lovely but sacred spot to him who loves the cause of freedom. It is an
enclosure of about sixty acres, surrounded by a substantial stone fence
in a circular form, it being a sloping hill. The ground is divided off
into circular sections, walks macadamized, graves sodded over, and
flowers and trees, cultivated, graves systematically arranged in rows.
Here lie thousands of the brave defenders of their country's flag, a few
with neatly-carved marble slabs bearing name and regiment, but most of
them were only identified by a rough, pine board fast decaying, and in a
few more months nothing will be left to mark the place where the honored
ashes lie. Could the people North who have friends lying here but know
that the government is doing all in its power to make this beautiful and
permanent would they not at once see that a marble slab would be placed
over the earthly remains of those dear ones that are gone before? I
believe so. Here were many of the Chickamauga heroes, and those who fell
in the memorable battles of Mission Ridge and Chattanooga. Amongst them
I noticed a large number of our brave comrades of the 3rd Division, 15th
Army Corps, who fell in the fearful vortex of the battle on Tunnel Hill.
Here also we found a neatly-printed board, marking the resting place of
Robert Banks, who a few weeks ago was full of hilarity amongst us; and
lately, I suppose, the last of poor Uncle Marden has been consigned to
rest in the lovely spot, the most attractive cemetery I have seen under
government [control.] But we could not find his name. Long we searched
for the grave of my old schoolmate, Amandus Silsby, who died from wounds
received at Kenesaw, but could not find it.
Chattanooga, Monday, May 22. Heavy rains last night. Fair day. Reveille
sounded before four. Were on the drill ground before 6 A. M. for brigade
drill, but the ground being so wet, we were sent back without drilling
any. Three of us with two hatchets reported at Captain Nicklin's
headquarters for duty; he sent us on top of his house to fix the roof
where it was leaking very badly on wife's carpets. We were no mechanics
and I fear did the job very poorly. This is the way they find work for
us to do, now that there is nobody to fight. Very convenient, I suppose
they think.
After noon went out to the hills grazing. The cherries in the orchard
were in fine condition, nice and ripe. Several of us enjoyed a rare
treat, left many behind because we could not eat them all. Haywood of
our tent gone to the hospital quite sick. Just left home and is
downhearted.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 23. Hot day, feel very well. Morning papers
tell us the road is washed away, and no mail expected for two or three
days. We'll get all the more when it does come, I guess.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, May 24. On guard last night on post No. 3.
Battery went on brigade drill under Lieutenant Sweet, who is now in
command of the Battery. Hood is a citizen and preparing to go away.
Jenawein has received his first-lieutenant appointment, but refuses the
seniority. The sickness increasing very rapidly. Diarrhea prevalent.
Chattanooga, Thursday, May 25. Drilled two hours in battery drill, and
when we returned, received a large mail which was long looked for. I
received two which assured me that all was well.
After dinner M. U. Hungerford and myself procured a pass, and started
to visit the U. S. rolling mill about at mile and a half distant. On our
way we ascended Cameron Hill, an elevation about 400 feet above the
river. The river side being very steep, an interesting view is to be
seen from here. Three large steamships on this side, eight steamboats
lying up for repairs over on the docks. Beyond the river cultivated
fields look very beautiful. On these hills are three large reservoirs of
the Chattanooga water works into which the water is pumped by steam, and
carried by its own weight down into the town. Also a large magazine 200
feet long which will be used long after peace is established. On the
crown of the hill is a grim-looking war-dog, a 100-pounder Parrott
weighing 7,286 pounds, 6.4 inch caliber, maintained on wrought iron
carriage, manned by the 1st Minnesota Heavy Artillery. The guard
anxiously inquired if we were not ordered to relieve them so they could
go home. Poor fellows!
[Sidenote: 1865 One of Uncle Sam's Factories]
Now we descended the western slope, and soon found ourselves approaching
the center of attraction. The fires were down in most of the furnaces,
the workmen at work relining them, but the sight was an interesting one
to me, and we could easily trace the process clear through. Old bent-up
rails were cut into pieces by a mammoth pair of shears, bundled
together, thrown into the furnace, and rolled out into plates six inches
wide, half an inch thick. This was cut into pieces about four feet long,
six of them put together, heated, and after putting them through four
different rolls, came out as a rail for the steam horse of progression
to run upon. Two mammoth saws sawed off the ends, leaving it thirty feet
long. It was astonishing to find how little human force was needed in
the prosecution of this great work. The engine is encased in a glass
house, and as nicely polished as parlor furniture. A dreary rain came
up, and we got partially wet before reaching camp, which we did in time,
and fell in for afternoon drill.
Chattanooga, Friday, May 26. Health good. Battery drill from 6 A. M. to
8 A. M., only three cannoneers in second detachment. A big mail when we
returned, though none for Jenk. Ambulance went up to the artillery
garden this morning and returned with the first fruits of "Charlie's"
work, viz. a copious supply of lettuce and mustard salad for dinner and
supper, a very rare treat, and highly appreciated. Did us more good than
all the medicine in the dispensary.
[Sidenote: 1865 A Rebel Orchard]
Grazing in the afternoon. Went near the hill, a party of about a dozen.
Knowing where the nice ripe cherries grew, started for the orchard; but
behold, we were confronted by a lanky specimen of the refined chivalry,
much excited, repeating the orchard was his and threatening to call his
safeguard if we did not leave. We told him to bring him on and we would
respect him, but he could not. Boasted of protection papers of Thomas,
Steedman and many others in his pockets, but could produce only a few
old _Gazettes_. We talked the man crazy. He used many insulting terms
under the license of old age, but we, provoked by his attempts to
deceive us, made for the cherries and filled ourselves with the rarest
of his cherries, but left more than he ever can use, twenty-five acres
of them. When we were satisfied, he returned with an old torn piece of
paper of Rosecrans's times. We of course respected it and left. He
threatened to follow us in and report us, [and] mounted his mule for it.
Two or three of the boys staid behind and convinced the old rebel that
prudence was the better part of valor, so he staid at home, I guess. It
is raining this evening severely.
Chattanooga, Saturday, May 27. It is cool enough to appreciate the fire
in our "wee" stove until breakfast. Then it grew hot, while we drilled
two hours in the morning. Camp thoroughly policed, I delegated to cook
our mustard greens for dinner. Had a fine mess, at least it appeared to
be well relished. Heard from sister Jane in her new capacity. She
appears to like it well. She writes an interesting letter and will make
her mark in the world if she lives.
Captain Hood is busily at work on his final returns. I understand that
he will come out all right. Lieutenant Sweet our young and grave
commander now is gathering up much of the useless ordnance and
quartermaster stores lying around, preparatory to turning them over.
Chattanooga, Sunday, May 28. On guard since last night. Wrote three
letters to-day between times, think I have done well. Preaching in camp
this morning. Our officers attended as well as nearly all the men, a
striking evidence of the force of example when shown by those whom we
respect. Received a short letter from John, sorry that he thought my
speedy arrival home so certain as to warrant its brevity.
After dinner Capt. T. R. Hood took an affectionate leave of the Company
with which he has been connected ever since its first organization. He
left for home to resume the duties of a civilian. He first visited each
man in his quarters. With tearful eyes he shook hands. He goes with many
kind regards from those he once commanded.
Chattanooga, Monday, May 29. Early breakfast this morning. On drill
ground by 6 A. M. Brigade drill of five horse batteries. All passed off
well. Grazed in the afternoon. Did not go out to the cherry orchard.
Orders awaiting our return to police camp thoroughly, as somebody is
expected by the morning train to inspect us. Everything still. "Grape
vine" quiet. Corporal J. S. Vedder starts for Nashville as clerk to
headquarters D. C. One from each battery in the reserve. Health is not
above par, though not sick. Feel dull, but am yet able to crush
considerable hard-tack.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 30. Up bright and early, policed around the
stables, "blacked boots" and brushed up our brass, etc. But no
inspection came, so all of this is in vain. Cool day, did but little.
Drew a day's rations of soft bread, which is getting to be a rarity. The
cry of "paymaster coming" is again raised in camp. Our sutler gone to
Nashville for a supply of goods on the strength of it. Several hundred
dismounted men of Wilson's Cavalry Corps and of 1st Wisconsin came in on
the evening train. The entire command is expected here to-morrow. They
have seen much work lately.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, May 31. Had a pleasant drill with the Battery
this morning. No mail, but much grape-vine news via "picket rope line",
but we have not started for home yet. Drew the "last" forage for the
10th time. Drilled an hour and a half over some dismantled pieces.
Bathed in the Tennessee in the evening.
Chattanooga, Thursday, June 1. This day is appointed by the President of
the United States as a day of mourning for our honored Lincoln. All
business stopped in town. Nothing only heavy duty to be done in camp,
consequently we had little to do.
After dinner, hearing that Wilson's Cavalry were moving through town, I
obtained permission to leave camp. Being anxious to see the 1st
Wisconsin Cavalry and find Johnny Evans if possible. Reached there as
the 2nd Division was moving up Market Street. They presented a rich
scene for _Harper's Illustrated_, nearly the whole company were astride
mules of all sizes and descriptions, the men having but a small portion
of the blue on. Anyone would take them for the Confederate States Army.
The majority dressed throughout in coarse dirty grey, and often a pair
of faded shoulder straps could be seen resting on the shoulders of one
in rebel grey and gilt. Then came the negroes, pack mules, carrying
anything from a frying pan to a condemned ordnance. Vehicles of
chivalric origin drawn by horseflesh, minus the flesh, in silver-mounted
harness, and driven by the veritable "peculiar institutions", for whom
our Southern brethren buckled on their armor. It needed but Jeff in
crinoline bringing up the rear, to show the last of the said chivalry.
McCook's Division in which is 1st Wisconsin Cavalry was behind. After
waiting long I found that they were not coming in to-night so I started
home, but not until hearing from one of his comrades that Johnny was all
right and well.
To-night I am on another eight hours tread, not to break the rebellion,
but my time of serving.
[Sidenote: 1865 A Christian Commission Flirtation]
Chattanooga, Friday, June 2. Friday morning drilled with Battery for two
hours. Very hot indeed. Big mail came in. I received three letters, one
of them from Miss Sue J. B. of Ohio, of which I must write before it
gets later. About a month ago I obtained a _Ladies' Repository_ with
some other magazines from the Christian Commission, on which was written
a note with the above address annexed. Thought it no more than justice
to thank the donor, and assure her that their efforts were duly
appreciated by the soldier. Contrary to my expectations I received an
answer requesting a reply, which of course I complied with at some
length, giving personal description. And so here comes two sheets
to-day. I think she is a "Methodist sister" in the habit of itinerating
with her brother, a minister. She forgot to give her age,
notwithstanding I gave her mine, consequently I infer she is an old
maid. Not very highly accomplished in letter writing, but a good
composer and a fine use of language, and a vivid conception of the
beautiful. Seems to have received a very favorable impression of me. I
did not attempt it. I have revolutionized her ideas.
Chattanooga, Saturday, June 3. A hot day for drill in the morning. 1st
Division Cavalry Corps lying in camp near Mission Ridge. David Evans
went outside and brought in Johnny Evans, looking very fleshy and
healthy, natural as ever, but much larger. He staid with us all day.
Went home late in the evening. He has seen the elephant, although only
in for one year service. I think it has improved him, instilled some
wholesome ideas in his mind. Policed camp as usual. No orders for
mustering out any of us yet. Rations are very objectionable these days,
and cause much dissatisfaction as circumstances do not demand such
living. But it will not be long.
Chattanooga, Sunday, June 4. Inspection 8 A. M. after which Griffith
having a pass for three men to pass through the lines, D. J. D. and
myself started out. Went by the 1st Cavalry camp which was about three
miles down the valley, found Johnny and started forth along the ridge.
Found many ripe blackberries and had all we wanted of ripe cherries from
the "old man's" orchard. Then we climbed the memorable ridge and
followed the summit of Tunnel Hill. Then retraced our steps to camp.
Passed Charlie's artillery garden. Looks well, everything kept for the
benefit of the shoulder straps of the reserve, though. The privates for
whose benefit they claim to have started it, are forgotten. Left Johnny
at the picket post, he to his command and we to ours. Reached camp by 5
P. M. somewhat tired but well satisfied with the ramble of the day.
Cannot write to John, though. I am sorry.
Chattanooga, Monday, June 5. All well. No drill. Orders from Mendenhall
to graze from 9 A. M. till 5 P. M., an idea which is preposterous, as
the horses would scatter over the whole state if not held. J. G.
Simpson, officer of the day. His watch ran slow while in camp, and then
it went a-whirring. Started out about 10 A. M., dinner in haversack,
crossed the ridge, turned out in a delightful nook among the hills,
shady and cool, ate our hard-tack by the cooling spring, and returned to
camp by 2 P. M. Drew clothing. Hope it is the last time for me. Wrote
two long letters. Am tired.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 6. A short foot drill in the morning. On
guard at night. Has been an awful hot day. A good deal of "muster-out
talk." Lieutenant Simpson received a captain's commission this morning.
No one dissatisfied.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 7. Rained a very little last night but not
enough to settle the dust. Battery went out to drill, I was on post at
the time. Johnny Evans called to bid good-bye, they started for
Nashville to-day. Very sultry in midday. I was allowed to sit in the
shade and watch the guns, an accommodation seldom granted by officers.
Chattanooga, Thursday, June 8. A very hot day. Health very good. Nothing
new, one way or another. Received a letter from Thomas which he called
"last." Expects me home in a few days. All those whose terms of service
expire prior to October 1, are being mustered out at this post except
artillery reserve. We are treated with silent contempt or provoking
indifference, at least no orders touching us appear.
[Sidenote: 1865 An Explosion]
Chattanooga, Friday, June 9. This afternoon a terrible explosion and
fire broke out in town about 1 P. M. The large building on the levee,
filled with artillery ammunition, took fire from an engine standing by.
The reports of bursting shell were heard continuously, and flames and
smoke rolled up with great fearfulness. I went down in time to see giant
flames envelop 400 feet of warehouses, filled with forage and rations,
while the explosions of ammunition, with the fact that a still larger
arsenal laid adjacent, liable to blow up at any moment, caused great
consternation among the citizens, women and children fleeing in dismay.
But the military were cool and on the ground. Guards spread all over
town taking in all within their reach to work on the fire engines.
Assembly sounded in all the camp, and the reserve artillery, as indeed
all others needed, marched down en masse. I followed the 6th. We reached
the river bank, one engine playing on one end of the military bridge,
which was in imminent danger of taking fire, another working on the roof
of the brick arsenal containing 750,000 tons of small ammunition.
Strings of men passing buckets. We were double quicked under the fiery
breath of the burning machine by Alby Sweet, and set to work on the
double-decker water engine. We were playing on the arsenal not five
rods distant, the heat so great that the water was dried before it ran
off. Had the wind wavered a little, nothing could have saved it, and
with all probability most of us would have been hurled into eternity.
But luckily we were saved, notwithstanding the shells were still
exploding over us. No one was hurt.
And now I come to another sorrowful page in my diary. When the imminent
danger was over and the flames somewhat checked, some officers, prompted
by the devil or some other demon, ordered whiskey barrels rolled out,
and the heads knocked in around the engines. And oh, what a change. The
strong arms of men working in sober earnestness were stopped by the
deadly fires of poisonous drugs termed whiskey, the air rent with yells
and oaths, fit only for pandemonium. This to me was heartsickening, and
as soon as we could evade the guards, Milt. Hungerford and myself came
to camp.
About 5 P. M. the others came, but oh, what a sight. Eight or ten raving
maniacs. They were not habitual drunkards, many of them heretofore
strictly temperate, but under the excitement and heat lost their
discretion. Ah! what pain it would have given the loving mother to see
her son, her pride, the youth of the family, staggering through our camp
in this condition or filled with madness. What chagrin to the loving
maiden to see her idol as I did to-night. What agony in the heart of the
wife it would awaken to see the husband of her bosom and the father of
her children, who but a few months ago only left home with the vow of
fidelity to principle and home upon his lips, reeling along or being
carried an insensible lump to his bed. Oh, ye Christian churches and
temperance lodges, how have thy members disgraced thee to-day. Really,
my faith in human nature becomes somewhat shaken by such scenes.
Late in the evening another explosion took place among the ruins. A
fragment struck John Stewart in the head. Our Battery kept away.
Chattanooga, Saturday, June 10. A cloudy sultry day. In vain did we
await the coming of a cool refreshing shower which would settle the dust
and make us all feel younger; "nary" a drop fell. Drew forage. On duty
loading hay in the afternoon. Camp policed, etc. The exciting scenes of
yesterday have furnished the subject of conversation to-day and happily
"grape-vine" is forgotten. The inebriated look very sheepish and ashamed
to-day. Well they might. Seven thousand bales of hay were destroyed
yesterday. $250,000 to $500,000 of property destroyed in all. Eight
lives lost. One woman broke both arms, many soldiers wounded.
[Sidenote: 1865 The Soldier and Reviews]
Chattanooga, Sunday, June 11. Sultry and oppressive weather. Rain still
keeps at a distance. The day has passed very quietly. It was with
difficulty that I managed to scribble a sheet to Sister Hannah. Read
several old numbers of Cincinnati _Commercial_ giving glowing accounts
of the grand reviews at Washington, a brilliant thing I have no doubt,
but I rather think unpleasant to the soldier. If the lookers-on thought
of how the soldier boy would return to camp to munch his "hard-tack" and
"sow belly" notwithstanding he has finished up the rebellion, while the
pleased spectator returned to his hot biscuit and et ceteras--fewer
flowers and more good eating, I say.
Chattanooga, Monday, June 12. On guard since last night. Sat quietly in
the shade and listened tamely to the wild reports flying, although
nobody, except a few yearlings, believed any of them. It is amusing to
see what keen interest the arrival of an orderly or the sight of an
official envelope excites amongst us. The fact of it is, one day of
"muster-out talk" and idleness with apparent uselessness to the
government, will create more homesickness than a year of war and active
service.
Orders directing us to clean harness, etc., preparatory to turning over.
Inspection announced at 2 P. M. Camp swept, clothes brushed and buttons
polished, then it was postponed to 6:30 P. M. Rained, but it stopped
long enough to be inspected by Captain Nicklin, assistant inspector
general, known better in camp as "Jack o' Clubs", not liked too well.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 13. Rained a refreshing shower through the
night and I slept very sound. Several squads out blackberrying. They are
getting ripe. I forgot to tell you that we had blackberry pie last
night. One-year men and we '62 recruits are getting wrathy. The orders
that reach all other commands except the reserve ought to take us, we
think, mustering out all men where term of service expires prior to
October 1. One of our boys saw the General to-day. But who cares. I am
not so badly excited over this matter, but that I can rest well.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 14. Another very hot day. No drill of any
kind. The other batteries go out every morning. Our officers are very
easy on the boys at present. 6th Battery has changed commanders again.
Simpson was mustered in this morning as captain and Jenawein as first
lieutenant. This leaves a vacancy for second lieutenant soon to be
filled by ----, I suppose. If he will be appointed it will cause much
dissatisfaction among the men for he is not liked in the least. No
"grape-vine" excitement to-day. What is to happen?
Chattanooga, Thursday, June 15. Breakfast passed as usual. Charlie
Pickard and myself procured a blackberry pass, and armed each with a tin
pail, set out while it was yet cool, and we walked fast. We followed the
old Georgia Railroad out into Chickamauga Valley, passed the vineyard
which we tugged through on the 25th of November, 1863, under the rebel
fire. The scene looked very natural, but the houses used as hospitals
close by are burnt down, fences repaired and crops growing. Here we
conversed with a negro, once a slave but now a free man. When "Massa
run, aha," he staid behind, and has forty acres of good corn planted and
cultivated by himself for his own benefit. We saw many others
industriously engaged for the welfare of self and family. What better
proof need we have than this that the negro will support himself.
[Sidenote: 1865 Religion in the Mountains]