31st.—We were awoke this morning at daylight, by the pattering of rain on our faces, and at once went to work preparing to meet the foe, and perhaps to fight the battle decisive of the war and the fate of our poor “friend-ridden” country. Oh, my country; both you and your friends are making a history, and when it is written, may I be there to help. * * * But we are preparing for fight. Must all of our great battles be fought on Sundays?
10 1-2 A. M.—”Fall in, fall in.” The rain pours whilst we march and counter march for an hour, forming into line of battle. Why spend so much time at what could have been done in twenty minutes. No need of delay, now that Pope is whipped.
We have remained all day at Centreville. No advance by either party. I have a bad cold to night, and lie down with wet feet, and between wet blankets, and yet with this discomfort, how enviable my condition compared with that of thousands whom, and whose families our tardiness has doomed to a life long intensity of pain or misery.
