Camp Chalmette, La.
Spying out the land--Foiling an attempt at suicide--Clash with the
28th Maine--An interrupted sermon--Brownell's last words.
_January 4, 1863._
_Sunday._ Hip, Hip, Hurrah! The Laurel Hill, a steamer, has stopped at
our camp and we have orders to pack up for a move. All that are able are
to be taken to Chalmette, the old battleground below New Orleans.
Anywhere but this God-forsaken spot, say I. Chaplain Parker preached hot
stuff at us to-day. Says we don't take proper care of ourselves, that we
eat too often and too much. That made me laugh. Dominie, if you lived
with us a while, ate at the same table and had the same bill of fare to
choose from, I think you would tell another story. Poor man, it is
getting on his nerves sure. But it sets me to wondering if our officers
all think that way. If they blame us for the condition we are in, who
brought these conditions about? Did we from choice herd in between decks
like pigs, while the officers, chaplain and all had staterooms and a bed
and good food to eat, well cooked and at regular hours? If they blame us
for our condition to-day, I can only hope that at some time they may get
just such treatment and fare and that I may be there to remind them it
is their own fault. Chaplain Parker must do some tall preaching to make
good what he has lost by that tongue-lashing. It was uncalled for and a
sad mistake.
_January 5, 1863._
CHALMETTE. _Monday._ Said to be just below the city of New Orleans. We
left quarantine about 11 P. M. and reached here about 8 this morning.
Many were left behind, too sick to be moved. We have put up our tents,
and have been looking about. It is a large camp ground and from all
signs was lately occupied and was left in a hurry. Odds and ends of camp
furniture are scattered about, and there are many signs of a hasty
leave-taking. A few of us went back across the country to a large woods,
where we found many trees covered with long gray moss, hanging down in
great bunches from the branches. We took all we could carry to make a
bed of, for it is soft as feathers.
_Later._ The doctor won't allow us to use our bed of moss. Says it would
make us sick to sleep on it, and much worse than the ground. This is
said to be the very ground where General Jackson fought the battle of
New Orleans and a large tree is pointed out as the one under which
General Packenham was killed. Ancient-looking breastworks are in sight
and a building near our tents has a big ragged hole in the gable which
has been patched over on the inside so as to leave the mark as it was
made, which a native tells me was made by a cannon ball during the
battle of New Orleans. The ground is level and for this country is dry.
The high bank, or breastworks, cuts off the view on one side and a board
fence cuts off a view of the river. Towards the city are enough trees to
cut off an extended view in that direction, so we have only the swamp
back of us to look at. But this beats quarantine and I wish the poor
fellows left there were well enough to get here. There are several
buildings on the ground, which the officers are settling themselves in,
while a long shed-like building is being cleared out for a hospital. It
has been used for that, I judge, and is far better than the one at
quarantine. We brought along all that were not desperately sick and have
enough to fill up a good part of the new hospital. Walter Loucks has
rheumatism in his arms and suffers all the time. He and James Story are
my tent mates. We have confiscated some pieces of board to keep us off
the ground. Company B has been hard hit. We left seven men at Baltimore,
seven at Fortress Munroe and seven at our last stopping-place. It seems
to go by sevens, as I find we have seven here in our new hospital. This
with the four that have died makes thirty-two short at this time.
_January 8, 1863._
To-day is the anniversary of the battle of New Orleans and is celebrated
here like the Fourth of July at home. Drill has been attempted, but only
about 200 men were fit for it and our camp duties are about all we are
able to do.
_January 9, 1863._
Were paid off to-day and the peddlers that hang out just across the
guard line have done a thriving business. Walter gets worse every day.
His courage seems to be giving out and it is pitiful to see him suffer.
_January 11, 1863._
Meeting to-day. Some way they have lost their force. We attend because
we have to. The sermon at the quarantine is remembered. We seem to have
lost faith, not in God, but in ministers. Colonel Smith with all his
cursing has done more for our care and comfort than those that profess
so much and do so little.
_January 17, 1863._
_Saturday._ On account of my cough, which is worse when I lie down, I
have walked about evenings or sat and chatted with others about the camp
fire until tired enough to sleep, and last night crawled in near
midnight where my two bedfellows were asleep. Soon after I got into a
drowse from which I was awakened by a coughing spell and saw Walt
standing by the help of the tent pole and groaning in agony. Soon I
heard him say "I'll end it all right now," and with that he pitched over
towards his knapsack and by the noise I thought he was after his
revolver. I jumped across Jim, who lay asleep in the middle, and
snatched the gun out of his hand before he had it out of the case. Out
in the company street I threw the three revolvers and then grabbed for a
sheath knife which I knew was there, getting hold of the handle just as
he grabbed the sheath. By this time Story was in the game and we both
had our hands full getting him down and quiet. I went for Dr. Andrus,
who after lighting a candle and looking in Walt's eyes, told us to take
him over to the hospital. The struggle had put him in agony and it was
pitiful to see how he suffered. We staid with him the rest of the night
and by morning he was helpless. Every joint seemed as stiff as if no
joint was there. For the next five days I did little but watch him and
help in any way I could to make him more comfortable. Then he and others
were taken to the general hospital in the city, where they will at least
be warm. We have had a cold rain and the camp is a bed of mud. The wind
sifts through the cracks in this old shed and although a stove was kept
running, it was too cold for comfort. I have slept but little in the
last five nights, but the doctor has kept dosing me and I feel better
than when this time with Walter began. Letters from home have made the
world seem brighter and the men in it better.
_January 18, 1863._
_Sunday._ Yesterday the chaplain's tent for public worship came and this
morning we were all gathered there and the chaplain was praying, when
snap went something in the top and down came the tent upon us. He didn't
have time to say "Amen," to say nothing of the benediction. In the
afternoon Isaac T. Winans, Jim Story and I went to see Walter and found
him in a good bed and in a warm room. He is much better, but his wrists
are swollen yet and look as if the joints had been pulled apart.
_January 19, 1863._
It rained hard last night and before the tents got soaked up enough
water sifted through to wet our blankets and we hardly slept at all for
the cold. Not being called on for anything I lay all day and dosed,
trying to make up for the miserable night. Isaac Brownell, of Company B,
who has done more to keep up the spirits of the men than anything else,
is down and very sick. He is a mimic and could mimic anyone or anything.
His antics have made us laugh when we felt more like crying, and we are
all anxious about him. A case of smallpox was discovered yesterday and
the man put in an outbuilding, where he died this morning. Dr. Andrus so
far has been alone, and he looks like death.
_Later._ He has given out and another doctor from the hospital is coming
to take his place. The sick list grows all the time.
_January 27, 1863._
Two doctors came to take the place of Dr. Andrus and they have had
plenty to do. For several days the weather has been hot, which opens the
pores in our tents so the first rain sifts right through. Last night it
rained and we had another night of twisting and turning and trying to
sleep and with very poor success. I cough so when I lie down that I keep
up and going all I can, for then I seem to feel the best. Dr. Andrus
still looks after us. He is getting better and we are glad, for he is
the mainstay in the family. Brownell died this forenoon and I shall
never forget the scene. He was conscious and able to talk and the last
he said was for us to stick and hang. "But boys," said he, "if I had the
power, I would start north with all who wanted to go and as soon as we
passed over four feet of ground I would sink it."
_January 28, 1863._
Cold day. Ice formed on puddles last night. I am staying in my tent,
keeping as warm as I can, I begin to feel I am going to give out. I have
kept out of the hospital so far and hope to die right here in my tent if
die I must. But to-morrow may be warmer and my cough better, and under
such conditions my spunk will rise as it always has. So good-bye, diary.
I am going to try for a nap.
_January 29, 1863._
For excitement to-day a man in the tent next ours tried to shoot
himself. He is crazy. He rolled himself up in his blanket and then fired
his revolver, on purpose maybe, and it may be by accident. At any rate
he put a ball in the calf of his leg which stopped under the skin near
his heel, and the doctor cut it out with a jackknife. He has acted half
crazy for some time and should be taken care of before he kills himself
or someone else.
_January 30, 1863._
The 28th Maine Regiment has encamped close beside us. They are well
advanced in the art of taking care of themselves, for they stole
everything loose in a short time after their arrival. Have been
vaccinated again. This makes the third time since we left Hampton Roads.
_January 31, 1863._
One of the Maine men put a bayonet through Charlie Tweedy's arm as he
came from the river with a pail of water. Charlie crossed his beat,
which he had no right to do. But it made bad blood and quite a quantity
flew from the noses of the Maine men and some Company B blood flew too.
Tweedy is the smallest man in the regiment, and has been plagued by all
hands until he is very saucy and on account of his size is allowed to
do about as he pleases. But it didn't work on the Maine men and may
teach the Bantam a lesson.
_February 6, 1863._
_Friday._ The days are so much alike I have given up noting the doings
of each as it comes. Since February 1st our meeting-house tent has been
repaired and raised again. Rumor of a move came early in the week and
has kept us guessing ever since. I think it means something, for the
sick in camp hospital have been sent to the general hospital in New
Orleans. The weather has been of all sorts. Cold and windy and then a
thunder and lightning storm that shook the very earth. The hospital is
filling up again, too. Twenty men from Company K were reported to-day,
and five from Company B. I fear my turn is coming, for in spite of all
Dr. Andrus does, my cough does not let up.