Yesterday I was on
guard for the first time since I went soldiering. I cannot say that I
particularly like the fun, but it gives one an opportunity of thinking over
past sins, and meditating new ones. To-day I have been cooking, and, to the
great joy of my mess, I made a good pot of coffee out of rice and sweet
potatoes. The small-pox is on the decline.
SOURCE: Edwin L.
Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History,
Vol. 1, p. 21
This morning, at 4
o'clock, we were waked up by the pleasant sound of long roll. We were ordered
to get ready to march. It is very cold, snow nine inches deep. We laid in
Goldsboro until noon, expecting to get cars to take us away, but were then told
we would have to march to Kinston. We took up our line of march at 3 in the
evening and halted at dark. It is truly awful. The snow is very deep and as
cold as thunder. We marched eight miles without resting. We then fixed our bed in
the snow and stole fodder for a bed and rails to make fire. We took snow, put
it in our kettles, and made coffee. When I say coffee, I mean Confederate
coffee—parched corn—that is our coffee. Ate our corn bread and bacon and
retired to our couches and slept as good if not better than Abe Lincoln.
