Graysville, Ga., Friday, Nov. 27. Started at 8 A. M. Our march lay through a poor country, thinly settled, covered with small pine, swampy soil. All along the road evidence could be seen of the haste of the enemy. Wagons, limbers, wheels, harness, etc. left, but all were destroyed. Reached Graysville at 3 P. M. and came into camp on a steep hillside, a lively little R. R. station on Chickamauga Creek, good water power, cabinet works and flouring mill. The latter was kept running by soldiers of the 11th Corps. A range of mountains commenced here, and our advance came upon the rear of the enemy here this morning, capturing a battery commanded by Beauregard’s son. It was harnessed up and ready to move. General Thomas manned it with infantry, took it after them. A brisk fight could be heard at Ringgold, five miles distant. Prisoners and deserters came in thick and fast from every direction. They say they are tired of running and being hunted like beasts. Bragg promised victory and gain to them, instead of which they received nothing but a dastardly retreat and shame with empty bellies.
Foragers doing a good business in the shape of geese, chickens, sheep, etc., few hogs. I was sent by Dixon after hay for the horses. Went about two miles south, and returned with a good bundle, quite tired in carrying it, but horses fared well for it.
Sat up till late cooking “dodgers” for the morrow’s march. It looked like rain, so we ditched about our bed, spread our ponchos over and laid down, tired and sleepy, and I felt nearly worn out, but the thought of following a retreating line kept up my strength and spirit.
