Bridgeport, Monday, Nov. 16. A beautiful sunny morning. Did not get up till broad daylight, which was a strange thing. The first thing attended to, now that we were in hopes of a few days’ rest, was changing and washing. I changed throughout, and Evie and myself passed to the creek with ax, fire buckets, etc. My washing consisted of a pair pants, shirt, two pairs of socks and towels. Quite a washer-woman. After dinner Cousin Griffith, E. W. E. and myself took a ride down town. I mounted Rodney and off we went. “We failed to find a building but found Bridgeport, which is certainly a city of tents. All of it is in tents. Sutler’s stores and bakeries are plenty, but so crowded by the soldiers that it was impossible to get a hearing anywhere. I tried hard to get a pie, but there were hundreds pressing in for the same, and I gave it up as a bad job. Bought a blank book and started back to a large tent upon a hill with the sign “Army Hotel” which furnished meals for 75 cents.
The Charleston and Memphis Road crosses the river here, but the bridge was destroyed by General Mitchel a year ago, and not yet completed. A day force is at work on it and teams are hauling timber in all directions. It is a patent truss-bridge like those across the Wisconsin, the R. R. on top and wagon road below it. A pontoon bridge is stretched across below it until the bridge is finished. The cars go no further than here, which is the nearest point to Chattanooga, twenty-eight miles by R. R. and forty by land. All supplies are hauled to camp, long way yet, by mule teams and two small steamboats. A large number of artillery horses have been sent back to be fed. Horses and mules look much worse than ours after the march. The 11th and 12th Army Corps under General Hooker are across the river from here, which makes a total of three corps within supporting distance of Chattanooga. Heavy artillery firing could be heard this morning from that vicinity. Stevenson nine miles west of here.
