an occasional reconnoissance, transpired until Tuesday, June 23d. On this
day we received word that Andy Ives, a member of our company, was dead. He
had been sick for some time, and had been taken to Nashville by his
father. This made twenty-two of our members who had died or been killed
since we first entered the service. This afternoon the entire army in camp
at Cripple Creek was called out to witness the execution of a private, in
the First Kentucky infantry, for desertion.

At half-past 2 o'clock, P. M., the division marched in regiments to the
parade ground, and were drawn up in the usual manner on such occasions. At
a quarter to 3 o'clock the prisoner made his appearance, following his
coffin, and surrounded by a strong guard. On either side of him was a
chaplain, or spiritual adviser. The drums beat a mournful march, and,
after passing around the various regiments, with head uncovered, the
doomed man was placed behind his coffin. He was then allowed to make a
short address, but little of which could be heard. After he had concluded,
a prayer, in his behalf, was offered by each of the chaplains. The
prisoner then shook hands with them, and with some of the officers. His
eyes were then bandaged--his bosom bared for the fatal shot. The soldiers
detailed for this painful duty took their positions. With a suspense which
was painful to witness, all awaited the final word for the execution.

Precisely at 3 o'clock the signal was given, and immediately the report
of twelve guns echoed through the valley. * * * All was over.

On examination it was found that four balls had pierced his heart, and one
had entered his temple. His death was easy and instantaneous.

Thus ended a sad and painful scene, the like of which we hope never again
to behold. The man's name was Shockman, and he hailed from Cincinnati. He
was about twenty-eight years of age, and unmarried.

On returning to our quarters, an order was received to issue twelve days'
rations, and be ready to move at a moment's notice. As we had before
received such orders, and nothing came of them, the men were now inclined
to believe--as we had been so long at this camp--that we would here remain
until disbanded. But at dark it became quite evident that a move would be
made on the following morning. Some were pleased at this, but others were
loth to leave a place which had become almost like a home to them. We had
now been here a little over five months--by far the great