“We entered upon the route by which supplies had been hauled for the Southern troops from the nearest station on the Aquia railroad. Here there was a depth and consistency of mud for which even the experience of a Washington winter had been unable to prepare the mind. How deep it had been during the winter, how many horses had died there, how many wagons had broken down, it is impossible to estimate, but in the middle of the month of April, when the ground had been settling for six weeks, and the road had been untraveled for the greater part of time, the troopers did not dare to venture into the middle of the track…the [1st New Jersey Cavalry] regiment resumed its march to Falmouth. Through Stafford Court House with its two or three white houses and its pitiful looking jail, we filed along, traversing a country on which was everywhere impressed a feeling of desolation. Here and there were some cleared fields surrounding a comfortless looking house; but no travelers were on the road, and only now and then could a negro be discerned staring from his quarters at the seemingly interminable line of troopers…” (April 1862 account of Federal soldier’s entry into Stafford).