The storm came. A soaking
rain in the night; it soaked every one of us. I suppose the officers fared
better, for they have tents like houses, but we, the shelter-tent brigade,
certainly took all that came. I got up from a puddle of water. The water ran
down the hill, under our tents, and under us. This softened the ground so we
sank right in. The ground is a red color, and we are a sight to behold. By
looking at a man's trousers it is easy to tell whether he slept on his back or
on his side. In one case he has one red leg, and in the other, two. I think it
would improve the appearance if the whole trousers were soaked in the mud. This
sickly blue is about the meanest color I can think of. I guess the Government
had more cloth than color. One fellow says there was only one kettle of dye.
The officers' clothes were dipped first, then the privates' coats, and last the
pantaloons. No matter what question comes up there are some who can explain and
make it all clear. A part of Company B was sent out on picket duty to-day. I
don't know where or what their duties are. All sorts of war stories are in the
air. One paper tells of a great battle and the next one contradicts it. I guess
it is done to make sale for papers. Newsboys rush into camp yelling
"Extra" and we rush at them and buy them out. But it gives us
something to talk about, and that is worth much to us.
SOURCE: Lawrence Van
Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p.
24-5
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