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XXXVII

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Camp Beaufort,

Chickamoxen, Md., Jan. 12, 1862.

IHAVE been working like a beaver all day and am awfully tired. It was that infernal chimney. Last night it got afire again and was roaring gloriously before we found it out. So today the whole crew put in their time reconstructing it. It is a pretty substantial piece of work, and it ought to stand the wear and tear for a long time. This is one of the most enjoyable days of the season—warm and with a refreshing breeze. But O, the mud! And not a bit of snow on the ground.

Last night the rebels fired a great many random shots across the river, hit or miss, here and there, and have been keeping at it, intermittently, today. They know, of course, the location of our camps, and it is really surprising that not a speck of damage has been done. A number of the shells struck quite near to our camp. Today one shell struck square in the New Jersey camp, but did not explode. And this afternoon, while I was sitting in my tent half asleep, there was a wild screech a few feet overhead, and a shell landed on the parade ground a few rods beyond the camp, but did not explode. A crowd ran out from the camp, but Damon captured the prize and brought it into our tent. A little while after, he sold it for ten dollars. [Major Stevens was the purchaser. For several years, properly labeled, it was one of the exhibits in the Adjutant-General’s office at Concord.]

You inquire of me why we don’t fight. I don’t know. Suppose the time hasn’t come yet. I have no doubt it will before long, however, and there will be a lively time.

A Minor War History Compiled from a Soldier Boy's Letters to

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