"Pelham is dead".

Wednesday, March 25, 1863, Camp Gregg

I take pen in hand and jot down these few notes because I am bored. The weather has turned worse than normal and the combination of snow, sleet and wind is keeping the entire army, save those on picket duty, inside our rude cabins. There have been several chimney fires as the shivering soldiers keep feeding the primitive fireplaces, some of which burn out of control. I know of no deaths but would not be the least surprised should there be one or two.

It is not yet our turn to pull duty on the picket line. The Fourteenth is currently there and they must be suffering greatly. It is not much comfort knowing the the Yankees on the other side are suffering just as bad. If Providence shines upon us, that burned cabin will be repaired by the time of our turn. My hands are shaking badly.

Duncan and Castles are still at odds with each other. They have not spoken to each other since the last time the Twelfth was on the line. Right now, Duncan is sharpening a rather large knive. I must wonder why. All attempts to get them to bury the hatchet have proved worthless.

Although it is desperately miserable outside, there are some circumstances under which a man will eagerly brave the weather. Should word get out that someone has spirits, shortly there will be a path, trampled free of snow and ice, straight to that location. The same holds true for games of chance. 

Hancock is fond of cards and heard of a game three cabins down. He insisted that I go with him for luck. I had absolutely no interest in leaving our fire but he did insist and he is a friend. On our way, we stopped at Bill Adkins' cabin where I asked to borrow my old blanket back for the walk. The blanket that was at one time mine before I was sent to the hospital in Richmond and Bill agreed to watch it for me. I must have looked just pitiful because he handed it to me. I wrapped myself in it and felt instantly warmer and cherry. Would he take ten dollars for it, I wonder?

Hancock and I entered the cabin where the game was. I saw several people that I recognized as being in the regiment but none I can say that I knew. Two I did not know at all. On the crudest of tables were the stakes. There was cash, all Confederate bills. I saw one quarter from the Union. Hancock sat down and I stood near the door. Shortly, I became very nervous as I noticed several pairs of eyes fixed upon me as a sniper fixes on his mark.

It took a short while to realize that it was not me that was the subject of their attention but my blanket, instead. They knew a good blanket when they saw one and they saw it on me. I knew that the only friend I had in the room was Hancock but he saw nothing that was not in front of him. I clutched the blanket tighter around me.

As the players sitting at the table conducted their affairs of chance, I witnessed several wagers by the non-players. One wagered a penknife against someone else's vest that a face card would be revealed. It was not and the winner had a penknife to put in one of his vest pockets.

One of the players folded his cards and gave his place to another who eagerly took it. This person then stood next to me and introduced himself as Hezekiah. He admired the blanket and wished to wager for it, offering ten crackers against it. I told him no but did not say that it was not my blanket. He then offered ten crackers and a new pair of drawers. As I had none, it was tempting but I could not wager what was not mine. I said no.

Then he pointed to a knapsack suspended from a peg on the cabin wall. It looked new. It was a box hardpack, of the style quite similar to the one that I carried during the Mex War. Hezekiah was wagering that Hancock would lose the hand being played. Simply put, the odds were four to one against him winning as there were four other players. I said yes and instantly felt quite bad.

It was a wager with the odds stacked against Hancock and therefore myself. If I were to lose, how would I make it up to Bill Adkins? I would have to give him my own blanket and God knows what else. I would die by freezing. But I had seen Hancock play Faro before and knew him to be good at it. Hezekiah was smiling. I was perspiring but not from the warmth. I was shaking but not from the cold.

Hancock won. He collected all that was on the table and made his manners to leave. Hezekiah looked as if he would kill me and I handled my knife under the concealment of the blanket. He removed his knapsack from its' peg and removed the contents, less one pair of drawers. He threw in ten crackers from his haversack and gave me everything without a word. We left quickly afterwards.

En route back to our own cabin, I returned Bill's blanket along with five crackers for its' use. He was quite pleased and said he could borrow his blanket anytime. I smiled broadly. Once inside our cabin, I showed off my new pack and Hancock bragged at his prowess with cards. There was something making noise inside the pack. Upon investigation, I found a gutta-percha case with a tintype. It showed Hezekiah and a lovely woman whom I took to be his wife and a child.

Back to the cabin I went, holding the case. I presented it to Hezekiah who had not noticed that it was missing. He became all warm and smiling as he thanked me. He said that it was his dear wife and that he had not seen her since he enlisted in the summer of '61. He said that they had not exchanged letters as neither one could write. I then made him an offer. If he would dictate, I would write a letter. He did and I did. His wife, Annie Lynn, will be quite surprised. His child was called Sarah Ruth.

Some few days ago, a battle occurred and we knew nothing of it. We are at the far right of Lee's army. Averell's cavalry crossed the river at Kelly's Ford, some ways upriver from us, on the extreme left of the line. They were met and repulsed by Fitzhugh Lee's cavalry and Pelham's artillery. Fitzhugh, also known as Rooney, is one of the sons of our great commander. The battle was short but sharp. Pelham is dead. He was known as, "The Gallant Pelham". He was a very youthful major and quite good at the art of the artilleryman. He had done good work against the Yankees at Fredericksburg in December. We hope he can be replaced with someone just as good.

Tonight, I will sleep with new drawers using my new pack for a pillow and will dream of my younger days in Mexico.