March 31st, 1864.—The box has gone and my socks were ready; that is, the requisite number went but I had to borrow one sock from Aunt Robinson, with the promise that I would knit another right away. I am going to Aunt Margaret’s to stay a few days. Her girls are going to school at Live Oak and I do not see them as often as when they attended school here at Pine Hill.
March 2014
March 31st. Norwich, Connecticut. It is good to be home once more among friends. Wishing the war was over. I am afraid that many more of the 18th Regiment must fall before the end comes. Some will never see home again. These are dark, sad days, but we are trying to enjoy our visit at home, visiting relations and friends. The cemeteries in the cities and the country fighting had taken place in this vicinity but now quiet and peaceful. Battles are liable to take place here most any day. I always felt that Pleasant Valley, Maryland, was rightly named, for it is a beautiful country.
Huntsville, Wednesday, March 30. A fine day, warm, the vegetable kingdom springing fast. Turned my sick horse out to die this morning. Obtained a pass of Lieutenant Jenawein to go to the city. Called at shoemaker’s shop, fixed my boots, and took a ramble through the town to the cemetery, and spent half an hour in meditation among the sacred dead. There lay, side by side, the rich and the poor. Here are coward, patriot and traitor. Truly all earthly passes away and leaves but faint traces behind. Visited an artist’s gallery where I saw the most beautiful works of art I ever saw, representing the human form so lifelike that it needed but the speech to appear with life. The room was filled with different scenes, and the cold white marble statuary by them looked cold and expressionless. Returned to camp weary, but well pleased with my morning’s work. Dinner was over, but they left a rarity of potatoes, etc.
At dress parade we were looked upon by four Northern ladies, one of whom was Mother Bickerdyke, having ridden up from town in an ambulance. The ranks, which before they came under the soft glances of women, were irregular, steps broken, heads drooping, all carelessness, now closed up and all moved with true military precision. A natural impulse to please took hold of them, I guess. After parade they were conducted through camp examining our quarters, with a pleasant smile and a kind word for all, spreading sunshine as they went and filling the heart with fond recollections and pleasing hopes. All were Northern women upon missions of love, one I understood a Wisconsin one, a young lady of twenty-five, the others elderly.
30th. A rainy unpleasant day. Detailed to act as R. Q. M. vice Bills, who thinks of resigning on account of matters at home. Played some at chess. Boys seem to regret my leaving the company. I know I do. I do desire to do my duty well, faithfully and honestly. In the evening took the non-commissioned officers over for oysters. Went to chapel to prayer meeting—interesting.
Wednesday, March 30th.
The storm has abated somewhat, but everything looks damp and dismal. The men are employed drying out, and endeavoring to render themselves comfortable and more secure in case of future floods by ditching about their tents so as to carry off the water, while the officers gathered here and there in little groups, anxiously discuss the possibilities of the future.
Wednesday, March 30. — Woke up this morning and found that we had a confounded rain-storm. It is too provoking to have them now when we need all the pleasant weather possible, to drill our men. In this rainy weather there is nothing to do, except sit in one’s tent and read. The men have nothing to do, and consequently are liable to get into mischief. They are twice as happy when they are hard at work. Received no letters to-day.
Wednesday, 30th—I remained at home all day. Times appear to be very dull and lonesome. My brothers are having a siege of the measles. I am thankful that I have had them, for measles in the army causes more soldiers to be discharged for disability than anything else. I long to see this cruel war come to a close.
March 30, Wednesday. A severe storm last night and to-day. Mrs. Welles had arranged for a party this evening. The rain ceased about sundown. The evening passed off pleasantly. A large and choice company and many celebrities.
Secretary Seward fell in with Mr. Carpenter, the artist, in the parlor. Carpenter is getting out a large painting of the President and the Cabinet at the time the Emancipation Proclamation was under consideration. The President and Cabinet have given him several sittings, and the picture is well under weigh. Mr. C. thinks this act the great feature of the Administration, as do many others likely; but Seward said it was but an incident following and wholly subordinate to other and much greater events. When C. asked what, Seward told him to go back to the firing on Sumter, or to a much more exciting one than even that, —the Sunday following the Baltimore massacre, when the Cabinet assembled or gathered in the Navy Department and, with the vast responsibility that was thrown upon them, met the emergency and its awful consequences, put in force the war power of the government, and issued papers and did acts that might have brought them all to the scaffold.
Few, comparatively, know or can appreciate the actual condition of things and state of feeling of the members of the Administration in those days. Nearly sixty years of peace had unfitted us for any war, but the most terrible of all wars, a civil one, was upon us, and it had to be met. Congress had adjourned without making any provision for the storm, though aware it was at hand and soon to burst upon the country. A new Administration, scarcely acquainted with each other, and differing essentially in the past, was compelled to act, promptly and decisively.
by John Beauchamp Jones
MARCH 30TH.—It rained all night, the wind blowing a gale from the east. This morning the wind was from the west, blowing moderately; and although cloudy, no rain.
The enemy’s gun-boats down the river shelled the shore where it was suspected we had troops in ambush; and when some of their barges approached the shore, it was ascertained they were not mistaken, for a volley from our men (signal corps) killed and wounded half the crew. The remainder put back to the gunboats.
There is great tribulation among the departmental clerks, who are to be enrolled as conscripts, and probably sent to the army. The young relatives of some of the Secretaries are being appointed commissaries, quartermasters, surgeons, etc. They keep out of danger.
Many ladies have been appointed clerks. There is a roomful of them just over the Secretary’s office, and he says they distract him with their noise of moving of chairs and running about, etc.
The papers publish an account of a battle of snow-balls in our army, which indicates the spirit of the troops, when, perhaps, they are upon the eve of passing through such awful scenes of carnage as will make the world tremble at the appalling spectacle.
March 30th. After an all-night’s ride on a slow train we reached Jersey City at eight o’clock this morning. We were due in Connecticut this morning in time for the men to register, so they could vote, this being the last day. At Jersey City marched on board a small transport. By the time half of the regiment was on board, the old craft began to sink. Not fit to take us around New York, and surely not through Long Island Sound. We returned to the dock. Informed the officers we were ready to pay our fares home by cars, as we would not risk our lives on that frail craft. After waiting awhile orders came to fall in. Then marched on board a Cortlandt Street ferry-boat for New York, thence through Cortlandt Street to Broadway, on up to 14th Street, then up 4th Avenue to 27th Street, to the station, to the New York, New Haven, and Hartford R. R. Going on board train we were soon bound for Connecticut. Passed on through New Haven, out on the Shore Line road. The train was often side-tracked, making the journey a tedious one. Nothing important happened during the journey until we reached the Connecticut River. Up to this time cheers and congratulations had been shouted for good old Connecticut. It was believed that the managers of the railroad were in sympathy with the South and were copper-heads. The crossing of the Connecticut River was by ferry-boat. It was obliged to make two trips in order to get the regiment over. The river was very high and very swift, owing to the spring freshet. Our company went over in the first load with safety. The second boat-load was carried out into the Sound. Great anxiety was felt for those on board as the boat struggled in the swift current to make the dock. After making slow progress the boat finally reached the dock, after a long time. It began to grow dark before the train started again. After many delays the train arrived in Norwich about midnight, in a cold rain-storm. Forming in line we marched to Treadway’s Hall on Water Street, a good lunch having been provided. Many people were out, waiting to greet the regiment. After the reception at the hall many made their way home. Those from out of town remained in the hall until morning. All were happy, being home once more. Pretty well tired out. Not much sleep for the past three days and nights on the cars, homeward bound. My home was with an aunt on Franklin Street, where I received a hearty welcome.
