September 18th. The corps remained in position, watching the enemy, who are in position on the southern side of the Rapidan and are strongly fortified; they are in full view and evidently confident of holding their own. It is more picturesque here than any part of the country we have seen since the South Mountain range. The fields in the valley below us, at the base of the mountains, are full of standing corn, which affords good food for the horses, and an occasional dish for ourselves. As it appeared we were to remain a few days, we selected a house as headquarters, near the base of Garnett’s mountain, and put up our tents around it; we never sleep in houses when our tents come up, but frequently eat in them. They serve as a landmark to make the headquarters conspicuous, and in rainy days are comfortable to lounge in. During the night it rained hard, and to-day the ground is a quagmire. I am much troubled with eczema, brought on by exposure, and these wet, cold days aggravate it seriously. I shall have to go to the rear unless the doctors are more successful than they have been. The natives call this section the Orange range, Clark’s Peak being the highest point. It is occupied now by our signal corps, is very conspicuous and commands an extended view of the country.
About ten o’clock in the evening the general requested me to go to the picket line, and see if Colonel Miles, the commander First brigade, on duty there, had any news of the enemy. This meant a most disagreeable ride of over a mile, through swamps and woods, and required some nice engineering in the dark, to steer a course to avoid running into the enemy. When I left the general’s tent, Stiles called me into his quarters and volunteered to go along, and so buckling on a cavalry sabre, he ordered his horse, and we rode off together into the pitch darkness. After a dreary tramp through a dismal, swampy wood, and much maneuvering to keep within our own picket lines, we stumbled on Miles and his staff, sitting around a little sickly fire, investigating the contents of several large jugs, found in one of the deserted houses on the picket line. They had just concluded it was wine of some sort and referred the matter to the doctor for confirmation. Stiles immediately tasted it, and finding it the right thing, we all pitched in and gave it a thorough trial, in the meantime getting the history of events on the picket line. We spent over an hour with the colonel, chatting about the situation and then returned, leisurely jogging along through the mud and water quite contentedly. The doctor’s canteen was in frequent request, and so refreshed our spirits that we sang a song and continued all the way home very merrily.
