XXXII
TOMORROW rounds out just seven months of my three years’ term. The other night, at the meeting of a literary society some of the First Massachusetts boys have started, the Lieutenant-Colonel of the regiment said he thought the regiment would be home by March. There’s the cheerful optimist for you! Our regiment has been in the service just about the same length of time as the First, and the two will probably be sent home about the same time. Presumably the regiments first in the field will go out first, and so we may get home many months before the later regiments from New Hampshire. They will have to keep them as a sort of police for a while after the war is really over.
For a day or two we have been having splendid weather. But under foot it is simply awful. The “Maryland salve” is everywhere. The roads are a terror now, and in a short time will be absolutely impassible except where corduroyed with logs laid crossways to make some sort of a platform for teams.
We were reinforced last week by a brigade of New Jersey troops. Just below the blockade is a large fleet of gunboats, ready to co-operate in any move we may make. Last night a big steamer ran the blockade in the darkness and there was a terrific hullaballoo.
Joe Hubbard has got back from New Hampshire, but the boxes confided to him have not yet arrived. He says there is one for me, and I am, of course, very anxious to get it.