Our last march. Near Rolesville, N. C.,
April 29, 1865.
Left Raleigh at 7 this morning on my way home, via Richmond and Washington. Made about 11 miles. Rather too warm for such fast marching as we always do. If we would just make 15 miles a day, say 10 of it between sunrise and 10 a.m., and the remainder after 2 p.m., it would not hurt a man or an animal, but we move when we do move at three or three and a half miles an hour, and not all even Sherman’s men can stand it in as warm weather as this. I saw a number laid out this morning by the roadside looking as if they had been boiled. The 50 pounds of equipments is what uses them up. Well settled country, and it looks beautiful. The leaves are all out nearly full size; fine oak, elm and pine strips of woodland between farms is such an addition of comfort to citizens and cattle, and of beauty to scenery. The undergrowth is mostly dogwood and holly. We are on our good behavior this trip. No foraging, no bumming rails, or houses, and nothing naughty whatever. We have the best set of men in the world. When it is in order to raise h__ they have no equals in destructiveness and ability to hate and worry, or superiors as to fighting Rebels, but now they have none, and they are perfect lambs. Not a hand laid on a rail this evening with intent to burn, not a motion toward a chicken or smoke-house, not a thing in their actions that even a Havelock would object to. They don’t pretend to love our “erring brethren” yet, but no conquered foe could ask kinder treatment than all our men seem disposed to give these Rebels. We camped about 3 p.m. in a pretty piece of woods. Artillery has been booming all day at Raleigh.
