September 25, 1864,
Near Petersburg, Virginia.

A major movement along the Confederate left this morning – our boys advanced in two battalions and encountered a brigade of Virginians under a General McLaren, ensconced in a cornfield, behind a low stone wall.  Despite the paltry appearance of their obstruction, these Rebs proved to be unusually difficult to dislodge, being reinforced by a formidable array of artillery, whose guns were concealed above a small incline to the northwest.  Our battalions were soon stymied on open ground, and the first was cut to pieces by double canister before proper reinforcements could be brought to bear.  Col. Slocum of one of our New York regiments was killed by a ball to the temple, and several company commanders were mortally wounded.  The Rebels were eventually driven off by 2 pm, but not without great losses in officers and men on both sides. 

This afternoon’s engagement was equally arduous, with Louisianans driving in our pickets from the east and opening a gap in our lines, through which Hampton’s cavalry poured, scattering our Michigan cavalry and capturing a company of Massachusetts men.  Their advance was slowed by the 3rd U.S. Artillery and a brigade of regular infantry, but not before rolling up most of our left flank and threatening our division headquarters.  I caught a glimpse of a gaudy red Rebel flag among the Texans involved, which I have been told was stitched from a captured Union colors.  Such desecration is becoming more commonplace as the War drags on and the early war civilities and decorum are swallowed up in invective and bitter resolve. 

There are rumors of Mosby’s raiders executing Federal prisoners in the Shenandoah.  This can only portend a tragic and sour denouement to this agonizing conflict, and will make the work of reconstructing the vanquished South all the more taxing and prolonged.  May victory arrive early and the awful memories of this conflagration quickly fade.

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