. Found poor Dan in bed
yet. Our fears are many in regard to him. He is apt to get discouraged.
Griff and Dave have gone with his knapsack to the Soldiers' Home to keep
it there until he comes out. R. Randolph has been taken with the same
disease. I must now close and retire to rest for to-morrow's work.

Nashville, Friday, Feb. 17. Very stormy night, and this morning was
blowing and raining, but military orders must be obeyed. The teams
commenced early with their work, hauling down the guns, boxes, etc.
After dinner "strike tents" was given and we were soon out of doors. We
have boxed our stove and keg of pickled onions, expect to take them
along. We are now lying in the Chattanooga Depot, 3 P. M., awaiting
transportation, expect to get off 6 P. M. A night's journey is ahead of
us. I am far from hearty, but feel confident that I can weather it
through.

While we were busily preparing to go to the front, M. Tennant and our
tent-mate Milt. Hungerford started home on a furlough. May they have a
happy visit of it.

GARRISONING CHATTANOOGA

Chattanooga, Saturday, Feb. 18. About 4 P. M. yesterday afternoon our
cars were brought up at Nashville and the depot hands set to work. They
loaded on all our things in a short time, and we got aboard for a ride
of 150 miles on open cars between the guns. But a soldier is full of
expedients. We cleared off a small space, made down our beds, and then
spread the tarpaulin over the pole of the limber, making a traveling
shebang in no time, and now ready to start. After the usual amount of
switching and hooting by the boys (the whiskey being at work in the
brains of several of the boys in spite of no money) we started off in
the second Section of the 6 P. M. train. We took a farewell look at
Nashville by twilight, then crawled into our house to avoid the chilly
air that was growing cold fast, to take all the sleep possible, tucked
in snugly, three in a bed. And we were soon warm as toast, but I will
not attempt to describe how we rattled and bumped like corn in a popper
on that old flat car, running over the roughest road in America without
any brakesmen.

In spite of the reported bumping I slept much of the time. Passed
through the big tunnel, over the mountains without my knowing it. But I
was glad to crawl out at the first dawn. Found us at Bass, 105 miles
from Nashville. Seven more and we stopped thirty minutes at Stevenson.
It was very cold. Washed at the Soldiers' Home