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

Chattanooga, Monday, May 29. Early breakfast this morning. On drill ground by 6 A. M. Brigade drill of five horse batteries. All passed off well. Grazed in the afternoon. Did not go out to the cherry orchard. Orders awaiting our return to police camp thoroughly, as somebody is expected by the morning train to inspect us. Everything still. “Grape vine” quiet. Corporal J. S. Vedder starts for Nashville as clerk to headquarters D. C. One from each battery in the reserve. Health is not above par, though not sick. Feel dull, but am yet able to crush considerable hard-tack.

Chattanooga, Sunday, May 28. On guard since last night. Wrote three letters to-day between times, think I have done well. Preaching in camp this morning. Our officers attended as well as nearly all the men, a striking evidence of the force of example when shown by those whom we respect. Received a short letter from John, sorry that he thought my speedy arrival home so certain as to warrant its brevity.

After dinner Capt. T. R. Hood took an affectionate leave of the Company with which he has been connected ever since its first organization. He left for home to resume the duties of a civilian. He first visited each man in his quarters. With tearful eyes he shook hands. He goes with many kind regards from those he once commanded.

Chattanooga, Saturday, May 27. It is cool enough to appreciate the fire in our “wee” stove until breakfast. Then it grew hot, while we drilled two hours in the morning. Camp thoroughly policed, I delegated to cook our mustard greens for dinner. Had a fine mess, at least it appeared to be well relished. Heard from sister Jane in her new capacity. She appears to like it well. She writes an interesting letter and will make her mark in the world if she lives.

Captain Hood is busily at work on his final returns. I understand that he will come out all right. Lieutenant Sweet our young and grave commander now is gathering up much of the useless ordnance and quartermaster stores lying around, preparatory to turning them over.

Chattanooga, Friday, May 26. Health good. Battery drill from 6 A. M. to 8 A. M., only three cannoneers in second detachment. A big mail when we returned, though none for Jenk. Ambulance went up to the artillery garden this morning and returned with the first fruits of “Charlie’s” work, viz. a copious supply of lettuce and mustard salad for dinner and supper, a very rare treat, and highly appreciated. Did us more good than all the medicine in the dispensary.

Grazing in the afternoon. Went near the hill, a party of about a dozen. Knowing where the nice ripe cherries grew, started for the orchard; but behold, we were confronted by a lanky specimen of the refined chivalry, much excited, repeating the orchard was his and threatening to call his safeguard if we did not leave. We told him to bring him on and we would respect him, but he could not. Boasted of protection papers of Thomas, Steedman and many others in his pockets, but could produce only a few old Gazettes. We talked the man crazy. He used many insulting terms under the license of old age, but we, provoked by his attempts to deceive us, made for the cherries and filled ourselves with the rarest of his cherries, but left more than he ever can use, twenty-five acres of them. When we were satisfied, he returned with an old torn piece of paper of Rosecrans’s times. We of course respected it and left. He threatened to follow us in and report us, [and] mounted his mule for it. Two or three of the boys staid behind and convinced the old rebel that prudence was the better part of valor, so he staid at home, I guess. It is raining this evening severely.

Chattanooga, Thursday, May 25. Drilled two hours in battery drill, and when we returned, received a large mail which was long looked for. I received two which assured me that all was well.

After dinner M. U. Hungerford and myself procured a pass, and started to visit the U. S. rolling mill about a mile and a half distant. On our way we ascended Cameron Hill, an elevation about 400 feet above the river. The river side being very steep, an interesting view is to be seen from here. Three large steamships on this side, eight steamboats lying up for repairs over on the docks. Beyond the river cultivated fields look very beautiful. On these hills are three large reservoirs of the Chattanooga water works into which the water is pumped by steam, and carried by its own weight down into the town. Also a large magazine 200 feet long which will be used long after peace is established. On the crown of the hill is a grim-looking war-dog, a 100-pounder Parrott, weighing 7,286 pounds, 6.4 inch caliber, maintained on wrought iron carriage, manned by the 1st Minnesota Heavy Artillery. The guard anxiously inquired if we were not ordered to relieve them so they could go home. Poor fellows!

Now we descended the western slope, and soon found ourselves approaching the center of attraction. The fires were down in most of the furnaces, the workmen at work relining them, but the sight was an interesting one to me, and we could easily trace the process clear through. Old bent-up rails were cut into pieces by a mammoth pair of shears, bundled together, thrown into the furnace, and rolled out into plates six inches wide, half an inch thick. This was cut into pieces about four feet long, six of them put together, heated, and after putting them through four different rolls, came out as a rail for the steam horse of progression to run upon. Two mammoth saws sawed off the ends, leaving it thirty feet long. It was astonishing to find how little human force was needed in the prosecution of this great work. The engine is encased in a glass house, and as nicely polished as parlor furniture. A dreary rain came up, and we got partially wet before reaching camp, which we did in time, and fell in for afternoon drill.

Chattanooga, Wednesday, May 24. On guard last night on post No. 3. Battery went on brigade drill under Lieutenant Sweet, who is now in command of the Battery. Hood is a citizen and preparing to go away. Jenawein has received his first-lieutenant appointment, but refuses the seniority. The sickness increasing very rapidly. Diarrhea prevalent.

Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 23. Hot day, feel very well. Morning papers tell us the road is washed away, and no mail expected for two or three days. We’ll get all the more, when it does come, I guess.

Chattanooga, Monday, May 22. Heavy rains last night. Fair day. Reveille sounded before four. Were on the drill ground before 6 A. M. for brigade drill, but the ground being so wet, we were sent back without drilling any. Three of us with two hatchets reported at Captain Nicklin’s headquarters for duty; he sent us on top of his house to fix the roof where it was leaking very badly on wife’s carpets. We were no mechanics and I fear did the job very poorly. This is the way they find work for us to do, now that there is nobody to fight. Very convenient, I suppose they think.

After noon went out to the hills grazing. The cherries in the orchard were in fine condition, nice and ripe. Several of us enjoyed a rare treat, left many behind because we could not eat them all. Haywood of our tent gone to the hospital quite sick. Just left home and is downhearted.

Chattanooga, Sunday, May 21. A very pleasant day and I feel pretty well. Inspection at 9 A. M., Lieut. A. Sweet in charge. Much surprised to hear that Captain Hood has tendered his resignation, and it has been returned accepted. Expects to leave soon for home. Waited anxiously for the arrival of the mail this morning, but was sadly disappointed. Wrote two long letters notwithstanding, before dinner, one to brother John, my ever faithful weekly correspondent, the other to Sister Hannah at Albion. Have not received a word from her this month. I fear she has overtaxed herself again by arduous study.

After dinner Griff and I took a walk to the National Cemetery. Oh, lovely but sacred spot to him who loves the cause of freedom. It is an enclosure of about sixty acres, surrounded by a substantial stone fence in a circular form, it being a sloping hill. The ground is divided off into circular sections, walks macadamized, graves sodded over, and flowers and trees, cultivated, graves systematically arranged in rows. Here lie thousands of the brave defenders of their country’s flag, a few with neatly-carved marble slabs bearing name and regiment, but most of them were only identified by a rough, pine board fast decaying, and in a few more months nothing will be left to mark the place where the honored ashes lie. Could the people North who have friends lying here but know that the government is doing all in its power to make this beautiful and permanent would they not at once see that a marble slab would be placed over the earthly remains of those dear ones that are gone before? I believe so. Here were many of the Chickamauga heroes, and those who fell in the memorable battles of Mission Ridge and Chattanooga. Amongst them I noticed a large number of our brave comrades of the 3rd Division, 15th Army Corps, who fell in the fearful vortex of the battle on Tunnel Hill. Here also we found a neatly-printed board, marking the resting place of Robert Banks, who a few weeks ago was full of hilarity amongst us; and lately, I suppose, the last of poor Uncle Marden has been consigned to rest in the lovely spot, the most attractive cemetery I have seen under government [control.] But we could not find his name. Long we searched for the grave of my old schoolmate, Amandus Silsby, who died from wounds received at Kenesaw, but could not find it.