Huntsville, Wednesday, Feb. 3. Colder night than we have had for two weeks. Water frozen a quarter of an inch and obliged to tuck up close to sleep warm. Instead of the usual drill this morning, was general policing, ground to be swept from rear of quarters to behind the guard house, about five acres. Guard house and kitchen whitewashed. A well started. I climbed Russell Hill for evergreen boughs for brooms in company with a couple of others, and managed it so as not to return until nearly recall; that is soldiers' strategy. "Do no more than you can" is the motto.
Huntsville, Thursday, Feb. 4. Cold night but pleasant day. Nothing of importance to mar the general routine of camp life. Had to put in our regular drill under Sergeant Hood. Camp was inspected P. M. by the medical director of the 15th Corps, seeing after the sanitary condition of the troops. A short drill at parade and got through without incurring the displeasure of the commanding officer. Broke ranks to receive an unusually large mail, which was soon dealt out to the eager soldier boys. Some went away light-hearted, others sorely disappointed.
Huntsville, Friday, Feb. 5. Rainy day, consequently no drill. Laid in quarters all day reading papers received from home. No mail, no news. Poor fare makes such days as these hang heavily and moodily, and I found it uncommon hard to keep a cheerful face upon it. All the disagreeable things seemed to be heaped up for my particular benefit. But I did not allow my feelings much sway and amused myself in reading, which always has a charm for me, and went to bed at night with a satisfied but a homesick heart.
1864 Novel Reading
Huntsville, Saturday, Feb. 6. A wet night and muddy morning. On guard—to appear on guard mounting with polished boots, all things accordingly. Spent the hours not on duty reading Ned Buntline's thrilling tale of the times Ella Adams. One hundred horses distributed to the three Batteries by chief of artillery, having received them from Nashville. We had thirty-two beautiful animals, large and fat. —— and J. Keller returned, the former after five months' confinement in military prison at Vicksburg, the other from hospital, wounded at Champion Hills. They were gladly welcomed.
Huntsville, Sunday, Feb. 7. Rough night for the guard. Rainy and cold. The countersign "Vicksburg" which gave rise to musings which aided in forgetting time. Relieved at 9 A. M. Attended church in company with Griff, E. W. and D. J. D. Service was held in the Methodist, Presbyterian and Episcopal churches at the same hour (10 A. M.) Curiosity prompted to attend the latter, an elegant furnished church of unique construction, Gothic style, poorly arranged for sound. The civilians were apparently of the aristocratic class, mostly women, equalling the military in numbers. The white-robed minister was a young intelligent Irishman, I should judge. A good choir with the deep-toned organ opened the service with fitting music, after which prayers were read and ceremonies performed for nearly an hour and a half, which to me was mere mockery of religion, reading their desires to God from an established formula, but careful always to omit the prayer for the President of the U. S. A. It was not worship. Ah no! the heart was cold. It was but Phariseeical affectations. A short sermon on charity was read at the close. Very good, the effect of which was tested by passing the plates which were returned well laden with "soldier greenbacks". The money of that government they will not pray for is very acceptable. I returned to camp, although not pleased with the exercise, yet I trust, benefited. The solemn notes of the organ had awakened feelings that are too apt to lie dormant in the soldier's breast, those that raise the mind above the din of common life, and look to a future of immortality, purity, which all hope to obtain ere long. "Heaven is my home".