Monday, June 13th
At 10 A. M. we took up our line of march, very much impeded by the wagon trains and the artillery, crossed the Chickahominy River at Long Bridge about 2 P. M., and reached Dr. Wilcox’s plantation on the James River, opposite Windmill Point, at half-past 8 P. M. Here, near what is called Wilcox Landing, we camped in a magnificent clover and wheat field which had theretofore apparently been spared the ravages of war. The Fifth Corps followed the Second Corps to this landing and the Sixth Corps struck the river a mile or two below us. Baldy Smith, with the Nineteenth Corps, occupied the attention of the enemy until we were well on our way, and then fell back to the White House. This is the first day since we left Culpepper on the 4th of May, when my company has not been actually exposed to the fire of the rebels the whole or some part of the twenty-four hours, and it is not very remarkable that the reaction from the strain of thirty-nine days under fire should make this day’s march of about twenty miles seem to me particularly fatiguing. At one point I felt so weak and faint that I strayed off a little way from the line of march and laid down in the dry but cool and shady bed of a little stream. In about an hour, having recuperated somewhat, I arose and trudged along, soon overtaking the company, or what there was left of it.
Lieut. Edmonston, who detested beans in any form, and before we left Fort Marcy was accustomed to refuse them with a sneer whenever they formed part of our bill of fare, marched along to-day toting in his hand a little pail of the Boston berries soaking in water preparatory to boiling them when we should halt long enough to do so, and this unusual indication of a compulsatory education of taste, coupled with a marked tendency to “travel wide,” as if my mercurial ointment had taken effect elsewhere than on the “graybacks” in the seams of his trousers, led me to think that he did not enjoy this day’s experience any more than I did.
