Etowah Bridge, Sunday, Sept. 25. The boys expected to get off early this morning, but the Rebs burned a train near Big Shanty last night, obstructing the road so no train could come up.
12 M. Capt. Zickerick of the 12th Battery came up from Allatoona with about thirty of his boys to bid good-bye to the old 6th boys, and reported a train due in an hour. The wagons were loaded with their baggage, and they immediately started for town. Now came the leave-taking with many. I with others had to bid adieux to our old messmates, beside whom we had marched through many a rough campaign, slept under the same blankets, eaten from the same plate, stood together on many a bloody battle-field, watched and nursed each other while sick. How close had our lives twined together in less than three years’ service. Many a stout heart that had met death with a calm brow, could now hardly choke down the bitter tears, yet they were no cowards, but throbs of a manly heart. They return but a small band of those who started. Many of them have bleached their bones in Southern clime, and thirty-two of them are brave veterans staying behind to complete the work they enlisted for. Friends at home, you can little realize the trial they underwent to-day in bidding good-bye to their original comrades. You should not call their anxiety for their phototypes, autographs or anything as a remembrance foolish. I walked with friend Evie to train, intending to see him off, but the train did not come, and I too had to say goodbye. It was the hardest task I have performed since tearing myself from the arms of a dear mother on the threshold of my old home in Wisconsin. But I took their kind “Take care of yourself” and turned my back. I must say a few tears did fall, but not from any regret at staying behind. I return to camp cheerfully to do my duty. But oh, it did look very lonesome.
