Inspection of arms
to-day and a sermon by the chaplain. We are thinking and talking of the letters
we will get when we have a mail. Uncle Sam keeps track of us someway and sooner
or later finds us. We have a regimental postmaster, who is expected every day
from the city with a bag full. We have enough to fill him up on his return
trip. The Arago is unloading all our belongings, which looks as if we were to
stay here. Good-bye, Arago! I wish there was a kettle big enough to boil you
and your bugs in before you take on another load. So many are sick the well
ones are worked the harder for it. I still rank amoung the well ones and am
busy at something all the time. Just now I have been put in place of fifth
sergenat, who among other duties sees that the company has its fair share of
rations, and anything else that is going. I also attend sick call every morning,
which amounts to this. The sick call sounds and the sick of Company B fall in
line and I march them to the doctor's office, where they are examined. Some get
a dose of whiskey and quinine, some are ordered to the hospital and some are
told to report for duty again. Dr. Andrus and I play checkers every chance we
get. We neither play a scientific game, but are well matched and make some
games last a long time. He is helping my throat and my cough is not so bad
lately. Our quarters were turned into a smoke house to-day. An old stove
without a pipe is going and some stinking stuff is burning that nothing short
of a grayback can stand. It is expected to help our condition, and there is
lots of chance for it.
SOURCE:
Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, pp. 75-6
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