Monday, April 11th.
Nothing of special interest has occurred since the 4th. We are still camped on the side hill near Stevensburg and the weather continues cold and rainy, while the term “mud” scarcely conveys an idea of the condition of the soil. Two or three rations of whiskey have been issued to the men and, I am bound to say under the circumstances, with beneficial results. Lieut. Gleason has been discharged from the service on a surgeon’s certificate of physical disability, and if he escapes with his life after the experience of the past ten days he will do well. Second Lieut. Clark, who assisted me in recruiting for the Eleventh, is assigned to my company to fill his place. Whenever the weather has permitted, we have endeavored to pick up some knowledge of skirmish drill, however distasteful that is to an artillery soldier. We have also had one or two dress parades in “close column by battalion,” the regimental line being too long for our parade ground in the usual formation. It is rumored about camp that the Artillery Brigade of the Second Corps is to be composed of twelve light batteries, and that our regiment is to support these batteries when in action, and act as guard for their camps and trains, a duty usually performed by infantry. Now that the “powers that be” have got us into the field, it looks to me very much as if they don’t know what to do with us.
