Letter from Chauncey Herbert Cooke, May 30, 1863
Dear folks at home:
The final order came to-night after we had gone to bed, to be ready to go to Vicksburg by boat in the morning. There was a lot of skurry around all the long night. Clothes at the washerwoman's had to be looked after. Letters had to be written as I am writing this by the dull light of a tallow candle, some to wives some to mothers, fathers and many to sweethearts. I hope there were no unhappy girls because of this sudden leaving near about Columbus. But I fear there was a few. I am quite sure of two or three. Well, I am content if we must leave Columbus even if it has been a sort of "Old Kentucky Home" to us for nearly two months. It is one o'clock in the morning and the lights are yet burning in the tents. In a lot of the tents they are singing the "Old Kentucky Home." I guess the boys don't think much of its meaning but sing it because we are in Old Kentucky. A lot of colored women are running about the tents collecting washing bills. They all seem to know that we are to leave in the morning. There will be a lot of unpaid washing bills, but the darkies won't mind it much as they are used to working for nothing.
Max Brill my bunk mate has finally shut his mouth, so has Delos Allen and John LeGore my other tent mates, leaving me to blow out the light and go to sleep. Will finish letter and mail it in the morning.
May 31st. When we woke up this morning we found a great big New Orleans side wheel packet laying at the wharf waiting to take us on board. The roll call found many of us still asleep after such a night. Many of the boys fell in for roll call in nothing but shirts and drawers. I got on all but my pants and shoes. About half the company was in the same plight. The orderly was so good natured we gave him a good long cheer and ran back to our tents to finish dressing. The town was crowded with country people mostly colored folks to see us leave. The grand march to the boat began at ten o'clock and it was near three P. M. when we were all packed away on the three decks. Our company was on the hurricane deck. When the black deck hands loosened the four inch cable that tied our ship to the shore, the Regimental band began to play Dixie. The big boat floated out into the current, the big propelling wheels turned round and round in the muddy waters and looking back at the big high bluff which had been our home so long we did not know whether to be glad or sorry that we were leaving it.
There were hundreds to wave us goodbye, yes thousands. There were
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loud cheers and good wishes from the regiments we left behind. The blacks were afraid to come out in the open to show their good feeling but down by the river bank and from behind houses and fences where they could not be seen by the whites, they threw up their caps and hats and danced like crazy. The women caught their skirts with both hands and bowed and courtesied and some dropped upon their knees and held their hands above their head as if they were praying. The boys didn't seem to notice it much because they were niggers, but it made me think of some things in Uncle Tom's Cabin. I take one last look at Columbus and the fort on the bluff with the big black cannon peering out over the river. We make a bend in the river and Columbus is hidden from view.
A lot of boys are gathered on the forecastle singing "My Old Kentucky Home." I suspicion the fellows have a homesick streak on, they sing with so much feeling. Hickman is in sight but four miles away. I must close this line in order to mail it there. Those lines of Charles McKay I have heard father quote so often come to mind, "Groaning, steaming, panting, down the Mississippi."
Your Son,
CHAUNCEY.