I had now opportunity for yielding to my father's pressing urgency to take leave of absence and see him once more in life. I arranged for thirty days absence. The railroad was not yet fully repaired and my nearest station was about fifteen miles to ride. An agreeable medical officer gave me his company so far, but was constantly weeping that he was not on his way "to see his dear, beautiful little wife." I tried to comfort him by the reminder that no such attraction was waiting for me, but without success. He was, however, braced up by a horse trade we managed to get off, which as usual I incline to think I got the worst of. I think so by reason of a memorandum about horses in which the animal then acquired is named "Deceit." The train soon reached Bristol, whence a change of cars brought me through Lynchburg to Richmond. There Doctor Sorrel met me, like myself on leave, and light-hearted we started for home to see our dear kith and kin.
It was my first absence from duty since July 21, 1861. Slow railway traveling in those days was the rule without exception--gauges not uniform, routes deviating, and engines of low power. The time was, I think, quite three days between Richmond and Savannah, traveling day and night, and of course such luxuries as sleeping-cars were then unknown.
It was a great delight to see home again; to be welcomed and made much of, after the stern scenes of more than two years. Our friends were not backward or ungenerous. Hospitalities were showered upon us, but better than all was the loving home circle of aging father and happy young sisters. The latter, gladdened to have their brothers once more with them, sang, played, and danced to heart's delight.
There were many changes. Only six companies had gone to the Eastern army. The remainder of the very large forces sent by the city was distributed through the Western armies and the coast defenses; consequently I had seen but few of my old comrades and associates in Virginia. The happiness of meeting many awaited me in Savannah, and it will easily be imagined what our talk was about--the camp, the battle, the march, the enemy, and our own commands.
There was no great change in the appearance of the town, then of about 30,000 population. Eighteen miles from the sea, and beautifully situated on a high bluff, it enjoyed a large commerce and much lucrative business. Shady walks, numerous small wooded parks, and thousands of branching, leafy trees made it a very attractive and beautiful little city. The rigors of war had not yet touched it. The forts at the entrance to the river were the enemy's, but he had not yet penetrated to the city. That was preserved for Sherman in December, from the West.