Pen Portrait of Camp Yancey in December 1861

Laying aside his attorney's robes for the garb of a private soldier, John P. Hubbard of the 22nd Alabama provided this pen portrait of his first army camp, that of Camp Yancey near Mobile, Alabama in the last days of 1861. In this letter, published in the Southern Advertiser in Troy, Alabama, Hubbard describes the layout of the camp, life in the tents, and the regiment's patient wait for pay. 



Camp Yancey, near Mobile, Alabama

December 23, 1861

Dear Advertiser,

          Of late, this pen has been a derelict in picking up dots as very few have fallen worth picking up, for else it would have been heard from before now. To determine which is the stronger cause of delay would require an impartial jury so near are they in hung in even balance.

Pitching Tents

The first thing to be done on arriving here was to pitch tents. They are pitched in two rows, each about 100 feet long, and face towards a street 40 feet wide running between them from north to south. In the rows the tents are about two feet apart. To the rear (the north) in the prolongation of the line of tents respectively, some 75 feet are the company commissioned officers’ tents, two in number. At the bottom, men’s tents are about 8 by 10 feet in size, and slope upwards on the side to a height of 8 feet, thus rendering it impossible to stand upright in them except right in the middle. They have no flies and are rather inferior articles for a “new style” if one, sitting in judgment upon them, were directed in his decision by the taste of one expert in critical disquisitions on a love of a bonnet, the verdict at least would be that the inventor be “damned to an immortality of fame.”

Officers have wall tents with flies, which compared with the men’s, are very commodious and comfortable. Really there can be no objection urged against them. They say flies will be put on all tents. It is a matter of prime necessity if the winter is to be passed in them. Such are the tents and thus are they pitched on this campground.

Working the Street

          Getting the company street in order was a pestiverous undertaking and required some care and labor. The modus needs no mentioning. Here a lump was dug up and there one dug down; dirt from ditches running along the side, shoveled out, and turnpike style, thrown to the middle, then raked and scraped and dragged, and just as all hands thought it finished for good, some new defect would show itself in a day or so, and all the work was to be done de novo.

          Finally, after working it over about as many times and with as much care as would have been necessary if it were to be forever, the area over which all the Tom Sayer’s, Benecia Boys, Princes of Wales, Japanese and Chinese Toms of all creation and dancing masters generally, would take evening rides in spotted buggies drawn by horses. The force of the term ‘per order’ will be better known, when you are informed that an application for a furlough was returned a few days ago and refused, not because of merit but one reason was because not properly folded “as required by orders.”  This was not done by our regimental or company commanders, but by a higher power. Do not conclude that any of the company complained of the work, for if any of the company ever did such a piece of work without complaining, this company did it.

Camp Fires

          These, which offer so many beautiful coruscations for fancy and spread eagle orations are placed on the front in the prolongation of the line of tents and succeed each other as do the tents. An area of 12 by 15 feet is allowed for each mess’s fire, there being ten men to the mess. Some have built coverings over their fire ground. As to the effect these campfires have on the imagination of the soldier, or how high his poetical feelings rises this pen is silent, but one thing is sure, of a cold night his angry feelings rise considerably if he gets crowded out of his place. So near are the fires that each one is blessed with the smoke of all his neighbors if the wind blows right, and it is sure to do that. This helps account for the smokiness of the weather.

This 1871 lithograph depicting a typical early war Confederate camp scene was printed by Louis Zimmer and was based on a painting by Conrad Wise Chapman of the 59th Virginia. 

Drill Ground

          Next come the cleaning up of the drill ground which is not a “labor of love.” The drill ground is immediately in front of the fires, lying contiguous to them and extending in length about 150 yards in width, about the same as the width of the street between the tents and added to the width of the tents. Each company clears its own ground, own beginning where the other ends, and those all together form the drill ground of the regiment in battalion drill or dress parade.

          The requisites of a good drill ground finished “as per order” is that all trees and stumps be dug up and all uneven places made level. This camp ground having been an unsophisticated old field before its metamorphosis into “champ de Mars” whereon the feet of valorous men keep steady step, marking time to music’s marital breathings, it was not as difficult to put in order by a great deal, as if it had been one of the rich alluvial swamps of Pike County. But easy over he left as was the task, it proved quantum sufficient to fully satiate the most morbid and overwhelming appetite for drill ground clearing. The modus operandi, especially the operandi part of stump and tree digging, in clearing up the ground is much easier to the imagination than to bone and sinew. A correct description of the scene would require a Shakespearian pen, or the pen of Appelles.

Hospital

          On arriving here, hospital arrangements were uninviting and still are not as comfortable as they should be. On reason is the want of time, owing to the regiment having been nearly all the while in transit. On our arrival, a hospital was put under way of construction and stores, such as could be furnished by the surgeons and the belief created that soon proper comforts would be made. The framing was speedily finished when of a sudden, the workmen deserted it, and the sounds of their hammers died upon its completion leaving it a frame, a mere skeleton, striking sign to set at the door of the half prepared for sick men, standing abashed blushing in the morning light and weeping with the pale-faced moon amid the dews of the night, sorrowing at the disappointment of the sick seeing their city of refuge unfinished and deserted.

          The blame rested not upon Colonel Zachariah Deas or the surgeons, for the work had not thus stood long, monument of hesitation and uncertainty, when their feeling hearts could bear it no longer, and the colonel ordered the work to be finished “on his own hook” they say. A few days after, and the regular contractor recommenced his work and now it goes on finely, and soon the sick will be cared for as well as possible.

          A few days ago, the ladies of Mobile have a Tableaux Vivant entertainment for the benefit of sick soldiers in which the body of Colonel Deas figured. This was another noble display of the deep fervor that warms the hearts of Southern women in this contest, and forcibly calls to mind the touching words of the dying hero, doubtful in his merry hours of the soothing power and care of a woman, but owning as she touched the water to his parching lips and endeavored with her tender hands to stanch his bloody wound.

What Brigade

          This regiment, the 22nd Alabama under Colonel Deas, along with the 18th (Colonel Bullock), 19th (Colonel Wheeler), 20th (Colonel Garrott), and 23rd (Colonel Beck) with one or two battalions, a few companies of infantry, cavalry, and artillery constitute a brigade under the command of General Leroy P. Walker.

Pay

          The companies of this regiment have received no pay. A great many (many in this paragraph means all) have about as much money as the Confederacy has paid them, to-wit, “narry red.” In “days lang syne,” the regiment was mustered for pat. It had an electrical effect as if a battle was at hand, and many (all) an eye dilated to popping out of the head dimensions for to them not being used to such sights of late, a dime would look big as a cartwheel and its flashes brighter and more startling than summer lightning. A shinplaster bill would be more enticing and larger than the pictures of Eldred & Older’s circus and menagerie all stuck up together.

Many expected to see the payman walk out with a bag of gold under his arm, inexhaustible as the bag of eggs they saw at the “slight of hand” show and commenced with Robin Roundhead liberality to replenish wasted and worn pockets. Well, the payman like many preachers to their appointments didn’t come. So, that night as ever since the sun went down and the men went without their money. Empty pockets are the worst of crimes.

John P. Hubbard was an 1859 graduate of Howard College in Marion, Alabama and went into law, living in Pike County, Alabama. He enlisted in the 22nd Alabama but was soon released and placed on duty as the conscript enrolling officer in Pike County in August 1862.

Source:

Letter from Private John Patillo Hubbard, Co. I, 22nd Alabama Infantry, Southern Advertiser/Troy Messenger (Alabama), January 1, 1862, pg. 1

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