The following letter was written by 2nd Lieutenant Henry Heber Woodruff (1841-1916) of Co. D, 16th Michigan Infantry to his Uncle Benjamin Hall of Gibraltar, Michigan. Part of the Woodruff family had moved north to East Saginaw, Michigan sometime before the war. The letter talks of life in Gibraltar and the surrounding communities of Brownstown Township, Michigan. Heber goes on to detail his experiences during the Battle of Fredericksburg and camp life, etc. He also mentions another famous local soldier, Michael Vreeland of the 4th Michigan Infantry, who was wounded four times and left for dead in the Wheatfield, during the Battle of Gettysburg. Other soldiers are mentioned as well, in particular is his father, Captain Henry Woodruff, 23rd Michigan Infantry. 

Heber was the son of Henry Heber Woodruff (1813-1897) and Abigail Hall (1815-1892).

[This letter and image of Woodruff are from the collection of Dale Niesen and were made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]

Transcription

Camp Near Potomac Creek, Va
February 20th 1863

Dear Uncle & Aunt,

You have doubtless concluded that I have forgotten you entirely on account of my never having written to you but I can assure you, it is not so. I have thought of you often, but being rather careless have neglected to do as I should for which I beg pardon. Of course you have heard of my welfare through uncle Edmund Wesley and others so that anything I will be likely to tell you will be but stale news. Still, by writing, I am in hopes to hear from you by way of return.

I am ashamed to say that I know nothing of you and the family, never hearing but once since I enlisted of you, and then only a word in one of Wesley’s letters. I suppose though you are at the same old trade, farming it in your old dilapidated town. I suppose nothing has been changed and nothing changes except what has been caused by “Death” & “Marriage.” The same old houses stand in the same condition. Old Gentleman Alfred lounges about as usual telling his yarns. John Gori will still find things where they are not lost. “Darkey” Green ¹ still cracks his whips over 4 yoke of oxen. John Van Riper is still an old “Bach.” And lastly, John Miller owns “Whip Tiger”—or is it all changed? Who is married? Who is dead? I can hardly realize that I ever lived there. It seems a dream. I almost think I am in a dream and will wake up sometime and find myself back in the old “Kimble House.” Ugh! I guess not—[I’d] rather be a soldier all my life.

Perhaps you wonder how I like a soldiers life. How I stand it, &c. Well, it agrees with me. My health never was better, notwithstanding “rheumatism and cramps” attendants to exposure. Do I like it? Yes. while the war lasts. No, in time of peace. Very little comfort and pleasure is there in it but any amount of privations. Hunger, thirst, weariness, exposure to wet, cold, and bullets, lack of society of the right kind, no females to refine, no one to nurse you, to speak a kind word if you are sick, nothing but military law which obliges an inferior to be an absolute slave to a superior, no one but rough men—who you must hold with a tight rein or lose your discipline—to associate with, which makes you as rough as they. What are the deductions to be drawn? Simply old men or men with families stay at home. Oblige every young man to come. Young men can stand it—old ones ought not [come] if they can [avoid it].

What do you think of lying 36 hours on your back on the ground, not a thing under you, and the ground as wet as water can make it? The weather next thing to freezing? Our Brigade had to do it at the Battle of Fredericksburg. All a man had to do if he wanted a bullet was to raise up, He got it quick enough. Well, we were relieved and had a rest of twelve hours sleeping on a brick pavement with nothing but an overcoat to cover me.

What then? Why our Brigade “had the honor” to be chosen, tired as we were, to cover the retreat from the town. So under cover of the darkness, we silently moved out to the front where the famous Irish Brigade had been driven in and more than slaughtered to reconnoiter. Whenever the moon came out from the clouds, we would lie down so as not to be seen and when some unfortunate fellow would rattle his tin pail, curses not loud but deep would go up. Well, there we lay half the night watching the dead so think we could hardly tell the living from the dead.

At three o’clock we silently withdrew to the edge of the town. By this time the rain had begun to pour down. Then we stood three hours as motionless as statues [at the] ready, a line of skirmishers just in advance to give us warning. We stood until broad daylight until the last man was over and then we turned and took a double quick and crossed the [one] remaining pontoon bridge, taking it up as we crossed. You may think this fun but it is terrible on the constitution. I do not tell you this intending to make great pretensions of my endurance for I could tell of greater hardships than these, but to give you some little idea of a solder’s life.

Hooker is working hard to make the army efficient. I hope he will succeed but one thing is certain, we cannot move in a month—the mud is horrible. It rains and snows all the time. We can move in March [but] not before. I see Michael Vreeland almost every day. He is in the same division. He is a good soldier and a good officer. Cyrus I have never seen. He is with Sigel somewhere near Stafford Court House. Father is still at Bowling Green. I hope they will stay there.

Give my respects to all friends and remember me as your affectionate nephew, — H. Heber Woodruff

to Benjamin Hall, Gibralter, Wayne county, Michigan

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¹ “Darkey” Green was probably Dennis Green (1799-Aft1870), a Black farmer born in Maryland. He married his wife Tabitha Cyrus in 1831 in Columbiana, Ohio. She was born in Virginia. Their children in 1860 ranged from age 10 to 28, all born in Ohio or Michigan.