January 5 — Last night we slept on the frozen ground. Service such as we have been doing for the last few days and nights is enough to kill the healthiest Indian in creation, but, strange to say, I have never felt better in my whole life.
This cold, crisp, frosty mountain air is invigorating and makes the blood leap through the veins like young spring floods, carrying health, strength, and vigor to every muscle and fiber in the human machinery and causes the inner man to call loudly for commissary supplies oftener than once in thirty-six hours. Whoop! I feel like going vigorously into action on a twenty pounder chicken pie and put myself on the outside of it, then whip my weight in wild cats.
I think it was the intention to attack the Yankees again this morning at Moorefield, but they were reinforced last night, which precluded all operations in that direction for the present. This morning we struck out for our camp at New Market. We crossed the Shenandoah mountain to-day. To-night we are camped on the headwaters of the North Fork of the Shenandoah in Brock’s Gap Settlement.
