August 11—Last night a while after dark, and when we had already repaired to our blanket beds and were ready to enter the gates of dreamland, a blast from our bugle suddenly stirred up the whole camp. The first impression was that the Yanks were right on us, but happily such was not the case, for we were ordered to pack up our all and get ready for a moving march. The night was very dark for the marching business, nevertheless little after ten o’clock I heard the order, “Drivers mount, forward march,” and we were on the move toward Petersburg. We marched until nearly dawn, then dropped by the wayside and took a little snooze until daylight, when we renewed our march, passing through Petersburg, across the Appomattox, and moved about five miles up the Richmond road, and camped for the night.
Everything around Petersburg looks, sounds, and feels warrish. The sharpshooters are almost incessantly pegging away at one another along the line of earth works, and now and then the Yanks throw a shell into the city to scare the women. I saw about thirty little mortars to-day in a field just below Petersburg. They are made of oak timber, the base lined with sheet copper, and are used for firing short range bombs into the enemy’s fortifications and earthworks, which at some points are close to General Lee’s line of defense.
