Reached the pontoon bridge over Chickamauga half an hour of sundown. After a long delay it was clear and we crossed. Met General Sheridan and his Division followed by two others, going to relieve Burnside. Came to our old camp before the battle, after night. The rain had ceased and it turned very cold, and the wind whistled as of old Wisconsin. Unhitched, unharnessed, cleaned off my muddy team, and then with a great deal of chattering and shivering, etc. pitched tents, made our bed on the muddy wet ground. Felt very much like eating a good home supper as prepared by Mary, but after waiting a long time it was substituted by a dish of mush and a cup of coffee and thankful for that. Many of the infantry had nothing but parched corn and no tents, no rails to make a fire; rather tough but I suppose it is honest.
Near Chattanooga, Sunday, Nov. 29. Slept very cold, or rather shivered through the night with little sleep. This morning it is still very cold. Froze quite hard last night. Harnessed the team and "snaked" some firewood, banked our tent, etc. Gathered leaves in them so we were a little better prepared for it. Tried to write home, but my fingers were so numb that I gave it up much to my dissatisfaction, as I know they are anxious for my having not written any since the battle.
Near Chattanooga, Monday, Nov. 30. Cold during the night but comfortable at midday. Wrote a letter to John, signed pay rolls in the afternoon. It is expected we will move soon. Hope it is so as our infantry are in a suffering condition, their tents at Bridgeport and their blankets, many of them, lost on the battle-field. They are scattered through the valley seeking shelter from friendly cliffs, drawing comfort from glowing fires, and trusting fate and fortune for rations, as Uncle Sam fails this time. But hope it will not be so long.
Near Chattanooga, Tuesday, Dec. 1. Health good and fine appetite for dodgers, which is all we have, minus salt and extras. Warning given in camp to avoid smallpox. Case in the 12th Battery carried out to the woods this morning. Commenced writing to brother Thomas but interrupted to hitch up for review. Most of the mule teams were required to help us out, and moved out "in fine style". Formed line on the extreme right of the Division under direction of Captain Dillon. He tried to show off a little by ordering a "trot", but came very nearly showing a failure. The men were ragged, dirty and worn out, so were the beasts, but the fine line of stripes and stars looked as beautiful as ever, intermingled with the blue banners. It is a soldier's privilege to look at it as a friend and boon companion, "may it ever wave".