After a short stay at Stafford Court House, we marched to Belle Plain, reaching there at dusk of a day that will always linger in the memory of every one of us who participated in that march. First it rained hard, then it turned to snow of the large, soft, fleecy flake kind. This made the road deep with mud and slippery; and by the time we had slipped and slid through the miles we came over, we were wet with the rain and snow outside, and steaming from the perspiration of our bodies. As soon as darkness fell, the wind rose and it grew cold rapidly, and we were marched onto the low flat near the river, and ordered to go into camp and make ourselves comfortable for the night. I was almost exhausted but I started with some others to hunt for shelter. There was no shelter except a few poplars and sycamores, standing along the river bank. The coarse, reedy grass of the low land came up through the snow. Finally we found the trunk of a large poplar, and cleaning away the snow from the sheltered side of it, we soon had a fire going, which soon augmented by the branches of wood gathered by others, made a fine blaze and gave out genial warmth which kept us from perishing. Working for several hours a good many of us succeeded in getting dry and cooking some supper. One squad who had cleaned away the snow and put up a tent on the other side of the log, was
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