Tuesday, April 8, 1862

Dear Diary, 

It has been only a few days since the Yankees gathered us from the plantation and granted us our freedom, but it has felt like much longer. On our journey to Union territory, and the places we will hopefully begin our new lives, a battle broke out. On the morning of Sunday, April 6, 1862, we heard gunshots and screams nearby our camp. Throughout the day and night, gunshots\and cannons sounded off, as frequently as raindrops hitting the ground. Soldiers moved our camp farther from the sounds. Children wailed, as did adults, we knew so little of the battle that was going on. Some soldiers from our camp went to help with the battle, and not many returned. The next morning, the gunfire stopped, and we got word of what had happened. On Sunday, Confederate soldiers stormed the Union camp, surprising everyone. The Union soldiers soon rallied and began to gain ground. The fighting took place mostly on a nearby hill called Shiloh Hill. Despite the advantage of a surprise attack, the Confederate troop soon became disorganized and had to retreat. The Union claimed victory, but it wasn’t a victory for everyone. When I was in the dinner line late after the battle’s end, I heard some soldiers talking. They said the battlefield was nearly covered with bodies at the end.

I’m unsure I can stay in this camp any longer. Every day we travel it feels as if we are inching closer and closer to danger. Some soldiers are friendly, but others seem to hate us. I know this has become a war on slavery, but sometimes it feels like the soldiers on our side don’t even care. So what are they fighting for? To see that Confederates die? To gain power? These are the thoughts that have been plentiful in my brain recently. I hate to say it, but I sometimes felt safer back on the plantation. Although everything is so unfamiliar here, I’ve met some really nice people on the road. At night, we sit around the fire, talk, sing, and draw. One man even gave me a picture he drew. The war brings out lots of stories about people’s struggles, former lives, and hopes, It feels like everyone has an idea of how to move on with their lives except for me. I have no idea where I’m going, where I want to go, or what I want to do. I never imagined slaves would be freed in my lifetime. Well, it’s getting late and our fire is being put out, so I guess I’ll pause my writing until tomorrow.