The following letter was written by Augustus Norton (1837-1917), the son of Joseph Hull Norton (1808-1888) and Rosanna Graham Johnson (1812-1882) of Athens, Athens county, Ohio. Augustus attended Ohio University in Athens, Ohio, and was married to Sarah Westcott Putnam (1845-1940) in 1860 before he enlisted as a 1st Lieutenant in Co. F, 1st West Virginia Cavalry. After one year of service, he resigned his commission and returned to Ohio where he helped organize the 7th Ohio Cavalry. He started as the Captain of Co. I in the fall of 1862 but was promoted to Major of the regiment by late December 1862. He resigned on 30 January 1864 on account of failing health.
Major Augustus Norton’s Frock Coat.
In 2012, Forsythes’ Auctions listed the Frock 7th Ohio Cavalry Coat that “belonged to Major Augustus Norton, with period inked inscription on inside liner of left arm near shoulder reading “Maj. A. Norton/7th OV Cav.”. This blue wool seven button double breasted officer’s frock coat has three shield breasted eagle cuff buttons with “C” in shield as do the fourteen buttons on front and four on split tail in rear. Green silk lining and polished linen lining in sleeves. Norton enlisted as captain but was soon promoted to Major in Nov. of 62. Regiment was drawn from SW Ohio, where Norton was from the Hocking Hills area. Known as the River Regiment their engagements included Carter’s Station, Mt. Sterling, KY Dutton’s Hill, Mills Springs, Rocky Gap, pursued and cornered Morgan’s Cavalry through Ohio to Bluffington Island. Captured CSA garrison at Cumberland Gap, second fight at Carter’s Station, Tenn., Blue Springs, lost 112 men at Rogersville, Siege of Knoxville, Bean’s Station, New Market, Danbridge, Fair Garden, fought and defeated Morgan’s Cavalry again near Cynthiana, KY., Franklin, Tenn., City Gate and Nashville. This cavalry unit saw some very heavy fighting throughout the war with 560 casualties in the regiment. A very few small moth holes and light wear at collar.”
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Miss Julia F. Norton, Athens, Athens county, Ohio
Lexington, Kentucky April 11, 1863
Dear Sister,
We are again quartered in our old camp at this place. We were brought back under orders to go up to Big Sandy—that is, one half of the regiment was to go there and the other half to go to Mt. Sterling. But I expect we will not be divided. The prospect now is that we will go to Tennessee. Everything in military is so uncertain that it is hard to tell what will become of us. I suppose ere this Father has received my letter sent from Crab Orchard giving him a full description of our last fight at Somerset. If I knew how long we were going to remain here, I would like to have Father send me some things or come down with them, but I guess it is most too uncertain. Although quite a number of the officers wives and friends are visiting them.
Had we been sent to Big Sandy, I would probably have been able to made you a short visit this summer but I will in all probability not get home for a year or more. It is but natural that we should feel a desire to meet our friends at home, but I presume that it is easier for me to be absent than it is for almost anyone else, although I think as much of my parents & sisters as anyone. Yet there is not the attention there or anywhere else that most young men of my age have to draw any attention in that direction. I sometimes feel like a stranger in a strange land, friendless and forsaken with nothing to look forward to in the future—nothing to cheer and make merry the weary soldiers—nothing in view which will in after years fully compensate me for the toil and hardships I am undergoing. In short, the future seems all a blank.
Yet I know that it has been my own fault that I am so situated. But so it is! Such is my fate! And I shall have to make the best of it. Unless there is quite a change in my mind, I never shall return to Athens to live, but will wander to some distant land, to wile away my remaining days in solitude.
Dear sister, I am doing very wrong, I fear, in writing you such a letter as this but such are my feelings this morning that if I write at all, I cannot help expressing them to you. You may wonder what caused me to have such feelings. Oh! no one knows the inner secrets of my heart “save Him who knoweth all things.” And no one ever can. They are buried deep in the secret corners of my heart and there will continue to dwell while life shall last. And when we shall arrive at our long, long home, our journey shall be ended, and we shall abandon our abodes of clay. Then will we be free. Then will we cast aside all our earthly troubles and join that heavenly band in singing songs of praises never ending. How the Christian longs for the arrival of that glorious day. Ah! Christian did I say? How few the number. How many will receive that unwelcome order, depart from me ye cursed. The gates of hell are open for you. Go thence & receive your just doom.
We were paid off yesterday & I will send Father some money soon. I want to buy me a horse first. My riding is too horrid on [ ]. There is nothing new here. Gen. Burnside is in the field with his “Gloves off” and something will no doubt be done soon. I will write to Father in a day or two. Give my love to all the family. Also to Aunt R___. Write soon and tell me all that in going on in Old Athens. Don’t forget to write soon to your unworthy brother, — Augustus
The following letter was written by Louisa (Rounds) Fairman (1822-1899), the wife of Harry A. Fairman (1818-1857). The couple were married on 30 July 1843. Harry was the son of Jared Fairman (1784-1874) and Hannah Howard (1797-1878).
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Mr. Jared Fairman, Borodino, Wayne county, Michigan
Adrian [Michigan] July 28, 1850
Dear Parents,
It is again my pleasant task to give you intelligence of our dear Harry [1818-1857]. I received a letter dated May 28th from him saying he was very well, but had not heard from any of you yet. He says he will be home late in the fall, or early in the winter if he is alive and well, whether he has a fortune or not. But he wanted to know if I would be willing to go there to live for a few years, so it seems he has some idea of going back if he comes home in the fall. But I shall not give myself much trouble about that, let me but get with him again, and I’ll go where he goes after that, I think.
You will see by this that I am still in Adrian but I shall leave here next week if nothing occurs to deter me longer. We have had a good visit with Uncle Charles [D. Howard] and Aunt Margaret [Vosburg]. Aunt and the children were here about two weeks. Went home [to Detroit] last Tuesday.
The funeral obsequies of President [Zachary] Taylor were observed in this place last Tuesday. The ceremonies were very interesting and impressive. The several different orators were out in regalia. An address by the Rev. Mr. [David A.] Curtis. The procession was half a mile long—quite imposing.
We have not seen anything of Ma and [brother] Sebre [Howard Fairman (1837-1911) yet. I am really sorry you could not come while I am here. I suppose sister Sarah [H. Fairman (1820-1866)] has it all her own way at home this summer, there all alone. I should think she would feel as if she was an only daughter. But I hope the rest of us will be mentioned often enough so she will not get the idea it is really so. I would like to come and see you before I go down home, but circumstances will not premit me to do so. Aunt Margaret [Howard] said she was going to visit you before long and wished to do so, but I shall see her at Detroit as I shall go there to take a boat for Buffalo.
I hope to hear from you at Buffalo or at my father’s. I hope to visit you next winter with my dear husband. Oh! dear me, it is a long time till winter. Love to all. Goodbye. Affectionately, your daughter, — Louisa
We don’t know what Wakeman looked like but he probably wore a uniform like this one of a hospital steward.
The following letter was written by 46 year-old Wakeman Young Andrews (1816-1886)—a man described as “earnest and true in all his dealings” who served as a hospital steward in the 108th New York Infantry during the American Civil War. He served with his son, Samuel W. Andrews (1844-1872) in Company I. Samuel survived the war but died of consumption in June 1872. Wakeman was discharged for disability on 27 December 1862, just one month after this letter was penned. He died in Rochester, Monroe county, New York, at the age of 69.
Wakeman datelined his letter from Washington D. C. in late November 1862, a couple of months after the Battle of Antietam where the regiment first saw the elephant. At Antietam, they suffered 30 killed, 122 wounded, and 43 missing.
[Editor’s Note: My thanks to Abbey Weber Jones for providing a first draft transcription of this letter.]
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Washington [D. C.] November 25th 1862
Dear Col. [Oliver Hazard] Palmer,
I arrived here from Bolivar Hospital at Harpers Ferry Friday evening and I hope I never again hafto experience what I had to [go] thru after the regiment left. I cannot write you what I went through and the treatment received from Red Tape Doctors. Walter Crawford, the hospital cook, will inform you when he sees you. I did all in my power to make our men comfortable and to save their lives. After the regiment left, [I] went to the Division Hospital and seen Dr. Grant about bringing the sick there. He wanted to know why I did not bring the sick the day the regiment left. I told him I did not know that there was any order to that effect. He said there was and that Col. Palmer knew it. I told him I had not heard of any such order. He said I could bring as many sick as I would bring tents to put them in.
I took down the hospital ten[t] and one wall ten[t] and sent 4 shelter tents complete and sent 34 of the sick. Then there was left on the ground on[ly] shelter tents, besides 44 [patients]. I did know what to do with them so I had them stay hoping they would be well enough in a few days to go to the regiment. But General Green came to the camp and ordered me to clear the camp that day. I went to the General Hospital to see what could be done with them. They asked me why I did not bring them down the day the regiment left. I told them I did not know of any such order. They said that was not so. Dr. Ross said he gave the order. I told him if you had received any such order, you would have told me. So, there seems to be a good deal of feeling against the 108th [New York Infantry]. They asked me how many could not walk and I told them about eight and they said bring them to the hospital. I got an ambulance and went to the camp and General Green had ordered the camp to be racked up and fire set to the piles and we had all we could do to save the tents.
I got my men together and took them to the General Hospital. Then most of the men had to put up their shelter tents to cover them from the cold. So you see a little what I have had to contend with—a sick son near death’s door in one tent, Lieutenant [John M.] Davey in another, no doctor, except going and pleading with the surgeon of the 137th New York S. V. He came a few times or all he could and [still] do duty to his regiment. Finally I had a room hunted up in the second story of a house and sent my son there. And by that means and the blessings of God and other means used, he is still alive but broken in health. He looks like a shadow and I am not much better.
I was eight days before I could get teams to carry to the ferry the medicine and hospital stores. And before I came away, Capt. Flagg said, “you had better take your stores to Washington if you would wish them safe.” And on going to the warehouse, I found it so. Boxes had been broke[n] open, knapsacks torn to piece[s] and general destruction seemed to reign. Then I went to General Slocum and told him I wish to leave for Washington and wished to take the stores with me. He gave me transportation and they arrived here yesterday and are in store in the government warehouse and Col. Rucker told me they would be safe there anytime with Dr. [John F.] Whitbeck within the medicine and hospital stores. By ordering them, they can be sent forward.
They are marked J. F. Whitbeck, Washington, District of Columbia. I have done the best I could since the regiment left and if I have erred or done wrong, it is by ignorance—not knowing a better way. I have done all I could for our sick that the Doctor would let me, although I have been sick much of the time since the regiment left. I worked and then would lay down and so continued till our present time.
And now, dear Col. Palmer, the saddest part of my letter is to come. I suppose I am a ruined man so far as health is concerned for life by over doing and straining, I have a bad rupture come on my left side running down from my groin in the bag of my testicles giving me [a] great deal of pain and [it] troubles me to walk. And when I cough, it hurts me still more. [My] throat has been very bad and I cough and run a good deal of blood by times. Now what am I to do? I have done the best I could at all times and have [ ] been my strength and I am now suffering from it.
The doctor of the 149th Regiment New York S. Volunteers came to see my son and I told him [the doctor] who I was and he told me it would be dangerous to my life to go further in the service. Dr Arner [1st Assistant Surgeon] came in yesterday morning and went out at 11 o’clock to join the regiment. I expected to see him and have him examine me so he could inform you and Doctor Whitbeck. Now I have stated to you how I am and I am convinced it would cost me my life—and that very soon—to go with the regiment. Will you not send me some permit in writing that I could go home? On the money that is owing me by [the] government, I care little about. My head has been in the work of taking care of the sick and had I good health and [was] strong, I would like to go forward and take care of the sick and endeavor to save their lives. The spirit may be willing you know, but the flesh too weak to perform. Please write me any early reply.
Yours truly, W. Y. Andrews [Wakeman Young Andrews]
P. S. Enclosed I send statement of the number in [the] hospital, where they are, and how many deaths. Walter Crawford, which has been our cook, would make a good hospital steward and could attend to the place well. I had a letter from Dr. W[illiam] S[mith] Ely, 2nd Assistant Surgeon] yesterday. He said he would be released in two or three weeks and would then go and join the regiment. Yours truly — W. Y. Andrews
Pip: Letters that survived two centuries of attic boxes, estate sales, and archivists with good judgment — and here we are, reading them on the internet
Mara: This episode draws on Griff’s recent posts, covering soldiers writing home from the front, personal correspondence from the home front and beyond, and one early maritime letter that predates the Civil War by half a century.
Pip: Three very different kinds of distance — battlefield, frontier, open ocean.
Mara: Let’s start with the soldiers.
Voices From the Front Lines
Pip: What does a soldier actually put in a letter home — and what does he leave out?
Mara: James Bennett McKee, writing to his sister Mary from camp near Fredericksburg on New Year’s Day 1863, gives us the texture of it: “soldiering is hard business.”
Pip: Five words that carry a lot. He’s just survived Fredericksburg, where his regiment took 177 casualties in an hour and a half, and that’s what he offers her — not horror, just a plain accounting.
Mara: The letters are full of that restraint. He worries about a missing box from home, asks after a neighbor’s wedding, gently scolds Mary for wishing him ill so he’d miss a battle. The domestic and the dangerous sit right next to each other.
Pip: George Brown Eckert, writing to his sister Rachel across eight letters, is less restrained — he calls the defeat at Fredericksburg “a bad one at that” and describes Union troops destroying pianos in the city with axes.
Mara: Eckert is also lobbying hard for a furlough. He writes from the Mud March aftermath — sick with chills and fever, rheumatism in his arm — describing sixteen horses struggling to pull a single light artillery piece out of the mire.
Pip: Meanwhile Mathias Shumaker, writing from Brandy Station just weeks before Spotsylvania, tells his friend Henry Martz “I like it better here than at home. We have more fun here than at home.” He would be wounded, captured, and dead at Andersonville by July.
Mara: Abram Clark, writing from Fort Marion in Florida, measures his experience against his cousin’s: she mentions a relative who was “under fire for 5 days.” Clark counters that he was “under as heavy fire as any man living ever say for 13 days and nights” and watched comrades “dropped by hundreds at a few rounds of grape and shell.”
Pip: The assistant surgeon Adam Clark Baum writes the longest dispatches — battle narratives that read like dispatches, including a scene at Cold Harbor where Union and Confederate soldiers quietly stopped shooting, climbed out of their works, and started chatting until an officer ordered them back at gunpoint
Mara: Abbie Brundage writes from the Aurora home front, three days after the Gettysburg Address, worrying about the cost of living and how the poor will survive the winter. Her husband’s regiment fought at Gettysburg; she’s writing to a cousin still in the field.
Pip: Henry Ballou is counting alligators on the Mississippi. Forty-four of them, from the deck of a troop transport heading to New Orleans.
Mara: Charles Weeks, recovering from a wound at Bethesda Church, writes a brief practical letter trying to keep a friend out of the Invalid Corps. John Crabb reports the fall of Fort Blakely — the last major assault of the war — with quiet confidence: “I think our work is about done now.” And John Augustus, writing from South Carolina in January 1865, asks his sister Jane to pray for him.
Pip: The range is remarkable — from Eckert’s furious lobbying to Augustus’s simple request for someone to remember him.
Mara: The next letters step away from the battlefield entirely.
Letters Between Friends and Family
Pip: Not every letter in this batch is addressed to a regiment — some are just people trying to stay connected across distance.
Mara: Ellie, writing to her friend Cinda Hughes in Ohio on April 16, 1865, captures the whiplash of that particular week: “The folks were almost crazy here when the news came Richmond was taken and Lee had surrendered. They rung all the bells in town and have had bonfires almost every evening this week.” Then Lincoln was shot, and the flags went to half-mast.
Pip: One letter, two American moods, forty-eight hours apart.
Mara: Phineas Talcott writes from Denver in December 1873, describing a frontier life he calls “a Mark Twain Life” — his sewing machine sales agency has gone bust, he’s heading to a ranch to hunt antelope, and he’s been practicing conversation with an Indian chief. And James Ward, a Confederate soldier at Chaffin’s Farm, writes to Viola Haney in the Shenandoah Valley, defending his intentions and reporting that the men haven’t had meat in ten days.
Pip: From jubilation to bankruptcy to a hungry soldier pleading his case to a skeptical woman — the personal letter contains everything.
Mara: Speaking of distance measured in ocean miles — one letter in this episode predates all of them by sixty years.
Quarantine on the Mediterranean
Pip: What does a letter look like when it has to be dipped in vinegar before it can leave the ship?
Mara: Jeremiah Winslow, writing to Thomas and Charity Rotch from quarantine off Marseille in October 1806, explains exactly that: “All letters passing from vessels at quarantine must be put in vinegar. Therefore you must not think it strange if the paper should be colored.”
Pip: The paper is stained, the brig has been battered by one of the worst Mediterranean storms in memory, and Winslow is stuck on a rock island with a French pilot and a guard, waiting six days for clearance to go ashore.
Mara: He reflects on the voyage at length — the near-wrecks, the profane sailors, the captain who had drifted from his Quaker faith and seemed to be finding his way back. Winslow writes that in the moments of greatest danger he felt “more calmness than I could have experienced on the most high was my only refuge.”
Pip: Two hundred and twenty years old, and it still reads like a man trying to make sense of surviving something he wasn’t sure he would.
Mara: What holds all of these together is the gap between what the writers know and what their readers know — every letter is written into uncertainty.
Pip: And somehow they all found their way here. Next episode, more of what the mail carried.
The individual who authored this letter identifies himself as James F. Ward; however, he provides no indication of the specific Confederate regiment to which he belonged. It is my belief that this correspondence was penned by a private of the same name, who served in Company E of the 21st Virginia Cavalry, under the command of Colonel William E. Peters. Following an extensive summer of combat in the Shenandoah Valley, the regiment proceeded to bolster the Army of Northern Virginia near Petersburg, Virginia, in an effort to fortify General Lee’s diminishing supply lines. Moreover, the profiles of other Confederate soldiers bearing that name do not appear to align with the author of this letter.
James wrote the letter to Viola Elizabeth Haney (1840-1932), the daughter of Mathus Haney and Polly Roof of Dayton, Rockingham county, Virginia. Viola had an older brother, John G. Haney, (1836-1929) who served in Co. D of the 10th Virginia Infantry.
[Editor’s Note: any thanks to Abbey Weber Jones for providing the first draft of this transcription. The letter is from the collection of Greg Herr and was published by express consent.]
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Miss V. E. Haney, Dayton, Rockingham county, Va. “In haste if you please.”
Chaffin’s Farm Richmond, VA December the 26th, 1864
Dear Miss,
I seat myself to drop you a few lines to let you know that I am well and hope when these few lines come to hand, they may find you well. I hain’t [got] nothing new or strange to write. I received your kind letter and was glad to hear from you. You wrote that you thought that I was writing more for game than for anything else. My dear, you must have but little confidence in me. I don’t want you to think such [a] thing of me. My dear, you say that you don’t think that it was you that I was coming to marry but it was some other girl in Augusta. I don’t know what makes you think so. My dear, I never had anything to say to nary girl in Augusta. I want you to write me the girl’s name and where you got your information. My dear, I wouldn’t give you for all the girls in the [Shenandoah] Valley that I saw.
I hain’t saw any fun this Christmas, tho there’s been the devil’s time here I ever saw in my life. I wouldn’t know when it came, but I knew the day and the month. I’d love to [have] been there—to [have] been at that wedding. I suppose that you all saw a heap of fun there. I am glad to think that there was somebody a having some fun.
There has been a mighty dull time ever since I came here. I have often wished that I was back in the Valley. I think that if I was there, I could see some fun with you yet. But as you write you have lost all confidence of me, I want you to write me your mind and if you think nothing of me—say so, and I will write no more for it isn’t worth my while to be writing to you for no gain. So write your mind, for I never know what to write you. Write every time you think that I am trying to make game at you. But I don’t want you to think any such thing.
I will claim Christmas gift of you but it is most to lost. I think that this war will soon end for they have got so nigh run out of provisions, they can’t give the soldiers no meat. I hain’t had any meat in about 10 days. The Yankees has taken Savannah, Georgia, and most everywhere else that they want to. The general opinion of the people is that they are going to give up Richmond for the Yankees has got the place nearly surrounded. I don’t think that can last much longer. I think they will come to some compromise some way before spring.
I want you to write as soon as you get his letter and let me hear all the news that you can hear. I must close for this time. Very true love till death. From James F. Ward
The following letters were written by George Brown Eckert (1840-1899) while serving as an officer in the 3rd US Infantry. His parents were Isaac Eckert (1800-1873) and Judith Hahn (1802-1875) of Reading, Berks county, PA. In 1860 he was a 20 year old clerk living with his parents and sister Rebecca in Reading, PA; his father was a wealthy iron master there. He enrolled in Reading, PA and mustered on 18 April 1861 in Harrisburg as a fifer (musician) in Company A, 25th Pennsylvania Infantry – the Ringgold Light Artillery – for 3 months’ service. He mustered out with them on 23 July. He was appointed 2nd Lieutenant of Co. C the 3rd United States Infantry on 5 August 1861 and was promoted to First Lieutenant on 12 March 1862. He was in command of Co. C during the Battle of Antietam (Sept. 1862) and again in action at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. He returned to Trenton, New Jersey, on recruiting duty and resigned his commission as captain on 10 November 1864.
By 1870 he was again a clerk, in his father’s iron works in Reading. In 1873 he became a partner with his brother Henry in Eckert & Brother, and they took over their father Isaac’s iron business in Reading, operating the Henry Clay Furnace and iron mines. He was also a Director of the Farmers National Bank and briefly its President after his brother Henry died in 1894. George was said to be a “millionaire iron master” at his death at age 58 in 1899.
Letter 1
Camp Winfield Scott Near Yorktown, [Virginia] Saturday evening, April 19, 1862
I only received your letter of the 14th inst. about an hour ago making five full days for it to reach me. However, I think I will get them somewhat sooner as Gen. McClellan has issued an order to have all the letter for his Army directed to Washington D. C. You will direct viz: G. B. E., 3rd Infantry, USA, Sykes Brigade, Army of the Potomac, Washington D. C. I think that I will get letters directed in that way in about two days.
You cannot imagine how much delighted I was to get a letter from you, it being nearly ten days since I heard from you last. I received at the same time a letter from Father and eleven newspapers. I think from the hand writing David Benson sent them. I intend writing to him as soon as possible.
Since I wrote you the last letter, I have seen the New York Heralds what were brought into camp. I think I will see me more as there is to be a regular mail so if you send me some occasionally, I will be much obliged. I have not seen Charley since I left the camp near Yorktown. He then told me that he had been sick but was improving rapidly. I hope you have said nothing about his being sick so that his parents can hear it. If you have not, for precious sake, do not because he would feel angry with me I know. I saw Phil McHunberg [?] a few evening ago. He asked me when I heard from home. I told him I will remember you to him the first time I see him. I will tell you all the news I can going about Charley hereafter with great pleasure. I was speaking to George Lauman about his sister getting married and he said he did not know where Bev, Kim got his taste. I never thought that [they] would make a match, did you?
Some time ago you spoke of praying for me. I hope you do. I hope to God that your prayers are heard, sister. I do nearly every night pray to myself for your protection and for the protection of all my friends, and if it should be God’s will that I should be a victim of this war, “so it will be.” But dear sister, I cannot say that I am prepared to meet that dreadful day. But I cannot help that. I have thought the matter over frequently. Very few men in the field are prepared to die, I can say, much to my sorrow. If they were, I think I would be nearer to it.
I do not know where the Ringgold Artillery are. Father says they are in our army but I think he is mistaken. Chris Doser is camped at Newport News. I do not think their regiment will be in the great fight but can’t say for certain. I am glad you are taking riding lessons so if I ever return I will be able to ride with you. Send me one of the vignettes as soon as you have then taken.
It would be useless for me to try to give you an idea of the army—especially of its artillery. The field artillery will reach from the Gass factory to the Cemetery and back and any quantity of siege pieces—the greatest amount ever known in any one army in the world. When all our siege guns open, something must fall. I think the enemy have as many men as we have, but I think our artillery is much superior to theirs. I think the fight will commence about Wednesday or Thursday. No telling how long it will last. Probably a week, no telling. I will write you when it commences if I possibly can.
I suppose you notice quite a change in my letters—that is, in my spelling. I am getting so that I can scarcely write a letter anymore. You may rest assured George Lauman will not be present at his sister’s marriage. I like the [soldier’s] life very much [but] I do not know how I will like the battles. We are encamped on the same ground that Gen. Washington’s forces were encamped. The other day they discovered an old magazine that is supposed to have been used by Gen. Washington in the Revolution. It is in a dilapidated condition but this will be a different battle than the one Gen. Washington fought. Gen. Marcy of Gen. McClellan’s staff says that it will be one of the greatest battles ever known to the world.
Our camp is in beautiful one situated on high land and sandy. Gen. McClellan’s headquarters are about 200 yards from my tent to the right of the brigade. I expect you have seen a map of the country ere this in some of the newspapers. He keeps up a continued firing (almost) during day and night on our left. We have captured a good many prisoners since we are stationary on our left.
This letter will be mailed by a reporter of Forney’s [War] Press (who is in our camp) either in Washington or Philadelphia. 1 He leaves tomorrow. It is now ten minutes after—long after—my bed time and I am getting sleepy. So I bid you goodbye. Write soon—always letters like your last. Those few words were of more consolation to me that I have had since I have been in the army. Give my respects to Minnie and all the rest, but do not show them this letter. Goodbye. Write often.
Ever your loving brother, — Geo. B. Eckert
P. S. There is very heavy musketry firing on our left. It has stopped already. Probably only an alarm of the pickets.
1Forney’s War Press was a newspaper dedicated to carrying Civil War news. Issues were published weekly in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and contained engravings, news from war correspondents, casualty reports, poetry, and humor. War Press was published by John W. Forney, who was born in Lancaster, Pennsylvania in 1817. His career in publishing began as an apprentice at the Lancaster Journal. In time he became the Journal’s owner and editor. He was Clerk of the United States House of Representatives 1851-1856 and 1860-1861, and Secretary of the United States Senate 1861-1868. Each issue contained eight pages. The masthead of the newspaper was an ornate illustration containing an eagle, warship, cannon, and soldier’s in battle.
Letter 2
Camp Winfield Scott Near Yorktown April 24th 1862
Dear Sister,
Your letter of the 21st inst. has just been received by me making nearly four full days for it to reach me so you can imagine the time it takes. It ought never to take more than two days and a half for a letter to reach me from Philadelphia. One thing in your letter rather surprised me. It is this—that you sent me that bundle of papers. I did not recognize the handwriting to be yours. I took it for David Benson’s writing, and on the strength of it, I wrote him quite a letter thanking him very kindly for his trouble and that I hoped that if the trouble was not too great that he would continue sending me papers as frequently as convenient. Quite a mistake, was it not? Well just consider that I say the same to you.
You will not be able to send me papers daily (rather Mr. Hand) on account of our mails being so very irregular. I would sometimes receive six or eight papers all in one mail. We manage to get the New York Herald two or three days after it is published. I have just read the Herald of the 22nd inst. Just this minute I hear the news boy crying out New York Herald of the 23rd. We get them from Fortress Monroe. I have just read some little of the Herald of the 23rd inst. but throw it to one side and resume my letter writing to you.
Will you be kind enough to tell Mr. Hand that I appreciate his kindness and am exceedingly obliged to him for putting himself to so much trouble, but if he did send me the papers daily that I would not receive half of them as they—the post master—take no plains in regard to papers.
Dear sister, you want to know all the news. Nothing of any consequence has occurred since I wrote you the last letter in which I gave you all the news. I consistently could with the exception on the 22nd inst. [when] the rebels discovered one of our working parties at work in the wood and they let all their batteries know of it and they all opened fire upon it at once. And such a noise you never did hear not I hope never will. Fortunately no one was hurt. We did not reply, therefore they could not keep up the firing.
I cannot give you any idea of their fortifications as we are not allowed to go to the front. We bring prisoners in daily. They look very seedy indeed. All that I have seen wore the home spun and had very little of that. But I tell you one thing, don’t you believe all the newspaper reports about their living. They live just as well as we do, if not better.
My company with fifteen others from or brigade have gone out as a working party for the night. As I am provost marshal of the regiment, I am not allowed to go with it for fear I would be needed at camp. We had a very pleasant duty on Easter. We had any quantities of eggs. Our living generally is very much better than it was three weeks ago. We have everything with the exception of bread. That we cannot get at all times unless we bake it and that is worse than none at all.
I was not aware that Charley had resigned his position as [ ]. I think if Chris does resign, he will not be able to get a position as an officer anywhere else at present.
I think the fighting will commence perhaps ere this letter reaches you and probably not for ten days or two weeks. I thought last night that I would leave this letter open until this morning. This morning at reveille the Captain and company returned. He told me that there were five thousand men at work last night for the purpose of getting ready. The Regulars threw up the first parallel in front of the enemy. They were not fired at all.
This morning I heard a cry of fire. I jumped up and found that my neighbor’s tent (Capt. Davis’) was on fire and one of the Lieutenants slept through the whole of it without being the least disturbed by the flame. Lt. Parker who was in the tent was taken out without being injured. He leaves for Washington this morning. He has the typhoid fever. Several of the officers of the brigade have to return to Washington on account of sickness.
Dear sister, I want you to send me your vignette in the next letter you write. Dear [sister], do not forget me when you retire at night. Remember me in your prayers. I think is is time to close as the mail will close in twenty minutes. Give my love to all. Your loving brother. Write soon. — G. W. Eckert
Letter 3
Camp near Sharpsburg [Maryland] October 24, 1862
Your letter of the 16th was received on the 20th making four days that it took to come. I hope this one will not be so long on the road. I would have answered your letter on receipt of it had not our regiment been detailed for picket duty on the Potomac. I suppose you hear all sorts of stories about the pickets firing across the Potomac. There is nothing of the kind done here because the enemy do not make their appearance in day time. At night we have all the camp fires put out so that they cannot tell the exact position of our pickets. They only way they can find out our true position will be for them to advance in daytime in force enough to drive us from the bank of the river and that I do not think will be done by the Rebels as it would be apt to bring on a general engagement that I don’t think the enemy wants at this point of the river. As soon as we have rain enough to raise the river, I think we will leave for parts unknown to your brother.
I see by the press of the North that they (the people) insists on Gen. McClellan making an advance movement. I tell you, if they make him advance before he is ready, we will be whipped although I do not think that there is such a word as whipped to the army commanded by McClellan. If they will only give him more time, he will bring things all right. For instance, our Division have not had a stitch of clothing issued to them and it would be almost an impossibility for men to be out these nights without the proper kind of clothing suitable to the weather.
You must by my request fight for McClellan and no other man. Hooker is a good fighting general but lacks in the mind. He cannot plan adn carry out his plans. Everybody is getting away from the field on some fancy duty or else gets sick and gets a sick leave. I am not one of the kind that will ask to leave the field, but never-the-less, if you ever get a chance to say yes in regard to getting me on fancy duty, do so without the slightest hesitation on your part. I would like mighty well to spend the coming fall and winter in some civilized portion of the states (as we call them). It is not every [one] who has the influence to bring to bear at Washington so as to enable them to go to the states on fancy duties, but I think with very little exertion on the part of Father or Henry, I would be enabled to visit the states this winter. I am bound to see home this winter providing the army go into winter quarters. I have Father’s promise for that. Nearly all my letters heretofore have been mailed in Philadelphia by friends.
I am very sorry that the weather is so bad as I do not think Minnie will enjoy her visit if she is still with you. Give her my kind regards. What rank does Jim Miltimore display on his uniform? When I was home last Christmas, he wore the rank of a Major. Has he promoted himself since? Poor Jim, I don’t blame him. He is not as ignorant as some persons take him—especially about military affairs. He never can join the Regular Army unless he enlists as a private first. You can tell him that if he speaks of the Regular Service. I was aware of Captain Terrill’s death but not that his remains had been buried at our church. What in God’s world will his wife do for a living? Tell Aunt May that I would be pleased to hear from her and will accept of the Evangelist whenever she can send it. It is now near Tattoo and I will have to receive my roll call.
Give my loveto all at home—especially Mother. It is very cold at nights, especially when we are on picket. Remember me in your prayers. Goodbye. Write soon. Ever your loving brother, — G. B. Eckert
Rebecca A. Eckert, Reading, Pa.
P. S. Write with black ink.
Letter 4
Camp Blank, 8 miles from Fredericksburg November 19th 1862
Dear Sister,
We are within 8 miles of Fredericksburg—the place where we landed when we sailed from Newport News. We marched over nearly the same ground that we did whenwe marched for Bull Run battle. I have but 10 minutes to write this letter as the mail is waiting. I have made some severe marches in my life time but none to compare with our late ones. I am at present very sore. My limbs pain me very much. We just got into camp. Have been marching all day in a heavy rain storm. I think the rainy season is setting in.
I cannot write you a long letter—only to let you know where we are and that I am still alive. We left Warrenton on the 17th inst. and now we are near Fredericksburg. I must close and take my wet boots off. Write soon. Your affectionate brother, — Geo. B. Eckert
Letter 5
Camp near Fredericksburg, Virginia December 3d, 1862
Dear Sister,
Yours of the 26th inst. was received a few days ago with postage stamps enclosed. I received it while on picket. I was very glad to get it for the purpose of having something to read although it was not at all lengthy. It is the first time any of the Regulars have been on picket since we left Sharpsburg. We would not have been ordered on picket had not some volunteer cavalry made fools of themselves and allowed themselves to be captured about two miles in our rear. There were two squadrons of “I am [ ]” the 5th Penna. Cavalry on picket, and they were surprised by a regiment of Rebel cavalry and captured, leaving only one man to tell the tale. He escaped after being captured and as a matter of course the Regulars had to be put on that duty in order to prevent any more such raids.
Before I forget it, where is Hiester Jones—at home or in the field? Is Phil <uhlenburg still at Fort Hamilton or has he left for the South? Some officers do not think a great deal of his work, between you and me.
Yesterday the 2nd, I went over to Capt. [paper torn] Battery. I saw the Capt. Silvis and Leasure. They are all very well. They are about seven miles from our camp near Fredericksburg. I saw Green & Capt. Smith today. They are all well.
Go to my trunk. You will find one pair of 2nd Lt.’s shoulder straps—the same that you sent me while on the Island. Take them and have one bar put in each end of each in order to make them 1st Lieutenant’s straps and then send them to me by mail. Do that as quick as possible. The bar must be made of the same Bullion as the strap.
Did you receive $5 which I sent you to buy some tamps with? You will have to excuse this writing as I am writingalmost in the dark. Give my love to all who inquire after me and write as usual, frequently. Does Father ever speak of my love for the Holidays? I think I have said enough about it. It now remains in his hands. If he does not speak of it, will you please urge it?
I am your loving brother, — Geo. B. Eckert
Letter 6
Camp near Fredericksburg, Va. December 18th 1862
Dear Sister,
I received your last letter “I have forgotten the date” while lying on the ground awaiting our turn to cross the river. I received the shoulder straps in the same letter. I have them on at present. They are too good to wear in the field. I received the postage stamps and dictionary two days before.
Of course you have heard all about the defeat of our Army for a defeat, I am sorry to say, it was—and a bad one at that. In your last letter you say how nice it would be for me to remain in the field until the war is over. Now that is all nonsense and I will not do it. I am coming home this winter, let it cost what it will, and you are the last one I would expect to say that I should remain in the field. It makes little difference to me what they all say, I am coming home this winter. The army will do no more fighting this winter. If it does, it will be whipped worse than ever. I think we will go into winter quarters this winter either here or nearer Washington.
Our troops behaved shamefully in the city. They actually broke open houses and destroyed everything from a pin up to costly pianos, took axes and cut the keys off. Oh! it was shameful. Dear sister, I want you to use your influence in regard to my leave. I wrote to Father yesterday giving him a full detail of the battle and the defeat of our troops. I remain ever your loving brother, — Geo. B. Eckert
Letter 7
Camp near Fredericksburg, Va. December 30th 1862
Go to my trunk, take from it papers of Camp & Garrison Equipage pertaining to recruiting service. For part of the 1st quarter of 1862 and send them to me by mail. They are my vouchers. I think you will find them marked retained. They are in a bundle with other papers. Send no other papers but be careful and don’t lose them or I will get into difficulty wit hthe Government. Your affectionate brother, — Geo. B. Eckert
Miss Rebecca Eckert, Reading, Pa.
P. S. Go to Jacob Knalb [and] find out whether he received my subscription for Journal which I sent some time ago. — G. B. E.
Letter 8
Camp near Fredericksburg, Va. January 29th 1863
My dear Sister,
You would have heard from me much sooner but circumstances placed me in a different position than they did, I will tell you but you are not to say one word to Father or Mother. During our great trip in which we were stuck in the mud and have not yet extricated all the articles of war left in the mud two weeks ago, I was taken very sick on the road with chills and fever which you know is anything but pleasant in the most comfortable quarters. I will give you some idea of the trip [but] I must stop for the present as my rheumatism is very bad in my right arm and I cannot write.
I will try it again as I feel very well [now]. We struck camp on the 21st inst. at 9 o’clock in the morning and marched about three miles when we run into a column of troops which caused us to halt. They, I have learned since, were on the wrong road. We went into bivouac. The day was very raw. At night, about 7 o’clock, it began to rain and it came down in torrents all night. We had no tents—nothing but one blanket. The men had their knapsacks. The officers, as I said before, had but one blanket—all they could carry. It rained so fast that we could not keep our fires going so we all got together and slept the best we could. Strange to say, I did sleep until I was awakened by a small stream of water running under my body. Of course, we were all saturated with water.
The next morning, The General was sounded and son afterward the advance. We made our cup of coffee and marched off, not all of us, as Lt. Watson’s Battery was sunk into the mud so that he had to double his teams to get one piece out which delayed him nearly 12 hours. Well we kept on marching until about 12 o’clock at noon when we halted and were not able to go any further all all the artillery & pontoons were stick in the mud and we could not get them out, still raining, when we again went into bivouac. It was time as I was completely exhausted. That night I thought I would die on account of the pain in my bones. Thank the Lord it ended with a chill and fever. I suffered terrible with fever for three days while in bivouac [and] came back to camp in an ambulance. Had a chance to see the road. I saw dozens of times sixteen horses on one light piece of artillery adn it was all they could do was to draw.
After taking about one bushel of medicine, I finally got better and am now quite well with the exception of rheumatism which I never expect to get rid of. Our army during the march had no less than 20,000 stragglers and those that did keep together were completely demoralized. Old officers say it was worse than a defeat twice over. It is reported that Gen. Lee sent word to Gen. Burnside that he would give him a thousand men to help to put the pontoons down if we could only do it, because he wanted us to cross. I would not give three cents for the army at present. There is great indignation in the army about the dismissal of Gen. Fitz John Porter, one of our best generals. Oh what will become of us. I am afraid we are lost forever. I hope not. Write soon. Goodbye. Your affectionate brother, — Geo. B. Eckert
This post war image was included with the Eckert letters. Presumably the man sitting among the children was George B. Eckert.
The following letters were written by Adam “Clark” Baum (1832-1888), the son of John P. Baum (1797-1854) and Magdalena Elwood (1799-1854), and the husband of Josephine (“Josie”) Stone (1836-1912) of Syracuse, Onondaga county, New York. Clark and Josie had one child at the time of this 1862 letter—an infant named Josie.
During the Civil War, Clark was appointed in August 1862 as an Assistant Surgeon of the 50th New York Engineers. He resigned his commission on 31 January 1865.
Officers of the 50th New Engineers in 1865
Letter 1
[Editor’s Note: The 1st draft of this transcription was kindly provided by Abbey Weber Jones.]
Friday, November 28, 1862, 3 p.m.
Darling Josie,
Now don’t “go for to get mad” at me because I do not write longer letters. You may, probably before you get this, know the reason. I will tell you now that I have been pretty sick for some time and did not feel much like writing because I was a little blue and I feared I should make you feel so too, because I can scarcely ever write a gay letter when I feel badly. I therefore guarded myself not to write what would make you think I was blue, and felt bad, and in doing, so was obliged to write short letters. I am now all OK once more and shall be able to write full letters once more.
Saturday morning, 10 a.m. I had got this far in my “long” letter when I received an order to “move hospital tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. on board a pontoon train” and I tell you, I had to fly around some. Well got all ready that I could—and as your two letters, one enclosing $10, came to hand yesterday p.m., I went downtown [&] bought a pair of boots. Cost $7.50. Price was $9. Some butter, cheese, &c. to “the front” with me and got all packed up & together, the sick ones sent off to General Hospital, and the convalescents all ready to move at 8 a.m. when it looked so much like rain that I did not dare to take the men aboard the open boats for fear they might get worse. And as there was another train with two barges going out this p.m. at 3 o’clock, I just made up my mind to wait and go with them which gives me a little more time.
I lost a man last Thursday night [27 November]. He had the fever (which now is of a remittent type) with typhoid symptoms. He grew worse very fast from Thursday morning and meds appeared to have no effect on him whatever. At 3 p.m. of Thursday, I telegraphed to his friends who live at Beaver Dam[s], Schuyler Co., New York (name Buck) and as the boy had no money, I borrowed a dollar and invested it in “humanity” feeling that if I were in his condition, I would want some one to telegraph to my friends. I learn from letters upon him that he is an only son of a good family farmer who came into the service to do his country’s service, not for money—for his friends have enough of that—but from patriotic feelings. He did not realize his condition as he was out of his head until towards the last and then became insensible. [He] died very easy, lying on his side. We are keeping the body & shall till tomorrow and then if his friends do not come, I have given directions to have it buried. We shall leave a guard with it. 1
We shall start down the noble Potomac about 3 o’clock and will have about 2 or 3 hours of daylight and I will write you a description of our route.
No, I thank you, [but] I will not dine with you Thanksgiving. I had a glorious dinner. Had beef steak, potatoes, bread, butter, cabbage, catsup, coffee &c., &c., &c. too numerous to mention. All the trouble was, I had to eat alone and consequently did not enjoy the dinner as well as I would had I sat at the head of a certain “Oak Extension” that I [ ] of. But never mind, one of these fine days when the war is over, I will go home and we will have a good time. One thing is certain, I shall see you some time between now and April 1st, for if I can do no better and the regiment comes back here to Washington, I shall have you come down and see the sights this winter and stay with me a few days. You say to Pa that he had better make calculations to take you two Josies in his car & come down, bringing Ma with him if he can get her started. Miss Tracy will run the boarding house while you come. It will probably occur some time in February so look out for it and prepare. You may laugh and say no, but I assure you that it is a fixed fact that I shall see my darlings one of these days. I shall try for a furlough but with small hopes. If the furlough is not forthcoming, my wife and little “Dodo” will be.
Some things to get ready [yet] & I must close. Kiss the little darling for me and imagine if you can, a good long loving one for yourself. Ever yours, –Clark
1 The dead soldier was Datus Ensign Buck (1841-1862), the son of Daniel S. Buck of Beavers Dams, Schyler county, New York. Datus les buried in the US Soldiers’ and Airmen’ Home National Cemetery in Washington D. C.
Letter 2
[Editor’s Note: This transcribed letter is among six of Asst. Surgeon Adam Clark Baum’s letter that are listed for sale by The Excelsior Brigade. Since I have not seen the original letter, I cannot attest to the accuracy of this transcription.]
Camp of Detachment, 50th New York Volunteer Engineers Near Rappahannock Station, VA Tuesday, November 10th 1863
My Darling,
Once more upon the line of the Rappahannock, calmly settled in the old routine of camp like after the excitement horrors and scenes of suffering incident to the battle. Not a great battle like Chancellorsville, Fredericksburg or Gettysburg or Chickamauga, but a short sharp and bloody fight in which perhaps as much skill and quite as much bravery and indomitable courage were shown as at any of the above named great battles. Our men fought splendidly and the enemy with his usual desperation. But to take things as they transpired I must begin back. I wrote you Friday that we were ordered forward to the Rappahannock. Well, Saturday morning our trains no. 1 and 2 with bridge material for two bridges, left camp at 4 a.m. The headquarters wagons with hospital and ambulances and myself did not move until 8 a.m. We found the roads full of troops and trains and our progress was slow. At last about 4 p.m. we came upon our behind and quietly waiting the advance of the line of battle which was drawn up in the woods out of sight of the rebs. As we were engineer officers, they let us through the line and then we saw a large undulating plain spread out before us about 1 ½ miles wide.
On the further side of which the bluff of the river bank loomed up bristling with cannon and bayonets of the rebs and about half way across the plain was the reb pickets and advance line. Also our pickets and advance line and supports all watching and waiting for something to turn up. At last General Sedgwick gave the orders. The bugle sounds and our men advance the 6th Corps upon the right of the railroad and the 5th Corps upon the left. The rebs discharge their pieces and fall back followed by our men. Both sides firing as rapidly as possible. The advance of both sides being in “skirmish line” (in which the men are from 10 feet to 10 rods apart according to the strength of the line). About this time the rebs opened their batteries with shell. We soon drive them off a knoll and very soon a heavy boom, a puff of smoke, followed by others in quick succession tell us that a couple of our batteries have gained a position on the knoll and are pouring destruction into the work of the rebs. We ride forward to a knoll near the center of the plain near the railroad, so we can see better. Ahh, that won’t do. No excuse time “Johnnie” I do not care for any of your civilities of that sort. Those “rotten” messengers you are sending us are not required here. We don’t care for any. Please excuse me.
Some of the shells burst unpleasantly near us and we “retire in disgust” and at double quick too. I assure you to a more sheltered position. Well our skirmishers slowly advance across that plain. Standing up like men without a particle of cover while the rebs crawled back dodging about from point to point to escape the shots. The rebel batteries soon see they have something more to do than fire at our batteries. Our men are getting too near. Some of their gunners are picked off by our sharpshooters. They then load with grape and shrapnel and fire at our advancing troops. My God, what a gap they make. But it is closed up again as they move forward. The skirmishers gain the foot of the hill about 50 yards from the works and stop and uncap their guns, grasp them at a “charge bayonet” and with a cheer that is heard two miles, rush upon the works. My God what a havoc the grape and canister make among them. No firing on our side now. Our cannons are directed to the work on the other side of the river and our men having taken the caps off their guns by order so they could not stop to fire if they choose to. Our skirmishers jump on the works and gun in hand over they jump. My god. Why are the support so far behind? Will those few brave men be sacrificed before the support reaches them. “Forward G-d d—n you double quick crises an offer. Up they rush just in time for at least half of the skirmish line who first gained the works are either killed or wounded in the hand to hand conflict. Officers after discharging their pistols are obliged to use the sword in defense and offense. Sixteen out of 22 officers of the 6th Maine Regiment were either killed or wounded.
One sergeant of the 6th Maine jumped over the works in advance of all his comrades. He was alone and was obliged to throw down his gun and surrender. His comrades soon after coming up with a cheer rushed in to the rescue. He caught up his gun and with the butt of it knocked down his guard and went in again. All the officers of his company were killed or wounded and he was left in command of his company. When the rebs were overpowered or rather “over cowed” as our boys call it and threw down their arms and surrendered, he (the Sargent) went up to take their colors. The rebs refused to let him have them saying they would not give them up to a noncommissioned officer. He threw down his gun and with two or three comrades had a regular fist fight with the rebs color guard. They had a regular knock down. Our Maine boys being too much the “johnnies”. The sergeant knocked down the color sergeant caught the colors and with a cheer jumped upon them. About this time the fight was terrible along the whole line of the works. The 6th Corps were having all they could do and the 5th were not idle. What means they came another brigade of the “Johnnies” rushing across the bridge to rescue their comrades. Our boys let them come on. What is that? Why don’t they fire upon them? Ah, I see why. It is one division of the 5th Corps are coming to the rescue. All marching by the flank and just in time to fix the “Johnnies.” Not a word. Not a shot. They come up as coolly as though at dress parade, file along slowly and take position to cover the bridge. The only way the Johnnies can get back. They see it but too late. They make a rush. But no you don’t every man that make the attempt fails. “lay down your arms and surrender”. There is no alternative and they “gracefully” submit.
This brigade (North Carolina and Georgia troops) had “double quicked” six miles to reinforce their comrades. They rushed across the bridge just after our men had got possession of their works and in less than 20 minutes everyone was “gobbled up” that was not killed or wounded. Some attempt to swim the river but were drowned or shot down in the attempt. Every man, every gun and everything they had on this side of the river is ours. Seven cannons, 2,234 prisoners, one pontoon bridge, 9 stands of colors, 1 brigadier general, 2 or 3 colonels, lots of captains and lieutenants and etc. our loss in killed and wounded is a little under 300. Almost the entire loss was sustained by the 3 or 4 regiments forming the advance line of skirmishers. During the fore part of the night, the rebs attempted to destroy their pontoon bridge, which they were obliged to leave. But our sharpshooters would not let ‘em. Our men held one end of the bridge and they the other. In the morning our troops were in possession of both sides of the river and the infantry of the 5th and 6th Corps were across. How it was done, I have not heard, but think the “Johnnies” evacuated as we heard no firing during the night.
In the morning our detachment went down, repaired the reb bridge and laid another ½ mile below the railroad bridge and the artillery, etc., went across chasing the rebs beyond Culpepper—they offering no resistance. Yesterday they drove them to the Rapidan and Headquarters of the Army of the Potomac established themselves last night near Brandy station about 6 miles beyond the river. The rebs were building splendid winter quarters at Brandy Station intending to make the line of the Rappahannock their advance. They had fortified here at the station on both sides of the river and below but more particularly on this side took them by surprise and “wasted” them for once on their own ground. I understand there were 2,000 more prisoners taken yesterday at near Rapidan and Sulphur Springs. Did not see them. Those taken at this point were fine look men. Comfortable clothed. Good shoes and many with good boots. Did not look as though they had suffered much for the necessaries of life. I send you a little sketch of the battlefield. It is correct although not very nice. You can get a very good idea of the “position” and “situation.”
The mail has gone for today so this letter will answer for my Wednesday’s letter. Have made up my mind to send you little sketches of any point of interest in our travels. They will be interesting to look at by and by when we have at last succeeded in “crushing” and this “cruel war is over”. The work on the south side of the river was somewhat “knocked into pie” by our large siege guns on the right. Before the rebs evacuated that work they filled up a rifle pit that our men had dug when we were here before and yesterday when our men opened it they found eight dead rebs. They had been buried there by their comrades or rather thrown into the pit and covered up to deceive us in regard to their loss. I have seen 21 of their dead and these eight make 29. How many more I do not know. Our loss in killed and wounded is probably greater than theirs as they were protected by works and we were without cover.
Wednesday your letter of November 5th came to hand last night. Yes, indeed New York has done nobly. We can now day show us a state that has done better than the old “Empire”. Bully for the Empire.
I regret to hear that you are “ailing” and “pining away” to 160 pounds. By George, I would hardly dare go home now if I was discharged for fear you would be inclined to give me a dressing and rather guess you could do it.
You say you have not received a letter from me in a long time. I have written regularly two letters each week. Although no always on the regular days.
Give my love to all friends. Especially our folks. Tell Miss Tracy I am “most out of tobacco and whiskey, entirely out of wine. Have got a few sweet potatoes, 10 or 12 cans of fresh tomatoes, 10 or 12 pounds of butter, some dried apples and peaches, about 1 peck of fresh apples and a few necessaries.
Kiss the little darling. Ever your own, — Clark
Letter 3
[Editor’s Note: This transcribed letter is among six of Asst. Surgeon Adam Clark Baum’s letter that are listed for sale by The Excelsior Brigade. Since I have not seen the original letter, I cannot attest to the accuracy of this transcription.]
Headquarters, 2nd Battalion 50th New York Volunteer Engineers Cold Harbor, Va June 11th 1864
My Darling,
Having a little time to myself this forenoon, I thought I would anticipate my usual Sunday letter. For in my opinion, we shall not be where we can write much tomorrow.
We are still lying here gazing at the rebs and the rebs gazing at us. Our lines of battle being up in many places to within 100 yards (300 feet) of the rebel works. And in some places, our pickets are within a less distance than that even. In one place, our pickets got up so close that they could hear the men talk in an ordinary tone and could understand them. The officers were giving instructions to the men providing our men made an attack during the night. You may think that it is very strange that men could live in such a place. It is strange but never the less true. I’ll tell you how it is brought about. When our Army finds a “mares nest” and they want to advance their lines, they take the shovel and go to work throwing up a “rifle pit”, which consists of a bank of earth with a ditch (from which the earth is thrown) behind the bank ramping in direction and length as the case may require. This rifle pit is many times strengthened by “reveting” it which is to lay up logs like the side of a log house and pack the dirt against that wall. The wall of course being on our side of the work. The bank of earth is from 4 to 10 feet thick from 3 to 6 ½ feet high. The lines are not straight but usually run in an irregular zig-zag course. Taking advantage of the ground. When the line is formed and troops in the work, the “skirmishers” or “picket” are thrown out in advance during the night, each man with his gun and spade. He digs a pit for himself. The following night the pickets are thrown out still further and they dig pits each for himself a little in advance and the troops connect the pits of the previous night, making a line of it and so they advance slowly. Until the lines are so close that if a man shows his head on either side it is certain death. An officer has just told me that a portion of our lines in place was within 30 yards (90 feet) of the rebels works and our pickets in advance of that even. I can hardly believe it yet it must be so as he is a reliable man. We have now here 12 or 14 lines of works that have been made in that way. Some of the front ones were built by the rebs and “our fellows” after driving them out faced the works the other and are using them.
Today our men are at work on breastworks in rear of our camp, which with other infallible signs indicate another “flank movement” probably to the James River and to the south of Richmond. Movements of our troops and trains indicate that and more too. If I was certain no eyes but yours and friends at home were to see this, I could tell you what. But I guess I won’t for if I am not mistaken, you will hear of it before this reaches you. There are about 5000 men at work on the rear line of works today and I presume before I am able to send this letter, we shall be started on another flank movement.
Strange things occur in this war—many things you hear nothing of. For instance, the day before yesterday, the rebs and our men got tired shooting and stopped without any arrangement between them. After the shooting had been stopped for a little time, one of our men exposed his hat on a ram rod above the work. The rebs did not shoot. By and by he exposed his head a little. Then a reb showed his—no shooting. Then one exposed a little more, then the other a little more, and so on till both stood up in full view of the other and then others tried it without any trouble. Then they began to talk backwards and forwards and ten on both sides began to get up on the work and then to walk out towards the others works and so on until they were having a nice friendly chat. Men all left their guns in the pits and met as friends (some say shaking hands and drinking together but that I don’t know about) and were laying down on the top of the works until by and by the field officer of the day of the 6th Corps (Colonel Johns of the 7th Massachusetts, came along and put a stop to it. He told them that he rode down to the front line of the works on horseback, a thing he would not have done for his life under other circumstances for it would have been certain death. And dismounting outside our works and told the rebs and our men to get back behind their works or he would order the 2nd line of works to fire on them all. So the rebs went back to their work and our men to theirs and after they had gotten back, they hollered to each other “get back under cover for we are going to shoot.” “Watch out, Yanks, I’m going to shoot,” “Take care there Johnnie, your head in the way of my bullet,” and such interchanges of cordiality until by and by they got busily to work again “shooting to kill.” This is a true statement. Colonel Johns, the field officer of the day of the 6th Corps, told me this himself, and he is a straight forward reliable old soldier. You may know this from the fact that he has been field officer of the day for 10 days past and in such a time as this it is an important position.
Shall write you again in a few days. Probably from the James River when I will ‘answer” your letters about little Josie’s Erysipelas. I would not do anything for her except to keep her bowels regular and perhaps a little Sulphur and molasses.
In regard to the winter, I think you may safely rent the rooms for if I get out this fall, I shall want to spend the winter in New York.
Much love to all. Be a good girl and keep your skirts clean and you nose tied up.
In regard to females visiting the hospitals of Washington, the story you write sound swell and if it is even true, should awake your sympathies. Allow one who has “seen service” to advise you to do what you can for the sanitary commission at home and let these special visits with baskets, etc. be made by others. It is no place for a woman who does not make that her business. They do more harm than good in such hospitals as Washington affords. They might do goo in our field hospital or depots like Fredericksburg or Belle Plain or White House. But in regularly organized hospitals where everything is arranged in a systematic manner, “outside” women are worse than useless.
Though he only signed the letter as cousin “Abram,” I believe this letter was written by 30 year-old Abram Clark of Brooklyn, New York, formerly of Greenwich, Fairfield county, New York. The Timpany and Clark families were united when Philo Clark (1772-1856) married Elizabeth Timpany (1776-1850) in 1796.
Abram Clark enlisted in Co. G, 48th New York Infantry in September 1861. He was wounded twice at Cold Harbor, Virginia but survived and mustered out of the regiment in September 1865. He was in the disastrous assault of Battery (Fort) Wagner which protected Charleston S.C., where of three attacking Union columns, only 140 men of his column managed to achieve a measure of success by capturing a wall of Wagner and holding it for three hours. Repeated Confederate attacks with overwhelming numbers finally compelled their surrender, when repeated pleas to the Union officer in charge of reserves failed to send relief.
Anyone who has seen the Movie, “Glory,” which dealt with the raising & training of the first black regiment, the 54th Massachusetts will remember the final scenes which dealt with the attack of this regiment on another point of Battery Wagner’s walls.
Abram wrote the letter to his 32 year-old cousin, Ester Timpany (1829-1891), the daughter of William Tippany, Sr. (1783-1864) and Elizabeth Ferris (1791-1870) of Greenwich, Fairfield county, Connecticut.
Abram J. Palmer of Co. D, 48th New York Infantry (Claudia & Al Niemiec Collection)
The Timpany family was also related to the Palmer family and there is an outside chance this letter was written by Abram John Palmer (1847-1922) of Greenwich, Fairfield county, Connecticut, who—when but 15 years old—enlisted as a musician in Co. D, 48th New York Infantry. He served from 24 July 1861 to September 20, 1864. I don’t believe he wrote the letter because he was many years younger than Ester and he was also reported to have been taken prisoner in the assault on Fort Wagner. Fifteen years after the war, he was made Regimental historian & tasked with compiling the record of the regiment’s service in the Civil War. As such, he used the “Official Records Of The War “which the Federal government had assembled, his own memories, diaries, letters, & memories of his regiment’s members, as well as the memories, diaries, & letters of surviving former Confederates to write this history of the 48th.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Miss Ester Timpany, Greenwich, Connecticut
Fort Marion [only Cos. D, G, and I were garrisoned here] St. Augustine, St. John’s County, Florida August 14th 1863
Dear Cousin,
I received your welcome letter this morning and answer it immediately. I am enjoying very good health—in fact, better than I have for several months. The weather is a great deal warmer here than it is in the state of South Carolina. We are fifty miles further south than New Orleans.
I wrote a long letter to you a few days since giving you an account of the battles I was in at Charleston.
Fruit of all kinds which grows in a southern climate are to be found here ripe and plenty.
There has been several families come into the town from Rebeldom. They take oath of allegiance and have good homes given to them and rations furnished by Uncle Sam. You write about Charles Edwin being under fire for 5 days. If I saw him I could sympathize with him as I was under as heavy fire as any man living ever say for 13 days and nights. I have seen comrades dropped by hundreds at a few rounds of grape and shell which the Rebels poured into us.
I must now close this as the boat leaves here and there will not be another here in two weeks. Give my love to all. Your cousin, — Abram
P. S. Write soon and direct to Fort Marion, St. Augustine, Florida
I am not certain of the author of this letter nor can I be confident that the young woman she wrote to was the same Lucinda Hughes (1839-1919) who once lived in Butler, Darke county, Ohio and who married Luther W. Frazier (1827-1884) in 1877. The envelope shows her name as either Linda or Cinda (I think the latter) which would have been short for Cinda. Linda was not a common name at the time. The recipient of the letter was yet unmarried in 1865 and lived in Farmer Center, Defiance county, Ohio. The author—whose given name might have been Ellie—lived in Dalton, Ohio. Dalton is located in Sugar Creek Township in Wayne county, approximately half way between Wooster and Canton. In the 1860s, its population was about 2500.
In her letter, Ellie (if that was her name) provides an account of Dalton in April 1865, where a sense of jubilation emerged upon the news of Richmond’s fall and Lee’s army’s surrender, yet this triumph was swiftly overshadowed by the profound sorrow following Lincoln’s assassination.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Addressed to Miss Cinda Hughes, Farmer Center, Defiance County, Ohio
Dalton [Wayne county, Ohio] April 16th 1865
Dear Friend Cinda,
I received your letter some time ago and should have answered it before this but thought I would serve you the same way you did me. I thought you was never a going to answer my letter but enough of that.
This is a very gloomy day—about as gloomy as the news is. The folks were almost crazy here when the news came Richmond was taken and Lee had surrendered. They rung all the bells in town and have had bonfires almost every evening this week. We sent off for music and speakers. The men thought the war was about over but the news this evening is very sad. How I would like to choke the man that killed Lincoln. Hanging is too good for him. The flags are all half-masted and trimmed with crepe. Every thing is in mourning for those men that [were] assassinated.
I received a letter last evening from the sister of a school mate of mine. She moved out West a short time ago and her and I have been corresponding for some time. I thought as much of her as a sister. Her sister said she had been dead a few days before my letter reached them. You can’t imagine how bad I feel about it. The last letter I got from her she said she was a going to get married in a few weeks and come to see me. The day I looked for her, I heard of her death.
I am staying with the preacher’s children now. He has gone away and came for me to stay. How I wish you could come to Dalton. I would like to see you so well and have a long talk. I have so much to tell you. I have got two photographs of Ed’s he sent me lately. I am going over to see Sue and am going to get some photos taken and will send you one. Uncle Quinny [?] has been very sick. The doctor nor none of the folks thought he would get well. He is some better now. I think with a great deal of care, he will get along. Mr. Wills is very bad. He has the consumption. I don’t think he will live till night. Gust [Augusta] McDowell is very low with the lung fever. I didn’t hear from her today. 1
I am going to do my hat over this week and trim it with broad banded ribbon as that is going to be the style. Sallie McChinny [?] is going out to her sister’s next month. How I wish I could go with her and see you. There is going to be a party in the hall this week. How I wish you was here to attend. I suppose you have taken the eye of some young gentleman there. Come now, Cinda, and confess and tell me when you write again who your beau is and send me his picture. I am anxious to see him.
Today is Easter. Do you remember one Easter out to your house the eggs we colored at Ferrie’s.
Capt. Samuel Bruch (1831-1865)
You must excuse this writing as I have written three letters today and my hand is tired. I can scarcely write. I want you to be more punctual the next time. Mrs. [Eliza] Otis is well. 2 The same thing is the matter with her that was when you left. She got word her brother Sam [Bruch] is dead. He died at Nashville away from any of his folks. He was only sick one day. His wife [Kate] was at Canton at her father’s when he died. They sent for her but he was dead when she got there. Eliza was at Canton at his funeral.
Newt Fletcher 2 has been home for some time. He just went back a short time ago. Hannah Warden came here [to see him]. We had gay times when he was here. We was some place every evening or some person was at our house. I will have to stop as I have no more paper to write. I could talk all day to you. Write soon and oblige your dear friend—Ellie
Jore [Marjorie or Margaret?] is all right. I guess she ain’t going to write to you.
1 Carolina Augusta McDowell (1846-1924) was married in 1868 to William Feasel (1844-1903). She was the daughter of James McDowell (1792-1858) and Nancy S. Durrah (1810-1892) of Sugar Creek, Wayne county, Ohio.
2 Eliza (Bruch) Otis (1839-1917) was the daughter of Jacob Bruch and the wife of Ezekiel D. Otis (1832-1897). They were married in 1858. Eliza’s brother was Capt. Samuel Bruch (1831-1865). He was married to Catharine (“Kate”) Patterson (1836-1911) in 1859. He held a position at Memphis as the Assistant Superintendent in the Military Telegraphy Division. He died on 31 March 1865 at the age of 33.His funeral was in Canton.
3William Newton Fletcher (1843-1915) enlisted as a private in Co. C, 16th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, on 23 April 1861. Mustered out on 18 August 1861. Enlisted as a private in Co. I, 102nd Ohio Volunteer Infantry, on 29 July 1862 at the age of 19. Mustered out on 30 June 1865 at Nashville, TN. He married Hannah Elizabeth Warden (1845-1882).
I could not find an image of McKee here is a watercolor of Pvt. Samuel M. Greer who served in Co. D, 131st Pennsylvania Infantry (Photo Sleuth)
The following letters were written by James Bennett McKee (1835-1908), the son of George C. McKee (1806-1888) and Mary A. C. Bennett (18xx-1871) of Watsontown, Northumberland county, Pennsylvania. He wrote the letters to his sister, Mary C. McKee (1845-1923) while serving as a private in Co. B, 131st Pennsylvania Infantry—a nine-month’s regiment. James mustered into the service on 8 August 1862 and mustered out of the service on 23 May 1863.
The 131st Pennsylvania was attached to the 2nd Brigade, 3rd Division, 5th Army Corps in the Army of the Potomac. They arrived too late to participate in the Battle of Antietam but they fought at Fredericksburg and at Chancellorsville. At Fredericksburg, they suffered 177 casualties in just an hour and a half during an aggressive assault on Marye’s Heights.
Letter 1
Camp near Fredericksburg January 1, 1863
Dear Sister,
It is with pleasure that I seat myself to pen a few lines to you to let you know that I am well, hoping that this may find you all the same. Your letter was received on Monday and was glad to hear that you were all well. It has been almost five months since I left home but the time has passed very quickly although soldiering is hard business.
I have received no box yet and have given up all hopes of getting it so I will have to spend my New Years without a roast. There has several boxes come for the regiment but they were expressed from home. Josie Moore received one this morning valued at nine dollars which cost but two which makes me think that [John H.] Cooner might have brought mine through for five that father gave him for the expense on it if he had tried.
I suppose that Bub has got able to go out sleigh riding by this time. It is rather singular about him but I think that if he knew the reports he would not want them to follow him home, but there is one thing that I don’t want you to do and that is not to get yourself into trouble about him.
You said that you hoped that I might be sick if we would have to go into another battle. I think that is very wrong in you for which would be the worse of the two.
I would have liked to have been at the wedding to have seen Solomon but I suppose that he done his nicest. You said that you did not think much of my mess mates Dentler and [William] Stitzel are rather bad, but there is not a quieter boy in the whole company than Ellis Irwin. But I do know that there are enough that are worse.
We were all very sorry to hear of the death of Mr. Hutchison and pity the boys very much. Rob[ert] has gone home. I hope that he may have time to recruit up before he will have to come back for he has not looked as well for a few days as he might.
The reason that i did not write sooner after the battle is that I was about worn out and as the rest was writing, I thought you would find out through them that I was still among the living. I judge from the way that you speak of the singing that you do not attend. The tick[ ] must be fancy and I would judge the tend and alto was also.
The company are out on review but I am not along. I told Captain [David Bly] that I wanted to write so he excused me. The boys are all well except Volintine Truckenmiller. He has been sick for a few days but is some better this morning.
As I have given you all the news that I know, I will close hoping this may find you all well and enjoying yourselves. Give my love to the family and all enquiring friends and relatives. From your brother, — Jas
Letter 2
Camp near Falmouth, Virginia February 24th 1863
Dear Sister,
Your letter of January 28th came to hand last evening which was gladly received as I thought you had forgotten me altogether. I am well at present and enjoying myself as usual. We have had very stormy weather for the last week and the snow is nearly a foot deep here at the present time so you may judge for yourself whether we have a pleasant time or not.
You want to know what has become of Ben [Troup]. He is still with the living but gets sick sometimes as well as the rest of us. Dan C. flourishes finely and is liked by all the company for he is lively.
As for Ambrose [Lamm], I think that he gets along very well but he is sick a good part of his time. But I like him better than when he was at home. He said the reason that he gave Annie up was because the people had begun to take it in earnest and he thought that it was time to stop.
As for getting a furlough, I suppose that I might get one, but then the trouble of getting it would cost as much labor as I would have pleasure by getting it. You are mistaken about the Alie Jinn being one of the prisoners at Murfreesboro. It was his brother for Alie is in our company. I was to see the boys last evening. They were all well and enjoying the snow as well as can be expected under present circumstances.
I will now close as news is scarce and I want to write to Jane and send it with this. Give my love to all enquiring friends and acquaintances—especially your friend Solomon. Your brother, — Jas
[to} Mary C. McKee
P. S. You can have the pleasure of knowing that Aunt’s box reached me before your letter and that I am living on the things that were in it.
Letter 3
Camp near Falmouth February 28th 1863
Dear Sister,
As I received your letter a few days ago and, having some leisure time, I thought I would divert my thoughts in writing to you. I am well and hope this may find you the same. We have had very stormy weather this weeks and it looks is if it would not be much better for some time to come. I hope that you may succeed in catching John if you try for I do not think that you would prefer any of the boys that I mess with now although they are very fine fellows. As Cooner is not much better yet, I hope that he will be before we get home if ever we do for he will have to open his saloon if Tommy has to close his. I think that Wash will soon get through if he attends so regular but I would pity him if the draft should happen to catch him as his wedding is coming so near.
The regiment appear to have plenty of work to do now. They are on picket almost every week which is not very pleasant this stormy weather. There is a picture shop here now so that I will try and send my picture home before long and if I had knew that the Captain would have got home, I would have sent it with him. Heckie and the Watsontown boys are all well and send their best respects to you and the rest of the family. I have not answered the preacher’s letter yet but think that I will next week if nothing happens. I think whoever told you that we do not care anything for one another was very much mistaken for they all appear ot be kind enough to me yet and some of them more so that [when] we were at home.
As for the Emeline that you spoke of, you will have to be plainer for I do not know that I have one. But one thing is sure and that is I do not receive many letters but what comes from home. But I am beginning to think that there will be no need of me bringing a beau home with me for you as long as you have Solomon. So handy, I will now have to close as I am on guard and my relief goes on at one o’clock and my time is nearly up. Give my love to all enquiring friends and acquaintances, saving a good portion for yourself. I am as ever your brother, — James
Spared & Shared 23 