Monday, April 7, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, June 9, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,
CAMP CHEWALLA, MISS., June 9, 1862.

We are now encamped near a small town called Chewalla, about fifteen miles south of Corinth and near the State line that divides Tennessee from Missouri. But I have just received marching orders for five o'clock to-morrow morning, and as yet do not know our destination. Memphis and Fort Pillow are taken; their army must be scattered; we know it was a good deal demoralized; where they will make a stand is the merest matter of conjecture.

The heat begins to make itself felt, though the nights continue cool. I have had tolerably good health, nothing to worry about. I believe I stand the campaign better than the average of the men and officers.

There is no use, however, to attempt to disguise the fact that a summer campaign in the South must be terribly fatal to our troops. Not that the Northern men are not just as capable as the Southerners, indeed more so, to endure the vicissitudes, but no troops can stand it. We must use fortitude, and do the best we can, — I leave the result with God, in whom I have firm reliance. I am always sustained by thoughts of you and of your prayers in my behalf. I long, oh! how ardently, to see you, but I must not think of it. God only knows what is in the future for us. I could not leave my post; I would not be permitted to do so however strong my desire. I must press on to the bitter end.

You want to know something about me, but I hardly know what to write about. I am sitting in a tent in the midst of dense woods, but near the side of a dusty road, over which regiments are marching, and all towards the South. My soldiers are all about cooking rations, and making other preparations for the march to-morrow. To-morrow night I may probably sleep on the ground, with a saddle blanket, because our transportation train will not be with the regiment, and there is no other way to carry my tent or cot. This will be no inconvenience to me, for I have very often done so, and that in the rain, with nothing but an India-rubber cape over me. I sleep sound with the bridle of my horse in my hand, and am refreshed at daylight. We carry canteens of water and food in haversacks, hard crackers, and salt pork.

We are always on the lookout for the enemy, flankers and skirmishers, and advance guards. Men are prevented from straggling. We march on steadily, halting for a few moments every hour. When we camp, pickets and sentinels are posted, and they who are not on guard sleep sound. Men sleep the soundest in the presence of danger. I have known them to go to sleep on the battlefield. Indeed, I have never known sweeter sleep or more delightful dreams than I have had behind the breastworks of fortifications which we momentarily expected would be stormed, and amid the incessant booming of cannon, bursting of shells, and rattling of musketry.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 212-3

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