The following letter was written by 19 year-old Bezer Loring Lincoln (1845-1905), the son of Joseph Hall and Sally (Smith) Lincoln of Attleboro, Bristol county, Massachusetts. At an early age, Bezer was employed by the Boston & Providence Railroad—a job held before and after the Civil War up until the time of his death in 1905. Bezer datelined his letter 1 July 1862 but it was actually 1 July 1864. In this letter, Bezer wrote of his civilian employment on the Western & Atlantic (W&A) Railroad between Big Shanty, Georgia, and Chattanooga, Tennessee, under the auspices of the US military—a dangerous stretch of road that was under frequent attack by Confederate guerrillas. “I should like to be on the road all of the time if it wasn’t for the Rebs. I don’t like them,” he wrote his friend. The W&A railroad and the East Tennessee & Georgia Railroad were under the supervision of Col. Levi P. Wright (formerly of the 1st Massachusetts Heavy Artillery) until he was relieved by W. C. Taylor in July 1864.

Earlier in the war (October 1862), Bezer had enlisted in the 11th Rhode Island Infantry and served as a private with his regiment in the defenses of Washington, D. C. and later in the Norfolk, Yorktown, and Williamsburg, Virginia area. He was mustered out of service with the 11th Rhode Island in July 1863.

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Chattanooga [Tennessee]
July 1, 1862 [should be 1864]

Dear friend,

I thought as I was loafing this week, I would write you a few lines to let you know how I like. I think if I knew as much as I do know now, I should stay on the Boston road but I am out here [now and] I shall stay a year, I think. But some of the boys has gone home and some more are a coming. But I shan’t [go home] if the rebs will let me alone. They have run us off of the track twice and the last time we had fun, I tell you. They pull[ed] up a rail and as soon as we was off the track, the dam[n] cusses jump’ed] right onto us. They did not kill no one but shot one man through the face. As near as they came to hitting me was [to] put one through the cab right close to my ass and one into the firebox. We fought 40 minutes and the dam[n] fools left and in the morning we pull[ed] out a torpedo weighing 100.4 pounds. We came [within] just one rail of going on to it. I ain’t a going to fire anymore. I am going to breaking. ¹

Our road is 120 miles miles from headquarters to Big Shanty—that is, to the front. We work 7 days and then lay off 7. But I should like to be on the road all of the time if it wasn’t for the Rebs. I don’t like them.

I am going to tell [you] how we live. We have a change three times a day. We have for breakfast baked beans and pork and rice and bread and coffee. For dinner we have rice and pork and beans and coffee and bread. That’s for dinner. For supper, we have coffee and bread and rice and beans and pork. We only have to eat it 21 times a week. I must close. Give my respects to all.

Direct your letters to Chattanooga, Tennessee in care of Col. L. P. Wright

Bezer L. Lincoln

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¹ Bezer is indicating that he considers it too dangerous to work as a fireman in the locomotive where they might hit a torpedo laid on the track or be picked off by sharpshooters.