Thursday, 20th—We remained in camp all day. No pay yet.
July 2015
Wednesday, 19th—Our night along the lake shore was quite cool. We arrived in Chicago this morning at 2 o’clock, and then marched to the Rock Island station, where at 8 o’clock we took train for Davenport, Iowa. We arrived at Davenport at 5 p. m. A large crowd of citizens was at the station to receive us, among them our old colonel, William Hall, who gave us an address of welcome.[1] Although he was suffering from sickness, he came to welcome us, and as he could not stand on a platform, he remained in his carriage to address us. We then marched up to old Camp McClellan, where we shall remain till we get our discharge and pay, which we expect in two or three days. The Second and Seventh Iowa have just received their pay and are striking out for home.
[1] “I cannot stand long enough to make a speech, I can only say to the citizens of Davenport, in response to the warm and generous welcome that they have extended to my comrades of the Eleventh Iowa, and myself, that the record we have made as good soldiers from the State of Iowa, while fighting in defense of our common country, will be duplicated by the record we shall make as good citizens, when we shall have returned to homes and loved ones.”—Roster Iowa Soldiers II, p. 282.
Tuesday, 18th—We are still pushing on towards home and everything is all right. Our train ran all night, except when standing on some sidetrack. We arrived at Michigan City a little after dark and changed cars for Chicago.
Madison, Tuesday, July 18. The rolls have returned with Lieutenant Colonel Giddings’ (mustering officer) signature annexed, and the military tie which bound us together as the 6th Battery has ceased to exist.
10 A. M. we assembled once more and in the yard in front of Captain Simpson’s office, in the city of Madison, signed the final pay rolls, and received the much-coveted scrip “Discharge”, bearing date of July 18. “Mustered out of United States service on the 3rd of July”. It was not an hour of noisy demonstration, but happiness too sweet for utterance prevails, the emotion of thankfulness filling the dullest breast, “Free! Free!” was the exclamation of many as they became possessors of the prizes.
But to me it brought many dark and serious thoughts to mind. Yes, free, but for the first time in my life I am my only dictator as to what course to pursue. Have arrived at age with life’s issue fairly before me, and undecided what course to pursue. Inclination and duty seem strangely at variance. The importance of such questions is almost oppressive. But I must strive to attain the highest good that lies in my power. The dictates of conscience shall be my guide. To-night I retrace my steps to my quiet valley home. The many tender ties which bind me to my comrades of the march, battle and camp, are more than likely forever broken on this earth. And the diary which I have kept unbroken is hereby ended with the end of my service, having lived two years and eleven months in the service of my country. Three of the best years of my life have been lost to self-instruction, and the plans and hopes of my childhood have been ruthlessly toppled down, but the time has not been lost. I have no regrets for the way it has been spent. My prayer is that the remainder of my life may be as usefully spent. So, dear Diary, good-bye!
Monday, 17th—We had our last reveille early this morning. We took down our rubber ponchos, packed our knapsacks, and at 5 o’clock started for the boat landing, where we took the ferry for New Albany, Indiana, crossing the river below Louisville. On our way up the river we passed the headquarters of Generals Logan and Belknap, and each delivered a short speech to us. At New Albany we took the train for Michigan City, leaving at 10 o’clock. We had fairly good passenger cars, but the train was a slow one, as it often had to switch onto sidings to let other trains pass.
Madison, Monday, July 17. According to orders the 6th Battery was once more together in Madison by 2 P. M. anxious for the final action which places each upon an equality with the other. But disappointment appears to be the rule; to-morrow, 10 A. M., is the time.
July 16.—Rev. Dr. Buddington, of Brooklyn, preached to-day. His wife was Miss Elizabeth Willson, Clara Coleman’s sister. My Sunday School book is “Mill on the Floss,” but Grandmother says it is not Sabbath reading, so I am stranded for the present.
Sunday, 16th—It rained all day, and having no duty of any kind, we remained in our “ranches.” We had no services of any kind today, but as we had our last dress parade, and as this is our last Sunday in camp, we should have had some minister come out from the city for our last religious services in camp.
Fort Morton, Va., July 16.
Dear Friends:
I am beginning this letter under adverse circumstances, for we have just rec’d an order to be ready to move immediately back to Fort Smith, where all the Cos. of the regt. are to concentrate. It is beautifully situated here. We have just got everything going smoothly, our Co. being here alone, so still, and we feel vexed at having to go back. I visited Washington last night; went to the theatre, and liked it.
There is a guitar in my window which the wind is playing splendidly. My mind is nowhere today. Regts. pass here every morning on their way home. We are all in hopes our turn will come soon.
This letter contains all the news I can collect; but at that in a consolidated form.
Love to all from L. Bradley, Jr.
Saturday, 15th—Our regiment, the Eleventh Iowa Veteran Volunteers, was mustered out this morning at 9 o’clock. We were relieved from all duty and turned over to the general quartermaster the regimental teams and everything that does not belong to the individual officers or men. The papers for the rest of the brigade have not yet been made out.
