1864 Diary of Allen David Frankenberry, U. S. Signal Corps

July 14, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following diary was written by Allen David Frankenberry (1841-1878), the son of Samuel Lewis Frankenberry (1819-1899) and Elizabeth Dilliner (1819-1904) of Springhill township, Fayette county, Pennsylvania. A biographical sketch from the History of Fayette county informs us that he attended the common schools of Springhill till he was 20 years old when he went to Waynesburg College in Greene county. He remained at college till August 20, 1862 when he enlisted as a volunteer in Co. K, 15th Pennsylvania Cavalry. He was engaged in the battles of Antietam, Stones River, and in May, 1863, was made an orderly at Gen. Rosecrans headquarters where he remained until 14 October 1863.

He was disabled in September of that year while carrying a dispatch from Bridgeport, Alabama, by way of Trenton, Georgia, to Gen. Stanley, near Rome, Georgia. The journey in the intense heat brought on a disability from which he never entirely recovered. Upon the successful delivery of this message depended the evacuation of Chattanooga—an almost impregnable position—by Bragg. His service was rendered on the 19th day of September 1863; was so disabled, as to have to be sent to the hospital, where he remained until April, 1864, when he was transfered to the Signal Corps of the US Army and was detailed to the 14th Army Corps at Ringgold, Ga. He participated in all of the engagements of Sherman’s army till the Battle of Jonesboro, Georgia, Septemver 1, 1864, when he was ordered to Kenesaw Mountain and was present when the famous, “Hold the Fort,” was sent from Sherman to General Corse at Allatoona. Mr. Frankenberry still has in his possession the signal flag by means of which this message was sent, and holds it as an invaluable relic of the war. He was mustered out of the service on 30 June 1865, and returned to Pennsylvania where he engaged in the lumbering business in 1867, in which he is still ebgaged at Point Marion in the firm of Keyser & Frankenberry. He was married in 1869 to Miss Carrie E. Conn.

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Memorandum Book of Allen D. Frankenberry, Signal Corps, U. S. A. Chattanooga, Tenn.

Should this book ever be lost, or should the owner ever fall in defense of the “Starry Flag,” the finder of this will please send it to my Father or Mother at their address, — Morris X [Cross] Roads, Fayette County, Penna. My parents names are Samuel and Eliza Frankenberry and they will be glad to have any news of me should I fall or should anything happen to me. — A. D. Frankenberry

I am under Capt. Case and Lt. Hollopeter, Headquarters of the 14th Army Corps, Dept. of the Cumberland, Ringgold, Georgia. April 15, 1864

I am with Lt. Hollopeter, Chief of Signals, Headquarters, Dept. of the Cumberland, December 1st 1864

March 7th 1864. Early this morning I was prepared for my journey. I bade farewell to my dear friends, jissed dear mother and fond sisters, shook hands with father and brothers, and mounting my horse rode away. It may be never to return. God only knows.

I left home this time in better cheer than I did before. I had a very pleasant trip too Uniontown and at 1.20 p.m., took the train for Connellsville. A quick passage through a beautiful country brought us to C. Changed cars, saw Benj. F. All well. Keep on for Pittsburgh, passing down the Yonghiegheny River to its mouth, then down the banks of the Monongahela to Pittsburgh. We had some gay boys on the train and plenty of ladies. I met Dr. Robinson on the cars. He is a real gentleman. Pass by the old battlefield where Braddock fell and Washington fought so well. Honored spot. Lovely place. At dark arrived in Pittsburgh. Put up at the Mansion House. Out over the city. But why that booming cannon? Why rush the populace? Why the shouts of gladness? Lt. Gen. U. S. Grant is in the city. I saw the noble hero and heard him say when asked to make a speech that he was “too young.”

At about 11 o’clock I did not feel very well. My cough was very severe and a strange soreness in my breast. Did not get to sleep any at all.

[March] 8th. Left Pittsburgh on the 1.40 a.m. train for Crestline. Slept a little on the cars. At Alliance [Ohio] at daylight. Do not feel very well. The dampness and cloudy, foggy weather sets rough on me. [At] Massion, veterans of the 76th Ohio Veteran Volunteers got aboard. Young, noble-looking boys. Wooster—the oldest town in Ohio, M ansfield, Crestline. Change cars for Columbus &c. Crestline is a beautiful city and is well located. Move on to Columbus, passing over very beautiful country.

In the cars near me were several members of the Legislature of Ohio. Pass Columbus for Cincinnati. Xenia. Veterans getting aboard. Charleston. Here the noys got out, went to a liqour shop, rolled out a barrel of ale and took all they wanted. Went to a tin shop, took coffee boilers, tins, &c., and carried off all they could. Well, they had a high old time on the cars after that. Such noise I never heard from any set of boys. I was heartily sick of it and glad when we arrived at Cincinnati. I went to the Spencer House. Tried to find a Military Hospital but failed and as I was sick and tired, I lay down but did not sleep much. My cough was very severe and affected me seriously. My right lung appears to be badly affected and is very painful.

[March] 9th. Rest very little last night but paid 78 cents for a bed. Had no appetite to eat anything. Went to the Medical Director and asked him if I was not able to travel to send me to an hospital. He said I was not fit to travel and sent me to Seminary Hospital.

*Cincinnati, Ohio, as it appeared from Covington, Kentucky, in 1862.*

SEMINARY HOSPITAL IN COVINGTON, KENTUCKY

Just as I left I had a chill and felt very sick. Cross the Ohio on a steam ferry boat and after hard work, reach the hospital. Was soon in Ward 6. The doctor pronounced my disease Intermittent Fever and Pneumonia. Gave me quinine and cough syrup. I was very sick and eat nothing today.

[March] 10th. Do not feel much better today. Fever very high. Lung very sore and painful when I cough or move. Eat nothing.

[March] 11th. Am feeling no better. Am tired and very sore. Still quinine, [and more] quinine. Oh how I loath the mean stuff, yet how am I to help it? Three ladies came in to see us this afternoon.

[March] 12th. Am feeling better this day than I have this week. Was up a few moments and then had a vomit. Wrote a letter to my sisters and to Miss C[onn] of H.

[March] 13th Sunday. Inspection as usual. This looks like old last winter times. How different this Sabbath to what the last was to me. Then I was with my best friends in my happy home. Now in this miserable place. I hope I will soon get away from here. How different I spent last night and last night a week [ago]. Then I was as happy as I could be. Now sick. I wrote three letters to my friends this afternoon.

[March] 14th. Still gaining strength slowly. Up nearly all day. Snowing today and looking quite like winter again. I am slowly gaining strength.

[March] 15th. Cold today. I’m still feeling better—all but my lung. It is very sore and painful. Writing letters.

[March] 16th. Walked out of the house today for the first time. Very cool weather and this prison life does not agree with me, This place is more of a prison than any place I have been in yet. I am sick of it and wish I could get away to Nashville. Obtained a book from the Chaplain to wile away the weary hours of pain.

[March] 17th. Still feeling much better, the soreness leaving my lung and I am beginning to have some life again. Still very cool. Cannot get out to buy apples or anything of the kind.

[March] 18th. I am still gaining very fast. Appetite good and everything working well. My right lung is not quite well but is feeling much better. This afternoon the sun shines out beautifully and clear. How I wish this was not such a prison of a place. How I would enjoy myself. But the “powers that be” have otherwise decreed. Wrote a letter to my sisters.

[March] 19th. Rather cool today. Yet the sun shines out clearly and beautiful and removes a part of the gloom otherwise present. I am still gaining and but little soreness remains in my lung. But some days past I was vaccinated in the arm and now that is quite painful and getting very sore. I have but little enjoyment in this place. Sometimes we are cheered by the presence of ladies yet hteir visits are like any—“few and far between.” Some came to my bedside last week and said, “Well my good fellow, you are trying to be sick.” I thanked her and told her I was not trying to be sick as I could be sick without much effort and that I wanted to be getting away from this place. I wanted to go down “front” and do my duty. One asked if I did not want to go North to go home. I told her I had just been at home and had now a desire to see the front again.

Today has been cleaning up day and we now look very clean and nice. I am sure this building does not wear the same gay appearances it did when it was the temporary home of the fair daughters of Kentucky. Oh that these old venerable walls could talk that they might tell of the times passed within their enclosure. I’ll bet they could tell us some good ones. Had a dinner of bread, meat, bean soup, and cabbage. Gay, was it not!

[March] 20th. Sabbath day. Clear, cool, yet beautiful. How manly the church bells ring in the clear still air, calling the people to worship the true and living God. Am still feeling better yet my arm is very sore. Wrote a letter to Will G. Conn. I am beginning to get fat and looking well. I am glad and hope I shall soon leave here. Late this afternoon two good ladies came int the ward and with them I had a very pleasant shot. They were real true Union ladies, well educated and refined. How much good it does me to have an opportunity to converse with a lady. How much it appears like the sweet enjoyments of home.

[March] 21st. Today I will try and get out of this prison so I applied for a pass and at 1 p.m. obtained one. Then I felt free and happy once more. I went with a light, free step to the Ohio River and was soon crossed over on the steam ferry boat to Cincinnati. Cincinnati was alive with ladies and full of pedestrians. Fifth Street was completely jammed with the bounty of Cincinnati and I enjoyed my walk finely. I went into “Field’s Photo Gallery” and had fifteen pictures taken for eighty-five cents. They were all small but very good. I also had a negative taken at “Cowan’s Gallery.” Bought a haversack for $1.75 and well pleased with my trip, came back to prison life again.

*The Signal Corps jacket usually had 11 small eagle buttons and 3 buttons on each cuff. Crossed flags insignia on arm.*

I do not think the people of Cincinnati ever saw a Signal Corps flag before as all admired the flags I wore on my arms. I often heard the remark, “What a beautiful uniform! How well that young soldier looks! Can you tell what those flags on his arms mean? How beautiful they look!” Many asked and were quite surprised to know I was a member of the renowned Signal Corps. I came back gay and happy as a young lark.

I never yet wrote a description of the worn and present messmates with whom I have been spending prison life in this place. we havea good room on the third floor of the Seminary Building, about 45 feet long and 12 wide. 15 feet of one end is partitioned off for a washing and bathing room. Here we have warm and cold water all the time handy. In the other room are six beds, each occupied so I have six messmates. In the north end, looking towards the city, is a large window. On the east side is a door leading to the stairway. In the south end is the wash room, connected by a door. On the west side a door leading into Ward 5. Also a good old-fashioned fireplace with a small grate around which we in this cold weather delight to gather, to talk of home and those we love so well. Here often the young ladies who once attended this institution gathered and we often talk of them and imagine how they passed the time. But why need we think of them! Altogether we have fun times and plenty of fun. While I was low, my meals were sent up to me and that still continues so that now, as I have an awful appetite, I eat about seven meals each day. No wonder I am getting fat.

[March] 22nd. Am feeling quite well today. The sun comes out in full glory this morning. How beautiful the King of Day sun. How I love his bright rays and sweet loveliness. I had a good dinner today on fresh fish but I had to pay for it as I bought the fish and had them cooked. While here I have read “Napoleon adn his Marshalls.” I found it quite interesting. I live to read of Murat and his splendid cavalry charges.

[March] 23rd. The day has been warmer and much more pleasant the past few weeks. I was up on the top of the building this afternoon from which I had a glorious view of Covington, Newport, Kentucky, and Cincinnati, Ohio. Oh, it was a grand sight to see these three cities spread out at my feet. I shall never forget it. The tall spires of the churches of Cincinnati were in grandeur before me. Tis time the smoke of foundries &c. filled the air, yet through the gloom we could penetrate and see the beautiful hills beyond the city, the Ohio River, Licking River, and many other objects of much interest. Found some splendid turnips and foraged for a mess of them.

[March] 24th. No letters from home yet. I have been more than two weeks and have not received a letter yet. “But there’s a good time coming” and that gives me hope. I took a bath last night and rested well afterwards and feel well today. I have an enormous appetite. Can eat anything adn plenty of it. Bought half gallon of milk for ten cents this morning. Very pleasant out of doors today. I wish I was not in prison. I would feel “gay and happy.”

What shall I write in my diary this evening? Really I do not know. I have been in Ward 6 all day reading the telegraphic dispatches so that Lt. Gen. Grant is not going to have any news of the Potomac Army but has work for it to do. We all think he is a “hunky boy” and the prospect for an early move is`everywhere entertained. Then, “How are you, General Lee?” Hope Grant will have a good old time and plenty of “hard tack.”

The boys of the ward are all reading. Some lounging on the settee. We have just had a good supper of bread, tea and butter and I feel like foraging for some turnips. Write a “wanted [correspondence]” note to the C[incinnati] C[ommercial] today. I hope I will have plenty of answers when I get to the front. “How are you handsome vet of the Signal Corps, USA.” Hope I’ll not feel like one forsaken, forsaken, forsaken—nary me!

[March] 25th. Snowing this morning but it might as well rain as the snow all melts as fastas it falls. But it’s no use talking, folks will put on airs. So let ’em. I was “badly mad” this morning because the newspaper carrier did not bring my [Cincinnati] Commercial. I will thank him if he dowes not walk up to the road. Surely a dull day, very dreary and giving us no pleasure.

[March] 26th. The dullness slowly wears away. The “King of Day” comes out in full glory. I obtained a pass and was now in Cincinnati and what a crowd thronged the streets. Ladies by the score are passing along. Beauty, loveliness, and sweetness wre all abroad in their glory. I saw some of the prettiest ladies today I ever saw. They really were handsome but I know not how good they are. Hope they are as pretty in their character and disposition as they are in looks. I had another lots of “Gems” taken today. They were finished by a beautiful young lady who was gay and happy.

I met an “Anderson” [Anderson Cavalry/15th Pa. Cav.] today—the only person I have seen I knew since I left Uniontown. Ryan [?] was in the best of health. He is in the Veteran reserve Corps and is a clerk. Left a “wanted” note at the [Cincinnati] Commercial and had to pay one dollar for its insertion. I hope I will have plenty of fun from its effect on the beauty of the West. Gay boy I will be thus “Hunky boy.”

Having seen the city with its beauty and pleasures, and having been fully complimented for the gay uniform I rore and the “Signal flags” attracting the usual attention, I left the city well pleased with my visit. I came back in the best of spirits and wish I could only get out every day. I would be much pleased but I hope I will get away in a few days.

[March] 27th. This is Easter Sunday but we do not have the eggs. I surely would if I was at home. We have a glorious, beautiful day. The glorious King of health, light, and life, mounts the heavens in full glory. The air is balmy and invigorating. But hark! What sounds reach my ears! Tis the many church bells pealing forth their sweet music, ringing over the entire three cities. How glorious, how sweet, how cheering the cheering sounds come to my ears! O, is not the music grand? How I feel its effects and how it calls our minds away from the things of this life to the noble things of heaven, love, and God. O how we are carried to the home of saints free from the cares of this transitory life. Yes, these we may [ ] free from sin, death and sorrow.

After inspection we met and partook oof the Lord’s Supper. O that we may not soon forget its obligations and duties.

This afternoon I was again up on the top of the house. The smoke wasall cleared away, the air is light and clean, and the cities lay in all their beauty before me. This was the best view of any city I ever had. It was magnificent. It was sublime. It was grand. Here lay three cities at my feet! All was hushed, still, and very quiet. I enjoyed the scene very much and came down well pleased with what I had seen.

Commenced to write to Carrie but was interrupted by the entrance of the same lady that visited us last Sunday. She was very kind, full of gentleness and talk. Such ladies may accomplish much good and will ever be well remembered by the good soldiers for the act of kindness. Finished my letter to Carrie and sent her a “Gem[type].” Am happy.

[March] 28th. My name was taken this morning to go to the front. I am not at all sorry as I am very glad to get away from here. Still the place has become very pleasant and I have found many noble boys here, the cities are full of life, joy, happiness, and beauty, many happy associations cluster around this place, and I shall ever remember the kind attentions I have received. I shall not forget Sergt. I. Horsey was was always gay and in the best of humor. “Sarg” is a “hunky boy.”

In the afternoon, quite a gale commenced and continued all evening. Just as we were going to bed, we commenced a joke on one of the boys and I laughed till I was almost dead. We had [illegible—faded ink].

[March] 29th. Just after breakfast I got marching orders and wassoon ready for the “advance,” but have to wait until after dinner. I am sorry to leave this place and yet I wish to see the glory of the front. I have ben absent so long and O what joy it will be to meet my friends once more. I am sure I will be gay with them yet. We will talk of those whose spirits have gone from the tented fields of glory to share the rewards of the good and noble. Many have fallen! We will weep for them as we weep for those whom we love, for those who are noble, good and brave.

LYTLE BARRACKS, CINCINNATI

Just after dinner I bid goodbye to my room mates and with a light step, left Seminary Hospital. Went down to the post commandant, Capt. Murphy, and from there to Cincinnati. Took the street cars on 4th Street for the “Lytle Barracks.” Down 4th, then up to and down 5th to the end, then down to the end of 6th to the barracks. As i walked in, a burst of welcome met me. “Fresh fish!!” came from all sides. I soon knew what kind of boys I had for company. About 200 men were here from as many different regiments. I did not know one man. I saw how I was caught. Noise, filth, stench, curses loud and deep mingled together in a strange confusion. I looked out of a window and a musket was leveled at my head and I was ordered by a “condemned Yank” to keep inside.

I trembled. Visions of Castle Thunder, Libby Prison, and “Rebs” came to my mind—and this in the noble city of Cincinnati! I could scarcely believe my own eyes. Met an Anderson [Anderson’s Cavalry/15th Pa. Cav.] who came up to see me. Fall in for supper. Bought a cup for 25 cents. Bread, coffee and meat for dinner. Good enough for a soldier. Now for a bed. No blanket but lay my head on my sachel and a gum blanket and overcoat me. I after many turns, thoughts of home, soft couches, and “graybacks,” went to sleep.

[March] 30th. Did not sleep much last night. I was almost frozen. O, I was cold. Up long before daylight. I never saw such an humor in any set of boys in my life. All keenly fely the injustice done them. We were all convalescents and veterans, and not deserters [or] convicts, but were returning of our own will to the front. Breakfast of coffee, meat, and bread. Quite a change since the last. I am not in the best of humor but don’t let on.

Evening. Well if this has not been a memorable day, I do not know. I never spent such an one. Squads were continually going off. As soon as their names were called, they flew to their traps with a rush [and] a yell. Each tried to see how much mischief he could do. All made as much noise as they could. Card playing, cursing, swearing, whistling, talking, singing, laughing, and in fact, all kinds of noise was the order of the day. The “Condemned Yanks” was the theme of contempt and scorn of us.

Our meals were brought up to us. We could not get out of the place. I got plenty, such as it was. Prepare for another night’s rest.

[March] 31st. Mornig again and here I am in this horrible place. Yet I slewpt more last night than I did the night before. I was cold and chilly. Some went off but my fate was to stay. Soon we had more “Fresh Fish! Fresh Fish!” Boys lay down in the filth and slept. O! it was awful. I do not fancy. Yesterday guards were brought up to keep the boys still at dinner but today we had none and such a time I never had. Cursing, swearing, pushing, each for himself. O! it was rough.

Ho! for Louisville. What a rush! Who will be the happy boy—I am one. Soon ready and away we went to the Gen. Lytle Mail Boat, about two miles to the landing. The happiest set of boys you ever saw. As we passed along, you could hear the boys sing out, “Wait till the 15th of April. The draft will catch you. Come on Boys!”

Soon on our way to Louisville, Beautiful scenery! Grand, glorious river. Pass Lawrenceburg, Aurora, Rising Sun—a lovely place [with] gay girls. Had a supper of bread, beef steak, butter, and coffee by the quart. But how about a bed? Well pile down on boxes, barrels, and dirt. I did not sleep well owing to the fact I lay cross the sharp edge of a box.

APRIL 1864

[April] 1st. At 3.30 we arrive at Louisville. Marched up to the Exchange Barracks. Well this is the place. Breakfast of bread sour and black coffee. I drank 3 pints. An awful cold place. Rain and O! how heavy. Hark! Bugle notes mdae by the post band. How sweet and cheering. Rain, rain, rain all day long, and Louisville is a most miserable place on a raint day. Nothing to see. Nothing to do. Nothing to read in this cold, damp, filthy place. Knowing no one and no such company. O! I was sick of it yet had to stay if I endured all the torments of the ______.

Dinner! Well there, if that don’t beat you, “I’ll eave.” Some bread, spoiled beef, water soup. and dirty water, about half of all filth. But this was “All Fool’s Day.” And I was one of the fooled. Jokes were numerous and rough. At dark, I lay down to rest.

[April] 2nd. Did not sleep but nearly froze. I still had no blankets. Up early expecting to go to Nashville. When my name was not called, I was muchly mad. I could have whipped Louisville. But what good would that do? So I was quiet. A lot of recruits came in and a lot of sharps came up to sell to them. They should have been kicked downstairs. In the evening I found the acquaintance of _________, Co. I, 9th Indiana Infantry. He has been a clerk at Gen. Palma’s Headquarters. He was alone, happy and gay. So I kept by him that night. We cut a lot of wood, made up a good fire, and was soon acquainted. We had a gay time and when tired lay down to sleep.

[April] 3rd. Slept pretty well last night. Up at 3 a.m.. Fared sumptuously and then was ready to leave Louisville. This time I was one of the lucky boys and soon was down ready for the advance. My friend and I headed the column. We went in the back yard of the Provost Marshall’s and got our rations. Away to the cars and at a good rate we led the column and ran off from the guards. Took our our seats in good cars but rough seats without cushions. After much delay we pulled out at 7 a.m. bound south. We went at a rapid rate. Passing Shephardstown on Salt River, Elizabethtown, Mumfordsville on Green River. We crossed on a very high bridge. Bowling Green, Franklin and Galatin and came to Nashville at 6 p.m. 185 miles. Marched up to [Zollicoffer’s] Barracks on Cherry and Church. “Roll call” and then a voice: “Are there any furloughed men here?” Yes! “Come this way, give your name and rank. Report to your quarters.” I asked no questions and was soon in [U. S. General Hospital] No. 8, and then to Ward 1. Met Ellis. Rested, washed, and asked and answered a thousand questions. Got 9 letters. Read part of them and at last lay down on a sofa to sleep.

*Lt. George S. Fobes, Regimental Quartermaster 15th Penn. Cav.*

[April] 4th. Well here I am 337 miles from Cincinnati in [Hospital] No. 8 again. Went out and had to shave. Saw Lt. [George S.] Fobes and a lot of Anderson’s [Anderson’s Cavalry/15th Pa. Cav.]. Went up to see Miss Jewett. Had a good talk with her. Miss Chase in Louisville. All over the city and back up to my old haunts in No. 8—linnen room, baggage room, and in Miss I’s room. Left photo with ______. No chance to go south.

[April] 5th. Slept well last night. Packed my sachel full of things for the boys down front. Meet my friend from Palmer’s Headquarters. Had a good talk with him. Met my old friend “Smokey” Moyer of Co. K, A. C. Good time. No chance to go to front yet but Lt. [George S.] Fobes told me he would try to get me through. Hope I will get off tomorrow. I did not say I was at Major Gen. [Lovel H.] Rousseau’s, Major Gen. [William T.] Sherman’s and Gen. [Gordon] Granger’s yesterday and was well received at all places.

*Miss Mary Jewett worked as a nuse in Hospital No. 8 in nashville. In later years she was a published author and lecturer on temperance.*

[April] 6th. Had a pretty good breakfast this morning. Then went to see Lt. [George S.] Fobes. We was soon at Lt. Col. [John] Donaldson’s office and in half a minute had my transportation to the front. Hunky Boy! Gay Chap!! Lt. Fobes signed for me and now I am ready to leave.

This is a most beautiful day. The sun shines clear and warm. I do not know how to get all my baggage down to the front. Miss Jewett gave me a sachel full of things for the boys and for myself. How good and noble she is. I shall never forget her kindness to me. May God bless her.

Evening. Well here I am again in No. 8. I bid farewell to my friends, went to the depot, but lo! there was no passenger train and I was doomed to disappointment. I gathered my baggage and came back. I came in [ ] my coat at Albert Ellis, 1st Ohio Vol. Cavalry, and sang out, “Hello boy! Do you want to hear the news from Chattanooga? Shook hands and felt gayly.

[April] 7th. Last night I had the sweet pleasure of meeting Miss Chase. She had been up to see her friends at Cincinnati and to regain her health. She had been over at Seminary Hospital, Covington, Ky., but I was gone. She told me how sadly she was disappointed. I had quite a chat with her.

This morning I was down at the Chattanooga Depot and was promised to get away at 4.30 p.m. but still it is quite doubtful. I left my overcoat and two shirts and a blanket with the Christian Commission. I am now in Ward 1 and as I look over the beds of sickeys I well remember when I was confined here. Ah! how well I remember how much I suffered here and just as well do I remember how kindly I have been treated by my friends. Miss Chase, Miss Jewett, and Dr. Johnson are persons I shall never forget. I love them. I admire them as noble friends of the soldiers. They all will do anything for the suffering. Oh that it was in their power to do all their heart’s desire to do. Dr. Johnson has gone home. Miss Chase is not well, and Miss Jewett has much more than she can do. Why do not more ladies—grand noble ladies—come from the North and labor for the good of the suffering boys of our armies.

At 3.30 I again bid adieu to my friends, Miss Chase and others, made my way to the depot, found a large crowd, made sure my papers were all right, and then waited until the military conductor came. What a rush! What jostling and pushing. I never saw men in such a rush. I got aboard finely. A “Signal Boy” had his papers examined just before me and the officer asked where is the other man?” “Signal” says, “Here he is,” and I passed in. Soon we were away. How sad I feel as I leave the “City of Rocks.” I cast a farewll glance at No. 8 and remembered it as my home. Here is the vast “home of the dead” where repose the bones of thousands who have fallen by the hand of disease. Farewell comrades! Sleep on! Though fallen, ye are not forgotten! Often do I see you as when ye were with us in manhood’s full glory. Your death will nerve us to noble deeds of valor and renown. Again sleep on heroes.

“Twenty minutes for supper.” R. R. Eating House. My pardner bought two tickets and soon we were down at the table and in the “twenty minutes” has a good supper and were back in the cars. Well we had a rough road to Chattanooga but came down all safe, crossing the immense bridge at Bridgeport, the Tennessee, grand and glorious rolls at my feet in full majesty. Lookout Mountain rises with grandeur in the distance while in front the forts and rifle pits make up a grand picture never to be forgotten.

I came into the city of Chattanooga and soon reported to Capt. Babcockm Chief of Signals, and soon was with a lot of A. C.’s . Went over to the [ ] and had a gay time, You ought to have seen me shake hands. I was really tired. All the boys are gay and in the best of health. I was assigned to the 14th Army Corps and expect to report for duty in a few days. Had a good supper of warm bread, meat, and hot coffee. Gay, was it not? Got 8 letters, two of them marked “F. Hucky” [his pen pal name].

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July 14, 2026 Griff

12th Vermont Infantry

1862-64: James Redlon Holt to Dudley Barker Holt

July 13, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The letters penned by Pvt. James Redlon Holt (1845-1864), an 18 year-old youngster who enlisted on 15 November 1861 with Co. G, 12th Maine Infantry, tell a haunting story of sacrifice and valor. This young man, the son of Rev. Dudley Barker Holt and Susan M. Redlon from Gorham, Androscoggin County, Maine, found himself swept into the chaos of war. In the sweltering heat of Louisiana, where the 12th Maine was stranded for most of its service, he poured his heart onto paper. Just as the light at the end of the tunnel seemed near, with mustering out on the horizon, fate had a cruel twist in store. The regiment was called back East, only to face the brutal carnage of the 3rd Battle of Winchester in September 1864, where James met a tragic end on 19 September 1864—“killed by a cannon ball”—just two months before completing his three-year enlistment. What a visceral reminder of the brutality of war and the fragility of life!

Serving with James and mentioned in some of his letters was his Uncle Darius Holt (1820-1875) who enlisted at the age of 42 and served several months until his health failed and he was discharged for disability. Darius was living in Minot with his wife, Mercy Ann (Lord) Holt (1828-1902) and six children when he enlisted.

These letters are from the private collection of a Holt family descendant and were sent to me for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.

*James’s parents, Rev. Dudley and Susan (Redlon) Holt in later years (Family Collection)*

Letter 1

*1863 map of New Orleans & vicinity showing some of the locations mentioned in Holt’s letters.*

[New Orleans]
July 27, 1862

Dearest Annie,

My father says that you say I must write to you. Well now, ain’t you ashamed to be fishing after a fellow in that way. Well I suppose you think it’s war times & the young ladies must court for themselves. Well if I did not think my poor Annie had waited so long for a letter & went away to her room & wept every time the mail brought a letter for her father or Leroy & none for her, I wouldn’t write. You mustn’t think that I have forteen you dearest, for James still loves his Annie best of all, proof of which I send you this pretty picture. You see I’ve marked the place where we stay now (the Mint). We are expecting to leave the mint in a few days & go to a school house uptown. I’be been on picket the last few days. My health is tip top. Darius is about the same. Tom is nearly well. There is no news I think of. I want to see you all. My love to you and the rest. Write soon. From your own, — Jamie

Letter 2

New Orleans, [Louisiana]
August 25, 1862

Dear Father,

As Uncle Darius expects to leave in a day or two for home, I thought I would write you a few lines. My health is very good & I never felt better in my life except that I’ve been & am still troubled with boils—one on my forehead which though not very painful makes my eyes swell so that they feel mighty queer. And now my left eye is a fine-looking object.

Everything goes on pleasantly. I still reain here at the railroad station. There was a policeman shot here a few days ago & though we turned out from our beds in no time, we couldn’t find out who it was. It was probably someone who had a grudge against him. Why don’t you send me more papers? I want you to send $1 to D. T. Pike, Augusta, Maine, for The Age for six months & $1 to Harper’s Brothers, Franklin Square, New York for “Harper’s Weekly” for 20 weeks. If you will do this, I will send you the money to pay for them when we are paid off out of my spending money. You can have them sent to you & read them, then send to me. Now be sure & do it for I want something to read.

I can’t think of anything else to write. Tell Mother not to worry about me now Darius is gone. Darius has been to me all that any man could be. When I was sick, he took care of me & when I was well, he was always near so it seemed like home. But I don’t want him to stay here any longer seeing he gets no better for I can imagine how he feels & you would want him to go home too if you had seen him lying around here on the floor or at best, on a poor bed, and seen how sick and pale he looked. I tell you, much as I would liked to have him been well & stayed here, I would have give $25 rather than not have him go.

From your son, — J. R. Holt

Letter 3

New Orleans [Louisiana]
September 8, 1862

Dear Father,

I received yours of the 15th & Mothers of the 21st a day or two ago & was glad to learn that you were well though sorry to find that my curious letter has made you feel bad for I did not intend it should. I love you as well as my odd nature can, though I don’t take so much pains as I ought to share it & wish never to cause you sad feelings so I’ll tell you why I wrote it.

Lt. [Stephen B.] Packard ¹ asked me one day why I didn’t write to you. I told him I wrote at least once a fortnight. He said you had written to him to know where I was, saying you had not heard from me for a long time. I thought that was queer anyway, but thought no more of it till [Sgt. William A.] Bearce & several others asked me the same. Then for a little while I was mad, but soon got over it. You may easily imagine how a fellow would feel if he thought his officers mistrusted him & his fellow soldiers look on him as a chap who don’t wish to let his father know what he does. Well, I thought I would write you a queer letter & let you know where I was & that I didn’t like to have you write to my officers about me. I thought Darius & Tom could tell you all without any of the others knowing that you didn’t hear from me.

But then, never mind. I know you will not do it again for Lt. B. is not a fellow who can keep such things to himself. Besides, the officers are not inclined to believe me when I tell them how often I write and think they ought not to trust a soldier whose father can’t trust him. Now please, think no more of that letter & when you think I don’t write as I ought, just write to Tom or get Darius to write to Mr. [Nathaniel] Harlow & I won’t care a snap because they will come to me before they tell it to all they see. Don’t think I’ve any hard feelings because I have not.

I am well though the boils are not all gone yet. Tom is well. Tell Darius that Joe Dodge is sick though not dangerous. All the rest are as he left them. Alf and Mahlin & Finley are corporals now. Our regiment moved about 1 mile down to a cotton press which fronts on the levee. It is a monster and is much better than the Hotel & the duty is lighter. I’m still at the Depot & Tom at the Reading Press. ² William is well. Tell mother to stop worrying about me for it will not do any good. Tell her I’ve read the Testament through once and partly again.

As to [Gen.] Butler’s observing the Sabbath, I can’t say for in the army there are none. Things go on about the same one day as another though we do no more than we can help. Tell her not to believe any of the stories about our being taken [prisoners] for it [is not true].

[Remainder of letter missing?]

¹ There is seems to be a descrepancy in the rank of Stephen B. Packard at the time. The following story of Stephen B. Packard and his wife, Emma Frances Steele, whom he married on 31 December 1863, appeared in the Evening Times-Republican of Marshalltown, Iowa, in 12 November 1907 following Emma’s death:

There is also this article on Packard that was oublished in the same paper on 23 May 1908 following his death.

² The “Reading Press” in New Orleans during the Civil War was not a printing mechanism or a newspaper, but rather a prominent riverfront cotton press and warehouse located near the foot of Erato Street. After Union forces captured the city in April 1862, these large industrial structures were used by the Union army and navy to store munitions, coal, and other critical supplies.

Letter 4

Plaquemine (Iberville) Louisiana
January 11, 1863

Dear Father,

I think perhaps you may be wanting to hear from me so I’ll write a few words to let you know that I’m alive & well. We came here from Baton Rouge last Tuesday. P[laquemine] is about 20 miles from B[aton] R[ouge] down river. It is a pretty little city of about 4,000 inhabitants on the right bank of the Mississippi. We came here—that is, Companies G, H, I, & K under command of Capt. Robinson to assist the 52nd Massachusetts in holding this place so as to protect the transports from the guerrillas who are a few miles from here on an island in Bayou Plaquemine. I’ve done nothing since I came here but go on picket one night. We’ve been turned out twice but have seen no rebs.

The Boys here are doing well. Bob Young, Dan Taylor, & Joe Longley have died since I left. In our company, Sergeant Young & both [Henry & Olban] Maxims, White, [William W.] Loring, and Henry & Stewart are more or less sick. The rest are well. We live well here. We have pigs, hens, geese, ducks, calves, sheep & cows in every style of cooking all the time & there’s plenty for us while we stay.

The people here do not seem to suffer for food but they have but little else than sweet potatoes, corn & meat. No flour or any luxuries.

As my journal is getting nearly filled, I wish you would send me one of about 400 pages, about as large as this paper—one without any ruling more than this paper. Send by mail. Please send $3 if you can to Harper’s for their paper for 1 year. I will send you some money the next time we’re paid off to pay for them. I would send some now but I’ve only one dollar which I want to keep if I can till I’m paid off & then I’ll send you 5 dollars so as to square off. I’ll write as often as I can. Send to Baton Rouge as usual. Love to all. Yours on, — J. R. Holt

Letter 5

Fort Banks, Louisiana
November 27 [1863]

Dear Father,

I received yours of the 13th. Was glad to hear you were all alive and not very sick. Sorry that you have to work so hard. If you could only find a small farm (say 30 to 40 aces) with a neat little house & out buildings, I should like it above all things. I should then know my few pennies were safe. But the time I am discharged my money with bounty will be about $400 which with what Gran will have (probably twice that) would pay for a decent little place. If you can find such a one (not an old run down one), buy it if you can. I should like a place to call home, much more to have you and mother have one for as for me, I am young and tough and am well able to battle with this rough world. Though I expect to go to college, I hope I’ll not have to use any money I earn in the war. Don’t work hard [even] if you have to use every cent. But by all means, get a farm if you can.

I am quite well and hearty. Tom has been sick some time with chills. I was over yesterday to see him. He’s doing nicely. [Nathaniel] Harlow & Lieut. are well. So are the rest. There is some talk of our going 30 miles upriver but I guess not. Little or nothing new. Love to all of you. Your son, — James

Letter 6

*Camp Parapet, 8 miles above New Orleans*

Camp Parapet, Louisiana
December 15, 1863

Dear Mother,

I have just received your letter of the 30th ult. and was glad to hear all was well. I am afraid father has bought too large a farm. I think it a poor plan to be in debt, but then he always will.

We are in barracks now & comfortable. I am quite well. Capt. Robinson has got back. All were glad to see him. Tell father not to send for Harper’s any longer. There is very little going now. Times are very dull. Love to all. Yours on, — James

Letter 7

Proctorville, Louisiana
January 8, 1864

Dear Father,

Having received a letter (Dec. 21st) from you, by the train which runs here from New Orleans daily, I hasten to anwser it. I am very well. We have been having the coldest weather I have ever seen in the South. Since we came here (3 weeks nearly) we have had at least 8 rainy days with cold northeast winds which go right through you when you are out doors. It has been very cold even when not raining. When we got up this morning, the water which stood about two inches all around us was frozen solid. It was like last of November in Maine. I never felt so cold in my life as I have lately when out doors, but as we have only 4 hours guard in 3 days and no other duty, we are in[side] most of the time. We have a good house in which Gen. [Godfrey] Weitzel used to live when he was building the fort ¹ here which is unfinished still, not being touched since 1860. We are at the lake end of the Mexican Gulf Railroad, while I was at the City end last year, 27 miles from here. All the company is here under Capt. [Moses M.] R[obinson] whom all like better every day.

Lieut. B. took the death of his child very hard all the more so since the mail which brought your letter brought an acceptance to the resignation which he was allowed to make to escape court martial for being too antic just before we left the fort. That spree was the cause of our leaving. The company all hate him and knowing that made her death much harder. I pitied him, but knew not how to comfort him. He came to me just after the cars came in and handed me your letter but he felt too bad to talk. He walked the room all night. He is a good fellow when he is himself, but he is very easily led astray. I really like him though I think he wil stay here till we go home. You had better not tell his wife about this or anyone else for two reasons. First, it would only hurt him and make him worse and make his wife feel bad. Second, it might still cause hard feelings between him and I and as I like him, I shouldn’t like that. So please don’t say anything to anyone.

I received a Herald & Harper’s [Weekly]. There are several Harper’s I never got. I know not if you have sent them. If not, all right. Tell me next time if you have ever received the Magazine I told you awhile ago I sent for—Leslie’s, I mean.

The regiment is off on an expedition to Pontchartrain [led by Col. W. K.] Kimball with several other regiments. ² I haven’t seen Tom lately. [Nathaniel] Harlow is well. I am glad to know that you have a home at last and are in fair way of paying for it. It is what I have long wanted—to have you in a sure home of your own where I could come and go often as I will. Yes, too glad. What little money I had cheerfully and gladly I gve to you. Never trouble about it. I’ll not want it, I hope. If I could give everything in the world, I should still fell in debt to you.

Love to you and Mother and all. Yours son who really love you, — James

¹ The unfinished fort was Fort Proctor.

² On January 3, 1864, a Federal expeditionary force led by Colonel W.K. Kimball of the 12th Maine Infantry successfully crossed Lake Pontchartrain and occupied Madisonville, Louisiana. The mission aimed to disrupt Confederate smuggling and secure raw materials for the Union Department of the Gulf.

Letter 8

Proctorville, Louisiana
January 20, 1864

Dear Mother,

I have just received your letter and am right glad to hear that you are all so well. I am doing very well. Have only a slight cold in my head which does not trouble me much. [Nathaniel] Harlow is well. I suppose [Sgt. William A.] Bearce will be at home before this but I don’t know. Tom is well and has gone and done [enlisted] for three years more to the tune of $902 bounty [paper creased] and bounty $402 Govt., $100 State and $300 town of Paris. He’ll probably have $1500 or more at the end of his time if he lives. Very good for him. 10 have done the same in our company and about 160 in the regiment. But I think that 3 years service [volunteering] before I was old enough to fear the draft is about as much as I owe the government, don’t you? The money is no temptation. Yet I would [re]enlist were it not that I should be getting too old for college. I shall keep out of it. Those who have [re]enlisted have gone to the City to be mustered.

It is very pleasant here now—just like May or rather October, for we have heavy frosts & chilly mornings. Tell Leroy I don’t understand French but guell I’ll learn it this summer. I could give him a bit of Dutch [German], Latin, or Greek if he wanted it, but no French. If we all live and do well, 10 months from today will see us in the same state unless there is a battle here about that time, which I guess will not be the case. I want to get home and have some good bread and milk. Yet we live well here—good biscuits, meat, fresh fish, potatoes and coffee with beans 3 times in 10 days. So we live comfortably with not enough to do to keep us in health. Love to all and goodbye. From your son, — James

Letter 9

Proctorville, Louisiana
February 21, 1864

Dear Mother,

I have just received your letter & was right glad to hear you are all well. I am tough & hearty as I could wish, live well & feel equal. About 17 men have reenlisted in our company and near 200 in the regiment. I’ll keep out sure—don’t worry at all about it. I have received two magazines lately Haven’t heard from Tom since I wrote before. D[arius]’s regiment is in Algiers, opposite New Orleans, and will go to Franklin, 150 miles nearly from there. I should go & see him but it is too far for my means. We expect pay soon & perhaps I may see him. Surely shall if he don’t go before.

*Michael Hahn (1830-1886) was elected as the 19th Governor of Louisiana in 1864 when the state was occupied by Union troops.*

The State is in no little excitement about the coming election. There are three parties: 1st, Free State men who are opposed to giving negroes same rights as white men but want them free & made to work for pay as [Gen. Nathaniel] Banks does it. 2nd, men who want them to have same privileges as whites, amalgamation and all. 3rd, Copperheads who are few. [Michael] Hahn of the 1st party will be Governor, I think. Hope so anyway. I’m in for giving slaves freedom but don’t want them to vote, hold office, be officers, or marry whites. They’re so lazy they won’t do anything if they can help it. I’ve seen how the thing works and like [Gen.] Banks’ plan best of any. That gives them all they deserve though Abolitionists don’t like it.

We’ve had a bit of snow a few days ago which melted as it fell. Ice was an inch thick or more. We are pretty cold, I tell you, & mighty windy too.

[Nathaniel] Harlow and all are well. He’s not been listed. I’ve got my studies so well along that I can enter college any time. Guess I’ll do it in the fall of ’65, if I live. I’m a none-month’s man & glad of it too. Yes, 9 months from yesterday will end my soldier’s life without doubt. I hope so. Love to you and all. Yours son, — James

Letter 10

New Orleans, Louisiana
April 22, 1864

Dear Father,

I received a letter and paper last night and was glad to hear you were living but sorry you were sick. The veterans have gone. Our company is in D’s quarters with D & I on heavy artillery. Duty is light, good houses, and all nice. I’m in Tom’s old room. I am quite well save that my arm is sore from [smallpox] vaccination. ¹

Times are very busy now. Troops are on the move all the time. Fights and skirmishes daily all over the state. The convention here is fooling away its time in a very silly way—has done nothing it was expected to do yet. ²

Crops are doing finely having been in the ground for 2 months or more. Much cotton is planted. Send papers often. Tell G & D to write. Love to you & all. Your son, — James

¹ A devastating smallpox epidemic swept through New Orleans in 1864 and 1865, taking thousands of lives of freedmen and soldiers in the region.

² The Louisiana Constitutional Convention convened at Libery Hall in New Orleans on 6 April 1864. The convention was called by President Lincoln for the purpose of drafting a new state constitution to include the abolishment of slavery. It ultimately finished its work in late July, granting Black citizenship rights but denied them the right to vote.

Letter 11

Hickock’s Landing, La. ¹
May 18, 1864

Dear Father,

I write his to let you know that I am well as ever. We came here the 16th. It is at the lake end of the shell road where all the New Orleans highbucks drive with their ladies. It is a pleasant place. We were paid a day or two ago and I’ll enclose 15 if I don’t let D[arius] have it. I am going to see him today and think he’ll want to borrow it and pay you when he gets home. I was very glad of those [Portland] Transcripts you sent. Send more and Leslie’s [Illustrated]. Love to all. Yours on, — James

¹ “Hickock’s Landing,” or “Port Hickock,” was situated on the southern shore of Lake Pontchartrain, Louisiana, at the terminus of the New Orleans shell road.

Letter 12

Algiers, Louisiana
July 13, 1864

Dear Father,

As the Locust Point has been sunk and her mail lost, I’ll depart from my sworn rule never to write till I got a letter. Partly, though, because I’ve sent $18 by mail, 15 for me—making 300 in all—and 3 for you. I also sent my journal and a lot of papers by Express leaving the bill to be paid by you. I want you to be sure to let no one see the papers, but put them all in my trunk. Be careful not to lose a single scrap—that is, if they ever come, which may not be as the steamer they went on has been disabled.

I am as tough & hearty as a bear. I weigh near 135 again of more than ten lbs. in a week. I didn’t weigh more than 120 when I was sick. We expect to leave soon for Pensacola, Mobile, or Fort Monroe or somewhere soon though it is hard telling when. We are getting on well.

Love to all. Yours on, — James

The following postcard was sent to James’ mother, Susan Holt, in 1898. It was sent to her in response to an ad she placed in the newspaper as she continued to gather additional evidence or testimony to validate her pension claim—33 years after her son’s death! The pension records in Washington D. C. may have some interesting material in it—possibly even some of James’ letters.

12th Vermont Infantry, Mount Pleasant General Hospital, Washington D. C., Rappahannock Bridge

1862-63: Daniel Webster Rodgers, Augustine W. Rodgers & William Wallace Rodgers to Jacob Rodgers

July 12, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

*The only image of the three soldiers I could find was a poor quality, post-war image of William Wallace Rodgers from which I made this watercolor.*

The following letters were written by Daniel Webster Rodgers (1840-1931) and his brother Augustine W. Rodgers (1843-1893) while serving in Co. B, 12th Vermont Infantry—a nine-month’s regiment organized at Battleboro, Vermont in early October 1862 and sent to Washington D. C. in mid October. Once there, they were attached to Abercrombie’s Division, Military District of Washington. Late in their term of service they sent to the Rappahannock and then marched to Gettysburg but did not participate in the fighting. They mustered out shortly after the battle.

From the 1850 US Census, we learn that Daniel and Augustine were the orphaned children of Frederick William Rodgers (1806-1854) and Lorana Hadley (1806-1856) of Hartland, Windsor county, Vermont.

Included in this same set of letters are two by their cousin, William Wallace Rodgers, the son of Lorenzo Rodgers (1808-1846) and Mary Ann Rood (1812-1880) who also served Co. B, 12th Vermont Infantry.

There is only 1 letter written by Daniel, 3 by Augustine, and two by William. All of them were addressed to Daniel and Augustine’s younger brother, Jacob Rodgers (b. 1846), in Hartland, Vermont.

To read other letters by members of the 12th Vermont Infantry transcribed andpublished by Spared & Shared, see:

Mark P. Bartlett, Co. D, 12th Vermont (1 Letter)
Leonard Emery, Co. D, 12th Vermont (6 Letters)
Silas Goddard Emery, Co. D & F, 12th Vermont (1 Letter)
Oscar F. Marston, Co. D, 12th Vermont (2 Letters)

[My thanks to Abbey Weber Jones for providing me with a first draft of these transcriptions.]

Letter 1

Alexandria, [Virginia]
November 8th 1862

Brother Jacob,

I thought you would like to hear from your old brother Dan. He is alive yet and like[ly] to live some time. I have had a pretty hard diarrhea but I am better now. Augustine has got back to camp but he is very weak yet. I am afraid that he won’t be able to do any duty very soon—if ever. He wants to get a discharge but he can’t get one yet. He had ought to be at home. I am afraid that he never will see Vermont without he does within three months.

We have had a quiet a young winter here. It snowed yesterday most all day. About six inches fell. I should think it looked like Vermont snow storms.

How does my old horse do now? Have you put him up to hay yet? Let him run as long as he does well. When it is time to put him up to hay, set it down and keep run how many weeks you have him up to hay. I want you should let me know how he is doing. Has his ribs got covered up yet? Does he breathe any better than he did? Give him a few potatoes once a week when you get to the barn.

Tell Mr. Burnham to write to me and I will answer it. Tell Betsy that she had better write a line to her cousin if she wants him as a cousin. If she don’t, she had better keep mum. I am a going to write to her as soon as I get time. Tell Mrs. Hatch that Ben is a chopping wood to make our barracks for winter. We have a very good time down in Dixies land. Will is the same old chap that he was in Vermont. He has got so he can eat beans as well as any of us. I would like some Vermont butter and some sausage for Thanksgiving. I shall send for a box when we get settled down.

Write as soon as you can and let me know how things are getting along. Give my respects to all of my inquiring friends. Yours truly, from your brother, — Daniel W. Rodgers

Letter 2

*Mount Pleasant General Hospital (History of Medicine), Washington D. C.*

Mt. Pleasant [Hospital]
February 18th, 1863

Good morning brother Jacob,

How is your health this morning? I received a letter from you yesterday. I was very glad to hear from you and hear you was smart and the rest of the folks. You wrote in your last that you had snow aplenty. We had a hard storm here yesterday for this country. The snow fell about 8 inches yesterday. It is as sloppy as you please here today.

You said you had company the other day. I should been very glad to popped in about that time, you had better believe. You said Jim wanted you should work for him. You said you should do as I said. I shant say anything about it. If the rest of the folks think you had better, why you had better do as the rest of the folks think. See what Dan and Ben think about it. If they think you had better do so, why all right. But I should go to Burk. But if you are a going to work out, I think that that would be a good place—as good a place as you can find, don’t you?

I sent you a picture of the hospital last Sunday. I want you should keep the best one and you may do what you are mind to with the other one. Tell Betsy to answer that letter or I shant write to her again. Give my love to everybody that wants it. So goodbye from your brother, — A. W. Rodgers

Letter 3

Mt. Pleasant Hospital
February 27th, 1863

Dear Brother,

I just received a letter from you. I was glad to hear from you and to hear that you was well and the rest of the folks also. I got a letter from Ben yesterday. He told me Dan was sick. That I hated to hear, but I could not help it. He will take good care of himself, I guess. If he practices what he preaches he will. He used to talk to me most all the time about being careful when he was sick. He used to take good care of himself when I was there. You wanted to know how I was. Well, I am quite smart. I am out of doors all I want to be and take care of myself.

I don’t know but what I am just as well off here as I should be to home. It don’t cost me anything for medicine nor board and I am getting $20 a month and have nothing to do. I want you should tell Betsy Kendall if she don’t answer that letter I wrote to her, I shall be mad. I don’t think of anything more. Give my love to all from your brother, — A. W. Rodgers

Letter 4

Mt. Pleasant Hospital
March 11th, [18]63

Dear brother,

I received yours of the 7th yesterday. Was glad to hear you was smart. My health is better than it has been for 3 or 4 weeks. I have just escaped a fever and that’s all. I feel as smart as common now. If I was sure of staying here long, I would have you send me a small box—one that would weigh some 20 lbs or so. But I don’t know how long I shall stay so I don’t know whether it will pay or not. I got a letter from Alma last night. She says she has not heard from me but once since I came out here.

We signed the pay rolls yesterday and I think we shall be paid off in a day or two. I shall get mine expressed home—most of it. I shall send it to Birk, I guess.

I can’t write [because] the boys act so [up so much]. I will wait till the mail comes in and see if I get any letters.

Well Jake, the mail has come in and I got another letter from you but Horace didn’t know but he should be in Virginia before long did he? He wont know whether it is best to come or not if he is drafted or not. He will have to ask Elmira is she is willing. I wish I was there to stay with Lucine so you could work out if you want to but if nothing happens, I shall be there sometime, I hope.

Our brigadier general was taken prisoner the other night and (I am glad of it) and guess all the boys will be. There is no news here at all. It is so dry as a chip, so you must excuse me this time. So goodbye from your bub. Write soon, — Augustine W Rodgers

I want you should send me a paper once in a while, won’t you?

Letter 5

Camp near Rappahannock Bridge, Va.
May 17, 1863

Friend Jacob,

I take my pen to write a few lines to you in reply to yours of May 3rd. I was gla to hear from you. I hope that we shall get home before a great while. It is getting to be pretty warm here. There is some cold nights here yet. It froze considerable last night.

We have got pretty well downtoward the front now. We wash in the Rappahannock every morning. I don’t believe that we shall go much farther [to the] front. Our company is guarding a bridge. Cos. G and K are up ten or fifteen miles. The other 7 companies are back two miles in the woods. Our company is the largest in the regiment and the best captain and so the colonel puts ours ahead. I had rather be alone and get rid of the red tape. We know just what we have got to do. It takes 12 men for guard a day.

We have been digging rifle pits. We are pretty well fortified here now. The rebs won’t get us out without they shell us out. I don’t feel much concrened about it. There is not any infantry near hear. There is cavalry scouting round here. — W. W. Rodgers

Letter 6

Union Mills, Va.
June 18, 1863

Friend Jacob,

Sir, I now take my pen to write a few lines in return for the few lines that I received from you [on] May 31st. I was glad to hear from you. You must begin to think about haying. I guess you farmers will get some help from here to do your haying. If you don’t, you will come out slim for help.

I don’t expect that we shall have to stay here but about 8 days longer without of [Gen.] Lee gets ahead of us. If he does, they would be some tall fighting if he gets in our way on the road home. I don’t know where he is now. The last time that we heard from him, he was going up the Shenandoah. He is getting to be pretty bold. I heard they had started for Maryland. I think they will have to fight considerable before they get there. It was the report that General McClellan is put back in command of the army again.

We have had a good chance to see a part of the Army of the Potomac. The Vermont Brigade is out near Fairfax Station. Will went over there yesterday. He see the Hartland Boys. They are all tough and rugged. You would like to have been here yesterday and day before. The Boys say that [now] he has come out from behind his breastworks, they are a going to give him a licking.

There was a train of artillery crossed Bull Run the other day. It took it 7 hours to cross. You would call it a long string. Any quantity of wagons.

Dan is getting yp be smart again. All of the rest of the Boys are smart. — Wm. W. Rodgers

Amnesty Oath

1865: George Helm Yeaman to Abraham Lincoln

July 11, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following letter addressed to President Abraham Lincoln was penned by U. S. Representative George Helm Yeaman (1829-1908) of Kentucky who served in the 38th US Congress. Yeaman was elected as a Unionist to the 37th Congress to fill the vacancy caused by the resignation of James S. Jackson. He was reelected to the 38th Congress and served from December 1, 1862, to March 3, 1865. He was an unsuccessful candidate for reelection in 1864 to the 39th Congress. As depicted in the recent movie “Lincoln,” he is best remembered for having provided the critical vote for passing the 13th Amendment to the United States Constitution abolishing slavery through the U.S. House of Representatives.

Yeaman’s letter is brief, forwarding the names of nine Kentuckians for their release from prison under the Amnesty Oath. Lincoln’s Amnesty Oath of 1863 was a loyalty pledge created as part of his Proclamation of Amnesty and Reconstruction on December 8, 1863. It offered clemency to most Confederates if they swore to uphold the U.S. Constitution, protect the Union, and accept the abolition of slavery.

[Editor’s Note: This letter is from the personal collection of Al Niemiec and was offered for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Stationery of the 38th Congress
House of Representatives
Washington City
February 27, 1865

Sir,

I recommend the release, under the Amnesty Oath, of the following prisoners.

Seraiah Lashbrook, Co. A, 1st Kentucky Cavalry, Camp Morton
Gustavus Johnston, Co. G, 4th Kentucky Infantry, Camp Douglas

Very Respectfully, your obedient servant, — Geo. H. Yeaman

To The President

Also the following, February 28, 1865

William C. Johnson, Kentucky Prison 3, Camp Chase
James H. Cottrell, Kentucky, Camp Douglas
Augustus I[gnatius] Moore, [Co. B, 9th KY Mounted Cavalry; held at Camp Chase since 31 July 1864; released 18 March 1865] Kentucky Prison 3, Camp Chase

John Blanford, 10th Kentucky Cavalry, Co. I, Camp Chase
Edmund T. Guthrie, Co. F, 13th Kentucky Cavalry, Camp Chase
Benjamin F. Williams, Kentucky, Camp Chase
Benjamin Huston, Kentucky, Camp Douglas

Very respectfully, — Geo. H. Yeaman, Feb. 28, 1865

2nd Connecticut Heavy Artillery, Guerrilla & Bushwhackers

1862: Benjamin W. Higby to Benjamin Higby

July 11, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following penciled letter was written by Benjamin W. Higby (1844-1871), the son of Benjamin Higby (1804-1882) and Mary Emeline Fowler (1809-1878) of New Haven, Connecticut. Muster rolls indicate that Benjamin enlisted as a private on 10 February 1864, initially as a recruit in Co. K of the 2nd Connecticut Heavy Artillery. He was later transferred to Co. A and mustered out of the regiment on 18 August 1865.

19 year-old Higby’s letter speaks of armed guerrillas on the road between Harpers Ferry and Winchester in 1864 who often apprehended stragglers and robbed them of anything valuable. We learn that he fell victim in this manner, lost his money, but made good his “escape.”

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

*Addressed to Benj. Higby, Esq., New Haven, Ct., Soldier’s Letter, W[inthrop] H[enry] Phelps, Chap[lain]*

Shenandoah Valley
November 14th 1864

Dear Father,

Since I wrote to you last I have had quite a tram[p]. I only reached my regiment only a few days ago. There is some talk of the 1st Division of the 6th Corps going into winter quarters in Havre de Grace and if they go there, we shall in all probability go into fortifications. Please write as soon as you can. Coming from Harpers Ferry to Winchester, the road is blocked with guerrillas who pitch on the fellows and rob them. I with several others were guarding a wagon train from Harpers Ferry to Winchester. It is a long ways and as the wagon train moved very fast and I had a big load, I fell behind and was captured by them and had all my money taken from me but I was thankful to make good my escape.

But i have not time to explain the particulars which I will do in my next letter. Give my love to all the folks. I would like very much to have some money to last me till next pay day which comes in a few months. My address is the same as before. Yours in haste, — B. W. Higby

25th Maine Infantry

1863: John Oliver Quinby to Olive (Hampton) Quinby

July 10, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following letter was written from Camp Tom Casey in mid-February 1863 by John Oliver Quinby (1827-1911), a musician in Co. E, 25th Maine Infantry (9 months 1862-63). He was born in 1827 at Minot, Maine, and married first Mary Pendexter in 1848 and had two children: Sarah F. Quinby (b. 1850) and Mary (died in infancy). After his first wife’s death, John married Olive A. Hampton (1834-1910) in 1853. In 1860, the couple were living at Westbrook, Maine, where John was enumerated as a shoecutter. Their children at that time, included the aforementioned Sarah, as well as Isabel (age 5).

Quinby volunteered in late September 1862 and mustered out with his regiment on 10 July 1863 after 9 months. About 1870 he moved his family to Malden, Massachusetts.

Back in 2018, I transcribed a letter by another member of the same company from Camp Tom Casey in March 1863. It was written by William Roberts to his sister. See—1863: William Roberts to Marietta Roberts.

*Portion of “camp map” printed by E. Evans depicting the encampment of the 25th Maine at “Camp Tom Casey,” Arlington Heights, Va. during winter of 1862-63.*

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Camp Tom Casey
February 22, 1863

Dear wife,

I now take my pen to write to you tonight in answer to yours which I was very glad to receive. Also glad to hear that you were all as well as you were at the time. Now I am sorry that you do not feel well, my dear. I will tell you the trouble, my wife. You worry too much about me. Now do you not do so? Now I am quite smart. You ned not worry about me. I know how to take care of myself and it is for that reason that I have not been on duty. That is the way in this show—to not get down sick so that one cannot get about soon. So do not worry now. You need not think because that I send to you to get medicines that it is because I am so bad off. It is the way that the doctors treat the men that go to them. The things that they need, in my opinion. So I had rather send to you to get something than the doctors [who will give me] something different than I have been used to. That is all.

I calculate to come home all right. That is the reason that I am off duty as I did not feel well. Had got tired and needed rest and had the rheumatism some. Now my dear, I get enough to eat and drink, have a good place to sleep in, am warm most of the time and sometimes too warm. The fire is so near to our bunk that I can lay and put my feet on the chimney and we have a good fire all the time when we need it. Then you have been so good to me sending to me the quilt and the pillow. Now I am well off as I can be. I have got lots of straw in my bunk and as good bed as I could expect in this show.

Now my dear, I thank God tonight that I am so well off as I am—a good dry bed and a good warm fire and plenty to it. That is by far more than many have. It is more than the Brigade right in sight has this night. They tents while we houses. Then those to the front are worse than they are. Now my dear, today it has been snowing hard all day a cold storm. It began last night about 12 o’clock. It looks some like fair weather now here. About 8 inches, they say. Have not been out today, only to get the things you sent to me. They were very nice and you must have taken a good deal of pains to send them to me and I thank you a thousand times for it for I know that you think of me. If you did not, you would not try to send me all the things that I want as you do.

Now, my dear, will you try to do one thing—that is, do not worry so much about me. I am afraid that if you do that, something may happen to me when I am so well off as I am. I am sorry that you are so afraid that I am suffering so much for I am not. Now one thing more, if you do not leave off worrying about me and take your rest, you will be sick. Now do not do so as you love me for my feelings and your own dear sake, now will you? If you do, I shall come home to you and find you poor and slim. Then you will not enjoy yourself, my dear, and perhaps have a fit of sickness. The mind has a good deal to do with the body, you know. Now if I was ever so sick, it would do me no good to worry about me, nor you. Now you must not imagine that I am thus and so but take things as easy as you can.

Now I think you had better not do any stitching as your health is so poor but have rest, and one thing more, I do not want you to go without anything for my sake. I should not enjoy anything if I thought that you did. I do not think you do. Youse your money as long as you have it and take the good of it, my dear. Now I am very sorry that you felt so bad reading the one before my last letter. I do not have any hardness towards you, nor did I when I wrote to you—only I felt bad to think that you thought me in earnest in writing that to you when I was not. You ask me, my wife, to forgive you. I have nothing to forgive in my behalf. If in my writing to you, I hurt your feelings, look at it as not intentionally doing so, and think of it no more, my love. I find no fault with your letter. I can read them as well as my own and as fast too.

I have no news to write to you—only I do not think that we shall move from here till we go home to you, my dear. Now. Cols. Shaw’s wife has come on here and her children to stay. Now that does not look like moving, I do not think. That is so. Now I want you to look at it in this way—that I am coming home when my time is out to you and it will not be long. And try and enjoy yourself [and] not think that I am suffering all the time, my dear. Now won’t you for my sake?

I got the pens all right and the paper too. I got them all. Now my wife, I should like to be with you at home. I should try to enjoy it. Do not think I am homesick. I am willing to stay and serve my time out but I would like to be at home for your sake in particular. hat is so. Now I am sure that if you should have me now at home, you would not let me go to war, would you? No doubt that you miss me more than you thought you should. Well the time will soon pass away and then I shall be at home to stay, I hope, if God in His good Providence sees fit to spare my life. Now do not go to any place of enjoyment and think all the time about me & not take any comfort. Do not think that I think that no one cares for me. I know that some does, that you do, and I am highly pleased to see the love that you express for me. I fear that I am not worthy of many things. Now my dear, I hope that if I am spared to get home, that we both shall try to please each other more than we did sometimes. Now I know that many times that I was fretful with you when at home but hope I may not be again, but I may. But if it should be, my dear, I hope you will bear with my weakness in those points. I am well aware of it and I think if I had not disease about me at times, I should not be by the feelings that I have in my head at those times. But enough of this, my dear. Forgive me in the past and try to forget it if you can. We have both done many things that we ought not to each other but enough, my wife, and if we ever live to see each other again, try to enjoy our lives a little better if we can.

Tell the children to be good and mind you. Give my love to all the friends there. Tell them that I should like to see them all. I am glad Andrew Tell is better. Hope he will go home to May. Well, give my love to Mary, to Call, in fact all. I will now draw to a close at this time, my dear. I do not know as I can write much more to interest you. Do not think that I am down to the heel. I am not—no more than I ever was. That is so. The Saccarappa Boys are all as well as common as far as I know of. I hope you are well tonight and happy. That is so. I will now bid you goodbye, my dear, this time. A kiss for you all and a good hug for you. Receive his from your husband, — J. O. Quinby

Goodbye my dear. Most affectionately yours and may God bless you all. Goodbye, goodbye, my dear wife, goodbye.

My little daughter Bell. I am a going to write a little letter to you. Did you have a good Thanksgiving dinner? I hope you did and did not eat enough to make you sick. Noe Bell, how is Tilly and does Billy sing good? I will tell you there is a little mouse that lives in our tent. He squeals & gets into our things. Little rascal, don’t you think so? Guess we shall kill him sometime.

Now Bell, there is a little dog here. They call him Tom Casey & two nigger boys, but no nigger babies. I am sorry that the heart was broke and I will make another sometime and send to you if I can. How do you like the book that I sent to you & such. I suppose that you will learn all of it by the time I get home. Is your dolls all whole & got their winter clothing? Do you mind Mother well &c.? I suppose that you would like to see me. Well I shall come home by & by. I suppose you will be a little pleased when I get home. Well learn to read smart so you can read to me by and by. You must get Sarah to learn you to read the letters that I write to you. I now close this time. So goodbye Bell. A kiss from your father.

Weekly Summary Podcast

Spared & Shared Podcast 8: Week ending July 10, 2026

July 10, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

Pip: There is a particular kind of history that only survives because someone kept the letter — not the official report, not the regimental record, but the actual piece of paper a soldier held when he wrote home.

Mara: That’s exactly the territory Griff covers in this set of posts — soldiers writing to parents, siblings, cousins, and friends from the field, alongside one set of enlistment documents that tells its own compressed story.

Pip: Let’s start with the letters themselves.

Letters Home From the Front Lines

Mara: The question these posts collectively ask is what the Civil War looked like from inside it — not from a general’s dispatch, but from the men who carried the colors, stood picket in the mud, and waited for the paymaster who never came.

Pip: The anchor here is Charles L. Hewitt, a Connecticut infantryman who wrote 31 letters home over three years. His March 1862 letter from Jones Island gives you the texture of it immediately. He’s cataloguing the battery’s firepower — nine guns, two thirty-pound rifles, a Columbiad — and then pivots without a breath to: “green peas I have not seen some yet since I left home.”

Mara: That line does a lot of work. The guns are real, the danger is real, and so is the homesickness for something as ordinary as green peas. His later 1864 letter from Bermuda Hundred tracks wartime inflation with the same precision: “New potatoes are 8 cts. a lb. Tobacco $1.50 a lb. Milk 70 cts. a can, butter 60.”

Pip: The man kept a notebook recording the fates of nearly 120 fellow soldiers — wounded, killed, promoted, deserted — which is its own kind of monument.

Mara: Corp. Titus Euson’s 1861 letter from the Battle of Scary Creek covers similar ground from Ohio. He carried the colors of the 12th Ohio Infantry into the fight, survived a cannon shot close enough to fray his hat, and then spent most of the letter blaming General Cox for the defeat — quoting the men around him directly: Cox was “a good for nothing; cowardly, incompetent, and worse than worthless general.”

Pip: Strong words, written four days after the battle, on patriotic stationery captioned “Wait Till the War is Over.”

Mara: Lorenzo Harrington’s June 1862 letter from near Winchester is quieter but harder to read knowing what comes next. He describes volunteering for the color guard — “It is a very dangerous place but it gives me pleasure to have the privilege of defending at such a time as this” — and mentions his mother is gravely ill and wants him home. He died of typhoid fever two weeks after sealing the letter.

Pip: William Cook writing from in front of Atlanta in August 1864 has a different register — almost conversational, telling a friend named Linda that he’d rather be at a concert in Orrville than watching real battles, and noting that a mutual friend named Ed was definitely dead, whatever Augusta McDowell chose to believe.

Mara: And Corp. Alfred Bryant’s partial letter from Donaldsonville, Louisiana, describes the aftermath of the Bayou Lafourche fighting — buildings still smoking, the dead unburied, the wounded being carried to Baton Rouge — and closes because a rainstorm is threatening his shelter tent.

Pip: Solomon Starbird’s December 1863 letter from Cole’s Island rounds out the picture on a different note entirely — he’s furious about political patronage handing commissions to unqualified men, including what he calls “our little, greasy, stupid under cook,” and he’s applying to transfer to a Colored regiment just to find something worth doing.

Mara: Which connects directly to what the next post is about.

One Enlistment, One Death, Eighty-Nine Days

Mara: The post on Anderson West presents his enlistment papers rather than a letter — a set of official documents that compress an entire life into a few administrative lines.

Pip: West was eighteen, listed as a farmer from Jackson County, Arkansas, almost certainly a formerly enslaved man. He enrolled in Co. B, 11th US Colored Infantry at Fort Smith on December 21, 1863. The examining surgeon recorded his height, eye color, hair color. Eighty-nine days later he was dead of fever at the General Hospital.

Mara: The post notes his clothing withdrawal records are consistent with the enlistment date — meaning the paper trail confirms he barely had time to draw a uniform before he died.

Pip: The letters in the previous segment were written by men who survived long enough to describe what they saw. Anderson West left no letter.

Mara: What holds all of this together is the gap between official records and what actually happened — the cannon shot that frayed a hat, the moldy cheese in the care package, the commission handed to a cook.

Pip: History keeps the dispatches. The letters keep everything else.

60th New York Infantry

1862: Lorenzo Clark Harrington to his Cousin

July 8, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

*I could not find an image of Lorenzo but here is a watercolor of Sgt. Loren Wellington Tuller of Co. D, 60th New York Infantry (based on image in collection of Al & Claudia Niemiec)*

The following letter was written by Lorenzo C. Harrington (1841-1862), the son of Joshua Bailey Harrington and Fidelia Norton of Stockholm, Saint Lawrence county, New York. Lorenzo was 20 years old when he enlisted for three years as a private in Co. K , 60th New York State Volunteers on 30 October 1861. He was promoted to corporal on 1 May 1862 and proudly served in the color guard of his regiment though he understood the peril of carrying the flag in battle: “It is a very dangerous place but it gives me pleasure to have the privilege of defending at such a time as this.”

In his letter of 14 June 1862, Lorenzo expressed concern for his sick mother who feared she might die before seeing her son again. Ironically, it would be Lorenzo who would die—just two weeks after sealing this letter to his cousin who probably preserved it as a keepsake. A headstone in Harrington’s memory was erected at Fairview Cemetery in Brasher Falls. It isn’t known if his body was returned home or if he was buried at Little Washington, Virginia, where he died of typhoid fever.

I have previously transcribed and published the following letters by other members of the 60th New York Infantry, also in Co. K:

Levi Crawford, Co. K, 60th New York (1 Letter)
John D. Stevens, Co. K, 60th New York (1 Letter)

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Camp Sigel near Winchester, Va.
Sunday, June 14, 1862

Dear Cousin,

It is with the greatest pleasure that I again seat myself to write a few lines in answer to your kind & ever welcome letter which I received last night. And not knowing when I should have another chance to write as we don’t know how long we shall stay in our present situation. We are liable to march at any hour.

We have left our situation at Harper’s Ferry & moved on to Winchester. We had orders to be ready to march at six-o’clock a fortnight ago tomorrow & at the hour we were ordered into line ready to march & to add to our comfort, it commenced raining just before we started & rained very hard most all night. We marched until about two o’clock when we halted for the night. We lay down & went to sleep notwithstanding it still rained & we were wet through to the lining.

When we woke up it had stopped raining & cleared up & the sun rose as beautiful as ever & we took up the line of march & traveled until about two o’clock when we halted for the day. It was very warm through the day but about six o’clock it commenced raining again. We lay down that night in the open field & slept as sound as heart could wish, it raining very hard. When we woke up in the morning, we were dripping wet again.

In the evening at six o’clock we were ordered into the line again ready to march which we done immediately. We marched through to Winchester & arrived there about one o’clock p.m. It rained all the day through so that it made it very hard traveling. The mud was very deep & often we had to ford streams. But amid all the hardships we traveled about 40 miles in less than two days. The boys—most of them—are in good spirits & enjoying good health/ We stayed in Winchester quite a number of days but we are about three miles from there encamped in a splendid little grove.

There about 70 thousand here in the valley. The country through which we passed was very beautiful—nice fields of grain thirty and forty acres in a field. I think we shall make an advance before many days. While we were at the Ferry, we had a little skirmish with the rebels. We found that the rebels were advancing & we threw out 75 men and a piece of artillery as skirmishers & then opened upon us with six pieces of artillery. Our piece returned the fire & the men [who] were thrown out in another direction, fired upon them and they turned two of [their] pieces on us but luckily no damage was done on our side although some of them struck very close to us. One struck within six feet of me & burst but doing no damage.

The Colonel called for volunteers to go out & I went to him & got permission to go out for I could not leave without his consent for I am color guard. The color guard consists of one color [ ]. He is supposed to be a sergeant & eight corporals to guard it in the field of battle & to defend it against the foe. It is a very dangerous place but it gives me pleasure to have the privilege of defending at such a time as this. But I think that the time is fast hastening on when the enemies of our once happy and peaceful country will be humbled to the ground & be made to realize where they are and that they are in the wrong side of fame, and we shall be permitted to return home to our friends and the loved ones near and dear to us.

Mother has been quite sick this spring & she wrote to me that she wanted I should come home for she did not think that she would live long but I can’t go. It seems rather hard but I hope & trust for the best that her health may improve and she may be permitted to remain until I can see her once more at least.

But I must close as I shall weary your patience. I thank you for your kind wishes concerning me and if I know my own heart, I mean to do as near right as I know how. The best are liable to err as you well know before this late hour that you have my best wishes and hoping that you will have good luck and success in all your undertakings is the wish of your true friend and affectionate cousin. Yours truly, — L. C. Harrington

Please write as soon as possible if you consider it worth an answer. Please direct to Winchester, Va., 60th Regiment NYSV, Co. K, in the care of Captain [Abel] Godard. Give my love to Aunt Hattie

127th New York Infantry

1863: Solomon B. Starbird to George B. Starbird

July 8, 2026 Griff Leave a comment

The following letter was written by Solomon Bates Starbird (1832-1889). After working for several years as a lawyer in New York City, Solomon was mustered into Co. B, 127th New York Volunteers on September 8, 1862, at the rank of sergeant and served with that regiment until October 31, 1864. He then served as a 1st Lieutenant in the 55th Massachusetts Volunteers—an African American regiment—from October 31, 1864 to August 29, 1865. After the war, he married Hannah Judkins (1832-1922) and moved to Nebraska and then Colorado, where he continued to work as a lawyer. He died in Denver, Colorado, in 1889.

This letter must have once been part of a huge collection of letters written by members of the Starbird family. There are 331 letters among the Starbird family papers housed at the William C. Clements Library at the University of Michigan, ranging from 1848 to 1864. They were written by three Starbird siblings: Solomon and George, who served in the Civil War in the 127th New York Infantry and 1st New York Mounted Rifles respectively, and Marianne, who operated a struggling art school in New York City.

Solomon Starbird wrote less frequently than his siblings, but his long letters were often filled with details of camp life. On January 23, 1863, he wrote to Marianne concerning the lack of pay to soldiers and the slovenliness of the privates. In his letter of August 21, 1863, he described a military gathering on Folly Island and Union positions in South Carolina. In other letters he gave accounts of being fired on during picket duty (September 30, 1863) and Christmas celebrations in camp (December 22, 1863). A talented sketcher, he included in a letter of October 8, 1863, a penciled map of Cole’s Island, South Carolina, labeled with the “old fort;” the 127th Regiment’s camp; and the surrounding marshes.

Over the years I have transcribed numerous letters by members of the 127th New York Infantry. These include:

William Edgar Oakey, Co. A, 127th New York (3 Letters)
Henry Blain Graham, Co. C, 127th New York (1 Letter)
John Allen, Co. E, 127th New York (1 Letter)
Lord Wellington Gillett, Co. H, 127th New York (1 Letter)
George Elbert Jayne, Co. I, 127th New York (1 Letter)
Jonathan Allen Bennett, Co. K, 127th New York (33 Letters)
Orlando S. Edwards, Co. K, 127th New York (1 Letter)
Josiah Parsons Miller, Co. K, 127th New York (3 Letters)
William B. Miller, Co. K, 127th New York (4 Letters)

*Union troops landing on Cole Island in the mouth of the Stono Inlet in March 1863.*

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

*Addressed to Sergt. George B. Starbird, Troop E, 1st New York Mounted Rifles, Williamsburg, Va.; envelope endorsed as soldier’s letter by Major E. H. Little*

Cole Island, South Carolina
Day after Christmas, December 26, 1863

Dear Brother George,

Received your letter last eve, 14 days after twas written. Five days ago received one from M[arianne] at Utica dated December 6th. She is of course now at Mr. W’s in Jersey City. Have just mailed one to her directing it to care of Mr. W. I must say that although I have had no fear of your being careless of health or anything else, yet I have sometimes almost longed to see a few lines from your pen, so I hope that though you have nothing new to write, you will not allow long periods to pass without some token from you. I will here state that I have tried to get possession of stamps enough to pay post on a book—Kinglake’s Crimean War—which has been wrapped to send you these 3 weeks. Think I shall succeed soon. I wished to surprise you but can’t wait to keep it from you. But you must wait till it reaches you somehow. Ere this you would have had it but stamp holders are so tenacious & I can’t bother M. to send.

Well we get on in the same stupid way. Don’t know when I will be relieved [of] this scout duty. But wind blows fierce & cold almost all each day so I can do little with glass. Besides, I’m not expected to chill self to death. Lately, say for a week, I’be been in quarters at ease except two afternoons. No roll calls or company inspections for me. In fact, only such as I choose at any time. Meanwhile my musket & things I keep shiny for sake of exercise. Wish to heaven I were in your regiment where something is ever going on.

Yesterday morning at daylight, the Marblehead (gunboat) lying about a mile and a half up Stono was attack[ed] by 13 reb field guns on a line half mile back from W shore Stono & about a mile from Marblehead. The Pawnee soon came up & helped to drive rebs from position, but the Marblehead, tis reported, lost three killed & 5 wounded. Reckon it was only a Christmas salute.

I’m going to apply to Washington for permit to appear for examination for commission in Colored Regiment. I [am] so damned tired on this inactivity—just throwing self & time away. Besides, just see this cursed mixing of politics with military affairs. A commission came here the other day for a private in Co. C next us. But said private was in guard house just then & must wait sentence of court martial at any rate. Out of spite, they managed to keep [him] in guard house although tis said the commission is dated previous to his arrest. But I think he’ll get discharged by sentence for they can from his quitting post as “signal private” without permission. They may reduce him to ranks, now the law gives the power. But the officers are all made that the said private’s brother—a New York politician—has succeeded in squeezing a 1st Lieutenant’s commission out of Gov. Seymour for this private in Co. C.

But the most stupid act is for Gov. Seymour to be deluded into sending a 2nd Lieutenant’s commission for our little, greasy, stupid under cook. We never thought him fit for cook proper. But some active, influential relation on Folly Island got him berth as errand man (orderly) at telegraph station over there & now another politician has made an officer of him. Oh Hell! to think the stupid ass might have power to command me. I feel like kicking him! — S. B. S.