Knoxville, Tenn., September 24th, 1863.
We left the Gap on the twenty-first and made twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two or three miles, then down the other side. It was a toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Morristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, made a dash for rails with which to build our camp fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly again, the bugle sounded “fall in”—the rails were abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here at 4 o’clock this morning and marched directly to the Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, where we are now encamped.
The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches, and a few days’ rest will do them good.
