Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Thursday, 25th—It rained nearly all day—at times very hard. We remained in camp all day and nothing of any importance occurred. Now that we are so near Washington, the boys are waiting their turns for passes to go to the city, for since there are so many provost guards there, it would not be safe to go without a pass.

25th. Nettleton returned to camp early. I went out at noon. Met M. and A. on Penn. Ave. Went up to Uncle’s—discouraged. Started for Alexandria but was too late. M. and I went up to a restaurant for supper.

May 25.—I wish that I could have been in Washington this week, to have witnessed the grand review of Meade’s and Sherman’s armies. The newspaper accounts are most thrilling. The review commenced on Tuesday morning and lasted two days. It took over six hours for Meade’s army to pass the grand stand, which was erected in front of the President’s house. It was witnessed by the President, Generals Grant, Meade, and Sherman, Secretary Stanton, and many others in high authority. At ten o’clock, Wednesday morning, Sherman’s army commenced to pass in review. His men did not show the signs of hardship and suffering which marked the appearance of the Army of the Potomac. The scenes enacted were historic and wonderful. Flags were flying everywhere and windows, doorsteps and sidewalks were crowded with people, eager to get a view of the grand armies. The city was as full of strangers, who had come to see the sight, as on Inauguration Day. Very soon, all that are left of the companies, who went from here, will be marching home, “with glad and gallant tread.”

Chattanooga, Thursday, May 25. Drilled two hours in battery drill, and when we returned, received a large mail which was long looked for. I received two which assured me that all was well.

After dinner M. U. Hungerford and myself procured a pass, and started to visit the U. S. rolling mill about a mile and a half distant. On our way we ascended Cameron Hill, an elevation about 400 feet above the river. The river side being very steep, an interesting view is to be seen from here. Three large steamships on this side, eight steamboats lying up for repairs over on the docks. Beyond the river cultivated fields look very beautiful. On these hills are three large reservoirs of the Chattanooga water works into which the water is pumped by steam, and carried by its own weight down into the town. Also a large magazine 200 feet long which will be used long after peace is established. On the crown of the hill is a grim-looking war-dog, a 100-pounder Parrott, weighing 7,286 pounds, 6.4 inch caliber, maintained on wrought iron carriage, manned by the 1st Minnesota Heavy Artillery. The guard anxiously inquired if we were not ordered to relieve them so they could go home. Poor fellows!

Now we descended the western slope, and soon found ourselves approaching the center of attraction. The fires were down in most of the furnaces, the workmen at work relining them, but the sight was an interesting one to me, and we could easily trace the process clear through. Old bent-up rails were cut into pieces by a mammoth pair of shears, bundled together, thrown into the furnace, and rolled out into plates six inches wide, half an inch thick. This was cut into pieces about four feet long, six of them put together, heated, and after putting them through four different rolls, came out as a rail for the steam horse of progression to run upon. Two mammoth saws sawed off the ends, leaving it thirty feet long. It was astonishing to find how little human force was needed in the prosecution of this great work. The engine is encased in a glass house, and as nicely polished as parlor furniture. A dreary rain came up, and we got partially wet before reaching camp, which we did in time, and fell in for afternoon drill.

May __, 1865.—Mother has been sick with fever for three days past and I have paid no attention to my diary. Last night such a mysterious stranger came to us. I, who have the reputation of having no curiosity, am fairly eaten up with it. Father knows but does not tell. He says I must not write down what happened as it might endanger our visitor. He says I must not even put a date.

Mother’s illness was severe, she does not often have fever and we felt alarmed but she is much better this morning, even to the extent of eating a nice little squab, Adeline had broiled for her breakfast.

Something dreadful has happened dear Diary, I hardly know how to tell it, my dear black mammy has left us. I did not expect her to be the first to leave but it was not exactly her fault. Mother did not want Hannah to go out to Centreville where all those soldiers are encamped and when she found Lulu was dressing her in her prettiest clothes to take her there to spend the day, Mother told her Hannah must not go.

Lulu reminded her that they were now free and if she saw fit to take her daughter into that crowd it was nobody’s business.

Of course that angered Mother so she said, “If you disobey me in this matter you and your family must leave the place.”

Lulu did not believe she was in earnest and came in as usual to attend to her duties but Mother was firm and Lulu had to go and I am inconsolable, though I would not have Mother to know it for the world.

I feel lost, I feel as if someone is dead in the house. Whatever will I do without my Mammy? When she was going she stopped on the doorstep and, shaking her fist at Mother, she said:

“I’ll miss you—the Lord knows I’ll miss you—but you’ll miss me, too—you see if you don’t.”

Well, she is gone—I will try to wait on Mother so she will not miss her too much. I do not think Mother realizes they are free.