Same place, front of Twin Mountains,
June 20, 1864, 11 a.m.
Rebels still on the mountain, a good deal of our artillery, a little of theirs, and not much musketry this morning. Wheeler is in our rear, but we don’t care for that. I do hope, though, that Forrest will not be allowed to come over here. We are all well and feeling fine, but wishing very much to see the level country beyond these mountains. In a “Commercial” of the 15th I see the Rebel loss in the charge of Bates’ (Rebel) division on the 27th of May was 72 killed and 350 wounded, and 56 missing. That charge was made almost altogether on our brigade, and my skirmish line did three-fourths of the damage. The 40th Alabama we captured the other day inquired for the 8th Illinois. They fought each other at Vicksburg and got well acquainted in the rifle pits. McPherson and Logan have just gone down to the front and there is talk of a fight to-day, but it is hard telling when one will have to go in. Can’t tell until the order to “commence” firing is heard. Wagstaff will be home in a few days. I would like to date my next from a new place, but Sherman and Johnston will decide that matter.
This is becoming tedious. Johnston has no regard for one’s feelings. We are all exceedingly anxious to see what is the other side of these mountains, but this abominable Johnston has no idea of letting us take a look until he is forced to. He is a good-natured fellow in some respects, too, for here we have our “flies” stretched, and our camp fires and our wagons around us in good range of his guns and not a shot does he give us. You understand that we are in reserve. Our front line is along the foot of the mountain, and we lay back about a mile. But it is all open between us and the front, and we sit in the shade, and (as we have this p.m.) see 20 Rebel guns firing on our men. Why they don’t make us get out of this is beyond me to tell. Hundreds of wagons and ambulances are parked around us, and right by us is parked the reserve artillery of our corps, all in plain view of the Rebels on the mountains, but not a gun is fired at us. Yesterday they dropped one shell a hundred yards to our right and quit, as much as to say: “We could stir you Yanks if we wanted to, but it is all right.”
I don’t know how this looks to outsiders, but it seems to me as the coolest thing of the campaign, pitching tents right under the enemy’s guns, without a particle of cover. Being under artillery fire in a fight or while supporting a battery is all right, and if we were in rifle pits or behind the crest of a hill ‘twould be ditto, but moving right out and pitching tents under the noses of Rebel 32-pounders beats me and I guess it beats them. We all feel a pride in the thing and I’d see the the Johnnies to the devil before I’d dodge the biggest cannon ball they’ve got there. The artillery this p.m. has been the heaviest I have heard this campaign.