December 12. — General Scammon attacked General Echols at Lewisburgh, Va., routing him effectually, killing and wounding quite a number of the rebels, and capturing many prisoners. General Kelley’s Despatch.
December 2013
Saturday, 12th—I staid all night at Mr. Cutchberson’s.
Tuesday, 1st December—We came to Mr. White’s this morning and there left Mr. Upton and started for the Telico Plains, I, Mason and Kelison. Met Kirkland, Piper and Kirkendol; then came up to McDermot’s and staid all night.
Bridgeport, Friday, Dec. 11. A most beautiful and delightful day, and all the boys merry and light-hearted as larks. It was expected last night that w should march to-day, but instead we policed camp. Our officers are making a sudden effort toward strict discipline so long neglected, that it is properly called “putting on style” now. C. —— put on a day’s extra duty under guard by order of Captain ——, more to glut vengeance than justice, I am afraid. Men put on extra duty for not attending roll-call.
Henry Adams to Charles Francis Adams, Jr.
London, December 11, 1863
The success at Chattanooga has had a very considerable effect here, and the English papers acknowledge it to be an important advantage in a military point of view, though of course it only makes the ultimate independence of the South more certain than ever. A better test is the state of the Confederate loan, which under the pressure of the news and the tightness of the money market, has fallen to 35-40. It is only some eight months ago that it was brought out at 92. So that we may at length conclude that the opinion among capitalists is fairly become that the chances are against the independence of the rebels. Meanwhile the financial pressure that I mentioned last week has been checked. I don’t see much reason to suppose that this is more than a lull, and I’m quite sure that if our armies could suddenly release and send over here a million bales of cotton or so, half England would be ruined. Of course our own position here is now as comfortable as could be wished, and a victory or so more will set us in a position to put the grand finishing stroke to our work. I hope that before next September the English Government will have seen fit to recall its belligerent proclamation, and all our ports will be open again, or occupied. When this point is reached, I think our return to peaceful and private pursuits would be graceful and opportune.
11th. Last night command marched across the river after caring for the wounded—building campfires. I rode on into camp and read home letters brought by Maj. Nettleton. He called this morning and took breakfast with us. Went down and got hard bread and a little sugar and coffee. Saw Corp. C. S., a little active fellow and knows his business. Do not feel well today—hard cold and bad boil. Read the news and Cincinnati Commercial of Dec. 1st. Nettleton called in evening. Resolutions passed eulogizing Burnside and regretting his loss.
Bivouac in Mud Creek Cove, near Belle Fonte, Ala.,
December 11, 1863.
Without any earthly cause I am troubled with a small fit of the blues this evening. I can’t imagine what brought it on. I am cross, restless and tired. Don’t want any company—wouldn’t go to see a girl if there were a thousand within a hundred rods. Interesting state for an interesting youth, isn’t it. Guess the trouble must be in the fact that I have no trouble. Everything moves too smoothly. No pushing in my family to knock down a looking-glass balanced on a knitting needle. Nothing in my precious life to keep me awake one minute of my sleeping time, and nothing in the future that I now care a scrap for. All of that is certainly enough to make one miserable. I’m convinced that my constitution requires some real misery, or a prospect for the same, in order to keep me properly balanced. If you can furnish me any hints on the subject, that will induce distress, trouble, or care, in a reasonable quantity to settle on my brain, I will be obliged. I have written you so much about soldiering, sister, that I’m thinking the subject must be pretty well exhausted. You must have received as many as 150 letters from me since I entered the army. I have had a host of interesting experiences since I enlisted, but when I am alone, and naturally turn to my little past for company, I always skip the army part and go back to the old home memories. One finds a plenty of opportunities for such self-communing in the service, and if I haven’t profited by mine, it is my own fault. Did I ever tell you how I love picket duty? I have always preferred it over all other of our routine duties, yet it would take a sheet of foolscap to tell you why; and then nobody could understand me the way I’d write it. So we’ll pass. It seems a long time since I was at home. What do you think of my eating Christmas dinner with you? Don’t let’s think of that at all. I start for Chattanooga in the morning to get my team and things. It is six weeks since I have had a change of clothes from my valise. Borrowed a shirt from a woman once and got mine washed.
Friday, 11th—The Eleventh had regimental inspection with accouterments and full dress. The boys are continuing to re-enlist for three years or during the war. Officers from the corps headquarters are out among the different regiments urging reenlistments. They argue that the war will be over anyway by the time the first three-year service shall have expired, and they might as well avail themselves of the extra bounty. Then, too, they say, “What a fine thing it would be to be called a veteran of the war!”
Friday, 11th.—Had very nice sliced potato pie for dinner. The man to be shot to-day was reprieved. I. L. sick. Everything quiet in camp.
December 11th. The morning opened up with a cold rain. I am detailed for picket duty. Posted on a back road, just south of the town. Took possession of an old building for the reliefs and the reserves, when off duty. Manage to keep very comfortable. All quiet.
