The battle of Fredericksburg was at hand. I need not describe it, except to say that from Howison’s Hill, afterwards known as Lee’s Hill, where Generals Lee and Longstreet and their staffs remained for a considerable part of the day, there was a magnificent view of as grand a spectacle as one could desire to see in war. I was there soon after daybreak, and as the mist of the morning cleared away we could easily make out the enemy’s movements. Large bodies of troops had already crossed the Rappahannock, and the fields near it were blue with Yankees. On the opposite shore were the long trains of wagons and ambulances, together with the reserve artillery. A 30-pound Parrot gun which we had was ordered to open on the enemy, and very soon the artillery fire became brisk. Fredericksburg, which had been so calm and peaceful in the early light, was set on fire by the enemy’s shells. The enemy now made a fierce attack on our right, which was repulsed with comparative ease. It was thrilling to watch the long line advance, note the gaps in the array, as the wounded fell or else staggered to the rear, and see the gallant remnant melt away like snow before our withering fire. At Marye’s Hill, which was the key to our position, the most desperate fighting was done. Again and again the enemy charged, only to be driven back with terrible slaughter. There it was that Meagher’s Brigade made its historic charge. The field in front of the hill, beyond the road, was well called the slaughter-pen. The enemy lay there in their ranks, as they had fallen, and the fence was riddled like a sieve by the rifle bullets. I had a very narrow escape. Standing in a group with three other officers watching the action, a shell exploded near us and bruised or wounded everyone of my companions. I was not touched.

Late at night I returned to camp, and crept into a wagon to take a quiet sleep, placing my coat, cap and trousers under my head, in the front part of the wagon. In the morning my coat was missing, and the natural conclusion was that it had been stolen. Such things did happen. Looking about rather disconsolately, and wondering how I was to replace the missing garment, I saw some buttons and shreds of gold lace lying on the ground. The thieves were discovered. It was the wretched mules, who had unceremoniously dragged my clothes out of the wagon and chewed up my uniform coat, in place of the long forage, the hay or fodder, which they craved. The mules, at this time, were fed on corn almost exclusively; and their desire for rough food, as it was called, led them frequently to gnaw the poles of the wagons. These poles on this account were protected in many cases by strips of iron, which rendered them impervious to even the teeth of a mule. I was in a sad dilemma, of course, and was laughed at for my pains. Fortunately, I succeeded in buying a coat, which answered my purposes until I reached Petersburg, in the spring.

The army was now into winter quarters, the men making themselves as comfortable as they could. Snow-balling was a favorite amusement, and was carried on in grand style, brigade challenging brigade to a sham fight. These contests were very exciting, and were the source of great amusement to the men. Practical jokes, too, were frequently played upon the officers. Mrs. Longstreet was staying at a house a mile or two from our head-quarters, and General Longstreet rode over there every evening, returning to camp in the morning. On his way he passed through the camp of the Texas Brigade of Hood’s Division, and was frequently saluted with a shower of snow-balls. For some time he took it with his usual imperturbability, but he grew tired of the one-sided play at last, and the next time that he was riding by the Texans, and found them drawn up on the side of the road, snow-balls in hand, he reined up his horse, and said to them very quietly, “Throw your snow-balls men, if you want to, as much as you please; but, if one of them touches me, not a man in this brigade shall have a furlough this winter. Remember that!” There was no more snow-balling for General Longstreet’s benefit.

The officers at our head-quarters had a less innocent amusement than pitching snow-balls. The great American game of poker was played nearly every night. One of the most successful of the gamesters was Major Walton, who was a kinsman of General Longstreet, through whose influence he had received an appointment in the Commissary Department. He really did general staff duty. At one sitting Walton won $2,000 or more from Dr. Maury, who was one of the Surgeons of the corps; and he caused much unfavorable comment by sending to Dr. Maury for his winnings before that gentleman was out of bed in the morning. There was hard drinking as well as high playing; and it was reported that at the close of one debauch General Longstreet had played horse with one of the stronger officers of his staff, who on all-fours carried Longstreet around and around the tent until the pair of them rolled over on the ground together.

The head-quarters of General Lee were in the woods, and far from luxurious. He was advised by his physicians to stay in one of the houses near by, as many of his officers were doing, but he declined to fare any better than his men did. There was no pomp or circumstance about his head-quarters, and no sign of the rank of the occupant, other than the Confederate flag displayed in front of the tent of Colonel Taylor, the Adjutant-General.

It may not be out of place to mention the scale of prices that prevailed in the Confederacy towards the close of the year 1862, as I gave them in a letter to my mother: Shoes $30 a pair; common calico shirts $10 each; socks $1 a pair; butter $2 a pound; turkeys $15 each; matches 50 to 75 cents a box; ink 25 cents a bottle; blacking $1 a cake; writing paper $2 a quire.