On July 16 we reached Hagerstown, Maryland, where we went into camp, and where on the next day we were equipped with a complete outfit of muskets, ammunition, and camp utensils. The degree of preparation of the Federal Government for war at this time, may be judged from the fact that the muskets issued to us were old-time smooth-bore Springfields, that had been rifled for a minie-ball; they were so light, that their barrels would spring after the rapid firing of a dozen shots.
On the morning of July 17 we broke camp and started for Harpers Ferry, thirty miles distant. Now for the first time I began to realize what it was to be a soldier. I carried a knapsack laden with the various things that kind friends at home had thought necessary for a soldier's comfort, a haversack containing two days' rations, a musket with accoutrements, and forty rounds of ammunition, altogether weighing not less than fifty pounds. The weather was extremely hot and the roads very muddy, so that by the time we had gone fifteen miles I was entirely ready to go into camp.
Our camp was pitched on the side of a hill. Our mess, in order to find as level a sleeping place as possible, pitched the tent in a low place, and in our ignorance of camp life we neglected to dig a ditch around it. A sudden shower came up soon after we had gone to sleep, and in a short time we found ourselves lying in a pool of water. And as if this were not misfortune enough, our tent pins, loosened by the soaking of the ground, suddenly pulled out, and down came our canvas shelter. Subsequent experience enabled me to sleep in wet blankets, or in no blankets at all, just as well as in the best bed; but at this time it was impossible. So gathering a rubber blanket around my shoulders, I found a large stone, and remained upon it for the rest of the night. In the morning we continued the march toward Harpers Ferry. Our camp for the next night was pitched on a bit of comparatively level ground on the east side of Maryland Heights, overlooking the little village of Sandy Hook, and about a mile distant from Harpers Ferry. A more thoroughly used-up lot of men than ours that night, it would be hard to find.
My first military duty was to guard the ford at Harpers Ferry and the bridges across the canal. The region was historic ground, and I took this opportunity to visit the old arsenal, then in ruins, and the old engine-house where John Brown had battled so bravely for his life. I made it a point also to visit Jefferson's Rock, the view from which Jefferson, in his _Notes on Virginia_, says is worth a voyage across the Atlantic to see.