  Fort Gillem, Sunday, Dec. 18. Rained all night last night, very warm and oppressive. We lay in our new bunk, a decided improvement on lying on the wet ground. Griff and I visited a squad of 2,800 prisoners this morning, of which Nashville is nearly full. They look as well as any I have ever seen, clothing not as bad as I expected to see. Could not converse with them for the guards. Our little boy with Unions sold out before he reached us, so we have not the details of yesterday's work. Our headquarters are at Franklin. They must be skedaddling very fast. Moved the picket rope as our horses were fast disappearing in the mud, which is beyond grammatical comparison. This morning everybody is all mud from head to foot. We eat it and drink it, and the air we breathe is muddy. Fort Gillem, Monday, Dec. 19. Last night it rained very heavily again and continued till noon to-day. So furiously did it storm that it poured through our tent wetting everything. Poor me on guard. Afternoon turned very cold and freezing; it looked like snow. This is most disagreeable for camp life such as ours. All day we must move with muddy feet where at night most of the boys are obliged to spread their wet and dirty blankets to sleep. Last night we received a big mail from Wisconsin. It told us of snow and ice, but there was the cheering fireside, warm room and cozy bed, and I could but long for these comforts once more. 1864 Freeing the Slave I have been reading aloud the last evenings, Frances Kemble's Journal on a Georgia Plantation. To-night I finished it. How sickening and disgusting is the detail of this sin of slavery, and I thank God that a better day is dawning on the poor wronged African. What are the trials of camp life compared with the great work we are engaged in. I can cheerfully Fort Gillem, Tuesday, Dec. 20. Everything froze up hard last night, and it was very cold. Suffered considerable on post. Griff and I wished to go to town, volunteered to load rations so as to go. Had to wait until late in the afternoon for our team. Drew hard-tack and salt junk. Visited Sanitary Commission rooms, obtained a good supply of reading matter. Bought stationery to write letters and returned to camp. It is turning warmer, rains again. The papers tell us of the triumphant arrival of our gallant leader Sherman at the coast. Invests Savannah, and we expect to join him sooner or later. Beside this glorious success the utter defeat of his opponent and fellow raider, Hood, is insignificant. "The good time's coming." Eighteen teams out all the afternoon moving batteries. Fort Gillem, Wednesday, Dec. 21. More rain last night, cold this morning. Griff attended to the domestic affairs, washed our dirty clothes, etc. In the afternoon I wrote two letters. Snowed and blustered considerable in the afternoon. Camp is very quiet. The ennui of a soldier's life is very heavy these disagreeable days, but we amuse ourselves by reading a great deal aloud. Two thousand five hundred more prisoners brought in to-day and corralled in jail yard. Fort Gillem, Thursday, Dec. 22. A cold night. This morning everything frozen up hard and dry. Detailed to chop wood this forenoon, cold for my ears and bare hands. All the rest of the day staid close indoors. 1864 Hoping To Join Sherman Fort Gillem, Friday, Dec. 23. Clear and cold this morning. On guard again. The detail comes around quite often now. The privates' roll is decreasing as the officers' increases. Issued clothing. The topic is, are we included in the late order Fort Gillem, Saturday, Dec. 24. A pleasant night on guard though rather cold. Thawed but little during the day. My health still continues very good. Camp is all hilarity over the good news from all quarters. It gives new hopes of the coming dawn. Father Abraham has called for 300,000 more troops. This is right, says the soldier. It shows no faltering or weakness of resolution on our part, while the Confederacy's brightest lights are wringing their hands in anguish and despondency. But it makes me sad that it once more threatens to deprive my loved parents of their solace and comfort. I pray God that my dear brothers be spared to stay with them in their old age. It is Christmas Eve, and I am all alone. Dan and Milt have gone to town. Griff is on guard. Nobody to interrupt my quiet meditations, and I can but think of the many happy hearts that now beat in my Northern home, of those surrounded by friends and relatives and the influence of home. It is in striking contrast with our situation here, where time glides by so idly and it seems at times uselessly. I can hardly realize that it is really Christmas time, so associated is winter with snow and frozen ears and good times to me. It is hard to recognize it in this mud and rain with bare, frozen ground for days. But it is not always to be thus. I am as happy in anticipation of hard-tack and salt junk for to-morrow's dinner, as many that count on roast turkey and "fixings". And still many at home are not happy. I can fancy the heavy cloud that hangs over their hearts as they are anxiously awaiting the return of us from the field. Yes, they think of us morn, noon, and eve. May we be true to their memory and return with a clear conscience, unsullied by the vices of camp. Fort Gillem, Sunday, Dec. 25. Christmas. A warm day, misty and muddy. All is quiet. Health very good. 8 A. M. had our regular Sunday morning inspection, after which Griff and I attended church. Were there in time for Sabbath school, went in and listened to the sweet melody "There is a Happy Land", and "Homeward Bound", which sounded very sweetly to my ear. Read the 2nd chapter of Matthew in concert, then went above to listen to a sermon from the 13th and 14th verses of the same chapter. The Calvinistic dogmas preached stronger than I ever listened to from an American pulpit. Did not like it at all. Returned to feast on Irish potatoes, Uncle Sam's Christmas dinner. Mail received. Brought us news of a dinner having been started us from home. At night Griff and I attempted to while away the remaining hours by sundry attempts at singing, but we retired early, and the third Christmas in the army was gone. Fort Gillem, Monday, Dec. 26. On detail for wood. Went out to our front line of works. Took the rails comprising the walls of the works that were never needed. 1864 Presents for the "Boys" Captain Hood and two of the boys with mule wagons went to town early to look for the big box expected. We had just eaten a dinner of coffee and hard-tack when they arrived, and lo! the box, really a huge thing, was there, weighing nearly four hundred pounds. About twenty of the Spring Green boys interested, but all were permitted to taste something "from home". I received thirty lbs. of baked chickens, pies, small and big cakes made by Mary and Esther. Griff and D. also received a lot. The sweetmeats were soon eaten and distributed with little regard to health, and the chickens and nice rolls of butter took the place of our dishes in ammunition boxes. Dishes go under the bed. Such things are sweet to the soldier's unaccustomed palate, and rendered doubly so by the knowledge that they came from home, from the loved ones that are so Fort Gillem, Tuesday, Dec. 27. A pleasant day. On guard, second relief. Detail off ditching new camp ground. Parker and John Rogers gone to the hospital, both quite sick. Glorious news from Sherman. He presents Savannah as a Christmas gift to Old Abe, which reminds me of our Christmas dinner, none the less appreciated because a day behind hand. The hard-tack on which we have lived since the first of the month laid to-day untouched, also the "sow belly", as chicken, cake and butter were the dishes. It is the theme of much "music" in camp. Spring Green gets the praise. Sanitary [Commission], the next best thing to a box from home, gave us several onions apiece. May their labors be rewarded. Bridge burned between here and Louisville. No mail. Nashville, Wednesday, Dec. 28. Struck tents 8 A. M. and moved on the Harding Pike nearer town. I was left behind to load the teams as they returned after camp equipage, boards, etc. Guarded the new camp by 3 P. M. Was agreeably surprised to find them busy at work building quarters, raising their tents. Shakes three feet long furnished to be nailed up and down. I fell in too, and by night we had the tent stretched on a neat wall three feet high. Was quite tired. Our horses are stabled about a quarter of a mile off in government stables, making it very inconvenient for drivers. Griff over with them on guard all day. Ordered to be ready for grand inspection by Major Welker. Nashville, Thursday, Dec. 29. Last night was bitter cold. Most of us suffered severely, being but poorly fixed, but the sun came out a little this morning, warming us a little. To-day has presented another of those [scenes] that can nowhere be found Nashville, Friday, Dec. 30. A warm, misty day, little rain. Found time to-day to write a couple of letters. Mail came in but none for me. Health of all is very good, though great dissatisfaction prevails in regard to rations. Only a little over half rations of hard-tack given us. They call it post rations, not enough to satisfy the appetites of those who have been used to live on fighting rations. "Anywhere but Nashville" is the cry. Nashville, Saturday, Dec. 31. Surprised to find the ground covered with snow and very cold. Formed with overcoats on at 9:30 A. M. for muster for pay. Hope we will get it soon. Boys all very flat. "Busted". I commence a New Year with a light heart and a lighter locker. On guard. Luckily on the guns, so I did not have to go to the stables. So the last thing I did in 1864 was to stand guard, and the first thing in 1865. Trust it is not going to be so always. Another year has rolled past and joined the many gone before in the vistas of the past. Its glorious deeds of valor and achievements, its scenes of anguish and bloodshed, of wrong and oppression, are subjects for the future historian. Its ever varying scenes and emotions are indelibly impressed upon my mind, which death alone can efface. The snow has clothed the earth in a lovely mantle of white as though to hide the sad past, and offer a clear page for me in the coming year. Let me then look forward with hope and determination to keep in the path of virtue and right, striving to improve the blessings 1865 On Guard in the Snow Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 1, 1865. New Year's morning dawned bitter cold. I suffered terribly on guard last night. A heavy impenetrable mist, such as I have nowhere seen except in Nashville, enveloped the earth till 9 A. M. freezing in icy down upon everything. When I came off post I looked more like some ghostly spectre in white than a soldier in blue. Rations very short in camp, but we had a big New Year's dinner of soft bread and butter, pies and Spring Green cake of Miss Spencer's make. This evening I received a letter from my faithful brother John. He wrote in the midst of the festivities of a Christmas visit. Nashville, Monday, Jan. 2. Weather is growing warmer, the snow melting and it is growing very muddy. All the talk is about "going to Sherman". Preparatory orders are issued and we expect to start within two weeks. Lieutenant Simpson left us to-day, gone to artillery headquarters as ordnance officer. He is a good officer but lacks energy. He goes with the best wishes of the boys. Nashville, Tuesday, Jan. 3. A quiet day. Weather much warmer. Probabilities of going to Sherman lessening. General Thomas has protested against our leaving. Put up harness racks this afternoon. Big mail bringing me several papers, reading matter for the evening. Our new lieutenants mustered. Corporals Goodwin and Proctor made sergeants to fill their vacancies. T. C. Jackson and W. B. Jacobs, veterans, made corporals. All worthy appointments. Nashville, Wednesday, Jan. 4. A very mild day. Camp is getting muddy again. Chopping wood all the forenoon. Relieved this afternoon by an extra duty squad who failed to turn out to roll call this morning. Estimated for clothing. Don't Nashville, Thursday, Jan. 5. Froze a little last night. Very muddy to-day. On guard, same old story in camp. Getting monotonous. Received a letter from Thomas and from an old Battery chum. Drew soft bread rations, a pleasant change. Clothing issued. Captain Hood got a grand military problem through his brain to-day by changing sergeants, placing ranking ones on the right of each section. Rather a fine addition to army regulations I think. This took Sergeant James away from us to 1st Platoon. Dan Goodwin takes his place. 2nd Platoon hates to see him go. Our new "non-coms" appeared in stripes. Nashville, Friday, Jan. 6. Disagreeable and rainy night. On guard. Wet slushy day. Spent it pleasantly writing and reading Ballou's Monthly, received from Sanitary Commission. A little difficulty occurred in camp to-day. Quartermaster Malish visited stables. Found B. Reynolds refusing duty as guard. Ordered Dziewanowski, sergeant of the guard, to "tie him up" which he refused to do. It was reported to Captain Hood and ended in reducing "Coly" to the ranks, appointing Corporal Hutchinson sergeant of the 3rd Platoon, Ed Hayes corporal. Nashville, Saturday, Jan. 7. Turned cold last night. Snowed and blew wickedly. The day seemed very long to me. Did hope to get a letter to-day, but was disappointed. The theme of discussion in camp is the reduction of "Coly". He was a favorite of the boys, and as he lost his position by favoring one of our number, we can but sympathize with him. He is an ambitious young man, but got entangled in "red tape" and fell. Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 8. Froze very hard last night. Inspection 8:30 A. M. As soon as Griff was relieved from guard, 9 A. M., we started to church by permission. Listened to a very good sermon from a Christian Commission agent in M. E. Church. Reached camp 2 P. M. Nobody at home, and we spent a very pensive afternoon, or at least I did. Many of our best men are coming down with the diarrhea. Parker of the next tent was very sick all day. Such things make me sad. But when the mail came bringing me that ever encouraging sheet from John, my spirits somewhat revived, and I found much to be thankful for. My health is unimpaired. Why should I pine? I will not. Nashville, Monday, Jan. 9. Rain, rain!—all day without cessation. Was on detail all the forenoon chopping wood. Got quite wet and felt unwell. Symptoms of dumb ague. Nashville, Tuesday, Jan. 10. On guard. Stood about sixty rods from camp on a pile of shakes in a cold disagreeable rain, the wind blowing furiously. I still feel very bad, unfit to stand guard but will try to stand now that I have commenced it. 1865 "Shaking" Nashville, Saturday, Jan. 14. Sickness has prevented me from writing the last three days. Wednesday morning while on post from 3 to 5 A. M. I was taken with violent chills and ague, continuing nearly the two hours I was on. Every muscle and sinew in me was wracked, while I stood in a driving wind and freezing rain. Never did I suffer so much from "shaking" but I did not call for relief till my time was up. It was with difficulty that I staggered to my bunk where a furious fever set in and raged very high. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 15. Felt pretty smart this morning. Up and ate quite a breakfast. The eruptions much larger, feel a little sore. Doctor came to see me after dinner and has pronounced it a case of varioloid. Ordered us to keep the boys all out of the tent, and my tent-mates to go and be vaccinated. I was much surprised at the announcement, as I was not conscious of ever being exposed, and even yet a little incredulous, but if this is smallpox I can stand it. While I have been sick, our nice lot of horses have been turned over, also all of the harness, and it is said we are to draw muskets soon to do guard duty in town. Nashville, Monday, Jan. 16. In camp. I still feel pretty well. My throat is very sore. Postules begin to fill and turn white, guess it is smallpox. I am ordered to the smallpox hospital, and am now awaiting the ambulance. I must leave everything, as I could bring nothing away. I feel sorry to leave the boys but would not stay to spread the contagion among them. So, dear Journal, I must bid you good-bye until I return. God grant that it may not be long. I anticipate but a short siege, am astonished to find it so easy thus far. Adieu. 1865 In Hospital Nashville, Monday, Feb. 6. Back in camp. Mr. Journal, I have returned after just three weeks' absence and now hasten to resume my story. As the sun was setting in the west the ambulance came for me. Wrapped in a single blanket, I left my old comrades while they were drawing muskets and making a great noise over it. I was ushered into ward 7 with its long row of low cots, most of them occupied by men with very sore looking faces, but I had seen too many such to allow my heart to sink. I was clothed in hospital clothes and tucked into bed, where I lay for twelve days. In a few days the postules filled up, raised very large and were very painful. As I lay every inch of me seemed as though on fire. The doctor would come (a kind-hearted man) and call it "a very pretty case", the postules being very large and thick too. I suffered no internal pain, but for a while the external agony was very great, and I longed for a cool drink of water, but was denied it. About the 23rd my face was swollen so as to completely close my eyes and exclude the light of day for about twenty-four hours, which with matter and heat, I feared, would affect them, and in vain did I plead with the nurse to bathe them with a little water, until the doctor came next morning, which was a priceless relief. When they began to dry I recovered very fast. By keeping strict discipline on my finger nails, I was soon covered with scabs large enough for an alligator, and in due time [they] shelled off in my bed. The weather now was very cold and I suffered some in spite of half a dozen blankets. No visitors were allowed, but Griffith (kind soul, can I ever forget him) came often to the gate bringing my mail and written comments from himself, which I was permitted to answer. By keeping a lead pencil under my pillow, wrote several letters thus, home, contrary to orders, but I knew their anxiety. Saturday, the 28th 3 P. M. the doctor pronounced me able to get up and my clothes were brought to me. I was astonished to find myself so weak. A few minutes after, two soldiers were Tuesday, I was sent to convalescent ward to make room for the influx. Over 500 patients in now. From 8 to 12 die daily. I was put on guard first night, six hours at a stretch to guard Rebs. Had the same every night. I began to get very lonesome soon. Had to fight terribly with the blues, much more than when in bed, and to-day, in answer to urgent request and Captain's application, Doctor let me off. Took a bath, a new suit of clothes, and here I am. Feel quite weak, but happy to be once more amongst my comrades. Hospital life is not the life for me. Very grateful am I that I have recovered so well. Will be marked considerably, but who cares for that? Nashville, Tuesday, Feb. 7. The ground is covered with two inches of snow and everything frozen hard, very cold. Feel very well except a severe cold that has been on me for a week. Our boys are doing guard duty with muskets in town, that they drew the day I left. Twelve men go to town every day. They do it with ill grace. Half of them return to camp ere their tour is half out. Nashville, Wednesday, Feb. 8. Weather still continues cold. Orderly asked me to-day if I was fit for duty. I told him I was too weak for much duty, but would do all I could. Feel quite bad to-night. Bones and head ache, could eat but little supper. Wrote several letters. Nashville, Thursday, Feb. 9. No warmer; feel no better. Received a letter from the Valley with the sad, sad news that my dear mother had again been very sick. But thank kind Providence she was improving. I pray that she may be wholly restored ere this. Nashville, Friday, Feb. 10. Last night I had another visit from that evil genius that seems to hover over my very existence, the ague. I shook briskly for about an hour and a half, but it was not followed by a very heavy fever. Got up to breakfast. Found that Keeler had called my name for supernumerary guard. I did not feel able for duty, but as the boys have such heavy duty on every other day, I could not refuse to do all I could, so I went and drew me a musket and turned out to guard-mount. Oh! how ferocious I did look with my brass plates and fixed bayonet. Griff gone to town on guard. The mail has just brought me a letter from John which says Mother is improving, but yet suffering severely. 1865 A Young Recruit Nashville, Saturday, Feb. 11. Felt very well this morning. Heard yesterday that Benj. Hughes formerly of Spring Green, was a member of Co. E., 44th Wisconsin Infantry. Sergeant Hutchinson going there on pass, David Evans and I went along. Found the camp on College Hill three miles off. With little difficulty I spied him building a chimney. When last I saw him he was just big enough for a cow boy, but in the last four years he had goaded nature along to satisfy his patriotism so as to serve his country. Yet he was very small, but round, tough, seventeen years old. He looked much pleased to meet us, and returned with us to camp to see the rest of the boys. After dinner Griff and I visited smallpox hospital. Heard from D. J. D. but could not see him. He is yet in bed. Nashville, Sunday, Feb. 12. Very cold to-day again. Had inspection of arms at 8:30. On supernumerary guard again. Wrote John. No mail. Another report afloat that we are to march or prepare for the field. Hope it is so. Nashville, Monday, Feb. 13. Quite a cold night, fair day. Mounted the usual number of guards for town, but were agreeably surprised in about an hour to see them return, having been relieved by infantry guards. Bully news for us. It is known Nashville, Tuesday, Feb. 14. Day commenced cold and gray. About noon it commenced raining very heavy and continued till night. All quiet in camp. We are to draw full equipment here except horses. Report to Chattanooga for them, where we are to be held in the active reserve. No mail. Wrote a letter in the afternoon. I am steadily improving. Have a ravenous appetite, which I find difficult to control. Have plenty of the good bread and butter with the onion pickles from home. I eat no meat and feel better for it. Thankful should I be for a home that sends me such things. Nashville, Wednesday, Feb. 15. A damp, rainy day. On guard, third relief. Very busy all day turning over condemned stores, and drew new equipments. Ten pair spurs, whips, scarlet blankets, and to-morrow we draw harness and sixty-four McElellar's saddles for cannon. General Barry, chief of artillery of Military Division of Mississippi is in town. Very anxious to get us started. Promised Captain to give him plenty of men from infantry regiments when needed. Good! New life and animation seems to be infused into camp with the prospect of once more being a Battery, worthy the name of one, ready to fight or to march. All anxious for the spring campaign. But great dissatisfaction exists because the paymaster stays off so long. Officers and men are all without money. D. Evans and I visited smallpox hospital. Were sorry to find Dan abed yet. Saw his nurse who said Dan had had a "back set." I fear he grows disheartened and lonesome, and when the spirit sinks it is hard for nature to do her healing work. Nashville, Thursday, Feb. 16. Cleared up and the day closed very beautifully. Harness and saddles, etc. drawn. Captain Hood reported ready to go, and sure enough, a little after dusk the word came to move early in the morning, report at Chattanooga Depot for transportation. All hands are packing up, getting ready for the morrow. I wrote a letter to T. L. Visited smallpox hospital again to-day. Found poor Dan in bed yet. Our fears are many in regard to him. He is apt to get discouraged. Griff and Dave have gone with his knapsack to the Soldiers' Home to keep it there until he comes out. R. Randolph has been taken with the same disease. I must now close and retire to rest for to-morrow's work. Nashville, Friday, Feb. 17. Very stormy night, and this morning was blowing and raining, but military orders must be obeyed. The teams commenced early with their work, hauling down the guns, boxes, etc. After dinner "strike tents" was given and we were soon out of doors. We have boxed our stove and keg of pickled onions, expect to take them along. We are now lying in the Chattanooga Depot, 3 P. M., awaiting transportation, expect to get off 6 P. M. A night's journey is ahead of us. I am far from hearty, but feel confident that I can weather it through. While we were busily preparing to go to the front, M. Tennant and our tent-mate Milt. Hungerford started home on a furlough. May they have a happy visit of it. |
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