The following letter was written by William J. Rowe (1840-1904), the son of Jacob and Jane (Campbell) Rowe of Kingston, Ulster county, New York. William enlisted at the age of 22 on 9 August 1862 to serve as a private in Co. B, 120th New York Infantry. At the time of his enlistment, William was described as a 5 foot 11 inch tall farmer with gray eyes, brown hair, and a dark complexion.

He was taken prisoner at the Battle of James City, Virginia, on 10 October 1863 and eventually taken to Andersonville Prison in Georgia where he died of disease on 13 June 1864. He was buried in Grave No. 1940.

During the time that William was with the regiment, they fought in several important battles, including Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Mine Run, Spottsylvania, North Anna, Totopotomy, and Cold Harbor. During its service the 120th New York Infantry lost by death, killed in action, 10 officers, 87 enlisted men; of wounds received in action, 1 officer, 54 enlisted men; of disease and other causes, 3 officers, 181 enlisted men; total, 14 officers, 322 enlisted men; aggregate, 336; of whom 69 enlisted men died in the hands of the enemy—including William.

William wrote the letter to his cousin, William Rowe (b. 1840), the son of William and Margaret Rowe of Hurley, Ulster county, New York.

Transcription

February 28, 1863

Dear Cousin,

I now take my pen in hand in order to answer your kind letter which I just received. We are both enjoying good health at present and I hope that when this reaches you, it will find you the same. I enjoy a soldier’s life very well but I think I like home the best. You wanted to know how I or what I had to sleep on. You don’t think Uncle Sam would have his brave soldiers sleep on feathers, do you? No siree horsefly. We sleep on mahogany sofas and have pie and cake and sweet meats. But the best thing we get is pork and hard tack. We get coffee and sugar too.

You talk about girls. There is none out here where we are now but I saw lots of them at the Battle of Fredericksburg. I saw a fine black wench there that weighed about 300. I think I shall go in for her if I can get her. That is all the nice girls that I have seen since I have been out here.

The weather is rather unsettled out here. It storms most every day. The most of the boys are well now but they have been quite sickly. I don’t think we will stay here long. We have been building corduroy roads for the army to move. I think I am able to stand the blunt and get home yet.

So no more at present. From your affectionate cousin, — W. J. R.

Write as soon as you get this. Yours truly, — William J. Rowe

My love to all.