In 1863 Chattanooga was not much of a town; Market was the principal street, and that was filled with a lot of insignificant shanties, hence General Grant’s army camped over the hills upon which beautiful residences are now located. His tents extended from the fort near the Stanton House to the river, while General Hooker’s tents covered Raccoon Mountain. From the top of Lookout Mountain it was a grand scene at night—the bright camp fires of this large army; and at nine o’clock the many bugles would blow taps, after the music from many bands had floated upward. On the night of November 24, 1863, we moved off of Lookout Mountain and took our position on Missionary Ridge. Part of the First Tennessee Regiment line was directly over the tunnel. From this position we could clearly see the entire line of General Grant’s army moving out of Chattanooga in order of battle, extending nearly to Rossville. Just below where the Cincinnati Southern bridge is now located could be seen General Sherman’s army crossing on steamboats, and it did not take him a great while to get a battery on one bench of Missionary Ridge, which was separated from our ridge by Chickamauga River and the Western and Atlantic Railway. I think his position was some higher than ours, and his battery annoyed us without doing much damage. General Grant’s lines were drawing nearer and nearer to us, and our batteries were belching forth, and we could now and then see his men scatter from an exploding shell. Nearer and nearer they came until we could see the glittering steel and the flash of the officers’ swords in the sunlight; nearer and nearer they came until lost to sight at the base of Missionary Ridge. We then took our position on the crest of the ridge, lying down and waiting for them to come in sight. We did not have a great while to wait. Soon we saw the long line of bluecoats advancing. We were hugging the ridge so closely that nothing but our heads peered over; so it was not so easy to see us, as the bushes were quite thick and many large trees were on the ridge. When the bluecoats got within a hundred feet of us the firing commenced, and they continued to advance, when Colonel Fields said: “Fire, boys, and charge.” Down the ridge we went, the enemy keeping ahead of us. We got so close to them that Colonel Fields hit a Federal on the head with a rock, and comrade John Branch grabbed at the colors, tearing out a piece, but the sergeant got away with them. We followed them to the base of the ridge, where the town of Sherman Heights is now located. Finding them in the trenches which we had once made, we returned to the top of the ridge. It was now dusk, and we were still in line of battle and drawing some rations, when the order came to get away as quietly and quickly as possible. General Grant had pierced our center, and all were in danger of capture. We were the worst disappointed soldiers in the army. We thought our whole line as far as Rossville had made the