November 26, 1863.
Thursday. Thanksgiving day, as sure as I live! I never thought of it, until some one mentioned the fact to me. How the good things will abound at home. I suppose we should give thanks for what comforts we have, but it would be much easier if we had more of them. The day goes by like all the others, drilling our men, eating our rations, and sleeping in our tents, which are pitched under the sheds nearest the press.