Monday Morning, June 22.
Late yesterday the long-expected mail came, and with the rest were two letters from you. We were formed in line, ready to march, when the mail was distributed, and as I looked down the ranks I could see many a man leaning on his gun and eagerly scanning his news from home. We didn’t have a very long march—about six rods. The corps was placed in battle order ready to entertain company in case the Johnnies should see fit to honor us with a call.
I was on guard last night, but only had to stand one round, so got a good sleep. The mail goes out at ten o’clock this forenoon. I ran across an old friend the other day, in the Seventeenth Maine—George Parker, who once lived on the Corporation. I am pretty well supplied with meat now. When George Slade distributed the rations he saved me out an extra piece big enough for a good square meal. It pays to be all hunks with the cook.
XCV
Taneytown, Md., June 29, 1863.
I AM awful, awful tired; but we got a mail tonight, the first in some time, and as a mail goes out tomorrow morning I must write a few lines to let you know I am alive and well, but pretty well used up from the tremendous marches we have been making. We have been constantly on the move, tramping from sun rise to sun set, and sometimes far into the night; but we are now halted a little earlier in the day than usual, within five miles of the Pennsylvania line. There is much I would like to write, but as it is almost dark now I must wait until we get into camp for a day or two, if we ever do. Good night! Send me a few stamps.