They have
not faith enough in their cause to risk their lives for it, even behind
a tree or from one of these thickets, choice spots for ambush.
So we had no battle there, but a battle of the elements. The volcanic
heat of the morning was followed by a furious storm of wind and a smart
shower. The regiment wrapped themselves in their blankets and took their
wetting with more or less satisfaction. They were receiving samples of
all the different little miseries of a campaign.
And here let me say a word to my fellow-volunteers, actual and
prospective, in all the armies of all the States:--
A soldier needs, besides his soldierly
drill,
I. Good FEET.
II. A good Stomach.
III. And after these, come the good
Head and the good Heart.
But Good Feet are distinctly the first thing. Without them you cannot
get to your duty. If a comrade, or a horse, or a locomotive, takes you
on its back to the field, you are useless there. And when the field is
lost, you cannot retire, run away, and save your bacon.
Good shoes and plenty of walking make good feet.
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