Friday April 9, 1847.—This morning at 6 o'clock we took up our line of march for the interior of Mexico. We passed the city on the western side, passed Brig.-Gen. Twigg's old camp, Vergara. Nothing was left but a few old camp-kettles, pots, clothing, etc. We kept along the sea beach for several miles, after which we passed over a very sandy road, called the National Road to the city of Mexico. Talk about the sandy roads in New Jersey! Why they are no comparison to this one. We came to a halt at a small place called Santa Fe. Here we were allowed one-half hour to refresh ourselves, after which we again fell in and marched on until we came to a stream called San Juan, about eighteen miles from Vera Cruz. Here we halted and encamped for the night, and, as a fellow said, we were devilish glad of it, for we had to carry our own baggage and grub. Our officers were compelled to leave their baggage at Vera Cruz, there being no wagons to transport it.
We noticed the road, all along, was strewn with knapsacks, clothing, and other articles belonging to Gen. Twiggs' division, which is in our advance.
There was not much variety in the scenery on our march to-day—no luxuriant tropical vegetation, orange-groves and picturesque scenery, which, it was said, we would meet at every step we took toward the capital. Perhaps we have not come to them yet. The country we passed over to-day is rough and barren, wild with forest trees and numerous chaparrals.
On our march many of our soldiers kept lagging back, could not keep up with the army, and no doubt some will fall into the hands of the guerillas, who are numerous in this section of the country, and who are mostly "laying" for our straggling soldiers to murder them whenever they can get a chance.
To-day was extremely hot, and, as I stated before, the road very sandy, dusty and hot, and with no good water on the whole route. The ranches and huts along the National Road are all deserted, and not a Mexican could be seen all day.
