"Spare us from Lee..."

Sunday, February 16, 1862, Garden's Corner

It has been so very long since I have completed an entry in this diary. To tell the truth, there has been so little of note to enter. The spade is still the weapon of choice, although certainly not our choice. We still arise early and settle late. Our rations are still deficient in both quantity and quality, especially the latter. The prohibition on hunting with public ammunition is still in place. My uniform is now too large for me but I hope to be able to fill it out as it gets warmer and the rations get better.

We do not dig all the time. Every now and then, some of us Lancaster Hornets are ordered to do picket duty far in front of our works. We watch for the Yankees and I think that I have seen them watching back at us. We are not supposed to have fires as the smoke would give away our position and subject us to a bombardment from their gunboats. We build them anyway, trusting that our officers are too comfortable in the rear to bother us. It is necessary that troops on picket duty have warmth. A fire is also necessary to cook up our rations and to boil up some coffee or whatever we have been issued that passes for coffee. I prefer tea to coffee but there is no tea. This is a cruel war.

On occasion, that General Lee, "Granny Lee", comes by to inspect us and satisfy himself that the work we are doing with our spades meets his expectations. We see his staff officers more often. He might not be much of a general but he does look well on a horse.

He has a new mount, purchased I hear, from someone in the 60th Virginia. He is called Traveller and comes from somewhere in my old state. The horse is supposed to have a pleasant gait. All the better to carry him away when the shooting starts.

The Yankees never sleep. More than once or thrice, the long roll of the drummers has sprang us out from under our blankets to go and meet some new landing or movement of the enemy. More often than not, either nothing has happened or by the time we get to the site of the alleged altercation, the need for us has passed. I do not recall the last time that I fired my musket. If we do not die from exaustion or starvation, we shall die from boredom.

We hear news that things in Virginia, Tennessee and Kentucky are very lively. Good for them. After we have won this war, they will have glorious stories to tell the folks back home. We here, on the other hand, will regaler astound our kith and kin with stories of how quickly we hearned to throw dirt. They will disown us. Spare us from Lee and let us see some of this war.