Fort Gillem, Saturday, Dec. 17. Rained terribly last night. The torrents filled our ditches and swept through the tent, under—or rather over—our bed, making it decidedly wet. Got up, ate hard-tack, and then laid down and slept, and took "wet sheet pack" bath at once. Griff on guard last night in the fort. Induced the infantry guard to let him carry off lumber enough for bunk under cover of the night, so we need not fear of wet bed any more. All is quiet this morning. The storm is over and the papers tell us of the glorious whipping which Hood received. Fifteen thousand prisoners and 30 cannon the work of yesterday. To-day he is flying demoralized. No excitement manifested over the news because it is only as everyone expected.
All the men that could be spared this morning marched under Captain Hood near Camp Barry and set to work digging post-holes for stables. David Evans and I were given axes and we "butted" poles all the forenoon. Chopped hard, and I was tired by dinner time. Did not go back after dinner. It is mud! muddier! muddiest!
Wintering at Nashville
Fort Gillem, Sunday, Dec. 18. Rained all night last night, very warm and oppressive. We lay in our new bunk, a decided improvement on lying on the wet ground. Griff and I visited a squad of 2,800 prisoners this morning, of which Nashville is nearly full. They look as well as any I have ever seen, clothing not as bad as I expected to see. Could not converse with them for the guards. Our little boy with Unions sold out before he reached us, so we have not the details of yesterday's work. Our headquarters are at Franklin. They must be skedaddling very fast. Moved the picket rope as our horses were fast disappearing in the mud, which is beyond grammatical comparison. This morning everybody is all mud from head to foot. We eat it and drink it, and the air we breathe is muddy.
Fort Gillem, Monday, Dec. 19. Last night it rained very heavily again and continued till noon to-day. So furiously did it storm that it poured through our tent wetting everything. Poor me on guard. Afternoon turned very cold and freezing; it looked like snow. This is most disagreeable for camp life such as ours. All day we must move with muddy feet where at night most of the boys are obliged to spread their wet and dirty blankets to sleep.
Last night we received a big mail from Wisconsin. It told us of snow and ice, but there was the cheering fireside, warm room and cozy bed, and I could but long for these comforts once more.
1864 Freeing the Slave