In short, my son, George found himself
in a worse predicament than he was in at Manassas, for his friend
Johnston had a large army, and stronger works than Mr. Beauregard
left behind him. So his army laid down its guns, and took up the
spade, and went largely into the ditching and dyking business. He
made sand heaps bigger than Mr. Johnston's, and stretched them all
the way across the Peninsula, so that there was no getting on either
side of him. And when he had done this he mounted them with the
biggest cannon, which he intended to fire when he got them all up;
so as to make a magnificent display of substantial fire-works, and
in that way frighten Mr. Johnston out of town. So careful was George
not to do his old friend any bodily injury before he got all his
guns mounted, that he would only exchange compliments with him at
morning and evening, when few shells would be tossed backward and
forward, just to preserve what was called the etiquette of war. I
have sometimes thought these compliments were exchanged with the
very best of motives, intended only to change the monotony of camp
life with a little excitement.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55