December 11,
1864
Weather as before — only a little more so. I suppose they
have a good deal such in England. If so, don't want to live there. Pretty times
for half the army, off and on, to be marching and reconnoitring and
expeditionizing about the country, as if it were picnic season! And still
stranger is it to be sitting quiet in my tent when so many people are running
round loose. Our affairs are rather mixed up, you see. So are those of
everybody. Sherman has disappeared in Georgia and nobody knows what awful
strategy he contemplates. Not so Hood: he is poking about in a manner I don't
at all like: jamming Thomas up in Nashville, and now I fancy he is just
marching round the city and into Kentucky. That won't do! Old Lee don't let us
march round towns unless he chooses, or has at least a hard fight for it.
However, I can't think Hood can do severe damage with so powerful an army as
that of Thomas in his neighborhood. Well, we will hope for a big thing, of some
sort, somewhere, for there are a number of irons, small and great, in the fire,
and as much activity prevails as if we were not near the real winter. One thing
I am sure of, that, what with expeditions little and big, threatenings and
reconnaissances, the Rebels must be kept in quite an active state of simmer.
Poor General Potter! He had a frightful night march and was doubtless buoyed up
by the feeling that he had a separate command and could distinguish himself if
there was a fight, and slam in on Hill's left flank, and win a great name for
himself. What then was his disgust to see, about noon, the head of Warren's
column trudging peaceably back, on the other side of the river! There were two
decent-sized armies staring at each other, across the stream,' each wondering
what the other meant by being there; and both wondering why so many men were
concentrated against nobody. General Potter philosophically shrugged his
shoulders, gave the word to face about, and put his best leg forward for home,
where he arrived a little after dark. It was a terrible night for a bivouac,
with an intensely piercing cold wind and everything frozen up. Warren crossed
the river and spent the night on this side of it.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 296-7
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