This letter was written by Eli Caress (1833-1862) of Co. A, 50th Indiana Infantry. Letters from this regiment are rare—only a smattering could be found in on-line archive files. The few that remain were written later in the war and do not reveal the internal struggles in command that first plagued this under-trained, poorly disciplined regiment from southern Indiana.

The regiment was commanded by Cyrus Livingston Dunham, a lawyer and former US Senator from Indiana whom the men of the regiment seemed to hold in high regard. The Lieut.-Col. of the regiment was Horace Heffren, a nephew of Dunham’s, with whom many of the men—and the company captains—apparently did not like much. So undisciplined were the men, and so disliked was Heffron and a few of the other officers in Dunham’s command, that the companies threatened a mutiny and pledged to form an independent command. Dunham stepped in and took control, however, before things got out of hand.

Eli was the son of Fielding Caress (1810-1836) and Nancy Norris (1808-1840). He was left an orphan at the age of seven and with his two sisters, Parthena and Sarah, was raised by others. In the 1850 census, Eli and his sisters were enumerated in the household of Ezekiel and Nancy Logan in Monroe, Washington County, Indiana. In December 1858, 25 year-old Eli married 18 year-old Sarah Ann Persinger (1839-1938) in Washington County, Indiana.

In the 1860 Census, Eli is enumerated in Jefferson, Washington County, Indiana. He is 27 years old and the head of the household. Others enumerated with him include his wife Sarah (age 22), their son Eli (age 4), their daughter Amanda (age 9 months), Parthenia (age 29)—a sister of Eli’s, Sarah (age 23)—a sister of Eli’s, and Newton Leffner (age 20)—probably a hired hand on Eli’s farm.

Eli’s Civil War letters were once in a large archive but have split up over the years. I was able to transcribe and publish 21 letters of them from one source. [See Archive of Civil War Letters by Eli Caress, “It is Life or Victory Now.”] This one has come from another source.

The letters were all written to his wife Sallie, who stayed at home with her three small children (ages 1, 2, and 3) while she tended the livestock on the family farm in rural Washington County, Indiana. Eli was a native of Kentucky, as were many of the southern democrats who resided in southern Indiana. Loyalties between the residents in this region sometimes splintered families. But Eli had few relatives. He and his two sisters were raised as orphans and attached themselves strongly to the Union. For Eli, the war was all about putting down a rebellion by those who would rise up against their own country. He held little respect for the “Secesh” whom he hoped to meet in a “fair fight” on the battlefield and revenge the debacle at Manassas.

Though Eli could write, his letters are the product of a yeoman farmer who spelled words phonetically, and wrote as he spoke, making them a delight, if not a little difficult, to read. The words of tenderness he shares for his wife and children ooze from the pages of his letters and make us truly sorry when we learn that Eli’s return from “the Rebel Land” of Kentucky would be a pine box. Sorry too that we did not get to experience more of the 50th Indiana Regiment’s history through the eyes of this caring soldier, husband and father.

T R A N S C R I P T I O N

Camp Wickliffe [Kentucky]
January 14, 1862

Dear wife,

This is only a few remarks and it will be put in another letter when I write it. I must tell you that I have not shaved yet but if I was at home and you wanted me to, I would sure and you know it for I used to. I have had my whiskers trimmed the other day. My mustache is just got long enough to begin to curl and I think that I will keep them till you can see them yourself and I am sure you will kiss me then.

We have the small pox in this division but not in our regiment yet. We was all vaccinated this morning. We was out on picket guard Sunday and Sunday night and it rained and sleeted and froze and last night it snowed and today it is clear and nice. The way we are treated is enough to kill an ox. But I think that it will be better now for [Col.] Dunham has come and he has cussed [Lt. Col. Horace] Heffron and the Adjutant already and cussed a funeral about the General taking our guns. We have the old fashioned musket but we will have them back again or come home. We came very near having a civil battle when they came after our guns. We told them that we could skin them and they said they would try it and the Colonel interfered or we would of had a fine time of it sure.

You said that Goodpasture had turned to be a secesh. I want you to tell him that he had better stick to the old Constitution and his own country for it is my interest there, not here, for if he had seen what I have seen, I am sure he would a been in the notion of giving them a few rounds. We came very near hanging one man as we came here. He hallooed for Jeff Davis and we thought it was time to begin to take them in as we were getting in the Rebel’s land though we find some very fine folks in here and some that would kill us in a minute if they had the chance. But we are too strong for them and we are on the gaining ground here. I have to steal time to write between drill hours and then we have to get our wood in that time and you. may guess how long it takes. Sometimes it takes three or four days and then don’t get there.

Thursday morning, 15th. I have taken it up again. I have sent that dollar to Louisville to get stamps with and then I will have stamps. I have been offered ten cents apiece for them you sent me but I did not sell any of them. I was glad to get your money but no so glad as to get your letter for I am always glad to hear from you.

You said when you went to bed you thought of me then. Well, we do not have any beds to go to here and so I cannot think of you then. But I think of you every day but I cannot kiss you like you can me.

Now I will tell you all that I think of is that if I had your miniature, I could be content. But I am as content as any of the Boys here and expect to be so till I get sick. Then I am coming home without I get the small pox and then I will stay at the hospital till I get well.

Now wife, I must quit for this time and you must write as often as you can and I will do the same. So goodbye for this time. — Eli Caress

To S. A. Caress