An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones

Nashville, Tuesday, Nov. 15. It was not yet midnight when the rains fell, and the winds blew. By 2 A. M. I was thoroughly soaked so I had to get up and the police admitted us into the depot. Read from Scott’s Ivanhoe till morning by gaslight, rain-still falling in torrents. After breakfast six post teams came to take us to camp, Cogswell’s horses to take our battery. About noon we were left in an open field on a pretty knoll two miles west of town, with instructions not to touch board, rail or tree under penalty of court-martial. Here we were this cold morning in a muddy field with nothing to strike a light or hardly stake a tent. This was decidedly tough for “old sogers” who had been used to draw comfort from blazing rail heaps in times like this. But they say it is loyal Tennessee, and property must be respected. Very well. But they should provide something for our comfort, if we are privates. We stretched our tents, got a cold grub, no fire to cook coffee. Late in the evening Sergeant Malish came with two loads of cord wood. We drew it at the rate of 1/6 cord to a man per month.