*This weekend brings the largest civil war reenactment in California! As a precursor to the carnage that shall hopefully befall my southern nemesis this weekend, I give part 5 of my journal series, with hopefully an amazing part 6 following this weekends glorious battle! *

Date unknown
Late Summer 1862,

This has been the first time I've been able to write since the battle at Williamsburg. This army has been on the move throughout Virginia on this peninsula campaign. Every day we would march, engage, then march again, and every day we would take more casualties. This campaign has worn us down mentally and physically. Our supply caravans have been getting raided by J.E.B Stuart and his cavalry so there were many days we would go without proper supplies. I wish I could have a hot meal and a soft bed for once.

Our regiment has held out considering what we have been through. We are still at about half strength and haven't really taken many more casualties since. Just a few have been wounded or killed while we were in formation by stray rounds and a cannon shell or two. Morale has been... Steady you could say considering our situation.

Our officers say that we are getting closer to Richmond, however General McClellan seems to be taking his sweet time. This is bad news for us while that grey bearded coot Lee is whuppin us at every engagement. McClellan says we are winning these battles, but even I can tell that the rebels are just stalling us while they build defenses around their capital.

I wonder how David is doing in the 69th. We aren't allowed to really visit the other regiments unless given expressed and written consent by our officers, however if the regiment is encamped next to ours they usually let it slide as long as we make it to inspection and aren't skipping out on drill. We also are not allowed to write to men in the other regiments. I've seen the 69th fight bravely in these past few weeks, and knowing David, he has been at the head of every advance with them.

Being on the army's far right we have been encamped next to the 3rd U.S. Artillery division. These men are a whole different group compared to us infantrymen. I found out that some of them were stationed out west in California before the war started, and they all seem to be a group of rough and tough frontiersmen. However their tough and rough look and attitude hide some of the most calculating minds I've ever known. All members of a gun must know the jobs of everyone else on the gun, and how they aim is an exact science if not an art to say the least, having to judge distances, windage, and barrel elevation, fuse trimming, powder charge, and type of shot for the target. One of them, a young fellow named Ed, showed me his job on the gun, the swabber. Apparently the guns use so much powder, they have to actually send a wet sponge down the barrel, then dry the barrel to ensure no hot embers are left in the gun. I'm glad we don't have to do that with our muskets. It would take forever to kill the enemy.

I told Ed that I wished I had joined an artillery unit, being away from the fighting, riding horses and limbers instead of marching, but he laughed and told me what actually happens with the gunner crews. Apparently they are sought after targets by enemy cannon, which use a solid "bolt" about 3 inches in diameter, and weighs 8-10 pounds, of pure iron or lead. Those bolts are so accurate they can take a gun out a mile away and it sends splinters and canon parts shooting out from the impact of the bolt, effectively wiping out a whole crew if it hits the gun limber just right.

Then there are the horses. They are killed almost as often as us infantrymen. It sickens me when they speak of them as mindless beasts, but I guess when you try to get them to pull a cannon during battle they will get stubborn. Ed told me that they put cannoneers on burial duty for the horses, and most of the time the horses have been beset with rigor-mortis, and the new men, unknowing of what has beset them, usually dig a hole next to the beast just deep enough for the body, but when they roll the horse in..... It's stiff legs stick out of the ground and they are forced to hack the legs off of the dead horse with axes and sledge hammers. Then they cover the carcass with dirt, leaving the stubs of the legs sticking out of the dirt.

I got several letters from ma and pa today since it took a while for the mail to find us. Things have been looking better for our farm. The rains have been good and the crop seems to be growing very well. Ma said that she will be sending me a few pairs of socks when her and my sister finish making them. Knowing how fast they work with a needle, those socks are already on their way.

Another thing before I put my pen down, because of our losses at Williamsburg and in these smaller engagements, I was givin a battlefield promotion to corporal. It isn't much, just a dollar raise to 14$ a month wages, but the responsibilities have almost doubled. Although I simply oversee duties and drills, making sure my men are taken care of and keeping the regiment together all seem a daunting task. Sergeant Wimmer was also promoted to First Sergeant, and in doing so, is now in the rear helping relay orders to us from our officers. I hardly ever see him anymore. Corporal Greene was promoted to Sergeant in Wimmer's stead. Pip is still a corporal, and although we are the same rank now, I still lean to him for support and advice. I swear, if anyone will make it through this war, it is Pip. Our new captain, a man by the name of Hobbs, has replaced our deceased former leader and has done a good job with the regiment. I have noticed that when a battle approaches, he swaps out his bummer cap for a wide brimmed "Hardee" style hat. His "death" hat as we kid him.

All things considered with what we have been through, our regiment is still going strong. Our commanders may not be the best, but I can see that we will fight on, and we will win this war.