1863 The Mine
Before Vicksburg, Thursday, June 25. Our curiosity was awakened this morning by an order to each piece to deposit all their slow-matches at Captain's tent, we knew not for what purpose. But we soon learned that it was to convey fire to the blast placed under the big fort to our right (in Logan's line). A drift 37 feet deep was run under it with chambers parallel to the fort. In this was deposited —— lbs. of powder (by the trusty negro). Orders were given to the several sergeants to have the cannoneers at their posts at 2 P. M. at which time the fort was "to be blown up" and a general cannonading to be immediately opened.
As the hour approached, all hands were anxiously waiting, each desirous of witnessing the result. It was dull and very oppressive; all nature seemed drooping, and ominous silence prevailed on both sides; not a flutter of air, not a word was spoken, and you could hear naught but your own silent breath. All at once a dead heavy roll, a hundred shouts, and you could see nothing but a black cloud of dirt and powder smoke, throwing the earth 30 or 40 feet in the air, and about half of the wall rolled over the ditch as if turned by a ponderous plow. Instantaneous with this was the crack of a hundred cannon, as if they were all pulled off by one lanyard, and a furious cannonading answered, while the infantry advancing with a yell that none but soldiers can give, rushed up the breastworks, and a galling fire ensued between the rebs at the bottom and at the top. Our men tried hard to dislodge them and take possession of the fort, but it was too much. They lay on the ground until night, elevating their guns above their heads to shoot, while some obtained concealed positions, firing while those below were loading for them. A stand of colors was brought up and planted. Hand grenades were tossed back and forth with great briskness. Some were digging for a piece of artillery, an engagement in which valor and courage are signalized.
Before Vicksburg, Friday, June 26. Our men still claim their side of the fort, nothing daunted by the stubbornness of yesterday. An active engagement was continued during the night by grenades, all the surplus shells of smooth bores taken to be used for such. The 5th Platoon driver turned in with us this morning to dig a well to water the horses, which we completed by 4 P. M., 15 feet deep, width 30 inches. At evening I received my weekly letters.
Before Vicksburg, Saturday, June 27. Rather sore from yesterday's fatigue. The hot sun pouring his fiery arrows down with such force as almost to overcome us. Rebs threw many 20-pound shells (Parrott) into this hole or building, but they were uncharged, which took away much of their terror. They were aimed at the disputed fort (which they look at as much ours as theirs, I should judge). They also opened fire with a heavy siege gun this morning, but were soon quieted. The 12th Wisconsin Battery blowed up a limber while silencing it.
Before Vicksburg, Sunday, June 28. A Sunday is with us, but no one finds any reminder of it as he looks about him. The same routine is gone through with, and were it not for my memoranda I would not know it. When I compare this with the Sunday at home, when all work is laid aside, sister and brother that during the week have been absent, are at home, all there, the quiet lunch for supper—all, all crowd upon my memory, and I long for the time when I can again enjoy them, and the vacuity in my heart be filled, and even to-day I can imagine I can see that gathering, and I know that Mother's anxious heart looks upon my vacant seat and wonders if her boy is yet spared. More than once the tears have gushed to my eyes (I hope it is no cowardice) as I think of her emaciated form in that old arm chair. Would it be any consolation to her to know that her son is thinking of her, that he has not forgotten?