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

Nashville, Friday, Jan. 6. Disagreeable and rainy night. On guard. Wet slushy day. Spent it pleasantly writing and reading Ballou’s Monthly, received from Sanitary Commission. A little difficulty occurred in camp to-day. Quartermaster Malish visited stables. Found B. Reynolds refusing duty as guard. Ordered Dziewanowski, sergeant of the guard, to “tie him up” which he refused to do. It was reported to Captain Hood and ended in reducing “Coly” to the ranks, appointing Corporal Hutchinson sergeant of the 3rd Platoon, Ed Hayes corporal.

Nashville, Thursday, Jan. 5. Froze a little last night. Very muddy to-day. On guard, same old story in camp. Getting monotonous. Received a letter from Thomas and from an old Battery chum. Drew soft bread rations, a pleasant change. Clothing issued. Captain Hood got a grand military problem through his brain to-day by changing sergeants, placing ranking ones on the right of each section. Rather a fine addition to army regulations I think. This took Sergeant James away from us to 1st Platoon. Dan Goodwin takes his place. 2nd Platoon hates to see him go. Our new “non-coms” appeared in stripes.

Nashville, Wednesday, Jan. 4. A very mild day. Camp is getting muddy again. Chopping wood all the forenoon. Relieved this afternoon by an extra duty squad who failed to turn out to roll call this morning. Estimated for clothing. Don’t know what the news is, got no money to buy a paper. A large back mail received, having been to Savannah and back. Amongst it I was very “tickled” to find my long-looked-for socks and gloves, so nicely knit, with a billet in each bearing the love of the maker. They make me truly warm by thinking of whence they came.

Nashville, Monday, Jan. 2. Weather is growing warmer, the snow melting and it is growing very muddy. All the talk is about “going to Sherman”. Preparatory orders are issued and we expect to start within two weeks. Lieutenant Simpson left us to-day, gone to artillery headquarters as ordnance officer. He is a good officer but lacks energy. He goes with the best wishes of the boys.

Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 1, 1865. New Year’s morning dawned bitter cold. I suffered terribly on guard last night. A heavy impenetrable mist, such as I have nowhere seen except in Nashville, enveloped the earth till 9 A. M. freezing in icy down upon everything. When I came off post I looked more like some ghostly spectre in white than a soldier in blue. Rations very short in camp, but we had a big New Year’s dinner of soft bread and butter, pies and Spring Green cake of Miss Spencer’s make. This evening I received a letter from my faithful brother John. He wrote in the midst of the festivities of a Christmas visit.

Nashville, Saturday, Dec. 31. Surprised to find the ground covered with snow and very cold. Formed with overcoats on at 9:30 A. M. for muster for pay. Hope we will get it soon. Boys all very flat. “Busted”. I commence a New Year with a light heart and a lighter locker. On guard. Luckily on the guns, so I did not have to go to the stables. So the last thing I did in 1864 was to stand guard, and the first thing in 1865. Trust it is not going to be so always.

Another year has rolled past and joined the many gone before in the vistas of the past. Its glorious deeds of valor and achievements, its scenes of anguish and bloodshed, of wrong and oppression, are subjects for the future historian. Its ever varying scenes and emotions are indelibly impressed upon my mind, which death alone can efface. The snow has clothed the earth in a lovely mantle of white as though to hide the sad past, and offer a clear page for me in the coming year. Let me then look forward with hope and determination to keep in the path of virtue and right, striving to improve the blessings and privileges offered me, so that when 1865 closes I need not look back with regret at the year spent.

Nashville, Friday, Dec. 30. A warm, misty day, little rain. Found time to-day to write a couple of letters. Mail came in but none for me. Health of all is very good, though great dissatisfaction prevails in regard to rations. Only a little over half rations of hard-tack given us. They call it post rations, not enough to satisfy the appetites of those who have been used to live on fighting rations. “Anywhere but Nashville” is the cry.

Nashville, Thursday, Dec. 29. Last night was bitter cold. Most of us suffered severely, being but poorly fixed, but the sun came out a little this morning, warming us a little. To-day has presented another of those [scenes] that can nowhere be found outside the soldiers’ camp, when everybody is busy acting as his own carpenter, mason, cabinet maker. All have to meet their own wants and busily have we all worked. We have got our bunks up, one above the other. I went to town this afternoon after an additional length of pipe to reach through the tent. Everybody is in good spirits over the good news. Rumors prevalent that we are soon to start for Sherman.

Nashville, Wednesday, Dec. 28. Struck tents 8 A. M. and moved on the Harding Pike nearer town. I was left behind to load the teams as they returned after camp equipage, boards, etc. Guarded the new camp by 3 P. M. Was agreeably surprised to find them busy at work building quarters, raising their tents. Shakes three feet long furnished to be nailed up and down. I fell in too, and by night we had the tent stretched on a neat wall three feet high. Was quite tired. Our horses are stabled about a quarter of a mile off in government stables, making it very inconvenient for drivers. Griff over with them on guard all day. Ordered to be ready for grand inspection by Major Welker.