June 13, 1864.
The rain continued until 5 p.m. Everything and everybody thoroughly soaked. Our division moved about one-half mile to the left this p.m. Strategy! We moved out into an open ploughed field. You can imagine the amount of comfort one could enjoy so situated, after two days’ constant rain, and the water still coming down in sheets.
The field is trodden into a bed of mortar. No one has ventured a guess of the depth of the mud. It is cold enough for fires and overcoats. My finger nails are as blue as if I had the ague. There is one consolation to be drawn from the cold, it stops the “chigres” from biting us. I would rather have a bushel of fleas and a million of mosquitoes on me than a pint of “chigres,”—don’t know the orthography—They are a little bit of a red thing,—just an atom bigger than nothing; they burrow into the skin and cause an itching that beats the regular “camp” all hollow. Some of the men have scars from “chigre” bites that they received at Big Black last summer, and will carry them across the Styx. The ants here also have an affinity for human flesh and are continually reconnoitering us. I kill about 200,000 per day. Also knock some 600 worms off of me. Great country this for small vermin. I pick enough entomological specimens off me every day to start a museum. I do manage to keep clear of greybacks, though.
Every time I commence talking about chigres I feel short of language. I am satisfied of one thing, if my finger nails don’t wear out, there’ll be no flesh left on my bones by autumn. The case stands finger nails vs. chigres, and skin is the sufferer. Notwithstanding rain, cold or chigres, we are in excellent spirits. Sherman don’t tell us anything (in orders) good or bad, but every man feels that we have “a goodly thing” and is content to work and wait. I never heard less complaining, or saw troops in better spirits. If we get to Atlanta in a week all right; if it takes us two months you won’t hear this army grumble. We know that “Pap” is running the machine and our confidence in him is unbounded.
We have so far had abundance of rations, but if it comes down to half, we will again say “all right.” Our army is stronger to-day than it ever was in numbers and efficiency. I am sure that there is not a demoralized company in the command. There has been considerable shooting along the front to-day, and the lines have been advanced some, but we are nearly a mile back, and being constantly ready to move. I have not been out, and don’t know much about the exact situation. Its something new for our division to be in reserve. Time passes much more quickly in the front. The general opinion is that we are gradually working to the left, and will cross the Chattahoochie about east or northeast of Marietta. We are now 26 miles from Atlanta by railroad and something nearer by pike.
