[Illustration: Capt. J. J. Kellogg]
WAR EXPERIENCES
And the Story of
The Vicksburg Campaign
From
"Milliken's Bend" to July 4,
1863
Being an accurate and graphic account of
Campaign Events taken from the diary of
CAPT. J. J. KELLOGG
Of Co. B, 113th Illinois Volunteer Infantry
COPYRIGHTED BY
CAPT. J. J. KELLOGG
1913
THE DAY WE STARTED
FOR WAR.
Recollections of Captain J. J. Kellogg.
The day we left home for the war was an eventful one, and the incidents
crowded into that day will never be effaced from my memory.
There was a rally that afternoon, upon which occasion we added some
important names to our company roll. Some of the boys who then enlisted
in our ranks were prominent in our local society and passed current in
the ranks of our best young people. Others came out of their obscurity
for the first time on that occasion, and were first known and noticed on
the day of their enlistment. I had never intimately known Isaac Haywood,
who was afterwards my bunkmate, until that day. I first made the
acquaintance of Tom Wilson then, but it would require too much space to
name all the comrades I then met. And when the great struggle finally
ended, how few of those fair-haired, bright-eyed boys were permitted to
return to their old homes. Only a small squadron of lithe-limbed,
bronze-faced fellows came back. I loved Ike Haywood on sight. I think I
was mainly attracted towards Ike because of his eccentric ways, odd
manner of speech and his wonderful good nature. Dame Nature had gotten
Ike up without especial regard to good looks, but had braced, propped
and generally supported his irregular features with wonderful bones and
sinews, all contained in a close knit wrapper of inflexible cord and
muscle. Like other unusually powerful men, Ike was usually the very soul
of good nature; but when fully aroused and forced on the aggressive he
was known and acknowledged to be a holy terror. He had long powerful
arms and hands, broad shoulders, thick neck, surmounted by a
bullet-shaped head with small ears. He had thin red hair, faded red
mustache, was squint-eyed and wore a half smile on his peach blossom
face, and his under lip sort of slouched down at one end. He looked
funny at all times, but more particularly was he comical when he tried
to be in sober earnest.
Tom Wilson, on the contrary, was a handsome boy and a school teacher by
profession, but I can't waste time and space in extended personal
descriptions of my comrades.
The war excitement had fully aroused the patriotic citizens of our city,
and the simple message which the gallant Major Anderson had sent under
the first flag of truce to Governor Pickens at Charleston in which he
asked, "Why have you fired upon the flag of my country?" found an echo
in every loyal heart, and we young men found ourselves asking in fierce,
hot whispers, "Why have you fired on the flag of my country?"
The fragment of a company had already been enlisted there and forwarded
to camp at Cairo, and that day the citizens had made a supreme effort to
fill its ranks at least to the minimum. I can describe but faintly the
patriotic turmoil of that day. I only remember that along every highway
leading into town came overloaded vehicles in apparently unending
procession, bearing their burden of human freight. Flags fluttered from
windows, and business fronts were swathed with patriotic bunting. The
thundering discharge of an old anvil seemed to jar the universe at each
discharge. At stated intervals the brass band also played loudly and
harshly from the band stand, and the recruiting squad paraded the
streets with fife and drum. A reverend gentleman spoke at the city hall,
and as he waxed warm and eloquent, more than a score of men walked up to
the desk and signed the enlistment rolls.
Tom and Ike and I subscribed our names on the roll together. When Tom
Wilson got up and declared his intention to enlist everybody cheered
vociferously. In the little speech he made with trembling voice he
reminded his friends that he must surrender to their care his aged and
helpless mother during his absence. That she gave her husband and his
father to the country in the Mexican war, and he had hoped the privilege
would have been accorded him to tenderly care for her in the decline of
her life, and that he was the only slender reed she had to lean upon in
the world, etc., etc. Ike and I followed Tom, and in turn several others
followed us. The crowd yelled and cheered themselves hoarse, and coming
forward irrespective of rank or social position, cordially shook our
hands and spoke encouraging words to us. When the rally ended we had our
full complement of men, and were ordered to be ready to go to the front
when our train which had been ordered should arrive that night.
In the evening the citizens gave us a farewell banquet with an
interesting program. A glee club sang patriotic songs; a student of the
high school declaimed "The Charge of the Light Brigade"; a Mexican war
veteran volunteered suggestions as to the best means and methods of
avoiding camp diseases in active military service, and as to the best
and most approved treatment of severed arteries, fractured limbs and
contused heads. An old Mississippi steamboat captain with a glow of ripe
cherry mantling his cheeks and nose, spoke at some length recommending
whiskey and quinine if obtainable, but whiskey anyhow for river and
swamp fevers, and gunpowder and whiskey for weak knees. Though strongly
urged, neither Tom Wilson nor myself spoke, but Ike couldn't excuse
himself satisfactorily when solicited, and though greatly against his
inclination, he was fairly lifted to his feet by his new comrades, and
as nearly as I can remember said substantially, as follows:
"Feller citizens, the time has arrove when every galloot that cares a
tinker's darn for the Union orter go to the front. I'm goin' fer one. I
haint got much book larn'n but I reckon I can soon larn to cock a cannon
or lug a musket 'round and in this racket, I b'leve I've got edication
'nuf to know which way to shute. I never have ranked very high in this
community, and don't 'spect to get much higher than a brigadier in this
war, but I'm goin' to help our fellers drive them rebels from pillar to
post, and if necessary drive 'em right into the post, but what we git
'em b'gosh. This supper you women have given us was luscious, and I
b'leve I shall taste it clear through the war. I want to bid all the
folks and more specially you fellers who could go to the war just as
well as not and won't, goodbye. If yer ever tackled in the rear while
we're down there in the front, let us know and we'll come up and help
you through."
At the conclusion of the banquet exercises, each newly enlisted man
hurried away from the hall to arrange for his departure. The families
and friends of those living at a distance, were nearly all in town to
witness the departure of friends and loved ones. The streets of the town
were crowded with excited citizens and visitors. There was the faithful
mother with tearful eyes and blanched cheeks clinging to the arm of her
soldier boy and bravely struggling to calm the throbbings of her aching
heart. The sad eyed father and sorrowing brothers and sisters were
standing near, each vainly trying to say encouraging words. A group of
half tipsy recruits joked and laughed and sang snatches of patriotic
songs with thick and wobbling tongues. Across the street in the shadow
of the maples, a boy and girl paced to and fro with slow and measured
steps. Maybe afterwards that girl when her hair was frosted with age
remembered that last promenade with bitter tears, and again maybe the
grim old war kindly gave back to her at the last her boy, lithe-limbed
but bronzed by the sulphurous breath of battle.
I saw Tom Wilson hurry home after the banquet, and I knew he had gone to
stay with his old mother and assist her in preparing his meagre
belongings for departure, and I knew what the agony of that parting
would be when the supreme minute of departure actually came. And when I
called for him on my way to the depot, I saw him unclasp her loving arms
from his neck and lay her almost unconscious form tenderly upon the
lounge. He kissed her pale lips, and with a great sob hurried out across
the threshold of his humble home. At the gate we met Mrs. Haywood, who,
having bade her own son goodbye, was making her way to the Wilson home
to try and comfort and be comforted in their common sorrow. We bade Mrs.
Haywood a tender farewell, and we promised to watch over her boy through
the days of his absence, and she in turn assured Tom that she would care
for and protect his dear old mother to the best of her ability. When
Mrs. Haywood had passed into the house, Tom turned and watched the
window anxiously until he saw again the dear old face with its
straggling gray locks framed there, and then with our modest bundles
under our arms and hats drawn down over our flushed, sad faces, we went
slowly down to the depot. And when almost to the depot, Tom could still
see that window with its precious living picture. With streaming eyes
she had watched him drifting out of her life. Tom was her only child. He
was all she had on earth to cling to and love. For many years his meager
earning had supported the home. Ever since the death of his father the
boy had been her idol. And now in her old age, not only was she to be
deprived of his presence and companionship, but also of the simple
little income his labor had produced. And she at last saw her darling
drifting away from the shores of her simple life out into the blue
depths of the Union army, maybe never to return. She had given the
country the father, now the country had taken the only son. The measure
of her sacrifices was more than full and almost more than she could
bear.
Arriving at the depot, many farewells were said to us by both friends
and strangers, as the processions of men, women and children swept along
the platform ere the coming of our train. The queenly Miss Frankie Bell,
whom we young fellows had always considered with her wealth and beauty
too high and mighty to ever deign to notice one of us common fellows,
actually sobbed when she pressed our hands, and pledged poor Tom Wilson
that his aged mother should be her especial charge during his absence
and should want for no comfort which her means could obtain. And when I
saw the glad look her assurances had brought out on Tom's face, and knew
so well her ability to do all she promised, she all at once became in my
estimation the grandest and most angelic woman I had ever beheld. And at
last the low rumble of our train was heard in the distance, and the
click of the strumming rails warned the anxious waiting friends that the
final farewells were now in order and must be said quickly. Ike at the
last moment appeared upon the scene, actually staggering under his great
load of boxes and bundles. He was sweating and puffing like a porpoise,
and said as he came up to us, in his usually droll way. "Got a few
things here mother fixed up for us to chaw on the way down to war."
We had to laugh at him. On his shoulder he carried a dry goods box
crammed full. From his waist belt dangled an old battered coffee pot and
cracked skillet. In his left hand he carried a mammoth cloth satchel
wadded so full that ghastly stumps of a roast turkey were protruding
from its gaping mouth. To the smiling bystander he said with a comical
squint, "The feller who won't provide for his own household is wus than
an infidel, b'gosh." It was plain to be seen that Ike had fully
anticipated and provided for his most pressing wants during our trip to
the front. As the train came wheezing up to the platform, the perfect
shower of goodbyes, farewells, Godspeeds and kisses, hugs and hand
pressures were hastily enacted, the locomotive tolled mournfully for a
brief space, the conductor shouted, "All aboard," the engine began to
wheeze and cough, and the train crawled slowly away into the shadows of
the night. The citizens cheered the vanishing cars, and we sent back an
answering cheer, which hardly rose above the rumble of the receding
train. We watched the lights of the old home town until they were
finally quenched in the thick midnight gloom, as we were whirled away
toward the scene of conflict. We were destined for Cairo, where the
other part of our company awaited us. When we had gotten out beyond the
limits of the old home town we suffered a reaction, and those who had so
recently wept now talked and laughed excitedly. The long faces began to
broaden, and the compressed lips curl into smiles. Some one led off with
"John Brown's Body, etc., etc." and by the time they got his body
mouldering in the grave everybody was singing and they sang hysterically
and wildly.
When all had howled themselves hoarse, they raided their well-filled
lunch baskets and ate like famished wolves, notwithstanding the fact
that every soul of them had been crammed and wadded with food at the
banquet that evening. If the mothers and friends of those boys could
have seen them in their wild carousal they would have thought them
heartless and dissembling wretches but such judgment would have been
wholly unjust. This line of action was the result of the relaxation of
the overwrought nerves and muscles. Every old veteran of the civil war
will recall many occasions where the relaxation of overwrought nerves
made him act very foolishly.
The effect of that hour of final leave taking upon the depot platform
upon our boys was not wholly unlike that afterwards sustained on the
battle line just preparatory to an engagement, when an occasional double
leaded message jarred the sensitive membrane of a fellow's ears as it
scooted by with a cold hiss or a shell shrieking and seething in its mad
flight through the upper air; such occasions not only try men's nerves,
but they try men's souls. Finally things settled down and everyone
sought repose and some manner of rest. I watched from the car window,
the lights flitting past as the train forged steadily ahead. Station
after station had been passed while we caroused and slept. For the men
were sprawled out through the coaches in every conceivable position, now
forgetful in their heavy slumber of both home and friends. Late in the
night a sudden jerk of the engine tumbled me off my seat, and this was
the first knowledge I had that I had actually been asleep. As I rubbed
my sleepy eyes, I saw the outlines of an angular form picking his way
towards me, and carefully over-stepping the sleeping forms that lay in
his path. He carried a big satchel, and made manifest his mission when
sufficiently near me. It was Ike, and he opened his remarks by saying
"Thought 't was 'bout time we foddered up." He lounged down beside me.
"I was taking it pretty comp'table back yonder till the durned old
engine just yanked me off my roost," he said.
He explored the inside of the old satchel, and brought out a goodly
supply of provender. "The boys must have sung themselves to sleep," said
I for want of something better to say.
"Yes," drawled Ike, as he sliced off two huge chunks of roast turkey
breast. "They kept John Brown's body moulderin' in the grave till it
seemed to me the corpse got mighty stale. I tell ye, Jack, we may fetch
the rebs down with our muskets," he continued, "an frighten them with
wild whoops, but we'll never charm 'em much with our singin', I reckon,"
he mused as he busied himself spreading our lunch on the opposite seat.
"I guess the boys had to do something extraordinary to overcome the sad
sensations the parting engendered," said I.
"Prob'ble," said Ike, as he bolted a ponderous chunk of roast turkey. "I
felt 'siderable like yelpin' myself, but couldn't see as 'twould add
anything much to the infernal racket, so I jes held my yelp."
I partook freely of the tempting lunch thus offered, and blessed the
careful forethought of Mrs. Haywood which had supplied us such a luxury.
Eating revived my spirits amazingly, and though not depressed by parting
with relatives, as my relatives were all far away, yet I was terribly
saddened by the goodbye from my best girl.
"Who knows," said I, "but what the war will soon wind up without much
more fighting and bloodshed and we within a few weeks will go rattling
back home over this road all safe and sound?"
"I don't know," said Ike, "mor'n you do, but I can't get the igee out of
my head that we will yet see some of the dog blastedest fightin' and
killin' afore we fellers return home that ever jarred the gable end of
this 'ere universe. I tell you, Jack Kellogg," he continued, as he
hurriedly imported the lunks, chunks and slabs of provender into his
capacious mouth, "ef ther ain't no blood on the moon fore long then my
cackalation has jumped a cog. I tell you this here thunderin' fuss of
ringing bells, blowin' whistles, drummin' and fifin' and shootin' great
guns and husselin' a lot of us fellers off down here atween two days,
aint none of Mrs. Winslow's soothin' syrup, by a gol durned sight. It
all means bloody noses an' black eyes, I tell ye, and there'll be vacant
cheers 'nuff t' seat a concert hall fore it' all done with, I tell ye."
This was a long speech for Ike to make, but he made it in such an
earnest manner with such impressive gestures and vigorous delivery that
I was greatly impressed with the belief that his statements were
probably true.
At many of the stations through which our train passed straggling
soldiers were waiting to go to their commands, and boarded our train.
And under the dim light of the station lamp we saw the weeping mother
hold her soldier boy close to her aching heart as they kissed the last
long, good-bye kiss. Those affecting scenes so often re-enacted before
us contributed in no small degree to intensify the solemnity of that
hour. At one station standing on the depot platform was an ominous
looking box, and in the few minutes we were delayed there we learned
from an old gentleman that it contained the remains of his boy which he
was taking back to mother and the old northern home for burial. His
soldier boy had been killed in a skirmish with the rebels down in
Missouri.
On the evening of the third day from home the train which bore our
detachment pulled slowly into Cairo. In every direction as far as eye
could discern, we saw an unbroken blaze of camp fires. An ear-splitting
din of strange and unusual sounds filled the air. Mule drivers were
haranguing their teams in blasphemous eloquence, as the poor creatures
floundered through the bottomless roads, and liberally applied the
merciless lash to the backs of those poor patient, overloaded creatures.
The roll and beat of drums blended and echoed and swelled, filling the
night with weird hoarse thunder. Distant headquarter bands were
concerting noisily, and newly arrived commands went splashing along the
muddy highways to some destination beyond the line of our vision. Staff
officers and orderlies galloped their smoking steeds hither and yonder
at wonderful speed. Black ambulances toiled slowly along the crowded
tracks with their freight of the sick and suffering. Steamboats ablaze
with signal lights coughed, whistled and wheezed out on the dark bosom
of the Mississippi, while the volley of brays from the mule corral smote
our ears like the concluding blasts of the very last trumpet.
"The hull United States seems to be goin' to roost down here," observed
Ike as he leaned out of one of the car windows and observed the
situation.
"Beats a camp meeting," chipped in somebody else.
"Don't seem to be much discipline in this end of the army," said
another.
"I reckon they'll have to cheese this racket 'fore they catch any fish,"
another remarked.
And all these and many other comical remarks were made by our boys, as
they contemplated the new situation from the cars and patiently awaited
orders to go to camp.
It was indeed a great relief to us when an orderly bestriding a jaded,
mud-bespattered horse finally rode up and informed us that he would take
us to camp. Accordingly we disembarked, fell into line and set out for
our campground.
After a deep wading, tiresome zigzagging along miserable roads, devious
and uncertain paths and blind trails, across sloppy and splashy
summer-fallows, for what seemed an interminable distance, we at last
reached camp.
In anticipation of our coming, the camp boys had prepared us a
regulation army supper consisting mainly of beans, bacon, rice and hard
tack, with the usual black coffee accompaniment. Notwithstanding the
rude coarse rations, the hungry recruits laid to and ate with a
wonderful relish and offered no excuses. To be sure, as the supper
progressed, many humorous observations were made by the boys, touching
the kinds and quality of Uncle Sam's menu and the manner of its service.
Notwithstanding the coarse rations offered and the fact that every
mother's son of them had been continually gormandizing ever since we
left home, each did ample justice to his first army supper. Haywood
discovered the corpse of a lightning bug embalmed in his plate of beans,
and another equally as observing and curious fished the remains of an
unknown beetle out of his rice. A detachment of daddy long legs charged
to and fro across the bacon platter, and divers bugs and insects swarmed
around the sputtering candles. One recruit soaked his hard tack in his
coffee until it bloated up like a toad, and Ike, while wrestling with a
piece of swine belly, allowed he probably "wasn't the first feller that
had had holt of that."
"Ike, how do you like the grub?" asked Tom, when he had lounged down
beside a stump, after eating.
"Better'n I 'spected," said Ike, "Haint got used to them tacks yet, but
the pepper'n salt was passable."
Then we stowed away our luggage, finding places for our traps and boxes,
and selecting sleeping places. Observing that two blankets could be
utilized by two persons bunking together better than one blanket could
serve one lone person, they paired off and mated up like spring geese.
As might naturally be supposed, Ike and I bunked together. We spread our
blankets at the roots of a tree where Haywood allowed we would be a
little above high-water mark, and by the time the numerous regimental
bands and bugles were sounding tattoo, we were well tucked away for the
night, and though this was an entirely new experience to us, we were
only too glad to stretch ourselves out in the open air between two
coarse army blankets. As we pulled the drapery of our couch about us,
Ike got a sniff of carbolic acid upon our blankets and asked me if I
"catched onto the deathly fragrance of our bed clothes." I told him I
noticed a peculiar smell.
"Smells like a woodpecker's nest," continued Ike. "Guess they've been
packing limberger cheese 'r suthin' in 'em.
"No," said I, "but I suppose the blankets have been treated with some
preparations of disinfection."
"Took us fer a lot of lepers, I spose," said Ike.
"Hardly that," I replied, but I explained to him that it was my
understanding that all army blankets were perfumed in this way for
protection against moths and perhaps for sanitary reasons.
"Prob'ble," Ike murmured drowsily, and his next breath was a hoarse
snore.
I was very tired, but could not at once go to sleep, and for some time I
remained awake amid my strange surroundings and looked out into the
night and listened to the wild weird noises of the camp. Above me,
through the tangle of twigs and vines appeared the starlit sky; the
campfires shone on either hand far out into the night, and away over the
fields and forests came the good night bugle calls, the soldier's
lullaby, softly saying "go-to-sleep, go-to-sleep, go-to-sleep, soldier,
sleep, go-to-sleep." From the mule corral came volley upon volley of
subdued, tongue-tied braying, and the old steamboat engines coughed down
at the river landing. Those strange sounds at last sent me also to
dreamland, but I believe my last sleepy thoughts were tapping at the
window of my old northern home.
I have already related in this article more than one day's experience in
my war life, unlike what I intended to do at the onset, but all is so
closely linked together that I felt I must add the first night in camp
to the article to make it complete, and so I have added more.
The reveille on the succeeding morning brought us tired fellows out all
too soon. It seemed that scarcely ten minutes had elapsed since
retiring, when the wild blasts of bugles, jarring drums and screaming of
fifes aroused us from slumber. Ike rolled up onto his elbow and
remarked to me, "Them fellers out there are jovial cusses, aint they,
pounded their drums and things all times of the night." I told him I
guessed this was one of the calls.
"Might have waited 'till we got fixed up a little fore they called,"
said Ike, sitting up on the blanket. "I supposed we come to stay all
night," with a questioning squint at me.
"No," I told him, "this is a different kind of a call. The thundering
they gave us last night just as we went to bed was what they call
tattoo, and meant to go to bed. The few whacks of the drum and snorts of
the bugle afterwards meant to put out the lights, and this racket means
to fall in for roll call."
"Wal, I swow," said Ike, pulling on one of his boots. "They treat us
like a lot of kids, don't they? But I say, you don't pretend to imagine
if a feller should take a cramp 'r some other pain in the night, he
couldn't strike up a light to find his pills nor nothin', do ye?"
I told him I thought not, because in war times, if every soldier was
allowed to fire up in the night at will the enemy could shoot us just as
well as in the day time.
"B'gosh, there's sense in that," replied Ike, as we fell in for roll
call.
That day we elected our officers.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
SCENES ENROUTE.
IT was May 7, 1863 when Company B, 113th Illinois Vol. Infantry, to
which I belonged, started from Milliken's Bend, La., with the balance of
Grant's army for the rear of Vicksburg. That day we marched 14 miles and
at night camped on a beautiful plantation and procured raw cotton from a
nearby gin to sleep on.
By noon of the 8th we had reached the banks of Woody Bayou and halted
there for dinner. That night we had arrived at the plantation of
Confederate General Fiske and appropriated some of his fresh beef for
supper. We made 19 miles that day.
The 9th we pursued our march along Roundaway Bayou through a beautiful
fertile country covered with vast fields of corn and other crops, and
splendidly built up. We crossed some streams upon pontoon bridges, and
saw our first alligators in that bayou. We also saw scattered along the
roadside many dead horses and mules, and passed the smoking ruins of
many plantation buildings. We ate our dinner on the grounds of
Confederate Judge Perkins. We passed through magnolia groves in full
bloom, and along miles of blossoming rose hedge; beautiful and fragrant
beyond description. At night we arrived at Lake St. Joseph and camped on
its shores. All along our route the houses were deserted by all whites
and able bodied colored people, only the sick, the aged and decrepit
remained.
On the 10th we continued our march along the shores of Lake St. Joseph.
Out on the surface of the lake numerous old gray-backed alligators lay
sleeping, and ever and anon a musket would crack and one of those old
gators would clap his hand on his side and go out of sight with a
splash. A number of dead gators with bullet holes in their bodies had
floated ashore. Today we passed immense fields of grain, one corn field
comprising 1,400 acres; and also passed the smoking ruins of plantation
houses more frequently. At 4 o'clock we got to Hard Times Landing, on
the Mississippi river, opposite Grand Gulf and encamped for the night.
The 11th until 4 o'clock we laid off waiting for ferryage across the
river and while some went fishing, others spent the time in any
amusement or recreation they chose, but at that hour a gunboat arrived
and we fell in and went on board of gunboat Louisville and were ferried
across to Grand Gulf, where we went into camp with our brigade at the
foot of the high bluff. The camp was full of happy contrabands who
patted juba and danced nearly all night to the music of a cane
instrument unlike any other musical instrument I ever saw.
At an early hour on the 12th we marched away over the hills for Rocky
Springs. This country was rough and sterile and not nearly as productive
as Louisiana. At the end of 18 miles we went into camp for the night in
a beautiful grove on a hill close to a spring of pure, cold water. We
killed some sheep and chickens for supper, but where they came from only
the Lord and some of our boys knew.
The 13th we continued our march through Rocky Springs, across Big and
Little Sandy creeks, and through a vastly finer country than yesterday.
We arrived at the town of Cayuga that night and made our quarters in a
church, and when the church bell rang furiously about midnight, we were
told No. 10 wanted the Corporal of the guard.
The 14th we got a very early start but it soon began to rain and very
soon we were wading in red sticky mud. We ate our dinner, well sheltered
from the rain, in another country church, and at night we got quarters
in a deserted plantation house. There we got supper and made our coffee
in an old fashioned fireplace. We also, at least two of us, slept on a
bedstead like white folks that night, but the bed bugs perforated us
numerously. We were then 30 miles from Jackson and 14 miles from the
advance of Grant's army. During the night the enemy molested our pickets
and we got out to the tune of the long roll, but no blood was shed.
The 15th we continued our march to Raymond, arriving there at 2 o'clock
p. m. There we halted an hour and visited our wounded friends and
acquaintances of the 20th Illinois, then at that point, who had been
wounded that day in the battle of Raymond, after which we pushed on 8
miles farther to Clinton and made our camp in the college grounds on the
hill. At Clinton we found and paroled a large number of rebel sick in
hospitals. Our boys visited the sick and wounded rebels in these
hospitals and gave them crackers, tobacco and coffee or any little
delicacies they happened to have, the same as they would have treated
their own comrades, and many a poor sick Johnnie's eyes grew moist in
those rebel hospitals because of the kindness of the Yanks to them that
day.
The 16th we remained in camp at Clinton until noon, and then in
compliance with orders, when Steel's division came through from Jackson,
we fell into his line of march and marched away towards Boulton, and
camped that night within a mile of that town. I desire to mention here
that in the early morning today General Grant with a few mounted
attendants went through Clinton at a rapid pace towards Black river or
Champion Hills.
The 17th we proceeded towards Black river with Steel's division, passed
through Boulton at 10 a. m., and shoved so close to a body of the enemy
that our commander threw us into line of battle with ambulances close on
our heels and trains trailing in the rear. But a few scattering shots
resulted, however, and we arrived at Black river at 7 p. m., and there
rejoined our brigade. We crossed Black river on a pontoon bridge,
proceeded 2 miles farther towards Vicksburg and camped in the woods by
the roadside.
Early the 18th we resumed our march for Vicksburg, 24 miles away, and
when within 4 miles of said city we rubbed against a rebel force, and in
line of battle pushed them gently back to their works, behind which they
disappeared. We then went into camp on one of the walnut hills behind
our heavy picket line. And what a noisy night was that, my countrymen!
The pickets on both sides kept up a steady fusilade throughout the
night. I undertook to pool my blankets with our Major (Williams) that
night, and we made our bed on the exposed slope of the hill. Hardly had
we get cleverly stretched out for a snoose when a rebel bullet struck
the cold clammy earth just about three-fourths of an inch northeast of
the lobe of my left ear. Some Mississippi soil was precipitated into my
face thereby. I called the major's attention to the fact and proposed a
change of base to the other slope of the hill about 10 rods away. The
major made light of my proposition and said, "Lie still and go to sleep
and you won't hear 'em strike." I waited a few minutes longer until a
few more bullet chugs smote upon my ear, when I got up hastily and with
my blanket went and lodged on the other slope of the hill. I'm no
coward, but I didn't want to be accidentally killed without knowing
something about it.