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December 25th (search for this): chapter 2
r us it is absolutely omitted from the list of vices. I have never heard of a glass of liquor in the camp, nor of any effort either to bring it in or to keep it out. A total absence of the circulating medium might explain the abstinence,--not that it seems to have that effect with white soldiers,--but it would not explain the silence. The craving for tobacco is constant, and not to be allayed, like that of a mother for her children; but I have never heard whiskey even wished for, save on Christmas-Day, and then only by one man, and he spoke with a hopeless ideal sighing, as one alludes to the Golden Age. I am amazed at this total omission of the most inconvenient of all camp appetites. It certainly is' not the result of exhortation, for there has been no occasion for any, and even the pledge would scarcely seem efficacious where hardly anybody can write. I do not think there is a great visible eagerness for tomorrow's festival: it is not their way to be very jubilant over anyth
December 26th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 2
mas Eve with pattern simplicity. We omitted, namely, the mystic curfew which we call taps, and let them sit up and burn their fires, and have their little prayer-meetings as late as they desired; and all night, as I waked at intervals, I could hear them praying and shouting and clattering with hands and heels. It seemed to make them very happy, and appeared to be at least an innocent Christmas dissipation, as compared with some of the convivialities of the superior race hereabouts. December 26, 1862. The day passed with no greater excitement for the men than target-shooting, which they enjoyed. I had the; private delight of the arrival of our much-desired surgeon and his nephew, the captain, with letters and news from home. They also bring the good tidings that General Saxton is not to be removed, as had been reported. Two different stands of colors have arrived for us, and will be presented at New Year's,--one from friends in New York, and the other from a lady in Connec
December 25th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 2
it is very convenient that the men know too little of the events of the war to feel excitement or fear. They know General Saxton and me, --de General and de Cunnel, --and seem to ask no further questions. We are the war. It saves a great deal of trouble, while it lasts, this childlike confidence; nevertheless, it is our business to educate them to manhood, and I see as yet no obstacle. As for the rumor, the world will no doubt roll round, whether Burnside is defeated or succeeds. Christmas Day, 1862. We'll fight for liberty Till de Lord shall call us home; We'll soon be free Till de Lord shall call us home. This is the hymn which the slaves at Georgetown, South Carolina, were whipped for singing when President Lincoln was elected. So said a little drummer-boy, as he sat at my tent's edge last night and told me his story; and he showed all his white teeth as he added, Dey tink de Lord meant for say de Yankees. Last night, at dress-parade, the adjutant read General Saxt
January 19th, 1863 AD (search for this): chapter 2
a trifle less coughing in the camp. We hear of other stations in the Department where the mortality, chiefly from yellow fever, has been frightful. Dr. - is rubbing his hands professionally over the fearful tales of the surgeon of a New York regiment, just from Key West, who has had two hundred cases of the fever. I suppose he is a skilful, highly educated man, said I. Yes, he responded with enthusiasm. Why, he had seventy deaths! as if that proved his superiority past question. January 19, 1863. And first, sitting proud as a king on his throne, At the head of them all rode Sir Richard Tyrone. But I fancy that Sir Richard felt not much better satisfied with his following than I to-day. J. R. L, said once that nothing was quite so good as turtle-soup, except mock-turtle; and I have heard officers declare that nothing was so stirring as real war, except some exciting parade. To-day, for the first time, I marched the whole regiment through Beaufort and back,— the first ap
January 21st, 1863 AD (search for this): chapter 2
we marched back to camp (three miles), the men singing the John Brown song, and all manner of things,--as happy creatures as one can well conceive. It is worth mentioning, before I close, that we have just received an article about Negro troops, from the London Spectator, which is so admirably true to our experience that it seems as if written by one of us. I am confident that there never has been, in any American newspaper, a treatment of the subject so discriminating and so wise. January 21, 1863. To-day brought a visit from Major-General Hunter and his staff, by General Saxton's invitation,--the former having just arrived in the Department. I expected them at dress-parade, but they came during battalion drill, rather to my dismay, and we were caught in our old clothes. It was our first review, and I dare say we did tolerably; but of course it seemed to me that the men never appeared so ill before,--just as one always thinks a party at one's own house a failure, even if the
December 30th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 2
couragement which finds any place in our minds. They are used to sleeping indoors in winter, herded before fires, and so they feel the change. Still, the regiment is as healthy as the average, and experience will teach us something. A second winter's experience removed all this solicitude, for they learned to take care of themselves. During the first February the sick-list averaged about ninety, during the second about thirty,--this being the worst month in the year for blacks. December 30, 1862. On the first of January we are to have a slight collation, ten oxen or so, barbecued,--or not properly barbecued, but roasted whole. Touching the length of time required to do an ox, no two housekeepers appear to agree. Accounts vary from two hours to twenty-four. We shall happily have enough to try all gradations of roasting, and suit all tastes, from Miss A.'s to mine. But fancy me proffering a spare-rib, well done, to some fair lady! What ever are we to do for spoons and fo
December 29th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 2
r first company, and also of a skirmish on the late expedition. I must not forget the prayer overheard last night by one of the captains: O Lord! when I tink ob dis Kismas and las' year de Kismas. Las' Kismas he in de Secesh, and notin‘ to eat. but grits, and no salt in 'em. Dis year in de camp, and too much victual! This too much is a favorite phrase out of their grateful hearts, and did not in this case denote an excess of dinner,--as might be supposed,--but of thanksgiving. December 29, 1862. Our new surgeon has begun his work most efficiently: he and the chaplain have converted an old gin-house into a comfortable hospital, with ten nice beds and straw pallets. He is now, with a hearty professional faith, looking round for somebody to put into it. I am afraid the regiment will accommodate him; for, although he declares that these men do not sham sickness, as he expected, their catarrh is an unpleasant reality. They feel the dampness very much, and make such a coughin
January 15th, 1863 AD (search for this): chapter 2
very handsome. His features are tolerably regular, and full of command, and his figure superior to that of any of our white officers,--being six feet high, perfectly proportioned, and of apparently inexhaustible strength and activity. His gait is like a panther's; I never saw such a tread. No anti-slavery novel has described a man of such marked ability. He makes Toussaint perfectly intelligible; and if there should ever be a black monarchy in South Carolina, he will be its king. January 15, 1863. This morning is like May. Yesterday I saw bluebirds and a butterfly; so this winter of a fortnight is over. I fancy there is a trifle less coughing in the camp. We hear of other stations in the Department where the mortality, chiefly from yellow fever, has been frightful. Dr. - is rubbing his hands professionally over the fearful tales of the surgeon of a New York regiment, just from Key West, who has had two hundred cases of the fever. I suppose he is a skilful, highly educated
December 31st, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 2
iss A.'s to mine. But fancy me proffering a spare-rib, well done, to some fair lady! What ever are we to do for spoons and forks and plates? Each soldier has his own, and is sternly held responsible for it by Army regulations. But how provide for the multitude? Is it customary, I ask you, to help to tenderloin with one's fingers? Fortunately, the Major is to see to that department. Great are the advantages of military discipline: for anything perplexing, detail a subordinate. New Year's Eve, 1862. My housekeeping at home is not, perhaps, on any very extravagant scale. Buying beefsteak, I usually go to the extent of two or three pounds. Yet when, this morning at daybreak, the quartermaster called to inquire how many cattle I would have killed for roasting, I turned over in bed, and answered composedly, Ten,--and keep three to be fatted. Fatted, quotha! Not one of the beasts at present appears to possess an ounce of superfluous flesh. Never were seen such lean kine. As
December 20th, 1862 AD (search for this): chapter 2
er-sponge, which floated to the river-bank. As winter advances, butterflies gradually disappear: one species (a Vanessa) lingers; three others have vanished since I came. Mocking-birds are abundant, but rarely sing; once or twice they have reminded me of the red thrush, but are inferior, as I have always thought. The colored people all say that it will be much cooler; but my officers do not think so, perhaps because last winter was so unusually mild,--with only one frost, they say. December 20, 1862. Philoprogenitiveness is an important organ for an officer of colored troops; and I happen to be well provided with it. It seems to be the theory of all military usages, in fact, that soldiers are to be treated like children; and these singular persons, who never know their own age till they are past middle life, and then choose a birthday with such precision,--Fifty year old, Sah, de fus' last April, --prolong the privilege of childhood. I am perplexed nightly for countersigns,
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