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)

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Lagrange, Tenn.,

April 24, ’63.

We have just returned from the hardest and yet by far the most pleasant scout in which I have up to this time participated. We started from here one week ago to-day, Friday, and my birthday (how old I am getting) on the cars. We were four and a half regiments of infantry, one six-gun battery and no cavalry. At 3 o’clock p.m. we were within seven miles of Holly Springs and found two bridges destroyed. We worked that p.m. and night and finished rebuilding the bridges by daylight the 18th. We had only moved two miles further when we reached another bridge which we found lying around loose in the bed of the stream. The general concluded to abandon the railroad at this point, so we took up the line of march. We passed through Holly Springs at 12 m. I don’t believe that I saw a human face in the town. A more complete scene of desolation cannot be imagined. We bivouacked at dark, at Lumpkin’s mill, only one mile from Waterford. At 9 p.m. a dreadful wind and rain storm commenced and continued until 1. We were on cleared ground, without tents, and well fixed to take a good large share of both the wind and water. I’m positive that I got my full portion. ‘Twas dark as dark could be, but by the lightning flashes, we could see the sticks and brush with which we fed our fire, and then we would feel through the mud in the right direction. Nearly half the time we had to hold our rubber blankets over the fire to keep the rain from pelting it out. After the storm had subsided I laid down on a log with my face to the stars, bracing myself with one foot on each side of my bed. I awoke within an hour to find that a little extra rain on which I had not counted, had wet me to the skin. That ended my sleeping for that night.

Nineteenth.—We went down to Waterford and then turned westward, which course we held until nearly to Chulahoma. When we again turned southward and reached the Tallahatchie river at “Wyatt,” where we camped for the night. Our regiment was on picket that night and an awful cold night it was. We marched through deep, yellow mud the 19th nearly all day, but I don’t know that I marched any harder for it. Up at 3 o’clock and started at 4, the 20th, and marched 25 miles southwest, along the right bank of the Tallahatchie. Our rations were out by this time and we were living off the “citizens.” The quartermaster with a squad of men he had mounted on contraband horses and mules would visit the chivalric planters, take their wagons, load them with their hams, meal and flour, and when we would halt for dinner or supper, issue the chivalries’ eatables to us poor miserable Yankees. While the quartermaster attended to these principal items the “boys” would levy on the chickens, etc., including milk and cornbread. Gen. W. S. Smith commanded and the butternuts failed to get much satisfaction from him. The first night out a “citizen” came to him and complained that the soldiers had killed nine of his hogs, and asked what he should do to get his pay. “My dear sir,” said the general, “you’ll have to go to the boys about this matter, they will arrange it satisfactorily to you, I have no doubt.” “Citizen didn’t go to the boys though. Another one came to ask pay for his hams. “Your hams, why everything in this Mississippi belongs to these boys, a great mistake, that of your’s, sir.” The men soon found out what kind of a general they had and whenever a butternut would appear among us they would greet him with a perfect storm of shouts of, “here’s your ham, here’s your chicken,” etc., and often a shower of bones of hams or beef would accompany the salute. On the 20th the general decided to make some cavalry, and on the 21st at night we had nearly 400 men on “pressed” horses and mules. These soldiers would just mount anything that had four legs, from a ram to an elephant, and the falls that some of the wild mules gave the boys would have made any man laugh that had life enough in him to breathe. How the women would beg for a favorite horse! I saw as many as five women wringing their hands and crying around a little cream-colored mare on whose head a soldier was arranging a rope bridle as coolly as though he was only going to lead her to water. You could have heard those women a quarter of a mile begging that cuss of an icicle to leave the pony, and he paid no more attention to them than he would have done to so many little chickens. An officer made the man leave the animal and I think the women took her in the house. I saw two girls, one of them perfectly lovely, begging for a pair of mules and a wagon a quartermaster was taking from their place. They pushed themselves in the way so much that the men could hardly hitch the animals to the wagon. But we had to take that team to haul our provisions. The night of the 20th at 8 o’clock, the general called all the officers up to his quarters and told us that we would have a fight with General Chalmers before breakfast the next morning. He ordered all the fires put out immediately and gave us our instructions for defense in case we should be attacked during the night. After he was through I, with eight other officers, was notified that we should sit at once as a court martial to try the adjutant of the 99th Indiana, for straggling and conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman in taking from a house sundry silver spoons, forks, etc. I’ll tell you our sentence after it is approved. That kept us until 11 o’clock. At 1 o’clock a.m. we were wakened without bugles or drums, stood under arms, without fires until 3, and then marched northwest. At this point we were only eight or nine miles from Panola, Miss. We marched along through Sardis on the Grenada and Memphis R. R. and northwest about 15 miles to some cross roads, which we reached just 20 minutes after the Rebels had left. ‘Twas useless for our infantry to follow their mounted men, so we turned homeward with 75 miles before us. Just look over and see how much sleep I got in the last four nights. We marched through the most delightful country from the time we left Wyatt. I think it will almost compare favorably with Illinois. We saw thousands of acres of wheat headed out which will be ready to harvest by the 15th or 20th of May. Some of the rye was as tall as I am. Peaches as large as filberts and other vegetation in proportion. There seemed to be a plenty of the necessaries of life, but I can assure you that eatables are not so plentiful now as they were before we visited the dear brethren. We reached the railroad at Colliersville last night. That is 26 miles west, making in all some 175 miles in eight days. The guerrillas fired on one column a number of times but hurt no one until yesterday, when they killed two of the 6th Iowa, which regiment was on another road from ours, the latter part of the trip. We took only some 20 prisoners but about 400 horses and mules. They captured about a dozen of stragglers from us and I am sorry to say two from my company, Wilson Gray and Stephen Hudson. The last three days we marched, every time that we would halt ten minutes one-fourth of the men would go to sleep. You should have seen the boys make bread after their crackers gave out; some lived on mush and meal, others baked cornbread in cornshucks, some would mix the dough and roll it on a knotty stick and bake it over the fire. It was altogether lots of fun and I wouldn’t have missed the trip for anything.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Lagrange, Tenn.,

April 14, 1863.

I am brigadier officer of the day again, and of course it is a rainy, muddy, disagreeable day. Visiting the pickets occupied my whole forenoon and I rode through a constant rain. You may consider it an evidence of perverted taste, or maybe demoralization, or possibly of untruthfulness in me, if I say that I enjoy being on duty in the rain, but it is a fact. I don’t like to lie in bed, or sit by the fire, and think of floundering about in the mud and being soaked to the skin, but once out of doors, let it rain and wind ever so hard I enjoy it. At my request the general relieved me from that “Board of Survey,” and I am again with my company. If I could but get 15 days’ exemption from duty, I could finish up the drilling I wish to give them. Since we left Peoria we have been driven so much with duty that drilling has been next to impossible. The health and spirits of the regiment are now excellent. Such a body of soldiers as this now is cannot be considered otherwise than as a credit to even immaculate Fulton County and New Jersey, two Edens without even one snake. That is one point in which the ninteenth century beats Adam’s time. Rumors of another move down the Mississippi Central R. R. are flying now. I credit them. Within 20 days we will again be allowed to strike our tents. I’m getting well over my Vicksburg fever and wishing considerably in regard to this land movement. Before I write again the cavalry, some six to ten regiments, will have started on a raid of considerable magnitude. You can see from the way I write that I know nothing of what is in prospect, but from hints dropped feel certain that a move with force will be made from here at once. Anything to end this horrible inactivity. Every newspaper I read raises my disgust ten per cent. I’m sure I’ll become a chronic swearer if it lasts this summer through. I suppose that you know by this time whether the Charleston attack is a failure or not. I’m not much interested in that. It will cause no loss of sleep on my part if we fail there, only I’d like to hear of the town being burned. I believe there are more chances for a general to immortalize himself, working southward from this line of road as a base, than in any other part of the field. But where is the general?

Board of Survey Office, Lagrange, Tenn.,

April 6, 1863.

I was in Memphis a few days since. It is quite a lovely town and quite Northern-like in its general appearance. Many of the blocks would pass muster creditably in Chicago, though the numerous fires it has furnished for the edification of the “Vandal Yankees” have somewhat marred its streets. I think the Fair grounds are not excelled even by those at St. Louis, and we certainly have none in Illinois that will compare with them for beauty, location, or in extent. There are some most beautiful country seats on the M. & C. R. R. scattered along within six miles of the city. I saw but one park. ‘Tis called Court Square and is very pretty. ‘Tis just about the size of our Canton square and filled with forest trees and evergreens. I think as many as fifty squirrels live in the park. They are very tame and playful. The city is full of butternut refugees from North Mississippi and some from Arkansas, but I could find none from the vicinity of Madison. The M. & C. R. R. is almost classical. From Memphis to Decatur, Ala. (that is as much as I’ve seen of it) you are rarely out of sight of fortifications, and on almost every mile, lay the remains of a burned train of cars. Hardly a bridge, culbert or cattle guard but has been burned from three to ten times and rebuilt as often. Night before last I had just retired (12 o’clock) when an order came to have the regiment in line and ready for action at a moment’s notice. We got up, stacked arms on the color line, and—went to bed again. Heard in the morning that 2,500 Rebel cavalry caused the scare. We still continue to guard against daybreak surprises by rising at 4 a.m., and standing at “guard against secesh” until daylight. All of the vigilance I like. I would hate to be surprised and gobbled without having half a chance. Am still on Board of Survey.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Lagrange, Tenn.,

March 31, 1863.

I have lost my negro, Bob. The cavalry have been indulging in a pretty rough fight near here, and I am engaged on a “Board of Survey” which will occupy me for some days to come. There is also a good quality of Scotch ale in town, no paper collars, and a great deal of robbing and scoundrelism generally. There is some kind of a scare along the line, and the authorities this morning shipped to Memphis some 600 negroes, to get them out of the way of the trouble. I made my Bob send his wife and children, and the scamp, when it came to the parting, couldn’t resist her pleading, and so he joined the party. It is beautiful to see such an exhibition of love and constancy in the brute species. All of these Africans will undoubtedly be sent to Illinois or somewhere else. I declare I don’t like to see them introduced into our State, for they increase like rabbits. I believe will eventually outnumber the white race, in any country in which they are planted. This matter of slavery is an awful sin and I’m satisfied debases the governing race, but if we have to keep these negroes in the country, I say keep them as slaves. Take them from secesh and turn them over to Unionists, but don’t free them in America. They can’t stand it. These negroes don’t average the ability of eight-year-old white children in taking care of themselves. There are exceptions of course; arm all the latter and make them fight Rebels. They will probably be fit for freedom after a few years as soldiers. I received the Register with the letters from our regiment and Peterson’s dressing of the Democrat. ‘Tis jolly to throw stones at that paper. You see if they all don’t get their fingers burned by that foulmouthed Davidson. A decent man has no business talking against him, and will always come out behind. I am sure that he would be hung if he would venture within our regimental lines. One of my boys cut a great caper to-day. He is an old Dutchman, and has been aching for a fight ever since we left Peoria. He has told me several times that he had a mind to run off and go down to Vicksburg until the fight is over and then he would come back again. This morning I sent him to Lafayette (near Memphis) as guard for these contrabands. The old fellow went on to Memphis and I expect will be at the Vicksburg battle. I know that he won’t leave me for good, though this act makes him liable to punishment as a deserter. He is a funny old dog but an excellent soldier. For goodness sake send me those shirts. All I have sewed together wouldn’t more than make one long enough to reach the top of my pants. Any one of them would fly out over my coat collar if I’d stoop down.

About 100 of the 6th Illinois Cavalry were surprised night before last some 20 or 30 miles north of this place. The first notice they had of the enemy was a volley of balls and shot among them as they lay asleep by their bivouac fires, about 12 p.m. Eight were killed and about 25 or 30 wounded by the first fire. The 6th got up and went into the Rebels in a most gallant manner, killing and wounding a number and capturing a major, two captains and some others. The enemy numbered some 400, and had the advantage of a complete surprise and were then badly whipped. The 6th boys deserve infinite credit for their fighting, and their colonel, a rope for his carelessness. He fought like a hero, though. ‘Twas Lieutenant Loomis. I don’t believe that Napoleon had any better cavalry than this brigade here for fighting. Second Iowa, 6th and 7th Illinois are the regiments, and well handled they’d whip the devil. Just imagine the details of the above fight, and if you can’t help thinking that every one of our men engaged was a hero, I’ll disown you. I’ll tell you a couple of items to show you how the war is being conducted here now. A train was captured a few miles west of here a few days ago, and three prisoners taken, carried off. A lieutenant among them was footsore and unable to keep up; one of the Rebels, for that reason alone, shot him through the head, killing him. The conductor of the train surrendered, but a Rebel after that shot at him three times, when the conductor concluding it was death anyway attempted to escape and succeeded. This morning I saw a crowd across the street and walked over. Some secesh prisoners had been brought in, among them the conductor had discovered the man who tried to kill him. The conductor tried hard to get to kill the scoundrel, but the guard prevented him. I tell you, if any of that stripe of fellows fall into my hands, you’ll have a brother who has been concerned in a hanging scrape. I’m as decided on that point as I know how to be. I don’t see any prospect of an immediate fight in this country. There is no force except a few hundred guerrillas within 50 miles of us, but General Smith uses every precaution. We are all under arms an hour before daylight, and the picketing is very systematical and good. The pickets are, however, annoyed more or less every night. These citizens are bringing immense bills of damages before our board. Three came in to-day amounting in the aggregate to $50,000, and more I think. To-morrow General Smith closes the lines at this post. No more going in or out by citizens. That is the best thing that has happened before my eyes during the war. The town has been full of citizens every day since we have been here, and of course they are all spies.

Camp at Lagrange, Tenn.,

March 29, 1863.

All perfectly quiet except the regular picket firing every night which here exceeds anything I ever before met in my experience. ‘Tis singular, too, for we have a large force of cavalry here and I should think the rascals would hardly dare to venture so near them. A few days since three guerrillas came up to one of our cavalry pickets, and while he was examining one of their passes the others watching their chance gobbled him. They at once retreated. The sergeant of the picket heard a little noise on the post and just got there in time to see the secesh disappear. He raised the alarm, and a party followed them on the run for 15 miles, rescued our man, killed three and captured four of the rascals, Yesterday some of Richardson’s men displaced a rail on the track ten miles west of this place, and captured a train. They got away with their prisoners, but hadn’t time to destroy the cars. ‘Tisn’t safe to go three miles from camp now, although 100 men can go 40 miles in any direction safely. Do you hear of any deserters returning under the President’s proclamation? I hope to the Lord that my black sheep won’t come back. A letter came for him to-day, and I opened it. ‘Twas from his father advising him to get out of this “Abolishun” war as quickly as he could. His “Pa and Ma” are welcome to him. Generals Sullivan, Denver and Hamilton have all left this country within the last few days, for Vicksburg. General Smith commands our division now. We are now in the 2d Brigade, 1st Division, 16th Army Corps. The colonel of the 6th Iowa is the ranking officer in the brigade but he is now sick, so Colonel Wolcott of the 46th Ohio now runs. Two captains of the 46th Ohio, and myself have been constituted by Smith a “Board of Survey,” to appraise damages committed by our army in the property of loyal citizens here. I think he has just done it to get the citizens off his hands. Have no idea that they will ever be allowed anything for their losses. There were three bills, each over $2,500, sent in to us yesterday. I hope the general will allow us to drop the business this week; if he will not, however, we can be kept busy for almost any length of time. By Smith’s orders the reveille is sounded now at 4 o’clock a.m. and the men appear with arms and accoutrements, and form line of battle. This is to avoid any bad consequnces which follow a Rebel cavalry dash at daylight, if we should be found in our tents. I think ’tis an excellent policy to be always ready for the enemy, but I declare I dislike this early rising very much.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Lagrange, Tenn.,

March 19, 1863.

Nine whole days of the most beautiful sunshiny weather imaginable. Warm as our home June, almost. The boys bathe in the river that runs near our camp. The little birds warble in the trees, the beautiful young ladies walk out to enjoy the gentle spring breezes. Seldom now do we hear those gloomy omens of cold in the head, viz.: sneezes, and nature, grand old mother nature, almost in human tongue proclaims this balmy Southern spring atmosphere, a sure cure for the wheezes. Poetry, my dear, is the soul of—Sis, I’m getting under the influence of this weather, as happy as a clam, and as lazy as I can be, that is when I have nothing to do. I enjoy it intensely. Lieutenant Nick’s resignation has been accepted and he will be at home within a few days. I send this by him, probably. I came pretty near having a fight a few days since. I had 40 men out guarding a forage train of some 125 wagons. There was also about 50 cavalry. We stationed the cavalry as pickets while the teams were loading, and 50 guerrillas attacked and drove our cavalry in (only 20 of our boys). We got ready for a muss, but the other thirty of our horsemen charged secesh and scattered them, wounding several and capturing two. ‘Twas certainly censurable in our post commander’s sending so light a guard with so large a train, which was over a mile long. My men showed the right spirit. That is the nearest to a fight any of the 103d have yet been.

10 p.m.—I want you to be sure and get “Harpers Weekly” of March 14th, and read that army story about the officers captured by pretended guerrillas. It is all true and happened near Waterford, Miss., while we were there. I know the two women well. Don’t fail to get the paper or you’ll miss one of the best things of the war. I have just returned from a whist party. Colonel Wright, Dr. Morris and Dr. Shaw, of the 6th Iowa, and no liquor. I don’t drink any, and intend to continue my habits in that respect. Very few of our officers drink.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Lagrange, Tenn.,

March 15, 1863.

I have just returned from a walk to and inspection of the cemetery belonging to this nice little town. There, as everywhere, the marks of the “Vandal Yankees” are visible. The fence which formerly enclosed the whole grounds has long since vanished in thin air, after fulfilling its mission, boiling Yankee coffee, and frying Yankee bacon. Many of the enclosures of family grounds have also suffered the same fate, and others are broken down and destroyed. The cemeteries here are full of evergreens, hollies, cedars, and dwarf pines, and rosebushes and flowers of all kinds are arranged in most excellent taste. They pride themselves more on the homes of their dead than on the habitations of the living. I can’t help thinking that their dead are the most deserving of our respect, though our soldiers don’t waste much respect on either the living or dead chivalries. Many of the graves have ocean shells scattered over them, and on a number were vases in which the friends deposit boquets in the flower season. The vases have suffered some at the hands of the Yankees, and the names of Yanks anxious for notoriety are penciled thickly on the backs of marble grave stones. Quite a variety of flowers can now be found here in bloom. I have on my table some peach blossoms and one apple blossom, the first of the latter I have seen. Some of the early rosebushes are leaved out, and the grass is up enough to make the hillsides look quite springlike. For three or four days we have needed no fire, and my coat now hangs on the forked stick which answers for a hatrack in my tent. We left Jackson the morning of the 11th, all pleased beyond expression, to get away. We were from 8 a.m. until 11 o’clock p.m. coming here, only 55 miles. The engine stalled as many as ten times on up grades, and we would either have to run back to get a fresh start, or wait until a train came along whose engine could help us out. We lay loosely around the depot until daylight and then moved out to our present camp, which is one of the best I have ever seen, a nice, high ridge covered with fine old forest trees. This town has been most shamefully abused since we left here with the Grand Army last December. There are only about three houses which have a vestige of a fence left around them. All the once beautiful evergreens look as though three or four tornadoes had visited them and many of the finest houses have been compelled to pay as tribute to the camp fires, piazzas and weatherboarding. Not a chicken is left to crow or cackle, not a pig to squeal, and only such milch cows as were composed entirely of bone and cuticle. The 7th Cavalry is here, and also the 6th Illinois and 2d Iowa. There is only one other regiment of Infantry, the 46th Ohio. It does the picket duty and we are patroling and guarding the government stores. The duty is rather lighter than it was in Jackson, and more pleasant. We have no ground to complain now, and the paymaster is all we want to make us perfectly happy. Two nights before we left Jackson 23 of our regiment deserted, 17 of whom were out of Company A, one of the Lewistown companies. One was from my company, the first deserter I have had. He was detailed from Company A to my company and was besides the most worthless trifling pup in the army. I am accepting the disgrace of having one of my men desert, decidedly glad to be rid of him. Johnny Wyckoff came down a few days ago and after being in camp a few days came to me and said he had his parents’ permission, so I got the colonel to swear him in. We’ll make a drummer of him.

I suppose you will have seen in the Register before this reaches you the answer my company made to that Davidson’s lie in regard to our vote on the resolutions. I did not see the paper until it was ready to send away. I think copperheadism is not worth quite the premium it was a few months since. These notes from the army should have some weight with the gentlemen that run the copper machine. Do you see how the Southern papers cut the scoundrels? That does me much good, though ’tis mortifying to think we have such dirtcatchers in our State.

Well, we are on the right track now, and a few more weeks and we will be steaming down the Mississippi, I think. Our next move will be Memphis, probably, and then, ho! for Vicksburg! That is rare good news from the Yazoo. I hope Ross has done something there. My health is excellent, 155 pounds of ham and crackers, for that is all I’ve eaten in four months. One hundred and sixty secesh soldiers lie as closely as they can be packed in this cemetery. Little boards with initials cut on them are all the marks their graves have. Our boys all cut on a large board with full name of regiment, and residence, at the head of their graves. I send you some blossoms from the graveyard.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Jackson, Tenn.,

March 9, 1863.

We leave here again in the morning for the Grange. Ordered to report there immediately to relieve a regiment, the 6th Iowa, which is going down the river. Am right glad to be again on the way. Can’t think that we will stay there long, though I ought by this time to know that I have no business thinking anything about the matter. The Fulton Democrat came into our camp to-day, and that correspondence you mentioned in your last has raised quite a stir. The writer is of course denounced as a contemptible liar. My boys this evening got up a little paper which will appear in the Register shortly (it goes in the morning by the same person who carries this) and some fifty of them signed it, all there were in camp. My company would riddle that office in a minute if they could get at it. Worked all day yesterday, Sunday, covering and chinking a picket post, and will not get another day’s use of it. Have so much to do that I see I will have to stop this letter writing business.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Jackson, Tenn.,

March 7, 1863.

The rumors from Vicksburg in the Tribune of the 5th are enough to make one’s flesh creep, and more than sufficient to account for my little touch of the blues I do feel to-night as though some awful calamity had befallen our army somewhere. God grant it may not be so! We have another report in camp this evening that is not calculated to enliven me much, viz.; “Lawler and some four companies of the 18th Illinois Infantry have been captured some 30 miles east of town.” In my last I spoke of an expedition having started out to look for some of Van Dorn’s forces which were reported as being on the Tennessee river, looking for a crossing place. We don’t give credence to the story of Lawler’s being a prisoner. But if he is, and the Vicksburg rumor be true and we have been repulsed at Charleston, and were whipped at Tullahoma, I wouldn’t feel half as badly over it all if our people at home would quit their wicked copperheadism and give us the support and encouragement they should, as I do now when we are worsted in even a cavalry skirmish. For every little defeat we suffer only seems to make them so much bolder, as is shown in every new set of resolutions which reaches us through the Times and the Enquirer. So that miserable Davidson really published the lie that only one man in my company really voted for the resolutions. Every man in Company G voted for them and with a will, too. I don’t have any politics in my company, although there are some companies in the regiment which indulge considerably in discussing questions of State. Above all things I dislike to hear it. I am glad to hear that my men speak well of me in their letters. I think I have had less trouble in my company than most of the officers. Allen Roodcape, the man you sent your letter of the 1st inst. by, got here to-night. Poor fellow, he will never be fit for a soldier. Davidson has gone home again. The 50th Indiana went out yesterday morning to reinforce Lawler, so we will again be on picket every other day. When it is here, once in three days is the rule. I was out on the worst post last night and it rained nearly all night. It thundered and lightened most splendidly. I like to get pretty wet once and a while for a change. It’s raining hard now. I go on picket again to-morrow. I’m sleepy, tired, and the rain is coming through my tent so much that I believe I’ll get into bed.

Camp 103d Illinois Infantry, Jackson, Tenn.,

March 5, 1863.

You certainly should not complain of my neglect, in writing no more than once in ten days while we are quartered at such an intolerably stupid place as this, for there really have not been two incidents ocurred worthy of notice, since we pitched our tents on this ground. Never since I first entered the service have I passed two months in which there seems so little worth remembering. Nothing but a dull round of picket, fatigue, and camp guard; no alarms and no enemy within a hundred or more miles of us, save “citizen guerrillas,” and they in no force sufficient to scare even a foraging party. In lieu of something real to talk of and speculate about, I give you the following items: There seems this morning to be some movement on foot, though I have not heard a word of the object which has raised such a commotion in our usually quiet military circles. I only know that all the mounted men stationed here have this morning started under command of Colonel Mizner, with an ammunition train and small provision ditto. Also hear that Dodge at Corinth and the command out at Trenton have set all their cavalry in motion. To make the case a little stronger I will add that one of Sullivan’s aids galloped into camp half an hour since, and required at short notice the number of rounds of ammunition on hand. Well, I expect that Van Dorn or Morgan is on our side of the Tennessee again. It can’t be more than that. I’d give a month’s pay to get this regiment into a fight. Don’t want it for myself particularly, but think it would do the regiment a great deal of good. The feeling is some better among the men, but there is still much room for improvement. Desertions are not so numerous, but one slips off occasionally. Colonels Kellogg and Babcock were both here a few nights ago. Both in good health, never saw them looking better. Don’t know that anything of importance was connected with their visit. My own health continues prime. I know that I don’t fully appreciate the Lord’s goodness to me in granting me such continued excellent health, but I assure you I do feel grateful to the Power that rules that matter, although I am tolerably regular in my habits and intemperate in none, yet I know I am very careless of myself and health in regard to dress, sleeping any and everywhere, etc. General Sullivan will visit our camp at 3 o’clock to-day to look into its sanitary conditions, and inspect our policing. The health of the regiment is much improved. Two months more and we will be veterans. Another of my boys, the second, died in General Hospital at this place yesterday. James Conyers, is his name. Formerly worked for Stipp.