Clay Lowe, followed by about twenty-five of the boys, went down to the middle of the company grounds and commenced to make a speech, which he could do so well. Some of the boys, not wishing Clay to have all the glory, put John Loftin on the stump to make an address and he began: “My friends, I am not as eloquent as Clay, but I speak more to the point.”
That evening at dress parade, Sam Shoup as corporal had to march out and present arms, reporting two commissioned officers, four non-commissioned officers, and twenty-seven privates drunk. The rest of the regiment was there, and to our consternation, we were ordered to cook three days’ rations and be ready to march at daylight. The order read that any private who straggled or failed to keep up with the command would be court martialed.
When we stopped late next evening on the march, Clay was nearly dead and could hardly walk, from the effect of the Christmas spree. Colonel Fagin rode along by our company and seeing how Clay was said, “Hello, Fifth Sergeant of Company G, how do you feel?” Clay replied, “Colonel, I am damned dry; how are you?”
December 26, 1861, we reached Aquia Creek and went into winter quarters in log huts and tents. Here we had “Sunday Soldiering.” We were close to Fredericksburg, and could order what we wanted to eat. Confederate money was good and we could grab things cheap with it. Fifty cents a gallon for shelled oysters; twenty-five cents a pound for butter; pies and cakes every day. Think of such grub for a soldier! But, ah, to stay in the snow, eighteen inches deep, and guard the Potomac river all night! No shelter, but a corn stalk house; no fire, but a driftwood blaze, not very bright either, as it would be a signal for the enemy to cannonade. That was like war and soldier duty.
We had three points to guard on the river, one on the island with battery, and one at the lower end of the line. It required a whole company for all points at night, since the guard had to be relieved every twenty minutes. Otherwise he would have been frozen by the snow and sleet which swept across the Potomac.
One night a squad from our company under a sergeant was ordered to the island, which was only guarded at night. We had to cross over in a flat boat. The evening before supplies had been sent to the island for the use of the Battery Company and they had failed to haul them. The squad on the lower part of the guard line found them, all unused, in a pile on the landing. The night was bitter cold, the snow was deep, the wind blowing a gale, no wood was in sight. The supplies were bacon. It was good to eat, and in this emergency it was good to burn, so the boys proceeded to burn it. Dawn revealed other things besides bacon. They discovered two jugs of red liquor, which they immediately confiscated. At daylight they were ordered to camp two miles away and proceeded to march—and drink on empty stomachs until the whole squad was drunk. We, on the upper part of the guard line, had to wait in the snow and wind until they came up, for all must report in camp together. We did not know what caused their delay, but we were in no pious frame of mind when we saw them coming, wabbling from side to side, yelling like Commanches. The officers with us were red-headed and said things to that squad that “were bad”.