ry as ever, singing and cracking jokes by the bright camp fires,
although we were weak in the center.

[Sidenote: 1863 Over the Mountains]

Sweden's Cove, Tenn., Saturday, Nov. 14. Reveille sounded at 5 A. M. A
very dark and cloudy morning, not a star to be seen or ray of daylight.
Fed our hard-worked horses a scant feed of twelve ears of corn to a
team, cleaned them off and harnessed. Coffee and crackers for breakfast.
2nd Brigade stationed in front. Followed the 2nd. Camped at the foot of
the hill last night. Commenced to rain very heavy as we hitched up and
it continued until noon, with loud peals of thunder and vivid lightning.
The road ran along the summit for about five miles which was very muddy
and hard to travel. Commenced the descent about 1 P. M. which was not as
laborious but far more dangerous. The cavalry that crossed let the
wagons down by rope, but we locked wheels, and about two miles brought
us to the bottom, very stony and steeper than the other side. So we were
over Raccoon Mountain of the Cumberland Range, considerably higher than
Point Judith, and we crossed in the lowest point. We were now in a
narrow valley not a mile wide, all under cultivation, but now idle,
called "Sweden's Cove". The first trace of civilization that met the
soldier eye was a hog, the next a corn crib. Due attention paid to both,
the cannoneers charged on the pigs and the drivers filled their nose
bags. Camped at the headwaters of Battle Creek. Health of all good and
spirits also.

Camp near Bridgeport, Ala., Sunday, Nov. 15. Moved out in park this
morning. Kept along the bank of Battle Creek under the sunlit brink of
the mountain. 10 A. M. the Tennessee River appeared before us and we
entered the Sequatchie Valley. Followed it down stream. This was the
ford that Bragg retreated over, and where Rosecrans's small Division
were picked off from across the river. Extensive fortification erected
here but vacant. Telegraph line up here which communicates with
Chattanooga. The valley is narrow but apparently fertile. Neat houses
here, but the fences all gone and fields open. After passing through a
very bad swamp we came into "Camp Proper." At this point it is a mile
and a half from what is called Bridgeport. Good water, no rails. Put up
harness racks, tents in line, etc. Drew oats for the horses to-night,
but scant. A large mail arrived and to see the eagerness with which all
pressed around the pile would have convinced everyo