'Our hearts were broken."

Wednesday, March 18, 1863, Camp Gregg, Virginia

Given the frequency that the weather changes, it is no wonder that the weather is referred to in the female sense. It is now that time of year when the mornings will be commonly cool and often cold but by the afternoon, one may shed the overcoat, if one has an overcoat to shed. By late afternoon or early evening, one must seek out that same overcoat, or carpet scrap previously removed as unnecessary, the prospects for relief rising as the temperature drops. Water will still freeze in the canteens of the careless.

She can still snow on us, and does, just to remind us how insignifigant we are. When she wishes to make us unduly miserable, she causes the heavens to pour and pour and pour. There are some few of us who are fortunate enough to own a rubber blanket, formerly the property of the other side. They would not part with those treasures for ten dollars in hard money. I still retain a piece of the oilcloth brought from home when I enlisted back in those heady days of '61. It has seen better days but so have I.

A few days ago, it was again our turn to go and pull duty on the picket line along the river. Behind an embankment along the Rappahannock, someone, I no longer remember who, built a rude but secure cabin where those on picket duty could warm themselves and consume hot rations. Although its location behind the embankment kept it hidden from the curious eyes of the Yankees, they certainly knew it was there because of the smoke coming from the chimney. I hope they saw the smoke and were jealous.

It was raining as we left our camp to report to the picket post. Duncan had a rubber blanket, I had my scrap of oilcloth. The rest of us were wrapped in our blankets which offered protection for only as long as it took for the rain to penetrate. We had went to the line before, when it was raining, and when we were wet. We looked forward to reaching the line when the cabin would allow us to dry out. The men we relieved would always leave a fire burning for us and we would do the same for those who relieved us.

As we approached our post, Duncan, who was in front, said that he could not hear a fire nor see smell any smoke. We picked up the pace and readied our muskets in anticipation of coming to blows in some unknown circumstance. We reached a ridge and looked down. Our hearts were broken. The cabin had caught fire and was destroyed. There would be no drying out for us. We built a large fire and did not stray too far from it. She rained on us for four hours more.

Today, we are back in camp and all of us are sick. Surgeon Prioleau has ordered us confined to our cabins as the hospital is full. Our uniforms and blankets are positioned near the fire which is eating firewood as we eat good bacon. I am sweating and I hope it is from the heat and not a fever. It is raining now and we take turns going outside to bring in more firewood. When it becomes my turn again, I think that I will throw the furniture in the fire.

We have a new occupant of our cabin and we have lost an old one. While on picket post, around the fire, Duncan and Castles started arguing about next to everything. All this cold and rain and relative inactivity have fueled hot tempers in all of the camp. I have seen and heard many such altercations. Some time ago, Holton spoke to Lieutenant Williamson in a disrespectful manner and suffered the punishment of being detailed to guard the Colonel's tent for three nights. 

Duncan and Castles hackles were raised and we feared that they would come to blows when Duncan threw off his blanket to the ground. Hancock and I, thinking the same thing, moved ourselves into such a position as to be able to separate them should either or both draw their knives. Castles proclaimed in a voice so strong that the Yankees across the river could hear that he would not stay another night in the same cabin with Duncan, who he described in very foul terms. Castles called upon someone to switch cabins with him.  Hancock said he would. For the rest of the night, Duncan and Castles stood on opposite sides of the fire and glared at each other. 

At this moment, Hancock is sleeping as are Duncan and Crenshaw. Hancock is a good man but he does snore. Our mess, the Dandy Eights, still occupies the two cabins built when the regiment went into camp after Fredericksburg but the occupants of each are now different. These two need to settle things between them in a peaceable manner without fighting. Come Spring, there will be fighting enough for everyone.