"...short trousers..."

Tuesday, July 28, 1863, Rapahannock River

We are finally home, if our old positions can be called home. We are not exactly where we were when the march to Gettysburg started about one month ago but we must be very close. So much looks familiar. I think that we must have out-marched the Yankees for they have not troubled us for many days. Now that we are here, we will throw up new earthworks and strengthen old ones in preparation to give the Yankees, once they get here, a warm reception. Given that the army is still tired and is in need of everything from rations to shoes to ammunition, I cannot see this army engaging in any offensive action any time soon.

While fording the Thornton River, I lost my shoes. I have been barefoot ever since then. Somewhere are our quartermaster wagons if the Yankees did not get them some time ago. Somewhere near the wagons is our Quartermaster. I shall see him about shoes. A day or so more of being unshod and I shall have to report to the sick list. My trousers are well-ventilated as well. They have been well-patched even to the point of my decreasing the length of the legs in order to get material for patching. Corporal Flynn said that if my trousers get any shorter, I will look like I was wearing short trousers for a boy. He had no shoes either.

Castles and Duncan have patched themselves up and appear to be the best of friends. Lyles has rejoined with us. There have been so many who were left behind when this campaigned started due to illness or furlough. Our numbers are increasing but given that so many were left behind after the battle, like Vincent, we are still short.

Once back along the line and rejoined with those who missed the campaign, they bombarded us with questions on what had happened. Each of us told of what we saw and what we did. When we told of the loss of Bill Barton, Senior, all took off their hats and bowed their heads. He was well-liked. We told of the gallant charge that took place on the third day. None of us were there but we had witnessed it and two of the brigades in our division took part. Few believed what we said. They were not there. Time will set the story straight and will do honor to those who made the charge.

With the loss of Bill Barton, Senior, the mess, the Dandy Eights, now number seven. We knew, and sometimes said so out loud, that the Eights might someday be reduced to the Sixes or the Fours. We joked about it but there is no joking now. On Sunday last, we seven who are left, held a memorial for old Bill. In the absence of Chaplain Betts, Bill, Junior started the service but could not finish. Jeff Mathis, who had witnessed Bill, Senior's fall, finished for him. Once we finished, we built a fire and sat around it, telling stories about Bill when he was still alive.

Last night, it was our turn to pull picket duty. There were so few of us that a good push by the Yankees across the river would have swept us away. We assume the Yankees are across there somewhere. We have seen no smoke from campfires or heard any horses or have seen any evidence of their presence. Even so, we must exercise dilligence. I found a spot relatively free of rocks and briers and, barefoot as a newborn, stayed there at my post. Supper was a single handful of parched corn.

Tomorrow morning, I will have new shoes.


I Send You These Few Lines


Of particular interest is a blog posting by Mannie Gentile in his blog, My Year of Living Rangerously, one of the blogs followed here. Drop in and take a read; it's good material.

The Gettysburg Campaign is now over. Both sides were beat up rather badly. Neither was able to inflict a killing blow upon the other. Both sides have returned to the same places they occupied, more or less, when the campaign began. Neither side has anything to show for all their efforts.

Well, not quite anything. The South was able to take the war from Northern Virginia and spare that area another summer of war. Also, the South was able to bring home much-needed war supplies taken while on the campaign. Lee's army was able to inflict severe losses in manpower on Meade's army.

While the North lost in terms of those same supplies, it was able to make good on those losses easily and quickly. The same holds true for the losses in troops. The manpower pool the North could draw upon was much larger than that of the South. Meade gave as good as he got in terms of casualties. One very critical factor in place is that the South's ability to replace it's losses was shrinking even before the campaign started. The situation will only get worse.

For the time being, both sides, out of necessity, can rest and lick their wounds. The North can mobilize more troops and send them into the field along with all the uniforms, horses, wagons, munitions and all other things it takes to maintain an army in the field. When the time comes, Meade will move on Lee and Richmond.

On the other side, Lee has to scramble just to keep what he has in the field, ready to parry the next Union attack. Everything he needs is in short supply. The government in Richmond, the same government that Lee is protecting from the wolf at the door, is incapable of making the hard choices that a government in wartime needs to make to ensure the existence of the nation. What Lee needs, Richmond cannot provide.

But, then again, this is Lee we're talking about. He has seen wolves before.