An Artilleryman's Diary Part 46

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 sh.e.l.l 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 a.r.s.enal 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.

a.s.sembly sounded in all the camp, and the reserve artillery, as indeed all others needed, marched down en ma.s.se. 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 a.r.s.enal containing 750,000 tons of small ammunition.

Strings of men pa.s.sing 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 a.r.s.enal 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 sh.e.l.ls 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, Sat.u.r.day, 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 pa.s.sed 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 n.o.body, 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 b.u.t.tons polished, then it was postponed to 6:30 P. M. Rained, but it stopped long enough to be inspected by Captain Nicklin, a.s.sistant 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 pa.s.sed as usual. Charlie Pickard and myself procured a blackberry pa.s.s, 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, pa.s.sed 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 "Ma.s.sa 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]

Here we found plenty of berries, but not many of them ripe yet, so we marched on, struck Chickamauga Creek, followed it about half a mile to the ferry, when cries and shrieks fell upon our ears, evidently a woman in great agony. Our minds were readily carried back to the time when such cries were often extorted from the poor slaves by the cruel hand of the master. And could it be possible that such a scene was being enacted in this valley now under the very eye of the power that had abolished it? It seemed incredible, yet we feared it, and we hastily turned our steps in the direction of the sound. As we approached, it still became more hideous and different voices could be discerned. Up high on the hill we at last discovered the place whence the noise proceeded, from a rough log negro hut. Pa.s.sing a neat white house about fifty rods below the shanty, we were informed of the cause by a woman unconcernedly smoking her pipe. She "reckoned they were shouting up there". A little suspecting the cause, yet we were bent on investigation. We met a young woman on the way with long, flowing disheveled hair, looking very much excited.

Charley asked "What's the row up there?"

"An old 'oman 'fessed 'ligion this morn'".

Now we are at the door, and such a sight I never saw before. Here two large negro women and two young white girls, 16 and 17 years old about, from all appearances raving maniacs, still screeching, yelling, jumping, hugging, dancing, crying, shaking hands, and uttering incoherent sentences, foaming at the mouth, with perspiration rolling down their cheeks in streams. No cessation, but each making as much noise as though a dagger was at their hearts. The spell appeared to be partially broken upon one of the girls seeing us. She stopped, looked at us with a mesmeric glare for a few minutes, then shrunk sheepishly into a corner, where she remained quietly until her sister (I suppose) returned to her from covering the negro woman, and commenced violent demonstrations, such as b.u.mping her head against the wall, etc. until both soon moved.

We looked on thus for over half an hour. I was filled with amazement and sometimes provoked to laughter. I had heard of such excitement in revival meetings where enthusiastic preachers and brethren were at work, working up the imagination of the victim. But to find it in such a sequestered place with but four solitary women was such as I never dreamt of. The superst.i.tious character and education of the negro caused me to wonder less at them than the white girls, which looked awful. But when I remembered the unconcern of the people in the white house, I concluded it was nothing strange after all for these ignorant people (for I consider it nothing but ignorance of the true standard of the human soul).

A revival is going on there, it seems, and the old woman said G.o.d had been allowing her to go on in her "devilment" for a long time, but this morning "Jesus stood right squar' in her way and she found him right in the chair," and then again she started. The girls I suppose came to see her and were taken with the influence. I felt it my duty to do what I could to restore these poor creatures to their senses, and believe if I had entered the room and spoken firmly to them in earnest, the spell would be broken and the excitement quieted.

But modesty prevented me from making the experiment, and we went on in quest of berries. Found plenty of beautiful ones in a field adjoining, and we soon filled our pails and started for camp in another direction.

The shouting which we heard a mile away at first, still continued while we were within hearing. Reached camp before 2 P. M. tired and very warm, having walked at least fourteen miles, well pleased with our success at berrying. Told our story of the revivalists in camp, which caused much amus.e.m.e.nt. I shall always consider it as one of the greatest psychological phenomena.

[Sidenote: 1865 Blackberries Once More]

Chattanooga, Friday, June 16. Rained heavy last night. Called out at 4 A. M. to harness up before breakfast. Out to drill immediately afterwards. Captain Simpson put us through the maneuvers for the first time, drilled us accurately with mechanical precision, but he is not loud enough, will never make a good drill master, but will do. Feasted on blackberry pie and sauce from yesterday's picking. On guard to-night.

Oh, dear!

Chattanooga, Sat.u.r.day, June 17. Another battery drill this morning; did not go out, being on post. Awful hot. My weekly letters from home have ceased their coming, owing to their expectations of my arrival home.

This is making a bad matter worse. Two men received sick furloughs, start to-morrow.

Chattanooga, Sunday, June 18. To-day has pa.s.sed like a hundred others which I have endeavored to note down in my diary. How can I find anything to individualize this day from others, the same mechanical duties, the same lazy nothing to do. The evening closes over us into night quietly. The very atmosphere seems an earnest voice. Discussion is not heard nor the merry laugh of the jester. The soldiers group together under the arbor in front of the quarters, conversing in an undertone of services rendered, hardships endured, and of brave comrades who are no more. With a thoughtful sigh for home and friends I close the book.

Chattanooga, Monday, June 19. Grazing day. Started out 8 A. M., crossed the ridge and way out to Chickamauga. Grazed horses on our way back.

Made a flank movement on a magnificent patch of dewberries and blackberries. Ordered by our superior officer to "go in". We tied our horses and fulfilled our orders to the letter. Those who had buckets, filled them, those who didn't, did better, staid there an hour. I ate long after berries had ceased to be a luxury. Reached camp 2 P. M. 20th Indiana Battery Heavy Artillery turned their guns over to-day. Has the good work begun?

Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 20. Drill early. Returned to get four letters, one from sister Jane, tugging bravely on amidst her sixty-four pupils. The next from Hannah, jubilant at the immediate prospect of relief from her confinement. Third from J. L. Bugs are threatening crops, too bad. Fourth, from Miss B. of Ohio, the "J" in her name converted to "Jones". Judges I am a "literary gentleman", declares she looks with more anxiety for my letters than any other, ha! ha! Keep calm, keep calm!

On duty drawing forage. Topic of the day, 20th Indiana Battery going home, guns and horses, etc. turned over. This is looked upon as an opening for the reserve, it being a '62 organization, but it was sent for directly from the State. Other batteries cleaning up harness, etc.

Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 21. Griff, D. Evans and myself have contracted for a two days' pa.s.s from Captain Simpson. I was excused from guard last night, and this morning 7 A. M., after morning drill, we started out on a bold pedestrian excursion to Lookout Mountain and Lula Lake. Two days' rations of hard-tack and sugar and cup in haversack was all equipage taken along. The "King of Day" came down upon us in full force, but nothing daunted we scaled the point in its precipitous and direct route. Pantingly we reached the photograph gallery and rested.

Seized with a sudden desire to carry off some memento of our excursion, we seated ourselves on the cliff and had ourselves taken, by the sun.

Carried off our plate picture for $6.50, and on to Lula through Summer Town, and camp of the "b.u.t.terfly Brigade" who were all out drilling in their white gloves.

[Sidenote: 1865 Mountain Scenery]

Our tramp along the summit of the mountain was a pleasant walk of about eight miles, slightly undulated and timbered with a stunted growth of oaks, with an occasional house and patch of corn. Here as everywhere, enterprising Uncle Sam has his saw mills, shingle machines, etc. But here abruptly amid rocky scenes, craggy cliffs, we came to a precipice, and beneath us was Lula Lake. A wooden flight of stairs led us down about forty-five feet and on a level with this lake, which was certainly a diminutive thing, but a thing of great loveliness in its wild beauty.

My pen is altogether too tame to give an adequate description of this romantic mountain scenery. The lake consists of a circular basin about thirty yards in diameter hollowed out of the solid rock which rises forty to eighty feet around the wall carved by the skillful hand of nature. The water rushes in at the top, down in a cascade at an angle of forty-five degrees. The margin is solid rock. There lay a frail raft by the sh.o.r.e on which we each in our turn circ.u.mnavigated the lake, causing the swallows in the rocks to fly away in consternation at this abrupt entrance on their solitude. This spot seemed to have a sweet solitude, and I almost wished myself an Indian to live and die amidst such scenery.

Climbing the rocks on the south of the stream we worked our way down to the Lula Falls, several hundred yards below. We found the declivity thickly covered with a rich growth of laurel, and fine specimens of huckleberries, which were ripe and nice. We picked our cans full as we went. After climbing down a great many breakneck places we reached the foot of the falls which in beauty is equal, if not superior, to the Lake. It consists of a tiny stream falling from a shelf eighty feet high, perpendicularly dropping over solid rock. In its descent it is broken into a white sheet of spray. We slaked our thirst and mashed our berries in sugar, and ate our dinner with a keen relish. Before leaving, desiring to experience the sensation, we stripped and took a huge shower bath by placing ourselves under the spout. Found the sensation more romantic than pleasant. It fell too hard, but made us clean.