The following letters were written by Gilbert (“Gil”) Henry Cox (1832-1907) who served the Union as a private in Co. H, 35th Iowa Infantry. A history of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, edited by Marilyn Schuele in 1984, states that Gil was born in New York State and moved with his parents to Illinois in 1840; later to Mechanicsville, Iowa, where he farmed. He was married to Eva A. Burkman in 1859 in Medina county, Ohio. In 1860, he was enumerated in Linn, Cedar county, Iowa. Gil enlisted in the 35th Iowa on 15 August 1862 and served 2 years and 9 months, “mostly in campaigns along the Mississippi River,” including the Siege of Vicksburg. He never had a furlough the entire time. From the 34 letters transcribed below that he wrote home to his wife Eva, we learn that he was a teamster at times, sick occasionally, and often on detached service away from his regiment, but we also learn of his sacrifice, leaving his wife and two young boys to do what he saw as his duty to preserve the Union.
Transcripts of Gil’s letters were sent to me for publishing on Spared & Shared by Patricia Wagner—Gil’s great, great, granddaughter. In sending them to me she informed me that, unfortunately, the original letters may no longer exist. They were transcribed by an older family member who has since passed away and she has no knowledge of what happened to them after that. She does not believe the transcripts of the letters presented below have ever been quoted in a book or published on the internet. While I do not ordinarily publish transcripts of letters on Spared & Shared without scans of the original images, I’m making an exception in this case for two reasons. First, the letters are interesting and there are few letters to be found by members of the 35th Iowa. Second, the original letters may have been accidentally thrown out or destroyed so these transcripts are the only record we have of Gil’s service.
In publishing the letters, I have made some minor editorial changes to the transcripts provided to me merely for the purpose of correcting obvious errors or improving their readability but only if it could be done without changing the meaning of what Gil had to say.
Letter 1
Camp Defiance
December 5, 1862
Dear wife,
I am enjoying myself as well as could be expected. We are now in a camp at Cairo, Ill. I like it a great deal better than I did at Camp Strong [in Muscatine, Iowa]. If I could come home as often I could there, I had a pleasant time coming down here. I was on guard the morning that we left and sixteen of us were left and sent through by express and a good time. We stopped at Lasel [perhaps La Salle] over Sunday. We got to Cairo Monday, 9 o’clock that night we had the satisfactions of guarding 1,500 secesh prisoners.
I am now driving team. Don’t have to stand guard. I thought I wouldn’t write till I got my pay but there is no telling when we will get it but I think it won’t be long. I will send you some as soon as I get it. I got that bill broke in maco but could not sent it home and I let some of the guards that came with me have it to get some grub with. I weigh 150 pounds. You ought to see the soldiers that pass here going south and prisoners going to be exchanged.
Ed is acting as police in Cairo. He gets 25 cents per day extra—only one dollar per month less than myself. I get $20 per month. I want you to write all about the boys and everything else. Tell Jake that Pa will bring him a pony. Well now for mother. You must write to tell uncle I expect to be there to work his farm next summer. Oh the devil—there is so much noise that I can’t write any more.
Direct to G. H. Cox, Cairo, Ills. Reg 35 Iowa Vol., Co. H
Letter 2
Cairo, Illinois
December 25, 1862
Dear Eva,
I have waited with great patience to hear from you but I guess you have forgotten me. So I will let you know that I have not forgotten you. I have written twice since I heard from you and don’t know whether you have not got mine as I have not got yours. I and Ed have both had the mumps since I heard from you. There is only 400 of our regiment here. They are at Columbus, 22 miles below here. They expect a fight there. We have 4 thousand men there and the enemy as near as they can guess its number [has] 15 thousand. But they think that they can’t take it. We are ordered to be ready at a moment’s warning but I have got no gun so I am ready any time. I am driving team when I am able but I am not well today. But think I will be all right in a few days.
I guess you will think that there is something the matter of me by the way I write. My head is all in a buzz. Eva, I never was so lonesome in my life, but I don’t let the boys know it. We have got no pay yet. The weather is fine here. It has not frozen the ground an inch deep this winter. We had a great [fight] here and killed 1500 rats but there is plenty of them left. You must write to me every week whether you get a letter as often or not. If you have no stamps let me know and I will try and send you some. Tell mother she doesn’t write much without she writes to some of her Mormon friends. I should like to see some of her scratching down this way and I will try my hand at answering them. Eva, if you can’t get along, sell the steers and cow if you can and use them up. We expect to get our pay soon but there is no certainty. I will send it home as soon as I get it. No more at present. From your affectionate husband, — G. H. C.
Letter 3
Columbus, Kentucky
January 20, 1863
Dear wife,
I have again waited till I have given up getting a letter from you. So I will try again. I got a few lines from mother but she did not say whether you were well or not and I thought she might as well say you was not and I fear you are fretting yourself about me. I am well at present but have been in the hospital. I had the mumps and they went down on me but it’s all right now.
Columbus is a great town. It is right on the river bottom but the fort where we are is up on the bluffs so we have a very good place [at least one page of this letter is missing] go to the devil so we just went to St. Louis strapped. We found the old gray beards 1 there and stayed with them 3 days looking at the city. We say and talked to Judge Williams of Muscatine and he tried to get some money for us but could not so we concluded to call for transportation to the regiment so we reported at Scofield barracks and they shut us up with about 200 others and kept us days like so many hogs. When they sent up down the river stood on the lower deck like a drove of mules. It got devilish cold and we had no fire so I told [rest of letter missing]
1 The 37th Iowa Infantry were often called “The Grey Beards.” They were mustered into service in December 1862. Every single member of the regiment was over the age of 45. The average age was 57.
Letter 4
Island No. 10
February 26, 1863
Dear wife,
I received your kind letter of the 20th today and was glad to hear from you. I am still surrounded by the Father of Waters—never allowed to go to the mainland except with a commissioned officer. But this morning I took the skiff and took two men over the river and took 25 cents for it, cash money. I am hearty as a buck. Never better in my life. If I could have you and the two little pests where I could see you, I should be contented. But as it is, to know that you are in want, I am not. I am sometimes tempted to come home at all hazards. I think I could get home. I don’t like the idea of being called a deserter but if I don’t get some money to send to you before long, I think I shall miss roll call. But then it would be hard to come without any money and lose all that is coming to me.
Last night we had a great treat. There was boat from Indiana with 22 ladies on board going to Vicksburg to wait on the sick. 1 They stayed at the isle all night. In the evening they sang some songs that were answered by the boys from the shore. I was called on but declined for it only made me feel worse to think that you could not be there to sing with me. And after the crowd had gone to their tents, I stood for an hour and thought of the happy hours I had spent with you and wondering if you were not watching that same moon. But enough of romance.
I have worked every day that was fit for three weeks and don’t stand any guard. The reason I do not write oftener was because I did not get any letters from you and because I was expecting money to send you. But I have given that up now and shall write as often as I can. I have got but 4 letters from you since I left and I assure you, it gave me as much pleasure to read them as it could possibly give you to read mine. Oh, Eva, you do not know the pleasure it gives me to look over your letters and think that your hand has traced their lines while thinking of me. “Do they miss me at home?” Is my favorite song. I think of nothing but you and them dear little boys. If I have seemed cold to you in my letters it is because I have been ashamed to show myself so weak that I could not write like a man and not like a school boy. But I will try and not let my Eva go moping home without a few tender lines oftener than the rest of the women and I shall never tire of reading yours.
I will stop for tonight. I may go over to Tennessee tomorrow.
February the 2d. I did not get time to finish yesterday. This has been mustering day for pay but no pay. The weather is very changeable. It is nice one day and rains the next regular. The river is rising fast. The new ironclad [remainder of letter is missing]
1 The women were sent by the Indiana Sanitary Commission. Due to the outbreaks of diseases like typhoid, dysentery, malaria, and small pox among the Union troops in the vicinity of Vicksburg, Indiana Gov. Oliver P. Morton expanded the State’s Sanitary Commission to send supplies, surgeons, and volunteer female nurses to staff field hospitals. Many of these women served at Milliken’s Bend.
Letter 5
Island No. 10
April 15, 1863
Dear Wife,
I received your kind letter of the seventy and was glad to hear that you had got to your father’s and was well and satisfied with the change. My health is very good. I have not been sick a day since I left the hospital at Mound City.
The regiment has gone down to Young’s Point near Vicksburg and Co’s E and H have been waiting three days for the steamer [C. E.] Hillman. She came today and we struck our tents and started to go on board when we got orders to pitch our tents and stay where we were for the present, which we were not sorry to hear for this is a very nice place to stay. I have been out scouting since we have been here looking for guerrillas dressed in citizens clothes noting the guerrilla myself and I have found some talking secesh.
We got some of our pay yesterday. I will send you 5 dollars in this and 5 in the next and keep on till I send you all I have. There is a boat coming now. Goodbye. I will write again tomorrow.
Letter 6
Milliken’s Bend
April 25, 1863
Dear Wife,
Arrived here last night and lay on the boat all night. Captain [Flanagan’s] wife came down with us and is going back home from here so I will send 20 dollars by her to you. I should have sent you more before this time but we have been on the move ever since I last wrote and are expecting every minute to start for Carthage, 25 miles below Vicksburg. I am as hearty as ever and the boys are all in good spirits.
We expect to surround Vicksburg and keep them until they knuckle under. Oh, Eva, if I could see you every few days, I should feel right for I think I am fighting in a good cause. We stopped at Helena [Arkansas] coming down and I saw a boy there that I used to go to school with and it done me good to talk with him. Write what regiment Dave Aldrich 1 is in and I will try to find him and tell me the nearest railroad station to where you live and how far it is. I must close. Write every 2 or 3 days and I will write as often as I can. Direct to Cairo.
From your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox
1 Dave Aldrich was a cousin to Eva (Burkman) Cox, wife of G. H. Cox.
Letter 7
Camp near Vicksburg
June 2, 1863
Dear Wife,
I feel a great deal better today than I did when I last wrote. We are still under the walls of Vicksburg, bombarding all the time. There is a constant road of artillery from our forts and the guns and mortar batteries on the river. The enemy hardly fires a shot—only from their small arms which is constantly playing on both sides with little or no effect. There are deserters coming to our lines all the time. They say that our guns are doing considerable damage inside of their works which must be the case. They say they have three ounces of cornmeal per day and plenty of beef for our shells kill more than they can use, but they don’t think they will hold out long.
The 24th [Iowa] was badly cut up at the Battle of Champion’s Bluff [Champion’s Hill on 16 May 1863]. Both of Henry’s boys were killed with one ball and several others that I know were killed but the 35th have been very lucky so far. We have only lost 3 or 4 in battle yet out of our regiment, and none out of our company.
There, the mail has just come in, but there is nothing for Gil. But that is nothing uncommon so I go ahead and think no more of it than I can help. Oh, Eva, if you knew what pleasure it gave me to hear from you, you would write oftener but I will hope for more hereafter.
I got 2 nice silk dresses for you—one black and the other lite colored flowers. But I could not get any chance to send them home so I cut one of them up—the black one—and made neck handkerchiefs of it. The other I have yet and use it for a pillow and if I can, I will send it to you. No more at present. From your affectionate husband—G. H. Cox
Do write as soon as you can. Did you get the money I sent you? I mean the 15 and twenty dollars.
Letter 8
Picket Post near Bear Creek 15 miles in rear of Vicksburg, Mississippi
June 28, 1863
Dear Wife,
I have not written to you now in several days because I have not had one for twenty. But I have written 5 or 6 letters since receiving one from you. We got paid 26 dollars a few days ago and I have written so many letter that I had no answer from them that I thought I had better send it by express. So I expressed 35 dollars intending to write to you immediately so that you could look for it. I didn’t know where the nearest express office was to you so I had it directed to you at your office and you will have to go to the nearest express office for it.
My health has [been good] most of the time since we started on our march but we have had hard, hard work till the last few days. Vicksburg is not taken yet but there is no chance of them getting away unless they can send a very heavy force to attack us at our rear and I have no fear of that for they have all they can tend to at other places. And when we get to Vicksburg, I think I can get a furlough.
Oh, Eva, if you knew how anxious I was to hear from you, you would write oftener. I am always so anxious to hear from you and the boys. Ed is not here. He stayed behind. I believe he is a coward; he acts like it. Our regiment has only three [hundred] and 50 men for duty and it is the largest in the division. And if we have to stay here all summer, there will be a good many less.
Oh, Eva, if I live to see peace restored and our beloved country once more governed by civil instead of military laws, I shall know how to appreciate home better than I ever did before, as will many others. And I look forward to the time that I shall return to clasp you to my bosom, never more to part till death shall part us. Tell Warren there are lots of boys not as large as him that go with the army all the time and make money like everything, peddling papers and everything else. Give my respects to all your folks. Tell Jake, Pa will bring him that pony. Tell me all about the boys when you write. From your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox.
Letter 9
Vicksburg [Mississippi]
July 28, 1863
Dear Wife,
I am so nervous that I don’t know as I can write so that you can read it but I thought that I would try it and if you can’t read it, it will do no harm. It is over a month since I have done any duty. I have been in the hospital three weeks but am getting better now. I think I shall try and get a furlough but that is uncertain so you need not look for me till you see me. I had written so often without hearing from you that I had almost given up hearing from you but today I got four all at a time—one dated June 30, another July [ ], July 5, [and] July 13, and it done me [more] good to read them than all the medicine I have taken in a week. But it appears you have not got any of the letters yet, that I told of the 35 dollars that I sent by express. So I will just say that I sent 35 by the Adams Express, but did not know where the express office was so you will have to go to the nearest office and get it. I have a receipt for it so if you don’t get it. I think I can get it from the company.
I am sorry you did not get the 15 dollars that I sent for I know you need all that I can get. I can hardly bear to stay away and have you out for your living but I can’t help myself now so I shall have to stand it and you must do whatever you think best for I can’t give [you any] now for you know how things are there better that I do.
You said in one of your letters that you thought we did not get much news. We hear everything that is going on in the whole army, I know that Lee made a raid into Pennsylvania but he was glad to get back and came very near being taken with his whole force. And he is not clear yet—they are giving him a hard chase. And I also know that Morgan got into Ohio but he hasn’t got out yet and all of his men but a small squad are already taken and likely they are taken by this time and all they both done is not as much as Grant’s Army done in one day. Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, is burned to the ground and the whole country is destroyed for 50 miles around.
The boys are in good spirits and think the rebels will have to give in before our time is out. They have lost over one hundred thousand prisoners in the last six weeks. That must weaken their army some and wherever I have been in the South, there is hardly a man left. And all the rebels that I have trained [?] with those damned copperheads of the North—as they call them—worse than they do the Union Army. They say they are nothing but a set of cowards that doesn’t enlist and they hand all such damned things in the South and our own soldiers don’t think much better of them. You bet I shall have to stop for this time—my head is getting dizzy.
I am sorry that Jake holds his breath yet but I hope he will get over that. Tell him that Pa is coming home sometime and he must be a good boy and Pa will bring him that little horse. I am so glad you keep your health so well. I don’t know but this will rub out so that you can’t read it. If it does, let me know and I won’t write any more with a pencil, but if it is plain, it is much handier than a pen. Write as often as once a week anyway. Your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox
Letter 10
Camp Sherman 20 miles from Vicksburg
August 13, 1863
Dear Wife,
I have just got to the regiment again and found 4 letters from you. I can tell you it done me good to hear that you were well and the boss also and that you had got the $35, but sorry that you have not got the $15 that I sent by letter but I guess it’s lost. I should have had more to send now but I was in the hospital when the regiment was paid off so I did not get any. But I still get more next time and I guess you can get along till next pay day.
Our camp is 20 miles from Vicksburg. We have a very nice place for a camp—only it is some ways to water.
You wanted me to tell you what I done with that dress that I used for a pillow. I got it all spoiled so that it was not worth keeping so I sold it for 2 dollars and sent you the money. They are giving furloughs now but there is so many wants to go and there can’t but two go at once out of a company that the chance is slim as draw lots to see who shall go. But I will try and come if I can, but it will [cost] about thirty dollars to come and go. So, Jake says Pa is a fool? That shows the kind of teaching he is having. I am sorry to hear that Edy is not well, let me know how his head is.
You appear to think that the riot in New York is a bad omen to our cause but I think different as it has been on foot ever since the breaking out of the war and in a few days time the Union men showed them that state could protect herself against all traitors.
Oh, I had such a good dream. I thought I was at home with you and the boys, the war was over and everything was peace and quiet. I dream of you often but this time seemed so real that it done me almost as much as if I have been at home a little while. If you have the money to spare, have your picture and the boys taken and send them to me. It is not necessary to direct in care of Capt. Flanagan. [He] has resigned and gone home and Spence has command of the company. There are only 16 men for duty in the company.
Tell your father that I send my best respect to him. I am afraid he is not as good a Union man as he might be, but if I get back there, I can talk all the copperhead out of him if there is any there. No more at present. Yours as ever —G. H. Cox.
Keep on writing as often as you have and I shan’t grumble. Goodbye. God bless and protect you and our children. Remember me. At midnight how I love to think of those most dear, most far from me and memory of them at that hour will gladly wing its flight to thee. I would not that my form should rise before thee in thy hours of glee. But when thou thinkist of sincere friends I wish thee to remember me. — GHC
Letter 11
Vicksburg, Mississippi
October 21, 1863
Dear Eva,
It has been a long time since I have written to you as I thought I would get a furlough as it was promised to me as soon as I was able to do duty, but now they have passed an order to give no more at present so you need not look for me very soon. I am at the city hospital in Vicksburg receiving but do not know how long I shall stay as I have not been detailed yet, but I think I shall be for I had much rather stay here than to lay out on the ground.
Ed has been home and just got back he says he would a man that would offer him another furlough to go home from here. He was 10 days going home and 12 coming back. That left him 8 days to stay at home and that hardly pays. But I would come and see you if I could. I feel very well now but am weak and nervous yet, but think I shall soon be alright. Now there is no use of my trying to tell you how I have spent the last 4 months—neither sick nor well—not able to do anything nor sick enough to go to bed. I have been so lonesome and could think of nothing but you. I have often walked the camp half of the night thinking how you were getting along and if you were thinking of me.
I came to this hospital on the 8th of this month and have improved since that time. Just as I was starting from the regiment, the mail came in and I got four letters from you and one from mother. But they had been a long time on the road. But still they done me a great deal of good for I learned you was well. You say you are going to stay with Lizz so I will direct to Ft. Madison for I suppose you are there before this time. You said some time ago you would send your likeness but they have not come yet. I wish you would send them if you can. They would be so much company for me to look at and as soon as I get some money I will get mine and send it to you. I was not with the regiment the last time they were paid off so I did not get any but I will get more the next time.
I must go for this time. Write soon and often [to the] City Hospital, Vicksburg. I think we will be paid off soon and I can send you some money. Give my love to Eph and Lizz and tell them I think I am all right yet. From your affectionate husband — G. H. Cox
You must send me a letter as often as once a week anyway. Goodbye.
Letter 12
Camp Tuttle
October 31, 1863
Dear Wife,
I have waited a long time in hopes of getting a letter from you. Thinking every mail well I will get one next time sure, but nary letter [comes]. I am kicking around again but don’t feel as I used to. The last time I wrote to you I was in the hospital at Vicksburg and thought I should stay there but I could not get a detail right off so I thought I had better come to my regiment as they were going to be paid. We were paid yesterday and expect 2 months more in a few days so I will not send it to you till I get more to send with it or can come and bring it myself, which I shall try to do as they are giving furloughs again. But if you want the money, let me know and I will send it to you immediately by express.
I got a letter from mother the other day. I also got a letter from brother Dan. He and his wife are well. He told me to give the rebels hell—that he thought I was fighting in a good cause— but he would hate to leave his wife. I wrote him a long letter.
The weather is very changeable and has been raining for the last three days. It froze some last night and today if is very warm and nice. Before I left the city, I got my likeness taken to send to you but it was so dark and cloudy that it is poorly done. But if I can’t get home, I will have it taken over and send it by express when I send the money. I can see no sign of the war ending yet and expect to have a change to serve my time out. I must get ready for dress parade. So goodbye for this time. From your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox
Write oftener—the more the better.
Letter 13
Middletown, Tennessee
December 11, 1863
Dear Wife,
I just received a letter from you and was glad to hear that you were well and hearty. And I guess my breast is alright so you need not be afraid of my having consumption yet.
You say you have had only two letters from me since you have been there. I think I have directed six to Madison besides one that I sent by Express with a picture and 25 dollars which it appears you have not got yet. I tried to get photographs but could not as we be going to leave to soon so I sent another Ambrotype so you can send one of them to mother to keep them both, just as you please, and if I can get a chance I will try again for a photograph.
I as so glad to hear that the boys keep well and that Eddy is so good. Tell Jake to be a good boy and when I get all the rebs killed off, I will bring him that pony. I am glad you can enjoy yourself there. Tel Eph to take good care of you and the boys and I will take care of his when he is drafted. I could easy get the rectory that Liss wanted me to send by cutting it out of an old tent but sending it would be the devil of it. I can’t pick up fine clothes so handy here as I could on the grand march to Vicksburg. Furloughs are played out again for the present but as soon as they go to giving them again, I will come and give you one of the best hugging you ever had.
You talk as though you didn’t like the idea of my going to Hall’s. Do you suppose that if I could get off that I would stop till I got to where you were if I have to go to the Rocky Mountains. So, you need not be alarmed on that score, but then you need not be so saucy about it. I suppose you have heard that they are offering big pay to old soldiers to re-enlist in the veteran’s service? What do you think of that? Don’t flatter yourself that the war is going to end very soon. I can’t see it that way for they will fight as long as they have territory enough to stand on, but I don’t believe they will have that in two years from now.
We have a great deal of picket duty to do here every third night. Get shot at once in a while but never get hit. We take a few guerillas now and then. Some of the boys get scared almost out of their wits and point and shoot at the leaves but I have never got to shoot at anyone yet since we have been here. Oh, if I could see you, I could talk for a month. Yours as ever, — G. H. Cox
When you get that money send me them pictures. Write soon.
Letter 14
Middletown, Tennessee
December 23, 1863
Dear Wife,
I have just received yours of December 11th and was glad to hear that you and the boys were still well. I have written three times since I sent you the money and it appears you have got but one of them. I began to fear you would not get the money—it has been so long on the road. You think maybe I have spent my money for something to eat and maybe not. I am very sorry you have no more confidence in me than that, but you may have good grounds for suspicion for what I know. But let me assure you that you need have no fears. As for liquor, I don’t believe I have drunk a pint since I left Camp Strong. There is a great temptation for gambling and I confess I have been tempted, but thought that I have no right to venture what really belonged to you. But then a little wholesome advice would do no harm but I had rather have it come in the form of good advice then as censure for that you supposed me be guilty of.
I am very sorry you have to work so hard and if I keep my health, I will do all in my power to help you. God knows that I am as anxious as you possibly can be to do all I can for your comfort. Oh, how I long to meet you once more. It seems to me that I could take more comfort with you in one hour than in a lifetime of the rest of the world.
The most of our duty here is picket which comes every third day. Do you know what a picket is? Just imagine yourself in camp in a big field where the rebel cavalry guerrillas—“night hawks” and “jayhawks” as they style themselves—are thick as the rabbis are in the thickets up there. Your picket line is one mile across 6 posts that are called the main, or rallying posts, with 6 men on a post—2 men on duty at a time from 50 to 100 yard from the main post, where they stay 2 hours at a time when they are relieved by 2 others. These are called videttes or outposts. In case of an attack, they fall back to the main post [and] hold their position as long as possible. This gives the men time to get ready to meet the enemy. Now you can tell pretty well how I spend my time these cold nights standing out in the woods all alone where I can think of you to my heart’s content, for that is the [only] comfort I have.
You say you can’t get a letter oftener than once a month no difference how often you write. Do you write oftener that that? I was calculating you wrote oftener than that. I was calculating you wrote about that often and I wrote 3 times to your one. Write once a week if you can spend that time thinking of me and I will write two letters for everyone I get and would write oftener but I am such a miserable hand to tell my thoughts through the medium of the pen that it is always a task for me to try. I never wrote a letter yet but what I was ashamed of.
I sent you that song that you wanted with two others in my last. I should have written long before this but have been expecting to hear from you every day, but have been disappointed till today. I am sorry that I could not get you the photographs and if I can get to Memphis, I will get them yet.
Ed is promoted to the rank of corporal. He has made some money gambling [and] wants me to go to his hand every time but I won’t do it because I know you don’t want me to. Capt. [John] Flanagan is in Memphis working at his trade—carpenter work. Do you recollect long-legged Bill Fisher? Him and Pony are bunking with me. Pony is a first rate little fellow and Bill ain’t the worst in the world. We have our tent fixed up the best of any in the company. I got two cots yesterday [and] that makes [it] look more home like. Ed gets a pass every few days to go to Pocahontas to get whiskey. I believe every man in the company is afraid of him but me.
Captain and all the damn whole company [are] now worse than ever. I and him had a fall[ing] out. He thought he could scare me as he did the rest but he found it wouldn’t win, so he is very clever again. It appears to stick in your crop yet because mother wanted me to come there if I got a furlough. It is natural that she should so don’t blame her for that. But if I am so lucky as to get a furlough, won’t I make tracks for where you are double quick march? Well, I will.
You wanted me to send you something from Dixie. I don’t know what I can send you in a letter and I have no other way to send. Wait till I come, then I will bring you something nice. Oh, this is Mississippi paper—some of that I got between Jackson and Vicksburg, at the overseer’s house on Jeff Davis’s plantation. I have about 40 sheets of it yet. What do you think about my enlisting in the veteran’s service. $400 is a heap of money for one year extra. What say you? I won’t enlist till I hear from you. Tell Eph if he wants to enlist, now is the time. Come to Co. H, 300 first. Tell him that I want to hear from him soon or he will hear from me with a hell and haraw [?] to it. I guess I had better quit. Tell Liss she may put in a word occasionally to Gill. When you write you may write as often as you can, the more the better, but don’t scold much and I’ll try and do better in the future.
From your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox
Letter 15
Middletown, Tennessee
January 3, 1864
Dear Wife,
I received your kind letter and was glad to hear that you were well and trying to enjoy yourself. How did you spend New Year’s Day? We had one of the darndest storms and the coldest day they have seen here in several years. But not near as cold as I have seen in Iowa. But it sets pretty hard as we are living in our tents and have to stand picket every third day. But I don’t think it will last long as cold as it is now.
You say there is nothing gives you so much pleasure as to get a letter from me. I don’t believe you half as much of one as I do. It seems to my thought you ought to write to me twice a week at any rate for I always look for a letter every time the mail comes in and don’t have more than one every two or three weeks, which seem to me like so many months.
I commenced this morning but my head ached so that I had to stop and it don’t feel much better yet but I haven’t much of importance to write so I will go on. It is drizzling rain now not so cold as it was.
I was out yesterday and shot a hog near camp. What there is are as wild as deer. But I have never missed getting one yet when I went after it, so our shebang has fresh meat most of the time. Do you recollect Pony and long-legged Bill Fisher? They are in the tent with me. I believe I told you that in my last. Pony is a first-rate fellow. I haven’t had a regular knock down since I was home and not more than two or three quarrels. I am spoiling for a fight. The boys are getting acquainted with some of the girls about here and have dances once in a while, but I haven’t been to any of them yet. I suppose I might find a girl but I couldn’t keep from telling them about my wife and boys and that [would] knock it all in the head, so I don’t think I shall try. So you think I look the best with a mustache? I thought you didn’t like them. That is the reason I had them cut off.
Have your pictures taken as soon as you can. Let the boys both stand up, have them taken together. I shall expect them every mail till they come. So, you don’t [think] it would pay me to re-enlist? If you only keep well, I will be satisfied. But every time I get a letter, I am so afraid that I shall hear you are sick or one of the boys. Oh, what a time I will have with them when I get back. I imagine I see myself on the floor with them both on me howling like young Indians. Keep them dressed as well as you can. Them verses were very nice. Just my sentiments. Follow their directions. Will you write to me very often. Writn to me very soon.
From your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox.
Letter 16
Memphis, Tennessee
January 30, 1864
Dear Wife,
Received yours of the 20th yesterday and was glad to hear that you are well. I sent you 15 dollars by express yesterday. I was disappointed in not getting them pictures but hope I will get them next time. We are on the boat now, ready to start down the river. I can’t say where we are going to but we are fixing for a long march and a hard one.
So, you think if I am sure of the 400 dollars, I had better reenlist? That is an inducement for me to stay another year from you, so you need not think to get rid of me so easy. Tell Eph to look for me a place in the prison if he goes there for I expect to be too lazy to work if I ever get back. I didn’t think that you thought more of 400 dollars than you would of my company two years. But never mind, if you don’t prize my company very high, I do yours, so I don’t think I shall reenlist. No more at present. I will write the next opportunity. Write as often as you can.
From your affectionate husband, —G. H. Cox
Letter 17
Vicksburg, [Mississippi]
February 5, 1864
Well Eva, here I am back on the old stomping ground in Mississippi, 12 miles from Vicksburg all right. I am setting by the side of a log on a little chunk using the log for a table about half a mile from camp right on the bank of the Big Black, but not far enough away to be out of hearing of the noise of camp and the crows keep up the darndest squalling you ever did hear.
We left Memphis the 30th of January and landed in Vicksburg the 3rd of February. We left all our camp equipment, tents and all, at Memphis, so we are laying out now. It is nice and warm in the day time but chilly at night. I can’t say how long we will stay here. There is a big move on hand but I don’t know as we will go any further. Our troops have had some little fighting between here and Jackson and we may have to stay behind to guard trains through to Meridian—150 miles from here. I don’t think we will be in the big battle anyway—that is, if our forces succeed in taking the place by storm, and I have no doubt but they will for their men are so distended that they can’t stand a charge. There is lots of them come inside of our lines every day and some them enlisting in our army.
I wrote a few lines to you before we left Memphis and sent you 15 dollars which I suppose you have before this. I dreamt of being at home last night and seeing you. Oh, how I love to dream of you but I begin to think that I shall be with you in the course of a year then.
I heard the boom of a cannon just then at Jackson. I guess I am getting almost out of waiting for them pictures. Keep in good spirits. Do the best you can and I will send you all the money I can. How did you like them verses I sent you? Pretty good, huh? Oh, I think I shall be a poet yet if I have good luck. Eva, if I ever get back to you, I don’t believe you will have to tell me not to turn my back to you as you used to. Very soon. And I think we will take comfort enough in each other’s love to make up for our present hardship and suffering. Goodbye for the present. God bless you. Our children is a constant prayer of your husband, — Gill
Letter 18
Vicksburg, Mississippi
February 19, 1864
Dear wife,
I just received yours of the 5th February and was glad to hear that you were well, but your writing is so strange that I hardly know what to make of it. But as for directing them letters wrong, I can’t say what I was thinking of. It might have been the ladies of Middleton as you say for all I know, but I recollect of writing to you first and then in 2 or 3 days to mother and I suppose I must have been thinking of you instead of her when I directed it.
I was very much disappointed at not getting them pictures. You talk of not sending yours. You can do as you like. I have asked you for it several times as it would be so much comfort for me to look at your picture while I am denied the privilege of seeing the original. Ed got Teal’s and their boy’s pictures the other day—they were taken separate. If you conclude not to send yours, you need not send any. You censure me for not coming home but I am sure you would not if you know as much of the army as I do. I should have been home last fall if I had not been sick when they were giving furloughs, but they are giving none now and I can’t say when they will.
I told you in one of my last letters what I thought of the veteran’s service. I suppose you have that before this.
Well Eva, this is the 22nd. I commenced this the 19th and had to stop to go on the parade. The 20th went out in the country for lumber to build captain a shanty. [On the] 21st, [I] had to help him put it up, and the 22nd I am going to write till they come in [from] the big battalion’s drill that comes off twice a week.
You talk some of going mad and dying if I can’t come home. By gosh, you mustn’t do that. That won’t do at all. Keep up good spirits. I am all right now and hope I shall stay so till my time is out and be assured if there is any chance of getting back sooner, I shall improve it for it there ever was a little man wanted to see his little woman, that is Gill.
Got a letter from Dan and Ed’s wife the other day. They want you to write to them. I also got one from Hall but haven’t answered it yet. Will send you a lock of hair in this. That girl that once wore it is my sleeping and waking dream. I expect you to have that by this time. No more at present. Write as often as you can. I don’t think I shall go into the veteran’s service. I hope you will conclude to send your picture it would be so much comfort for me to look at it. — G. H. Cox
Letter 19
Vicksburg, Mississippi
March 6, 1864
Dear wife,
I received your kind letter with the likenesses yesterday and was glad. How much comfort it is to me to look at the Ambrotype. It seems to me almost as natural as life. But the other picture doesn’t look one bit like you. It isn’t half as good looking as my wife but I have the other and where I can look at it four or five times a day. Send the boys as soon as you can.
We came in from Black River yesterday. Sherman’s army have been way out to Meridian, tore of the railroad, burned the town, destroyed 26 locomotives, burned lots of cotton, confiscated lots of mules and horses, cattle, wagons and [brought in] about seven thousand niggers. They was the darndest I ever saw—big and little, old and young, dressed in all the rigs that could be imagined. Teams of three and four yoke of cattle to a wagon. Great big beds just as full of young niggers as they could be stuck. They picked up lots of little young ones along the road that the wenches throwed away. There was twenty in one wagon that had no mothers—or [at least] none that would want them.
I have been taking a look at our old camp this forenoon where we lay in the time of the siege. Oh, how I should like to have you here a couple of days to show you what kind of a place we had to fight them in.
My health is good. We have orders to be ready to leave here in the morning. I can’t say where we are going to but I think we will go back to Memphis, but we may go to Texas. Don’t coax me to come home any more for I want to come bad enough now and the more you say about it, the worse I want to come. But it is of no use. I can’t come it. The veterans [are] beginning to go home now. No more at present. I will write as soon as we can get to our next stopping place. Write soon and often. Your affectionate husband, G. H. Cox
Letter 20
Vicksburg, Mississippi
May 30, 1864
Dear wife,
It has been so long since I have written or received a letter from you that I hardly know where to begin. I have so much to say but begin with my health is good.
We have been on the hardest campaigns of the war but our boys have stood it well. I should like to tell you all about our marching and fighting but that would take more paper than I have but we had some first rate fights. But as good luck would have it, only one was killed in our company. That was George Comstock. He was sick in our last fight at Yellow Bayou. A minié ball struck him in the forehead and killed him instantly. Banks’ Army got badly whipped but we—that is, Smith’s command—whipped the rebs every time we met them. That was every day for two weeks. The fighting is fun for me.
I should have written to you while we were up Red River but there was so much mail captured that I [thought I] would wait until I got where it would go. We have not been paid for five months but I think we will be before we leave here and that won’t be many days. But there is no telling where we will go to but I think I can send you some money before we leave here and if you want to go and pay mother a visit, fix the boys up as well as you can and go ahead. Oh, how I should love to be there to go with you. After the Spring’s campaign is over, I shall try hard to get a furlough but that is very uncertain.
I received a letter from mother a few days ago with Maris and Birt’s likenesses. Mother was well. They are going to live on Ed’s place this summer. Oh Eva, how I long to see you again. When my time is out, I think I shall know how to appreciate home and the society of a dear wife and family. Keep up good courage and fear not for me for I feel no uneasiness on my own account as long as you and the children keep well. Oh gosh, Eva, if I would only show you come of the things that I can get. How I could make you shine. But that is played out. No contraband goods can be got up the river but I sell some little things now and then. That helps pay expenses, I sold Witcher a pair of blankets that I got at Governor [Thomas Overton] Moore’s in Louisiana. I tell you, they were nice. He gave me 6 dollars for them. They were worth 15 but I have more than I know what to do with yet. My clothes shouldn’t cost me much from this [time] out.
Give my love to Eph and Liss. Tell them I want them to be ready to go to Nevada with us when we go, for I think we will try the territory of the Southwest, don’t you? What under the sun is the reason I can’t hear from you oftener? No more at present. Write as often as you can. Don’t wait for me. Good night.
Letter 21
Memphis, Tennessee
June 14, 1864
Dear wife,
Here I am in Memphis, all safe. But we have had one of the hardest campaigns of the war. I wrote to you before we left Vicksburg and told you we had had some good fights. We left Vicksburg the 4th. There was a band of rebs with a battery of seven on the river between Vicksburg and White River. On the 5th, our force was landed to dislodge them. [We] lay in our arms that night, started on in the morning, [and] found the enemy about two miles from where we had laid over night. On our advance, they fell about three miles farther, crossed a bayou, tore up the bridge, and posted themselves on the other side. When we were about a mile off, they commenced plying on us with their artillery. We had to charge them across an open field of half a mile with nothing [to] break the force of their grape, canister and shell. But our columns of about 15 hundred men led by General [Joseph Anthony] Mower pushed boldly on, the men not knowing that there was anything to keep them from taking the enemy’s guns and turning them on their own ranks as they retreated, for retreat we knew they would. But imagine our surprise and disappointment on finding an impossible barrier between us.
There we were, 800 yards from the enemy’s line, numbering twice our strength, exposed to a galling fire of artillery and musketry, but our men stood their ground bravely and returned their fire with such good will that the enemy was forced to abandon their position after an hour’s hard fighting. The regiments engaged on our side was the 35th Iowa, 33rd Missouri, 8th Wisconsin, and 5th Minnesota. There was an expedition six or seven days before we got here [and] they got thrashed like thunder and have been coming in in squads for the last three days.
We have had no pay for almost 6 months and I don’t expect any now till the first of next month. Then I think we will get 6 months pay. Oh, Eva how I should like to bring it to you and go up to mother’s with you if you go. If they give any furloughs this fall, I think I can get one. How I long to see you. I have so much to say to you I shall never tire of talking. Keep them boys fixed up the best you can and if I live to get home—of which I have no doubt—oh how happy we will be to love each other and enjoy the society of our children. No more at present. From your affectionate husband, —G. H. Cox
If you can’t read this you need not send it to for I am sure I can’t. write soon as often. It is just getting dark and I imagine you are thinking of Gill.
Letter 22
Memphis, Tennessee
July 3, 1864
Dear wife,
I sent you 20 dollars by express which I suppose you have before this. I received yours of June 23 yesterday and was glad to hear from you as I had not heard from you in a long time. But I was very sorry to hear that your health was so poor. But I hope you will be better before you get this. Keep up good spirits and all will yet be well. I feel no uneasiness on my own account but am so afraid things will [happen] to you or the children that I can hardly content myself to stay away from you longer. But I have the comfort of knowing that I am spending my time and my life—if needs be—in the defense of liberty and the best and freest government on the face of the earth. If I had chosen to stay home and enjoy the society of those I love whilst others enlisted in the cause of humanity with less to urge them than myself, I should have lived to see the enemy of the country conquered and rebellion trampled underfoot as they will certainly be. How should I have felt to hear it said what right has he or any of his family— the coward—to anything in our free country? He has done nothing to establish our government and doesn’t deserve to have any portion of these benefits of it. Any man can well afford to be a good Union man as long as he can stay at home and not have to endure the hardships and privations of the soldier’s life, but had all those pretending to be lovers of their country been willing to step out and shoulder their guns like men with less talk and whining about leaving their home and families, this carnage and bloodshed would have been over long before this.
I have no fears but I shall live to see our country once more at peace and be able to hold up my head with the proudest and enjoy them. I am now suffering for my health is not very good at present. I am neither sick nor well but between the two. Some of the boys came in from the regiment last night. The regiment [has] orders to march this morning. I suppose there will be some hard fighting. I should like to be with them if I was well. I have enjoyed myself the best in some of our hardest that I have since enlisted.
I suppose they are [having] great times about the election but I think the Fremont party may as well save their breath. Old Abe is good for another term in the White house. The army is satisfied with him so far. The enemies of the country will try every dodge they can to make a split in the Union ticket no doubt, but let them pick what man they will by dodging. They’ll find Old Abe will beat him still with nary dodge.
So Liss thinks Eph thinks more of her than I do of you? Tell her, bless her little soul, there is where she is mistaken. It was love for my wife and children that caused me to leave them to fight against their enemies and the common enemies of our country. I should consider myself a poor protector if I had of stayed home and allowed traitors to invade our country when it was in my power to assist in driving them into the Pacific, and make their country instead of ours feel the ravage. But I don’t blame her for keeping Eph from going if she can. How is Van & his folks getting along? I should like to hear from him. Dan thinks he can’t leave his family. I am sorry I have a brother that has not the courage to leave all to his enemy but there are thousands of the same kind. Give my love to Eph, Liss and reserve the lion’s share for yourself. Write soon and often. Don’t be afraid of writing too much. I got Willie’s likeness; the glass was all broken up but that don’t matter. I can get another glass. Send me Ed’s if you can.
Your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox
Letter 23
Memphis, Tennessee
July 9, 1864
Dear wife,
It is now half past 11 o’clock at night and I am on guard. As I have to sit up till 2 to change guard, I thought I would improve the time by writing to you as I find more pleasure in that than anything else. This is the 3rd time I have written besides what I sent with the money since I heard from you but I suppose there is one or two letters gone to the regiment for me. But I don’t know who they are from but suppose one of them is from you.
I am pretty stout again now and should have been with the regiment now but they have gone on another scout so I could not get to them but I hope they will have no fighting to do this time. But still, they may. When they get back, I think they will let us rest a while as we have been on the go almost steady for the last five months. I got a case for Willie’s picture; the glass was all mashed up. You have certainly got the money I sent before this. I thought I could send you 10 or 12 dollars more by this time as there is 15 or 20 dollars due me from boys in the company but I wasn’t with the regiment when they paid [us] so I did not get it and I don’t know as I can send any more till next pay day.
There is lots of peddlers around camp every day with all kinds of vegetables and I tell you it is tempting, but they are very high. Some of the boys didn’t send any money home and have spent most all of it for things to eat. Potatoes are worth 3 and a half a bushel and they are the cheapest vegetable to be had. Butter 50 cents, eggs 50 cents, milk 10 cents a pint and half water at that, and everything else in proportion. But I bet someone swore to night when they went to milk and found old milky dry. I didn’t want to have her bag spoil so I relieved her of a couple of quarts and I think I shall have a feast on bread and milk in the morning, without any water in it. I was peddling tobacco and candy honey for Tommy Andre, made a dollar and a quarter clear gain. Think I shall keep at it as long as I stay here if I can do as well every day. How would you like to see me running around with a basket on my arm hollering “here’s where you get your good chewing tobacco. Right this way for your nice white clover honey, who is the next lucky man for a can of fresh peaches, only one dollar a can, just half price, didn’t cost me anything I can afford to sell cheap?” How do you like that? Don’t you think I am a first-rate peddler? Just wait about 14 months and you will see Gill coming along with a basket on his arm if he has any arms by that time.
Eva, do you want to know what makes me feel so good tonight. I can tell you, I have yours and Jake’s [pictures] sitting right on the stand before me where I can look at you all the time and you seem to look at me so kind and loving that it seems almost reality, but when I want to hug and kiss you then I find nothing but my own dear Eva can fill the bill. I dream of you often lately I have no news to write. Do write often. It does me so much good to read your letters—they seem so natural. I can tell you just how you feel when you write. I wish I could write that way. May God bless you and protect you is the constant prayer of your affectionate husband, — G. H. C
Letter 24
Memphis, Tennessee
July 20, 1864
Dear wife,
I received your kind letter last night dated the 10th and was glad to hear from you. It seems strange to me that you had not got that money yet as some of the boys have heard from theirs that they sent at the same time and none of their letters written as late as yours. But I guess you have it right before this. I am beginning to feel about right again.
We got word from the expedition that left here under Smith and Mower. They have given old Forrest most a devil of a thrashing and are on their way back out. That is just what we expected for the men have all confidence in their commanders and never think of being whipped. But I guess they had a hard fight and I hear some of our boys are played out. Our loss is reported at 300 and the enlisted at 2500. I think they will let the troops rest till fall when they get back this time. I got Willie’s picture but the glass was all mashed up.
I am glad you enjoyed yourself at the [4th of July] celebration. I was in town, I believe—darned if I can tell certain whether I was or not. You said George was at Memphis. What regiment does he belong to? I have never come across him. Don’t understand me that I think more of you than you deserve or more than I ought for my own good. I am very sorry your health is so poor but if you stop work awhile, I hope you will get stout again. I will send you all the money I can and I think you can live without doing housework all the time. We will get 16 instead of 13 dollars after this so there will be 6 dollars more for you every 2 months, but that won’t go very far. Everything is so high.
You wanted me to tell you what I had to eat. I have plenty of bread and meat, sugar and coffee, rice, beans and there is plenty of vegetables but they are so high that I have bought but very few. I could live very well if I had any one to cook for me, but you know I am the poorest hand in the world to cook and so I live rather poor. If we were only stationed in a place so I could get a house and have you come and cook for me I could live first rate and make plenty of money by keeping a wench for two to do the cooking and washing, but I am afraid we will be kept in the field. No more at present. Do write as often as you can. Your affectionate husband, — G. H. Cox
Letter 25
Memphis, Tennessee
July 22, 1864
Dear wife,
I had just sealed a letter for you—the 19, I think. When the mail boy brought me one from you so I thought I would wait till I heard from the regiment before I answered it. I was glad to hear that you was getting well again and that you had the money. I am well.
Our troops had a pretty hard fight. Our regiment lost over 35 in killed and wounded but there was none killed in our company and only three wounded. I don’t know whether any of them is mortal or not. Jo Brigs is left in the hands of the enemy. He was shot with a musket ball. It struck him in the throat and came out on his back at the shoulder blade but it was not thought to be mortal. Joe Owens is shot through the thigh—no bones broke. James Boiles in the wrist, no bones broke. The regiment is now at LaGrange. We expect them in today.
The weather is very warm and dry now. There is some talk of the regiment coming home to recruit, but I don’t believe they can come. But the colonel says he will do his best. They say the old fellow fought like a tiger in the last battle. Had his horse shot, lost his sword, but he picked up a musket and fought in the ranks. The men like him first rate now. I am sorry I could not be there to take part in the fight.
You expect I will say I am glad you can’t come to see me. Well as much as I should like to see you, I should hardly like to have you come here while we are out in camp for I can tell you this is no place for any woman—and especially my Eva. You want me to have my likeness taken with my mustache on. I thought you never liked mustaches, but I will have it taken as you say the first chance I have. How would you like it best—with soldier or citizens clothes on?
I am afraid George is doomed to be sadly disappointed about the war coming to a close this fall. I see no signs of its closing yet for they are determined to fight as long as there is the last hope for them and at present, they think France is going to help them. I don’t look for the close of the war for the next two years, by which time I think they will be driven to the coast without any chance of obtaining supplies, when they will be obliged to give up and not before. You need not worry about me. I am doing first rate and have no fear, but I shall get back to my family. All of my trouble is to save money to send to you. I make a little money occasionally trading one way or another, but I have to spend considerable for you know I must see what is going on. But I shall try and manage to send you pretty much all my wages from this out and if you had not said so much as got me out of the notion of gambling, I think I might have sent home as much more. But maybe it is all for the best. I got them verses; they were very nice. I had some to send to you but I have lost them.
No more at present. I expect to hear from you in Cedar County next. Give my love to Eph and Liss. If I should happen to get a furlough while you are in Cedar I guess I should have to go and see them to. Write as often as you can. The more I get the more I feel like writing. Yours in love, — G. H. Cox
Letter 26
Memphis, Tennessee
November 7, 1864
Dear wife,
I once more sit down to write you a few lines to let you know that I am still alive but not very well. I have been troubled with the diarrhea all the time for the last 4 months. I have tried to get a furlough but luck appears to be against me. I had one through, approved and all, but the papers were lost before I got them. But never mind—I only have 11 months to serve yet. Then I can come and not have to go back. We have not been paid yet and I hardly think we will get any before the 1st of January. Then we will have 6 months due. If you can manage to get along till then, I think I can send you enough to make you comfortable till I get home.
Tommy Andre got his discharge and went home. He said if you stood in need of anything, he would help you. So if it is necessary, you can call on him. I received your letter of Oct. 15th and was glad to hear that you were better but sorry to see that you are so low in spirits. Keep up courage and all will come out right yet. If you need money, don’t be afraid to call on Mr. Andre and tell him just how you are situated and I am confident he will help you to whatever you need and never fear for me and remember my time will soon be out. Then I hope to enjoy life with you and our children to make up for the three years lost in the army. Oh, how I long to clasp you to my bosom and once more imprint loves warm kiss upon that pure brow, but I can’t see you till my time is ours. We can then meet without the painful thought if again being separated. May God grant that we may meet and live in happiness till death shall separate us.
What is the reason you don’t write oftener? It does me so much good to get a letter from you if it ever so short but I suppose you would ask the question why don’t you write I will answer it, one reason as I have thought I would get a furlough then I could tell you all without writing. 2nd, I have thought we would get paid off and I wanted to send you some money when I wrote. 3d, I have not been well and haven’t felt much like writing but I am better now and shan’t wait for money or furlough, so look for lots of letters [even] if they ain’t very good.
It has been raining all day and don’t look any like holding up. Can’t you get your county money now? That would help you some if you can’t get it yourself. If you can see Mr. Andre, have him tend to it for you. Thinking of what you have to suffer is all my trouble. No more at this time. Do write often it does me so much good to hear from you. Yours in love, — G. H. Cox
Letter 27
Memphis, Tennessee
November 17, 1864
Dear wife,
I have written three letter and directed them to Mad[ison] since I supposed you was there and never got any word from you till last night and it seems you have got none of them yet. I got two letters last night—one dated Oct. 2 and other Nov. 9. So your ____ there is no telling how long it takes for them to go. Oh, how glad I should be to come and see you and them little fellows but can’t say when I shall get a chance.
I don’t see any signs of the war being over yet. We are on the move most of the time. Don’t stay in one place long enough to fix up anything so we have to take things as we can catch them. We got our pay yesterday but I have not much to send home. I have been sick so much that I could not get hard tack and sow belly and have spent considerable for things to eat. But I will send you 25 or 50 dollars with this by Express and a picture with it. I sent one in a letter but you may not get it and it was very poor anyway. I am almost as stout as ever now and I think I can stand it now till my time is out but will come on furlough as soon as I can. I had to stop to see the fun. They were tying one of company E and had a devil of a time at it. We are under marching but I can’t tell where we are going to or whether how soon but direct to Memphis. I am in hopes we will stay here a while. I take some dreaming of you now again. No more at present. Write as often as you can, the more the better. From your affectionate husband—G. H. Cox
This is the worst letter I have written.
Letter 28
Nashville, Tennessee
December 11, 1864
Dear wife,
I once more sit down to let you know that I am still alive but not well. When I wrote [last], I was in Memphis and I have been knocked around so since then that I have had to chance to write. I tried to drive team but got so sick that I had to give it up on the way from Memphis to Nashville. I had my knapsack and everything I had in it stolen and left without anything to write with and I have nothing to buy with. But I got your letter and had to get a sheet of paper and envelope of the Christian commission to answer it.
Well, when we landed at Nashville I was sent to the hospital. There were so many troops coming in and the hospital was so full that myself and about a hundred others were sent to the convalescent camp—a large building filled up with from 5 to 6 thousand men of all kinds and the dirtiest, lousiest hole I ever saw, not fit for a hog to live in there. I had the pleasure of staying a few days. Captain found out I was there and came and took me out and sent me to camp. The next day the doctor sent me back to the hospital and here I have been 2 days & can’t say how long I shall stay. This is a very good place if they will only let me stay till I get well.
There were some things in my knapsack that I hated to lose. There was yours and Jake’s, Albert’s and Moriah’s pictures that I thought more of than all the rest, besides several trophies that I picked up in my travels. The regiment was paid off at St. Louis but I was not with them so I have got no pay yet.
Old Hood has a large army laying around Nashville but our boys have good works and would like to have him try to take the city. But I guess there is no danger of that.
Oh Eva, I was so glad to hear that you and the children are well. If you can only keep your health, I am satisfied, I have never given up seeing you yet and don’t intend to. And when my time is out and I come back, I shall know how to enjoy your company. No more at this time. Write as soon as you receive this and keep on writing as often as you can. Don’t wait for me. Direct to hospital No. 8, Ward 2, Nashville, Tenn.
Letter 29
Nashville, Tennessee
December 20, 1864
Dear wife,
I again sit down to write a few lines to let you know now I am getting along. I am still gaining slowly. I feel quite well now but don’t gain strength very fast, but I am in a good place. Can’t say how long I shall stay here.
I was just down to where Cap and our sutler are stopping. Cap says he is going to the regiment. He can’t stand 15 dollars a week for board. The sutler just came from the front. He says our boys are taking in the rebs by hundreds without any fighting but our losses on the 15th and 16th [December] were very heavy in killed and wounded. The 35th [Iowa] was very lucky this time. We only lost our Colonel [Sylvester Gardner Hill] and 5 or 6 men. Co. H didn’t lose a man but the 7th Minnesota, right next to us, lost 60 or 70, and they were in the same charges that our regiment was. The 5th Minnesota had 50 killed dead on the field. All the hacks and busses in the city were busy hauling in the wounded. But Hood’s army is badly whipped now and our boys are driving them like a flock of sheep and taking what they can catch.
Last night troops were at Franklin—18 miles from this place. I don’t know how far it is from there to the Tennessee River but they expect to capture the most of Hood’s army there. The prisoners taken are the most of them very poorly clothed and a great many of them without any shoes at all. It looks hard to see the poor devils stomping around in the cold mud barefooted but they have no business to be rebs.
I wrote to mother the day before yesterday and to you the day before that. I have received no letters from you since last month and think it is almost time to hear from you. How do you like the verses that I wrote in my last? Are them the right sentiments? That is what I have made up my mind to tell you. I should like to get my pay now for I need some money very bad. I shall put the last stamp and envelope I have on this but will get more some way. When I get some money, I will have photographs taken to send you so you will not forget how I looked but you would hardly know me now. I don’t look much like I did when I left but shall be alright again so don’t borrow any trouble about me.
How I should like to see you, it would do me good to give you one good hugging and kissing than all the medicine in Nashville. But never mind, just 9 months from today my time is out, then I shall take care how I take so long a job again. That will keep me from you anyway. I want to try and go West as soon as I get back. I can’t say as I am sorry I enlisted for I have learned what I never learned at home. I have tried every way I could to find your uncle Dave but have not found him yet nor any one from Medina. If I knew the right regiment, I might find him. Do you hear anything from your folks? How are they getting along? I think I can guess the reason your father came after you. He is not as honorable a man as he might be—even with his own children. But never mind that now. As for relations on either side, I think we can live happy in each other’s love without any from any of them. When I get with you once more, I could keep on all night.
But the sheet is full. Your husband as ever, — G. H. C.
Write as often as you can. Good night.
Letter 30
Nashville, Tennessee
December 31, 1864
Dear wife,
Well Eva, this is the 31st of the month [and] I have heard nothing from you yet, although I have written 4 or 5 times. I am still on the gain. I have no more news from the regiment since I wrote to you before. Our troops were driving the rebs right before them and from all accounts, they are after him yet.
I was out on the street yesterday and came right slap to Mrs. Rollins. Rollins has been transferred to the invalid corps and she was hunting for him so I went and showed her where he was. She is stopping at the Soldier’s Home. Aaron Betner is also in the invalid corps. He owed me $1.24 and I got that so I can write a few more letters anyway while I have nothing else to do. I believe there is no particular news to write but there is a bliss in every thought that turns to you and when my hand has traced the letters that from your name I can gave on the characters finding in every one a beauty it is impossible for them to wear in any other connection. To tell you all I have seen or felt, enjoyed or suffered is a privilege denied to written intercourse because all written words are weak and powerless to express the throbbing of a heart where love has made its home. Still the very act of writing has its rapture. The knowledge that your hand will hold the paper, that your eye will run over the lines, that you will think of me more often after its perusal, is a joy of which nothing can deprive me and which nothing in the wide world could give but your own presence. And oh! how I long to see the answer to each of my childish letters. It gives me such pleasure to look over the lines and know your hand has penned it while thinking of me and here in the hospital where there is nothing to amuse one with, I should like to hear from you every day if I could. Time seems so long to me.
If I had money, I would have something to read all the time. Only when I could think of something to write I can always think of enough but I do believe that ever tried to correspond through the medium of the pen. But enough of that , I am ashamed of what I have already written. Do write as often as you can and don’t forget to tell me how the boys are getting along. I am so glad they are so little trouble to you. I know I shall be proud of them. I hope to get some pay the fore part of next month but I may not. They keep shoving me from one place to another so fast that it is hard for the paymaster to catch me. I have to go to another hospital today. You shall hear from me often while I stay in the hospital. No more this time. Your affectionate husband, — G. H. C.
Letter 31
East Port, Mississippi
February 4, 1865
Well Eva, I am still alive and well yet, though I am still on the mend. But I have had the dirke [?] so long that I gain strength very slow. This it the third time I have written to you since I have been here and had no answer yet, but expect one every day. The last time I wrote to you we were drawing raw corn to eat but I did not tell you of that. But we have supplies now.
Ben Hill Furgeson and Nick Flood came from home yesterday and 2 recruits for Co. H. The health in the camp is not near as good as it was this time last year. This has been a hard winter campaign, but thank the Lord it is the last I have to serve this term, and my only pleasure is in the thinking of the pleasure I shall have in your society after my time is out.
What do you think of going to Nevada if we can raise the means to go with? If I had stayed at home as many others have that were better fixed to leave then I was, I might have been able to go where I pleased by this time. But I felt as though I had only done my duty to my country and do not regret it if I can only return safe and find you and the children well. What does Ed think of the war by this time? You can tell him I have not changed my mind about it one bit yet although I have had to suffer some in trying to uphold what I think is right. But I have often done in cases of less importance than the present and have always got the same thanks that I expect to this time. But I shall have a clear conscience. That is one comfort. Ed Kamerling is well. I believe I have no news to tell you this time. Do write as often as you can. I think we will get some money next month and you shall have it as soon as possible. Good bye for this time, — G. H. Cox
Letter 32
Cairo, Illinois
February 6, 1865
Dear Wife,
I received yours of the 29th of last month yesterday and was glad to hear from you but surprised to hear where you were. I had been looking for a letter from you for some time and thought it was strange I did not get it as I had written to you 2 or 3 times since hearing from you before.
We are now on our way down the river but it is hard telling where we are going to. Some think to Orleans and some think up Red River. But there is no telling where.
What did it cost you to go to Ohio and where did you get your money? When I was in the hospital in Nashville, I heard there was a man by the name of David Aldrich, I suppose it must be your uncle and if we should near the regiment. I will look for him. I suppose you left word for your letters to be sent to you from Woodbridge. I think I have written 3 since you left there. I am not as well as I was the last time I wrote.
We are two miles above Cairo. The boat is taking on coal and I am sitting out in the woods by a fire. The boys raised the devil in town yesterday and last night broke into all the stores and shops in town. If you was in Iowa, I don’t know but I should come and see you but never mind. Just wait seven months longer and I shall come where you are. The boat is getting up steam and I must close. Write as often as you can and I will do the same. Yours as ever, — G. H. C.
Letter 33
Memphis, [Tennessee]
February 11, 1865
Well, Eva, I wrote you a few lines while we lay at Cairo but I forgot to ask you where I should send your money to. If I should ever get any, where is the nearest Express Office. There is some talk of our being paid here but I don’t think we will be. But I want to know where to send you some when I do get it.
We have been on the boat seven days and the weather here has been cold and disagreeable all the time. But we are getting to a warmer climate now. Our whole brigade is on this boat. About 1400 men with all their baggage and teams and you bet there is not much room left. But there has only rwo men died yet. I feel better today.
If we should get to Sherman, I think I shall find David. No more at this time. Write as often as you can. I will write to you from Vicksburg or Orleans. I have just written to mother. Your affectionate husband, —G. H. C.
Goodbye
Letter 34
New Orleans, Louisiana
March 1, 1865
Dear Wife,
I am now in the far famed city Orleans, and it is certainly the finest city I ever saw. The regiment is laying here in camp now but I suppose they will start for Mobile before many days.
I was sent to the hospital yesterday—not very sick but not able to march—and I understand the doctor recommended me for the Veteran Reserve Corps, and if I should be assigned to that, I shall in all probability be sent some of the northern states to do garrison duty.
I have been looking for a letter from you for the last week. I can’t see why I don’t get your letters more often. I believe I have no particular news to write so I will give you a slight description of the hospital I am now in, as it is the finest I ever saw. The grounds cover about 10 acres, about 5 acres in the front is covered with magnolia and orange trees. There is 4 main buildings, about 85 yards long by 20 wide. These are built in a square building used as a dispensary for medicines. If I was in good health and you was with me I think I could enjoy myself here the best of any place I ever saw.
We have had no pay yet but I got here just in time to be mustered yesterday and I hope I shall get some money before long. They have just got some good news I guess by the way the cannon are making the glass rattle in the windows. I believe I have nothing more to write this time. This is the 4th time I have since I heard from you.
Yes, I have something more to tell you. They had a grand masquerade yesterday here and it beat all the darned shows you ever saw. Men and women going around the street with dogs, horses, sheeps, monkeys and all other kinds of disguises that you could imagine. I have often read of masquerades but this is the first one I have ever witnessed, and I don’t think there was a decent woman in the whole crowd.
Direct to US Hospital, Ward 9. Do write often. Yours in love, — G. H. C.
By gosh I have forgotten where you told me to direct to and lost your letter but I will direct to Wadsworth and run the risk of your getting it.
