My passion is studying American history leading up to & including the Civil War. I particularly enjoy reading, transcribing & researching primary sources such as letters and diaries.
A post war image of John B. Zarbaugh of Co. G, 21st OVI
The following letter was written by John Bookman Zarbaugh (1837-1919), the son of John Zarbaugh and Mary Bookman of Canal Winchester, Franklin county, Ohio. John served as a private in Co. G, 21st Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) from September 1861 to September 1864. John was married to Mary A. Noss in September 1858. Sometime before 1880, John moved with his family to Portage, Hancock county, Ohio, and by 1900 to North Star, Gratiot county, Michigan. He died in Ithaca, Michigan.
The 21st OVI had a long and glorious military record. They were engaged in many of the major engagements of the Western Theater, including Stones River, Chickamauga, the Atlanta Campaign, and Sherman’s March to the sea and Carolina Campaign. With their five-shot Colt Revolving Rifles, they could be counted on to deliver a murderous fire on any attacking column and helped to repel several assaults on Snodgrass Hill in the Battle of Chickamauga. However, they eventually ran out of ammunition and were surrounded, losing over half their men (243 of 561) to casualties and capture.
Example of reported atrocities. Hartford Evening Press, 4 December 1863
Loss of the field and Union retreat meant leaving dead and dying comrades on the field so the anguish expressed by Zarbaugh at the report of unburied and mutilated corpses was certainly understandable. Though Zarbaugh’s letter contains only hearsay, the reports of Rebel atrocities such as the dead left unburied for a couple of months on the battlefield, and the cutting off of heads and sticking them on stumps or poles was printed in many newspapers in December 1863.
The inkwell used by John B. Zarbaugh during the Civil War.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Chattanooga, Tennessee December 16, 1863
Mr. Henry Noss and Catherine Dear Father and Mother,
I seat myself this morning to write you a few lines to let you know that I am yet in the land among the living and in the enjoyment of the blessings of God, which is health and strength. Hoping that these few lines may or will find you and your family in a similar beatitude.
In the first place, I will let you know that I have not forgotten you yet, although it is not very often that I write to you. But I have no doubt you hear of me most every week or two. Well father, I must tell you that I often think of you and your family. But that is all the good that it will do me. I have often wished I could only come there and stay a day or two and see you all. But wishing is all in vain. I do not expect to come home until my time is out if God spares my life and gives me strength enough to go there.
Some say our time will be out in five months and other ones say we have to stay eight months yet. Therefore I shall not make any calculations to come home any sooner than eight or nine months—if I live that long. Father, this last year it seems as though the days were weeks and the months were years. It is going to seem longer than the two last years did. But I think if we have good luck, we will sometime see the day when we can meet again upon this world. But if I should be one of those that should be called to another world, I hope to meet you there and I hope to meet Mother there, and I hope to meet my family there and all the rest of the family at some future time.
Father, I have nothing new to tell you. Everything is quiet. Our men are busy a working upon the railroad between this place and Bridgeport, Alabama. It will take about one month yet before the cars will run to this place. We have been on short rations ever since we are here and I do not expect to get any more until the cars come through. I can tell you we saw harder times here than at any other place since we are in the service.
I will also let you know (but I have no doubt you have heard it long ago), that the rebels did not bury our men at the Battle of Chickamauga. I saw a man yesterday that crossed the battlefield twice—one last week and this week—and he told me that he saw the bones of our men lay upon the ground. Some had their clothes over them yet and some of our men, they cut their heads off and stuck them upon a pole. I say it is ridiculous. Such people should not live. They cannot say that about our army. We have buried all their dead wherever they fell in our hands and they were buried as honorable as our own men. Such an army as they have got can never prosper. They have not the power of God upon their side. I do not think they will hold out much longer anymore for their army is getting reduced every day, more or less.
Father, the weather is very fine down here for this time of the year. It is like spring. We have heavy frosts at night and in day time it is warm and nice like a May day. Father, I wish I could come home to spend the Holly days with you. I would like to help you eat some sausage and other good things tht we have not got in the army. But this wishing is all for nothing. So I will close for this time. Give my best respects to John and Doray and Fanny and tell them I have not forgotten them yet. So no more for today.
I remain your affectionate son-in-law, — John B. Zarbaugh
To Henry and Catherine Noss
I will now bid you good day and may God bless one and all of you is my sincere prayer. — John B. Zarbaugh
Another article on the subject of unburied corpses and mutilation of the dead Union soldiers. The Nashville Daily Union, 13 December 1863
The following letter was written by Sgt. Mander Alvan Maynard (1841-1913) of Co. F, 7th Rhode Island Infantry. He mustered into the regiment on 6 September 1862 and transferred into the new organization on 21 October 1864.
He was the youngest son of Moses William Maynard (1805-1894) and Martha Barnes Brigham (1809-1882) of Worcester, Massachusetts. During the winter of 1861-62 he taught school in Burrillville. The regimental history claims he was with the regiment in the Battle of Fredericksburg but contracted typhoid fever in January 1863 and was sent to hospitals at Baltimore and Portsmouth before rejoining his regiment at Lexington, Kentucky in November 1863. [This letter suggests he was still with the regiment in early March 1863, however.] He mustered out of the regiment in June 1865. In 1866 he married Sarah J. Anthony.
In the 1860 US Census, 18 year-old Mander was enumerated in his parents’ household in Ward 8 of Worcester, Massachusetts. Besides his parents, there was 26 year-old Adda and 23 year-old Malcom, both mentioned in this letter.
I promised you a long letter on this sheet of paper and you shall have it now or as soon as I can finish it. It may take more than one day but I will try to answer the questions in your former letters as fully as possible.
Malcom concludes that Albert M. Smith [of Smithfield, R. I.] is the man I helped off of the battlefield. No sir. He was 2nd Sergeant but got scared before we got to the field and left and instead of his belt &c. being shot off, two men in the company say they helped him take them off. He was not wounded in the least but played it and got discharged. Capt. [Lyman M.] Bennett found out what the matter was and reduced him to the ranks. The person I helped off was William H. Russell 1 and he laid beside me when he was struck by a piece of shell.
The things sent by Lieutenant Hall, I never got. He only came as far as Washington, was taken sick, and discharged. Capt. Goodell sent to him once but when the man called, he [Hall] was so drunk that he knew nothing of the package. Mother writes about sending a box. Don’t ever do so again. While you are waiting for an answer is time enough for a box to come through. You know as well as I how long we shall stay anywhere and whenever the Express Co. will take a box, send it along. You ask what I want. I want three or four handkerchiefs and no more extra clothes to pack around his summer. Butter is always welcome. If you send cake or pies, put them away from all liquids or moisture. If you could send me a pint of good brandy, it is the best thing for the chronic diarrhea of which so many die here. Send me three or four quires commercial note paper and one bunch envelopes to mail. Also a couple of good black pencils. Don’t send any more tea as I have enough to last me two months. A pound of crust sugar would be acceptable. I have the little pail and will try to keep it till I come home.
How is the old flag? Please send me Aaron’s address once more and I will try to write to him. As to my sending a box home by Express, they are all examined and besides, the agent of the Express Co. is sometimes 6 miles off so you need not expect a box from me without someone here is coming on part way at least for if expressed at Washington or beyond, it would not be opened.
I do not think I get all the papers you send but that is not strange for many do not get all their letters and I think I do. That N. O. Delta you spoke of I have not received. We left Falmouth for here Monday, February 9th, and arrived here Wednesday the 11th [aboard the steamer Georgia].
You write that you had a snow storm February 22nd. It snowed and rained here both the 21st and 22nd. Mother writes of my hardships and privations. I do not know as I have been really disappointed since I come out here except in one thing [and] that is our officers. And since Capt. Bennett has left, I can’t find much fault anyway.
As to food, clothing, marches and camps, they are as good as I expected. We do not often have any poor food and if there is any, we manage to get something else. Since I have begun to get better, we lave lived pretty well. We have had our regular meals here; for breakfast—coffee, potatoes and colt meat or beefstake. The latter we have half the time and it is good and enter. For dinner we generally have soup, boiled dish or beans. We have had beans and corn once, cold water or gruel for dinner. For supper, tea and sometimes apple sauce. We have had fresh bread ever since we came here. Last night we had a real milk toast made of this preserved milk in cans. It was very good. We also buy fresh oysters out of the shell for 25 cents per quart and I eat them raw, fried, and stewed. We get eggs at 40 cents per dozen and I boil them myself. Apples 3 for 5 cents—pretty good ones. Oranges 5 cents apiece. Cheese 30 cents per lb. Butter 40 to 50 cents.
My health is improving fast. In pleasant weather I walk out and as the hospital is close to the river (the James), I can see two or three gunboats, 1 monitor, and the wreck of the [USS]Cumberland. They keep a light on her tops nights to prevent other vessels from running into her. Yesterday I walked up to the Negro quarters where we buy our things twice—once in the a.m. and once in the p.m. Tis most as far as Chestnut Street [in Worcester, Mass.]
As to care, I have had as good as any here. I found friends here as I do most everywhere and what anyone has had, I have. So you need not worry about me.
Capt. William Howard Joyce, Co. F, 7th R. I.
Father asks, “Do things here look like home.” No! There are no roads. They drive in one place till they can’t any longer and then drive one side. There is not a fence anywhere within ten miles of where the Army has been and no slatted walls. All the fences they ever had in Virginia were the regular Virginia rail fence and fancy hedges cut down and all burned and let the Army camp a few days near a thick wood and when they leave it, will be thinned out. When we left Falmouth, we had to go two miles for wood and take half green pine then. The teams drew it for us.
He also asks, “Do you like the service as well as you expected?” Yes, nearly. I expected officers who were men too but as a general thing, they are drunk or cross. Our present Capt. [William Howard] Joyce is an Irishman and when not drunk, he is a kind-hearted, good-natured fellow and looks out for our wants. [end of letter is missing]
1 William H. Russell of Dartmouth. Massachusetts, was a private in Co. C. F, 7th Rhode Island Infantry. He was wounded in the Battle of Fredericksburg and transferred to the Veteran Reserve Corps on 12 September 1863. He mustered out of the service in June 1865.
Mander A. Maynard stands at far right in this post war image of veterans.
I could not find an image of Martin but here is one of Ezra Joseph Davy of Co. D, 121st OVI
This letter was written by Martin G. Modie (1840-1911), the son of William Modie (1799-1872) and Margaret Gates (1811-1880) of Chester, Morrow County, Ohio. Martin enlisted as a private in Co. G, 121st Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) in August 1862 and served until April 1865 when he was discharged for disability.
Martin wrote the letter to his brother, George W. Modie (1838-1913) of Company A, 20th Ohio Infantry. George served with the 20th Ohio from October 1861 until July 1865 — nearly the entire four years of the war.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Franklin, Tennessee May 3rd [1863]
Dear Brother,
Yours of the 28th was received today. I am well and get along fine. We have to work on the forts here every day. 1 We got up last Friday morning at one o’clock and started out on a skirmish. We drove the Rebs six miles. The cavalry was ahead of us. They killed three or four and took about 25 prisoners.
Col. William Pitt Reid (1825-1879)
Dan Mathew is well and all the rest of the boys I believe. This is a very healthy place here and I expect we will stay here some time. Sam Corwin is here but I have not seen him. He is in the 125th Regiment. When you write, tell me what regiment Frank Gates is in. I forget whether he is in the 3rd or 4th. The 4th in here and the 3rd was but they have left. Dave Breece is well and Emory Wilson [too].
Col. [William Pitt] Reid has gone home. H[enry] Banning from Mt. Vernon is acting as Colonel now. We was mustered last Thursday. We look for our pay for the last of this month. Well, I have nothing of importance to write so I will close for this time. — M. G. Modie
1 Martin does not name the forts but he was likely referring to Fort Granger which was erected in late 1862 and early 1863 under the command of General Gordon Granger. It was located on Figuer’s Hill, northeast of town, overlooking the town, the Harpeth river, and the railroad supply lines.
The following letter was written by Gabriel Andrew Cornish (1833-1850), the 16 year-old son of Jared Bradley Cornish (1810-1849) and Saphronia Louisa Cornish (1806-1880) of Algonquin (formerly called Cornishville or Cornish Ferry), McHenry county, Illinois. We learn from the letter that Gabriel’s father was on his way to California when he wrote the letter in mid-August 1849, having traveled at least as far as Fort Laramie at the confluence of the Laramie and North Platte rivers in present day Wyoming. He was most likely traveling with a party of “49ers” on their way to the gold fields of northern California. If he made it to California—which is doubtful, he didn’t stay for the date of his death is given as 10 October 1849 and he is apparently buried in La Grange, Walworth county, Wisconsin.
Gabriel wrote the letter to his uncle, Rev. John Hamilton Cornish (1815-1878), a native of Lanesborough, Berkshire County, Massachusetts, and the son of Andrew Hiram and Rhoda (Bradley) Cornish. When John was still a child, the family moved to the Michigan Territory, and it was from there that John left home in 1833 to attend Washington College in Hartford, Connecticut (Washington College changed its name to Trinity College in 1845). It was from there that he graduated in 1839 and later enrolled at the General Theological Seminary, though he never graduated from that institution. He moved to Edisto Island, off the South Carolina coast in January of 1840 and began tutoring the children of E. Mikell Seabrook. By 1843 he became a minister, ordained in the Episcopal Church, serving a number of different churches in the Sea Island and Carolina Low-country. By 1846, he had settled down at the St. Thaddeus Episcopal Church in Aiken, South Carolina. He married Martha Jenkins and with her had six children—Rhoda, Mattie, Mary, Sadie, Ernest, and Joseph Cornish. John Cornish died in 1878. [Sources: The Inventory of the John Hamilton Cornish Papers (Mss 01461), Wilson Library, at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill.]
Addressed to Rev. John H. Cornish, Aiken, South Carolina. Postmarked Algonquin, Illinois
Cornishville, Illinois August 12th 1849
Dear Uncle,
It is with great pleasure that I received your letter from the twenty-second of July which I have neglected to answer hoping to hear from father from whom we received a letter last Thursday dated Fort Laramie, June 17th. They were all well, in good health and fine spirits. He was eleven hundred miles from home. If you will take a map of Oregon, Missouri, and Upper California, you can trace his route through beginning at St. Joseph, from thence to Grand Island on the Platte river, and from thence to Fort Laramie near the South Pass from whence he wrote. I presume we shall not hear from him again until he reaches the end of his journey.
The letter that we received was blacked all over with fire and had the following hand bill on it, “Recovered from wreck of steamer Algoma burned at the wharf at St. Louis on the morning of the 28th of July 1849. Said boat had a large California mail—a large portion of which was entirely destroyed.” This bill was signed by the P. M. [postmaster]. 1
Peter [Arvedson] and [sister Hannah] Adelia have got a fine little girl about three weeks old. They call her Elsy Sophia. They are both of them smart and so is Grandma and our family. I have not got a very good crop of corn this season so I cannot brag on that but I think I can brag on my flower garden and summer house in which I now sit. It is made of willows tied together at the top and with cucumber vines trained all over them and it is a lovely spot in a hot day. As for my flower beds, they cannot be beat, covered all over with all kind of flowers. Among the most beautiful is the double ladyslipper or chimney pink. It has large blossoms as large and double as a full blown rose of all colors and sizes. When the seed gets ripe, I will send you some if you have not got any. If you was only here, I am sure you would think it is the most beautiful place that you ever see.
I have harvested seven acres of very good wheat. It is all we shall have to depend upon added to Jareds’ and my labor for which we get well paid. We have earned about five dollars apiece through harvest. Grandma lets me have all I can raise on twelve acres and I think what we can raise on that with [what] we can raise by working out we shall be able to get along. I wish you would send me some cotton seed with directions for planting it.
I must now bring my letter to a close as it is getting dark. Give my love to Aunt Martha and kiss my little cousins for me. From your affectionate nephew, — Gabriel
to Rev. John H. Cornish
1 Newspapers reported a fire on 29 July 1849 at ST. Louis aboard the steamboat Algoma which spread to four others steamers including the San Francisco at the waterfront. “The steamers San Francisco and Algoma, “had just come in loaded from the Missouri river. Their freights consisted of tobacco, hemp, grain, bale rope, bacon, and a variety of produce….A large mail, containing letters from California emigrants, was destroyed on the Algoma, but most of the papers and money on the boat were saved with the exception of $4,000. Two lives were lost, one, Capt. Young of the Algoma, and the other a passenger on the same boat.” It was further reported in the papers that after the fire, “a terrible fracas ensued between the firemen and a party of Irishmen, by whom, it is supposed, the provocation was given. Captain Grant, of the Missouri company, during the melee, received a pistol shot which slightly wounded him—The houses of the Irishmen, which was a resort for boatmen, were then assailed and one of them severely stabbed in several places….The fire and subsequent disturbances, coupled by the recent calamities endured by our city, from the [Cholera] epidemic, and the former sweeping and destructive fire [of May 1849 in which 23 steamboats were destroyed at the wharf and 430 buildings of the city burned] has cast a gloom over all our citizens.” [Source: The Cayuga Chief, 9 August 1849]
The following letters were written by William Washington Downing (1827-1908), the son of Timothy Downing (1801-1887) and Rachel Davis (1803-1883) of Pike county, Ohio. William was 34 years old when he enlisted in Co. D, 33rd Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) in August 1861. Given his maturity, he quickly rose in rank to 1st Sergeant of the company and served in that capacity until August 1864 when he was promoted to 1st Lieutenant of Co. E. He mustered out as a veteran of the regiment and as Captain of Co. E, serving a total of nearly four years. After returning from the war, William relocated to Benton county, Missouri, where he farmed and lived out his days.
The flag of the 33rd Regiment Ohio Veteran Volunteers
William’s younger brother, Henry Clay Downing (1844-1862), also served in Co. D with him early in the war but died of disease in August 1862. All of the letters below were written to his younger sister, Sena (Downing) Lightle (1834-1910) whose husband Peter Lightle had also served with William in the same company but was killed during the Battle of Perryville in October 1862.
William was twice married. His first wife was Mary Howard (1827-1854). His second wife was Rachel Hooper (1833-1907). A son by his first marriage, Arlington (“Arly”) Leslie Downing (1848-1929) also served in 33rd Ohio with William. He was recruited in and joined Co. D in February 1864 when he was but 16 years old.
William possessed a noteworthy and engaging style of writing that stood out among soldiers. His expressions were often humorous and unusual. And of all the thousands of Civil War letters I have transcribed, his are the first to document the use of camouflage by Union skirmishers (see letter of June 9, 1864 before Atlanta).
William’s letters are the property of Natalie Stocks who graciously made them available to Spared & Shared for transcription and publication. Sena (Downing) Lightle was her g-g-g grandmother. She inherited the letters of William, his brother Henry, and their brother in law, Peter Lightle, all of the 33rd OH Infantry Regiment, Co. D.
Letter 1
Crow Creek, Alabama August 1863
Dear Sister,
I pen you a few lines this afternoon. My health is very good at present and I hope and trust this may find yourself and little ones well. I am glad that notwithstanding the prevalence of much sickness around you that it has not yet entered our own doors and I trust a kind Providence that it may not. In what respect you favor the eel [?] you speak of is more than I can say, but as it regards the scolding you got from me, it certainly was not as tormenting in its effects as taking the hide off. It was not so intended. At least its effects were very gratifying—it brought you and Rachel both out. I give her a little [scolding] also and at last I heard another tune that pleased me better than Morgan. As to an apology, you need never to have mentioned it because I have got to be one of the best natured individuals in the world.
I am much pleased to hear that the weather god has at last concluded to do like the ladies always does on Crooked Creek—follow the fashions a short space and has given you plenty of rain. I am sorry that the prospect for corn on the old place is so poor. But as plenty of rain has now come, if the fall is favorable as common, no danger but what corn sufficient will be raised to make all the meat that may be required and as bread more than sufficient for another year is already secured. The dwellers around the old point have every reason to congratulate themselves and as the prospect is favorable yet for plenty of turnips and although potatoes may be few in a hill and small at that, yet there may be some cabbage, some plump hens, some parsnips, some beans, some blackberries, some apples, some dried roasting ears [and] all these together—although little of each—will make a pretty large sum. I want you and Rachel to see to it that you help father take care of all and each of these things. If you do, although thousands throughout the country during the dark and stormy days of the coming winter, will suffer the gnawings of hunger, yet our own little ones can revel in abundance. As long as there is anything on the old place to eat, it is my desire that yourself and little ones shall have part of it.
I will write to Henry Soerbach and request him to pay you immediately the money he owed Peter. It is not less than 6 dollars and it may be 8. Ben Lewis says Henry will know as they talked about it often while at the hospital together. Ben has forgot the amount. I guess you will have to lose what Peter’s mess owed him for the calf. Talk with them about it. They all know that they owed him but it is so messed up among hands, none seems to know just how it is. Some says they have paid theirs to some of the rest to pay over. They say they didn’t and the up shot of the matter is I don’t think they intend to pay it at all.
Dear sister, since you asked my advice as to what would be the best for you to do with the money you will get from the government this fall, I will just say that I intend to pay Crist what we owe him and keep the place ourselves. So you can just content yourself where you are. We intend to pay him the greater portion of the debt towards new year, and if you feel so disposed to let us have a part of your money to help save the old place, we will pay it back to you if not well and good. Content yourself and remain where you are anyhow. For safe keeping as soon as you get your money, if you don’t want to use it right away, take it to Emmitt’s. Take a certificate of deposit for it. If he will allow you interest on it until you want to use it, so much the better. If not, leave it anyhow. It will be the safest there. I have wrote you a long letter so l will close by requesting you to write often. I ever remain your true friend and brother, — William
P. S. Don’t read this letter once and then burn it, but ponder well what is written.
Letter 2
Chattanooga, Tennessee December 30, 1863
Dear sister,
In answer to your kind favor of the 20th, I pen you a few lines tonight. I had begun to think that all my friends in Pike county except Rachel had forsaken me. But night before last, I was undeceived. The letters just poured in. I sat for about two hours and read letters and felt as clever as ever Aunt Sallie did in a Methodist lovefeast. You tried to excuse yourself by saying the reason you didn’t write was that there was nothing to write about. I accept no such excuses for there was something to write about. You were all alive and well, were you not? You could have wrote and told me that certainly. And I assure you, nothing could be written that would interest me so much as that. Just let me know that are all are well at home and I can get along very well. Of course I like to hear all of the news, but I want you to make this the last time that, like Macabre, you wait for something to turn up before you write. 1
My health is only tolerable good. A spell of the headache has been bothering me for the last several days, but is better tonight. And to make htings more disagreeable, I have had muster rolls to make out, the monthly return of the company, and a great deal of other writing besides, so that I am about played out in that line. So you will have to excuse all deficiencies in this letter—both of manner and matter.
I hope this may find yourself and little ones well and hearty. Tell Allie to hold on. I will be at home in the summer and will learn him how to husk corn and pull flax and thrash soup beans too. Tell Eva that Uncle Will says she must be a good girl and learn her book and learn how to work so when mother is busy, she can get dinner, wash the dishes, and do up the work like a woman. She must learn how to knit and sew and do all kinds of work—and that she must hurry or Toey will beat her.
There is nothing whatever going on here except a little work being done finishing up the forts and the building of a bridge across the river. The cars don’t yet run nearer than 14 miles of here and the time when they will come nearer, I think, is still distant.
From the tone of your letter, you seem to think that the house I live in would not be just the thing for wet and stormy weather, seeing it is constructed out of material so frail. But I assure you that it is not only comfortable in dry weather, but is not to be grinned at even when it rains and storms either. It is not covered with coffee sacks but a first rate quality of dog tents. One side only is weather boarded with coffee sacks. They don’t keep the cold out very well, it’s true, but then they are better than nothing. But as an off set to this, I have a most charming fireplace. And the crowd around it not being large—consisting of but one individual about my size, I can make a good fire when the weather is cold, and like the Indian, sit close to it. As to the house taking fire and burning up some night while I sleep, there is not much danger from the fact that the chimney runs up to the top of the house and I never yet knew a spark to set a dorg tent afire. Id there any Sparks flying about on Crooked Creek these days or is there not?
What pity the Pike county [Peace] nuts can’t inveigle a lot of poor Devil’s into the Army in their place and let their worships remain at home. They may screw and squirm as much as they please, but their time is coming certain as the 7 year itch, and that never fails once in a lifetime nor never will.
There will be an effort made in a few days to induce the 33rd [Ohio] to go in as veterans but don’t think it will be successful. Ben Lewis made application for a furlough the other day. His papers came back this morning vetoed. The Waverly boys are all well. In fact, nearly everybody here is well. This has been a warm, sunny day but looks now as though the rain would pour before morning.
Well, for fear you will get as tired reading this as I am writing it, I guess I had better stop right here. Write often all the news—especially about the Sparks. Ever your true friend and brother, — William
1 The character Mr. Micawber from Charles Dickens’s novel David Copperfield was famous for his eternal optimism and his personal maxim of “something will turn up.”
Letter 3
Chattanooga, Tennessee January 17, 1864
Dear sister,
In answer to your kind favor of the 1st and 3rd of January, I pen you a few lines this afternoon. My health is very good and I trust when this comes to hand, it may find yourself and little ones well. From all accounts, there certainly never was such a storm ever witnessed in this country as that that begun on New Year’s eve. And it seemed to be a pretty general thing everywhere. It stormed here at the same time nearly if not quite as hard as it did there. But I reckon was not quite as cold. But the citizens say it never was any colder here in the memory of the oldest inhabitants. It is not so cold here now but is yet somewhat winterish.
There is nothing of interest to speak of going on in this region just now except the reenlisted regiments getting ready to go home [on Veteran’s furlough of 30 days]. The 33rd [Ohio] I suppose will get off one day this week.
You advised me not to reenlist. I had come to that conclusion a while back not to do so, but I studied into the matter and felt satisfied in my own mind that another summer would end the war, and as the old enlistment would hold me until fall anyway, I changed my notion and concluded to go in. As Uncle Sam felt good enough to make me a present of four hundred adn two dollars and thirty days furlough, I thought it nothing more than right to accept both. When I get home, we will argue the point.
You finished your letter on the morning of the 4th by the observation that the snow was 4 or 5 inches deep and very cold. Query—which was cold—the snow or the weather? By the way, did the Sparks fly about during the windy weather or is there nothing on the creek anymore that produce a Spark.
Tell Eva and Allie that I will not write them any letters now but I will beat home some of these days to chat with them. The boys are all well. Nothing more. I remain your affectionate brother, — William
Letter 4
Camp in Woods, Georgia 11 miles from Marietta June 9, 1864
Dear sister,
As I have gopt my washing hung out and a leisure moment to spare, I will inprove it by writing a line or two to you to try and straighten your face for as you have wrote several letters to me and had no answer to any of them, I expect you have an awful pout on by this time which I am sorry for but can’t help—unless this makes it all right. My health has been none of the best for a couple of weeks but I am still able for duty. I trust when this reaches it, it may find you all at home enjoying good health and spirits.
After another two weeks fighting among these infernal broken, brushy, scraggly mean hills that belong to a man—I expect fully as mean—by the name of Bradford, the Johnnies concluded the locality was becoming very unhealthy and incontinently left it during the prevalence of a heavy rain the other night and are now sneaking around among the thickets somewhere between here and Atlanta. The rumor is [they are] preparing to dispute our passage of the Chattahoochee [river] this side of that place where it is said Johnston intends to make his last stand, and, if beaten, calculates to surrender his entire army for to retreat further would be useless. This is what rumor says. I hope the jade may tell the truth for once.
You can form some idea of the battlefields of Resaca and this place when I tell you that the thicket in the fallen timber above Moot’s town is not as dense as it is where the two last fights took place although the hills there are a little higher. I leave you to guess what a nice time our fellows had hunting the Johnnies in such a place, who like a pack of wolves were hid behind every tree, log, or stone, and the brush so thick that you could not see a man until nearly on top of him. And wherever the ground was favorable, they had breastworks of logs and earthworks thrown up, and in making our approaches our men several times unwittingly run against them and suffered heavy loss in consequence. This is the way the 23rd [Army Corps] was cut up so badly. The officer in charge of the Brigade, like a fool, run them into it and he might just as well have run them into Hell five at once.
Hazen’s Brigade of our Corps was served exactly the same and suffered accordingly. Here in these two foolish enterprises hundreds of men were killed and wounded and neither of them added one iota towards the defeat of the Rebels. It is a nice job driving the scoundrels out of these places as well as a work of time, but our fellows goes at it like working by the month.
The skirmishers before they start in, breaks a lot of twigs with the leaves on and sticks them all over the front of their persons, being very careful to stick a large bunch in the hat band in front. The idea is to look as much like a bush as possible to fool the Johnnies, each being fixed up in green. They start in walking as though on eggs [but] in a very short time the guns begin to crack and bullets whistle. The Johnnies hang to their thickets to the last moment. But the Yankees, like Old Virginia, never tires and they have to get out of it at last, fast as their legs can carry them. People at home may think that the good work goes on very slow in this direction, if any such there be. They know nothing about what the difficulties are. When you read this, you will have some idea of them. But thank Heaven, we are gaining ground and the further we advance south, the more open the country becomes. And as these difficulties lessen, the more telling will be our blows on the Rebel armies and I think by the time we reach Atlanta and Montgomery, those armies will be about used up and dispersed. And then the end approaches, for just as soon as this and Lee’s army, or either of them, is dispersed, the Confederacy is gone beyond the hope of recovery by Davis, the Devil, or any other man. Mark that, and I am satisfied that four months is ample time in which to accomplish the good work. And if the hard fighting is not over within that time, I miss my guess—that’s all.
Arly is well and lively as a cricket. He sends his love and word to Lily [and says] that he will not write until we get into camp but when that will be, she knows as well as he. The rest of our boys are well except James Hirn. He is complaining.
The weather is showery and very hot but the health of the troops generally is very good. There is more apples, peaches, black band huckleberries here than you ever heard tell of, and all nearly ripe. The people here lives just as the first settlers in Ohio used to. Every family has a set of hand cards for wool and cotton, a spinning wheel, reel and loom. They raise and manufacture near about everything they eat and wear. It is the happiest life people can live and I long for the time to come when I can enjoy the blessing of such a life myself for I assure you, that the din and confusion of the crowded camp as well as the crash and roar of battle begins to worry me—and I feel as though I wanted to be more to myself, or where I will not be disturbed by any noise more harsh than that heard on and around a well regulated farm. Such as are made by domestic fowls and animals or the voices of those I love.
Happy life—how I long for your return once more. How keenly and with what relish can I enjoy your blessings in time to come. Dear sister, I expect I have wrote all and more than will interest you, so I think we had better close for this time by requesting you not to get in the pouts any oftener than once a week if you don’t get any letters from me for I assure you that materials and opportunities for writing letters here are of the most limited character. And if you don’t get letters from me, don’t make it an excuse for not writing on your part. I ever remain your true friend and brother, — William
Letter 5
Camp in Sight of Atlanta, Georgia July 14, 1864
In answer to your kind favor of 26 June that came to hand over a week ago, I write you a line this afternoon. My health is tolerable. Arly is well and hearty. I hope that this will find yourself and little ones well. The lack of something on which to write is the reason I haven’t answered your letter before but Rachel sent us a lot of paper and envelopes so that I can no longer plead that as an excuse. I am glad that something has put an end to your pouting and straightened your face once more. Sorry that the only means that can accomplish that desirable end is likely to do a great deal of damage to the growing crops in Ohio. I do hope that during the continuance of the hot and sultry weather that the process of sweltering and sweating may so work on your constitution that you many at the first good rain that falls like other folks be enabled to rejoice at the prospect of plenty to eat, and not fall away again into your old habit of pouting while everybody else are in good humor.
Joking aside, if the heat at home has been anything like as great as it has here, I pity you and you have the heartfelt thanks of the soldiers for the sympathy you express for us, for this is truly an awful place. This is hardly any cleared land in this whole region of country. It is one everlasting jungle of black jack scrub pines, green briars, thorns and all other kinds of bushes that ever was thought of, and a great many that never was thought of, I believe, all growing in one eternal jumble, and so thick almost everywhere that a bird can’t fly through. Add to all this the face of the earth which contains nary level foot so far as I have yet been in the delectable state of Georgia. But it’s broken up into holes, knolls, three cornered ridges, little knobs, ravines, and gullies—the sides so steep while chasing the Johnnies the first thing we know, sometimes we are at the bottom of them and have to look straight up to see out. It seems as though long ago some internal convulsion of the earth tossed this country from someplace down below, and it don’t seem to have to got used to the change yet. But everything seems out of place and out of shape. Even the stones don’t seem to have yet become accustomed [to] the situation for in the place of occupying a horizontal position like rocks in a civilized country, they stand on end on the corners, the edges, and every imaginable way.
You can form some faint idea from this the difficulties this army has to encounter aside from Johnston’s army on the advance on Atlanta. Our progress thus far has been at times slow, but has been all the time onward until the present time. We have them drove across the Chattahoochee [river] and into the last ditch between the yank and the town. This river is about as wide as the Scioto [river] but deeper. Nearly all of our army except the 14th and 20th [Army] Corps and some cavalry are on the Atlanta side and are now beginning to crowd the Johnnies’ works pretty heavy. Day before yesterday, our Calvary attacked the Rebels cavalry on Cedar Mountain, seven miles east of Atlanta. The extreme right of their lines defeated and drove them off and still holds the mountain. This gives us a position that will eventually force the evacuation of the town or coop the Rebs up in their works which I do not think they will permit as long as there is a chance for them to get away.
Our corps is still encamped on the heights a mile and a half from the river in full view of the steeples and a few houses in Atlanta which as the bird flies is 2 miles, but by the railroad, 8 miles. I think by the 15th of August we will be in town, and by the 1st of September, Grant will have Richmond. This is my private opinion, publicly expressed. From accounts, the Johnnies are stirring them up tolerably lively in Maryland. It will not amount to much in my opinion. It is a raid to obtain supplies more than with the expectation of diverting Grant from his great purpose of capturing the Rebel Capitol. The prospects of the Rebels are now desperate and they know that unless they can gain some important advantage, and that soon, they are ruined forever. They are satisfied and so am I that this is the last year of the war and if they cannot defeat our armies this summer and fall, they never can do it. Hence their reckless dashes and efforts to destroy the yanks. I am satisfied the result will be alright and six months from this time will see the end.
It seems that Saint Val [Clement Vallandigham] did not create as much excitement on his advent into Ohio as might have been expected. The fact is the old sinner, like his chum John Morgan, is just about played out. So much so in fact that neither of them when stirred up will make a stink. For the life of me, I can’t conceive why the lovers of Val should get sick over anything that McClellan could say because there is as little similarity between them as there is between day and night. McClellan is just as upright, honest, and patriotic as they are sneaking, traitorous, and contemptible. Since it is out of the question for the general to be their man for President, yet one consolation remains to them. There is yet balm in Gilead. Frémont still lives and as the abolition butternuts have already taken him to their immaculate bosoms and roll him as a sweet morsel under their tongues, take my word for it, that the Val-ites will do the same, and the postponement of the Chicago [Democratic] Convention is more than presumptive evidence of this fact and that long before the Presidential election, they will be cheek by jowl with the sneaking abolitionists that they have heretofore cursed so much as the cause of the war and all that.
Some may hardly believe this, but I will bet anyone six bits that the peace nuts will hold no convention to nominate a candidate for this election at all, but will all turn a back summer set over the fence and their coats at the same time, and go their death on the pathfinder.
A word or two from the other side and we are done. The Union Convention at Baltimore seen fit in their great wisdom—or more likely the want of it—-to nominate old Abe for another term. He is a bitter pill, you may well believe, for me to take. But as a rational being, of two evils I am bound to take the least and vote for him in preference to Frémont. The nomination for Vice President suits me better. Andy Johnson, I believe, to be one of the best men in the country. He is honest, capable, and better than all, attends to his own business which is more than can be said of Uncle Abe. This will do on politics for a while I think.
The weather here is awful hot. All we have done for a week is cook and eat and try to keep cool. Our pup tents are literally hid in brush sheds over them and brush set up around them. A storm last night mixed matters somewhat and tumbled over the main house. But everything is now in order and time wags as usual. I believe I have wrote all I can think of this time [that] will be likely to interest you, and perhaps more. So I will close by requesting you to write whenever convenient. Ever your true friend and brother. — William
P. S. I received a letter from Malinda the other day. I had no paper, and had to write an answer on a page she had not filled. I trust she will not think hard. It was the best I could do, and also one from father. I had to scribble an answer on a blank side of a leaf.
Letter 6
Goldsboro, North Carolina March 27, 1865
Dear Sena,
I received a couple of letters from you yesterday and you complain that I don’t answer your letters. I have this to say on the subject. If you was in my place, you would I think write as little as I do, if not less. It was nearly two months that we had no communication whatever with God’s country. This I think will be sufficient to explain to you the reason you have had no letters. It is not because I am out of humor with you al all, but simply for the want of an opportunity to write.
We are now in camp but I am so busy making out my returns that I can’t write much so you must be satisfied with short letters for a while at least. I suppose from the tone of your letters that you are having gay times this winter with your turkey roasts and mighty societies and such. We are having gay times down here too but not just in your style. While speaking of parties, I wish to know what kind of party that your preacher and Iowa Kerns had. Who is Iowa Kerns? It seems your preacher is a gay chap, flogging the ladies in this day and age of the world. If he can’t contain himself but must fight, I would advise that a committee of old maids enquire into his case and if as deperate as his actions indicate, theyshould ship the fat gentleman down here and let him fight the Rebels. But if that should not suit him—which is very likely—he could have full swing at the wenches which I conceive would be much more Christian like than whaling the white women in Pike county—because he could not only preach to them but he could at te same time gratify his fighting propensities by thrashing them occasionally as they are used to it and would not mind it much.
We drew a lot of clothing today and our ragamuffins are much improved in looks, you may well believe. We are now drawing full rations. The railroad is completed to town and steamboats come up within 20 or 30 miles and wagons bring the stores from there. As one railroad is insufficient to supply the army that is now here, if Lee does not leave Richmond soon, he will hear such a hullabaloo in his rear as he never heard before in his life.
The mail has been pouring in by the bushel. Yesterday and today I have got more than 30 letters, a nice coat vest, socks, and shirts, and a nice cake of butter. You ought to have seen me wade into it. It come just as my cook took a warm corn pone out of the oven. Oh but it was good.
Maj. Hinson says the young lady didn’t ask for a man to guard her bull. He says someone is likely to be slandered but he hasn’t come to a conclusion yet whether it will be him or the bull. This is all this time. Write often all the gossip going on in the neighborhood. No more but I am ever your affectionate brother, — William
More biographical information on William W. Downing supplied by family descendants.
The following letters were written by Henry Clay Downing (1844-1862), the 17 year-old son of Timothy Downing (1801-1887) and Rachel Davis (1803-1883) of Pike county, Ohio. Henry enlisted in Co. D, 33rd Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) in August 1861 and served until 20 August 1862 when he died of disease at General Hospital No. 14 in Nashville, Tennessee.
He wrote all of his letters to his sister, Sena (Downing) Lightle (1834-1919), the wife of Peter Lightle (1834-1862) who also served in the same company. Also serving in the same regiment was Henry’s older brother, William Washington Downing (1827-1908) who survived the war.
Henry’s letters and the tintype of Sena (Downing) Lightle are the property of Natalie Stocks who graciously made them available to Spared & Shared for transcription and publication. Sena was her g-g-g grandmother. She inherited the letters of Henry, and his brother, William Washington Downing, and Henry’s brother in law, Peter Lightle, all of the 33rd OH Infantry Regiment, Co.D.
Letter 1
Addressed to Sena Lightle, Waverly, Pike county, Ohio
Camp Harris, Elizabeth Town, Kentucky December 13, 1861
Dear sister,
Henry’s sister—Sena (Downing) Lightle
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at present and I hope that this may find you in the same state of health. We received your letter day before yesterday.
We left Louisville on the 9th en route for Elizabeth Town, distance forty-five miles from Louisville. The day we left there was not more than five hundred men able for to march. The balance came on the cars. Our company had to come on the cars to take care of the sick. Peter [Lightle] was sick the fore part of the week but he is about well now. For my part, I have not been sick an hour since [I] have been in the service.
December 14th, we got paid off today. I got $18 and a dime and I am a going to send it all home but $3 which I am a going to keep. I have not much time to write, so no more at present. Yours, — Henry
P. S. You will find enclosed some of our sutler script.
Letter 2
Camp Van Buren [near Murfreesboro, Tennessee] March 30th 1862
Dear Sister,
I take this present opportunity to inform you that I am well and I hope those few lines will find you and yours enjoying the same great blessing. I received your letter of the 19th with great pleasure and I was glad to hear from you. William got a letter from father who says it is as rainy and muddy as ever. We have very nice weather here. It is as warm as summer. The trees are a getting green and the negroes are at work in the cotton fields a breaking down the old cotton stalks preparing for a new crop. It is a very busy time here a building the bridges that the rebels burnt. There are two of them. They are about done now.
I want you to let me know how all the folks are on the creek and tell me how mother gets along. Tell her that I can’t get my likeness taken in this country. I sent her a gold dollar in one of Will’s letters. Pete [Lightle] is a cutting around as keen as a buck. He has cut off his whiskers and he looks just like a hawk. He is a getting fat again.
You say you have had no letters from me. The reason is I had no postage stamps but I sent you word in Will’s letters.
There is a rumor through camp that the paymaster is a coming to pay us off again before we leave here. I have wrote about all there is to write about so no more at present but ever [remain] yours, — Henry C. Downing
Write soon.
Letter 3
Camp Harrison [Shelbyville, Tennessee] April 6, 1862
Dear Sister,
I seat myself this Sunday morning to inform you that I am well and I hope these few lines will find you in the same state of health. I have not got a letter from you for a long time. I would like to hear from home very well. We have not heard whether father got that money I and Will sent him or not and I would like to hear something about it. We have our pay rolls made out again for two more months pay but I do not know when we will get paid off again.
I have been sick for about two weeks but I am nearly well now. We have moved 25 miles further on to another town by the name of Shelbyville. It is a very thrifty town and a good portion of it is Union.
I want you to write and let me know how mother gets along. I want you to let me know how she gets along in every letter you write. I want you to write and let me know how all the folks are on the creek. I have not much more to write so no more at present. Yours, — Henry
Letter 4
Camp Taylor, Huntsville, Alabama May 24, 1862
Dear sister,
I again seat myself for the purpose of penning you a few lines to let you know that I am well at present and I hope that these few lines will find you and yours enjoying the same great blessing. I have not got a letter from you or father for a long time and I do not know the reason unless you do not write. We get papers nearly every week which gives us a great deal of satisfaction for a paper now and then goes with a good relish.
I have been sick for several days but I begin to feel like myself again. When I was at Camp Jefferson, my weight was 140 pounds. Now it is 100 pounds. I have fell off that much since I have been sick.
This is the greatest country for growing garden stuff that I ever saw. We have green peas and beans and cucumbers and all other stuff to eat when we but it. We are a going to draw a new suit of clothes in a few days out and out. This regiment has begun to recruit up again. Since we have been here, any amount of the sick men that has been in the hospital having come up. The 33rd [Ohio Infantry] begins to look like a regiment again. There is but very little sickness in camp now for all it is so hot. We had a very hard rain yesterday and last night—the first for a long time.
Russell Allen says he wants you to write to him. He says he never felt better in his life than he does now. Pete is well and as fat and black as he can be. Will is as black as a nigger. Joab [Davis] got a letter from home the other day and they say that the farm looks very lonesome without I or Will at work on it. For my part, I think we all will be at home before very long. I think if we clean the Rebels out at Corinth, that it will wind the war up. I am in hopes so anyhow.
One of our lieutenants met with a very serious accident the other day while out on picket. He was loading a shot gun for the purpose of shooting squirrels when it went off and the whole charge of 18 pistol balls entered his left side and shoulder which came very near a ending his life. But he is now on the mend.
I want you to write and let me know where Matilda is—how she and the children gets along. I have wrote her letters but never received no answer and you nor father never mention her name. I want you to write and let me know how mother is and how she gets along. Tell her that I try to do as she told me. How Arly does and whether he has got any new clothes or not. I must bring my letter to a close so no more at present but ever [remain] your affectionate brother, — Henry C. Downing.
The long roll has just beat and the whole camp is in a state of the greatest excitement. What the trouble is now, I do not know.
Letter 5
Camp Taylor [near Huntsville, Alabama] June 24, 1862
Dear Sister,
I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am not very well—my back being still very weak yet. But I hope that this will find you in good health.
I got a letter from you today of the 17th of May and I was very glad to hear from you and to hear that you was well. You stated in your letter that you wanted [to] know whether I and Pete [Lightle] got them stamps. well we got them.
The regiment is still at Battle Creek yet. They are expecting a fight there all the time. Gen. Buell’s army is on its [way] there.
Sena, you will have to excuse me for I will have to close. I can hardly write. So no more at present. Yours ever, — Henry C. Downing
The following letters were written by Peter Lightle (1832-1862), the son of Samuel Lightle (1798-1851) and Lear Ford (1802-1870) of Ross county, Ohio. Peter was married to Sena Downing (1834-1910) 1856 in Pike county, Ohio, and had two young children, Evangeline (b. 1858) and Albert (b. 1860) at the time that he answered his country’s call to serve as a corporal in Co. D, 33rd Ohio Infantry. Muster records inform us that he enlisted on 17 August 1861 and served until his death on the battlefield at Perryville, Kentucky, on 8 October 1862. Pension records describe Peter as standing 5’9″ tall with dark eyes and black hair.
On August 27, 1862, Confederate cavalry and artillery attacked Fort McCook which was garrisoned by the 33rd Ohio Infantry, prompting the Union soldiers to retreat under the cover of darkness. The Northern soldiers withdrew to Decherd, Tennessee and then marched to Nashville and Bowling Green, where it rejoined the rest of the Army of the Ohio, which was in pursuit of General Braxton Bragg’s Confederate army. The Northern army then moved to Louisville, Kentucky, where it arrived on September 26. On October 1, 1862, the Army of the Ohio departed Louisville in search of the Confederates, finding them at Perryville, Kentucky. At the Battle of Perryville (October 8, 1862), the 33rd entered the engagement with approximately four hundred men. The regiment had 129 men killed or wounded in the battle, nearly one-third of its total active strength.
Peter’s letters and the family tintypes are the property of Natalie Stocks who graciously made them available to Spared & Shared for transcription and publication. Peter was her g-g-g grandfather by way of his daughter Evangeline. She inherited the letters of Peter, and his brother in law, William Washington Downing, and his brother in law, Henry Downing.(33rd OH Infantry Regiment). All of the letters were written to Peter’s wife, Mrs. Sena Downing Lightle.
Sena (Dowling) LightleEvangeline Lightle
Letter 1
Camp Taylor May 14, 1862
Dear Sena,
I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well at present and truly hope when this reaches you it may find you all well. I received a letter from you the 12th and was very glad to hear from you but sorry to hear that Albert was sick. I had no time to write to you any sooner. I came in the same day from picket that I received your letter and got my dinner and sit down to read the papers that the boys got from home and the next morning I went on camp guard and came off this morning.
You said that you wanted me to write to you and tell you how I like Dixie but the people in it don’t do so well. We still have a little muss with them now and then but they can’t come in. They think that the Yankees is hard cases and they don’t miss it much. General Mitchell tells us that we have the greatest praise of any other division in the army. I think we will have the rebels all cleaned out of this place pretty soon and then I don’t know where they will go then.
Albert Lightle, b. 1860
I am enjoying myself as well as can be expected. I would like to be at home very well now while Albert is sick but I can’t. I trust that you can get along as well with him as if I was there. I would like to see the children before they forget me. You have told me that Albert was getting a little better and that the doctor told you that he would get along with good care. I trust that you will take as good a care as you can. I think the time won’t be long until I can come home and see you again. I would like to try my hand on a [ ] again but not until the war is settled and then I think I can settle self with satisfaction. For a while there was a great many men that voted for Abraham Lincoln about our town and said they was ready to fight for him, but it takes them a long time to get at it. I think by the time the war is over, they will be ready to gass about it.
I will have to close my letter pretty soon to go on Battalion Drill. It is very warm here now and still a getting warmer. It will soon be harvest [time] here. The wheat is ripe but it is not much of a crop. Tell Clem [James] I would like to hear from him and know whether he is dead or not. I want you to write and let me know how you all are as soon as you get this letter. So no more at present but [remain] yours until death, — Peter Lightle
to Sena Lightle
Please excuse my mistakes and awkward spelling.
Letter 2
Camp near Battle Creek August 17, 1862
Dear wife and children,
It is with pleasure that I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well at present and truly hope when this reaches you it may find you all enjoying the same blessing.
Now the first thing I will tell you what we are doing. We are fortifying this place. There is about six hundred men at work on it day and night. Our regiment is at work on it today. The reason that I am not at work there was about three corporals out of Co. D [were] detailed and that left Bewn Lewis and myself in camp. We are on duty about every other day and expect to be until we get our job completed and then I think we will have a good time—but not as good as I seen in former days.
Now Sena, it has been one year and two days [and] just about this hour since I took dinner with you and not much prospect getting to eat with you for two more long years. But I will pass the time as fast as possible. As for my part, I would just as leave be here. But them at home is what I look at. But I trust in God that we may all meet again before long and enjoy peace and happiness once more together. I have often thought when I have been on guard by myself that I was not in any danger because I always tried to do my duty as far as I knew how.
Now Sena, I have written you the truth as near as I could. I received a paper from you a few days ago with a few lines in it. I was glad to get it. I have not had a letter from you for about two weeks and I can’t tell the reason for I wrote two letters every week. I want you to write as often as you can for I would like to hear from you once a week anyhow. Please write and tell me how you are getting [along] with the children. I want you to take care of them and yourself until I come home. Don’t work yourself to death because I ain’t at home for I think that what money I send home [should] pretty near keep you.
But I must bring my letter to a close. Please write. So no more at present but remain yours until death, — Peter Lightle
to Sena
Letter 3
Camp on Chaplin Heights October 11th 1862
Mrs. Lightle,
It becomes my painful duty to inform you of the death of your husband who fell in the action of the 8th [at Perryville, Kentucky]. He fell in the discharge of his duty and lived but a few moments. As he lay, I took his hand in my own and his last words were, “Remember my wife.” His loss can, only by yourself, be felt more heavily than the company. Exhorting you to not mourn for what we each and all owe our country, I remain yours respectfully, — J. Hinson, Capt. Co. d, 33rd OVI 1
1 Born in Ohio, Joseph Hinson (1842-1904) enlisted in the 1st Ohio Infantry for three months on 16 Apr 1861. Mustered in as a Private in Company G at Lancaster, Pennsylvania on 29 Apr 1861. Mustered out with his Company at Camp Chase, Columbus, Ohio on 1 Aug 1861. Enlisted in the 33rd Ohio Infantry for three years. Mustered in as 1st Lieutenant of Company D at Camp Morrow, near Portsmouth, Ohio on 27 Aug 1861. Promoted to Captain on 23 Mar 1862. Severely wounded in the left arm on 20 Sep 1863 during the Battle of Chickamauga, Georgia resulting in his arm being amputated. Returned to his Company on 23 Jan 1864. Promoted to Major on 28 Jan 1865 and transferred to Field and Staff (F&S). Promoted to Lieutenant Colonel on 18 May 1865. Promoted to Colonel on 26 Jun 1865, but not mustered. Mustered out with the Regiment at Louisville, Kentucky.
The following letters were written by Don Fernando Johnson (1819-1888), the son of Stephen Johnson (1786-1853) and Electa Noble (1787-1878) of Vernon, Tolland county, Connecticut. At the time of the 1860 US Census, Don was residing in Willimantic, Windham county, Connecticut, and employed as a master carpenter. He was married to Sarah Cordelia Crane (1825-1894).
Johnson’s first letter, written to his mother, refers to the death of his father-in-law, Millen Crane (1802-1863)—the husband of Sally (Bennett) Crane (1807-1886) of Mansfield City, Connecticut. We learn from the letter that Millen Crane contracted typhoid fever while visiting his son, Lt. Alvin M. Crane (1839-1922) of Co. D, 21st Connecticut Infantry, in Portsmouth, Virginia, where Alvin was on Provost Duty. Alvin survived the war but was wounded in the Battle of Drewry’s Bluff in May 1864.
Johnson’s second letter speaks to the progress of the war as Grant’s Overland Campaign began and also refers to the recent Gold Hoax.
Letter 1
Addressed to Mrs. Electa Johnson, Vernon Depot, Connecticut
Willimantic [Tolland county] Connecticut] October 25th 1863
Dear Mother,
The delay of this letter which I intended to have written a week ago was caused by the sickness of Father Crane which you probably heard of by way of Sarah’s letter to Harriet. I have now to announce to you his sudden death. He died last Tuesday, the 20th, about 1 o’clock p.m. His funeral was Wednesday the day after. It was thought not prudent to put it longer time as his disease was such which was considered by the doctor the Camp Fever, or Typhoid of the worst kind.
Lt. Alvin M. Crane, Co. D, 21st Connecticut Volunteers
The circumstances of his sickness and death were these. Alvin was very anxious he should make him a visit to Portsmouth, Virginia, where the 21st was then doing Provost duty, and Father Crane has also been anxious to go. He started in company with some others going to the same place about the middle of September and was gone from home about three weeks. He enjoyed his visit well except one day was confined to his room sick. He with Alvin visited Yorktown, Norfolk, Fortress Monroe, and a number of the hospitals so using his time well. The doctor thought he took the disease whilst there but our folks think he was some unwell before he started as the Camp Fever is not considered contagious by many. He had been unwell since he come home, which was two weeks to a day from the time he died. He was so to be about the house and even work picking up potatoes the Thursday before. He had no doctor before last Sunday which night Sarah and myself watched with him. We found him quite sick though none of us considered him dangerous. He had that day been out of his right mind but was quite rational Monday when we left him, but soon grew worse, and did not have his reason again.
Such are some of the circumstances of his sickness and death. His loss will be much felt by all who had to do with him. He was a good husband, a kind parent, and has ever been a good friend to me. Though it may seemingly ill become me to write out an eulogy at this time, I must say of him to do justice to the departed that he was a man of strong principle and character and had the old sage or philosopher Diogenes lived at this time, he would not have been compelled to go about with a candle in his hand in broad daylight in search of an honest man for no one can rise up and say he was not. And to his great tenacity to what he thought was true and right, I will only quote what was said by the preacher of his funeral discourse: that he was made of that fit kind of material for a martyr.
We are getting on about as usual. I am at work about in the village. Have no help now and doing some repair shingling, &c. We shall look for Harriet now any time Sarah wants to have her come before she commences her school. I have heard nothing from you since Sarah was to B. Write us soon all the news. We are having fine weather now besides beautiful moon light evenings. I must close this hoping this finds you all well. — D. F. Johnson
Letter 2
Willimantic May 22, 1864
Dear mother,
My delay in writing you before may be charged to the account of much visiting back and forward of late, which we were very glad to receive….
What warm weather for the Spring months. It is like summer. The leaves are about as much grown as they usually are the middle of June. The grass has got high enough to make butter lower. The birds sing whilst they busy making their nests. Great big bumble bees to the consternation and astonishment of my wife and Mrs. Bradley fly in and mount the sugar bowl just the same as if it were cheap as of old. The lilac are in full blossom; also the apple trees, filling the air with odorous and fragrancy so pleasing to smell, whilst Johnny Atwood goes barefooted and has blown out in the seat of his trousers. In fact, everything seemingly indicates a forward season.
The war news now most engrosses the attention. About half of it is bogus but enough is known of Gen. Grant’s movements to give the people confidence that he will give the Rebs hell before long. By his management, the result of this campaign is beyond the region of doubt so far as human eye can see.—“Mudsills” are now in the ascendant and will be historical in the admiration and praises of the times to come. But a great deal more blood has yet to flow, but the right must prevail.
The forged Proclamation created universal astonishment all over the country. the perpetrator of that document should be caught and his wind shut off at once. [see Civil War Gold Hoax]
We have the names of some of the Willimantic Boys killed or wounded in the late fights—none that you know. Lieut. [Charles A.] Wood went from this place in the 7th Conn. Vols., married here, [and] is reported killed [at the Battle of Drewry’s Bluff on 14 May 1864]. His parents live in Rockville.
[My brother-in-law] Alvin [Crane] is with Butler before Richmond. They will have some hard fighting to do there. If Harriet is at home, tell her that when Lester wasn’t but three days old, or before he had the whopping cough or a little before, he broke out with the measles. He come very near having the small pox. I guess if I had not known how to doctor no better than most folks do, he would have died if he had had it. But I think it was the itch that saved him as it made him scratch to get along so well so to be so bold a Captain….
The following letter was written in 1862 by 31 year-old Dr. David Williams Cheever (1831-1915), a graduate of the Harvard Medical School where he later taught [see biographical sketch]. Cheever wrote the letter while serving as a surgeon at the Judiciary Square Hospital in Washington D. C. during the summer of 1862. This hospital was sometimes called the “Washington Infirmary.” It consisted of “commodious frame buildings” erected on the square after the burning of the first infirmary in November 1861. The new buildings were opened in April 1862.
In his letter, Cheever mentions a colleague, Dr. Frank Brown—an 1861 graduate of the Harvard Medical School. Brown mentions Cheever in a 16 June 1862 letter I transcribed in 2014 (see 1862: Francis Henry Brown to Charles Francis Wyman) which reads as follows: “Yesterday while at dinner, we received orders for one or two surgeons from our hospitals to proceed immediately to a church near the station to take charge of a large number of wounded from [Gen’l James] Shield’s Division near Winchester. So Dr. [David Williams] Cheever and I hurried our two ambulances with nurses, boys, orderlies of all kinds, instruments, soup, coffee & brandy, & went full gallop for the place. We found on arrival by some negligence our orders had been delivered too late and we had to come back. The wounded had been carried to other hospitals.”
Though President Lincoln and his wife are frequently noted for their visits to various hospitals around Washington D.C. during the war, this specific account stands out as Cheever not only details the President’s interactions with the soldiers but also offers his impressions on both President and Mrs. Lincoln.
Dr. Cheever wrote this letter to his wife, Anna C. (Nichols) Cheever with whom he married in 1860. It was penned just prior to the 2nd Battle of Bull Run. Looking forward to more of Dr. Cheever’s Civil War era letters soon to be sent to me for transcription.
T R A N S C R I P T I O N
Washington Sunday evening, July 27, 1862
My own love,
As I am Officer of the Day, you will expect the usual letter. I hope to get one from you tomorrow.
Drs. Haven and [Frank] Brown were suddenly ordered to the Peninsula yesterday to take down a party of nurses. We hope they will be back in a few days so we have a little more to do again.
Newspaper drawing depicting Lincoln’s visit to the Depot Field Hospital near City Point, Va. (Courtesy New York State Library)
Yesterday we had a visit from the President & wife. 1 They came in very quietly, dressed in mourning, & the President went round & shook hands with each of the 400 patients. Quite a job. 2
Mrs. L[incoln] is quite an inferior appearing person. The President is tall & ungainly & awkward. His face, however, shows extreme kindness, & honesty, & shrewdness. He went round with great perseverance, & seemed to like to do it, though it must be a tremendous bore. His wife says he will do it at all the hospitals. There are some things comical about him but he has proved himself so far above his party & the time in firmness, honor & conservatism that I do not wish to say a word against him. They had a very plain carriage & attendants.
Today we had preaching in the hospital in the afternoon, which went off pretty well. There are many rumors about Jackson’s being at Gordonsville with a large force, & being about to make a demonstration on Washington. It would not be surprising if they did.
My little dove, do you want to see me? I hope you will have me next Sunday. What will you do? Don’t get too excited & get into mischief. I will try to write again. Yours with everlasting love, — D. W. Cheever
2The hospitals were sometimes part of the afternoon rides taken by Mr. & Mrs. Lincoln. One observer noted: “Mr. Lincoln’s manner was full of the geniality and kindness of his nature. Wherever he saw a soldier who looked sad and ‘down-hearted,’ he would take him by the hand and speak words of encouragement and hope. The poor fellows’ faces would lighten up with pleasure when he addressed them, and he scattered blessings and improved cheerfulness wherever he went.” [Source: Charles Bracelen Flood, 1864: Lincoln at the Gates of History, p. 101.]
The following letters were written by Simeon Terry Miner (1839-1902) of Geonoa, Cayuga county, New York, while serving as a private, in Co. F, 16th New York Heavy Artillery. He had previously served in Battery I of the 3rd New York Light Artillery. He reenlisted in the 16th “Heavies” in January 1864, imagining perhaps that he would only see garrison duty in some eastern seaboard fortress but Grant broke up this large regiment and chose to use them as infantrymen and in the summer of 1864. He mustered out with the company on 21 August 1865, at Washington, D. C. Simeon was the orphaned son of Edson T. Miner (1804-1848) and Eliza Ann Rich (18xx-1845). He wrote the letters to his cousin, Alice Avery, of Genoa.
In July, 1864, seven companies of the 16th New York Heavy Artillery were assigned to the 2nd brigade, Terry’s (1st) division, 10th Corps, and two companies to the 1st brigade, 3d division, same corps. On Aug. 9, 1864, when Gen. Butler called for volunteers to cut the Dutch gap canal through the peninsula in the James river near Farrar’s island, with a view to outflanking the enemy’s batteries and the obstructions in the river, Cos. A, B, C, F, G and K responded, and 600 men were selected from them to perform the perilous task. During the progress of the work, they were exposed to the enemy’s fire, and only protected themselves by throwing up the dirt from the canal as fast as possible, living in “gopher holes” along the river bank. They were withdrawn after several of the men had been killed and wounded, though Maj. Strong still continued in charge of the work and Maj. Prince in command of the battalion.
In Oct., 1864, seven companies were heavily engaged with Terry’s division at Darbytown road, sustaining a loss of II killed and 54 wounded, and in the action at the same place a few days later lost 13 killed and wounded. From July 27 to Dec, 1864, when the regiment was before Petersburg and Richmond, it sustained constant small losses, aggregating 30 killed, wounded and missing. From Dec, 1864, Cos. A, B, C, F, G and K served in the 1st division, 24th corps, and another detachment in the artillery brigade, same corps, engaging with some loss at Fort Fisher, the Cape Fear intrenchments. Fort Anderson, and near Wilmington, N. C. In July, 1865, the various detachments of the regiment were united and on Aug. 21, 1865, commanded by Col. Morrison, it was mustered out at Washington, D. C.
Joseph and Victor Piquet who served together in Co. L, 16th New York Heavy Artillery
Letter 1
Addressed to Miss Alice Avery, Genoa, Cayuga county, New York
Front Line of Defenses Near Bermuda Hundred August 20th 1864
Cousin Alice,
Your welcome letter of the 12th was received this morning. You are mistaken about our position. We are not in front of Petersburg but are with Butler’s Army about six or seven miles from that place, but can hear all the artillery firing. Our position is on the extreme right of Butler’s line of works. The fleet lies in the James river close to us. The Rebs’ works are about 500 or 600 yards in front of where we now camp.
The regiment has been badly split up since I wrote you last. Six hundred of our men have been away doing Engineer duty, leaving only about 250 here. We are in one of the extreme outposts away in front of the main lines of works—nothing between us and the Rebs but our picket line. (The batteries on our right have just opened fire.)
Take a map of the James river and find Turkey Bend. Just above it you will find a place called Dutch Gap. Close to this gap the river makes a sharp bend to the south. On this bend our (Butler’s) works commence and run by zig zag south till they come to the Appomattox. You will notice these works run in a line parallel to the Richmond & Petersburg road which the rebs have to keep strongly guarded or our force will sever one of their main lines of communication, but they have still one more line left—it is the Danville road.
A heavy battle was fought day before yesterday on the north side of the James. It was very heavy. We could hear the cannons & the musketry. The smoke was very plain to be seen. We could not see the lines of battle but could plainly see the bursting shells. We are afraid our men were driven back but have no news to be relied upon. The people at home know more than we do. We know nothing—only what we can see and hear. If we hear heavy firing, we know nothing of the result till northern papers announce it.
We are led to believe from accounts that reach us from home that there will be difficulty in enforcing the draft. Many of our men are very much disheartened by the present military condition and if they could by any means get clear of the army, nothing could induce them to reenter the army—not even force. The rank and file, or those I have heard speak, are very bitter on the present Administration and it is my opinion the present head of the government could not get one in four of the votes of the New York and New England troops. Such is their dislike of the present Cabinet and its doings. Nothing but a change will satisfy them. Many begin to talk of giving up the contest as a bad job. Grant is fast losing the confidence of the men. There is too much President making.
Last night there was very heavy [firing] at Petersburg. We don’t know the cause.
What was the reason of Mr. Boughton coming home? Did his health give out or was there some other reason for it?
In regard to money matters, my object was to get it in some shape that the depreciation of Government stocks and Bank security would not reduce its original value.
I have just heard from one of our men who has been over the James that the heavy firing I mentioned was an attempt of the Rebs to take works from our Corps (10th) which they had taken the day or two before. They held it but the Division is badly cut up. Our regiment is now under marching orders but we don’t know whether we shall go to the regiment or not.
All day yesterday and today it has rained. Last night was very bad. Our tents consist of two pieces of light canvas buttoned together. These are thrown over a pole and fastened to the ground by stakes. In marching, these tents are taken apart and each man carries half a tent. These are the famous shelter tents. The pieces are about five feet square. Some of them linen—others of cotton. The canvas is about the heft and thickness of two thicknesses of heavy sheeting.
Our men have lost two killed besides having several wounded. I have not heard the number from other regiments. I wrote to Orlando a few days ago. Tell me in your answer if he received it. A letter from me goes to all of you. Write soon. Direct as before & to the 10th Corps. — S. T. Miner
Letter 2
With 10th Corps in Field October 30th 1864
Dear cousin Alice,
Your welcome letter of October 23rd I received this morning. I was glad to get it. Today is Sunday and quite a gloomy one too (although the day is bright) if reports be true. Report has it that Grant has lost heavily and has been repulsed. The loss is said to be eight thousand. If that be so, things look pretty black for us in this quarter. Wherever we advance we always find an equal number of Rebels. We are all getting sick of this, I tell you. Although the armies seem to meet with some success in other parts, the reverse seems to be the case here. What the reason is, I cannot tell.
If Grant is defeated, the price of gold will again go up and we have the contest prolonged for another year. The disloyal faction will come out boldly with their operations and sooner or later, I fear we must give in. I have got the blues like thunder over such prospects as our men talk over. What little U.S. stock I have, I shall sell. I think the value is steadily reducing and I am shaky in my faith. I hardly know what to do. If the present financial policy of the government is continued, repudiation must come we all fear. We are becoming States Rights men, as regards money matters. Just think of it, a dollar will hardly buy a man enough to make a respectable lunch from, and more of the same kind coming everyday. This the government has to pay full price of gold for. This course, if persisted in will smash us sure.
The men of McClellan ideas are feeling quite fine over our defeat. This Army was also engaged and obliged to retreat although the loss was not as heavy as on the south side of the river. You people at home do not fully understand the feeling in the Army. The men are fast becoming “Peace at any price.” More than two-thirds of our regiment follow that cry. Honor and patriotism have actually played out with a large portion of them. The only thing that keeps man here is the feeling for their friends at home. I fear the election of Lincoln will cause a great deal of bad feeling & desertion.
You say you wish you could take a peek ay me. You would find me sitting in a little tent not high enough to stand in, with a portfolio on my knee writing to you. We have a small fireplace i one corner which keeps us quite comfortable. Our bed consists of pine boughs spread on the ground and covered with a rubber blanket. The nights are quite cold, many times have quite heavy frosts.
How do the people feel toward the soldiers? Our men think the office holders only want them for a handle, then will kick them aside after rising. The late frauds in soldiers’ votes goes strongly to confirm the idea. My opinion is that it is but little more than politics that keeps the war going. Rich contractors playing their points to rob the men of the Army supported by the Administration on the one side and gold gamblers sustained by Democratic papers and men on the other.
I really wish I could be with you to enjoy your big bin of apples & potatoes for I really need something of the kind to keep me healthy and cannot get it. I guess you will pronounce this a genuine Copperhead epistle so I’ll not write anymore this time but wait till I hear further from Grant’s repulse. Do not neglect to write to me because I feel pretty blue on government affairs.
Spared & Shared 23 