TO THE FRONT.

AS the spires of the Central City were lost in the distance, and every revolution of the wheels carried us farther and farther from the sacred associations of the home circle, and the Sabbath and sanctuary privileges of other days, the breast was filled with strange and conflicting emotions. We had often sung, "I wish I were in Dixie," and now the full realization of that wish was coming upon us. But why had we thus cut loose, as it were, from the ties and tender associations of home and friendship? Were we actuated by an ambitious desire for conquest? Were we in search of laurels to grace the victor's brow? Far otherwise. God forbid that the welfare and happiness -- the blood and treasure of thirty millions of people should be made to subserve the ambitious designs of political tricksters or military despots, either north or south. We went in obedience to the promptings of patriotism. In defense of that glorious old flag under whose protecting folds we had so long lived and prospered.
        The day succeeding our departure was the Sabbath, but it did not look like it. It is a notorious and painful truth that there is no Sabbath in the army -- no seventh day of rest for the weary soldier. We traveled as rapidly as possible, and at ten o'clock A.M. arrived at Logansport, Ind., and then, turning southward, reached Indianapolis at 5 P.M. We remained here two or three hours before proceeding on our way. At two o'clock in the morning the train stopped at a station by the way and remained until after daylight, not knowing but the rebel sympathizers in southern Indiana might destroy the railroad bridges, and thus insure our destruction, as they knew that troops were at that time passing over the road. In the morning, however, we went on and found to our great relief that the fears of the previous night were unfounded.
        All along the line of travel the citizens made the most emphatic demonstrations of loyalty. Men, women and children, all united in giving us a hearty God-speed, as we passed along. At Lawrenceburg, on the Ohio River, the reception was particularly gratifying. In fact, our progress through the State of Indiana represented a triumphal procession. And when we add that these patriotic expressions were not given in compliment to the Seventy-Seventh, but to the great enterprise in which we expected soon to be engaged -- the restoration and preservation of the UNION -- it will not seem strange that we felt some pride in our position as soldiers in the Grand Army of the Republic. At twelve o'clock M., on the 6th of October, we arrived at Cincinnati, and soon afterward crossed the Ohio River on a pontoon bridge, and went into camp in the suburbs of Covington, Kentucky.
        Our first night at this place we regarded as the most disagreeable we had yet experienced. We had no tents, and, as matter of course, had to sleep in the open air. This was not very pleasant; but we made a virtue of necessity, and enjoyed ourselves as well as we could under the circumstances. With one blanket for a bed and one blanket and the blue canopy of heaven for a covering, we managed to sleep with a little -- and it was a little -- comfort. The next day we received our tents, and that night slept more soundly and more sweetly than at any time since leaving Peoria. Having become settled again, the first thing in order was to communicate with friends at home. Our camp looked like an army of war correspondents. Every one seemed to be writing. Of course we gave the full particulars of our journey to this place, together with a description of the beautiful city of Covington, and other matters of interest.
        When we first came to Kentucky we felt that we were marching on the soil of rebellion; but subsequent experience proved this to be an erroneous thought. Kentucky -- the home and the grave of Henry Clay -- would have been as thoroughly loyal as any other state if she could have had a fair expression of the popular voice. But cursed as she was with a disloyal governor, and occupying a position midway between the contending forces, it was hardly to have been expected that her sympathies and support would be wholly on the one side or the other. She suffered much, having been overrun time and again with the contending armies of the North and the South. She became emphatically, true to her traditions, the dark and bloody ground. She sent thousands of her sons into the Union army, and braver men never fought for the right.
        On the 15th of October, the 77th, 97th, 108th and 112th regiments of Illinois Volunteers were formed. into a temporary brigade, with Colonel John Coburn, of the 33d Indiana Volunteers, acting Brigadier General, in command. Colonel Coburn received orders to be in readiness to march to the front on the 16th. Forty rounds of ammunition for each man was to be carried in the cartridge boxes, thirty more per man to be drawn by the regiments, and thirty rounds extra to be drawn and transported in the company wagons. Five days' rations were also drawn; three to be carried in the company wagons, and two in the haversacks of the men.
        Our time was now fully occupied in making preparations for an advance into the interior of Kentucky. We were supplied with teams and wagons for transportation, consisting of one for each company, three for the headquarters of the regiment, and one for the hospital. We were furnished with great-coats and all the clothing necessary to make us comfortable during the cold days and nights which were then fast approaching. In short, we were now prepared to take up the line of march and enter upon the duties of active service.
        At noon on the 17th we commenced the forward movement. We had to carry our blankets, clothing, etc., our haversack with two days' rations, canteen, gun and cartridge-box, the latter containing forty rounds of ammunition, and the whole weighing about sixty pounds. Thus armed and equipped we began our campaigns. Our march for a few miles was on the public highway leading to Lexington, but we soon turned to the left and marched through one of the roughest countries we had ever seen. Hills were piled upon hills, and the rocky surface of the ground indicated that all the stones in Kentucky had been gathered together and deposited along our line of march. So great were the difficulties we had to contend with that it was frequently impossible for the teams to descend the hills without assistance from the men. We contrasted the country through which we passed with the broad and fertile prairies of our own loved Illinois. And what a contrast! It seemed like an exchange of Paradise for the drear dominions of Pluto. But this was not a fair specimen of Kentucky. We found after emerging from the hills and hollows that the State was rich in all the elements of agricultural wealth, and required only the hand of industry and the spirit of enterprise to develop in her soil the most abundant resources.
        As we marched along, a decided Union sentiment was manifested at several points, while at others the grim visage of the secession Moloch could be seen, showing that some of the people were not loyal to the government. Frequently, as we passed through the towns, the citizens would fling the starry banner to the breeze, as a token of their loyalty. But we were informed that most of the people had rebel flags, also, in their houses, to use as occasion required. Be this as it may, whenever the Flag of our Union made its appearance it was greeted with the most enthusiastic cheers by the men.
        Who ever heard or dreamed of a Kentucky snow storm in the month of October? Yet, on the night of the 25th of this month, we experienced one which we can never forget. On the following morning we had the pleasure of rolling up our tents in the snow. That night, after a march of twenty-five miles, we arrived at Paris. Footsore and weary, our first impulse was to throw ourselves on the ground and seek rest and refreshment in sleep; but knowing the danger of such an expedient, we kept in motion, pitched our tents, prepared supper, and after eating it, turned in with a hearty good will. It was amusing to see our predicament the next morning. Boots and shoes were frozen stiff, and many of us could not get them on. Groups of the boys would cluster around the camp-fires thawing their leather, to the no small annoyance of the cooks. If these worthy dignitaries did not utter "curses, loud and deep," it was because they were endowed with more than ordinary patience and good nature. There was more truth than poetry in our situation; but it was all for the love of country, and, of course, necessary for the suppression of the rebellion. On the 29th we reached Lexington, a beautiful city, and formerly the home of the notorious rebel cavalry chief, John Morgan. Here we remained one day only, and then continued the march, arriving at Richmond at 4 o'clock on the second of November.
        A severe battle was fought at this place, August 30, 1862, between the rebel General Kirby Smith and General Nelson, in which the latter was defeated with great loss. In the cemetery adjoining the town were many graves of union and rebel soldiers. There they lie, from all parts of the country -- north and south, east and west -- and there they shall lie until the archangel's trump shall bid them come forth to judgment. Many beautiful and costly monuments in the cemetery were shattered and defaced by the missiles of the contending forces, thus bearing mournful witness of the fight.
        Our stay at this place was one of the bright spots in our soldier-life -- an oasis in the desert through which we were passing. We had a beautiful camping-ground, our duties were light, and the weather delightful. The Seventy-Seventh was the only regiment at the place. Captain J. M. McCulloch, of Co. "C," was appointed Provost Marshal, and he filled the duties of his office with credit to himself, and to the entire satisfaction of the citizens. While here we found large quantities of arms which had been lost in the battle of August 30th, and afterward collected together and secreted by the negroes. These arms were properly taken care of, and in due time turned over to the military authorities at Lexington. But our stay here was rendered pleasant from the fact that the people were so kind and considerate. Many of the boys were sick in the hospital, and the ladies -- God bless them -- like ministering angels, came and supplied their wants with an abundance of provisions acceptable to the sick palate. But we need not pronounce encomiums upon them for their kindness. The consciousness of having nobly done their duty to the sick and suffering is their abundant reward. It becomes us, however, as members of the Seventy- Seventh, to remember Richmond, Kentucky, with gratitude.
        An amusing incident, as well as a good joke on some of the boys, occurred while in camp at this place. The ladies vied with each other in their attentions to the officers, and in order to return the compliment, some of our musical Peorians proposed a serenade. The suggestion was duly acted upon, and on a pleasant evening they sallied forth to carry out the programme. Selecting one of the finest mansions in the town as the object of their attentions, they soon poured forth such a gushing stream of melody that the hardest heart would have melted under its influence. The fair objects of their devotion within the mansion acknowledged the compliment by the waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs from the windows. These tokens inspired the musicians with greater zeal, and they answered the encore a second and a third time, and in all probability would have remained there all night, had not the door opened followed by this pleasing salutation: "Much 'bliged gemman, for de music, and werry sorry de white ladies warn't at home to hear it."
        Let us, before leaving this beautiful town of Richmond, snatch from cold oblivion an elegant specimen of southern literature. The schoolmaster was evidently abroad in those regions, The following lines were written in pencil on one of the monuments in the cemetery. The extract is given verbatim et literatim:

        "J. C. Dunn Esq, I live in South Western Ga on Flint River I were mustered into service 10 Day of Ap 1861 and this Sep 15 1862 Come all soldiers a Warnin Take & shun the Bite of a Big Snake."
        When "J. C. Dunn Esq," placed his autograph on that monument it became public property –

"One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die."

Hence it is transferred to these pages.
        Richmond was the southern terminus of our campaign in Kentucky ; and having remained here a few days we took up the line of march again, turning our faces to the northwest -- destination, Louisville immediately, and Memphis ultimately. We struck tents on the eleventh of November, and on the fourteenth reached Frankfort, the capital of the State. We remained here one day, and then continued the march, arriving at Louisville on the seventeenth -- a wet, gloomy day. We had now marched about two hundred and fifty miles in this State, and had learned something of the vicissitudes of a soldier's life; but what we had accomplished more than this, is one of those things that no fellow could ever find out.
        It is needless to give a detailed account of the return march through Kentucky, as it was but a repetition of our former experience. The same weary marches -- the same false alarms -- the same real or pretended loyalty of the people – the same boisterous enthusiasm in the Regiment -- the same exodus of slaves from bondage. The latter part of the programme was one of the notable features of the march, and was sometimes attended with serio-comical consequences. Whenever an "American citizen of African descent" made his appearance, he was ordered to "fall in," which was done in most instances without reluctance. In this manner he was enticed away from his legal owner -- legal according to the laws of the State, but not legal according to our notions. And, no doubt, visions of happiness in a land flowing with milk and honey, danced through his woolly head as he turned his back on his former home, and followed the fortunes of the Regiment.
        To such an extent was this slave enticing propensity indulged, that Gen. Burbridge, a Kentuckian, was reported to have said that the Seventy-Seventh was an abolition regiment, and would steal all the niggers in Kentucky if they had a chance to do so. But of course we repel with scorn and indignation the idea that our mildly mannered Brigadier-General, would be guilty of casting any such reflections upon us. At all events we had quite a regiment of darkies following in our wake, like a troop of boys following an organ grinder, with a monkey on his "masheen."
        As above remarked, we reached Louisville on the 17th, but did not remain long at that place. On the evening of the 20th we marched to Portland, and embarked on the steamer "Starlight," bound for Memphis, Tenn. Early the next morning we started down the river. The boat was crowded to its utmost capacity. There was not a nook or corner, above or below, fore or aft, that was not occupied, either by soldiers or their baggage. The consequence was that we were almost suffocated. The boys would endeavor to while away the tedious hours of their imprisonment by singing snatches of homely songs, of which the following is a specimen:

"Oh give me the girl with the blue dress on,
The white folks call Susanna;
She stole my heart and away she's gone,
'Way down to Louisiana."

        Little did the songsters imagine that they, themselves, would so soon be in Louisiana.
        In those days, the country bordering on the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, was infested with marauding bands of guerrillas and bushwhackers, rendering navigation somewhat uncertain, if not hazardous. In consequence of this we did not travel at night. At 3 o'clock P.M. of the 2d, we reached Evansville, Ind., and remained there until the next day at noon. On the 25th we landed for a few minutes at Cairo, Ill., and soon after were floating on the bosom of the mighty Father of Waters.
        On our journey down this river we passed Island No. 10, Belmont, Columbus and other spots of historic interest, where, a few months before, the thunders of artillery had waked the slumbering echoes of the valley. It was at these points that Grant and Foote had demonstrated the invincibility of the American Army and Navy. Here they had written a bloody page in the history of our country, which can never be obliterated. Here they began that series of brilliant achievements which resulted in the final reopening of the Mississippi, and the restoration of our national authority on that stream from its source to its mouth.
        We landed at Memphis on the 27th, and went into camp near the city. Before our arrival, there had been large bodies of troops encamped in this vicinity, but they had moved off in the direction of Holly Springs, for the purpose of operating in Mississippi. The first thing in order with us, was to ransack the camps which they had deserted, to obtain building materials wherewith to render our abodes comfortable. In this we succeeded to our entire satisfaction. But in the present instance, as in many others, we had no sooner arranged our encampment to suit us than we received marching orders.
        Red tape regulations require the troops to appear on review before the commanding general, previous to entering upon an active campaign, and as "coming events cast their shadows before," this was always regarded as a "shadow" indicating field operations in the near future. Perhaps this practice of reviewing the troops may be attributed to a pardonable curiosity on the part of the general in command. In accordance with this laudable custom we appeared on review before Major General W. T. Sherman, at Memphis. The review took place on a level plain near Fort Pickering. The proceedings appeared to be satisfactory to the general and all concerned, and when they were ended, we returned to camp to seek rest and supper after the toils of the day. As we marched through the streets of the city, on our return, the boys made a noise and clatter as unearthly and unintelligible as was ever heard at the Tower of Babel. Some would sing and some would crow, some would cackle and some would squeal. Altogether the concert was neither musical nor entertaining. No doubt the citizens of Memphis thought the regiment was either drunk or crazy.
        On the 20th of December marching orders were received, and we proceeded to embark on the steamer "Duke of Argyle," lying a short distance below the city. The next day at 2 o'clock P.M., we started down the Mississippi, hoping that, before long, we would be hailed as the victors of Vicksburg. Our fleet consisted of many transports and gunboats, carrying a large and well appointed army.
        Gentle reader, if you have never carried arms in an active campaign -- if you have never followed in the wake of an advancing host -- if you have never crossed the track of an invading army, you know but little of the desolations of war. It matters not whether the army is friend or foe -- the result is the same. They leave the silence of the grave and the dreariness of the desert behind them. We saw this fact abundantly illustrated on our passage down the Mississippi. All along the river from Memphis to Vicksburg, we could trace the footsteps of an advancing army, by the mouldering ruins of buildings, the former magnificent residences of the rich planters of the south. And we wondered how long it would require the slow, conservative enterprise of these people to regain their lost opulence. Perhaps a lifetime.
        At this time we formed a part of the 2d Brigade, 1st Division of the 13th Army Corps. The brigade was commanded by Col. W. J. Landram of the 19th Kentucky, and consisted of the 19th Kentucky, the 48th Ohio, and the 77th, 97th, 108th and 131st Illinois, and the 17th Ohio battery. The division was commanded by Brigadier General A. J. Smith.
        We moved leisurely down the river as though we were on a pleasure excursion, rather than engaged in a great and important military expedition. It is not our province to criticise or condemn, but it seems very strange that it should require a whole week for the fleet to sail a distance of four hundred miles. One thing is certain -- our slow progress gave the rebels ample time to prepare for our reception. And the time was well improved, as we afterward found to our cost. However, on the 27th of December, we landed in the Yazoo River about ten miles from its mouth. Skirmishers were immediately thrown out, the lines formed, and an advance ordered. The enemy was met in force, and a terrible conflict ensued, lasting several hours. The rebels were driven beyond two bayous that girt the rear of Vicksburg, and from their entrenchments on the Hill. At night the two armies slept on their arms, with the two bayous intervening. At daylight on Sunday, the 28th, a concerted advance was made, and by sunrise the whole army was engaged, and up to ten o'clock the artillery and musketry firing was very heavy and destructive.
        The enemy in front of Gen. Morgan L. Smith's Division, were entrenched on high, rising ground. This position was, after a desperate and bloody conflict, taken by storm. On Monday the battle was renewed; our forces carried the rifle pits and principal battery, but were finally repulsed and lost their ground. Both armies rested during the night. Skirmishing continued for three or four days, but all to no purpose, so far as we were concerned. During those days and nights we could distinctly hear the rattle of the trains on the Vicksburg and Brandon railroad, carrying reinforcements and supplies to the besieged. In the mean time the rebels were busy strengthening their works by every available means. What could we do? It was madness to attempt to carry the works by storm. And to remain in our present position would insure our defeat, if not destruction, as soon as the enemy should obtain additional troops to enable him to act on the offensive. In this emergency Gen. Sherman reluctantly decided to withdraw and reembark the troops. This was successfully accomplished on the morning of January 2d, 1863, and our first attack on Vicksburg was a costly failure. The entire loss in our army during the six days' fighting, including killed, wounded and missing, was about twenty-five hundred.
        This was the first engagement in which the Seventy-Seventh was engaged. Until now we had never seen a gun fired in battle. We had read glowing accounts of battles bravely fought and won; we had seen pictures representing brilliant bayonet charges, and all that. But we had not been called upon to perform any deeds of daring, such as storming the enemy's works bristling with bayonets, or planted with batteries. Nothing of this kind. But we endeavored to the best of our ability to discharge the duties assigned to us, and if we did not earn a reputation worthy of record on this occasion it is hoped that the subsequent achievements of the Regiment compensated to some extent for the deficiency. After "our masterly retreat from the Youza," as some of the boys called it, the army proceeded to Milliken's Bend, on the Louisiana shore about ten miles up the river, there to rest, or to make preparations for conquest in some other direction.