Bridgeport, Thursday, Dec. 10. Sun so hot as to be quite warm. Much like a spring day in Wisconsin. Everybody lively and full of fun, troubled with nothing but "nothing to do", which to me is a serious cup. Gambling among the indulging ones quite brisk. Watches and pens raffled for, etc. A chuckluck doing big business was surprised by a guard in Osterhaus's camp this afternoon and the boys taken to the headquarters of the Division under guard. The idleness and monotony of camp is fearfully demoralizing to many, and inevitably leads to the gaming table if indulged in.
Bridgeport, Friday, Dec. 11. A most beautiful and delightful day, and all the boys merry and light-hearted as larks. It was expected last night that we should march to-day, but instead we policed camp. Our officers are making a sudden effort toward strict discipline so long neglected, that it is properly called "putting on style" now. C—— put on a day's extra duty under guard by order of Captain ——, more to glut vengeance than justice, I am afraid. Men put on extra duty for not attending roll-call.
1863 "Honest Abe"
Bridgeport, Saturday, Dec. 12. A misty morning which broke into rain, which drizzled all day, enough to make it sun-less and disagreeable outside and chilly in tent for want of fire. Read "Honest Abe's" Message, which in my estimation is true and honest, every word. The old Democrats in camp would like to criticize, but can't find much fault. It is hard to put away party prejudices. Small mail arrived, but none for me.
Bridgeport, Sunday, Dec. 13. The heavy rain of yesterday and last night still continued, and in the afternoon it rained much heavier with strong wind which drove it through the tents, rendering everything wet and uncomfortable. Wrote an imperfect letter to Sister Ellen in A. M. The remainder of the day spent in reading Gleason's Companion which I luckily hit on. Comrades in tent playing "poker" all day "for fun". Laid down at night in wet blankets and aching bones.