Corinth. The doctor
came to take our names to be sent to a Northern hospital as they had no room
for us [in the general hospital]. I asked permission to join the Company
hospital, which was granted, so in the afternoon we joined our comrades; found
the wounded all in good spirits.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 8
Corinth. The Battery
returned from its chase after the retreating rebs, of a week in length. In the
evening the Captain and Sergeant Simpson rode into our camp, the Battery being
in camp two and one half miles out.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 8
Corinth. To-day it
was a little warmer, the rain of the last two days having cleared. My anxiety
to visit the Battery was such that I was induced to start out on foot in order
to see them. The walk was rather fatiguing as it was rather warm, but we found
them at last on a ridge in a shady grove. But it did not look much like the
camp of the 6th Battery, as they had no tents pitched and were quartered in
brush bivouacs or under tarpaulins; I found them all well but somewhat reduced
by the march. I remained with them for an hour, then retraced my steps alone
through the solitary woods. I enjoyed pleasant thoughts of the good times to
come. I reached camp by sunset well pleased with my walk and not as fatigued as
I expected.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 8-9
Corinth. The troops
on the outskirts of the town were all moved in, among which were the 6th
Battery. They passed our encampment at about 8 A. M.; their designation was
unknown but supposed not to be far. Quartermaster-Sergeant Simpson brought new
clothing to camp in the afternoon. I drew one jacket, pair of pants and a hat.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 9
Corinth. Having
learned the locality of our Battery, it being encamped on the south side of the
town, the wounded men were removed to the general hospital, and the sick were
taken to the Battery, with the exception of N. B. Hood and Byron Babcock.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 9
Corinth. I joined my
Platoon, went into tent with E. W. Evans and T. J. Hungerford as before. Owing
to my weakness I was not put on full duty immediately, being excused from
mounted drill, etc.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 9
Corinth. Resolutions
relative to those who fell in battle on the 4th inst. were offered by H. S.
Keene and unanimously adopted by the camp on roll call P. M.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 9
Corinth. Roll call
in the evening. ——— made an explanation as to his whereabouts on the day of battle,
and the orderly read a certificate from the commander of the 11th Ohio Battery,
corroborating his statement.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 9-10
Corinth. To-day we
were told the sad news of the death of one of our number, John Haskins, who
died during the night of chronic diarrhea. We had an inspection at 9 A. M. and
in the afternoon we paid the last tribute of respect which one man can pay to another,
to the remains of our comrade, Haskins. He was buried by the side of the brave
five that fell in the battle of Corinth.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10
Corinth. To-day we
had to police the entire camp ground as it was reported that General Rosecrans was
going to inspect camp. The ground was shoveled and swept over, but no Rosecrans
came.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10
Corinth. Finished
policing around the guns. In the afternoon after the Company was formed for
drill, as Orderly Hayward was returning after reporting to the Captain, his
horse stumbled, falling on him, spraining his right ankle and fracturing the
cap bone.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10
Corinth. While on
drill in the afternoon, I, in attempting to mount, lost my balance and fell,
the hind wheel of the caisson running over my left ankle, luckily without any
dislocation. After drill I was taken to the hospital, my foot being very
painful during the night.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10
Corinth. The weather
turned very windy and cold, water freezing in the night ¼ inch in thickness.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10
Corinth. My foot was
a little easier. Dr. Arnold of the 12th Wisconsin Battery dressing it and
keeping it cool by water. The weather still cold.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10
Corinth. We were
moved from the tent this morning to an old deserted house a quarter of a mile
from camp. In the afternoon it snowed and by night the earth was clothed in
white.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 10-11
Corinth, Sunday,
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. The troops were engaged in fortifying. All the
buildings on the outskirts were torn down regardless of worth and hauled away
by the troops to build stables, barracks, etc.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 11
Our camp here was
made without consulting the Surgeons. It was laid out without order, and the
tents are so close together that teams cannot pass through to remove its rubbish,
its offal, and its filth. My Colonel, too, has interfered much with my sanitary
orders, particularly those in reference to ventilation. The result is the
largest sick list we have had, I have succeeded, however, in getting consent to
move the camp to other ground, high and dry, where I am now engaged in ditching
the streets, and staking out the ground preparatory to a move, where I hope we
shall be able to reduce the list of sick. I believe I omitted in the proper
place the record of the first death in our regiment. It occurred on the 3d of
this month. The poor fellow died of Nostalgia (home-sickness), raving to the
last breath about wife and children. It seems strange that such an affection of
the mind should kill strong, healthy men; but deaths from this cause are very
frequent in the army; the sufferer, towards the last showing evidences of
broken down nervous system, accompanied by most of the symptoms of typhoid
fever.
A little incident
to-day. A reconnoitering party went out this morning towards Vienna and Flint
Hill. At noon, a courier came in with a report that they were fighting. I was
ordered to take an ambulance and join my regiment "in the direction of
Vienna" immediately. On starting, I met with Surgeon Thompson, of the 43d
N. York Vols., told him I was going in search of an adventure, and invited him
to go with me. He accepted. We reached our outer lines "in the direction
of Vienna," but had not found my regiment. To Surgeon T.'s question,
"What now!" I replied that my orders were to "go till I found my
regiment." "But are you going to cross the lines into the enemy's
country?" My orders are unconditional; will you go with me further?"
"Certainly," said the Doctor. Shortly after leaving head-quarters, we
met the 1st Regt. Regular Cavalry, who told us they had left one man badly
wounded between Flint Hill and Vienna. This man we determined to rescue, if
possible. We found him in a house in Vienna. I had now obeyed my order, though
I had not found my regiment, and I determined to take this man back with me, though
the enemy were all around us. One ball had passed between his ear and skull, a
second had passed through the leg, a third had entered the back, just below the
shoulder blade, but had made no exit. He was suffering severely from pain and
difficult respiration. He could not ride in an ambulance, so Doctor T.
volunteered to return to our lines for litter-bearers and an escort, whilst I
should remain with our newly made friend. I confess that as I caught the last
glimpse of the Doctor's fine black horse dashing over the hill, there was at
the ends of my fingers and toes a sensation very much akin to the "oozing
out of courage." I was alone in the enemy's country. But there was no
other way now, so I dressed the wounds, and waited his return, with what
patience I could. He soon returned. We started the man in the direction of our
lines, under an escort of eight men.
We mounted our
horses, and paying but little attention, got some mile ahead of our escort,
when suddenly, eight horsemen, well mounted and armed, came bearing down on us,
evidently intending to surround us. They were about a quarter of a mile off
when first discovered. "We are in for a trip to Richmond," said
Doctor T. "Is it not safer," replied I, "to fight than to be taken
prisoners by these fellows?" "I'm in," said the Doctor. We drew
our revolvers and waited, one of us, I am certain, in considerable trepidation.
By this time they were in hailing distance. We called them to halt, when, to
our mutual disgust, we found that we were friends—they were cheated of the
capture of two very fine looking rebel officers," and we of a short road
to "that borne whence no traveller returns.” A little after dark we
reached camp with our man. In civil life, it will hardly be credited that the
commanding officer of this regiment, when he found his man so badly wounded,
ordered him to be taken from his horse and left, whilst the horse was to be
taken away; yet the man states that such is the fact, and that he saved himself
from such a fate by drawing his revolver and threatening to shoot the first man
who should approach him for that purpose. After the regiment left him, he
managed to sit on his horse till he reached Vienna, about three miles from
where he was shot.
Since last date, we
have had an opportunity of learning something of the military qualities of our
brigade officers. We have not been before on ground where we could have our
brigade drills; but here we have them.
General Smith, who
commands the Division, is a stout, short man, rather under size, from Vermont,
I think. He is taciturn, but exceedingly courteous and gentlemanly, and firm
and decided. Of his mental calibre, we have not yet had an opportunity to
judge. It is a strange paradox of human nature, that whilst we acknowledge that
a vast majority of our mentally big men are quiet and reserved, yet when we
meet a stranger, if he says little, we fall at once into the opinion that he
knows little. How this is with General Smith, I do not know. I am much disposed
to construe his quiet and courteous manner favorably; but I confess that
whispers from the grove have rather prejudiced me against him.
Brigadier General
Winfield Scott Hancock is the very antipode of General Smith. He is fully as
long as his name, with title perfixed, and as for quiet and courtesy—Oh, fie! I
saw him come on to the field one morning this week, to brigade drill. He was
perfectly sober. He is one of those paradoxes who believe that one man, at
least, is to be known by his much talking. He became excited, or wished to
appear so, at some little mistake in the maneuvering of his Brigade, and the
volleys of oaths that rolled and thundered down the line, startled the men with
suspicion that they were under command of some Quarter Master lately made
General, who mistook the men for mules, and their officers for drivers. He must
be a facetious chap, that General, to wish to excite such suspicions. I think
he hails from Pennsylvania, but nobody seems to know much about him, except
from his statement that he has been seventeen years in the service, and knows
all about it." Wherever he has been, he has certainly acquired a perfect
intimacy with the whole gamut of profanity.
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. 44-7
Went to Washington
to see off a friend who has been spending a few weeks with me, as mess-mate. I
felt sadly at the parting, and being lonely to-night, I cannot help thinking of
home, of home! Where is it? One child in Connecticut, the other in Wisconsin,
my wife in New York, and I in Virginia. This separation—disintegration of my
family saddens me, and I wish it were otherwise. But the maintenance of
government demands war, and war demands sacrifices, to which all patriots must
yield. The whisperings of yesterday that we were repulsed at Ball's Bluff, or
Edward's Ferry, are more than confirmed, and another good man is sacrificed on
the altar of his couutry. General Baker fell in the battle. The particulars
have not reached us, but I fear that we have been sorely defeated,
notwithstanding General McClellan's promise, a short time since, that we should
meet with no more defeats. Shall we have this proclaimed through telegraph and
press, as another "Great Victory?" I regret that McClellan made that
foolish speech. It has lost him the confidence of many of his friends.
