An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones

Nashville, Friday, Nov. 18. Lay abed this morning as long as possible. Last night, was a miserable night to stand guard. Cold rain fell very heavily all the time I was out, feet perfectly wet, in consequence of which I caught a large amount of cold. Settled in my head in the shape of catarrh. To-day was not an exception to the general rule, so of course it rained in doors as well as out, mud unfathomable on all sides, and we spent the day in the most comical manner. Cheerfulness like a bright angel, made us forget the disagreeable, and we sung (or rather bawled), read, talked, laughed and scuffled by turns with an occasional recess “to rake shoulder straps” in general. And I don’t think it is misplaced. Here we are in Nashville where an abundance of everything is to be had. Thousands of feet of government lumber lying in the pile, thousands more of employees at work daily in getting out more, besides hundreds of vacant houses crumbling to ruin untenanted and unowned, which we would soon be able to convert into comfortable quarters. But no, the officers will not permit it, and here we are left to the inclemencies of the wet season, on the wet ground, wood to warm our chilled limbs even refused us. I trust that my patriotism is now as bright as ever, and I am willing and ready to undergo any hardships for the sake of my bleeding and torn country, but this is unnecessary and too much. They (the officers) are cozily quartered with some private family, toast their feet and drink their wines without ever a thought of us, who are engaged in a common cause with them. The world will do homage to them, the future historian may paint in glowing pictures their career, but the private soldier that bears uncomplainingly these abuses, and seeks naught but to do his duty, deserves as rich a reward; aye, and the God of Justice will reward each according to his merit. Received a mail which was duly appreciated.