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

Winchester, Tenn., November 11, 1863.

We arrived here at 9 this a.m., our brigade making the distance from Salem, 11 miles, in three hours. That, we call fast walking. I wrote you last from Florence., Ala., on the 1st inst. From there we marched to Rodgersville and thence up the right bank of Elk river to Fayetteville, where we crossed there onto this place. Rumor says that we draw 20 days’ rations here. It is three-fourths official, too. It is certain that we leave here in the morning, but nobody knows where for. We could certainly march to Chattanooga in six days, but could go much quicker by the railroad from Decherd station, which is only two miles from here. The wagon road from here to Chattanooga is awful. But one brigade has ever marched it. The mountains commence right here and continue to, the Lord knows where. Our brigade is to be mounted immediately. In the last 60 miles marching we have mounted 800 or nearly half. The citizens along the road very kindly furnished all of stock and equipments. My company was mounted four days ago. Company C is to be mounted next. As fast as the men are mounted they are put out as foragers for more horses, etc. The first day my company was mounted we got 30 horses, and would have done better, but confound me if I could take horses from crying women, although I am satisfied that half of their howling is sham, got up for the occasion. My first day’s foraging almost used me up. We had fed our horses and I went to unhitch a mule from the fence to give him in charge of one of the men, and the brute scared and jerked the rail from the fence and started like lightning. The end of the rail struck me on the calves of my legs and elevated my boots five feet. The attraction of gravitation brought me down to the globe and I landed with a great deal of vim on a rock about the size of our parlor floor, and as smooth as a peach stone. The only severe injury either the rock or myself sustained was a very badly sprained wrist. I got that. My left hip and left shoulder were hurt some, but the wrist has pained me so confoundedly that I don’t count them. It has pained me so for the last two days and is so tender that I could stand neither the jolting of a horse or wagon. I tried to ride my horse this morning; we were in column and had to strike a trot and that beat me. Think I will be all right for the saddle in a few days, though will have a tender wrist for a good while. Well, our division came through in the advance and our brigade has had the lead most of the time. We have had plenty of forage, but light issues of regular rations probably average. Half Morgan L. Smith’s and John E. Smith’s divisions are close up to us, will be here to-morrow. Osterhaus and Dodge are behind them. We have five divisions all told, probably 25,000 or 30,000 men. We met here the first troops belonging to the Army of the Cumberland.

Florence, Ala., November 1, 1863.

We struck tents on the 27th ult. at Iuka, Miss., and marched to Eastport, eight miles, that night. We had in our division some 200 wagons, all of which with 1,200 horses and mules were to be crossed in a barge over the Tennessee river. I received a complimentary detail to superintend the crossing of the wagons belonging to one brigade. I think I never worked harder than I did from 7 o’clock that night until 6:30 o’clock the next day, a.m. It occupied two days and nights crossing the whole train, but we marched at 3 p.m., the 28th, and camped that night at Gravelly springs, 15 miles from Eastport. The road ran for some ten miles along the foot of the river bluff, and the numerous springs sparkling their beautifully clear and fresh jets of limestone water on the road, from which they rippled in almost countless little streamlets to the river, although adding much to the wild beauty of the country, made such a disagreable splashy walking for we footmen that (I speak more particularly for myself) we failed to appreciate it. We bivouacked for the night at about 9 p.m. The morn of the 29th we started at 8 o’clock, and after ascending the bluff, marched through a magnificent country to this place, 15 miles. Some three miles from here at the crossing of Cypress creek, something like 50 or 60 girls, some of them rather good looking, had congregated and they seemed much pleased to see us. All avowed themselves Unionists.

There had been a large cotton mill at this crossing, Comyn burned it last summer, which had furnished employment for these women and some 200 more. This is a very pretty little town. Has at present some very pretty women. Two of the sirens came very near charming me this a.m. Bought two dozen biscuits of them. Have been out of bread for two days before, but had plenty of sweet potatoes and apples. During the march on the 29th we heard Blair pounding away with his artillery nearly all day across the river, I should think about a dozen miles west of Tuscumbia. I was down to the bank the morning of the 30th ult. and the Rebels across shot at our boys, watering mules, but without effecting any damage. I saw a white flag come down to the bank and heard that Ewing sent over to see what was wanted, nothing more. There was some musketry fighting yesterday near Tuscumbia, but don’t know who it was. We are four and one-half miles from there. Two companies of the 4th Regular Cavalry reached here on the 30th from Chattanooga, bearing dispatches to Sherman. He is at Iuka. All of these movements beat me completely. Can’t see the point and doubt if there is one. We have commenced fortifying here. Have seen much better places to fight. We are “fixed up” most too nicely to hope to live here long. I have a stove, a good floor covered with Brussels carpet, plenty of chairs and a china table set under my tent. Eatables are plenty and would offer no objection if ordered to stay here a couple of weeks. Understand that not a farthing’s worth of the above was “jayhawked.” Got it all on the square. I wish I could send you the mate to a biscuit I just ate. Twould disgust the oldest man in the world with the Sunny South. By hemp, but it is cold these nights. Last night there was an inch of white frost. I was nearly frozen. Dorrance swears that Mattison and I were within an ace of killing him in our endeavors to “close up” and keep warm.

Iuka, Miss., October 26, 1863.

Let your pocket ‘kerchief float out on the breeze, halloo a little and throw up your bonnet. It’s only a “march at 12 o’clock to-night” but that’s good enough. We’ve been here a week now, drawing clothing and making all kinds of preparations for a “forward,” and the blessed word has come at last. I don’t believe anybody enjoys anything better than I do marching. I feel as coltish all the time on a move as I used to, when after a long week of those short winter days at school, with just time enough between the school hours and dark to cut the next day’s wood (how I did work), Job Walker and I would plunge into those dear old Big Creek woods with our guns or skates, and make such a day of it that I would almost wish all time was cut up into Saturdays. I was on picket last night; full moon, splendid post, right on the old Iuka battle ground, where the fight was the hottest; the old clothes, straps, cartridge boxes and litter always found in such places, the scarred trees, and the mounds a little further up the road, marking the pits where lay the glorious dead, then a half dozen neatly marked single graves, showing the care of some company commander, all tempted me to commit some more poetry. You know I can. But I nobly resisted the temptation. There were no coons or owls. I wished for them. My picketing the last year has almost all been in swamps, and I have learned to love the concerts those innocent animals improvise. When I got in this morning found orders to be ready to move at 12 this p.m. We cross the Tennessee river, I suppose, near Eastport. This beats me all hollow. Can’t see the point, unless we’re moving to check some of Bragg’s flanking motions. Anything for a move. I put the profile of a fort here the other day under the direction of Sherman’s engineer, and the chief told me if I would like it he would have me detailed to assist him. Have had enough of staff duty and excused myself. The men are rapidly becoming more healthy. I have but one person sick now. Dorrance arrived here a few days since, and brought a splendid long letter from you. Have to go to work on some ordnance reports now.

Am half inclined to think that our big march is played out. Rather think now that we will stop at Eastport on the Tennessee river. Isn’t that heavy? Eight miles only and then go to guarding navigation on a river that’s a twin sister of Big Creek. Can’t tell though, one rumor says that we will go 128 miles beyond the river. These generals are positively getting so sharp that a man can’t tell one month ahead what they are going to do.

One of my men who was captured down near Panola, Miss., last April returned to the company for duty yesterday. Some Confederate soldiers captured him and some citizens offered them $10 to each captor for the privilege of hanging the d___d Yanks. They couldn’t make a bargain. Transferred five men to the invalid corps yesterday. Jacob J. Nicholson among them.

Iuka, Miss., October 21, 1863.

We reached here the evening of the 18th inst., and I have been on extra heavy fatigue nearly ever since our arrival.

We worked all night first night loading wagon trains and unloading cars. We were doing the work of another division, but, such is war. The impression is that we will leave here about the 23d. The other divisions have all moved on, taking with them thirty days’ rations. We marched all the way from Memphis. Went about 20 miles out of our way to burn a little secesh town of some forty homes—Mount Pleasant. We reached Collinsville the day after Sherman, with about 800 men, had his fight with Chalmers. I stood the march splendidly, and am good for Chattanooga at 25 miles per day. It rained gently three nights on this march, and one night like the devil. We got in that night about 9 o’clock, and by a blunder of our brigade commander bivouacked in a regular dismal swamp. We had just stacked arms when the clouds sprung a leak, and such a leak, the cataract of Niagara is a side show, comparatively. Build a fire! Why, that rain would have quenched a Vesuvius in its palmiest days. I never saw just such a night. The one we spent at Lumpkin’s Mill on the 18th of last April, of which I wrote you, was more disagreeable, because colder; but in six hours am sure I never saw so much water drop as in this last rain.

Memphis, Tenn., October 10, 1863, 4 p.m.

Have just got here; bored to death. Had to march around three sandbars between Helena and Memphis. Never want to see a steamboat again. Never want to journalize again. We started at 5 in the morning for Corinth and then, maybe, for Rosecrans. I’ll be furiously glad to get ashore once more.

October 4, 1863.

Have been over to Worthington’s again to-day. Sam got out his hounds and started a deer for us. We stationed ourselves in the runway, but although the deer came near us two or three times in his circling, the dogs didn’t push him hard enough to make him break for distant cover. The major killed a very large snake and some of the boys got a shot at an alligator. We then left the bayou and went out to old River Lake, where we got some splendid shooting. I killed a water turkey at 500 yards, shooting into a flock. Our guns, the Henry rifle, threw bullets full a mile and one-half. I found that I could do tolerably close shooting, something I never suspicioned before. A neighbor told me that old Worthington sold the mother of his children, and with her five other picaninnies.

Griffin’s Landing, October 3, 1863.

To-day one of the pilots and engineers induced the colonel and me go with them over to the Arkansas side. We went over in the yawl, and after a walk of three miles came to a most delightful place owned by Worthington. His son and daughter, bright quadroons, did the honors of the house in his absence. They are the best educated persons of color I ever met. The young man was educated in France and the young woman in Oberlin, Ohio. She played the piano quite well and sings beautifully. A negro lady is something of a novelty, and if I did not conduct myself exactly right in her presence, I think I am somewhat excusable, for I could see the others were equally puzzled. She is well informed, sensible and talks with animation, using very pretty language. She furnished us with peach brandy and honey, a gentle mixture of which produced a very nice toddy. We then moved on some three miles further to the Bass plantation, where we found two of the regular snuff-dipping, swearing, Southern women, of the low, white-trash family. Had lots of fun with them. Got a couple of dozen chickens and a bushel of sweet potatoes of them and started back. Our road lay along a lake and at any minute we could get a shot at cranes, geese, ducks or turtles. A drove of wild turkeys also furnished us with a half dozen shots, but with all the expenditure of powder and lead, our consciences are clear of hurting anything. Got back to Worthington’s for dinner at 3 p.m., and to the boat at dark. Altogether one of the most pleasant days I have passed in the army.

October 2, 1863.

Our foraging party brought in forty mules, fifty cattle, beef, twenty-one hogs and thirty sheep. They report a beautiful, rich country, and abundance of eatables within five miles of the landing. Went with party of bee hunters in the p.m. They had found the tree in the forenoon. They took two bucketsful of most beautiful white comb. One of my sergeants in an hour to-day found three trees, and by dark had taken the honey from all of them. We are to stay here and haul wood for the whole division (damn).

Griffin’s Landing, Miss., October 1, 1863.

Clear as a bell this morning; about 8 a.m. we reached Griffin’s landing 125 miles above Vicksburg. Said Griffin has some 2,000 cords of wood ricked on his plantation, some 500 of which we propose to gobble for the use of our transportation. We found here a part of Blair’s division which left Vicksburg over a week ago. Found the 55th Illinois, 8th Missouri and 13 regiments among other regiments. They finished wooding and left about 3 p.m.