"I bet they have sardines"

Friday, August 15,  1862,  Somewhere in Virginia

For nearly a week we have done nothing but march. I barely know where we are now let alone where we have been. I am fairly certain that we have covered the same ground more than once in both coming and going. After passing beyond Orange Court House one day, we found ourselves retiring towards that place some days later and we do not know why. We have crossed the Rapidan in one direction and recrossed it in the other. What is Jackson at?

All this marching perhaps serves some military purpose even if we who do the marching cannot see it. The regiment is in a bad way. All of us see it. All of us feel it. The brigade is probably in the same fix. How could it be otherwise? As the brigade goes, does the entire division follow? Given the rapid destruction of our shoe leather, how much longer can we maintain this?

There are so many of us who are barefoot. I will join the ranks of the shoeless before long. Duncan's new shoes which he received from home are all used up. His old shoes which he gave to Castles last May are all used up. Castles old shoes which he gave to Lieutenant Williamson to be used as repair material for his own shoes are all used up. His are just as bad as mine now. If we lose the next battle, it will be because after we whip them and they run, we cannot follow them.

On the other side of the scales, our rations are at least adequate in not abundant. We have added a good deal of corn to our diet. Not all of it was fully ripe and several of us have suffered for it. The trickle of packages from home have ceased. I suspect the army's postal system cannot keep up with us and might have lost us altogether. We will just have take supplies from the Yankees. I bet they have sardines.