Kingston, Ga., Thursday, June 30. Arose to find ourselves enveloped by cars and engines. Chattanooga is thriving under the military. Buildings are going up, roads repaired, etc. and an immense amount of stores are kept at this place. After breakfast and morning papers read, we were mustered for pay. Inspected at 8 A. M. Two [extra] engines attached, and with difficulty we reached the tunnel. Passed through it when extra engines left us, and we rode on some time, very fast, but often obliged to halt, trains blockading us in front.
Road very lightly guarded. Engineers’ camps frequently seen in the dense forest, busy at work getting out timber for bridges, etc. Steam mills running, etc. Country very thinly settled and poor land covered with pine shrubs. Tunnel Hill, a small town totally deserted in a mountain gorge, could be seen, Johnston’s winter quarters. Passed through a tunnel three-quarters of a mile long here, nearly suffocating us with fire and smoke. Dalton, next important place, found deserted and crumbling to ruins. Looks old, no new buildings. Disappointed at its appearance. Resaca on Oostanaula River, the strongest fortified position on the line, all cut up in rifle pits and forts, and large enclosure of graves tells of the fearful struggle it required to take it. The railroad bridge was a curiosity, made of round timber without bolt and rod, all wood. Calhoun we reached 4 P. M., the prettiest place on the line, neat houses, pretty yards and inhabited. At the tank we were met by battalion of secesh ladies with blackberries, huckle-berries, pies, milk, etc. to sell. Adairsville next station. A few houses. Women cheered us and boys returned a hearty response. Wheat and oats growing all along the road mostly harvested, but poor crop. Have seen more small grain to-day than I have since I left Wisconsin. Mostly poor people live here. Reached Kingston by dark. Went to the depot 11 P. M., and had to unload the horses and water them.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 29. Nothing important transpired during the forenoon. Late papers brought into camp. A great treat. After dinner “Boots and Saddles” was sounded and in thirty minutes we moved out towards Stevenson. One of the caisson drivers sick. I had to take his team. Proceeded to load upon the cars as soon as possible. The track was crowded and it was difficult to load the horses, which were unharnessed. At about 5 P. M. the train started, amid the cheering of the troops and music by the 1st Brigade band from the piazza of the Soldiers’ Home. Leave all the wagons to come through by land. At Bridgeport three long trains from the front passed us, and it was dark before we crossed the Tennessee River bridge. I rode on top [of the] freight, and in spite of myself slept most of the time, while we dashed on through the darkness, over precipices, around curves, etc. in danger of being rolled off. To prevent which locked arms with the comrade on the other side. Was awake while we passed under the majestic wall of Lookout, the Tennessee beneath us, a very beautiful scene. Arrived at Chattanooga at 11 P. M. Slept on cars till morning.
Camp on Mud Creek, Tuesday, June 28. The threatening thunderstorm of last night unfortunately passed away without cooling us and settling the dust. Our spirits were revived this morning by securing last night’s mail. I received one from Hannah with her familiar countenance, a precious gift. Our back mail has gone to Big Shanty. Day passed off heavily. No reading matter and all shady places were monopolized by card players, etc. I amused myself with checkers most of the day. No late papers in camp. 2nd Brigade gone on cars. Leave wagons behind.
Camp on Mud Creek, Monday, June 27. Lay in our bivouac all day awaiting transportation by rail to take us to the front. 3rd Brigade and 12th Battery started at noon. Weather very oppressive. B. F. Runyan was sunstruck this afternoon. Raved all last night in greatest agony. Will be sent North tomorrow if he survives. Five of our boys and negro Anthony tied to the wheels all day to-day for straggling. “The way of the transgressor is hard”. Wrote a letter to folks, waiting with all anxiety for our evening mail, but it did not come.
Camp on Mud Creek, Ala., Sunday, June 26. Our weary limbs were allowed to rest undisturbed this morning till daylight. Found it hard work to stand guard last night. Did not march as expected. Washed my shirt and socks in the stream, going without any while they dried. The day was well used by us all in writing letters and resting, but to our disappointment no mail came and no papers seen. 2nd Brigade came up before dinner. Expect to take the cars at 2 P. M. Platoon messes organized. Four of our boys came in from Stevenson, having marched ahead yesterday. They will be tied up as stragglers.
Camp on the road, Saturday, June 25. The bugle notes aroused us at 2 A. M. Reluctantly we arose from our sweet slumbers to answer to our names, the failure of which would put us on guard the next night. 2nd Brigade failed to come up with the rear last night, consequently we were in the advance, and while the stars were yet bright we started. The sun came out, if anything, hotter than yesterday. In the middle of the day halted frequently to rest. Passed through Bellefonte. Many of the infantry gave out. Came into camp on the bank of a creek three miles from Stevenson at 1 P. M.
I am very tired, but feel not as sore as last night. The remainder of the day was spent in resting at full length under the trees, all extra appendages removed, cooking and eating supper, and bathing weary limbs, etc. I was put on guard at 7 P. M. R—— remained back at Huntsville when we left and did not come up till this morning. Was tied to the gun and marched behind it all day. Is to be tied up for nine days, for three days’ straggling.
Scottsboro, Ala., Friday, June 24. Started out in advance with the 3rd Brigade at 4 A. M. after hasty preparation and half-swallowed breakfast. The Brigade men in the advance for the first time, and they pulled out in good earnest to show what they could do. The sun came out in all its fierceness, but on we plodded over rocky hills and through shady glens, greedily snatching cooling draughts as it gushed out from the rocks in plenty. Reached Larkinsville by 11 A. M., a distance of fifteen miles, with but three short rests, very fast, getting my toes all blistered. Halted an hour here for dinner. I bathed my feet in cold spring water and felt better. Started again for Scottsboro which we reached by 3 P. M. Part of the road being very bad, waited for the pioneers to repair it. No straggling allowed at all. All stand it well. I am very tired. Marching isn’t fun this hot! hotter! hottest! weather. Twenty miles, big day.
Camp on Paint Rock River, Thursday, June 23. Aroused at 3 A. M. but as we were in the rear of the column, did not move out till 6 A. M. Marched fast, but obliged to halt frequently to let the 2nd Brigade train get out of the way. Our road lay along the railroad, the same that we travelled last winter, but nature’s changes were so great that we could hardly recognize the dismal beech swamp, once a dread to cross. But now the deep foliage afforded a welcome protection from the burning rays of the sun. Camped on Paint Rock 4 P. M. Found our advance having their supper. There was hardly any straggling. Walked all through and feel first rate. Bathed in the evening. Retired early. Disappointed in not receiving mail. .
Brownsboro, Wednesday, June 22. Keveille sounded at 2:30 A. M. and quietly we broke camp and marched at 5 A. M. with but one regiment ahead of us in the column. Marched through town in fine style, and soon beautiful and dreamy Huntsville was placed among the past. Roads heavy, weather warm. Marched slow, and reached Brownsboro by 12 M, Went into camp and rested the remainder of the day. Boys full of life and hilarity. The dread of starting (and of parting with some) is over and sutlers tremble. Bathed in the clear waters of the Flint in the evening.
Huntsville, Tuesday, June 21. Rained all day. Everybody is quiet but busy, preparing for the morrow, packing knapsacks, writing letters, etc. Upwards of one hundred fifty letters left the Battery to-day. Enoch Johnson died at 10 A. M. This young man leaves a wife and child to mourn his loss, whom but a few months ago he left in the prime of life to do service for his country. Alas! they will see his manly form no more in this world. His disease was congestive chills and typhoid fever. Was one of the detachment that late in the evening followed the corpse to the grave. Silently, without a word of prayer, we buried him in a rude coffin, and without a thought hardly, hastened back to camp to prepare for the morrow. It is now dark and I go to an early rest in my homelike bunk for the last time.
