Camp near Boonville,
Miss., June 13, 1862.
This is the fourth camp that we have had to call as above.
We have lived all around the burg, but to-morrow we leave. We have just got
nicely arranged here after working hard all day, and now an order comes to move
brigade headquarters back to Rienzi, nearly 10 miles toward Corinth. Bah! how
sick it makes me to write that name. I haven't seen the place yet, and have no
desire to. I feel about once a week as though a little skirmish would do me
good, but I don't see any use in getting mad because they won't give me a
chance to fight. I couldn't feel any more out of the war at home than I do
here. The enemy have all gone further into Dixie and we're left the undisputed
occupants of this neck. Our headquarters here are about 25 miles south of
Corinth, and we have pickets at Baldwin, 15 miles south of this. Pope's whole
division has moved back to just this side of Corinth except our brigade, so
here we are, maybe 1,200 effective men, doing outpost duty nearly 40 miles in
advance of the army. Yesterday the colonel, his A. D. C. and myself rode around
our entire picket line, I mean
the part of our brigade that is guarding the M. & O. R. R. There is only
one regiment doing this, and they are strung out so that our ride was full 40
miles. When we were within two miles of our camp, coming in, I was galloping
along ahead of the colonel, maybe 50 yards (’twas 10 p. m.) and I thought I
heard a “halt,” but was so sure there were no pickets there (full a dozen miles
inside of our corps' pickets) that I didn't mind it until bang, went an old
musket, and the bullet zipped considerably over my head. I halted. They were
some infantry pickets whose regiment was close by in the woods (some two
miles). Well, we hadn't the countersign and they wern't going to let us pass.
The colonel swore, I was awful hungry, and I cussed, the A. D. C. raved, but
the picket sergeant was immovable. At last we coaxed him to send us in with a
guard to his colonel. He sent six men with us as guard, and the cuss gave
orders to shoot us if we tried to run. The chap that shot was one of the guard,
and he told me that he shot over my head on purpose after he had halloed “halt”
several times. They didn't know there was cavalry outside of them and said
they'd shot us sure if they hadn't seen the glimmer of my straps in the
moonlight. We got their colonel up, took a toddy with him and — home. Did I
ever tell you about my darkey, “Charley”? We got him at Cape Girardeau. He
informed our troops where his master and company had hidden some 14 kegs of
powder and some arms. His massa found out he had informed and put him in irons
four weeks. He escaped and came to us We lost him at Madrid and never knew what
had become of him until he turned up here a week since He had been sick in the
Cairo hospital. He comes very handy to me when I'm a little lazy, which,
though, is only 30 or 40 times a day. He has my boots blacked and clothes
brushed when I get up in the morning, is a splendid hand to take care of a
horse, and all told a very handy institution. He wants me to promise to take
him home with me. If you will have him, I'll do it. He'd be right handy about
our house. I have the nicest horse. He is a perfect staver. A little tiresome
to ride because so anxious to go fast, but he is so strong and never tires.
After that ride yesterday of 40 miles through a broiling sun he danced along at
the last as much as when we started. We were coming in from a reconnoisance one
night last week and about 10 p. m., dark as Egypt, an artillery wagon crowded
me off a causeway and Siegel (my horse) went into the mud to his shoulders and
I, over his head, gracefully. He got out and sloped, and I walked into camp. ’Twas
only a quarter of a mile. An artillery sergeant caught him and I walked out to
the road just in time to see him passing. He dismounted very spryly. Siegel
licks my hands just like a dog and he will follow me away from his oats any
time. After he got away from me that night he went back again to where we fell
and that's where the sergeant got him. He is a large bay and I wouldn't take
anything for him. I was riding to-day with the colonel, and as we crossed the
M. and O. R. R. I saw a couple of fellows 300 or 400 yards down the road coming
towards us, and one of them threw up his hands. I thought he was a deserter and
waited. They proved to be what I thought. One was an Alabamian and the other
from Arkansas. They had seen our pickets further out but thought them
Confederates and slipped by them through the brush. I took them to the colonel,
and since then, this p. m., nine more have come in, and 'tis not a very good
day for deserters either. These people here are very tired of war. You would be
if this army should march through Canton, indeed you would. You can't go into
hardly a house here but what they'll ask if you know anything of “my son,” “my
brother,” or “my husband” that was taken prisoner at this place or that place,
and then the poor creatures will cry as though their hearts were broken and you
begin to feel queer about your throat, and — I can't stand that at all. It
hurts me under my vest to see these poor women suffering, for maybe not the
fault of those they mourn, but of rich men and politicians who have by threats
and lies induced these poor devils to leave their families to die of
starvation, to fight for, they can't tell what.
I have just seen a Mobile Register of the 5th. It
says they have taken at Richmond 7,000 prisoners, 80 pieces artillery, wagons,
etc., innumerable quartermaster and commissary stores in vast quantities. That
McClellan is driven back 30 miles and his army is surrounded, but a few of them
may escape by James river. Very jocular and highly edifying. They also claim
15,000 stands small arms captured.
SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an
Illinois Soldier, p. 101-4
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