Old Indian Battle Ground, near Drummond,
November 28, 1864.
Made a dozen miles to-day through the thickest pine woods I ever saw. There is no white or yellow pine here; it is all pitch. I think the division has been lost nearly all day. We have followed old Indian trails four-fifths of the time.
The foragers have found a large number of horses and mules in the swamps to-day. Plenty of forage. Sergeant Penney, of my company, died in the ambulance to-day. He was taken sick in the ranks at 8 p.m., 26th, of lung fever. He has never been right healthy, but when well was always an excellent soldier. Lieutenant Dorrance swallowed his false teeth a few nights ago, and complains that they don’t agree with him.
I hear that Wheeler jumped the 20th Corps yesterday and that they salivated him considerably. We caught a couple of his men to-day, on our road, stragglers. We pick up a good many stray Rebels along the road, but they are not half guarded and I think get away nearly as fast as captured.
