Sunday June 26th. I had to pick up in a hurry yesterday, as the enemy were reported advancing in heavy force on our left and we went out and were posted on the extreme left, and here I am this morning. There have no rebels made their appearance yet. I guess there were a few down on the rail road, though, there was quite a piece torn up yesterday by the cavalry by the sound. The enemy have enough to do on the right. The firing last night was very heavy. Our picket post is near a small house with a fine well of water. The women folks are at home. It is a real snug place, with a large apple orchard, the apples just about large enough to stew and they have to take it. There is a fine melon patch, but it is all trodden down, a large out field, all been cut and fed down by the cavalry. They are now at work on them, and a nice little patch of pea nuts all trodden down. The garden the same. The buildings have not been touched, yet, and the fences are whole yet. This place pleases me. If there were no war, and we had just such a place, how quiet and nice it would be, but probably in a few days it will be all ruins. Such is war. How many thousands of happy homes are destroyed here, but I must close, as it is time for me to go and look out for those rebels, but there is no prospect of seeing them today. We are too strong here. They feel round a little, and try to gobble up someone, but they won’t catch the 6th asleep. The 11th lost about 350, the 4th 125.
Yours affectionately,
Charles Blake.
