Camp Corcoran, Arlington Heights, Va.,
Monday, Sept. 30, 1861.
Dear Sister L. :—
My soldiering now is not play, it is work. The last time I wrote you we were in Camp Casey, above Washington. Last Saturday afternoon we received orders to strike tents and be ready to march. We were ready in half an hour, and at sunset we started, no one knew where. We went down through the city, past the Capitol, and across the Long Bridge, and set our feet on the sacred soil of the “Mother of Presidents.” After marching about eight miles, we halted on a piece of rough ground, evidently a pasture, stacked our guns and lay down to rest. We were hungry, but we had nothing to eat. D., H. and I had each a blanket. We spread one down and the other to cover us and tried to sleep, but it was so cold we could not sleep much. The dew wetted our blankets both through, and H. was almost sick, so we had rather a sorry night. I rose about 4 o’clock and stood by the guard fire till reveille, drying our blankets. Half an hour after sunrise we marched about half a mile to our present camp. We pitched our tents and had our dinner of bread and raw pork at noon. I could not eat raw pork and dry bread at home, but a fast of twenty-four hours, a ten-mile march, and a bivouac at night sharpens the appetite wonderfully. At night we got things arranged, and had a good supper. Our rations are of the best quality, except our salt beef, which is not sweet.
Now for our camp. We are on Arlington Heights, about four miles southwest of the Capitol. The Heights are ranges of hills running parallel with the river and overlooking the city. Fort Corcoran is about twenty rods from our camp, and another fort on the other side. As far as I can see in every direction, the white tents of our enemy dot every hilltop. The rebel camps are within two miles of us, their pickets and ours shooting each other every night.
Our whole regiment has been changed from light infantry to a rifle regiment. We are to have the short Minie rifle with sword bayonet. Our drill is changed entirely, but I am learning it very fast. The whole regiment is doing its best with the hope of soon meeting the enemy. We are drilling with old altered flintlocks.
As I came out of my tent yesterday morning, what was my astonishment to see the Reverend Mr. Reed of Pittsburgh standing before me in uniform. I looked at him and could hardly recognize him, but there was no mistake. He is the chaplain of Governor Black’s regiment, twelve hundred strong. He said his regiment had gone to make a reconnoissance beyond Munson’s Hill—that great fortification was taken without firing a gun, and a lot of wooden guns ingeniously painted showed how they were armed.
Regiments are moving every night, and though we are ignorant of what is to be done, the universal impression is that a great battle is on the tapis.
2 P. M. We have orders to be in readiness to march at a moment’s notice. Forty rounds of cartridges are distributed. Lowe’s balloon is in our camp. I would write more but must stop for want of time.
Address O. W. N., care Captain T. M. Austin, McLane’s Regiment, Camp Corcoran, Washington, D. C.
