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Leander Stillwell, in his 1920 memoir The Story of a Common Soldier of Army Life in the Civil War 1861-1865 gives this account of his journey to Pittsburg Landing:
The night we left St. Louis I had my first impressive object
lesson showing the difference between the conditions of the com-
missioned officers and the enlisted men. I had spread my blanket
at the base of the little structure called the "Texas," on which the
pilot house stands. All around the bottom of the "Texas" was a row
of small window lights that commanded a view of the interior of
the boat's cabin below, and I only had to turn my head and look in
and down, to see what was passing. The officers were seated in
cushioned chairs, or sauntering around over the carpeted and
brilliantly lighted room, while their supper was being prepared.
Colored waiters dressed in white uniforms were bringing in the
eatables, and when all was ready, a gong was sounded and the of-
ficers seated themselves at the table. And just look at the good
things they had to eat! Fried ham and beefsteak, hot biscuits,
butter, molasses, big boiled Irish potatoes steaming hot,
fragrant coffee served with cream, in cups and saucers, and some
minor goodies in the shape of preserves and the like. And how
savory those good things smelled! for I was where I could get
the benefit of that. And there were the officers, in the warm,
lighted cabin, seated at a table, with nigger waiters to serve them,
feasting on that splendid fare ! Why, it was the very incarnation
of bodily comfort and enjoyment! And, when the officers should
be ready to retire for the night, warm and cozy berths awaited
them, where they would stretch their limbs on downy quilts and
mattresses, utterly oblivious to the wet and chill on the outside.
Then I turned my head and took in my surroundings ! A black,
cold night, cinders and soot drifting on us from the smoke stacks,
and a drizzling rain pattering down. And my supper had con-
sisted of hardtack and raw sow-belly, with river water for a bev-
erage, of the vintage, say, of 1541. And to aggravate the situation
generally, I was lying on a blanket which a military necessity hsid
compelled me to steal. But I reflected that we couldn't all be of-
ficers, there had to be somebody to do the actual trigger-pulling.
And I further consoled myself with the thought that while the of-
ficers had more privileges than the common soldiers, they likewise
had more responsibilities, and had to worry their brains about
many things that didn't bother us a particle. So I smothered all
envious feelings as best I could, and wrapping myself up good in
my blanket, went to sleep, and all night long slept the unbroken,
dreamless sleep of youth and health.
Stillwell's well written account of his life as a young private in Federal service is both entertaining and informative. It went through four printings in the 1920's and was reprinted several times in recent decades.
You can find it for free to read on line at Open Books
Or as a free Librivox recording at
The night we left St. Louis I had my first impressive object
lesson showing the difference between the conditions of the com-
missioned officers and the enlisted men. I had spread my blanket
at the base of the little structure called the "Texas," on which the
pilot house stands. All around the bottom of the "Texas" was a row
of small window lights that commanded a view of the interior of
the boat's cabin below, and I only had to turn my head and look in
and down, to see what was passing. The officers were seated in
cushioned chairs, or sauntering around over the carpeted and
brilliantly lighted room, while their supper was being prepared.
Colored waiters dressed in white uniforms were bringing in the
eatables, and when all was ready, a gong was sounded and the of-
ficers seated themselves at the table. And just look at the good
things they had to eat! Fried ham and beefsteak, hot biscuits,
butter, molasses, big boiled Irish potatoes steaming hot,
fragrant coffee served with cream, in cups and saucers, and some
minor goodies in the shape of preserves and the like. And how
savory those good things smelled! for I was where I could get
the benefit of that. And there were the officers, in the warm,
lighted cabin, seated at a table, with nigger waiters to serve them,
feasting on that splendid fare ! Why, it was the very incarnation
of bodily comfort and enjoyment! And, when the officers should
be ready to retire for the night, warm and cozy berths awaited
them, where they would stretch their limbs on downy quilts and
mattresses, utterly oblivious to the wet and chill on the outside.
Then I turned my head and took in my surroundings ! A black,
cold night, cinders and soot drifting on us from the smoke stacks,
and a drizzling rain pattering down. And my supper had con-
sisted of hardtack and raw sow-belly, with river water for a bev-
erage, of the vintage, say, of 1541. And to aggravate the situation
generally, I was lying on a blanket which a military necessity hsid
compelled me to steal. But I reflected that we couldn't all be of-
ficers, there had to be somebody to do the actual trigger-pulling.
And I further consoled myself with the thought that while the of-
ficers had more privileges than the common soldiers, they likewise
had more responsibilities, and had to worry their brains about
many things that didn't bother us a particle. So I smothered all
envious feelings as best I could, and wrapping myself up good in
my blanket, went to sleep, and all night long slept the unbroken,
dreamless sleep of youth and health.
Stillwell's well written account of his life as a young private in Federal service is both entertaining and informative. It went through four printings in the 1920's and was reprinted several times in recent decades.
You can find it for free to read on line at Open Books
Or as a free Librivox recording at
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