Near Chattanooga, Monday, Nov. 23. I had just completed writing last night when an officer rode up (Sherman’s staff) and inquired for the commanding officers. The boys were immediately called up, harnessed up and returned to camp. The upper pontoon broke so as to prevent the 4th and 1st Divisions of the Corps from crossing the river, which rendered it necessary to postpone it for twenty-four hours. Arrived at camp and pitched our tents. This morning cloudy and smoky, indications of rain. Ewing’s Battery passed towards the river. Eight batteries passed by last night. Had we crossed this morning, they would all have met on the other side, which would be undoubtedly a lively time. Morgan L. Smith was to cross above us and form his line, meeting on Chickamauga Creek, and our left on it. The infantry drew shovels last night and were ordered to take possession of the heights and then fortify. A team sent to headquarters at 7 A. M. to go to Kelly’s Bend for forage. One sent yesterday evening. Neither of them yet returned. Completed my letter to Thomas.
3 P. M. Heavy volleys of musketry are heard in the direction of Chattanooga, which is said by a correspondent passing by to be a reconnoitering party to ascertain if they are evacuating, which is supposed to be the case. But I don’t credit it.
5 P. M. A fierce engagement is in progress. Since my last writing the well-timed volleys soon grew into a continual rattle, and the cannonading fell heavy and fast. I climbed the bluff as soon as possible to take a better view. Here I found the summit covered with spectators, and every tree loaded as with grapes. The lines most of the time were enveloped in smoke, and we could not discern which were the gainers. The firing commenced well on to the right in the rear of Chattanooga, but fast crossed over toward the left. The artillery’s roar, reverberating through the valleys and from mountains, made a deep and impressive sound as though the whole country was in convulsion. From Lookout the heaviest guns were fired. The flash could be seen as it vomited its load of destruction twenty-two seconds before the report arrived, and its echo was answered by half a dozen smaller guns from Moccasin Point in quick succession; but it was so much lower I do not think it was of much effect. Two distinct charges were made (I know not by which party) and the musketry fire unceasing, and heavy columns of fresh smoke arose, a pall for those departed to their eternal rest. As I sat upon the brow of that eminence I could think of the many groans that were now uttered on the field of strife, where friend and foe lay as an equal in the gore of their own blood, while many more lay with the ghastliness of death upon their features, that but a few hours before beamed with life and animation, and whose hearts melted with love and hopes in the future. Sad! sad! But it does not stop here. How many hearts will bleed. How many mothers’ hearts will be heavy in anguish when the news will reach them of the fate of their offspring and object of their care and love. How little is this realized by the crowd surrounding. Their thoughts are light and trifling; they think not of death or futurity. Removed from all destruction, accustomed to look at death as of minor importance, they feel not the due importance. But such is war. Although a soldier and inured to meet the foe with determination and calmness, I must say, Oh what a cruel and wicked thing is war! A deer ran along the mountain and the attention of the masses was drawn from the conflict and gleefully passed to the animal. This was not in keeping with the state of my mind, and I left and returned to my tent, the musketry having nearly ceased.
Near Chattanooga, Sunday, Nov. 22. Awoke to find a bright and beautiful morning and the air was as balmy as a May morning in Wisconsin. Did not rain as expected and no indications of it in particular. Preaching announced at 10 A. M. by the Chaplain of the 18th Wisconsin. I thought it was more my duty to write to anxious hearts than attend. Wrote one to sister Hannah and commenced one to brother Thomas, but was called on guard before finishing it. Sherman’s chief of artillery went with Captain Dillon to pick out a road for battery.
3 P. M. Before I came off guard we endeavored to pack everything except our blankets and stow them away. Soon ordered to take up our horses, (which were browsing) clean them off and harness up. Our valises were taken off and blankets strapped instead.
5 P. M. Cogswell’s Battery started out and we soon followed, 12th in the rear. Lieutenant Hubbard of the 3rd Battery came to camp as we left, and I shook hands with him as I drove by. Professor Silsby is also here with his Heavy Battery direct from the State, but I did not see him. Moved toward the river, passed the pontoon train and halted near the river out of sight of the enemy. Unhitched and unharnessed, and ordered to lie down with no noise, no fires to be built.
It is now eight o ‘clock and I am on post. I write by the light of the moon. The Heavy Battery and the 12th are busy at work throwing up earthworks. We are to be thrown across with the first infantry that goes. It is expected by all that it is going to be hot and terrible work. My blood is cold as I contemplate the bloodshed.
Near Chattanooga, Saturday, Nov. 21. Awoke to find it had been raining very heavy all night. Our ditch overflowed and the water flowed into the tent under the bed wetting the blankets, making sleeping a troublesome matter anywhere. I got up, wrung my blankets and watched the rain. After breakfast harnessed our horses. As we have no feed they look very bad, indeed nearly all the halter stails on the rope were eaten off last night. I got a set of chain ones from the Battery wagon. Company cooks played out and rations issued to platoons. Boys all hail it gladly.
10 A. M. Two teams went to Chattanooga after forage. B. W. E. went on detail. Tried to write a letter, but it is so very cold that I made but little progress.
3 P. M. A circular has just been received from General Sherman to hold ourselves in readiness to march at any moment. Three days’ cooked rations and one blanket is all that is to be taken along, the ambulances to follow to the river and there await orders. The enemy have been playing from Lookout all day and it is told that sharp musketry is going on, but that general engagement will probably not come off until we cross the river, which it is said we will do to-night if the rain will not sweep off our pontoon. The crisis is fast approaching and it cannot be long ere we meet in deadly contest; of the final result I have but little doubt. I am confident in the ability of those contesting for the right. But alas! many must of necessity close their eyes in death. It is not for me to ask whom or when, but to trust to Him that noticeth the fall of a sparrow, and endeavor to do my duty. I pray that strength may be given me to meet my fate with courage.
8 P. M. It is night. The teams have returned without any feed. They met M. L. Smith’s Division on the bridge and they could not cross. Three sacks of grain was got at Division headquarters which gave us a small feed. Wagon went to draw rations at the commissary but could not get any. I have written a letter home and will now lie down and sleep with an easy mind until called upon. I am ready when the word comes.
Camp in the pocket opposite Chattanooga, Friday, Nov. 20. Scarcely had we closed our eyes to rest, before we were aroused again. Many of the boys had not laid down. It was half past one o’clock in the morning. We were ordered to hitch up in great haste. The rebs were crossing the Tennessee River at some point, and we were to intercept them. Nothing but a prospect of fight would have aroused the sleepy and tired soldiers as quick, and 2 A. M. we moved out, all wagons, battery wagon and forge left behind. It was clear and cold and I was chilled through by my sudden rising from a warm bed. We gradually disappeared from Point Lookout where the rebs’ signal lights were dimly burning. The road was mostly corduroyed and very good, but some places not finished very badly cut. 1st caisson got stuck and it took nearly half an hour to extricate. The cannoneers in mud and slush above their knees. While they were getting out, the other boys took hold and completed the bridge.
As it drew near morning it became darker. Crossed the river on pontoon two miles from where we started. It started right under the rock and it was quite difficult to make the landing with six horses. 3rd Brigade’s camp was on the bank. They had just started. Head of column took the road towards Chattanooga and obliged to come back as we left it to the right. 2nd caisson lost the road in the dark, ran against a stump and capsized. It took some time to extricate the horses and right it. It was loaded with percussion shells, but luckily none exploded. Infantry got the start of us and we drove very fast. Daylight found us travelling east through a very pretty valley formerly used as a camp. No infantry in sight. As smoke was seen in a pocket to the right, Lieutenant Clark halted, and sent to see if it was not our Brigade, which we found to be the case. We entered it, found the 3rd Brigade closely quartered. Went into park and ordered to remain quiet and orderly. Cooked an early breakfast, although we had travelled eight miles beside the other exploits. Wagons came up at 9 A. M. and we fed the last of our forage, four quarts of oats to a team.
The boys were soon scattered around making up for lost sleep, but I thought I would see our position, so I climbed the bluff to the right of us. Chattanooga could be seen very plain right opposite, near the other side of the river. To the right of it was Lookout, towering high above all others, with the puffs of powder smoke vomited occasionally from their Parrott. To the left I could see smoky Mission Ridge crossed with reb encampments. Those with glasses could discern long wagon trains and pack mules climbing up Lookout. I returned well-paid for my labor, although I afterwards understood it was forbidden. We are effectually hidden. Guards are placed over all houses to prevent anyone leaving. A pontoon train is passing. Heavy rain in afternoon. Put up tents and went to bed early.
Lookout Mountain, Tenn., Thursday, Nov. 19. Reveille woke us at 4 A. M. Slept cold. A heavy frost covers the ground this morning. Marched before the cooks got breakfast ready, so we had to take dry grub. Took the Chattanooga road and marched leisurely down, coming to the end of the valley; the mountains and the river coming together. Our road lay along the bank, and the R. R. several hundred feet above us, sometimes running over a precipice and then over stilty-like bridges. An engine ran by us here. We next left the river and soon entered the hills, winding through the valleys and crossing stony points, which was very slow and laborious as our horses were jaded out and hard to keep up. A few inhabitants were seen but they could not find much to live on. 4th Corps stationed through the valley as guards, each squad already located in neat “shebangs”. Passed Sand Mountain at noon, a force being stationed upon it, the very high bridge having been destroyed near by and not yet commenced to be built. The R. R. is in bad condition and will require a good deal of labor before it will be rebuilt. A large part of it is laid with wooden rails, an iron plate fastened on top. Coal abounds in the hills. We passed a large bed of nitre, out of which saltpetre was manufactured for Confederate States’ use.
Came in sight of Lookout Ridge about 4 P. M., and at sundown we were directly under the enemy’s line, their picket fires burning brightly not more than half a mile off. Did they but have the artillery they could soon shell us out. The roads are very bad, filled with slough holes some of which were bridged. 8 P. M. halted nearly an hour to allow the pioneer corps to repair the roads. Most of the boys made coffee. Hard-tack very scarce. I had none since dinner. After the roads were fixed we moved out and marched about four miles right under the point of the guns which could not be brought to bear on us. We passed by Joe Hooker’s headquarters. It was a very beautiful evening, bright moonlight, and pleasant marching. Came into camp at 11:30 P. M., our horses having nearly given out. When the wagons came up we fed horses and drew crackers, but I was not as hungry as sleepy, so I laid down in the open air with Point Lookout frowning in full view, on which is a battery of heavy guns that at any moment could hurl terror to our Corps.
Sequatchie Valley, Ala., Wednesday, Nov. 18. Reveille sounded before dawn and we were ordered to prepare to march, but they knew not at what hour. All baggage that could be spared was ordered to be left with camp guard. The knapsacks were to be left, but as the cannoneers did not feel disposed to lose all of them as at Vicksburg, they all strapped them on their backs to “tote ’em”. Failed to draw but one load of forage, so a vacant wagon was left and the knapsacks packed in much to the satisfaction of all. Hitched up at 6 A. M. Marched on to the hill where the infantry were encamped. The 2nd and 3rd Brigades had started, leaving tents standing. We were in the rear and compelled to lie in the road until 2 P. M. In the meantime a large mail was distributed. I received four letters, all from home, which of course were very acceptable. Moved down to the river where our Division had been crossing all day on the pontoon. No more than four wagons allowed on at a time, hence a tedious job. 4 P. M. we moved on to it. It consists of a firm scow boat anchored every sixteen feet and stringers laid across, over which were laid twelve-foot plank. It was narrow and shaky, but a tight rein and careful driving brought us over all safe. Had to cross two of them, an island occupied by Hooker’s men in the middle of the river. Men busy at work on R. R. bridge, but not near finished. Came to a halt two miles from the river and lay there over an hour to wait for the train to cross. Large fires were built and the infantry cooked their coffee in their little cans. It was quite dark before the bugle sounded and we marched on at a brisk rate till 9 P. M. Our road lay through the Sequatchie Valley, which was pretty well under cultivation, watered by a large stream coming out of the solid rock a few yards above us, one spring furnishing water enough to run a flouring mill. A large cave was close by, which is reported to be a curiosity, thirteen miles long, out of which saltpetre is dug, but I could not visit it. Unhitched our weary and hungry horses having had nothing but two quarts of corn all day, and but a scant feed last night. Made our bed in the open air and piled in supperless.
Bridgeport, Tuesday, Nov. 17. In camp. Warm and pleasant morning. No feed for horses. W. Hayes, Ed. Hayes, J. Ide, H. and D. Wallace returned from furlough, having followed us up to Iuka, then being obliged to return and go up the river by the way of Nashville. They came up on the cars this morning with plump and rosy cheeks. The boys greeted them with enthusiasm going to meet them from afar off. They were from HOME. Orders received at headquarters to send a commissioned officer and non-commissioned or private out on recruiting service. Of course much eagerness was manifested as to who should go. Many applications made I understood, but Lieutenant Hood and Sergeant Hamilton are the elected ones. I understand a like detail is to be made from each Company, but I doubt if they will bring back as many as go. The 4th Division crossed the river to-day. It is reported that we follow in the morning, leaving all wagons behind. Carriages were greased ready for the start. Wrote letters to brother Thomas and sister Mary. Am very anxious to hear from home. Ere this the draft has passed and I know not but the only stay and comfort of my aged and invalid parents is rudely torn from them. If such is the case, and I here in front of the enemy with my destiny unknown, I fear it will bring their gray hairs to the grave. God forbid! If he but be spared I will be satisfied, although I know not but that I have another year to serve after the Battery is mustered out. It is hard for me to think of the years going in this manner, when I had fondly hoped a part at least would be spent in the schoolroom, but I believe it is not lost. He that followeth his duty need not worry. His reward is certain, and it is truly a noble cause in which we are engaged. From the front I have heard nothing. It is reported that the rebs are withdrawing but I do not credit it.
We started one month ago to-day. Twenty of these days were on the road; 240 miles have been travelled. We have been transferred from the Army of the Tennessee to the Army of the Cumberland, and all of our record from this on will be with them.
Bridgeport, Monday, Nov. 16. A beautiful sunny morning. Did not get up till broad daylight, which was a strange thing. The first thing attended to, now that we were in hopes of a few days’ rest, was changing and washing. I changed throughout, and Evie and myself passed to the creek with ax, fire buckets, etc. My washing consisted of a pair pants, shirt, two pairs of socks and towels. Quite a washer-woman. After dinner Cousin Griffith, E. W. E. and myself took a ride down town. I mounted Rodney and off we went. “We failed to find a building but found Bridgeport, which is certainly a city of tents. All of it is in tents. Sutler’s stores and bakeries are plenty, but so crowded by the soldiers that it was impossible to get a hearing anywhere. I tried hard to get a pie, but there were hundreds pressing in for the same, and I gave it up as a bad job. Bought a blank book and started back to a large tent upon a hill with the sign “Army Hotel” which furnished meals for 75 cents.
The Charleston and Memphis Road crosses the river here, but the bridge was destroyed by General Mitchel a year ago, and not yet completed. A day force is at work on it and teams are hauling timber in all directions. It is a patent truss-bridge like those across the Wisconsin, the R. R. on top and wagon road below it. A pontoon bridge is stretched across below it until the bridge is finished. The cars go no further than here, which is the nearest point to Chattanooga, twenty-eight miles by R. R. and forty by land. All supplies are hauled to camp, long way yet, by mule teams and two small steamboats. A large number of artillery horses have been sent back to be fed. Horses and mules look much worse than ours after the march. The 11th and 12th Army Corps under General Hooker are across the river from here, which makes a total of three corps within supporting distance of Chattanooga. Heavy artillery firing could be heard this morning from that vicinity. Stevenson nine miles west of here.
Camp near Bridgeport, Ala., Sunday, Nov. 15. Moved out in park this morning. Kept along the bank of Battle Creek under the sunlit brink of the mountain. 10 A. M. the Tennessee River appeared before us and we entered the Sequatchie Valley. Followed it down stream. This was the ford that Bragg retreated over, and where Rosecrans’s small Division were picked off from across the river. Extensive fortification; erected here but vacant. Telegraph line up here which communicates with Chattanooga. The valley is narrow but apparently fertile. Neat houses here, but the fences all gone and fields open. After passing through a very bad swamp we came into ”Camp Proper.” At this point it is a mile and a half from what is called Bridgeport. Good water, no rails. Put up harness racks, tents in line, etc. Drew oats for the horses tonight, but scant. A large mail arrived and to see the eagerness with which all pressed around the pile would have convinced everyone that although roughened by usage and inured to hardship, and mayhap contracted that which is not befitting, yet their hearts are filled with the love of home and friends. I was jubilant over the receipt of three letters, one from my ever faithful correspondent John, the other from my sister Ellen and the rest from an old schoolmate.
Sweden’s Cove, Tenn., Saturday, Nov. 14. Reveille sounded at 5 A. M. A very dark and cloudy morning, not a star to be seen or ray of daylight. Fed our hard-worked horses a scant feed of twelve ears of corn to a team, cleaned them off and harnessed, Coffee and crackers for breakfast. 2nd Brigade stationed in front. Followed the 2nd. Camped at the foot of the hill last night. Commenced to rain very heavy as we hitched up and it continued until noon, with loud peals of thunder and vivid lightning. The road ran along the summit for about five miles which was very muddy and hard to travel. Commenced the descent about 1 P. M. which was not as laborious but far more dangerous. The cavalry that crossed let the wagons down by rope, but we locked wheels, and about two miles brought us to the bottom, very stony and steeper than the other side. So we were over Raccoon Mountain of the Cumberland Range, considerably higher than Point Judith, and we crossed in the lowest point. We were now in a narrow valley not a mile wide, all under cultivation, but now idle, called “Sweden’s Cove”. The first trace of civilization that met the soldier eye was a hog, the next a corn crib. Due attention paid to both, the cannoneers charged on the pigs and the drivers filled their nose bags. Camped at the headwaters of Battle Creek. Health of all good and spirits also.
