The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1862-12-12

FenceIS0g9 ON the MoEC0.
WAITING BIT THE ROADSIDE.
From esrly morning till noon Thomas s
Army Corps was slowly, tediously, labori-
ously toiling along the ten billy miles be-
tween Chenille and Springfield. Kentucky.
and at noon ten thousand weary. dusty,
hungry. thirsty men of Woods Division
were crowded into the narrow. dirty. rebel
cavalry -defiled fair grounds Of Springfield.
with orders to make hasty cup o. coffee.
and march again in an hour. There 10 no
water to wash--scarcely enough to drink /;
no place, but in filth, to lie down and rest,
and but little shelter from the burning sun.
The hour passes all too quickly. The
troops form. patiently wait an hour under
arms, again stack their guns. lay off their
burdensome accouterments. and-wait for
orders. / have heard men swear. seen
children cry and women fret and worry Al
an hours delay of the cars or boat, though
cushioned seats were under, frescoed cell.
ings over, and cherished friends around
them. But now the patient volunteer rests
him first on one knee, then on the other,
next on both, and finally sits him down in
the dirt. But delay is growing burden
some. He reclines upon his left elbow. now
upon his right. now rises up again, sits
cross-legged. uncramps again his aching
limbs, draws up his knees to rest his head
upon, and at last, with his cartridge box
for pillow, and his dirty cap for vail to
shelter his face from the sun, and with the
dust and sweat of halt days march upon
him--for there is no water-he lies down
amid the husks, and cobs, aud stalks, and
filthy hay, and, though SO weary, he weari-
in - and he waits whole hours-waits and
wearies-for he can not rest so-one hour
-three--four--fve-- till dark !;
is ordered to get supper quickly and
march
Supper is over all are ready to move
but still all are wai,ing-waiting till eight
o'clock-till nine o'clock--till ten O'Clock.
Now rations are to be issued. It is eleven
o'clock. We still wait it is midnight. and
between two days an order comes "Com-
msnders of regiments will have their COM
mands ready to march at four O'Clock"
1t is too bad. Only two or three hours
sleep after such q weary. weary day. But
even volunteers can not sleep in such
place as this. Their sleep must Re but a
restless. dreamy waitiDg-a poor preparation
for The next nights march. 81 +. s..s7sa
1t is four O'Clock. Breakfast eateo-
bsversacks filled, but canteens empty for
the town supply Of water. limited at best.
is now totally exhausted. Our sixteen reg
iments are formed for the march, and await
the busle's call. An hour slips by. Men
become impatient. The arms are once more
stacked. Another hour passes along. Old
home letters are taken ont aud rs-read !; old
papers sre passed around the dirty pack
Of cards are put in requisi,ion. Another
hour is restlessly whiled away. The sun is
getting up. Thirst is coming on. Details
are sent one. one and . half, two miles for
water. Another hour drsgs by its weary
length All last afternoon, all last night.
all the ,iresome moraing the heavy army
wagon has numbered over the stony pike.
till its grinding wheels. cliDking chains, and
rafting baggage has become pal nfully an
noying to the impatient ear. The snail
paced minutes of another hour have wor-
ried along its sluggish course. Thousands
and tens of thousands of travel worn. road
weary troops block up the way for miles
and miles-regimsnts. batteries. trains!
men, cannon, mules and wagons living.
moving mass slowly crowdiug on. Still We
wait. One more ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS |
till the distempered fancy. sick Of keep |
ing time with the tramp Of moments as they !
march along. dreams that the sun has halt
ed in midsky. and the wheel~ork of time /
itself has run down and stopped
It is the dream though Of . moment: for
the last regiment has fled by. the hst bat
terry has runbled along. the last wagon has t
jolted ont of hearing. and the last mule is
out of sigh, an army thirty thousand
strong. Only the fever-soosched. ague-
chilled. camp sicksned. sore-isote3, and
straggIsr now remains be.
hind. 8~ hsas - se 49, -.
Our own bugle now sounds loudly, but
The air is heavy, and there is no cheer in its
tones. The ffe blows shrilly, bat the ear