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Co. B, incl. 2 pocket diaries. Diaries of Zouaves, the dandies of the Civil War, are hard to come by, and few are as well written and insightful as the diaries of Max Hartman. Hartman and his brother John enlisted in the Union Zouaves, a regiment that by virtue of the area in which it was raised, included a large number of recruits of German and German American origin. Catholic, married, and with at least one child, Max was not the typical union soldier, and his closely written diaries reflect a greater depth of experience and wider range of interests than the typical Civil War soldier. In November 1861, the 93rd left Lebanon County to take up positions in the defenses of Washington, and HartmanÂ’s diary entries provide an enjoyable soldierÂ’s eye account of the city and the camps that ringed the capitol. HartmanÂ’s first few months in the service were busy, but quiet, spent digging fortifications, visiting the capitol and Smithsonian museum, drilling, and carping about the staff officers in the regiment. Their duty was quiet enough that it made little difference that it was not until late December that the regiment was finally fitted out for field and issued rifled Belgian muskets. On Christmas day, Hartman and his comrades fired the muskets for the first time, shooting seven blind cartridges each, pronouncing the guns better than we expected. But when he and some friends went rabbit hunting on January 5, they found the rabbits were too smart (I think they were some of the rebels) and although Hartman does not say so, some of the problem may have been the muskets. After unusually poor results at target practice in March, the regimentÂ’s Lt. Col. concluded that the guns were not worth shooting, and demanded new weapons. The new Springfield musket, Hartman recorded, was a very fine and light weapon, excellent, although he noted that they also kick backwards. They almost knock us over. In January, the 93rd moved to Camp Edward, near Tennellytown, Md., after a memorable march: On our way through the city of Washington we saw some of the RebelÂ’s flags hanging out of the windows and as went through Pennsylvania Avenue I saw a great many of the Reading boys in Uncle Sams clothing, but we could not speak t any of themÂ…. In Tennellytown, Hartman observed that Camp Edward was named after the son of the regimentÂ’s loathed Col. McCarter, adding sarcastically, the next camp that we came to I suppose will be named after his black servant girl. Shades of Sally Hemmings! On careful consideration, the camp seemed to match the shades. About 2 square above us the 55th New York State Militia Regiment is quartered. They are all Germans and the Col. himself is a FrenchmanÂ… The New York Regt. above us have a regular tavern with them and a lot of fine looking ladies also. But whether for a good or bad purpose I do not know, but our Col. stopped them from selling liquor to our men, but they got it anyhow. Among the strengths of the diary are HartmanÂ’s accounts of how he and his comrades entertained themselves that winter, both to good ends and bad, forging tight bonds through singing and other entertainments. Typical, he reported: In the evening after supper we had the best concert that I have ever heard or seen yet. It was given by 2 men out of Company H. They are the best Negro performers that I have seen yetÂ… One tent was so crowded with men that we could hardly breathe any more. Among them were 2 men from Old Berks County, Mr. Pile and Mr. Francis. They said that they had never heard the like of this in their lives and they never thought that we would enjoy ourselves in such a manner. After the concert they treated us with some good mince pies, cream, sugar cakes, apples and good cigars, but the wine was forgot. But I think the folks at home think we must be disheartened and that crying all day, but they are greatly mistaken in this impressionÂ… At another performance in which he played himself, Hartman recorded the names of the musicians, the instruments (a violin, 2 banjoes, a tambourine, and triangle): We sang a few sentimental songs which were followed by some comic songs also. But we kept the people laughing until their sides began to crack for I have never in my life seen any comic singer like to the sgt. In Company I, and he also plays the tambourine. There we each drank 3 glasses of beer. Hartman was, after all, German. But HartmanÂ’s account of camp life was not all nostalgia and fun. The rougher edges were never far away, and Hartman could be critical in his assessment of his friends and particularly his officers. On more than one occasion, he commented snidely on Col. McCarterÂ’s bibulous tendencies, as when he missed dress parade because he was too drunk. McCarter was the dumbest commander of them all, Hartman concluded, The other officers all said that he had the largest and finest regiment in the brigade but the poorest colonel and some of the company officers were also very poorÂ… Nor was HartmanÂ’s attitude toward the other regimental officers any better: If I had to go into another company but Company B I would rather be drummed out of camp with a dishonorable discharge for their other captains do not understand more about drilling than the lowest of privates in the rear rank. During the winter, tensions gradually mounted as the regiment came closer to facing the enemy. That the 93rd was already in hostile territory, there was no doubt, and Hartman describes how he and his fellow Zouaves reacted to being an occupying force. Some of our men had fine houses to sleep in at night as there are plenty of houses empty that were once occupied by the Rebels and are now vacant as they were afraid of getting into trouble when the talk was about the taking of WashingtonÂ… we had orders to take very good care of ourselves and not halt them more than twice, and if they did not halt we were to shoot them without any fear or pardon. In March, things began to move -- literally -- and by the end of the month, the 93rd had marched to Fortress Monroe (where they saw the Monitor), bound for the Peninsular Campaign. The scene at Hamden, Va., was one they would soon see over and over again. We had a fine view of the ruins of the whole town. But it makes ones heart bleed to look at them as there is not a roof nor floor or any woodwork in the whole town any more, a great many 3-story brick houses, large churches in fine, every one of the houses all around in 5 miles distance. All houses are of brick, or were once, but they are no moreÂ… By April 4, the regiment had arrived before Yorktown and had captured their first prisoners (including a spy), and the slow drive toward Richmond began to unfold. On April 15, Hartman helped break into the court house in Warwick and liberated documents going back to 1678, and moving closer and closer to the rebel forces, tightening the noose, he recorded being so close to the enemy that he could hear their teams pass along the road, and a whole regiment was passing along the woodsÂ… Small skirmishes slowed their glacial progress, and the retreating Confederates left other surprises. When the 93rd moved into the abandoned fort at Lees Mills, they found shells planted in the ground all around with fuses on top. A member of the 62nd Pennsylvania hit one with his foot, Hartman noted, and was killed instantly. The low level skirmishing that Hartman describes broke out in a full scale engagement at the Battle of Williamsburg on May 5, although unlike other regiments in their brigade, the 93rd did not lose heavily. Our men went out to hunt up the killed and wounded and brought in a great many of them. Some were shot clean through the head, others had their ears, arms and legs cut off. Our Lt. Col. JohnsonÂ’s horse was shot from under him with a rifle ball through the shoulder. The next morning, they found the rebel dead, not yet buried, and saw some of the wounded Rebels and they begged us not to hurt them. We then told them we would not treat an y of them as they had treated our men that were wounded, as they bayoneted our wounded men yet and killed them that were not dead yet. They busied themselves burying the dead and hunting relics, while the slaves were very busy in hunting up the cloths the Rebels threw away in their flight, and they were glad to see us coming and said we gave them fits, this time anyhow, and say they hoped they would get it. Hartman later described burning the blood and clothing of those who had been killed. In mid-May, with the campaign lumbering along, Gen. George B. McClellan came through with his staff, but ominously, he noted that the general of our whole army is no better dressed than any of us privates as he goes in disguise all the time. With the pressure building, and the regiment ordered into line of battle -- and then recalled -- Hartman and his brother had a fierce quarrel which resulted in parting our bunks, and he now sleeps with others. I do not care to be cursed and damned by my own brother for the good advice I give him, so he may go. On the next day, with no chance to heal the rift, Hartman moved forward to find rifle pits scattered all around the landscape. There are once 3,000 men at work day and night. I think they will dig rifle pits all around the whole city of Richmond as General McClellan has said that he lost more of his men at Williamsburg than he had expected to lose in the whole of Virginia, as the battle was fought 1 day too soon for his expectations. The diary ends three days later, May 29. On that day, Hartman was shot in the hand during the battle, and was left on the field and taken prisoner. Exchanged a few weeks later, he never recovered use of his hand, and was finally discharged for disability in November 1862. Belying the small format of the diaries, Hartman wrote dense, highly literate and often long and insightful observations on the war with a dry sense of humor. Although they cover less than a year of active duty, they represent the entire length of HartmanÂ’s service, with the exception of the period during which he was hospitalized. The earlier volume begins with a few entries in German, but soon shifts to HartmanÂ’s literate and polished English. The diary also includes a roster of Company B, a record of letters sent and received, and the lyrics of five popular songs, including MassaÂ’s in the cold ground. A fine record of the service of a German American Zouave during the Civil War, including excellent accounts of camp life comradery, more than usual grumbling about officers and military immorality, and a privateÂ’s eyewitness account of the Peninsular Campaign and Battle of Williamsburg. All told, an excellent lot. AUCTIONEER`S NOTE: Hartman was in Co. B, not H, and the roster is indeed of Co. B.

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