,

Is more than armies to the common weal."

Another "speck of war" yesterday. About ten thousand men from the three divisions here having seen a "track" of the enemy, started in pursuit. After four or five miles march, we came on them in line of battle. Our army looked at t'other army and t'other army looked at our army, when our army came to the conclusion that the "touch" had become "too fresh," and so they turned around and came home! Oh, but we are a great people. For four months we have been coaxing them to "come out," and when at last they came out we ran off and left, and the report to-day is that we shall now go into winter quarters here, at a safe distance from the enemy we came to whip! Wonder if we may not soon expect a consignment of petticoats. Hope the ladies association will not send any. I have too much respect for the garment to see it disgraced by being worn by such officers. The honor of the day is divided between Captain ———, of ———‘s Battery, and Colonel ———, of the ——— regiment of Volunteers.* Yesterday, on the field, they disputed, each claiming the honor of command. To-day they dispute, each claiming that this honor attaches to the other.

"Par nobile fratrum."

_______________

*Were I publishing a history of the war, I should feel it my duty to fill these blanks; but as it is only a journal or record of events, AS THEY APPEARED, AT THE TIME, I feel that it is more proper, as a general thing, to turn over persons to the care of the historian.

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. 61-2

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

On the third of September we stopped at Camp Advance, near Chain Bridge, on our way to Richmond. That was nearly ten weeks ago. We are now about four miles nearer to Richmond than we were then. Three weeks to a mile! When shall we close this war? Could we only move once a week, even though it were but a mile at a time, it would keep up an excitement, and contribute largely to the preservation of both health and subordination. There is much talk amongst the soldiers of going into winter quarters here, but I do not believe it. McClellan will hardly dare risk his popularity on such a stake. He must go 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, p. 50

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne: November 11, 1862

John Van has been over again and says his regiment is going into winter quarters in the city outskirts. I hear the 128th has sailed for Fortress Monroe. The papers are all headed, "Removal of McClellan," and everyone is giving his opinion of the change. I say nothing because I know too little about it to venture an opinion. I went out and treated myself to a good square meal to-day and begin to think I was more hungry than sick, for I feel fit and ready for anything. Chaplain Parker has been here to see his boys, as he calls them. Says he left the regiment off Fortress Monroe on board the Arago. He reports them well and in fine spirits.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 59

Diary of Private William S. White, December 1861

Our Third and Fourth Detachments are camped for the winter at Land's End, under the command of Lieutenant John M. West, and supported by the Fourteenth Virginia Infantry, Colonel Hodges commanding. The third gun is stationed immediately on the James River where the Warwick empties into it, and the fourth gun one-and-a-half miles up the Warwick River, supported by Company "K," Fourteenth Virginia Infantry, Captain Claiborne, of Halifax county, Va., commanding. We have comfortable log cabins, built by our own men, with glass windows, plank floors, kitchen attached, etc., and our cuisine bears favorable comparison with home fare. Time does not hang very heavily on my hands, for I am now drilling a company of infantry from Halifax county, Captain Edward Young's, in artillery tactics, previous to their making a change into that branch of the service. Then we get up an occasional game of ball, or chess, or an old hare hunt, or send reformed Bob to the York River after oysters, we preferring the flavor of York River oysters to those of Warwick River.

Fortunately we have managed to scrape up quite a goodly number of books, and being in close communication with Richmond, we hear from our friends daily.

Soon the spring campaign will open, and then farewell to the quiet pleasures of "Rebel Hall," farewell to the old messmates, for many changes will take place upon the reorganization of our army during the spring. No more winters during the war will be spent as comfortably and carelessly as this[.] Soon it will be a struggle for life, and God only knows how it will all end.

My health has but little improved, but I had rather die in the army than live out.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 110

Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson: Saturday, October 25, 1862

I worked in office. Capt. Emil A. Burger gave me a box and left for St. Paul, taking Capt. Barrett, Adjutant Pell, First Lieutenant Groetsch and Capt. Noble's band of refugees, 27, and four privates from each company. We moved into log quarters.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 7

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Thursday, December 26, 1861

The project was started to build huts for winter-quarters. Details were made every day, to cut heavy timber, which was done for a week. But luckily, it failed completely, as it would have taken at least four months to get ready, by the plan worked on. Officers quarters had to be built first, then non-commissioned officers, and last, the poor privates. In fact, a great nuisance in the army, is the illegal using of soldiers for manual service for the benefit of comissioned officers, which is altogether contrary to army regulations. It is revolting to the mind, to see men, who perhaps never have been anything at home, make slaves of their equals, just because they happen to be in command of them, and this, they give the wrong name of discipline.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 29

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, November 25, 1862

Started at two P.M., and moved to Potomac Creek, where we spent the winter.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 270

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, November 29, 1862

Began to build log houses for winter quarters. The fifth detachment built the first house.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 270

Diary of Corporal John W. Dennett, December 17-23, 1862

Occupied the time in fixing up our quarters, and building a stable for the horses.

SOURCE: John Lord Parker, Henry Wilson's Regiment: History of the Twenty-second Massachusetts Infantry, the Second Company Sharpshooters and the Third Light Battery, in the War of the Rebellion, p. 271

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Wednesday, November 27, 1861

The battery left Muddy Branch, with the understanding to go into winter-quarters near Poolesville.

We were told that we should have many drills together with Battery B, no longer Captain Vaughan's battery, who, having had disagreements, left the service. We marched by nine o'clock in the morning. The weather was very unpleasant, raining and freezing all day. Passed through Poolesville at four o'clock, and commenced to pitch tents by five o'clock. Our camp is next to Battery B's, commanded by Lieutenant Perry. We had a good reception by the men, who treated all of us to coffee.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 26-7

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Friday, November 29 & Saturday, November 30, 1861

A stable for the horses commenced on.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 27

Diary of Musician David Lane, January 15, 1863

Our shanties are completed, and we moved in yesterday. They are warm and dry, and cannot but affect the health of the men favorably. I received a letter from home last night, and great was my astonishment to see, on reading it, an indictment against one dearer to me than life, and in whose behalf I plead "Not guilty."

My poor, wounded, suffering wife; what could have put such thoughts into your mind? Have you not always been the most tender, the most loving, of wives? Have you not always been by my side to advise, assist, uphold and sustain me? Have you not watched over me, in sickness and in health, and nursed me with more than a mother's tenderness? Have you not borne poverty without a murmur for my sake; and still, as a wife, you are a failure? Oh, banish such thoughts from your mind, for, I do assure you, they come of an over-sensitive imagination. You say you have always been a clog to my feet. No, no! I have been my own clog. The error was in the start. Youthful ignorance and folly added to the advice of men in whom I confided, but whose council proved a snare started me in the wrong direction, and I have continued to float downward with the tide. But, dear, I have no regrets. My life has been happy beyond the lot of most men, and what, my beloved, has made it so? Certainly not the pleasures of wealth or honors conferred by man. What, then, but the never-failing, self-sacrificing power of love which you have always lavished on your husband that has bound him to you with cords stronger than bands of steel? The only things I craved when I was sick were the tender accents of your voice and your dear hand upon my brow.

There seems to be a bond of sympathy between us that knows no bounds—is not confined by space. Many times since I left home have I visited you, or received your visits, and the impression left was that of reality. Last night, after I retired to rest—before I went to sleep, for the boys were gathered around the fire and I could hear their jests and laughter—I held your hands in both of mine, trying to comfort and console you, and it was real as reality itself. There is so much hollow-heartedness and deceit practiced here by men who, under the false guise of patriotism, seek wealth and position, that, had I all the world can bestow, I would give it all to enjoy with you one hour of social intercourse.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 25-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 28, 1862

Camp near Fredericksburg, Dec. 28th, 1862.

The battle of Fredericksburg has been fought and—lost. We are now engaged in the laudable occupation of making ourselves comfortable; building log huts to protect ourselves from the cold storms of winter. Our brigade the—First—was not engaged at Fredericksburg. We were commanded by Colonel Poe, a graduate of West Point, a man thoroughly versed in the art of war. He saw the utter hopelessness of the struggle, and, when the order came to advance, he flatly refused to sacrifice[e] his men in the unequal contest. Of course, he was put under arrest, and will be court-martialed, but he saved his men.

The eighteen thousand slaughtered husbands and sons who fell at Fredricksburg does not comprise our greatest loss. This whole army, for the time being, is thoroughly demoralized. It has lost all confidence in its leaders—a condition more fatal than defeat.

The leaders of the different corps do not work in unison. Our commander lacks the mental force to weld and bind these discordant, disintegrating elements into one solid, compact, adhesive mass, subject to his will and guided by his judgment; and herein lies the cause of our defeat.

Everything has the appearance of a protracted stay. We cannot advance; the enemy is too strongly fortified; if he were not, we would give him time to do so. And yet it is dangerous to stay. It is all Government can do, with the river open and all available transports, to furnish this great army with supplies. Should the river freeze, or the Rebels gain a position on its banks, we would be starved out in short order.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 23-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 29, 1862

December 29th, 1862.

As I was sitting by my cosy fire last evening—for we have evenings here, long, dreary ones—thinking of past events and trying, with my weak vision, to pierce the dark future, the thought occurred to me where is all the trust and confidence with which I started out, and which cheered and sustained me until our late defeat? Have we made no advance? Surely we have made blunders, but will we not profit by them? We are learning the art of war—time is required to change a citizen into a soldier. Our officers are being weighed the light weights cast aside or relegated to their class—and the good work will go on until one is found of size and weight to cope with Lee. 'Tis said, "Great generals are born, not made;" that true greatness is also modest, and does not vaunt itself; but our President is on the lookout for him and will find him—never fear—one who has the genius to plan, the will to do, the nerve to dare. As I pondered, hope returned and all my gloomy forebodings fled away.

As I was about to retire for the night, our door was thrown open and some letters were handed in. Among them was one for me. I recognized the well-known hand—tore open the envelope, and, after perusing the welcome contents over and over again, I went to bed and dreamed of home.

Inexpressibly dear, to the soldier, are letters from home. It is interesting to stand by as the mail is being distributed, and, as the names are called, witness the animated, joyful expression that illuminates the countenance of the happy recipients, while those less favored retire to their tents disappointed and sad.

Captain Goldsmith has returned, but will not stay long, as he has sent in his resignation. The regiment is hard at work building winter quarters. Our houses are all built after the same pattern-eight feet by ten in size, five feet high-rafters one-fourth pitch, covered with tent cloth. The different companies are separated by streets one rod wide. The men do not work with very good heart, as they expect orders to leave as soon as finished. They say this has been their experience in the past.

Contrary to expectations, the health of the men does not improve with frosty nights. Diarrhea, colds and rheumatism prevail, with now and then a case of fever.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 24-5

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, May 3, 1864

In camp near Culpepper, Va.—Weather delightful. Rumors of marching tomorrow morning. Marching orders we have been expecting several days, but this is the first rumor for some time. It has been mysteriously quiet. If, instead of May and fine weather, we had had dead of winter, storm and mud, we would have been provoked with five or six rumors daily. So that's nothing; but we shall march soon. Usual drill forenoon and afternoon; march an hour under knapsack. Go to Culpepper with several for examination for commissions in negro regiments. At 5:30 o'clock drew one day's rations. This task is assigned me this week, for my company. At dark, orders for three days' more rations. Had a tedious task lasting until 9 p. m. Quartermaster is getting everything ready to leave and hinted we should move at 12 midnight. Got orders at 8 o'clock to strike tents, pack nothing unnecessary; build no fires. Everything soon ready; we are waiting, the boys are jolly, full of spirit. At 11 o'clock we marched—winter quarters again broken.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 22

Diary of Private Louis Leon: January 11, 1864

Left our camp at sun-up, got five miles and halted in the woods. We have been detailed to run two sawmills, and we are now putting up winter quarters there.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 56

Diary of Private Louis Leon: December 27, 1863

We moved our camps from our picket posts seven miles from Orange Court House. On the turnpike from there to Fredericksburg, and commenced putting up winter quarters. On the 31st moved into them, and for the first time in a year or two we have with our rations some coffee, sugar and dried apples.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 55

Diary of Private Louis Leon: October 23, 1863

We commenced putting up winter quarters, and were hard at work up till the last of this month.

SOURCE: Louis Leon, Diary of a Tar Heel Confederate Soldier, p. 51

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, October 28, 1863

Camp near Rappahannock River,

Culpeper County, Va.,

October 28, 1863.

There was a cavalry fight across the river yesterday, and I am told that we whipped them and took three hundred prisoners. We have been taking so many prisoners recently that we must be up with the Yankees again, or we may even have more of them in prison than they have of our men. We now have no prospect of a fight on a grand scale, and I suppose we shall go into winter quarters before much longer.

Old Jim Beauschelle, our chaplain, is out of prison and is back with us again. He was at Fort Delaware awhile, and was then sent to Johnson's Island in Lake Erie. He looks better than I ever saw him. He has a new hat, new shoes, and everything new, and looks like a new man. He speaks very highly of the Yankees and the way they treated him and of the good fare they gave him. He seems perfectly delighted with the North and the Yankees. I am sorry they did not handle him rather roughly and cure him of his wonderfully good opinion of them.

Your brother tells me you look better than you did before you were married. He says George is badly spoiled and that he will cry if you crook your finger at him. I am sorry to hear that he has been sick. In your letter you speak of his being pale and thin from teething.

I now feel quite sure that I shall be able to get home before much longer, but don't look for me until you see me walk in.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 82-3