The Diary of a Line Officer, Captain Augustus C. Brown, Co. H, 4th NY Heavy Artillery

Saturday, April 16th.

Spent the day in fixing up about camp, arranging cook house, for we still retain our old company cook, William Wood, and generally endeavoring to make the company as comfortable as circumstances will permit. I am projecting a residence for myself of the greatest magnificence and grandeur. An eminent architect has been employed and the plans and specifications completed and adopted, and I only await the reports of the contractors who have gone out to discover some old corduroy road which will furnish the necessary lumber in the shape of poles. I shall hope to erect, complete and furnish it within an hour after the timber arrives.

Friday, April 15th.

The Second Battalion, under Major Arthur, composed of Companies D, K, H, and E, took up its line of march for the Fifth Corps this morning, passing through a pleasant, open country stretching away from the foot of “Pony Mountain,” and after a march of about six or eight miles reached its destination near the village of Culpepper. Here, in an old orchard near a large but dilapidated brick house about a mile from Culpepper, we located our camp. While pitching tents I was surprised and delighted to see Capt. Jim McNair, of the 8th N. Y. Cavalry, an old Geneseo school-mate and friend of mine, who had heard of our expected arrival in these parts and had ridden over to meet us. Leaving the company in charge of Lieut. Edmonston, I mounted the horse of Jim’s orderly and rode with him over to Culpepper on a foraging expedition, which, however, was not a very marked success, for we found the town almost wholly deserted by the inhabitants; the fences and buildings destroyed or badly damaged, and the streets full of army wagons and straggling soldiers. Gen. Grant, and Gen. Warren of our Corps, have established their Headquarters here, though there are but three or four houses in the town which are not riddled with shot and shell or have windows and doors left in them. The churches are being utilized as hospitals, and the little urchins on the street are as bitter as the few older inhabitants who remain, and assure us as we pass along that “when the Rebs come back you-uns will skedaddle.”

After an exceedingly plain and frugal repast at a miserable apology for a restaurant, and a short stroll about town, we returned to camp, where, parting with Jim, I found my shelter tent temporarily pitched for my reception. I find we are in the midst of a country where stirring scenes have taken place, some even as late as during the past winter. Just in rear of us, on a plain running back to a dense wood, and in the wood itself, occurred a severe cavalry fight, and the place where our camp now stands was crossed and re-crossed by the combatants and the earth stained with the blood of brave men, while the old orchard trees are cut and scarred by the bullets. The old brick house near us is occupied in part by an elderly lady and her granddaughter of the close-communion “Secesh” persuasion, and in part by the Brigade Commissary, whose stores consist principally of hard tack and whiskey. One can scarcely conceive of a more utterly forsaken looking habitation than this residence of one of the “F. F. V.’s.” The barns, stables, sheds and fences which formerly belonged to or surrounded it, have been torn down piecemeal to supply fuel or to build shanties for soldiers. Not a green thing, not even grass, is allowed to grow about, and the old shell itself is literally tottering to decay. The doors, what few remain, swing loosely on leather hinges; the windows, demolished by patriotic Yankee valor, admit at once the sunshine and the storm, while the rickety old veranda that once graced the front on either side, now serves as a roost for three or four sickly chickens (all the tenant’s visible earthly possessions), and a loafing place for a few idle army officers. I mean to take an early opportunity, however, to pay my respects to the ladies.

Thursday, April 14th.

The day was spent in determining which of the remaining battalions should go to the Fifth Corps, and what companies should compose it, and, when it was finally decided to send the Second Battalion, by that command in packing up and preparing to move, while Major Arthur reported in person to his new Brigade Commander, Col. Wainwright.

Col. Bull, of the 126th, called on me and congratulated me on the fact that my Battalion is to go to the Fifth Corps, saying that as that Corps is largely composed of regulars, if there is “a soft snap” anywhere that command will be likely to get it, but I doubt if any partiality is shown even if it could be. It has rained every day but two since we reached Stevensburg two weeks ago, and though in common with many others I used to wonder why the army did not move, since coming down here and seeing the country, the climate, the weather, the soil and the army with its necessary wagon, supply, hospital and ammunition trains, its batteries and accessories, my wonder is that it can ever move at all.

Wednesday, April 13th.

The regiment to-day received two months’ pay, and the sutler, King, was rendered happy if no one else was. The event was celebrated by the men in making large purchases of useless sutler’s stores, and by many of the officers in a reception at the private tent of the sutler, where, I regret to say, a large number did more than justice to several casks of ale and bottles of whiskey. Among those who distinguished themselves most conspicuously was Lieut. Blank, who, like the famous “Carrier of Southwell,”

“A Carrier who carried a can to his mouth well,

He carried so much and he carried so fast

He could carry no more, so was carried at last—”

into a corner of the tent, where he passed the night in quiet and peaceful repose.

Orders were received to-day directing a battalion of the regiment to be sent to the Artillery Brigade of each of the three Corps, and accordingly the First Battalion, under Major Sears, broke camp and marched over to the Sixth Corps. This disposition of our regiment is exceedingly distasteful to both officers and men, but as it seems that all hope of being supplied with a siege train must be given up, we look upon this as a sort of compromise between Artillery and Infantry, and though it looks very much as if we should become simply “hewers of wood and drawers of water” for the light batteries, we accept the assignment as the least of the two evils.

Tuesday, April 12th.

The only improvement in our condition or in the weather to-day was the arrival of the paymaster to pay us off tomorrow. There are rumors that the regiment is to be divided and a battalion sent to each of three Corps, to join its Artillery Brigade.

Monday, April 11th.

Nothing of special interest has occurred since the 4th. We are still camped on the side hill near Stevensburg and the weather continues cold and rainy, while the term “mud” scarcely conveys an idea of the condition of the soil. Two or three rations of whiskey have been issued to the men and, I am bound to say under the circumstances, with beneficial results. Lieut. Gleason has been discharged from the service on a surgeon’s certificate of physical disability, and if he escapes with his life after the experience of the past ten days he will do well. Second Lieut. Clark, who assisted me in recruiting for the Eleventh, is assigned to my company to fill his place. Whenever the weather has permitted, we have endeavored to pick up some knowledge of skirmish drill, however distasteful that is to an artillery soldier. We have also had one or two dress parades in “close column by battalion,” the regimental line being too long for our parade ground in the usual formation. It is rumored about camp that the Artillery Brigade of the Second Corps is to be composed of twelve light batteries, and that our regiment is to support these batteries when in action, and act as guard for their camps and trains, a duty usually performed by infantry. Now that the “powers that be” have got us into the field, it looks to me very much as if they don’t know what to do with us.

Monday, April 4th.

The storm still continues, and though the men make spasmodic efforts to render themselves more comfortable by ditching about their little tents, it is about as much as human nature will bear. Lieut. Gleason, who is not very strong at best, being a victim of rheumatism, is nearly drowned in his blankets, and looks very much as if he’d “like to see his mother,” while Lieut. Edmonston and I divide our time between our “bunk” in about two inches of water, and the Colonel’s wall tent in about the same depth of mud.

Sunday, April 3rd.

The snow storm abated somewhat this morning, and I took the opportunity to have my “headquarters” pitched. These consist of two “A” tents fastened together end to end, the rear one occupied by a bed for Lieut. Edmonston and myself and the front one by a bed for Lieut. Gleason. These beds are very primitive structures, composed of small boughs of pine covered with leaves and blankets, and are kept in position, and the occupants prevented from falling out of bed, by sticks or boards staked up about them like the sides of a box. Having dug a trench around the outside of the tents, and built a mud fire place in the corner of the front room, we flattered ourselves that we were secure against the elements, but a rain storm coming on, we find that “all is vanity,” for the water comes through the canvas like a sieve and puts out our fire, so we go to bed, and, drawing our rubber blankets over our heads, take a quiet nap. Most of the company having returned to camp and put up their tents, they crawl into them and shiver through it.

Saturday, April 2nd.

This morning we found the ground covered with snow to the depth of about four inches and a snow storm still raging. Went over to my company camp and found everything in the most cheerless possible condition. The field officers of the regiment have their tents up, but find them little protection, though they strenuously endeavor to get up a little fire in two or three camp stoves which have been smuggled thus far, and whiskey is in great demand. As to the men, their condition is truly deplorable, and the sick list is very long this morning owing to the exposure and consequent suffering. Having ascertained that no new orders have been received, and that most of my own company are quartered with the 126th. I returned to Lieut. Lincoln’s tent and accepted the invitation of Capt. and Lieut. Munson of the 126th to spend the night with them. After I had turned in I was aroused by Capt. Platt of the 126th, who, personating a raw recruit who had enlisted with the promise of a Captain’s commission as soon as he had joined his regiment, was convulsing a party of officers in the hut, with the recital of his grievances in not getting the promised position. Capt. Platt is a perfect mimic, and would do credit to any stage as a first-class comedian.