Vicksburg, Monday, July 6. To-day we lay waiting all day for orders to hitch up to go into permanent park, but for some reason or other they did not come, and we were exposed to the burning sun all day, but well amused, strolling over the scarred surface of Vicksburg, plowed everywhere by raking shot and bursting shell, exploring the extensive caves inhabited by the citizens during the siege, but now deserted, and they once more were not afraid to walk in God’s sunlight. Received mail.
An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones, 6th Battery, Wisconsin Artillery.
Vicksburg, Sunday, July 5. We were momentarily expecting marching orders, while I wrote two letters, but at last we were told to prepare to march at 4 P. M., and at the appointed hour all was packed up, horses hitched up and ready. We entered Vicksburg in front of Carr’s original line, and after many halts among the broken ravines, amongst butternuts swarming on every side, we came into battery of five yards intervals in a little knoll, after dark.
Before Vicksburg, Saturday, July 4. The National Birthday, and we awoke to welcome it under favorable auspices. All was quiet and still and we could hardly convince ourselves but that we were transformed to the quiet home of Wisconsin and were ready to take a part in the grand celebration. The truce was still held. Butternuts leisurely lounging along their breastworks, our men the same, still we knew not what the result would be at the national salute fired with blank cartridge.
9 A. M. orders came stating that at 10 A. M. the enemy were to march out, stack arms on the outside of their works and return as prisoners of war. What glorious news—the men all in ecstasy too great for cheers. At the appointed hour white rags were stuck all along their line, which were hailed with cheers from one end of the line to the other. Commanding officers and staff rode out first, making the formal surrender, after which all the troops formed in line and marched out, colors flying, stacked their arms, equipments and colors, marching back under their officers. Commissioned officers were allowed to retain their side-arms. In the meantime our bands, which had been silent for so long, struck up “Hail Columbia” etc., which affected the troops as an electric shock, and they saluted with deafening cheers. As the last of the rebs went in, General Grant and staff with body-guards, entered the tent. Guards were stationed on breastworks and the surrendered prisoners permitted to run at large.
So Vicksburg, the pet of the Confederacy has fallen, and that too, on the most glorious day of the whole year, and long to be remembered by the soldier boy who spent his Fourth there. He was happy, but still he turned with longing eyes and wishful heart to the North. There was a void there, a vacancy which triumphs and which military victory could not fill, his home, never forgotten. I ended my Fourth on guard, hopefully.
Before Vicksburg, Friday, July 3. 9 A. M. A flag of truce appeared opposite Smith’s Division, accompanied by General Bowen and Colonel Montgomery, who were taken to Grant’s headquarters, blindfolded. 12 M. General Pemberton met U. S. Grant under a large tree on the road to Vicksburg, to our right, with their staff on the outside of their respective works. The parley was continued until dark, when they withdrew. Orders issued not to fire until further orders. A strange day to us, so quiet and calm.
But a gloom was cast on the 6th Battery notwithstanding the hopeful indications of the truce. After the flag had appeared on the left and firing had ceased on both sides, and the men carelessly exposed themselves to view, a miscreant, yes, a brute in human form, took advantage of the opportunity to deprive one at least of his life, now, when unguarded, when under other circumstances he would have failed. Alvah B. Page, gunner of the second piece, was shot in the left ear, while sitting on the piece, instantly killing a noble life and good soldier, much loved and respected by all, and one of the best shots in the Battery. Many a time had he planted his missiles where they carried terror to the enemy’s heart. His last words were the hopeful ones “I guess they are gone up”. He lived to sight the last gun fired at the enemy’s stronghold. A siege gun was to be given him the very morning he was buried in a soldier’s grave, 2 P. M.
Before Vicksburg, Thursday, July 2. Hearing that William Jones of the 23rd was wounded, I obtained permission of Lieutenant Clark, commanding Battery, to go and visit him. G. R. Jones and myself found him in the Division hospital with his leg amputated above the knee, wounded on the 30th ult. by a chance musket ball. Looked well under the circumstances. Called upon J. Savage before returning. Rebs showed a line in front of us in the afternoon. Several shots exchanged.
Before Vicksburg, Wednesday, July 1. Nothing of importance during the day, with the exception of another attempt at blowing up the fort. The shock I felt while writing in my “shebang”. A large volume was thrown inside making a much wider gap than before. Siege guns played on it for some time, but there was no reckless advance as before. Two rebs, one negro, and a hound were blown over to the Yankees, the former dead, the latter unhurt.
Before Vicksburg, Tuesday, June 30. Two siege guns, 32pounders, brought in last night to be mounted on the left and front of us, but the carriages did not fit. Eight teams were sent to the landing for others. Captain Dillon received the appointment of Chief of Artillery vice Sands. Drivers called out 9 A. M. We policed the valley in the hot sun (a whim of red tape). Mustered for pay at 5 P. M. by Captain Dillon.
Before Vicksburg, Monday, June 29. Came off of guard to assist my messmate in enlarging our shelter so as to be cooler, and put up bunks of cane, which is a good deal more comfortable. The health of the Battery is on the decline, I am sorry to state. Seven or eight cases in hospital; Griff down with boils. D. J. Davis and W. Hamilton shaking with the ague. My own health is not too good, troubled with diarrhea more or less continually. I am daily falling off.
Before Vicksburg, Sunday, June 28. A Sunday is with us, but no one finds any reminder of it as he looks about him. The same routine is gone through with, and were it not for my memoranda I would not know it. When I compare this with the Sunday at home, when all work is laid aside, sister and brother that during the week have been absent, are at home, all there, the quiet lunch for supper—all, all crowd upon my memory, and I long for the time when I can again enjoy them, and the vacuity in my heart be filled, and even to-day I can imagine I can see that gathering, and I know that Mother’s anxious heart looks upon my vacant seat and wonders if her boy is yet spared. More than once the tears have gushed to my eyes (I hope it is no cowardice) as I think of her emaciated form in that old arm chair. Would it be any consolation to her to know that her son is thinking of her, that he has not forgotten?
Before Vicksburg, Saturday, June 27. Rather sore from yesterday’s fatigue. The hot sun pouring his fiery arrows down with such force as almost to overcome us. Rebs threw many 20-pound shells (Parrott) into this hole or building, but they were uncharged, which took away much of their terror. They were aimed at the disputed fort (which they look at as much ours as theirs, I should judge). They also opened fire with a heavy siege gun this morning, but were soon quieted. The 12th Wisconsin Battery blowed up a limber while silencing it.
