How often at home, when with the toil and care incident upon the life of
those who "earn their bread by the sweat of the brow," have we as
Saturday night approached, and with it the labors of the week were to
cease, looked forward to a day of rest. A thousand miles from home, the
plough exchanged for the sword, the awl for the bayonet, in the face of
a desperate enemy, and the thing is changed.
The Sabbath comes as at home, but unfortunately, is more "honored in the
breach than the observance," and seems to be a day specially appointed
by military authorities, for fighting and marching. We received marching
orders Saturday, 2d, and were to be in readiness to march the following
morning. As is usual with us the night before a march, all was bustle
and confusion. Some were busy packing their effects, others talking,
each man having to express his opinion as to where we were to go, the
chances for a fight, &c. Another portion, who at other times deny
themselves, were indulging in liquor, the result of which was a general
howling, extending into the small hours of the night.
The night before our march from Lexington, a portion of the men went to
the city, had a plenty to drink, and some of them returned with canteens
filled. The consequence was, a riotous night, and but little sleep was
to be had. The men quarrelled among themselves, and to cap the climax,
at two in the morning, one of the men from the company adjoining,
visited Company F, and indulged in a little shillalah practice. Swinging
to the right and left, much to the discomfiture of one of our men, who
received a blow on the top of his head, which, judging from the sound,
might have felled an ox. He was rendered _hors de combat_, and taken to
the surgeon; and after this salutary lesson, the boys thinking best to
keep still, we got a few hours sleep. The noisy ones of Company F were
christened "lions." The name originated in Camp Casey, where they
occupied two of our Sibley tents, on the left of the line, and by their
continual howling, made "night hideous."
Saturday, May 2d, at nightfall, the uproar commenced as usual. At ten I
turned in. I kept napping, waking, and sleeping by turns, until two in
the morning. At this time, a party in front of my tent were having an
altercation which threatened to terminate in a fight. I thought best to
see what was going on. Looking out of my hotel, I saw J. R., the same
individual who officiated at Lexington, with club raised, threatening to
lay it about the ears of his opponent, who was daring him to come on.
Friends interfered, preventing them from coming to blows, and after a
bad amount of cursing and hard talk, during which the whole regiment
were disturbed, they were separated, and quiet reigned again. The
immediate results of this night's carousal, were visible to all in the
person of one of our drummers, who had indulged beyond his strength, and
was found lifeless in his tent, the morning of the 3d, having "shuffled
off this mortal coil" in the melee.
The morning of the 3d of May found us busy, preparing for the march,
regardless of the storm, which was evidently about to open upon us. At
eight we were on our way. It commenced raining slightly before we left
camp, and after our first rest outside of Richmond at ten, A.M., it
commenced in earnest. We hurried on, and at one, P.M., were encamped
at Point Lick Creek, having marched a distance of thirteen miles in four
hours. Some of the time while on this march, the rain poured in
torrents, and we reached camp thoroughly soaked. Soon after our arrival
the sun came out, the clouds passed away, and we had a pleasant
afternoon. This gave us a chance to roll and tumble upon the grass, dry
ourselves, and put up tents at our leisure. Our camp was situated on the
road which runs from Richmond to Lancaster, and was about midway between
the two places. It was evident our stay here would be short, as the
usual care in laying out camps was not observed here, our tents being
pitched in all conceivable ways. Our general formed his head-quarters
some twenty rods east of our camp, close by a church. This edifice had
been built but a short time, was small, of modern style, without a
steeple, and very much resembled a New England school-house.
From the time of our arrival here, up to Saturday the 9th, the weather
was very disagreeable. Considerable rain fell, and for six days we were
enveloped in clouds and fog. But in spite of all this, our general and
his staff had frequent visits from the fair ones of Richmond, whose
acquaintance they formed during our short sojourn there. They came in
groups of half a dozen at a time. The band was called on to serenade the
fair visitors, who forming with our officers upon the green in front of
the church, joined in the mazy dance, and "tripped the light fantastic
toe."