back
into the dense, dark woods. Soon after the battle of Fredericksburg, as
we had no quarters, and nothing but worn and torn shelter-tents, our
only way to prevent freezing at night was to cut and heap together a
large number of logs, which, though green, when fully ignited made a
rousing fire. These fires, numerously built in rows throughout the
streets of our camps, presented, especially at night, a most beautiful
and lively scene. The few trees which still remained as shelters were
generally lighted up by our fires into grand chandeliers, reflecting
upon our white tents a weird light of gold and green, which might have
furnished the pen of the romancer, and the pencil of the artist, their
most interesting plots and designs.

Around these fires gathered the comrades of many a march and battle, to
discuss the experiences of the past, to applaud or censure certain men
and measures, and to lay plans, and to entertain rumors with regard to
future operations. The gallantry and merits of companions fallen in
strife were presented by those most intimate with them; and otherwise
dreary hours were pleasantly whiled away with narratives of personal
encounters, of terrible sufferings of prisoners while in the hands of
the enemy, and of hair-breadth escapes. These accounts were generally
enlivened with extra coloring drawn from the enchanting and fairy-like
scenes which surrounded the speaker, and an entire group was thrilled
and electrified until frequently the night was made to ring with
uproarious applause. Occasionally the friends and home scenes we have
left behind us became the subjects of conversation, and it is
astonishing how that word "home," with its hallowed associations,
touches the tender feelings of our hearts. These colloquies often ended
with the good old hymn, "Home, sweet home," and with the sound of the
last bugle-call we hastened to our rest, to spend, it may be, a
miserable night of cold and storm.

No soldier can ever forget these camp and bivouac scenes, for they are
deeply photographed upon his memory. He will often recall their
ludicrous as well as romantic side, when the mud was knee-deep and over,
up to within a few feet of the fire, compelling him often to stand so
near the burning pile as to set his clothes on fire. In very cold
weather he would freeze one side while the other burned, unless he
frequently performed that military feat, changing "his base of
operations." If the wind blew, making hi