Headquarters Second Brigade, Second Division,
Fifteenth Army Corps,
Steamer “Sunny South,” January 20, 1863.
My table is covered with orders, letters, plans, and maps,
and my head full of business to the limit of its capacity, therefore, I propose
to abandon business and for the small balance of this night, devote myself to
you, my dear mother. This is the thirtieth day of this memorable expedition, a
month has passed away since we left Memphis, a month fraught with startling
events. Many a poor fellow has lost the number of his mess, and we are yet on
the verge of the consummation of the great event. If you will look at the map,
and running your eye down the Mississippi River seek a point first below the
dividing line between Arkansas and Louisiana, say eighty-five miles above
Vicksburg, you can form an idea of about the place where my headquarters, the Sunny
South, is now plowing her way southward. Tomorrow we propose to debark at
or near Milliken's Bend near the mouth of the Yazoo River, and this may be my
last opportunity for some time to come, of writing home; the opportunity of
sending, at any rate, is doubtful. I can only hope it will reach you, as I hope
that other letters, cast as waifs upon the water, have reached, or will reach
their haven at last.
I am in good condition in all respects for the next battle.
The weather for the past two or three days has become delightful, neither too
warm nor too cold, balmy and at the same time bracing. These southern winters
are far preferable to those of Ohio and probably more healthful. The river is
nearly bankfull, an immense wide expanse of water. We are passing beautiful
plantations, with their long rows of neat, whitewashed negro quarters, every
house deserted. Now and then we come to the cane, then the cottonwood. Sometimes,
when we get to a long reach in the river, the view is beautiful; one great
fleet of steamboats, keeping their regular distance in military style,
sometimes as many as sixty in sight, the steam wreathing up in fantastic forms,
the spray from the wheels forming rainbows in the bright sunlight; now and then
a strain of martial music or the refrain of a cheery song from the soldiers.
Soldiers are much like sailors in this regard; they will have their song and
fiddle and dance, and we encourage it, because it keeps the devil down.
I notice I have had a good many friends killed and wounded
at Murfreesboro — glorious spirits gone up as avant couriers.
Last night my own little fleet ran up one of the numerous
chutes of this part of the river on the Arkansas side, and not long after we
had landed I was boarded by a substantial-looking planter with a request for a
guard to his house, as he had ladies in his domicile. I of course extended the
desired protection and took occasion in person to see my orders carried out. Of
course the hospitalities of the house were offered, and I passed a couple of
hours very pleasantly in the society of the four ladies, who did the honors, a
mother and three daughters, very fair samples of real Southern plantation
society.
SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of
Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 264-5
No comments:
Post a Comment