wet arms and ammunition; wet ground to sleep on, mud to wade through, swollen creeks to ford, muddy springs, and a thousand other discomforts attended the rain. There was no comfort on a rainy day or night except in "bed"—that is, under your blanket and oilcloth. Cold winds, blowing the rain in the faces of the men, increased the discomfort. Mud was often so deep as to submerge the horses and mules, and at times it was necessary for one man or more to extricate another from the mud holes in the road.
Marching at night, when very dark, was attended with additional discomforts and dangers, such as falling off bridges, stumbling into ditches, tearing the face and injuring the eyes against the bushes and projecting limbs of trees, and getting separated from your own company and hopelessly lost in the multitude.
Of course, a man lost had no sympathy. If he dared to ask a question, every man in hearing would answer, each differently, and then the whole multitude would roar with laughter at the lost man, and ask him "if his mother knew he was out?"
Very few men had comfortable or fitting shoes, and less had socks, and, as a consequence, the suffering from bruised and inflamed feet was terrible. It was a common practice, on long marches, for the men to take off their shoes and carry them in their hands or swung over their shoulder.
When large bodies of troops were moving on the same road the alternate "halt" and "forward" was very harassing. Every obstacle produced a halt and caused the men at once to sit and lie down on the road-side where shade or grass tempted them, and about the time they got fixed they would hear the word "forward!" and then have to move at increased speed to close up the gap in the column.
Sitting down for a few minutes on a long march is pleasant, but it does not always pay. When the march is resumed the limbs are stiff and sore, and the man rather worsted by the rest.
About noon on a hot day, some fellow with the water instinct would determine in his own mind that a well was not far ahead, and start off in a trot to reach it before the column. Of course another followed and another, till a stream of men were hurrying to the well, which was soon completely surrounded by a thirsty mob, yelling and pushing and pulling to get to the bucket as the windlass brought it again and again to the surface. Impatience and haste soon overturn the windlass, spatter the water all around the
