Tillersville, February 27, 1865.
We have half a mile of bridging to build before we can get across this Lynch’s creek, the rains have swollen it so much. Our 6th Iowa foragers we thought captured are all right. They got across this creek before the freshet and it cut them off. The 97th Indiana men are gone up. All of the 20 killed or captured but 3; 11 dead Rebels were found on their little battle field, so the report comes from General Corse, I understand. The Rebels are losing, I should think, about 3 or 4 men to our one, but they are showing more manhood than those who opposed our march in Georgia. It isn’t the “militia,” for the 360 prisoners our corps have taken within four days surrendered without firing a shot. They were S. C. chivalry, proper. The men who are most active on their side, I think, belong to Butler’s or Hampton’s command from the Potomac. They are cavalry and don’t amount to anything as far as infantry is concerned, but only think they venture a little closer than Wheeler does. (You are expected to emit a sarcastic ha! ha!! and remark: “They don’t know Sherman’s army as well as Wheeler does.”) They say we can’t cross here until the water falls, and as there is an excellent prospect for more rain, we are thinking of building cabins in which to pass the rainy season. All our wounded are doing excellently. The surgeons say that the wounded do much better being transported in ambulances than in stationary hospitals. They escape the foul air is the main reason.
