Thurs., 29—Rained quite hard all night and our tent leaked some; do not feel very well but hope I shall not be sick.
Fri., 30—A cool, dull day. Have the diarrhea quite bad, but am in hopes to get rid of it soon. John Locke gave me some pills.
Sat., 31—Rained about all day; comes on cold and snows some. Had the diarrhea very bad all night; a cold, dull, disagreeable day for the very last of 1864. It looks like a dark prospect ahead for us prisoners, but I am in hopes to be exchanged soon; so the story runs.
Sun., January 1, 1865—A fine pleasant morning but cool. It does not look like a very happy New Year for me, but am in hopes to get out of this soon. God grant it may be a happy and pleasant one to my wife and boy. Am a little better this morning.
Five days later the hand that wrote the foregoing and that had given daily evidence of its fealty to God, home and country, in devotion to duty and in a daily record of deed and thought, was cold in death, for on the 6th of January Horton died and what was mortal of him was borne out to the trenches to rest with the more than two score of his comrades of the Thirty-ninth who had gone the sad way before him. And thus perished almost 40,000 loyal men, faithful to the end and, "When the Roll is Called up Yonder," it seems highly probable that the most of those, who thus endured cold, hunger and every form of privation in token of their appreciation of duty, will stand a fairly good chance of being able to answer "Here."
FROM DIARY OF CORPORAL EDWARD H. LEWIS, CO. B.
As the Corporal's record goes over the same time and place of other diarists, care is taken to avoid repetitions.
Salisbury, the last of October—The death rate is heavy, owing to bad weather and small rations; the latter also being poor in quality, consisting of what is supposed to be coarsely ground corn meal, including a great deal of the cob. It is mixed with hot water, no salt or seasoning of any kind, and baked in large loaves, about three inches thick and these loaves are cut into squares of about three and one-half inches, the same being a ration for twenty-four hours. In addition to this we have been having about three-quarters of a pint of something called "soup." It is made of North Carolina peas (usually called "cow-peas"), decayed bacon very active with maggots, and water, the process of brewing being as follows: A large kettle receives its bushels of peas, along with its due proportion of the said animated bacon and the necessary liquid, and the combination is boiled until the outer cuticle of the pea is loosened, scarcely longer, and then is dipped out for the sustenance of Yankee unfortunates. Were this all, it would not be so bad, but the foam which appears upon the surface of the soup is very far from being unsubstantial, since therein float hundreds of the vermicular denizens of peas and bacon. Not exactly as appetizing as the bouillon of home preparation nor as clear, yet with closed eyes and bated breath, we manage to enclose it, probably to our bodily good, if not to the satisfaction of our several senses.