January 10th-17th. Weather fine. Weather permitting, company drill in the forenoon, battalion drill in the afternoon, also dress parade. No matter what the weather conditions were guard and picket duty must be done. Mild weather brings on the sticky Virginia mud, disagreeable. My greatest trouble at this time is an ingrowing toe nail, causing me much trouble. Doctor trying to cure it. At times forced to wear an old shoe. Wrote and received many letters, also reading everything that we can get in the way of reading matter. Everything being quiet along the lines, furloughs are granted for a short visit home. Two to four are allowed at a time, for an absence of ten days, from each company.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Jan. 17. The balance of the re-enlisted men left for home today, several of the officers going with them. We have now got our ultimatum, either enlist or go into exile. An order was received intimating that as enlistments seemed about through in this regiment, we would be more useful at Yorktown than here, and for us to be ready to march in heavy marching order at any time; but enlistments still drag.
Sunday, 17th—We had an all day rain. Company inspection early this morning. The Eleventh Iowa received their muster rolls and the boys are anxious to be sworn into the service and start for home on their thirty-day furloughs.
17th. Found a dugout at noon. Rol and I went ahead and engaged dinner. Pulled on in P. M. Ab and I in canoe. Stayed over night at a Union man’s. Courtship scene. None of Tenn., her women, institutions and privileges for me.
16th. Went down with Smith and Bob for dinner. Failed. Good supper at the hotel. Started down the river at dark—in pontoon. Smith, Sheldon, Stopper, Rol. Morgan, Ab Cole, Nash, Geo. Hart, etc. Went down three miles and put up at log barn—fire.
St. Lawrence Hotel, Philadelphia,
Jan. 17, 1864.
Dear Sister L.:—
The regiment started for the sunny south last night, leaving me behind. I shall go to New York before I go and I would like to see you once more first, but it would require too liberal construction of my orders to find any business in Chautauqua. I am left to settle my business as quartermaster and to take command of a squad of men not yet reported to the regiment.
Camp White, January 17, 1864.
Dear Mother: — We are all very well and have enjoyed the cold snap. We had good sleighing about ten days. The river was closed, cutting us off completely from the civilized world. Provisions were pretty plenty, however, and we felt independent of the weather.
It is not quite certain yet when I can get off. I hope to do so by the last of this month. Lucy will come with me. We shall go first to Cleveland where some of our veterans are recruiting; from there to Fremont, thence to Delaware and Columbus, and return by the way of Cincinnati. . . .
Affectionately, your son,
R.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
Diary And Memoranda, 1864
Jan. 17th. Copied barrack rules. There are skaters on the river.
Huntsville, Sunday, Jan. 17. A pleasant day. Meeting was announced to be had at 2 P. M. in the Presbyterian Church. Obtained permission and went down, but found none, it being held at 6 P. M. Walked over town. Visited the waterworks of the city, which is the largest of the kind South, with the exception of one at Columbia, S. C. A large stream gushes out of the solid rock under the courthouse, which is dammed about four feet and propels a large water wheel which works a powerful force pump that forces water all over the city, furnishing a hydrant at every corner. Pump is enclosed in a neat stone house. Returned to camp for supper and evening roll-call, then we walked back again. The church was very neat and filled with soldiers, but one woman in the audience. Chaplain of 18th Wisconsin officiated, of the Calvinistic school, and but ill agreed with my views, but it seemed good to be once more listening to an earnest speaker and hear the old-fashioned tunes swell in the bass voices that filled the room. Returned to camp, if not better, a more thoughtful man. It was the second sermon I have listened to since leaving home, and in common with all soldiers, I have acquired a careless and light way of passing time.
Sunday, January 17.—Went to the Methodist Church, now reopened for service. Mr. Holland, a young man, apparently not over eighteen years of age, from Kentucky, preached. To all appearance his sermon was extempore. His language was most eloquent, and he spoke with great fluency. His subject was prayer, and he discoursed on the mysterious power of that great moral lever with all the clearness and force of an able and experienced divine. He is certainly a young man of extraordinary abilities.
In the evening Mr. Moore preached an excellent sermon in a ward filled with patients. We burn tallow-candles, and we always carry ours with us to light up the ward, as well as we can.
I often think of these meetings, and how strange every thing has turned. The ward is usually filled with men dressed in all kinds of uniforms, and some, unable to be up, are in their bunks. The ward is dimly lighted, but not too dim to prevent us distinguishing the faces of the men, and see the eagerness with which they listen to the expounding of the word of God, and the words of comfort in the solemn prayers which are offered up in their behalf, and frequently in behalf of our cruel enemies.
