ORGANIZATION OF THE BATTERY--WADING IN THE
MUD--CROSSING AND RECROSSING THE BLUE RIDGE--BATTLE OF McDOWELL--RETURN
TO THE VALLEY

We reached the south branch of the Shenandoah about noon, crossed on a
bridge, and that night camped in Swift Run Gap. Our detail was separated
from the battery and I, therefore, not with my own mess. We occupied a
low, flat piece of ground with a creek alongside and about forty yards
from the tent in which I stayed. The prisoners were in a barn a quarter
of a mile distant. Here we had most wretched weather, real winter again,
rain or snow almost all the time. One night about midnight I was
awakened by hearing a horse splashing through water just outside of the
tent and a voice calling to the inmates to get out of the flood. The
horse was backed half into the tent-door, and, one by one, my companions
left me. My bunk was on a little rise. I put my hand out--into the
water. I determined, however, to stay as long as I could, and was soon
asleep, which showed that I was becoming a soldier--in one important
respect at least. By daylight, the flood having subsided, I was able to
reach a fence and "coon it" to a hill above.

While in this camp, as the time had expired for which most of the
soldiers enlisted, the army was reorganized. The battery having more men
than was a quota for one company, the last recruits were required to
enlist in other companies or to exchange with older members who wished
to change. Thus some of our most interesting members left us, to join
other commands, and the number of our guns was reduced from eight to
six. The prisoners were now disposed of, and I returned to my old mess.
After spending about ten days in this wretched camp we marched again,
following the Shenandoah River along the base of the mountains toward
Port Republic. After such weather, the dirt-roads were, of course,
almost bottomless. The wagons monopolized them during the day, so we had
to wait until they were out of the way. When they halted for the night,
we took the mud. The depth of it was nearly up to my knees and
frequently over them. The bushes on the sides of the road, and the
darkness, compelled us to wade right in. Here was swearing and growling,
"Flanders and Flounders." An infantryman was cursing Stonewall most
eloquently, when the old Christian rode by, and, hearing him, said, in
his short way, "It's for your own good, sir!" The wagons could make only
six miles during the day, and, by trav