Tuscumbia, Ala., August
14, 1862.
Things are progressing here swimmingly. Seldom have more
than two bridges burned in the same night, or lose more than five or six men in
one day. Scared a little though, now. The 7th went down yesterday through
Moulton, where they were encamped but a few days since, and gained us the
information that they had evacuated that post. People here are considerably
scared about the free and easy way we are gobbling up their little all. We are
raking in about 100 bales of cotton per day and could get more if we had the
transportation. It makes the chivalry howl, which is glorious music in our
ears, and the idea of considering these confederacies something else than
erring brothers is very refreshing. But I can't talk the thing over with them
with any pleasure, for they all pretend so much candor and honesty in their
intentions, and declare so cheerfully, and (the women) prettily, that they will
do nothing opposed to our interest, and express so much horror and detestation
of guerrillas and marauders of all kinds, that one can't wish to do them any
harm or take and destroy their property. But the murders of Bob McCook, a dozen
of men in this command, and hundreds in the army, all tend to disipate such
soft sentiments, for we are satisfied that citizens do ten-elevenths of such
work; and nothing less than the removal of every citizen beyond our lines, or
to north of the Ohio river, will satisfy us. We are all rejoicing that “Abe”
refuses to accept the negroes as soldiers. Aside from the immense disaffection
it would create in our army, the South would arm and put in the field three
negroes to our one. Am satisfied she could do it. The Tribune couldn't
publish those articles in the army and keep a whole press one day. Hundreds of
the officers who are emancipationists, as I am, if the brutes could be shipped
out of the country would resign if the Tribune's policy were adopted.
Within an hour some rebellious cusses have set fire to a pile of some 200 bales
of cotton, and the thick white smoke is booming up above the trees in plain
sight from where I sit. I think 'tis on the Russellville road, and about eight
or nine miles out. Our cavalry were through there yesterday and this morning.
How gloriously the people are waking up again in the North. Should think from
the papers that the excitement must be higher than ever. A man that don't know
when he is well off, or enough to keep a good thing when he has his fingers on
it, deserves what? “Nothing!” I believe you are right; yet such is my miserable
condition. Not one officer in a thousand in the army has as pleasant a place as
your brother, and yet here I am ready to go at the first chance, and into an uncertainty,
too. Colonel Mizner has assured me that I suit him, and that if he is made
brigadier he will promote me. Where I am going there is no chance for promotion
unless Brigadier General Oglesby is appointed major general. Think I will have
a better chance to work with Governor Yates, too, and then probably to not more
than a captaincy. But I have decided to go, though I am anything but anxious
about the matter. Any of the three places are good enough. I see by the papers
that a scouting party from Cape Girardeau went through to Madison, Ark. to
Helena, or Memphis rather. I wish I were over there. What delightful breezes we
have here. Believe me, it's all gumption about this being a hot climate. These
weak kneed, billious-looking citizens, (so because they are too lazy to
exercise their bones) puff and pant with their linen clothes, so thin you can
see their dirty skins, almost, and we all wear our thick winter clothes, and at
that feel the heat less than we ever did North. Such loves of nights, so everything
that's nice; and invariably so cool that blankets are necessary after midnight.
SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an
Illinois Soldier, p. 125-6
