The morning of the 8th of November broke clear and frosty over the
tired and sleepy soldiers of the army of the Cumberland. The town clock
of Nashville failed to wake them at the proper time for reveille, and
the fife and drum kept silence until the sun had sent his piercing rays
into many a sleepers face. Anon the drums begin to sound the signal for
the morning roll call, and now the scene is changed. Men are seen in
all directions creeping out from under blankets, wet with melting
frost--some in full uniform, having slept all night in full dress; some
half undressed, and some old veterans falling in for roll call with
coat and pants both off. The custom in camp is to put on extra duty all
who fail to answer at roll call.
Early in the forenoon, Colonel Frederick, who has regained his health
and is now with the regiment, received orders to establish his regiment
in camp. Colonel Frederick delighted in having order and neatness
through his camping grounds, and consequently always superintended the
pitching of tents and policing the camps himself.
The ground on which the tents were to be pitched, was a rolling piece
of land, belonging to an old secesh, and delightfully situated for a
camp. It was about half a mile from Edgefield, which is on the right
bank of the Cumberland River, immediately opposite the city of
Nashville, was well shaded by several large forest trees, and covered
nicely by a good coating of blue grass. The river affords a good supply
of water, and several springs are close at hand.
The tents are pitched something after military regulations, but not
exact. The Colonel selecting the position of the tents to suit his
fancy. The soldiers' tents are pitched in line by companies. First is
Company A, at the right of the regiment; next in order is company B;
next, C, and so on down to company K, on the left. The company tents
are set in line, one behind the other, with a space of thirty feet
between the companies. In front of these are the tents of the
commanders of companies; each Captain thirty feet in front of his
company. Thirty feet in front of these again, are the tents of the
field and staff officers. When regularly pitched, and with clean white
tents, the appearance is quite pretty. Each regiment has its own
separate grounds, in connection with its own brigade. A brigade
consists of four regiments and a battery, and covers several acres.
Now, then, what is the daily occupation of the inhabitants of these
tents? Persons not in the secret might suppose that there was nothing
to do but eat and sleep, and amusement generally. But not so. In the
morning at four or five o'clock, reveille is sounded by the drums and
fife. This notifies the sleeper that he must get up and answer to his
name at roll call. The Orderly Sergeant calls the roll, in the presence
of some one of the commissioned officers of the company. Fires are now
kindled, and each one prepares his own breakfast. After breakfast the
"sick call" is sounded. The Orderly Sergeant then reports all the sick
men in his company to the Doctor. Sometimes there are twenty or thirty
brought to him for examination and medicine. Those who are really sick,
the Doctor excuses from doing any duty that day, so that he may lay
around at his leisure and get well; or, perhaps, he is retained at the
hospital, where he can be nursed and have medicine given him.
At eight o'clock comes guard mounting--that is, placing guards around
the camp, so that soldiers can't leave camp without a pass or written
permit from the Colonel. These guards are stationed all around camp at
certain intervals, and must continually walk back and forth from one
station to the other, so that they can see any one who tries to pass
out. One man walks two hours, then another relieves him. This set of
guards remain on duty for twenty-four hours. New guards are mounted
every morning. After guard mounting, extra-duty men are usually set to
work sweeping the grounds. By the time this is done, dinner is to be
prepared. In the afternoon, the men are taken out on battalion drill,
usually from two o'clock until four. Then supper. After this comes
dress parade. At sun-down the drums beat retreat. At eight, tattoo; and
at nine, all becomes quiet--the day's work is done. This is the daily
employment of the soldier in camp. But there is some other work that
has to be attended to, such as going out on picket, for instance, one
company or a part of a company, is sent out a mile or two from camp, to
stay for twenty-four hours, so that an enemy may not make a surprise on
the camp. There is, also, other work to be done, such as drawing
rations, getting wood, washing clothes, &c. The soldier's life is not
an idle one.
While the regiment lay at Florence, Ala., several contrabands came to
camp and engaged themselves as servants to the officers; amongst them
were two females. One of these soon donned the habiliments of a
soldier. In this garb she marched with the regiment until now. On the
evening of the 7th, when coming into camp, she incidentally passed
through the yard of the planter, close to the chicken roost. The guard
stationed there supposed that she was after some of the feathered
tribe, and ordered her to halt. Not supposing the order addressed to
her, she paid no attention to it, and was passing on, when the guard
fired, shooting her in the "seat of honor." The guard did not suspect
he was shooting a woman; but supposed her to be some thieving buck
negro. She was taken to camp, and now Dr. Bunce had the opportunity of
performing his first surgical operation. The wound was merely a flesh
wound, and the most difficult part of the operation was the
examination, in the presence of several unfeeling witnesses. The Doctor
soon applied the dressing--very neatly, considering the
circumstances--and then left nature to perform the healing.
On the 30th the Division crossed the river, and pitched tents again,
south of Nashville. An extract from the author's diary, of the 5th
December, says:
"We are still in camp, four miles south of town, and nothing, as yet,
indicating a move. Our pleasant weather has gone, 'glimmering among the
dream of things that were,' and now we are wrapping our blankets and
over-coats around us to keep out the chilling north winds, and to
protect us from the driving snow. To-day the snow has been filling the
air with its downy flakes, and covering the earth and trees with a
beautiful garment of white. This is the second time since last winter
that the earth has been clothed in a symbol of purity. There are,
however, but slight indications of its continuing in that gait long,
for even now rents are perceivable, through which its nakedness is
manifest. The warmth of the ground is too great for the snow's frail
fabric, and not long can it resist the heating influence. Perhaps by
to-morrow's eve it will have returned to its native element, and
disappeared. Snow in the Northern States, when the ground is hard
frozen, is a great benefit to the farmer in protecting his small grain;
but in the South, where it falls one day and disappears the next, is of
little profit, yet it is not without its use, as there is no
providential occurrence without some good result."
The diary continues:
"6th--Another morning has dawned, bright and cold. After the
snow-storm, yesterday, the clouds passed away, and the night set in
with a clear sky and brilliant moon, and stars innumerable. This
morning the snow is crackling under feet, and glistening in the
sun-beams splendidly. It is the coldest morning of the season, but old
Sol will soon warm the atmosphere to a pleasant temperature. The
woodman's axe is ringing merrily in all directions. The soldiers are
busy cutting down the trees for wood, that they may have warm fires to
stay by these cold mornings. In a very short time this noble grove will
be all destroyed. 'Woodman, spare that tree,' is not the motto here.
The delight of the soldier seems to be, to lay the monarch of the
forest low, in this secesh country.
"One old lady, on whose premises we camped one day, exclaimed:
"'Good Lord! are they going to cut _all_ our trees?'"
"Her husband was in the rebel army, and her trees were not spared.
Before the army left, stumps alone remained to tell the fate of that
splendid grove--a grove, of which the old lady had been proud for many
years, and with which she was very loth to part. Her children, and her
grand children, had delighted her old heart many times with their
childish gambols, under those noble shade-trees; but, alas, and alack!
they are gone now; and the grass that is now so green and bright will
be all withered and browned by the scorching rays of the sun. The next
generation will have to play in the sunshine, or seek some other grove
in which to sport. It will not be so bad for the little woolly-headed
darkies, as their complexion is but little affected by the tanning
influence of the sun; but the fair skin of the white children will
suffer.
"7th December, 1862--This is a cold, bright Sabbath. Winter is here in
earnest. We in camp are well prepared for cold weather. The boys have
plenty of good, warm clothing, and blankets, over-coats and tents, and,
if they suffer, it will be because they will not get wood for their
fires.
"December 8th--The snow has all disappeared, but the weather is still
cold. The paymaster has been paying off a part of the regiment to-day.
Company F fails to get pay because of having no pay rolls. Captain
Currie, who has lately been transferred to the gun-boat service, left
the regiment a few days ago, and carried the rolls along with him, very
much to the inconvenience of the company. Lieutenant Maddox is now in
command of the company.
"December 9th--It yet continues most charming winter weather. In fact
it more resembles early spring than winter.
"Something is now going on four or five miles from here. What it is we
do not know; but the reports from secesh cannon indicate a skirmish
with the enemy, some foraging party being resisted in their
depredations. The regiment is going out on a scout of a few hours, and
will ascertain, perhaps, what that cannonading means. I think it is
quite time that Rosecranz was doing something. One month has passed
since we arrived at Nashville, and no advance has yet been made. Why
remain idle so long? The men are all anxious to move forward, and do
something towards terminating the war. Better die fighting the enemy
than linger out a miserable existence in camp.
"8 o'clock--The regiment has just returned to camp, without learning
anything of the cannonading. They bring no spoils of victory, except
one or two contraband hogs, and a few chickens.
"December 10th--Reveille sounded in the old camp this morning at two
o'clock, and at five we moved out on the march. Our course was taken
due east from camp, as could be known by the redness of the horizon,
indicating the point at which the 'God of day' would first make his
appearance. The morning was cool and bracing, and the boys put out with
a will, being also encouraged by a prospect of a fight with the enemy,
as it was rumored that that was the object of the march. The march
continued about five miles, and terminated by our going into camp here.
We are, perhaps, a little nearer the enemy than we were this morning,
but have only changed our position in relation to Nashville. We are now
more directly between Nashville and Murfreesboro'--four miles from the
former, and twenty-six from the latter--about two miles west of the
pike leading to Murfreesboro. This State, as well as Kentucky, is
abundantly supplied with macadamized roads. Stone is easily procured,
and has been unsparingly used for road purposes.
"It is now about four o'clock on the morning of the 11th of December.
'Early to bed and early to rise' is an example set by all who have ever
made any great progress in the world, and this morning I have followed
it. Early rising is pretty generally practiced in the army, especially
by the privates; the officers, having attained to all they desire,
sleep till surfeited.
"This is a lovely morning, just such an one as would suit me at home.
Oh, how much I would enjoy home this morning! The christian, who has
resigned his claim to all earthly things, and transferred his treasures
to the 'better land,' alone can tell the feelings of a soldier when he
_indulges_ in the thoughts of home. Home, to the soldier, is as the
treasure-house above to the christian, for where the treasures are
there will the heart be also. 'Home, sweet home, there is no place like
home.' 'Oh, dark is how my heart grows weary, far from my good old
home.' Shall I never more behold it? Never again look upon the bright
and cheerful faces of those I left behind me there? Yes, I fancy that I
shall, but the time seems long--seems very long.
"Well, I have just returned from a walk I have been taking, out beyond
the camp, and there the birds bid me be of good cheer. They sang, 'When
the spring time comes,' you may with us go back to your northern home,
and we'll spend the summer together there. I blessed the little
songsters, and came back to camp more resigned and cheerful. _Now_
the day is numbered amongst those that were before the flood, and a
'wee bit' candle is all the light I have to see by.
"About half a mile from camp is a large cane brake, or cane thicket.
The cane stands so thick on the ground that a hare could not pass
between them, only in places where they had been cut or broken down.
They are from fifteen to twenty feet in length; they are now in thick
foliage; the leaves are as green as in the summer time; it is quite
cheering to look at them. The little birds come from miles away to
sleep among the thick leaves; it is so much warmer for them than on the
branches of the big leafless trees of the forest. Here the cold wind or
the sharp frost can not penetrate; but the innocent little creatures
had better run the risk of being frozen than seek shelter here at this
time, for every night hundreds of them are sacrificed to the rapacity
of the ruthless soldier. The boys take candles and torches, and by
dazzling their eyes with the bright light, pick them from their perches
without difficulty, or knock them off with sticks do they try to
escape. The birds are principally the red-breasted robin, but there are
other smaller ones of different kinds. Pot-pie is a common dish in camp
now.
"December 12th--The mail comes regularly to camp now, bringing letters
from the dear ones at home. Good, kind, cheering letters some of them
are too. I just had the pleasure of reading one from a good old mother
in Illinois to her noble boy in the army. Such loving, cheering
words--such good advice. The boy's heart was softened, ennobled,
elevated. There is no danger of his becoming wicked so long as that
kind mother continues her controlling influence over him. Would that
there were more such mothers in Illinois! If there were there would be
much less wickedness manifested in the army of the Cumberland. No one
can estimate the restraining influence of an affectionate letter from a
beloved mother, or a kind friend, to the young soldier. I fancy that I
can go through our regiment and point out every young man who has a
good family at home, or a pious loving mother who devotes a portion of
her time in writing to her soldier boy in the army. Richly will she be
rewarded for labor thus spent. The soldier is constantly exposed to
peculiar temptations, and needs all the restraining influences that can
be thrown around him, and there can be none more restraining than the
admonitions of an absent, loving mother.
"December 22d--The weather continues most delightful. We are under
marching orders. The tents are all struck and loaded in the wagons. The
sick have all been sent back to Nashville to remain in hospital until
their health becomes restored, or they are transported to that bourne
from whence no traveler returns.
"Mason Campbell, of Company B, was under treatment at the regimental
hospital three days before being sent to Nashville. The most energetic
treatment was pursued in his case--about five grains of calomel being
given him every three hours for three days, making, in all, one hundred
and twenty grains, and no motion from the bowels during the time; with
all this he was sent to Nashville and died.
"December 25--Here we are in camp again. After loading our traps in the
wagons we lay around promiscuously until yesterday noon, when we
marched about five miles towards Nolensville, right about faced, and
marched back again to the very spot we started from. "Strategy, my
boy!"
"Occasional reports from artillery have been heard out in front to-day,
and I shouldn't wonder if they were the harbingers of a battle shortly
to take place.
"One of the boys deserted from the regiment last night, and it is
supposed he has gone over to the rebels. He was tied up yesterday for
leaving camp without first getting a pass. He slipped the guards and
visited Nashville, where he remained all night. When he came back he
was arrested by the Captain of his company and tied by both hands to
the lower limbs of a tree, where he was kept some two hours or more.
This morning he is missing. There are various ways of punishing men in
the army. Some are tied up, either with their arms encircling the trunk
of a large tree, or with their hands high above their heads. Some are
made to pack rails on their shoulder with a guard following them, for
two or three hours at a time.
"One young man was paraded through camp one day with both hands tied
fast to a single-tree, hitched behind a mule; a man was riding the
mule; two guards with fixed bayonets marching beside the captive, and
the fife and drum beating the rogues march behind.
"Sometimes the punishment consists in having a board strapped to the
back, with large letters in chalk, stating the offense, and being
marched around through camp.
"In some cases it seems to be necessary not only to bind the hands but
to tie the tongue also. This is done by forcing some substance into the
mouth so as to keep the jaws separated. The practice of this sort of
punishment by one of the officers gave him the name of 'Buck and Gag.'"