This morning we learn that Rome is in danger of an attack from Hood's northward bound column. We are early ordered into line, and soon we move out from our camp near the Etawah river. We do not march far until our advance is checked, when a brisk skirmish commences. All day we keep up a running fire with a considerable force of rebels with artillery, supposed to be a brigade sent out by Hood to reconnoiter. In the evening we return to camp with the loss of one man from Company F—private Hugh H. Porter, mortally wounded. And so another good soldier has fallen; another name to be added to the Union's roll of honor; a name with the prefix of private, but none the less worthy. As we look over the Seventh's mortality list, we see the name of none who was truer and more valiant than Hugh H. Porter, of gallant old Company F.
Since our return from the Allatoona Pass, one of the Seventh's drummer boys has died; little Willie White, of Company H. His brother John fell a victim at Allatoona. Willie was left at Rome; he did not accompany the regiment, but when he heard of his brother's death, it weighed so heavily upon him as to prostrate him upon a bed of sickness, and soon he passed away—dies from grief, uttering as his last words: "Oh! what will mother do now?" We buried him in the soldiers' cemetery near the Etawah River, and a little white board marks the lonely spot where the Seventh's drummer boy sleeps. General Hood, with his half starved army, has crossed the Coosa River, moving northward, making but a slight feint on Rome. Sherman's army is now swarming in and around Rome. Hood is far to the northward, and all is quiet on the Etawah and Coosa Rivers. It is evident that Sherman is contemplating a movement that will shake the Confederacy and startle the world. The military are all active. Last night we chanced to be in Rome at the midnight hour. Who is that stately personage pacing to and fro in front of yonder tent? The guard tells us that it is Major General Sherman. He is in his night dress. Hood was then crossing the Tennessee. We know that some gigantic scheme is revolving in that master mind; a scheme the grandest and the boldest that ever flashed upon the world's greatest military minds, as the sequel will show when the future's sealed scroll shall have been unfolded a little way.
The wounded have all been sent northward. Noble company! May they soon recover and return to us again, for the regiment seems crippled without them. Ere we leave Rome we learn of the death of First Lieutenant and Adjutant J. S. Robinson and Sergeant Edward C. Nichols, of Company H—died from wounds received in the battle at Allatoona. Thus two more gallant soldiers have passed away. Long and patiently they endured their suffering, but at last the brittle thread of life broke, and these soldiers are now at rest. The indications as present are that we will soon leave Rome; how soon, we know not. The soldiers are conjecturing, but all is wrapped in mystery since Sherman has left Hood free to operate against Nashville. But for the present we are compelled to let the curtain hang; by and by it will be swung back; until that time we will wait.
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