"...be on our best manners".

Tuesday, June 30, 1863, Cashtown, Pennsylvania.

This town is a mixed bag of those Yankees who hate us and those who tolerate us, but grudgingly. This is quite a contrast to our last halt, in Funkstown just across the border. There, we were spoiled. We arrived there on Saturday last and left there this morning. None of us expected to stay for any length of time but stay we did and we had a grand time.

When we first arrived, the company was halted and Lieutenant Stover read to us from General Lee's orders that we must all behave like gentlemen. Foraging parties were to be properly organized and operate under the command of a respectable officer. Items for use by the Confederate Army were to be paid for in our own money. Things not sold willingly were to be impounded and a receipt issued for payment later. We were told to be on our best manners. And then he turned his back on us.

Vincent, Will Crenshaw, Holton, Mathis, both Bill Bartons and myself declared ourselves to be a foraging party. We elected Mathis as our captain so we could legally operate under a respectable officer. Holton challenged the election on the grounds that Mathis was not respectable whereupon Mathis hit him but not hard.

Our first objective was to provision ourselves with whatever treats we could find. We knew that the first places that would be foraged by the other parties would be the grocers and butchers. We headed straight for a hotel we had passed on Baltimore Street. The proprietor was Benjamin South, a proper name, we thought. We knew that a hotel would serve victuals and might be overlooked by the other parties.

We entered the hotel and made our manners to Mr. South, in an official manner, of course. We represented ourselves as being a duly delegated party representing the Confederate government. His expression said that he did not believe us but he did believe our muskets. He bade us sit down at a long table with clean white linens. Mr. South inquired as to our preference of fare and we said bring us everything. We would pay for everything.

It was not too long before one of Mr. South's hired help brought out some bread. It was soft bread, still warm. Real butter was presented on a silver plate. We were told that this would tide us over until our meals arrived. I thought that Holton would swoon like a schoolgirl. We wanted to attack the bread and butter as if they were the enemy but did not want to give away that Lee's army was a bunch of rabble. It hurt us not to assault the bread.

About the same time that the bread disappeared, our meals made their appearance. Eggs. There were real eggs, from real chickens. Each of us was served a ham steak as big as our heads with potatoes and more butter. The last serving was a slice of apple pie with sugar and a slab of cheese on top. The seven of us paid Mr. South fifteen dollars each and left with profound thanks. We were walking in such a stupor that we neglected to fill our haversacks.

The longer we stayed the more it seemed that we would be staying longer. That convinced us to extend the range of our foraging activities. Cashtown was a place of shoemakers, weavers and tailors. We paid a visit to the establishment of Mr. Richard Kerfoot, shoemaker so that we may be better shod. Mr. Kerfoot was not there as he was in the army, our army as it was. I wondered if he might be somewhere hard by.

We inquired about shoes and offered to pay as was the rule. Mr. Kerfoot being absent, his relatives were running the store. They refused to take any payment for the shoes, stating that they were good, loyal Southerners and hoped that by helping us, the was would be won and Mr. Kerfoot would return home all the sooner. Vincent, Mathis and the Bill Bartons left the shop with new shoes, good marching shoes. There was nothing for the rest of us that would fit but they took tracings of our feet and said to come back in a day or two and we would have new shoes as well. We were very grateful  for their kindness.

On Sunday, which was the 28th, we decided that our uniforms needed cleaning and mending. We all wanted to look our best for when we crossed the Pennsylvania line. We found an old free colored woman called Mary Phenia who took in washing assisted by her three children. She looked at us in much the same way as a horse trader looks over a mare in order to determine if it is worth the bother. She consented and we gave her what we could and still remain mostly covered. She built a fire underneath a large iron kettle and began working her magic with a large cake of lye soap that we assumed she had made herself.

We knew that the laundry would take some time so we went in search of a seamstress. The first establishment we visited was run by a Mrs. Kretzer, a Dutch woman. She attacked us with a broom and used many words not fit for a lady. Poor Vincent was struck rather hard, his slouch being knocked from his head. Our next visit was received a bit more cordially. 

A Mrs. Muck met us at her door but I cannot say she greeted us. Unlike Mrs Kerfoot, this woman was all Union and let us know it. Nonetheless, she allowed us in. We gave her our jackets. Mathis and Holton had to go behind a modesty screen to remove their trousers for mending. If the Yankees had attacked us at that moment, we would have been hard-pressed to defend ourselves. Many missing buttons were replaced with whatever buttons she had in her drawers. When she finished, our uniforms were more sturdy and we did not care if we had a mismatch of buttons. We are rebels and care little for looking like bandbox soldiers.
We left her with a receipt to be honored later by our government. We could have given her  cash but we cared not for her rude taunts.

Our laundry was finished by the time we returned there from Mrs. Mucks. Colored Mary had washed, ironed and folded everything we had left her. Between all of us, we managed to scruff up eighty cents in Union hard money plus some bills of our own. She did not exactly wish us well but she did not d--- us to H--- so we liked her. We returned to camp and ate our rations supplied by our commisary. We pledged to return on the morrow to Mr. South's hotel for another fine meal. We might be ordered to the march at any time and who knows where the next decent repast might come from. There was also the matter of the shoes. 

The next morning, Monday, we suffered through morning formation waiting to be released to go foraging under our, "Captain", Mathis. Our visit to Mr. South's hotel was almost fruitless. Others had discovered what we had thought only we knew. Mr. South could only provide us with some gruel and a little state cheese which we consumed with satisfaction.

Holton wondered aloud if the same thing might have happened at the Kerfoot's shoe shop. We ate fast and hurredly went there. there were no shoes to be had. A real foraging party had taken everything. We left with nothing but the well-wishes of the Kerfoot family. We wished them a rapid reunion with Mr. Kerfoot.

When we left Funkstown this morning, there were few of the citizens who saw us off. Sometime today, I do not know where, we passed into Pennsylvania. We marched not a long while before halting here in Cashtown. This is an unplesant place. There are no friends here. There is little to forage for as others in this army have already beat us to everything. To our great surprise, a ration of whiskey was issued to all ranks. I gave my ration to Vincent as his head was still suffering from the attack of that Dutch woman.

It is our turn to do picket duty tonight. I am writing this from the glow of our picket fire as the others stand watch. No one is worried about the Yankees. If there were any within one hundred miles of this place, that dashing cavilieer Stuart would warn us. Corporal Flynn came by to check on us. He said that the Yankee papers are saying that Hooker was out and A General Meade was in as commander of their army. I know nothing about him but General Lee will figure him out and take care of him like all the rest.

The corporal said that he heard that there were orders for us to march to Gettysburg tomorrow. Perhaps there will be food and shoes.


I Send You These Few Lines


Boom and bust, boom and bust. That's what it seem like in this diary story and to some extent, that is true. Confederate troops went through periodic cycles of poverty and abundance. Most of the abundance came to them courtesy of the other side, be it from capturing Union wagon trains or supply depots, or taking what's available in enemy territory. Letters from Confederate soldiers during the Gettysburg campaign say much about the abundance of resources, particularly foodstuffs in Union territory. Some even wondered how so much bounty could exist in the absence of slaves. Yesterday, Tooms and his pards were privated. Today they gorge themselves. Tomorrow they could be dead.

All the people, the citizens of Funkstown,  Benjamin South, the Richard Kerfoot family, Elizabeth Muck, Mary Phenia and Eliza Kretzer are real. They are all mentioned in the 1860 census for Washington County, MD. Tooms' description of Funkstown as a town of shoemakers, weavers and tailors is correct. George Cook, John Snyder, O.H. Snyder,Peter Ganty, Joseph Harper and Mathias Clark were a few of the shoemakers in Funkstown. Samuel Knight and George Dietrich were weavers. Mary Kemp and her son, Hiram were spinners along with Mary Kemp. Micheal Fouke was a dyer. Louisa McCoy and Elizabeth Muck were seamstresses while Ann Crawford, Margaret Snyder and Sydney Handle, a female, were tailoresses.

By this time, Lee and his commanders are aware that there has been a shakeup in the leadership of the Army of the potomac. Joseph Hooker is out and George Meade is in as army commander. Meade had commanded V Corps; the new commander is George Sykes. Darius Couch of II Corps has been relieved by Winfield Scott Hancock. Less senior officers, too many to list here, were promoted.

For much of this campaign, soldiers on both sides have been marching over mcadamized turnpikes. This type of improved road surface, developed in the early part of the 19th century by John McAdam, featured a layer of 3" stones with a layer of 3/4" on top. These stones made for easy going for horse-drawn wagons but not for foot traffic. Even taking into account that many of the stones would be broken up by wagon wheels, this kind of surface tears up both shoes and feet. Any reenactor of any time period who wears leather-soled shoes will verify this.

According to army supply tables for both sides, each soldier was supposed to be issued four pair of shoes, or one pair every three months. This allowance is inadequate under combat conditions.  The Confederacy, being the least able to take care of its' armies in the field, will feel the effects of a poorly-shod army. Factor in long marches on rocky roads and the problem can degrade an army's ability to fight. Napoleon said that an army marches on its' stomach. Perhaps so, but it marches further if it has shoes.

Are there shoes in Gettysburg?