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A Soldier's Diary 
 
 The Story of a Volunteer 
 
 1862-1865 
 
 *We are coming, Father Abraham, 
 Three hundred thousand more.** 
 
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 [ . J 8 K A RV of CiCiVfiKESSf 
 I l*f Omwes rtectfiveu 1 
 
 I JUN 15 HO? I 
 
 Copyright, 1905, 
 By David Lane. 
 
 
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PREFACE. 
 
 This book is made up from my diary, which was 
 sent home at frequent intervals, that my family and 
 friends might know the details of my daily life. The 
 events recorded were written down on the date of 
 their occurrence, or while still fresh in my memory. 
 In my comments on current events, I endeavored to 
 "Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." 
 but to give expression to my own convictions. 
 
 I had no thought at the time, nor for many years 
 after, of having it published, but, as the years sped 
 on, and the old veterans of the Civil War were being 
 rapidly mustered for final discharge, I have been 
 urged by m.any old friends and comrades to publish 
 it, that our children and grandchildren may realize 
 something of the hardships and trials their ancestors 
 cheerfully endured for love of country. 
 
 I only regret that what I have tried to do has 
 been so crudely done. 
 
The Story of a Volunteer. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Fort Baker, D. C, Aug. 31st, 1862. 
 
 I have already learned that — finding much leisure 
 time upon his hands, after all soldierly duties have 
 been performed — the private soldier naturally craves 
 something to divert his mind, or, as he puts it, some- 
 thing to pass away the time. To many men, so situ- 
 ated, a game of cards is peculiarly fascinating. 
 Others spend all their leisure time in fun and 
 mischief; telling outlandish stories, singing vile songs, 
 or playing practical jokes upon their fellows. 
 
 Having neither taste or talent in either of these 
 directions, I have deliberately resolved to keep a diary 
 or memorandum of current events, and will transcribe, 
 from day to day, the facts that interest me and the 
 thoughts they may engender. I enlisted August 1 2th, 
 1862, was mustered into the service of the United 
 States on the 18th, and I was assigned to Company 
 G, of the Seventeenth regiment of Michigan Volun- 
 teer Infantry, then in barracks at Detroit, Michigan. 
 Of the ninety-three enlisted men enrolled in Company 
 G, sixty-five were farmers, ten laborers, five carpen- 
 ters, six shoemakers, three clerks, one baker, one miller, 
 one tinner, and one professional soldier. They range 
 in age from the smooth-faced boy of sixteen years to 
 the fully-developed man of thirty-eight. I judge about 
 the same ratio will apply to the other companies of 
 
6 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 the regiment, with the exception of Company E, which 
 is composed largely of students from the State Normal 
 School at Ypsilanti. The regiment is largely made 
 up of men verging on middle life.f who have left 
 business, wife, and children, dearer to them than life, 
 sternly resolved to meet death on the field of battle, 
 rather than suffer rebellion to triumph and the Nation 
 be torn asunder. We left the barracks at ten o'clock 
 in the forenoon of August 27th, m.arched three miles 
 to the wharf, where we left our baggage ; then escorted 
 General Wilcox around the city until five o'clock p. 
 m., when we marched on board the steamer Cleveland, 
 bound for the City of Cleveland. 
 
 The weather was fine, and we reached Cleveland 
 at five o'clock the next morning, and immediately took 
 cars for Washington, D. C, by way of Pittsburg 
 and Baltimore. We arrived at Pittsburg at 7 p. m. 
 of August 28th, and were most enthusiastically 
 received, the whole population, seemingly, escorting 
 us, with shouts, flags, and banners of various devices, 
 to the City Hall, where a bountiful supper was spread 
 for us. The hall was finely decorated. Among other 
 m.ottoes was: "Pittsburg Welcomes Her Country's 
 Defenders." 
 
 We left Pittsburg at nine o'clock in the evening and 
 reached Harrisburg the next day at 10 a. m., where 
 we took breakfast; then, "All aboard for Baltimore." 
 We crossed the Alleghenies in the night, but when 
 morning dawned I went out on the platform and could 
 still see them in the distance, rearing their blue heads 
 in solemn grandeur, forming a most charming back- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 7 
 
 ground to the beautiful picture spread out before us. 
 We were then running with lightning speed down the 
 beautiful Juniata VaUey» about sixty miles above 
 Harrisburg, and a more picturesque spot I never 
 beheld. 
 
 Hemmed in by long ranges of high hills, some 
 running at right angles to the stream, others parallel 
 with it, now rising in perpendicular bluffs with hardly 
 room for the cars to pass, then receding, formed lovely 
 valleys, dotted here and there with pleasant villages. 
 We reached Baltimore about seven o'clock Friday 
 evening, and were warmly greeted by the loyal citizens. 
 After partaking of a hearty supper, we took cars for 
 Washington at ten o'clock. 
 
 We had expected a row in Baltimore, and were 
 prepared for it, but nothing transpired of a more 
 serious nature than a few personal encounters. One 
 hot-headed fellow jumped on board the officers' car 
 and demanded to see their colors, cursing Unionists 
 and swearing vengeance. Lieutenant Somers, stirred 
 by righteous indignation, struck him a heavy blow in 
 the face and knocked him headlong from the car. A 
 crowd gathered, swords and pistols flashed in the 
 gaslight, epithets were exchanged, and there the mat- 
 ter ended. 
 
 We reached Washington Saturday morning, and 
 were assigned to Fort Baker, six miles south of the 
 city. 
 
 Fort Baker is pleasantly situated on a high hill 
 that overlooks the surrounding country for many miles. 
 Fifty thousand troops are encamped in sight of us. 
 
8 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 September 4th, 1862. 
 
 We have been three days in camp, and have fully 
 recovered from the fatigues of our long journey. 
 Drill is the order of the day, as it is the necessity of 
 the hour. Officers and men have yet to learn the 
 rudiments of military maneuvering. There is not a 
 company officer who can put his men through com- 
 pany drill without making one — or more — ludicrous 
 blunders. Yesterday our First Lieutenant was drill- 
 ing a squad of men. He was giving all his attention 
 to "time," and did not notice a fence had planted 
 itself directly across our path. Suddenly he shouted: 
 *'Who — who — who! Come this way, you fellows 
 in front — don't you see you are running into that 
 fence?" 
 
 On Monday morning one of the men had been 
 cleaning his gun, and, wishing to know if it would 
 burn a cap, laid it down for the purpose of getting 
 one. When he returned, instead of picking up his 
 own gun, he took a loaded one that belonged to a 
 guard. As a result of his stupidity, the ball passed 
 through two tents, entered a young man's heel and 
 passed through his foot lengthwise, rendering him a 
 cripple for life. Rumors were in circulation all day 
 Tuesday of Rebel movements. At dusk twenty 
 rounds of ammunition were distributed. We were 
 then sent to our quarters to await orders. A spirit 
 of unrest pervaded the camp. Men gathered in 
 groups and whispered their conviction of a night 
 attack. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 9 
 
 At nine o'clock a picket fired an alarm. The 
 bugle sounded "To arms." Orderlies ran up and 
 down the line of tents shouting. "Fall in! Fall in 
 with your arms; the Rebels are upon us!" 
 
 For a moment there was some confusion, but in 
 less than five minutes we were in line, eager to meet 
 the foe. But no enemy appeared. It was a ruse 
 gotten up by the officers as an emergency drill, and, 
 as such, it was a decided success. There were some 
 ludicrous incidents, but, as a rule, the men buckled on 
 their arms with promptness and appeared as cool as 
 on dress parade. 
 
 Yesterday morning, as we were forming for com- 
 pany drill, a courier rode into camp with dispatches 
 from headquarters. Five companies from our regi- 
 ment were ordered to repair at once to Fort Gaines, 
 eight miles distant, on the Virginia side of the Potomac. 
 We started off briskly, but before we had gone a mile 
 the order was countermanded, and we returned to 
 camp. 
 
 The news this morning is not encouraging. Gen- 
 eral Pope has been defeated and driven back upon the 
 fortifications around Washington, and the Rebels are 
 trying to force their way across the Potomac. We 
 are under marching orders. Rumor says we are to 
 join Burnside's forces at Frederic City. 
 
10 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Maryland Heights, Va., September 21st, 1862. 
 
 Toward evening of the 1 3th we left Frederic City 
 and marched out on the National Turnpike toward 
 South Mountain, and halted for supper and a few 
 hours rest near Middleton. It was nearly midnight. 
 We had made a rapid march of several miles, and 
 were tired, and hungry as wolves. Hardly had we 
 stacked arms when Lieutenant Rath inquired: 
 "Where's John Conley?" John could not be found; 
 he was already off on an expedition of his own. 
 "Well, then," said Rath, "send me the next best thief; 
 I want a chicken for my supper." 
 
 Our foragers soon returned; the Lieutenant got his 
 chicken, and we privates were fairly well supplied 
 with the products of the country. It strikes me as a 
 little strange, the facility with which a soldier learns to 
 steal his grub. It must be the effect of heredity. 
 Perhaps, in the dim past, when our ancestors went on 
 "all fours," and roamed the forests in search of food; 
 possibly at a more recent date, but before a name was 
 given to the deed; they formed the habit of taking 
 what they wanted wherever it could be found, pro- 
 vided they had the physical power, or mental cunning, 
 to accomplish it, and this habit, thus formed, became 
 instinct, and was transmitted to their descendants. At 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 11 
 
 daylight we were on the move, headed for South 
 Mountain. We had an inkling — how obtained I do 
 not know; mental telepathy, perhaps, that occult, 
 mysterious power that enables us to divine the most 
 secret thoughts of men — that a mass meeting was to 
 be held on that eminence to discuss the pros and cons 
 of secession, and that we, the Seventeenth, had received 
 a pressing invitation to be present. The Pike was in 
 fine condition. Cur men stepped off briskly, with 
 long, swinging strides that carried them rapidly over 
 the ground. We marched in four ranks, by com- 
 panies, and were led by our gallant Colonel With- 
 ington. Company G was seventh from the front, 
 v/hich gave me a view of over half the regiment. And 
 it was good to look upon. Cnly two weeks from 
 home, our uniforms were untarnished. Dress coats 
 buttoned to the chin; upon our heads a high-crowned 
 hat with a feather stuck jauntily on one side. White 
 gloves in our pockets; a wonder we did not put them 
 on, so little know we of the etiquette of war. 
 
 As we neared the mountain, about nine o'clock in 
 the morning, I scanned its rugged sides for indications 
 of the presence of our friends, the enemy, and, as I 
 looked, I saw a puff of smoke, and on the instant a 
 shell sped howling above our heads, bursting some 
 half a mile beyond. 
 
 Every man of us "bowed his acknowledgments;" 
 then, as by one impulse, every spine became rigid; 
 every head was tossed in air; as if we would say: 
 *'My Southern friend, we did the polite thing that time. 
 No more concessions will you get from us and — may 
 
12 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 God have mercy on your souls." Of our exploits on 
 South Mountain I will not write. They will be woven 
 into history and will be within the reach of all. About 
 thirty of our brave boys were killed, and over one 
 hundred wounded. Captain Goldsmith was wounded 
 in the shoulder and Lieutenant Somers in the side. A 
 number of Company G boys were wounded, but none 
 were killed in this battle. 
 
 Eli Sears, the best, the most universally beloved of 
 the regiment, is dead. He died the second day after 
 the battle. A rifle ball, early in the engagement, struck 
 him in the left breast and passed entirely through him. 
 When I saw him he was so low he could only speak 
 in whispers. He gave me his hand, with a pleasant 
 smile, and told me he had but a few more hours to live. 
 Bitterly do I mourn his loss. So kind, so thoughtful, 
 always preferring another to himself. He died as heroes 
 die, as calm and peaceful as an infant on its mother's 
 breast. Albert Allen, Carmi Boice and Charlie 
 Goodall were in the thickest of the light and escaped 
 unhurt. 
 
 The Seventeenth has been baptised in blood and 
 christened "Stonewall." The battle of Antietam was 
 fought on Wednesday, September 1 7th, three days 
 after South Mountain. The Seventeenth did not lose 
 so m^any in killed — eighteen or twenty, I think, although 
 the list is not yet made out — and eighty or ninety 
 wounded. Company G lost three killed, among whom 
 was Anson Darling. We crossed the Antietam Rivei 
 about I p. m., and about three o'clock charged up the 
 heights, which we carried, and advanced to near 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 13 
 
 Sharpsburg. Here, our ammunition giving out, we fell 
 back behind the hill and quietly sat down 'mid burst- 
 ing shells and hurtling balls until relieved. As we sat 
 waiting, a spent ball— a six-pounder — struck a tree in 
 front of us. Not having sufficient momentum to pen- 
 etrate, it dropped back upon the toe of my comrade on 
 my left. With a fierce oath he sprang to his feet and 
 shouted, "Who the h— 1? Oh!" 
 
 That night, while on picket, when all my comrades 
 were wrapped in slumber, and silence reigned where, 
 a few hours before, the tumult of battle raged, my 
 willing thought turned to my Northern home. The 
 most vivid pictures arose before me — so real — could 
 they be imagination? And as I gazed upon these 
 fancied visions and pressed them to my soul as a 
 living reality, I asked myself the question, **Can this 
 be homesickness?" The answer came, quick and 
 decisive: No; I have never seen the time — even for 
 one short moment — that I could say to myself, "If I 
 had not enlisted, I would not." On the contrary, if, 
 after the little experience I have had, and the little 
 knowledge I have gained, I had not enlisted, I would 
 do so within the hour. 
 
14 A Soldier *s Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Antietam, September 27th, 1862. 
 We have had one week of rest; are encamped three 
 miles from our last battlefields, with a prospect of stay- 
 ing here several weeks. There is much sickness, but 
 nothing of a serious nature. As for myself, I have not 
 seen an hour's sickness since I left Michigan. Our 
 camp is pleasantly situated on a high hill, and the sur- 
 rounding hills and valleys are white with tents. In 
 the evening, when every tent is lighted up, they present 
 a brilliant and beautiful appearance. Several regi- 
 ments are supplied with brass bands, which delight us 
 every evening with a "concord of sweet sounds." Last 
 evening the Fiftieth Pennsylvania serenaded the 
 "Bloody Seventeenth," as they call us. 
 
 October 3d, 1862. 
 We have moved camp three miles, and are now 
 five miles above Harper's Ferry, on the banks of the 
 Potomac. The days are extremely hot; the evenings 
 deliciously cool, and mornings cold. We had a grand 
 division review this morning, in honor of the President, 
 who favored us with his presence. My curiosity was 
 gratified by seeing a "live President," and, above all, 
 "Old Abe." He looks much better than the like- 
 nesses we see of him — younger, and not so long and 
 lank. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 15 
 
 Strange rumors have been in circulation for several 
 days — rumors of compromise; of almost unconditional 
 surrender. What does it all mean? Is there a bare 
 possibility the Rebels have had enough of it? That 
 "chivalry" will acknowledge itself whipped by "mud- 
 sills," and ask for peace, while they have six hundred 
 thousand men in the field? As far as the rank and 
 file of this army is concerned, we would like to see 
 them "line up" in front of us and fight it out, and 
 have done with it. 
 
 Pleasant Valley, October 9th, 1 862. 
 We moved from Antietam day before yesterday, in 
 order, as reported, to be nearer our supplies. How- 
 ever, as soldiers know nothing of movements until after 
 they are made, we may leave here today. As I was 
 writing the last sentence, I learned we are to move this 
 afternoon, about two miles, where we will have more 
 room and better accommodations. The order to 
 march is always welcome to me. I hate the monotony 
 of camp life. The same is true of nearly all our regi- 
 ment. We want to finish up our work and go home 
 to our families — for nearly all have families. From 
 our old camp to the present one is about twelve miles 
 — the toughest twelve miles I ever traveled. Our 
 route lay over the Elk Ridge Mountain, about six 
 miles winding up its steep, rocky sides, the remaining 
 half down the opposite side, the midday sun pouring 
 his fierce rays against its rocky surface, making the 
 heat well-nigh unbearable. There was not even a 
 whispering breeze to cool our throbbing brows. Two 
 
16 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 men of our brigade melted down and died, while 
 hundreds fell out by the way and came straggling into 
 camp next morning. The movement was foolishly 
 conducted on the principle of a forced march when 
 there was no call for haste. I was quite lame at the 
 time, having cut a deep gash in my heel a few days 
 before, which compelled me to walk on the toe of that 
 foot. This made walking over such a road and for 
 so long a distance rather difficult. I fell behind the 
 regiment for the first time, but came into camp about 
 sundown. Some companies left nearly every man by 
 the roadside. 
 
 On Friday Robert Covert and myself went down 
 to the river to wash our clothing. The day was hot, 
 and Robert went in to bathe. I was sitting on the 
 shore, in company with others of my regiment, dream- 
 ily watching the sportive antics of the bathers, when 
 my attention was attracted to Robert by what I 
 thought to be a peal of laughter. With an exclama- 
 tion of horror I sprang to my feet. 'My God, boys, 
 he's sinking, drowning!" He had made but two or 
 three strokes when taken with cramps and rendered 
 helpless. I will long remember the pleading look, 
 the agonized cry, as he rose to the surface. There 
 was no time for thought; he was going down the 
 second time; in a moment he will be beyond our reach 
 I cannot swim, but I seized a long pole and plunged 
 in. It was not quite long enough to reach the place 
 where he went down, but at that instant a man 
 stripped for a swim rushed past me, and, holding to 
 the end of my pole, threw his shirt to Robert as he 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 17 
 
 came to the surface. He caught it, and we pulled 
 him to the shore. 
 
 I am frequently asked how I like soldiering. For 
 a wonder, I am not disappointed. If anything, it is 
 more endurable than I expected to find it. There are 
 hardships — as a matter of fact, it is all hardship — but 
 I was prepared for all that. I expected to suffer — 
 to endure — and find myself the gainer by it. While 
 others say: **If I had known, I would not have 
 enlisted," I can say with truth I am glad I did. If I 
 can be of service to my country, I will be satisfied! 
 That which troubles and annoys me most, 
 others do not seem to mind. It is the 
 intolerable, nauseating stench that envelops a 
 military camp. My olfactories have become so 
 acutely sensitive I can smell an encampment 
 **afar off." Many complain of the strictness of 
 military discipline. That does not trouble me. The 
 law is a "terror to evil doers." I am thankful for the 
 many kind friends I have found here. I hail with 
 delight the President's proclamation. I believe it is 
 a step in the right direction. 
 
 October 1 2th. 
 It is now nine o'clock of a Sabbath evening, and as 
 I pen these lines my wife and children, perhaps are 
 listening to words of peace as they fall from the lips 
 of their beloved pastor. How vividly memory recalls 
 the past, and, as of old, we seem to walk the well- 
 known path to the house of worship, to join with dear 
 friends in singing hymns of praise, and to receive 
 
18 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 instruction from the Word of God. How great 
 the contrast between past and present. 
 
 Instead of pursuing the peaceful avocations of life, 
 surrounded by my loved family. I find myself separated 
 from them by many a weary mile, and surrounded by 
 the savage enginery of war. Even as I write I hear 
 the booming of cannon in the direction of Harper's 
 Ferry. Last evening, while mustering for dress parade 
 we received orders for every able-bodied man to get 
 ready to march with only their guns, ammunition and 
 blankets, in the shortest possible time. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 19 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Pleasant Valley, October 1 7th, 1 862. 
 
 Being in a wakeful mood, I will try and compose 
 my mind by writing a few lines in my diary, for we 
 have become great friends — yes, confidantes — and 
 tonight I need a confidante. Did I ever tell you, my 
 silent friend, of my Northern home; of wife and chil- 
 dren, loving and beloved? Then listen, while I whis- 
 per in your ear the sacred secret. I have a wife and 
 four small children far off in Michigan. I love them 
 with all the intensity and devotion of my nature. The 
 thought of them is ever uppermost in my mind. In 
 the daily, monotonous rounds of duty; in the long, 
 dreary evenings, when folly reigns; in the stillness of 
 the night; on the rugged, toilsome march, or in the 
 tumult of battle, thoughts of the dear ones at home arc 
 ever present, inspiring me with hope, encouraging me 
 to duty, a shield against temptation, a beacon light, 
 shining out upon the stormy sea of strife on which my 
 frail bark is launched, enabling me, thus far, to shun 
 the rocks and quicksands that surround me. 
 
 Our regiment returned today from Frederic, where 
 it has been guarding the railroad. We hear that Gen- 
 eral Wilcox, Colonel Fenton and Colonel Withington 
 are to be promoted. We are heartily glad their emi- 
 nent services are about to be rewarded by the Govern- 
 ment. They are men of marked ability, and have well 
 
20 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 earned their honors. Although it will take from us 
 our gallant Colonel, there is some compensation even 
 in that. It will leave the regiment in command of 
 Lieutenant Colonel Luce, who is beloved by all our 
 men. We have heard heavy cannonading all day, but 
 have not learned the result. It is rumored that we will 
 move in a day or two — ^perhaps tomorrow. Where 
 we go, even rumor sayeth not. Our men say it does 
 not matter where, so they take us where work is to be 
 done. Two men deserted from Co. G yesterday and 
 two today. This splendid regiment that left Detroit 
 two months ago nearly one thousand strong, mustered 
 today, at inspection, two hundred and fifty-six men fit 
 for duty. There are more sick than well, the result 
 of insufficient supplies, and brutal, needless exposure 
 of the men by officers high in rank. 
 
 The weather is delightful — cold and frosty nights, 
 with warm sunshiny days and pure, fresh, mountain 
 breezes that should strengthen and invigorate, and yet, 
 of all who came from Blackman and Sandstone, I 
 alone am well. 
 
 Camp near Lovetsville, Va., Oct. 28th. 
 We bade farewell to Pleasant Valley, and started 
 for the land of "Dixie" quite unexpectedly to us pri- 
 vates. Orders were issued on Saturday to the differ- 
 ent companies to have their things packed and be ready 
 to move at daybreak next morning. We were 
 aroused at three o'clock, prepared and ate our break- 
 fast, and at five o'clock were on the march. It had 
 rained some during the night, and morning gave prom- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 21 
 
 ise of a rainy day. Well did it fulfill its promise. 
 About eight o'clock a drizzling rain set in, which 
 continued until about one o'clock, when the wind 
 changed to the north, increasing in violence until it 
 blew a gale, which continued until morning, raining 
 incessantly. The north winds here are very cold, and 
 the poor soldiers, marching or standing all day in the 
 rain, with sixty rounds of ammunition, three days' 
 rations, knapsacks and blankets on their backs, passed 
 a very uncomfortable day. But they bore it uncom- 
 plainingly, and when, about sundown, we pitched our 
 little "dog tents" on the soaked and muddy ground 
 with shouts and merry jests, we made a break for the 
 nearest fence, and soon each company had a pile of 
 dry chestnut rails, with which we kept a roaring fire 
 until morning. Many of the men were wet to the 
 skin, and, too cold to sleep, could be seen at any 
 hour of the night in circles round their blazing camp- 
 fires, talking over past scenes or future prospects. As 
 I passed from group to group through the brigade, I 
 noticed a feeling of discontent, caused by a lack of 
 confidence in our leaders. The men seemed to feel 
 we are being outgeneraled; that Lee's army, and not 
 Richmond, should be the objective point; that the 
 rebellion can never be put down until that army is 
 annihilated. When I returned to our company the 
 boys had arranged it all — the President is to retire all 
 generals, select men from the ranks who will serve 
 without pay, and will lead the army against Lee, strike 
 him hard and follow him up until he fails to come to 
 time. So passed this fearful night away. 
 
22 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Camp near Fredericksburg, Dec. 9th, 1 862. 
 It has been a long time — fully five weeks — since I 
 made the last entry in this journal. The forced 
 marches, exposure, and insufficient food of the week 
 preceding our arrival at this place had been too much 
 even for me. It had rained or snowed almost contin- 
 uously; we were out of reach of our supply train for 
 seven days. Food gave out, but on we pressed. 
 When we halted on the evening of our arrival, too 
 utterly worn out to pitch a tent, I spread my blanket 
 on the ground, threw myself upon it and slept the 
 sleep of exhaustion. It rained during the night, and 
 when I awoke I found myself lying in a pool of water 
 that half covered me. My recollection of what 
 occurred for several successive days is very vague; 1 
 knew I was being cared for by somebody, somewhere; 
 I had no cares, no anxious doubts or perplexing fears. 
 If in pain, I had not sense to realize it. One morning- 
 after, I do not know how many days, I awoke to 
 consciousness; I heard a well-remembered step tripping 
 across the floor and stop at my bedside, a soft, cool 
 hand was pressed upon my brow; a sweet, familiar 
 voice whispered in my ear: "You are better, dear; 
 you will get well now." Nay, do not smile, thou 
 unbelieving cynic, for from that hour — yes, from that 
 instant — I began to mend. I learned afterward that 
 I had been very low with some form of fever; that i 
 was not taken to the hospital because my kind friencl 
 and comrade, Orville Collier, had begged the privilege 
 of nursing me in his own tent. I can now sit up, can 
 walk about a little, and hope soon to be well. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 23 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Camp near Fredericksburg, Dec. 28th, 1862. 
 
 The battle of Fredericksburg has been fought and 
 — lost. We are now engaged in the laudable occu- 
 pation 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 hopeless- 
 ness of the struggle, and, when the order came to 
 advance, he flatly refused to sacrific 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. 
 
24 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 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 avail- 
 able transports, to furnish this great army with sup- 
 plies. Should the river freeze, or the Rebels gain a 
 position on its banks, we would be starved out in short 
 order. 
 
 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. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 25 
 
 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, aftei 
 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 tha 
 animated, joyful expression that illuminates the coun- 
 tenance of the happy recipients, while those less fa- 
 vored 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, cov- 
 ered 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. 
 
 January 15th, 1863. 
 
 Our shanties are completed, and we moved in yes- 
 terday. 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 aston- 
 
26 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 ishment 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 con- 
 tinued to Hoat 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. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 27 
 
 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 1 
 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 con- 
 sole 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. 
 
A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Camp Pittman, Va., February 2d, 1863. 
 Our camp has been christened at last. We are 
 building a huge oven, large enough to supply our 
 brigade with soft bread. Furloughs are being granted 
 to a limited number of officers and men. This will 
 entitle our company to eight privates. In our com- 
 pany the lot fell between Wait Wright, of Eaton 
 Rapids, and myself. Our cases were so similar the 
 Colonel would not decide between us. He said we 
 must talk it over and agree which should go first, and 
 that, as soon as one returned, the other should go. I 
 heard Mr. Wright's story and volunteered to remain 
 until his return, which will be fifteen days from the 
 date of his furlough. The past week has been very 
 cold. It has snowed all day, and now — about four 
 o'clock — is turning to rain, and bids fair to be a rainy 
 night. 
 
 February 8th, 1863. 
 We are under marching orders again — ready to 
 move at a minute's notice. The Ninth Army Corps 
 is detached from the Army of the Potomac and is 
 ordered to report to General Dix, at Fortress Monroe. 
 The supposition is we go on an expedition somewhere 
 — rumor says Vicksburg. The first detachment has 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 29 
 
 gone, and we are awaiting the return of the transports. 
 The men are well pleased with the idea of going far- 
 ther south. For myself, I say any place but this. 
 When we came here the country was a wilderness, 
 covered with a heavy growth of scrub pine. Now it 
 is a desert with scarcely a tree, and not a fence rail 
 for miles in any direction. 
 
 It seems that Richmond has lost its strategic import- 
 ance, and the ''decisive blow" which was to have 
 fallen there has been transferred to five other points, 
 viz: Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Rosa's and Foster's 
 expeditions, and Charleston. "If these prove success- 
 ful," say the Washington papers, "the rebellion will 
 end in thirty days." God grant them all success 
 When I survey the past history of the war I can see 
 but little in the immediate future to encourage hope. 
 The conviction is forced upon me that if the North 
 subdue the South, the war has but just begun. It can 
 and will be done, but time and persevering effort only 
 will accomplish it. The people are too impa- 
 tient. They demand important victories now, 
 while some fortified place — Vicksburg, for 
 instance — can only be taken by siege, and siege means 
 weeks and months of waiting. 
 
 Government, urged on by the people, acts as if 
 the salvation of the country depends on all this being 
 accomplished before the fourth of March. But I see 
 nothing but failure in haste. 
 
30 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 February 15 th, 1863. 
 We are now on the "heaving sea and the bounding 
 wave." We were aroused yesterday morning al four 
 o'clock, ordered to prepare breakfast and be ready 
 to march at a minute's notice. At five-thirty the 
 bugle sounded "fall in." V/e slung our accoutre- 
 ments, the first time since the battle of Fredericksburg, 
 and in fifteen minutes were en route to the depot, 
 distance about two miles. After some delay we took 
 cars for Aquia Creek, where we arrived at 1 o'clock 
 a. m., and were immediately transferred to transports, 
 bound for Fortress Monroe. The Seventy-ninth 
 New York and Seventeenth Michigan were crowded 
 on the North America, an old Fludson River propel- 
 ler. There was hardly standing room, much less 
 room to walk about. The day is fine, and the bay, 
 unruffled by a breeze, presents a lively and pictur- 
 esque appearance. Steamers are continually arriving 
 and departing, sailboats of all sorts and sizes spread 
 their white wings and glide leisurely through the still 
 waters, while the active little tugs go whisking and 
 snorting here and there, assisting larger and more 
 unwieldly vessels. We left Aquia Creek at 10:30 
 o'clock a. m., expecting to reach the Fortress by nine 
 o'clock next morning. I love the sea in all its Forms 
 and phases, and it was with a thrill of joy I took my 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 31 
 
 seat on deck, prepared to enjoy whatever of interest 
 might present itself. The Potomac, at Aquia Creek, 
 is truly a noble stream, if stream it may be called, 
 for there is no perceptible current, being, I judge, one 
 and one-half miles wide, gradually broadening out 
 as it nears the bay, until at its mouth it is nine miles 
 wide. There is a striking contrast between the 
 Maryland and Virginia shores. The Virginia side, 
 nearly the entire distance, presents a rugged, moun- 
 tainous aspect, with very few buildings in view, while 
 the Maryland shore is level, dotted with farm buildings, 
 and, at frequent intervals a village with its church spires 
 glittering in the sun. In contemplating these peaceful 
 scenes of rural life, the quiet farm houses surrounded 
 by groves of trees, the well-tilled fields, outbuildings 
 and fences undisturbed by war's desolating hand, the 
 genial air of quiet repose that pervades the scene calls 
 up emotions that have long lain dormant. For many 
 long months, which seems as many years, my eyes 
 have become inured to scenes of blood, of desolation 
 and of ruin; to cities and villages laid waste and pil- 
 laged; private residences destroyed; homes made deso- 
 late; in fact, the whole country through which we 
 have passed, except part of Maryland, has become 
 through war's desolating touch, a desert waste. As 
 I gazed on these peaceful scenes and my thirsty soul 
 drank in their beauty, how hateful did war appear, 
 and I prayed the time might soon come when ''Nations 
 shall learn war no more." 
 
 Gradually the wind freshened, increasing in force 
 as we neared the bay, until it became so rough the 
 
32 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 captain thought it unsafe to venture out, and cast 
 anchor about five miles from the mouth of the river to 
 await the coming of day. I spread my blanket on 
 the floor of one of the little cabins and slept soundly 
 until morning. When I awoke in the morning the 
 first gray streaks of early dawn were illuminating the 
 eastern horizon. 
 
 The gale having subsided, we were soon under 
 way, and in about half an hour entered the broad 
 Chesapeake. And here a scene most grand and 
 imposing met my enraptured gaze. Not a breath of 
 air disturbed its unruffled surface. Numerous vessels, 
 floating upon its bosom, were reflected as by a mirror, 
 A delegation of porpoises met us at the entrance to 
 welcome us to their domain; they were twenty-two in 
 number, were from six to eight feet in length; in color, 
 dark brown. It was truly amusing to witness their 
 sportive antics as they seemed to roll themselves along. 
 They would throw themselves head foremost from the 
 water half their length, turning as on a pivot, perform 
 what seemed to be a somersault, and disappear. 
 
 A flock of sea gulls fell into our wake, sagely pick- 
 ing up any crumbs of bread that might be thrown 
 them. They are a strange bird, a little larger than a 
 dove, closely resembling them in color and gracefulness 
 of motion. They followed us the whole distance, and 
 as I watched their continuous, ceaseless flight, the 
 effect on the mind was a sense of weariness at thought 
 of the long-continued exertion. 
 
 Soon after we entered the bay ! observed what I 
 thought to be a light fog arising in the southeast. We 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 33 
 
 had not proceeded far, however, before I discovered 
 my mistake, for that which seemed to be a fog was a 
 shower of rain. I was taken wholly by surprise, for 
 I had been accustomed to see some preparation and 
 ceremony on similar occasions. But now no gather- 
 ing clouds darkened the distant sky, warning me of 
 its approach, but the very storm itself seemed to float 
 upon the waves and become part of it, and before I 
 was aware, enfolded us in its watery embrace. The 
 storm soon passed, but the wind continued through the 
 day, and, as we neared the old Atlantic and met his 
 heavy swells, they produced a feeling of buoyancy that 
 was, to me, truly exhilerating. 
 
 Some of the boys were seasick, and a number "cast 
 up their accounts" in earnest. We entered the har- 
 bor about sundown and cast anchor for the night 
 under the frowning guns of Fortress Monroe. 
 
 Vessels of war of every class, monitors included, 
 and sailing vessels of all sizes, crowded the harbor. 
 It was a magnificent scene, and one on which I had 
 always longed to gaze. 
 
 In the morning we learned our destination was 
 Newport News, distant about five miles. We arrived 
 about eight o'clock, marched two miles to Hampton 
 Roads, our camping ground, pitched tents and, at 
 noon, were ready for our dinner of coffee and hard- 
 tack. 
 
 We have a pleasant camping ground, lying on the 
 beach, where we can watch the vessels as they pass 
 and can pick up oysters by the bushel when the tide 
 is out. 
 
34 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 February 28th. 1 863. 
 Newport News is a military post, and is of no 
 importance in any other sense. There were no vil- 
 lages or cities here previous to the war. Now there 
 are quite a number of temporary buildings, and bar- 
 racks to accommodate 60,000 men. It is an ideal 
 camping ground, lying on the north bank of Hampton 
 Roads and inclining gently to the northeast. The 
 soil is light sand, which absorbs the rain as fast as it 
 falls and is never muddy. The Ninth Corps, com- 
 posed of forty-eight regiments, is extended in a direct 
 line along the beach, covering about two miles in 
 length. Stringent rules have been adopted, which, if 
 carried out, will greatly enhance the efficiency of the 
 men in field operations. We are to have revielle at 
 six, when every man must turn out to roll call; break- 
 fast call at seven, when we fall in line, march to the 
 cook's quarters and receive our allowance of "grub." 
 Immediately after breakfast we are marched to the 
 creek, v/here every man is required to wash hands, 
 face and neck. From eight to half-past, police duty, 
 or cleaning up in front of tents; from eight-thirty to 
 ten-thirty, company drill; from this time until noon, 
 clean guns, brasses and do any little jobs we may have 
 on hand; dinner at twelve; from one-thirty to two- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 35 
 
 thirty, skirmish drill; from three to four, battalion drill, 
 after which is dress parade; at eight-thirty, tattoo, or 
 go to bed; at nine, taps, or lights out. Saturday is 
 set apart for washing and cleaning up generally. Sun- 
 day morning at eight o'clock is inspection of arms, and 
 at two o'clock divine service. 
 
 Some of the boys think the regular routine is 
 reversed in our case — fighting first and drill afterward. 
 Poor fellows; I expect they will see fighting enough 
 yet. I have not seen a newspaper since our arrival, 
 and know as little of what is going on in the world 
 as did Cruso on his desert island. 
 
 March 17th, 1863. 
 We have just received orders to be ready to march 
 at a minute's notice, with two days' rations in our 
 haversacks. The quiet of repose is suddenly dis- 
 turbed by war's alarms; the Rebels attacked our forces 
 today at Suffolk, about twenty miles from Norfolk. 
 The supposition is we go to support our forces at that 
 place. Our men are excited to the highest pitch of 
 enthusiasm. As I write I hear their shouts and joyful 
 exclamations. The Seventeenth has recovered its old- 
 time energy, and is eager for the fray. 
 
 Louisville, Ky.. March 27th. 1863. 
 We did not go to Suffolk as I anticipated. The 
 Third Division went in our stead, while we took 
 another direction, and in eight days, by water and 
 rail, landed in Louisville. We broke camp at New- 
 port News on the 19th inst., marched on board a 
 
36 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 fleet of transports, went to Norfolk, where we took in 
 coal. While lying there a heavy storm of snow set 
 in, which lasted several hours. It was bitterly cold, 
 or so it seemed to us, and we suffered severely. To- 
 ward night the storm abated and we sailed for Balti- 
 more. There we were transferred to cars and came 
 by the way of the B. & O. R. R. to Parkersburg, 
 W. Va. From Harper's Ferry our route followed 
 the course of the Potomac River to Columbia, a lovely 
 city far up among the mountains, and near the head 
 of that river. The country from Harper's Ferry is 
 mountainous, and Columbia is near the dividing line, 
 from which point the water flows in opposite direc- 
 tions. We were three days and three nights on the 
 cars, winding around or darting through the rocky 
 barriers that opposed us. For, where they could not 
 be evaded, the energy and power of man pierced their 
 huge forms and ran his fiery engines beneath their 
 towering summits. There are twenty-seven tunnels 
 on this road, twenty-five of which we passed through 
 in the daytime. Some of the shorter ones are arched 
 with brick, others with heavy timbers, while some are 
 cut through solid rock and need no support. At 
 Parkersburg our three regiments were crowded into 
 one vessel, and away we went "down the Ohio." 
 We made a short stop at Cincinnati, where we re- 
 ceived orders to report at once to Louisville, as an 
 attack at that place was apprehended. We halted 
 on our way through Louisville and partook of a free 
 dinner, prepared for us by the loyal ladies of that city! 
 Soft bread, potatoes, boiled ham, cakes and hot coffee 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 37 
 
 were served us till all were filled (and many a haver- 
 sack was also filled), when we gave three cheers and 
 a tiger for thfe generous donors. 
 
 We found much excitement, as bands of guerillas 
 came within six miles of the city the night before, con- 
 scripting men and confiscating horses and other sup- 
 plies. 
 
 We stole a march on the Johnnies in coming here, 
 they having notified the citizens that they would break- 
 fast with them on the morning of our arrival, and when 
 they — the citizens — saw their streets filled with sol- 
 diers, they thought the promise about to be fulfilled, 
 but the Stars and Stripes soon undeceived them. 
 Here our brigade was divided, the Eighth Michigan 
 and Seventy-ninth New York going to Lebanon, the 
 Seventeenth and Twentieth Michigan remaining at this 
 place. 
 
 Bardstown, March 31st, 1863. 
 Bardstown, where we are now encamped, is an old 
 city of about six thousand inhabitants. The Semin- 
 ary, which we now occupy as a hospital, was built 
 when there were but three houses in Cincinnati. The 
 majority of the people, I am told, are secessionists. 
 We are encamped on the farm of Senator Wycliff, 
 just outside of the city, in a fine grove of beech and 
 maple; a beautiful stream runs through our camp, 
 while a spring of pure water, enough to supply a 
 brigade, bursts from a crevice in the rocks. 
 
38 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Lebanon. Ky.. April 10th. 1863. 
 We left Bardstown on April second and marched 
 to this place, twenty-eight miles, in two days. How 
 long we may remain here I cannot even conjecture. 
 Kentucky is like a seething volcano, ready to burst into 
 flames at any moment; nothing but the concentration 
 of a large force can prevent an uprising. I think the 
 presence of so many Michigan boys may have a 
 soothing etfect. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 39 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Lebanon, April 13th, 1863. 
 
 We have lost our favorite commander, Brigadiev 
 General Poe. He is promoted to captain in the 
 regular service, and delivered his farewell address 
 early yesterday morning. He has won the confidence 
 and esteem of every man in the brigade, and they 
 deeply regret his loss. It was his disobedience of 
 orders that saved the First Brigade from slaughter at 
 Fredericksburg. His disobedience led to his promo- 
 tion. In appearance he is just the man I would 
 select from among a thousand for a bandit chief. 
 
 We had a riffle of excitement yesterday in camp. 
 Early in the morning the Eighteenth and Twenty- 
 second Michigan Regiments were ordered to leave for 
 Murfreesboro, Tennessee. The officers of these regi- 
 ments, in common with others, have employed negroes 
 as servants. Kentucky is violently opposed to the 
 President's Emancipation Proclamation. Here was 
 a fine opportunity for a Kentucky General to show 
 the "Abolitionists" that his state v/as not included in 
 that pronunciamento. As the Eighteenth was about 
 to board the cars. General Manson, commander of 
 this post, ordered them to halt and deliver up all 
 negroes in the regiment. Upon inquiry it was found 
 that all, except one, were Kentucky negroes, and were 
 given up. This did not satisfy; he must have the free 
 
4:0 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 man also. The Sixteenth Kentucky Infantry and the 
 Twelfth Kentucky Cavalry are doing post duty here. 
 These General Manson ordered to form in line of 
 battle, and again demanded the surrender of the negro. 
 But Michigan was not to be intimidated. Colonel 
 Doolittle resolutely refused, formed his men for battle 
 with loaded guns and fixed bayonets, and defiantly 
 bade the Kentuckian to *'come and take him." Not 
 caring to attack with only two to one. General Manson 
 sent for the Seventy-ninth New York to come and help 
 him, but the gallant Colonel of that regimnet replied; 
 "I am not fighting Michigan men." In the meantime 
 General Burnside had been telegraphed for orders. 
 He replied: "I have nothing to do with it." Colonel 
 Doolittle then telegraphed the War Department, and 
 is now awaiting orders. The Eighteenth lay with 
 their arms beside them all last night, apprehensive of 
 an attack. They kept the negro. 
 
 We have a fine camping ground, nearly as good as 
 at Newport News. The brigade is encamped in the 
 form of a square. There is a spring of water in the 
 center. In our front is the City of Lebanon, a place 
 nearly as large as Jackson, and old enough in appear- 
 ance to have been built in the middle ages. On our 
 right and left are splendid farms, on which negro 
 slaves are busily engaged plowing and planting. In 
 our rear is a piece of timber from which we supply 
 ourselves with fuel. We have thickly planted the 
 borders of our streets with evergreen trees, which not 
 only gives our camp a picturesque appearance, but 
 affords a comfortable shade these hot, sultry days. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 41 
 
 Our stay here depends entirely on the movements 
 of the Rebels. We are here to protect the loyal 
 people of Kentucky from guerillas; also to support 
 Rosencrans should his rear be threatened by way of 
 Cumberland Gap. The Ninth Corps is separated 
 into fragments; the Third Division is in Virginia; the 
 First and Second are in Kentucky, a brigade in a 
 place, but so situated they can be quickly concentrated 
 at a given point. Doubtless it is pleasant, this lying in 
 camp with nothing to do but drill and play ball, which 
 is all the rage just now, but it is not satisfying. It 
 may do for regulars, who have so long a time to 
 serve, but for volunteers who enlisted to do a given 
 amount of work, would like to do that work and go 
 home to their families. 
 
 Columbia, Ky., April 30th, 1863. 
 At the date of my last entry— the 26th inst. — I 
 had seen no indication of a move. We retired that 
 night at the usual hour, and just as I was dropping 
 off to sleep the order came: "Be ready to march 
 tomorrow morning at five o'clock with two days' 
 rations." It came like a **clap of thunder from a 
 cloudless sky," surprising both officers and men. Our 
 officers had formed numerous and pleasant associations 
 with Kentucky's fair daughters, and it was with many 
 regrets they were compelled to leave their agreeable 
 society for the stern duties of the field. But military 
 orders are inexorable as fate, and at precisely a quarter 
 to five the bugle sounded "fall in," and at five we were 
 on the move, bound for Columbia, forty miles away. 
 
42 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 The weather is warm and pleasant now, but the 
 burning heat of a Southern summer is close upon us. 
 A forced march was before us, with no teams to carry 
 our luggage. We could not carry all our winter 
 clothing, therefore hundreds of good blankets and 
 overcoats were thrown away. When we had marched 
 three or four miles many of the men found they still 
 had too much load, and then the work of lightening 
 up began in earnest. For miles the road was strewn 
 with blankets, dress coats, blouses, pants, drawers 
 and shirts. In fact enough clothing was thrown away 
 for Rebels to pick up to supply a whole brigade. No 
 wonder so many Rebel regiments are dressed in our 
 uniforms. As for myself, I was determined to stay 
 by my goods, if I could not carry them. As a matter 
 of fact I carried load enough that day to down \ 
 mule, and feel none the worse for it. We marched 
 to Campbellville, twenty miles, and camped for the 
 night. We were expected to cover the entire distance 
 in two days, but fully one-half of the brigade were so 
 utterly used up it was found to be impossible. We 
 only made nine miles the second day, and camped at 
 Green River. Here the Eighth Michigan and 
 Seventy-ninth New York were ordered to remain; th .• 
 Seventeenth was ordered to Columbia and the Twen- 
 tieth to the Cumberland, forty miles beyond. 
 
 Lieutenant Colonel Luce is Provost Marshal of this 
 district, and we are detailed to do provost duty. 
 Colonel Luce's orders are: "Protect government pro- 
 perty, keep good order in the town, arrest all disloyal 
 citizens and report to headquarters every day." This 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 43 
 
 part of the state has been much infested by guerillas, 
 and we expect lively times. 
 
 Lebanon, Ky., June 1st, 1863. 
 
 I have been home on furlough, and am on my way 
 to rejoin my regiment. I reached Louisville last night 
 at midnight, and stayed at the Soldiers* Home until 
 morning. Charles Groesbeck came with me from 
 Detroit, and we found two more of our boys and our 
 Chaplain here, waiting to take cars this morning. 
 
 We have a good "drive" on our drum major. He 
 reached Louisville on Friday and reported to the post 
 commander for a pass to his regiment. The Colonel 
 gave him a pass, all right, but to his utter dismay and 
 disgust sent him to the barrack, kept him there until 
 this morning, then sent him to Lebanon under guard. 
 Charlie and I did not report, and came through like 
 free men. 
 
 We have a march of sixty miles before us, but a 
 wagon train is going out, and we may get our baggage 
 carried part of the way. 
 
 We left Lebanon at three o'clock and walked ten 
 miles. Next morning at three o'clock we were again 
 on the road, intending to make Columbia, but, a heavy 
 rain setting in, we took possession of a barn about foui 
 miles out and stayed until morning. We had walked 
 twenty miles and carried our baggage, and were ready 
 to walk eighteen in the afternoon, which is the dis- 
 tance from this place to Jamestown, where we expect 
 to overtake the regiment. 
 
4:4 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Lebanon, Ky., June 6th, 1863. 
 
 I did not go to Jamestown, as I intended. I called 
 on the Provost Marshal for a pass and learned the 
 program had been changed, and the Seventeenth was 
 then on its way back to Lebanon. I found the com- 
 pany about nine o'clock in the evening, a half mile 
 from Columbia, tired and worn by a march of twenty- 
 six miles. The boys had stretched themselves on the 
 ground, too tired to erect their tents, but when they 
 learned of our arrival, they flocked around us to learn 
 the latest news from home. And such warm greet- 
 ings I seldom ever witnessed. The Colonel said we 
 were all right on time; he did not expect us to start 
 from home until Monday. 
 
 Here I learned the Ninth Corps had received orders 
 to report immediately at Louisville. We started early 
 next morning and marched twenty miles. After sup- 
 per we threw ourselves upon the ground and forgot 
 our pains and aches in "balmy sleep." 
 
 At two o'clock we were aroused by "the shrill 
 bugle's cry," and were told we were to be in Lebanon 
 at 12 m. — eighteen miles. We turned out, cooked 
 and ate our breakfasts, and at four o'clock were on 
 the move. The Quartermaster soon overtook us with 
 teams that he had "pressed" to carry our knapsacks 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 46 
 
 for us. With many thanks to Colonel Luce — it was 
 he that ordered the wagons to follow us — we started 
 on our way with light hearts and lighter feet. But 
 eighteen miles in half a day is no easy task, even in 
 light marching order, and soon the men, worn out by 
 repeated forced marches, began to tire, and many 
 were ready to declare they could go no further, when 
 we were met by a wagon train, sent from Lebanon to 
 bring in those not able to walk. The train was soon 
 filled to its utmost capacity. Not being one of the 
 unfortunates, I "hoofed it" the entire distance. 
 
 The all-absorbing question with us is, where are 
 we going? The Louisville Journal says we are ''goin^ 
 to take a new lesson in geography." Of course, then, 
 we leave the state. Our officers are about equally 
 divided between Washington and Vicksburg. But 
 which? If we are to take a new lesson we will not 
 go east. Then it must be Vicksburg. Our men say 
 it makes but little difference to them, if only we go 
 where work is to be done. 
 
 Cairo, III., June 10th, 1863. 
 We are now three hundred and sixty-six miles from 
 Lebanon, which place we left at 3 p. m. of Sunday, 
 and reached Louisville about seven. The ladies had 
 prepared supper and we partook of it with many 
 thanks to the generous doners. After supper we 
 crossed over to Jefferson and took cars for this place 
 Here we missed the executive ability of General Poe. 
 In all our journeying from Newport News everything 
 was arranged with care and precision. Here all was 
 
46 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 disorder and confusion. The cars assigned to our 
 regiment were partly filled with men and baggage of 
 other regiments. Colonel Luce requested the officer 
 who seemed to be in charge to remove them. This 
 he refused to do, swearing they would have a fight 
 first. The Colonel looked in vain for someone to 
 bring order out of this chaos. Finally he assumed 
 the responsibility himself; told the officer in charge if 
 a fight was what he wanted, a fight he should have; 
 ordered us to throw them out, and we did it with a 
 will. About daylight we took possession and were 
 soon under way. 
 
 Our trip through Indiana and Illinois caused an 
 ovation. It seemed that the entire population turned 
 out to encourage and cheer us on our way. Women 
 and children, with bright smiles and waving handker- 
 chiefs, thronged the way, and at every station fruit,- 
 cakes, bread and butter, newspapers, and, better than 
 all, warm, friendly greetings, were literally showered 
 upon us. 
 
 At Washington, Indiana, we halted for supper. It 
 was midnight, but, as usual, the station was thronged 
 with people of both sexes and all ages. Some ladies 
 came to our car — food was served in the cars — and 
 requested that all who were asleep might be awakened, 
 for, as they had been cooking until that time of night, 
 and had then walked nearly a mile to see us, they 
 would like to see us all. So we aroused the sleepers, 
 and had a lively time during our short stay. 
 
 They presented us with bouquets, cards, mottoes, 
 etc., and took their leave with many kind wishes for 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 47 
 
 our success and safe return to our families and friends. 
 God bless the loyal people of America, is the soldier's 
 prayer. 
 
 We reached Cairo about twelve o'clock last night, 
 and immediately went on board of transports. 
 
 June I 1th. 1863. 
 
 We are fairly packed on board a small transport; 
 so thickly are we crowded in, it is almost impossible to 
 stir; yet all will stir. Every man seems to think his 
 very existence depends on movement. As I sit here 
 on my knapsack, my back against the railing, inkstand 
 between my feet to prevent it being kicked over, a con- 
 tinuous stream of restless, uneasy men is pouring 
 around, on and over me, which, added to the motion 
 of the vessel, makes writing difficult. We left Cairo 
 yesterday at five o'clock in the afternoon, and steamed 
 down the river a few miles below Cumberland, Ken- 
 tucky, and anchored for the night. 
 
 The captain dare not run his vessel in the night, it 
 being dark and cloudy, and the Mississippi being the 
 most dangerous river in the world to navigate. We 
 expect to reach Memphis early in the morning, and 
 will then learn our final destination. 
 
 Having crossed the Mississippi at Dubuque, some 
 three hundred miles above Cairo, I was somewhat dis- 
 appointed, as it did not appear to be any v/ider at 
 Cairo than at Dubuque, but, by close observation, 1 
 discovered that what it lacked in width was made up 
 in velocity and depth. 
 
48 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 At Dubuque, too, the water is clear as crystal; from 
 St. Louis down it is the color of chocolate. The 
 banks of the river are uninhabited and uninhabitable 
 most of the way. Every spring and fall they overflow 
 from ten to thirty miles, and then this mighty mass of 
 water will not be confined. The river channel is 
 constantly changing. The light, loose soil of the valley 
 cannot withstand the tremendous power of the resist- 
 less floods that are hurled from the north upon its 
 yielding bosom. This is one cause of disaster. The 
 sand bars change so often it is impossible to keep 
 track of them. 
 
 June 14th. 
 
 We are still in the harbor at Memphis awaiting 
 orders. Eight hundred and fifty wounded men were 
 brought to this place yesterday from Vicksburg. 
 Grant is still hammering away at that seemingly 
 impregnable fortress. The weather is extremely hot, 
 which renders our situation, huddled together as we 
 are, very uncomfortable. Yesterday we steamed up 
 the river about a mile to a fine grove, and all v/ent 
 on shore while the crew gave the old boat a thorough 
 cleaning. This morning our surgeon ordered us all 
 on shore as a "sanitary measure." We marched off 
 by companies, each company going where it chose, but 
 to different points. We went to Court House Square 
 and disbanded. It was like being transferred from a 
 gloomy prison to "smiling fields and shady groves." 
 The square contains about five acres; is enclosed by 
 an iron fence; is thickly set with trees of different vari- 
 eties — the brave old oak, with its spreading branches 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 49 
 
 and delicious shade; the gorgeous magnolia, the tree of 
 paradise; the orange and lemon, with an almost end- 
 less variety of evergreens. Near the center of the 
 square is a bust of General Jackson, cut in marble. 
 
 On one side of the pedestal is incribed those mem- 
 orable words of that grand old patriot: "The Fed- 
 eral Union; it Must Be Preserved." I noticed the 
 word "Federal" was partly obliterated, and inquired 
 the cause. A citizen told me it was done by a Rebel 
 Colonel at the beginning of the war; that his men, still 
 cherishing some regard for the hero of New Orleans, 
 took him outside the city and shot him. At four 
 o'clock we were marched on board our prison ship. 
 
60 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 June 15th. 1863. 
 Orders have come at last. ** Forward to Vicks- 
 burg!" is the cry. We are steaming down the grand 
 old river once again, ready to face danger in any 
 form, either by Rebel bullets or the more dealy miasma 
 of the Southern swamps, for ''Liberty and Union." 
 The way from Memphis down is not entirely safe 
 for transports. Guerillas have a trick of concealing 
 themselves along the banks and firing on them as they 
 pass. We have a strong guard, with loaded guns, 
 ready to return their greeting should they salute us. 
 As we do not travel nights, it will take us at least two 
 days to make the trip. 
 
 June 16th, 1863. 
 At about four o'clock this afternoon we met two 
 of our gunboats near Napoleon, Mississippi, who told 
 us they had just dislodged a Rebel battery planted on 
 the shore, and had burned two small villages. Think- 
 ing it not safe to proceed, our fleet was hauled inshore, 
 a strong guard was posted and pickets stationed on 
 shore to prevent surprise. Most of the men threw 
 themselves down, their arms beside them, to rest as 
 best they might. Some few had gone ashore and 
 were enjoying a social chat around their blazing camp 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 51 
 
 fires, while the more restless ones were working off the 
 effects of the bad whisky they had imbibed during the 
 day with boisterous, hilarious merriment. It was half- 
 past ten; feeling wakeful, I had not retired, but sat on 
 the railing of the vessel, talking over past events with a 
 friend from Jackson. Presently two rifle shots rang 
 out, followed by a volley from our pickets. Then was 
 there hurrying to and fro. The men sprang instinct- 
 ively to arms. Officers rushed from their rooms in 
 dishabille, the timid crouched behind anything that 
 offered the slightest protection. Confubion reigned. 
 But soon our Colone' appeared, cool and collected, 
 calm as a summer eve. "Steady, men, stand by your 
 arms and wait orders." More pickets were sent out 
 and we patiently awaited the attack. But it did not 
 come. It was, probably, an attempt by some cow- 
 ardly wretches to murder one or two of our pickets and 
 escape under cover of darkness. No one was hurt. 
 We started soon after daylight, convoyed by two gun- 
 boats, prepared for any emergency, and expecting fun. 
 One gunboat led the way, the other followed in our 
 rear, their bright little guns portruding from their coal- 
 black sides. They have a jaunty, saucy air, that seems 
 to say: "Just knock this chip off my shoulder, if 
 you dare." We were all excitement for a while, 
 eagerly scanning every tree or log, thinking to see a 
 puff of smoke or a "cracker's" head at every turn. 
 Seeing nothing for so long a time, we began to think it 
 all a hoax, when suddenly, as we rounded a point, 
 running close inshore, the transport in front of us was 
 fired on by a concealed foe. Their fire was instantly 
 
52 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 returned, and the saucy little gunboats rounded to and 
 gave them a broadside of grape, followed by shell, at 
 short range. Our boys were quickly in line, watching 
 with eager eyes for Rebel heads. Fortunately not a 
 man was injured on either vessel. A sad accident 
 occurred this afternoon. A young man of Company 
 H was standing guard at the head of the stairs. He 
 stood on the upper step, leaning on his gun. It slipped 
 and the hammer struck the step below. The bullet 
 passed through his stomach and lodged near the spine. 
 
 Haines Bluff, Miss., June 18th, 1863. 
 
 Once more on land, and glad are we of the change. 
 We arrived at the mouth of the Yazoo at ten o'clock 
 yesterday morning, six miles from Vicksburg, and, 
 turning upstream, came to anchor at this place, fifteen 
 miles from its mouth, at 12 m. 
 
 We had a perilous voyage down the river. It 
 would seem, on looking back on the dangers through 
 which we were safely carried, that a power higher 
 than man's had been exerted in our behalf. To say 
 nothing of the guerillas, three times were we in immi- 
 nent danger of being "blown up." Once nothing but a 
 miracle — men called it luck — saved us from capsizing; 
 once we were driven on shore by a hurricane on the 
 only spot, so said our pilot, where we could by any 
 possibility have escaped being wrecked. 
 
 Part of our division, two days in advance of us, has 
 reported at Vicksburg. Two divisions of the Ninth 
 Corps are here, the other — the Third — is at Suffolk, 
 Virginia. The place we now occupy was lately in 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 53 
 
 possession of the Rebels. It is strong by nature, and 
 has been made still stronger by man, but those terrible 
 little gunboats made it too hot for secession, and they 
 left in haste, leaving part of their baggage, a few 
 horses and cattle, and even poultry, which our boys 
 found skulking in the bushes. Of course, they 
 arrested the cowardly creatures and brought them 
 into camp. 
 
 The inhabitants have all left, driving their stock 
 with them, and burning what furniture they could not 
 carry. 
 
 The face of the country is rough and broken, quite 
 as m.uch so as Maryland and Virginia. Spite of 
 Jeff. Davis' prohibition, I find much cotton planted in 
 this part of Mississippi, but it will not come to muca 
 unless Uncle Sam soon gives it in charge of his colored 
 children, who literally throng our camp. I wish I 
 could describe the beauty and grandeur of these for- 
 ests, but to be appreciated they must be seen. That 
 which gives them their greatest charm is the long, 
 wavy, gray moss which hangs suspended from every 
 limb, from the smallest sapling to the mighty, towering 
 oak. Wild plums and blackberries, large and lus' 
 cious, abound and are now in season. Figs will soon 
 be ripe. Among other things, good and bad, fleas 
 and woodticks are in evidence. 
 
 June 21st, 1863. 
 
 The sky is overcast with clouds, a cool breeze 
 comes from the west, which makes the temperature 
 delightful. I have been out berrying, and have suc- 
 ceeded admirably. On my way in I found some 
 
64 A Soldier*s Diary. 
 
 short pieces of board, of which I have made a com- 
 fortable seat, with a desk in front, on which I am now 
 writing. I feel quite like an aristocrat. In my ram- 
 ble across the field I discovered a flowering vine, the 
 most bewitchingly beautiful thing I ever saw. I 
 searched in vain for seed sufficiently matured to ger- 
 minate. I wish I could describe its matchless beauty, 
 but words are feeble. 
 
 We are still lying here waiting for Johnson, of 
 course, to come to us, although no one seems to know 
 where Johnson is — whether on the Yazoo, the Big 
 Black or the little one. I suspect it is not definitely 
 known whether his "large army" is a myth or a reality. 
 But, doubtless, these hidden, secret, mysterious "stra- 
 tegic movements" and original plans will, some time, 
 be made apparent, and then I, at least, will make one 
 desperate attempt to appreciate and admire the wis- 
 dom and energy which could see, plan and execute 
 with such unerring certainty and success. But Vicks- 
 burg, the center of gravity at present, is really a very 
 stubborn fact. I do not understand it, cannot com- 
 prehend it, but I believe Grant will investigate it to 
 the satisfaction of all loyal people. All the reliable 
 information I can get at present is brought on the 
 wings of the wind. This is not Grant's official report, 
 but the report of his artillery. Last night his cannons' 
 sullen roar reverberated from cliff to clitf and shook 
 the hills. There are all sorts of rumors which it is 
 folly to repeat, for they are replaced by new ones 
 every hour. I believe I will record the latest, so here 
 goes: 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 56 
 
 Last night Pemberton conceived the brilliant idea of 
 turning loose four or five hundred horses and mules, 
 creating a stampede among them, and, when Grant's 
 lines open to let them through, as certainly would be 
 done, if he suspected nothing, why, out they would 
 rush, artillery, infantry and all, before the lines could 
 close again, and thus escape. But Grant was wide 
 awake, fell back a mile or two to give himself room 
 to work, opened his lines for the horses to pass through 
 and the Rebels to pass in, then closed on them and 
 had them trapped. 
 
66 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 June 23d, 1863. 
 Once more we are on the wing. Yesterday morn- 
 ing we were ordered to be ready to march when 
 called on. Of course, the men do not expect to stay 
 anywhere, but it always comes a little tough to leave 
 a pleasant camp just as they get comfortably settled. 
 But military orders are inexorable, and, in spite of 
 regrets, we "struck tents, slung knapsacks,'* and 
 started on our winding way among the hills. This 
 part of the country is made up of ranges of high hills 
 separated by ravines down which the water has cut 
 channels from ten to twenty feet deep. We marched 
 about three miles on the road leading to Vicksburg 
 and halted on the top of a high hill just large enough 
 to hold our regiment. It was plowed last spring and 
 planted to cotton. Colonel Luce looked indignant, 
 the company officers grumbled, the men swore. Gen- 
 eral Welch regretted, but Major General Parks ordered 
 the left to rest here, and it rested. But Colonel Luce 
 could still do something. Ordering us in line, he 
 said: **Men, you need not pitch your tents in line in 
 this open field; go where you can make yourselves 
 most comfortable, only be on hand when the bugle 
 sounds." Three cheers and a tiger for Colonel Luce, 
 then a wild break for trees, brush; anything to shelter 
 us from the fierce rays of a Southern sun. We are 
 now nine miles from Vicksburg by the road, six miles 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 67 
 
 in a direct line. We can distinctly hear musketry at 
 that place, which has been kept up almost incessantly 
 the last three days. At intervals the cannonading is 
 terrific. Our Orderly Sergeant rode over there yes- 
 terday, to see his brother. He says Grant's rifle pits 
 are not more than twenty-five rods from the Rebels, 
 and woe to the man on either side who exposes him- 
 self to the marksmanship of the other. As near as i 
 can learn, matters remain about as they were three 
 weeks ago. Unless General Grant succeeds in mining 
 some of their works, thus affecting an entrance, he will 
 be compelled to starve them out. 
 
 We would think, in Michigan, such land as this 
 utterly unfit for cultivation. But the highest hills are 
 cultivated and planted with corn or cotton. Corn, 
 even on the highest hills, I have never seen excelled 
 in growth of stalk. One would naturally suppose 
 that in this hilly country water of good quality would 
 abound. Such is not the fact. Soon as we broke 
 ranks I started out in quest of water. I followed a 
 ravine about half a mile, then crossed over to another, 
 but found none. Blackberries being plentiful, I filled 
 my cap and returned to camp. Some of the boys 
 had been more successful, and after resting a few min- 
 utes I took another direction, for water we must have. 
 This time I followed a ridge about half a mile, then 
 began to descend — down, down, I went, seemingly into 
 the very bowels of the earth, and when I reached the 
 bottom found a stagnant pool of warm, muddy water. 
 Making a virtue of necessity, I filled my canteen, re- 
 turned to camp, made some coffee, ate my berries. 
 
58 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 with a very little hardtack, and went to bed to dream 
 of "limpid streams and babbling brooks.'* 
 
 This morning my comrade and I arose with the 
 early dawn and started out in search of berries, which 
 we found in great abundance. 
 
 A strange stillness pervades our hitherto noisy and 
 tumultous camp. The men are scattered in every 
 direction, lounging listlessly in the shade, not caring 
 even to play cards, so oppressive is the heat. I am 
 sitting in the shade of a mulberry tree, Collier lying on 
 the ground near by; we alternately write or lounge as 
 the mood takes us. Most assuredly I never felt the 
 heat in Michigan as I feel it here. Yet men can work 
 in this climate, and northern men, too. The Eighth 
 and Twentieth have been throwing up fortifications for 
 several days. 
 
 Haines Bluff, June 24th. 
 
 Yesterday, as I was strolling through the ravines, 
 picking berries, I came across a spring of delicious 
 water, cold and pure. It is about half a mile from 
 camp, in a lovely, romantic spot, almost shut out from 
 the light of day by the thick foliage of the magnolia 
 and other evergreens which are thickly interwoven with 
 flowering vines. I wish I could picture the unrivaled 
 beauty of the magnolia. The largest I have seen is 
 about fifty feet in height, leaves from four to six inches 
 in length by two in breadth in the middle, rounding 
 each way to a point, and are of the darkest shade of 
 green, fts chief beauty lies in its blossoms, which are 
 pure white, about six inches in diameter, contrasting 
 strongly with its dark green leaves. It is very frag- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 69 
 
 rant, filling the air with sweet perfume. Nature is 
 indeed prolific in this Southern clime, bestowing her 
 gifts in the greatest variety and profusion, both animate 
 and inanimate, things pleasant to look upon and grate- 
 ful to the senses, and those that are repulsive and dis- 
 gusting in the extreme. Insects and reptiles, varying 
 in size from diminutive "chiggers," too small to be seen 
 by the unaided eye, but which burrows in the flesh 
 and breeds there, to the huge alligator that can swallow; 
 a man at a single gulp. I have not seen an alligator 
 yet, but some of our men have seen him to their sorrow. 
 Soon after our arrival some of the men went in to 
 bathe and wash off some of the dust of travel. They 
 had been in the water but a few minutes when one 
 of their number uttered a shriek of terror and disap- 
 peared. Two of his comrades who happened to be 
 near by seized him and dragged him to shore. The 
 right arm was frightfully mangled, the flesh literally 
 torn from the bone by an alligator. Since that inci- 
 dent bathing in the Yazoo is not indulged in. 
 
 Moccasin snakes and other poisonous reptiles 
 abound, and a species of beautifully-tinted, bright- 
 eyed, active little lizards inhabit every tree and bush, 
 creep into and under our blankets and scamper over 
 us as we try to sleep. The nimble little fellows are 
 harmless, but quite annoying. 
 
 There has been uninterrupted firing of small arms 
 and artillery at Vicksburg today. We are busily 
 engaged in throwing up breastworks two hundred rods 
 from here. Our regiment was detailed for that pur- 
 pose today. 
 
60 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Haines Bluff, Miss., June 26th. 
 We get no news from the outside world. Not 
 even the New York Herald or Detroit Free Press, 
 those blatant organs of secession, can penetrate these 
 lines. But the air is filled with rumors — rumors that 
 are true today and false tomorrow. It is said the 
 Rebels have a battery now where they fired on us 
 when we came down; that they have captured all our 
 mail and destroyed the mail boat. Today they sank 
 the boat in shallow water and one of our gunboats 
 secured the mail. All we are sure of is we are here, 
 felling trees and throwing up breastworks; that General 
 Grant is still knocking for admittance at the "Gates of 
 Jericho." Were I to credit what I hear, and it comes 
 from "reliable sources," I would believe he has already 
 made the seventh circuit of that doomed city with his 
 terrible ram's horn in full blast, and now, covered 
 with sweat and dust, has paused on a "commanding 
 eminence" to witness the final consummation of his 
 plans. But the continuous thundering of his artillery 
 and the occasional rattle of musketry convince me that, 
 in these latter days, the tumbling down of formidable 
 walls is not so easily accomplished as in the olden 
 times when the Almighty seemed to take more interest 
 in the affairs of men. But, although the long-wished- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 61 
 
 for event is delayed until hope is well-nigh dead, still, 
 seeing and knowing what I do, I have entire confidence 
 in Grant's final success. 
 
 But hark! What ciy is this? Oh, joyful sound. 
 The mail! the mail has come! Thank God, there is 
 one for me! 
 
 June 27th, 1863. 
 
 A letter from home — the first since April 25th, and 
 written by my beloved wife. On receiving it I sought 
 my tent with eager haste and perused its welcome page^ 
 over and over again. Well may my darling say, 
 "God has been better to me than my fears," for we 
 have been spared to each other, and our children to 
 us both. 
 
 I do not believe my darling's dream was all a 
 dream. On that same day, the 9th of June, I was on 
 my way from Louisville to Cairo. We went directly 
 north to Seymour, Indiana. Almost home, it seemed 
 to me, where we changed cars for the southwest. I 
 was cast down, discouraged, more so than at any other 
 period of my life. My thoughts and affections were 
 drawn out to my sorrowing wife with an intensity thai 
 was agonizing. I had given up hope of her ever 
 becoming reconciled to our fate, and believed she 
 would mourn her life away for him who would 
 gladly have given his own to save his wife. I felt I 
 could do no more. Under the circumstances was 1 
 not permitted to visit her, that my spiritual presence 
 might cheer, comfort and encourage her by the assur- 
 ance that she was not forsaken ; that, though far away, 
 her husband was still present, even to her outward 
 
62 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 senses. I believe my darling has often visited me, 
 and I love to cherish the fond thought. Every nerve 
 and fiber of my soul has thrilled with joy unspeakable 
 at the familiar touch of her dear hand upon my brow. 
 
 July 3d, 1863. 
 
 We are encamped six miles from Haines Bluff, on 
 a ridge of ground, in a perfect wilderness. I have 
 hardly seen level ground enough, in this State, for a 
 regiment to camp on. I find blackberries in abun- 
 dance, and, therefore, am content. They have 
 formed a large share of my diet, and have been 
 both food and medicine. Scurvy and diarrhea have 
 entirely disappeared. That which we most need and 
 cannot get is pure water. The streams have all run 
 dry, and unless it rains soon, every spring within 
 reach of us will fail. Water is now so scarce every 
 regiment except the Seventeenth has placed a guard 
 over its own spring, and will not allow others to use it. 
 If we stay here long, we will be compelled to dig 
 wells. 
 
 We are now twelve miles from Vicksburg and 
 eight miles from the Big Black. I can still hear the 
 thunder of artillery, morning and eve, at the former 
 place. If Grant celebrates the Fourth inside of 
 Vicksburg, as report says he intends to do, he must 
 do something decisive soon. He may be doing that 
 very thing this minute. When I began writing, his 
 cannon kept up a continual roar. It has almost 
 ceased. Perhaps he is now storming their works. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 63 
 
 Our men are still throwing up fortifications. The 
 whole country for fifteen miles around Vicksburg is 
 little less than a fortification. The inhabitants around 
 here did not run away at our approach. Most of 
 them are intensely loyal just now. The reports of 
 want and destitution with which the papers are filled, 
 and which I doubted, are true. Many families draw 
 all their supplies from our Quartermaster. Soon all 
 must do so. 
 
 July 4th, 1863. 
 
 **Be ready to march at a minute's notice," is the 
 order. At the same time we learn that Vicksburg 
 has surrendered; that Johnson is in a trap, and that 
 we are to help "bag the game." So away we go, in 
 light marching order. We marched eight miles and 
 camped for the night. 
 
 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, smoth- 
 ering 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 
 
64 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 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. 
 
 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, dis- 
 tant about two miles. The Rebels had shown them- 
 selves in considerable force on the opposite bank, and 
 had engaged our skirmishers from rifle pits. whicK 
 were dug close to the river bank, and were concealed 
 by a thick growth of small cane, killing and wound- 
 ing 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. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 65 
 
 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 con- 
 tinued, 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. 
 
66 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 for that very night we marched into camp in the midsL 
 of one of the heaviest thunder show^ers I ever wit- 
 nessed. 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 haver- 
 sacks. 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 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 67 
 
 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, artil- 
 lery 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 pre- 
 pared 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 forti- 
 
68 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 fications, 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. 
 
 July 18th. 
 
 Our colors float from the walls of Jackson, but 
 Johnson is not bagged; there was a hole through 
 which he escaped. 
 
 Twice the Rebels charged us, and were sent back 
 quicker than they came. Their loss in these two 
 charges was three hundred men, in killed. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 69 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 July 20th, 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 hesi- 
 tate 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 emer- 
 gency 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. 
 
70 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 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 down- 
 fall of the Confederacy. 
 
 Haines Bluff, Miss., July 23d, 1863. 
 
 We arrived at our old camp yesterday — twenty 
 days from the time we left it — the toughest twenty 
 days of our experience. A dirtier, more ragged and 
 drilled-out lot of men I hope never to see. The first 
 thing I did, after eating a little hardtack and drinking 
 a cup of coffee, was to bolt for the spring, build a 
 fire, boil my shirt, pants and socks, scrub myself from 
 head to heels, put on my clothing wet — though not 
 much wetter than before — and return to camp a 
 cleaner, therefore a better man. There have been 
 times when we could not get water to wash our 
 hands and face, to say nothing of our clothing, for a 
 week or more. 
 
 It was dark when I returned to camp, but fires 
 were burning brightly in every direction, and around 
 them were gathered groups of men silently reading 
 letters. I hastened to the Orderly and asked him 
 "Have you anything for me?*' "Yes, I have four 
 letters for you.'* My heart gave one great bound of 
 gladness, and, grasping them tightly, I hastened to the 
 nearest fire to learn what news from home. Rumors 
 of a great battle, fought and won by Meade, had 
 been in circulation several days, but no one knew 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 71 
 
 whether true or false. These letters from my wife 
 confirmed them. The threatened invasion took place, 
 was crushed, and Lee was suffered to recross the 
 Potomac at his leisure, as he was allowed to do after 
 Antietam. 
 
 Haines Bluff. July 29th, 1 863. 
 
 We did not leave on the 23d, as was rumored, but 
 are still in pur 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 Seven- 
 teenth 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 poi- 
 
72 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 sonous liquid we were compelled to use for cooking 
 and drinking purposes. How grateful to us, then, 
 is the delicious, sparkling water that flows in abun- 
 dance 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. 
 
 July 30. 1863. 
 Another letter from my poor, suffering wife. As 1 
 think of her sorrows, cares and perplexities, I cannot 
 force back the thought that will unbidden rise, can 
 so much be required of us; such great sacrifices, not 
 only of property, but our cherished plans, embracing 
 the future welfare of our children, in fact, all of 
 earthly good, while others are exempt — have no part or 
 lot in it — who would not even know that war existed 
 were they not led to inquire the cause of such unex- 
 ampled prosperity — and, when rebellion at home 
 stares them in the face, and the "fire in the rear" so 
 often threatened really breaks forth, loudly call for 
 soldiers to come and protect their precious lives and 
 property ? 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 73 
 
 Where are those Union Leagues, who were going 
 to "unite the loyal people of the North and subdue 
 Copperheads?" Where are those patriots who could 
 not leave their business to go to the war, but would 
 **take care of the Rebels at home?" But a little cool 
 reflection banishes such thoughts. I have to act only 
 for myself, and answer only to my own conscience. 
 
 July 31st, 1863. 
 Our transports have arrived, and we expect to 
 leave this afternoon for Cairo. Some of our boy3 
 are very sick, and urge me to go with them on the 
 hospital boat. They have obtained the consent of 
 Colonel Luce, and I may be detailed for that pur- 
 pose. Rumor says the sick are to be sent to St. 
 Louis. If so, I will go there with them and join the 
 regiment as soon as possible, wherever it may be. I 
 do not like to leave it, for I am lonely and discon- 
 tented when out of sight of the Seventeenth. Colonel 
 Luce says we are going to Indiana, but there are so 
 many contingencies, we may be needed elsewhere. 
 
74 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 August 7th, 1863. 
 
 It was with a bounding heart, brimful of gratitude 
 to God, that I stepped on board the Dakota and bade 
 farewell to Haines Bluff on the second day of August. 
 We have three hundred sick and wounded on this 
 boat and are short of help. Quite a number who 
 started as nurses are sick. Four men died the first 
 night. We ran the boat ashore, dug a grave large 
 enough for all, and laid them in it, side by side. Our 
 Chaplain read the burial service, and we hastened on 
 board to repeat the ceremony, the next morning, for 
 some one else. It seems hard — even cruel — but it 
 is the most solemn burial service I ever witnessed. 
 Nine have died since we started, and one threw 
 himself overboard in the frenzy of delirium and was 
 drowned. We kill a beef every evening. Two 
 nights in succession the best part of a hindquarter has 
 been stolen. The boat hands were questioned, and 
 a huge Irishman acknowledged the theft. He was 
 court martialed and sentenced to be "banked." The 
 boat was stopped opposite a wilderness. No human 
 habitation was in sight. He was forced to pack 
 his bundle, take to the woods and run his chance with 
 hunger and the Rebels. 
 
 As we were running leisurely along, about 3 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 75 
 
 o'clock in the afternoon of yesterday, my curiosity 
 was aroused by our boat running suddenly against 
 the shore and sticking there. All hands were called, 
 and, with the aid of soldiers, she was soon shoved 
 otf, and on we went again. A Sergeant asked the 
 Mate why we landed there. His reply was, "Some- 
 thing wrong in the wheel house." One of our boys 
 asked a darkey the same question. "Well, boss, I 
 *specs dey see a rabbit ober dere, an' t'ink dey kotch 
 'im." Soon after, as two comrades and myself were 
 sitting in the bow enjoying the cool breeze, my atten- 
 tion was attracted by the glassy stillness of the water 
 in front of us. Pointing to the right, I said, "Yon- 
 der is the safe place to sail." The words had 
 scarcely left my mouth when we felt a sudden shock, 
 the bow of the boat was lifted about two feet, a full 
 head of steam was turned on, which carried us over 
 the obstruction. We had "struck a snag." Soon 
 after, we anchored for the night, as the pilot was "too 
 sick" to run the boat. 
 
 The sick from our regiment are doing well. I 
 never saw wounded men do so nicely. Of five who 
 came as nurses, four are on the sick list. As for 
 myself, I have not been so well in years. 
 
 Louisville, Ky.. August 1 1th, 1863. 
 Again in Louisville — eleven hundred miles nearer 
 home than one week ago — and yet how far. Still, 
 it is joy to feel I am comparatively near. We 
 reached Cairo on the evening of the seventh, took on 
 fresh supplies, and left next day at noon for Cincin- 
 
76 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 nati, which place we expect to reach some time to- 
 morrow. We are now — 3 p. m. — taking on coal, 
 and will start in a few minutes. 
 
 The Ohio is very low — in places not more than 
 three feet deep. We have brought up against sand 
 bars and been forced to back off perhaps fifty times 
 since leaving Cairo. From this place to Cincinnati, 
 I am told, there are no obstructions. The most dif- 
 ficult part of our way was from New Albany to Louis- 
 ville. We were six hours in making three miles last 
 night. It was nothing but "Back *er and try again" 
 for about a mile, and then we had a canal with three 
 locks to pass through. 
 
 We have had no deaths since the seventh, and our 
 sick and wounded boys are doing nicely. These 
 fresh northern breezes are more exhilerating than wine, 
 and the hope that they may be sent to their homes 
 to recruit their health is more healing than medicine. 
 
 Cincinnati, Ohio, August 12th, 1863. 
 
 We arrived here at 9:30 this morning. My day's 
 work is, at last, completed, at 9 p. m. This has been 
 a busy day. In fact, I have not been idle or had 
 much rest, by day or night, since July fourth, and 
 yet I am fresh and vigorous as in days of old. The 
 sick and wounded all removed — the worst cases to 
 the General Hospital in this city, the convalescents to 
 Camp Denison, eighteen miles out, while a few return 
 to their regiments. 
 
 The Seventeenth passed through here today, and is 
 now in camp near Covington, on the opposite bank of 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 77 
 
 the river. I expect to join them in the morning, and 
 look for a handful of letters. 
 
 People call the weather here very hot, but it is not 
 Mississippi heat, and I enjoy it. The mornings and 
 evenings are delightfully cool, while there it is con- 
 stant, relentless heat both day and night. Here a 
 coat is comfortable in the morning — there one needs 
 no cover day or night. 
 
 Camp near Hickman*s Bridge, Ky., 
 August 16th, 1863. 
 
 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 Nicholas- 
 ville, fourteen miles beyond Lexington, and one hun- 
 dred 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. 
 
78 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Nicholasville, Ky.. August 27th, 1863. 
 
 We are again enjoying the quiet of camp life. 
 Our miniature tents are pitched in regular order, 
 streets are policed and brigade guards posted to keep 
 our unruly boys within bounds. 
 
 Colonel Luce, five line officers and twenty privates 
 have gone home on furlough — others to Cincinnati on 
 leave of absence. Everything indicates a period of 
 rest. Our boys are trying to make up for their 
 privations "down below." Nearly every tent presents 
 the appearance of a market for the sale of fruit or 
 vegetables. 
 
 Potatoes, peaches, apples, cabbages, onions, water- 
 melons and green corn are piled in heaps or lie around 
 loose throughout the camp. Then we have artists, 
 too. Two Daguerian cars are running full blast, 
 where the boys get indifferent pictures at one dollar 
 each. I saw a great curiosity today — a relic of by- 
 gone ages. About a mile from camp there is a shop 
 where the old-fashioned spinning wheel is manufac- 
 tured on quite an extensive scale, and they find a 
 ready sale. This is a fair index to the progress of 
 the people. Their manners, forms of speech and cus- 
 toms all point to past ages. They are very loyal and 
 very friendly when sober, but when filled with corn 
 whiskey, hypocrisy and self-interest take a back seat, 
 and they speak their real sentiments with a frankness 
 and fluency that is not at all flattering to us "Yanks." 
 From what I have seen, I conclude all Kentuckians 
 drink whiskey. There are distilleries in every little 
 town, where the "genuine article" is turned out. I 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 79 
 
 called at a farm house one day for a drink of water. 
 The good woman was catechising her son — a lad of 
 ten or twelve years- — about ten cents she had given 
 him with which to buy some little notion at the store. 
 She gave me a drink of water, then, turning to the 
 young hopeful, angrily inquired, "But where*s that 
 ten cents I gave you?" **I guv five cents to Bill." 
 "Where's the other five?" "Bought my dram with 
 it." The explanation appeared satisfactory. 
 
80 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Camp Parks, Ky.. August 20th, 1863. 
 I received a letter from a friend in Michigan last 
 evening, saying: "If you w^ere in Michigan, or could 
 see the situation from the standpoint of the North, 
 you would be less hopeful of the speedy termination of 
 the war." If by "speedy" is meant a single cam- 
 paign, as was promised us one year ago, I do not now 
 believe in it, but nothing but the most signal failure 
 can change my faith in the ultimate success of our 
 cause. We have steadily gained ground from the 
 first. The series of reverses that attended our arms 
 the first year of the war has forced our government 
 to accept the inevitable, seemingly against its will. 1 
 do not forget the violent opposition to the Emanci- 
 pation and Confiscation Acts, passed by Congress in 
 December, 1 86 1 , by Northern men of undoubted 
 loyalty, nor the President's timid recommendations in 
 his inaugural address to that Congress. I remember 
 well that reverses and disasters attended all our efforts 
 until the government was compelled, as by an overruling 
 Providence, to free the slaves of rebels, which includes 
 them all; and that from the moment these measures 
 became the fixed policy of the government, reverses 
 ceased. It is not the issue of a battle or campaign 
 that gives me hope, but the successes that have 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 81 
 
 attended our arms all through the month of July were 
 attended by such peculiar circumstances as to force 
 upon me the conviction, "There IS a destiny that 
 shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will." 
 
 August 22d, 1863. 
 I had comforted myself with the reflection that 
 when we returned to Kentucky, where communica- 
 tions 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. Thank- 
 fulness 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. 
 
82 A Soldier*s Diary. 
 
 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 mil- 
 lions yet unborn — a year the most eventful in our his- 
 tory; perhaps in the world's history. 
 
 August 24th, 1863. 
 
 We have nearly the same regulations here as at 
 Newport News, everything being regulated by bugle 
 call. Of course, we drill ; it would be hard to imagine 
 a military camp without drill; but it would make a 
 horse laugh to see us do it. We fall in line, march to 
 the parade ground and halt under the shade of a big 
 tree. A Sergeant puts us through the manual of 
 arms about five minutes; then stack arms and rest. 
 The remainder of the time is spent in lounging on the 
 grass until the bugle sounds recall. 
 
 We are under marching orders again; that is, we 
 are ordered to be ready, an order altogether superflu- 
 ous, for we are always ready. The general impres- 
 sion among the officers is, this division is to be broken 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 83 
 
 up and scattered over the State, a regiment in a place. 
 Our old brigade commander. General Poe, is here. 
 He is now Chief Engineer in the regular service. He 
 is working, ! am told, to get our brigade attached to 
 the engineer corps. I hope he will not succeed, as I 
 do not fancy that branch of the service. If he does 
 succeed, I think I will resign. There has been much 
 talk of mounting this brigade and sending us to fight 
 guerillas. That would suit me to a fraction. Give 
 me a "bounding steed" and a "God speed you" from 
 my "lady love," and never did "armed knight" grasp 
 spear and shield with greater enthusiasm and devotion 
 than I would e^qperience as I hastened to the field of 
 bloody strife. But I do not believe Burnside will 
 send us from the State at present. He has already 
 sent away most of the troops in this vicinity, arid Is 
 sending the rest fast as he can mount them, and prob- 
 ably we will take their places. 
 
 August 25th, 1863. 
 We are still in camp, where each day is like the 
 preceding one. The same routine of "duty" is gone 
 through with, which, to me, is exceedingly tiresome. 
 Give me the variations; something new and startling 
 every day. For this reason I prefer active service. 
 Those who love fun, and have a natural penchant for 
 mischief, have abundant opportunity to indulge. I 
 have never heard Billy Dunham com.plain of ennui- 
 So long as guards are to be "run," melons to be 
 "cooned," peach orchards to be "raided" or a ped- 
 dler to be harried, tormented and robbed, Billy is in 
 
84 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 his native element. Peddling to soldiers is not the 
 most agreeable business in the world, especially if said 
 soldiers happen to be, as is often the case, on mischief 
 bent. I have seen a crowd of soldiers gather around 
 an unsuspecting victim, a few shrewd, witty fellows 
 attract his attention, while others pass out to their 
 accomplices melons, peaches, tomatoes and vegetables, 
 and when the poor fellow discovers the "game" and 
 gathers up his "ropes" to drive away, the harness fall 
 to the ground in a dozen pieces, the unguided mule 
 walks off amazed, the cart performs a somersault and 
 the poor peddler picks himself up and gazes on the 
 wreck in silent grief. At sight of his helpless misery 
 the wretches seemingly relent; with indignant tones 
 they swear vengeance on the "man who did it;" help 
 him to gather up his "wares" while he secures his 
 mule. This is soon done, for his "stock" has grown 
 small and "beautifully less." He smothers his rage 
 from prudential motives, throws the "toggle" on his 
 mule and prepares to depart. Alas, the millennium 
 has not yet come. His cart wheels, refusing to per- 
 form their accustomed revolutions, start off in opposite 
 directions, while the air is rent by the screams and 
 derisive yells of his tormenters. When once begun, 
 the amusement continues until the stock is exhausted. 
 Speaking of Billy, he has become reconciled to his 
 fate, and takes to soldiering like a duck to water. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 86 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 August 25th. 1863. 
 
 Lieutenant Chris. Rath has received a Captain's 
 commission, and has been assigned to Company I. 
 He has well earned his commission by his bravery and 
 efficiency. 
 
 There was a sudden change of weather last night. 
 The day had been hot and sultry. Toward night we 
 had a light shower, preceded by a hurricane which 
 cleared the atmosphere of heat most effectually. It is 
 now uncomfortable sitting in my tent with my coat 
 on. Uncle Sam seems inclined to make up to us, in 
 some measure, for past neglect. We have soft bread 
 and other rations more than we can use. Today wc 
 were surprised by an issue of tea and sugar, more 
 than we can use. We sell our surplus at twenty-five 
 cents a pound. The Brigade Surgeon has put a stop 
 to drilling except as punishment. No signs of a move 
 are in sight. My health is good. It is years since I 
 was in possession of such buoyant, vigorous health. 
 
 Camp Dick Robinson, Ky, August 28th, 1 863. 
 
 Again we are on the move en route to Crab Orch- 
 ard, thirty miles from our late camp, where a military 
 post is to be established. I understand there is to be 
 a line of posts from Lexington to Cumberland Gap. 
 
86 A Soldier*s Diary. 
 
 Report says these posts are to be held by the Ninth 
 Corps. I hope not. I much prefer active service, 
 with its toil and exposure, to a life of comparative ease 
 in camp. While there is work to be done, and God 
 gives me strength, I want to be doing. When I can 
 be of no more service, then I would go home. 
 
 But I see no preparations for field service. We 
 have no artillery or ambulances, which is proof conclu- 
 sive. I was disappointed in Camp Dick Robinson. 
 1 had read so much of it, I expected to find a military 
 station, or fortifications of some kind. Instead, I find 
 a beautiful grove of oak and black walnut trees. It is 
 noted as being the first camping ground occupied by 
 loyal troops in Kentucky. General Nelson, its 
 founder, who was shot last fall by General Davis, is 
 buried here. 
 
 I have borne the march well today. My feet were 
 somewhat tired, and what wonder? Two hundred 
 twenty pounds — the weight of myself and load — is 
 quite a load to carry ten miles over a macadamized 
 road in half a day. 
 
 Crab Orchard, Ky., August 30th, 1863. 
 We arrived at 10 a. m., making ten miles from 
 Lancaster this morning. Crab Orchard is a lovely 
 town of about one thousand inhabitants. We are 
 encamped about one mile south of the village, in a 
 lovely spot, shut in on all sides by high hills and for- 
 ests. To the south, far in the distance, the Cumber- 
 land Mountains raise their blue peaks as landmarks to 
 guide us on our course when next we move. From 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 87 
 
 what I see and hear of the surrounding country, the 
 boys will have to depend on their rations for food. 
 
 Soldiers are strange beings. No sooner were our 
 knapsacks unslung than every man of us went to work 
 as though his very life depended on present exertions. 
 We staked out streets, gathered stakes and poles with 
 which to erect our tents, and now, at 3 p. m., behold! 
 a city has arisen, like a mushroom, from the ground. 
 Everything is done as though it were to be permanent, 
 when no man knows how long we may remain or how 
 soon we may move on. 
 
 Part of our route from Camp Parks lay through a 
 country made historic by the chivalric deeds of Daniel 
 Boone. We passed his old log fort, and the high 
 bluff from which he hurled an Indian and dashed him 
 in pieces on the rocks below. At the foot of the bluff 
 is the cave in which he secreted himself when hard 
 pressed by savages. His name is chiseled in the rock 
 above the entrance. The place is now being strongly 
 fortified. 
 
 We had a lively skirmish in Company G this 
 morning. About a week ago the Brigade Surgeon 
 ordered quinine and whiskey to be issued to every 
 man in the brigade, twice daily. During our march 
 the quinine had been omitted, but whiskey was dealt 
 out freely. 
 
 Solon Crandall — the boy v/ho picked the peaches 
 while under fire at South Mountain — is naturally 
 pugnacious, and whiskey makes him more so. This 
 morning, while under the influence of his "ration,'* he 
 undertook the difficult task of "running" Company G. 
 
88 A Soldier*s Diary. 
 
 Captain Tyler, hearing the "racket," emerged from 
 his tent and inquired the cause. At this Solon, being 
 a firm believer in "non-intervention," waxed wroth. 
 In reply he told the Captain, "It's none of your busi- 
 ness. Understand, I am running this company, and 
 if you don't go back to your tent and mind your own 
 business, I'll have you arrested and sent to the *bull 
 pen.' " At this the Captain "closed" with his 
 rival in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which the Cap- 
 tain, supported by a Sergeant, gained the day. 
 
 I have the most comfortable quarters now I have 
 ever had. Our tent is composed of five pieces of 
 canvas, each piece the size of our small tents — two for 
 the top, or roof, the eaves three feet from the ground. 
 The sides and ends are made to open one at a time or 
 all at once, according to the weather. Three of us 
 tent together, and we have plenty of room. We have 
 bunks made of boards, raised two feet from the 
 ground. This, with plenty of straw, makes a volup- 
 tuous bed. I received a letter from home last even- 
 ing, dated August 1 3th. Oh, these vexatious postal 
 delays; they are the bane of my life. I wonder if 
 postmasters are human beings, with live hearts inside 
 their jackets, beating in sympathetic unison with other 
 hearts. I wonder did they ever watch and wait, day 
 after day, until hope was well-nigh dead, conscious 
 that love had sped its message and was anxiously 
 awaiting a return. A letter from home! What 
 thrilling emotions of pleasure; what unfathomable 
 depths of joy it brings the recipient. It is not alto- 
 gether the words, be they many or few, but the remem- 
 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 89 
 
 brances they call forth; the recognition of the well- 
 known handwriting; old associations and past scenes 
 are brought forth from the storehouse of the memor>^ 
 and held up to view. The joy of meeting — the 
 agony of parting — all are lived over again. 
 
 We are having brigade inspection today, which is 
 suggestive of a move, but our artillery has not turned 
 up yet, and we will not take the field without it. 
 
 The health of our men has improved wonderfully 
 since we reached Kentucky. A more rugged, hearty 
 set of men I never saw than the few who are left. 
 But, as I look around upon the noble fellows, now 
 drawn up in line for inspection, a feeling of sadness 
 steals over me. One short year ago nine hundred 
 ninety-eight as brave, true men as ever shouldered 
 gun marched forth to battle in their country's cause. 
 Of all that noble band, only two hundred in line 
 today. Where are the absent ones? Some, it is 
 true, are home on furlough, but not all. They have 
 left a bloody track from South Mountain's gory height 
 through Antietam, Fredericksburg and Vicksburg to 
 Jackson, Mississippi. 
 
 Oh, how I miss familiar faces! 
 
90 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Crab Orchard, Ky., September 9th. 
 
 Again has the note of preparation sounded in our 
 camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another 
 campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our 
 winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en 
 route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason 
 from that unhappy State. Orders have not been 
 issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, 
 clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, can- 
 teens and tents have been distributed, and, more omin- 
 ous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out 
 to every man — in fact, we are ready to take the field 
 at a minute's notice, and only await the order. 
 
 "Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 
 o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It 
 is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective 
 point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed. 
 
 London, Ky., September 13th, 1863. 
 We broke camp last Thursday morning, the tenth 
 of September, bound for Cumberland Gap, ninety 
 miles distant. The first day we marched eleven 
 miles over a rough, broken country, and encamped for 
 the night. The next morning we started at 5 o'clock 
 and made eighteen miles; yesterday, nine miles — 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 91 
 
 thirty-eight miles in three days, with eight days' rations 
 and our accoutrements. The second day we 
 marched rapidly, making few halts, our business being 
 urgent, for Burnside's left was threatened, and we 
 were hastening to the rescue. But, thanks to a kind 
 Providence, a messenger met us at this place with the 
 intelligence that the Rebels had suddenly left East 
 Tennessee to join Bragg's army at Lafayette, and the 
 Gap was already in possession of our forces. There 
 being no cause for haste, our commander decided to 
 spend the Sabbath here, and give the poor, tired 
 mules a chance to rest. We will probably resume 
 our march in the morning and proceed leisurely to th*^ 
 Gap — perhaps to Knoxville. We have borne the 
 fatigue thus far better than I expected. 
 
 It is a long time since I carried a knapsack, but the 
 more I have to do, the more strength I have to do it 
 with. 
 
 September 14th. 1863. 
 We were aroused this morning at 3 o'clock and 
 ordered to be ready to march at 5 o'clock. In a very 
 few minutes hundreds of fires were brightly gloving, 
 striving by their feeble rays to dispel the gloom of 
 night. At the appointed hour we were up and away 
 with hearts as light and buoyant as though privations, 
 toil and danger were unknown. The morning was 
 delightfully cool, and before the god of day had risen 
 to scorch us with his burning rays, nearly half our 
 day's march was done. The rest of the day was 
 made easy by frequent halts, and when, at 2 o'clock 
 
92 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 p. m., we filed into line and stacked arms, all were 
 agreeably surprised. We had marched twelve miles. 
 
 Today is the anniversary of our first battle — our 
 baptism. The mind naturally reverts to that trying 
 time, and all its scenes pass rapidly in review, llien, 
 for the first time, we met face to face our country's 
 foe. The chivalry of the South then m.et the mud- 
 sills of Michigan and learned to respect them. Today 
 we met them again, but not in battle array. As we 
 were starting, this morning, we came upon 2,300 
 prisoners taken at Cumberland Gap. They were 
 free to talk, and a more ignorant lot of semi-savages I 
 never met. We could not convince them that Vicks- 
 burg or Port Hudson were in our possession. They 
 were very "frank," and indulged freely in epithets 
 and pet names. 
 
 September 1 4th, 9 o'clock p. m. 
 
 Our camp is in a beautiful grove, on the banks of 
 a "babbling brook." A cool, delicious breeze is 
 gently blowing from the west. The sky is cloudless, 
 and the bright, scintillating stars shine out in unwonted 
 brilliancy, and the pale moon is pouring down upon 
 the earth a flood of silvery light. It is an ideal night 
 in which to rest after a fatiguing march — an ideal 
 night, so seem to think our boys, in which to celebrate 
 the anniversary of our first battle. The Sutler came 
 up about sundown with the "accessories." The pre- 
 liminaries have been gone through with, and the "cel- 
 ebration is in full blast." Pandemonium reigns. 
 This quiet glen has been transformed, for the time 
 being, into the council hall of demons. Men fall 
 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 93 
 
 upon each other's necks and weep, and laugh, and 
 drivel, and shout '* 'Rah for Seventeenth Michigan." 
 It was an impressive ceremony, and one in which all 
 allusions to the brave men who fell and sympathy for 
 their bereaved families were considerately left out, lest 
 they wound the tender sensibilities of the living. 
 
 September 1 5 th. 
 We marched fifteen miles to Barboursville and 
 encamped on the banks of the Cumberland River, 
 Many of the men fell out by the way and came strag- 
 gling into camp until after dark. I am too tired to 
 write, and will lie me down and rest. 
 
 September 16th. 
 I was so completely exhausted yesterday I did not 
 expect to be able to march at all today, but, thanks 
 to my recuperative powers, I arose this morning '*good 
 as new." The distance is nothing; it is the load we 
 carry, and the rough, hilly country, winding up, higRer 
 and higher, that fatigues. Rough and hilly as it is, 
 this country is thickly settled by a people who raise 
 barely enough to keep soul and body together. We 
 have marched only nine miles today, and will lay over 
 until the day after tomorrow. 
 
 Cumberland Gap, September 20th, 1863. 
 
 We are now in East Tennessee, one mile south ot 
 the famous Gap in the Cumberland Mountains. 
 
 When we left Crab Orchard we expected a fight 
 here, as it was then in possession of the Rebels. I 
 
94 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 cannot say I am sorry they gave us possession with- 
 out a struggle, for it is an ugly looking place, and 
 "hard to take" without opposition. Our route, for the 
 last sixty miles, has been over, around and among 
 mountains, but this is the "back bone," or main ridge, 
 which rises in a direct line high above the isolated 
 peaks on either side. The Gap is a slow, gradual 
 ascent that rises to about half the altitude of the moun- 
 tain on each side; is very crooked, and, at places, 
 barely v/ide enough for a wagon to pass. At the 
 summit it widens out into a small plain, or basin, con- 
 taining about five acres, and shut in by a solid v/all oi 
 rock two or three hundred feet in height. Near the 
 center of the basin is a large spring of crystal water. 
 Here are the fortifications, and a stronger position can 
 hardly be imagined. One thousand men can hold it 
 against any force that can be sent against it, so long 
 as provisions and ammunition holds out. On the 
 summit is a marble shaft that marks the corners of 
 Virginia and Kentucky and the north line of Ten- 
 nessee. By taking two steps I was in three different 
 States. We are awaiting orders, and may remain 
 over tomorrow. It is yet undecided whether we go 
 to Knoxville or to Morristown, thirty miles above the 
 former place, on the Richmond & New Orleans Rail- 
 road. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Knoxville, Tenn., September 24th. 1863. 
 
 We left the Gap on the twentj'-first and made 
 twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two 
 or three miles, then down the other side. It was a 
 toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my 
 feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Mor- 
 ristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars 
 for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled 
 to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed 
 to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived 
 there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, 
 made a dash for rails with which to build our camp 
 fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly 
 again, the bugle sounded "fall in" — the rails were 
 abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and 
 took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here 
 at 4 o'clock this morning and marched directly to the 
 Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, 
 where we are now encamped. 
 
 The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches > 
 and a few days' rest will do them good. 
 
 September 25 th. 
 The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is 
 simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings. 
 
96 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a 
 spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston 
 River. I have just returned from the city, where 1 
 have spent most of the day. These are glorious days 
 for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day 
 of their deliverance has come at last. The story of 
 their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a 
 Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens 
 followed us to their homes, from which they had been 
 driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by 
 fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their 
 own defense. We have given them the oportunity, 
 and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me 
 it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy 
 as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. 
 Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the 
 sacrifices they have made. 
 
 We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle- 
 man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We 
 were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he 
 could not express his gratitude to us for their timely 
 deliverance. 
 
 Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw 
 his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 
 21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment 
 that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burn- 
 side is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee. 
 
 It is twenty days since I received my last mail. 
 During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, 
 therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place 
 in other parts of the world. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 97 
 
 Knoxville, Tenn., September 27th, 1863. 
 
 We are again under marching orders. It is 
 rumored we go to Rosecrans' support tomorrow morn- 
 ing. Our boys are quite as enthusiastic as when they 
 first left home, and for the same reason. They are 
 ready to go anyv/here — do anything — to hasten the 
 end. They have borne with wonderful fortitude the 
 excessive fatigue of marching through a mountainous 
 country. Burnside does not like to spare them — will 
 not unless absolutely necessary. He owes something 
 to the Ninth Army Corps. Those stars upon his epau- 
 lets that shine so brightly, and which he wears so jaun- 
 tily, were won for him by the Ninth Army Corps. 
 General Burnside is truly a noble man. We respect 
 him for his honesty and frankness in acknowledging his 
 mistakes as well as for his great administrative ability. 
 
 Our orders to march have just been countermanded. 
 General Burnside told Colonel Luce he had received 
 a despatch from Rosecrans that we are not needed at 
 present. That seems to confirm the rumor of his suc- 
 cess. We are having delightful weather, clear and 
 cool. 
 
 September 29th. 
 
 It was rumored this morning that we march tomor- 
 row at 5 a. m. Little attention was paid to this, 
 however, and the men were enjoying themselves as 
 usual, gathered in groups around their camp fires, 
 which the cool mountain breezes rendered grateful, 
 singing songs, spinning yarns or writing letters to loved 
 ones at home. About 9 o'clock the official order 
 came: "Reveille at 3; march at 5." Rations were 
 
98 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 to be drawn, which occupied us until nearly mid- 
 night, and left little time for sleep. Again was there 
 a change of program, and we were notified that 
 reveille would sound at the usual hour. At last wc 
 retired to rest, thinking to get two or three hours of 
 quiet sleep. Alas, the "glorious uncertainties of 
 war," I had hardly closed my eyes in sleep — or so 
 it seemed to me — ere our Orderly Sergeant came 
 around to every tent — "Fall out, boys; pack up; we 
 are off immediately." We have soldiered too long 
 to stop and ask questions, be our curiosity ever so 
 great, so out we fell, packed our traps in silence, and 
 awaited orders. 
 
 We had not long to wait. Colonel Luce soon 
 came around to each company and said, in his mild, 
 quiet way, "Put on your things, men, and fall in on 
 the color line without further orders." 
 
 In less than fifteen minutes from the time we were 
 first aroused our brigade was in motion, filing down 
 the ravine silently as a band of Indians upon the war- 
 path. We marched directly to the ferry, south of the 
 city, crossed over, and a little after daylight formed 
 in line about two miles from the landing. 
 
 The road from the city followed a ravine running 
 south about a mile, then turned abruptly to the right, 
 winding around the hills in a southwesterly direction. 
 At or in rear of this angle a cannon was placed in 
 position to sweep the road for about half a mile. 
 This piece was supported by the Twentieth Michigan. 
 In advance half a mile, and on the left of the road, 
 the Second Michigan was concealed in a cornfield. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 99 
 
 while on the right, and a little in advance of them, 
 another gun v/as masked and supported by the Sev- 
 enteenth, Still further on, and to the left, w^ere two 
 more pieces of artillery, supported by the One Hun- 
 dredth Pennsylvania. Not a sign of these movements 
 could be seen from the road. F^ere, then, is a most 
 ingeniously contrived trap. Where is the game? 
 And what? 
 
 October 1st, 1863. 
 
 We have pitched our tents in rear of our guns and 
 still occupy the same position. Our trap was set 
 for a band of guerillas v/ho have been operating a few 
 miles south of us. Our cavalry — sent out to drive 
 them in — encountered them yesterday, killed several, 
 took a few prisoners, and are in pursuit of the remsun- 
 der. We busy ourselves by arresting everything and 
 everybody that comes our way. Citizens are all taken 
 before Acting Brigadier General Leisure, who asks 
 them all sorts of questions, gathering, in this way, 
 much valuable information — administers the Oath of 
 Allegiance, grants protection papers, etc. Deserters 
 are constantly coming in, mostly from Bragg's army. 
 I saw two North Carolinians last evening. 
 
 They say Beauregard and Longstreet are at Chat- 
 tanooga — also that the Rebels burned Charleston and 
 evacuated. We are kept very close, no man — not 
 even officers' cooks — being allowed to cross over to 
 the city. From the best information I can get, 1 
 conclude Bragg has sent a force to operate on 
 Rosa's rear, threatening this place in their course. 
 
100 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Nine bushwhackers were brought in last night and 
 were taken to headquarters. 
 
 These wretches are being hunted from their hiding 
 places in the mountains with untiring zeal by the Home 
 Guards. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Knoxville, Tenn., October 2d, 1863. 
 
 We are shut out from all intercourse with the rest 
 of the world. Even Dame Rumor has retired behind 
 the scenes, exhausted, doubtless, by the herculean 
 efforts she has put forth the last few days. By the last 
 and only mail we have had since we came here, we 
 received a bundle of Detroit Tribunes, dated Septem- 
 ber 1 5th. Since then the silence of isolation has 
 enveloped us. There is a tiny sheet published daily 
 at Knoxville. It is silent on all except local subjects, 
 and nearly so on them. I notice, in yesterday's edi- 
 tion, a convention has been held by the people of this 
 county to nominate delegates to a state convention, to 
 be held at Nashville, for the purpose of nominating a 
 state ticket. The delegates pledge themselvs to sup- 
 port no candidate who is not truly loyal. Thus, while 
 politicians and demagogues are wrangling over "recon- 
 struction and territorial admission," the people are 
 solving the most difficult problem by the most simple 
 process. 
 
 October 3d. 
 
 Our trap is sprung at last. For three long, weary 
 days and sleepless nights we patiently awaited the com- 
 ing of that "flanking column" which we were to cap- 
 ture or annihilate. First they were reported crossing 
 
102 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 at Tennessee Ford, twenty miles below, thirty thou- 
 sand strong, to sweep the "Northern vandals" from 
 this fair valley and open up a way for supplies to 
 reach Richmond. Next their advance had reached 
 Marysville, fourteen miles from this place. Citizens 
 came flocking in all day Thursday, telling sickening 
 tales of outrage perpetrated by their "advance" on 
 unoffending "Union people." Some reported them 
 four hundred strong, others fifteen or twenty thousand. 
 
 Yesterday it was reported ten thousand of our cav- 
 alry had gone out to reconnoitre. They visited the 
 Ford no "raid" had been there — Rocksville; no cav- 
 alry had been there — to Loudon; no guerillas had 
 been there. A council of war was held, and they 
 decided to return by the way of Marysville. There 
 the enemy had been seen. Cautiously they advanced 
 to beleaguer the devoted town. A short distance from 
 the town a halt was called and scouts sent out to recon- 
 noitre. They found the city "occupied" by a force 
 of — eight bushwackers. These were captured "with- 
 out the loss of a man on our side." 
 
 October 7th, 1863. 
 
 Colonel Luce is going home again, on furlough, to 
 recruit. He takes with him three officers of the line 
 and ten Sergeants — one from each company. They 
 are to be gone sixty days. If enlisting is "played 
 out," as many claim, sending men from active service 
 for the purpose of soliciting enlistments is the height of 
 folly. Perhaps there is so little for us to do just now, 
 we may as well be in Michigan as Tennessee. If 
 that is so, why not send all of us home? 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 103 
 
 October 9th. 
 
 At daylight yesterday we were ordered to be ready 
 to march at 9 o'clock. It had been rumored for sev- 
 eral days the Rebels had possession of Greenville, 
 seventy-five miles up the valley, and that our forces 
 were falling back toward Morristown. The Second 
 Brigade was sent that way last week. Monday the 
 First Brigade of the First Division moved forward to 
 Morristown and was followed on Wednesday by the 
 Second. Today the Third Brigade follows. 
 
 The Second and Twentieth Michigan Infantry and 
 the One Hundredth Pennsylvania have gone, and we 
 are momentarily expecting the train which is to take us. 
 General Wilcox has arrived with five thousand new 
 troops, and is at Morristown. We have, also, a 
 heavy force of mounted infantry and cavalry at Green- 
 ville. The Rebels are reported eight thousand strong. 
 The intention is to lure them on to near Bulls Gap, 
 and, while the mounted men work around the moun- 
 tains to their rear, we close in on them in front and 
 grind them between us. 
 
 Burnside went to the front today, from which I 
 infer there is work to be done. This line of railroad 
 is of the utmost importance to Virginia Rebels. They 
 cannot safely winter there without it, and they will 
 make a desperate effort to regain control of it. 
 
 October 12th, 1863. 
 We left Knoxville at 9 a. m. of Saturday and 
 arrived within ten miles of Greenville about sundown. 
 The hills and valleys were covered with troops, those 
 
1D4 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 in front in line of battle. Artillery and musketry 
 could be heard about two miles in front, and we were 
 told there had been skirmishing in front nearly all day. 
 It was nearly dark, and our brigade, being in front, 
 we marched about half a mile and encamped for the 
 night. Before it was fairly light the next morning we 
 joined our brigade, which was in the extreme front, 
 supporting a battery. Every preparation had been 
 made for a "big fight," and our boys awaited the 
 attack with eager anticipation. Skirmishers were 
 thrown out to ascertain the position of their ipxfantry, 
 that our batteries might open the ball by a salute at 
 sunrise. Our skirmishers soon returned — they had 
 found no enemy. Instantly away dashed a regiment 
 of cavalry in hot pursuit, followed by the First Divi- 
 sion — the Seventeenth in advance. We did some 
 fast marching for about two hours, when we halted 
 for two mounted brigades to pass. Here we learned 
 the Rebels passed through Greenville about daylight, 
 and were some ten miles ahead, making the best time 
 possible. But Foster's cavalry had been sent around 
 to intercept them should they retreat. 
 
 He was expected to cross the river at a ferry fifteen 
 miles above Greenville and intercept them in a ravine 
 about five miles beyond. But the ferry boats had been 
 destroyed, and he was compelled to go several miles 
 to a ford, which caused so much delay he did not 
 arrive in time. We followed several miles and gave 
 up the pursuit. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 105 
 
 October 14th. 
 
 Our part in this expedition is done, and we are on 
 our way back to Knoxville. Wilcox's "baby brig- 
 ade," as our boys call them, and the Twenty-third 
 Corps, together with cavalry and mounted infantry, 
 are following up the retreating Rebels. I have not 
 learned the result of the fight, and probably will not 
 for some days to come. Over a hundred of their dead 
 are buried at Blue Springs, where our forces first over- 
 took them, and as far as I went — which was fifteen 
 miles — every house was filled with their wounded. 
 
 I saw some were from Lee's army. One Lieuten- 
 ant said he remembered seeing our regiment at Fred- 
 ericksburg. He had stood picket opposite our boys 
 several times. There was a brigade from the Rap- 
 pahannock. Their force, he said, was about eight 
 thousand, all mounted. The facts in the case were 
 about as follows: Burnside had cleared his depart- 
 ment of armed Rebels and had advanced into Vir- 
 ginia as far as Salt Town, where the Rebels had 
 extensive salt works, strongly fortified. Before he 
 could concentrate sufficient force to destroy these 
 works, word came that Rosa was in danger — that 
 Burnside was to hold himself in readiness to reinforce 
 him at a minute's notice. In order to do this he 
 must withdraw all his forces from the northeast and 
 concentrate them near Knoxville. 
 
 The Rebels followed up as he fell back, and occu- 
 pied the positions he had driven them from. 
 
 Before Burnside reached Morristown, word came 
 from Rosa that he was safe inside his fortifications and 
 
106 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 was being rapidly reinforced by Grant. This left 
 Burnside free to do over again what had been undone, 
 but through no fault of his. 
 
 It was a touching sight to witness the joy of these 
 much-abused people at our return. Men who had 
 fled to the bush as the Rebels advanced, and dare 
 not, for their lives, appear, came flocking in and were 
 welcomed with tears and shouts of joy by wives and 
 children. Their gratitude was unbounded. 
 
 As I witnessed the delight of these people and 
 listened to their tales of suffering, I felt more than ever 
 that I was engaged in a just and holy cause, and my- 
 heart was strengthened to do etnd dare for human 
 liberty. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Knoxvilie, Tenn., October 18th, 1863. 
 
 Once more have my eyes been gladdened and my 
 heart made to rejoice by the reception of love's sweet 
 messengers — letters from home. How anxiously have 
 I watched and waited, and what a load has been 
 removed by those grateful words, "Well as usual." 
 
 But eighteen days is a long time to await tidings of 
 those we love. Arrangements are being made to 
 have our mail carried over the mountains on pack 
 mules. When these arrangements are completed 1 
 think there will be more regularity. 
 
 We are encamped again near the city, awaiting 
 whatever may turn up. The regiment is in excellent 
 health and spirits. We have become accustomed to 
 soldiers' fare; nothing seems to affect us. There is a 
 striking contrast between old troops and new. When 
 in pursuit of the Rebels beyond Greenville, Wilcox's 
 men tired out and were withdrawn from the chase, 
 while we pursued ten miles further. They are six 
 and nine months men from Indiana. 
 
 I see by Northern papers that Rebel sympathizers 
 hope to carry Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania in 
 the coming election, and this hope nerves the Rebel, 
 leaders to make the most desperate efforts to hold out 
 yet a little longer. They are doomed to disappoint- 
 ment. These states will give an overwhelming major- 
 ity for the Union. 
 
108 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Loudon, Tenn., October 21st, 1863. 
 
 We left Knoxville yesterday at 3 a. m. and took 
 up our line of march for Kingston, forty miles dis- 
 tant, expecting to make it in three days. We took it 
 leisurely and halted at 1 o'clock for dinner, having 
 made twelve miles. We rested two hours and dined 
 on hardtack and coffee. In the afternoon we marched 
 six miles further and encaimped for the night. The 
 weather is delightful and roads good, which makes 
 eighteen miles a day only gentle exercise. Very much 
 depends on this. It is more tiresome to march ten 
 miles when the roads are wet and slippery than twice 
 that distance when dry and firm. We had hardly ar- 
 rived in camp before the report of a dozen rifles told 
 us the work of slaughter had begun. 
 
 Before dark good, fat beef was issued, and we 
 supped on coffee, hardtack and beef. We have 
 drawn nothing else, except sugar, since leaving Crab 
 Orchard, and now we are getting only h2ilf rations of 
 coffee and sugar. This morning we were aroused at 
 3 o'clock, two hours earlier than the usual time when 
 on the march, but we "tumbled out," made coffee, 
 fried beef, ate our breakfast, dried and rolled up our 
 tents and blankets, and at 4 o'clock were ready for 
 business. At 5 o'clock the bugle sounded "fall in," 
 aAd in fifteen minutes the whole division was in motion. 
 But not toward Kingston. I soon learned that 
 Colonel Wolford was in a "fix," and we were on the 
 way to help him out. Cannonading could be heard 
 in the direction of Loudon Bridge, which served as a 
 stimulant, and away we dashed, making fifteen miles 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 109 
 
 by 1 1 o'clock. We were now within two miles of 
 the bridge, and halted in a piece of timber. Here we 
 learned that the crisis had passed, and Colonel Leisure 
 told us to make ourselves comfortable as possible until 
 morning. 
 
 Loudon bridge crosses the Holston a short distance 
 above its junction with the Clinch. These two form 
 the Tennessee. The railroad from Bristol to Lou- 
 don is entirely in our possession. From this place 
 to Cleveland the rebels have small forces at different 
 points. We have strong fortifications on this side the 
 river, occupied by the Twenty-third Corps, who have 
 just completed a pontoon bridge. Wolford, with a 
 brigade of cavalry and mounted infantry crossed this 
 bridge, advanced about six miles and began to fortify. 
 One regiment was sent out to look for the enemy. 
 Forage being scarce and hard to get, another was sent 
 off with a train to gather forage. Just at this critical 
 moment, when he was least prepared, the Rebels 
 threw a force of five thousand troops between him and 
 the bridge, thus cutting otf his retreat, and summoned 
 him to surrender. To oppose them Wolford had two 
 regiments of cavalry, a battery of six pieces, but no 
 ammunition. What was to be done — surrender > 
 His case looked desperate ; some might have considered 
 it hopeless; but "Wolf" was only indignant. He 
 bared his teeth and growled, "What! me surrender? 
 Why, man, I'm here to fight. Go back and tell your 
 people I'll call on them directly." He spiked his use- 
 less cannon and abandoned them; put himself at 
 the head of his brave followers and hurls them like an 
 
110 A Soldier's Diaiy. 
 
 avalanche upon the enemy's center; cuts his way 
 through their line, taking ninety prisoners, reached the 
 bridge with little loss, while our artillery on this side 
 made pursuit impossible. This took place yesterday. 
 This morning, having been reinforced, he crossed the 
 river to offer them battle. He found them but two 
 miles away, and immediately engaged them. When 
 we arrived here the roar of artillery could be distinctly 
 heard, but gradually it grew faint and fainter, until 
 at sundown it had died away in the distance. 
 
 October 22d. 
 Active warfare is said to be like a game of chess, 
 and it is sufficiently active in West Tennessee just 
 now. An unexpected counter move has brought us 
 to this place. The force that attacked Wolford turns 
 out to be the advance of a large army under Long- 
 street. Strange that, after marching so many thou- 
 sands of miles, as we have done this sum.mer, the for- 
 tunes of war should again throw us together. 
 
 Loudon, October 23d, 1 863, 7 p. m. 
 
 This has been a dismal day. It reminds me of the 
 day we crossed the Potomac last fall. It began to 
 rain at 5 o'clock this morning, and has rained all day, 
 and there is every prospect of a wet night. 
 
 I never think of that fearful night without a thrill of 
 horror. I marched all that day in the pelting rain, 
 soaked to the skin, and when night came, weary as I 
 was, I faced the fierce northern blasts until morning. 
 I date all my suffering from that dreadful night. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. Ill 
 
 Although this storm reminds me of that day, and, 
 under similar circumstances would have been quite as 
 unpleasant, yet I have passed it quite comfortably. 
 My comrade and I have a good tent, each of us a 
 blanket and rubber ponchos, w^hich enables us to keep 
 dry and warm. These rubbers are very useful. If 
 overtaken by a storm while on the march, not only is 
 the person kept dry, but his blankets and haversack. 
 At night we spread it on the ground, and no moisture 
 can reach the person. 
 
 But this storm; what w^ill be its effect on military 
 operations here? I confess to a feeling of anxiety; I 
 fear we are to be again "stuck in the mud," as at 
 Fredericksburg. If this is really the beginning of the 
 rainy season, we can do but little more. And so 
 much remains to be done. We must occupy and 
 hold this railroad, or evacuate East Tennessee, and 
 that right speedily. We can get supplies in no other 
 way. There are not mules enough in the United 
 States to haul our supplies over the mountains in the 
 winter. In fact, now, when the roads, are compara- 
 tively good, it cannot be done. We have been on 
 half rations ever since we crossed the mountains. 
 
 But away with such gloomy thoughts, and let faith 
 and hope prevail. Tomorrow may bring forth light 
 from this pall of darkness. 
 
112 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Loudon. October 25th. 1863. 
 
 The storm has passed away, and the sun shines out 
 warm and genial. The roads are in fearful condi- 
 tion, but getting better. 
 
 Yesterday all the teams, and everything and every- 
 body that could not fight, were sent to the rear. Every 
 preparation was made to repel the expected attack; 
 things packed and we lay all day behind our arms 
 with all equipments on, ready for instant use. About 
 8 o'ck>ck a strong force was sent out to reconnoitre 
 Toward night we could hear the dull boom of distant 
 cannon, feeling for the enemy. Impatiently we 
 awaited the result. 
 
 October 27th. 
 Everything remains precisely as it was three days 
 ago. We are not allowed to leave camp, at least 
 beyond bugle call. Our guns must be kept in perfect 
 order, ready for instant use. Artillery horses wear 
 their harness night and day. In fact, we are ready 
 for attack, advance or retreat at a minute's notice. 
 Each morning the cavalry goes to the front, skirmish 
 with the enemy, watch their movements through the 
 day and return to camp at night. Matters wear a 
 strange aspect; the Rebels seem playing with us; now 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 113 
 
 advancing, now retiring. I know not what to think 
 of the way things are working. 
 
 Lenoir, Tenn., October 28th, 1863. 
 
 1 said yesterday that I was puzzled. I am more 
 than ever today. I am confounded, disappointed, 
 chagrined. 
 
 Our forces evacuated Loudon early this morning. 
 The Rebels took immediate possession. Everything 
 of value that could not be removed was destroyed. 
 Only last night a locomotive was run across the rivet 
 to be used on that side as we advanced. Four cars 
 had been left there by the Rebels when they evacu- 
 ated. As we had no time to remove them, the engin- 
 eer put on steam and ran them off the embankment 
 into the river. The Union people left with us. We 
 have fallen back six miles and encamped for the night. 
 A strong force is posted on the heights to prevent sur- 
 prise. 
 
 I am simply stating facts as they occur. Of course, 
 I cannot know the whys and wherefores of these move- 
 ments. Perhaps they are part of the "original plan," 
 and not a retreat. We all have confidence in Burn- 
 side, but, if we do not see Knoxville between now and 
 Sunday I am much mistaken. To my heated imag- 
 ination the Cumberland Mountains loom up with won- 
 derful distinctness. 
 
 Lenoir, October 29th. 
 
 Another letter from home last night, dated October 
 16th. Only four letters in two months; I find, too, 
 my letters are quite as irregular. 
 
114 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 I have just learned that Lieutenant Miller starts for 
 home at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning. He will visit 
 my loved ones and tell them all the news. I know not 
 how to express myself in regard to our present situa 
 tion. I am glad we were not forced to retreat. Still, 
 I am certain we could have held those heights, and to 
 leave without firing a gun! Oh, for a few Wol- 
 fords and Grants — men who are "here to fight." 
 
 All sorts of rumors are afloat. "Bragg, with all 
 his army, is advancing." Longstreet is crossing the 
 river six miles below Kingston to flank us on the right. 
 Another heavy force is on our left, making for Knox- 
 ville. "Wilcox has been driven back from the east," 
 and a hundred others equally encouraging. We know 
 not what to think of it, and yet must criticise and form 
 conclusions. But it is all explained at last. We fell 
 in at 1 o'clock today, marched about a mile to a beau- 
 tiful grove near a large spring of never-failing water. 
 Here our division formed in line and stacked arms, 
 with orders to remain in line until further notice. 
 Lieutenant Colonel Comstock soon called our regiment 
 to "attention," ordered company commanders in front 
 of center, and then and there revealed to them the 
 long-wished-for intelligence. All officers and men 
 were taken by surprise. We were prepared to hear 
 of some great calamity, but not for this. Nothing like 
 it had ever before happened to the Ninth Army Corps. 
 "Our fall campaign is closed. Prepare for yourselves 
 comfortable quarters for the winter." For a moment 
 there was a silence that could be felt, then a sho«ii 
 went up that "rent the heavens and shook the ever- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 115 
 
 lasting hills." Not simply because we were ordered 
 to prepare winter quarters, but a mysterious movement 
 had been explained — a weight of anxiety removed. 
 
 Lenoir, October 31st, 1863. 
 We are working like beavers, building our little 
 houses. They are to be eight feet by ten, and will 
 accommodate four persons. Nothing can be heard 
 but the clatter of axes and the crash of falling timber. 
 Only the First Division is stationed here. This is said 
 to be the lower extremity of Burnside's department. 
 It is something like Fredericksburg, in this: Our 
 pickets are stationed on opposite sides of the river 
 within hailing distance. Colonel Leisure says a sup- 
 ply train is almost here. When it comes, our empty 
 haversacks are to be filled and our rags exchanged for 
 clothes. Everything is to be very precise and regular, 
 as becomes an army of veterans. 
 
 Lenoir, November 10th, 1863. 
 No sooner was the order to build winter quarters 
 given than the men scattered in all directions in search 
 of material. There are many forsaken buildings in 
 this vicinity. These were visited, the siding ripped 
 off, floors torn up, chimneys, if brick, pulled down, and 
 the material appropriated. Hundreds of men 
 worked all night, and by morning had lumber enough 
 to build bunks, floors and gable ends to their build- 
 ings. The reason of this all-night work was to get 
 the start of the officers. They knew, by past expe- 
 rience, all building material would soon be put under 
 
116 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 guard for the use of officers. A large brick store- 
 house at the depot had been burned. This was seized 
 by headquarters. Not a brick could be obtained, 
 only as it was stolen in the night. Just the same, the 
 boys all had brick chimneys. 
 
 Not being disposed to work nights or Sundays, my 
 tent mates and myself did not begin to build until 
 Monday morning. In the forenoon we cut our logs 
 and carried them about half a mile on our backs. In 
 the afternoon two of us laid the foundations, while the 
 other two went with the Sutler's team for a load of 
 stone for our chimney. They also picked up a few 
 boards. Tuesday we began to build in earnest — two 
 at the house and two at the chimney — carrying them 
 both up together. At night it was ready for the roof. 
 Wednesday we "chunked and daubed" it, and put 
 on the roof, built our bunks, and, toward night, moved 
 in. Thursday we finished the chimney, put up 
 shelves, etc. We have a warm, comfortable house, 
 seven logs high, roofed with two thicknesses of tent 
 cloth, which makes a very good roof. Our bunk is 
 in one end, and occupies four feet across it, leaving a 
 room six feet by eight. We have a splendid fireplace 
 — back and jambs of stone, the top of sticks. In one 
 corner are shelves for our dishes. On one side of the 
 room is a drop table, which we button to the wall 
 when not in use. Our bunk is not made of poles, 
 rough and crooked, like those of last winter, but of 
 pine boards, soft and luxurious. 
 
 On Thursday we had regimental inspection of 
 arms. I told the boys I heard "m.usic in the air," but 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 117 
 
 they could not believe it. It was there, however. 
 About 1 o'clock in the evening Captain Tyler came 
 to our tent and called for me. He told me to wake 
 the boys and tell them to pack their things and be 
 ready to take cars in half an hour for Knoxville. 
 Here was a fix — to leave our soft beds and warm 
 houses, our winter quarters, and go out into the cold — 
 it was bitter cold — to ride on the top of cars twenty, 
 perhaps seventy-five miles, and sleep — if sleep we 
 might — on the cold, damp ground, and march twenty 
 or thirty miles a day on half rations. But away we 
 went, the Third Brigade only, to the station. It was 
 2 o'clock in the morning before the cars were ready, 
 and we reached Knoxville a little after sunrise. 
 Here we learned the cause of the movement. The 
 Rebels had made a dash on Wilcox, near Greenville, 
 capturing a section of the Second Ohio Battery and 
 part of the Second Tennessee Mounted Infantry. Not 
 knowing their strength, we were ordered to be within 
 supporting distance while a force of cavalry was sent 
 out to reconnoitre. We drew full rations of soft 
 bread and beef, and lay on the cars, the engine keep- 
 ing up steam until about 4 p. m. We then encamped 
 for the night. Next morning we again drew rations, 
 packed our things and awaited orders with impatience. 
 But no orders came, and there we lay and waited all 
 that livelong day. 
 
118 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Lenoir, Tenn., November 11th, 1863. 
 
 This morning we were aroused by the Orderly at 3 
 o'clock, with orders to be ready to move at daylight. 
 We sprang out of bed, built fires, cooked breakfast, 
 which consisted of pancakes made of wheat flour and 
 com meal, issued in place of bread, beefsteak and 
 coffee; packed up, and then sat down to await the 
 coming of day. At 6 o'clock the bugle sounded, and 
 we fell in and stacked arms. We then received orders 
 to go to our quarters and be ready to fall in at a min- 
 ute's notice. And so the matter has stood all day, 
 and still remains. The reason for the movement is 
 as follows: The Second Division has been engaged 
 today in throwing a pontoon bridge across the Holston 
 about a mile from here, and, not knowing the strength 
 of the enemy, on the opposite side, we are to be 
 ready to support them if necessary. 
 
 The bridge is nearly completed, and the Rebels 
 have not shown themselves. Tomorrow the Second 
 Division is to cross over. I understand they are to 
 build winter quarters on the other side. 
 
 A "contraband" came into camp yesterday and 
 reported himself direct from Rebeldom. He appeared 
 intelligent, and told a straightforward story. He 
 reports the Rebels in strong force across the river, and 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 119 
 
 says they are building pontoons in which to cross over 
 to attack us. His information was considered so 
 important General Ferrera sent him, under guard, to 
 General Bumside at Knoxville. 
 
 Lenoir, Tenn., November 15th, 1863. 
 
 As the men are confined to camp, they busy them- 
 selves by cleaning up the accumulated rubbish. Our 
 camp begins to put on airs. The men must get some 
 clothing before they can do so. I see no prospect ot 
 it yet. The day has been most delightful — warm, 
 bright and mellow. The weather here, as with us at 
 this season of the year, is subject to sudden changes. 
 Today it may be warm as summer; tomorrow the 
 wind may change to the north and be cold as winter. 
 Wood is abundant and of good quality — mostly 
 white oak and hickory. But should we stay here all 
 winter, there will not be a tree left within five miles 
 of here. We have already cleared about fifty acres. 
 
 Spite of appearances, I cannot think we will remain 
 here until spring. I cannot see — perhaps I have no 
 right to try to see — where our supplies are to come 
 from, or, rather, how they are to come. We have 
 only six weeks quarter rations on hand, and the roads 
 over the mountains are nearly impassable. There is 
 some wheat and corn in the valley, which is being 
 gathered in for the use of the army, but this cannot 
 last long. Such an army, like the locusts of Egypt, 
 will soon "devour every green thing." Even now 
 hundreds of citizens are leaving for the North to 
 escape the impending famine. In view of these facts, 
 
120 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 which are fully understood by every man in the regi- 
 ment, one would expect them to be down-hearted and 
 discouraged. Such is not the fact. The few men 
 who are left are resolute, determined men, ready to 
 suffer privation, to endure hardship, anything to 
 advance the cause for which they are contending. 
 An order is given to prepare for inspection. The 
 Assistant Secretary of War is here to inspect the Ninth 
 Corps. This may be an exception, but, as a rule, 
 inspection means move. 
 
 I happened to get hold of a copy of the Detroit 
 Free Press dated October 25 th. From it I learn 
 conscription has been postponed in Michigan until 
 the 5 th of November. By that time they hope to fill 
 the quota by volunteers. I would like to see the 
 North exhibit the energy and ability displayed by the 
 South, but one-half seems to be asleep, the other half 
 — mad. 
 
 Lenoir, Tenn., November 14th, 1863. 
 We have been under orders for several days to be 
 ready to fall in at a minute's notice. That order was 
 repeated at 3 o'clock this morning. We had become 
 so accustomed to it, we began to think it only form, 
 and meant nothing. At sunrise, however, we were 
 startled by the order, "Pack everything and be readv 
 to march immediately, bag and baggage." Officers' 
 baggage was put on wagons, the sick in ambulances, 
 supplies of food and clothing — a fresh supply had but 
 just arrived — were reloaded, and the whole train 
 headed toward Knoxville. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 121 
 
 Our consternation can better be imagined than 
 described. Every movement spoke of evacuation; of 
 hasty, inglorious retreat. About 10 o'clock the cars 
 came screaming in from Knoxville, bringing General 
 Burnside. The wagon train was nearly formed, and, 
 in half an hour, everything would have been ready for 
 a general stampede. At 1 o'clock the bugle sounded 
 fall in, and off we started toward Loudon. It soon 
 leaked out the Rebels are crossing six miles below 
 Loudon, and Burnside's arrival had changed the pro- 
 gram. So away we went, through rain and mud, 
 fourteen miles without stopping to rest, rejoicing it 
 was not, after all, an ignominous retreat. We halted 
 a little after dark in a thick wood, with orders to light 
 no fires, but remain beside our arms, ready to fall 
 in when called on. It had been very warm during 
 the day, raining at times, and those not wet with rain 
 were wet with sweat. Toward night the wind had 
 changed, and it was bitter cold. And there we sat, 
 two hours or more, cold and hungry, having eaten 
 nothing since morning. The men began to grow 
 impatient. The First Brigade were on our left, and 
 fires burned brightly all along their line. Why could 
 not we have fires? Tom Epley, of our company, 
 thought we could, and away he goes for a coal of 
 fire, while others gather wood and kindlings. But 
 our lynx-eyed Adjutant discovers it, and down he 
 comes. "Who built that fire?" says he. "I did, 
 sir," says Tom. "Didn't you know 'twas against 
 orders?" "No, sir; I thought the order was one fire 
 to a company, sir." "You must put it out." 
 
122 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 "Then how the h — 1 are we to cook? Do you think 
 we can march all day in rain and mud and eat flour 
 and raw beef?** **It*s tough, boys,** says the Adju- 
 tant, **but that*s the order.** Tom did not put out 
 the fire, but built it larger, and soon the order came, 
 "One fire to a company.*' 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 We kept our fires brightly burning all night, expect- 
 ing each moment the coming order. At 4 o'clock it 
 came. Fall in, boys, very quietly, and quick as pos- 
 sible. Then, "about face," and off we went in the 
 darkness, taking precisely the route we came. What 
 was the meaning of this backward move? Our 
 officers agreed it was to draw them out from the 
 river that we might cut otf their retreat and "bag 
 them," as is our custom. We marched slowly and 
 reached Lenoir about 2 p. m., when we formed in 
 line of battle. At dark the Eighth Michigan was 
 thrown out as skirmishers, or outpost pickets. They 
 advanced about four miles on the Jamestown road, 
 and as they formed their last post were fired on by 
 Rebel pickets. The Rebels then rallied their skir- 
 mishers and charged the Eighth, which fell back to 
 within a m.ile of our line of battle. They then faced 
 about, charged the advancing Rebels, drove them a 
 short distance, and held them until relieved. I now 
 began to see how matters stood. The enemy had 
 pursued us promptly and with energy; we were in 
 line of battle awaiting an attack. Would they attack 
 us before daylight? Probably not, as we held a 
 good position. Will we await an attack or retire 
 during the night? Of the latter I was confident. 
 
124 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 judging by what I saw and heard. Fires were kepi 
 up along the whole line, and some of the boys, worn 
 out with fasting and marching, wrapped themselves 
 in their blankets and lay down and slept. But there 
 was no sleep for me, and there I sat, listening to every 
 sound, watching every move. Two trains of cars, 
 heavily loaded with supplies, crept slowly away 
 toward Knoxville, the very engines seeming to hold 
 their breath fearful of exciting suspicion. The dis- 
 tant rattle of wheels told me the wagon train was 
 falling into line, and the bright glare of fire at the 
 depot spoke of government property being sacrificed 
 because there was no time to remove it. At 2 o'clock 
 I heard the artillery on the hill near us, and which we 
 were supporting, move away and join the train. A 
 few minutes later we followed the artillery, silent as 
 an army of spectres. Our regimental Surgeon and 
 his staff occupied a tent a few rods in the rear of the 
 regiment. Before we had proceeded a dozen yards 
 I missed them and asked our Captain if they had gone 
 on ahead. He seemed puzzled, as their place was 
 in the rear. Perhaps, he said, they were not notified 
 — had been overlooked in the confusion — if so, they 
 will be captured. I asked permission to go back and 
 warn them of their danger. I found them soundly 
 sleeping in their tent, aroused them, and in a few 
 hurried whispers explained the situation — then struck 
 across the fields for the Knoxville road. About two 
 m.iles distant we came across a body of troops resting 
 beside stacked arms. Near by we found our regi- 
 ment, and all was well. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 126 
 
 Knoxville, November 18th, 1863. 
 It was now about 4 a. m., and daylight would 
 soon appear. The whole corps was waiting for the 
 artillery and wagon train to get a reasonable start. 
 Much rain had fallen and the roads were heavy; 
 horses and mules were poor. About one hundred 
 wagons, heavily loaded with army supplies, were 
 abandoned because we had not time to burn them. 
 A large amount of bread, bacon, sugar and clothing 
 were thus turned over to Longstreet's Quartermaster. 
 Just as daylight appeared we filed into the road en 
 route for Knoxville. The Third Brigade was in the 
 rear, and our regiment was detailed as rear guard, 
 the post of honor and danger. One company of 
 cavalry, all we had, was left to finish the work of 
 destruction and to act as scouts. We were hardly 
 out of sight before the Rebel cavalry made a dash, 
 capturing several and scattering the rest. Their 
 infantry was not far behind. They pursued and 
 closed in on us with relentless fury. When too hard 
 pressed, our little band would turn and charge with 
 fixed bayonets, thus holding them in check while the 
 others made a little headway. Mile after mile was 
 fought over in this way, every inch contested, but all 
 would not do. They pressed our Rank and rear 
 until Burnside was compelled to turn and fight them. 
 The Knoxville road, in the vicinity of Campbell Sta- 
 tion, leads through a ravine from one to two miles wide 
 hemmed in by mountains or high hills, which render 
 a flank movement well-nigh impossible. At the head 
 of this ravine Burnside massed his artillery — 120 
 
126 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 pieces — formed his infantry in their rear for support, 
 and awaited the assault. From our position we had 
 an almost unobstructed view of what was taking place 
 in front. No artillery could be seen; nothing but 
 infantry. We could see them file out from a piece of 
 timber and form in line, from hill to hill and rank on 
 rank. At the word they moved forward, colors 
 flying, shoulder to shoulder, a compact mass, seem- 
 ingly irresistible. At a given signal from the head 
 of the valley a sheet of flame bursts forth with a 
 crash that shakes the earth — a blast of iron hail 
 sweeps those serried ranks, opening wide gaps. They 
 close and stubbornly move on. Again that withering 
 flame; again that blast of death, and they recoil. 
 Three times they make the attempt, and three times 
 failed — then darkness closed the scene. By this time 
 our wagon train was far on its way toward Knoxville, 
 leaving the road unobstructed. One by one our can- 
 non disentangled itself and straightened out on the 
 line of retreat. The infantry closed in on its rear, 
 making the best tim.e we knew, hoping to reach Knox- 
 ville before daylight. We arrived at 3 a. m. 
 
 At sunrise the Rebels were within five miles of us. 
 Our position is naturally strong, and our men were at 
 once set to work to make it stronger. By 3 p, m. 
 rifle pits encircled the city from river to river. When 
 they were completed our brigade bands formed on the 
 top of the hill and played 'The Red, White and 
 Blue," "When This Cruel War Is Over," "Rally 
 'Round the Flag, Boys," and finished up with 
 "Yankee Doodle," to which the boys responded with 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 127 
 
 a yell of defiance as we stepped down into our 
 ditches. We were ready for them, and every man ot 
 us understood we must whip them here or be taken 
 prisoners. 
 
 Longstreet advanced leisurely, knowing we could 
 go no further, and confident in his strength, for ho 
 outnumbered us three to one. But he evidently did 
 not know our weakness. When stretched around 
 the city we formed a very thin line; indeed, the men 
 in trenches standing fully six feet apart. He might 
 have carried our hastily-constructed works by assault, 
 but it seems he chose to adopt the more humane 
 method, and starve us out. The delay proved our 
 salvation. In our retreat from Lenoir the Seven- 
 teenth lost 1 1 4 killed, wounded and missing. 
 
 Longstreet himself is on the ground, directing the 
 placing of his men. I have seen him in many pre- 
 vious campaigns, and know him by his form and the 
 way he sits his snow-white horse. 
 
128 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Knoxville. November 25th. 1863. 
 
 Only seven days of siege, and our larder nearly 
 empty. We have been on half rations since Sep- 
 tember 25th, consequently had no surplus to fall back 
 on. On the second day of the siege our rations were 
 reduced to quarter rations. Now coffee and sugar 
 have given out entirely. The men are constanUy 
 under fire. The enemy have advanced their sharp- 
 shooters to within one-fourth of a mile of our line. 
 On the 20th they got possession of a house, just under 
 the hill in our front, and annoyed us exceedingly. 
 Colonel Comstock was ordered to burn it; he called 
 for volunteers to perform the perilous feat. Instantly 
 a company was formed, headed by A. J. Kelley, ot 
 Company E, and led by Lieutenant Josiah Billingsly. 
 The house was set on fire and burned to the ground, 
 but the heroic Billingsly was killed by a shell on his 
 return. 
 
 Their sharpshooters had now advanced so near the 
 men were forced to remain all day in their rifle pits. 
 Every man who showed even his head became a tar- 
 get. 
 
 Yesterday morning, after it became fairly light, I 
 jumped up on the embankment in front of me, as had 
 been my custom, to see v/hat advancement the enemy 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 129 
 
 had made during the night. I took one quick glance 
 around, and as I looked I saw two curls of smoke 
 directly in front of me; on the instant one bullet whis- 
 tled over my head; another dropped into the sand at 
 my feet. 
 
 This morning Lieutenant Colonel Comstock 
 received a mortal wound from one of them. A num 
 ber of our boys have been wounded. The first four 
 or five days of the siege our men divided up into 
 reliefs and went up on the bank, in the rear of our 
 pits, to cook and eat their food. On the 24th, as I 
 was eating my breakfast, a rifle ball struck a camp 
 kettle, standing beside me, and spilled its contents. 
 About that time one of my comrades was struck in the 
 face, the ball passing through both cheeks, nearly cut- 
 ting off his tongue. Inspired by these gentle protests, 
 we moved our kitchen over the brow of the hill, where 
 we could cook and eat our "flapjacks" undisturbed. 
 
 November 30th, 1863. 
 Our rations touch the starvation limit, and still "the 
 song and the jest goes round." Not a murmur, not 
 a word of complaint. We simply "gird up our 
 loins" a little tighter. Our fare now is one-fourth 
 pound per man of a mixture made up of coarse black 
 flour, bran and unbolted corn meal; beef in propor- 
 tion; not half as much as a man would eat, even of 
 that vile stuff, at one meal. Night before last our 
 pickets were driven in and sixteen of our boys cap- 
 tured. Last night an attack was made on Fort Saun- 
 ders. We had expected a night attack and were on 
 
130 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 the alert. About 9 o'clock our pickets were driven 
 in and the ball opened. It was "fast and furious" 
 while it lasted, but was soon over. The Rebels lost 
 about one thousand in this assault. 
 
 Dr. Crosby, our Regimental Surgeon, has been to 
 General Ferrera and got me detailed for hospital ser- 
 vice, and has given me charge of a ward in the City 
 Hospital. The doctor says he has discovered in me 
 the "sympathetic touch," more soothing to irritated 
 nerves than opiates. That is the way he puts it. 
 
 Our doctor has the poetic temperament, although 
 one would hardly suspect it by his looks. But he Is 
 kind and tender to the sick and wounded, and skill- 
 ful in his profession. 
 
 It is rumored Grant is organizing a force to send to 
 our relief. God speed him on his way, for we are 
 on the verge of starvation. 
 
 Knoxville, December 8th, 1863. 
 Thanks to Almighty God — and General Grant — 
 the crisis is passed. General Sherman arrived on the 
 5 th inst., but Longstreet had fled, and he returned 
 immediately to Chattanooga. Nobody seems to know 
 the exact date of Longstreet's withdrawal. Our forces 
 were sent out in pursuit yesterday, the 7th inst., but 
 no enemy could be found. We have passed through 
 a terrible ordeal. Twenty days and nights under 
 fire. Twenty days with death or surrender staring 
 us in the face — and surrender meant Andersonville, a 
 fate worse than death. On our retreat from Lenoir 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 131 
 
 we were compelled to leave most of our wounded. 
 We have recovered our own and about three hundred 
 wounded Rebels. 
 
 Knoxville, Tenn., December 21st, 1863. 
 
 I have been three weeks "head nurse" in the first 
 ward of the First Brigade hospital. Dr. Crosby is 
 with the regiment at Blains Cross Roads, about 
 eighteen miles from here. Most of my patients are 
 from my own regiment, and were wounded at 
 Campbell's Station or during the siege of Knoxville. 
 The building we occupy was once a court house. 
 The room is about thirty feet by forty. There are 
 two large fireplaces, one on each side of the room. 
 There are now thirty-three patients. All but six of 
 the wounded can walk about the room with or without 
 the aid of crutches. Around each fireplace is a group 
 of men, eagerly discussing the probability of being 
 sent to Washington or Baltimore. At one end of the 
 room, resting one arm on the railing that surrounds 
 the "judgment seat," stands the "ward boss," trying 
 to write to the loved ones at home. 
 
 I am not on duty, but my patients ignore the fact, 
 and frequently interrupt me with: "Mr. Lane, please 
 step here a minute;" or, "Please give me a drink of 
 water." I return and try to shut out all sights, all 
 sounds, all thoughts but those of home. Vain effort. 
 The voice of my favorite, Fred Byron, faintly strikes 
 my ear: "Davie; oh, Davie!' Involuntarily I drop 
 my pen and hasten to his side. "What is it, Fred> 
 What can I do for you, my boy?" "Oh, I'm so 
 
132 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 tired, and nobody cares but you. That man with 
 black whiskers handles me as though I am made of 
 wood." I turn him gently over, adjust his bed and 
 pillow, moisten his hot, feverish brow, and give him a 
 sup of cool water. *'There, Fred, now go to sleep, 
 and when you wake you will feel better." As I turn 
 to leave him, after bidding him good-night, he grasps 
 my hand in both of his. "Oh, Davie, you are so 
 kind; nobody can do for me as you can." 
 
 He is a German, from Massachusetts, nineteen 
 years old, fair as Adonis — brave as a hero — which 
 he is. 
 
 I have many strong attachments here, and cannot 
 well forsake them to return to the regiment. 
 
 Knoxville, December 26th, 1863. 
 
 I still remain at the hospital — can all winter if 1 
 choose. The sick and wounded are doing fairly well. 
 Most of them will soon be well enough to go home on 
 furlough. They are to be sent fast as it may be safe 
 for them. One squad starts tomorrow. The men 
 are eager to get away from here — somewhere — any- 
 where. 
 
 This is called a United States General Hospital. 
 It partakes of the nature of such an institution only so 
 far as patients and shoulder-strapped doctors go 
 toward making it one. And patients are becoming 
 scarce, thank God. It is not a desirable place for 
 convalescents, and, as soon as they are able, they 
 gladly leave for their regiments. The wounded are 
 all to have furloughs — so says the Surgeon — and they 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 133 
 
 are very impatient. They would run any risk to 
 escape this den of filth, privation and starvation. 
 
 Think of a hospital where the patients have no bed- 
 ding but the blankets they brought with them; no 
 clothing but the dirty rags they wore from the field; 
 no dishes but their tin cups and butcher knives; where 
 there is no "bed pan," and only two night vessels 
 for one hundred forty sick men; where washing is put 
 off, week after week, for want of soap, there being not 
 so much as one piece to wash hands with. I went to 
 every store, grocery and sutler's shop in the city this 
 morning, seeking soap and finding none. Where 
 wounded soldiers are fed on coarse bread and beef or 
 vegetable soup twice a day, and not half enough of 
 this to satisfy. 
 
 It is no valid excuse that hospital stores cannot be 
 procured here. They might have been sent from 
 Kentucky before this time. | Our troops — the Ninth 
 Corps — in the field are in no better condition. They 
 are encamped eighteen miles from here, unfit for duty 
 for want of clothing ; all are ragged ; many have not a 
 shoe to their feet or rags enough to cover them. 
 Washington's army at Valley Forge is the only par- 
 allel in the history of this Nation. We have drawn 
 very little clothing since we started for Mississippi in 
 June last. I saw our Quartermaster Sergeant yester- 
 day, Mr. Woodin; he assures mo there is no prospect 
 of our receiving supplies in the near future. What 1 
 have said applies to the Ninth Corps only; the Twen- 
 ty-third and other corps are well supplied. The rea- 
 son given is we are out of our department, and there is 
 
134 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 no regular channel of supply. I have just drawn two 
 months' pay. I intended to send every dollar of it 
 to my wife, who needs it, but will be compelled to 
 use some of it or go naked. I have only one shirt, 
 and that is nearly worn out. Army shirts — no better 
 than those issued to us — cost six dollars at the sutler's. 
 My shoes are nearly off my feet, and army shoes cost 
 four dollars. I am destitute of socks, and socks cost 
 one dollar. I do not wish to find fault, but the 
 thought will arise, if sutlers can get their goods over 
 the mountains, why cannot the Government? Again, 
 there is, and has been, a heavy stock of clothing at the 
 Gap. Why don't they send it on? 
 
 December 31st. 1863. 
 
 A squad of ten convalescents left for the Nortli 
 today. The balance of the wounded will go as fast 
 as their condition will permit. Twenty-six, out of 
 thirty in my ward, will be able to go by Wednesday 
 next, and I will be left without patients. I rejoice 
 with the poor fellows. The thought of going home, 
 where kind friends can minister to their wants and 
 supply their needs, is a wonderful tonic. 
 
 There has been much excitement among the old 
 regiments the past two weeks. 1 he Eighth Michigan 
 boys have enlisted for "during the war," nearly every 
 man. The same is true of several other regiments 
 whose terms of service expire next spring. They are 
 to have four hundred dollars bounty and thirty days' 
 furlough. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 136 
 
 The Seventeenth is not included in this order, hav- 
 ing over a year to serve. There is much talk of the 
 Ninth Corps leaving this department. I wish 1 knew 
 it to be true. 
 
 January 4th, 1 864. 
 
 It has been very cold the past four days. The day 
 before New Year's was warm and rainy. Toward 
 night the wind changed into the north, '*with a snap 
 to it," as it does in Michigan sometimes. New Year's 
 morning was very cold — not so many degrees, I pre- 
 sume, by a score or two, as we frequently experience 
 in Michigan — but quite as piercing to me as the cold- 
 est weather at home. 
 
 Today is v/arm as summer again. This is a delight- 
 ful climate "overhead," the coldest weather being 
 about like October with us. But the mud is really 
 fearful. The roads are next to impassable four 
 months of the twelve. I could not be induced to live 
 here. I have been in fourteen different states; in most 
 of them have traveled quite extensively, and have seen 
 nothing yet that excels Michigan. True, some states 
 possess advantages that Michigan does not, but they 
 lack in others. Whenever I have thought of a change 
 of residence, my feelings rebel, and I can but exclaim, 
 "Give me my ov/n, my native land," for such I regard 
 Michigan. 
 
 January 5th, 1864. 
 
 There are now thirty men in my ward. All but 
 two are able to wait on themselves. There are six 
 nurses to see them do it. It has not been so long, 
 hov/ever. At first we had sixty of the worst cases 
 
136 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 in one room. When off duty, until day before yes- 
 terday, the nurses had to shirk for themselves, sleep- 
 ing on the floor in the room with the sick. Now we 
 have a room eighteen by twenty, and warmed by a 
 stove. There is a large building adjoining the hospi- 
 tal assigned to convalescents. Each morning the sur- 
 geon examines them all and sends such as he deems 
 able to do duty, to their regiments. These convales- 
 cents kept good fires, and I frequently went there to 
 warai myself, when off duty. One morning the sur- 
 geon, a new arrival and a stranger to me, noticed me 
 standing by the fire, and thought from my appearance 
 I was fit for duty. "To what regiment do you 
 belong?" "The Seventeenth Michigan, sir." "How 
 long have you been here?" "About six weeks." 
 "What are you doing?" "Nursing." "WTiere?" 
 "In the first ward." "What business have you here, 
 then?" "No business, only to warm myself. It is 
 rather cold standing in the street today, when off 
 duty." "What, have the nurses no place to stay?" 
 "No, sir; they are as poor as was the Son of Man; 
 they have no place to lay their heads." 
 
 This surgeon was Dr. Cogswell, of the Twenty- 
 ninth Massachusetts, who had lately relieved Dr. Fox. 
 In a few minutes I was notified this pleasant room was 
 at our disposal. 
 
 January 6th, 1864. 
 
 It has snowed all day, and the night is fearfully 
 cold, but in our new quarters we feel it not. 
 
 This has been a day of unusual excitement in Knox- 
 ville. A legal murder has been committed in public. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 137 
 
 In other words, a Rebel spy has been executed. His 
 name is Dodd, of the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry. I 
 did not witness the execution. I did not feel like it. 
 I saw the procession as it passed my door. First, a 
 regiment of soldiers; next a cart with the victim sitting 
 on his coffin; behind, another regiment, with fixed 
 bayonets. On each side, the street was crowded with 
 men and women, eager to see a fellow mortal die. I 
 am forced to see enough of human misery. Would 
 God I might never see more. Oh, this cruel, mur- 
 derous war! Will it never end? Perhaps, when 
 political intrigue can keep it going no longer. 
 
138 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Knoxville, Tenn., January 6th, 1864. 
 It is a serious thing to have the care of sick and 
 wounded men. They are Hke children — fretful, 
 impatient, exacting. I was a stranger to all but one 
 when I came here; now I count my friends by scores. 
 I endeavored to do my duty. My patients soon dis- 
 covered this, and I do not lack employment. There 
 is one old fellow — a Massachusetts man — wounded 
 through the cheeks. He is as cross as a grizzly, fero- 
 cious as a hyena. The nurses can do nothing with 
 him. He cannot talk plain, and if they do not under- 
 stand the first time, he fiies into a rage and curses them 
 soundly. The first time he called on me to dress his 
 wound he snatched the dish from my hand, saying he 
 wanted some one to do it who understood it. I said 
 nothing, but let him do it himself. The next day he 
 asked me to warm som.e water to dress his wound. 
 *'No," said I, "I will have nothing to do with you 
 until you can treat me as one man should treat another. 
 When that time comes I will do all I can for you, 
 willingly, cheerfully." In a day or two he came to 
 me and asked, very civilly, if I would try and get him 
 some tea, as his mouth was so bad he could eat noth- 
 ing. '*With pleasure," said L From that day he 
 is my fast friend. The boys call him "the boss's pet 
 tiger. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 139 
 
 January 1 1 th, 1 864. 
 
 Our wounded continue to await with what patience 
 they possess their departure to the land of promise — 
 but their hearts grow sick and their spirits faint at the 
 long delay. The cause assigned is "want of trans- 
 portation, and cold weather. ' 
 
 Since the 1st inst. the weather is very cold. The 
 ground is frozen like a rock, and worn smooth as 
 marble. Snow has not been over an inch deep — just 
 enough to whiten the ground. The air is piercing; 
 some mornings at 1 o'clock, when taking my morn- 
 ing walk, the sun shining brightly the while, I have 
 had my beard covered with frost in walking forty rods. 
 
 Imagine the situation of the men of the Ninth Corps, 
 in their little shelter tents, barefooted and naked, 
 through weeks of such rugged weather. I saw Mr. 
 Woodin today. He says they are still on quarter 
 rations, with no prospect of an increase of supplies at 
 present. They have been, at times, forced to issue 
 corn in the ear. He says the men were never in bet- 
 ter health or spirits. There is not a sick man in the 
 regiment. 
 
 Parson Brownlow has returned to his home. He 
 continues to breathe out threatenings and denunciations 
 against his secession brethren. I have not seen him, 
 but, judging by his writings, I do not like the man. 
 There is too much savage ferocity in his writings for 
 an enlightened Christian. He is a man of great influ- 
 ence here, and I thank God it is exerted on the side of 
 the Union. 
 
 I accidentally met an old acquaintance from Black- 
 
140 A Soldier's Diaiy. 
 
 man today. I was passing the convalescents* room, 
 when my attention was attracted by a countenance that 
 had a familiar look. I halted, but did not feel quite 
 sure. Presently our eyes met, and we recognized each 
 other instantly. "My God, Mr. Lane, is that you?" 
 **I believe it is," said I, "and you are Austin Draper." 
 We had a lively chat for a few minutes. Oh, it is 
 pleasant to meet one we have known at home! He 
 belongs to the Ninth Michigan Cavalry. 
 
 Our Chaplain has resigned and gone home. He 
 told me, before he left, he was confident the Ninth 
 will cross the mountains soon. Nearly all who have 
 re-enlisted have gone already — fourteen regiments in 
 all. The fact that no provision has been made for us 
 here is conclusive proof, to me. It is the opinion of 
 those generally best informed that we will go to New- 
 port News to reorganize. 
 
 Evidently there is to be another summer campaign. 
 Our friends, the loyal people of the North, have made 
 it necessary by defeating the draft, which, practically, 
 they have done. Fifty thousand — of the three hun- 
 dred thousand called for — is the pitiful number real- 
 ized; and it took from the field, at the time they were 
 most needed there, forty thousand of our best men to 
 secure these doubtful ones. The loyal people of 
 Michigan, by combining to pay the conscription fee, 
 did more to defeat the draft than did Horatio Sey- 
 mour 2md his copperhead allies by resistance; for their 
 resistance was put down by force. 
 
 It seems Congress is about to repeal that precious 
 clause, and make it what its name im.plies, a bill to 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 14 i 
 
 raise men, not money. These are my individual 
 thoughts and impressions, and may be all wrong, but I 
 cannot help believing the course pursued will tend to 
 prolong the war. In my eagerness to get home, to 
 enjoy the dear companionship of my family, I have, 
 at times, been led to set bounds — to limit the dura- 
 tion of the strife — forgetting, for the time, that the 
 American people, through and by this struggle, are to 
 be purified and brought up to their professions of lib- 
 erty. 
 
 Our sky is again overcast. Doubt and uncer- 
 tainty have taken the place of confidence and fancied 
 security. All day yesterday and today reports from 
 the front are most discouraging. Our forces are fall- 
 ing back. Longstreet is said to be advancing with 
 an overwhelming force. Many begin to fear another 
 siege. Cavalry have been passing through the city 
 the last forty-eight hours, with the usual stampede of 
 citizens. Something is in the wind. Is it a "strategic 
 movement," or is it a retreat? I cannot believe that 
 we are forced to fly from Longstreet alone. Has Lee 
 joined forces with him to sweep us from East Ten- 
 nessee? There has been but little fighting, and that 
 little is confined to cavalry. Still, everything has the 
 appearance of a hasty retreat. 
 
 At midnight last night the sick were ordered by 
 train to Knoxville. All supplies were sent across the 
 river at Strawberry Plains, and the bridge, a new one, 
 was coated with tar, that it might be destroyed at 
 short notice. Wagons loaded with provisions were 
 burned. The most significant feature of all is, the 
 
142 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Ninth Corps is ordered to hold the bridge, and three 
 Ohio regiments, on their way home, were halted at 
 Loudon until further orders. 
 
 "Verily, these are troubulous times and changeful." 
 
 January 20th. 
 
 Nothing reliable from the front. All sorts of rumors 
 prevail, but so contradictory one can believe none of 
 them. 
 
 Early this morning infantry began to come in, or 
 rather to pour through, in the wake of the cavalry. 
 All day long they came, a ceaseless flood. They 
 belong to the Fourth Corps. I could get nothing satis- 
 factory from them, only they were going to Louisville. 
 After all, it may be only a change of position. 
 
 January 21st. 
 
 The tumult increases. Our forces have burned the 
 bridge at Strawberry Plains and have fallen back to 
 within six miles of Knoxville. The wagon train 
 arrived here this morning — also the usual number of 
 stragglers. 
 
 I said the wagon train arrived. I should have said 
 the little that remains of it. It was mostly destroyed 
 or left for the enemy. It is the general belief that 
 Longstreet has been heavily re-enforced and is about 
 to make a determined effort to regain possession of 
 East Tennessee. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 143 
 
 January 23d. 
 AH is quiet here again. The Rebels have retired 
 from Knoxville, the scene of their late endeavor. The 
 Fourth Corps went to Loudon, the Ninth to Concord, 
 the Twenty-third remains here. Our regiment drew 
 clothing yesterday, and have the promise of full rations 
 tomorrow. 
 
144 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Knoxville, January 25th, 1864. 
 I saw Lieutenant Hurd, of our regiment, today. 
 They are in camp five miles down the river. The 
 Ninth Corps is turning over to the Government all 
 horses and mules, reserving one team for each regi- 
 ment. They are under marching orders, and are to 
 draw eight days' rations today. The Lieutenant is 
 so certain they start for the north in a day or two he 
 offers to *'bet any amount." He says Bumside has 
 authority to recruit his corps to fifty thousand. We 
 are having delightful weather, mild and balmy as May. 
 Our chief surgeon, Dr. Bevere, was '* gobbled" on the 
 late retreat from Strawberry Plains. He halted at a 
 farm house for dinner. His attendants rode on about 
 half a mile, built a fire and cooked their own dinner. 
 They had finished their repast and were preparing to 
 mount when they saw a squad of Rebel cavalry dash 
 up and surround the house. Nothing has been seen 
 or heard of the Doctor since. 
 
 January 28th, 1864. 
 The all-absorbing topic with the Ninth Corps con- 
 tinues to be the probability of our speedy departure. 
 No one doubts our going, but where and when? Is 
 it strange that we would leave this place, and that 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 145 
 
 right speedily? It is the possibility, should we go 
 north, of seeing our loved ones once more, if only for 
 a brief period. Rumor says, and Dr. Bonine, Divi- 
 sion Surgeon, corroborates it, the different regiments 
 are going to their respective states to recruit. Who 
 can blame us for cherishing the fond delusion, for such 
 it will, doubtless, prove. 
 
 Mr. Collier has just arrived from camp. He makes 
 his presence doubly welcome by bringing me a letter 
 from my dear wife bearing date December 30th. 
 How precious to me are these favors, permitted by 
 kind heaven, to keep me from despair. I do not 
 become accustomed to the separation. I long more 
 and more for the society of my wife and children. 
 
 Governor Blair and Dr. Tunnicliffe are entitled to 
 the gratitude of soldiers and their friends for their per- 
 severing efforts in our behalf. Some Northern papers 
 speak disparagingly of the high bounties offered by 
 Government. What, then, is to be done? We must 
 have men, and "it is beneath the dignity of freemen to 
 submit to conscription." So says Governor Seymour. 
 Perhaps it m.ay be cheaper to buy volunteers, even at 
 one thousand dollars a head, than to enforce the Con- 
 scription Act. Our currency is a m.arvel to the world. 
 It will bear the strain; and then, soldiers will vote next 
 fall. 
 
 January 30th, I 864. 
 
 There is much speculation in regard to Burnside's 
 *'new expedition," as it is called. Does it look 
 toward Mexico? It seems to me our Eastern sky is 
 becoming overcast. It may break forth in war with 
 
14:6 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 France. It must, sooner or later, unless Napoleon 
 recedes from his present position. Our forces and 
 those of France are in close proximity on the Rio 
 Grande, and are watching each other with jealous 
 eyes. 
 
 February 1st, 1864. 
 I have not joined the regiment yet. The Doctor is 
 very loth to let me go, and the patients urge me so 
 hard to stay with them, it is hard to leave. Our regi- 
 ment expected to start for the North tomorrow, but the 
 order was countermanded today, and they have been 
 notified to be ready to march, with two days' rations, 
 and in light marching order. They have just passed 
 through here and crossed the river to the front. 
 Rumor says Wolford is in trouble again, and the Ninth 
 Corps is to help him out. There has been some fight- 
 ing near here for several days with Rebel cavalry. 
 Prisoners are daily coming in, by fifties and by hun- 
 dreds. 
 
 February 4th, 1 864. 
 Fred Byron has given up the fight and sought repose 
 in the bosom of his Mother Earth. His wound was 
 not considered dangerous at first, but the shock was 
 too great for his delicate constitution. He pined 
 away gradually, almost imperceptibly, until I could 
 carry him in my arms, like a child. Poor boy; my 
 heart went out to him from the first, and his counten- 
 ance always brightened when I entered the room. He 
 lived about six weeks and — slept. He had neither 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 147 
 
 father ox mother on earth — no relatives but a brother 
 and sister, both married. And so they have gone, 
 the young, the brave, our country's choicest spirits. 
 Death has reaped a rich harvest. 
 
 Austin Draper is quite sick of a low form of fever. 
 He is quite discouraged, poor fellow, but I do all I 
 can to inspire him with hope, knowing this to be better 
 than medicine. I do not know that I will be able to 
 join the regiment before they go over the mountains. 
 The Doctor and the men press me to stay. From 
 choice, I would much rather be with the boys. Dr. 
 Bevere has returned. It seems the Rebels did not 
 think him worth his keep. He was with them three 
 days and says they treated him well. The men are 
 still on **tip-toe," momentarily expecting orders to pack 
 up and be off. They say, however, like the true 
 heroes they are, they are willing to stay as long as they 
 are needed. 
 
 February 6th, 1864. 
 
 I begin to feel quite certain that **the world does 
 move." The conviction is forced upon me by the fact 
 that our Congress, the slowest of slow coaches, has 
 actually begun to do what it should have done last 
 year. Then look at Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, 
 Texas and Tennessee. The fires of war have lighted 
 up these dark places, and the people begin to see the 
 hideousness of their cherished institution. Like true 
 patriots they have set themselves at work to make their 
 country what its vain boast has been — a land of free- 
 dom. I have become more firmly convinced, every 
 day, that when this war ends slavery will not exist. 
 
148 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 The States I have mentioned will be free within a 
 year. 
 
 February 7th, 1864. 
 
 I have just returned from attending divine service at 
 the Soldier Chapel, an old, shaky building, without 
 fire. We are to have preaching every Sabbath and 
 prayer meeting every day. The Christian Commis-- 
 sion is beginning to make itself felt here. Their agent 
 visits us every day, distributes tracts, papers, writing 
 paper, envelopes, etc., gives good advice, sings patri- 
 otic and other airs, prays with and for us, and does it 
 all in such a kindly, benevolent way that he has won 
 all hearts. 
 
 Everything is quiet — even rumor is ominously silent. 
 Expectation is on the rack. I would not be sur- 
 prised at anything but peace and our departure for the 
 North. This hospital is not yet broken up for want 
 of patients — transportation cannot be procured — food 
 must be first attended to. There is but one engine 
 running between here and Loudon. From Chatta- 
 nooga to Loudon two flatboats make one trip each per 
 week, if there is sufficient water. There are over three 
 thousand sick and wounded soldiers in this city. 
 Stores, taverns, court houses, are all pressed into hospi- 
 tal service. The original population has nearly all 
 left; some have gone south, but the greater portion 
 have gone north. And still they go. Every day 
 "Old Joseph's" shrill voice may be heard on yonder 
 corner, as he "closes out" some poor unfortnate, who 
 is selling off his household goods to go to some more 
 favored land. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 149 
 
 Language cannot describe nor imagination picture 
 the destitution of these people. I see by the Louis- 
 ville papers the people of the North are much in doubt 
 of our ability to hold Knoxville in case Longstreet again 
 attacks us. I am surprised at the misapprehension of 
 our situation now and during the siege. The Journal 
 says our numerical strength is much reduced. The 
 reverse is the fact. It says we have no supplies. We 
 certainly have as many now as then, with the railroad 
 to Chattanooga nearly completed. Our men have 
 been constantly at work strengthening and perfecting 
 the fortifications. Knoxville can only be taken by 
 siege, and before we could be driven to any great 
 extremity, relief could, and would, reach us from 
 Chattanooga. 
 
150 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 February 10th. 1864. 
 In walking up Gay Street today I discovered a new 
 feature in this city of soldiers, an index of progress, of 
 civilization. It was a news depot in full blast, estab- 
 lished by an enterprising Yankee, of course. We at 
 the hospital are well provided with reading matter by 
 the Christian Commission. They have a soldiers* 
 reading room, supplied with piles of Northern papers, 
 periodicals, and many religious works. There is also 
 a table supplied with writing materials, all free. If 
 we have no stamps, these friends of the soldiers stamp 
 our letters. If we are sick — unable to write — they 
 offer to write for us. Adjoining the rooms of the 
 Christian Commission are those of the Sanitary Com- 
 mission, another beneficent association for the benefit 
 of sick and wounded soldiers. All delicacies our poor 
 fellows receive come through their instrumentality. 
 This is the great dispensary of all those countless gifts 
 in the shape of clothing and eatables which the benev- 
 olent people of the North so freely bestow. The 
 articles to be distributed are first turned over to the 
 Surgeon in charge, he keeping enough for himself and 
 assistants, then the cooks take out enough for them- 
 selves and friends. The balance, should there be a 
 balance, goes to the soldiers. I know the above to be 
 true, from personal observation. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 161 
 
 The Christian Commission manage differently. 
 Their agents give to the soldier such things as they 
 may stand in need of. — 
 
 February 11th, 1864. 
 
 The Second Michigan leave today for Cincinnati, 
 by way of Chattanooga. The sick and v^ounded of 
 that regiment start tomorrow. It is thought the whole 
 corps will be under way by a week from next Mon- 
 day. The sick will be removed as soon after thai 
 time as possible — probably by the first of March. At 
 the earnest solicitation of Dr. Crosby, I have con- 
 cluded to remain and go with them. He promises, 
 in return, to use all his influence at Cincinnati to pro- 
 cure for me a furlough, or leave of absence. Possibly 
 this had an influence on my decision. I have an 
 almost uncontrollable desire to visit my family and 
 home this spring. It seems like I cannot be denied; I 
 believe my prayer will be granted. 
 
 No news from the front of any importance. Rebel 
 cavalry are seen, now and then, in small parties, across 
 the river. Fifty-three Indians were captured and 
 brought in yesterday. They are a sullen, ugly look- 
 ing set of cutthroats. 
 
 The most potent reason, or excuse, for playing 
 cards, and one that seems to satisfy men who are 
 strictly moral, is, "it serves to pass away the time." 
 To most soldiers, when not on duty, time passes heav- 
 ily. It is impossible to procure reading matter. Men 
 do not always feel like talking. Most men cannot sit 
 down by themselves and indulge in calm reflection — 
 
152 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 they must have some excitement — consequently, for 
 want of something better, they gather in knots and 
 shuffle cards. My pastime is to dream of home and 
 loved ones. From early morn until late at night I 
 am busy — yes, doubly busy — for, w^hile I do not 
 neglect my duties, my mind is hard at vv^ork far from 
 this cumbrous body. Annihilating space, it leaps all 
 barriers and pauses not until by my loved one's side. 
 
 I have just been out to see a drove of beef cattle 
 that are being driven to our brigade. One of them 
 fell dov/n in the street but a few rods from here, and 
 no amount of "encouragement" could induce him to 
 rise. 
 
 I would suggest to our Northern farmers, if any of 
 their cattle are likely to starve to death, they slaughtei 
 them. Their bones make excellent "soup." I speak 
 advisedly, for I have tried it. The mail route, by 
 way of the Gap, has been abandoned for the present. 
 It goes now by way of Chattanooga. 
 
 February 15 th, 1864. 
 Through the kindness of Dr. Crosby, I was the 
 recipient of a handsome present yesterday. It hap- 
 pened in this wise: A certain Israelite, having not 
 the fear of Uncle Sam before his eyes, smuggled in to 
 this loyal city a large amount of sutler's and other 
 goods. Some prying official scented him out and 
 demanded to see his "papers." Alas, of papers he had 
 none; in default of which six thousand dollars worth 
 of goods were confiscated. Three thousand dollars 
 worth were turned over to the Sanitary Commission for 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 153 
 
 free distribution to the different hospitals. The cloth- 
 ing was given to the hospital attendants. The Doctor 
 selected a hat, vest and shirt, the articles I most needed* 
 wrhen they first came in, and gave them to me. 
 
 February 16th, 1864. 
 A dear old lady acquaintance of mine used to say, 
 * 'Whenever you are downhearted and disposed to 
 complain, just sit right down and count your mercies." 
 I have been counting my mercies today, and find I 
 have many things to be thankful for. Instead of being 
 half starved, I have now plenty of food, for Joseph 
 Cooley, a particular friend of mine, is chief cook, and 
 the Sanitary Commission furnishes "delicacies." I 
 am now well dressed, for Dr. Crosby, my friend, issues 
 what the Sanitary Commission furnish — good clothing. 
 I have a good bed, with two white sheets, for the 
 Sanitary Commission issues bedding. I am clean, for 
 I wash and change clothing often, and sleep alone. 
 Last, but not least, I am in good health, because God 
 has bestowed upon me this priceless boon. 
 
 February 18th, 1864. 
 Time creeps along with steady pace, regardless of 
 human happiness or woe. Winter has come and 
 gone — the second winter since I bade farewell to fam- 
 ily and friends to battle for my country, and, as I 
 believe, for human liberty. How long the time 
 appears; and yet, how short! When viewed in the 
 light of sundered ties — of family connections, once 
 pleasant and joyous, now broken — it seems an age. 
 
154 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Oh, God, can so much misery be crowded into eighteen 
 short months? It is not of physical ills I speak, but 
 tortures of the mind — the heart. My only consolation 
 is the abiding faith that we will meet again; and then 
 how surpassingly sweet will be the reunion. If this is 
 not to be our happy lot on earth, it is said to be "Sweet 
 to die for one's country." I but go where duty calls, 
 leaving the event with God — not heedlessly, blindly, 
 but in trustful confidence. I see by the newspapers 
 the Eighth Michigan regiment is in Detroit. I hope 
 they may be made welcome by the good people of 
 Michigan. Much has been done for the benefit of the 
 soldiers, but the people will never know — they cannot 
 realize — how much these soldiers have done for them 
 in turning back, from their peaceful hom.es, the devas- 
 tating tide of war. 
 
 There is no news — now and then a cavalry dash, 
 but nothing of importance. A steamer is now lying 
 at our wharf, the first since the rebellion broke out. 
 Two more are expected tomorrow. 
 
 February 21st, 1864. 
 
 Our brigade had general inspection and review yes- 
 terday. That means move. They also drew nine 
 days' rations. 
 
 The original occupants of this hospital have all left 
 on furlough except ten, and they will soon go. I am 
 thankful I have had the privilege of making many a 
 heart glad by a word spoken in their behalf. I am 
 going to see the wounded off, then will try to get a 
 furlough for myself. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 165 
 
 February 24th. 1 864. 
 
 Another of our boys has drawn a prize, and leaves 
 for home tomorrow on twenty days' furlough. A 
 batch of names goes in tonight that will take all the 
 wounded from my ward. There is great excitement 
 here today. The enemy has disappeared from our 
 front, our troops are again at Strawberry Plains. 
 Where they have gone, even rumor saith not. All 
 we know of him is, he has disappeared. Our Provost 
 Marshal's office is literally besieged by citizens who 
 want passes to their homes. 
 
 Perhaps the Ninth Corps can be spared now. The 
 general impression is they will start in two or three 
 days. The Washington papers say we are to be at 
 Newport News by the first of May; a little over two 
 months, which will give us at least six weeks in Mich- 
 igan, should we be so lucky as to get there. But 
 time is precious. My mind is so fixed on going home 
 — if only for a few days — I can think of little else. 
 
156 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Knoxville, Tenn., February 25th, 1864. 
 
 Another of my patients leaves for his home tomor- 
 row morning on furlough. His name is Joseph Spald- 
 ing, of our company. He was wounded and taken 
 prisoner at Campbell Station, but, being unable to 
 walk, was left, with about three hundred of their own 
 men, when the siege was raised. He enjoyed their 
 hospitality about three weeks, and was satisfied. He 
 says, however, they treated him as well as they did 
 their own men. Our forces are still searching for 
 Longstreet, the Ninth Corps in advance, as usual. 
 
 I learn they crossed the Holston today at Straw- 
 berry Plains. How far our boys will follow I do not 
 know; certainly not farther than the cars can carry 
 their supplies, for they have no mule train. They 
 may go as far as Morristown, then strike across by 
 way of Cumberland Gap. The officers' horses, that 
 were sent to Kingston some time ago on account of 
 forage, are ordered back. This means change of 
 locality. The fact may seem of small significance, but 
 I have learned to judge of movements by what I see, 
 not by what I hear. 
 
 March 3d. 
 
 I have been a little "off my feed'* for three or four 
 days past. Not sick — only a little overworked. A 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 157 
 
 patient by the name of Hooper was assigned to my 
 ward on the 1 5th of last month. His disease was 
 typhoid fever of a virulent type. He was "out of 
 his head" and very violent. He required the constant 
 attention of two strong men. I dared not leave him 
 to the doubtful care of nurses, consequently for twelve 
 days and nights my eyes were seldom off him, or them. 
 No one — not even the Doctor — thought he could live; 
 but God was pleased to spare him "yet a little longer." 
 The twelfth day he slept, for the first time, and when 
 he awoke, after a few hours of quiet sleep, he awoke 
 to reason — but oh, so weak. His poor, worn-out 
 body scarcely retained the breath of life. Carefully I 
 watched each fluttering pulsation, administering stim- 
 ulants as required, and by morning felt that he would 
 live. All he needed now was care, and for three days 
 more I watched and waited, until the Doctor pro- 
 nounced him out of danger. 
 
 Then, when I would have slept, I could not. For 
 
 three nights I hardly slept at all, and I tried so hard. 
 
 Yesterday I took plenty of quinine, and had a good 
 
 night's rest last night, and awakened this morning 
 
 much refreshed. 
 
 March 9th, 1864. 
 The beautiful weather of the past week terminated 
 I in a violent storm of rain, which continued without 
 interruption forty-eight hours. The roads, before in 
 I good condition, are now a sea of mud, almost impas- 
 : sable; consequently that thirty days' expedition, of 
 I which we have heard so much, is indefinitely post- 
 poned. But the sky is once more clear, and the soil 
 
158 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 here soon dries out. Perhaps, in another week, they 
 may make a sftart. I have been suffering lately from 
 what the Doctor calls periodical neuralgia. It comes 
 on at regular intervals, and is very painful. I am 
 anxious to get around again. The men are very 
 kind, nurses and convalescents, but everything seems 
 to go wrong. It takes two men to do my work, and 
 then, of course, they do not do it as I would. It is 
 much like meinsLging a school of unruly boys. It 
 requires the same tact, and the gift of government 
 which few possess. The Inspector complimented me 
 on the neatness and general apparance of my ward. 
 Our ward Surgeon told him I kept it fit for inspection 
 every day. 
 
 March 13th, 1864. 
 I received a bundle of Northern papers today. 
 The Tribune thinks the Rebels and their Northern 
 allies will exert themselves to prolong the war until 
 after the next election. I fully agree with it, and 
 think it better for the cause of freedom that they do so. 
 Every day the war continues is another guaranty of 
 the downfall of slavery. The time is not far distant 
 when every Northern man will become an Abolitionist. 
 Look at the Woods, the Brookses, the New York 
 Herald, the New York World and all the leading 
 pro-slarery men and journals of the North. Already 
 are they trying to disengage themselves from the fetid 
 carcass of their dead ally. I do not know as it mat- 
 ters where the final struggle takes place. It may be 
 here, but I think not. Lee and his army will never 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 159 
 
 forsake their native state. There they will fight, and 
 there they must be met and conquered. That done, 
 the rest is comparitively easy. My health is improv- 
 ing. I think I might now^ take charge of my ward, 
 but the Doctor will not permit it yet. 
 
 I am overwhelmed with joy at so favorable report 
 of my only son. God bless my faithful, patient, per- 
 severing boy. May he be kept from deception and 
 craft, his lips from guile. 
 
 Annapolis, Md., April 6th, 1864. 
 We left Knoxville, with the sick and wounded of 
 the Ninth Corps, on the twenty-second day of March, 
 by way of Chattanooga, and were thirteen days on 
 the road. From Knoxville to Loudon we rode in 
 open cars. It was quite cold and snowed all day. 
 Snow fell fourteen inches deep at Chattanooga. At 
 Loudon we lay all night, awaiting transportation — 
 slept in the basement of a large building that had been 
 used for a stable. Although without fire, we were 
 quite comfortable, having plenty of blankets and warm 
 clothing. Early next morning we took cars for Chat- 
 tanooga, where we arrived about 8 o'clock in the 
 evening. We went to the Soldiers' Home, and were 
 served hot coffee, boiled ham and soft bread. About 
 10 p. m. we started for Nashville, where we arrived 
 at 8 o'clock the next evening. Here we were taken 
 to the barracks, where we stayed until nearly noon the 
 next day, and were treated to warm supper and 
 breakfast. We reached Louisville early Sunday 
 morning and were given comfortable quarters. Mon- 
 
160 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 day morning we crossed over to Jeffersonville and 
 took cars for Cincinnati. We rode in passenger 
 coaches marked "M. C. R. R." to Seymour, Ind., 
 and it seemed like I was nearly home, and then to leave 
 them and change direction, it cut me to the soul. At 
 Seymour we were packed in "hog cars," littered with 
 straw, and so closely it was difficult for all to sit down. 
 We expected to stay at Cincinnati until the regiment 
 came up, but were disappointed, only staying over one 
 night. Some of our sick were unable to go further, and 
 I was until nearly midnight getting them into a hospi- 
 tal. We started early next morning and made no 
 farther stops until we reached Annapolis about 10 
 p. m. of April 4th. 
 
 The next day we drew rations and tents. We got 
 our tents pitched about sundown, just in time for a 
 storm of rain, which soon began, and has continued 
 with unabated fury until the present time. Our regi- 
 ment arrived this morning, and I have rejoined my 
 company. They marched over the mountains to 
 Lebanon — one hundred eighty miles — in ten days. 
 From Lebanon they came by rail, over the same route 
 taken by us a few days before. 
 
 I find the men very bitter toward General Wilcox. 
 The report is current that he is the cause of our men 
 not being paid before leaving Tennessee; that he 
 feared they would buy whisky if they had the money 
 — as, doubtless, they would have done. The men 
 believed these reports, and were very angry, and, as a 
 retaliatory measure, swore they would steal "every- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 161 
 
 thing they could lay their hands on." Most disgrace- 
 fully did they keep their oath. 
 
 We have received about one hundred recruits, 
 mostly French from near Monroe. We are 
 encamped on an inclined plane half a mile from the 
 city. The soil is light sand. Our tents are eight 
 feet square, and will accommodate four or five per- 
 sons. 
 
162 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Annapolis, Md., April 8th. 1864. 
 
 There have been rumors in camp ever since we 
 came here, and long before, for that matter, all tend- 
 ing homeward. The fond illusion is, at last, dis- 
 pelled. Colonel Luce returned last night. He says 
 Governor Blair and himself did all in their power to 
 get the regiment home on furlough. They wrote the 
 War Department, and were refused on the ground 
 that we had not been out long enough to entitle us to 
 one. I did not expect one from the regiment. All j 
 my hope was in the hospital. Only a bare possibility ] 
 now remains. How fondly I had hoped to see my | 
 loved family before active operations were resumed 
 was not fully realized until now. I try to bow sub- 
 missively. I cannot forget that I still owe my best 
 services to my country. 
 
 I have been blest with health such as I had not 
 enjoyed for years while engaged in the peaceful and, 
 to me, congenial, avocations of life. Mail facilities 
 are good, and I will try and catch the few rays of 
 sunshine it affords. 
 
 April 15th, 1864. 
 Lieutenant Sudborough expects a short leave of 
 absence, in a few days, to visit his home, and is in 
 
 4 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 163 
 
 great haste to get his business in shape. It is my 
 duty, as it is my pleasure, to assist him. He has been 
 very kind to me, and I feel under great obligations to 
 him. He is senior officer, and has command of the 
 company. Company books have not been posted 
 since the first of January, for, in their marches and 
 countermarches in Tennessee, they could not be car- 
 ried. Accounts of clothing, camp and garrison equip- 
 age, etc., were kept on slips, and must now be trans- 
 ferred to the books; each man's account separately 
 posted, his signature obtained and witnessed for each 
 time he has drawn clothing. Then there are morning 
 reports, monthly reports, invoices, inventories and 
 receipts without number, with copies of each tran- 
 saction. At these I have been busy, almost without 
 intermission, since I rejoined my company. 
 
 Our company numbers an aggregate of ninety-three 
 men and officers — sixty-five present for duty, twenty- 
 six absent on sick leave. The weather is — ^April, and 
 nothing else. Lieutenant Sudborough leaves for 
 Michigan tomorrow, where most of the officers now 
 are. He leaves all company business in my care. 1 
 I take possession of his tent in the morning. 
 
 j April 21st. 1B64. 
 
 j We received orders today to be ready to march at 
 a minute's notice, with five days' cooked rations. I 
 
 I was prepared for an early move, but did not expect it 
 quite so soon. I know not where we are going; care 
 not, only as it takes me farther from my loved ones 
 and renders communication more difficult. When we 
 
164 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 go is equally uncertain. We will not take the field 
 immediately, unless the most urgent necessity requires 
 it. Our A tents are to be sent in advance, which 
 means we encamp at some other point. There is yet 
 much to be done to render the corps effective. The 
 work of reorganizing has hardly begun. Brigades 
 and divisions are not formed. We have no supply 
 train — no artillery — no ambulance. Few recruits 
 have arrived, and those that have are neither armed or 
 drilled. We have had no general inspection or grand 
 review. No, there is not to be a general movement 
 of the whole corps at present. As I read the signs, 
 this is only a change of rendezvous. 
 
 The Eighth Michigan have struck tents and sent 
 them to the depot. The second move tomorrow at 
 4 a. m. 
 
 Alexandria, Va., April 25th, 1864. 
 
 One more weary march accomplished. I bore the 
 march extremely well, considering I had been out of 
 practice six months. We made the distance, forty- 
 eight miles, in less than two and one-half days. The 
 day was hot and sultry. The forenoon was consumed 
 in getting the column in line of march. In the after- 
 noon we made twelve miles. We had our winter 
 clothing on hand, and many of the men had drawn or 
 purchased new. All were heavily loaded, as they 
 thought we might stop here a few days. But soldiers 
 act from impulse, and the scenes I tried to describe on 
 our march from Lebanon last spring were re-enacted. 
 
 Our brigade was in the rear the second day, and 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 166 
 
 I had an opportunity to see for myself. Before the 
 second day had passed many had thrown away every- 
 thing, not even keeping a change of shirts. I saw 
 several poor fellows apparently in the agonies of death 
 from sunstroke. 
 
 These first marches, after a long rest, are nearly as 
 fatal as a hard-fought battle. In passing through 
 Washington we were reviewed by the President and 
 General Bumside. 
 
 This looks like a saving of time. Our ambulances 
 are now filing past and going into camp. Our artil- 
 lery is ready and awaiting us. Also a supply train. 
 The Ninth Corps will soon be in working order, and, 
 of course, at work. I would not have it otherwise. 
 Where we are to work is not apparent. It matters 
 little to old solders where. 
 
 The impending struggle is close upon us. It will, 
 doubtless, be fierce and terrible. Let us hope it will 
 be short and decisive. 
 
 Camp hear Warrenton Junction, May 1st, 1864. 
 
 The Ninth Corps has relieved the Fifth Corps, 
 which has been guarding the railroad between Alex- 
 andia and Culpepper, and which now goes to the 
 front. We are scattered — one regiment in a place — 
 all the way from Centerville to Warrenton. Our 
 work is an important one. 
 
 All of Meade's supplies are dependant on our vigil- 
 ance and energy. The Rebels, too are alive to its 
 importance, and are making desperate efforts to cut off 
 his supplies. Yesterday the Eighth Michigan were 
 
166 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 sent out six miles to look after a band of guerillas thai 
 attacked a train. I cannot say that I am pleased 
 with this arrangement. 
 
 Come to be once more on the move, the same feel- 
 ing of restlessness, the same desire to do, has taken 
 possssion of me. I would "forward to Richmond" 
 and continue to go forward, until the rebellion is 
 crushed and I could return, in peace, to my loved 
 home. The road from Alexandria to this place was 
 of deep interest to me. The whole country has been 
 baptized in the "martyr blood of freedom." Now, 
 indeed, it is "sacred soil." We passed directly 
 through the old Bull Run battlefield. Much as I had 
 read of it, and often as I had heard it described by 
 men who were in the fight, I find I had received very 
 erroneous impressions. I had fancied the Rebel posi- 
 tion to have been almost impregnable. On the con- 
 trary, one can hardly conceive a fairer battle ground. 
 Their advantage lay in our ignorance of the country 
 and of the strength of the force opposed to us, and, 
 more than all else, a lack of generalship on the Union 
 side. 
 
 Warrenton Junction, May 3d, 1864. 
 
 We had regimental inspection yesterday. Our 
 muster rolls are nearly completed and other business in 
 proper shape, so we are nearly ready to take the field. 
 
 All sick and wounded have been sent to Washing- 
 ton, and we have orders to be ready to march at 7 
 o'clock tomorrow morning, I am inclined to think, 
 from certain indications, the railroad is to be abandoned 
 and we are to join Grant's army in a determined effort 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 167 
 
 to crush Lee's force, and, by so doing, crush the Con- 
 federacy. 
 
 May 4th. 
 We fell in line at 8 o'clock, ready to march as soon 
 as relieved, but were kept waiting until 4 p. m. We 
 then marched ten miles and encamped near Rappa- 
 hannock Station. It is reported here that Meade has 
 crossed the Rapidan and that Lee has retired to a 
 stronger position. 
 
 May 5th. 
 We left Rappahannock Station at 7 o'clock and 
 crossed the Rapidan at 1 p. m. This is our "Rubi- 
 con," or so I can but consider it, and Grant is our 
 Caesar. Sharp cannonading could be heard in the 
 distance. We kept on three miles further and stopped 
 for coffee. We heard firing in our front, which grew 
 fainter and fainter until at 5 o'clock it has ceased alto- 
 gether. 
 
168 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Fredericksburg, Va., May 17th, 1864. 
 
 On the morning of the sixth our division — the 
 Third — was ordered to the front, and remained under 
 arms during the forenoon. At 2 o'clock in the after- 
 noon we moved farther to the left, where we found the 
 enemy and engaged him. We were once more face 
 to face with our old acquaintance, Longstreet. At 5 
 o'clock the order was given to charge the enemy's 
 works. The order was promptly obeyed, but the 
 Rebels were strongly entrenched, and we could not 
 dislodge them. Our loss was seven killed and thirty- 
 three wounded. 
 
 The Army of the Potomac, in these two days, has 
 lost about fifteen thousand men. Grant had estab- 
 lished hospitals at Fredericksburg which were fur- 
 nished with everything to relieve or mitigate the suf- 
 ferings of the wounded. Under ordinary circum- 
 stances the provision made for removing them would 
 have been ample. 
 
 The first train of ambulances, loaded to its utmost 
 capacity, started for Fredericksburg at dusk, by way 
 of Kellog's Ford. About half way to the ford it 
 was halted. The Rebels had cut them off; some 
 other route must be found. This occupied all the 
 next day. Finally an opening was found by way of 
 Chancellorsville. Again were the ambulances filled 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 169 
 
 with their scarcely living freight of bruised and man- 
 gled humanity. But transportation for all could not 
 be found. All who could walk, if only a few miles, 
 were ordered to do so. Still there remained one hun- 
 dred nine who could not walk. These were all from 
 our brigade. What was to be done with these help- 
 less men? Time is precious. The army is already 
 on the move. By midnight they will be entirely 
 unprotected. Mosby, with his cutthroats, is reported 
 in our rear, not far away. It is now 10 o'clock. 
 The surgeons and officers of the brigade hold a hurried 
 consultation. Dr. Bonine, of the Second Michigan; 
 Dr. Brooks, of the Fifty-first Pennsylvania, and 
 Henry Baker, Hospital Steward of the Twentieth 
 Michigan, volunteered to remain with them. 
 
 The hospital attendants were then dismissed and 
 sent with the train. Dr. Bonine then called for ten 
 volunteers; men whom he could trust; who would not 
 desert him in the hour of trial. I was one of the ten. 
 Everything being arranged, the train and its escort 
 moved forward and left us to our fate. There was 
 no sleep for us that night. Each nurse was assigned 
 a tent filled with wounded men, who required constant 
 care. We expected the Rebels to appear early in 
 the morning. I had but little preparation to make; 
 nothing but to conceal the few greenbacks I possessed 
 by sewing them under the lining of my clothing, and 
 to destroy a few mementoes that I would not have fall 
 into other hands. Among other things were a few 
 old letters, crumpled and worn, but very precious to 
 me. 
 
170 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 The morning of the eighth of May dawned bright 
 and beautiful. Ten o'clock came, and with it the 
 Rebels. But, thank God, they are not guerillas, but 
 a regiment of Stewart's cavalry, commanded by Gen- 
 eral Chambers. They file around us. A Major 
 visits every tent, takes the name, regiment and descrip- 
 tion of every man — an oflicer follows and administers 
 an oath by which we bind ourselves to not take up 
 arms for, or assist or aid, the Government of the Uni- 
 ted States in its war with the Confederacy until duly 
 exchanged, and we are paroled 'prisoners of war." 
 
 We were treated with the utmost courtesy by offi- 
 cers and men. In the afternoon of the same day we 
 beheld with joy a train of ambulances coming in, under 
 a flag of truce, to our relief. We reached Fredericks- 
 burg about 10 o'clock that night. None but the 
 wounded and their attendants were paroled. About 
 one hundred stragglers were marched off to enjoy the 
 hospitalities of a Southern prison. We are awaiting 
 transportation to parole camp at Annapolis. How 
 soon we go I cannot tell. I hope we may be 
 exchanged soon. It annoys me exceedingly to be a 
 prisoner, even within our own lines. 
 
 May 18th, 1864. 
 When we arrived at Fredericksburg and our 
 wounded were cared for, we, the volunteer nurses, 
 were relieved from duty. But what to do with us no 
 one could decide. The general opinion among the 
 officers was that our parole was worthless. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 171 
 
 I decided at once to report to my regiment, where 1 
 felt sure of getting advice. Accordingly eight of us 
 started at 7 o'clock in the morning and reached Divi- 
 sion Hospital — fourteen miles — at noon. Dr. Bevere 
 was there, and expressed great pleasure at seeing us. 
 I told him my situation and intention to rejoin my regi- 
 ment. He requested me to remain while he made 
 inquiries. A consultation was held by the surgeons, 
 and not knowing what to do with us, they concluded 
 to send us to Washington with a train of wounded 
 about to start. While they were taking our names. 
 General Burnside appeared. The perplexing ques- 
 tion was at once referred to him. His decision was 
 prompt and unequivocal: "Their parole is good and 
 must be respected. Send every man back to Fred- 
 ericksburg." At 5 p. m. we were making our way, 
 through rain and mud, back to the rear. The next 
 day about twenty of us reported to the Provost Mar- 
 shal for transportation to Annapolis. Transportation 
 was out of the question at present, but we were 
 assigned to very comfortable quarters. 
 
 All went smoothly for us for a day or two, and we 
 hardly knew that we were prisoners. Soon a change 
 came over our keepers. The day before yesterday 
 — May 16th — we were summoned to appear before 
 the Provost Marshal. He told the men — I was 
 absent at the time — that our parole was not legal; 
 there was much duty to be done, and we must help 
 to do it; that guns would be furnished us, and we 
 would be required to do guard duty; that every man 
 who refused would be placed under guard on short 
 
172 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 rations, which meant hardtack and water. They 
 were then sent to their quarters until guns could be 
 procured. When I returned our quiet camp was like 
 a nest of hornets recently stirred up. 
 
 In about an hour we were ordered to fall in. No 
 determination had been expressed, and I was fearful 
 most of the men would submit. Just before reaching 
 the office we were halted and ordered to "rest." 
 William Anderson, of my company, asked me what I 
 was going to do. My answer was, "I will not take a 
 gun, let the consequences be what they may." That 
 was the decision of every man, and, when the Captaiii 
 returned, he found us in open mutiny. He raved and 
 swore; threatened us with all sorts of punishments; 
 but, finding us unterrified, changed his tactics and 
 tried persuasion, with the same results. Threats and 
 persuasions proving futile, he sent us to our quarters. 
 
 We occupy a comfortable brick building, draw 
 plenty of rations, have a good cook and expect soon 
 to be sent to a parole camp, from where I will make 
 a persistent effort to get home. Now that I can be 
 of no service here, it seems to m.e I cannot be denied. 
 
 Hanover Court House, Va., May 25th, 1864. 
 
 I left Fredericksburg on Sunday to rejoin my regi- 
 ment in order to get my parole papers, as I can do 
 nothing without them. We are now within twenty- 
 six miles of Richmond, and very much nearer to Lee's 
 army, which I consider vastly more important. 
 
 I find that during my absence Grant and Lee have 
 "locked horns" nearly every day, with no decided 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 173 
 
 advantage on either side. Grant is now crossing the 
 North Anna with the hope of finding a more vulner- 
 able point. I find the Seventeenth taken from the 
 brigade and doing provost duty at Wilcox's head- 
 quarters. They were nearly annihilated at Spottsyl- 
 vania on the 12th inst., and muster but 125 men. I 
 am not doing any duty. The position in which I 
 find myself is annoying, but I bear it patiently as possi- 
 ble, firmly believing I did my duty. I do not seem 
 to have lost friends in the regiment — rather the reverse. 
 I still expect to get home before a great while. 
 
174 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 June 5th. 1864. 
 
 I received two letters from home yesterday. 
 Although nearly a month has passed since they lefl 
 the hand of my loved one, the joy and comfort they 
 bestow^ is inexpressible. Oh, my darling, how my 
 heart has been tortured by the long delay. 
 
 The siege of Richmond has actually begun. We 
 are only eight miles from the city, and I can plainly 
 hear the booming of heavy siege guns. There has 
 been heavy fighting the last three days, all resulting in 
 our favor. I have been where I could hear and see 
 much of it. Dr. Bonine, who has our parole papers, 
 is surgeon in charge of Division Hospital. He is very 
 busy during these days of continual fighting, and can- 
 not attend to us. So we must wait until this cam- 
 paign is over. I have liberty to go where I choose 
 within our lines. I saw Mortimer Crawford yester- 
 day. He said he had been through all the late bat- 
 tles and escaped unhurt. Jerome Beardsley was killed 
 in the first day's fight in the Wilderness. Lieutenant 
 Gould was also killed. 
 
 White House. Va., June 8th. 1864. 
 I am constantly on the move, seldom sleeping two 
 nights in one place. I came here by request to pro- 
 cure supplies for our field hospital. The paroled men 
 are all at the hospital, by order of General Burnside. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 175 
 
 until some provision can be made for them. Most of 
 them are doing nothing, but I cannot remain in sight 
 of so much suffering and do nothing to alleviate it, 
 especially when help cannot be procured. I am not 
 — vv^ill not — be detailed, and, by so doing, take a sol- 
 dier's place. On the contrary, v^hat I do is so much 
 that vsrould not be done did I not do it, and I would 
 do the same for friend or foe. God knows there is 
 little enough done now, and I think He would hold 
 me guiltless could I do an hundred times as much. 
 
 Dr. Bonine gives me full authority to do as i 
 think best, asking nothing, and sanctioning all I do. 
 Constant exertions, under unfavorable conditions, 
 begin to tell on our brave men. 
 
 There are now more sick than wounded coming in, 
 or, rather, passing through, this hospital, for they are 
 sent away as fast as transportation can be procured. 
 How sad and sickening the thought that the ceaseless 
 tide of buoyant manhood that has been surging along 
 in seemingly resistless force, as steadily returns, a 
 crimson flood that threatens to deluge every hearthstone 
 in our land with tears and blood. But the more 
 fierce the storm, the sooner past. Our soldiers are 
 firm in the belief that this is to be the closing struggle, 
 and fight with a determination seldom equaled, never 
 excelled. 
 
 Petersburg, Va., June 22d, 1864. 
 
 It is nearly two months since I heard from my loved 
 ones. I cannot express my anxiety; words are too 
 feeble. 
 
 The fighting continues around Petersburg. It has 
 
176 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 raged, without intermission, since the 1 5th inst., night 
 and day. All their works have been carried by storm 
 except their last, or inner, works, which seem to be 
 impregnable. 
 
 In the different engagements around this place our 
 — the Third — Division has lost in killed and wounded 
 1 ,500 men. I cannot describe — would not if I could 
 — the scenes I have witnessed and passed through 
 during the past six weeks. The sights of woe are 
 enough to appal the stoutest heart. I have worked 
 day and night since we arrived here, and cannot see 
 that I have done anything, so much still remains to be 
 done. Fast as possible the wounded are sent to City 
 Point, and thence to Washington, to make room for 
 fresh victims. City Point is about eight miles from 
 here. Every possible comfort is there provided. 
 Mrs. Brainard, Mrs. Wheelock and several other 
 Michigan ladies are there, freely distributing to sol- 
 diers the people's gifts. I have written my friends if 
 they have anything to give the private soldier, to do 
 it through the Christian Commission or Michigan Sol- 
 diers' Relief Society. Tomorrow I go to City Point 
 in charge of a train of sick; I will probably remain 
 there for the present; at least, that is now my intention. 
 My object is that I may the sooner hear from my 
 loved wife, for this suspense is torture. My position, 
 is a peculiar one. I am left to take care of myself as 
 best I can; am reported on company books as 
 "Absent, prisoner of war;" can draw neither pay or 
 clothing. For myself I care not, but the thought that 
 my family may suffer — is suffering — is maddening. 
 
 ..ii 
 
Stoiy of a Volunteer. 177 
 
 City Point, June 6th, 1 864. 
 
 The day before yesterday I came from the front 
 with a train of sick and wounded, two hundred in 
 number, all from the Third Division. Were I to say 
 the weather is excessively hot, my words would con- 
 vey but a faint idea of the terrible, burning, consum- 
 ing heat to which we have been subjected the last three 
 days. Surely the "sky is brass, the sun a ball of fire." 
 I think of the hottest days, in harvest time, away 
 north, in Michigan, and oh, how cool, compared with 
 these. Sunstroke is an every-day occurrence, so com- 
 mon as to not excite remark. Typhoid fever prevails 
 to an alarming extent; of the two hundred men from 
 our division, one hundred five were sick, and over half 
 of these were typhoid cases. Help to care for them 
 is very scarce. Details have been made from the 
 regiment and still more help is needed. I am giving 
 my attention mostly to the sick. It may seem strange 
 to an outsider, but there is a distinction made between 
 wounded and sick men that is not only unjust, but 
 cruel. A sick man gets little sympathy, and less of 
 care, during an active campaign. The wounded ^ 
 
 must be cared for first, no matter how slight the 
 wound, in one case, or how dangerous the illness in 
 the other. All will be cared for here. 
 
 Dr. Bonine has given me charge of three wards, 
 containing about one hundred patients, mostly sick. 
 Mail comes regularly every day, and I shall count the 
 minutes until I hear from home. 
 
178 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 July 2d, 1864. 
 
 No tidings yet from home. Everything is going 
 favorably with me. Good health, a good position, 
 numerous friends, abundant opportunity to do good, 
 and will to do it, and yet I am very miserable. How 
 can I endure this agonizing suspense? Were it not 
 for the hope of hearing from my loved ones in three 
 or four days, at farthest, I should, indeed, despair. 
 There lies the secret: "Were it not for hope," which 
 keeps the heart from breaking in its sorrow. _ 
 
 I am requested to go to Washington with a boat 
 load of wounded — must go immediately. 
 
 July 3d. 1864. 
 We are within three miles of Washington. Have 
 two hundred patients on board, all of the class called 
 "bad cases." The vessel is not a hospital boat, only 
 a river transport. The men lie on hay on the floor — 
 some without so much as a blanket under them. 
 They, too, live on hope, and expect all their wants 
 will be provided for in Washington. We have not 
 half the needed help. I dressed wounds until 1 
 o'clock this morning — but am more than repaid by 
 the expressions of gratitude by my patients. 
 
 City Point, July 9th, 1 864. 
 
 What strange beings we mortals are — swayed to 
 
 and fro by each passing emotion. At last I have 
 
 received a letter from home, dated June 21st. It 
 
 found me wallowing in the dark pool of despondency. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 179 
 
 I could not write — often did I make the effort and 
 failed — could only conjure up images of evil. The 
 only consolation I found was in ministering to the 
 needs of others, and in this ! found constant employ. 
 All this a few cheering words from my darling has 
 power to change, Hope, confidence and trust revive. 
 The newspapers bring us, today, news strange and 
 startling. The Alabama destroyed! Sherman de- 
 feated, gold a "Rebel raid" in Maryland! Great 
 excitement in Washington, etc. 
 
180 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 City Point. July 11 th, 1864. 
 
 Two days have passed since I made the last entry 
 in this journal, an unusual occurrence of late. The 
 reason is, I have changed my employment, and my 
 time has been occupied in learning the details of my 
 new business. I am now with the Christian Commis- 
 sion. All the sick and wounded, except forty con- 
 valescents, have been removed from my ward. 
 
 I accompanied the last detachment to Alexandria. 
 There are now here about one hundred delegates to 
 the Christian Commission. Mr. Collier has been cook- 
 ing for them since the hospital was established at this 
 place. In his department all went smoothly, he being 
 a good cook and a man of energy. Not so in the 
 dining room. There, three wild young soldiers and 
 two "colored people" rioted uncontrolled. The table 
 was never set in time, and seldom washed. Spreads 
 are not in use. Dishes, knives and forks are not pro- 
 perly cleaned; in fact, disorder reigns. A head was 
 wanted; Mr. Collier naturally thought of his old tent 
 mate and friend; he recommended me to the agent as 
 "reliable;" agent desired an interview; it was granted; 
 he looked me over, talked with me, "sized me up," 
 and here I am, running an eating house, with full 
 powers to have my own way in everything. What 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 181 
 
 will my little wife think — for I can call her little iu 
 comparison, as I weigh 190 pounds — at this strange 
 business for such as me? I can only judge of my suc- 
 cess by what I hear, for I have had no previous experi- 
 ence. Delegates mark the change with evident pleas- 
 ure. The agent, an aristocratic member from New 
 York City, compliments me on the change I have 
 wrought. Today he expressed himself as "very 
 pleased" with my arrangements. 
 
 "Act well your part," is my adopted motto. 1 
 have already formed some agreeable acquaintances 
 with delegates — have often been mistaken for one, 
 myself. I am not ashamed to correct the mistake and 
 acknowledge myself a private soldier. In a sense I 
 am one of them, for I have worked in the same cause, 
 the last two years, with all the strength that God has 
 given m.e, and done a soldier's duty, too. 
 
 July 13th, 1864. 
 
 Another fond letter from my loving wife. Thank 
 God, the way is once more opened. With all the 
 trembling anxiety of her tender, loving heart apparent 
 in every word, she asks, "What will become of you?" 
 
 Can you not see, my darling, that He who cares 
 for sparrows has not overlooked your husband? She 
 asks me next if I think I am treated fairly. To this 1 
 must reply, no, not quite fairly; not quite honorably. 
 At the beginning of the spring campaign it was decided 
 by the proper authorities that paroles, given on the 
 field of battle, would not be recognized. This was 
 the general rule that was adopted. As a general rule 
 
182 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 it was a good one, but there must be exceptions to alt 
 general rules. And General Burnside was quick to 
 see our case was exceptional. If, then, as he decided, 
 "under the circumstances their parole is good and 
 must be respected," I do not think it fair or honor- 
 able to place us in circumstances that render it impos- 
 sible to comply with the conditions specified in our 
 parole. Some of the men have become worn out and 
 discouraged by the treatment they have received, and 
 have returned to the ranks. Through the kindness 
 of my officers I am permitted to "run at large" inside 
 the lines, and do the best I can for myself. I did 
 expect to be allowed to go hom.e, as, at least, I have a 
 moral right to do. I still think I may, should this 
 campaign ever close, as it must eventually. 
 
 City Point, July 21st, 1864. 
 I have been sick with some form of fever for a few 
 days past — just how many days, I have actually for- 
 gotten. I did not go to the hospital — Mr. Williams 
 would not consent to that — as I could have good 
 medical treatment and better care where I am. Yes- 
 terday I began to mend; today am feeling quite well, 
 only rather weak. While I was sick the boys had 
 things their own way, and a fearful way it was — 
 nearly as bad as at first. Today I am sitting, or lying, 
 where I can see the work is properly done and things 
 "put to rights." I saw Colonel Luce today. He 
 tells m.e we — the Seventeenth — are going home iu 
 August to recruit, under the President's last call. 
 Good news, if true, but it fails to call up any enthu- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 183 
 
 siasm on my part. "A burned child dreads the fire.** 
 Possibly it may be true. The regiment has done no 
 field duty since Spottsylvania, and has been changed 
 to Engineers and Mechanics; besides, it is General 
 Wilcox's pet regiment. I am trying hard to make 
 myself believe it. I do, almost. Soon as 1 am 
 strong enough, I am promised a horseback ride to the 
 regiment. There, if the above report is not generally 
 believed, I will try and get a furlough. We have 
 had one rainy day, and the weather is delightfully 
 cool. 
 
 July 26th, 1864. 
 
 It has been unusually quiet at the front the past 
 week. It is the calm that precedes the storm. That 
 storm will, doubtless, be a fearful one; the very earth 
 will shake in terror when all Grant*s artillery opens up 
 in concert. The signal is to be the springing of a 
 mine or mines. All able-bodied soldiers, doing duty 
 in hospitals, leave for the front today, their places 
 being taken by musicians. Every man will be needed 
 in the coming onslaught. 
 
 It is nearly supper time» and I, who never gave a 
 thought to such matters in all my previous life, must 
 go and see that the table is properly spread. 
 
 July 28th, 1864. 
 I expect to visit the regiment some day this week. 
 My friend, Mr. May, has promised to accompany me, 
 and I anticipate much pleasure. I am told Genera! 
 Wilcox has been made a Major General, and is to 
 take command of the Department of Ohio, headquar- 
 ters at Cincinnati. 
 
184 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 We expect a detachment of "invalids" from Wash- 
 ington to do hospital duty. Soldiers call them "con- 
 demned Yankees." All detailed m.en are ordered to 
 the front; they are packing up, getting ready to move 
 tomorrow morning. Invalids and musicians are to 
 man the hospitals, by order of Lieutenant General 
 Grant. I pity the poor, unfortunate patients; boys 
 make but poor nurses, and musicians are mostly boys. 
 
 July 30th, 1864. 
 
 I hear tremendous explosions and repeated volleys 
 of musketry in the direction of the Ninth Corps today. 
 Can it be that Burnside's mine has been exploded and 
 that our forces now occupy Petersburg? 
 
 I see by the papers Secretary Chase has resigned. 
 Mr. Chase is a politician, and is ambitious; he has 
 worked three years, with all his mighty intellect, for 
 the Presidency. In this he failed; he withdraws from 
 the Cabinet to further his own schemes. I may judge 
 him harshly, but I can not forget Fremont. 
 
 Can it be really true that my countrymen are 
 despondent at the prospect of another "call" for men? 
 Would they enjoy all the benefits to be derived from 
 this v/ar and share none of its perils? Are their lives 
 too precious to be put in jeopardy? Have they 
 become so degenerate as to make Mammon their idol? 
 
 Another appalling blunder has been perpetrated. 
 Part of the Rebel works were blown up yesterday, 
 and an assault was m.ade by the Ninth Corps, which 
 resulted in failure. Their works were carried, but, 
 for v/ant of support, could not be maintained. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 City Point. Va., August 5th. 1864. 
 
 I see by the newspapers there is great excite- 
 ment in the North over the rumor that the Rebels are 
 about to attack Washington with an army of seventy- 
 five thousand; also a conspiracy, embracing a half mil- 
 lion men, is already organized in the North; and, 
 worse than all else, the loyal people of the North are 
 "disheartened;" to all of which I reply, "May God 
 speed the right." 
 
 The Seventeenth was not in the fight last Saturday. 
 I hear that General Meade is held responsible for last 
 Saturday's failure, and is to be superseded by General 
 Hooker; that he — Meade — thought it a favorable 
 opportunity to "crush" a rival instead of the rebellion. 
 
 It seems the people at home think Grant's position 
 here a critical one. It is well to look matters squarely 
 in the face; to know the worst, and prepare to meet 
 it. I believe Grant's position here to be impregnable. 
 The Richmond papers say: "He has involved him- 
 self in a labyrinth of fortifications from which it would 
 be almost impossible to extricate himself if undis- 
 turbed." 
 
 Certainly, then, they cannot drive him out. Then, 
 his base of supplies is as nearly safe as it is possible to 
 make it, his communication being by water and under 
 
186 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 the protection of gunboats. But, can he take Peters- 
 burg with his present force? No, not by direct 
 assault, and I think the "golden opportunity" to exhibit 
 his "genius for strategy" passed with last Saturday's 
 failure. Lee will now be more than ever on the alert. 
 Flank movements are also "played out," and the idea 
 of "sieging" has become ridiculous. What, then is to 
 be done? Simply to hold his ov/n until re-enforced 
 by the new levy. This he can do and spare part of 
 his forces to operate in other places, if necessary. 
 But, while we are waiting, the opposing forces are not 
 idle. No ant hill was ever more busy than they. 
 Marching and countermarching, mining and counter- 
 mining. This week General Wilcox discovered the 
 Rebels were mining one of his forts. 
 
 The next night the guns were all removed and logs 
 were put in their places. Another fort was built at 
 a safe distance in the rear, and the old one was aban- 
 doned, without exciting suspicion. When they are 
 ready, they will spring the trap they have so skillfully 
 set for themselves. 
 
 August 7th, 1864. 
 
 It is the Sabbath, and is so strangely quiet I am 
 strongly reminded of home, where I have spent so 
 many happy Sabbaths, in years gone by. With the 
 army there is no Sabbath. Each day is like the pre- 
 ceding one, except on Sunday there is a little more 
 cleaning of brasses, brightening of arms, polishing of 
 equipments, etc., than during the week. Here, at the 
 Commission, the Sabbath is observed as a day of rest; 
 a day of worship. We have divine service at 10 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 187 
 
 a. m. and at 2 p. m., in the chapel, a tent large 
 enough to seat one hundred persons. Besides this, 
 the colored people hold prayer meetings in the after- 
 noon and evening. I love to attend these meetings. 
 The simple, earnest piety of these poor unfortunates 
 is truly affecting. There is a large camp of them 
 just outside the hospital grounds, who came in with 
 Wilson, from the southwest of Petersburg, when he 
 returned from his "great raid." 
 
 The Rebels have blown up the "decoy" fort left 
 them by Wilcox. They tried the experiment night 
 before last — the 5 th inst. A little after sundown a 
 huge pile of dirt, with sixteen "Quaker guns," and 
 other rubbish, was lifted high in air. The smoke had 
 not cleared away ere the Rebels charged, with yells 
 demoniac, across an open field. Our artillery was 
 massed a little in the rear, and to the right and left 
 of the exploded mine, loaded to the muzzle with grape 
 and canister, ready to welcome them to the feast of 
 death. They were allowed to approach to within 
 short musket range before a shot was fired. Suddenly 
 they were met by a storm of iron hail that swept their 
 ranks as with the "besom of destruction." Mortals 
 could not endure it. At the first discharge they 
 wavered; the third sent them to cover. Our loss, 
 none; the Rebels, "much greater." 
 
 The quiet calmness of this Sabbath eve invites retro- 
 spection. Almost two years have passed since I 
 enlisted to serve my country — two years where days 
 have lengthened into weeks, weeks into months, 
 months to an endless period of time. Two years of 
 
188 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 toil, compared with which all former labors have been 
 pastime. Two years of suffering and exposure, 
 burned by the consuming rays of a torrid sun, where 
 thirst and hunger have striven for mastery. Worse 
 than all this, yes, infinitely harder to be borne, two 
 years of separation from my loved ones. Another 
 year remains. Oh, may it quickly pass! During all 
 this time my hope has never wholly failed. I never, 
 even for one moment doubted that I would see their 
 dear faces again ; that the object for which I have sacri- 
 ficed so much will be accomplished; that this Nation 
 will, in due time, emerge from the darkness which now 
 envelops it, "purified as by fire.** 
 
 City Point, August 9th, 1 864. 
 A fearful tragedy was enacted here today. A 
 barge, laden with ammunition, was blown to atoms, 
 scattering death and destruction around. How it 
 happened will forever remain a mystery, as not one 
 that was on board lives to tell the tale. Near as can 
 be ascertained at this time, about two hundred were 
 killed and wounded. A vast amount of property 
 was destroyed. Blocks of timber, shells, grape shot 
 and other missiles were thrown over a mile. We are 
 situated about a mile and a half from the landing. I 
 was on m.y way to the Point; had covered, perhaps, 
 one-half the distance. As I looked toward the land- 
 ing I saw a lady, mounted on a white horse that 
 belonged to the Commission, ride up the bank from 
 the river and turn in the direction of Grant's head- 
 quarters. I recognized her as a member of the Mich- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 189 
 
 igan Relief Society. The horse was a spirited one, 
 and I could but admire the ease and grace with which 
 she restrained him and compelled him to do her bid- 
 ding. He tossed his beautiful head and spurned the 
 ground beneath his feet as he lightly galloped over the 
 plain. 
 
 They had reached a point perhaps half a mile from 
 the landing, when a violent concussion rent the air. 
 From the landing fire, smoke and innumerable mis- 
 siles were being hurled upward, in a whirling eddy, 
 as from the mouth of a volcano. Heavy timbers and 
 other debris flew over and around me. I looked for 
 the lady on horseback. For an instant I could see 
 nothing in that direction but a swirling cloud of dust; 
 in another instant I saw, through the dispersing gloom, 
 a white horse clearing the ground with rapid strides, 
 and on his back, cool and erect, a lady. 
 
 I was afterward informed the lady was Mrs. 
 Wheelock, of Jackson, Michigan, a m.ember of the 
 Michigan Relief Society. 
 
190 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 City Point, Va., August 12th. 1864. 
 
 Today is the second anniversary of my enlistment. 
 I have been trying to look backward and compare 
 the present w^ith the past. I find the task a difficult 
 one. The past two years appear like a dark chasm, 
 into which the most startling events have been com- 
 pressed; during this time the present has absorbed my 
 attention ; its hopes and fears ; its prospects and bearings 
 on the future. What a striking resemblance the past 
 bears to the present. Then, as now, the war was 
 nearly ended. Then, as now, the Rebels were on 
 "short rations," and would soon be "starved out;** 
 then, as now, a blow was about to be struck that 
 "would break the back of the rebellion." Six hundred 
 thousand men were needed to "close up the rebellion." 
 "One short campaign would end the rebellion." To- 
 day five hundred thousand men are needed for the 
 same purpose. We are whistling that same old tune 
 today, with as much gusto, and for the same pur- 
 pose — "to keep our courage up." 
 
 Should this nation act as foolish as our editors and 
 politicians talk, we will be the "laughing stock" of 
 the world. In view of the past, humility would be 
 more becoming than arrogance. I do not believe this 
 Nation will be dissevered and a slave oligarchy built 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 191 
 
 upon the ruins of Liberty. I do not believe that a 
 people, with almost unlimited resources, and that can 
 muster three millions of men to fight its battles, will 
 ever succumb to treason. Much as I love peace and 
 hate, even to loathing, everything that pertains to war, 
 never would I give up the struggle. At first, before 
 the war began, I was in favor of a convention of the 
 people to decide the vexed question of secession, and, 
 if the people of the South desired it, I was ready to 
 bid them go in peace, and enjoy, to the full, their sin 
 and shame. 
 
 As much has been said of Grant's genius for 
 strategy, and the skill and secrecy with which he exe- 
 cutes his movements, I will record a specimen. The 
 night before last, at dusk, the Christian Commission 
 was notified that six hundred sick from the Second 
 Corps would soon arrive. In the morning the entire 
 corps made its apearance at the Point. A fleet of 
 transports was in waiting to take them somewhere. It 
 was night before all had embarked, and during the 
 day many officers and men came here for food. 
 
 All said they were going to catch Early. At dusk 
 they steamed down the river a few miles, and 
 anchored until the moon went down. Then they 
 turned around and steamed up the river to Drury's 
 Bluff, where, at daylight, the sharp report of their 
 rifles could be heard. 
 
 August 1 7th, 1 864. 
 Lieutenant Sudborough has received a captain's 
 commission, and commands the regiment. Rath is in 
 
192 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Michigan, recruiting. It is very sickly here; mostly 
 confined to new regiments and recruits. Very little 
 sickness among the veterans. 
 
 The Christian delegation is very lov^; less than half 
 as many as three months ago. Many become scared 
 the first week and leave for their homes. Dehcate- 
 looking ladies endure the heat, fatigue and malaria 
 much better than the men. 
 
 August 20th. 1864. 
 
 I have visited the regiment, as I intended. I found 
 them all well except Colonel Luce. He is suffering 
 from injuries received at Spottsylvania and from fever. 
 Preparations are being made to send him home. I 
 had but little time to visit v/ith the boys, as they moved 
 that night. When I returned this morning I found 
 great changes had taken place in the hospital. First, 
 a new Surgeon is in charge, and, of course, new regu- 
 lations. All the old incumbents have been removed 
 and an entire new set installed. An order has been 
 issued by General Meade forbidding any enlisted man 
 helping in any of the hospitals or commissions, which 
 throws me out of a job. As things are not to my 
 liking here, I will report at once to the field hospital. 
 
 Field Hospital, August 23d, 1864. 
 I left City Point about 5 p. m. of the 21st inst., and 
 arrived here at 8 o'clock. It began to rain before we 
 were out of sight of the hospital, and kept it up until 
 morning. A little soaking, now and then, is more 
 agreeable than otherwise, this hot weather, but not so 
 the mud. Sacred soil is very adhesive. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 193 
 
 Yesterday I went to the Point for a load of ice. 
 The roads were so soft we were compelled to walk 
 back. Darkness and a heavy rainstorm met us half 
 way. To add to our enjoyment, we lost our way, 
 and wandered around in mud and darkness until 
 nearly midnight, expecting each moment to be picked 
 up by our pickets. That gratification was denied us, 
 and we were forced to furnish our own lodging. 
 "All is well that ends well." None of us are any 
 the worse for our misadventure. We are to move our 
 hospital this afternoon eight miles to the left, to near 
 the Weldon Railroad. A great battle has been fought 
 there and victory won. Many prisoners have been 
 taken and many lost. This same railroad was once 
 taken by the Sixth Corps, and afterward abandoned 
 General Grant is very active, "butting," now here, 
 now there. At every move the Rebels get the worst 
 of it. 
 
 August 25th, 1864. 
 We have sent away all our sick and wounded, and 
 expect to follow in the morning. I do not like the 
 idea of getting so far from our base, as it is likely to 
 interfere with our rations. However, we will prob- 
 ably not remain very long. With field hospitals, 
 change is the order; here today, there tomorrow. We 
 have no patients; nothing to keep my mind from real- 
 izing its utter loneliness. At such times my heart 
 reaches out to my family with unutterable longing. 
 But, be still, fond heart. Two years of banishment 
 are past, but one remains. God is good, and kind. 
 
194 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 and merciful. Let me gather consolation from the 
 past, and look with confidence and hope into the 
 future. 
 
 I have said that I am lonely. I would be much 
 more so were it not for the comradeship of my friend, 
 Mr. Collier. We take long walks together, talking 
 over old times and future plans until we get to some 
 high point everlooking Petersburg and its fortifications. 
 We then sit down for an hour or two and enjoy the 
 cool evening breeze, and witness the grandest pyro- 
 technic display the mind can conceive of. I saw 
 William Dunham today; he has been promoted to ser- 
 geant. There is no better or braver soldier in the 
 Seventeenth Regiment than he. 
 
 City Point, August 31st, 1864. 
 
 I left the front at noon today, partly for a load of 
 ice for the hospital, mainly to get my mail, if any had 
 arrived, which I did not doubt. As to the first, 1 
 was successful, and hope to be with the latter tomor- 
 row. It hardly seems the same place, so great have 
 been the changes in two weeks. Nearly all the dele- 
 gates have gone home. Men free to act — to come 
 and go as they please — will not long endure the perils 
 of this climate. 
 
 While the people at home are watching with eager 
 eyes the progress of these armies, we, the members of 
 these armies, are equally intent with the progress of 
 events now transpiring in the North. The draft — the 
 Chicago convention — the great conspiracy — all are 
 subjects in which v/e take the deepest interest. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 195 
 
 After all, I see more ground for hope than cause for 
 fear in the immediate future. I do not believe the 
 draft will be resisted to any extent. The conspiracy is 
 rendered harmless by its publicity. The only fear I 
 hear expressed is that the leaders may not be suffi- 
 ciently punished. If the Administration is afraid to 
 assume the responsibility at this critical period, let 
 those leaders be persuaded to visit the army. I am 
 quite sure they would be convinced it is poor policy 
 to buy ammunition for traitors. 
 
 When I contemplate the present condition of the 
 country, I am bewildered by the fearful magnitude of 
 events now hurrying to completion. 
 
 Camp near Petersburg, September 6th, 1864. 
 Our hospital is now pleasantly situated about three 
 miles from the old ground and two miles from division 
 headquarters. The grounds are laid out in the form 
 of a shield, which is the badge of the Ninth Corps. 
 Evergreen trees are planted around it, in double rows. 
 Arches wound with twigs of evergreen; in fact, every- 
 thing is arranged with taste, and at great expenditure 
 of labor. Tents were nearly all pitched when I 
 arrived with the last load. About sundown a divi- 
 sion of the Second Corps marched past, and formed in 
 line but a few rods distant. In a few minutes they 
 were engaged in throwing up breastworks. I had 
 received that truant letter of August 20th, which had 
 miscarried, and had lighted a candle with a view to 
 answer it, when the order came, "Pack up, boys, and 
 get ready to move immediately." In an hour tents 
 
196 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 were struck and loaded, the sick put in ambulances 
 and the train in line, with orders to "move out a mile 
 and await orders." 
 
 This awaiting orders is never very agreeable, and a 
 heavy thunderstorm did not add greatly to our enjoy- 
 ment on this occasion. Seeing no prospect of an early 
 move, my comrade and I lay dowoi upon the ground, 
 with a rubber under us, and a rubber over us, and 
 "sweetly slept till break o' day." Soon as fairly 
 light the train moved on, and at 8 o'clock we were in 
 our old camp again, still to await orders. It is now 
 9 p. m., and we are in the same "blissful state of 
 glorious uncertainty." The sick remain in the ambu- 
 lances. A railroad is being laid to connect City Point 
 with the Weldon Road. It passes within a few rods 
 of us. Nearly a mile of track is laid each day. 
 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 September 5th, 1864. 
 
 Early next morning we resumed our march, and 
 continued it until within a half mile of the place we 
 vacated yesterday with so little ceremony. Here we set 
 to work as though it had all been "part of the original 
 plan," and tonight have our hospital in good working 
 order. This time there is no style. Judging by con- 
 traries, we will remain here for some time. 
 
 We did not leave the old ground a minute too soon. 
 That very day the Rebels, in trying to shell the rail- 
 road, shelled our old camp. A half mile beyond was 
 General Meade's headquarters. They made it so hot 
 he was compelled to get out in a hurry. 
 
 The Chicago convention has met and done exactly 
 what everyone here expected it to do — nominated Mc- 
 Clellan for the Presidency. My feelings for him are 
 mixed — pity and contempt — pitj'^ that the once 
 mighty McClellan should fall so low; contempt that he 
 allow ambition to ruin him. Henceforth "Little 
 Mac" is powerless. Whether he accept or reject, 
 there is no more magic in his name. Poor old dog 
 Tray, your experience was identical with that of Mc- 
 Clellan. On the other hand, "Old Abe's" prospects 
 are brightening. Sherman is successful in "stumping" 
 Georgia. His "speech" at Atlanta is working won- 
 
198 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 ders here. Even Rebels are affected by it, and many 
 have already "come over and joined our side." 
 
 Some of our men are disposed to speak bitterly of 
 the manner in which "volunteers are raised" in the 
 North. I consider it magnanimous, in those patriotic 
 men who are exposed to the draft, to allow the wives 
 and widows of soldiers to contribute their mite toward 
 buying substitutes. And there is some compensation 
 in this. We want men who will fight. Most for- 
 eigners will do that; so will negroes. Copperheads 
 will not; at least on our side. This money, with that 
 wrung from the wives and widows of soldiers, will 
 buy foreigners and negroes ; and so we get the men. 
 
 Camp Near Petersburg, Va., 
 
 September 9th, 1864. 
 I wish my Northern friends could look in and see 
 my new house, this morning. My comrade and 1 
 worked all day yesterday, trying to make it comfort- 
 able. But first let m.e introduce my comrade, Mr. 
 Charles Blanchard, son of Judge Blanchard, of 
 Tecumseh, Michigan. He is a young man of good 
 manners and pleasing address, is intelligent, 
 and a very agreeable compajiion. Everybody 
 calls him Charley. Like myself, he is a paroled 
 prisoner. Now for the house. To begin, we went 
 to the woods and cut four armfuls of poles, which 
 was our building material; then leveled off the ground, 
 ditching around a piece eight feet by twelve. This 
 for our building and front yard. Next in order was 
 the bedstead. Four stakes were driven into the 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 199 
 
 ground, four feet by six feet apart, with a pole across 
 each end. Across these, small poles v/ere fitted, close 
 together, for our spring mattress. On top of these, a 
 thick coating of pine boughs, in lieu of feathers; on top 
 of all, our rubbers and blankets are spread, and our 
 bed is made. A soft, voluptuous bed it is. We 
 then set two poles in the center of each end, to support 
 a ridge pole. Over this pole is thrown our canvas, 
 which is stretched to cover six by eight feet, the lower 
 ends two feet from the ground for ventilation. To 
 the ends we affix other pieces of tent, when behold, 
 the bed is made and the house enclosed. 
 
 All that is lacking now is a floor, table and pantry. 
 Lumber is scarce; sawmills there are none. 
 After dinner, away we go, on a voyage of discovery. 
 About a mile from camp we run across a deserted 
 encampment, where we find plenty of lumber. Two 
 trips suffices. We now have lumber, but no nails. 
 Leaving Charlie to saw the boards to the proper length 
 (with a hatchet), I start off in another direction after 
 hardware. About a mile and a half from camp I 
 find where some quartermaster's cook has made fire- 
 wood of hardtack and other boxes. In the ashes 1 
 find plenty of nails. Our task is now easy and soon 
 completed, and we have as nice, comfortable house a? 
 soldiers can ask for in this climate. 
 
 I am gaining in health and strength every day. 
 May and June, or the work I did in those two 
 months, nearly used me up. I have placed Baby 
 Nell's picture in my diary, beside that of my wrife, 
 and never open it without first looking at them. Of 
 
200 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 one thing I am quite certain; we are on the best of 
 terms, are baby and I. At first she was a little shy, 
 or so I fancied, and frowned on me, as babies do on 
 strangers. But now she smiles every time I take her 
 — and so do I. If I do not come home until my 
 three years of service expires, she will be eighteen 
 months old, and I do love little babies so very dearly. 
 
 Camp near Petersburg, Va., 
 
 September 10th, 1864. 
 Charlie went to City Point this morning and found 
 confusion there, as well as here. Last week the Gen- 
 eral Hospital was moved about a mile up the river to 
 establish winter quarters. Today it is being moved 
 back to City Point. I refer to the Ninth Corps hos- 
 pital; the others have not been disturbed. It is said 
 we are to leave this department soon. Selnshnesi 
 prompts me to wish it may be true. The campaign 
 will then be ended for us, and there will be a possi- 
 bility of getting a furlough. The corps is engaged 
 in building fortifications to protect our rear, in case of 
 an attack from that quarter. Recruits are pouring in 
 rapidly; said to average seven thousand daily. 
 Charlie says they are being drilled all the way to City 
 Point. Grant's railroad, running in the rear of our 
 lines, much of the way in sight of the Rebels, seems 
 to annoy them exceedingly. Night before last they 
 obtained a position from, which they could shell a 
 long bridge that spanned a ravine, and began to 
 fortify. Last night our forces charged these works, 
 carried them and captured the working party. I 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 201 
 
 could plainly hear the shouts of triumph that 
 announced their success. General Grant is making 
 preparations for the fall rains. In wet v/eather the 
 roads are impassable for loaded wagons. The rail- 
 road is completed and cars now run from City Point 
 to the Weldon Road. 
 
 September 15th, 1854. 
 I have changed my quarters again. I was not 
 needed at the hospital, there being as many nurses as 
 patients. I cannot live here without some occupation 
 Captain Sudborough wished me to return to the regi- 
 ment and assist him. This suited my inclination, 
 and I went. I found the company books precisely ds 
 I left them, four irionths ago. I see plenty of work, 
 and that is what I need — what I must have. I am 
 always better satisfied when with the regiment. I 
 left a nice house, but have another just as good. Sol- 
 diers soon learn to take care of themselves. The 
 Ninth Corps held a grand review today, which, of 
 course, means move. 
 
 Camp Seventeenth Michigan, 
 Near Petersburg, Va., September 18th, 1864. 
 Another Sabbath day has come — another week 
 has passed away. We, of the army, take little note 
 of tim.e. Eighteen days in succession our regiment 
 has toiled, v/ithout intermission, on fortifications or on 
 roads. Today is general inspection of arms, equip- 
 ments, clothing, etc. The regiment musters one hun- 
 dred twenty guns. It was a sad sight, to me, to see 
 
202 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 this little band of tried heroes march out and rally on 
 their torn and battered colors. I thought of the 
 hundreds who had given up their lives, a free offering 
 on the altar of freedom; of others undergoing tortures 
 more cruel than death in Rebel prisons. Of still 
 others languishing on beds of sickness, far from home 
 and kindred, v^^ith none but rough men to minister to 
 their wants or speak a word of sympathy, and then I 
 thought of my wife's last letter, in which she said: 
 **It grieves me to say the majority of people here are 
 not over-fastidious as to the means used to bring about 
 peace." 
 
 I would like to tell it so that all our friends might 
 hear and know that it is true, that we, the soldiers in 
 the army, hold in contempt the man who would accept 
 peace on any other terms than submission to law. 
 We have fought too long; have suffered too much; too 
 many precious lives have been lost, to falter now. 
 
 The Rebels themselves acknowledge all their hopes 
 are based on a divided North; they are straining every 
 nerve to hold out until after the fall elections, hoping 
 their friends may triumph. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Blicks Station, Va., September 22cl, 1864. 
 
 Blicks is the name of a station on the new railroad, 
 near our camp. A spur runs from this road to each 
 camp, and storehouses are being built. Nothing is 
 being done here at present but building and drill. All 
 hands are busy. Not an idle man in all this army, 
 that is able to do duty. Old fortifications are being 
 strengthened and new ones built, and drilling is pushed 
 with as much vigor as fortifications and railroads. 
 Barely enough men are left in the rifle pits to wat-ch the 
 enemy; the rest are drilling — drilling — in squads, b> 
 companies, battalions, brigades, and, twice a week, 
 an entire division at a time. 
 
 This place has become a camp of instruction for 
 recruits. Some regiments are nearly full. The Fifty- 
 fifth Massachusetts has received over two hundred 
 "Yankees" direct from Germany. 
 
 Glorious news from the "Valley" today. A dis- 
 patch was read to the men on drill, giving the news of 
 the day up to 6 p. m. of yesterday. The air was 
 rent with shouts that could be heard for miles. We 
 fully understand the importance of a genuine, decisive 
 victory in that quarter. I am waiting, with feverish 
 anxiety, the details of Sheridan's achievements. We 
 are having beautiful weather — rain enough to lay the 
 dust, but not enough to make the roads muddy. 
 
204 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Blicb Station, September 24th, 1 864. 
 Another letter from home reached me this morn- 
 ing, giving me cause to thank God anew for His 
 goodness and mercy in preserving, thus far, the lives 
 of my dear family. It seems to me that, notwithstand- 
 ing the sufferings we have endured the past two years, 
 we have been highly favored by a kind Providence. 
 We still remain an unbroken family, while others have 
 fallen on our right hand and on our left. Although 
 death has come so near we could almost feel his icy 
 touch and see his grizzled visage, we have been spared. 
 It is not for us to know why — short-sighted mortals 
 that we are — we are led in safety through dangerous, 
 crooked paths, but our past experience should teach 
 us to trust, with unwavering faith, the hand that guides 
 us. But, after all, how frail we mortals be, and pow- 
 erless. I find it to be impossible to abate one jot 
 of my anxiety in their behalf. I am keenly alive to 
 all the embarrassments our situation exposes them to, 
 and can only school myself to endure, for a brief 
 period, by considering the sacredness of the cause in 
 which w^e are engaged. My wife can never know 
 how much the confidence she expresses in my integrity 
 has strengthened me in my determination to deal justly. 
 I acknowledge I have been tempted. The induce- 
 ments held out to me have been strong. Thus far, 1 
 have been enabled to resist them. The knowledge 
 that my v/ife expects better things of me, added to my 
 own sense of right, has thus far kept me, but there are 
 times when I need advice — encouragement. I want 
 it — crave it — from my wife alone. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 205 
 
 With men I am sufficiently self-reliant, asking no 
 favors. With her it is different. I know she is 
 sincere. I confide in her judgment; her intuition. 
 
 I am somewhat disappointed in McClellan's letter 
 of acceptance. I had given him credit for more 
 manliness than he possesses. He accepts the nomnia 
 tion but repudiates the platform, which is the soul of 
 the party that nominated him. 
 
 I do not know how it may be in the North, but he 
 has lost his influence in the army. I have talked with 
 many who were his friends, who now say they would 
 as soon vote for Vallandingham. In fact, I hear 
 none but boys, and a class of men whose only reason 
 is, **d — n the m.an who won't vote for McClellan» 
 anyhow," speak in his favor the last ten days. There 
 is not the least excitement. Everyone seems to have 
 settled down to the conviction that "Old Abe is the 
 best we can do," and acts accordingly. 
 
 Blicks Station, Va., September 26th, 1864. 
 
 The Ninth Corps is in motion, being gradually 
 withdrawn from the front. Various rumors are in 
 circulation. That which seems to be the best authen- 
 ticated is: "We go to Baltimore and report to Gen- 
 eral Burnside." It is amusing to hear these matters 
 discussed by men who are supposed to know nothing 
 but to obey orders. 
 
 We have heard nothing definite from Burnside 
 since his return from his pleasure trip to the Green 
 Mountains. I am positive he will not serve longer 
 in this army, and equally positive he will have a com- 
 
206 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 mand somewhere, and that where he is, the Ninth 
 Corps will go ; soon as it can be spared from here with 
 safety. 
 
 Paymasters are here, and will begin paying off 
 today or tomorrow. There is some doubt about our 
 regiment being paid this time. Our payrolls were 
 wrong, and were sent back from Washington. I 
 made them out anew, and they were sent off last Fri- 
 day. If they receive prompt attention they may be 
 returned in time. I cannot reconcile myself to the 
 disappointment. I have had no pay in eleven months, 
 and through no fault of my own. I am grieved foi 
 my family's sake, and am really vexed at the wrong 
 done me. 
 
 Then Fremont has *'sold outV What a miser- 
 able thing is his letter announcing the important fact. 
 How much it reads like Vallandigham's speech **ra?- 
 ifying" McClellan's letter of acceptance. 
 
 September 28th. 1 864. 
 About two miles from the hospital, two large mor- 
 tars are planted — one thirteen-inch, the other fifteen- 
 inch bore. From them to Petersburg is two and one- 
 half miles. One evening — it was very dark — I hap- 
 pened to be looking in that direction, when I saw a 
 thread of fire leap from the woods where the mortars 
 lay concealed, describe a half circle against the dark- 
 ened sky, ending in a lurid light far away over the 
 city. After this came the rushing, roaring, screaming^ 
 sound flying through the air in sv/ift pursuit. If any 
 harm was done it was all over with before the report 
 
 ««i 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 207 
 
 reached me. Even so it was with my daughter's 
 dangerous illness. Before I heard the report, the 
 worst was over. Then imagination did its v/orst and 
 filled my mind with dread foreboding. Days passed: 
 long, endless days; and sleepless nights, ere anothei 
 message reached me. Thank God, she lives! My 
 child is better. 
 
 It is 10 p. m., and the order is, "Pack up and be 
 ready to march immediately." 
 
 September 29th, 2 o'clock p. m. 
 
 Since 2 o'clock last night we have been waiting — 
 tents struck, everything ready — and still we wait. 
 Everything goes but headquarters baggage. Sutlers' 
 and extra baggage is ordered to City Point. For 
 once I will try and refrain from speculation, and will 
 await events. 
 
 It is evening, and we still occupy our old camp 
 This has been a day to try men's patience. All the 
 long day, and most of last night, we have been in 
 constant expectation of being called on to march. 
 How many such days have I experienced, and still 
 am prone to take it unkindly. Tell of "Job's 
 patience;" doubtless he was sufficiently tried for ordi- 
 nary purposes. I am glad he was not subjected to 
 this. But the day has worn away, as all days must, 
 and we will retire to rest with a strong conviction 
 that something is about to happen — some time — 
 somewhere — perhaps tonight — perhaps tomorrow. 
 There never was a time, before this summer, that I 
 could not tell, before a move was m.ade, exactly how. 
 
208 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 where and when it was to be done; what troops were 
 to be engaged ; what would be the result, and all about 
 it. But Grant has nearly taken the conceit out of me 
 this summer. From the time we left Alexandria until 
 now, every move he has made has been exactly con- 
 trary to my "previously formed plans," thus causing 
 much useless labor on my part. I would feel much 
 chagrined did he not play the same pranks with 
 editors who are supposed to know everything, and get 
 pay for it, too, which I do not. However, I do not 
 intend to go off in a pet and flare up with the old 
 gentleman, for, after all, it turns out about as well 
 as if he followed my plans. 
 
 Today, from morning until night, teams and rail- 
 road cars have been busy as bees removing everything 
 movable from right to left, or toward City Point. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Blicks Station, Va.. September 29th, 1864. 
 Heavy skirmishing has been going on most of the 
 afternoon, about six miles to our left, near Reams 
 Station. Cavalry alone are engaged. For the last 
 hour cheering has been heard in that direction. It 
 gradually approaches — nearer — nearer still. It comes 
 creeping along the line, in increasing volume. Now 
 it has reached our division. What is it? Good 
 news, of course, but from whom? From where? 
 Has Mobile fallen, or Sherman executed some stra- 
 tegic movement, or Sheridan driven Early headlon<3 
 from the Valley, or — but hark, here it comes! "Fall 
 in. Seventeenth, and listen to orders." The line is 
 quickly formed; the Adjutant steps briskly forward, 
 bearing a lantern in one hand, in the other a folded 
 paper. "Attention, Seventeenth." The Seventeenth 
 is all attention. He reads: "General Butler attacked 
 the enemy on the right; carried his works on the 
 Petersburg & Richmond Railroad; took fifteen pieces 
 of artillery; three thousand prisoners; and is now 
 within five miles of Richmond." Three cheers for 
 General — no, not for Butler. "Three cheers for Gen- 
 eral Grant." Ninety-one throats responded, and the 
 noise passed on. The men gathered in groups to dis- 
 cuss the glorious news for a few minutes, then retired 
 to rest. 
 
210 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 We have moved at last. Captain Sudborough sent 
 me back to the train with the regimental baggage. I 
 remained there two days, when I was ordered to over- 
 haul the baggage and send that which was not abso- 
 lutely needed to City Point for storage. Monday I 
 put the surplus on cars and took it to the Point and 
 got it stored on a barge, and returned to camp in the 
 evening. 
 
 I found the regiment about one and one-half miles 
 west of the Weldon Railroad. A.11 is quiet, with 
 no signs of an immediate advance. Lieutenant 
 Colonel Swift is here, chief of Wilcox's staff. Rath 
 returned today with fourteen recruits. 
 
 October 6th, 1864. 
 
 We have come to a standstill once more, and are 
 making ourselves "comfortable." We have a splen- 
 did position, and are fortifying. We moved past the 
 low, swampy country, and are now on high, sandy 
 ground about four miles southwest of Petersburg. 
 We have fitted up a very nice and comfortable camp. 
 We have learned, by experience, that it pays as a san- 
 itary measure. Old soldiers never sleep on the ground 
 if they can get as m.any as two poles to sleep on. 
 This is one reason why we enjoy better health than 
 recruits. 
 
 I have sad nev/s from Arthur Mathis. The poor 
 boy has not long to live, and must die among strang- 
 ers. It seems needless cruelty to keep him here, so far 
 from friends and relatives who would gladly minister 
 to his wants and smooth his pathway to the tomb. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 211 
 
 Payment was suspended by our late move, and, as 
 our pay rolls are returned "Approved," we come in 
 with the rest. 
 
 Camp near Petersburg, Oct. 7th. 
 
 It lacks nine days of four months since I first 
 beheld, through sulphurous smoke and leaden hail, 
 the tall spires of Petersburg. It was the time the 
 Ninth Corps made their first charge and were repulsed. 
 Since that time we have made several advances — 
 alv/ays by the left fiank — until now we extend from 
 river to river around the city. But we are not dis- 
 couraged. In fact, we were never one-half so confi- 
 dent as now. We are fulfillmg, to the letter, the old 
 injunction to "make haste slowly." Experience tells 
 us the taking of a city, a victory where the enem}*; 
 "runs away and lives to fight another day," 
 only prolongs the contest. Their armies muse 
 be destroyed. Grant has hit upon the right plan. 
 What if Copperheads do say "Grant cannot take 
 Petersburg." We know better. His operations 
 here are but part of a plan that is literally destroying 
 Lee's army. It embraces Butler, on the James; Sher- 
 idan, in the Shenandoah Valley; Sherman, in Georgia. 
 All are acting in concert, controlled by one master 
 spirit, who rules and guides the whole. 
 
 For a time I feared Grant had met his match in 
 Lee. But, as the plot thickens and the current of 
 events brings out and develops his deep-laid plans, i 
 see the hoary-headed traitor struggling with desperate 
 but futile energy to disengage himself from the toils of 
 
212 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 his relentless foe. In speaking of Grant last spring I 
 said, "I suspend judgment for the present." Since 
 that time he has exhibited qualities that prove him to 
 be, with scarcely a rival, the miUtary genius of the age. 
 We talk of Sherman's campaign in Georgia; of 
 Grant's campaign in Virginia; of Sheridan in the Val- 
 ley; of Mobile and Charleston. There has been but 
 one campaign, and that is Grant's campaign against 
 the rebellion. The whole — north, south, east and 
 west — had been guided and directed, under God, by 
 his far-seeing mind. I believe we have at last found 
 the man who is capable of directing the energies of 
 this country, and of leading us on to victory and peace. 
 
 October 8th, 1864. 
 I received a letter from home this evening, freighted 
 with love and wifely endearments. As I read that 
 comforting letter, my heart overflowed with gratitude 
 to the Giver of all Good for the bestowal of this. His 
 most precious gift to man. I rejoice at the safe 
 arrival of my "relic." I valued it more than money. 
 I had marked several pieces which were my favorites. 
 Am.ong them was one entitled "We Miss Thee at 
 Home." The first time I sang it was in company 
 with Mr. Collier and two other good singers. I was 
 never in better trim for singing than on that night. 
 We had sung several of my favorite pieces and were 
 passing the otherwise tedious hours very pleasantly. 
 But this was too m.uch for me. My voice, before so 
 clear, suddenly thickened and became hoarse. My 
 eyes, before so strong, refused to trace the "mystic 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 213 
 
 words." I could only see my poor, grief -stricken 
 wife, as, solitary and alone, she mourned her absent 
 mate. 
 
 But I must return from these "dreamy wanderings" 
 to record the rugged scenes of cruel war. The Ninth 
 Corps is again on the "war path." It started this 
 morning, at daylight, on a reconnoissance toward the 
 Soutii Side Railroad. When I last heard from them 
 — at 3 p. m. — they had advanced one mile, driving 
 the enemy before them, which brings them to within 
 one mile of the road. Yesterday I could plainly hear 
 the engines whistle defiantly. The Seventeenth 
 remained in camp to receive pay. I have drawn for 
 eleven months, which will relieve the most urgent needs 
 of my family and enable them to tide over "the com- 
 ing winter." One might infer, from what I have 
 written this summer, that I had been a "m.an of busi- 
 ness." Well, I have had a hand in nearly every thinsj 
 that floats. My parole bars me from "regular duty," 
 and, taking advantage of it, I have followed my inclin- 
 ation in the main, only being careful to "keep within 
 the lines." My Captain commands the regiment, 
 and this makes me some extra work, as I do all his 
 writing. Our business relations are satisfactory. He 
 treats me with unvarying kindness. 
 
 We have drawn our fall clothing today. It came 
 in good time, for most of our men were thinly clad. 
 The weather, which only three days ago was very hot, 
 has suddenly taken cold — so cold we actually had a 
 frost this morning; hardly discernible, 'tis true, but 
 still a frost, and we were fain to get up early to 
 
214 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 "gather 'round the fire, and we piled the rails on 
 higher" until we fairly turned night into day. All 
 to little purpose, however, for, like "poor Harry Gill," 
 my teeth did "chatter, chatter still." 
 
 Our recruits who came to us recently say it is not 
 nearly as cold here as in Michigan when they left. 
 The General and his staff are having brick fireplaces 
 built in each of their tents. Privates cannot afford 
 this luxury, as brick houses are scarce in this part of 
 the country. Unfortunately for us, the houses are all 
 of wood, and their chimneys, when torn down, will 
 not supply the officers with brick. Most of the 
 houses, too, are occupied by their owners, they not 
 having been notified of our contemplated visit. 
 
 But hark! what causes all this uproar? More good 
 news, I think, for I seldom have heard such cheering. 
 "What is it, Amos?" "Don't know; guess Burn- 
 side's come, er the boys 'ave scart up a rabbit." 
 "More good news from Sheridan," says Charley. 
 "He's had another big fight with Early, whipped him, 
 took nineteen pieces of artillery, seven thousand pris- 
 oners, most of his supply train, and, at last accounts, 
 was following him up close, bound to capture his 
 whole army or follow him into Richmond." I expect 
 this is slightly exaggerated, but the news is good. 1 
 wonder if the noise disturbs the Johnnies? 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Peebles House, October 13th, 1864. 
 The evenings are all my own, to pass as best I 
 may, when in camp. When I can get candles 1 
 write either to wife or children, or jot down some 
 straggling thought in my diary. But candles are hard 
 to get. Government furnishes only about one inch 
 per day, and suders sell at seventy-live cents a pound, 
 or two for a quarter. When I have no light, my 
 evenings are spent in "wandering to and fro," dream- 
 ing of my Northern home. I live, at present, a very 
 secluded life, although surrounded by human beings. 
 I have few sympathies in common with most men — or 
 so it seems. Perhaps it is because all the sympathies 
 of my nature, all the emotions of my soul, are con- 
 stantly flowing, in one unceasing tide, back to my dis- 
 tant fireside. How my impatient spirit chafes at the 
 long delay. Fain would I lash the lagging wheels of 
 time into more furious pace. What power there is in 
 love — even human love. If I have any virtues that 
 other men have not, they all are born of love. If fewer 
 vices, love is the shield. Daily I strive to be that 
 which the fond im.agination of my loving wife doth 
 paint me. Oh, from the darkness of our sorrow may 
 new light break forth, new strength to do and suffer, 
 if need be, new resolves and freshest hopes. 
 
216 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Colonel Luce, whom we have looked for since last 
 Saturday, has just arrived. I have not seen him, but 
 can now hear his voice as he inquires, with fatherly 
 solicitude, as to the well-being of his men. He is one 
 of the kindest, most indulgent of commanders; too in- 
 dulgent, perhaps, but his men obey him cheerfully. I 
 refer to the rank and file of the regiment; with officers 
 he is sufficiently exacting. 
 
 October 14th, 1864. 
 I saw Colonel Luce this morning. He is much 
 improved in health, and takes command of the regi- 
 ment tomorrow. There are rumors in circulation that 
 our regiment is to be broken up. It is said our recruits 
 are to be transferred to the First Michigan Sharpshoot- 
 ers, both officers and men, while the old members are 
 to be retained at Division Headquarters as provost 
 guard, clerks, orderlies, etc. 
 
 Peebles House, October 15th, 1864. 
 The army, at this point, is pursuing a course of 
 "masterly inactivity." Even the work of fortifying, 
 which has been carried on with so much vigor the past 
 five months, is partially suspended. The hostile 
 armies, separated by only a few rods of forbidden 
 ground, are silently watching each other. Not a shot 
 is fired, by day or night, along the front. The pick 
 ets, in some places not more than ten rods apart, are 
 on the best of terms, exchanging newspapers, trading 
 rations for tobacco, etc. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 217 
 
 From the top of a hill but a few rods from here 
 the Rebel camp is plainly visible. By the aid of a 
 field glass I can see the "Johnnies" lounging lazily in 
 camp or at work on their fortifications. But, for all 
 this seeming quiet, we are in constant expectation of 
 the storm that is liable to burst upon us at any moment. 
 General Grant, with Secretaries Stanton and Fessen- 
 den, are at Ninth Corps headquarters tonight. Gen- 
 erally, where Grant goes a blow is to be struck. He 
 is almost omnipresent. Today we hear of him with 
 Sheridan, in the Valley; tomorrow he is closeted with 
 the President; before we have time to turn around, he 
 is back in City Point. 
 
 Our officers are, during this temporary quiet, freely 
 indulging in those refined tastes which army life is so 
 well calculated to develop, by engaging in such inno- 
 cent amusements and gentle recreations as horse rac- 
 ing, gambling, and their usual accompaniments, com- 
 missary whiskey, midnight revels and broken noses. 
 
 Part of this I have seen; the rest is told me by a 
 "reliable gentleman" on duty at headquarters. Of 
 course, he does not make public what he sees, as it 
 would cost him his position and do no good. Last 
 Saturday a very exciting contest came off between two 
 blooded horses, owned by two "bloods," both Brig- 
 adier Generals. Another m.atch is announced for 
 tomorrow and another for Saturday. With such 
 examples, is it any wonder that gambling is on the 
 increase? So far as my observation goes, nine men of 
 every ten play cards for money. 
 
218 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 I received a letter from home today, filled witli 
 gloomy forebodings. 
 
 Sometimes, almost unconsciously, I give way to 
 gloomy thoughts, bordering on despair, where hope lies 
 buried. With me, such moods are of short duration. 
 Can it be possible my darling wife has breathed the 
 tainted air from the "slough of despondency" for two 
 long years? Come up with me, dear one, and 
 together let us climb the mountain of hope. Lean 
 fearlessly on your husband, for he is strong in faith 
 and will lead you gently up, above the dark, murky 
 clouds of doubt, to bask in the bright sunshine of trust 
 and confidence. Viewed from this height, how bright 
 the prospect. Home treason lies powerless, bound hand 
 and foot by a free people's choice. Armed treason, 
 that hideous monster, is fiercely struggling in dying 
 agony. Its heart still beats at Richmond; but Grant, 
 and Sherman, and "Glorious Fhil" are sapping its life 
 blood. When the heart shall cease to beat, the 
 extremities must die. 
 
 Peebles House, October 25th, 1864. 
 We will probably, leave here tomorrow morning. 
 Where we go no one knows, but all feel that some- 
 thing startling is about to happen. Appearances indi- 
 cate a long and rapid march. All baggage not abso- 
 lutely needed is to be sent to City Point. Instead of 
 wagons, pack horses are to be used. We are to 
 carry three days' cooked rations in our haversacks, and 
 five days' uncooked in our knapsacks. A pontoon 
 bridge is to accompany us. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 219 
 
 October 26th, 1 2 o'clock m. 
 Active preparations still continue. All detailed 
 men are ordered to their regiments. Cooks, clerks and 
 grooms, and even commissary sergeants, are ordered 
 to carry guns, or have them on hand in case of emer- 
 gency. We will not move until night, if then. All 
 Michigan men v/ho are sick in hospitals are to have 
 furloughs. I have made out several today. 
 
 4 o'clock p. m. 
 The General is striking tent; will probably be off in 
 the night. We are ready to march at "tap of drum." 
 All surplus stores, everything that might in any way 
 impede our march, has been sent to City Point. Of 
 the men, those who are so fortunate as to be sick, be 
 it ever so little, are on their way to Michigan. I have 
 been at Headquarters nearly all day making out fur- 
 loughs. It is an agreeable task, even when I am not 
 personally interested. Many of the poor fellows have 
 not been home since they enlisted, and would not now, 
 had not furloughs been given by wholesale. 
 
 7 o'clock p. m. 
 We have just been notified we march at 3 o'clock 
 tomorrow morning. 
 
 Peebles House, October 28th, 1 864. 
 Contrary to expectations, we are back again in our 
 old camp. I confess I am disappointed. I can form 
 no idea, at present, of the result of the movement, as 
 
A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 I know nothing of Butler's operations the last two 
 days. I conclude it was only a feint, on our part, to 
 draw part of Lee's forces from Richmond, out of But- 
 ler's way. Be that as it may, to me it was a failure. 
 The "Fighting Second," commanded by the "invinci- 
 ble Hancock," was to have the honor of attacking, 
 while the Fifth and Ninth were to draw their atten- 
 tion to other points. The attack was m.ade, and the 
 Rebels were driven before them, like chaff before the 
 wind, until our forces struck the railroad. Then the> 
 rebounded like a rubber ball. 
 
 October 29th, 1864. 
 Having somewhat recovered from the fatigues of 
 our late expedition, and the keen edge being worn from 
 the mortification I felt at falling back to our old quar- 
 ters, I can see that, if not successful, no great disaster 
 befell our army. I have heard nothing from Butler; 
 nothing to prove this to have been a feint, while the 
 real attack was to have been made at another point, 
 but of this I am sure, an earnest, determined attack 
 was not made on the left; barely enough to show the 
 Rebels were in strong force. So soon as this was 
 ascertained, the Second and part of the Fifth Corps 
 withdrew and marched rapidly to the right. Our loss 
 was not heavy — about seven hundred. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Peebles House, Va., November 4th, 1864. 
 
 We have had a few days of cold, stormy weather. 
 It even snowed a little yesterday. We have built 
 comfortable quarters, most of them with fireplaces. I 
 have been so busy since our return, with muster rolls, 
 monthly returns, etc., that I was compelled to post- 
 pone building until today. We have a very comfort- 
 able place, built of pine logs, six feet by seven on the 
 inside. It is completed except "chunk and daubing,' 
 which will occupy but a short time. About half of 
 it is occupied by our bed. In one corner is our table, 
 two by three feet square. The remaining corner is 
 our sitting room. Our bed of poles is covered with a 
 thick layer of "Virginia feathers." Over these x 
 rubber and one blanket, leaving one blanket and our 
 overcoats to spread over us. 
 
 We may not remain here long to enjoy the fruits of 
 our labor, but then, we may. Probably another 
 attempt to move will not be made until after election. 
 I will be heartily glad when that is over. I am sick, 
 tired, disgusted with the whole arrangement. Popu- 
 lar election, indeed! Tt is all humbug. The very 
 name is a lie and a cheat. Mr. Winegar, of Grass 
 Lake, has arrived as commissioner to receive the votes 
 of Michigan regiments. The McClellan vote will be 
 
222 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 quite strong in this regiment unless something can be 
 done to counteract it. The French recruits will all 
 vote that way, and they comprise nearly one-half the 
 regiment. 
 
 "Fall in for mail," is the cry of our Postmaster. 
 Not expecting as much pleasure as another letter would 
 give me, I continued to write, listening, all the time, to 
 hear whose names were called. Can it be? Yes, 
 my name is called. Another dear letter. Oh, my 
 sweet wife, would to God I could fold you in my 
 arms and pillow your weary head upon my bosom, 
 its rightful resting place. 
 
 All Michigan men in hospitals who want furloughs 
 get them. I have no idea this cam.paign will end 
 until Richmond is taken and Lee's army is destroyed. 
 Grant has fought all summer "on these lines," and 
 will continue the fight all winter if not successful. But 
 the time is close at hand when military operations must, 
 of necessity, be suspended. Furloughs will then be 
 given, and I will avail myself of the first opportunity. 
 
 Peebles House, Va., November 8th, 1864. 
 It is the evening after election. The turmoil and 
 excitement of the day is past, and, almost prostrated 
 by the intense anxiety of the past week, I long to flee 
 to the sympathetic heart of my wife for comfort and 
 consolation. Never before has a political contest 
 assumed such vast proportions. In it I see a Nation 
 sitting in judgment on its own acts. The question to 
 be decided involves its very existence. Individuals are 
 lost sight of. Life and death hang quivering in the 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 223 
 
 balance. Feeling this, I entered into the contest witli 
 all the energies of my nature. "Sleep departed 
 from my eyes and slumber from my eyelids." My 
 sphere was circumscribed, but it was no light task to 
 rescue my own loved regiment from a record of infamy. 
 Thank God, it is accomplished. Of one hundred 
 ninety-four votes polled today, only forty-six were cast 
 for McClellan and Secession. One week ago they 
 claimed a m.ajority. At that time, in Company G, 
 eleven out of eighteen loudly proclaimed fidelity to the 
 "Hero of Malvern Hill." Today, in this same com- 
 pany, three votes were polled for him. I think I can 
 say with truth, and without egotism, the result is 
 largely due to my efforts. I devoted my time mainly to 
 the recruits throughout the regiment, visiting them in 
 their tents, seldom leaving one until I had obtained a 
 promise that he would not vote for "Little Mac." 
 Faithfully they kept their word in nearly every 
 instance. 
 
 The day was fine. At sunrise the regiment assem 
 bled, chose inspectors, clerks, etc., and proceeded to 
 business. I never knev/ an election to pass off so 
 quietly. No drunken brawls, for whiskey could not 
 be obtained. General Wilcox and staff came over 
 and deposited their votes. It had been confidently 
 asserted that Wilcox would vote for McClellan, but 
 he called for an "Administration ticket" and deposited 
 it in the ballot box. No partiality v/as shown to rank; 
 several officers were challenged and had to swear in 
 their votes. The day, with its overA^helming weight 
 of responsibility, is passed beyond recall and I 
 
224 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 calmly await the announcement of the result. As the 
 polls were about to close, a telegram was received 
 announcing the capture of the pirate Florida. I 
 accept it as an omen of good. 
 
 November 10th, 1864. 
 Mr. Collier came over and spent the evening with 
 me. His visits are highly prized by me. He brought 
 his note book, and we sang "Sweet Home" together, 
 and then, as usual, we talked of home. He is a sin- 
 gular being — a "specimen," and a rare one, too. It 
 is impossible to be long afflicted with the dumps when 
 in his society. Like a bubbling spring, he overflows 
 with mirth and good nature, and is sufficiently intelli- 
 gent to be an agreeable companion. Goodness is nat- 
 ural to him. He neither chews, smokes, drinks whis- 
 key or uses profane language. There is not a particle 
 of deceit in his composition. Added to all these good 
 qualities, and many more I might mention, he adores 
 his wife and baby. All this I can say of him, after 
 two years of intimate acquaintance. Spite of the 
 contrast between us, and it is great, the strong attach- 
 ment and friendship I feel for him is reciprocated. 
 
 November 1 1 th, I 864. 
 I have gratified a long-cherished wish today — that 
 of visiting the outer fortifications in our front. I wish 
 some of my Northern friends, who are disposed to 
 growl because the army does not "m.ove forward,' 
 had been with me. The questions they ask would 
 have answered themselves, for, in looking at our works. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 225 
 
 they would have seen a counterpart of the Rebels*. 
 First, a continuous chain of rifle pits, or breastworks, 
 running from Appomattox River, on our right, to our 
 extreme left, where it turns a half circle back, in our 
 rear, toward City Point. These works are built of 
 pine logs laid up as high as a man's head, and firmly 
 joined together. On the side facing the enemy a ditch 
 is cut, about eight feet from the logs, the dirt being 
 thrown up against them and firmly packed, forming a 
 protection against solid shot, and shell unless they 
 burst directly overhead. In front of these works, from 
 a quarter to a half mile, the timber is "slashed," ren- 
 dering it next to impossible for men to make their way 
 through it, even if not opposed. Much of the way 
 the breastworks are protected by abbattis. A ditch 
 is dug some three feet deep, from four to six rods in 
 front of the line of breastworks, then the tops of trees 
 are inserted in the ditch closely packed together, every 
 limb sharpened and projecting toward the enemy, and 
 the dirt is then thrown back and packed, to hold them 
 firmly in place. But this is the weakest point of the 
 line of defense. 
 
 All along this extended line, at every angle, forts 
 are built, mounting twelve to thirty guns. These forts 
 are within musket range of each other, so situated as to 
 sweep the intervening space with grape and canister. 
 
 This is a very faint and imperfect description, but 
 is, I think, enough to show that mortal man cannot 
 carry these works, if earnestly defended. The Rebel 
 works are quite as strong as ours. 
 
 I had several fine views of them through a field 
 
A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 glass, which annihilated distance, so far as vision is 
 concerned. Half way between the two lines are the 
 pickets, but a few rods apart. 
 
 November 13th, 1864. 
 
 It has been growing cold all day, and toward night 
 the wind increases to a gale, bringing a few flakes of 
 snow with it. 1 omorrow we begin building winter 
 quarters, by order of the General commanding. So 
 the vexed question of moving seems to have been set- 
 tled. Mail matter came in freely last night. 
 
 The election returns are very gratifying to me. The 
 people, with a unanimity never equaled, have decided 
 in favor of a united government. President Lincoln 
 is now, emphatically, the chosen of the people, he hav- 
 ing received a majority of all the votes cast. Sup- 
 ported by the moral force of the Nation, he can now 
 proceed, untrammeled, with the great work before him. 
 
 There is much talk in the newspapers of a Thanks- 
 giving dinner which is to be given the Army of the 
 Potomac and the James by volunteer contributions of 
 the people of the North. It is a gigantic undertaking, 
 but can be accomplished by the aid of Adams Express 
 Company, who, I understand, have offered to deliver 
 free of charge. 
 
 The new railroad is completed to within a half 
 mile of Ninth Corps Headquarters, on the extreme left 
 of the line. Wagon loads of express boxes arrive at 
 Division Headquarters nearly every day. Nearly 
 every man in our regiment has received a box filled 
 with "creature comforts." I had the pleasure of test- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 227 
 
 ing the quality of some Michigan butter today, sent to 
 a Mr. Hopkins, of Oakland County. He was so 
 unfortunate as to get a furlough on the day of its 
 arrival, and left it in care of his tent mates, enjoining 
 them to be sure and not let it spoil. They are doing 
 all in their power to prevent it, with fair prospects of 
 success. About one-fourth of the sixteen pounds is 
 already saved. 
 
 An incident just occurred that created some excite- 
 ment. A man who claims to have once belonged to 
 the Eleventh New York Cavalry, now a cripple in 
 both arms, has been: through camp selling paipers* 
 songs, etc. One of our men, thinking he recognized 
 him as a Rebel spy whom he had seen in Frederick 
 City, Maryland, reported him as such to the Provost 
 Marshal. He was able to give a good account of 
 himself, however, producing a pass signed by the Sec- 
 retary of War, and a letter of recommendation from 
 General Phil Sheridan. 
 
A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Peebles House. Va., Nov. 15th, 1864. 
 
 All is quiet in front of Petersburg. The sharp 
 crack of the rifle is superseded by the clatter of axes. 
 When we came here, some six weeks ago, this whole 
 country was almost an unbroken wilderness. Now 
 hundreds of acres are completely stripped of tree and 
 shrub. The officers have built good, substantial log 
 houses, with brick chimneys. The Seventeenth is now 
 building stockades for the General's horses. 
 
 I have had but little work since election, most of 
 my work coming on during the last half of each month. 
 A short period of rest v/as never more grateful, or 
 more needed — I have not been sick; only worn out, 
 as sometimes happens when teaching school. "Teach- 
 ing school;" how the phrase calls up old memories of 
 the shadowy past. Thank God, they are pleasant 
 memories. I wonder, will I ever more follow that, to 
 me, delightful occupation? I think not; the "old 
 man," after three years of "service," can hardly ex- 
 pect to be "up to date." 
 
 We are looking again with our accustomed eager- 
 ness, for the "Greenback Man." We expect, too. 
 General Burnside will be here, in a day or two, to 
 take command of his old corps again. The event 
 will be hailed by us with joy. Let others think of him 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 220 
 
 as they may, he possesses the confidence of the Ninth 
 Corps to an unlimited extent. The reverse is true of 
 our present commander. General Parke. 
 
 November 18th, 1864. 
 
 This has been one of the most pleasant days that 
 ever visited this storm-swept world. So soft and 
 balmy — I have not words to describe it; I have almost 
 fallen in love with this Southern climate. 
 
 I confess to a feeling of dread when I think of the 
 severity of our Northern winters. The coldest weathev 
 we have yet had was only sufficient to cause a light 
 frost. And yet I actually suffered with cold before 1 
 had a fireplace in my house. 
 
 The house I built a few days ago was comfortable, 
 but rather small. I could not build larger, for I had 
 not the strength to draw the logs on my back. For- 
 tune has been kind to me, as usual. 
 
 Today I moved into a large, nev/ house, all com- 
 plete. It happened in this wise. The regiment had 
 been at work at the field hospital and for General 
 Wilcox, which made it impossible to build their own 
 houses without resorting to strategy. The day before 
 yesterday a squad of men from our company was 
 detailed, as usual, to cut logs for the General's stables. 
 On reaching the woods, Charlie Groesbeck and Wil- 
 liam Jones separated from the squad and went to work 
 on their own account. By 1 1 o'clock their timber 
 was cut; how to get it drawn was the next question. 
 Luck favored them. A teamster came along looking 
 for a load of brush that was to have been cut by — 
 
230 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 somebody. The boys told him they "guessed" they 
 were the men, but the brush were not all cut. If he 
 would draw a load of logs they had cut, the brush 
 would be ready on his return. He consented to the 
 arrangement, and the thing was done. The next day 
 they built their house, and, when completed, invited 
 me to share its comforts. 
 
 General Burnside has been here. He had hardly 
 arrived before the air was filled with rumors, all look- 
 ing to a removal from this department. One newspa- 
 per has it the Seventeenth is to be detached from the 
 corps to guard prisoners at Elmira, New York. 
 
 I was the recipient of a handsome present last night 
 — a portfolio bound in morocco. The donor is W. 
 B. Jones, one of my tent m.ates. 
 
 November 20th, 1 864. 
 
 A storm of forty-eight hours' duration has followed 
 the pleasant weather of last v/eek; two days and nights 
 of incessant rain; and still, as night shuts in, the dark- 
 ening clouds foretell another night of storm. Doubt- 
 less the long-talked-of fall rains have set in. From a 
 military point of view, it may be unfortunate. A 
 move was in contemplation which must be suspended, 
 for the present. In all probability General Butler 
 will have time to test his "peace doctrine" before he 
 can resume active operations. 
 
 It is my design to confine myself to facts, when 
 writing in my journal, and to leave out my own opin- 
 ions and speculations, but I find it to be impossible. I 
 am so deeply interested in the progress of events, I 
 
 i 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 231 
 
 cannot always confine myself to the past and present. 
 I am continually watching, with intense anxiety, for 
 something on which to hang a hope of coming peace. 
 In almost every transaction of daily life, that which we 
 firmly resolved to do is already half completed. I hail 
 the result of the late elections as the expressed deter- 
 mination of the American people to fight the battle 
 out to the bitter end. Grant calls it "a great moral 
 victory, depriving the Rebels of their most efficient 
 weapon." 
 
 Long have they, with exultation, pointed to a 
 "divided North," and to what they pleased to call a 
 "united South." Time was when they were united, 
 but that time has passed. They have experienced 
 the horrors of war, as no other people of modern 
 times have experienced them. They know, without 
 help from some quarter, their cause is hopeless. That 
 help, Jefferson Davis tells them, they need not expect 
 The New York Herald says: "President Lincoln 
 can now afford to be magnanimous. Let him offer 
 them terms of honorable peace." Good might come 
 of it, but I would not have him abate one jot or tittle 
 in the vigor of preparation, or withhold his hand when 
 possible to strike. On the whole, I see abundant 
 cause for encouragement. To me, the future is full 
 of promise. 
 
 November 22d, 1 864. 
 
 The storm that has raged the last three days ha*; 
 passed away. Since last Friday evening until today, 
 there has been a steady downpour. The swamps and 
 lowlands are flooded. In our camp, situated as it is 
 
232 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 on high, sandy land, no inconvenience is felt. Now 
 is the time Grant's railroad comes in play. Without 
 it we could not hold our position. About half the 
 land between here and the Point is submerged; all of 
 it is as bottomless. 
 
 Our furloughed men have all returned. They all 
 tell the same story; a pleasant, happy time, but oh, so 
 short, so quickly passed. They had only fifteen days. 
 So soon as twenty days are offered, I will make an 
 effort to obtain one for myself. 
 
 November 23d, 1864. 
 
 It is very cold today. The wind changed to the 
 west last night, with a snap to it, which reminded me, 
 oh, so vividly, of home. Many is the time my wife 
 and I have sat, side by side, and listened to the furi- 
 ous blast as it raged harmlessly outside, and I won- 
 dered if my loved one was nov/, alone and trembling, 
 passing through a similar experience. 
 
 The sun shines brightly, but fails to warm the 
 frozen earth. When I awoke this morning I heard 
 the heavy army wagons thundering over the frozen 
 earth. 
 
 Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Already the "good 
 things" donated by the generous people of the North 
 begin to arrive. My tent mates and I have been get- 
 ting a supply of wood today. It is becoming scarce 
 and hard to get. By bringing it a mile, in our arms, 
 we have accumulated a quarter of a cord of good oak. 
 wood, which will last nearly a week. 
 
 I must now stop writing and draw our company 
 
 • 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 233 
 
 ration of soft bread, which is issued tv/ice a week. 
 We also get mackerel once a week, codfish once, 
 with ROW and then one potato and one onion per man. 
 
 November 26th, 1864. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day came bright and beautiful, as 
 though Nature smiled approval, and accepted the thank 
 offering which kind friends, with a degree of liberality 
 never equaled, have sent to cheer the hearts and make 
 glad the stomaclis of their "brave defenders." 1 am 
 sorry to be compelled to say the kind intentions of our 
 friends were, in a measure, thwarted by circumstances 
 beyond their control. The transports that brought 
 them to City Point v/ere delayed by a storm and did 
 not arrive until Friday evening. Then the work of 
 unloading and distributing to the difFerent corps occu- 
 pied all the time until Thanksgiving morning. The 
 iirst installment, designed for the Ninth Corps, did not 
 reach this station until noon of that day. The after- 
 noon was consumed in issuing to divisions, and from 
 them to regiments. We must wait until morning for 
 our dinner. 
 
 Doubtless all have seen, in newspapers, an estimate 
 of articles sent to this army. From it, and the time 
 consumed in distribution, some idea can be formed of 
 the amount of food consumed by an army in one day, 
 and the necessity of keeping its line of supplies in 
 working order. 
 
 November 26th, 1864. 
 
 A dinner of roast turkey in the army! I am 
 inclined to think it unparalleled in the annals of war- 
 
234 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 fare. There were liquors of almost every brand; tur- 
 keys both roast and raw; chickens with rich dressings; 
 pies, cakes, fruits and sweetmeats — enough, as 
 intended, for every soldier in the army. 
 
 Now for the result. 
 
 We drew, for thirty-three men in Company G, 
 twenty pounds roast turkey; thirty green apples; four 
 pounds potatoes; seven cookies; three doughnuts; 
 seven papers fine cut tobacco; three papers smoking. 
 The regiment drew in proportion. 
 
 We will not measure our thanks to the generous 
 donors by what we received. The effort on their part 
 is appreciated by us, and will be cherished as an 
 expression of sympathy and good will. 
 
 «.! 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Camp near Petersburg, Va., 
 
 November 30th. 1 864. 
 
 "Be ready to march tomorrow morning." This h 
 the order that greeted us the night before last at 10 
 o'clock. It was a surprise to us, as we had seen no 
 indications of such an order; not even an order to 
 draw extra rations. 
 
 In the morning we learned the Ninth Corps was to 
 relieve the Second Corps in front of Petersburg. At 
 1 o'clock the next morning we were under way. 
 The day was cloudless, the roads in fine condition, 
 and we made the sixteen miles at 3 o'clock in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 We halted within two miles of our destination until 
 dark, as the rest of the way was in range of Rebel 
 guns, and in plain view. In the interval we treated 
 ourselves to coffee and hardtack, the first since morning. 
 Soon as it was fairly dusk we resumed our march, and 
 brought up, a little after dark, on the right of Peters- 
 burg, near the Appomattox River. It seems like meeting 
 old acquaintances, after weeks of separation. This 
 part of the line is nearest the city, and is the scene of 
 the "usual amount of firing" mentioned in every daily 
 paper. Many is the evening Mr. Collier and I have 
 visited these hills and listened to the thunders of artil- 
 
236 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 lery that threatened to shake them from their founda 
 tions. Too tired to pitch my tent, I spread my blan- 
 kets on the ground, and, undisturbed by the roar of 
 cannon, sweetly slept until morning. This mornin.;, 
 we relieved the Thirty-sixth Wisconsin, and took pos 
 session of their quarters, which are very comfortable. 
 
 We are encamped on a high hill that overlooks the 
 city, and the Rebel lines are in full view, far to the 
 right and left. Close by is a fort that mounts "thirty - 
 two-pounders." 
 
 Eighty of our men are permanently detailed at Gen- 
 eral Wilcox's headquarters; the rest are scattered or 
 temporary details. 
 
 Captain Sudborough is in commaRd of a detach- 
 ment on the railroad near City Point. I will repoit 
 to him tomorrow. 
 
 Cedar Bottom, Va., December 3d, 1864. 
 
 I have just settled in my new quarters with Captain 
 Sudborough's detachment. We are three miles from 
 the regiment and five from City Point. The men are 
 well pleased with this kind of soldiering. They have 
 good quarters, plenty of rations, light duty, and are out 
 of reach of Rebel bullets; the first time in seven months. 
 There are sixty men on duty here. 
 
 Colonel Luce has resigned and starts for home next 
 Monday. His reasons are given out as "broken 
 health, ruined fortunes," and a kindly regard for his 
 men, whom he loves as a father loves his children- 
 Had he remained, his rank would have forced us into 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 237 
 
 the line, as the Second Brigade is now commanded by 
 a Lieutenant Colonel. 
 
 He is one of the most kindly men I ever met, and 
 we will miss him sadly. I am living alone, away 
 from the noise and turmoil of my boisterous compan- 
 ions. I prefer thus to live, where I can v/ork without 
 interruption, and, v/hen my task is done, can revel in 
 my own small "world of thought." 
 
 I will apply for a furlough next Monday. It will 
 be detained five or six days in the "Circumlocution 
 Office," which v/ill bring me home about the fifteenth, 
 if successful. 
 
 December 6th, 1 864. 
 
 I find, on inquiry, the time has not yet come for me 
 to visit my loved home. Since the fourteenth of last 
 month, furloughs have only been given in extreme 
 cases. They are now entirely suspended, for a brief 
 period, in the Ninth Corps. 
 
 Grant is concentrating his forces. The Sixth 
 Corps has just arrived, and is moving to the left. The 
 Nineteenth Corps is on the way. Porter is collecting 
 his fleet of ironclads in the vicinity of Dutch Gap. 
 Butler's canal is nearly completed. Should this canal 
 prove to be a success. Porter may make a desperate 
 attempt to reach the Rebel Capital, the land forces 
 co-operating on the right and left. But this move, 
 whatever it may be, is not the cause of furloughs being 
 withheld, for the order is confined to the Ninth Corpj. 
 Men are going, every day, from, other portions of the 
 army. General Burnside was here on Saturday, and 
 returned to Washington on Sunday. On Monday the 
 
238 A Soldier's Diary, 
 
 order was issued: "No more furloughs from the 
 Ninth Corps until further orders." 
 
 Lieutenant Colonel Swift is trying to get leave to 
 take the regiment to Michigan to recruit. General 
 Wilcox tells him the old members have seen more 
 than their share of hard service, and advises him to 
 let them remain where they are until their term of ser- 
 vice expires. Swift is ambitious, and has an "itching 
 palm" to wear the silver eagle. 
 
 December 1 5tli, 1864. 
 
 Another sweet messenger from home, dated Decem- 
 ber 4th. It seems to have been quite a long time on 
 the way; ten days in a time of comparative quiet. 
 
 I do not know how it may be with those removed 
 from these busy scenes of strife, but, with me, the 
 mighty present sv/allows up the events of the past and 
 almost obliterates them from memory. Movements 
 which, in process of execution, claim all our attention 
 and from which the grandest results are anticipated, 
 become, when past, but as a "watch in the night." 
 
 All eyes are now turned on Sherman, awaiting news 
 of him in breathless suspense. At the same time 
 movements are on foot here that will eventually com- 
 pel the evacuation of Petersburg. 
 
 Unfavorable weather has caused a short delay, but 
 the storm is over and our troops are on the march 
 again. Meanwhile, I can wait, feeling that "the 
 night is far spent and the dawn is at hand," doing the 
 little I can for my fellows and my country; ambitious 
 only that I may be worthy the good opinion of my 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 239 
 
 loving wife, so tenderly, confidingly expressed in this, 
 her last letter. Courage, dear one; yet a little longer 
 must we toil and struggle on. Our paths are now 
 converging ; they soon will meet, in blissful union ; then, 
 hand in hand, together will we pass down the decliv- 
 ity of life, purified and made better by these sore 
 trials. 
 
 So we are to have another dinner — a Christmas 
 dinner — prepared by the kind friends at home expressly 
 for the Seventeenth Regiment, the v/hole to be super- 
 intended by Mr. Winegar, of Grass Lake. Morti- 
 mer has rejoined his regiment. I heard of the event 
 last night, and early this morning started in quest of 
 him. His regiment is in the inner line of works, about 
 five miles from here, near a large fort called the Crater, 
 from the manner in which it belches fire and smoke 
 and iron m.issiles from its huge guns. I found him 
 looking well, though a little thin, and was glad to 
 see him, for had he not just returned from home — my 
 home? Had he not seen and conversed with my 
 loved ones, only a few days instead of years ago? 
 And then, those little articles of comfort, direct from 
 home; precious mementoes of a wife's devotion and 
 tender remembrance. Is it any wonder as I clasped 
 his hand, my eyes were dim with the mists of pleas- 
 ing memories? 
 
 I will not attempt to picture the pleasure I experi- 
 enced as I looked on that on which my wife's dear 
 eyes had rested, watered, perhaps, with bitter tears; in 
 handling that which was fashioned by her hands. 
 And those towels! Soon as I returned I hung one 
 
240 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 beside the door of my little house. How homelike 
 it did look! And then I washed me very carefully, 
 lest I stain its snowy whiteness and dried me on her 
 towel, as I used to do at home. Can I ever wear 
 those stockings? For her dear sake I will, although it 
 seems like sacrilege. 
 
 I could only spend two hours with Mortimer, but 
 we made the best possible use of the time. During 
 that time I heard more gossip than in the past two 
 years. 
 
 He told everything *'I said and they said," with the 
 variations; some agreeable, some otherwise. I asked 
 him what he thought of our darling baby, Nell. "Oh, 
 it's quite a decent-looking young one, but no better 
 than other folks's." He said: "Aunt Sene asked 
 me if she wasn't the handsomest grandchild they had, 
 and I told her *No, Flora was.' " Then, fearing he 
 had shocked my sensibilities, he apologized by saying: 
 "Flora has got to be a darned purty girl; you never 
 see anybody change as she has." 
 
 I saw Billy Richardson. He says he can go on 
 picket and fire his "hundred rounds" at nothing as well 
 as anybody. 
 
 December 22d, 1 864. 
 I walked three miles and waited until 9 o'clock 
 this evening, so sure was I of tidings from home. 1 
 waited in vain. I was disappointed but not dis- 
 heartened. Surely tomorrow I will be more fortunate, 
 and if not tomorrow, I will still wait patiently, trust- 
 ing that all is well. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 24 i 
 
 I do not know why it is, but I cannot feel down- 
 hearted of late. Whether it is owing to the buoy- 
 ant health I now enjoy, the conviction that the crisia 
 is passed and peace is about to smile upon our blood- 
 stained land; or that the time is drawing nigh when I 
 may return to my loved ones; whether it be either or 
 all of these, T cannot tell, but so it is. I feel a light- 
 ness and buoyancy of mind and body that I have been 
 a stranger to for years. 
 
 I do not forget, even for one moment, the sufferings 
 to which my family are exposed this terrible winter, 
 and I thank God for putting it into the heart of Brothei 
 Salmon to furnish them firewood and for other acts of 
 kindness. 
 
 We are having cold weather here just now. It 
 actually froze a little last night. Snow fell on the 
 tenth, about an inch deep. In a day or two the sun 
 came out and it fled from before the brightness of his 
 face. Our winters here are about like Michigan, 
 with December, January and February left out. 
 
242 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Camp Seventeenth Michigan Infantry, 
 
 December 30th, 1 864. 
 
 Company G has been relieved from detached duty 
 and has rejoined the regiment. I left my snug little 
 house this morning at sunrise. Rain fell thick and 
 fast all the forenoon. In the afternoon it changed to 
 sleet and snow, growing quite cold the while, until 
 now, evening, it is quite winterlike. But I am already 
 provided for until I can build a house of my own. I 
 had no sooner arrived than a good Samaritan, by pity 
 moved, opened his heart and door and bade me enter. 
 I will soon have another house as comfortable as the 
 one I left. I will now have one tent mate, as I cannot 
 build alone. We sent our brick and lumber from 
 Cedar Bottom yesterday. Monday we will get the 
 logs and build our house. 
 
 January 1st, 1865. 
 
 The storm is past; the sun shines out, bright and 
 cheerful, giving golden promise of the coming years. 
 My darling's birthday, too. I had fondly hoped it 
 might be my lot to be with her on that day. Wc 
 have received no mail the last three days. A 
 new arrangement has been made at the distributing 
 office, in Washington, the mail being now distributed 
 by brigades. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 243 
 
 The Seventeerxth could not be found in this great 
 army, as we are not brigaded. A special dispatch 
 was sent out instructing the mail agent to send our 
 mail to First Division* Ninth Corps. 
 
 General Wilcox is in temporary command of the 
 corps. The Rebels improve every opportunity to 
 desert. All agree as to the scarcity of supplies and 
 the hopelessness of their cause. 
 
 January 5th, 1865. 
 
 We mustered for pay December 31st, and I have 
 been very busy every day, and often far into the night, 
 making out muster rolls. A muster roll is a sheet of 
 paper two feet by three feet square, the space between 
 the lines about two-thirds as wide as the ruling on 
 legal cap paper. On the left is a column in whicn 
 the names of the men are written in alphabetical order. 
 Then follows a complete description — where, when 
 and by whom enlisted; where, when and by whom 
 mustered ; when and by whom last paid ; where he now 
 is ; why and how long he has been absent ; if anything 
 is due the Government, for transportation, fines, dam- 
 ages, etc., or if due the soldier for clothing not drawn, 
 etc. It must all be stated. 
 
 Company G musters seventy-two men, present and 
 absent. In order to get all this on six square feet of 
 paper, I am forced to write as fine as possible, and 
 frequently to interline. 
 
 Then, four of these papers are filled at each mus- 
 ter, corresponding in every particular, the least error 
 in one spoiling the whole. We muster the last day of 
 
244 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 each alternate month, and the rolls must be completed 
 within three days thereafter. 
 
 My rolls were in on time, and I have been at Head- 
 quarters all day, helping to compare and correct the 
 regimental rolls, preparatory to sending them to Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 I have forced myself to v/rite thus calmly of every- 
 day occurrences, when, in fact, my very blood is on 
 fire, and every emotion of my soul is in a tumult of 
 glad expectancy. 
 
 I am going home. My furlough has been approved 
 and is now at Division Headquarters. It will reach 
 me in a day or two. Then will I Ry, on wings of 
 steam, to my beloved one's fond embrace. 
 
 Baltimore, Md., February 1st, 1865. 
 
 They have had cold weather here during my 
 absence. The Potomac is frozen, which will prevent 
 my going by way of Washington, as I had hoped to 
 do. The cold weather is past, however, and it is 
 now warm as summer. I have had the best possible 
 luck, so far on my return trip, and everything looks 
 favorable for the remaining part. I called on the 
 Provost Marshal and got a pass for two days, as I will 
 be detained until 2 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. 
 
 My furlough expires at 12 o'clock tonight, but i 
 have m.ade the best possible use of today, and will 
 have no trouble. My pass will take me on board the 
 boat; then I am all right to City Point, where my 
 regiment is doing guard duty. Of course, I 
 will have no trouble there. I have been to the 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 245 
 
 transportation office, and have the promise of transpor- 
 tation tomorrow noon, and will reach City Point on 
 Friday. 
 
 Carnp near Petersburg, February 4th, 1865. 
 
 Once more I find myself in camp, ready to act my 
 humble part in the closing scenes of this great drama. 
 I arrived at my journey's end last evening; found the 
 regiment where and as I left it; the men in good health 
 and spirits. 
 
 I had the good fortune to meet my comrade, 
 Charles Groesbeck, at the depot in Jackson. Our 
 journey to Baltimore was pleasant as circumstance's 
 would admit; no accident, which is itself an accident. 
 
 At Baltimore our annoyances began. The bay had 
 been closed for nearly a week. My furlough expired 
 that night. Thursday morning I went to the Quarter- 
 master to see if a boat was likely to leave. I learned 
 the mail boat was to make an effort at 3:30 p. m. 
 We were not alone; hundreds of soldiers were there 
 on the same errand; some had been v/aiting over a 
 week. There was a rush for transportation, and we 
 were forced to leave our furloughs until noon, when 
 they v/ould be returned to us with our transportatioii 
 papers. Noon came, and with it our furloughs — 
 minus the others. There was a iix. We would not 
 be allowed on board without it; to obtain it that day 
 would be impossible. At the wharf we found a Gov- 
 ernment shipping agent, whose duty it is to furnish 
 transportation for troops when ordered by the Quar- 
 termaster. He informed us that a Government vessel 
 
24:6 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 was to leave for Fort Monroe at 3:30, and, transpor 
 tation or not, he would see us on board, and then we 
 could take the mail for City Point. The time came, 
 but no Government vessel, and the mail was about to 
 leave. The bell rings; again it sounds out a warning, 
 peal; in five minutes she is off. Already they are pre- 
 paring to haul in the planks. A hundred men in blue 
 appeared, maddened by the unnecessary delay; gather 
 around, threateningly. The temptation was irresist- 
 ible ; a charge was made ; the guards were swept aside , 
 we are on board. Put us off who can. The effort 
 was not made. 
 
 We made slow progress until past Annapolis, stop- 
 ping often for the ice boat to clear the way. Below 
 Annapolis the Bay v/as clear of ice, and we made 
 excellent time, reaching Fort Monroe at 8 o'clock next 
 morning. Here another attempt was made to find out 
 who had transportation and who had not. 
 
 Five guards were placed at the gangway, with bay- 
 onets fixed, and orders to let only one man pass at a 
 time, while an officer stood by to examine our papers. 
 The attempt was vain; again the guards were brushed 
 aside; we rush on shore; make a "straight wake" for 
 the Provost's office, had our furloughs stamped, rushed 
 again to the Quarterm.aster, where we succeeded in 
 procuring transportation to City Point. From this 
 time all v/ent smoothly until we reached the Point a I 
 5:30 Friday evening. Here we had our furloughs 
 restamped and boarded a freight train for the front. 
 
 I found my comrades all right, and our little house 
 in as good condition as when I left. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 247 
 
 The Ninth Corps is under marching orders, and are 
 turning over mules, wagons, etc. 
 
 God knows what the future has in store, but the 
 memory of those few days spent with my loved family 
 will ever be cherished as among the happiest of my life. 
 
248 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Camp before Petersburg, February 7th. 
 
 For three days we have held ourselves in readiness 
 to march at a minute's notice. It seems the Rebels, 
 alarmed at our advance on Dansville, by way of Wel- 
 don, have concentrated their forces to oppose this 
 advance. Well may they be alarmed, for, Dansville 
 in our possession, all communication by railroad is cut 
 off, and Lee's army is shut out of the Confederacy and 
 is thrown back on Virginia for supplies. The whole 
 movement, on our part, consists in being ready to 
 repel attack. We have heard nothing from our left 
 today, except the roar of artillery, which, at tim^es, is 
 terrific. The v/eather is most uncomfortable for those 
 having no shelter. It began to rain at 5 o'clock this 
 morning, and has continued through the day, freezing 
 as it falls. God pity the wounded who may be 
 exposed tonight. 
 
 Through the smoke of battle we are eagerly looking 
 for the "bow of peace." The Rebels are now fight- 
 ing for terms, and they cannot long maintain the 
 unequal contest. 
 
 February 10th, 1865. 
 
 The "great movement by Grant's army," so much 
 talked of by correspondents, is still wrapped in mys- 
 tery. Nothing definite has yet transpired concerning 
 
 •* 
 Ha. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 249 
 
 it. It is stated, however, on seemingly good authority, 
 that Meade has advanced his lines about four miles, 
 not across the railroad, but parallel with it, and is for- 
 tifying. Sixteen siege guns have gone out today, 
 with which he proposes to "occupy the road." 
 
 I believe this mo^.e is simply to keep Lee occupied 
 here, and thereby prevent his interference in other 
 quarters. 
 
 February 20th, 1865. 
 
 It has never been so quiet along our lines as the 
 past two weeks, there being strict orders against picket 
 firing. We are eagerly awaiting news from Sherman, 
 and a development of the toils which are being grad- 
 ually drawn around Lee's army. Lee has now but 
 one line of communication left open, and that will soon 
 be closed. 
 
 General Wilcox is in Michigan on leave of absence. 
 Furloughs are still freely given, which shows no import- 
 ant move is contemplated here at present. Captain 
 Sudborough is Acting Engineer of the division during 
 the temporary absence of the real one. It is his duty 
 to inspect the front line of works every day and report 
 their condition. 
 
 Telegraphic dispatches are again in order. Yes- 
 terday the troops were drawn up in line, and the glad, 
 news of Sherman's wonderful success was read to 
 them. 
 
 A salute was fired today in honor of Washington's 
 birth. All our batteries were opened, with shot and 
 shell, at precisely 12 m., and was briskly returned by 
 
260 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 the Rebels. The dangerous "practice" was kept up 
 for nearly two hours, and was intensely exciting. Sev- 
 eral of our men were killed by bursting shells. 
 
 It has rained all day, a mild, warm rain, and still 
 continues. A detail of twenty men from our regiment 
 has been at work the past three weeks to provide a 
 suitable burial place for our dead. All our dead are 
 to be taken up and buried in a proper manner. 
 
 February 24th, 1865. 
 
 More gbrious news from the South. Wilmington 
 is ours. Another salute was nred this afternoon, to 
 which the Rebels feebly responded. It is impossible 
 to describe the effect of these frequent successes upon 
 our troops. The utmost enthusiasm prevails. 
 
 The opposite effect is plainly visible across the line. 
 It makes itself apparent by frequent desertions. 
 Another Captain, with his entire company — sixty men 
 — came through the lines of the First Division last 
 night, the second instance of the kind this week. Five 
 men, with equipments on, came to Division Head- 
 quarters today. They were on picket and deserted 
 their posts in broad daylight. An early movement 
 of the Rebels is confidently expected. Our men are 
 ready, with knapsacks packed, to move at tap of drum. 
 It is only a precautionary measure, and means, **be 
 ready to fight or to pursue.*' 
 
 To attack would be madness on their part; to 
 retreat, an act of folly; to remain as they are much 
 longer, is impossible. So, at least it seems to me, 
 **01d Bobby" may think differently. Deserters say 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 251 
 
 he has given out word "he will astonish the world 
 on the fourth of March." 
 
 It seems the draft is about to be enforced in Michi- 
 gan. I do not wonder the new lav/ is a mystery to 
 men whose only object is to evade it. The present 
 call means men. Paper credits will not avail. 
 
 March 12th. 1865. 
 
 Despite the numerous predictions of newspaper cor- 
 respondents to the contrary, quiet, profound and undis- 
 turbed, prevails along our lines. We are not "mud 
 bound," but are awaiting the movement of the 
 immense force Grant is now concentrating near Hatch- 
 er's Run, ready to sieze on any advantage that may 
 offer and to perform their part in the final struggle 
 which cannot be long delayed. 
 
 The First and Second Divisions of the Ninth Corps 
 are holding the v/orks around Petersburg, and are 
 stretched to their utmost tension. The most difficult 
 and complex combinations are about to be brought to 
 an issue. If successful, Lee's arm.y is destroyed; the 
 rebellion crushed; the war terminated. As I read 
 them, "the signs of the times" are full of promise. 
 
 March 13th, 1865. 
 I confidently expect another great battle will soon 
 be fought. It must come soon. Sherman must be 
 checked, and that right speedily, or the Confederacy s 
 lost. I believe that Lee will attempt to break our 
 lines at Petersburg, with the hope of joining his forces 
 to Johnson's to oppose Sherman. I also believe Grant 
 will be able to hold him in his present position. 
 
252 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 March 17th, 1865. 
 
 Military affairs here are approaching a crisis. 
 Everything betokens immediate action. Quartermas- 
 ters have sent all superfiuous baggage to Washington, 
 and have everything packed, ready to move. Officeis 
 and men are sending home their "extras," by ordeio 
 from Headquarters. The Second and Fifth Corps 
 struck tents at 12 o'clock last night, but had not 
 moved at noon today. The Ninth Corps has been 
 engaged for several days in throwing up breastworks 
 to protect their fiank, which shov/s that we are to hold 
 these lines, while all troops on our left will be cut 
 loose and sent to some other point. Furloughs con- 
 tinue to be granted as freely as last winter, which 
 shows Grant is not short of men. 
 
 Mr. Collier started for home yesterday. Mr. 
 Woodin leaves tomorrow morning. Colonel Swifr, 
 who went home to recruit, is on detached duty in 
 Detroit. 
 
 A flag of truce came inside our lines the fifteenth 
 inst. Rumor says, "Peace Commissioners." 
 
 March 19th, 1865. 
 The pleasant weather of the past week has given 
 way to wind and storm. This morning the sun rose 
 bright and beautiful, as on preceding days, but before 
 noon was nearly obscured by gathering clouds. A 
 little after noon the rain began to fall; gently at first, 
 and continued through the day, so warm and pleas- 
 ant; but as the sun went down the wind veered to the 
 southwest — all our worst storms come from that direc- 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 253 
 
 tion — gradually increasing in force, until now it is 
 almost a hurricane. And the rain ! It comes, now in 
 great, pattering drops; now in solid sheets; an almost 
 resistless flood. My little house rocks and quivers like 
 a ship at sea. I have fastened a rubber blanket over 
 the top to keep the rain from splashing through. With 
 all the wind and rain, it still is warm, and my little 
 house is dry and comfortable. But how about the 
 pickets, without shelter, fire or exercise; anything to 
 protect them from the pelting storm or deepening mud? 
 It is now four months since the Ninth Corps took this 
 position — four winter months — and the men, during 
 all that time, have been on picket as often as every 
 third day, besides doing their other duties; and yet, a 
 more stalwart, healthy-looking lot of men I never saw. 
 
 During the past week more vigilance than ever has 
 been exercised along our lines. The men are required 
 to stack arms at dusk, and remain in readiness to fall 
 in, with accoutrements on, until 9 o'clock. They 
 then retire until 1 o'clock, when they again stack arms 
 and watch until morning. 
 
 The long-talked-of demonstration on our left has not 
 yet taken place. Correspondents will tell the people 
 this storm has caused the delay. In my opinion, the 
 storms are innocent in that regard. When the proper 
 time comes, or his plans are fully matured. General 
 Grant will strike. 
 
254 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 Camp before Petersburg, March 25th, 1865. 
 
 One more "battle fought and victory won" for right 
 and freedom. Never was an attack made under more 
 favorable circumstances for the Rebels; never was 
 repulse more complete. 
 
 The excitement and expectancy of the last two 
 weeks had entirely died away. Sutlers had returned, 
 and only yesterday General Wilcox's Headquarters 
 was enlivened by the presence of ladies. 
 
 This morning I was awakened, about daylight, by 
 a single cannon. Soon a well-known sound struck my 
 ear; a sound that instanily aroused all my faculties. 
 Often had I heard it; at South Mountain, Antietam, 
 Fredericksburg, at Cold Harbor, in the Wilderness 
 and at Petersburg. 
 
 No, I cannot be mistaken; it is the Rebel "battle 
 cry." They are charging our works! But I hear no 
 answering shout; no rattling musketry! It cannot be! 
 They have heard good news, or are having a big 
 drunk. 
 
 These are some of the thoughts that flashed through 
 my mjnd as I listened to those fearful yells; more 
 hideous, far, than tongue can tell or pen describe. 
 
 I was not long left in doubt. "Fall in. Seven- 
 teenth, with guns and equipments," was the order that 
 passed from tent to tent. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 255 
 
 Then I knew that work was to be done. The 
 Rebels had played a * 'Yankee trick" on our pickets by 
 sending out a small force in advance, which, by pre- 
 tending to desert, threw them off their guard until near 
 enough to force them to surrender. Thus an opening 
 was made through which they advanced on Fort 
 Steadman, taking the garrison completely by surprise, 
 most of whom they captured. Then they swept 
 down the line, driving the Third Brigade from their 
 works and taking possession. 
 
 Thus matters stood at daylight. Fort Steadman in 
 their possession, their skirmishers advancing, supported 
 by three brigades of infantry. When the Seventeenth 
 formed in front of General Wilcox's Headquarters, 
 the Rebel skirmishers were within one hundred rods 
 of them, evidently bent on paying their respects to the 
 General. 
 
 Thinking their presence might be intrusive, at this 
 early hour, our boys charged them, as only the Seven- 
 teenth can charge, and drove them back upon their 
 main body, taking about thirty prisoners. By this 
 time the Third Division of the Ninth Corps, held in 
 reserve, had formed in front of the gap and checked 
 their further advance. The Seventeenth formed on 
 the right of the Third Division, and when the final 
 charge was made for the recovery of the lost works, 
 charged with them and held a position in the line until 
 1 o'clock in the afternoon, when they were relieved. 
 
 In this last charge one man of Company G was 
 killed, and Captain Sudborough was wounded in the 
 right side and arm. 
 
256 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 At 2 o'clock we had recovered every foot of lost 
 ground, and were as firmly established as before. I 
 have heard, as yet, no estimate of our loss, or of the 
 Rebels, except in prisoners. We took between three 
 and four thousand prisoners, which is more men than 
 we had engaged. 
 
 I feel a little curiosity as to the coloring correspon- 
 dents will give this affair. Will they acknowledge it 
 a surprise? The commander of the fort was taken in 
 bed; also most of the garrison. After it was discov- 
 ered, it was superbly mzoiaged, and Lee's desperate 
 attempt to join his forces with Johnson's was rendered 
 abortive. 
 
 March 26th, 1865. 
 
 I have just read the President's Inaugural. I con- 
 sider it the most remarkable state paper of modem 
 times. Beautiful in its simplicity; grand and majestic 
 in its expressions of lofty faith in the "Great Ruler 
 of Nations;" it resembles more the production of one 
 of Israel's ancient rulers than the Inaugural Address of 
 a modern politician. I gathered strength and courage 
 from its perusal. ' Cur camp has settled down to its 
 usual quiet. Nothing remains to remind the casual 
 observer of the strife of yesterday. 
 
 Our men are busily engaged, under cover of night, 
 in repairing the damage done our works. Part of our 
 regiment went to Hatcher's Run today, and returned 
 with the news that the Sixth Corps advanced, and now 
 hold one line of Rebel works, and that they took about 
 two thousand prisoners. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 257 
 
 Poor, old, misguided Robert; every effort to shake 
 off the strangling grip with which Grant has throtteled 
 him but serves to tighten it. This attack and failure 
 proves his weakness beyond a doubt. 
 
 March 30th, 1865. 
 
 My curiosity as to what correspondents might say 
 of the battle of the twenty-fifth inst. is partially grati- 
 fied by a perusal of the Herald's dispatch. Their 
 account of the affair, after daylight, is in the main 
 correct, that dated at City Point coming nearest the 
 truth. But the facts in regard to the Rebels getting 
 possession of the fort are suppressed or misrepresented. 
 Neither does General Parks' "official" come nearer 
 the mark. 
 
 The fact is, we have one more occasion to thank 
 God for saving us from the stupidity of **men in high 
 places." 
 
 The long-expected movement on our left is under 
 way. Yesterday Army Headquarters moved to Din 
 widdie Court House, about four miles beyond Hatch- 
 er's Run. Part of the Twenty-fourth Corps and the 
 Twenty-fifth corps have joined the expedition, which 
 must swell the number to near one hundred thousand 
 infantry. 
 
 This force represents the "upper" and Sherman's 
 the "nether" mill stones that are grinding the Confed- 
 eracy to powder. Meanwhile the post assigned the 
 Ninth Corps is one of responsibility. We must hold 
 these fines or Grant's supplies are cut off. 
 
 It has rained all day, steadily; a warm, gentle rain 
 
^68 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 that seems so much in keeping with the season, I enjoy 
 it. What a bright, fresh green it gives to vegetation, 
 and how sweetly the new-born flowers look up and 
 smile their thankfulness. 
 
 April 1st, 1865. 
 
 The Rebels are very restless in our front. Nearly 
 every night this week they have threatened the line in 
 front of the Third Division. 
 
 And now, that dark night has "spread her sable 
 mantle o'er the earth," and those who remain in camp 
 have retired to snatch, perchance, a few hours sleep, 
 perchance to be aroused before slumber has closed their 
 eyelids, to face war's rude alarms, I sit me down to 
 ponder on the whereabouts and doings of General 
 Grant during the past four days. 
 
 "Any news from the left?" meet whom you may, is 
 the eager inquiry. "Nothing reliable," the unvarying 
 reply. Of course, the air is filled with rumors. 
 
 Inside of Petersburg, April 3d, 1865. 
 
 I was cut short off night before last by orders to 
 "get ready to move, immediately." Petersburg is 
 ours, at last. The fighting yesterday was terrific, last- 
 ing from 3 o'clock in the forenoon until dark. The 
 Seventeenth was not engaged; was detailed as Provost 
 Guard. The First Division entered the city early this 
 morning. I can write no more now. Everybody 
 shouting. My heart overflows with happiness, too 
 deep for words. 
 
 April 4th. 
 
 I have slept one night in Petersburg. Again, with 
 knapsack packed, I am ready for the move. I have 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 
 
 no time to chronicle particulars; would that I had. 
 This much I will say: I am about as happy as man 
 can be far from his loved ones. Yesterday was a glor- 
 ious day for the Nation and for us. 
 
 April 7th. 
 
 These are busy days with us; days of glorious 
 activity, wherein we reap fruits of former toil. Our 
 harvest time of victory, watered by tears and enriched 
 by blood, is yielding bountifully. I have no time to 
 give details; not even an outline of what has transpired 
 during the past week. 
 
 We left Petersburg day before yesterday, and 
 marched out on the South Side Railroad to near 
 Southerland Station, where every man, not otherwise 
 employed, was placed on picket. Yesterday we 
 started at 9 o'clock and marched sixteen miles, which 
 brings us twenty-five miles from Petersburg. We 
 expect the cars will run as far as this place tomorrow. 
 
 April 8th. 
 We have remained all day in camp, expecting, each 
 moment, the order to move. Last night was a night 
 of rest, the first in seven long, weary days. Today 
 we are ready to march, or fight, or do any work 
 remaining to be done, to finish up the job we have in 
 hand. I do not, however, anticipate any more fight- 
 ing, unless with small bands of guerillas. Our men 
 are scouring the woods in every direction, but with 
 small success. 
 
260 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 Good news comes pouring in. Last night an 
 "official" from General Grant was read, telling us of 
 the capture of six Major Generals, fourteen pieces of 
 artillery and thirteen thousand prisoners. This even- 
 ing it is reported that Lee, hard pressed in front and 
 rear, has asked Grant for terms of surrender. Thus 
 the good work goes bravely on. I read of great 
 rejoicing in the North over our success. AX^at, then, 
 must be our emotions? Words cannot express them. 
 I can only say, in all sincerity, I am glad I contributed 
 my mite to bring about this glorious result. Colonel 
 Swift has been appointed Provost Marshal of this dis- 
 trict, and has asked me to act as clerk. 
 
 April 10th, 1865. 
 It has just now been officially announced that Lee 
 has surrendered the last remnant of his broken army. 
 Everyone is wild with joy. As for myself, I cannot 
 write! I cannot talk; only my glad heart cries 
 *'Hosanna! Hosanna in the Highest; in the Highest!" 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 Hobbs House. Va.. April 1 0th. 1865. 
 
 Transportation has nearly failed since we left Peters- 
 burg. The cars are running past here, but the roads 
 are in such condition the troops can with difficulty be 
 supplied with rations. Captain Sudborough has left 
 us on twenty days' leave to visit his home in Michi- 
 gan. He goes by way of Richmond, fearing he may 
 have no other opportunity to see that famous city, the 
 goal of our ambition the last four years. During the 
 last two days great changes have been made in our 
 police regulations. The General has put his machine 
 in running order, and we can now turn out "citizens 
 of the United States" with neatness and dispatch. 
 
 Nearly every man, woman and child in this County 
 have taken the oath of allegiance. The people of this 
 County are quietly resuming their usual avocations. 
 From the little knowledge of human nature I possess, 
 I believe a majority of them to be more truly loyal now 
 to the "Old Union," as they term it, than they ever 
 were before. 
 
 April 19th, 1865. 
 Yesterday afternoon we received sad news from 
 our Nation's Capital; news that caused each soldier's 
 cheek to blanch, as if in presence of some dire calam- 
 
262 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 ity. Cur President is murdered; ruthlessly struck 
 down by an assassin's hand! The demon of Seces- 
 sion, in his dying agony, poured out the vials of its 
 wrath on our Executive. T Imagination cannot paint 
 the whirlwind of revengeful wrath that swept over the 
 army; the strong desire, openly expressed, to avenge 
 his death by annihilating the people whose treason 
 brings forth and nourishes such monsters,.^ Woe to 
 the armed Rebel, now and henceforth, who makes the 
 least resistance. 
 
 To illustrate the feeling of the men, I will write 
 down an incident that occurred in our regiment. We 
 have one reptile left, and only one, to my knov/ledge. 
 When the news reached us, he was heard to say, with 
 an oath: 'Tm glad of it. !f I had been there, I 
 would have helped to do it." 
 
 Before his words had time to cool, he was seized 
 by the men near him.; a tent rope was thrown around 
 his neck, and he was hustled toward a tree, with the 
 intent to hang him. The officers interfered, and sent 
 him under guard to the "bull pen." 
 
 Tomorrow is to be observed as a day of mourning 
 throughout the army. Never was man more sincerely 
 mourned than will be Abraham Lincoln, and in his- 
 tory his name will be enrolled beside our Washington. 
 
 Alexandria, Va., April 24th, 1865. 
 One year ago we passed through this city on our 
 way to Richmond. Today we tread its streets with 
 buoyant feet, on our way home, our work accom- 
 plished. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 263 
 
 I am filled with gratitude that I am permitted to see 
 this day. 'Tis a long, weary road, the one we trav- 
 eled, but what matter now? A year's campaign! 
 Surely it has few parallels in history. Eleven months, 
 lacking nine days, the Ninth Corps occupied the 
 trenches before Petersburg, under fire both night and 
 day; but the grand results more than compensate for 
 all our sufferings. 
 
 We are going home, soon as the coils of red tape 
 that bind us hand and foot can be unwound. 
 
 April 28th, 1865. 
 
 We are now encamped on tlie homeward side of 
 Washington, about two miles east of Georgetown, 
 where we are to remain, so say our officers, until mus- 
 tered out. Of course, that day will not be revealed 
 to us until the date of its arrival. It would not be 
 military to give out information in advance. I form 
 my conclusions after reading the signs of the times, 
 and am convinced our final muster-out will occur the 
 last of May or first of June. 
 
 Only one thing can delay us, and that not for long; 
 and that is Sherman's unfortunate treaty with Johnson. 
 That was a sad mistake, but I think General Grant 
 will easily correct it. 
 
 Tenleytown, D. C, April 29th, 1865. 
 
 I can write of nothing, just now, but "Home, 
 
 Sweet Home;" can think of nothing else. Is it a 
 
 wonder? When work was to be done, did I not set 
 
 my face, like flint, to do it? And now, the task 
 
264 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 complete, our Nation's unity restored, slavery wiped 
 out, and peace secured, is it any wonder my impatien* 
 soul chafes at restraint? But, patience, thou spirit ot 
 unrest. I have been making out muster rolls today; 
 tomorrow we muster. Captain Sudborough has 
 returned. He learned, in Philadelphia, that we were 
 coming, and hastened to join us, that he might go 
 home with the regiment. Every detailed man has beeii 
 returned. The next muster rolls I make will be to 
 muster us out of the service. 
 
 May 4th. 1865. 
 
 The work of preparation progresses, but oh, so 
 slowly. But the work is gigantic. The dismantling 
 of this mighty engine of war; of returning this "citizen 
 army" to its legitimate and proper field of action, 
 transforming it to an army of citizens, is an herculean 
 task. Oflicers are busy arranging their aaffirs for the 
 final settlement. 
 
 Everything that has passed into or through their 
 hands must be accounted for. There is but one "loop 
 hole" for the dishonest officer. "Lost in battle," like 
 charity, can be made to cover a "multitude of sins." 
 
 Cur pay rolls are completed and have been sent to 
 the Paymaster. We draw clothing nearly every day, 
 as the officers insist every man shall wear a new suit 
 home. Guns, too, are being issued to every enlisted 
 man, as we return our guns to the State Arsenal. 
 
 Governor Crapo and Senators Chandler and How- 
 ard are in V/ashington, and come out occasionally to 
 see us. 
 
 •^ m^ 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 265 
 
 Drill and dress parade — "fuss and feathers" — are 
 the order of every day. 
 
 May 8th, 1865. 
 
 Two weeks today v/e arrived in sight of Washing- 
 ton, from our year's campaign, crovvTied, this time, 
 with victory. Why the impatience with which I 
 await my discharge? I wonder, am I homesick, at 
 this late day, just on the point of going home? 
 
 I certainly am not well; it is equally true I can 
 think of naught but home. But, I am better than 
 when I came; therefore I will write it down — impa- 
 tience. 
 
 There are rumors of grand reviews, triumphal pro- 
 cessions, and all the rest of it; and our flag, too, must 
 have all the various battles in which we were engaged 
 inscribed upon it. And officers are in no hurry to lay 
 aside their trappings. Why should they be? It 
 clothes them with authority which, lain aside, they 
 never more can wear. 
 
 May 12th, 1865. 
 I received a letter from home last night, dated the 
 sixth inst. Its effect was magical, and confirmed me 
 in the suspicion that I am — a little — homesick. Of 
 course, I must know that arrangements are being made 
 to send us home, and that the time is near at hand. 
 Red tape requires time, and its fountain head is here. 
 "How not to do it" seems to be the study of all offi- 
 cials in Washington. Still, there are som.e things to 
 encourage us. Two regiments from the Ninth Corps 
 
A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 have started for home — the Thirty-first and Thirty- 
 second Maine went yesterday. 
 
 May 19th. 1865. 
 
 The grand review has been officially announced to 
 come off on Tuesday and Wednesday of next week, in 
 Washington. The First Division, Ninth Corps, is 
 being reviewed this afternoon by Generals Grant, 
 Sheridan and others. Our brigade commander tells 
 us this is to be our last demonstration; no more drills; 
 no more reviews. 
 
 Probably the First Division will be required to do 
 guard duty in Washington until after the review. 
 That will all be over next week. Captain Sud- 
 borough tells me he has learned for a fact we will 
 not be kept here longer than next week. 
 
 % ■. 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 Tenler^own, D. C, May 21st, 1865. 
 
 The long-delayed, eagerly-looked-for order has 
 been issued; read to us on dress parade. "All troops 
 whose term of service expires on or before the first day 
 of October, 1865, shall be mustered out immedi- 
 ately." and our officers are to make out their final 
 muster-out rolls without delay. Recruits are to be 
 transferred to veteran regiments, which will be retained 
 for a time. 
 
 Five copies of muster roils are to be made out, and 
 a descriptive list of each recruit, of whom there are 
 thirty-three in our company. The glad day on which 
 we bid farewell to "Dixie" does not yet appear, but ! 
 can now await, with patience, the necessary time. 
 
 May 24th, 1865. 
 The grand review is over. No doubt it was impos- 
 ing, beyond the power of words to describe. Now 
 we can begin our work in earnest. We had positive 
 orders from Headquarters to do nothing until that event 
 was disposed of. We could not get blank muster 
 rolls until tonight. Working little by little, I have 
 prepared the descriptive lists and accounts of our 
 recruits, and have put company papers in proper shape. 
 Our departure now depends on dispatch; first come. 
 
A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 first served. I must now forget my "pains and aches" 
 and settle down to a week of persevering effort. 
 
 The captain gives me leave to detail as many men 
 as I can use. 
 
 May 31st, 1865. 
 Dearest Wife: 
 
 I cannot rest this night without writing you a few 
 lines to report progress. Have we not been busy these 
 last — I cannot tell how many — days? To me, it 
 seems an age. Our papers are all complete and have 
 been sent to Headquarters for inspection. Our roll 
 accounts for one hundred seventy-three men; this for 
 Company G. Of the above number, twenty-three are 
 present to be discharged. 
 
 The Twentieth Michigan was mustered out this 
 morning, and will start for home tomorrow morning. 
 We expect to be mustered out tomorrow; certainly 
 the next day. My anxiety is for you, my wife, fear- 
 ing the suspense is greater than you can bear. 
 
 It is useless for you to write to me again, darling, 
 and this is the last letter you will get from your soldier. 
 Before this reaches you, I will be on my homeward 
 way, a full-fledged citizen, and as I come, my glad 
 heart will sing the joyous refrain: "Oh, I come, I 
 come, ye have called me long; I come o'er the moun- 
 tain with light and song." 
 
 Yours lovingly. 
 
 J?D-94 
 
 • ^ 
 
Story of a Volunteer. 269 
 
 June 8th, 1865. 
 
 We were discharged at Delaney House, D. C, on 
 the third day of June, and next day took cars for 
 Detroit, where we arrived on the seventh, and were 
 disbanded. We are no longer an organized body. 
 Each individual is at liberty to consult his own inter- 
 ests or inclinations. After exchanging photos and 
 kindly regards with my late comrades, I took the mid- 
 night train for Jackson, where I arrived at 5 o'clock 
 in the morning. 
 
 It is now five miles to my country home. I lost no 
 time in friendly greetings by the way, but leaped from 
 the cars before they fairly stopped; passed swiftly up 
 the track to the first street crossing; up "Moody Hill'* 
 and along the "Gravel;" turned to the left; on down 
 the "Marvin Hill" to the old "Clinton House;" again 
 to the left, past "Markham's" and "Shipman's," to 
 the little school house on the corner. I am now one 
 mile from home. What a beautiful world it is, this 
 bright June morning; and how familiar the sights and 
 sounds that greet my senses. 
 
 The trees, dressed in their robes of darkest green, 
 wave me a welcome. The wayside thorn, arrayed in 
 spotless white, doth waft to me its richest perfume. 
 The feathered songsters, their bright plumage flash- 
 ing in the sunlight, attune for me their sweetest melody, 
 and every nerve and fiber of my being responds to these 
 kindly greetings. 
 
 I am almost home; just around the corner. I see 
 the cottage now, set in a grove I planted many years 
 ago, when first my mate and I did build our humble 
 
270 A Soldier's Diary. 
 
 nest. I wrote them yesterday I would break my fast 
 with them this morning. I wonder, did they get it? 
 Yes, they are on the lookout. In the east door, that 
 commands this angle of the road, stands my darling, 
 waving her handkerchief, her dear face transfigured 
 with joy and happiness. In the south door is my 
 eldest daughter, clapping her hands in unaffected 
 delight. Another daughter and my son have climbed 
 the road fence, and are giving vent to their joy in 
 childish boisterousness, while *'pet," the little lass, is 
 running down the street, fast as her little feet can carry 
 her, to leap into her father's arms and bid him 
 Welcome Home. 
 
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