Chattanooga, Monday, May 1. May Day, and I begin another book in good health and splendid spirits. Went out on brigade drill this morning 8 A. M. Four horse batteries drilled under Major Mendenhall, our chief. Maneuvered on the nice green flat south of Fort Phelps. The loud voices of command and the clamor of the bugles, attracted many spectators. The drill passed off pleasantly and instructive. The 6th Battery under Lieutenant Sweet did as well as the best. Reached camp by dinner time.
1865 Getting Relics
Never was our camp fuller of grape-vine rumors than now, and I never knew soldiers under greater excitement. The vague orders of the War Department in relation to reducing expenses and mustering out the army, gives all the ground of believing in a speedy discharge, consequently a hundred different speculations exist. I don't feel any peculiar exhilaration, but like the rest, I cannot stay long in a place but go about to hear and talk. Ed Hayes and I procured a section of the mine laid in bottom of the Tennessee River to Bridgeport during Bragg's siege, this afternoon. Quite a curiosity.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 2. The sun arose in all its majesty, promising a splendid day. After breakfast Landen and George Spencer were going on top of Lookout. They had a pass for three, and invited me to go along. Having a great desire to visit, I was soon before the officer of the day, thence to Captain Hood, and the request granted. With a loaf of bread and tin cup in my haversack, we started.
Delayed till 8 A. M. waiting for pass to go through picket lines. Two miles brisk walking brought us to the base of the mountain which looked much more formidable there than from camp. We made the ascent on the military road which has been blasted and macadamized by Uncle Sam. It ran zigzag along the east slope of the hill, and not too steep to drive a team quite readily. Patiently we trudged along around massive piles of eternal rocks and past beautiful rustic springs of pure cold water, gushing from solid rocks, partly fixed by the hand of man for the accommodation of man and beast. The road was lined on both sides with heavy foliage of living green, with an occasional opening, through which we could look back on the map-like plat of Chattanooga, with its well-laid camps, and cool our heated brows with the cool refreshing breezes.
Up and up we go, ever and anon we pass a notice by the engineer, giving the elevation above the Tennessee and the distance up to the top. For over two hours we tugged upwards, our enthusiasm somewhat abated by the fatigue, but finally we reached the summit. A sentinel with white gloves and glistening brass, a "true regular" demanded to see our pass. We were now two miles or more from the point which overlooks the town. Here was quite a town called Summer Town with a large tavern, stables, etc. Evidently this was once a great pleasure resort in the summer season for the aristocracy. Here were also extensive hospital buildings erected by the U. S., accommodating I should judge, over 5,000 sick. Also the camp of the Regular Brigade quartered here for over a year.
But time was precious and we pushed on toward the west side of the mountain which is about a mile and a half across, through a heavy growth of timber with a beautiful variety of wild flowers. Before noon we stood on the grounds where Hooker and his men won immortal fame in November, 1863. Directly beneath us we could see the remains of the camp in Lookout Valley. On the further side of the valley was a train of cars leaving Sequatchie Station, looking very diminutive like a child's plaything. On the parapet we walked around the craggy points towards the Point, passing several heavy lines of rebel earthworks. 'Tis astounding how men could ever fight on such precipitous rocks. By a most lovely spring gushing over the very brink we seated ourselves in the refreshing shade of a sycamore, and ate our dinner with keen relish.