Two prisoners were shot yesterday. The Fifth’s drum corps was playing “Dixie,” and when they got through the Rebs crowded up to the fence and gave “Three cheers for Dixie!” The demonstration soon became riotous and threatening, and was passing beyond all control, when the Twelfth man on guard at that point fired into the crowd and brought the crazy fellows to their senses.
Bill Ramsdell is doing duty right along, but he came very near getting into another scrape the other night. You must know that we soldiers have a free-and-easy way of appropriating to our own use any little bit of government property that will contribute to our comfort. It isn’t stealing. We all do it. The government has sent whole shiploads of boards here, for fences, houses, &c., and if we fellows want one or two to build a bunk or fix our quarters, we take them, and no harm done. Well, the other night Bill went out on a piratical cruise, shouldered a board, and was almost into camp with it when, as ill luck would have it, he ran up against General Marston himself, who ordered him to drop his load, personally escorted him down to headquarters, and turned him over to the guard. But Bill pulled up two or three tent-pins, crawled out under the canvas, and in due time appeared in camp lugging his board, which he had gathered in again on his way up. As all this took place at night, and as the Twelfth was on guard, Bill flattered himself no one would ever be any wiser as to who the prisoner was. But he was recognized by one of the guard, who thought the escape of Marston’s own prisoner too good a thing to keep, and it leaked to the officer of the guard. In due time a guard appeared in camp hunting for “a man named Ramsdell.” But nobody knew any such man. The guard was a mighty decent fellow, and didn’t rake with a fine-tooth comb. We kept Bill out of sight until a new officer of the guard came on, when the matter was forgotten or dropped at headquarters.
I did not get off with my guard duty day before yesterday quite as well as I expected. A cold rain set in, and if it had not been for the overcoat and rubber blanket that came in my box, I should have suffered. That day we occupied, for the first time, the new guard house, which, however, had not been shingled, and it rained harder inside than out. So I came down to my tent and sat while not on post, and in this way made the best of a dismal situation.
CXIX
Point Lookout, Md.,
Saturday Evening, November 21, 1863.
RAINY and dreary outside, but inside is warmth and comfort. There is a good fire in the little stove, the tent is tight as a drum, and there is a snug warm bunk for me when I get ready to turn in.
You appear to be having quite a little run of adventures. Well, here is one of mine. The other day I took an outing up into the country, just to see what sort of a place it is up there. It was dark when I got within a mile of camp, and I was tired and anxious to get in the shortest way. I knew that by the route which would save me half my travel I would have to wade a network of little creeks, but that didn’t trouble me, and across-lots I started. Wading into creek No. 1, I found myself up to my middle, with a strong tide setting in. But I was in for it, and I kept forging ahead, but when I came to the last crossing I wished I had gone the other way. This was at the point where the creek empties into the river. It was not wide, but the tide was setting into it like a millrace. I waded in. Once or twice I thought I would be swept off my feet and floated up the creek like a piece of driftwood. But I got through—and so ended my soul-stirring adventure.
It is reported that we are to have “Sibley” tents for winter quarters, and that all the improvements we have been making will have to go to make way for the new arrangement. The Sibley is much larger than our A-tents, and is a great canvas cone supported by a center pole. Ours are to be stockaded about four feet high on logs planted on end in the ground, and ten men will make a tent’s crew. Each tent is equipped with a stove, and the whole outfit makes the most comfortable quarters imaginable. The only drawback is the trouble of making the change.