Etowah Bridge, Sunday, July 24. All very still and dull in camp after morning inspection. Anxiously listening for intelligence from the front. From the last reliable information we received last night, Atlanta was not ours, terrible efforts being made by General Hood, commanding rebel forces to retake his lost position. Heavy cannonading could be heard for an hour this morning, supposed to be in front.
2 P. M. While writing home, the long roll was sounded, and the infantry fell in with arms, and we were ordered to be ready for fight. The cavalry seen galloping over the hills. Waited half an hour, when the men returned to their quarters, the scare being over. Proved to be a squad of guerrillas, estimated at 150, which rushed upon one of our picket posts west of town, capturing it and then skedaddled. No mail came in. Track reported torn up. If they come and fool around here much, they may get hurt. General Kilpatrick’s headquarters in town. Two of his cavalry brigades here, and one of ours. In the evening Griff and I took a walk to town, the first time I have been in it since arrived. Old fashioned and dilapidated.
