Near Jackson, Miss., July 11th, 1863.
On the 6th of July, at about 3 o’clock p. m., we fell into line and started for the Big Black River, distant about two miles. The Rebels had shown themselves in considerable force on the opposite bank, and had engaged our skirmishers from rifle pits, which’ were dug close to the river bank, and were concealed by a thick growth of small cane, killing and wounding several of our men. Their force was unknown to us, the river fifteen to twenty feet deep, the banks level, and, on the other side, covered with a heavy growth of timber.
Bridges must be built, and the hazardous task was assigned to the First Brigade. In crossing a level stretch of cleared land, by looking back, I could see the whole brigade in motion, winding along like a huge serpent and extending nearly a mile in length, and a feeling of pride and exultation surged over me as I saw, once more, the grand old Ninth Corps advancing on our country’s foe, and led, too, by the glorious Seventeenth.
On arriving at the river we formed in line behind a bank, thickly covered with brush, and awaited the darkness of night before beginning our task.
At dusk each regiment was formed into reliefs, for fatigue duty, and the work of building began. Contrary to our expectations, no opposition was offered. A raft was built on which skirmishers were carried over, but they found no enemy. As soon as they discovered our determination to cross, they fell back toward Jackson. We built our bridge, and crossed the next day, July 7th, at 12 m. A deserter told us they had heard of the surrender of Vicksburg, and had left in haste. Quite a number of mules and beef cattle were left behind, and were taken in charge by our Quartermaster. Here our advance assumed somewhat the nature of a forced march. We halted but a few minutes at a time, and continued, until nearly midnight, to feel our way. Our first day’s march, after crossing the river, was over a rough, broken country, covered by a thick growth of timber, which afforded a grateful shade, alternated by open stretches of cleared land, where the sun beat down upon us in all its fierceness. Many of our men fell out; several were sunstruck, two of whom died in a few minutes. On our previous short marches we had been greatly inconvenienced by the scarcity of water, but we had now to travel thirty miles through a country almost destitute of springs or streams, the inhabitants depending on cisterns and artificial ponds for themselves and stock. I have not seen a well of water in Mississippi. The negroes tell us we will not find a drop of water for thirteen miles for man or beast. The long-continued drought has nearly exhausted cisterns and dried up most of the artificial ponds. We could only push ahead and trust in providence. But we were not left to perish, for that very night we marched into camp in the midst of one of the heaviest thunder showers I ever witnessed. It seems to me as much a miracle as the “Smiting of the rock for the Children of Israel.” And I thanked God and took courage. That, and the frequent showers that followed, saved thousands of men and horses from perishing of thirst. As often happens when large bodies of troops are in motion, our supply train did not come up, and the second morning from the river found us with empty haversacks. Unlike Virginia, this part of Mississippi abounds in cattle and hogs, and the ravines around our camp were soon converted into slaughter houses, from which our men supplied themselves with meat. We stayed here until 2 o’clock p. m. for the train to came up; half rations were issued, and we resumed our march, and kept it up until midnight. This was a hard day for men and horses, owing to the scarcity of water and the excessive heat. A number of men died of sunstroke, and twenty-five horses were found dead. Not a man of the Seventeenth has died, although several were compelled to fall out. As for myself, I marched near the head of the regiment all day, and was ready for a like excursion the next morning. We camped that night within five miles of Jackson, and our advance had already skirmished with their pickets, who had slowly fallen back. We were aroused at 4 in the morning, drew four days’ rations, and a little after 5 were on the move, cautiously feeling our way to avoid surprise. We marched in this way about two miles, when the enemy was discovered about three-fourths of a mile ahead, in a cornfield, drawn up in line of battle. Smith’s division formed quickly to oppose them, artillery was ordered to the front, and every preparation was made for an engagement, but, before our artillery could be brought to bear, they fell back to the left of the city and took up a position in a piece of timber.
About a mile from that place we halted and prepared again for battle. Rebel cavalry could be seen hovering near our left, while a strong force of infantry could plainly be seen in the woods in front of us. Our brigade—the First—was ordered to the front, and formed in line of battle, supported by the Third Brigade. The Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Second Michigan deployed as skirmishers about forty rods in advance of us. They moved cautiously about one hundred yards, when the enemy fired on them, wounding four. This was a signal for an advance. We had formed in a cornfield, and advanced at 2:30 p. m. The sky was cloudless; not a breath of air was stirring. Our course, after emerging from the cornfield, lay across a level pasture. We advanced steadily, but the Rebels fell back as we approached, firing occasionally, until dark, when we halted in the wood until morning, sleeping on our arms. Soon after daylight we were up and after them, keeping, all this time, our line of battle. As we emerged into an open field we were saluted by a volley that passed harmlessly over our heads. This was their parting salute, for they immediately retired behind their fortifications, and we took up the position assigned us on the left of the city.
I have written these sketches as I could snatch a moment here and there, a few lines at a time.
