Orders directing us to clean harness, etc., preparatory to turning over. Inspection announced at 2 P. M. Camp swept, clothes brushed and buttons polished, then it was postponed to 6:30 P. M. Rained, but it stopped long enough to be inspected by Captain Nicklin, assistant inspector general, known better in camp as "Jack o' Clubs", not liked too well.
Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 13. Rained a refreshing shower through the night and I slept very sound. Several squads out blackberrying. They are getting ripe. I forgot to tell you that we had blackberry pie last night. One-year men and we '62 recruits are getting wrathy. The orders that reach all other commands except the reserve ought to take us, we think, mustering out all men where term of service expires prior to October 1. One of our boys saw the General to-day. But who cares. I am not so badly excited over this matter, but that I can rest well.
Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 14. Another very hot day. No drill of any kind. The other batteries go out every morning. Our officers are very easy on the boys at present. 6th Battery has changed commanders again. Simpson was mustered in this morning as captain and Jenawein as first lieutenant. This leaves a vacancy for second lieutenant soon to be filled by ——, I suppose. If he will be appointed it will cause much dissatisfaction among the men for he is not liked in the least. No "grape-vine" excitement to-day. What is to happen?
Chattanooga, Thursday, June 15. Breakfast passed as usual. Charlie Pickard and myself procured a blackberry pass, and armed each with a tin pail, set out while it was yet cool, and we walked fast. We followed the old Georgia Railroad out into Chickamauga Valley, passed the vineyard which we tugged through on the 25th of November, 1863, under the rebel fire. The scene looked very natural, but the houses used as hospitals close by are burnt down, fences repaired and crops growing. Here we conversed with a negro, once a slave but now a free man. When "Massa run, aha," he staid behind, and has forty acres of good corn planted and cultivated by himself for his own benefit. We saw many others industriously engaged for the welfare of self and family. What better proof need we have than this that the negro will support himself.
1865 Religion in the Mountains
Here we found plenty of berries, but not many of them ripe yet, so we marched on, struck Chickamauga Creek, followed it about half a mile to the ferry, when cries and shrieks fell upon our ears, evidently a woman in great agony. Our minds were readily carried back to the time when such cries were often extorted from the poor slaves by the cruel hand of the master. And could it be possible that such a scene was being enacted in this valley now under the very eye of the power that had abolished it? It seemed incredible, yet we feared it, and we hastily turned our steps in the direction of the sound. As we approached, it still became more hideous and different voices could be discerned. Up high on the hill we at last discovered the place whence the noise proceeded, from a rough log negro hut. Passing a neat white house about fifty rods below the shanty, we were informed of the cause by a woman unconcernedly smoking her pipe. She "reckoned they were shouting up there". A little suspecting the cause, yet we were bent on investigation. We met a young woman on the way with long, flowing disheveled hair, looking very much excited.
Charley asked "What's the row up there?"