we were over the river and in a camp in the woods back of the flats. While lying in the woods here, a single shot from a Rebel battery fell in our camp, and one of our boys got it so we all had a look at it. I think that but for its weight it would have been kept as a souvenir. The next day or two we moved back towards Belle Plain Landing. We were grateful when we filed off the road by the church at the roadside among the massive oaks, after which it was called “White Oak Church,” keeping on the right of it till we reached the heart of a dense oak forest and there formed our camp and were told to build log shanties. We were greatly pleased, and it was but a little time before we had a fine camp with comfortable quarters and the anticipation of staying there for the winter. One of our company, Lonnie Coon, died in the camp of the 149th Penn., and a number of us went over there and buried him. Poor Lonnie had died from hardship, exposure and homesickness. He never took kindly to army life, and at home had not lived or toiled to fit him for a soldier. During the winter his father came down and took up his remains and carried them home for burial. When disinterred he looked as fresh as when he was buried, except that where the blanket, which we had used to bury him in, had touched his flesh, it left the impress of its texture. Here our Sutler came to us. He was Sam Miller of our own company. He had been First Sergeant, then Color Sergeant, then Lieutenant, and then had been appointed Sutler after resigning his commission. He had Henry Underwood to assist him and we soon had a supply of good things. Among these was “milk drink” which was a combination of milk in an airtight sealed can holding about a pint, and somewhere in the composition some whiskey
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