This morning the fallen soldier's comrades bury him in a lonely place. Thus is this land being dotted all over with the Union's noble defenders. As we stand by this soldier's last resting place we are tempted to pray to heaven that some blighting and dread malaria would settle on the godless traitors—that their widows might weep until their eyes are weary, waiting for the return of their husbands-murderers from the field of strife. The command soon moves. We are now following winding paths through the woods and swamps, hunting for the marauding bands that are infesting West Tennessee. The regiment is now divided, moving in different directions. About noon we enter Jack Creek and capture three guerrillas. We remain here waiting for the different companies and detachments to come in. The junction formed, we move in the direction of Saultilla Landing, Tennessee river. All day we have been on the trail of Colonel Newsom; at one time the scouts fired upon him fifteen or twenty shots, but they failed in their object. To-night we camp six miles from the Tennessee river.
No comments:
Post a Comment