Chattanooga, Sunday, June 18. To-day has passed like a hundred others which I have endeavored to note down in my diary. How can I find anything to individualize this day from others, the same mechanical duties, the same lazy nothing to do. The evening closes over us into night quietly. The very atmosphere seems an earnest voice. Discussion is not heard nor the merry laugh of the jester. The soldiers group together under the arbor in front of the quarters, conversing in an undertone of services rendered, hardships endured, and of brave comrades who are no more. With a thoughtful sigh for home and friends I close the book.
An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones
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