The following letter was written by John Stearns Smith (1837-1916) of Peterborough, New Hampshire who enlisted at the age of 23 on 4 October 1861 as a private in Co. E, 6th New Hampshire Infantry. He was wounded on 29 August 1862 at the battle of the 2nd Bull Run and again on 30 July 1864 (Battle of the Crater) at Petersburg. He was promoted up the ranks to 1st Sergeant by 1 July 1862 and commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant on 1 November 1862. He made 1st Lieutenant on 20 March 1863 and was also assigned duty as the regiment adjutant on Field & Staff at the same time.

In this letter, written from the trenches before Petersburg, the 6th New Hampshire had just settled in for a siege of the city after a failed early attempt to capture the city a week earlier.

John was born at Waltham, Massachusetts, on 27 November 1837—the son of John Smith and Susan Stearns.

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Headquarters 6th Regt N. H. Veteran Vols. 
Near Petersburg, Virginia
June 24, 1864

My dear cousin,

I have just received your letter and take the earliest opportunity to thank you for your punctuality in writing. That was a magnanimous resolution of yours to write to some soldier acquaintance every two weeks. I venture to hope that you will not find the duty a laborious or disagreeable one, if I am to be the fortunate recipient of your communications. I think you can do as much good with your pen as you can rolling bandages. For my own part, I had rather tear up my blouse for my wounds than forego the pleasure of my letters.

We are on the front line today. Our skirmishers are within 50 yards of a long, threatening line of rebel breast works and we only need to show our heads above the pits to receive salutes from a dozen minié rifles. But no matter how near the enemy we are, or how heavy a fire we are under, the mail is always distributed, and I assure you the missives from the rear are more agreeable than the missiles from the front. 

The weather is exceedingly hot and dry. Imagine us marching some of these days in the burning, scorching sun, plodding through dust, eating dust, and seeing nothing but dust. Or charging rifle pits or skirmishing through almost impenetrable woods & under brush, or as now, lying under this tropical sun in little holes in the dirt with shells and minié balls flying in unpleasant proximity to my head, and you will have an idea of the life I lead.

Sometimes while lying in our torrid pits I cannot help thinking of the refreshing shades of Elm Hall, the delightful coolness of the water in the well, the delicious cider in the cellar, the luxury of clean clothes, the privilege of taking off sword, belt, pistol, boots, &c., where one goes to bed with the assurance of a night’s rest uninterrupted by the rattle of musketry on the picket line & cannonading in the rear. And of the salutary effects of breathing pure air, uninfected by the decaying debris of two vast armies. Do not infer from this that I am discouraged or down-spirited. I grow more insensible to danger and hardship every day and every day I see more reason to be thankful that life and health are still spared to me.

The Sanitary Commission are doing a noble work. Their praises are in everybody’s mouth. They have saved hundreds of lives and relieved an untold amount of suffering since the campaign commenced.

I am sorry my photographs are no better. I felt unwell the morning I sat for them and had no great expectations in them.

I have written to [ ] to retain them till I called for them. Tell him if you please not to circulate them. I will mail you a photograpg of the house when they are finished. Give my love to the family. I presume you have seen cousin Katie in Boston. I understand she has been visiting there. Remember e with kind wishes to Miss [ ]. I have not the least doubt you and I could play a successful game of bowls against her…

Your affectionate cousin, — Jno. S. Smith