November 26.—A bright, beautiful day, but the sunshine is forgotten on account of the bad news. We have some wounded men just brought in, members of Walthal’s brigade. They say that on the afternoon of the 25th, the brigade being on Lookout Mountain, the enemy surrounded them before they had the least idea of their being anywhere near them.
The whole brigade has been nearly killed or captured. One man told me he never had such a run in his life. He believes there must have been at least a thousand shots fired at him at one time, not one of them hitting him.
The enemy came on them from all sides, many climbing the steepest part of the mountain.
Our people never will learn watchfulness. Nothing seems to be a lesson to them.
We have lost the mountain. The troops are concentrating on Missionary Ridge.
I expect my brother is captured this time, as he was on the mountain; and he, like many others, has as great an attachment for his gun as if it was a thing of life, and would either be captured with it, or die before giving it up.
