Camp Ewing up New River. November 4. Monday. — Cold and clear; rain probably over. My boy’s birthday — eight years old. It was such a morning as this eight years ago. I hope they are all well and happy at home. They will think of me today as they eat the birthday dinner and give him the birthday presents. Dear boy!
This morning four yawls were hauled into camp. It shows that it is intended to cross the river and attack the enemy. The blunder is in hauling them up in daylight. The enemy have thus been told of our design and will guard the few practicable ferries, as I fear, to our serious loss if not defeat. Stupid! stupid!
About seven hundred and fifty men are present this morning. Sixty-nine are sick. This, after sending off one hundred and fifty-nine sick men. Only one second-lieutenant for duty — a bad showing. Sun shining at 11 A. M. All the company officers gloomy and grumbling. The paymaster coming just at this time is all that makes endurable this state of things.
3:30 P. M. — Cannon firing heard. Shelling McCook’s camp on the hills below. I order out Captain McIlrath and company to go with Mack’s Battery.
