In an hour it begins to rain, and we start to go through the Gap, along which we meet squads of prisoners and deserters from Lee’s army.  Eleven miles through that rain.  I have never seen such rain before; it is credited to the cannonading which for days past has been going on all around.  Trudge, trudge; in fifteen minutes soaked through, in half an hour walking in six inches of water, in two hours walking in six inches of mud.  Then throw away blankets and overcoats—­men fall behind done up—­men can go no farther for sore feet.

At Pine Grove, that night, Company I, out of seventy men, musters thirty at roll call.  The different regiments scatter over half a mile of ground.  Every fence about is converted into fuel.  The cattle and hogs in the fields are levied upon—­shot, dressed, cooked, and eaten.  There is nothing else to be had, and the wagons cannot follow us for some time over such roads.  So officers shut their eyes.  It rains still, but we can be no wetter than we are, so we lie down and take it.  This is our glorious Fourth!

In the morning—­Sunday morning again—­there is nothing to eat.  In the town, which comprises half a dozen houses and an old foundery, the answer is, ‘The rebels has eat us all out.’  A few secure loaves of bread, paying as high as a dollar; another few boil what coffee they had carried with them and contrived to save from the rain.  The rest have nothing.  Henceforth the order of the day is march and starve, and the story is only of ceaseless fatigue, hunger, and rain.  Thus far we have stood stiff and taken it cheerfully.  There was growling before we got through.

Off again over the mountains.

If I have enough to eat, I can stand anything—­if not, I break down.  In two miles I ‘caved in.’  The captain thought the regiment would return shortly.  So I staid behind.  On Monday afternoon, however, they had not come back, and I started after them.  I got a meal and passed the night in a house on the mountain, and, after some sixteen miles’ walking, caught them on the broad turnpike the next day, and marched some seven miles farther, to Funkstown, Pennsylvania.

Here an episode.  As we started the next morning (in the rain, of course), I was sent to the rear to report to a sergeant.  The sergeant, with nine besides me, reported to the brigade quartermaster.  The quartermaster distributed the ten, with an equal number of the 23d, through ten army wagons, to drive and guard.  We went through Chambersburg to Shippensburg, where we loaded with provisions.  Here I heard abundance of the doings of the rebels, who loaded seven hundred wagons at this place.  I bought Confederate money and got meals at a hotel—­at my own expense.

On Friday evening, the 10th, we rejoined the column at Waynesboro’, a welcome arrival, for grub was terribly scarce.  Here was the Sixth Corps, Army of the Potomac, under General Neal—­’Bucky Neal,’ a ‘Potomaker’ called him.  For a time we belonged to it, and adorned our caps with the badge of the corps, cut out of cracker.