[Diary] March 9.
“The Oaks” reserved and to be our home still. Mr. Philbrick has not bought Coffin Point. Will bought nothing. The land sold for about a dollar and a quarter an acre; sometimes, once only, I believe, as high as three dollars — sometimes lower.
Camp Reynolds, March 9, 1863.
Dear Uncle: — Yours of last Sunday came to hand yesterday. Wife and boys still here — very happy. They fish and row skiff and ride horseback. They can all row. Webb and Birch rowed a large load of soldiers across the river and back — a large roaring river, almost like the Ohio in a fair fresh. They will go home in a week or two probably. We shall remain here two or three weeks and then probably go to Charleston.
The new conscript act strikes me as the best thing yet, if it is only used. I would only call enough men to recruit up weakened regiments, and compel the return of the shirks and deserters. Make our commanders give more time to drill and discipline; make the armies regulars — effectives; stand on the defensive except when we can attack in superior numbers; send no more regiments or gunboats to be gobbled up one at a time. Mass our forces and we shall surely conquer.
Sincerely,
R. B. Hayes.
S. BIRCHARD.
Stereograph showing gunboats at dock at the Baton Rouge coaling yard of Messrs. Hill & Markham at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, March 1863.
Library of Congress image.
March 9th. At ten A. M. called all hands to up anchor. At ten forty-five A. M., got under way, steaming up the river, followed by the U. S. steam sloop-of-war Richmond and Monongahela; while steaming up the river, the men were employed in snaking down the rigging. At seven P. M. brought the ship to anchor for the night.
Monday, 9th—We were relieved from picket at 9 o’clock this morning. The Thirteenth Iowa had battalion drill this afternoon. Hear some heavy cannonading in the direction of Vicksburg.
March 9, Monday. Had a call from Senator Dixon. Is depressed and unhappy. Regrets that he opposed the confirmation of Howard. Says if the subject was to be gone over again his course would be different. I did not attempt to soften or excuse his conduct, but told him I was sorry he did not listen to my suggestions. He proposed several names for the place. I had no other candidate than my old friend James G. Bolles, and he, though naming two or three others, fell in with it.
March 9.—Yesterday was a very warm day. Just before sunset we had one of the most terrific hail-storms I have ever seen; some of the hail-stones were the size of a hen’s egg. It broke nearly all of our windows on the west side of the house. It only lasted a few minutes. Had it been of much longer duration, I think the house would have fallen, as the rain poured through the windows in torrents, and would have swept all with it. We had a number of very sick men, and did what we could to have them cared for. Mrs. W. went up-stairs to see after the men there, and found Mr. Murray, a nurse, trying to hold in one of the window-sashes; all the glass being broken, the rain and hail poured right down on him. One of the patients, who we thought was dying, was lying so that he had the full benefit of the storm. Mrs. W., in her haste to save him from being drowned on dry land, gave his bunk a pull, and down came bunk, man, and all on the floor. Poor Mrs. W. thought she had killed him, and it gave her such a fright that she ran and left him. Much to the surprise of all, he has taken a turn for the better. None of the men are any the worse.
They get plenty of fresh air now; Dr. Hunter is a great believer in that any way. He says that when men have been living in the field as ours have, without even a tent to cover them at night, when brought into a close room, especially when wounded, they get worse right away. I have seen the truth of this exemplified.
When we first came here, there was a very sick man, whose wife was nursing him; he was in a small room, which the wife would not permit a breath of fresh air to enter, thinking it would kill him, as he had a very bad cough; we all thought he would die. One day Dr. Hunter ordered him to be put into a large ward, where there were about twenty patients; but it was well ventilated. The wife was in a terrible state, and said the moving would kill her husband, and asked me to beg Dr. Hunter to have him moved back. I did so, but he would not grant my request; he said fresh air was the only thing that would save the man, and he did not care to have his murder on his conscience. I found him inexorable, and thought him very hard-hearted. From that time the man commenced to improve, and in a week or two received a furlough, and went home with his wife.
The doctors do not like the wives of the men to come and nurse them; they say they invariably kill them with kindness. There are some ladies who come to take care of their relatives, who seem to understand nursing, and are a great help, not only to their own folks, but to others around them; these the doctors do not object to.
March 9.—Yesterday was a very warm day. Just before sunset we had one of the most terrific hail-storms I have ever seen; some of the hail-stones were the size of a hen’s egg. It broke nearly all of our windows on the west side of the house. It only lasted a few minutes. Had it been of much longer duration, I think the house would have fallen, as the rain poured through the windows in torrents, and would have swept all with it. We had a number of very sick men, and did what we could to have them cared for. Mrs. W. went up-stairs to see after the men there, and found Mr. Murray, a nurse, trying to hold in one of the window-sashes; all the glass being broken, the rain and hail poured right down on him. One of the patients, who we thought was dying, was lying so that he had the full benefit of the storm. Mrs. W., in her haste to save him from being drowned on dry land, gave his bunk a pull, and down came bunk, man, and all on the floor. Poor Mrs. W. thought she had killed him, and it gave her such a fright that she ran and left him. Much to the surprise of all, he has taken a turn for the better. None of the men are any the worse.
They get plenty of fresh air now; Dr. Hunter is a great believer in that any way. He says that when men have been living in the field as ours have, without even a tent to cover them at night, when brought into a close room, especially when wounded, they get worse right away. I have seen the truth of this exemplified.
When we first came here, there was a very sick man, whose wife was nursing him; he was in a small room, which the wife would not permit a breath of fresh air to enter, thinking it would kill him, as he had a very bad cough; we all thought he would die. One day Dr. Hunter ordered him to be put into a large ward, where there were about twenty patients; but it was well ventilated. The wife was in a terrible state, and said the moving would kill her husband, and asked me to beg Dr. Hunter to have him moved back. I did so, but he would not grant my request; he said fresh air was the only thing that would save the man, and he did not care to have his murder on his conscience. I found him inexorable, and thought him very hard-hearted. From that time the man commenced to improve, and in a week or two received a furlough, and went home with his wife.
The doctors do not like the wives of the men to come and nurse them; they say they invariably kill them with kindness. There are some ladies who come to take care of their relatives, who seem to understand nursing, and are a great help, not only to their own folks, but to others around them; these the doctors do not object to.
Mrs. Lyon’s Diary.
Fort Donelson, March 9, 1863.—We don’t do much but cook. There is a large family of us. It is lucky that we have a large room.
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