This account of the battle at Chickamauga is written as if it were a Journal of Marion Francis Kinzer, private, 2nd Cavalry Battalion, Army of Tennessee, Confederate States of America recounting the battle of Chickamauga. The journal reflects the battle story as drawn from contemporary literature and historical records.

September 18, 1863
    Tonight we are camped along the banks of a river down in the edge of Georgia, our horses staked behind us in the trees. The banks of the stream are steep and trees hang out over the edge of the water. Some of us went skinny-dipping today. We found out pretty quick that the water was really cold but we hadn't had a good bath for so long we jumped in anyway.
    It's cold tonight I can see my breath in the fire light. I found a couple of arrowheads today and some broken pottery so I guess there really was a Cherokee town here like they say.
    Some of the guys say the Cherokee call it Chickamauga. They say it means "River of Death." I guess it will be that tomorrow. We can look across the river and see the Yankee campfires. They stretch away as far as the eye can see. General Bragg says we should have them outnumbered but I don't know.
This will be hard country to fight in covered with thickets of dogwood, pine and scrub oak. They're matted together with honeysuckle and blackberry briars, full of poison ivy and trumpet vine.
    It's hard enough country to ride a horse through let alone walk like most of the army will have to do. Hard country for a foot soldier but it being so thick I guess it'll be easier to hide in. We did ride through some larger trees as we came to our camp.
    The river is deep and slow even if it isn't wide and seems to meander all over the countryside. We can only cross at a few bridges which means we'll have a hard time getting troops across fast enough to confront old Rosey in the morning. We hear rifle shots from time to time and sometimes a minnie ball whistling through clipping the brush. We've heard so many most of us don't even duck anymore.
    We ought to sleep I guess but we all know tomorrow is the battle we've been waiting so long to fight. I see lots of other guys around the campfire writing just like me and not a few reading their Bibles. We're too tense to sleep so we talk and write and do other time filling chores. We try not to think about tomorrow. We've passed the stage where we brag about what we were going to do to the Yankees when we meet. We've met them before and we all know some of us will die tomorrow.
    I can hear a banjo down the river a ways and some singing. Some on the other side too. I guess they're thinking about the battle to come too. In a way we'll be glad to see it begin. We've been in camp for two days waiting for something to happen. Most of the troops have been here a lot longer than our company just waiting. Waiting is the worst part of this war and we spend a lot more time doing it than fighting.
    We spent the past four days following that Yankee General McCook making it hard for him to get here to reinforce Rosencrans. It must have been pure hell for his men. Most of them were on foot. They had to haul their cannon up mountain trails and then lower them into the valleys while we rode horseback along their lines charging in to attack and then out again before they had time to retaliate. We were worn out when we finally made camp. They had to be in worse shape. We rode, while they walked and hauled their cannon through lots of places horses couldn't even go.
    The way it looks to me both armies have got mountains to our backs with the river between us. I can hear horses and cassions moving across the river so the Yankees must be getting into position for tomorrow. I guess we'll find out at daybreak.

September 19, 1863
    The guns started at daybreak today. We were held in reserve out on the left flank under General Wheeler. The woods were so thick we couldn't see anything but we could hear the cannon and the crash of shells in the woods to our right. When we were finally ordered to advance we couldn't see a thing. The brush was so thick and smoke from rifles and cannon everywhere. We were almost on the enemy lines when they opened fire. Fortunately they couldn't see us very well either. A minie ball clipped a tree limb right by my ear. We crashed around in the thickets for hours without finding more than a few Yankees.
    Just before dark there must have been a terrible battle up to our right. For at least half an hour it sounded like the worst thunderstorm you can immagine. Rifles and cannon fire rolled like thunder. It seemed to go on forever with nary a pause. Things are quieter now but there is still shooting up that way to our right. I forgot. We crossed the river about three o'clock today so we now have the river behind us.
    We've just been ordered to move north to the other end of our lines to fight under General Forest tomorrow.
    As we passed along the line we heard a lot of gossip. Hard to say what is true and what isn't. They were talking about one soldier who was picked up and carried to the aid station. The doctor found he had been shot right through the heart and lived. The bullet went in right through his left nipple, through his body and out his back. It made twelve holes in his folded blanket when it came out. The doctors figured maybe his heart was on the right side pushed over there by the bullet.
    Some of the boys must have gotten nervous today. We saw several ramrods sticking in trees along the way. Sometimes men get in such a hurry they forget to take out their ramrods before they fire. It's easy to forget what to do next in the middle of a fight. Funny things happen even in battle.
We heard tonight about one Captain who had his new uniform packed on the back of a wagon. A horse saw it there and decided it would make a good meal. He also lost all his rations. His birthday is tomorrow. Some birthday present.

September 20, 1863
    I had to skip writing much last night. We didn't settle in for the night until after dark. Orders came down, no campfires. Some fellows lit one anyway only to have a shell land right in the middle of it. Rifle fire from skirmishers too. Some of the boys learned that a pipe could be hazardous for your health. As soon as they struck a match to light one mini balls would start whizzing by. Finally we just sat and shivered.
    The night was cold and most of us have no coats or blankets. Some of the men don't even have decent shoes. All night long we could hear the wounded moaning out in no man's land. Those crying for water were the worst. We tried to go out and bring them in but every sound brought a hail of rifle shots from both sides.
    We're all nervous tonight. At least we have the creek behind us so we have water. Hearing those poor devils our there beg for water sure makes a man thirsty. Last night was the worst night I can ever remember.
We were cold and shivering and the darkness felt like an evil thing hovering over us. The trees seemed to close in around us like in a bad dream. Many a man looked over his shoulder and into the night including me. The moans and cries and screams of the wounded never stopped.
    None of us tried to sleep. We just shivered in the darkness and prayed for morning. At least I prayed a lot and thought about home and my wife and son. Nobody wanted to talk and I don't remember hearing any music at all. Never had a night camp without some banjo playing or singing before. Some men went out and stole from the dead. I couldn't handle that. I heard about one vampire who gave a dying soldier a drink then waited until he died and took his watch.
    The sound of axes. I always liked the sound of an ax chopping wood. It sounded so much like home. Last night the Yankee axes chopped all night. We knew they weren't cutting firewood. They were making a welcome for us in the morning. We couldn't even chop wood to keep warm. I never saw a group of men so much alone with their own thoughts. The sounds in the night wouldn't let us think about anything but what waited for us at sunrise. Everyone of us thinking about the Chickamauga, the River of Death.
    There was a Yankee soldier in front of our company who moaned and begged for help until some of our men got permission to go out and see if they could help him. They crept out and picked him up on a blanket and carried him behind a house where they lit a fire, gave him some water, and bandaged his wounds. They stayed with him the rest of the night then in the morning crawled back to our lines and got ready to fight.
    During the night we moved to the North along the back of our army so we would be in position with General Forest's men this morning. One thing I can say about Forest's troops, "They sure are better equipped that we are. Most of them have new uniforms, something we haven't seen in many months. I got a glimpse of General Forest. He sure looks sharp in his fancy uniform. I hope his troops fight as well as they look."
    General Longstreet came in last night. The story is going about that he rode right through the Yankee lines and had to ride for his life when he was challenged by a Yankee picket.
    Dawn seemed a long time coming on this Sunday morning.The day was bright and clear. There was a little ground fog but we knew it would disappear soon after sunup. We expected the order to mount up at sunup but nothing happened. Everything was quiet. We could hear the clank of mess pots and pans and the rustle of men moving about over on the Yankee side but not a gun was fired. We just moved about camp, fixed our rations and ate.
    Seven o'clock then eight and then nine o'clock. We all wondered what was going on. Nobody tells the troops anything. We all figured the Generals where late with their breakfasts or something. Later, scuttlebutt said that the orders for a dawn attack were issued by General Bragg but were lost on the way to the other Generals. Not having any orders they all just stood around waiting. It was near ten o'clock before we heard the bugles sounding the charge and the gunfire started.
    We moved around the north end of the lines pitching in from time to time where we were needed. Our main function was to harass the enemy and not let then pull men away from the north end of their lines to reinforce elsewhere. General Forest was everywhere looking over the battlefield and positioning men. We later heard that he rode into one company of Louisianians who were retreating slowly in the face of an enemy advance and said, "Rally here, Louisianians, or I'll have to bring up my bobtail cavalry to teach you how to fight."
    All day we rode and charged and moved, on never coming to grips with the enemy troops for long, but we did keep them busy. We could hear the sounds of fierce fighting all along the line as we rode. We saw lots of dead and wounded during the day but had to wait until morning to really see the results of the battle.
    By about six o'clock this evening we realized that the battle was winding down. The Yankees were moving out. As they retreated they set fire to their breastworks. The fire jumped to the brush and trees and filled most of the battle line with smoke and flames. By nine the guns were all but silent. We could hear the screams as the fires claimed wounded men unable to move out of the way. My God, what a sound. I'll hear it in my worst dreams forever.
    We moved into a bivouac area to make camp for the night when word came down the Yankees were gone. We had won. We were in sole possession of the field. General Longstreet moved into the center of the enemy lines and managed to break through. After that General Rasencrans started moving his men out quietly. We didn't even know they were gone until it was all over.
    There is a lot of excitement among the troops. We were glad to be alive. We roamed over the battlefield scavenging whatever we could use from equipment abandoned by the Yankees as they ran. I found a fine rifle, a good canteen, a knapsack and two good blankets. At least I'll sleep warm tonight.
    We're all so tired. We barely had strength to take care of our horses. We built campfires and ate our rations but we'll all be asleep soon. We still see fires burning along the front and hear the wounded groaning. We carried those close to us to aid stations but the doctors are overwhelmed. I fear many will die before they receive attention. Our company is missing many faces tonight. I wonder how many of my friends are laying out there waiting for someone to help them or just to die? So tired.

September 21, 1863
    Nobody is celebrating this morning. Last night we were happy we won but today we wonder. There are dead and wounded men as far as the eye can see. Everywhere we look bodies or pieces of bodies. From where I sit I can see arms and legs and even a man's head lying bloody on the ground. The ground is stained with blood almost like water in places. We moved about the battlefield looked for wounded still alive, Confederate or Yankee alike. It doesn't matter.
    I saw grown men weeping at the carnage. One woman who lived nearby searched the battlefield until she found her son lying dead on the ground. There must have been a thousand corpses just in the fields I walked over. Is this a victory? Was it worth the price? I don't know. Time to bury the dead. We can't possible dig individual graves. We'll just have to dump them together and cover them up. Oh God, I'm so tired of war.
     We were detailed to help recover the bodies for burial. Some of the troops bent their bayonets into hooks and used them to drag bodies to the side of common graves. Our company used tree limbs with a short branch making a hook at the end to drag bodies from horseback.
    One day was not enough to clear the dead from the battlefield.

Afterword:

    The battle of Chickamauga was so intense that the trees were saturated with bullets and shell splinters. By the end of the battle both armies had expended nearly every bullet and cannon shell they possessed. As late as 1890 no sawmill would accept lumber cut from the Chickamauga battlefield. One unidentified southern writer who observed the battle wrote the following about the night of the twentieth.
    "I have never seen anything to compare with the horrors of the scene presented here.... The enemy had set fire to their works when forced to leave them and the fire had communicated to the forests and lit up the scene far and wide. The dead and wounded lay in heaps, literally piled upon one another, and in many instances the fire had burned them to a cinder. Many of the wounded had their clothes burned off, and their bodies were a perfect blister.
    The groups of dead men and horses, and writhing forms of the wounded, there in that dreary forest, only seen by the scattered moonbeams as they stole through the branches, and the flickering fire light, as it crept slowly but steadily up to where they lay, and the fearful cries of those who watched its advance, unable to drag their broken limbs beyond the reach of the destroyer: and then the distorted and upturned faces of those whose bodies were lying amidst the grim shadows which fell around, conspicuous among which was the shadow of death.
    All the pompous pageantry of the scene was gone, and nought remained of all the glory lost and won upon that bloody field save the wretched forms of those who no more will spring forward at the call to arms."
    The official records show twelve thousand, eight hundred confederate and eleven thousand three hundred federal troops died at Chickamauga, The river of Death
    On September 24th, 1863 Wheeler's 6th Tennessee cavalry received new orders and moved away from Chickamauga into East Tennessee. Francis Marion, George, and Henry Kinzer all survived.