"...his wounds are not severe..."

Monday, June 2, 1862, Smith's Farm, Virginia

Something has finally happened. There has been a great battle and we missed it all. General Johnston, two days ago, threw his army, minus ourselves, at McClellan. That was really the source of all thathat thunder we heard. From what we have heard, the Yankees were defeated and thrown back some miles. Richmond is safe for the moment but they are sure to try again as soon as they lick their wounds.

We heard plenty but saw little and did nothing. Perhaps we were being held in reserve. Perhaps we were just guarding a part of the line. Whatever the reason, we are disappointed that we were not allowed to give the enemy a taste of our powder. If the enemy come again , we may be sent in and then the furies will be unleashed.

Our present encampment is not much north of the Richmond and York River Railroad. We have heard the whistles of many trains coming and going. The battle is now over, we think, but we still hear the whistles. Do the trains carry the wounded to Richmond hospitals? If so, there must be a great many wounded as there are so many whistles.

We have been told that among the wounded is our own General Johnston, the details of which are unknown to us. All the army prays that his wounds are not severe and that he my soon return to command the army. Until then, the army is in the hands of General Gustavus Smith.

We are now settled in to our new camp, or settled in as best as can be
expected under the circumstances. It is very hot here as well as muggy. There is so little dry ground and sweet water. There are but few tents and those for officers. This is an unhealthy place and the morning sick call is well-attended. I am sure that one day, I, too, will answer that call if not another.

We still engage in mush much drilling and in larger formations now that our brigade is bigger. As yet our squad has not pulled any picket duty but our time will come.