July 23, 1894

On the road, Atlanta, GA Dearest Journal,

Tired and exhausted don’t even begin to skim the surface. Though our wins lifted our spirits, we’d give up everything to just be home again. I had nearly no time to write about the last 2 battles, but who did? The Confederates were behind schedule when they deployed the attack at Peach Tree Creek. The second attack, just two days later, labeled the Battle of Atlanta, was different. It was one of the bloodiest and harshest battles I’ve ever taken part in. Us men were not prepared for another fight, but we ended up grinding through it all. It ended with the Union on top, however we suspect this isn’t the last we’ll be seeing Hood’s army. We will take orders from General Sherman soon enough.

I doubt I can partake in this war any longer. When it began, my feelings stayed mutual, however overtime I have become less patient. The Battle of Atlanta tipped me over the edge, I’ve grown continuously frustrated over the endless agony of this war. Half of the time I forget what we’re even fighting for, it feels like we’re stuck fighting for our own freedoms to even get out of this war. Since the beginning I feared I risked too much when joining, I’ve tried to push these thoughts of paranoia to the back of my head but recently, It is all I can think about. However the one thing I can’t complain about is the food, while decent enough, mealtime has become the highlight of my day. The troopers and I exchange stories of home life, sharing sandwiches made of hardtack and beef. I’ve found a distinct difference between making friends, and being friendly. I’ve found the latter to be best, for in a time of death and bloodshed, another loss of a close one is the last thing you would ever wish for. The whole reason I made this journal was to soften blows, extinguish metal fires, and to write about relief, and grief.

Secretly I fear. I fear winning this war and going back home. Home only to see my parents in agony. Home to disappointment, to shame. I don’t even know at this point if I’m fighting for my country, I’m not against slavery but I’m not for it either. My parents would disagree, always bickering about how common law has changed. Both semi-loyal to the Confederacy. I was an unwanted pests in my parents eyes, probably the reason I wanted to upset them so much. So I joined the war efforts, how much I would pay to see their faces after hearing I left to fight for the Union. However this war carry’s nothing I want nor believe in, winning will only make my life harder at 18. If I had another chance to restart all of this I would, if this war does bring justice and peace, at what cost to me?

So Until Tomorrow, 

Jonathan Beker