While near Swift Creek, A. L. Fry of Company D was appointed clerk and regimental historian, making a complete roll of the men of the regiment, noting their services, for which he received a short furlough. The record made by Fry was filed away in Richmond, but unfortunately was destroyed by fire on the evacuation of the city by the Confederate troops. This was indeed a calamity, for such a record would now, after half a century, be of priceless value. The record of many a poor fellow which was thus lost cannot be had anywhere else.

We changed position from near Swift Creek to the Howlett House on the James in January, 1865, where we erected rude shacks of timber and earth which furnished slight shelter from the pelting storms. Near the middle of the month the weather softened, and we were enabled to get out and engage in ball and other games, which gave us exercise and good appetites, though ordinarily we were ready to eat anything we could get, for at that time our daily allowance was one-fourth pound of bacon and one pint of coarse cornmeal, with occasionally a little sugar, rice, beans or peas.

The period was still gloomy. Fort McAllister had fallen, Savannah was in the hands of the enemy, Charleston and Fort Fisher seriously threatened; Hood's army had been wrecked and driven out of Tennessee; General Sherman was preparing to march through the Carolinas. General Grant had seized the Petersburg and Weldon railroad and was now threatening to strike the south side and Richmond and Danville road—the latter being the only remaining line connecting Richmond with the Southern states, over which our supplies must be drawn. The situation was therefore serious. This was fully realized by the men in the ranks. Vastly superior territory, unlimited supplies, and a call for 300,000 new troops in the North were calculated to produce discouragement in the hearts of men who had from the first been fighting against heavy odds. Desertions became more frequent; many men were absent without leave, on account of needy families and other causes, and were in no hurry to return. All these things were discussed by the soldiers in their huts. The army of Northern Virginia now consisted of less than fifty thousand poorly equipped, poorly clad, poorly fed men, who had marched and countermarched, charged and fought a foe two or three times their number for nearly four long, dreadful years. It was little wonder, therefore, that depression came to the noble army of Northern Virginia, which then held the toe line from a point north of Fort Harrison to the vicinity of Hatcher's Run to the south, more than thirty-five miles—in many places little more than a good skirmish line, which the enemy was able to confront with full lines, and yet overreaching our flanks, and was continuing to extend his lines. Why General Grant did not cut loose from his base at City Point and swing around the Confederate right, shutting the army up in Petersburg and Richmond, is a military problem I will not endeavor to solve.

I was in Richmond in January, 1865, and saw bread selling at $2.00 for a small loaf; a pound of soda for $12.00; a calico dress pattern, $25.00, a gold dollar commanding $60.00 in Confederate currency.

The mission of the Confederate "Peace Commissioners" had been a failure, and a great disappointment to the soldiers, who saw plainly nothing short of a bitter fight to the end. Public meetings of the men were held in many of the commands in the army, resolutions adopted, expressing regret at the failure of the Peace Conference, reaffirming their faith in the justness of our cause, and rededicating themselves to the defense thereof, resolving to fight to the end. Surely heroism and desperation equal to this cannot be found in the annals of history. With this situation confronting them, they demanded that all absentees should be returned to their places, all able bodied men should be required to take the field, and that every step possible should be taken to strengthen the army, even to the arming of the negroes—a thing which should have been done long before this.

In order to give some conception of the feeling and sentiment which then pervaded the soldiers, I here insert an extract from a letter written a friend in February, 1865, in which I say: "There is nothing left us but to fight it out; the cry is for war—war to the knife. If the people at home will support the army and drive all skulkers and absentees to the front, all will be right."

Amid the darkness and gloom surrounding us, some of the men would have fun. I well remember that W. D. Peters, of D Company, a wit and wag, having around him several of his comrades, inquired as to how the Southern Confederacy was bounded. One answered, "North by the United States, south by the Gulf of Mexico, east by the Atlantic Ocean, west by the Rocky Mountains." Peters insisted this to be a mistake, saying that "we were surrounded by Yankees!"

The general sentiment in the army favored freeing all negroes who would take arms and fight for the country. To this, singularly enough, came opposition from men who did not and never had owned a slave. The proposition to arm the negroes did not find favor with the politicians, but they were finally forced to yield, late in the Spring of 1865, on the eve of the retreat of the army of Northern Virginia from the Richmond-Petersburg lines.

While on the lines near Howlett House, a squad went out between the skirmish lines to gather fuel; among the number was Adam Thompson, who had so large a foot that special requisition had to be made to get shoes big enough for him; the shoes for Adam had to be made to order. On the occasion referred to, Adam deserted to the enemy, when a Union soldier called out, "Jonnnie! Have you another man over there three feet across the back and who wears a number two shoe—two hides to the shoe?"