LXIII

Camp near Harrison’s Landing, Va.,July 23, 1862.

Camp near Harrison’s Landing, Va.,

July 23, 1862.

BYthe papers I see that a hospital is to be established in New Hampshire for the care of sick and wounded soldiers from our state. That is all very nice, but, as much as I would like to see home, I hope I will never have any use for that establishment. I have been out today to a review by Gen. McClellan and am pretty well fagged out. Now I will try to answer some of your questions. There are not many houses about here—it’s right out in the country. Such houses as there are are mostly occupied as hospitals. Those outside our lines that would interfere with the range of our guns have been torn down. Notwithstanding the ravages of war, it is a most beautiful region. The busy place now is down at the landing, where the negroes are kept busy unloading supplies from the transports. Our food, for a few days, has not been quite up to the New Hampshire standard. Our meat has been “smoked sides”—a very poor quality of bacon. I have almost forgotten how a real first-class meal does taste.

“Those curls?” Well, I came to the conclusion, yesterday, that inasmuch as I had lost my comb and didn’t know where I could get another, heroic measures were necessary. So I hunted up a camp barber and had my hair cut and my head shaved, sandpapered and varnished. I was looking at the little round picture yesterday, and a little end of black hair that straggled out between the case and the picture reminded me that you placed it there the night I told you I had enlisted. It was braided and tied just as you tied it that evening. We had but little idea then that I was to be so long away.

Thursday, July 24.

It is about three o’clock in the afternoon, and I have just finished my dinner. I looked over the miserable piece of miserable bacon that the company cook handed out to me, and then started off into the wilderness, and when I came back I had gathered in a pint of blackberries, which helped out very materially.

General McClellan was around today looking over the intrenchments. One of his staff had quite a little misadventure down by the pond, where a lot of us were having a swim. A small canal, or sluice, runs out of this pond, which is crossed by a frail plank bridge.The General and staff were crossing this bridge, when a plank gave way and down into the ditch went one horse and rider. The officer managed to crawl out—and a very draggled specimen he was—but it took the united efforts of the whole party to get that horse onto terra firma.

I received a letter from Roger [Woodbury] yesterday. He was of opinion that the Third Regiment would come up to the Peninsula, as troops were being sent from that Department to reinforce McClellan. I saw Hen. [W. H. D.] Cochrane yesterday, and he told me the Third and Fourth were actually embarked for here.

Saturday, July 26.

Yesterday morning the Second Regiment went out on picket and got in at noon today. I had the most enjoyable picket tour in all my experience. We were out about two miles from camp, and as there were cavalry vedettes and patrols still farther out, we had no fears of a surprise attack. There were so many of us that no man had to stand a post more than one one-hour turn. The rest of the time we were at liberty to roam, pick blackberries and gather green apples and have a good time generally. No camp ever had a more perfect picket protection than was given by that swarm of foragers and sight-seeing scouts. Close to headquarters was a house—a well-shaded, cozy southern home. The owner and his two sons are in the rebel army, but his wife and daughter remain and have a safeguard of our soldiers. And you never saw such a swarm of little negroes as there was about that place.

Today has been feast day—the greatest dinner within the memory of man—a genuine “biled dish”—potatoes, beets, onions, cabbage and boiled salt pork. And just now Rod. Manning is frying some apples that are going to make a pretty good dish, if I can judge by the smell.

Sunday, July 27.

Hen. Everett has just been over here, and we had a good long chat about times in the old printing office in Manchester. The sun is coming up in a way that promises a hot day—and a hot day down hereishot.

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