Wednesday, July 13. — Heard accounts from Washington. Enemy shelled us from mortars during day. Day warm.
[Every evening the rebs would fire about a dozen mortar-shells at us, about dusk. We could see the lighted fuse going way up in the air, then stopping, and then coming down, and could tell pretty nearly where it was going to fall. Before their shells had reached the ground, our batteries would respond with an equal number, and return the compliment.]
Wednesday, July 13th.
After having been in the field hospital ever since Monday, the 11th, I rejoined my company to-day, feeling somewhat better for the rest and treatment I have had, but still very weak. It continues very hot and the dust is floating in clouds about us, and the deaths from sunstroke continue to be numerous. I found my company still with the infantry on the firing lines in the woods, but was rejoiced to learn that we were, or were to be, transferred to the Siege Train, and a preparatory inspection was had.
13th. Wrote home and to Hugh Beer’s wife. More clothing.
July 13th, 1864.
Another fond letter from my loving wife. Thank God, the way is once more opened. With all the trembling anxiety of her tender, loving heart apparent in every word, she asks, “What will become of you?”
Can you not see, my darling, that He who cares for sparrows has not overlooked your husband? She asks me next if I think I am treated fairly. To this I must reply, no, not quite fairly; not quite honorably. At the beginning of the spring campaign it was decided by the proper authorities that paroles, given on the field of battle, would not be recognized. This was the general rule that was adopted. As a general rule it was a good one, but there must be exceptions to all general rules. And General Burnside was quick to see our case was exceptional. If, then, as he decided, “under the circumstances their parole is good and must be respected,” I do not think it fair or honorable to place us in circumstances that render it impossible to comply with the conditions specified in our parole. Some of the men have become worn out and discouraged by the treatment they have received, and have returned to the ranks. Through the kindness of my officers I am permitted to “run at large” inside the lines, and do the best I can for myself. I did expect to be allowed to go home, as, at least, I have a moral right to do. I still think I may, should this campaign ever close, as it must eventually.
July 13th. Routed out by daylight. After rations, while waiting, wrote a few letters. The mail was most generally looked after by the Chaplain. Marching orders, “Fall in,” came the command, line soon formed. Down through the town we go, out on the Harper’s Ferry Pike. Weather fine. Soon take the route step, an easy gait. We take that step when there is no immediate danger of meeting the enemy. About ten miles out on the road we were surprised to meet our old commander, General Sigel, and staff, with a large escort. He was headed west while we were going east. Nothing important occurred during our march over rough roads. Night coming on, we halt for the night within a few miles of Harper’s Ferry. It is thought we have marched fourteen miles.
July 13th. Moved 2½ miles to the right, at 7 A.m. Had to pick our way, the dust so thick could not see far ahead. Had the sun as usual.
July 13, 1864.
We passed through Marietta this morning at 9; rested in a cool, nice, woody place from 11 to 2, and made this place in the cool of the evening. We marched about 14 miles today. I would rather be in a fight than endure such a day’s march, and I think fighting lacks very much as deserving to rank as amusement.
I saw a number of cases of congestion of the brain, and a few had real sun stroke. Saw one poor fellow in a graveyard between two little picketed graves, who I made sure was gasping his last. Some heartless fellow made a remark as we passed about his luck in getting sun struck so near good burying facilities. After one heat of only three miles the regiment had all fallen out but about 50 men, and we had more than any other in the brigade. If we had been given one hour more in rests, we would not have lost a man.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JULY 13TH.—Bright and pleasant.
The city is in great excitement and joy. Gen. Early has gained a victory in Maryland, near Frederick, defeating Gen. Wallace, capturing Gen. Tyler and Col. Seward (son of the Secretary), besides many prisoners. The slaughter was great, and the pursuit of the routed army was towardBALTIMORE.
Grant is certainly sending away troops.
Gen. Lee writes a particular letter to the Secretary (dated 9th inst.), desiring most specially that the papers be requested to say nothing of his movements for some time to come, and that the department will not publish any communication from him, which might indicate from its date his distance from Richmond. This is mysterious. He may be going toMaryland.
Gen. Johnston telegraphs from nearAtlanta that the enemy holds several fords above, and a portion of his forces have crossed, and are intrenched. Some cannonading is going on—ineffective aimed at the railroad depot. Some think Lee is going thither. Others that he is going to flank what remains of the Federal army in front ofPetersburg.
Etowah Bridge, Ga., Wednesday, July 13. Up early. Moved 6 A. M. 4th Minnesota, 18th Wisconsin, 80th Ohio and 12th Battery moved on to Allatoona, four miles further on. We went into a fort on a steep cliff or point on the Etowah River and commanding the railroad bridge seventy feet high, erected by Sherman’s Construction Corps. Found everything ready for us, a luck we never before met with, strong fortifications already built, good and neat shebangs, horse-sheds for most of the horses made of lumber, stalls and mangers all ready, and in a few minutes we were as much at home as though we had worked a week. The scenery here is romantic and I hope we may stay here for a time at least. Bathed in the river early evening. Pretty stream.
Colonel Lyon’s Letters.
Clarksville, Ala., July 13, 1864.—Here I am, tired as a dog. I left Claysville yesterday morning and have just got here, having traveled over mountains, through swamps and canebrakes, escorted by about 30 Union guerillas, or home guards.
Stayed last night at Company D’s, and expect to get back there tonight, and home tomorrow night. This point is on the Tennessee river, half way between Flint and Paintrock rivers, and some 20 miles below Claysville. It is the headquarters of Company F, Captain Hart.
I have passed through some wild, magnificent scenery on this trip, which I have no time to describe. I can write but little this time, but was not willing to let this anniversary of your birthday pass without letting you know that I remembered it.
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