XCIV

Camp near Centreville, Va.,June 18, 1863.

Camp near Centreville, Va.,

June 18, 1863.

I HEARD, last night, that a mail was to go out this morning. I had an unfinished letter in my knapsack, but it was so dark I could not see to write; so I did it up just as it was and put it in the bag. They say we will get a mail before long, and then I shall expect enough accumulated reading matter to keep me busy for a while. Today is the hottest yet. I could not stand it in camp, so I went over and filled my canteen with cool, fresh water, gathered up my writing materials, and came down here into the shade of the bushes. Now I will tell you what we have been doing.

As I have written you, we got into Manassas about twelve o’clockMonday night. We lay on the plains all day Tuesday, and drew three days’ rations. The meat ration was salt pork only, but we were very glad to get that. I had the use of a fry-pan for a short time, sliced and fried the whole of my ration, and carefully packed it away in my haversack, convenient for transportation.

We turned in for a night’s sleep, Monday, but didn’t get it. An orderly came in about midnight, with orders, and the regiment was moved out about two miles on the Centreville road and deployed as pickets. I was on camp guard that night, and had not had a wink of sleep when we started. O, how sleepy I was! I actually fell asleep walking in the ranks, until I would wake myself by running into the man ahead of me. When the regiment was distributed as pickets, the camp guard detail was held in reserve, and had nothing to do but wait for something to turn up. I sat down without loosening a buckle of my equipments, leaned my back against a small tree, and was asleep on the instant. I slept perhaps a couple hours, and then woke up out of a nightmare. I dreamed I was in swimming and dove to the bottom, but when I tried to come up again it was no go. I kicked and struggled in vain. When at last I awoke I found I had slipped away from my tree and was lying with my head down hill, but so cumbered with my harness that I had hard work to straighten myself out again.

Wednesday morning the entire Fifth Corps passed us, and then our regiment marched down to Blackburn’s Ford and waited for the division to come up. We got away from the Ford about three o’clock in the afternoon and marched three or four miles, to our present position about a mile out of Centreville on the old Bull Run road.

What I am suffering for now is a newspaper, so I can find out what is going on. I have not seen one since we left Washington.

Gum Springs, Va.,Sunday, June 21.

We have made another hitch, about a dozen miles, and now find ourselves in this great Virginia metropolis, consisting of a meeting house, a cooper’s shop, and half a dozen houses and hog pens, none in very good repair. We marched here day before yesterday, leaving Centreville after noon and arriving here before sunset. The fool camp story now being passed from mouth to mouth is that the corpsis now surrounded by the rebels. There can be no question, though, that there are any quantity of guerrillas lurking around, and a man outside the camp lines does well to keep his eye peeled. [This was Mosby’s country.] It is said they picked up some thirty stragglers on the march up here. Yesterday they scooped in one of General Birney’s aides and two of his orderlies. A couple of them made the mistake of their lives yesterday. The lieutenant-colonel of one of the New Jersey regiments with which we are now brigaded had dismounted and gone some distance from his horse, when he spied two innocent-looking “farmers,” with shot-guns in their hands, coming the sneak act. At the proper moment they looked into the yawning muzzles of two six-shooters, with a very determined Yankee behind them, and didn’t hesitate a moment in accepting his polite invitation to drop their guns and come along.

We had one of the heaviest rains I ever saw, Thursday afternoon. I did not have any tent pitched, but sat down on my knapsack, covered myself in with my rubber poncho and let her rain. It did much good by laying the dust for a few hours. That night there was a very large detail from our regiment, for picket, and my good luck kept me off the job. Charlie Parrott [killed, a few days later, at Gettysburg] was one of the detail, and I loaned him my poncho in exchange for his piece of shelter tent. That night several of us joined together and patched up a shelter with as many gable ends, almost, as there were pieces of tent. We made a very thick bed of leaves and bushes and managed to keep pretty dry and comfortable, notwithstanding there was a good deal of rain through the night.

We are camped in a very pretty location, on a little ridge with a railroad along its crest and a little creek at the foot. Just across the creek is the little hamlet of Gum Springs. There is a spring there with reputed medicinal qualities. Ed. Kenniston and I have pitched our tent in the shade of a mammoth persimmon tree.

There is a commotion now in that select corps familiarly known as “bummers,” such as cooks, officers’ waiters, &c. There is an order that every enlisted man shall tote a gun. This means that our kettles will be thrown away and every man be his own meat cook. But that won’t make much change. We have been on a salt pork diet, almost exclusively, and every man has been privileged to fry, broil, or eat raw, according to his fancy.

The big guns are booming over towards the mountains, and in compliance with orders we have put ourselves in marching order—knapsacks packed, &c. But I have pulled my portfolio out to write a little more. We may move today, or we may not, but we are ready. Several prisoners have been brought in today—probably scouts or guerrillas. Our bands are playing all the time and making all the noise they can, possibly merely for their own amusement. The firing off to the west is growing heavier, and there is evidently a lively little fight on somewhere.

Monday Morning, June 22.

Late yesterday the long-expected mail came, and with the rest were two letters from you. We were formed in line, ready to march, when the mail was distributed, and as I looked down the ranks I could see many a man leaning on his gun and eagerly scanning his news from home. We didn’t have a very long march—about six rods. The corps was placed in battle order ready to entertain company in case the Johnnies should see fit to honor us with a call.

I was on guard last night, but only had to stand one round, so got a good sleep. The mail goes out at ten o’clock this forenoon. I ran across an old friend the other day, in the Seventeenth Maine—George Parker, who once lived on the Corporation. I am pretty well supplied with meat now. When George Slade distributed the rations he saved me out an extra piece big enough for a good square meal. It pays to be all hunks with the cook.

Back to Index Next