The Army of Tennessee (that's what we are 
called now) is moving to Chattanoga.  For 
the last couple of months, we have fought 
a series of running battles with the Yankees.  
This has ended as the Yankees have now taken 
control of Cornith, Miss. and New Orleans, La.  
When they took New Orleans, the Yankees shut 
off the river traffic from the lower river.  
There are still some small Confederate boats 
running the river itself, but more and more 
Yank gunboats are showing up upstream.  They 
have their own problems.  Vicksburg still 
stands as a river fortress, and the gun
enplacements have been very effective fighting 
the few riverboats that come their way.

We got back several of the men who were wounded 
at Shiloh, and have been very lucky not to have 
any more hurt.  Company G is still about 
thirty-five men less than when we began.  We 
haven't received any replacements as yet. The 
last two months have been hard.  We've done a 
lot of walking, and the food hasn't been great.  
A lot of the rations we are issued aren't in 
too good a shape, and many times we have to 
improvise.  I can make a pretty good stew with 
about any type of meat as long as it isn't too 
ripe.  

One of the things we eat a lot of when we are 
on the move is ramrod bread.  It's pretty easy 
to make.  You mix flour, salt, and a little 
soda if you have some until it forms a thick 
dough.  Wrap this around the ramrod of your 
rifle and bake over a fire, eating the mixture 
as it is cooked, and then cooking it some more.  
One of the men shared some bacon he got from 
home with us the other night, and I cut it up 
into little pieces and put that into the dough.  
It made for a pretty good meal!  Of course, we 
are able to eat vegetables when we find them, 
and this time of the year there's wild fruit to 
pick.  

We aren't too bad off right now.  I hope we will 
be able to garrison somewhere this winter that 
we can get good rations.  Chattanooga is a rail 
center, so shipments of rations should be easy 
to get there.  I hope I can get some good shoes 
when we get there too. I have had to place pieces 
of hide inside the soles of my shoes to keep my 
bare feet from poking through the soles. Most of 
us have worn out our shoes, and our uniforms are 
getting pretty ragged.  We make jokes about this 
being a Holy war, because our clothes and shoes 
have so many holes in them.  

I'm looking forward to settling down in one place 
again.  Hopefully, our mail will catch up with us 
and I'll learn how things are at home.  I'm also
hoping to find out how my family in Georgia is 
doing and where my brother and father are.  Enough 
daydreaming.  

I've got to get down to the creek and wash my poor 
old uniform and myself.  After a day of marching I 
feel as if the whole world is made up of dust.  
When I blow my nose, the handkerchief is black with 
the dirt I've breathed in.  Even the food tastes 
like the dirt roads we march on.  By the end of 
the day, the whole company is the color of the dust 
we stir up, except where the sweat has washed it 
away from our faces and hands.  I'll sure be glad 
when we stop for a while.