The army in motion to the south—Character and scenes of the first day's march—A picture of the old soldier in bivouac, and a glance at his domestic arrangements—The march of Nov. 29.—Bivouac at Holly Springs—Marching through the city—An earthquake—The cavalry division and the enemy's rear guard—Cannonading—Camp at Lumkin's Mills—A storm—Movement of Sherman, retreat of the enemy and advance of troops—Our division left behind—Things to the front—We advance—Rebel works on the Tallahatchie—Scenes and scenery of the day's march—Camp at Hurricane Creek—Oxford—Join the main army at Yockona Creek—The 33d Wisconsin—The situation and movements—Raid of Van Dorn—Movements to open the communications.

Reveille sounded at 4 o'clock. We cooked breakfast, packed knapsacks and haversacks, filled canteens, loaded wagons and fell into line. Major Brown was in the saddle. It was cheering to the members of Company F, to see their former esteemed Captain at the head of the regiment. The field music struck up the old familiar marching tune, "The Girl I left behind me," and the regiment marched out and took its position in the column on the bluffs of the river. Here we waited for the 2d and 3d Brigades to pass, watching in the meantime their column of dark infantry mixed with white covered wagons, as it extended to the south. It was a grand spectacle to see the right wing of the army stretching over those broad and open fields further into the land of the enemy. And when each soldier thought, "I am a part of this grand movement; little as I am, I am helping to make history," he felt an exultation known only to men in the hour of great enterprises or of great success.

The left wing was also in motion on the road south from Grand Junction. Where that road unites with the one on which we were marching, six miles south of Wolf River, the right wing halted, and the left wing assumed the advance.

The roads were most favorable for marching, but the sky was overcast with leaden clouds, and the wind blew cold and raw from the northwest. During the frequent halts occasioned by the great length of the trains, the men would tear down the fences and build fires, around which to warm themselves. So frequent were the halts, and so great the length of the column, that before night the way was almost a continuous line of fire. These fires extended through the dry leaves and stubble, and communicated themselves to the fences, till at length we seemed to be marching through a perpetual bonfire. The sun went down, and darkness began to gather around, when, all at once through a sudden rift in the gloomy clouds, the red twilight broke gloriously, while to the east whither the wind was blowing, the flames of burning fences, fields and buildings, lit up the sky, which glared vengefully upon us as we marched along. It was a scene worthy a poet or painter. It was the splendor of desolation. A vast invading army marching through a blaze of the ruin it had made! Whether it were intentional or accidental, we could not but deplore such a destruction of property. We knew that the world would consider such doings intentional, and that they would be a lasting stigma upon our name. There were some among us that rejoiced at it; but many shuddered instinctively at seeing ourselves re-enacting the deeds which have made the name of vandal the execration of all ages.

The advance infantry camped for the night at Cold Water. But our division, though it marched two hours after night, camped near the familiar brick church south of Lamar. Here there was no water for the animals, and scarcely enough for the men. The wagons parked as they traveled, by brigades. On account of the weight of our knapsacks, the slowness of the march, and the frequent halts, we were excessively fatigued, and when the order was given to file to the right, we had scarcely patience enough left to go through the remaining movement of halt!—close up—front! center dress! front! fix-bayonets! shoulder-arms! stack-arms! break ranks—march!

And here a stranger could have observed in all its reality the habits of the old soldier on the march. His knapsack is packed, not according to regulations, but to suit his own convenience. His haversack contains three days rations of bread, sugar and coffee, and a sure supply of salt. For his meat he trusts chiefly to fortune and to the enemy's pig-pens and henroosts. Outside his haversack hangs all that is left of some merry oyster supper,—a small tin can with a wire bail—his coffee pot. His canteen is never empty when water can be procured, unless it contains something sweeter or stronger than water. When the regiment halts for the night and breaks ranks, his first purpose is to explore the near neighborhood, and espy and seize whatever he can of fresh meat, which having brought in, he divides liberally among his comrades, after reserving the best piece to himself. He then proceeds to improvise a fire, if his comrades have not a place for him by the side of theirs. And here let me say to all uninitiated soldiers, that whatever may be said in favor of green hickory, or dry oak tops, experience has taught me that well-seasoned rails make decidedly the best camp-fire in Secession Land. When he has built his fire, by chance he draws his gun from the stack, and brings his knapsack close to the welcome blaze, and sits down upon it, with his canteen, haversack and cartridge-box at hand. He fills his "coffee kettle" and puts it on the coals. He cuts a piece of meat, salts it, sticks his ramrod into it, and commences broiling it in the blaze. And then, should the Orderly Sergeant be heard calling him to go on guard or fatigue,—well, no one will blame me for not rehearsing word for word the strict manner in which he complains of the Fates. If he is so fortunate as to escape this, when his supper is over (relished no where so well), he gathers a heap of dry leaves, or it may be, breaks a bundle of broom sedge, upon which he spreads his blankets, and soon, his feet to the fire and his head in the land of cool air and pleasant dreams, till the morning drum or the night alarm, he is oblivious to the weary world.

Ranging among the fires, the stranger will perceive that the manner of this soldier varies greatly among the others. Some, like him, find it good to be alone. Others, like geese, choose their mates and go in pairs. Others, gregarious, go in herds of six or eight. These variations in the size of families, cause as many modifications in the mode of life, which in all cases has reference to the general principle of acquiring the most comfort with the least possible labor.

November 29. We were aroused early, and were ready to move at daylight. But we were to be rear guard to-day, and had to wait for other troops to move out. The sun rose. Weary and stiff, we slung knapsacks and moved into the road. Slowly and with much halting the trains took the road, and by eight o'clock the column was again in motion. The roads were dusty, and the halts were more frequent and annoying than yesterday.

At 2 P.M., we reached Cold Water, where the left wing camped last night. Here we halted to rest and water our animals, and it was after dark when the march was resumed, and we did not reach Holly Springs till 11 P.M. Here we halted for the night. We built fires of the garden fences, and made our beds of forage taken from the barns of the citizens. Who could blame us? When the alternative was a cheerless night with no supper but that in our haversacks, and a bed upon the damp ground, what soldier would have done less?

And now, once more, those of the dwellers of this beautiful city who had not fled with their retiring army, saw on all sides the camp fires of "the Invader," and heard upon their sidewalks the tread of "Vandal" sentinels.

November 30—Sunday. The drums woke us at four o'clock, and though our short sleep had illy sufficed to refresh us, the admonitions of our officers, that we were soon to march, forbade any further attempt at repose. At daylight, the 3d Iowa leading the Division, we marched through the principal street of the city, with our files neatly dressed, to the sound of martial music. Vain parade! There were no citizens to witness it—none to admire it. If we had a terror for our enemy, we had inspired it in the confusion of battle, not by keeping step on review to sounds of fife and drum.

The day was cloudy, and the wind blew soft and damp from the south. For a while we moved rapidly; but soon subsided into a more reasonable gait. In the forenoon, while taking a short rest, we experienced a perceptible shock of an earthquake, which was also felt at Cairo and St. Louis. Reports frequently came that the cavalry division under Colonel Dickey, were skirmishing with the enemy's rear guard, and that he had captured two cannon.

As we approached Lumkin's Mills, a sudden burst of artillery saluted our ears. The sound put Colonel Pugh in ecstacies; and looking around, he called out in his peculiar tone of voice, "Boys, d' ye hear that?" The discharges were frequent and the deep valleys prolonged the sounds into deep echoes such as we had never heard before. It was the cavalry division engaging the enemy's nearest troops north of the Tallahatchie. This firing lasted nearly two hours, and not knowing the cause of it, we took it to be the beginning of a general engagement. We had been the rearmost division in the march; and coming up with the troops of the other divisions, we found them camped on a high, commanding ridge which rises along the north bank of the stream which turns Lumkin's Mills, and overlooks a more level tract southward toward the Tallahatchie. We camped in advance of them, the 1st Brigade on the plain in the extreme advance.

The cannonade died away with the daylight; and soon after the artillery of Heaven in louder and longer echoes began to shake the hills. We hastily put up tents in expectation of a storm. It came sweeping from the west with loud crashings of thunder—a perfect tornado. Our tents fell before it, and the water ran in streams under our blankets. Many of us were compelled to seek warmth around our re-enkindled fires. And here, though the body suffered, the mind could not but feel exalted in the presence of such a grand commotion of the elements. The crashing thunder, the intense darkness, relieved only by the frequent lightnings and the camp fires of the army extending far and wide to the north, and the rushing wind, were in the highest degree sublime. In the morning God had shaken the earth; in the evening man had shaken the heavens, and now God was shaking both the heavens and the earth.

December 1st. The day was without rain, but the wind cold and raw, blew broken masses of clouds from the north. It was reported that Sherman with a strong column had crossed the Tallahatchie, nine miles below the enemy's works, flanked him and compelled him to retreat. That evening McArthur's division hastily advanced, and during the entire following forenoon, the troops filed through our camps, advancing to the south. Our division and that now under command of Gen. Ross were left at this point; for what purpose, officers and men were alike unable to conjecture.

Trains were sent back to Lamar for rations, and the engineer troops were busy repairing the railroad southward from that point. General Sherman returned to Memphis to begin his expedition against Vicksburg, and General Grant, his column augmented by Denver's division of Sherman's troops, was pushing forward after the enemy. The details of his marches we knew only by report. The cavalry division pushed the enemy's rear guard with splendid results. Many prisoners passed to the rear, and we listened with thrilling interest to rehearsals of the gallant conduct of this portion of the army. The character of the cavalry, so much depreciated since the battle of Shiloh, now took a sudden rise in our estimation. In the romantic ideas of some of the young soldiers, "the man on the horse" came to be all in all. And many were frequently heard, regretting their misfortune in having enlisted in the infantry.

Meantime General McKean was relieved from active duty at his own request, and early on the morning of the 11th, started north with his staff. The division had received marching orders the night before, and the same morning at six o'clock we took up the march toward the south.

The weather was soft and delightful, and the roads all that could be desired. At ten o'clock we reached the enemy's late advance works in front of the Tallahatchie. They consisted of a single line of rifle pits with embrasures at three points, sufficient each for a battery of light guns. They were by no means formidable, and the ground north of them was higher than that on which they were erected; but their field of fire was open and level, and they could not have been carried by direct assault without some loss. They were constructed to defend the bridge across the Tallahatchie. Beyond the river we came upon his main fort, its front and lateral faces angling with the river, and very nearly closing behind. It was a formidable work, its parapet thick and high, and its ditch wide and deep, with some interior arrangements which I did not comprehend, and rifle pits extending from its flanks, the whole buried in an impenetrable forest of bottom timber. So dense was this timber, that artillery could not have been brought to bear on them with success, and direct assault in the presence of the intervening river would have been out of the question.

As we marched through these works, we said among ourselves, "If the enemy could not hold such a place as this, where this side of Vicksburg will he make a stand? Our advance then will be a continued march of victory." Thus in exultation we pressed on.

Three miles south of the Tallahatchie we passed Abbeville, a small railroad station garrisoned by a few troops. We camped for the night on Hurricane Creek, a small stream six miles north of Oxford.

The country through which we passed south of the Tallahatchie was mountainous and picturesque. Sometimes we would ascend high ranges of hills which would give us a wide view of the country; whence we could see other ranges lying blue and dim in the distance, and far to the right the deep and sleepy looking valley of the Tallahatchie. It afforded a delightful contrast to the monotonous woods, interrupted only by sparse plantations, which, on our previous marches in the South, had bounded to narrow distances the inquiring vision, and rose round us like a prison wall.

December 12th. We resumed the march early, and at nine o'clock passed through Oxford, a very pleasant looking little city, but bounded on all sides by the inevitable oak forest of these regions. It was chiefly noted as being the site of the University of Mississippi. This building, built of brick, in the western environs of the city, rose in stately relief against the dark woods and above the meaner edifices surrounding it, and was one of the few objects that commanded our united respect, even in a land of traitors.

A march of twelve miles further, accomplished with much fatigue and straggling, brought us in sight of the main army camped along Yockona Creek. Here General Lauman was waiting to assume command of the division. His return was greeted throughout our regiment with great joy. That night we enjoyed the luxury of a drizzling Southern rain, and the next morning we put up tents and laid out our camp in regular order. The 103d Illinois had been left behind at Waterford, and now the 33d Wisconsin was attached to the 1st Brigade to supply its place. This regiment had advanced with Sherman's column from Memphis, and then countermarched to Waterford, and then again advanced to join the main army: in consequence of which, their supply of rations was either so much exhausted or wasted, that they were reduced to three-fourths of the regular allowance. In addition to this, the vigilance and energy of the provost marshal had rendered it impossible for inexperienced soldiers to draw many supplies from the country. In this situation their complaints, as might have been expected from young soldiers, were boisterous and perhaps unreasonable. Indeed, they seemed to us to act very foolishly. They abused without restraint their quartermaster and other officers, and accused them of stealing their rations. They would besiege their colonel's tent in great crowds, clamoring for rations. All day, with scarcely an interruption, the cry of "crackers!" rang from their camp; and long before reveille, of mornings, the woods would echo to the cry of "crackers! crackers!" And in the middle of the night, if they said aught, talking in their sleep, it would be to repeat that inevitable and all-meaning word, crackers. Now we pitied them; and as far as we were able, shared our rations with them. But we could not but be amused at the vehement manner in which they expressed their impatience; for it called to mind ludicrous recollections of the days when we were young soldiers ourselves.

The army rested in this position, and waited the opening of railroad communications from Holly Springs. In a week the cars were running from Yockona Station. The cavalry division had sustained its first defeat near Coffeeville—a severe repulse at the hands of the enemy's infantry and artillery. This seemed to indicate his intention to dispute the occupation of Grenada, where he was said to be strongly fortified. But this result might have been anticipated by the cavalry, when, already beyond the reach of support from the infantry, they had pushed on against a vigilant and skillful enemy. He had taken advantage of their temerity and punished it severely; but, to the army in general, the affair was not of a serious character.

But the enemy's cavalry under Van Dorn, late their commanding general in Mississippi, was preparing a blow for our campaign, and it fell suddenly where it was least expected. Most of the cavalry division was recalled from the front, and part of it under Colonel Dickey was sent east, to make a raid on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, while the other part under Colonel Lee proceeded north to protect the communications from the designs of Forrest, who was moving on our railroad lines in Tennessee. About noon of the 19th, the Ohio Brigade of Ross' division, camped two miles south of Oxford, moved on the cars toward the north, passed through Holly Springs that evening, and arrived at Bolivar some time in the night. The same day Colonel Dickey, on his return, crossed the trail of Van Dorn, who was then moving to the north on his raid, and apprised General Grant of his movements, but too late to enable him to take measures to check them.

On the 20th, intimations that Van Dorn had captured Holly Springs came to the troops, first in the shape of vague rumors, and then of more definite reports. Immediate dispositions were made to meet the new danger. McArthur's division was sent to the north to open up the communications. The same night, orders came to the 4th Division to be ready to march at an early hour. The noise of preparation was kept up far into the night. In the midst of this, across the valley to the north of our regiment, we heard a tumult which sounded like a thousand watch-dogs, joining all hideously in their midnight orgies. It was a row between the 14th and 15th Illinois regiments on one side, and the 16th Illinois on the other. I believe it was confined entirely to words.

At six o'clock in the morning the division moved, and, passing to the east, crossed the railroad at Yockona Station, and, after proceeding about four miles, camped on the ground just abandoned by McArthur's division. We laid out camps in the regular manner, got up tents, and in the evening our regiment had dress parade, at which was read an order from General McPherson that the troops of the right wing would be put on three-quarter rations. Towards night marching orders came to the artillery, and late in the night orders came to the infantry to be ready to march early in the morning.