July 19, 1862.
I don't know whether I have any business sending such a
document as I enclose, but guess its no difference. Two spies came in to-night
and report that there are not more than 15,000 or 20,000 of the enemy left at
Tupelo and Saltillo. Bragg took a large force with him and went over in the
direction of Chattanooga a few days since. A fortnight, nearer a month, since
we had quite a large force stationed at Boonville. One of the men started to go
back to Rienzi on business, and had not been heard of since until day before
yesterday, when his body was found midway between the two places with four
bullet holes through it. It lay some distance from the road, and was discovered
by a man of the 2d Brigade while looking for water. He was undoubtedly murdered
by some citizen. Day before yesterday Mrs. Pierce, wife of a captain in the
36th Illinois, rode out in an ambulance, escorted by a corporal, to get some
fruit in the country. A party of guerrillas gobbled the party up while they
were inside of our pickets, and took them to Ripley. They sent Mrs. Pierce back
yesterday. She was well treated. I guess there are no hopes of a fight there
until autumn. I'm getting tired of doing nothing, although I certainly should
be satisfied, having easier times than almost any one in the service.
Halleck left here yesterday for Washington. Trains are
running down here from Corinth every day now, so we are only three days behind
the dates of papers received, which is better than eight or ten, as heretofore.
We have had the most splendid rains for a few days, and the weather is very
seasonable in temperature. We are living almost wholly on fruit: apples, pears
and blackberries, fresh, and peaches and strawberries canned. Don't want for
anything, but I still (so unreasonable is man) at times, think that I'm not
enjoying myself as well as I used to in the 8th. I know I couldn't stay out of
the service while the war continues, but I would like so well to have peace
once more, and be civilized awhile. There's a good time coming. Don't it come
slowly? I write all the colonel's letters now except those to his wife, and
shouldn't wonder if he'd have me do that next. At first he used to read them
over very closely, but now he often signs without asking what they are about.
To-night he told me was going to make me inspector general for brigade. Making
two generals out of one lieutenant isn't fair. I'm too lazy and modest for such
a position and think I can coax him to appoint a chap I have my eye upon.
SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an
Illinois Soldier, p. 116-7
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