Yesterday we got a ration of flour and half a ration of bacon—quarter of a pound to each man.
This afternoon nine hundred men arrived from Camp Chase. There is now a general exchange going on, and it is said about six thousand prisoners are to be brought on. A number were sent off to-day. They go to the Western army. The wind is blowing very hard. Frank Fox, Phil. Lee, and the two Mills sick. Militia relieved from guard duty.
Barnes yesterday appointed sergeant of our company. This morning some of our mess bought a bottle of brandy and half a gallon of beans. I had a good drink of the brandy, and it put a little warmth in me. Beans for dinner—the first good hearty meal since we left the Old Capitol.
We borrowed a big iron kettle from one of the messes, and having gathered a lot of wood and chips, started a fire and put our beans on to cook. One of the men picked up a piece of an old cracker box and we made a number of rude paddles to use as spoons in eating the beans. Tom Lee was walking around seemingly unconscious of what was going on. “Don’t say anything to Tom about what we are doing,” said one. Tom wandered off, and when he returned the beans were ready for eating.
“How are you going to eat the beans—with your fingers?” asked Tom as he saw us seat ourselves around the pot.
All smiled at his innocence, and taking out their paddles commenced fishing for beans. Tom quietly took from his pocket a clam shell he had found in his wanderings and fitted it into a split stick. With this primitive but all-sufficient implement he proceeded to dip into the pot, and while the beans were slipping off our rudely fashioned paddles he could scoop up at one dip as much as we could take at a dozen.
“You boys are smart,” said Tom, “but you couldn’t fool your brother Tom.”
Saturday, April 4.—Got a pass to visit Petersburg in company with Jack Barnes, Gus Williams and Tom Lee.
Our rations are dealt out in such homeopathic doses that we are always glad when we can obtain a pass to visit Petersburg so as to gratify a little of that craving for food which it is impossible to satisfy here.
Went through the market. Meat selling at $1 a pound; turnips, 25 cents each, and other vegetables in proportion. Bought a hat, $20; had a drink of apple brandy, 50 cents. Walked up along the Appomattox River, and came back into camp through the old Fair Grounds. Rain and cold wind; nearly all the tents blown down.