The following letter was written by John Owen Lemon (1837-1906) , a private in Co. D (“Pelican Rifles”), 2nd Louisiana Infantry—better known as “Wheat’s Tigers” or the “Louisiana Zouaves.” John enlisted on 11 May 1861 at New Orleans. He was promoted to a 2nd Corporal in June 1862 and sent to the hospital at Danville Virginia, just prior to the Battle of Malvern Hill, suffering from illness. His muster records show him as being absent much of the latter half of 1862 and 1863 yet he was promoted to 1st Corporal in November 1863. In February 1864 he reenlisted for the balance of the war. When he was paroled at war’s end, he was described as 28 years old, with grey eyes and dark hair, standing 5 feet, 4 inches tall. He gave his residence as Natchitoches, Louisiana.

In the 1860 US Census, John was enumerated in Natchitoches as the overseer on the John Pareryes plantation.

John died in Jefferson, Arkansas, in 1906. His widow, Harriett A. E. Lemon filed for a widow’s pension at that time. She may have been his third wife as it appears he married once before in 1889 to Annie Bogy and once before that in 1867 to Drucilla F. Goldman. I can’t be certain but think John was born in Fayette, Tennessee, the son of Robert Simon and Martha Simon. This seems to be confirmed by his saying, “since I left Old Tennessee” and I suspect that is also where his cousin Willy lived.

[Note: This letter is from the personal collection of Greg Herr and was transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

Transcription

Camp Magruder [Williamsburg, Va.]
September 1861

My dear cousin.

It is with great pleasure that I seat myself to write you a few lines to let you know that I am still in the land of the living, hoping when these few lines reach you, they may find you enjoying the same blessing.

I have no news to write you that will interest you. The health of this regiment is as good as one could expect. As for myself, I have not been sick since I joined the army. Willy, you have no idea how hard a time we have. We have our cooking and washing to do but we get along better than you could expect. We have a fine time. If we could have a fight once and awhile, we would be better satisfied. But we have had nothing to do since we left home but ditch and march.

We have had orders to march the other day. We started and got one quarter of a mile of the camp and the order was countermanded and we returned to camp as mad as we could be. We are the [most] anxious soldiers you ever saw in your life to have a fight. When we thought we are about to have a fight, you never heard such a fuss in your life. The regiment is in [good] spirits from one end to the other—all they want is a fight.

Willy, if the reports is true, we will be in a fight in a few days and if it is so, there is a thousandth chance for me to get killed where there is no room for me to escape. And if I fall, I could not fall in a [more] honorable cause. And if I should come out victorious, it is honorable anyhow.

Willy, I think of you often. There has not a day passed over my head since I saw you last that I haven’t thought of you. I cannot forget the early love I have for you. It stays to me no matter where I go. I have been traveling ever since I left there and your image follows me everywhere I go. But I think it is in vain and it nearly breaks my heart. I have seen a great many young ladies since I left Old Tennessee but I have not seen anyone that I have the same affection that I have for you. If you forsake me, I will wander the balance of my days an old bachelor and for the sake of the one that loves you dearer than he does his own life, give me some satisfaction. I have wrote to you time and again but received no answer but I do not blame you for I do not think you are to blame. I think somebody destroys my letters and I think I can guess who it is.

Willy, if I can’t write as a lover, write as a friend, for my heart is nearly broken. I am a poor soldier far from my parents and relations and war is but a game of chess played on a large scale. I may never see you again but one word from you would cheer me on my journey. So fare you well, my dear beloved one. I love you and it cheers me on my journey. If this cruel war will end, I will see you again.

Write as soon as you get this. No more at present but remain as ever your lover until death. Direct your letter to Williamsburg, Va., Second Regiment, Louisiana Volunteers, Company D

Do not let no one see this for my sake. To my beloved one, — John Owen Lemon