20th —A hard, cold rain all day. The regiment is out on picket. I wish those comfortably housed at home could realize what picket duty is, in such weather as this. To-day they stand from morning till night, on guard. Night comes, but with it no relief from the exposures of the day. In his thoroughly soaked clothes, with the snow flying and the wind whistling about him, without fire and without tents, he must stand; he must still stand and guard the lines till the coming of another day. However much nature may give way under the trial, however exhausted the man, should he be caught slumbering a single moment on his post—the penalty is death. The soldiers bear all this cheerfully, to the shame and disgrace of those disaffected, cowardly cavillers at home, who would sacrifice together these noble, self-denying men and the Government for which they fight. ‘Tis said that we go into winder quarters here. I cannot believe it. General Burnside has not been pushing us forward at such a rate for a week past, to winter us in this most gloomy and desolate country. We are forty miles from “any where,” in the midst of a pine forest, the roads in winter impassable, the people semi-civilized. Whugh! I shudder to think of it.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
We reached Vicksburg that night and went to H.’s room. Next morning the cook he had engaged arrived, and we moved into this house. Martha’s ignorance keeps me busy, and H. is kept close at his office.
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Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in New Orleans, the diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were often used instead of full names — and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials.
Thursday, 20th—We had division drill by General McArthur this forenoon, and in the afternoon we had battalion drill under Lieutenant Abercrombie. Our drill ground proved to be poorly suited for division drill, on account of the ravines and washed-out gullies.
To Mrs. Lyon.
Fort Henry, November 20, 1862.—Four of our companies go up the river tomorrow on an expedition. I do not go. Do not be frightened about guerillas. They are great cowards and will not fight if they can help it. They are mere thieves, and a thief is always a coward. I do not at all fear being killed. Something constantly assures me that I am coming home to you safely. Now, don’t get up a presentiment the other way.
Thursday, 20th. Another pleasant day. Made a detail of 20 men, one sergeant, two corporals, picket, 15 for forage. Chicken broth and dumplings for dinner.
Moscow, Thursday, Nov. 20. Mail arrived to-day. Received two letters; weather rather cold. Went foraging in the morning; returned with fresh pork, beans, corn and fodder in plenty.
We Stay Awhile in Plymouth.
Nov. 20. All the troops, with the batteries, wagons, horses, mules and negroes, have been sent around to Newbern by boats, and we alone are left to garrison the town till further orders. In the meantime it would be agreeable to have a change of clothing. When we left Newbern, we left behind us our traveling satchels, with all our best clothes, taking nothing except what we had on, which is now in a very dirty and dilapidated condition with no -chance to get any. The major seems to take a great pride in his regiment, but I really cannot see why he should take much in such a ragged, dirty, lousy set of vagabonds as we are, but anyway he does, and naturally likes to take us out for dress parade and show us up to the naval officers, of whom there are quite a number stationed here. In this he sometimes gets a little set back, when about half the boys appear out without any shirts on. At this he will mildly remonstrate, but will be told their shirts are out being washed, and they appear out with their blouses for shirts, with their pants and suspenders outside. This thing continued for a few nights, until the major became so disgusted he swore a big swear that he wouldn’t have another dress parade until we had some shirts. That of course made the boys feel proper bad, and they said if that was the case, they would vote never to have any. Plymouth is a small but rather pretty town, situated on the south bank of the Roanoke river, about five miles up from the sound. It is a half shire town of Washington county, and contains two churches, two hotels, U. S. custom house,. court house and jail, but no school-house. It has been a place of considerable trade, doing a good coasting business and exporting, large quantities of cotton, corn, shingles, lumber, fish and naval stores. There are some Union people about here, who appear to be nice sort of folks, but nearly all of secesh proclivities are away.
NOVEMBER 20TH.—A letter from Brig. H. Marshall, Abingdon, Ky., in reply to one from the Secretary, says his Kentuckians are not willing to be made Confederate hog-drivers, but they will protect the commissary’s men in collecting and removing the hogs. Gen. M. criticises Gen. Brag’s campaign very severely. He says the people of Kentucky looked upon their fleeting presence as a horse-show, or military pageantry, and not as indicating the stern reality of war. Hence they did not rise in arms, and hence their diffidence in following the fortunes of the new Confederacy. Gen. M. asks if it is the purpose of the government to abandon Kentucky, and if so, is he not functus officio, being a Kentucky general, commanding Kentucky troops?
Col. Myers has placed on file in the department a denial of having said to Gen. Wise’s quartermaster, “Let them suffer.”
Several ladies, near relatives of Judge Campbell, Assistant Secretary of War, came over yesterday under flag of truce. They lived, I believe, in Alexandria.
Another requisition has been made by the engineer for 5000 negroes to work on the fortifications of Richmond.
No letters were received from Gen. Lee to-day, and he may be busy in the field. Accounts say the enemy is planting batteries on the heights opposite Fredericksburg.
It has been raining occasionally the last day or two. I hope the ground is soft, and the mud deep; if so, Burnside cannot move on Richmond, and we shall have time to prepare for “contingencies.”
Yesterday salt sold at auction for $1.30 per pound. We are getting into a pretty extreme condition.
Nov. 20, 1862. (Vicksburg.)—A fair morning for my journey back to Vicksburg. The autumn woods were shining through a veil of silvery mist and the spicy breezes blew cool and keen from the heart of the pines, a friend sat beside me, a husband’s welcome awaited me. General Pemberton, recently appointed to the command at Vicksburg, was on the train; also the gentleman who in New Orleans had told us we should have all the butter we wanted from Texas. On the cars, as elsewhere, the question of food alternated with news of the war.
When we ran into the Jackson station H. was on the platform, and I gladly learned that we could go right on. A runaway negro, an old man, ashy colored from fright and exhaustion, with his hands chained, was being dragged along by a common-looking man. Just as we started out of Jackson the conductor led in a young woman sobbing in a heart-broken manner. Her grief seemed so overpowering, and she was so young and helpless, that every one was interested. Her husband went into the army in the opening of the war, just after their marriage, and she had never heard from him since. After months of weary searching she learned he had been heard of at Jackson, and came full of hope, but found no clue. The sudden breaking down of her hope was terrible. The conductor placed her in care of a gentleman going her way and left her sobbing. At the next station the conductor came to ask her about her baggage. She raised her head to try and answer. “Don’t cry so, you’ll find him yet.” She gave a start, jumped from her seat with arms flung out and eyes staring. “There he is now!” she cried. Her husband stood before her.
The gentleman beside her yielded his seat, and as hand grasped hand a hysterical gurgle gave place to a look like Heaven’s peace. The low murmur of their talk began, and when I looked round at the next station they had bought pies and were eating them together like happy children.
Midway between Jackson and Vicksburg we reached the station near where Annie’s parents were staying. I looked out, and there stood Annie with a little sister on each side of her, brightly smiling at us. Max had written to H., but we had not seen them since our parting. There was only time for a word and the train flashed away.
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Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in New Orleans, the diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were often used instead of full names — and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials.
November 20, 1862. On taking command of Falmouth, we made a list of the inhabitants, showing their age, occupation, sex, etc. There is so much illicit communication with the enemy, that a strict surveillance is necessary, even over the women, whom we have more than once found performing the office of spies. Sentinels are posted at every street corner, and the patrol goes the rounds every hour both night and day.
The Fifty-seventh is for the time being the provost guard, and both officers and men are delighted at their good fortune. As most of the best houses were deserted when we arrived, the officers found no difficulty in securing good quarters. The difference between a good house, even if it is empty, and an ordinary shelter tent, late in November, is immense, and the officers fully appreciate it.
Yesterday morning I sallied out to call upon the prominent people, and accompanied by the officer of the guard, made a circuit of the town. The chief residents here are the G___s, and K___s, and an old lady relation of the G___s, and two very good looking young ladies. The young women came to the door and joined in the conversation, much to the disgust of the old lady, who did her best to keep them in the background. They were anxious about some cows and a stable they had, and chattered away for some time. Later on I mentioned them to Colonel Zook in General Hancock’s presence, who at once proposed that they should call and see the young women themselves; accordingly in the afternoon the general rode over, wearing his yellow sash, and together with the colonel, followed by an orderly, called at their house. They returned sooner than expected, and so I asked the colonel if my description of the young women was not satisfactory. He said they did not see them, the old lady refusing to call them into the parlor. Not finding the ancient party particularly interesting, they soon came away, both disappointed, which amused me a good deal.
G___ , who owns the mill and storehouse, which are filled with flour, tobacco, etc., by some unique arrangement seems to hold on to his property, notwithstanding the place has frequently changed hands. He is an outspoken rebel, in the prime of manhood, the only Virginia I have met of his class not in the rebel army, but his wife claims to be a New Yorker, and so when the Stars and Stripes float over the town, Mrs. G___ comes to the front; when it is supplanted by the rebel flag, G___ steps out, and thus they manage to retain their goods, amidst the storm of war which ravages all around them.
In a large brick house by the river side, live a family of K___s, F. F. Vs! Here, too, are two young ladies who acted friendly, and were anxious to establish relations with the commanding officer and staff.
As for the rest of the inhabitants, they are what are called poor whites, and are very poor indeed, both mentally and physically, mostly women and children with a few decrepit old men.
Headquarters are in a vacant house on the southeastern corner of the principal street, opposite the lonely looking little brick church. We use the front room for an office, while the rear room does duty as a dining room, and sleeping quarters for the staff. The colonel, as becomes the dignity of the commandant, sleeps alone up stairs. The house is empty, save for the office desks and folding chairs, but when the various colored blankets are spread on the floor, around the room at night, ready for use, it looks quite luxurious.
