General Pemberton, now in command at Vicksburg, was the same man, who two years ago had taken his battery from Fort Ridgely to La Crosse on the Fanny Harris.
Grant had at first attempted to take the city by assault, but had found that the Confederates were so strongly entrenched and defended their lines so stubbornly that the Northern army had to settle down to a regular siege with the object of starving their opponents into surrender.
Many Northern people came to visit their friends in Grant’s army. They brought with them turkeys and chickens and ducks as gifts to the Boys in Blue, but for once the soldiers did not appreciate these delicacies. While they were maneuvering and fighting to get into their present position on the hills in the rear of Vicksburg, Grant had boldly cut loose from his base of supplies. Foraging parties had scoured the plantations for anything they could find, and the army had largely existed on poultry.
“Give us bacon and bread!” was now the cry. “We are sick of anything that crows or quacks or gobbles; we are sick of all meat with wings. Give us bacon and bread!”
Once while Grant was riding along the lines, a soldier recognizing him called in a low voice, “Hardtack.” In a moment the cry ran along the whole line, “Hardtack! Hardtack!” Grant assured the men that a road had been built for the distribution of regular commissary supplies such as bread, hardtack, coffee, sugar, bacon, and salt meat. The men at once gave a ringing cheer, and on the next day full rations were issued to the whole army.
The four travelers from the North had plenty of opportunity to watch the operations of a great siege, and Barker met several men whom he had known in Indiana and Minnesota.
There was little fighting now, but much digging of pits and trenches and some mining and counter-mining.
“We are just camping here,” an old acquaintance told Barker, “and the digging is good. No rocks in these hills as in the hills of New England and New York.
“If the Johnnies weren’t camping so blasted close to us, it would be a fine life. As it is, the man who shows his head above the parapets is done for. The sharpshooters get him.
“I just got through digging and sitting in a pit twenty-four hours.