"Some of us sharpened our bayonets"

Tuesday, October, 1861

There has been much that has happened of late.  The last time that I was making an entry, it was cut short by the sound of many drums all over the camp beating out the long roll. We all scrambled for our muskets and sticks and fell in on the company street. Corporal Flynn, sans brogans, was there to assault our ears with threats to our very existance.  None of us, including Flynn, knew what had happened to cause this ruckus.

Our captain addressed us in a hurried manner. We were ordered to strike the camp and prepare all baggage and equipment for transportation by train to Columbia. We were disappointed to hear him say that he had no clue why these orders were given, only that our movement was of great urgency. 

For some months, our camp had been a well-appointed small city. A great deal of personal baggage had been accumulated, much of it worthless in a military camp. Some of the recruits that arrived here brought one or more trunks of the "necessities" of army life. Visitors from Columbia and all over the upcountry brought items designed to provide some creature comforts for their boys. There were even a few servants in camp, attending to the needs of their masters.

There were not enough wagons to transport all of this to the depot. Trunks, picnic baskets, china dinnerware, cases of port and sherry, silver candlesticks and much more was abandoned as being unable to be transported. I stepped on a pasteboard box of a dozen white linen handkerchiefs. I picked up one and stuffed it into my pocket even though it was no longer white. 

It took quite some time but our column of men, horses, mules and wagons was finally assembled and marching on the road to the depot. Once there, everything had to be loaded onto the freight cars and that took up a great amount of time. I rode on an open flat car for the trip to Columbia. It was cold and I was thankful for my blanket. I think I saw someone fall off of the train. I hope I am wrong for the train did not stop. We didn't dare stop as the train behind us, having no idea of what was ahead of it, would collide with us.

The railroad must have been caught unawares and unprepared for such fast-moving events for our locomotive had only a small amount of wood on board and could not go very fast. Even so, we had to stop to obtain more wood. I was on the detail to assist the train crew in loading the tender. The railroad had some of their slaves there to load wood but we shoved them out of the way as we could load faster than they could. We were so afraid that the following train would impact us causing great destruction and loss of life. A detail was sent some distance to the rear of our train to watch for the next one.

Finally, were were done and the locomotive blew its whistle as a signal to the rear detail to hurry and board. I got back on board my flat car and picked splinters out of my hand with my pocket knife.

We speculated at great length as to what had happened to cause us to be ejected from our camp. No one, even our officers, knew anything certain. Were the Yankees in Charleston? We all knew from the northern papers that a fleet was being assembled for some purpose. Had it already sailed? Had it already landed its cargo of blue-clad oppression somewhere on our shores? Whatever the cause for our journey, all of us were eager to get in close with the enemy and slay them. We had been in camp so long that there had been much grumbling that the war would be over before we had a chance to show our mettle. All that is gone now. Some of us sharpened our bayonets. There was much boasting.

Amidst all the braggidocio, there were some few of us who said little or nothing. They sat by themselves or in twos and threes. They sewed buttons, ate a hardtack cracker, read from a New Testament. Some tried to write a letter but the movement of the train caused a mess of it. I tried to make another entry in this diary but soon gave up.

Is this how they gird themselves for the battle to come and perhaps eventual death? They say little and think much? Do they worry that they will not do their duty when the time comes and will be thought of as unworthy by the folks back home? I watched a boy who has never seen a razor reach into his haversack, pull out a full bottle of whickey and throw it off the train. Two others, whom I know to love a drop saw this and said nothing.

What is it that sustains men in times such as these? We are men.  This is what we must do. That is enough.

Once in Columbia, all that had leen loaded onto the trains had to be unloaded for the journey from the Charlotte and South Carolina Railroad depot to the South Carolina Railroad depot which was, I suppose, two or so miles away where everything had to be loaded on rail cars again. Along the march route from one depot to the other, there were any number of waving flags, cheering people and playing bands.  Some young lady stepped into the ranks to pin some sort of momento, probably hand made by the young lady herself, on the breast o af  marching soldier. Other citizens passed packages to us. I received no such largesse but the fellow behind me was rewarded with a large cheese which he later shared.

It took quite some time to reload everything. Our sargeants and corporals were shouting at us the whole time to hurry lest the war be lost by our lack of haste. And still, we knew not what our final destination was. Everyone knew that in the direction were were going, this railroad ended in Charleston. Had this pillar of Southern graceful society been bombarded and taken by the enemy? It would make sense as the war began there. Even so, from Charleston, one could go north to Virginia or south to Georgia so we continued to speculate.

We stopped again for wood at Orangeburg and once more, shoved the railroads slaves away. I overheard a few say that this work wasn't  for white folks. Most did not care. They wanted to hurry to more quickly meet the Yankees and save Charleston from an unspeakable fate.

The last time that I traveled this route, I and my few fellow travellers from Beaufort rode in fine passenger cars well-appointed and well-served. This time, we were in a box car, being moved as one would move common freight. What cargo had occuppied this car prior to ourselves did not smell like roses. One had to be careful where one sat.

After some hours, our train pulled into Charleston. Once again, all freight, both human and not had to be unloaded. We wondered, would we go north or south? It was neither. We would stay in Charleston which was safe. There hadn't been  a whiff of gunpowder smoke here since the fall of Sumter.

Still, we are here for some reason. Something had happened to cause us to leave camp with such immediacy. Once we established camp, we were visited by citizens of Charleston. The brought greetings, the usual presents and news. We listened to them while wolfing down our new victuals. They  were able to state with certainty that a Yankee fleet had assembled in Maryland and had set sail southward some days ago, its destination as yet unknown but many feared it was Charleston.

Are we to defend Charleston? It that the purpose for our rapid move? So be it. Let them come and we shall slaughter them.