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.
This letter was written by Richard Johnston Stough (1844-1926) who enlisted at the age of 18 on 28 July 1862 as a private in Co. K, 56th North Carolina Infantry. He was promoted to corporal in September 1863 and was with his regiment near New Bern when he participated in the 2nd Battle of Gum Swamp in May 1863. In this engagement, the 25th NC Regiment and the 56th NC Regiment were surprised and virtually surrounded by five Union regiments at Gum Swamp (Jones County); they were forced to fight their way out or flee into the swamp. More than 160 men of the 56th NC Regiment were captured but apparently Richard “took to the swamp through the mud and briars” and escaped.
Richard was taken prisoner of war on 25 March 1865 in the fight at Fort Stedman, Virginia, and was confined at Point Lookout, Maryland, until he took the Oath of Allegiance on 20 June 1865.
Richard wrote the letter to George B. Dewese (1843-1864), the son of John Allison Dewese (1811-1870) and Mary Ann Sloan (1819-1911) of Mecklenburg, North Carolina. George enlisted on 28 July 1862 at the age of 19 in Co. K, 56th North Carolina Infantry. He was absent sick from his company for two or three months in the spring of 1863 but was otherwise on duty until he was killed in the Battle of Globe Tavern (or 2nd Battle of Weldon Railroad) fought on 21 August 1864 south of Petersburg, Virginia.
Transcription
[Approximately 1 June 1863]
Gum Swamp satisfied my curiosity. I shot 4 times at the Yankees and missed every time I think. One thing I know, they—the Yankees—came in very close proximity to me. They seemed to be blind. I took the swamp through the mud and briars without thinking what was before, always looking behind.
George, give my respects to all that wants and accept a double portion yourself. Goodbye. Yours truly, — R. J. Stough
The following letter was written by Andrew (“Andy”) Green Barnett (1843-1917) of Mecklenburg county who enlisted as a private on 25 October 1862 in Co. K, 56th North Carolina Infantry. He was wounded on 30 May 1864 and hospitalized in Richmond, Virginia. He was furloughed in September and returned to service in January, 1865. In March of 1865 he was taken prisoner and held at Point Lookout, MD until the war’s end, taking the Oath of Allegiance on June 23, 1865. [His obituary published in the Charlotte Observer on 19 January 1917 says he was imprisoned on Hart’s Island in New York.]
After he returned home from the war, Andy married Martha McClure (1843-1916) and the couple had at least nine children. He died on 15 January 1917 and was buried in Davidson, Mecklenburg county, N. C.
Andy wrote the letter to Margaret C. Dewese (1841-1910) who also lived in Mecklenburg county. She was the daughter of John Allison Dewese (1811-1870) and Mary Ann Sloan (1819-1911).
Transcription
Randolph City, North Carolina January 14th 1864
Miss M. Dewese,
Dear friend, I seat myself to write you a few lines to inform you that I am well and hope these few lines may reach you and find you in the same good blessing. I have been having a right fine Christmas here along of the Randolph girls but I would rather been in Old Mecklenburg to a taken Christmas with them that I know. I have been at two parties here, then dined at both places. We had a fine large time of it and I hope you had a fine time with the old men and boys for they ain’t any other sort there to take Christmas with but.
[It looks like] we will have to set in for a New Year. I think they had better all quit and go home and mind their own business. I hain’t got anything to do but write letters or read the ones I get from the girls—that is more satisfaction.
This is a fine, wet day and we are all sitting up indoors. The boys is well and hearty and we are cooking or eating pickled beef.
Well, Miss M., I have not got anything of interest to write that you will [have] seen by perusing the [ ] but I hope it will find you with some important news so you won’t be like me at a loss to know what to write. I am getting along fine here and I hope they will keep us at this business till the war comes to a close. Write soon and give me the news to a close, if you please, and I will try to think of more next time. Give my compliments to all the girls that think worthy of asking but don’t let no one see it. I have been looking for letters from the girls and I begin to think I wouldn’t get any and I thought I would write a few and see if you all had forgotten me. So I must close by asking you to write soon and give me the news in full.
Direct your letter to me as before. But you know all that. So I remain your esteemed friend while I am, — A. G. Barnett
Believed to be Zachariah and William H. H. Holland of Co. E, 56th N. C. Infantry
The following letter was written by Pvt. William Smith (1836-1864) of Mecklenburg county who enlisted in April 1862 to serve in Co. K, 56th North Carolina Infantry. William was taken prisoner on 22 May 1863 in the 2nd Battle of Gum Swamp. In this engagement, the 25th NC Regiment and the 56th NC Regiment were surprised and virtually surrounded by five Union regiments at Gum Swamp (Jones County); they were forced to fight their way out or flee into the swamp. More than 160 men of the 56th NC Regiment were captured. William was held at New Bern until he was paroled and eventually returned to his regiment.
In late August, William was sent to a hospital suffering from an illness and he died on 3 October 1864.
William wrote this letter to Margaret C. Dewese (1841-1910) who also lived in Mecklenburg county. She was the daughter of John Allison Dewese (1811-1870) and Mary Ann Sloan (1819-1911).
Transcription
[Camp near Weldon Railroad] April 3rd [1864]
Dear Miss,
I take my pen in hand to write you a line to let you know how I am getting along. I am well and in fine spirits and I hope these lines will find you enjoying the same great blessing. I thought when I promised to write to you that I would a written before this time. I just thought to write when I see Calvin [Dewese] a writing & thought I would write a line and put in his letter. 1
I have no news of importance to write at present. The company is generally well. John Sloan was taken to the hospital yesterday. I and several others had the same chance to catch them that he had. We may take them yet but I hope not. We have not fared well ever since we came back to the company in the way of rations. We have nothing to do but drill and I hope that we will never have any fighting to do more than we have had to do so far.
George [Dewese] has been on guard at the bridge ever since Wednesday and I hain’t seen nor heard from him since but he is well or he would a been back to the company. We have a good many April fools. It seems like Christmas to see the boys a carrying on a playing off on one another. Mr. Carrigan gets a letter a most every evening and don’t know where they come from and we have him a running to the quartermaster after a blanket or to draw a pair of shoes and he comes back without any. Then we have the laugh. They hain’t fooled me yet but I expect to ketch one in a letter this week. But if I do, someone will have to look out for a dismule [?].
I will bring my uninteresting letter to a close by requesting a line from your hand. The world is wide and the sea is deep, and I would like to be near a nuff to hear you cheep. Goodbye, — William T. Smith
The following letter was written by Robert A. Nelson of Mecklenburg county who was a 31 year-old farmer when he enlisted in September 1861 to serve in Co. H, 35th North Carolina Infantry. He was discharged for disability in mid-June 1862 but apparently regained his health and reenlisted in the same company in late March 1863.
Muster rolls indicate that he was absent from the regiment in November 1864 for wounds.
Robert wrote this letter to Margaret C. Dewese (1841-1910) who also lived in Mecklenburg county. She was the daughter of John Allison Dewese (1811-1870) and Mary Ann Sloan (1819-1911).
I could not find an image of Robert but here’s one of Stanhope Washington Alexander who also served in Co. H, 35th North Carolina Infantry. He enlisted on 26 October 1864 in Mecklenburg County. He appears to be holding an Enfield Rifle and an 1861 sack coat style of Confederate uniform.
Transcription
Weldon, North Carolina October 25, 1863
Miss Margaret Dewese,
I will rop you a few lines to inform you that I hadn’t forgotten you yet. I am in common health at the present time, hoping these few lines will find you and all the rest enjoying good health.
I haven’t got no news of importance to write at the present. The health of the army is good as far as I know. We have been lying here a resting for the last month. I don’t know how long we will stay here. It is reported that we will go west before long. Our camp is in fifty yards of the 56th [North Carolina]. I would be glad to see them get back for I want to hear what for times they have had.
Some grand rascal stole James Chill’s tent last night. Cousin Berry made a search for it this morning, Didn’t get it.
I have wrote to Davey and Liz both but got no answer yet. I would like to hear how they are getting along and also how Alford Markham has got [along]. I would like to hear from you all if the times are as hard as they are here. I think the Confederacy is about broke. It is as much as [broke for] we can’t get enough to eat and they give us cloth shoes to wear, and don’t know what will turn up next for to wear. It looks hard to see how soldiers is treated and so many speculators at home a living at their ease.
Give my best respects to all enquiring friends, if there should be any such—the girls in particular. So nothing more at the present. Only remain your absent friend until death. Write soon, — R. A. Nelson
Isabella and her brother Hamill holding one of his daughters, Africa
The following letter was written by Isabella (“Bella”) A. Nassau (1829-1906), the daughter of Rev. Charles William Nassau (1804-1878) and Hannah McClintock Hamill (1807-1878) of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Bella wrote the letter to her younger brother, Rev. Robert Hamill Nassau (1835-1921), an American presbyterian missionary who spent forty years in Africa. Bella eventually joined her brother as a missionary in Africa.
Born in Newtown Square, Pennsylvania, Nassau was an ordained minister and a medical doctor. Appointed in 1861 to Presbyterian mission on Corisco Island off the coast of present day at Equatorial Guinea, he and his wife, Mary Cloyd Latta served there and at Benita until her death on Corisco in 1870. They had three sons William Latta, George Paull and Charles Francis His second wife was Mary Brunette Foster (died 1884), with whom he had a daughter Mary Brunette Foster.
Transcription
Home July 28, 1863
My dear, dear Hamill & Mary,
You would be surprised to hear how naturally & familiarly these two names are linked to our home circle. Your letter dated May 25th was received July 24th. It found us all well, though at this sitting our sweet Tillie is slightly indisposed; a bilious attack incident to the season; she will be well in a few days we expect.
Today I have been in Trenton with sister, Charlie, & Mrs. Gasman. The chief object of their going was to see Mr. Gasman [ ] so they were passing down to Bridgton in company with Mr. John Gasman who still enjoys his celibacy; in a few weeks they hope to visit Mr. Gasman & see their little “Jennie;” who is a little fair thing, a gentle little girl 7 months old.
But I must condense more in my letter, I presume, and we will go back to your letter received in June, dated April 17th. As is often the case (this month is no exception), your letter came the day after ours to you was mailed. You are indeed a kind dear brother to give so much of your time to writing to me—always so much gratified and interested; but does it task you too much? Surely there has meaning in the advice that your friend Mr. Pierce gave you on the subject; Still I do not believe it is anything but recreation for you; to write these interesting letters to home friends. Month after month we go treading with you over the house and grounds & the last letter with the accompanying diagram makes it so, all so vivid. There is one part of your good kind letter that I anticipated & almost dreaded; you would send me a welcome to the missionary house perhaps thinking me on my way thither; while stranger to tell, it seems I may not go. I cannot give up hope as I intimated in my last letter; the Board have no opportunities of sending such as me now, even if I were ready to go. So I fondly hope that Pa’s judgment on my health may accord with the physician’s and I be pronounced able to go when an opportunity offers of going.
My health is so good generally that I had not thought it needful to ask medical advise on that subject relative to my going; but as Pa especially is more & more decided that I could not bear a life in Africa, it seems my duty to forbear any further preparations. Sister Mary need not fear that I would allow myself to be long detained in making preparations; I had commenced doing so & Mrs. Ogden kindly gave me the benefit of her experience, and many thanks to you, my dear Brother, for your letter of advice on the subject of “what to bring.” I felt sadly the need of some advice on the subject & may yet avail myself of it.
We feel sadly to think how few is your number now. Now while the [ ] is growing in interest & the blessed cause is expanding. Oh! my heart is deeply moved at the fear & doubts & misgivings of many of God’s people. Who see signs of decline in the work of missions; I wish I had tongue or pen that could convince them of the truth, & [ ] them in their work. I cannot, ought not be silent.
My own dear Brother, how kind in you to collect so many interesting & beautiful shells & preparations for us! It has been a task of so much pleasure to unpack, to cleanse and arrange on our cabinets the various articles; the arrangement is not yet completed. We have his cabinet in the Reading room off from the back parlor. It is light colored, uniform, with the bookcases of the Sapphie Union & looks very nicely. I must acknowledge that the shells & [ ] are more interesting than the Iguanas to look at. Still we prize the “Lizards.” How perfectly beautiful some of the shells are! And so many of them! We were thankful that they all carried so well. Sister Lusie says that some of these articles were broken; nothing in our box or barrel was broken though the bottle of Pitanga did leak out and cause the writing on this paper to become somewhat illegible & we cannot tell for whom it was intended though the name & that of Mrs. McQueens, who preserved them, are legible. We think ourselves quite fortunate that things carried so well. We have not eaten many of the preserves yet.
Your memoranda of articles for household also must be noticed next, I am glad to do anything of the kind for you; and on the 20th of this month we (. e.) Letitia, Mrs. Gasman, & I went to the City & made our purchases. I must particularize. [list of purchases follows]
I think you were will not fail to like the “Monitor,” it is called; resembling the “Eagle” pattern which the man remembered perfectly, having sent it rather packed for Mrs. Mackey. He said he had so many things for them. Amongst them a photograph of a young gentleman who was in the army; it must have been Mary’s brother. We have had the store packed & sent to New York yet, as it is not desirable to have it lying so long, & Mr. Rankin promises to take it in time. We could go to the City in the early line, and the box could be packed & sent on in the evening. We will try to think of everything belonging to a store which you would deem desirable.
Sister Mrs. Wells has left in our care to be packed two chairs of the camp that fold up very conveniently. Mrs. Gasman an arm chair; also camp style. We have the [ ] which you ordered some time ago, but which there has been no opportunity to send. Will enclose it with other valuables in the box…
There has been some dark days as well as cheering news in regard to our country since I wrote. Little had we ever thought that Gettysburg would become the marked town that History will make it. The demand for hospital supplies was so very great & so immediate after the battle that many places furnished boxes within a few hours notice. One day the High School made up two and Letitia & ourselves one large box which was presented to Baltimore, whither the sick & wounded of Gettysburg were carried. The Monday following the Battle of Gettysburg was a dark day in the history of Philadelphia & adjoining towns. People yielded to fear, but an Almighty hand was outstretched for our relief & now we see more clearly than ever through the [ ] clouds; see that God is moving in His own mysterious way.
I suppose you will see in papers the death of our friend Dr. Tremans during this month. Do you remember Mrs. Sampson, Lydia Green, the doctor’s daughter? She died very unexpectedly while in Washington, leaving one child. Tillie Green is failing rapidly. All her friends see it but she will not permit any remarks to be made on the subject. It is very sad…
From your sister Bella
Pray for me dear ones! that I may know & do the will of God! I know He is guiding me.
2nd Lt. H. Heber Woodruff, 16th Michigan. CDV by Raymond & Allen, Detroit, Michigan (Dale Niesen Collection)
The following letter was written by 2nd Lieutenant Henry Heber Woodruff (1841-1916) of Co. D, 16th Michigan Infantry to his Uncle Benjamin Hall of Gibraltar, Michigan. Part of the Woodruff family had moved north to East Saginaw, Michigan sometime before the war. The letter talks of life in Gibraltar and the surrounding communities of Brownstown Township, Michigan. Heber goes on to detail his experiences during the Battle of Fredericksburg and camp life, etc. He also mentions another famous local soldier, Michael Vreeland of the 4th Michigan Infantry, who was wounded four times and left for dead in the Wheatfield, during the Battle of Gettysburg. Other soldiers are mentioned as well, in particular is his father, Captain Henry Woodruff, 23rd Michigan Infantry.
Heber was the son of Henry Heber Woodruff (1813-1897) and Abigail Hall (1815-1892).
[This letter and image of Woodruff are from the collection of Dale Niesen and were made available for transcription and publication on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Camp of the 16th Michigan near Fredericksburg, Virginia (Archives of Michigan)
Transcription
Camp Near Potomac Creek, Va February 20th 1863
Dear Uncle & Aunt,
You have doubtless concluded that I have forgotten you entirely on account of my never having written to you but I can assure you, it is not so. I have thought of you often, but being rather careless have neglected to do as I should for which I beg pardon. Of course you have heard of my welfare through uncle Edmund Wesley and others so that anything I will be likely to tell you will be but stale news. Still, by writing, I am in hopes to hear from you by way of return.
I am ashamed to say that I know nothing of you and the family, never hearing but once since I enlisted of you, and then only a word in one of Wesley’s letters. I suppose though you are at the same old trade, farming it in your old dilapidated town. I suppose nothing has been changed and nothing changes except what has been caused by “Death” & “Marriage.” The same old houses stand in the same condition. Old Gentleman Alfred lounges about as usual telling his yarns. John Gori will still find things where they are not lost. “Darkey” Green 1 still cracks his whips over 4 yoke of oxen. John Van Riper is still an old “Bach.” And lastly, John Miller owns “Whip Tiger”—or is it all changed? Who is married? Who is dead? I can hardly realize that I ever lived there. It seems a dream. I almost think I am in a dream and will wake up sometime and find myself back in the old “Kimble House.” Ugh! I guess not—[I’d] rather be a soldier all my life.
Perhaps you wonder how I like a soldiers life. How I stand it, &c. Well, it agrees with me. My health never was better, notwithstanding “rheumatism and cramps” attendants to exposure. Do I like it? Yes. while the war lasts. No, in time of peace. Very little comfort and pleasure is there in it but any amount of privations. Hunger, thirst, weariness, exposure to wet, cold, and bullets, lack of society of the right kind, no females to refine, no one to nurse you, to speak a kind word if you are sick, nothing but military law which obliges an inferior to be an absolute slave to a superior, no one but rough men—who you must hold with a tight rein or lose your discipline—to associate with, which makes you as rough as they. What are the deductions to be drawn? Simply old men or men with families stay at home. Oblige every young man to come. Young men can stand it—old ones ought not [come] if they can [avoid it].
What do you think of lying 36 hours on your back on the ground, not a thing under you, and the ground as wet as water can make it? The weather next thing to freezing? Our Brigade had to do it at the Battle of Fredericksburg. All a man had to do if he wanted a bullet was to raise up, He got it quick enough. Well, we were relieved and had a rest of twelve hours sleeping on a brick pavement with nothing but an overcoat to cover me.
What then? Why our Brigade “had the honor” to be chosen, tired as we were, to cover the retreat from the town. So under cover of the darkness, we silently moved out to the front where the famous Irish Brigade had been driven in and more than slaughtered to reconnoiter. Whenever the moon came out from the clouds, we would lie down so as not to be seen and when some unfortunate fellow would rattle his tin pail, curses not loud but deep would go up. Well, there we lay half the night watching the dead so think we could hardly tell the living from the dead.
At three o’clock we silently withdrew to the edge of the town. By this time the rain had begun to pour down. Then we stood three hours as motionless as statues [at the] ready, a line of skirmishers just in advance to give us warning. We stood until broad daylight until the last man was over and then we turned and took a double quick and crossed the [one] remaining pontoon bridge, taking it up as we crossed. You may think this fun but it is terrible on the constitution. I do not tell you this intending to make great pretensions of my endurance for I could tell of greater hardships than these, but to give you some little idea of a solder’s life.
Hooker is working hard to make the army efficient. I hope he will succeed but one thing is certain, we cannot move in a month—the mud is horrible. It rains and snows all the time. We can move in March [but] not before. I see Michael Vreeland almost every day. He is in the same division. He is a good soldier and a good officer. Cyrus I have never seen. He is with Sigel somewhere near Stafford Court House. Father is still at Bowling Green. I hope they will stay there.
Give my respects to all friends and remember me as your affectionate nephew, — H. Heber Woodruff
to Benjamin Hall, Gibralter, Wayne county, Michigan
These images were found on Ancestry.com and were identified as Abigail (Hall) Woodruff (1815-1892) and Henry Heber Woodruff (1841-1916).
1 “Darkey” Green was probably Dennis Green (1799-Aft1870), a Black farmer born in Maryland. He married his wife Tabitha Cyrus in 1831 in Columbiana, Ohio. She was born in Virginia. Their children in 1860 ranged from age 10 to 28, all born in Ohio or Michigan.
The following was written by Dr. William John Cavanaugh (1874-1949), the son of John M. Cavanaugh (1840-1895) and Anna Fryer (1843-1907). William’s father, John, was a veteran of the Civil War, having enlisted in September 1861 as a private in Co. F, 43rd New York Volunteers. John was promoted to 1st Sergeant of Co, B in July 1862 and commissioned a 1st Lieutenant on 2 June 1863. He was with his regiment until he was severely wounded in the fighting at the Wilderness on 4 May 1864 and underwent a leg amputation to save his life.
What is most revealing in William’s letter is the considerable pain and suffering that his father endured for thirty years after the Civil War ended. The amputation of his leg certainly saved his life but it condemned him to a life that scarred him deeply—physically, socially, and emotionally.
Lt. John M. Cavanaugh; the cdv at left was taken in Albany while he was home on furlough before the start of the Spring Campaign in 1864. The cdv at right was taken in Albany a year or two later. (Kevin Canberg Collection)
After his discharge, John married the younger sister of another officer in the 43rd NYVI named John Fryer; Fryer and Cavanaugh were friends who worked together on the railroad prior to the Civil War. Fryer himself was killed shortly before Cavanaugh was seriously wounded. They are all buried together in the same grave at a cemetery in the Albany area.
It isn’t clear who the document was addressed to. It was part of a massive grouping Kevin Canberg acquired several years ago related to Fryer, Cavanaugh, and the 43rd New York. The statement that he was “temperate” with no bad habits” suggests to me that it was intended for a Widow’s Pension application but I could not find one in the National Archives.
Transcription
Meigs Case, the surgeon who performed the amputation of Cavanaugh’s leg.
The amputation of the leg was not the cause of death. The result of the amputation on the nervous system after a few years of dragging an artificial leg about, the shock of the severed nerves and arteries, seem to be [the cause]. For several years the abrasions of the skin and flesh with resulting boils and ulcers: Then paroxysms of stinging pain where the scars of the stitches were would throw the man in a fever and would last from one to five minutes, with about the same time of relief. During the time these pains lasted he could not sleep only when after a while he became exhausted he would drop asleep a minute sometimes. The doctors said they could give something to deaden the pain but under the conditions, were afraid it would form a habit and could not cure.
In ’86, he had a serious abscess on the stump which extended almost into his bowels. Was confined to his bed for six weeks suffering terribly. He became greatly emaciated and for the greater portion of his time his life was despaired of. But his good constitution brought him through. After this sickness he never regained his former health. His nerves were very bad and he was excitable. His heart troubled him. He did not get out very much and his stump troubled him more than ever. The kidney trouble was quite advanced when it was first diagnosed and his face bloated some. It was said by the doctors that the kidney disease was brought on by the state of his system and the nervous condition he was in from the access which was the result of the amputation of leg. He was temperate, with no bad habits.
The following letters were written by Lucius E. Bidwell, Jr., (1833-1864), the son of Lucius E. Bidwell, Sr. (1806-1852) and Mary M. Barnes (1808-Aft1865) of Middletown, Middlesex county, Connecticut.
He lived in Middletown, and worked as a painter until he enlisted in Captain Elijah W. Gibbons’ famous Co. B of the 14th Connecticut Volunteers (the “Nutmeg Regiment”) in July of 1862. He was wounded at the Battle of Fredericksburg and survived, but died late in the war, in the Wilderness of northern Virginia May 5, 1864. His burial place is unknown, but a Cenotaph was erected in his name at Indian Hill cemetery in Middletown. On February 17, 1864, the local Middletown newspaper The Constitution published a letter from Bidwell that details his experiences fighting Confederate soldiers.
The first letter in this small collection provides details of the Battle of Chancellorsville. The regiment was held in reserve for the most part until Sunday, May 3rd, when they went into action and suffered several casualties, though no one was killed.
[Most of these letters were provided from the collection of the Senft Family for the express purpose of being transcribed and published on Spared & Shared.]
Letter 1
Camp near Falmouth, Virginia May 8th 1863
Dear Brother,
I suppose you have heard of the battle long before this and that your brother Lucien has come out all right again which I suppose is goo news to you all but I tell you what it is, I barely escaped with my life each battle. I have had the leaden pills whistle about my head like hail stones in fly time. I have had them come so close as to blow my hair and make me wink and blink considerable and I have had shells burst at my feet, over my head, and had pieces of them graze my clothes. We call them soap blubbers out here. I had rather have a million bullets rattle about my head than one shell to burst over my head. They make quite a little noise, I tell you.
But I am one of the favored ones, I guess. The bullet is not cast yet for me. I hope not at least for it is not very pleasant to have one of them hit a fellow. I don’t see how I have escaped without a scratch three times and was in such a shower of shells and bullets too each time, and all three battles I have had comrades shot by my side. There was two wounded, one each side of me, and so it was at Antietam 1 and Fredericksburg 2 and this last battle, and I have escaped without a scratch.
It was about as bloody a battle as Fredericksburg. It was a five days fight. We were in a line of battle with our rifles loaded and kept ready for them four days and nights. Some nights we were on our feet with our pieces half cocked with the expectation of being called to the rifle pits to relieve the poor fellows who had been in them fighting hard for two or three days. But we were finally obliged to fall back across the [Rappahannock] river again. We went into the fight last Saturday night about 6 o’clock right under one of our batteries of half a dozen guns which kept firing all night. The night was a very dark night and the flash from the big guns kept the woods we were in illuminated about all night. If it was not in battle, it would have been a glorious sight to look upon and the roar of the [guns] was deafening I tell [you].
But about five o’clock in the morning the rebels broke through our lines and caused great confusion. Most of the whole army scattered and fled like sheep for a mile or so and made another stand and threw up earthworks at the entrance of a piece of woods and there we made out to keep them at bay until Thursday night about midnight [when] we packed up and got ready to start about three o’clock in the morning. It was very dark and rained quite hard all the day before and all night and oh! I tell you what, it was a little muddy about that time. We had to wade through mud up to our knees most of the way.
I never shall forget that night. It was awful dark and we had to march through a thick wood for about three miles to the river. It was awfully muddy. We were obliged to whisper to one another and the officers gave out their orders in whispers. If the rebs had known of our movement at the time, we would have had quite a hard time getting away. I tell you, they would have hurried us all the way, but we were so still about it that they knew nothing of it until we were about a;; across the river in safety. But as soon as thy found it out, they sent a few shells after us but done no harm. If we had reinforcements that night we would have been alright but the rebs were too strong for us. Our Brigadier General [William] Hays was wounded I believe very bad. He is now at Washington, they say.
We are now at our old camp again once more but I don’t think we shall stay here a great while. I think by what I can learn that we shall soon march towards Washington to recruit for we are of no use here now for most half of this army’s time are out. Some of them who enlisted for two years are up and some—and a great many for 9 months—are up, so it will make the army quite small. I hope they will get out of this hole anyhow for I think the Army of the Potomac have the most [Rebel] force to contend with and the most difficulties to surmount than any other army of the Union. We are trying to fight our way to Richmond and the rebel army that we are opposing are endeavoring to push their way towards Washington so that makes it the most desperate. I had rather be in any other army than the Army of the Potomac at the present time.
I believe I will close this letter for I guess it is long enough you will [be tired] read[ing] if you have not already, all about the battle and our retreat. It is a glorious day today. The whole regiment has gone out on picket duty yesterday adn have not arrived yet. I went with them but I had a very bad cold and did not feel like laying out all night for it was stormy and so I loitered behind until the regiment passed by and then went back to camp.
We call Mr. [Robert] Russell old Gob’s eye. I will tell you one of his mean tricks and then you can judge for yourself what sort of an animal he is. Day before yesterday (I mean yesterday morn), we had fresh meat dealt out to us and Gob’s eye cut it up and dealt it out to the company. I was still under my blanket and had my shoes off ( I had a bad cold) and so I asked one of my tent mates by the name of Joe Slater—A Dutchman, a good fellow too—if he would not get my ration with his. He said he would because we had often done so before but Russell was very cross that morning and told Joe that I must come and get myself if I wanted it. But Joe told him that I was not very well and wanted him to get it for me. But old Job’s eye told him that if I [was] too sick to come after it, I was too sick to eat it. I heard every word of it myself and I sung out to stick my ration of meat into his own guts and go to the Devil with it. So I went without. That is the way he accommodates his companions. He has got to be a complete hog and if ever we both get home together, I will treat [him] as I would a hog. I never had so much hatred for a human being in my life as I have for that man. Every time I lay my eyes on him, I can [hardly] keep from laying my hands on him.
Mother said in her letter which I received last night that our captain was at Mrs. Broatch’s but Mrs. Broatch was not at home and that Mrs. Russell did not tell him that you lived in the next house. Capt. Townsend said if he had known it, he would have called and seen you and Mother says that Mrs. Russell said that the Capt, said he hoped he should see Robert Russell with stripes on soon. I think he does but not to wear them in our company. If the Capt. gets him promoted, it will be to get him out of this company. The Capt. don’t like him any better than we do.
I meant to have stopped some time ago but I shall have to now for want of paper. I send you and all my best love. Your brother, — L. E. Bidwell
Dwight Davis send his respects and Johnny is all right and sends his best regards to you. Priest was hit in the shoulder. George Hubbard is well and safe.
1 On September 17, 1862, the regiment’s first action was at the Battle of Antietam. The regiment traveled along the flank and entered the East Woods, passing through Mumma’s orchard and cornfield toward the confederate line. The green troops performed well, but casualties came from confederate fire and accident; including a case of an exploding shell of Company D which killed 3 and wounded 4. In total, 21 men were killed and 88 wounded and 28 missing.
2 In the course of Battle of Fredericksburg, 10 men were killed, 92 were wounded and 20 were listed as missing, among the dead was Lieutenant Canfield and Captain Gibbons of Company B and the Lieutenant-Colonel Perkins was wounded.
Letter 2
Camp near Falmouth, Va. May 23, 1863
Dear Mother,
I have just seated myself under beautiful shade a few yards from our log huts and the band is playing a few yards off [from] where I am seated writing and it sounds beautifully echoing through the woods. Oh, it is such a lovely day that I cannot help enjoying it as much as I possibly can. But Mother, the thought that this cruel war is still going on almost makes it impossible for me to enjoy myself even here in this beautiful grove of pines and a plenty to eat and good spring water to drink right in our camp and a splendid band of music to enliven us.
There is another band in our brigade—the 12th New Jersey Regt.—has got a very good band too. It is camped next to our regiment. They left their homes about the same time we did but never was in any engagement till the Battle of Fredericksburg last fall. They were a full regiment them and they number most three to our one now. We number about 350 men in our regiment but they are not all on duty. A good many are sick but not very sick. It is not very sickly here. It seems to be the dysentery that troubles the men more than anything else. I have it a great deal but not very bad as to keep me from duty.
A great many play off and go to the doctor and get excused so they won’t have anything to do all day but to sit around and eat their rations all day because they are so lazy. But that is a thing I never done yet and never mean to. I am willing to do my duty and my whole duty if I suffer by the means. And Mother, I can say—and speak the truth too—that I never had to be punished the least at all since I have been out in the service of my country and have always been on good terms with the commanders of the company of which I have the honor to be a member.
I thought a great deal of our noble Capt. E[lijah] W. Gibbons, our first captain. 1 And we have got an excellent one who has filled his place—Capt. [James L.] Townsend, a very young men about twenty-one or two years old, but he is a very fine young man and we all like him very much indeed. He belongs in Cromwell, I believe. He was very sorry that he did not know that my home was so near when he called to Mrs. Broatches. He said he would have been happy to have called on you if he had known of it. He is a very handsome young man. He makes a fine appearance out on drill. He is beardless.
I received a letter from you Thursday night and one from Augustus Friday night last night. He said that Cyrus Priest’s 2 mother wanted him to write to me to know where he is that she had not heard from him lately. I asked the captain if he knew where he was and he said that he is at Potomac Creek at a hospital there and that he was down there day before yesterday and seen him and that he was doing very well, as well as circumstances would admit. He says that the ball is still lodged in his shoulder. I forgot which shoulder it is but the ball has not been extracted yet it is under his shoulder blade somewhere. I intend to go down to see some of the boys myself in a day or two, if can get a pass to do so. It is about five miles down there.
If I do go down, I will write and let you know how they are getting along so that you can send word to his Mother. The Captain says it is a very bad wound. It being almost time for dress parade, I shall be under the obligation of bringing this letter to a close by sending my best love to you and all the rest of my friends and hope and pray that this will find you enjoying good health.
I subscribe myself your affectionate son who lives in hopes of soon seeing his Mother and all the rest of his dear friends again before long, — Lucius E. Bidwell
P. S. I received your picture in your last letter and was very much pleased with it. I think it looks very much like you but I don’t think it looks so much like you as one you had taken some time ago. I was a going to send mine home but the man that took them has gone away now after the battle. There is one at Falmouth but I will have to wait until I get some money now before I have it taken.
1 Capt. Elijah W. Gibbons was mortally wounded in the Battle of Fredericksburg.
2Cyrus S. Priest (1840-1891) was wounded in the Battle Chancellorsville on 3 May 1863. He was transferred to the 159th Co., 2nd Battalion Veteran Reserve Corps on 14 September 1864 and discharge 5 July 1865.
Letter 3
Camp near Falmouth, Virginia May 28th 1863
Dear Brother,
I again take my pen in hand to answer your last letter which I received a few days ago. William Murdock has arrived here in camp last night. I was very much disappointed when I found that he had not got the letter paper which I sent for. I should think he might have brought it for he brought a valise full of things for the boys. I received a letter from Mother by him enclosed in which was two or three sheet letter paper and envelopes, and a postage stamp. Mother says he told her that he had nothing to carry everything in but it seems he did have something to put the paper in.
Did he tell you all about our hardships or didn’t he have time to say much. I should like to have some letter paper sent out to me by the mail if it did not cost too much to send it. In that way we can get plenty of paper out here but it is very bad paper, It is so thin that the pen cuts through.
I wrote to Mother last week that we were packing up but it was a mistake of mine. The Major who is now in charge of the regiment gave orders to have the boys take off the roofs of their huts which were of tent cloth so as to let the air circulate through the huts. That was all.
But while writing this before I could not finish it. We have had real orders to pack up everything. What is it for? I don’t know but we are all packed up ready for a march and when we had got all through packing up, we were ordered to fall in for drill so we are out near French’s Headquarters resting in the shade until Major comes who has been sent for by Gen. French for him to come to his presence. I put the bottle of ink into my pocket and my paper in my cartridge box and I did not know how long we must remain before we began to drill so I thought that I would try and finish this letter so I can send it tomorrow. I expect a letter from you tonight and a trumpet. I have asked you to send me the Hartford Times instead of the Sentinel and Witness. I believe I must close this letter for I guess that we will fall in very soon for drill. So goodbye for the present
From your brother, — Lucous
To his brother Augustus
P. S. Since writing the above, we have unpacked our things but we are under marching orders yet. We are liable to be ordered to march at any moment. I think as near as I can learn, that we intend to fall back. The commissary stores have all been removed but where, I do not know. I guess the rebs mean to cross the river to attack us. I will write more soon.
Letter 4
Camp near Falmouth, Va. May 31st 1863
Dear Brother,
I am now on picket and as I have plenty of time to myself, I thought I would spend it in writing to my friends in Middletown. I sent a letter to Mother yesterday and I told her about our being called out under orders. We were under arms most all day and they called the roll every hour but nothing has transpired to disturb using more than that. What it was for, I cannot tell but I suppose the Rebs were moving about rather more than common and that they thought they might so well to be on the safe side and keep one eye open. The Rebel Gen. Lee has made a proclamation or something of the kind that he intends to make a raid into Maryland again so we hear, but I guess the rebels know best what they intend to do, but the pickets that we have just relieved say that they should think by the appearance of things that the rebs were moving or getting ready to evacuate. We have stricter orders now than we have had before. It seems that Gen. Lee has given out orders to his men not to fish anymore in the river and we have received orders to that effect too. So it has knocked our fishing all in the head. A good many of the pickets used to catch a good many fish while on picket, but there is a small brook running close by our camp which has got some eels and rough in it so that we can catch a few once in awhile if we have small hooks and lines. You said you would send me some if I wished for any. I should like to have you send me some very much. I would like to have you send very small hooks—the smallest you can find—and a very fine line. I suppose you can send them in a letter.
The rebel pickets seem to be very shy for we cannot see any of them only now and then, one in the bushes on the other side of the river. It is something uncommon for we have always seen plenty of them before. I should not be surprised if they were leaving this part of the state in order to make a dash somewhere. Gen. Lee would like to crush this Army of the Potomac if he could but he has not done it yet. We still hold our old position. They don’t seem to like the idea of attempting to drive us from here. We have just as good a position to defend ourselves as they have on their side of the river and that is not all. We would like to have them try it on for we could have a better advantage and stand a better chance if they should attack us than we would by crossing the river and attack them. I am afraid that we will not have so good luck as to have them so that, but we will probably know what is going to be done in a few days. It cannot be possible that we will remain idle much longer. I wish to thunder we could make a dive right straight through to Richmond and make a clean thing of it.
You seem to have been disappointed in the news from Vicksburg. It seems that the New York papers still tread in their old line of story telling. I tell you what, Gus, I don’t place much confidence in what the papers say. But still I think that Grant will finally capture the place. I am in hopes of hearing of its capture now every day. I believe I must close this for it will be my turn to go on post in a few moments and watch the gray backs on the other side. Hoping this cruel war will soon be over, I subscribe myself your affectionate brother, — L. E. Bidwell
Letter 5
[This letter by Lucius was found on the internet transcribed by someone else and I add it here for information purposes only.]
In camp on north side of Rapidan Feb. 7, 1864
My Dear Mother—
Our Heavenly Father has again saved your son Lucius safely through another battle and one of the worst kinds of a battle too. It was a night fight. Yesterday morning about 5 o’clock we were routed out of our beds with the orders to pack up and fall in. We took up our line of march for the River Rapidan at about nine o’clock in the morning and reached the river about an hour after. We crossed the Rapidan by fording it about noon. We had to ford it, it was up to our breasts and it was a very rapid stream, so much so that if we had accidentally slipped, we would have been carried down stream, and stood a very good chance of finding our graves at the bottom thereof. But as far as I know there was no accident of the kind happened, only now and then one would slip as he was crawling up the opposite bank, which was very steep, but no serious harm was done to my knowledge, but givng them a good dunking, and wetting their cartridges. The water was very cold—it makes a fellow’s feet and legs ache, I tell you! But go it, we must follow our leader through fire and water. The regiment known as the Garbaldi’s Guards, a New York Regiment composed of Dutch, Irish, and Italians refused to wade because they said it was too deep. But General Hays, knowing of it, jumped from his horse without saying a word, and left his horse this side of the river and waded across to the other side, picking out good footing, and then waded back after his horse. They saw that he got over safe, so they finally plunged in, and arrived safely on the other side. I tell you what he is – a regular tiger! I suppose you have heard of him before. He is in command of our Division, and goes by the name of ‘Fighting Ellick’. He rides along the line of skirmishers with his hat in his hand, cheering the men on, crying, ‘Give them hell boys give them hell.’ He is an old tiger, he is most always a little tight when there is fighting going on and then he is in his glory.
He thinks the Old 14th is about right he is always pressing us up. He was with us in the thickest of the fight crying out ‘give ‘em hell, 14th–Bully for you! Bully for you, go in, boys, go in 14th!’ and so on–the balls flying around his head like hailstones without flinching in the least. He is a regular dare devil!
We marched to a hollow facing the rebels breast works, and remained there until about 5 o’clock within rifle shot of their rifle-pits. They sent a few shells over to us, but most of them passed over harmless. But two or three took effect, killing three or four and wounding several. They had only fired several shots when it was ascertained that the Rebs had …a solid line of battle advancing on us. We were ordered to advance. The bully 14th taking the load, and charged at the double quick time. They met us half way and poured an everlasting fire into us which caused us to waiver for a moment, and with a deafening yell we made a rush, pouring a volley of blue pills into them which they won’t soon forget and put them to flight, and drove them to their rifle pits.
By this time it was dark as pitch, we could not see our foes until we met them face to face, some shot at one another and knocked each others brains out with the butt of the musket. We were fighting in squads most of the night, each man for himself.
Company B and G were on the left and met a stronger party of Reb skirmishers but we charged on them with our little rifles and with deafening yells, we loaded and fired and drove them back to their rifle pits. We then sculked under the cover of darkness to within a few rods of their rifle pits and then popped away at them until we were sent for to go and support our boys on the right, for the Rebs were trying to flank us.
We went it on the double quick over fences and ditches, we charged on a cluster of two or three houses which were full of Rebels. They swarmed in great numbers around the building, firing from the windows and around the corners and out houses, but we made a rush on them, driving them like sheep dragging their wounded along with them. The houses were full of them. We, and some of the others smashed in the doors, which were closed and fastened, and rushed in and some of the rebels grappled with us. We soon overpowered, but strange to say we took only one prisoner. They made their escape out the windows before we were aware of it. They then retired behind their breastworks, and we stretched out a long line of pickets, and remained so until we were relieved about one o’clock in the morning by the 1st Division and recrossed the Rapidan on a sort of bridge which was built. The rest of the troops recrossed the river again soon after.
The Rebs never molested them after we left. It was a daring undertaking in leading this dividsion over there into such a nest. I don’t know why we were not all captured, for we numbered only three thousand men. It must be the Rebs did not know how strong we were after dark or they would have come down on us in a strong body and showed us into the river and cut us all to pieces, but we got off very well after all.
I think the Rebs felt the weight of our bullets before we parted with them. We had no artillery to support us on that side of the river. We, all alone, with only our rifles. I don’t know the exact number of killed and wounded yet. They say we might have lost over one hundred. Our Color Sergeant Cody, was brought into camp and buried by the Regt. with the band. He was a noble fellow and fell doing his duty. One of my tent mates, a fine young man, was shot through the breast. He is a sailor and a native of Germany. I thought a great deal of him. His name is Harrison.
James Ingles was hit on the leg, and a man named Winks in our camp, and another German, was shot through the head (named Stinall) and another tent-mate of mine was hurt in the ankle. Our Major was slightly wounded in the leg. Capt. John Broaht, I hear, had his finger shot off, but I have not seen him yet. I hear he is detailed to go after the recruits but I don’t know how true it is. I must stop for room. Lieut. Russell is all right; he was very brave during the fight. I will write more soon.
So I will bid you good bye for the present and subscribe myself your affectionate son—Lucius Bidwell.
P.S. Since I began this , we have returned to our old camp. After being on picket 24 hours. After we arrived from the fight. McCluskey is unhurt and very well and sends his respects to you and all. Tell Mrs. Rogers that I guess she will have the pleasure of beholding us again after all. Give all the neighbors our love….
An unidentified trooper in the South Carolina Cavalry (R. J. Ferry Collection)
This letter was written by William (“Willie”) Clark Workman, Jr. (1846-1899) who enlisted in February 1864 to served in Co. K, 7th South Carolina Cavalry. During a portion of the summer 1864, Willie was being treated for syphilis in Jackson Hospital in Richmond, Virginia. In this letter, datelined from a hospital in Kershaw county, South Carolina, we learn that Willie was recovering from typhoid fever.
Willie was the son of William C. Workman (1803-1861) and Sarah Young Jenkins (1812-1863) of Camden. Willie’s gravestone in the prestigious Quaker Cemetery in Camden, South Carolina, is etched with the words, “Served with distinction, 1862-4, Co. K, 7th S. C. Cavalry, Gary’s Brigade.” His military records, including the “Confederate Home Records” prove that he did not enlist until 2 February 1864. He was married to Mary M. German (1860-1900) after the war.
Willie wrote this letter to Louisa Jane (“Janie”) Ballew (1843-1915), the daughter of Rev. David Lester Ballew (1802-1855) and Elisa Louisa James (1801-1873). Mention is made in the letter of Janie’s brother, “Ben.” This was Benjamin Franklin Ballew (1845-1913) who served in Co. I, 3rd South Carolina Infantry.
Transcription
Red Oak Camp, Lynches Creek August 6th 1864
Dear Miss Janie,
Your letter of the 19th of last month reached me this morning quite unexpectedly but I assure you, I never had a more agreeable surprise in my life. You observe from the caption of this that I am once more in the limits of “home, sweet, home.” After passing through the most arduous portion of the present campaign in the “Old Domain,” I was taken quite suddenly with a severe attack of Typhoid Fever, prostrating me in the “walls” of the most detestable of all places in creation—a hospital. I am spending a part of my “thirty days” out on Lynches Creek in the country, about 25 miles from Camden. I have been very lucky or unlucky (as you may decree it) in getting home on sick furloughs. I have been home now about two weeks; almost half of my furlough. I am recruiting my health and strength very fast but on account of the excessive state of weakness which the disease left me in, I think it will be necessary for me to apply for an extension. But since I am here enjoying the sweets of home now, I do not regret my illness much.
We have had a very severe [time] of it in Virginia this summer; continually in the saddle and on the move, with no little fighting to do. I have been quite fortunate myself for in all the “tight” places that I have been in yet, I have not been scathed. I hope it will be so in all my future career.
Our company has lost many valuable men and officers since our reparation to Virginia Some of my best friends have been killed and wounded. But I could not expect anything to the opposite as this is one of the inevitable fatalities of the carnage of battle. Satis about war, and let us [move] on [to] other topics.
Our correspondence has been broken off for some time, and I assure you, Miss Janie, I missed those sweet missives of yours, which I have been receiving from you not a little. I have just been waiting for a convenient opportunity to send a letter to town so that I could write to you. But I trust that our correspondence which has hitherto been so regular and interesting (to me) may not be interrupted again. You write me that you fear your “thoughts” will be very “dull” and “uninteresting;” let me assure you that they are decidedly just the opposite. If you had only seen how eagerly I devoured the contents of your letter this morning, you would not write thus.
Tell Jimmie I think he ought to be ashamed of himself in not coming round to see you oftener. I suppose now since he is enjoying the sweets of a married life, he has forgotten his old friends. I wish you could have gotten acquainted with his lady. I think you would have liked her so much for she has such a sweet disposition. I wish it was so that I could make it convenient to take a little tour up in Laurens and Greenville while I am home. But I am afraid that delightful pleasure will be denied me. I would like very much to pass through Laurens and see you and the rest, but as I have such a short while to remain at home, I do not think that I can possibly do it and will have to postpone it until “this cruel war is over.”
“Do not despond…about our final success for as certain as there is a just God in heaven, we, who survive, will come out in this great contest gloriously and with victory perched on our banners.”
–Willie Workman, 7th South Carolina Cavalry. 6 August 1864
Camden as well as Laurens has had the veil of mourning stretched over her peaceful horizon. Several of her brave boys have lately sealed their devotion to their country’s welfare, with their life’s blood. But Laurens has suffered severely indeed for in nearly every engagement, some poor fellow from there falls a victim to the carnage of the battlefield. I am very sorry to hear of young J. M. Cluney’s death. I was acquainted with him and I think he was a nice fellow. Do not despond Miss Janie, about our final success for as certain as there is a just God in heaven, we, who survive, will come out in this great contest gloriously and with victory perched on our banners. And as to their getting here in our beloved state, they would have to find superhuman fighting, for where is the coward whose soul would not be nerved up to fight and die when he thought for an instant that he was striking for the fair women of South Carolina. But this, suffice to say, will never happen.
I can sympathize deeply with your brother for I know what it is to be cast in a miserable hospital with no one to feel or care for you. I hope he may get home soon where he can recover much faster. I would like very much to have seen the commencement. I know I would have enjoyed myself splendidly. The concert must have been worth going to see. You must think something of your correspondent to be writing to me, while you could be enjoying yourself much more pleasantly with the company that were downstairs awaiting you. I have scarcely finished perusing your letter before I am replying in return to you. You ought not to slight your company, Miss Janie, in writing to me, although I am doing the same act now, as there is somebody down below.
Tell Ben I think he might [write] to me sometimes. Pray excuse this, Miss Janie, for since I have been in Virginia, I have almost forgotten how to write a letter. Write early and direct to Camden, South Carolina. Give my love to Aunt Ballew, Miss Celia, and Miss Nannie, Ben and all my friends in Laurens. So adieu. Your dear friend, — Willie Workman
The following letter was written by George T. Woodard (1835-1864), a native of New Hampshire, who was residing in Oak Grove, Dodge county, Wisconsin, when he enlisted in Co. D, 8th Wisconsin Infantry. He entered the service as a sergeant and was promoted to 1st Sergeant of his company before his death in 1864.
I could not find an image of George but here is one of James A. Cary who also served in the 8th Wisconsin Infantry (Wisconsin. Veteran’s Museum)
Forty-four of George’s Civil War letters are housed in the Special Collections of the University of Alabama. George wrote all of the letters to his fiancee, Gene Smith. At times he addresses letters to Genie, and the envelopes are often addressed to E. E. Smith–her name was likely Eugenia. His letters show his love and devotion to Gene and allude to activities they shared during their courtship. He also discusses camp life and the campaigns he was involved in, including the battle of Corinth and the siege of Vicksburg. A letter written on April 26, 1863, includes a small, hand-drawn battle map of Vicksburg. Many of his letters discuss his love of the Union and his willingness to sacrifice his life for his country.
In addition, there are three death notification letters written in 1864, presumably received by Gene. The nurse who cared for him at the Gayoso Hotel hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, incorrectly dated her letter on predated letterhead as February 1, 1863. Her kind letter includes details of his death, which occurred the previous day. The hospital steward at Gayoso, Michael Cahill, wrote a letter, also incorrectly dated February 1, 1863, which discusses his death and the process through which his heirs could obtain his belongings and pay. His commanding officer and friend, Lieutenant S. C. McDowell, wrote her a kind and personal sympathy letter, correctly dated February 7, 1864.
This letter was written to George’s friend from Dodge county, Wisconsin, Perry Farlow (1842-1863) who served in Co. K, 29th Wisconsin Infantry. Like George, Perry died from disease during the war almost a year to the day before George.
Transcription
Germantown, Tennessee January 30th [1863]
Friend Perry,
It is quite a number of days since I received your kind letter of the 2nd inst., but I have delayed answering it for various reasons, the most important one being the fact that I felt so confounded lazy that I could not screw myself up to the sticking point, but at last I have concluded that it would be shameful to postpone writing any longer and here I am already.
I am sorry to hear of the severe loss that your company has sustained by death. It only corroborates the truth—that camp diseases are more fatal to soldiers than the bullets of the enemy. Our company has lost by disease fifteen men; but the bullets of the enemy only four killed and thirteen wounded. And there has been seventeen discharged for disability while four have been transferred thus making a total loss to the company of forty men. And as our term of service is about half out, we can safely calculate on having a remainder of twenty men of the original one hundred at the expiration of the three years service. I wonder if I am one of that lucky twenty? That’s the question that is of more importance to me than anything else.
I hear that Lieut. Perry [29th Wisconsin] has gone home sick. I am sorry to hear that and trust he will soon recover.
I feel quite well acquainted with your Lieut. Marsh, having met him quite a number of times in Oak Grove. We used to have a “lark” occasionally over the chess board though I believe our games used to be rather more to his credit as a player than mine. I believe I usually arose from the play “scooped.” I wish I could see him and have one more game just for old scores. Remember me kindly to him and to any other of the boys of Oak Grove or Barnett with whom I may have been acquainted.
The duty on which our regiment is now engaged is guarding the Memphis & Charleston Railroad at this point, fourteen miles from Memphis. We are having quite a vacation after five or six months of the most active campaigning. Till we camped here, our regiment has not remained in one camp over five days at a time since the 18th of August. We have marched 1,237 miles since we entered the service, participated in three regular battles, and a half dozen skirmishes. Our severest loss was at the Battle of Corinth where we lost 132 men in killed and wounded in less than twenty-five minutes. I presume there are other regiments that have done more than we have, yet we have done enough to satisfy me with soldiering.
Write soon to your friend, — George T. Woodard
[Added note]
Germantown, Tenn. January 30th 1863
Clark,
Have you forgotten me? Old Woodard of “All the way from Roaring River” memory. If you have, you deserve to be severely castrated. I have written three letters to you without any answer. Now you had better die or forget your old friend, — Geo. T. Woodard
To Clark R. Hewitt, Trenton Company, 29th Wisconsin
From George T. Woodard, Co. D, 8th Wisconsin Regt., Memphis, Tenn.
Spared & Shared 23 