Saturday, June 12, 1847.—This morning all hands are busy in fixing up our quarters. After which I took a walk around and examined the building that we are now quartered in, and I find it was once a Mexican hospital, which was full (after the battle of Cerro Gordo) of wounded Mexican soldiers.
Our quarters are good, better than I expected when we first entered them.
At noon another one of Capt. Walker's mounted riflemen was buried. The deceased belonging to Harrisburg, Pa.; and, out of respect, our whole company attended his funeral. His (Walker's) men were mounted on their horses fully equipped, and after the usual ceremony we went to our quarters talking about how fast our men were dying.
Sunday, June 13, 1847.—This morning we could not go to the plaza unless we had a pass from our Captains, countersigned by the Adjutant himself, but the soldiers would not stand any such proceedings. So we jumped the walls and managed to get out.
In the evening we had a dress-parade. Col. Black in command, and, as usual, full of jokes and fun. Oh! when will we get orders to march?
Monday, June 14, 1847.—This morning blew up a tremendous storm, and an awful whirlwind, which is common in this section of the country; and at the suburbs of the town it unroofed several ranches, tore up small trees and filled the air with clouds of dust. Shingles and other rubbish, which came under its way, passed through the southern part of the town, and flew among the mountains. Never did I see it blow and hail harder; it made a noise equal to five hundred teams of horses coming on a rough road.
This afternoon I formed an acquaintance with a young man named Fry, belonging to Co. E. He is very much of a gentleman, and is intimately acquainted with Mr. George Stiefel, a baker, an uncle of mine living in Philadelphia. He tells me that he worked for him a short time before he left for Mexico.
