The following two letters were written by Ralph Augustus (“Gus”) Lanning (1835-1893) who enlisted 27 May 1861 and was mustered into Co. D, 83rd New York Infantry as a sergeant. By mid-January 1862 he had received a commission as 1st Lieutenant of his company and by 22 May 1862 he was serving as its Captain.

The 83rd New York served along the Potomac River in Maryland and at Harper’s Ferry. In the spring of 1862 the regiment was stationed near Warrenton Junction and along the Rappahannock river with several different assignments and participated in Gen. Pope’s Virginia campaign with the 3d brigade, 2nd division, 3d corps, suffering the loss of 75 members at the second Bull Run. The brigade and division were transferred to the 1st corps on Sept. 12, fought at South mountain and Antietam, the regiment being closely engaged in both battles and losing 114 at Antietam. Among those wounded at Antietam was Capt. Lanning who was discharged for disability on 12 December 1862.

In the book, History of the Weld Family (p. 27), it is reported that “Julia Berry Weld (1836-1905) married Mr. Ralph A. Lanning of New York City. He served in the war of 1861, was promoted in office, was wounded, and returned on crutches to his Julia, who received him with a hearty welcome, and they were shortly married. He is a true gentleman, now doing a handsome business in the City of New York.”

Gus was the son of Ralph Lanning (1785-1843) and Mary Wynkoop (1786-1842), both deceased by the time Gus was eight years old. He may have been raised by his Uncle Isaac W. Lanning of Trenton, New Jersey, who was named the trustee of Gus’s inheritance which was part of a farm of 46 acres in Mercer county.

Letter 1

Charlestown, [West] Virginia
Sunday, March 2nd 1862

My own darling Julie,

We left Bolivar on Friday night [28 February] about 11:30 o’clock, marched to this place 9 miles. It was a very cold & windy night. I suffered more with the cold than I did anytime through the winter. We were kept in line at Bolivar over an hour before we started. Some of the men had their ears and feet frozen. We made a very quick march—only 1 hour and 55 minutes. We did not make a single halt. When we arrived in Charlestown we could not find out where we were to be quartered. After waiting in the street until the men were nearly frozen, we marched about one mile out of town ad bivouacked in a woods—a very cold place to sleep—but thanks to my men, they got some rails and made me a small house, covered it with brush and leaves, and built a good fire in front & I slept very comfortable.

This is the strongest secession place we have been in. Yesterday our tents came & we are getting along very well, It is snowing very hard at present, Some of the men came to me this morning & asked me if I would allow them to forage for poultry & pigs. I told them I would not prevent them nor give them permission. If they got anything, they must not let me know anything about it. All I do know, I saw them come in camp with some chickens and pigs. I asked no questions. It would not trouble me the least if they took all the poultry in the state. I know very well they would show us no favors. Besides, they have raised one cavalry company & one infantry company & done considerable damage. The troops we had a skirmish with last 4th of July where we lost two of our men were from this place.

We expect orders any moment to move on towards Winchester. We are only waiting for the balance of our army to get here. We have got to see some pretty hard times but I am contented. I am anxious to push on & end this trouble. The men are in tiptop spirits & anxious to see some fun. It is entirely out of the question getting a furlough at present. Enclosed you will find the disapproval of my last furlough. It does appear too bad that I could not get away while we were doing nothing & now we are getting farther off.

I think more than ever about you, darling one. Do not worry about me. I am well cared for and could not be treated any more kindly than I am by my men except at 45 Sands Street. I received only one letter from you last week. Expect to hear from you this evening. Do hope I will not be disappointed. Please write often. You said in your last you were almost ashamed to send some of your letters. Now darling, I ought to give you a good scolding. Your letters are excellent & very interesting. Please, dear one, not to think so again but write often as you can. I would be very unhappy not to hear from you. It does not require any imagination to suppose yours are interesting.

I regret that your Uncle Berry has not been released. ¹ He is foolish not to take the Oath. If he does not, they will keep him a long time. I was glad to hear Mr. Daily has been so gentlemanly lately. You did perfectly right to go with him & Lottie. She is a splendid woman. On her account, I was glad you went with them. The time is fast approaching when you will leave Brooklyn & be farther off. It will appear very strange not to find you in Brooklyn. How dearly I would like to be there before you move but I suppose there will not be a chance.

Monday, March 4th [3rd] 1862. Good morning darling. This is a very gloomy and disagreeable morning. I was disappointed last eve in not getting a letter from you, dear one. There is a report in camp that letters will not go any farther than Baltimore until this move of the army is completed but I do not credit it. The reporters are not allowed to send any dispatches to the papers. It is about time for the mail to leave & I must close this miserable letter. Give my love to all my dear friends at 45 but keep enough love for yourself. May God bless & protect you, darling one, is the prayer of your own, — Gus

¹ Capt. Michael Berry, formerly of the steamship Columbia that made regular runs between New York and Charleston, prior to the secession of South Carolina, was a prisoner in Fort Lafayette, and afterwards at Fort Warren, charged with secession tendencies.

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Letter 2

Camp near Front Royal
Friday, June 13th 1862

My own dear Julie,

That long looked for mail came today. I received 13 letters—5 of which were from my own dear girl. You cannot imagine how delighted I was to hear from you. It appeared an age since I received your last.

It was with great regret I learned of the death of your dear Uncle Berry. ¹ It must have been a very severe shock to you all—his being taken from you so suddenly. I assure you, dear one, you all have my heartiest sympathy and condolence, grieving with you in your sad bereavement of one that has endeared himself to you all by his unvarying kindness and affection. It is another lesson to us all that when the fatal hour of trial shall come, to be found ready and prepared to render a faithful account to Him who doeth all things well.

I had a dream a few nights since that some awful calamity had befallen you. Ever since I have thought of it many times which made me doubly anxious to hear from you. Each letter as I found it I thought of my dream & when I came to the last, I found it to be true.

I have been quite unwell myself the past two days but your letter proved a great benefot to me. I have been homesick enough. It is now over a year since I left you, dear one, and this unjust rebellion is not at all rebellion and it has been enough to discourage anyone the way we have been treated & the manner this part of the army has been conducted. If all our Generals were like McDowell, this war would not end till the South was recognized. Our troops are discouraged at the actions of McDowell. Report says today that we are to join General Banks again. He has won a name and endeared himself to all those that have been under him. I do love him as a man and it is my earnest wish that we will soon be under him. He has proved himself a General and the man for these dark hours of trial. No one can doubt his ability.

We have a miserable camp in a low wet piece of woods. Nearly half my company are unfit for duty, They are kept penned up, not allowed the privileges of plenty fresh water for bathing, &c. which is near by. They have to use for cooking & drinking is very unhealthy. If we remain in this condition much longer, the men will all be sick. I have hired three niggers to carry water &c. for my company as they can pass our camp at anytime.

Now, dear one, I must close. I feel very nervous & weak. You must please excuse this letter. With my love to all, hoping He who doeth all things for the best will see fit to protect and spare you and your dear folks from afflictions and trials. With my sincere prayer for you, darling, I am proud to claim myself your own, — Gus

¹ An obituary notice was posted in The Atlantic Democrat & Cape May County Register on 14 June 1862: “Death of a Political Martyr.—Died in Brooklyn, on Tuesday morning, Capt. Michael Berry, formerly of the steamship Columbia, that used to run between the port of New York and Charleston, before South Carolina seceded from the Union. Capt. Berry was imprisoned in Fort Lafayette, and afterwards in For Fort Warren, last winter, charged with secession tendencies, but was liberated about a month ago. He was a man of warm sympathies and generous nature, and it is believed that he would have been alive today but for his cruel and illegal imprisonment, — Newark Journal.”