Battery that were with us here marched at 4 A. M. As expected, heavy
fighting has taken place to-day. Only artillery firing and skirmishing
in the forenoon, but after dinner the heavy throbs of musketry mingled
with the incessant roar of artillery. All the fighting has taken place
on our left, near Forts Negley and Sigel about four miles off. And we
laid around carelessly while our ears were filled with the terrible
death notes of battle. So many times have we listened to it that they
have almost ceased to quicken our pulse or awaken serious or earnest
thoughts of the hundreds that are swept into eternity, at least of the
many hearts that will bleed when the news of this battle reaches them,
of the terrible suffering from ghastly wounds and bleeding limbs caused
by it. Oh I cannot forget that war is terrible, and I cannot keep my
mind from these saddening thoughts while these stern sounds fall upon my
ear. Of the result we know nothing, but all accept success as the
inevitable result. Before to-morrow morning we may be in the fight.
Fort Gillem, Friday, Dec. 16. Warm and wet night. Mud still increasing,
but the battle progressed. Firing commenced at early dawn, and has
continued with unabated fury till after dark. We lay quiet and
undisturbed. There are nearly enough troops to hold Nashville against
Hood's assault left unemployed around the reserve line. Twenty new
regiments. It is the common opinion of all the Battery, that it has
never listened to heavier and steadier artillery firing for so long a
time. Once in a while the crash of musketry would be louder even than
the artillery, and I could but shudder at the thought of how many must
be falling in the charge, for they undoubtedly are. Fighting continues
to recede. It seemed six miles off last night at sundown, but we have
not heard anything definite. In the midst of this noise of the conflict
I wrote to John. Detail of twenty men sent through the mud to Major's
headquarters this afternoon and marched back again.
Fort Gillem, Saturday, Dec. 17. Rained terribly last night. The torrents
filled our ditches and swept through the tent, under--or rather
over--our bed, making it decidedly wet. Got up, ate hard-tack, and then
laid down and slept, and took "wet sheet pack" bath at once. Griff on
guard last night in the fort. Induced the infantry guard to let him
carry off lumber enough for bunk under cover of the night, so we need
not fear of wet bed any more. All is quiet this morning. The storm is
over and the papers tell us of the glorious whipping which Hood
received. Fifteen thousand prisoners and 30 cannon the work of
yesterday. To-day he is flying demoralized. No excitement manifested
over the news because it is only as everyone expected.
All the men that could be spared this morning marched under Captain Hood
near Camp Barry and set to work digging post-holes for stables. David
Evans and I were given axes and we "butted" poles all the forenoon.
Chopped hard, and I was tired by dinner time. Did not go back after
dinner. It is mud! muddier! muddiest!
WINTERING AT NASHVILLE
Fort Gillem, Sunday, Dec. 18. Rained all night last night, very warm and
oppressive. We lay in our new bunk, a decided improvement on lying on
the wet ground. Griff and I visited a squad of 2,800 prisoners this
morning, of which Nashville is nearly full. They look as well as any I
have ever seen, clothing not as bad as I expected to see. Could not
converse with them for the guards. Our little boy with _Unions_ sold out
before he reached us, so we have not the details of yesterday's work.
Our headquarters are at Franklin. They must be skedaddling very fast.
Moved the picket rope as our horses were fast disappearing in the mud,
which is beyond grammatical comparison. This morning everybody is all
mud from head to foot. We eat it and drink it, and the air we breathe is
muddy.
Fort Gillem, Monday, Dec. 19. Last night it rained very heavily again
and continued till noon to-day. So furiously did it storm that it poured
through our tent wetting everything. Poor me on guard. Afternoon turned
very cold and freezing; it looked like snow. This is most disagreeable
for camp life such as ours. All day we must move with muddy feet where
at night most of the boys are obliged to spread their wet and dirty
blankets to sleep.
Last night we received a big mail from Wisconsin. It told us of snow and
ice, but there was the cheering fireside, warm room and cozy bed, and I
could but long for these comforts once more.
[Sidenote: 1864 Freeing the Slave]
I have been reading aloud the last evenings, Frances Kemble's _Journal
on a Georgia Plantation_. To-night I finished it. How sickening and
disgusting is the detail of this sin of slavery, and I thank God that a
better day is dawning on the poor wronged African. What are the trials
of camp life compared with the great work we are engaged in. I can
cheerfully bear all the discomforts of a soldier's life for the
overthrow of the monster evil.
Fort Gillem, Tuesday, Dec. 20. Everything froze up hard last night, and
it was very cold. Suffered considerable on post. Griff and I wished to
go to town, volunteered to load rations so as to go. Had to wait until
late in the afternoon for our team. Drew hard-tack and salt junk.
Visited Sanitary Commission rooms, obtained a good supply of reading
matter. Bought stationery to write letters and returned to camp. It is
turning warmer, rains again.
The papers tell us of the triumphant arrival of our gallant leader
Sherman at the coast. Invests Savannah, and we expect to join him sooner
or later. Beside this glorious success the utter defeat of his opponent
and fellow raider, Hood, is insignificant. "The good time's coming."
Eighteen teams out all the afternoon moving batteries.
[Illustration: Entry in Diary, December 20, 1864]
Fort Gillem, Wednesday, Dec. 21. More rain last night, cold this
morning. Griff attended to the domestic affairs, washed our dirty
clothes, etc. In the afternoon I wrote two letters. Snowed and blustered
considerable in the afternoon. Camp is very quiet. The ennui of a
soldier's life is very heavy these disagreeable days, but we amuse
ourselves by reading a great deal aloud. Two thousand five hundred more
prisoners brought in to-day and corralled in jail yard.
Fort Gillem, Thursday, Dec. 22. A cold night. This morning everything
frozen up hard and dry. Detailed to chop wood this forenoon, cold for my
ears and bare hands. All the rest of the day staid close indoors.
[Sidenote: 1864 Hoping To Join Sherman]
Fort Gillem, Friday, Dec. 23. Clear and cold this morning. On guard
again. The detail comes around quite often now. The privates' roll is
decreasing as the officers' increases. Issued clothing. The topic is,
are we included in the late order ordering all detachments belonging
with Sherman to report immediately via New York? Would much like to take
the trip, but would rather wait a couple of months.
Fort Gillem, Saturday, Dec. 24. A pleasant night on guard though rather
cold. Thawed but little during the day. My health still continues very
good. Camp is all hilarity over the good news from all quarters. It
gives new hopes of the coming dawn. Father Abraham has called for
300,000 more troops. This is right, says the soldier. It shows no
faltering or weakness of resolution on our part, while the Confederacy's
brightest lights are wringing their hands in anguish and despondency.
But it makes me sad that it once more threatens to deprive my loved
parents of their solace and comfort. I pray God that my dear brothers be
spared to stay with them in their old age.
It is Christmas Eve, and I am all alone. Dan and Milt have gone to town.
Griff is on guard. Nobody to interrupt my quiet meditations, and I can
but think of the many happy hearts that now beat in my Northern home, of
those surrounded by friends and relatives and the influence of home. It
is in striking contrast with our situation here, where time glides by so
idly and it seems at times uselessly. I can hardly realize that it is
really Christmas time, so associated is winter with snow and frozen ears
and good times to me. It is hard to recognize it in this mud and rain
with bare, frozen ground for days. But it is not always to be thus. I am
as happy in anticipation of hard-tack and salt junk for to-morrow's
dinner, as many that count on roast turkey and "fixings". And still many
at home are not happy. I can fancy the heavy cloud that hangs over their
hearts as they are anxiously awaiting the return of us from the field.
Yes, they think of us morn, noon, and eve. May we be true to their
memory and return with a clear conscience, unsullied by the vices of
camp.
Fort Gillem, Sunday, Dec. 25. Christmas. A warm day, misty and muddy.
All is quiet. Health very good. 8 A. M. had our regular Sunday morning
inspection, after which Griff and I attended church. Were there in time
for Sabbath school, went in and listened to the sweet melody "There is a
Happy Land", and "Homeward Bound", which sounded very sweetly to my ear.
Read the 2nd chapter of Matthew in concert, then went above to listen to
a sermon from the 13th and 14th verses of the same chapter. The
Calvinistic dogmas preached stronger than I ever listened to from an
American pulpit. Did not like it at all.
Returned to feast on Irish potatoes, Uncle Sam's Christmas dinner. Mail
received. Brought us news of a dinner having been started us from home.
At night Griff and I attempted to while away the remaining hours by
sundry attempts at singing, but we retired early, and the third
Christmas in the army was gone.
Fort Gillem, Monday, Dec. 26. On detail for wood. Went out to our front
line of works. Took the rails comprising the walls of the works that
were never needed.
[Sidenote: 1864 Presents for the "Boys"]
Captain Hood and two of the boys with mule wagons went to town early to
look for the big box expected. We had just eaten a dinner of coffee and
hard-tack when they arrived, and lo! the box, really a huge thing, was
there, weighing nearly four hundred pounds. About twenty of the Spring
Green boys interested, but all were permitted to taste something "from
home". I received thirty lbs. of baked chickens, pies, small and big
cakes made by Mary and Esther. Griff and D. also received a lot. The
sweetmeats were soon eaten and distributed with little regard to health,
and the chickens and nice rolls of butter took the place of our dishes
in ammunition boxes. Dishes go under the bed. Such things are sweet to
the soldier's unaccustomed palate, and rendered doubly so by the
knowledge that they came from home, from the loved ones that are so
anxiously noting our career and awaiting our return. Would that they at
home could know the warm though rough thanks bestowed upon the donors.
May God bless their thoughtfulness.
Fort Gillem, Tuesday, Dec. 27. A pleasant day. On guard, second relief.
Detail off ditching new camp ground. Parker and John Rogers gone to the
hospital, both quite sick.
Glorious news from Sherman. He presents Savannah as a Christmas gift to
Old Abe, which reminds me of our Christmas dinner, none the less
appreciated because a day behind hand. The hard-tack on which we have
lived since the first of the month laid to-day untouched, also the "sow
belly", as chicken, cake and butter were the dishes. It is the theme of
much "music" in camp. Spring Green gets the praise. Sanitary
[Commission], the next best thing to a box from home, gave us several
onions apiece. May their labors be rewarded. Bridge burned between here
and Louisville. No mail.
Nashville, Wednesday, Dec. 28. Struck tents 8 A. M. and moved on the
Harding Pike nearer town. I was left behind to load the teams as they
returned after camp equipage, boards, etc. Guarded the new camp by 3 P.
M. Was agreeably surprised to find them busy at work building quarters,
raising their tents. Shakes three feet long furnished to be nailed up
and down. I fell in too, and by night we had the tent stretched on a
neat wall three feet high. Was quite tired. Our horses are stabled about
a quarter of a mile off in government stables, making it very
inconvenient for drivers. Griff over with them on guard all day. Ordered
to be ready for grand inspection by Major Welker.
Nashville, Thursday, Dec. 29. Last night was bitter cold. Most of us
suffered severely, being but poorly fixed, but the sun came out a little
this morning, warming us a little. To-day has presented another of those
[scenes] that can nowhere be found outside the soldiers' camp, when
everybody is busy acting as his own carpenter, mason, cabinet maker. All
have to meet their own wants and busily have we all worked. We have got
our bunks up, one above the other. I went to town this afternoon after
an additional length of pipe to reach through the tent. Everybody is in
good spirits over the good news. Rumors prevalent that we are soon to
start for Sherman.
Nashville, Friday, Dec. 30. A warm, misty day, little rain. Found time
to-day to write a couple of letters. Mail came in but none for me.
Health of all is very good, though great dissatisfaction prevails in
regard to rations. Only a little over half rations of hard-tack given
us. They call it post rations, not enough to satisfy the appetites of
those who have been used to live on fighting rations. "Anywhere but
Nashville" is the cry.
Nashville, Saturday, Dec. 31. Surprised to find the ground covered with
snow and very cold. Formed with overcoats on at 9:30 A. M. for muster
for pay. Hope we will get it soon. Boys all very flat. "Busted". I
commence a New Year with a light heart and a lighter locker. On guard.
Luckily on the guns, so I did not have to go to the stables. So the last
thing I did in 1864 was to stand guard, and the first thing in 1865.
Trust it is not going to be so always.
Another year has rolled past and joined the many gone before in the
vistas of the past. Its glorious deeds of valor and achievements, its
scenes of anguish and bloodshed, of wrong and oppression, are subjects
for the future historian. Its ever varying scenes and emotions are
indelibly impressed upon my mind, which death alone can efface. The snow
has clothed the earth in a lovely mantle of white as though to hide the
sad past, and offer a clear page for me in the coming year. Let me then
look forward with hope and determination to keep in the path of virtue
and right, striving to improve the blessings and privileges offered me,
so that when 1865 closes I need not look back with regret at the year
spent.
[Sidenote: 1865 On Guard in the Snow]
Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 1, 1865. New Year's morning dawned bitter cold.
I suffered terribly on guard last night. A heavy impenetrable mist, such
as I have nowhere seen except in Nashville, enveloped the earth till 9
A. M. freezing in icy down upon everything. When I came off post I
looked more like some ghostly spectre in white than a soldier in blue.
Rations very short in camp, but we had a big New Year's dinner of soft
bread and butter, pies and Spring Green cake of Miss Spencer's make.
This evening I received a letter from my faithful brother John. He wrote
in the midst of the festivities of a Christmas visit.
Nashville, Monday, Jan. 2. Weather is growing warmer, the snow melting
and it is growing very muddy. All the talk is about "going to Sherman".
Preparatory orders are issued and we expect to start within two weeks.
Lieutenant Simpson left us to-day, gone to artillery headquarters as
ordnance officer. He is a good officer but lacks energy. He goes with
the best wishes of the boys.
Nashville, Tuesday, Jan. 3. A quiet day. Weather much warmer.
Probabilities of going to Sherman lessening. General Thomas has
protested against our leaving. Put up harness racks this afternoon. Big
mail bringing me several papers, reading matter for the evening. Our new
lieutenants mustered. Corporals Goodwin and Proctor made sergeants to
fill their vacancies. T. C. Jackson and W. B. Jacobs, veterans, made
corporals. All worthy appointments.
Nashville, Wednesday, Jan. 4. A very mild day. Camp is getting muddy
again. Chopping wood all the forenoon. Relieved this afternoon by an
extra duty squad who failed to turn out to roll call this morning.
Estimated for clothing. Don't know what the news is, got no money to
buy a paper. A large back mail received, having been to Savannah and
back. Amongst it I was very "tickled" to find my long-looked-for socks
and gloves, so nicely knit, with a billet in each bearing the love of
the maker. They make me truly warm by thinking of whence they came.
Nashville, Thursday, Jan. 5. Froze a little last night. Very muddy
to-day. On guard, same old story in camp. Getting monotonous. Received a
letter from Thomas and from an old Battery chum. Drew soft bread
rations, a pleasant change. Clothing issued. Captain Hood got a grand
military problem through his brain to-day by changing sergeants, placing
ranking ones on the right of each section. Rather a fine addition to
army regulations I think. This took Sergeant James away from us to 1st
Platoon. Dan Goodwin takes his place. 2nd Platoon hates to see him go.
Our new "non-coms" appeared in stripes.
Nashville, Friday, Jan. 6. Disagreeable and rainy night. On guard. Wet
slushy day. Spent it pleasantly writing and reading _Ballou's Monthly_,
received from Sanitary Commission. A little difficulty occurred in camp
to-day. Quartermaster Malish visited stables. Found B. Reynolds refusing
duty as guard. Ordered Dziewanowski, sergeant of the guard, to "tie him
up" which he refused to do. It was reported to Captain Hood and ended in
reducing "Coly" to the ranks, appointing Corporal Hutchinson sergeant of
the 3rd Platoon, Ed Hayes corporal.
Nashville, Saturday, Jan. 7. Turned cold last night. Snowed and blew
wickedly. The day seemed very long to me. Did hope to get a letter
to-day, but was disappointed. The theme of discussion in camp is the
reduction of "Coly". He was a favorite of the boys, and as he lost his
position by favoring one of our number, we can but sympathize with him.
He is an ambitious young man, but got entangled in "red tape" and fell.
This is the second reduction since I have been in the Battery, more
noticed because unfrequent. Health good. Ate our last bit of butter for
supper. We must now forget home luxuries once more. The bread rations
hold out well. So far so good.
Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 8. Froze very hard last night. Inspection 8:30
A. M. As soon as Griff was relieved from guard, 9 A. M., we started to
church by permission. Listened to a very good sermon from a Christian
Commission agent in M. E. Church.
Reached camp 2 P. M. Nobody at home, and we spent a very pensive
afternoon, or at least I did. Many of our best men are coming down with
the diarrhea. Parker of the next tent was very sick all day. Such things
make me sad. But when the mail came bringing me that ever encouraging
sheet from John, my spirits somewhat revived, and I found much to be
thankful for. My health is unimpaired. Why should I pine? I will not.
Nashville, Monday, Jan. 9. Rain, rain!--all day without cessation. Was
on detail all the forenoon chopping wood. Got quite wet and felt unwell.
Symptoms of dumb ague.
Nashville, Tuesday, Jan. 10. On guard. Stood about sixty rods from camp
on a pile of shakes in a cold disagreeable rain, the wind blowing
furiously. I still feel very bad, unfit to stand guard but will try to
stand now that I have commenced it.
[Sidenote: 1865 "Shaking"]
Nashville, Saturday, Jan. 14. Sickness has prevented me from writing the
last three days. Wednesday morning while on post from 3 to 5 A. M. I was
taken with violent chills and ague, continuing nearly the two hours I
was on. Every muscle and sinew in me was wracked, while I stood in a
driving wind and freezing rain. Never did I suffer so much from
"shaking" but I did not call for relief till my time was up. It was with
difficulty that I staggered to my bunk where a furious fever set in and
raged very high. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday part of the time
delirious, but I was the object of all the care that could be bestowed
on me under the circumstances, Cousin Griffith filling as nearly as he
could the place of mother and sister. Last evening the fever left me.
Bathed and felt somewhat refreshed. Spent a very restless night, my
whole muscular system seemed charged with pain, but this morning it
eased off, and I find myself thickly covered with feverish looking
pimples. They say it is "fever rash." Doctor came 9 A. M., looked
dubious about something, but left with the injunction to "go slow".
About 10 A. M. I dressed and wrote a short letter home. I feel very
weak, but the pain has all left me.
Nashville, Sunday, Jan. 15. Felt pretty smart this morning. Up and ate
quite a breakfast. The eruptions much larger, feel a little sore. Doctor
came to see me after dinner and has pronounced it a case of varioloid.
Ordered us to keep the boys all out of the tent, and my tent-mates to go
and be vaccinated. I was much surprised at the announcement, as I was
not conscious of ever being exposed, and even yet a little incredulous,
but if this is smallpox I can stand it. While I have been sick, our nice
lot of horses have been turned over, also all of the harness, and it is
said we are to draw muskets soon to do guard duty in town.
Nashville, Monday, Jan. 16. In camp. I still feel pretty well. My throat
is very sore. Postules begin to fill and turn white, guess it is
smallpox. I am ordered to the smallpox hospital, and am now awaiting the
ambulance. I must leave everything, as I could bring nothing away. I
feel sorry to leave the boys but would not stay to spread the contagion
among them. So, dear Journal, I must bid you good-bye until I return.
God grant that it may not be long. I anticipate but a short siege, am
astonished to find it so easy thus far. Adieu.
[Sidenote: 1865 In Hospital]
Nashville, Monday, Feb. 6. Back in camp. Mr. Journal, I have returned
after just three weeks' absence and now hasten to resume my story. As
the sun was setting in the west the ambulance came for me. Wrapped in a
single blanket, I left my old comrades while they were drawing muskets
and making a great noise over it. I was ushered into ward 7 with its
long row of low cots, most of them occupied by men with very sore
looking faces, but I had seen too many such to allow my heart to sink. I
was clothed in hospital clothes and tucked into bed, where I lay for
twelve days. In a few days the postules filled up, raised very large and
were very painful. As I lay every inch of me seemed as though on fire.
The doctor would come (a kind-hearted man) and call it "a very pretty
case", the postules being very large and thick too. I suffered no
internal pain, but for a while the external agony was very great, and I
longed for a cool drink of water, but was denied it.
About the 23rd my face was swollen so as to completely close my eyes and
exclude the light of day for about twenty-four hours, which with matter
and heat, I feared, would affect them, and in vain did I plead with the
nurse to bathe them with a little water, until the doctor came next
morning, which was a priceless relief. When they began to dry I
recovered very fast. By keeping strict discipline on my finger nails, I
was soon covered with scabs large enough for an alligator, and in due
time [they] shelled off in my bed. The weather now was very cold and I
suffered some in spite of half a dozen blankets. No visitors were
allowed, but Griffith (kind soul, can I ever forget him) came often to
the gate bringing my mail and written comments from himself, which I was
permitted to answer. By keeping a lead pencil under my pillow, wrote
several letters thus, home, contrary to orders, but I knew their
anxiety.
Saturday, the 28th 3 P. M. the doctor pronounced me able to get up and
my clothes were brought to me. I was astonished to find myself so weak.
A few minutes after, two soldiers were announced at the gate with a
message for me, and I staggered out to see Griff and D. Evans, which did
me much good, but I had to return very soon. I gained now very fast,
notwithstanding a bad cold. Monday, tent-mate Dan brought in with same
malady.
Tuesday, I was sent to convalescent ward to make room for the influx.
Over 500 patients in now. From 8 to 12 die daily. I was put on guard
first night, six hours at a stretch to guard Rebs. Had the same every
night. I began to get very lonesome soon. Had to fight terribly with the
blues, much more than when in bed, and to-day, in answer to urgent
request and Captain's application, Doctor let me off. Took a bath, a new
suit of clothes, and here I am. Feel quite weak, but happy to be once
more amongst my comrades. Hospital life is not the life for me. Very
grateful am I that I have recovered so well. Will be marked
considerably, but who cares for that?
Nashville, Tuesday, Feb. 7. The ground is covered with two inches of
snow and everything frozen hard, very cold. Feel very well except a
severe cold that has been on me for a week. Our boys are doing guard
duty with muskets in town, that they drew the day I left. Twelve men go
to town every day. They do it with ill grace. Half of them return to
camp ere their tour is half out.