This letters were part of a much larger collection at one time but somehow these were separated from the others I transcribed several years ago. They were written by Edwin Martin Whipple (1842-1904), the youngest son of Herman Whipple (1774-1842) and Phoebe Boa Lafferty (1816-1904) of Erie County, Pennsylvania. Edwin served in two different regiments during the Civil War. He first enlisted in enlisted in Co. C (the “Jackson Guards”) of the 23rd Illinois Infantry—the “Irish Brigade” led by Col. James A. Mulligan of Chicago. He marched with them on their expedition into Missouri and then was mustered out with the regiment in October 1861, after six months service. He then enlisted in late November 1861 to serve three years in Co. C, 111th Pennsylvania. As far as we know, Edwin remained with the regiment and was with them at the Battle of Gettysburg where he shot the hat off a rebel Colonel while skirmishing in the twilight of 2 July 1863. In the book, “Soldiers True; the story of the 111th Regiment Pennsylvania Veteran Volunteers” (page 181), Edwin is listed among the wounded at the Battle of Lookout Mountain on 24 November 1863. The company roster indicates he mustered out of the 111th in late November 1864.

There are at least 60 of Ed’s letters posted on the website I created to showcase his letters and two other soldiers who wrote to Ed’s mother, Pheobe B. Edy. You can find them on “The Glorious Dead” published in 2019. There is only one letter (see below) that has turned up so far that was written while Ed served in the 23rd Illinois Infantry but my hunch is more of them will eventually turn up.

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Letter 1

[Chicago, Illinois]
[mid June 1861]

Dear Mother,

I now sit down to inform you of my health and enlistment with the Jackson Guards, Captain Francis McMurray, attached to the Irish Brigade. I have been quite sick but am getting much better. The Brigade is accepted by the U. S. and will be sworn in tomorrow and march for Washington next week.

When I left home, I went to Erie and shipped on the schooner Mutt Root, made a trip to Chicago, and then enlisted, and have been here ever since. I want you to write and tell me all about Smith’s folks—especially Esther and [ ] and all the rest of the folks. Tell Jim to kiss Sena for me.

We are now in barracks—a large five story brick building. We have now got about 800 and room [for] 1200 more. The boys are all in good spirits and the most of them in good health. Take good care of my gun for I shall know how to use it when I get back (if I have the good luck).

Please write as soon as you get this so that I will get it before we start for Washington. I will [write] again before I go and [send] my likeness. I will get it taken with my uniform on.

[Senator] Douglas’s funeral was attended with all the pomp and splendor that the churches, lodges, and military could scratch up.

I can think of no more at present. Please write soon so I shall get your letter before I write again. So goodbye. From your affectionate son, — E. M. Whipple

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Letter 2

Camp near Fairfax, Virginia
December 22, 1862

Well, Mother, I will now try to pen a few lines to you to let you know that i am still alive and well. I am away off in the woods—clear away from anywhere or anybody but soldiers. We left Harpers Ferry the 10th instant and marches to Dumfries on our way to Fredericksburg to reinforce General Burnside but was too late in the day so we went to Dumfries and turned back as far as here and camped. Don’t know how long we shall stay here. Don’t think we will be here long but can’t tell for certain.

Well, mother, I talk pretty strong of coming home soon but if I do, it will be on a French pass. But durn the odds, only so that I get home. There is not an officer in the regiment that has not done it and I am as good as they are and I think I shall try it when we are paid which will be ‘ere long.

Well there is nothing to write about that you don’t know already. We are 25 miles down the Potomac from Alexandria and one an a half miles from the river in the pine woods where we can’t see the sun at noon—a splendid winter camp.

I had a letter from Willy the other day. He said he couldn’t get anything out of that box [and] that I must eat and drink some for him, so I did. I wish that liquor wasn’t gone yet. I would take a horn or two today. I got the box Thanksgiving day and a fine time I had of it. But it is all gone now. Well, there is no more to write now so goodbye for this time. From Ed Whipple to his mother, Phoebe B. Edy

Address Ed Whipple, Co. C, 111th Pa. Vol., Washington D. C.

P. S. Don’t expect letters very often when I am on the march. — Ed Whipple