July 25th. Bunker Hill. A very severe rain storm set in last night. We are wet through. Orders to march on to Martinsburg. My feet keep me reminded of the rough roads, stubs and briers in the lots. We reach Martinsburg after a march of ten miles. After holding the enemy in check for a while we are again on the march. I picked up a pair of old boots, no doubt discarded by some cavalryman. They were much too large for me, and not having stockings I could not wear them as they galled my feet, making them worse. Was obliged to throw them away.
After a very tedious march we reached Williamsport on the Potomac River, twenty miles from Bunker Hill. Will remain here for the night. Foot-sore, weary, glad to lie down for the night on the wet ground for rest and sleep. Often wonder how the men can keep so patient. Sometimes we are made to feel that much of our trouble is brought on to us by jealousy and mismanagement on the part of our officers high up in rank. Our boys are always ready for any kind of duty. We have made marches over this Williamsport Pike before. Like all the pikes it is hard marching over the rough stones, up and down hill. That’s our experience.