7/18/1863

It has been a fortnight since the victory. The siege was long, lasting almost 7 weeks. “It’s worth it.” they kept saying. “This marks the turning point in the war!” they cried. They told us that if we won at Vicksburg, the war would be significantly in our favor. I still see the bloodstained grass where we fought near the Mississippi River, it’s water flowing through Warren County.

I can recall the weeks sitting in rifle pits and manning sleek, strong cannons only designed to kill, kill, kill. “We’ll wait them out” they said. We had more rations, more troops, and a better position. As we waited, as we bombed, the expected happened. The southerners fled, and we gained control of the river. A couple days later, we received a telegram that the union soldiers won at Gettysburg. The war was finally coming to a close.

There isn’t much more to meander about, I suppose I will talk about what happened all those months. It started with small things, capturing prisoners and fighting small shootouts. Nevertheless, Grant was impatient and persistent. He launched a siege on Vicksburg, and lasting 47 days, we bombed, shot, and shelled it until the confederates surrendered with barley anything left. The battle wasn’t much of one. The southerners were vastly outnumbered, and all we had to do was play the waiting game. As the southerners’ situation grows dire, Grant and Pemberton meet between the lines of battle. Pemberton refuses when Grant insists on an unconditional surrender. Later that night, Grant reconsiders and offers to parole the southern defense. On July 4, the 47-day siege of Vicksburg was declared over.

All the nights spent in the tents, in the camps, in the pits, made me realize something. War is something that I believe to be so brutal, so inhuman, yet so very human at the same time. We have turned what we believe to be the most efficient, most satisfying way to end conflicts into a horrible bloodbath of metal, lead, gunpowder, explosions, and pain. This part is the most inhuman. How we have taken this world and used its resources, all derived from life or former forms of life, to create things designed to end it. Something that reminds me of humans being humans is this disgustingly primal urge for violence to be the answer. When I was drafted, my mother was so very afraid I would die out here, but I am lucky to be alive, though I have seen enough death for this lifetime. I am returning home within the next fortnight, and I will be signing off for now.

—Archibald Smith