April 8th.
We have remained all day in camp, expecting, each moment, the order to move. Last night was a night of rest, the first in seven long, weary days. Today we are ready to march, or fight, or do any work remaining to be done, to finish up the job we have in hand. I do not, however, anticipate any more fighting, unless with small bands of guerillas. Our men are scouring the woods in every direction, but with small success.
Good news comes pouring in. Last night an “official” from General Grant was read, telling us of the capture of six Major Generals, fourteen pieces of artillery and thirteen thousand prisoners. This evening it is reported that Lee, hard pressed in front and rear, has asked Grant for terms of surrender. Thus the good work goes bravely on. I read of great rejoicing in the North over our success. What, then, must be our emotions? Words cannot express them. I can only say, in all sincerity, I am glad I contributed my mite to bring about this glorious result. Colonel Swift has been appointed Provost Marshal of this district, and has asked me to act as clerk.
