December 9th, 1864. —The poor, sick prisoner is sick and in prison no longer. He died this morning, died happy, too, for Mr. Craig, who sat up with him last night, says he could not see any harm in telling him the papers had come and now he was going home. He was so happy and he held Mr. Craig’s hand and made his plans to start next day; asked if he would not go with him to Port Royal, where Southern authorities took their prisoners for exchange. He talked of his mother, of his sisters and told Mr. Craig they would write and tell him how grateful they were. Poor fellow. He was buried at sundown today, in the spot reserved for those who die in the hospital. His grave is marked and if his family should wish it, he can be moved when the war is over.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Friday, 9th—It is cloudy with a strong northeast wind. We started early again this morning and after laying off ten miles went into bivouac. The Twenty-fifth New Jersey was on the skirmish line today, skirmishing commencing at 10 o’clock and continuing till dark. They lost four men killed and fifteen wounded. The First Division of our corps was in the front, and their quartermaster was killed by a ten-pound solid shot fired from a small cannon on a flat car which the rebels ran up and down the railroad. Our way today was through one continuous swamp, but we had a fine road, a high causeway which runs to Savannah. Our camp tonight lies within ten miles of Savannah.
