Daniel F. Kemp’s
Civil War Reminiscences
When the war broke out between the North and the South I was a boy of seventeen years of age. I was very anxious to go into the army and do my part towards saving the Union. I wanted to enlist in the 100th Regiment of New York Volunteers which was then being formed but my parents would not consent, so I could not go. However, I kept on teasing and finally got their consent.
I had a friend named James Stewart who was going to enlist in the Navy and he persuaded me to do so also. On the morning of September 16, 1862 my Father took me down to the steamer Michigan, which was then in port and I was examined and measured etc. and entered into the service of the Navy as a landsman for one year unless sooner discharged.
After a few days the steamer Michigan sailed for Erie and took all her recruits to that city where we stopped at Brown’s Hotel which I believe at that time was Erie’s principal hotel and I remember we each paid a dollar a day for hotel service. The next day we left Erie for our destination which was Cairo, Ill.
When we left Erie the crew of the Michigan gave us three cheers and we responded by giving three cheers for Captain Carter. We marched through the streets of Erie headed by a fife, drum and bugle. We were accompanied on our journey by two officers from the Michigan and had a long dusty ride to Cairo which took us about two days if I remember rightly.
However this being my first journey away from home it was to me a wonderful journey. We passed through part of four states viz: Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois and although there wasn't much scenery to my unaccustomed eyes, what we did see interested me greatly and although the journey was a tiresome one it was pleasant because the officers who accompanied us tried to make it as much so as possible.
I was then just eighteen years of age and the experience I was having was quite an event in my short life. We sang songs and certainly had a happy time. John Oberst, a young man who was somewhat older than the rest of us boys, was one of the recruits and as he had formerly been a member of one of the famous minstrel troupes, he knew all the popular songs and Negro melodies of that day. His singing did much to amuse and entertain us for he had a fine tenor voice. His Dutch song, as we called it, was our delight for he could yodel like a Swiss yodeler.
However, all things come to an end and so did our journey.
When we reached Cairo we were put on board the Receiving ship Clara Dolsen. In writing to my people at home, I didn't tell them of the greeting we received from the boys already on the receiving ship for it certainly was not a pleasant one, and I heard more grumbling than I had ever heard before. "Oh! You fellows will be sorry you ever came here". Pleasant wasn't it? It made us feel rather blue for we had such a pleasant time coming down, we thought we were going to have a regular picnic.
Our first meal on board the Dolsen was served to us standing on the main deck and consisted of a tin pan of rice and what the boys called "salt horse". I ate the rice, but when I tasted the salt horse I thought it was the saltiest morsel I ever had in my mouth so I gave it a flip in the river, but we got used to it after a while because salt horse, salt pork, rice and bean soup with hardtack was the "chief of our diet".
My first night on the Dolsen was a cold one as they were short of blankets. They only issued to us a plain piece of canvas called a hammock and no covering whatsoever. The night was really a cold one and as we had to tie our hammocks up on the open main deck where we got full benefit of the chilly breezes as the saying is "I nearly froze to death". However, I think I slept the sleep of a tired boy after our long tiresome journey even if it was cold. The only sleep we got coming to Cairo was what we could get sitting in our seats and dozing the time away. That was before the advent of Pullman Palace sleeping cars although I don't think we would have been allowed this luxury even if the cars had been in existence.
My friend James Stewart was one of the lucky twelve who enlisted at Buffalo for he wrote such a beautiful hand that the Ordinance Officer at Cairo took him into his office and Jimmie never saw service.
After the war he went into the lumber business at Cairo of which he had some experience with his uncle James Duthie of Buffalo but unfortunately he lost one of his hands on a circular saw in a mill on the premises so he had war experience even if not in the service.
I think John Oberist was made a master’s mate which is the first step upwards as a commissioned officer. If I am not mistaken, he was transferred to the gunboat Lexington. One can imagine how interesting the journey I was making was to me as I had never been away from home overnight until now. The boat ride to Erie and the long ride to Cairo was a wonderful experience for me. I had never stopped at a hotel in my life and that was a treat I enjoyed. We left Erie at 2:15 on Monday P.M. and arrived at Cairo on Wednesday at 12 O’clock noon. Our meals were ready for us at certain stations along the road except one morning we got no breakfast as our train was two hours late. However I did not suffer as I fell in with a boy who had a basket of eatables which he kindly shared with me.
At Columbus, Ohio we had four carload of rebel prisoners attached to our train and at Vincennes, Indiana we took on 12 carloads more. The poor fellows were dirty and ragged. Many of them looked as if at one time they had been strong and health but war’s hardships had made its mark on them.
We saw several regiments of our own troops as we passed through Indiana, to whom we gave lusty cheers. Some of the bridges we passed over were guarded by our troops. We passed through two tunnels in Indiana which I was told were cut through solid rock. I saw the sunrise one morning as we rode over the prairies of Illinois and I thought it was a beautiful sight. However everything was new and interesting to me.
The Clara Dolsen had no marines to keep the crew in order but had what were called the Clara Dolsen guards and most of us boys from Buffalo were made guards. We had a little room between decks which was our office or resting place when off guard duty. When the Captain, of the Dolsen (Scott) was transferred to the Gunboat Signal, he took the crew of his gig with him. The crew consisted of six men. I was made a member of the new crew. All we had to do was keep the boat clean and row the Captain to shore two or three times a day. We were all green hands except for one or two. The coxswain drilled us for the first time on October the 13th and said we did very well.
We each had a sailor’s uniform when we left Buffalo, but nothing more, so a week or two after we came aboard they served us clothing and blankets. As the weather was getting cold, I needed a peajacket so I sent for my overcoat I had left at home.
I got shore leave one day and visited Cairo. I thought it was a very dirty and wicked city as I saw more drunk men in town than I had ever seen before at one time. I had been brought up quite religiously as my father was a Elder in the Presbyterian Church and it rather shocked me to see how little regard they in Cairo had for the Sabbath. The stores were all open same as weekdays and the day seemed to be a holiday. Everything one wished to buy seemed dear to me as I had not gotten used to war prices and I thought an old fellow who used to sell us milk, fresh bread, pies and cakes was making his everlasting fortune.
On Sunday the crew were all called forward to the forecastle, formed in lines on the Port side and as our names were called, we passed through the guards on one side and the officers on the other to the Starboard touching our caps to the officers. We had a funeral one Sunday and marched to the grave in our muster suits, which consisted of white shirt with blue collar and white pants.
However, a Gunboat came up the river one day and as she needed men to make up her crew, all of the guards except two who were sick were taken on board. This was the Gunboat Cincinnati. We were taken on board the Cincinnati on November 6, 1862. This was quite an unexpected move, especially to the Clara Dolsen guards, But Mr. Tainer the clerk said Marines would over take the place of the guards. As the Cincinnati was anchored near the Dolsen we could see the Marines walking their beats .
The officers of the Gunboat Cincinnati were a lieutenant Commander George M. Bache, by courtesy called Captain, an Executive of Officer (Master) John Pierce whom we irrelevantly called "Jack" among ourselves , Four Ensigns, four Master mates, a Ship’s Doctor, a ship’s carpenter and a Gunner. The petty officers were the Quartermasters, the Master at Arms, Boatswains Mate, Doctor’s assistant, Carpenter’s Mate . We had no Chaplain nor a commissioned Boatswain. The Gunboat Cincinnati was one of those so-called Iron Clads that looked in the distance like a big turtle moving on the water. So far as protecting it from shot and shell there was little chance of doing so, because it was so hard to keep her headed bow on to a battery when fighting downstream. Her bow and over the boilers was plated with two inch iron and her Pilothouse was also protected, but between the bow and the boilers, and from the boilers to the stern, there was no protection; neither was there any protection across the stern. In fighting a battery, especially if we were fighting down stream, every time the guns were fired, she would swing around with the current and her unprotected parts would be exposed to the enemy and shot and shell would pierce her sides as if they were made of paper.
The Cincinnati was a much cleaner boat than the Dolsen as it had been recently cleaned out and painted inside and out. The first duty we had to perform after we were taken aboard the Cincinnati was to jump out on to a coal barge alongside and coal the ship. This was a hard unpleasant job as none of us boys had been used to hard work. However, we were in Uncle Sam's Navy now and had to do whatever we were told to do whether we liked it or not. We were getting ready to go down to Vicksburg and the firemen had to have coal. Another job we didn't like was holy stoning and washing down the decks. One day it would be the duty of the starboard watch and the next day we of the port watch had to do the work. I guess you all know how this work was done so I need not go into details. We had to keep clean and it was our duty to do this work. I don't believe the boys in the Navy now-a-days have to furnish their own writing paper and stamps) but we did and in fact had to pay for nearly everything we needed outside of our uniform, hammock and blankets. Our mail was brought to us every few days by some gunboat coming down the river usually by one of the Tinclads of the Mosquito fleet.
We left Cairo one Sunday and started down the Mississippi for our destination, but the river was very low and our progress was very slow for we had to take soundings quite often so as not to run aground. We anchored on Sunday night a short distance from Island No. 10 which was one of the famous places captured early in the war. On account of the low water, we could not travel at night nor if there was a fog on the river. The fog kept us at Island No. 10 on Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday we again started. We passed several batteries as we came near Island No. 10. The Executive Officer pointed to one of them saying the Cincinnati had captured it and spiked the guns. This was the first battery and we saw the place where the Cincinnati lay during the fight. The trees were all shot off leaving the land quite bare for some distance. On account of the low water Island No. 10 was quite high out of the water. It is nearly round and contains forty or fifty acres and was one of the formidable places captured by our fleet when we were opening up the Mississippi.
One of our boys from the Dolsen undertook to be a fireman but being a green hand and unused to being cooped up in the hot fire hold such as we had in gunboats like the Cincinnati, it is supposed the heat struck his brain and the poor fellow died. When he came out of the firehold the sweat was pouring off him like rain and he foolishly sat down in an open port and took cold. He had been one of our healthiest boys but the intense heat was too much for him. We buried him on the banks of the Mississippi leaving a rudely painted board to mark his resting place.
We took on board a lot of contrabands and they were a jolly lot of darkies right from the plantation. They would get together at night and give us a gay old time, a regular plantation jig. The names of the leaders were Aleck, Charley and Black Hawk. Alex would do the patting and Charley and Black Hawk would do the dancing and the usual shouting and yah yahing.
Our powder monkey was George Washington, black as midnight with the thickest lips I ever saw on a darky.
We were divided into gun crews, three different times. I was put at No.4, a broadside gun, then at No.3, a bow gun, (a 9 inch Dahlgren) and then at No.5, a broadside gun; at the first gun I was second shotman and first loader, at the last I was first sponger and second loader and I wondered if I ever got settled in my right place.
We were constantly picking up contrabands as we went down the river, but we didn’t always keep them because oftentimes their masters’ would claim them and our Captain would give them up.
We had to go to quarters separately three times a day. At night we had to get our guns ready for action so that if we were attacked by guerrillas we would be ready for them. Instead of being on watch part of the time our whole Starboard or our whole Port watch would have to be on duty. We didn’t like this as it gave us so little time to sleep, besides we had our day duties to care for, i.e. scrubbing decks, cleaning bright work, coaling ship and being called away in one of the small boats now and them. This, of course, kept us out of mischief even if we did not get much rest.
On Sunday we had Divine service but not having a Chaplain, one of the officers read the service.
Our distinguishing badges were for petty officers, an eagle and an anchor; seamen a star; ordinary seaman a diamond and a landsman, a stripe. The starboard watch wore their badge on the right arm and the port watch on the left. Among other noted places early in the war which we passed on our way down was Columbus, Hickman, Fort Pillow, Memphis, Napoleon and Helena. We finally reached the fleet and found anchored there the Signal Marmora (Mosquito) Mound City Corondelet and Pittsburgh, also a packet board and the Lexington, a wooden gunboat.
In a few days we were sent down to the mouth of the Yazoo about thirteen miles from Vicksburg. We were accompanied by the Carondolet, Mound City, Baron de Kalb, Pittsburgh and the Lexington. Most of the Tinclads had left us and gone up the river. We also had two Rams as a part of our fleet and we were expecting several other gunboats and Rams to join us very soon. We were expected to make our attack on Vicksburg before a great while but that was in the future and no one knew when that fight would come off.
On our way down we stopped for a day at Memphis and saw several thousands of our soldiers deport for Active Service. While there the Cincinnati had its picture taken. The Gunboat Cairo was stationed there. At Helena we coaled up. Fort Pillow seemed a most formidable place for it is one continuous range of high bluff, rising one above the other. Battery after battery ranges along these bluffs for a bout two miles and one would say it was almost impregnable but everything seemed to give way when attacked by our gunboats.
0n New Year’s night 1863 there were all sorts of rumors flying about regarding our next move. On January 2, 1863 we were routed out of our berths at eight bells and were ordered to lash our hammocks and pile them in front of the boilers. When we went on the Spar deck we found the two hawser boxes empty and found their contents piled on the grating over the boilers. The Pilothouse and our bow had been greased and everything was in battle array. There was some movement on foot but what it was, was something the crew knew nothing about. On the afternoon of January 2nd it was reported that a Rebel Ram was coming down the river. We immediately got up anchor and all hands were called to quarters. Our guns were loaded with shell which we drew out and loaded with solid shot. We depressed our guns and were fully prepared for a close combat.
As we went up the river we met transport after transport coming down at full speed loaded with troops but no Ram made its appearance. When we reached the anchorage off the Louisville and Baron de Kalb, a tug met us with orders for the entire fleet to go back down the river and when night came we were again anchored at the mouth of the Yazoo. We were all puzzled to know what was the meaning of this new move.
Next day found us moving up the river with a transport lashed to our side helping us along. The crew, of course, did not know our destination, but when we reached the mouth of the White River, we laid up over night and started up the river next morning. I thought White River, as I now remember it, was one of the crookedest I ever saw for our unwieldy gunboat had a hard time making the trip as the river was very high and the current very swift.
We steamed up the river until we came to a cut-off, which took us into the Arkansas. This river, if I remember it rightly was wider and much shallower than the White River. All or nearly all of the transports accompanied us. The gunboats accompanying us were the Louisville, Baron de Kalb, also the Flag Ship and a number of the Tinclads (The Mosquito Fleet). Our destination, it seems, was named after the Rebel General Hindman. The battery was on a high bluff. We reached there one Saturday afternoon about half past five and began an attack. We steamed close up to the battery and bullets as well as shells fell about us like hail. We fought until it was so dark we couldn’t tell where the battery was except by the flash from their guns. Our boat was struck several times, once on the forecastle tearing up a portion of the timbers and bursting in the port. Another struck the hammock netting going through a ventilator then on through our smoke stack and down through the cook’s galley, knocking down a slush barrel and spilling grease over the deck then through the hawser box and across to the other hammock netting and out to the bank. No one was hurt on our boat. One man was killed and several wounded on the Louisville. We fell back out of range about 7 o’clock p.m.
Next afternoon about one o’clock we again opened fire on the battery and the fight raged fiercely until about 4:30 o’clock. The Guerrillas kept up a continual fight trying to pick off our men. The Tinclads in our rear kept pouring shells and doing their best to help and look after the Guerrillas. The Louisville was on fire at one time, but the fire was soon put out. Our boat was again struck a number of times. Two shots struck our bow casemate, making a couple of dents in the iron plating. Another struck the Pilothouse making a dent and splintering the roof a little. Another struck one of the stanchions going through the Wheel house through the Ward Room into the Captain’s cabin and lodged into the casemate. Not a man on the Cincinnati was hurt although shot and shell were flying all around us. Two men were killed and sixteen wounded on the Baron de Kalb by a shell striking in the port knocking a muzzle off one of their guns. One young man, I think he was from the Louisville, was so crazed with fear during the fight that when their boat was alongside of ours, he jumped on board our boat and ran back and hid in the Captain’s cabin.
I expected to have gone ashore the day after we captured Fort Hindman, i.e., on the afternoon of January 12, 1863, but we received orders to go up White River to St. Charles and none of the Port watch got on shore. Those of the Starboard watch who had been ashore in the morning said that the battlefield where our men had been fighting presented some horrible sights. Most of the dead were shot through the head, others had their breasts shot away. At one place where a shell had burst several horses lay dead. The field was covered with cartridge boxes and soldiers were fishing in the swamp for arms of all kinds which had been thrown away in flight. We had taken about 7,000 prisoners. Both sides suffered terribly. I do not know how many were killed and wounded, but it was supposed our loss was the greater. The casemates that had formed the battery at Fort Hindman were of three thicknesses of timber and protected on the outside by railroad iron. The rebel prisoners told us if it hadn’t been for our gunboats they could have held out against fifty thousand men. They claimed the Cincinnati did them more damage than all the rest as one of our shots went through a port hole of the fort knocking their gun to pieces and killing every man upon it. The Starboard watch who saw the inside of the fort made me glad I didn’t get on shore for the interior of the fort was covered with arms, legs, heads, brains and broken up bodies.
We gave much credit to the way our Pilot handled our boat as he kept her bow on the batteries during the whole fight. The Louisville bothered us considerably by running across our bow, also striking us in the stern. The Rebels tried to cross the river farther up but the Musket boats went ahead and prevented them doing so.
We left Fort Hindman on Monday at Fort and arrived St. Charles Tuesday afternoon. It rained all day Tuesday and Wednesday and on Thursday it turned to snow. My! but it was cold and as the snow was several inches thick on our deck we poor wretches had to clean it off. We were wishing we were back on the Yazoo River away from this dreary lonesome cold White River. The White River at that time was overflowing its banks. We expected to have another hard fight at Fort St. Charles which is like Hindman, situated on a high bluff, but when we got there we found that the Rebels had skedaddled and found our own troops occupying the place as they got there before we did. They burned nearly all the houses in the vicinity. All the gunboats except ours and a transport were sent up to Balls Bluff about 95 miles up the River. Our boat had been badly battered in the fight at Arkansas Post and I guess this was the reason we were not sent also.
On January 16, 1863 we coaled up. We worked by watches beginning at 6 p.m. and got through next morning about 10 a.m. Our boat was leaking badly and I felt sure we’d soon have to go up the Mississippi for repairs. On January 18, 1863 we had the Chaplain of the 42nd Regiment (I have forgotten what state) preach to us. He distributed several little books containing texts from the Bible, hymns, prayers and selections from the Psalms. We were not as well provided in the respect as our soldiers were, for we had not Chaplain and received no literature of any sort unless ent us by our friends at home.
We left White River on the 27th of January 1863 having been relieved by the Conestoga on the 26th and arrived at the Yazoo on the 18th. Nothing took place worthy of mention while at White River except quite an excitement just before leaving. A coal barge was seen floating along near the opposite bank with what we supposed to be men on it. We immediately got under way and started to capture it. We had been gone barely five minutes when out came a Ram into the White River. Now this is just what we had been watching for. It is lucky for us it was our own Ram, the Monarch, or it would have captured our store boat before we could turn around. It had been up the Arkansas River and had come through the cut-off into the White River. It was well for the Monarch it did not come in the night or it would have met with a warm reception. We took the coal barge in tow finding it well filled with coal and tied it to the bank a short distance from the gunboat Sovereign. What we supposed to be men proved to be timber heads. We anchored about four or five miles from Vicksburg after we left the White River. We could see the city quite plainly from where we were anchored and I thought it quite a handsome city and splendidly located for the defense. We anchored about four or five miles away and out of range of their batteries. One of our cutters was put on picket duty for a day and a night. Next day a boat from the gunboat Mamora relieved us. A number of Rebel Officers came on board the Flag Ship Black Hawk but what their mission was I never knew. Most of our fleet were then located at the mouth of the Yazoo. Three more gunboats were expected to join the fleet at the Yazoo in a day or two.
We were also sent back to the Yazoo having been relieved on February 9, 1863 by the gunboat Pittsburgh. A short time before getting under way a company of 26 soldiers were brought down from the Flag Ship by a tug. They belonged to a regiment whose number had been so reduced they were disbanded and then distributed among the gunboats of the fleet to be used as marines. They were a sturdy looking lot of men, at least those we received. They took possession of guns 5 and 7. This sent me back to my old base gun No.3 as second shotman. This made changes all round in the gun crews.
The Gunboat Indianola ran the batteries on the night of February 13, 1863. The night was very dark and rainy and it is supposed she got by the upper batteries before the rebels were aware of it. Those of our crew who were on watch counted only twenty shots. The flash of their guns could be plainly seen and the report of them was like heavy thunder showing that the rebels had some very heavy guns at Vicksburg.
The Indianola was built Monitor fashion and carried four guns, two eleven inch and two nine inch. The iron plating on her deck and sides were from two and a half to four inches thick. It was a very hot place for the men on board this gunboat especially in the summer time for they had to eat and sleep below water and as the boiler engines and cook’s galley are all below water, you can imagine what the men had to endure.
Frank Busher and John Hill, two Buffalo boys, were sent from our boat to help fill out the crew of the Indianola. I never knew what their fate was for I never heard from them after they left us.
One of our Rams was badly used coming down the Mississippi by the Rebels about twenty miles north of Napoleon as the Rebels opened fire upon them with their artillery. Several shots entered her sides, two of them hitting her steam pipes, scalding one man so badly that he died next day. Another man was knocked overboard and drowned. Both were Negroes.
There is not much fun in war, but once we rigged up an old scow to look like a monitor with a turret wheel house and port holes. We mounted logs for guns and for smoke stacks. These we painted black. We towed this “Monitor” as near as we dared to the batteries at Vicksburg, then build a fire of green wood to make a big smoke. Our object was to discover whether there were any water batteries in front of Vicksburg. Of course our Monitor was captured by the Rebels but whether they realized the joke or not, I never knew.
After the Indianola ran the batteries they were attacked by three Rebel Gunboats that came out of the Red River. I say that because the Ram Queen of the West was there also, but they succeeded in driving them back. Several contradictory reports came to us about the number of transports the Indianola captured but I never did get the truth of the matter. Unfortunately the Ram Queen of the West ran aground on a sandbar and had to be blown up and burned to prevent her falling into the hands of the Rebels.
We celebrated Washington’s Birthday throughout the fleet by each gunboat firing 21 guns. When we fired our guns we broke every pane of glass in the bow and in our skylight. The shock caused our boat to spring a leak at that part of bow that was so badly damaged at Fort Hindman which had been temporarily repaired. Our boat was badly in need of repairs and ought to be sent North for repairs before we went into any more actions.
When we were coming from the White River to the Yazoo our boat was nearly swamped in passing Napoleon. The wind was blowing a hurricane and the Mississippi was like a small lake. Water came over our bow into three lockers on the forecastle destroying a large quantity of hard tack. We were obliged to run ashore and tie-up to the bank and repair our damaged bow with boards and canvas in order to keep out the inflow of water before we could proceed down the river. Our boat was certainly badly in need of repairs.
The Gunboat Lafayette went down the river but out of range of the Rebel Batteries and fired on their encampments and batteries with her long range runs. Her shots fell short of the encampments but whether they did any damage to the batteries we, of course, did not know. The Lafayette is one of the newer style of gunboats with an immense ram on her bow. A very formidable gunboat and different entirely from the turtle-shaped boats like the Cincinnati and others. They gave us now and then some exercise at target shooting. Most of us were not very good shots although some of the boys did very well.
We sent down another sham Monitor on the night of March 9, 1863, and the boys on watch said they heard over 80 shots fired at our imitation monitor. Happily I was asleep and if all the guns in Rebeldom had gone off they would not have awakened me.
On March 15th one of our Quarter gunners in a fit of delirium tremens committed suicide by cutting his throat from ear to ear with his sheath knife. He had attempted to kill himself several times. Once by drowning but was rescued by several of the men on watch. This time he succeeded and was found down in the shot locker with his throat cut as mentioned above. There was a stab wound in his breast showing that he was determined to kill himself. He was one of our quietest men but he dearly loved whiskey which was the cause of his ruin. He and the other quarter gunners had been on shore leave and he came back very drunk. He had been “on a drunk” for quite awhile previous to this and was out of his mind for a long time. Drunkenness is one of the evils of a sailor’s life and I used to wonder when I would hear some of our men say, “After I get out of this (the Navy) what a grand old drunk I’ll have.”
I now come to what I think was one of the greatest mistakes made during the Civil War for we were now attempting to make our way through Sunflower Bayou, a cut-off which empties into the Yazoo at Johnson’s plantation and flows from it about forty miles above Haines Bluff. Our object was, I believe, to get in the rear of Haines Bluff and then make an attack upon it. This Bayou is one hundred and twenty miles in length and so narrow that in many placed we had to cut off large limbs of trees before we could get through. There were five gunboats in all with the Carondolet in the lead mowing down trees as if they were so much grass. The trees were mostly Sycamore, Willow, and Cypress and are covered with long moss handing from their branches. The bayou is full of fish which we could see jumping out of the water as we pushed through. We heard the early morning birds of all kinds singing in the trees. Owls and bats disturbed by our coming flitted noiselessly past. As it was about the middle of March, the trees were just beginning to bud. We left our place of anchor on March 15, 1863, at 4 o’clock a.m. and made very slow progress getting through on account of the difficulties we encountered. For the first time in my life, I saw a flock of parrots fly chattering over the tree tops as we were clearing away some brush that impeded us. One of our men was pretty badly cut about the head when a large limb fell across our bow. All our Marines and several of the officers went on a foraging expedition to a plantation nearby and brought in about 150 chickens, 600 lbs. of bacon, a young bull, some geese and a couple of Guinea hens, bed clothes, pictures, crockery, etc. The planter was plowing in the field, saw our marines coming, he left his plow and made tracks for parts unknown. I did not know our men were permitted to plunder in this fashion but it was done just the same. There is a large amount of cotton at the plantation which will be put aboard our boats. I suppose cotton is legitimate plunder, but I didn’t think bed clothes and other stuff was.
I wondered what the Rebels would think when they saw five gunboats crawling out of the woods for it was really like traveling through a woods that had been flooded. They would probably say, “The Yankees will make gunboats that will sail on a wet sponge one of these day”. Sometimes our boats would be so tightly wedged between two trees that we’d have to get the trees up by the roots before we could proceed. I was hoping we would get through before the Rebels heard of our coming for they would give us a great deal of trouble by cutting down trees and placing them across the stream. The five gunboats which constituted our fleet were the Carondolet, Mound City Pittsburgh, and Louisville besides the Cincinnati. The Carondolet was in the lead, the Cincinnati next following. We expected to find the Ram General Pierce (captured from the Rebels) at the mouth of Black Water Bayou with coal barges for our fleet.
March 18, 1863 still found us battling our way through the woods knocking down trees and pulling down bridges and in fact everything else that came in our way. We passed some plantations but strange to say, Capt. Bache would not allow us to go ashore while the crews of other boats were supplying themselves with sheep, chickens, ducks and everything eatable they could lay their hands on. I thought until then that the people of the south were in a starving condition, but they seemed to have an abundance of everything.
Every plantation we passed we saw plenty of cattle, horses, sheep, chickens geese, etc. When we passed a plantation, a lot of Negroes, men, women, and children would congregate on the bank and gaze at us in wonder. Some of the men took off their hats to us. On every plantation there seemed to be a Planter’s House, a cotton gin and sometimes a Saw Mill and a long row of Negro cottages, not huts or cabins, but cottages, which any poor person in the North would be glad to live in, therefore, we must have passed through a prosperous section of the South.
At one plantation, some distance off, a large fire was burning showing us that the Rebels were burning their cotton to keep it from falling into our hands.
As we passed one plantation a group of Negro women stood on the bank gabbling away as fast as their tongues would let them - one of them sang out to one of our Darkies “When you all coming to take us, hearn tell of ye a long time but now you are going on without us”. “ We’ll come and get you bye and bye” said one of our Darkies. “Oh pshaw,” said she, “right now dot’s de word”, then they all set up one of those Negro laughs which is indescribable and showed their teeth which glistened like so much ivory.
We had now gotten through the worst part of the bayou with nothing to disturb us except occasionally we came to a bridge which had to be knocked down or in going around a bend we might run against a tree which we had to clear away. As we were passing a plantation this morning , one of our men threw a piece of plug tobacco to a little darky standing on the banks and in a short time a whole band of little darkies were following us calling out, “Gimme a piece please”. It was laughable to see the little fellows wrestle and scramble after tobacco and hard tack that was thrown to them. Some of the pieces fell into the water and as the little fellows didn’t wear much clothes, off they stripped and into the water they jumped after the plunder. Some of the men brought eggs to us in exchange for for tobacco. All the plantations we passed were burning their crops but this was not the doings of
the planters, for six contrabands we took on board said that two cotton burners (supposed to be Rebel officers) passed along the night before and said they had orders to burn all cotton along this stream. This was an immense destruction of property which might just as well have been saved for we had no facilities for carrying it away. The Negroes we have taken on board seem to like their new life first rate. We got, for a change, some good water from a well on one of the plantations for drinking purposes. One of our boys was badly hurt by a large bough from a tree falling upon him and carrying away part of our smokestack. This stream over which we were traveling had so many names that it was hard to keep track of them. One part was Green Creek, another Rolling Fork, another Indian Shoot, another Silver Creek, another Little Sunflower, and still another Big Sunflower and all flowing to the Yazoo.
I now come to what I consider the disgraceful part of our expedition. The Rebels got news of our coming and began cutting down trees throwing them across the stream blocking our advance. These, of course, had to be removed and caused considerable delay besides we had to remove bush and trees that were growing in the Bayou. On Friday we reached a part of the Bayou about from three to five miles from Little Sunflower. A force of Rebels was reported to be up the stream some distance ahead and about sixty or seventy men were detailed from each gunboat and sent out to drive them back. Each gunboat sent out a Cutter to remove bushes and cut down trees that were in our way. Our men stationed themselves on a mound (supposed to be thrown up by the Indians), about a mile from where our gunboats were located near a bridge a short distance ahead of the mound. About 5 o’clock p.m. the Rebels opened a heavy fire of shell and grape from seven pieces of artillery which they had stationed in the woods. As soon as the Rebels commenced to fire, our men commenced to run. I have heard of the retreat from Bull Run, but the retreat from the mound on Green Creek beat anything I ever knew anything about. Each man tried to reach his boat ahead of anyone else. Some left their muskets, cartridge boxes and anything that hindered and ran like deer for his boat. I must say however, to the credit of the Cincinnati boys, they were the last to leave the mound and not a musket was left behind. The men in the small boats left them and ran. Even our tug, which was then engaged in removing a large tree, was deserted. I was in the cutter with three others, the remainder having run away. We were on the right bank of the stream, but deeming it safer, we crossed over to the other side. One of our men having hurt both of his feet so that he could not walk, another man volunteered to carry him and they made their way to the Cincinnati. This left a man named Shull and I to look after our cutter, so we made it fast and got out on the bank behind two large gate posts and waited until the firing ceased when we returned to our cutter. Just then the Captain of our tug hailed us from the other bank, but our cutter being fast, we jumped into the Carondolet’s cutter, which the crew had abandoned and rowed over and brought him aboard his tug. After this, we brought the engineer of the Cincinnati who was standing on the bank aboard the tug as there was no one to run the engine. We then left the Cutter in charge of a couple of the Carondolet boys whom we picked up on the bank and went back to the bridge where we had fastened our own cutter. After we had gotten a little below the bridge, we met two of our officers and two other men who had been sent out to find the cutter. We took them on board and rowed them back to the Cincinnati. By this time it was quite dark and I found that our men had been mustered and I was down among the missing. That night our fleet began falling back, but I had no idea we were retreating, but so it proved. Our fleet was now on its way back to the Yazoo and the stream was so narrow we had to back down, until we came to a fork in the stream giving us room to turn around.
On the way back we burned a few cotton gins belonging to some of the plantations we were passing. The Rebels kept following us up and we had to be at our quarters night and day. We dare not go up on to the Spar Deck for as soon as a man made his appearance, he was fired upon by some sharpshooter skulking along the bank. Our Executive Officer and a man named Gill were wounded in the head [by] glancing shots which did not enter the brain causing painful, although not serious, wounds.
We loaded all the gunboats with cotton as we retreated then burned the gin and all the cotton we couldn’t carry. It was said we had about $25,000 aboard the Cincinnati.
Thus ended this disastrous mistake. It was said we only had a few miles farther to go before we would get into water where it would be impossible to block the stream. However, we didn’t get there, but retreated before a small band of Rebels. Our own army had been notified of our plight and on Saturday the Eighth Missouri reached us and reported that General Sherman’s army was within thirty six hours march and was coming to our relief. General Sherman arrived with his army on Sunday night. We were then on half rations as we had taken on so many contrabands they ate us out of house and home.
After our retreat from the Sunflower, the powers that be decided that the Cincinnati was in such bad shape she would have to be repaired before we would be of any use as a fighting gunboat, therefore, we were ordered to go to Carondolet for repairs. I have lost my records of our trip up the river, but nothing happened worthy of mention. We arrived at St. Louis on April 23rd, 1853 and on the 24th came to anchor in from of the ways at Carondolet. I think at the time Carondolet was not a part of St. Louis as it is now. We had a couple of coal barges alongside but strange to say, we did not have to do the coaling up as we had a number of steamboat roustabouts who did the job for us. We had been ordered to go to Cape Girardeau to protect that town and drive away the Rebels who had taken possession of a fort at that place. Cape Girardeau is a pretty little town lying at the foot of a hill on the banks of the Mississippi. At the summit of it is a fort and an observatory. It lies between Cairo and St. Louis, but I don’t know the exact distance from either city. It appears the Rebels had been giving us a good deal of trouble in the vicinity of Pilot Knob, and other parts of Missouri. I was surprised to know this as I had an idea we had pretty well cleared the state of Missouri of Rebels, but it appears I was mistaken for they were still there and were becoming very bold. I hoped however, that after the Cincinnati got their bow battery after them, they’d leave in a hurry, at least out of range of the Cincinnati’s guns.
I did not get ashore at St. Louis as I had been on shore at Cairo and would not be allowed shore liberty until it came our turn a second time, but before that time came, we were ordered under way and no shore liberty was given us. A number of our men stayed ashore getting drunk and breaking their liberties. While at Carondolet we who had money lived on soft tack and milk, so you see we had good healthy food. One old fellow used to bring us bread, milk, apples, pies, cakes etc. and the way our boys bought, he’d have gotten rich if we had stayed long enough. But opposition came along and while our old friend got 10 cents a quart the new man charged only five for which our old man said he paid 6 and a quarter cents per quart. We finally got our boat safely on to the weighs, but it took five days hard tugging to get her high enough so the caulkers could work on the bottom. We usually broke two or three chains at every pull, but perseverance crowned our efforts with success. The carpenters, caulkers, painters and other workmen are busily engaged in getting us ready to go down to the fleet once more.
We had fine times playing ball on a common, a short distance from our boat, also in fishing in a small stream just a little below where we were located. Some of our boys could not bear good treatment and would wander off and get drunk. The consequence was that we were not allowed to go ashore without a pass and orders were sent to the Provost Marshall to arrest any of the crew found ashore without a pass and bring him aboard.
While in Carondolet, I went to church one Sunday to listen to a minister who was said to be a rabid secessionist. I went there in the morning and listened to a very good sermon and got permission to go again in the evening. The preacher never uttered any secession sentiments while we were there, but on the contrary offered up a prayer for the nation. The congregation however, did not display any kindly feeling for us and no one had the politeness to hand us a hymn book while they were singing. A Sunday school paper which I picked up in the seat, probably put there by some mischievous boy, had written upon it - “Carondolet Southern Confederacy” is the only evidence we had that this was a “Secesh” church. One thing is true, however, that more than half the people living in Carondolet are secessionists and sympathizers with secession.
On May 18, 1863 our vacation ended. Our boat had been repaired and we were now on our way to Cairo. We came off the weighs on the 13th and left Carondolet on the 18th. A new turret of half inch iron had been built on the wheel house and two 12 inch howitzers are to be put into it when we reach Cairo. This is for our protection against guerrillas and would be a wonderful help if we got into a place like Sunflower Bayou again. We had a number of half inch plates of iron and slabs of inch rubber which were to be put on our starboard and port bows. These parts are entirely unprotected. The rubber was to be put between the wooden casemate and the iron which would, it was supposed by its elasticity, prevent our sides being so easily pierced.
While we were at Carondolet, we entertained a good many visitors every day and especially on Sunday. Sunday seems to be a holiday in Carondolet, as well as in many other places down this way. There was a small town across the river from Carondolet near which was a small lake and said to be a good fishing place and fishing parties could be seen wending their way toward this lake which was reached by a ferry crossing the Mississippi.
While on the weighs at Carondolet some of our crew deserted and a number who had shore liberty did not return before we started down the river and were left behind. A reward was offered for their return. We got a new Purser who paid each of us some money. I got twelve dollars ($12.00). We expected to reach Cairo about 4 o’clock p.m. on the 18th of May 1863 where we will take on guns, provisions, etc. and then start for the fleet. This was done on the 20th and we started down the river on the 21st. The iron was not put on our bow sides and for some reason the slabs of rubber were taken away. We made as much speed as possible, but having only one pilot, we could only travel by day. We had only about half a crew and needed men badly. The men who brought the Osage down from Carondolet, were awaiting us at Cairo on board the Clara Dolsen. We expected to receive a full crew from the Dolsen but they had not enough men for us. We haven’t got more than half a crew for sickness, discharges, desertions, etc. left us very short handed and to make things still worse, our marines were to be taken from us when we got to the fleet and sent back to their regiment. If this is so, we will only have men enough left to manage our bow battery. They made a change in our gun crews and I was made first loader of No. 3 gun bow battery.
We stopped at Memphis on our way down and sent our sick boys to the hospital. We expected to reach Helena on May 23, 1863 where we would coal up.
Nothing worthy of mention happened after leaving Helena and we finally reached the Yazoo, but found only the Black Hawk, our Flag Ship, and the Gunboat Choctaw there as the other boats had run the batteries and were down at Port Hudson.
As we did not have a full crew a bevy of men were sent us from the Choctaw in charge of their Boatswain’s mate, a Scotchman by the name of Dow. I don’t know how many there were, but I think about forty. We had hardly got anchored before we were ordered down the river to attack a water battery at the edge of a ravine which separated the two armies. Here was another mistake of the powers that be, I think; why they didn’t send the Choctaw I can’t understand for it was a very much better protected Gunboat than ours. The slabs of iron we took on board were never put on to the sides of the Starboard and Port bows for some reason. It seemed such a pity to spoil our nice brand new boat. On the morning of May 27th, 1863 we started down the river. We had protected our stern with bales of hay, also piled them around the Pilothouse, although it was protected by iron plating. Our sides were partially protected, but only on the sides next [to] our boilers, so we hung chains over the Starboard and Port bows. However, we were poorly protected as we had to fight head on, going down stream and it was impossible to keep her so because every time our big guns went off, our boat swung around and exposed our poorly protected parts to the enemy.
Vicksburg is situated at a bend in the river and in 1863 took a turn almost like the letter “V” and the bluffs along the “V” were lined with batteries. Just as soon as we got within range of their guns, the battle began and we fought not only a water battery but every battery at Vicksburg was pouring shot and shell into our poor doomed gunboat and they had the range so perfect that almost every shot struck us and came through and did a lot of damage. I remember one shot came plunging through and strange to say, struck our steel tiller rope cutting away two strands, then flew across the deck just as our carpenters mate was going forward to plug up some holes below our water line. The ball struck him in the bowels cutting him in two. His dying words were “chuck me overboard”. As soon as I saw what had happened to our tiller rope, I jumped and placed it back in the sheave for it was our only dependence.
Another shot struck the Pilothouse and striking a bolt drove it through the casemate into our Pilot’s back, killing him. I suppose our Captain’s place was on the spar deck to give directions but he had safely tucked himself away as he thought in the Pilothouse, although the sequel proved it was not as safe as he thought. When the Pilot was struck, Captain Bache called a man and myself to carry him down to the gun deck. He was not dead when we lifted him, but was suffering intensely and praying to us most piteously “Shoot me for God’s sake, Shoot me.” We laid him down on the deck and his sufferings were soon over. I hope I may never see another such death.
In a fight of this kind, one of the great dangers is from splinters as they fly everywhere. One of our quartermasters who was also in the Pilothouse when our Pilot was killed had his breast badly torn by the splinters that flew around, but Captain Bache was not even scratched.
The only real effective guns we had were our bow Battery which consisted of a hundred pound Parret Rifle and two nine inch Dahlgren guns. I was on No. 3 Dahlgren gun acting that day as a second loader and first sponger and in those days everything was done very crudely. When we loaded a gun, the first loader and first sponger had to jump out into the port hole, take the powder from the powder monkey, ram it home, then take the shot or shell ram that home and then jump back and help to pull out the gun which was done by rope attachments, then an officer sighted the gun and fired it. I presume the loader and sponger of the gun had the most dangerous position on the boat because they were in an open port and liable to be picked off by sharpshooters, but one does not think of that in a fight.
I think no boat was ever under a hotter fire than ours was at Vicksburg. Two of the Choctaw’s men were badly hurt. One of them had his foot shot off and the other had his leg shattered from foot to hip, but strange to say he swan ashore after our boat was sunk. Many of our boys were hurt by splinters. I was very fortunate as I was only struck by a small block of wood that came flying my way which hit me on the right shin. It did not break my leg, but it hurt like the mischief. I guess it’s speed was pretty well spent before it hit me.
After our Pilot was killed, one of our officers took the wheel but he was also wounded, but we managed to get within our own lines before we sank. We were, however, still within range of the batteries which kept up their constant fire at the Cincinnati.
The river had been lowering and as we ran into the bank our men kept jumping off and ran into the woods and across the bend to where the Flagship was lying at anchor.
A seaman named Legassick was ordered ashore with a line and he called to me for help, but as we jumped, we went into mud above our waists and before we could clamber out, the boat swung off into deep water and sank. The men were then jumping into the water when a shell came flying over, struck into the mud, exploded and sent the mud high into the air, coming down onto the heads of the men in the water. I think many of our men were drowned at this time. Leopold Snyder, a Buffalo boy and friend of mine, I never saw again, so I think he was drowned at that time.
While I was struggling to get out of the mud, our assistant surgeon was trying to get the body of our Pilot ashore. He was an Italian named Cabellero, and not much bigger than a 10 year old boy. His helpers had deserted him so when he called me, I went over to him and helped carry the Pilot’s body on to the bank.
The Choctaw man who had his leg so badly shattered, and the one who had his boot shot off w[ere] on the bank. The former was in a sitting position with his back resting against a tree. He never once uttered a moan, but the other man seemed to be suffering intensely. The Rebels kept up their fire until we raised a hospital flag. The only boat which had not been shot away was our second cutter, how it escaped is a mystery, but it was entirely unharmed.
To show what perfect range the Rebels had, I would say that they shot down our Flag three times. We carried our flag on the aftermast, that was shot away. Then we hoisted it on the main mast, that was shot away. The one of the quartermasters called to me and we went up to the spar deck to hoist our flag on the forward mast when a shot from the batteries came flying over our heads, carrying away the forward mast and the flag came tumbling down into our quartermaster’s hands. All we could do then was to fasten the flag to the stump of the mast and leave it there. Now, of course, these shots may have been random ones, but I think they show what a perfect range the Rebels had and what wonderful gunners they were.
There was one man, a half-witted fellow that got on to a bale of hay and was floating down the river. Our Captain saw him and thinking he was escaping to the Rebels began firing at him from the spar deck, however, he was a poor shot, for he couldn’t hit a bale of hay, and the half-wit floated down to Vicksburg and was taken prisoner by the Rebels. I often wondered how this poor fool ever got into the navy, as I thought only men of sound mind and body were admitted.
There was nothing to laugh at that day except one incident. In some way our Captain and the Doctor had contrived to get a large chest (the Doctor’s medicine chest, I think) which they were attempting to paddle ashore, the Captain at one end and the Doctor at the other. They fount it too much for them and began yelling for help. Our Boatswain’s mate saw them and ran along the deck to where they were swearing a blue streak and calling them all the mean names he could think of. Of course, he was excited or he would not have done so, but the Captain and the Doctor were making so much noise they could hear nothing but their own voices. We got them back on deck and I think the chest also, although it may have gone down after the man on the bale of hay. After the hospital flag was raised, we got down the second cutter and put the dead and wounded into it and took them up to the Flagship. As I was one of the crew on the Dingy they took me into the cutter to help row her up to the Flagship. We left a wreck of what an hour before was one of the finest gunboats on the river.
We remained on the Flagship for several days and every night one of our officers and a boat crew would go down to the wreck to see if everything was all right. As I belonged to a boats crew, I was always with them. Our upper works were still above water. I think we did this for five nights but on the fifth night when we got back to the Flagship, we saw looking down the river quite a fire about where the Cincinnati was sunk. The next night when we got down to the wreck we found that the Rebels had come over in a small boat and set fire to what was left of the Cincinnati, burned it to the water’s edge and carried away our flag which we had left fastened to the stump of our forward mast. That was certainly a bold undertaking.
After I had been on the flagship about a week, I, with several others, were sent on board the Choctaw to make up for the men they lost on the Cincinnati. Nothing worthy of mention happened for some time after we were taken on board the Choctaw. We were ordered to Milliken’s Bend and stayed there until relieved by the gunboat Lexington about the 10th of June. Captain Bache and the officers and crew of the Cincinnati had nearly all been transferred to the Lexington.
After we came down the river, we found the scow on which had been mounted a 10 inch Dahlgren gun in readiness for us to take down to some point near Vicksburg. There were forty men selected to go down with it forming two gun crews of twenty men each. We first went down two or three hundred feet below our Mortar boats which were used in throwing shells into Vicksburg and remained there two days, then we thought we would try to get a little closer under cover of night nearly opposite the Cincinnati’s wreck. There we laid under cover of darkness within a few hundred yards of Vicksburg for several days. The bend of the river enabled us to do this safely. We kept up a constant fire at a battery on the Vicksburg side of the valley or ravine which separated the two armies. We did good execution for we struck their breastworks a number of times and it was said we dismounted one of their guns. Our shells struck among their tents many times causing great commotion among the occupants. We soon ran out of ammunition and our Admiral ordered us up the river again. The scow was then about half a mile below where the Choctaw was anchored and six men were sent to guard it every day. I was one of the six and was wishing they would let me remain on the scow until my time was out for I was at liberty to go about as I pleased.
When we were down below, when one gun crew was on watch, the other twenty could wander about in the woods in front of Vicksburg, pick blackberries, hunt pigs and do about as we pleased. The river is very narrow in front of Vicksburg with our pickets on one side and the Rebel pickets on the other and they keep up a constant firing at each other. If a solder on one side goes down to the river to fill his canteen, he is sure to be fired at by a soldier on the otherside. I went down to the levee one day and had a fine view of Vicksburg but I had to keep under cover. The woods along the levee have some of the finest blackberries I ever ate. Millions of them and I used to go after them every day. I could fill a bucket of these luscious berries in a very short time.
The Rebels were getting on to our location and one day sent over a shell which burst directly over us and you ought to have seen our officer in charge dive for the bank. The Rebels generally know about where to shoot and waste no ammunition. During the month of June many of our boys were taken sick with what I think was Yellow Fever for most of them died; in fact we had a funeral nearly every day. I had been ailing for several days but the Doctor didn’t seem to think I was sick enough to put on the sick list, and one day I was going out to the gun turret to the bow, I fell down in the port and began vomiting. Then they carried me back to the sick bay and the last thing I remember was the Doctor examining my tongue (which was swollen and very rough) and saying to his assistant “That’s the way they all are”. I don’t know how long I remained unconscious, but I was sick for a long time and while most of the boys died from this disease, I recovered.
While I was sick on July 4th, 1863, Vicksburg surrendered to General Grant and Port Hudson surrendered on July 9th, 1863 about 8 o’clock a.m. and the Mississippi was then open from its source to its mouth.
We left our anchorage on July 9, 1863 about 8 o’clock a.m. and anchored in front of Vicksburg. I didn’t know much about our movements, however, as I was still lying in my hammock a very sick boy. We remained at Vicksburg for a few days then and moved to the mouth of the Red River doing guard duty. The weather at this time was very warm, but the boys were well supplied with melons, peaches, and other fruit, also eggs, etc. A colored man used to call every morning and the boys had all the fruit they could eat.
On August 2, 1863 we were still blockading the mouth of [the] Red River and I did not know how long we were to remain there as the Flagship Hospital boat and the gun boats that were with us had gone down to New Orleans. We sent as many of our sick men as they could take on to the Hospital boat, but we have a number still with us. We buried four men between July 21, 1863 and August 9. One of whom was my friend Algernon Stout, a Buffalo boy who enlisted when I did. He died on July 30, 1863. He was taken sick about two weeks previous with fever and dizziness. He was out of his head a great deal of the time and continued so until he died. While I was sick and not expected to live, he waited on me like a brother, but I recovered and he, like many others who left good homes to fight for their country, has made his grave on the banks of the Mississippi. Blockading is rather tiresome business, as it is rather dull lying in one spot with no excitement and nothing to do with the same old routine of scrubbing decks, cleaning bright work, and coaling ship. We coaled ship the other day, but we had little to do as we got a lot of contrabands from the shore who coaled ship in “no time”. There is quite a collection of huts opposite our boat where these Negroes congregate. We cleaned them up several times sending them down to Port Hudson, but next day there seemed to be as many as ever. I saw my first alligator while we were at Red River. I suppose he came from the Red River as they saw that river is infested with them.
Many people came to our boat asking for passes to go North, but went away empty-handed because our Captain had no power to grant their request.
It was no the latter part of August and I was beginning to look forward to the day of my discharge. Two of our men were discharged on August 18, 1863. Several of the old Cincinnati’s crew would be out in a few days, but they could not get their discharge until our accounts came. Our old Purser was here a few weeks ago and said our accounts would be here in about a month. One of our men’s time had been out for over a month. There was nothing, therefore, fur us to do but have patience and wait.
We now had with us quite a large number of refugees from the Red River section who were fleeing away from conscription. They are mostly of French extraction. Our contraband camp still keeps us well supplied with contrabands. They had [a] camp meeting one night and made a tremendous noise with their preacher’s preaching and the whole camp singing. I was wishing they would shut up for I wanted to sleep but could not do so because of the hullabaloo they were raising.
Guerrillas were beginning to bother us. Last week about September 1, 1863 a party of them came out of the woods and fired at [our] boat and although our forecastle was full of men, not a man was hit because their shots fell short.
Men often came to the bank as if they wished to communicate with us, and the Dinghy’s crew, of which I am one, is always sent out armed to see what is wanted, but they usually skedaddle before we reach them. They are probably sent to spy out our movements. We shelled the woods the other day when the Guerrillas fired upon us but all we did was knock down a few Negro shanties, but I guess we did no harm to the Guerrillas. It was now September 17, 1863 and my discharge had not come. Our Purser said I would get a fourth more pay for over time. I said to myself, “Hang the pay, I want my discharge”, for my time was out September 16, 1863 and I hoped then to be on my way home.
I came very near being made a prisoner on September 15, 1863. Mr. Ward, one of our Master mates, and the crew of the Dingy were sent over to a house on the Red River side to take a pass to a lady who wished to go up the river. When we reached the shore, Mr. Ward took two men with their arms to a ridge where they were to stand and wait. One man and myself were left in charge of the boat with orders not to leave, but to keep a good lookout and be ready to shove off. Mr. Ward left one of the men on the ridge and took the other with him to the house. After he had been gone a short time, we saw Ryan, the man he left on the ridge, motioning and calling to Mr. Ward and heard loud voices behind the ridge and saw Ryan throw down his musket and run down the ridge toward the house. This is the last we saw of them. In the meantime, everything going on had been observed from the Choctaw and we heard the boatswain’s mate calling away all small boats and very soon the Captain’s gig and the first and second cutters were on their way to the shore. When they reached the shore, they formed in line and went in pursuit of the guerrillas, but it was no use, they were too late.
About a month after this, twenty men from the Gunboat Osage went overland to the Red river and captured two transports, took twenty prisoners, one of whom was a Lieutenant whom we exchanged for Mr. Ward and the two boys who were with him. The two boys seemed as happy and healthy as if they had been on a picnic and they seemed to enjoy the notoriety it gave them, but Mr. Ward, poor man, was simply a living skeleton for I never saw a man more emaciated. Whether he ever [recovered] from his experience, I am unable to tell.
Our boat in some way had broken its back. The main deck which is made of two inch iron has fallen in and now rests on the boilers. We have taken everything off the deck to lighten it. This is the second time this has happened, showing faulty construction of the Choctaw and yet the Choctaw looked like a gunboat that would be invulnerable. We tried [to] raise the deck, but with poor success, and were unable to keep up steam in our boilers and it was said we were going up the river as soon as there was water enough in the channel to permit. How we will do it in our crippled condition remains to be seen.
The darkies who had their huts on the bank of the river moved them down under the bank to be out of the way in case guerrillas should attack us. Today (Sunday) the religious ones “are singing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs” while the sinners are dancing and having fun as only Negroes can. Most of them will be sent down to Port Hudson soon and I presume as many more will come to take their places.
The boys who enlisted about the time I did, were all worrying about our discharge. We tried to get permission to see our Captain, but he would not see us because he said he could do nothing until our accounts came. Therefore, to make a long story short, we waited and waited and waited and on December 23, 1863 [see footnote]. I got my discharge after serving three months and one week over my time.
In looking back over my story, there are many incidents I have overlooked which I might have added, but I hope I have written enough to make it acceptable to my friends.
Your Old Friend
Daniel F. Kemp
