Observation on the March.
Once on our march toward Snickers Gap I saw a squad of soldiers taking a cow from a farm lot, they had tied a rope around her horns two were tugging at the rope, and others were pushing. The woman of the house and her children were crying and begging them to let her alone. The argument was still on as we marched along.
On this same march we passed a field where a fight had taken place a day or two before. The dead had been buried and the wounded removed, but the field was full of dead horses. The stench from the swollen carcasses lying under the sweltering rays of the hot July sun was terrific. We hurried past as fast as possible, breathing a sigh of relief when we came again into the pure air of the mountains.