Etowah Bridge, Saturday, Sept. 3. A hot, sultry morning. Severe storm of wind and rain in the afternoon, threatening to tear our quarters to pieces. Everything wet and damp. Sherman is fighting Hood southwest of Atlanta. 20th Army Corps is in possession of that coveted stronghold.
1864 Atlanta is Ours
Etowah Bridge, Sunday, Sept. 4. Inspection as usual at 7 A. M. 8 A. M. made glad by the arrival of Uncle Lester with bag full of mail and papers. Received none of the former, but the news is glorious. Atlanta is ours. Sherman routed his foe. Fort Morgan surrendered with prisoners. Wheeler retreating. Hurrah! I say. Discouraging enough to the cowardly party that has just nominated G. B. McClellan for president at Chicago.
W. A. Gordon, one of the oldest members of the Battery, died at noon in camp after a short but severe illness. He left a large family last winter who will miss their kind father and protector.
Etowah Bridge, Monday, Sept. 5. This morning at 8 A. M. we buried the remains of Mr. Gordon, the coffin borne on a caisson followed by martial band of 48th Infantry playing the dead march. His remains were consigned to their last habitation on a pretty knoll neath large oaks, without a tear or a sigh. He was left, the band playing a lively march as if to drown all thought of the dead. Another poor soldier "off duty". The sound of the reveille will awaken him to duty no more. May his ashes rest in peace in a traitor's land.
On guard, second relief. Cloudy, but little rain. No mail. Two long, empty trains passed to the front, supposed to go for prisoners.
Etowah Bridge, Tuesday, Sept. 6. My health is very good. Weather very oppressive. Little rain during the afternoon. No trains from the North. Rations being hauled to Atlanta from Marietta to subsist the army on.