Camp Dick Robinson, Kentucky
"It was a long journey from Fredericksburg Va. to Camp Dick Robinson Ky. The regiment was transported over four different lines of Rail Road, and by water, on board three different steamers, a distance of more than one thousand miles, to which may be added more than eighty miles of marching. Owing to the season with its unpleasant weather conditions, and the uncomfortable traveling accommodations, our men on this journey suffered much hardship."
"We are now steaming down the Mississippi river, and our destination
is Vicksburg. It is not a pleasure trip; our boat is loaded with soldiers and in our crowded condition there is little in the way of comfort, convenience, or accommodation. As we steam along there is constant danger of being fired on from the banks of the river by the enemy, or sunk by his
"Thursday July 9th. (1863) March at seven A.M. in the direction of Jackson Miss., the Capitol of the State; heavy skirmishing and some cannonading in our immediate front; form line of battle at dusk, lie down on our arms; remain here all night; weather very sultry; mosquitos busy."
Crab Orchard, Kentucky
"Thursday Sep. 10th. (1863) Army moves at eight A.M., leaving Crab Orchard in the direction of Cumberland Gap and Tennessee.... Ordered to report to Lieut. Justice and was instructed to remain at Crab Orchard to await the arrival of a wagon train, and also a drove of beef cattle, and to bring them forward as soon as possible. A detail of seven men was placed under my direction to assist."
"Tuesday Nov. 17th. (1863) Heavy force of the enemy advancing which we do not seem strong enough to meet successfully. The fight yesteday was without result except to check the enemy for a time. Our troops to-day fall back on Knoxville; here we make our final stand and must "do or die." Everything is being put in readiness for a strenuous resistance. Skirmishing continuously on our front. Remove wagon trains to what we consider a safer position."
Blains Cross Roads, Tennessee
"A parody on one of Longfellows poems was written by Dr. William Taylor at Blains Cross Roads Tennessee. It was one evening soon after our forces had been held in Knoxville, beseiged eighteen days by a rebel army under command of Gen. Longstreet, by which our troops had been reduced to half rations.... When the seige was raised our men were suffering not only from lack of food (hard tack and salt pork), but also from a lack of shoes and clothing."
The Wilderness, Virginia
"Friday May 6th. (1864) At daylight a great battle seems to be on; owing to the heavy forest, and thick under growth, and the broken rough country, our fighting lines are hid from view. As the day advances musketry firing grows more and more furious, crashing along our lines in a continuous rattling roar, rising and falling as it waves destruction along the different sections of our widely extended lines."
"Thursday May 12th. (1864) Weather cloudy, raining all day. Hard battle fought to-day in which our Regiment suffered severely; do not at this time know the casualties; a large number of prisoners -- upward of ten thousand were taken. Move wagon train about six miles back from the front; roads bad on account of the heavy continuous rains."
"Weather was cold, snow covered the ground, making my first experience on the Petersburg picket line any thing but pleasant. The rebel picket line, and our own, are not more than fifty to one hundred yards apart. The men often chide and bluff one another; they calling us "Yanks," and we calling them "Johnnies." Sometimes we would sing a song to which they would either cheer or jeer. Then they would sing us a southern song and we would laugh and make fun of it. Often stories were told by one side or the other; in this way often during the night, time was whiled away."
"The flags are furled. The faded, tattered colors
That once waved proudly in the battle breeze
Cling to their time-worn staffs, concealing
Rents from shot and shell---incarnadined
With heroes blood---mute witnesses of
Fields of carnage, agony and woe...."
From a poem by John W. Morrison