Diary of Private Lewis C. Paxson, Thusday, September 18, 1862

We arrived at Sauk Center at 1 o'clock. I wrote to father. Butter, 10c. A poor fence of a fort.

SOURCE: Lewis C. Paxson, Diary of Lewis C. Paxson: Stockton, N.J., 1862-1865, p. 5

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 17, 1862

Two letters to-day, and two papers, all from home. Seems as if I had been there for a visit. I wonder if my letters give them as much pleasure? I expect they do. It is natural they should. I know pretty nearly what they are about, but of me, they only know what I write in my letters, and in this, my everlasting letter, as I have come to call my diary. It is getting to be real company for me. It is my one real confident. I sometimes think it is a waste of time and paper, and then I think how glad I would be to get just such nonsense from my friends, if our places were changed. I suppose they study out these crow's tracks with more real interest than they would a message from President Lincoln. We are looking for a wet bed again to-night. It does not rain, but a thick fog covers everything and the wind blows it in one side of our tents and out the other.

Maybe I have described our life here before, but as no one description can do it justice I am going to try again. We are in a field of 100 acres, as near as I can judge, on the side of a hill, near the top. The ground is newly seeded and wets up quickly, as such ground usually does. We sleep in pairs, and a blanket spread on the ground is our bed while another spread over us is our covering. A narrow strip of muslin, drawn over a pole about three feet from the ground, open at both ends, the wind and rain, if it does rain, beating in upon us, and water running under and about us; this, with all manner of bugs and creeping things crawling over us, and all the while great hungry mosquitoes biting every uncovered inch of us, is not an overdrawn picture of that part of a soldier's life, set apart for the rest and repose necessary to enable him to endure several hours of right down hard work at drill, in a hot sun with heavy woollen clothes on, every button of which must be tight-buttoned, and by the time the officers are tired watching us, we come back to camp wet through with perspiration and too tired to make another move. Before morning our wet clothes chill us to the marrow of our bones, and why we live, and apparently thrive under it, is something I cannot understand. But we do, and the next day are ready for more of it. Very few even take cold. It is a part of the contract, and while we grumble and growl among ourselves we don't really mean it, for we are learning what we will be glad to know at some future time.

Now I am about it, and nothing better to do, I will say something about our kitchen, dining room and cooking arrangements. Some get mad and cuss the cooks, and the whole war department, but that is usually when our stomachs are full. When we are hungry we swallow anything that comes and are thankful for it. The cook house is simply a portion of the field we are in. A couple of crotches hold up a pole on which the camp kettles are hung, and under which a fire is built. Each company has one, and as far as I know they are all alike. The camp kettles are large sheet-iron pails, one larger than the other so one can be put inside the other when moving. If we have meat and potatoes, meat is put in one, and potatoes in the other. The one that gets cooked first is emptied into mess pans, which are large sheet-iron pans with flaring sides, so one can be packed in another. Then the coffee is put in the empty kettle and boiled. The bread is cut into thick slices, and the breakfast call sounds. We grab our plates and cups, and wait for no second invitation. We each get a piece of meat and a potato, a chunk of bread and a cup of coffee with a spoonful of brown sugar in it. Milk and butter we buy, or go without. We settle down, generally in groups, and the meal is soon over. Then we wash our dishes, and put them back in our haversacks. We make quick work of washing dishes. We save a piece of bread for the last, with which we wipe up everything, and then eat the dish rag. Dinner and breakfast are alike, only sometimes the meat and potatoes are cut up and cooked together, which makes a really delicious stew. Supper is the same, minus the meat and potatoes. The cooks are men detailed from the ranks for that purpose. Every one smokes or chews tobacco here, so we find no fault because the cooks do both. Boxes or barrels are used as kitchen tables, and are used for seats between meals. The meat and bread are cut on them, and if a scrap is left on the table the flies go right at it and we have so many the less to crawl over us. They are never washed, but are sometimes scraped off and made to look real clean. I never yet saw the cooks wash their hands, but presume they do when they go to the brook for water.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 28-31

Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, Sunday, September 7, 1862

PHILADELPHIA. We were too crowded in the cars to see much, or to do much, coming here. Most of us slept nearly all the way. I did for one, but I had dreams of being trod on, and no doubt I was, for there are some that never sleep, and are constantly on the move. We finally stopped and were ferried across a river and landed in this city.

We then marched to a large hall called "The Cooper Shop," why, I don't know. We were given a royal meal, breakfast I should call it, but it was so dark, and I was so sleepy I hardly knew whether it was supper or breakfast. Cold beef, sausage, bread and butter, cheese, and good hot coffee. It was far ahead of any meal we have had so far. I am told that the place is kept open night and day by some benevolent association, and that no regiment passes through without getting a good square meal. If soldiering is all like this I am glad I am a soldier. If the Rebs ever get as far North as Philadelphia, I hope the 128th New York may be here to help defend the "Cooper Shop." After breakfast we went out on the sidewalk and slept until after daylight. We soon after started for a railroad station, where we took a train for Baltimore. Our ride so far has been one grand picnic. We have lots of fun. No matter what our condition may be, there are some that see only the funny side, and we have enough of that sort to keep up the spirits of all. All along the way the people were out, and the most of them gave us cheers, but not all, as was the case in Hudson. We are nearing the enemy's country. The change in sentiment begins to show, and the farther we go, I suppose, the less cheering we will hear, until finally we will get where the cheers will all be for the other fellow, and we will find ourselves among foes instead of friends.

Later. We are stuck on an up-grade. The engine has gone ahead with a part of the train, and we are waiting for it to come back. The train men say we are about forty miles from Baltimore. That means forty miles from our fodder, and I for one am hungry now. That meal at the Cooper Shop was good, but not lasting enough for this trip. The boys are out on the ground having some fun and I am going to join them.

BALTIMORE, MD. We are here at last. Marched about two miles from where the cars stopped, and are sitting on the sidewalk waiting to see what will happen next. I hope it will be something to eat, for I am about famished. Some of the men are about played-out. The excitement and the new life are getting in their work. The day has been very hot, too, and with nothing to eat since some time last night, it is not strange we begin to wonder where the next meal is coming from, and when it will come. Baltimore is not like New York. I know that much now, but I don't know enough about either city to tell what the difference is. A regiment, fully armed, escorted us here from the cars, and are either staying around to keep us from eating up the city, or to keep the city from eating us, I don't know which. Some act friendly, but the most of the people look as if they had no use for us. Later. We have finally had something to eat. My folks always taught me never to find fault with the victuals set before me, so I won't begin now. But for that I should say something right now. But whatever it was it had a bracing effect and we soon started and marched through the city to high ground, which I am told is "Stewart's Hill."

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 18-20

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 16, 1863

After a very cold night spent in sleeplessness, I arose, determined to have something better to eat than our daily ration of coarse meal and poor beef, supplemented occasionally with a little sugar and molasses. I procured a permit from Captain Feeney, which was duly approved by Colonel Tillman, but could not pass the pickets on it: had to return a short distance and go around them, which was no easy job, considering the topography of the country. After cooning logs over the same crooked little stream some half dozen times, we (Arch Conaway and myself) found ourselves in a dense canebrake, and then in the midst of an impassable swamp. Being lost, we struck out straight ahead, and finally came to a farm-house; asked if we could purchase any potatoes, pork, or butter, and were told "nary tater;" pushed on to the second house, and the same question asked, and the same answer returned; ditto at the third house and the fourth started on return; found an aged colored individual, who agreed to steal us a small hog at night for the small consideration of ten dollars and a half. No help for it. Must have a change of diet. [A story is told of a soldier in this regiment, when at Port Hudson, which is appropriate in this connection. He, like our author, needed a "change of diet," and slipped into a farmer's hog-pen one night to get it. He saw, what appeared to him, a fine large porker, lying fast asleep, and with practiced skill approached and knocked it in the head with his axe. On attempting to turn it over he found his game had been dead three or four days.]

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 20-1

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, January 16, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

January 16, 1864.

The army is filling up with conscripts, absentees and others, and if we get also the principals of the substitutes our army will soon be very formidable. Mose Cappock has returned, although his wound has not quite healed. I believe if we whip the Yankees good again this spring they will quit in disgust. Their cause is not just, like ours, and they are sure to become discouraged more readily.

The people of Richmond have had a great time recently, feasting and fêting General Morgan. Men who saw him there tell me he is very young, handsome and attractive, but is modest and has a most pleasing address. I learned that when he passed through Newberry the people made him come out of the train and let them all take a good look at him.

An officer in our regiment was cashiered for forging a furlough, sure enough. I feel very sorry for him and think he should go to the Yankees the first chance he gets, for he is ruined wherever this thing becomes known.

The winter has been unusually severe so far, but I am perfectly comfortable in every way, except that our diet is becoming anything else but bountiful or extravagant. We draw a little coffee and sugar occasionally. For breakfast this morning I had a cup of "Pure Rio," some ham, rice, biscuit and butter, but I have a hankering for such things as syrup, sweet potatoes, sauer-kraut, and the like. I do hope it will not be a great while before I can have such things.

Edwin still has some of the good things to eat which he brought from home in his trunk. His servant, Tony, stole some of his syrup to give to a negro girl who lives near our camp, and Ed gave him a pretty thorough thrashing for it. He says Tony is too much of a thief to suit him and he intends to send him back home. I had to give Gabriel a little thrashing this morning for "jawing” me. I hate very much to raise a violent hand against a person as old as Gabriel, although he is black and a slave. He is too slow for me, and I intend to send him back by Billie when he goes home on furlough.

I must close, as Gabriel is bringing in my dinner. I will write to you again in a few days.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 86-8

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, January 30, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

January 30, 1864.

The weather has been fine recently and there have been some indications of a move. Yesterday we were ordered to cook one day's rations and be ready to march, but it has turned very cold to-day and everything is quiet again.

About ten days ago I succeeded in buying some turnips and cabbage, and I found them most delightful for a change until our box from home arrived. Everything in it was in excellent condition except the sweet potatoes. It contained ten gallons of kraut, ten of molasses, forty pounds of flour, twelve of butter, one-half bushel of Irish potatoes, one-half peck of onions, about one peck of sausage, one ham, one side of bacon and some cabbage. I am expecting Edwin to visit me to-morrow and I shall offer him part of the kraut and some of the molasses, but he is so independent I am afraid he will not accept it.

I saw Colonel Hunt's wife yesterday, and she is the first lady with whom I have conversed since my return in December. He pays ten dollars a day board for himself and wife at a house near our camp.

Dr. Tyler has had his furlough extended twenty days by the Secretary of War, and will not return before February. I have been alone for over four weeks. I have had such a quiet time that I have been reading Shakespeare some recently. I received a letter from Robert Land's wife begging me to give her husband a sick furlough, and I told him to write her that if he could ever get sick again he certainly should go at once.

The postmaster is here and I must close.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 88-9

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Thursday, May 14, 1863

This morning we take the train for Bethel, and in about one hour we arrive at this outpost and are conducted to the barracks lately vacated by the Forty-third Ohio. We find the Seventh Iowa stationed here, who very cordially welcome the Seventh Illinois as their “Brother Crampers.” The two Sevenths soon come to a mutual conclusion that they can run this part of the line and impart general satisfaction to all concerned. It is said that smiles are not wanting for the “vandals” in these parts. In the afternoon the regiment is paraded to receive Adjutant General Thomas, who is expected to arrive on the afternoon train. After his arrival and reception by the troops, he addresses us for a short time upon the issues growing out of the emancipation proclamation, and then proceeds on his way towards Corinth.

We remain at Bethel from the fourteenth of May until June 7th, 1863. The Seventh will long remember Bethel and Henderson, Tennessee. How they stood picket; how they patroled the railroad; how they drilled; how they run the lines and sallied forth into the country; how they mingled with the chivalry and partook of their hospitality; how they sat down and talked with the beautiful, and how they listened to their music, “Bonnie Blue Flag” and “Belmont;" how the citizens flocked to our lines; how the boys traded “Scotch snuff” to the gentle ones for chickens, butter and eggs. Yes, Bethel and Henderson will long live on memory's page.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 170-1

Diary of Sergeant David L. Day: July 20, 1864

HOSPITAL LIFE.

Thus far I have been unable to discover any charms in hospital life. With fair health the active camp is far preferable. This hospital is divided into three departments. The first is the officers' ward, the second is the hospital for the wounded and very sick, and the third is the convalescent camp. The first two are in large hospital tents and are furnished with cots, mattresses and other necessary conveniences. In the third are more than 600 men, quartered under shelter tents. I am in this department. It is not supposed that there are any sick men here. They are all either dead beats or afflicted with laziness, and a draft is made from among them twice a week for the front. I had been here only four days when I was drawn, but Garland of company C, who is an attache at Doctor Sadler's office, saw my name on the roll and scratched it off. Although there are none here supposed to be sick, there seems to be a singular fatality among them as we furnish about as large a quota every day for the little cemetery out here as they do from the sick hospital. But then in a population of 600 or more, three or four deaths a day is not surprising. I have been here three weeks and have been drafted four times, but with my friend Garland's help I have escaped. I should be pleased to be back with the boys if I was only half well, but I reckon I shall not be troubled with any more drafts.

Doctor Hoyt sent a man back the other day. The next morning he was sent up with a sharp note to Doctor Sadler, saying that he didn't send men to the hospital that were fit for duty and didn't want them sent back until they were. That roused Doctor Sadler's ire, and he says when Hoyt wants his men he can send for them.

Doctor Sadler has the whole charge of the convalescent camp, and has several young fellows, assistant surgeons so called, on his staff. Some of these fellows I should think had been nothing more than druggists' clerks at home, but by some hook or crook have been commissioned assistant surgeons and sent out. here. Every morning all who are able in all the ten wards go up to be examined and prescribed for by these new fledged doctors, and those not able to go seldom receive any medical attendance, but it is just as well and perhaps better that they do not go, as the skill of these young doctors is exceedingly limited. Doctor Sadler is a fine man and a skilful surgeon. He comes around occasionally, visiting those who are not able to go out and prescribes for them, and for a day or two afterwards the assistants will attend to those cases. These assistants make the examinations and draft the men for the front, after which they are again examined by Doctor Sadler and frequently a number of them will not be accepted, and the assistants oftentimes need not feel very much flattered by some remarks of the doctor.

This convalescent camp holds its own in spite of all the drafts made on it. Recruits arrive daily and the drafts are made twice a week, sending back 50 or 100 at each draft.

When a draft is made one of the assistants comes into a ward and orders it turned out, and every man not down sick abed turns out. The ward-master forms them in single rank and the inspection begins. They commence on the right and go through the ward, making the same examinations and asking the same questions of every man in the ward. They feel the pulse and look at the tongue, and if those are right they are booked for the front. They remind me of horse jockeys at Brighton, examining horses. Some of the boys who are well enough but are in no hurry to go back, chew wild cherry or oak bark to fur their tongues and are thus exempted until Doctor Sadler gets hold of them, when they have to go. We get some recruits from the other hospital, for as soon as a sick or wounded man there is declared convalescent he is sent here.

A good joke occurred one morning when one of them was drafted for the front. He had been slightly wounded in the leg and was getting around with a crutch. When his ward was ordered out for draft he fell in with the rest, and the doctor, not noticing the crutch, but finding his pulse and tongue all right, marked him as able-bodied. When Sadler inspected them, he said to this fellow: “What are you here for?” “Going to the front, I suppose; there is where I am ticketed for.” Sadler laughed, and said: “I'll excuse you.” Then turning to his assistant, remarked: “We are not yet so hard up for men as to want three-legged ones." That assistant looked as though he wished he was at home under his mother's best bed.

This whole hospital is under the management of a Doctor Fowler, and as far as I am able to judge is well and skilfully managed. The cuisine is excellent and far better than could be expected in a place like this. The hospital fund as fast as it accrues is expended for vegetables, fruits, milk, butter, cheese, preserves and many other things which the government is not supposed to furnish. The kitchen is in two departments, one where are cooked and served out the meats, soups, vegetables and other food for the convalescent. In the other are cooked the roasts, steaks, broths, beef tea and all kinds of light diet for the officers' ward and the sick and wounded department. The light diet is presided over by an angel of mercy in the person of a Miss Dame who is the hospital matron.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 140-2

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Friday, June 6, 1862

This morning we remain in the shade, having no orders to move. Some of the boys sally forth into the plantations, and it is not long until they return with a large supply of chickens, turkeys, butter and eggs.

This afternoon we move forward twelve miles; march in quick time. One by one the boys drop by the way, being unable to keep up with the command on account of the excessive heat.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 79

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: January 14, 1864

Mr. A. ——, editor of the ——, recommends the Secretary of War to get Congress to pass, in secret session, a resolution looking to a reconstruction of the Union on the old basis, and send Commissioners to the Northern Governors. Meantime, let the government organize an army of invasion, and march into Pennsylvania. The object being to sow dissension among the parties of the North.

A letter from a Mr. Stephens, Columbia, S. C, to the President, says it is in his power to remove one of the evils which is bringing the administration into disrepute, and causing universal indignation—Gen. Winder. The writer says Winder drinks excessively, is brutish to all but Marylanders, and habitually receives bribes, etc. The President indorsed on it that he did not know the writer, and the absence of specifications usually rendered action unnecessary. But perhaps the Secretary may find Mr. S.'s character such as to deserve attention.

Captain Warner says it is believed there will be a riot, perhaps, when Col. Northrop, the Commissary-General, may be immolated by the mob. Flour sold to-day at $200 per barrel; butter, $8 per pound; and meat from $2 to $4. This cannot continue long without a remedy.

The President has another reception to-night.

A Yankee Account Of The Treatment Op Confederate Prisoners.—The Chicago Times gives the account which follows of the treatment of our soldiers at Camp Douglas.

It is said that about four weeks ago one of the prisoners was kindling his fire, which act he had a right to perform, when one of the guard accosted him with, “Here, what are you doing there?” The prisoner replied, “That is not your business,” when the guard instantly drew his musket and shot the fellow dead. It is said also that a mulatto boy, a servant of one of the Confederate captains, and, of course, a prisoner of war, who was well known to have a pass to go anywhere within the lines, was walking inside the guard limits about a day after the above occurrence, when the guard commanded him to halt. He did not stop, and was instantly killed by a bullet.

It is also charged that, at the time the discovery was made of an attempt on the part of some of the prisoners to escape, a party of three or four hundred was huddled together and surrounded by a guard; that one of them was pushed by a comrade and fell to the ground, and that instantly the unfortunate man was shot, and that three or four others were wounded. It is further stated that it is no uncommon thing for a soldier to fire on the barracks without any provocation whatever, and that two men were thus shot while sleeping in their bunks a week or two ago, no inquiry being made into the matter. No court-martial has been held, no arrest has been made, though within the past month ten or twelve of the prisoners have been thus put out of the way. Another instance need only be given: one of the prisoners asked the guard for a chew of tobacco, and he received the bayonet in his breast without a word.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 128-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: October 9, 1863

From the West we have only unreliable reports of movements, etc.; but something definite and decisive must occur shortly.

Gen. Lee's army crossed the Rapidan yesterday, and a battle may be looked for in that direction any day. It is said Meade has only 40,000 or 50,000 men; and, if this be so, Lee is strong enough to assume the offensive.

To-morrow the departments will be closed for a review of the clerks, etc., a piece of nonsense, as civil officers are under no obligation to march except to fight, when the city is menaced.

The mechanics and non-producers have made a unanimous call (in placards) for a mass meeting at the City Hall to-morrow evening. The ostensible object is to instruct Mr. Randolph and other members of the Legislature (now in session) to vote for the bill, fixing maximum prices of commodities essential to life, or else to resign. Mr. Randolph has said he would not vote for it, unless so instructed to do. It is apprehended that these men, or the authors of the movement, have ulterior objects in view; and as some ten or twelve hundred of them belong to the militia, and have muskets in their possession, mischief may grow out of it. Mr. Secretary Seddon ought to act at once on the plan suggested for the sale of the perishable tithes, since the government is blamed very much, and perhaps very justly, for preventing transportation of meat and bread to the city, or for impressing it in transitu.

Capt. Warner, who feeds the prisoners of war, and who is my good "friend in need," sent me yesterday 20 odd pounds of bacon sides at the government price. This is not exactly according to law and order, but the government loses nothing, and my family have a substitute for butter.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 66-7

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 6, 1863

A dispatch from Gen. Lee shows that he is still falling back (this side the Rapidan), but gradually concentrating his forces. There may be another battle speedily — and if our army does not gain a great victory, there will be great disappointment.

There are some gun-boats in the James as high up as Aiken's Landing. Two torpedoes, badly ignited, failed to injure either of them.

Capt. Kay, of Mobile, in conjunction with several other parties, has a scheme for the destruction of the enemy in the Mississippi Valley. What it is, I know not — but I know large sums of money are asked for. After all, it appears that twenty-two transports of Grant's troops have descended the Mississippi River — Mobile, no doubt, being their destination.

It is now believed that only a portion of Grant's army has been ordered here; also that Rosecrans's army will operate with Meade; the object being, to besiege Richmond. Well, we shall, in that event, have Johnston and Bragg — altogether 200,000 men around the city, which ought to suffice for its safety. A grand battle may take place this fall, in which half a million of men may be engaged. That ought to be followed by a decisive result. Let it come!

The speculators have put up the price of flour to $50 per barrel. To the honor of Messrs. Warwick, they are selling it at their mills for $35 — not permitting any family to have more than one barrel. This looks, however, like an approaching siege.

My good friend Dr. Powell, almost every week, brings my family cucumbers, or corn, or butter, or something edible from his farm. He is one in ten thousand! His son has been in sixteen battles — and yet the government refuses him a lieutenancy, because he is not quite twenty-one years of age. He is manly, well educated, brave, and every way qualified.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 6-7

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: October 24, 1863

Another unpleasant day. Boys drew some boots. Brought in big pile of butter, bacon, potatoes and oats. Receipted to Union man and Confed. money to Reb. Seems good to have the boys back again. In the evening wrote home and to Ella Clark. Feel ashamed of my carelessness. Ordered up with train. After forage remained over night. All glad.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 94

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: September 21, 1863

Got up reasonably early, breakfasted and then moved on. Reached Jonesboro near night. Quite a town and many secesh. Girls sang “Bonny Blue Flag.” Marched 6 miles and camped on a Rebel's place. The prettiest and most refined girl I have seen in Tenn. Got some butter and biscuit. Abbey and Thede are messing with me. Our Brigade expecting a fight all the time, skirmish yesterday and fight today. Foster retreated.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 89

Captain Charles Wright Wills: February 9, 1863

Ninth. — Papers of the 6th give me much pleasure. The dashing move of the ram “Queen of the West,” the gallant fight of our soldiers at Corinth, are certainly enough good news for one day. At noon roll call to-day, I spoke to my men of the resolutions passed by the officers at Corinth and approved by the soldiers, and told them that a chance would be offered them in a few days to vote on similar ones. They received the latter statement with a cheer that plainly showed their mind on the subject. I believe that the whole regiment with a proper action of the officers for a few days, will denounce copperheadism, even in terms strong enough to suit the Chicago Tribune. 'Twill be the officers fault if we don't. If we were only officered properly throughout there would never have been a word of dissatisfaction in the regiment. That is rather a solemn subject. I have advised my men to whip any enlisted man they hear talking copperheadism, if they are able, and at all hazards to try it, and if I hear any officer talking it that I think I can't whale, I'm going to prefer charges against him. Doing plenty of duty now; on picket every other day. Last night I had command of a guard at General Hospital No. I, or rather we guarded it in the day time, relieved at 9 p. m. and went on again at daylight. I had some friends in the hospital, steward, warden and clerks, and they made it very pleasant for me. That is they fed me on sanitary cake, butter, etc., induced me to drink some sanitary wine, beer, etc., and also to sleep between sanitary sheets, with my head on a sanitary pillow, etc., and again this morning to accept a bottle of sanitary brandy and a couple of bottles of sanitary porter. All of which I did, knowing that I was sinning. I write you this that you may feel you are doing your country some good in forwarding the above articles for the benefit of the soldiers. You will of course, give these encouraging items to your coworkers.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 154-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 20, 1863

Reports from the West say we lost 3000 and the enemy 6000 men in the battle of the 15th inst, when Pemberton fell back over the Black River. Our forces numbered only 12,000, Grant's three times that number. Something decisive must occur before Vicksburg in a few days.

Mr. J. W. Henry writes from New's Ferry, that parties of cavalry, going about the country, professing to belong to our Gen. Stuart's corps, are probably Yankee spies making observations preparatory for another raid. The city councils are organizing the citizens for local defense, thinking it probable another dash may be made.

Gen. Dix threatens to hang the citizens of Williamsburg if they co-operate with Gen. Wise in his frequent attacks on the Federals. Gen. Wise replies, threatening to hang Gen. Dix if he carries his threat into execution, and should fall into his hands, in a more summary manner than John Brown was hung for making his raid in Virginia.

Butter is worth $4 per pound. A sheep is worth $50. A cow $500.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 1, p. 328

Diary of Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney: May 18, 1863

Got Victor Hugo and finished it. An interesting and profitable work, a few exceptions. Capt. Hayes and A. B. called a little while. Gave them some pickles and H. bread and butter. In the evening wrote to Fannie. A delightful day. What a blessing, such weather and good health. Thede has a troublesome boil.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 70

3rd Sergeant Charles Wright Wills: October 10, 1861

Bird's Point, October 10, 1861.

I have just finished a dinner of cider, cake, bread, butter, etc. We have just been paid off and of course have to indulge in a few delicacies for awhile. Last Tuesday we were ordered to strike tents and pack for a march. It wasn't much of a march though for we were put on the cars and rolled out to Charleston, 12 miles from here, where we camped on a beautiful little prairie adjoining town. The 11th Illinois, Taylor's artillery and two companies of cavalry and our regiment formed the party. I think we were out looking after that damned Jeff Thompson, who is reported everywhere from Ironton down to New Madrid. I don't believe he has a thousand men, for there seems to be nothing reliable about any of the reports we have of him. The natives up at Charleston told us that Jeff was at Sykestown, 12 miles from there, with 5,000 or 6,000 troops, and our pickets had several little fights with his, or what we supposed to be his, but — well, the generals may know better but we that stay in the ranks think that there is no enemy nearer than Columbus save a few small bands of bushwhackers, who, under the impression that they are upholding principles eternal and doing their country service, gobble up everything sweet or sour, that weighs less than a ton. We came down from Charleston Thursday. We marched about 10 miles of the way through an immense (it seemed so to me) cypress swamp. I think Mrs. Stowes’ “Dred” would have enjoyed that swamp hugely. It was rather an interesting piece of scenery for a first view, but I don't think I should enjoy living in sight of it. The 18th, Colonel Lawler, worked six or eight weeks in this swamp repairing bridges the secesh had burnt, and it put half their men on the sick list. We got our pay in treasury notes but they are as good as the gold. Lots of the boys have traded them off for gold “even up.” I get $21 this time for two months and five days, our other boys got $14 or $15. I am third sergeant now, our second having been appointed sergeant major. I think I should rather be sergeant, for the field officers make a kind of servant of the sergeant major. I send you a couple of daguerreotypes to let you see what a “skeleton” I have become. Our boys are all very well. The 17th is in a pretty hard condition, nearly half of them sick and as a regiment pretty badly used up. We have been paid twice and they only $10 yet.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 35-6

Private Charles Wright Wills: September 9, 1861

Cairo.  The refreshments and drygoods from home arrived Saturday. We were at Paducah then and they were taken care of by two or three of the lame and halt, that were not in traveling order and were left behind. We returned this morning and after acknowledging the excellence, profusion, variety, gorgeousness, and confiscarity of your benevolent appropriation to our temporal wants, I will particularize by saying that you needn't worry about your picture, as it is in my possession; that the cakes are both numerous and excellent, that the pickles are prodigious in quantity, beautiful in quality and remarkably acceptable. That the butter and cheese are non ad com valorum. The tobacco and Hostetter, the boys say, are very fine. To Mrs. Dewey and Mrs. Heald we all return thanks and send our kind respects and love. We have sent a share of the eatables to the Canton boys of the 17th, which is again encamped near us; this time on the Kentucky shore. They are hard at work to-day cutting down trees, clearing away for a camp ground. I have seen none of them yet. We had the nicest little trip to Paducah, that ever soldiers had. We have just received orders to get ready to start in five minutes.

Time extended a little. We had 1,500 troops in Paducah, Ky., and received information that they would be attacked Saturday, so Friday night 350 of us were sent up as an advance.—Now we go.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 27-8

Diary of Private Charles Wright Wills: August 19, 1861

Cairo.  The boys are writing to-day for some butter and things from home. The expense by express from Peoria is not worth speaking of and the other boys have things sent them often. We have made up our minds to lying here six weeks longer at least, and conclude that time will pass better with a few home extras to grace our table.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 25