August 25 — The sharpshooters were firing at one another across the river all night. The Yanks made three attempts during last night to burn the bridge, but our sharpshooters drove them back every time.
This morning the Yanks on the hill near the bridge were firing swivels at us. A swivel is a species of young cannon, light, and mounted on a tripod that looks something like a surveyor’s compass. The barrel is fixed on a swivel or turning point. The ones the Yanks fired at us this morning threw a shot about the size of a walnut. However, I did not see any of them. I judge the size only by the keen whiz they made as they sped past us. I wonder what these Pope Yanks will try on us next — shoot a blacksmith shop or a buzz saw at us, I expect.
This forenoon we moved back to our wagons, about three miles from Waterloo bridge. When we left, the sharpshooters were still firing at one another across the river. In coming back to camp we passed some of General Hill’s infantry going toward the bridge. This evening we cooked three days’ rations.
