The 14th of January, I went to the army with supplies for our sick in field hospitals. Arriving at “Brandy Station”--some seventy miles from Washington--I was set out in the mud with my goods, no one to meet me as I expected; cold, gray clouds were hanging overhead, and a chilly wind whistling among the tents. Here, for the first time, I experienced the great difficulty there was in finding any particular regiment in the army. Each seemed like a little isolated town, so wholly absorbed with its own cares and duties that frequently the nearest encampment was neither known by name or number--recognized only in the broad sense of “Uncle Sam’s boys.” Yet there was a common interest and sympathy existing among all who wore the army blue; no matter what part of the Union they hailed from, they were all enlisted in the same cause, fighting beneath the same flag, and for the same grand result. Having my goods removed to a little rise of ground where the mud was not quite so deep, I climbed its slippery side and took my post as guard; but, in spite of my vigilance, a firkin of butter was carried off, though I recovered it--taken through mistake of course (!!) On inquiry, I was surprised to find that no one there even knew that there was such a regiment in the army as the Twenty-sixth Michigan--neither could they tell me anything about General Custer’s Cavalry Brigade. I next inquired for the First Division, Second Corps--to which the Twenty-sixth belonged. “About four miles from here,” was the reply. It was getting late; there was no possible chance that I could see to obtain accommodations at the station over night. The roads were almost impassable, and, as yet, I had no conveyance and no prospect of procuring one before the next day. My first thought was to store my goods and start on foot, but I was dissuaded from this course by the boys declaring that I could never get through if I started; and I afterwards learned how utterly impossible would have been the undertaking. But what was to be done? Everything looked discouraging, and I almost felt like giving up in despair. I resolved, however, to make one more effort to get some sort of a conveyance, and again inquired if there were not a Second Corps ambulance still at the station? I had asked the same gentleman several times before, and every time received a negative reply--a positive “no.” But, not knowing what else to do, I kept repeating my question, and this time a doubtful answer was given by one who really seemed to pity me in my deplorable condition; and the very doubt expressed in his reply, “I think not--however, I’ll go and see,” kindled a new hope in my heart. In a moment he disappeared behind boxes of “hard tack,” bales of hay and sacks of grain, while I remained _in statu quo_, being for once the central object of attraction. This soldier was soon the bearer of good news: the only ambulance remaining would leave in a few moments.