Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, Charles Wright Wills, (8th Illinois Infantry)

Near Stone Mountain, July 18, 1864.

Osterhaus (or his division, for I hear that he resigned and yesterday started for the North, en route for Mexico, where he formerly resided, and that he intends entering the Mexican Army to fight “Johnny Crapeau”) was ahead to-day, and only lost a dozen or 50 men. Our brigade has been train guard, and we did not get into camp until 11 p.m. This night marching hurts us more than the hottest day marching. We camp to-night near Stone Mountain, and the depot of the same name 16 miles from Atlanta. It is evident to me that the Army of the Tennessee is doing the “flanking them out” this time. The 1st Division cut the railroad effectually. A train came from the East while they were at it, but discovering the smoke, reversed the engine and escaped. The 17th Corps I hear is close behind us protecting the commissary trains and forming our rear guard.

June 17, 1864.

After erecting some good works at Roswell (the best we have yet built), capable of holding at least 25,000 men, we were provided with three days’ rations and cartridges “ad libitum,” for another of what an Augusta paper calls “Sherman leap-frog-like advance.” Our corps is the extreme left of the army. We moved out this morning, our brigade in advance of our division, and Osterhaus and Smith’s Divisions following on the Decatur road. Did I tell you in my last among the “locals,” that these Roswell factories have been turning out 35,000 yards per day of jeans, etc., for the Confederate Army, that there is the greatest abundance of blackberries and whortleberries here, that one of the 48th Illinois was drowned in the Chattahoochie while bathing, and that of several hundred factory girls I have seen, hardly one who is passably handsome? Some fine fat ones, and a few neat feet, but they are not “clipper built,” and lack “get up” and “figure heads.”

We moved six miles without meeting a Rebel, and then only a squadron of cavalry that lacked a devilish sight of being “chivalry,” for they more than ran without just cause. We only went two miles farther and then bivouacked. Our brigade was thrown half a mile in front and across the road. We put up a rail barricade across the road and a temporary rail-work along our front, and then abandoned ourselves to the longings of our breadbaskets, and desisted not until every man was in himself a miniature blackberry patch. The boys brought me pint after pint of great black fellows they had picked in the shade of dense woods or on a steep bank, and I assure you they disappeared without an exception. This road, the last 10 days, has been filled with refugee citizens running from the Yankees. An old gentleman in whose yard the reserve pickets have stacked their arms, told me that all the men of his acquaintance over 45 years old are, and always have been, Unionists, and are to-day ready and willing to give up slavery for our cause. I have been a deluded believer in the hoax of fine “Georgia plantations,” but I assure you I am now thoroughly convalescent. I haven’t seen five farm houses equal to Mrs. James—, and only one that showed evidences of taste. That was where I saw the Rebel General Iverson dead among the flowers. The country is all hilly, and the soil, where there is any, is only fit for turnips. The timber is all scrub oak and pine, and some more viney bushes peculiar to the climate.

I notice some of the white moss hanging from the trees, like that there was so much of at Black river. The 16th Corps is on our right moving on a parallel road, and the 23d joins them. I don’t know whether our other corps have crossed yet or not.

July 15, 1864.

This is a glorious place. The current in the river is very swift, and it is the nicest stream to bathe in imaginable. I’ve a mind to stay here and have my meals brought to me. Expect we will catch some nice fish after they get over being scared at having so many Yanks bobbing around with them. It is too hot to write, and altogether too hot to enjoy good health, except in swimming. We are all glad to hear of those raids into Pennsylvania and Maryland. Go in Imboden and Early.

July 14, 1864.

Another hot day. We marched down to the river at Roswell and crossed it, and have gone into camp on the bank a mile above town.

This Roswell is a beautiful little town, such splendid trees all through it. Our cavalry four or five days ago destroyed some very large factories here. Judging from the ruins, they were more extensive than anything of the kind I ever before saw. About 1,000 women were employed in them; 700 of them were taken by our folks and sent to Marietta; I don’t know what for. Can’t hear of any enemy here.

July 13, 1864.

We passed through Marietta this morning at 9; rested in a cool, nice, woody place from 11 to 2, and made this place in the cool of the evening. We marched about 14 miles today. I would rather be in a fight than endure such a day’s march, and I think fighting lacks very much as deserving to rank as amusement.

I saw a number of cases of congestion of the brain, and a few had real sun stroke. Saw one poor fellow in a graveyard between two little picketed graves, who I made sure was gasping his last. Some heartless fellow made a remark as we passed about his luck in getting sun struck so near good burying facilities. After one heat of only three miles the regiment had all fallen out but about 50 men, and we had more than any other in the brigade. If we had been given one hour more in rests, we would not have lost a man.

July 10, 1864, a.m.

The Rebels evacuated last night, and our flags are on their works and our skirmishers at the river. A number of Johnnies were left on this side. I believe they have every time left on Saturday night or Sunday. Their works here are the best I have seen. Three lines and block houses ad libitum. P.m.— Every Rebel is across the river, and our 23d and 16th Corps are also over, away up to the left. It is intimated though that they will only hold their position a few days. We are expecting orders to join them.