Sunday, 29th.—Very hard storm of wind and rain last night; Steamboat “Vicksburg” broke loose and went off down the river. Regiment on guard in town; went back to camp and found almost every tent blown down.
Friday, March 29, 2013
March 29th. Last evening at eight o’clock a severe storm set in, the wind blew very heavy; it rained, thundered and lightened exceeding anything I have ever seen before; at eleven o’clock we were obliged to let go our port anchor, as it was discovered that the ship was dragging. Half of the ship’s company were kept stationed at their guns, to be ready in case of any emergency, while the balance of the men were below sleeping in their hammocks; the night was dreadful. At one A. M. an object was seen moving down the river; it was reported by the lookout forward; the rattle was immediately sprung, calling all hands to quarters; those who were below in their hammocks were suddenly aroused from their slumbers, “and such a getting up stairs you never did see.” The object drifted down with the current until opposite our ship, and here it fetched up on the left bank of the river, which is, of course, the secesh side. Great excitement prevailed–the night being so very dark and stormy, it was feared that it might be one of the enemy’s boats stealing its way down to make an attack upon us. It is a mistaken idea of theirs, if they think they will catch us napping; however, this mysterious object, after the elapse of half an hour or so, was made out to be a steamer of some kind. We did not fire, although every gun was primed and ready, and every lock-string held taut, only waiting for the word of command to fire, but it was not deemed necessary, and one watch was sent below to turn in, while the other watch remained on deck at their guns, keeping a bright lookout for the enemy. At three o’clock the storm cleared up, the wind was still blowing very heavily, however; at daylight, this morning, the weather was quite clear, although very chilly. By this time we were informed that the mysterious object which caused so much excitement last night, was no less than the steamer Vicksburg, which had been tied up to the wharf, under the batteries of Vicksburg, for a long time. It is quite evident that she broke loose from her moorings in consequence of the heavy storm which prevailed. This afternoon, two of our boats’ crews were dispatched to board her; they returned, stating that she was a mere hulk, no machinery in her whatever; each of the men brought off something as a trophy, such as blankets, old boots, and a few old pictures, also half a dozen good muskets.
Sunday, 29th—We had a heavy rainstorm last night, blowing down several tents. Today it is quite rainy with a cool wind blowing. Being off duty today I remained in camp and read through the Book of Psalms.
March 29. — This forenoon, we are encamped at Donaldsonville, — a point fifty or sixty miles below Baton Rouge, on the western bank of the great river. It is the pleasantest camp we have ever had. The neighborhood of this town, and the country along the bayou La Fourche, which here opens out of the Mississippi, is said to be the garden of Louisiana.
The landscape just about the camp here must be very like Holland. The tents are pitched in a perfectly level field, — stretching, without a fence, far and wide, with only here and there a tree. Along one side of the field runs the bayou, behind its Levee. The water now brims up nearly to the edge of this Levee, though on the land side there must be a slope of six or eight feet from the top of the bank to the surface of the land. If an opening were made in the Levee, our camp would be instantly drowned by the rush of waters. Sloops and schooners of considerable tonnage sail up and down the bayou, and one full-sized clipper-ship lies at anchor just opposite us. To see these craft, we are obliged to look up. The water-line of the bayou is about on a level with our eyes; so that the hulls and rigging of the vessels are in the air, over our heads. At the mouth of the bayou is a fort, with pointed angles, smoothly cut, and turfed with green. It is very regularly built, with ditch, counterscarp, bastion, and berme. This again, I imagine, is a feature which this landscape has in common with that of the Low Countries. Vauban himself might have built this little fort; and Marlborough and Villars would feel quite at home manœuvring here.
Of course, we have very little idea where we are going, or what we are to encounter; for we are the soldiers of a general who keeps his own counsel. In a day or two, we expect to march from here to Thibodeaux, and thence onward to Berwick Bay. We have left Baton Rouge, probably not to see it again during our term of service. We marched in the moonlight aboard the transport that was to bring us here, two or three nights ago. I lay on the upper deck, propped up by my knapsack, and took my farewell of the buildings on the Levee. I have taken my farewell of Ed.’s grave. I have done my best for it. The cross stands firm and straight at the head: the mound above it is high and smooth, and green with clover. The vine above, now full of blossoms, has snowed down upon the turf a whole deep drift of white petals; and sweet baby-buds, cradled among the whispering leaves and sprays, rock to and fro over it constantly in the wind of spring.
March 29—Here still, but positively don’t know where we are.
29th. After breakfast cleaned up and changed my clothes. Thede brought a note from home through Tully. Got a lesson and recited to Capt. N. Our new Chaplain, Brown, has been very busy visiting the companies. Hope he may do much good. How we need some religious influence. I long for a closer walk with God. Read Independent and “Guide to the Savior.”
On the Coldwater, Sunday, March 29. Cold, disagreeable. Sleet and rain part of the time. Health much better. Tied up near shore. Got our horses off across the “White Rose”; gave them good exercise. Stretched a picket, left them for the night. A solitary tent with two cases of small-pox was to be seen, left by the Louisiana fleet. Wrote home.
Church Service.
March 29. Church service today for the first time in several weeks; we occupied the Methodist church. Chaplain James discoursed on neutrality. He said there could be no such thing as neutrality; a man must be one thing or the other, and those who do not declare for the government, should be treated as its enemies. The house was well filled with soldiers and the galleries running around three sides of the house were filled with darkies, who somewhat resembled an approaching thunder squall.
29th [March]. A vote of thanks has been passed in our Confederate Congress to all those who were true and brave enough to refuse allegiance to the United States. This is well; I feel glad and proud and a thrill passes through me, knowing that I never, for one instant, faltered; neither did Ginnie. We were both begged, too, and considered obstinate and romantic. No outsider can ever realize the state of mind to which the people of this city were reduced in those days. Our ideas of Butler’s character enabled us easily to realize in full force any evil which report proclaimed him about to do. Prison, hard labor; exile we feared; evils of all sorts. A cotton press was fixed up by the authorities for some purpose. Report instantly proclaimed that it was for “Rebel women”—intended to put them to work at it. So also with a large stable which underwent some repairs; the women were to be confined there and made to wash and cook for Yankee soldiers. We tied up the few relics which we thought to conceal; burned many a dear old letter and made a general consignment to those who had taken the oath, then sat down patiently to wait our fate.
We knew that Butler had vowed to humiliate the women of New Orleans. We knew that the police were bribed as well as the servants to inform on every member of every household who had defied him, and the sufferings of Mrs. Phillips and Mrs. Coan in solitary confinement on Ship Island enabled us to realize any fate which the tyrant might choose for us. Until the coming of General Banks we never knew what would be done with us or to us. How can an outsider ever know what a temptation it was to us to take that oath. Many women, and men, too, took it in tears. Some went with the intention of taking it, and found they could not. Some fainted and some went crazy. Upon the whole, my opinion of the earnestness of our people was greatly strengthened by the hateful tests which Butler applied to their character. Mrs. Norton would go to town every day while the oathing was going on, and return each day with new reports. “We will be alone, girls, I do believe,” she would say; “everybody is taking the oath.” So we knew there would be no escape for us. I had really forgotten that Mrs. Roselius had taken it, although she had used so many arguments to make us do so, and to-day sent her Doctor Palmer’s letter on the oath-taking. I was sorry for it afterward. She came over after dinner and cried as bitterly as she did the day she took it. She does not spare herself. “I should not have yielded to Mr. Roselius,” she does not scruple to say. She is the warmest of Confederates and continues to talk like one, and hates the Yankees a thousand times worse than before. Mr. Roselius, though he made her take the oath, continually throws up the recollection to her. I despise French husbands! He is a Federal, too!
Mrs. Norton has been watching constantly for the policeman to whom she entrusted the warrant for Mary. He has discovered that Mary is with Jake, Emma and Reuben, her husband. Just three weeks ago she ran in to her mistress for protection against Reuben, who had threatened to kill her. Mrs. Norton went to Mary’s to get Jake, and Reuben slammed the door in her face—her hand barely escaping. Her hand was resting on the side of the jamb. He gave her much impudence, too, she says; so did Mary. The policeman came to-night late, saying that he had just got the three in jail; she has to appear early tomorrow in court and swear that Mary stole Jake; she has asked me to go with her. It makes me nervous to think of it. We have all advised and begged her not to meddle with her negroes now, knowing that the Federals will protect them, no matter what Mrs. Norton can say or do. Ginnie saw Reuben in this part of town to-day, pointing out this house to negro soldiers, and Jane saw white ones stoop and look at the name on the gate.
Camp at Lagrange, Tenn.,
March 29, 1863.
All perfectly quiet except the regular picket firing every night which here exceeds anything I ever before met in my experience. ‘Tis singular, too, for we have a large force of cavalry here and I should think the rascals would hardly dare to venture so near them. A few days since three guerrillas came up to one of our cavalry pickets, and while he was examining one of their passes the others watching their chance gobbled him. They at once retreated. The sergeant of the picket heard a little noise on the post and just got there in time to see the secesh disappear. He raised the alarm, and a party followed them on the run for 15 miles, rescued our man, killed three and captured four of the rascals, Yesterday some of Richardson’s men displaced a rail on the track ten miles west of this place, and captured a train. They got away with their prisoners, but hadn’t time to destroy the cars. ‘Tisn’t safe to go three miles from camp now, although 100 men can go 40 miles in any direction safely. Do you hear of any deserters returning under the President’s proclamation? I hope to the Lord that my black sheep won’t come back. A letter came for him to-day, and I opened it. ‘Twas from his father advising him to get out of this “Abolishun” war as quickly as he could. His “Pa and Ma” are welcome to him. Generals Sullivan, Denver and Hamilton have all left this country within the last few days, for Vicksburg. General Smith commands our division now. We are now in the 2d Brigade, 1st Division, 16th Army Corps. The colonel of the 6th Iowa is the ranking officer in the brigade but he is now sick, so Colonel Wolcott of the 46th Ohio now runs. Two captains of the 46th Ohio, and myself have been constituted by Smith a “Board of Survey,” to appraise damages committed by our army in the property of loyal citizens here. I think he has just done it to get the citizens off his hands. Have no idea that they will ever be allowed anything for their losses. There were three bills, each over $2,500, sent in to us yesterday. I hope the general will allow us to drop the business this week; if he will not, however, we can be kept busy for almost any length of time. By Smith’s orders the reveille is sounded now at 4 o’clock a.m. and the men appear with arms and accoutrements, and form line of battle. This is to avoid any bad consequnces which follow a Rebel cavalry dash at daylight, if we should be found in our tents. I think ’tis an excellent policy to be always ready for the enemy, but I declare I dislike this early rising very much.
