Army Correspondence

HAMBURG, TENN., Night, April 29, ’62.

FRIEND SANDERS:– Once again I write from this point, though I remain behind with the stores, the regiment being five miles out on the Corinth Road.  Two days since while on picket guard, Corp. Miller, of Co. G, was taken prisoner.  Today the 3d battalion, while out on a scout, was suddenly opened on by a masked battery.  Wm. Faxton was instantly killed, by a grapeshot through the head, and three of Co. I wounded by grape.  Corp. J. B. Smith, in leg, James Bontriger in thigh, and Wm. Bremner in the shoulder.  Bremner’s horse was killed the first fire, and while retreating on foot he was struck.  Co. [B], of first battalion was advance guard, and after a slight skirmish captured twenty prisoners.  The 2nd Cavalry are in front, and will endeavor to prove worthy.

The river which had fallen some, has risen four feet in the past two days.  Most of our forces have advanced from the river, but more arrive daily.  Last night rain again, and to-day has been cloudy without rain.

Perhaps many are asking why don’t Gen. Halleck advance and attack Beauregard?  Why don’t he move? &c.  Let me describe faintly my ride out to camp, a few hours before dark, and return.  Leaving the river I pass through a slough, where the water runs into the wagon box, then up a bluff of thirty feet.  In the distance of a mile and a half, I count two hundred and fifty six mule, and four horse teams, loaded with powder, shot shell and ammunition of all kinds, camp equipage, stores, forage, &c., &c.  For this distance the road is level, with many mud holes; here is one larger than others, with four teams stuck at once, and one of four mules so deeply imbedded that but for ears, one might think them lumps of mud, just beyond we pass a slough that in places swims the mules.  Here is a jam, some teams are coming, others going, some wait for a chance, others don’t.  There are on these sloughs no “mill dams” but at these particular points the other kind is unlimited.

A few rods and the road stretches for four hundred yards up a smooth bold bluff, at an angle of thirty degrees at least.  On the top of this bluff were five thirty pound Parrott guns, that had been brought from the river over this road, and drawn up this hill by twenty four horses to each gun.  These will go to the front, and send pills to the rebels not easily digested.

The clay on the bluffs, and in the cuttings is of a red color.  For three miles we pass over a fine gentle rolling country; covered though not densely with timber, then down a hill as steep as we came up, a valley with a stream of beautiful clear spring water – and over the same bluff or hill, higher and rougher yet.  This is the country we are in.  These are the roads that not only the troops must march over, but up and down, must be drawn all the camp and garrison equipage, the rations for a hundred thousand men, forage for thirty thousand horses and mules, those heavy guns, and tons upon tons of shot, shell, grape and canister.  As I returned after dark, the mud holes were filled with wagons, stuck teams unhitched, and drivers in despair, and a wagon blockade for a mile, camping for the night as they stood.

This jam and bustle is not for an hour.  It begins with daybreak, and closes as just described only when darkness draws a curtain over the scene.  Besides fighting a formidable enemy inch by inch in front, this difficulty of transportation lies in the way of an advance of twenty or thirty miles a day.  It is further necessary that an army should eat as well as fight, and they can travel no faster than their rations can be transported.

We have a rumor from secesh prisoners that New Orleans is ours.  May it prove true.  In a few days, perhaps Corinth will be ours.

A few days since, an order was received to muster out regimental adjutants and quartermasters and battalion quartermasters.  Lieutenants and quartermasters Samuel Gilbert, J. M. Hannum, and George R. Ammond, formerly of Cos. A, K, and F, were ‘mustered out,’ and left for Iowa a few days since.  Better men are not in the service.  They had won for themselves, not only the respect and confidence, but the love of the regiment.  Could the unanimous loud voice of the regiment avail, they would be called to return, and fill honorable positions among a body of men that part with them with sincere regret.

I am writing this in a wagon, and the mules hitched to the tongue are playing smash with my periods.  Besides owning to the breeze and original shortness, my candle is nearly out.  More next time.

DIFF.

– Published in The Davenport Daily Gazette, Davenport, Iowa, Friday Morning, May 9, 1862, p. 2