Lenoir. Another letter from home last night, dated
October 16th. Only four letters in two months; I find, too, my letters are
quite as irregular.
I have just learned
that Lieutenant Miller starts for home at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning. He will
visit my loved ones and tell them all the news. I know not how to express
myself in regard to our present situation. I am glad we were not forced to
retreat. Still, I am certain we could have held those heights, and to leave
without firing a gun! Oh, for a few Wolfords and Grants—men who are "here
to fight."
All sorts of rumors
are afloat. "Bragg, with all his army, is advancing." Longstreet is
crossing the river six miles below Kingston to flank us on the right. Another
heavy force is on our left, making for Knoxville. "Wilcox has been driven
back from the east," and a hundred others equally encouraging. We know not
what to think of it, and yet must criticise and form conclusions. But it is all
explained at last. We fell in at 1 o'clock today, marched about a mile to a
beautiful grove near a large spring of never-failing water. Here our division
formed in line and stacked arms, with orders to remain in line until further
notice. Lieutenant Colonel Comstock soon called our regiment to
"attention," ordered company commanders in front of center, and then
and there revealed to them the long-wished-for intelligence. All officers and
men were taken by surprise. We were prepared to hear of some great calamity,
but not for this. Nothing like it had ever before happened to the Ninth Army
Corps. "Our fall campaign is closed. Prepare for yourselves comfortable
quarters for the winter." For a moment there was a silence that could be
felt, then a shoat went up that "rent the heavens and shook the
everlasting hills." Not simply because we were ordered to prepare winter
quarters, but a mysterious movement had been explained a weight of anxiety
removed.
SOURCE: David
Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865,
pp. 113-5
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