Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones, 6th Battery, Wisconsin Artillery.

Chattanooga, Monday, April 10. Wet and muddy day, but no one knew it for we had such good news. 11 A. M. a bit of paper no bigger than my hands was distributed with the words

 

“Lee has surrendered his army on terms which I dictated.”

U. S. Grant.

 

It was enough.

1 P. M. the cannons spoke in thunder tones. Two hundred guns fired in rapid succession, around us on all sides, which mingled with the huzzahs of troops, reminded me very forcibly of more stirring scenes which I have witnessed. God grant that we may know no more such. How the thought of peace; and tranquility throbs in each soldier’s breast when he thinks of the home and associates he left so reluctantly to follow the path of duty, soon to be restored to him. No wonder his spirits should be exuberant, aye, even intoxicated with delight. But pen and paper is altogether too tame on such occasions. I’ll write no more.

Chattanooga, Sunday, April 9. Notwithstanding a night as delightful as could be imagined, to-day it rained nearly all day most desolately. Had to ride to the river to water twice, got well soaked every time. We have to go over a mile on account of steep banks. Wrote home. In the evening the spirit moved all in our house and we had singing in variety, good old orthodox hymns mixed in with “John Brown” and “Dixie” most irreverently. It seems to relieve the spirits, but I do not know but it is wicked.

Chattanooga, Saturday, April 8. A nice sunny day. Everything looks very pretty, the little birds chirping a merry welcome to spring. On guard. Received two letters. Artificers busy painting carriages of the Battery. Ordered to have an inspection by Major Mendenhall as soon as ready. Orders have been received to consolidate the 3rd Battery entire with the 6th Battery. Men looked for daily. 8th boys are afraid they will have to go back.

Another big batch of news to-day. Phil Sheridan has whipped Lee himself, capturing eight generals. Hopes to compel surrender, but I think he is too confident. Some in camp go so far as to prophesy a formidable movement of 6th Battery on Madison, Wisconsin,, soon.

Chattanooga, Friday, April 7. A very heavy rain fell all last night, accompanied with vivid lightning and heavy thunder, which scared our sentinel on the guns off his beat, piteously imploring the corporal in tears to relieve him if he had any sympathy for him, which is the cause of some merriment in camp this morning.

The forenoon spent in dividing horses to the different platoons. Afternoon they were assigned to the men. Our teams are composed of good horses, but the cannoneers’ horses are the leavings, and a very poor-looking set. We drew them by lot, and I drew a bony plug, not yet of age, I should judge. Corporal Parish has assigned me to No. 3 on the gun. My duty will be to “tend the vent.” I would rather have another number as it is a heavy responsibility in action.

Chattanooga, Thursday, April 6. Very rainy and wet. No duty till noon when orders came to draw horses immediately, so to-night we have one hundred and forty-five horses in our new stables. Rather a poor quality all through. Much curiosity is manifested by some as to what and where they are to be. Drivers are anxious to receive the best teams. They will not be apportioned till to-morrow.

Chattanooga, Wednesday, April 5. After reading the morning Gazette to find the painful “no news”, when we knew there were armies in commotion, the details came, and my lot was to police in front of batteries with thirty others, post teams hauling. Worked all day but nobody hurt himself. The mail has been very short for two or three days.

Chattanooga, Tuesday, April 4. The morning Gazette gives nothing but a confirmation of yesterday’s news. The day is pleasant and men to work the engine of war are still being transported Knoxville-ward. Lee now will look for a green spot in a Confederate oasis in which to rest his weary limbs, I suppose. It aint East Tennessee, Sir.

This afternoon orders came to draw horses and we thought of marching ahead, but were withdrawn, military usage. Some in camp are already discussing when they will get home by virtue of the “end of the war”. One-year men think we will all be home by July. Some veterans think “New Year’s about the time.” I wish they could all go when I go, but there is much to do yet, ere harmony and peace can be restored, and the soldier must do it.

Chattanooga, Monday, April 3. Richmond is taken. Victory! Victory!! Victory!!! After three years of long, anxious and prayerful waiting for this crowning news, it at last comes with the verifying signatures of A. Lincoln, U. S. Grant and E. M. Stanton. It reached camp in the shape of an extra about 2 P. M. in but a few hours after it was known in Washington. And when it came I was hardly able to receive it, and I still could but fear of a contradiction that hithertofore has been so painful. Its effect on the camp was curious, each one moving briskly aglow with animation. Organized cheers is played out amongst old soldiers, but the broken, wild Indian-like whoops that pierced the air nearly all the afternoon would almost be considered terrific by “tame people”. At 6 P. M. one hundred guns were fired from the surrounding hills. Each boom, called forth a hearty response from the many tented hills and hollows of Chattanooga, and seemed to crush the last lingering doubt in every bosom. Who will dare doubt that the end is to be glorious?

Chattanooga, Sunday, April 2. A beautiful sunny day. On guard, but by virtue of a little blacking on my boots or something else, appointed orderly for the day, which is an easy thing. Carried down the mail and brought a little back. Had all the rest of the day to myself, which I passed very pleasantly reading and writing. At evening I felt there was much happiness in this life if one is disposed to receive it.

Chattanooga, Saturday, April 1. This is “All Fools Day” as I was very forcibly reminded this morning by a cutting “April Fool.” Many besides myself were victimized in camp.

But there was no April Fool about the morning detail, and I must come on. Nailed shakes on the stables till dinner. After dinner, stable detail was not called out, but left to police camp.

I staid indoors and wrote two letters which I ought to have done before, but could not find the time. Lieutenant Sweet’s house finished to-day and they have moved in. Rumors of leaving are already afloat, generally the case when once we become comfortably established. Good news and plenty of it.