The poignant letter was penned by Ichabod Washburn Bicknell (1842-1864), a private in Co. G, 29th Maine Infantry. Washburn, or “Wash”—as he preferred to be called, hailed from the quaint, peaceful village of Bolsters Mills (first called Pinhook), which boasted no less than seven mills on the Crooked River as it meandered its way through Oxford county. He was a son of William Bicknell, a hardworking farmer who tended to rye, Indian corn, and oats on his 100 acres of improved land. Prior to the 1850 Census, Ichabod’s mother passed away, leaving his father to care for eight children between the ages of 4 and 20. Washburn and his twin brother Charles entered the world sometime in 1842.

According to draft registration records, Washburn was unmarried and worked as a farm laborer in Harrison, Maine, during the summer of 1863. On 16 December 1863, he was mustered into Co. G, 29th Maine Infantry, most likely having been drafted.

Washburn’s letter makes reference to the ill-fated Red River Campaign of 1864 in which the 29th Maine—a regiment filled with lumberjacks—played a significant role in constructing a tree dam on the lower rapids of the Red River above Alexandria, thereby saving the gunboats that would have otherwise been lost due to low water. Tragically, Washburn was wounded on 8 April 1864 at Mansfield (see Battle of Sabine Crossroads). He initially believed the wound to be minor and hoped to rejoin his regiment within a matter of days. However, the wound failed to heal and likely became infected, leading to his untimely passing on 4 June 1864.

Transcription

New Orleans
May 23, 1864

Brother George,

I now take my time to write you a few lines to let you know how I get along. I received a letter and paper from you the other day. Your letter was wrote the 17th of April and I got it the 19th of May. I was glad to hear from you and I was glad to have that paper and I should be glad to have you send me some papers for it is awful hard to get a Maine paper out here.

I arrived here last night. I suppose you heard that I got wounded up to Mansfield and so I come down on the boat and I am at the hospital until the regiment gets here. I was wounded in the left leg, just below my knee. It got all well once I thought, and [then] it broke out again and was pretty sore. It is getting pretty well now. The ball was poison, I suppose. I am well but I am pretty poor for we have had an awful hard time. But we have got into a place where we can recruit up and get better.

But I tell [you], we have marched a good many miles since we got out here. All the old soldiers says that we have had the hottest time that ever was known in the army and we have lost a great many men. We have not had but two men killed in battle. Bert Littlefield was wounded in the leg pretty bad. Sylvester Ricker is dead—that fellow you have got his picture with mine. He was my mate. He and [I] tented together ever since we have bin out here. He died at Alexandria, Louisiana. There at Alexandria, we built a dam across the Red River so to flow the water back so to get the gunboats down. That is all the news I have to write about the affairs here.

You wrote about the number of lambs and calves and boys. I can send you some little black boys if you want. Chute is here in the hospital. He is a nurse. He has not been with the regiment for a good while. Chute tells me that Ben Stanley is discharged and sent home.

You say that they are a going to draft in Maine I hope you will not be drafted and I think that they would not take you. You say that you had a heavy snow in Maine in April. I would like to see some snow here. I suppose you are all done a planting. You must not work too hard if you have to do your work alone. Give my best respects to your wife. Also the old lady. I don’t think of any more to write now. You must write often and write all the news. I have not had but one letter from Melvina since I have been out here. So good luck to you until I hear from you.

You direct your letter to U.S. Barracks, General Hospital, New Orleans, La., Co. G, 29th Maine Regiment.

Hitty Brag was a fine old gal.