Tuesday, 16th—We drew some clothing today; I got a rubber poncho, which cost $2.50. It is about three by six feet, with eyelets every six inches all around the edges, so by four men going together in bivouac and putting their ponchos over a pole resting on two forks, they will have a roof that will turn rain better than any canvas roof. They are good, heavy rubber cloth.
Diary of Alexander G. Downing; Company E, Eleventh Iowa Infantry
Monday, 15th—We pitched our tents and built our bunks today. It had rained all night and rained some more this afternoon. The men are not pleased with this camp ground, as it is low and level. There will be a great many on the sick list if we remain here. On account of the dry weather all summer, the springs no longer furnish the branch with running water, and we are compelled to get our drinking water from a stagnant pool. Our former camp here in Corinth, which we left in July, was on high ground and all had hoped that we would be permitted to occupy that spot, but we were disappointed in that—such is the life of a soldier.
Sunday, 14th—We started early this morning with General Crocker in command and marched fifteen miles without stopping to get a drink. But several of the men became overheated, for it was a dreadfully hot day and the roads were dusty. We reached Corinth at 1 p. m., and going out a mile south of town, stacked arms and remained there the rest of the day. We were nearly famished when we reached Corinth. Our road was on a pine ridge, hot and dusty, with a mile to water on either side, and it was utterly impossible for one to fall out of rank, get water, catch up and get back to his place in line. It was one of the hardest marches I have ever been on.[1] On passing through the town, by the college grounds, the young lady students worked hard at drawing water from the well and giving it to the men to quench their thirst. We bivouacked in a large cotton field, as our teams had not yet arrived with our tents. It commenced to rain about sundown and we lay on the ground without any protection.
[1] The fast march and doing without water so long was all uncalled for, as after we got to Corinth we did nothing but lie around.—A. O. D.
Saturday, 13th—We started at 7 o’clock and marched fifteen miles. Bivouacked for the night on the banks of the Tuscumbie river. It was very warm and dusty marching, but all held their places in the ranks. It is said that the rebels’ cavalry which kept up close to our rear guard, had something to do with keeping the men in line, for anyone falling out behind would surely have been taken prisoner.
Friday, 12th—We struck our tents at daylight and at 8 o’clock left Bolivar for Corinth, Mississippi, about forty-five or fifty miles distant. We marched fifteen miles and bivouacked for the night on the banks of the Hatchie river. The weather is very hot and the water is scarce, which, together with the dusty roads, makes traveling hard work. The men, however, are in good health and spirits; only a few found it necessary to call on the doctor for aid in having their accouterments carried.
Thursday, 11th—The brigade received marching orders to leave in the morning at daylight and we packed our knapsacks today. The talk is that we are to go to Corinth. A small force is to be left here to hold the fort, and it will require a large number to take it. Bolivar has some loyal citizens who will be protected in this way, but we are sorry to bid these people good-bye, perhaps for all time to come. We have been in camp here forty-two days and all the time engaged in hard service—on picket, fatigue and patrol duty, besides often in line of battle.
Wednesday, 10th—We finished building Fort Hall, on the north side of town, and when the artillery boys get the cannon mounted, we will be ready for the rebels.
Tuesday, 9th—Nothing of importance. We are still working on the fortifications; those at work are relieved from picket duty at night. The rebels are not as bold as they were a few days ago. The talk in camp is that our brigade will leave in two or three days for Corinth.
Monday, 8th—It rained all last night. Bolivar has a town clock which can be heard as far out as our camp. The town watchman keeps calling out the hours till 2 or even 4 o’clock in the morning, ending with his monotonous “all’s well.” The feeling of the boys is that all is not well when hundreds of men have to be out on vedette with drawn muskets ready for a fight, and that the watchman had better dispense with the announcement until this war is over.
Sunday, 7th—There have been no rebels to see us yet. Things are very quiet today; the weather being so hot, no one cares to stir.
