December 13—This morning we received marching orders again. We moved up the pike to Newtown. There we turned off to the east and moved across country until we struck the Winchester and Front Royal pike, six miles north of Front Royal. We marched on that road to the North Fork of the Shenandoah, two miles from Front Royal. We forded the river after dark and had some difficulty in fording, as nearly every team stalled. Where we came out of the river the bank was very steep, muddy, and slippery. Camped to-night two miles from Front Royal.
Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.
December 6 — Stopped snowing this morning before day. Clear, cold, and windy to-day.
December 5 — It seems that the Yankees that drove in our pickets at Front Royal a few days ago went back through Chester’s Gap to eastern Virginia, and early this morning we were on the march again down the valley toward Winchester. At Bartonsville, six miles from Winchester, we left the pike and moved one mile east of Bartonsville and camped. This is very disagreeable weather for practical soldiering. It snowed all day and when we stopped in the woods late this evening to camp the snow was about four inches deep, and still snowing fast. This is a sort of scout we are on now, and we have no tent to shelter us from the inclemency of the wintry weather. Camping in a four-inch snow, without tents, is bordering on the verge of roughing it, like Indians; but old campaigners are nearly always equal to all the-demands of all kinds of emergencies, even when mixed up with snow. It was getting dark when we drove into the snowy, cheerless woods to camp. It took but a few moments to unsaddle and hitch our horses; then we divided our mess into fatigue of twos. Two went in search of straw for bedding, two chopping wood, two getting supper out of almost nothing, and two building shelter. The straw party soon got back with as much straw as they could carry, as they found a big stack not far away. Then the straw detail assisted the architects in constructing our castle for a night. In about an hour after we commenced operations supper began to smell good, and our house was finished and furnished and the bed-chamber ready for occupation. Our structure is built in the modern hog-nest style of architecture — a shed roof covered with a waterproof tarpaulin. The front is open and facing a rousing camp-fire of green hickory, and now as I am trying to write it is nearly ten o’clock. The fire is burning brightly in front of our house and flashing its cheerful dancing light all over our bed-chamber. The snow is still coming down fast and the woods are wrapped in a wintry shroud, but who cares for snow?
December 2 — It was again reported to-day that the Yankees were advancing on Winchester. We packed and loaded our baggage, then moved with the battery to the south end of town and remained there until dusk, then came back to camp.
November 30 — This afternoon I went through the fortifications, or rather earthworks, situated on the hills west and northwest of Winchester. The earthworks were constructed by the Yankees and are about half a mile from town, and thoroughly command the town and all the surrounding country. There are five or six separate works, all of an octagonal form, surrounded by a ditch ten feet wide and twelve feet deep. One of the works is constructed of bags filled with clay, and I suppose that there are about two hundred thousand bags in the one work. The walls are thick and built with a careful precision as to proportions and angles, and all of them are perfectly shell-proof — at least against field guns. In the center of each work is an earth-covered magazine for ammunition storage, and in one of the works is a cistern for water.
November 29 — I had some Yankee prisoners in charge last night. This afternoon an alarm reached camp that the Yankees were advancing on Winchester. We were immediately ordered to pack up our all and load it on the wagons, then we were ordered with the battery east of Winchester, on the Berryville pike, at the eastern outskirts of Winchester. The Maryland Line of infantry formed a line of battle on the south side of the pike, right opposite our battery. After we were in battle line an hour or so, and everything had settled down to the quiet hush of stilly night, the Maryland Line struck up and sang a lively and sentimental, yet pathetic song — “Annie Lyle.” It was well rendered. The deep, rich, full, round bass voices blended harmoniously with the clear and flowing tenors, and the spoken melody that floated on the frosty night air was as delightful and agreeable to the ear as the whisperings of an evening wind when it breathes its vesper hymn for dying day. There is a charm and an inspiration about music,— even in a simple song,— that those that have never heard it steal along a battle line in the silent watches of the night cannot comprehend the fullness of its enrapturing and inspiring influences. When the alarm reached Winchester that the Yankees were coming it caused great excitement among the citizens. When we passed through town toward the Berryville road, where it was reported that the enemy was approaching, the town was all in a stirred-up bustle. Men were running to and fro on the streets. Some of them looked and acted as if they would like to pick up the town and move it deeper into Dixie. The Yankees did not advance to-night, and when we came back to camp, which was nearly at midnight, all the excitement in town had died away. The streets were dark and silent save the sound of the steady tread of the soldier and the rumbling of artillery wheels. The city was asleep.
November 26 — Moved camp to-day. We passed through Winchester, and are now camped one mile west of town.
November 25— A large lot of tobacco that was stored in Winchester was destroyed to-day by the order of General Jackson. I do not know who stored it or for what purpose, but it was destroyed to keep it from eventually passing into the hands of the Yanks and gratifying our late friends who are after us with guns. We are camped about a mile from where the tobacco was burned, but I smelled the burning sacrifice all day, and this evening at dusk I went to the great funeral pyre, which was beyond the southern limits of town near a group of weeping willows not far from the Front Royal pike. There was a large stock of fine-looking tobacco burning, when I saw it after dark, and many a glorious quid had then already gone up in the curling aromatic smoke from the fire that was burning all day. The sacrificial flame shot its dancing light through the dusky shadows of night and its golden lances were caught by the drooping branches of the willows that were weeping over the funeral pyre. A strong guard of soldiers were standing around the fire, with fixed bayonets, to keep sacrilegious sinners from snatching with irreverence the incense from the glowing censer. I heard to-night that the tobacco destroyed to-day was worth about seventy-five thousand dollars.
November 23 — We moved toward Winchester to-day. We are camped this evening on the south side of the Berryville pike, one mile from Winchester.
November 22 — This afternoon it was reported that the Yankees were advancing from the direction of Harper’s Ferry. Immediately after the report reached camp we moved to Rippon, on the Charlestown and Berryville pike. We remained there about an hour, then moved to Berryville, where we arrived at dusk, and camped. The Yankees advanced to Charlestown this afternoon.
