This letter was written by Henry Elijah Alvord (1844-1904) of Co. K, 2nd Massachusetts Cavalry. Henry was born in Greenfield, Massachusetts, the son of Daniel Wells Alvord (1816-1871) and Caroline Matilda Clapp (1824-1846). He wrote the letter to his step-mother, Caroline Betts (Dewey) Alvord (1827-1893). He was educated at Norwich University and was given the degrees of C.E. and B.S. in 1863. He joined the Union Army in 1862 as a private, eventually reaching the rank of Major in 1865 through meritorious service. He became interested in the emerging western cattle industry while serving as captain of the United States cavalry near the close of the American Civil War. Alvord later lobbied for the passage of the Hatch Act of 1887 and the Morrill Act of 1890, which helped establish agricultural experiment stations. In 1872, he was appointed a special Indian courier. He served as Professor of Agriculture of the Massachusetts Agricultural College from 1886 to 1887, as well as the second president of Oklahoma Agricultural and Mechanical College from 1894 to 1895. He organized and became chief of the dairy division of the Bureau of Animal Industry of the U.S. Department of Agriculture in 1895. He died on October 1, 1904, in St. Louis, Missouri while attending the World’s Fair.

See also—Professor Alvord Speaks His Mind.

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

Headquarters Cavalry Camp
Vienna, Virginia
February 7, 1864

Dear mother,

I will try to answer the two letters of yours which I have on hand and to tell of my personal well bring but I shall do but little more today. I have just returned to my quarters after a trying scene which leaves me in no mood for writing.

One Wm. E. Ormsby of Co. E, 2nd Mass. Cavalry deserted from picket to the enemy some days ago—two weeks or more. Yesterday he was recaptured while leading a charge of rebels upon our men. A “drum head court martial” tried him last evening and finding him guilty, sentenced him to be shot to death in presence of the Brigade.

The order for the execution was issued this morning at 9 and the prisoner left with the chaplain till 11. At that hour the ceremony took place, the Brigade being formed on three sides of a square. Military law assigns to the Provost Marshal the painful task of conducting the execution and that duty I performed today. God grant that I may never be obliged to do it again!

It was a very trying scene and one of intense and sad interest. The procession which was the center of attraction was as follows: Provost Marshal, band, platoon for execution, coffin borne by four men, the prisoner and chaplain, escort, surgeon. The prisoner ¹ was a noble fellow who probably never fully realized the enormity of his crime till today. He made an affecting farewell speech to his comrades and was firm and brave to the last. I feared my voice would fail me in the commands, “Ready!” “Aim!” and “Fire!” but I found myself strangely calm and all passed off well. Fortunately the first fire passed two balls through his heart so I was saved the much dreaded alternative of completing the work with my pistol which would have been my duty had he not died at once.

The occurrence caused the first real Sabbath I have ever seen in camp. Today has been very solemn and quiet. Nothing being done but the necessary guard duty. I dreaded my part which was very conspicuous and thank Heaven, it is over though I say it, who perhaps should not, I have been highly complimented for the manner in which I conducted the ceremony. It is a very slight satisfaction. I shuddered at the thought of being compared withe “the executioner who smiles at the neatness of his work.” But enough of this!

This week I have established myself finally at Headquarters—my private quarters opening into my office. Thursday and Friday and Saturday I was in town on official business. I received your last Sunday’s letter with Papa’s addition on Wednesday and replied to it the same day.

I am glad you are anticipating my leave as I am myself and hope it will not fall through. The only way in such cases is to make all arrangements for a success and if a failure is the result, a telegram will arrest the progress of preparations in time. I shall enter my application in a day or two and have no doubt it will go through. I shall then start for home the last of next week. Shall probably arrive in the morning Friday or Saturday. If it is thought best to have Carrie and Sarah arrive before I do, it might be well to have them reach Greenfield Thursday or Friday.

Your first letter (7th January—an anniversary) seems to call for no especial remarks. The autograph I will place myself in the album (D. V.) If I go home and Carrie is there too, I suppose business of importance will call Mr. Haven Greenfield the last of February.

I am glad Sarah’s engagement is so generally approved. I have long known of its possibility and although never having seen the Dr., from what I heard of him, I (unbeknown to him) have been doing my best to bring about the result which is now announced. I am glad I was in the right. I will write or telegraph when I shall arrive. I may through accident be one train late. Much love to all. Your affectionate son, — Henry E. Alvord

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¹ William Edward Ormsby—nicknamed Pony—“was a small man, only 5 feet 3 inches tall, with blue eyes, light brown hair and a fair complexion. He and his friend Harry Mortimer were called the “little fellows” of their cavalry company. Pony was a popular man, quick to laugh, always at his post, and “as good a soldier as any man need ever hope to be,”according to trooper George Towle. Every one who knew him testified to his bravery and steadiness in the face of danger.” This quote and the story of his desertion is chronicled by Steve Meserve in his article, “Young Man, before 12 o’clock tomorrow you die.”