Battalion-drill
again. Learning to be a soldier is hard work. There has been no rain lately and
the sun has dried up everything. There are no green fields here as we have at
home. The ground is sandy, and where there is grass, it is only a single stem
in a place, with bare ground all round it. So many feet tread it all to dust,
which the wind blows all over us, but mostly in our faces and eyes. The road
past our camp is a mire of the finest dust, and as hard to travel through as so
much mud. We eat it with our rations, and breathe it all the day long. It
covers everything, in our tents as well as outside. Our clean new tents are
already taking on the universal muddy, red color of everything in sight. The
only good thing about it is, it serves every one alike, piling upon the officers
just as it does on the men. We are getting to feel quite proud of ourselves as
soldiers. We learn fast under the teaching of Colonel Smith. The 135th N. Y.
and a Mass. regiment are with us on battalion-drill and sometimes several other
regiments, so that we about cover the large plain out near the bay. We get
tougher and harder every day. The fodder we so often find fault with, and the
hard work we are doing, is making us hard, like the work and the fare is.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 44
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