The following letters were written by Edward L. Brick (1845-1892), the son of John Hartley Brick (1806-1879) and Patience M. Crim (1820-1901) of Camden county, New Jersey. Edward enlisted in Co. G, 12th New Jersey Infantry in August 1862. An obituary notice informs us that “While in the service he was taken down with typhoid fever and sent to the hospital in Newark, New Jersey, and after regaining his health he again joined his regiment. He was in the battle of Gettysburg and was one of the men detailed from the 12th New Jersey to charge the Bliss barn and dislodge the rebel sharpshooters who were concealed in the barn and dealing out certain death with almost every gun fired. At the Battle of Cold Harbor, he was wounded in the neck and sent to the hospital at Camp Parole, Annapolis, Maryland, where he remained until well when he again joined his regiment. He was honorably discharged on June 4, 1865.”

Letter 1

Camp near Falmouth, Va.
December 23, 1862

Dear Lizzie,

Your kind letter came to me in due time but I forgot what date, but I think it was on the 13th. I was glad to hear from you again, and to hear that you was still alive and well.

Friend Lizzie, we have seen another battle since I wrote to you last. When your letter came to me, our regiment was laying in a line of battle about a quarter of a mile from the enemy and they was awaiting every moment to have to fight. But they got off without much of it to do but, dear Lib, it was a dreary night for they had been fighting all day and the dead and wounded lay all about over the field.

Friend Lib, if I could tell. you one half of the news, I would be satisfied. But Lib, it is no use for me to tell you anything about the war for you know a great deal more about it at home than we do out here. If I could see you so that I could have a good old talk with you, I could tell you all about the battle, but as it is, I will not try to tell you anything about it.

Dear Lizzie, the 19th Regiment has moved down here and Edie has been over here to see Jake and I, and I tell you that I was glad to see him. But the best of all was when he took your likeness out of his pocket and showed it to us. Ha! it looked like the same old Lizzie—the same old girl. And I tell you, I had a great mind to put it in my pocket and keep it. But I took a good look at it and give it back to him. But I expect to have a look at it every time I see him.

There has been several of the boys over here to see us. Tom Wick and Dave Eldridge, Hiram Cramer, and George Woodrow and a great many more of the Boys.

Bill Carr was wounded in our last battle. He was wounded in the shoulder and has been sent to Washington, and Tom Wick came very near having a wound also. I seen him yesterday and he said while the Rebs was pouring the grape and balls into them, that a ball or something struck him on the head and knocked a hole through the top of his cap and cut a small hole in his head—but not a very large one. Dear Lib, they do knock the Hurffville Boys clear out of this boxes somehow another. If I get safe, I shall think myself a lucky boy and think that I am not to be killed.

Dear Lizzie, I would like to sit here and write all day to you but I have almost [ ] my mind and now it is about 4 o’clock and almost time for dress parade and I shall have to. stop till it is over and then I will finish tonight. So goodbye.

Friend Lib, our dress parade is over and I have had my good old supper as we always have. But I am not like Mollie Hurff. The last letter that I got from her, she told me that she had been eating buckwheat cakes for her breakfast and she said that she had eat so many that they hurt her and she asked me if I did not wish that I had half of what she eat. But I have not answered her letter yet, but when I do, I will give her Jessie about the buckwheat.

Dear Lib, don’t you let Mell see this or she will kill me for maybe I have got more in here than what she see’s. But I am glad that she does eat some for me and I hope that you will do the same.

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Letter 2

Camp near Falmouth
January 15th 1863

To my cousin,

It is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well and in good health, hoping these few lines will find you the same. Well, cousin, I don’t now hardly know what to write to you but I will let you know I like it. I can’t complain a bit—only the food and that we are getting more of it and better. Our brigade quartermaster he sold our potatoes and them is things that I begin to like which I wouldn’t eat at home, nor fat pork and you would be surprised to see me eat it. Now you wouldn’t. Now we [ ] if I would sit down to your table although I have been sick for two days and you used to think I was a harry of a boy. If I should ever get home, you wouldn’t know what to do with me. But I expect you would soon get me to be a good boy for you know I would do just as you say if I was to go and see the girls, and how I would like to be at home with some of the Bunker Hill girls. You know I would hug their heads for them. I often think of the happy times I have had up there and could have. That was where the laugh comes in. This is what beats me…

Now Lizzie, I can tell you this. Infantry is the hardest of any kind of a soldier’s life, cavalry is a great deal easier than any. And if I should ever enlist again, it will be on board of a ship. That is the way I will go.

The boys send their best respects to you. Give my love to Uncle Jessie and to Aunty, to Willie, and Jessie’s family. My love to you and a sweet kiss somewhere in this letter for you. Lizzie, I want you to send me some paper for I can’t get any here and them postage you sent me are all gone. I lost them. — Edward Brick

to L. Brick