Fort Gillem, Saturday, Dec. 24. A pleasant night on guard though rather cold. Thawed but little during the day. My health still continues very good. Camp is all hilarity over the good news from all quarters. It gives new hopes of the coming dawn. Father Abraham has called for 300,000 more troops. This is right, says the soldier. It shows no faltering or weakness of resolution on our part, while the Confederacy’s brightest lights are wringing their hands in anguish and despondency. But it makes me sad that it once more threatens to deprive my loved parents of their solace and comfort. I pray God that my dear brothers be spared to stay with them in their old age.
It is Christmas Eve, and I am all alone. Dan and Milt have gone to town. Griff is on guard. Nobody to interrupt my quiet meditations, and I can but think of the many happy hearts that now beat in my Northern home, of those surrounded by friends and relatives and the influence of home. It is in striking contrast with our situation here, where time glides by so idly and it seems at times uselessly. I can hardly realize that it is really Christmas time, so associated is winter with snow and frozen ears and good times to me. It is hard to recognize it in this mud and rain with bare, frozen ground for days. But it is not always to be thus. I am as happy in anticipation of hard-tack and salt junk for to-morrow’s dinner, as many that count on roast turkey and “fixings”. And still many at home are not happy. I can fancy the heavy cloud that hangs over their hearts as they are anxiously awaiting the return of us from the field. Yes, they think of us morn, noon, and eve. May we be true to their memory and return with a clear conscience, unsullied by the vices of camp.
