“CAMP, near Fredericksburg,
Nov. 23rd, 1862.

         ” . . . We reached here on yesterday afternoon, having left Culpeper on Wednesday about twelve o’clock. We were on the road three days and a half, and it rained every day but the last. So you see that we have been enjoying ourselves. The Yanks were to have begun the shelling of Fredericksburg on yesterday, but they did not keep their word. We met yesterday, ladies on foot in all the mud and wet, five and six miles from the town, the women and children having been ordered to leave the place in anticipation of the opening of the fight. What kept the enemy from fulfilling their threats I don’t know. They demanded a surrender and the authorities refused; they then gave the citizens until nine o’clock the next morning to move out the women and children: they afterwards deferred it until two in the afternoon, but when two o’clock came the Yankee shells did not. The citizens in this section all accounts have suffered terribly from the presence of the Yankees in their midst and I think are prepared to undergo any privations rather than see the enemy again among them.
         “I am much obliged for the things sent me—especially the razor, as cats are very scarce in camp and cream more so.
         “We had a magnificent supper last night consisting of preserved salmon, sardines, pepper vinegar, beefsteaks, biscuits and butter and real coffee. It was quite a shock to my system, I assure you. . . . ”

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

Saturday, 22d.—2 P. M. On guard, guarding prisoners. Guns loaded and capped, with orders to keep them, dead or alive.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

Saturday, 22d–It is dry and the weather is quite pleasant. After the regular drills we cleaned up camp for inspection. There is no news, but the report in camp is that the division will start for the front in four or five days.

Saturday, 22nd. Took a blue pill and three quinine powders during the day. Kept very quiet. Went to bed early and rested well. Still did my usual duties. Letter from home.

Friday, 21st.—Cold and cloudy; sending on troops daily. My birthday.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, La Grange, Tenn.,
November 21, 1862.

Every one seems to think that we will start about day-after to-morrow, Monday. We have drawn eight days’ rations, and 200 rounds of ammunition has also been drawn for our corps. I don’t think we have more than 14,000 in our corps, Logan’s and McKean’s Divisions, although there are some eight or ten new regiments here that I don’t know, where assigned. Report to-day says that Sherman has moved from Memphis on the Holly Springs Pike.

We are having delightful weather. No fires are necessary until dark, and we have had no frosts since our arrival. Hope we will keep ahead of cold weather if compatible with the interests of the service. I “borrowed” some citizens clothes and wrote myself a pass as suttler’s clerk, last night, and strolled around the town a couple of hours. There are many fine buildings here, among the rest two very large academies. Many of the Memphian nobility have country seats here, some of them most elegant. Holly Springs, though, is the most important summer rendezvous for the Memphis folk. Our people have left the Springs, and I don’t know that we have any troops in advance of this place. I am very comfortable in my quarters. Have plenty of blankets and a good stove. My colored boy, Dave, went into the country 20 miles last night and returned this p.m. with his wife, a delicate looking black woman, neat and much above the ordinary slave. She has been a sewing girl all her life, and I think would be worth something to a family that has much plain sewing to do. I think I will try to send her to Mrs. S. C. Thompson. “Dave” is a first rate cook and waiter, and I’ll keep him with me until the war closes (if he don’t spoil) and then take him to his woman. How’d you like a good colored woman for your kitchen? This woman mended my pants (I have two pairs) as neatly as any tailor could. Our regiment beats 19 out of 20 of the old ones for discipline, and averages with them for drill. Colonel Dickerman is a star, and Lieutenant Colonel Wright is proving himself much better than we expected. Colonel Oglesby has figured away ahead of anybody I’ve heard of yet in procuring wagons, tents, etc., for this regiment. Ours is the only regiment I’ve heard of yet that is allowed to retain the old complement of transportation, equipage and tents. I’m officer of the day and ’tis my duty to make the rounds of the sentinels to-night at 1 or 2 o’clock; but in consideration of—etc., think the formality will be dispensed with.

Friday night, November 21st.

Lying on my face, as it were, with my poor elbows for a support, I try to pass away these lonely hours. For with the exception of old Mrs. Carter, who is downstairs, and the General, who is elsewhere, Anna and I are the only white people on the place. The cause of this heartless desertion is a grand display of tableaux vivants at Jackson, for the benefit of the Soldiers’ Hospital, and of course it would be sinful to stay away, particularly as Anna is a great deal better, and I need no care. . . .

Friday, 21st–No news of importance. We are now in the regular routine of camp life, with drill twice a day. The quartermaster received a consignment of clothing and blankets for some of the men of our regiment.

Friday, 21st. Took three powders and at night had another chill. Drank some capsicum tea. Slept pretty well.

November 21.–This is my twentieth birthday. Anna wanted to write a poem for the occasion and this morning she handed me what she called “An effort.” She said she wrestled with it all night long and could not sleep and this was the result:

“One hundred years from now, Carrie, dear,
In all probability you’ll not be here;
But we’ll all be in the same boat, too,
And there’ll be no one left
To say boo hoo!”

Grandfather gave me for a present a set of books called “Irving’s Catechisms on Ancient Greeks and Romans.” They are four little books bound in leather, which were presented to our mother for a prize. It is thus inscribed on the front page, “Miss Elizabeth Beals at a public examination of the Female Boarding School in East Bloomfield, October 15, 1825, was judged to excel the school in Reading. In testimony of which she receives this Premium from her affectionate instructress, S. Adams.”

I cannot imagine Grandmother sending us away to boarding school, but I suppose she had so many children then, she could spare one or two as well as not. She says they sent Aunt Ann to Miss Willard’s school at Troy. I received a birthday letter from Mrs Beaumont to-day. She wants to know how everything goes at the Seminary and if Anna still occupies the front seat in the school room most of the time. She says she supposes she is quite a sedate young lady now but she hopes there is a whole lot of the old Anna left. I think there is.

NOVEMBER 21st.—It rained all night, which may extinguish Burnside’s ardent fire. He cannot drag his wagons and artillery through the melting snow, and when it dries we may look for another rain.

The new Secretary is not yet in his seat. It is generally supposed he will accept.

President Davis hesitates to retaliate life for life in regard to the Missouri military executions.

Common shirting cotton, and Yankee calico, that used to sell at 12½ cts. per yard, is now $1.75! What a temptation for the Northern manufacturers! What a rush of trade there would be if peace should occur suddenly! And what a party there would be in the South for peace (and unity with Northern Democrats) if the war were waged somewhat differently. The excesses of the Republicans compel our people to be almost a unit. This is all the better for us. Still, we are in quite a bad way now, God knows!

The passengers by the cars from Fredericksburg this morning report that Gen. Patrick (Federal) came over under a flag of truce, demanding the surrender of the town, which was refused by Gen. Lee, in compliance with the unanimous sentiments of the people. Gen. Patrick, it is stated, said if it were not surrendered by 9 A.M. to-day, it would be shelled.

Mr. Dargan, M. C., writes to the President from Mobile that the inhabitants of that city are in an awful condition. Meal is selling for $3.50 per bushel, and wood at $15 per cord, and that the people are afraid to bring supplies, apprehending that the government agents will seize them. The President (thanks to him!) has ordered that interference with domestic trade must not be permitted.

Mr. Seddon has taken his seat. He has, at least, a manly appearance—his predecessor was said to look like a m______y.

The President has ordered our generals in Missouri, if the Yankee accounts of the executions of our people be true, to execute the next ten Federal officers taken in that State.

The Enquirer, to-day, publishes Col. Baylor’s order to execute the Indians in Arizona, coupled with Mr. Randolph’s condemnation of the act. Who furnished this for publication?

It is rumored that Fredericksburg is in flames, shelled by the enemy. We will know how true this is before night.

We reached Vicksburg that night and went to H.’s room. Next morning the cook he had engaged arrived, and we moved into this house. Martha’s ignorance keeps me busy, and H. is kept close at his office.

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names—and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller’s biographical sketch.)

Thursday, 20th–We had division drill by General McArthur this forenoon, and in the afternoon we had battalion drill under Lieutenant Abercrombie. Our drill ground proved to be poorly suited for division drill, on account of the ravines and washed-out gullies.

Thursday, 20th. Another pleasant day. Made a detail of 20 men, one sergeant, two corporals, picket, 15 for forage. Chicken broth and dumplings for dinner.

We Stay Awhile in Plymouth.

Nov. 20. All the troops, with the batteries, wagons, horses, mules and negroes, have been sent around to Newbern by boats, and we alone are left to garrison the town till further orders. In the meantime it would be agreeable to have a change of clothing. When we left Newbern, we left behind us our traveling satchels, with all our best clothes, taking nothing except what we had on, which is now in a very dirty and dilapidated condition with no chance to get any. The major seems to take a great pride in his regiment, but I really cannot see why he should take much in such a ragged, dirty, lousy set of vagabonds as we are, but anyway he does, and naturally likes to take us out for dress parade and show us up to the naval officers, of whom there are quite a number stationed here. In this he sometimes gets a little set back, when about half the boys appear out without any shirts on. At this he will mildly remonstrate, but will be told their shirts are out being washed, and they appear out with their blouses for shirts, with their pants and suspenders outside. This thing continued for a few nights, until the major became so disgusted he swore a big swear that he wouldn’t have another dress parade until we had some shirts. That of course made the boys feel proper bad, and they said if that was the case, they would vote never to have any. Plymouth is a small but rather pretty town, situated on the south bank of the Roanoke river, about five miles up from the sound. It is a half shire town of Washington county, and contains two churches, two hotels, U. S. custom house, court house and jail, but no school-house. It has been a place of considerable trade, doing a good coasting business and exporting, large quantities of cotton, corn, shingles, lumber, fish and naval stores. There are some Union people about here, who appear to be nice sort of folks, but nearly all of secesh proclivities are away.

NOVEMBER 20th.—A letter from Brig. H. Marshall, Abingdon, Ky., in reply to one from the Secretary, says his Kentuckians are not willing to be made Confederate hog-drivers, but they will protect the commissary’s men in collecting and removing the hogs. Gen. M. criticises Gen. Brag’s campaign very severely. He says the people of Kentucky looked upon their fleeting presence as a horse-show, or military pageantry, and not as indicating the stern reality of war. Hence they did not rise in arms, and hence their diffidence in following the fortunes of the new Confederacy. Gen. M. asks if it is the purpose of the government to abandon Kentucky, and if so, is he not functus officio, being a Kentucky general, commanding Kentucky troops?

Col. Myers has placed on file in the department a denial of having said to Gen. Wise’s quartermaster, “Let them suffer.”

Several ladies, near relatives of Judge Campbell, Assistant Secretary of War, came over yesterday under flag of truce. They lived, I believe, in Alexandria.

Another requisition has been made by the engineer for 5000 negroes to work on the fortifications of Richmond.

No letters were received from Gen. Lee to-day, and he may be busy in the field. Accounts say the enemy is planting batteries on the heights opposite Fredericksburg.

It has been raining occasionally the last day or two. I hope the ground is soft, and the mud deep; if so, Burnside cannot move on Richmond, and we shall have time to prepare for “contingencies.”

Yesterday salt sold at auction for $1.30 per pound. We are getting into a pretty extreme condition.

Washington County Historical Society version (1965)¹

Nov. 20—As I stood at the window two men rode up. One was Fritz, and oh, what joy! All the women of the neighborhood came over. At midnight Julius came and said they would have to leave immediately. Fritz didn’t want to leave us alone again, but I knew his danger and insisted that he go.

The Arkansas Historical Quarterly version (1947)²

Nov. 20

I was standing by the window and saw two men on horseback. I feared they were returning robbers. But what joy—one of them was Fritz. When he saw me and the children, he cried for joy and so did I. You should have seen how quickly all the women gathered in and how light of heart they were when they went home again. About midnight Julius came and said they would have to leave again. Fritz was afraid to go because it meant leaving us behind, but tearfully I begged him to go. He would not give up until he understood how much I really wanted him to go. As I went with him to the stable to get his horse, he almost decided to stay with us. I would not agree to it because I knew his life was in danger.

1. Lemke, W. J. The Hermanns of Old Hermannsburg: Washington County, Arkansas. Fayetteville, AR: Washington County Historical Society, 1965.
2. Memoirs, Letters, and Diary Entries of German Settlers in Northwest Arkansas, 1853-1863.  Selected and Translated By Clarence Evans, Tahlequah, Oklahoma. The Arkansas Historical Quarterly. Vol. VI Fall, 1947 No. 3

20th –A hard, cold rain all day. The regiment is out on picket. I wish those comfortably housed at home could realize what picket duty is, in such weather as this. To-day they stand from morning till night, on guard. Night comes, but with it no relief from the exposures of the day. In his thoroughly soaked clothes, with the snow flying and the wind whistling about him, without fire and without tents, he must stand; he must still stand and guard the lines till the coming of another day. However much nature may give way under the trial, however exhausted the man, should he be caught slumbering a single moment on his post–the penalty is death. The soldiers bear all this cheerfully, to the shame and disgrace of those disaffected, cowardly cavillers at home, who would sacrifice together these noble, self-denying men and the Government for which they fight. ‘Tis said that we go into winder quarters here. I cannot believe it. General Burnside has not been pushing us forward at such a rate for a week past, to winter us in this most gloomy and desolate country. We are forty miles from “any where,” in the midst of a pine forest, the roads in winter impassable, the people semi-civilized. Whugh! I shudder to think of it.

Nov. 20, 1862. (Vicksburg.)—A fair morning for my journey back to Vicksburg. The autumn woods were shining through a veil of silvery mist and the spicy breezes blew cool and keen from the heart of the pines, a friend sat beside me, a husband’s welcome awaited me. General Pemberton, recently appointed to the command at Vicksburg, was on the train; also the gentleman who in New Orleans had told us we should have all the butter we wanted from Texas. On the cars, as elsewhere, the question of food alternated with news of the war.

When we ran into the Jackson station H. was on the platform, and I gladly learned that we could go right on. A runaway negro, an old man, ashy colored from fright and exhaustion, with his hands chained, was being dragged along by a common-looking man. Just as we started out of Jackson the conductor led in a young woman sobbing in a heart-broken manner. Her grief seemed so overpowering, and she was so young and helpless, that every one was interested. Her husband went into the army in the opening of the war, just after their marriage, and she had never heard from him since. After months of weary searching she learned he had been heard of at Jackson, and came full of hope, but found no clue. The sudden breaking down of her hope was terrible. The conductor placed her in care of a gentleman going her way and left her sobbing. At the next station the conductor came to ask her about her baggage. She raised her head to try and answer. “Don’t cry so, you’ll find him yet.” She gave a start, jumped from her seat with arms flung out and eyes staring. “There he is now!” she cried. Her husband stood before her.

The gentleman beside her yielded his seat, and as hand grasped hand a hysterical gurgle gave place to a look like Heaven’s peace. The low murmur of their talk began, and when I looked round at the next station they had bought pies and were eating them together like happy children.

Midway between Jackson and Vicksburg we reached the station near where Annie’s parents were staying. I looked out, and there stood Annie with a little sister on each side of her, brightly smiling at us. Max had written to H., but we had not seen them since our parting. There was only time for a word and the train flashed away.

Note: To protect Mrs. Miller’s job as a teacher in post-civil war New Orleans, her diary was published anonymously, edited by G. W. Cable, names were changed and initials were generally used instead of full names—and even the initials differed from the real person’s initials. (Read Dora Richards Miller’s biographical sketch.)

Wednesday, 19th.—Got aboard at 6:30 A. M.; at Bridgeport, 12 M. Marched across island. Crossed other prong of river on steamboat. Rained all day.

(Note: picture is of an unidentified Confederate soldier.)

November 19th. Since my last entry nothing has occurred worthy of note. This morning, at nine o’clock, we hoisted the Spanish flag at our fore, in honor of the Queen of Spain’s birthday.

Wednesday, 19th–I was detailed to help the general quartermaster draw supplies for the division. There were about one hundred men and we went with teams to La Grange, Tennessee. The supplies consisted of sugar, flour, pickled beef, pork, salt and vinegar, these all in barrels, with coffee and rice put up in sacks, and crackers or “hard-tack,” salt bacon, pepper, soap and candles in boxes. The feed for the animals consisted of oats and shelled corn in sacks, and hay in bales of four or five hundred pounds each. Loading these on the wagon was heavy work, especially the big bales of hay, which required the strength of all who could get hold to lift them. We got a taste of another phase of war.

Wednesday, 19th. Wrote short letters home and to Fannie. Cleared up about noon. Bought a pack of envelopes and a little ndy [candy?]. Moved camp up on the hill to the Masonic Hall. In the evening had a chill, took some quinine.

NOVEMBER 19th.—Hon. James A. Seddon (Va.) has been appointed Secretary of War. He is an able man (purely a civilian), and was member of our Revolutionary Convention, at Metropolitan Hall, 16th April, 1861. But some thought him then rather inclined to restrain than to urge decisive action. He is an orator, rich, and frail in health. He will not remain long in office if he attempts to perform all the duties.

Two letters were received from Gen. Lee to-day. Both came unsealed and open, an omission of his adjutant-general, Mason. The first inclines to the belief that Burnside intends to embark his army for the south side of James River, to operate probably in Eastern North Carolina.

The second, dated 17th inst. 6½ P.M., says the scouts report large masses advancing on Fredericksburg, and it may be Burnside’s purpose to make that town his base of operations. (Perhaps for a pleasant excursion to Richmond.) Three brigades of the enemy had certainly marched to Fredericksburg. A division of Longstreet’s corps were marched thither yesterday, 18th, at early dawn. Lee says if the reports of the scouts be confirmed, the entire corps will follow immediately. And he adds: “Before the enemy’s trains can leave Fredericksburg (for Richmond) this whole army will be in position.” These letters were sent immediately to the President.

A letter from Gen. Holmes calls for an immediate supply of funds ($24,000,000) for the trans-Mississippi Department. A letter from Gen. Pike says if Gen. Hindman (Ark.) is to control there, the Indian Country will be lost.

We shall soon have a solution of Burnside’s intentions. Lee is in spirits. He knows Burnside can be easily beaten with greatly inferior numbers.

We hear of sanguinary acts in Missouri—ten men (civilians) being shot in retaliation for one killed by our rangers. These acts exasperate our people, and will stimulate them to a heroic defense.

The cars this afternoon from the vicinity of Fredericksburg were crowded with negroes, having bundles of clothing, etc., their owners sending them hither to escape the enemy. A frightened Jew, who came in the train, said there was an army of 100,000 near Fredericksburg, and we should hear more in a few days. I doubt it not.

Salt sold yesterday at auction for $1.10 per pound. Boots are now bringing $50 per pair; candles (tallow) 75 cts. per pound ; butter $2.00 per pound. Clothing is almost unattainable. We are all looking shabby enough.

Mr. K., the young Chief of the Bureau, who came in with Mr. Randolph, declines the honor of going out with him, to the great chagrin of several anxious applicants. It is an office “for life.”

I shall despair of success unless the President puts a stop to Gen. Tinder’s passport operations, for, if the enemy be kept advised of our destitute condition, there will be no relaxation of efforts to subjugate us. And Europe, too, will refuse to recognize us. I believe there are traitors in high places here who encourage the belief in the North and in Europe that we must soon succumb. And some few of our influential great men might be disposed to favor reconstruction of the Union on the basis of the Democratic party which has just carried the elections in the North.

Everything depends upon the result of approaching military operations. If the enemy be defeated, and the Democrats of the North should call for a National Convention—but why anticipate?