Chattanooga, Sunday, April 30. A cool, windy day. This is the last day of the month, consequently muster day. Mustering officer, Lieutenant Dutch, arrived 12 M. Lieutenant A. Sweet commanded the company, Hood yet unfit for duty. After inspecting our uniforms, we were soon given another credit of two months on Uncle Sam’s account. He now owes us eight months’ pay, and I think will not pay us till he gives us a final settlement.
All is life and hilarity in our camp, and grape-vine rumors are plenty. General Steedman has gone to Dalton to receive the surrender of rebel General Wofford and his command. Kirby Smith I think will soon ”hang up the fiddle”. Considerable of the ’62 excitement prevails. They say orders are issued to muster us out immediately. I do not credit it yet, and am for my own self not anxious, but am willing to bide my time or wait till “we all go home together.” Yet I must admit that my heart beats quicker and my breath comes faster as I think of returning to ”Home, sweet home.”
April 30th. Fine growing weather. The leading topic in camp is, when do we go home. Picket duty suspended. Camp guard kept up, and provost duty in town to keep order and protect government property. Many horses and mules are corralled and guarded. This duty comes to our regiment. There is much that we must do to assist the government officers in collecting the property. The town has not been turned over to the civil authority yet, so we must do the duty of civil officers and protect the town, and do the duty of policemen. Guards on the different streets.
April 30.—This morning Mr. Thomas preached a very fine sermon from the text, “Thy will be done.” It fell upon our saddened ears with a mournful cadence, as if warning us to prepare for some calamity soon to come, and telling us that, no matter what befell us, we must bow in meekness to “Him who doeth all things well.” “For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth: that the trial of our faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried by fire, might be found unto praise, and honor, and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.”
In the evening, Miss K., Mr. Moore, and myself went to the Baptist Church, and heard an excellent sermon. The text was, “And a man shall be a hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest.” A very earnest prayer was offered up in behalf of our fugitive president, in which I know every one joined heartily. I did not know he was a fugitive, but the truth is gradually dawning on us that we are really subjugated, and our beloved president is fleeing from—what? Not justice, for he has committed no crime. I knew we had peace—how, I did not understand; but certainly thought we were independent. This is a severe ordeal; may God in his mercy give us comfort through it.
April 29.—This evening Miss King, Mrs. Newsom’s sister, brought us word that peace is really declared, but she could not tell us on what terms. All the rumors have been confirmed excepting the one about recognition.
One of my Kentucky friends called the other day, and he was bitter against our own people, and says we are subjugated, and that we are alone to blame; and that the enemy have raised all of these recognition rumors to blind us until the rope is fairly round our necks, just as they deluded the poor people in Kentucky. He was resolved never to see Kentucky again, and was going to South America.
I can not believe that we are subjugated, after enduring so much; but it is useless to be miserable about an uncertainty.
April 30th, 1865.—General Johnston, too, has surrendered and the last slender hope to which some of our people were clinging, has vanished. We have lost all save honor.
Our last march. Near Rolesville, N. C.,
April 29, 1865.
Left Raleigh at 7 this morning on my way home, via Richmond and Washington. Made about 11 miles. Rather too warm for such fast marching as we always do. If we would just make 15 miles a day, say 10 of it between sunrise and 10 a.m., and the remainder after 2 p.m., it would not hurt a man or an animal, but we move when we do move at three or three and a half miles an hour, and not all even Sherman’s men can stand it in as warm weather as this. I saw a number laid out this morning by the roadside looking as if they had been boiled. The 50 pounds of equipments is what uses them up. Well settled country, and it looks beautiful. The leaves are all out nearly full size; fine oak, elm and pine strips of woodland between farms is such an addition of comfort to citizens and cattle, and of beauty to scenery. The undergrowth is mostly dogwood and holly. We are on our good behavior this trip. No foraging, no bumming rails, or houses, and nothing naughty whatever. We have the best set of men in the world. When it is in order to raise h__ they have no equals in destructiveness and ability to hate and worry, or superiors as to fighting Rebels, but now they have none, and they are perfect lambs. Not a hand laid on a rail this evening with intent to burn, not a motion toward a chicken or smoke-house, not a thing in their actions that even a Havelock would object to. They don’t pretend to love our “erring brethren” yet, but no conquered foe could ask kinder treatment than all our men seem disposed to give these Rebels. We camped about 3 p.m. in a pretty piece of woods. Artillery has been booming all day at Raleigh.
Saturday, 29th—Reveille sounded shortly after midnight and we had our knapsacks packed long before daylight. Some of the boys were so happy and excited that they did not sleep much during the night. At 7 o’clock we took up the march, stepping to music as we left our camp. We crossed the Neuse river about noon and after marching twelve miles for the day, went into bivouac. By order of General Howard we are to lay over here until Monday, when we will continue our journey. The Fifteenth Corps is taking a road to our right. General Sherman’s headquarters wagons are going through with the Seventeenth Corps. The Thirty-second Illinois Regiment was taken from the Iowa Brigade and was brigaded with the First Brigade of the Second Division of the Seventeenth Corps. Our brigade is the First Brigade of the Fourth Division of the Seventeenth Corps.
29th. Saturday. Yesterday we came home instead of going to Madison, on account of rain. Spent a portion of the day with the boys at Charlie’s—dinner. Went up to see Will off. Evening at Mrs. Holtslander’s.
[The next letter refers to the death of President Lincoln.]
Saturday, April 29, 1865.
… It was a frightful blow at first. The people have refused to believe he was dead. Last Sunday the black minister of Frogmore said that if they knew the President were dead they would mourn for him, but they could not think that was the truth, and they would wait and see. We are going to-morrow to hear what further they say. One man came for clothing and seemed very indifferent about them — different from most of the people. I expressed some surprise. “Oh,” he said, “I have lost a friend. I don’t care much now about anything.” “What friend?” I asked, not really thinking for a moment. “They call him Sam,” he said; “Uncle Sam, the best friend ever I had.” Another asked me in a whisper if it were true that the “Government was dead.” Rina says she can’t sleep for thinking how sorry she is to lose “Pa Linkum.” You know they call their elders in the church — or the particular one who converted and received them in — their spiritual father, and he has the most absolute power over them. These fathers are addressed with fear and awe as “Pa Marcus,” “Pa Demas,” etc. One man said to me, “Lincoln died for we, Christ died for we, and me believe him de same mans,” that is, they are the same person.
We dressed our school-house in what black we could get, and gave a shred of crape to some of our children, who wear it sacredly. Fanny’s bonnet supplied the whole school.
Chattanooga, Saturday, April 29. It has been raining at times all day and last night. Went to town on pass this morning, got a paper containing the cheering news of Johnston’s surrender of all troops east of Chattahoochee River. Hurrah! Hurrah! Everybody feels very good, but we have become accustomed to good news, it does not call forth much demonstration.
