September 29th, 2 o’clock p. m.
Since 2 o’clock last night we have been waiting— tents struck, everything ready—and still we wait. Everything goes but headquarters baggage. Sutlers’ and extra baggage is ordered to City Point. For once I will try and refrain from speculation, and will await events.
It is evening, and we still occupy our old camp. This has been a day to try men’s patience. All the long day, and most of last night, we have been in constant expectation of being called on to march. How many such days have I experienced, and still am prone to take it unkindly. Tell of “Job’s patience;” doubtless he was sufficiently tried for ordinary purposes. I am glad he was not subjected to this. But the day has worn away, as all days must, and we will retire to rest with a strong conviction that something is about to happen—some time— somewhere—perhaps tonight—perhaps tomorrow. There never was a time, before this summer, that I could not tell, before a move was made, exactly how, where and when it was to be done; what troops were to be engaged; what would be the result, and all about it. But Grant has nearly taken the conceit out of me this summer. From the time we left Alexandria until now, every move he has made has been exactly contrary to my “previously formed plans,” thus causing much useless labor on my part. I would feel much chagrined did he not play the same pranks with editors who are supposed to know everything, and get pay for it, too, which I do not. However, I do not intend to go off in a pet and flare up with the old gentleman, for, after all, it turns out about as well as if he followed my plans.
Today, from morning until night, teams and railroad cars have been busy as bees removing everything movable from right to left, or toward City Point.
Blicks Station, Va.. September 29th, 1864.
Heavy skirmishing has been going on most of the afternoon, about six miles to our left, near Reams Station. Cavalry alone are engaged. For the last hour cheering has been heard in that direction. It gradually approaches—nearer—nearer still. It comes creeping along the line, in increasing volume. Now it has reached our division. What is it? Good news, of course, but from whom? From where? Has Mobile fallen, or Sherman executed some strategic movement, or Sheridan driven Early headlong from the Valley, or—but hark, here it comes! “Fall in, Seventeenth, and listen to orders.” The line is quickly formed; the Adjutant steps briskly forward, bearing a lantern in one hand, in the other a folded paper. “Attention, Seventeenth.” The Seventeenth is all attention. He reads: “General Butler attacked the enemy on the right; carried his works on the Petersburg & Richmond Railroad; took fifteen pieces of artillery; three thousand prisoners; and is now within five miles of Richmond.” Three cheers for General—no, not for Butler. “Three cheers for General Grant.” Ninety-one throats responded, and the noise passed on. The men gathered in groups to discuss the glorious news for a few minutes, then retired to rest.
We have moved at last. Captain Sudborough sent me back to the train with the regimental baggage. I remained there two days, when I was ordered to overhaul the baggage and send that which was not absolutely needed to City Point for storage. Monday 1 put the surplus on cars and took it to the Point and got it stored on a barge, and returned to camp in the evening.
I found the regiment about one and one-half miles west of the Weldon Railroad. All is quiet, with no signs of an immediate advance. Lieutenant Colonel Swift is here, chief of Wilcox’s staff. Rath returned today with fourteen recruits.
