Camp Tompkins. —
Cold, gusty, but sunshiny. The fine band of the Second Kentucky does discourse
glorious music. A dapper little fellow with a cane, “a nice young man,” fit for
Fourth Street in piping times of peace, walked by my tent just now. Not a
fellow in camp with his army blue, tattered or not, who does not feel above
him.
The enemy have just
begun to fire on the ferry and on the teams and passers between here and Gauley
Bridge. They have cannon and riflemen on the opposite side of New River. Went
with Sweet scouting to ascertain exact position of enemy. Followed up rills and
ravines, running imminent risk of breaking necks; discovered tolerable views of
the enemy. The echoes of the cannon and bursting shells were grand in these
defiles. Two of our men slightly wounded. The ferry stopped during daylight
(but doing double duty at night), is all that was accomplished. Great waste of
ammunition, great noise, excitement among soldiers. Vox praterea nihil. Got
home at night, tired enough, in the rain.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 134
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