Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

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

July 7, 1864.

The shooting still continues in our front, but hear no Rebel artillery. The water here is excellent, and everybody seems to get a few blackberries. We also stew grapes and green apples, and everything that ever was eaten by anti-cannibals. There is so much confounded fighting to be attended to that we can’t forage any, and though fresh beef is furnished to the men regularly there is some scurvy. I have seen several black-mouthed, loose-toothed fellows, hankering after pickles. Teamsters and hangers-on who stay in the rear get potatoes, etc., quite regularly. I do not believe the Johnnies intend fighting again very strongly this side of the river. Our scouts say that between the river and Atlanta the works run line after line as thickly as they can be put in. Per contra, two women who came from Atlanta on the 6th say that after we get across the river we will have no fighting, that Johnston is sending his troops to Savannah, Charleston, Mobile and Richmond, except enough to fight us at different river crossings. Our scouts also say that the Rebels are deserting almost by thousands, and going around our flanks to their homes in Tennessee, Kentucky, etc. I have not been in a house in Georgia, but several citizens I have met in camp said they had heard many soldiers say they would never cross the river with Johnston since the charge of the 27th.

Harrow has kept our brigade in reserve, and I think he will continue to do so unless a general battle is fought. We have suffered more heavily than any other two brigades in the army, and when we started we were one of the smallest. I am willing to see some of the others go in a while, though I want to help if Johnston will stand a fair fight in open ground. The chigres are becoming terrific. They are as large as the blunt end of a No. 12 and as red as blood. They will crawl through any cloth and bite worse than a flea, and poison the flesh very badly. They affect some more than others. I get along with them comparatively well, that is, I don’t scratch more than half the time. Many of the boys anoint their bodies with bacon rinds, which the chigres can’t go. Salt-water bathing also bars chigres, but salt is too scarce to use on human meat. Some of the boys bathing now in a little creek in front of me; look like what I expect “Sut Lovegood’s” father did after plowing through that hornet’s nest. All done by chigres. I believe I pick off my neck and clothes 30 varieties of measuring worm every day. Our brigade quartermaster yesterday found, under his saddle in his tent, a rattlesnake, with six rattles and a button.

This is the 68th day of the campaign. We hope to end it by August 1st, though if we can end the war by continuing this until January 1st, ’65, I am in. Reinforcements are coming in every day, and I don’t suppose we are any weaker than when we left Chattanooga. The Rebels undoubtedly are, besides the natural demoralization due to falling back so much must be awful. My health is excellent. Remember me to all the wounded boys of the 103d you see.

July 6, 1864.

I went down to our front this evening. Our advanced artillery is yet some 1,200 yards from the Rebels, but there is nothing but an open field between, and it looks quite close. The Johnnies have thrown up a nice fort, embrasured for nine guns. They have not fired a shot to-day. The captain of our advanced artillery told me the Rebels have 20 Parrott guns in the fort, and excellent gunners.

We moved this evening one mile to the left and relieved a portion of the 20th Corps, which went on further to the left.

We started on this campaign with 10 field officers in our brigade and now have but two left. Three killed, three wounded and two left back sick. I hear the Rebel works here are the last this side of the river, and but few hundred yards from it.

July 5, 1864.

Can hear no firing this p.m. It seems the Rebels have got across the Chattahoochie. We are about 12 miles from Atlanta. The river will probably trouble us some, but we all think “Pap” will make it before August 1st. Johnston don’t dare give us anything like a fair fight. We are all in splendid spirits and the boys have made the woods ring with their Fourth of July cheers, tired as they are. We have lost no men since the charge of the 27th. I have an Atlanta paper, giving an acount of that fight. They say we were all drunk with whisky and fought more like devils than men.

p.m.

We have continued our march about four or five miles today. Osterhaus and M. L. Smith are ahead of us ,and I think we are on the right of the army again. The 4th Division, 17th Army Corps is engaged one-half mile ahead of us or rather are shooting a little with their big guns. I climbed a tree a half hour ago, and what do you think?—saw Atlanta, and saw it plainly, too. I suppose it is ten miles distant, not more than 12. The country looks about as level as a floor, excepting one-half mountain, to the left of the city, some miles. We seem to be on the last ridge that amounts to anything. We are, I suppose, two and one-half miles from the river at this point, though we hold it farther to the right. Very large columns of smoke were rolling up from different parts of the city. I suppose they were the explosions of foundries, machine shops, etc. Dense clouds of dust can be seen at several points across the river; suppose it means trains or troops moving.

Have seen but few wounded going back to-day. We are laying along some very good rifle pits, occasionally embrasured for artillery, which the 17th Army Corps took this morning. They were not very stoutly defended, though, and the artillery had been moved back. With some pretty lively skirmishing the line has been advanced this evening. Not much loss on our side; saw some one-half dozen ambulance loads only.

July 4, 1864.

I count it the hardest Fourth I have seen in the service. About 8 a.m. we moved out, passed through Marietta, which is by far the prettiest town I have seen South (about the size of Canton), and continued south nearly all the way along our line of works. Marched about 11 miles. Not more than one-third of the men stacked arms when we halted for the night; fell out along the roads. I have seen more than 1,000 prisoners and deserters.

July 3, 1864.

Rebels all gone this morning. Our boys were on the mountains at daylight. Hundreds of deserters have come in. Osterhaus moved around the left of the mountain to Marietta, all the rest of the army went to the right of it. We are about one-half a mile from town; have not been in. All who have, say it is the prettiest place we have seen South. Some artillery firing has been heard this p.m. five or six miles south, and there are rumors that an advance has captured a large number of prisoners, but nothing reliable.

July 2, 1864.

We have been taking it easy since the charge. Our shells keep the Rebels stirred up all the time. Sham attacks are also got up twice or three times a day, which must annoy them very much.

July 1, 1864.

This campaign is coming down to a question of muscle and nerve. It is the 62d day for us, over 50 of which we have passed under fire. I don’t know anything more exhausting. One consolation is that the Rebels are a good deal worse off than we are. They have lost more men in battle, their deserters count by thousands, and their sick far exceed ours. We’ll wear them out yet. Our army has been reinforced by fully as many as we have lost in action, so that our loss will not exceed our sick. You notice in the papers acounts of Hooker’s charging “Lost Mountain,” taking a large number of prisoners, and the names of officers. You see they are all from the 31st and 40th Alabama. It is also credited to Blair’s 17th Corps. Our brigade took all those officers on the 15th of June. I wrote you an account of it then. It hurts us some to see it credited to other troops, but such is the fortune of war, and soldiers who do not keep a reporter must expect it. Colonel Wright starts for home to-day.

June 30, 1864 8 a.m.

There was a terrific fight on our right, commencing at 2 this morning and lasting until 3. I have not yet heard what it was.

Some deserters passed us this morning. I have lost just half the men I left Scottsboro with just two months ago, but what I have left, are every man ready to help. We have a good deal more than “cleared” ourselves. I had my canteen strap cut off by a bullet and a spent glancing ball struck my ankle.

June 29, 1864.

There was a night charge made by the Rebels on our right last night. They got beautifully “scooped.” We have been laying quiet all day. Lots of artillery, though but few shots come near us.

June 28, 1864.

The attack was not general; it was made by our brigade and M. L. Smith’s Division. We lost nearly one-third of the brigade. Our regiment’s loss is 17 killed and 40 wounded. My company had five killed and four wounded. Colonel Wright was shot quite badly in the leg, and Lieutenants Montgomery, Branson and Bailey were killed. In my company Corporals Whittaker, Myers, and Private Sam Mclntyre, Art. Myers, and Jacob Maxwell, were killed. Sergeant Breed, Privates Bishop, Frank Breed and James Williamson were wounded. We held all the ground we took (under our fire), but had to leave a few of our dead until dark.

On the p.m. of the 26th Colonel Wright told me that General McPherson and Colonel Walcutt (our brigade commander) had been out through the day examining the ground in front, and that it was in contemplation to carry the southwest spur of the mountain by a charge, and further, that it was not impossible that our brigade would be in as usual. This was kept quiet in the command. About 8 p.m. I was at Colonel Wright’s headquarters with several of the officers and we were talking the matter over, when an order came for the colonel to report at brigade headquarters. I believe every one present instantly concluded that we were to fight, and knowing the country before us to be about on a par with Lookout Mountain you can imagine we did not particularly enjoy the prospect. The colonel returned in about an hour. We had all, I believe, fallen asleep. He woke us and said: “Have your men get their breakfasts by daylight; at 6 a.m. the fight will begin on the right, and at 8 a.m. our brigade will, with one from the 1st and 2d divisions, charge a spur of the mountain.” I turned away and after notifying my orderly sergeant to have the men up on time, I turned in. Thought the matter over a little while and after pretty fully concluding “good-bye, vain world,” went to sleep. Before daylight in the morning we were in line, and moving a few hundred yards to the rear of our works, and stacked arms in a grove, which would hide us from the observation of the Rebels on the mountain. You know from where we have been for a few days, we could see them plainly. Cannonading commenced on the right at 6 a.m. and at 7:30 we moved a half or three quarters of a mile along-our lines to the right, after piling our knapsacks and haversacks. A canteen of water was the only extra baggage any one carried. The Rebels caught sight of us as we commenced moving, and opened a battery on us. It had the effect to accelerate our movements considerably. Right in front of a Division of the 4th Corps we halted, and rapidly formed our line. While forming the line Corporal Myers of my company was killed by a bullet within six feet of me, and one of Company K’s men wounded. I don’t know how many more. The ground to be gone over was covered with a dense undergrowth of oak and vines of all kinds binding the dead and live timber and bush together, and making an almost impenetrable abatis. To keep a line in such a place was out of the question. Our skirmishers were sharply engaged from the start, and men commenced falling in the main line; at the same time some 50 of the Rebel skirmish line were captured, and many of them killed. A Rebel lieutenant and five men lay dead, all nearly touching each other.

I understand that they had been summoned to surrender, and were shot either for refusing or before negotiations were completed. Not a man in our regiment knew where the Rebel works were when we started, and I think the most of them found them as I did. I had with my company got within, I think, 60 yards of the Rebel works, and was moving parallel with them. The balls were whistling thick around us, but I could see no enemy ahead.

I did not even think of them being on our flank, until one of the boys said: “Look there, Captain, may I shoot?” I looked to the right, and just across a narrow and deep ravine were the Rebel works, while a confused mass of greybacks were crowding up the ravine. These latter, I suppose, were from their skirmish line, which was very heavy, and trying to escape us. The Rebels in the works were firing vigorously and have no excuse for not annihilating our three left companies K, G and B. The right of the regiment had seen them before and already started for them. I shouted “forward” to my men and we ran down across the ravine, and about one-third the way up the hill on which their works were and then lay down. There was little protection from their fire, though, and if they had done their duty, not a man of us would have got out alive. Our men fired rapidly and kept them well down in their works. It would have been madness to have attempted carrying their works then, for our regiment had not a particle of support, and we were so scattered that we only presented the appearance of a very thin skirmish line. If we had been supported by only one line, I have no doubt but that we would have taken their line of works. Colonel Wright was wounded a few minutes after we got into the hollow, and Frank Lermond came to me and told me I would have to take command of the regiment. I went down to the center and the order was heard to retire. I communicated it to the left and saw nearly all the men out, and then fell back.

I could not find the regiment when I came out, but collected about 30 of our men on the left of the 6th Iowa, and after a while Colonel Wright and Captain Post brought the regiment to where we were, when we formed a brigade line and threw up works within 200 yards of the enemy’s, where we remained until 9 p.m., when we returned to the position we occupied in the morning. About 12 of our dead were left in the ravine under the fire of the enemy’s guns. But we have as many of their dead as they have of ours. Lieutenant Colonel Barnhill of the 40th Illinois, and Captain Augustine of the 55th Illinois were killed and left on the field. My loss is five killed and four wounded. Two of my dead, Corporal Whittaker and Artemus Myers, were left on the field. Loss in the regiment is 17 killed, 40 wounded. In the brigade 245 killed and wounded. It was a rough affair, but we were not whipped. The prettiest artillery fight I ever saw was over our heads in the evening, about 10 guns on each side.