July 12, 1864.
We lay quietly in the shade all day the 11th, save those who had ambition enough to go fishing, berrying or swimming. The other bank of the Chattahoochie opposite us is yet lined with Rebel sharp-shooters, but there is a fine creek from which the boys get some fine fish. I saw an eel two feet long which came from it. Our boys never have made any bargain with the Johnnies to quit picket firing, even for an hour, but other corps and divisions often do. It would almost break the heart of one of our boys to see a Rebel without getting a shot at him. On the 12th, at 5 p.m., the “General” and “Assembly” sounded almost together, and we were under way in a twinkling. We understand we are going back to Marietta, and then over the river where the 23d Corps crossed it. We stopped here (about seven miles from Marietta), at 11 p.m., and had reveille at 3 this morning. Stoneman, with at least 10,000 cavalry, recrossed the river on the night of the 10th on a grand raid between Atlanta and Montgomery. We had a real amusing scene last night. About 12 o’clock we were nearly all asleep, when a mule came charging at full speed right through our regiment. In an instant every man was on his feet, and all who knew what was up, were swinging blankets and shouting whoa! The most of us did not know whether a cavalry charge was on us or the devil. Many of the men caught up their guns, and “treed,” and altogether it was most ludicrous. Our regiment now marches 190 guns and 7 officers. I have 20 guns, all I started with, except what I have lost in battle. Just half.
