January 5th. Cold with more snow. Detailed as guard with brigade teams going about five miles out on the Williamsport road for wood. Severe, cold weather. Wood choppers and teams must be kept well guarded. Rebel scouts and guerillas often reported in this vicinity. Wood must be collected for our camp. We pass most of these winter evenings very pleasantly in camp, visiting, singing, reading, telling stories, writing, study, discussing the war question, and wondering what the outcome will be, and when we will get home. The song “Home Sweet Home” leads all others. Often hear the war called a cruel war. I think all wars cruel, from what little experience I had.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Scottsboro, Ala., January 5, 1864.
Your brother no longer represents the Festive Mamaluke, but has returned from his paradise of fresh pork, cornbread, honey, milk, and horse, to his original heavy infantry exercise, his nix-Grahamite diet of army rations, to that headquarters of red-tapeism, a “permanent camp,” in short, to the elysium of the enlisted men, and purgatory of company commanders winter quarters. In short, the powers that be concluded that dismounting us would not render the salvation of the Union impossible, and as the detachment was getting a very hard reputation, and making much trouble for said powers to settle, ’twas decided to unhorse us. It’s all over now, the mounting part has “played” and that string will not probably be harped on again for this brigade to dance to. I think that to-day, Sherman, Logan or Ewing would not trust a detachment of this brigade on sorebacked mules if they had only three legs. This little squad of 500 men in the two months they have been mounted have committed more devilment than two divisions of regular cavalry could in five years. Everything you can think of, from shooting negroes, or marrying these simple country women, down to stealing babies’ diapers. From taking $2,700.00 in gold, to snatching a brass ring off the finger of the woman who handed a drink of water. From taking the last “old mar” the widow had to carry her grist to mill, to robbing the bed of its cord, for halters, and taking the clothes line and bedclothing “to boot.” I’ll venture that before we were dismounted, not a wellrope, tracechain, or piece of cord of any kind strong enough to hold a horse could be found in the districts through which we have foraged. I want you to understand that my command is not responsible for the heavy devilment. I have steadily discountenanced it, and watched my men carefully. I am willing to be responsible for all they did, and will probably have a chance, as I understand a board of inquiry sits on the subject shortly. Some of the officers will, I think, have cause to wish they were never mounted; and to think that “Mission Ridge” would have been preferable to the duty they have been on. We had been looking for General Ewing out to our bivouac to review us for several days, and I rather saw in the distance that dismount was an order we’d get shortly, and had sent in to our colonel, lieutenant colonel and staff some of my best horses, knowing that if we got dismounted they would be taken by Sherman, Logan or Ewing. Sure enough, on the morning of the New Year’s day came an order to form to be review by some heavy staff. The review consisted in their picking out what good horses there were, turning the rest into a corral, and sending us to our regiments on foot. We got here the same day, found the regiment just pitching camp, with the idea that winter quarters or a good long rest, at least, was their portion. Our company already has good comfortable quarters up, and is as well fixed for winter as we care about being. But already we hear it rumored that our division is to move down to Huntsville in a short time, and we have had no orders to prepare winter quarters. All right. It has been pretty cold here although we have had no snow nor ice that could bear a man. A great deal of rain. The regiment is very healthy. Not a dozen men complaining. My wrist is improving slowly. Not worth very much yet. Doctor says ’twill take it a year to get well. That bone at the wrist joint protrudes considerably. All right. The veteran feeling is “terrific” here. Three regiments in our brigade the only ones eligible (that is that have been in two years) have re-enlisted almost to a man. 40th Illinois, 46th Ohio and 6th Iowa. In our division there are seven regiments eligible and all have re-enlisted, and are going home in a few days. It is, I think, the grandest thing of the war. These old soldiers so enthusiastically and unanimously “goinginimously.” I guess no one is more astonished at it than the very men who are enlisting. One of the 40th boys told me that “about 15 of us were talking about it and cussing it, until every son of a gun of us concluded to, and did re-enlist.” Our regiment hasn’t been in long enough to make veterans. Wouldn’t you rather have me stay in service until this war ends? I get the blues, though, sometimes, and think of getting out and denying that I ever was in the war. Haven’t I a brilliant record, Thirty-three months in service and not a battle.
Clear and cold this morning. I’m very comfortable. Have built me a brick fireplace and chimney, raised my tent two and one-half feet on a broad frame. Made me a good bed with broom sage for soft, and am living high.
I received three recruits yesterday and have at least one more coming. I have more men for duty than any other company. Night before last two Confederate soldiers came into our camp and stole three horses, two of them belonging to our surgeons, and the other to the adjutant. The Rebels crossed the Tennessee river, which is only four miles from here and recrossed safely with their horses. I call that pretty sharp. The horses were only about 30 yards from where I sleep. They might just as well have got me. I feel highly complimented by their prefering the horses to me. We had one-fourth of an inch of snow last night. Gone now. Yesterday three teamsters, belonging to Logan’s headquarters while foraging went to pillaging a house. The woman of the house tried to stop them, when one of the fellows struck her on the head with a gun and killed her. This was about three miles from here.
Tuesday, 5th—The Eleventh Iowa went in today as a veteran regiment, for three years more if needed. Our brigade will also go in as a veteran brigade. It is quite stormy, with a wind from the northwest. I went on picket again, down on the river bottom, two miles below.
January 5, 1864. — Last day of bounties. Got about three hundred veterans. The Twenty-third may now be counted as a veteran regiment. Very absurd in Congress repealing bounties.
5th. Last day for re-enlistment. Most of the boys in favor. N. telegraphs that proposition has been accepted and regt. will be ordered home within fifteen days. Boys all excitement.
January 5th.—At Mrs. Preston’s, met the Light Brigade in battle array, ready to sally forth, conquering and to conquer. They would stand no nonsense from me about staying at home to translate a French play. Indeed, the plays that have been sent us are so indecent I scarcely know where a play is to be found that would do at all.
While at dinner the President’s carriage drove up with only General Hood. He sent up to ask in Maggie Howell’s name would I go with them? I tied up two partridges between plates with a serviette, for Buck, who is ill, and then went down. We picked up Mary Preston. It was Maggie ‘s drive; as the soldiers say, I was only on ”escort duty.” At the Prestons’, Major Venable met us at the door and took in the partridges to Buck. As we drove off Maggie said: “Major Venable is a Carolinian, I see.” “No; Virginian to the core.” “But, then, he was a professor in the South Carolina College before the war.” Mary Preston said: ”She is taking a fling at your weakness for all South Carolina.”
Came home and found my husband in a bitter mood. It has all gone wrong with our world. The loss of our private fortune the smallest part. He intimates, “with so much human misery filling the air, we might stay at home and think.” “And go mad?” said I. “Catch me at it! A yawning grave, with piles of red earth thrown on one side; that is the only future I ever see. You remember Emma Stockton? She and I were as blithe as birds that day at Mulberry. I came here the next day, and when I arrived a telegram said: ‘Emma Stockton found dead in her bed.’ It is awfully near, that thought. No, no. I will not stop and think of death always.”
January 5th, 1864.
There are now thirty men in my ward. All but two are able to wait on themselves. There are six nurses to see them do it. It has not been so long, however. At first we had sixty of the worst cases in one room. When off duty, until day before yesterday, the nurses had to shirk for themselves, sleeping on the floor in the room with the sick. Now we have a room eighteen by twenty, and warmed by a stove. There is a large building adjoining the hospital assigned to convalescents. Each morning the surgeon examines them all and sends such as he deems able to do duty, to their regiments. These convalescents kept good fires, and I frequently went there to warm myself, when off duty. One morning the surgeon, a new arrival and a stranger to me, noticed me standing by the fire, and thought from my appearance I was fit for duty. “To what regiment do you belong?” “The Seventeenth Michigan, sir.” “How long have you been here?” “About six weeks.” “What are you doing?” “Nursing.” “Where?” “In the first ward.” “What business have you here, then?” “No business, only to warm myself. It is rather cold standing in the street today, when off duty.” “What, have the nurses no place to stay?” “No, sir; they are as poor as was the Son of Man; they have no place to lay their heads.”
This surgeon was Dr. Cogswell, of the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts, who had lately relieved Dr. Fox. In a few minutes I was notified this pleasant room was at our disposal.
Larkinsville, Tuesday, Jan. 5. Rain of yesterday ceased and it is a soft sunny day, everything calm and quiet in camp, it being the last day allowed for enlisting. But nobody goes forward. 12 M. assembly sounded and a telegraphic dispatch from the war department stating three-fourths of the actual number present would take the organization home, etc. If Captain Dillon would express his determination to command the Battery, a sufficient number would go in, to go home, as the boys would rather have him with all his faults, then ——, incompetent to command.
January 5, Tuesday. Congress reassembled after a fortnight’s vacation, or rather were to have assembled but there was not a quorum in either house. At the Cabinet council only a portion were present. The President in discussion narrated some stories, very apt, exhibiting wisdom and sense. He requested me to read an article in the North American Review, (An article by James Russell Lowell which was widely quoted.) just received, on the policy of the Administration, which he thought very excellent, except that it gave him over-much credit.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JANUARY 5TH.—Bright, pleasant day. I saw a letter from Gen. Elzey to-day, stating that his command will probably soon be called out from the city on important service. What can this mean? And our iron-clads are to go below the obstructions if they can get out.
Yesterday Mr. Good offered a resolution declaring the unalterable purpose of Congress to prosecute the war until independence is attained. What significance is in this? Why declare such a purpose at this day?
Mr. Benjamin, Gen. Myers, Col. Preston, and Mr. Seddon are to partake of a feast on Thursday. A feast in time of famine!
